Sometime Yesterday (22 page)

Natalie disappeared into the hallway. Van followed her to the bedroom and heard the water turn on in the shower. She looked helplessly around the room and at the door closed between them.
Screw that.
She opened the bathroom door and looked in. Natalie was curled in a ball on the tiles in the shower, sobbing quietly, her shoulders shaking and her arms wrapped tight around her stomach. The sight of it broke Van’s heart and she climbed in to hold her, clothes and all.

“I have to go home, Van,” Natalie said. “I have work too.”

“Can’t you paint here?”

Natalie saw the concern in Van’s expression, and who could blame her after the way she’d fallen apart yesterday. She was still a little embarrassed. Natalie didn’t want to think of herself as emotionally needy, though she had appreciated the comfort.

“Van,” she said gently. “I’ll be fine. The crew is going to be there, right?”

“But—”

Natalie kissed her. “Have a good day. Say hello to your father for me.” She left quickly before Van could continue the argument that started half an hour ago.

She waved to Rick and smiled at the continued progress they were making. After a quick house inspection and finding nothing out of place, Natalie felt her shoulders relax a little. She went into her office to e-mail her mother since Richard appeared to be blocking their phone communication. Natalie gave her a quick rundown of the activity and told her of the bombshell Beth had dropped on her. The screen flickered.

Oh no, you don’t, Natalie thought and hit send. She felt a burst of triumph over the small victory and brought her optimism with her to the second floor throwing her bedroom windows open to the spring air.

And because that felt so good, she did the same thing in the guest rooms.

No more darkness, she thought, automatically repeating the chant that usually accompanied the sage ritual. Only light and love were welcome here.

“This is
my
house, Richard. I will love who
I
choose.” She paused and held her breath, almost waiting for a reaction. When there was none, her mood continued to rise.

She changed and went to her studio. Damn, she’d forgotten her easel was broken. She ignored the hair rising on her neck and crossed to the closet, pulling the long chain that turned on the bare light bulb. She stepped in to get her old easel when she tripped over something and landed painfully on her knees. Natalie sat and swore while she rubbed them then noticed the loose floorboard.

It was probably stupid to look under it, she told herself.
Curiosity killed the cat
. The old wives’ tale popped into her head and she remembered the next line.
But satisfaction brought it back.
This was Beth’s old studio when she was alive; maybe
she
had a diary hidden in here.

Natalie pried the first board out then recalled Van’s father and his story about Richard locking himself up here. She felt cold chills run along her back and hesitated.

She’d never know if she didn’t look. Natalie lifted the second board cautiously, leaning away from the hole in the floor, just in case. She laughed nervously. In case of what? In case Richard jumps out? The possibility sounded ridiculous, even to her.

A glint of gold in the corner caught her eye and she reached in to pull it out. It was an old locket. She ran her finger over the delicate roses etched into the front of it. After a quick study, she found the tiny latch, opened it, and gasped when she found the human hair. Red and dark brown locks braided together in a strand small enough to fit inside the locket. Her fingers tingled and grew warm. It had to be Beth and Sarah’s hair. She carefully tucked it back inside.

It was such a tragic love story, yet in spite of their circumstances, they had loved each other deeply. The locket was a symbol of that.

Natalie returned the board and got her easel out. She still had that third painting to finish. She decided that the third would be the sketch she’d done of them on the chaise. It didn’t fit into her series, and it was different from her trademark solo women. But her life was different now and she wanted to give Sarah and Beth to each other, in today’s world, where they might have been able to love each other in peace.

Tears threatened to blur her vision, but Natalie wiped her eyes and started to paint.

*

It was late afternoon before Van was able to break away from her father and the nursery. When she got to Natalie’s, the front door was unlocked and she went in. “Natalie?” She received no answer at all on the first floor. After searching the second floor, her anxiety increased until she reached the door to the turret studio. A small note card was taped to the outside.
Do not disturb.

How cute was that? Van thought before quietly climbing the stairs. Natalie stood at her easel, paint smeared on her face, and her eyes looked almost wild with her intense focus. Her hair was escaping the ponytail she wore and curled around her neck. Van could hear the whisper of the paintbrush as it flew from the tray to the canvas then back again. She noticed the open windows and the afternoon breeze had turned the room chilly. “Natalie?”

“
What
?” Natalie shot her gaze to Van. The hard, impatient look in her eyes made Van take a step back.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt you. I was worried when I didn’t hear from you today.”

“Working here.” Natalie tilted her head to the side and stared back at the canvas.

“I can see that.” Van smiled. “Can I look?”

“No.”

Really? Van thought, just like that? The finality of that one word stopped her in her tracks. Natalie continued to paint as if she weren’t in the room. Yet another slice to add to Natalie’s personality.

“Van? Don’t take this personally, but I need for you to leave now. I’ll call you later.”

Now, that one stung. Van had certainly never expected this scene on the way over. Well, Van knew a brush-off when she heard one. Don’t call me, I’ll call you. She’d said the same words to others plenty of times. “Fine. I’m leaving.”

By the time she hit the front door she was seething. Van had only run over here to check on her and her fucked up house. This feeling of rejection wasn’t setting very well for her. As a matter of fact, Van was the one who
did
the backing off. Here’s your hat, what’s your hurry?

The anxiety she’d carried all day had completely transposed to anger on the drive home. See what happened when you stepped outside the boundaries and got too close to someone?

She was in her driveway when Annette called.

“Hey, stranger, where you been?”

Naked Natalie smiled in her mind. “Around.”

“Come out and play, Easton. The girls are wondering if someone snatched your fine ass up.”

Van snorted. Snatched and tossed, she thought. “Miss Apples?”

“Yep. We’ll be waiting.” Annette hung up.

A beer and a friend sounded good right now. Just the things to get her mind off of Natalie and the emotional roller coaster Van had been on in the last few weeks. She knew there were plenty of women who would love her company. Caring about someone took too much energy.

*

Natalie’s eyes burned and her arm ached when she finally dropped her brush into the jar of turpentine. It was nearly two in the morning. A dull throb in her temples and the gnawing in her belly sent a reminder she hadn’t eaten since the previous night.

She resisted the urge to inspect her work. She’d learned over the years that if she didn’t walk away from a painting at some point, she would never finish it. Instead, she went to her room and dropped into her bed fully dressed.

*

“I’ll take her home,” Candy offered.

Van closed one eye and tried to focus. It didn’t do much good; there were still two of her. “S’okay,” she slurred. “I’m good.”

Annette smiled at her and took her keys. “I got her,” she said and helped Van to her feet. “It’s been a long time since I had to pour you into bed, my friend.”

Van gave her a sloppy kiss. “My buddy.”

“Say good night. We’re out of here.” Annette steered her to the door of the tavern and nearly tumbled when Van spun around to wave at the stragglers behind her.

“I can fasten the seat belt by myself.” Van batted her hands away and rolled down the window to let the cool breeze in. “God, I’m drunk.”

“I knew that when you started line dancing.”

“Now you’re lying to me. I don’t dance.”

“Actually,” Annette said, “you were kind of cute out there shaking your booty.”

Van groaned. “Shoot me.” She winced because now she could recall a spin that had her crashing into a table. She was pretty sure there would be bruises the next day. She asked herself if it was worth it. Her head was spinning and the whole purpose of going out and getting blitzed hadn’t worked. “Want to see Natalie. Take me up there.”

“I don’t think she’d appreciate your charm right now, pal.” Annette patted her shoulder. “Sleep it off and call her tomorrow.”

“Love her,” Van said. “But she threw me out.” Annette helped her into the bathroom and into bed. Van kept one foot on the floor.

“Hurts.” Van rubbed her chest.

“Your head is going to hurt like hell in the morning,” Annette said. “Do you remember the sculptress I used to date?”

Van grunted.

“Well, when she was working—creating as she called it. There could be an earthquake and it wouldn’t shake her focus. She threw a cutting tool at me one time.”

“Want me to kick her ass?” Van started to rise.

Annette laughed. “Old history, Van. My point is that artists can be temperamental and moody to us mere peasants.”

“Natalie told me that once.” Van tried to open her eyes. “Here, in my bed.”

Annette pulled the sheet over her. “See? As long as she doesn’t start throwing sharp objects, you’re good. I’m leaving now. Good night, buddy.”

“G’night.” Van passed out.

*

Natalie was freezing. She’d forgotten to close the windows before she went to bed. Was it really noon? She tried to rub her eyes and found her hair stuck to her face in the paint she’d splattered. Her head was foggy when she stumbled into the shower and she stood under the massaging stream of water to loosen her sore muscles.

She closed her eyes, and in her mind’s eye she could see the painting she created. Beth and Sarah on the chaise, full lips an inch apart, sharing that intimate breath the second before the kiss that would come. Their eyes were half lidded but full of passion that seemed to fly off the canvas. Beth’s hand cupped Sarah’s breast while Sarah’s lay on the curve of Beth’s hip. Their legs intertwined under white silk. Natalie had even painted the small gold locket nestled in the hollow of Beth’s throat. Now that she had immortalized their love, could they find peace?

Natalie stepped out of the shower and pointedly ignored the mirror. She didn’t want any messages this morning. She wrapped herself in a towel before heading to her dresser. The scent of lavender filled her room. She paused at the open window to look out.

Van was in the yard leaning on her shovel, her eyes covered in dark glasses. Natalie looked behind her to see what she’d just finished. Purple lavender and blue lobelia lined her walkway up to the porch.

“Good morning!” Natalie shouted out the window.

Van looked up, as did several of the guys on the crew, and Natalie realized she was hanging out of the window in her towel. She pulled it tighter and motioned Van to come inside.

She was in the kitchen when Natalie came in. “The flowers are beautiful, thank you.” She crossed the room to start the coffee and chattered happily. “I painted most of the night. I think it’s my best work.” She turned to see Van still standing stiffly at the counter. She hadn’t moved. Natalie hugged her, but Van’s arms stayed at her sides. Natalie took a step back. “What’s wrong?”

“You tell me.”

Natalie was puzzled. “What happened? Is it your father? Is he okay?”

“Dad’s fine.”

“Then what?” Natalie couldn’t read her with her sunglasses on. “Could you please take those off?”

Van set them on the counter. Natalie took in her bloodshot eyes and dark circles. “Wow, what did you do last night?”

“Went out with my friends.”

“Okay.” Where was this cold shoulder coming from? “So why are you mad at me?” Then she remembered Van coming into the studio and her response to the interruption. “Please tell me you didn’t take that personally.”

Van’s expression told her that was exactly what she did. “Oh, honey, I’m sorry. I’m not used to anyone coming in when I’m painting. Jason knew better.”

“I’m not your ex-husband,” Van snapped.

“No, of course you’re not, and I was rude. I apologize.” Natalie was contrite. “It was not my intention to hurt your feelings.”

Van had already reached that conclusion this morning when she woke up with a mariachi band playing in her head. Right now she was a little annoyed that Natalie was so chipper and Van felt like climbing into one of the holes she’d dug to die in peace. This time she returned Natalie’s hug.