Dragonfly Blessings, page 13
“Maybe her face will,” Rebecca replied, “but I think Em’s heart will be hurting for a long time.”
Later that evening, with all of her calls made, Emilie relaxed on the sofa in Rebecca’s living room as Nicole prepared to leave. “Thanks, y’all, for helping me get through this. Mama and Daddy said thank you too.”
“You don’t need to thank us,” Nicole answered as she shrugged on her jacket. “You just get yourself back to normal and start working on a new plan for your life.”
“I will, Nic. I think for now I’d just like to lay low for a while. When Becca is finished with that order she’s working on, I’ll go to the studio and help her get it all packed up. Then maybe in a week or so I’ll come spend some time at your place.”
“That sounds great. You take care now.” Nicole hugged Rebecca and Emilie as she turned toward the door. She looked over her shoulder and added, “Speaking of life plans, this would be a good time for you to think about your future, Beck, while Em works on hers.”
“Okay, okay. I’m moving forward. I’m just a little slower than most,” Rebecca said with a laugh. “Daddy always said change is the only thing you can plan on in life, and for the first time I truly understand what he meant by that. Be careful going home, Nic.”
Twelve
During the last week in March, Rebecca spent most of her time in her studio finishing the order for the Sign of the Whale. While she worked, Emilie stayed home, where she happily waded her way through Rebecca’s collection of romance novels. The days were warmer and sunnier than usual, and each night the news was filled with images of spring in the Washington area—waves of daffodils and narcissus bloomed near the Washington Monument, the cherry blossoms swelled near the tidal pool, and everywhere tiny green buds on the trees began their journey toward the moment when they would unfold and turn the capital landscape into a living Monet.
When Thursday arrived, Rebecca began taking the final inventory for her shipment. With a critical eye she went over every vase, cup, and plate. The pottery she made before the holidays was glazed in fall and winter shades—deep crimsons laced with forest greens and chocolate browns flecked with gold. In contrast, the glazes for the dinnerware she worked on after returning from the Outer Banks were more beautiful than any she had used in the past—blends of sky blue, pale sand, and aqua evoked a feeling of the shore through color and the wavelike application. A series of lavender, coral, and deep plum glazes merged to create dinnerware and decorative pieces that brought to mind the brilliant sunsets over the Sound. Thrilled with her most recent work, Rebecca realized the order was a perfect balance of colors and styles that would appeal to her coastal client’s customers. Satisfied at last, Rebecca closed the studio and walked the blocks to her townhome. Expecting to call out for another meal after a long day, she was shocked to find Emilie in the kitchen and the delicious aroma of an Italian sauce simmering on the stove.
“Em, that sauce smells great! And you look like you’re finally feeling better.”
“I am, Sug, I am. In fact I was thinking that maybe tonight we could go over those plans you brought home from Michele’s. I’ve got a few ideas to run by you.”
“Well, of course we can haul out the plans. But first, let me help you with dinner.”
Rebecca put together a salad of mixed greens and set out dinner plates and silverware while Emilie added the final touches to the sauce and layered tiny puffs of meat-filled pasta into a pot of boiling water. She whipped together a simple fresh herb dressing, tossed it with the greens, and poured two glasses of an expensive red wine.
“Em, where on earth did you get the ingredients for this dinner? You didn’t go to the store by yourself, did you?”
“No way, Sug, I let my fingers do the walkin’. You have a fine grocery delivery service in this area!”
“I’m so glad you didn’t go out alone. I still don’t feel you are completely safe.”
“Don’t worry, Sug. I don’t mean to stress you out by staying here. I’d like to discuss your plans for Michele’s property and help you get that Providence order packed up, and then I’ll go out to Nicole’s for a few days.”
“You misunderstood me. I don’t want you to leave. I just don’t trust Reed Scott not to show up here, that’s all. You understand that I plan to sell Michele’s property, right?”
Emilie grinned. “I know that was your initial thought, Sug. But humor me, and hear me out.”
Rebecca nodded and silently cleared the dishes away. After rinsing them and stacking them in the dishwasher she turned to study Emilie, who was still nursing her glass of wine on the living room sofa. The swelling had gone down, the bruising was beginning to fade, and, best of all, Emilie was beginning to sound more like her old self again. Rebecca retrieved the plans and the accordion folder, opened everything up on the dining room table and listened as Emilie began.
“You know, Sug, I’ve been thinking maybe they don’t need another inn between Buxton and Frisco. But an artists’ retreat might be perfect for your property.”
Rebecca stared at her cousin as she let the idea sink in. “Em, you’re a genius! We could have a retreat for musicians, painters, potters, even writers. I mean, where else on the East Coast is there an artists’ retreat with a view like this?”
She began to study the plans excitedly. “We could put the musicians in the building on the left. If we turned the space into six suites and used heavy-duty soundproofing materials between them, each musician would have a living space and practice area combined. We could even put a grand piano in one of the suites. To make it all work, we’d just need to knock out some walls and add a few baths.”
Rebecca pointed to the building on the right side of the blueprint. “And we could design six suites for painters and potters in this building. With floor-to-ceiling windows facing the Sound, the light would be wonderful. The three top-floor suites could be for the painters, and we could have skylights installed for additional light. The potters could use the main-floor suites. They’d have a little bit of a walk to get to the kiln in that long building off to the side, but, honestly, it’s not that far. Oh, Em, what a great idea. This is perfect!”
“I can see it up and runnin’ already, Sug. But would you live on the property? And where would you work? I mean, if you decide to relocate someday.”
“Well, you know I can’t move anytime soon because of my dad. I haven’t been to the Oaks to see him in weeks. I think I’d better visit him in the morning.”
“You should. But I’m just saying, in the future, if you decide to move …”
“Then I’d live on the property and run the retreat while I continued to work. And I’d set my studio up in that long building facing the forest where I said we’d put a kiln. A few windows and a skylight or two; it would be perfect!”
“Now, where would you expect the resident artists to eat?”
“Well, I hadn’t really thought about it, Em.”
“Then here’s where my thoughts on this property get real serious, Sug. I’m never going back to Charleston. And sugardaddies, the traffic and the crowds in Northern Virginia are awful! But if there was a little restaurant on your property, I could take over and run it for you. I could keep y’alls guests fat and happy. There would never be so many guests at one time that I couldn’t handle it by myself with someone to help serve. And you could make three meals a day part of an all-inclusive at your retreat. What do you think?”
“That’s a great idea! But where would we put a restaurant?”
“Well, now that’s what I’ve been givin’ some serious thought to. Hand me a pencil.”
Emilie began to transform the largest house, where Michele and Rod currently lived, into a gathering space for the guests of the retreat. She extended the building to one side and marked a space “restaurant” with tall windows facing the Sound. A rock wall with a large built-in fireplace separated it from a great room that would be a cozy gathering place in the winter months and would provide an exceptional view of the fiery sunsets the area was famous for year-round. Behind the restaurant she drew in a large space and labeled it “kitchen.” Next to that she added a small office with a hallway that connected it not only to the apartment but also to the common area. Satisfied, she looked up at Rebecca. “What do you think, Sug?”
“Wow! This plan is really interesting, Em. I had no idea you were a designer!”
“I’m just full of surprises, Sug. Why don’t I go with you to your daddy’s in the morning?”
“Well, old sleepyhead,” Rebecca said, “if you wake up early enough to go with me, great! If not, I’ll let you sleep.”
“All right, then! I’m goin’ stir-crazy sittin’ around here. No offense to the accommodations, but I can’t hide out forever.”
“I’ll give your plan some serious thought, Em. I think you’d be safe on the island. It’s remote, so Reed Scott wouldn’t think to look for you there. And best of all I’d have a cook!”
Thirteen
The following morning, Emilie was sleeping soundly as Rebecca prepared to leave the house. She tiptoed out quietly and locked the deadbolt behind her. The long overdue visit to her father was something she needed to do alone.
His deteriorating state had started slowly; a word or two misused in a sentence or a long pause as he struggled to decide if she was his dead wife or his daughter. But the last time she had seen him, he was completely confused, and the beautiful little cottage she had been raised in was a wreck. She’d found him staring aimlessly into space, nearly emaciated because he had forgotten to fix himself meals. And when she opened the refrigerator, his slippers were sitting neatly on the shelf behind a carton of sour milk. That afternoon she had been forced to admit him to the Alzheimer’s facility at the Oaks.
Rebecca parked her car in front of the nursing home and signed in as Bert Hall’s daughter. As she made her way through the halls to the Alzheimer’s unit she became more and more nervous. The halls were lined with elderly people in wheelchairs, most of them staring into space or speaking with an imaginary person. She checked each chair she passed, looking for her father’s face. Finally she reached the nurses’ station and asked to see him.
“He’s in the locked unit, Ms. Rogers,” a sympathetic nurse explained. “Lately he has been wandering and managed to slip by us. We found him out on the lawn in his pajamas.”
“Oh, no, was he all right?”
“He was fine, just confused. But rather than take any chances, we moved him to the locked unit.”
“Do you think he’ll know me?” asked Rebecca.
“I’m not sure, honey. Memory can vary from day to day.”
The nurse let Rebecca in and took her to her father. He was playing with a deck of cards and looked up at her blankly. “Hello, there, young lady. Care to play a game?”
“Sure, Daddy, I’ll play cards with you.”
“You’re mistaken, young lady. I don’t have any children.”
Shocked, Rebecca stared at him for a moment then leaned over and gave her father a hug. “You might not remember, but I’m your daughter, Rebecca, and I love you, Daddy.”
She sat down beside him and for the rest of the morning took turns shuffling and dealing with her father. He seemed genuinely happy to have someone to play with. When it was time to leave she stood and faced him.
“That was fun, Daddy. I’ll come back and play again soon!”
He looked up at her blankly. “Do I know you?” he asked.
Reeling, she hugged him again, left the unit and drove home.
“Sug, how’s Uncle Bert doing?” Noticing the look on her cousin’s face, Emilie stopped in her tracks. “What’s the matter?”
Rebecca burst into tears. “He’s worse, Em, much worse. They put him in the locked unit because he kept wandering away. He didn’t even recognize me today, although the nurse said that could change from day to day. When I tried to explain who I was, he said he didn’t have any children. His doctor says I need to prepare myself because before long his memory will be completely gone.”
“I’m so sorry, Sug. Is there anything I can do? Do you think it might help if I visited him?”
“I don’t think much of anything is going to help at this point. They’ve had him on the latest medications for a long time now. It’s just the way the disease progresses.” Rebecca dried her tears.
“So now what will you do?”
“Well, there’s nothing I can do to make him better, Em, but the idea of leaving him just breaks my heart. If I move, I’ll still want to come visit him, even when he gets to the point that he doesn’t recognize me.”
“Of course you will, Sug.”
Rebecca sighed deeply. “You know, as I was looking over the order for the Sign of the Whale, I realized that I did some of my best work after spending time on the island. That’s why I’ve given the idea of moving there some serious thought. I would have an awful lot to take care of over the next few weeks, but I have to admit I’m leaning toward the idea of that artists’ retreat.”
“Restaurant and all?”
“Restaurant and all.” She wiped the remaining tears from her cheeks. “I guess you’re as good as hired, Em. But it will be a long time before I can pay you. We might have to work out some kind of deal, like living space on the property in addition to a small salary.”
“Best offer I’ve ever had. Not to mention the chance to spend some quality time with that fine-lookin’ Ed at the inn up the road. We can turn that property into a place artists can’t wait to come to, Sug.”
Fourteen
Despite Emilie’s excitement, Rebecca’s nerves were on edge for the rest of the evening. The issue between Emilie and Reed Scott still bothered her. Although Emilie swore she hadn’t given Rebecca’s last name or address to him, the possibility they were being watched was so unnerving that she was inclined to pack everything up and leave with Em for the island right away. But it was too soon to completely move her pottery business to the Outer Banks. She needed to sublease her studio to another juried artist for at least six months while she worked on the retreat.
After hours of tossing everything around inside her head, she decided she would call Michele in the morning to let her know she could start managing the renovations right away. Then she and Em would head to the island for a few days to show her their plans for turning the property into a retreat. Provided Michele agreed with their plans, they would need to find a rental to live in while the renovations took place. She would be able to travel back and forth to visit her father on weekends, leaving Emilie in charge of the project while she was away. At four in the morning she drifted into an uneasy sleep, feeling that the sooner she got Emilie away from Northern Virginia and the possibility of another run-in with Reed Scott, the better.
When she woke, Rebecca placed the call to Michele.
“Honey,” Michele said, “I think an artists’ retreat is a wonderful idea. There is such amazing light here for painters. And so many people with talent find it hard to work with the interruptions of their families and daily lives. This will be the perfect place for them to spend creative time with their craft. Now, when can you and Emilie be here?”
“We’d like to make a short trip down this weekend to show you the blueprints. Then we’re hoping to wrap things up here so we can be there full time in three weeks or so. We’ll need to find a place to stay on the island, so keep your ears open for us.”
“Absolutely not; you and Emilie will stay here in the apartment. For the time being you’ll either have to share the bedroom, or one of you can use the sofa bed on the sun porch. Tomorrow Rod and I will start moving our personal things to the house in Hatteras, but we’ll leave all the furniture here. So you come any time you’re ready. With any luck you’ll be here for your birthday.”
“But, Michele, we can’t just run you and Rod out of your home.”
“Believe me, you’re not. It will be much easier for me to rest if I’m away from the pounding and banging of the renovations. And we’ll only be a few miles down the road so I can stop by anytime to check on progress. It’s wonderful that you and Emilie are coming, Rebecca, just wonderful. We’ll have a special birthday dinner for you. I can’t wait for you to get here!”
The rest of the week passed quickly as Rebecca and Emilie packed and shipped the order for the Sign of the Whale. Early Friday morning, on Rebecca’s birthday, she and Emilie packed a weekend’s worth of clothes and the blueprints into the car and began the drive to Hatteras Island.
“Happy birthday, Sug. Now you’re an old lady like the rest of us,” said Emilie with a laugh.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“My mama always says that every minute after thirty-five is another minute toward old.”
“You know I love your mom, Em. But I’m going to have to disagree with her on this one. I feel younger right now than I have in ages.”
“Because you finally have something to look forward to,” added Emilie.
“Maybe you’re right. It’s so exciting to almost completely change our lives. Don’t you think?”
“Absolutely, Sug. Good thing Michele liked our idea for the retreat, or we’d be stuck in the same old rut forever. And there’s always that elusive Kyle to meet up with again.”
“I think you better forget about him, Em. He’s clearly not interested, or he wouldn’t have left during the night. And besides, he has a child who’s been through a lot, and I don’t know the first thing about children. I just wish we could find a spot for Nicole in this plan,” said Rebecca.
“You don’t know why he left. Maybe he had an emergency, Sug. And I wouldn’t waste even a teensy bit of time trying to figure out a place for Nic. She’s tied to her job and the action in the big city. I don’t see her spending more than a day or two on a sandy island!”
