by Riona Kelly
“Gorgeous,” Michelle said. It took her breath away with the beauty of the lights and the open sea. Somewhere nearby, she heard Spanish music being played, and unexpected love for this place blossomed within her, filling her with warmth. She’d been transported thousands of miles from home to a land of enchantment with foreign sights, food, and music. She was in freaking Spain strolling down the beach with a gorgeous Spanish boy. She loved every moment of this.
And that easily, the whole dull vacation with her aunt turned into the most wonderful evening she’d ever had. Adventure awaited her here, and she would find it.
To cap it off, Roberto dropped his shoes in the sand, then pressed his hand gently against the side of her face and leaned forward to kiss her cheek ever so lightly. Then he shifted to the other one as she eased closer and he pressed his lips against her cheek. His mouth moved to hers, hovered above it for a moment like a butterfly seeking the perfect spot in a flower before he landed another kiss.
Yes, she screamed in her mind. She wrapped her other arm around Roberto’s waist and slipped totally into his arms as they continued to kiss. His warm lips tasted of cherry and lime and were pliant against hers. His tongue flicked against her mouth, tasting her lips and seeking an entry point. She hesitated, then yielded, opening her lips enough to allow him to probe.
The tingle she’d felt turned to a surge of electricity down her spine and straight to her pelvis. Wanting turned to desire as she returned his touches and kisses. He pulled his lips away, and reason returned as she recalled they were on a public beach and concluded they were not going to go any further than making out.
She removed her arms and stepped back, signaling an end to this. Her voice was a whisper as she said, “I can’t.”
“Lo siento. I’m sorry.” His voice was gentle as he lifted her chin with his knuckles to gaze into her eyes. “Forgive me. You are beautiful, and I like being with you. It was just a kiss.”
She nodded, tears at the edges of her eyes as his words touched her. Just a kiss, she thought. Who is he kidding? “Being with you is wonderful, Roberto. And I didn’t mind the kiss. But we just met, and we’re on a public beach.” Then she chastised herself because it sounded stupid. “I mean. I really like you, too, but we barely know each other.”
“Si, it’s too soon.” He picked up his shoes and turned back toward the resort, offering his arm again. She returned to his side, and they began to stroll back up the beach.
Chapter 4
Late morning found Lindy and Michelle exploring the Plaza de los Naranjos in more detail than they’d had the opportunity to do the previous night. Lindy studied the lines and architecture of the Casa del Corregidor, admiring the beautiful façade and taking photos from various angles as she envisioned them in the painting forming in her mind.
Over breakfast, Michelle had asked her about going to view Roberto’s paintings since his stall was just a short distance from the Plaza. At first, Lindy had been a little cross with her about going over to sit with Roberto at the club, but Michelle enjoyed it so much she quickly forgave her, realizing the girl needed to have some fun with someone. Besides, it had given her time alone with Colin. No harm done. Perhaps she should see how skilled an artist the young man was.
After they finished in the Plaza, Michelle led the way, following Roberto’s instructions to the narrow street he’d called an alley where several little street shops were set up. As they started up it, looking for Roberto, he spotted them, stepped out into the path, and waved them on the short distance to his display.
Lindy didn’t miss the happiness on her niece’s face nor the bright smile Roberto gave her. He reached a hand out to Michelle as she got close and pulled her toward the shop. Lindy followed a little behind, then she got her first look at the lovely paintings. There were several street scenes, the kind tourists like to buy to remind them of the vacation spot. And a few more of the beach with the cities and the mountains in the background, again a memorable tourist item. She stopped now and then to peer at the really interesting ones, such as the one with two elderly men under an orange umbrella at a café table playing chess and the elegant one of a beautiful Spanish girl in a white dress sitting in a garden outside a church, her hand just touching a gardenia. These were wonderful. The boy definitely had talent. She was impressed, more than she thought she would be.
“These are very nice, Roberto,” she said. “Where did you study art?”
His smile grew bigger. “Gracias, señora. I started painting as a child in school, then won an art scholarship in Madrid for two years.”
“Well, you have done very well. You should continue to study and learn more, but your technique is quite good. How old are you?”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her niece cringe as she asked.
“Nineteen,” he answered. “I hope to be able to go back for another year. I live for painting and would like to make it my life’s vocation.”
Lindy nodded, pleased with his responses. “I’m sure you will. How much is the painting of the two men?”
It wasn’t a big canvas, only nine-by-twelve inches, but she really liked it, liked the character in the men’s faces and the mood of the painting. It called out to her, and that was a rare thing.
“It’s seventy-five euros,” he said. “For you, I will make it sixty euros.”
She gave him a sharp look. “Never undervalue your work, young man. I will pay the seventy-five. It is worth it.”
He looked surprised but hastened to remove the painting from the hook. “Thank you. I will wrap it for you. I have bubble wrap to protect it.” He stepped back to his table and reached below it for the wrap and tape while Lindy continued to look at the paintings.
Michelle looked at her with curiosity as if she couldn’t believe she’d just bought a painting.
“It’s quite good, Michelle,” she said. “I have a place in the sunroom at my condo where it will be a fine focal point.”
“I just figured you’d put something of your own there.” Michelle picked up a small painting of an Andalusian horse. They’d seen a few when they had driven down from Madrid and crossed the region. It was only a five-by-seven size, but it was beautifully done. Her fingers ran over the paint, feeling the brush strokes.
“Would you like that painting, dear? As a memento of the trip?”Lindy asked.
“Maybe I would.”
Lindy turned toward the painter. “Roberto? We’d like the horse painting also.”
He looked up to see which one they had in mind. “Oh, that one. It is nice, no? I give it to you. A gift.”
“No, no,” Lindy objected. “I wish to pay for it. Name the price.”
“Thirty euros,” he answered. She knew he had deliberately priced it low.
"May I leave these paintings here while I continue shopping in this area?" Lindy asked, not wanting to cart around the bulky-looking bundle Roberto was assembling.
"Of course. It is no problem," Roberto answered, looking up from wrapping tape around the smaller painting. "If you wish, I will bring them to your hotel later this evening. Siesta is from one to four, then I work until eight. I can bring them over then."
"I don't want to trouble you."
"I am happy to do it. Perhaps it might be all right for me to invite your niece to dinner if she would like to go?" His smile was charming, and his eyes shone with hope.
Lindy took a moment to glance at Michelle's equally eager face. Her eyebrows rose as she nodded slightly in agreement. What harm would there be in her niece going out with this boy? They'd already gotten acquainted at the club, slipping away on their own. It would also leave her free to enjoy Colin's company alone. "That would be fine then, Roberto. Thank you."
Sometimes when Lindy watched Michelle, she recalled herself as a girl her age, full of energy, joy, and hope as she went to Paris for the first time. She'd been with a group of four girls and a chaperone from her school in North Carolina. It was their senior trip abroad; she was graduating a year a
head of most of her friends and was the youngest one in the group.
They'd come to Paris on a study trip and an introduction to some of the great art. They went to the Louvre first to admire the works of some of the greatest artists who had ever lived. Lindy discovered the power of Rembrandt’s paintings and the soul searching of Van Gogh. She immersed herself in art that would endure and touch the spirit of those who viewed it for as long as it existed. She wanted to be like the great artists and create something to reach out to people and garner appreciation long after she was gone.
She’d met Etienne at the Musée d'Orsay, just a short distance away from the Louvre. She and her classmates had wandered down one afternoon to explore some of the nineteenth-century art displayed there. She had been admiring a painting by Monet when he came up beside her to also study the painting, The Cliffs at Etretat, a splendid study of lighting. Etienne was in Paris, up from Lyon, to study art for a semester. A handsome youth with sandy brown hair and blue-green eyes that sparkled like the Mediterranean on a sunny day, he was also a thief, for he soon stole her heart. Even as she knew it was an infatuation, a romance that can only happen when two people with similar interests are thrown together in a romantic setting away from their normal lives, she still fell for his charms. The sexy voice speaking English with a French accent, the twinkle in his eyes when he whispered romantic words in the most romantic language she'd ever heard, and the sweet taste of his lips on her mouth when he kissed her. To a seventeen-year-old, it was intoxicating, more than wine, and she was drunk on the uniqueness of it all. She never wanted those four weeks of her life to end.
When the time came to bid au revoir, she was heartbroken, and Etienne vowed to write her. They made a pact; she would return to Paris as soon as she could, and they would study art and make love together. But, of course, it didn't work out that way. He wrote a few times, then she didn't hear from him for over a year. Eventually, another treasured letter came, and she learned he had fallen in love with another girl. She had been shattered.
At the same time, she still recalled them as some of the most beautiful memories of her life. Those magic days in Paris with the dreamiest boy she'd ever known lived within her. They provided a time she could always touch as something so special that for all the pain at the end, it was worth it for the pure joy and happiness of the moments. So, if this Spanish boy could give her niece the same kind of magical memories, how could she deny her the joy?
So long as the girl took precautions and didn't get herself into any trouble. Lindy figured she would need to have a little discussion with Michelle before she went out with Roberto again.
Chapter 5
Seated on the back of Roberto's motorcycle, Michelle clung to his waist as he shot through the streets from the coast up toward the hills of the city. She was glad she'd had the foresight to dress in jeans and a light shirt. Although the air was still warm, it felt delightful flowing across her face and through her hair as they raced along.
Roberto had brought the paintings as agreed and spoken briefly with her aunt, promising to get her back at a decent hour, which meant not too long after midnight. Aunt Lindy had taken a few minutes to have a “talk” with Michelle about the basics of sexual relationships, the same ones her mother had already covered two years earlier when she first started dating. Mom would have laughed at her aunt, trying to be so responsible about it while she seemed so awkward.
She sometimes wondered why Lindy had never married. She was so pretty and a very sexy-looking woman. She obviously enjoyed the company of men and dressed like an exotic creature to attract them. She was always high fashion in appearance, and it showed. But she'd never maintained a relationship with one for more than a few months, it seemed. Even her dad wondered why she never settled down with one.
Roberto turned up what looked like an alleyway it was so narrow then stopped the bike near a dimly lit place. She could smell the scents from cooking meats and spices as they wafted out the door.
"This is a family restaurant," Roberto said, offering his hand as she climbed off. "The food is typical Spanish like I would eat at home. You will see. It is very good."
He opened the door preceding her into the entry leading to the stairs. The actual dining area was upstairs while the bottom level provided the family's quarters, he informed her. As they entered, the host greeted Roberto as a friend, making it obvious he frequented the restaurant. The grinning man guided them to a table for two near the window at the front. Their waiter, a friend she suspected, approached as soon as they were seated. Roberto introduced him as Juan, and he executed a little half-bow to her.
"Do you mind if I order for us?" Roberto asked. "I will have them bring the house specialties, and it will be excellent. Trust me."
A little nervously, Michelle nodded her head. She wasn't a big fan of spicy foods, so she hoped there would be something in it she could eat. As it turned out, she needn’t have worried. The tapas were a delicious assortment of five delectable dishes with very mild spice except for the one Roberto devoured with glee. The Spanish cured ham rolls were wonderful, the grilled shrimp delightful, and the cheese and olive assortment tasty. By the time the main course of mouth-watering Moroccan lamb chops arrived, Michelle’s stomach felt like it would burst and only ate a little, but it tasted divine. For dessert, they brought small slices of an orange almond cake with a tangerine gelato, finishing the meal to perfection.
Throughout the meal, Roberto told her the names of the dishes and how they were made. “My mama makes many of them at home,” he said.
"Where does your family live?" she asked.
"Farther back in the hills," he answered. "In one of the small towns away from the big cities where the tourists come. My father works with metal. He welds iron into sculptures."
"So, your artistic ability is inherited."
"A little bit. But he does not paint. Have you an artistic skill?"
"Not in the painting or drawing sense. But I am an actress. Not professional. Not yet, but I’m studying. I want to make it my career."
"An actress? Bueno. I bet you are very good, even now."
She blushed a little, hoping the darkness in the room was enough to cover it. Although shy about her intent to make it her profession, she knew she did well with it. "I've been cast in a few plays in school and had the lead in the local theater production of 'Little Women.' I got rave reviews for it."
He flashed a dazzling smile at her. "Then, one day, I may see you in a movie and tell my friends that I knew you."
She shook her head. "No, I hope you will tell your friends that you know me. I hope that wherever our paths take us, that we will remain friends." Then she glanced away, afraid she'd revealed too much of how she felt, but she had sensed an extraordinary connection with this boy. Her mother would tell her it was just the setting, and probably her aunt would agree, They may be right, but it didn't lessen the effect any.
He didn't laugh at her, and his voice was passionate when he said, "I would like to always be your friend, Michelle. People come and go in your life, but some are special. I feel that with you, even after such a short time."
"Me, too." She blurted it out, relieved he understood.
"Would you like to see my studio?" he asked. "It's near here, and I can show you a commission painting I am just finishing up."
"I'd be honored," she answered, finishing her coffee.
Roberto's place was a short ride away from the restaurant on a quiet residential street. It turned out it was actually a two-level flat; he used the downstairs living room area for his studio with his sleeping space on the second floor. For a moment, Michelle was taken aback to realize they were at his flat but then chastised herself for being judgmental. He'd brought her here to show her his work. Clearly, he did have a few pieces in progress.
He pulled a large canvas into the light to show her. "This is the commission work. The one Arturo and I fought about last night. It is almost done, but he wanted it sooner than it will be ready."
It was an exquisite piece of art of an elderly Spanish woman with soulful eyes and a whimsical expression tweaking her lips as if she recalled a time of her youth.
Michelle knew her aunt would absolutely adore the piece if even she could see how magnificent it was. "May I take a photo to show my aunt? I swear it won't go anywhere else."
"Of course. I take pictures of all my art since none of it stays with me." He held it up for her to photograph with him in it.
"Tell me about this painting. Did the person who wanted it send you a photo of the woman or an idea of what he wanted?" She studied the countenance a little more. It had a Mona Lisa quality to it in the enigmatic look of the lips and the distant expression of the eyes. Roberto definitely had talent.
"Si, he told Arturo what he wanted, but he left the details up to me. He simply said he wanted an old woman outside an adobe casa recalling her youth. Very simple. And he specified the size of the canvas."
"It's an amazing piece of art, Roberto. I think your client will be thrilled with it. Do you know who he is?"
He shook his head. "No, I get the order through Arturo, and he doesn't even know who the client is. It's ordered through a broker in Sevilla who often requests special paintings for clients who do not wish to identify themselves. It's an odd arrangement, but they pay me well for my paintings. I will make almost five hundred Euros off this one."
"That's good then. Show me your other paintings."
The four paintings he was working on were in various stages of painting and drying. He explained how he did the pictures of the town and beaches, which were all very similar. Popular with the tourists, he sold many comparable canvases.
"The ones your aunt bought are more unique," he told her. "I paint those of people in the towns and from my heart. They are a moment of the soul."
He picked up another painting of a raven-haired girl a little older than Michelle, standing in a garden with the mountains in the background. Her hands caressed a rose. Like the old woman, the wistful look on the girl’s face called out to her.