The Art of Appreciation

by Markus, Autumn

  “Well,” Sarah said, moving Abby’s head to the bed and sitting up with a groan, “thanks to David’s magic Visa, I’m flying home.” Her face lighted at the prospect. Abby wondered how long it would take until the late night calls between David and Sarah would become lean-across-the-pillow conversations. She’d lay odds on two days.

  “At least you’ll have my car if it gets to be just…too much. Or too little.” Sarah gave her friend a slanted smile.

  “Not much chance of that,” Abby answered, and they both snickered.

  Grabbing Abby’s bags, Sarah headed for the door. “I’m done lecturing. I suck at it anyway.” She turned with an uncharacteristically sober look on her face and grasped Abby’s hand. “Just promise me, doll…promise me that you will leave if it hurts too bad. September is going to be a nightmare for you, you do realize that?”

  “Yeah…” Abby answered. “Everything else around here finished?”

  “She said, decisively changing the subject,” Sarah shot back with a grin. “Yes. All perfect and pristine…except for the damn stain on her loveseat, but her new, improved door should make up for that. She doesn’t have to know that Matt did the whole thing, right?”

  “Not the loveseat.”

  “No, that was all me. Or David. And I worried about you and Matt on the stupid thing.”

  “Lalalalala, not listening.” Abby plugged her ears. “Let’s just get you to the airport before my ears start bleeding from all the details you’ve already offered.”

  The drive into the city was uneventful, aside from a massive amount of teasing on both sides, and Abby dropped Sarah off at San Francisco International Airport after a flurry of kisses, hugs, exchanges of keys, and last minute messages to friends on both coasts.

  After leaving her friend, Abby drove to Golden Gate Park to see some of the things she hadn’t had time to visit with Matt. Then she took the long way back to Santa Cruz, driving along the coast on Highway 1, pulling off at times to take in the magnificent views. Despite how calm she’d been in front of Sarah, the reality was that doing something so drastic as moving in with Matt, even if it was only for a month, was far out of her comfort zone, and she needed some time to herself. Finally pulling into the driveway at Matt’s house, she felt a flutter of mixed anxiety and excitement.

  As she got to the front door, it eased open and Chris appeared, duffle bag slung over his shoulder and a smile on his face. “Hey, girl! I thought I heard your car. Where you been?”

  “I decided to sightsee a bit. Hey, you don’t have to leave, Chris. I didn’t mean to kick you out.”

  He set his bag down so he could use both hands to sweep his hair back into a rough ponytail. “Ain’t no big thing. Matt’s a good guy for letting me crash for as long as he has. And before you get that funny-ass stricken look on your face again, no, he didn’t ask me to leave.” Chris laughed. “Too late to stop the look. I’m staying at Jason’s.” He held up a hand. “I know, I know. But he turns out to be a pretty decent guy. He and his friend will be out of town a lot, so…” He shrugged and hefted his bag.

  “If you’re sure,” Abby said uncertainly.

  Chris grabbed the handles of both of her bags in his free hand and carried them into the living room, dropping them in the middle of the floor. “Hell, yes. No stress.” He glanced back toward the kitchen and lowered his voice. “You might want to let him know you’re back, though. He’s been doing his own version of batshit-crazy since lunchtime. His sculpture would be almost finished if he’d carved as much as he paced.” There was a beep from outside, and he smiled at Abby, ruffling her hair. “That would be Jason. Go set my cousin’s mind at ease, woman. Be good to each other.”

  A half-minute later, he was gone, and Abby was left in the living room, looking down at her bags and chewing her lip. To take them right into Matt’s bedroom seemed forward, so she decided to leave them where they lay and to go look for her artist.

  She found him in his studio. The set of his shoulders was tense, far more so than his sweeping strokes at the waistline of the sculpture should have indicated, and Abby regretted not having called him. She slid her arms around his middle and rested her forehead against his back. “Hi,” she said softly.

  Matt stiffened; Abby had a moment’s horror that he was going to pull away from her before he relaxed. “Hi,” he answered in the same tone. He pressed her arms against his stomach before tossing the sculpting knife onto the revolving tabletop. “I thought maybe you got lost. Or decided not to come back.”

  Abby turned him around. “I’m sorry. I never meant to worry you. You were so absorbed when I left this morning that I thought you might appreciate uninterrupted work time. Plus, I’m not used to checking in with anyone, I guess. Boy, this is a good beginning, isn’t it?”

  Matt kissed her firmly. “Beginnings are usually awkward. I’m done here for tonight. Give me a few minutes to clean up, and then I want to hear about your day.”

  She smiled, turning her face up, eyes closed, for another kiss before retreating to the kitchen. After rifling through the cupboards and fridge, she set to work on a simple pasta dish. She turned when Matt hummed in pleasure as he entered the room a few minutes later. “You didn’t have to do that, Abby. We could have gone out.”

  Abby laughed. “My not-so-secret: you’ve taken in a terrible bore. I’d rather stay in than go out most any night. Sorry now?”

  Matt pushed himself away from the counter and reached over Abby’s head to grab two plates from the cupboard. “Nope. I’m a homebody myself.” They smiled at each other, delighted to find they had something so basic in common. “Wine?”

  With no pressure to rush, dinner was a pleasure, and Abby found herself talking more than she thought she would. Matt’s hands danced in the air as he described what he’d accomplished that day, and she smiled. Matt cleaned up after dinner, making short work of the few dishes. He grabbed a second bottle of wine and their glasses and headed for the living room when he was finished. He raised an eyebrow at Abby’s bags, still sitting in the middle of the room.

  “I didn’t know what to do with them. I don’t want to put you out for space for a month.”

  A shadow crossed Matt’s face as he passed his burdens to Abby and picked up the bags. “You’re not putting me out. I want you here. For however long, this is your home, okay?” He took her bags to his bedroom while Abby poured them both another glass of wine. When he returned, he asked, “So, what was your favorite thing during your sightseeing today?”

  Abby curled up on the sofa. “The tea garden, I think. I was thinking how much my mom would like that.” She laughed. “She’s in a Japanese phase now. You should have seen the fit my dad had when she had her studio fitted out to fire raku pottery—expensive proposition.”

  Matt’s eyes lighted with interest. He sat down beside Abby, pulling her feet onto his lap. “I didn’t know your mom was a sculptor. What does your dad do?”

  Abby shook her head. “Mom’s more of a potter-slash-artist of all trades. Does a bit of everything. Dad’s a wood carver and furniture maker. They’re madly in love, when they’re not driving each other crazy.”

  “Nice. So you come by this ‘art thing’ naturally.”

  “You could say that. Mom decided early on that I was born to be a painter, so I think I held a brush before I could use a fork.” Her look turned pensive. “Funny thing was, I did love it, no matter what else I tried.” Emotions flickered across her face. “Anyway,” she said with forced brightness, “desire and talent don’t necessarily go hand in hand, do they? Tell me about teaching.”

  Matt’s struggle to not question her further was plain on his face. Abby squeezed his hand gratefully as he let the topic drop, but she recognized that it would probably be revisited in the future. They talked well into the night, switching to water when the wine was gone, and when Abby felt Matt curl around her after making love, pulling her back against his chest and tightening his arm around her, she knew her decision to stay was the only poss
ible choice she could have lived with.

  As it turned out, giving Matt space to work was easier than Abby had anticipated. Preparations for the children’s art show ended up taking a lot more time than she had anticipated, though she had a suspicion that Claire was handing off more responsibility and making the event broader than it had been previously, partly because she had Abby’s help and partly because she wanted to keep her artist focused.

  Though Abby had been slow to warm to the challenge of working with children, she’d gradually come to enjoy her long days with them. Watching the determination with which they attacked each task, completely assured that everything they created was a masterpiece, reminded of her of the joy she’d felt as she had clutched a paint brush under her parents’ loving eyes. She hadn’t felt that confident since childhood.

  Thinking of her mother gave her an idea for a pottery project. A simple oven couldn’t be that difficult to construct. Maybe she could even convince Matt to let her borrow his kiln. Abby smiled, considering what type of payment she could offer.

  “Matt!” She let the door slam behind her in her excitement. “Hey, I have an idea that needs your help.”

  “Back here,” he answered, his voice already full of smiles.

  Abby hurried through the house, dropping her bag on a kitchen chair. “I know you’ll love this…”

  Her smile became fixed when she spotted the addition of an easel to Matt’s studio. Next to it was a low table covered with boxes, tubes, and brushes. Several blank canvases rested against the wall, and a large folder leaned against them.

  Abby walked toward the table. She touched the items, lingering over the watercolors, a medium she’d not tried before. “Claire helped me pick that stuff out,” Matt said, his tone anxious. “I wasn’t sure which you preferred.”

  Abby tried to sort out her mixed emotions, not wanting to say the wrong thing and create tension during their last couple of weeks together. She reached out with a finger to stroke the feathery-light ends of the brushes.

  “I thought it would be a way for us to be together during the day without you feeling like you’re bothering me.”

  “It has nothing to do with your ex talking about painting but never doing it? Because, honestly, Matt, I could live forever without—”

  “Oh, God, no!” Matt’s expression was horrified. “Abby, just…no.” He walked over to take her hand. “I told you, I don’t even think about Kate at all. I just…” His expression was stormy. “I want you here with me, for as long as you can be.”

  Abby released a shaking breath. “I thought we were living for today, Matt.” She leaned her head against him and listened to the thumping of his heart.

  “I know, I know. I feel disgustingly clingy, but I have to prove to myself that you’re still here, that you still want me. Yesterday afternoon…”

  “Was incredible.”

  “Thank you,” Matt said, grinning. “But I can’t keep that up. I’ll never finish this sculpture. And I might have a heart attack. I’m not as young as I once was.”

  “I have no complaints,” Abby said, laughing as something loosened in her chest. Matt had no agenda other than being with her. “With age comes experience, and I’d choose that any day.” She shooed Matt back toward his sculpture. “Go. Be a genius while I putter.” Matt kissed her hard and headed toward his revolving table. He picked up his tools with renewed vigor and started to whistle along with the music that played on the stereo.

  Abby considered the implements Matt had provided. Aside from quick sketches, she hadn’t used real artists’ tools since her junior year in college. Settling on a pad of paper and a pencil as the best way to ease into it, Abby began to sketch the first thing that came to mind: little Jeremy’s broad smile that day as his fingers dripped paint. Before she knew it, the scene was sketched out and she was adding depth and shading with quick strokes of the pencil.

  “Why did you quit, Abby?”

  Matt’s voice from behind her was gentle, and she answered without thinking. “My professor said I have mediocre talent.” Her hand slowed to a stop as the scene replayed itself behind her eyes: the jeering tone in the professor’s voice, sudden silence in the classroom. She’d dropped her brush right there and walked straight to her advisor to change her major to art history.

  Matt evaluated her picture. “Your professor was an idiot.”

  “You’re not exactly impartial.”

  “No, but I’m a professional and an academic.” He pointed toward her sketch of Jeremy and the drop of paint that dangled from his elbow. “You’ve given that not only a sense of depth, but the illusion of liquid. Do you know how hard that is to do with pencils? You get gloss from oils or acrylics that help, but to make me thirsty with graphite or charcoal? That’s talent.” He looked very serious. “I wouldn’t lie to you, Abby. This is very, very good.”

  Searching his eyes and finding no evidence of guile, Abby smiled brilliantly. “Thank you.” She was surprised when she looked at her watch. “I can’t believe it’s three already! You want a late lunch?”

  Matt smiled and took her hand. “How about an early dinner? I just talked to Chris; he wants to meet us at the Poet for burgers and drinks.”

  Abby was shocked that Matt had carried on a phone conversation and she’d not heard a word of it, lost in her own world for the first time in years. “I’d like that,” she answered absently, picking up her pencil. She barely heard Matt asking about the great idea she’d mentioned when she’d come in the door. Lost in her sketch, she didn’t recall answering that it was something about a kiln.

  This time, it was Matt who chuckled at her distraction. He kissed her on the back of the neck and promised to ask again later. Then he headed back toward his own side of the room to pick up his wire clay loop.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “I CAN’T BELIEVE I let you talk me into this. I know nothing about this boat, nothing about these waters…this has disaster written all over it.” Abby chewed her nails and stared at the front of the Eastmans’ house.

  Matt smiled. “I trust your skills explicitly.”

  “See if you’re singing the same tune when I crash us into a hidden reef, sharks eat your legs, and you’re wheeling yourself down to the beach, Cap’n Dan.”

  “You wouldn’t push me?”

  “I went down with the ship. You’re on your own.”

  Matt laughed and got out of the car, waiting until Abby had closed her door before he tugged her toward the house. “First, there are no hidden reefs around here. Second, there hasn’t been a shark sighting in months—too many people during tourist season. The fish get scared off, and the sharks follow them.”

  “I was just kidding about the sharks! Now I have another thing to worry about.”

  Matt took her hand and kissed the back before ascending the porch steps. Claire opened the door at his knock. “Right on time. Charles is down at the boat getting everything shipshape. Ready?”

  Abby exhaled a great breath. “Thank God you guys are coming with.”

  Claire looked at Abby quizzically as she gestured for them to enter the house. “Why wouldn’t we? You don’t know anything about the waters here. It would be dangerous to send you out alone.”

  “Oh, I agree,” Abby said hastily, flushing. “It’s just that Matt led me to think…”

  Looping her arm through Abby’s, Claire shook her head. “Matt is a tease. Or he’s dumber than a bag of hammers, as my dad would have said.” She looked at Matt in calculation. “I’d say the jury is still out on that one. Shall we go down to meet Charles?”

  They walked out the back door and across the expanse of lawn. Claire talked animatedly, pointing out the sails as soon as they were in sight. Matt watched Abby’s eyes light up. She giggled as they walked out onto the dock that jetted into a private cove. “That’s a dinghy? I don’t think so.”

  Charles grinned, his sky blue eyes crinkling at the corners. He leaped lithely to the dock, not seeming bothered by the brisk morning
breeze across the water though he wore only a threadbare Rolling Stones T-shirt with shorts. “Well, technically, I think dinghy stops applying when the boat is more than eighteen feet long. This is a bit more than that, but it’s the smallest boat we have, so…” He gestured with a flourish toward the side. “Care to come aboard?”

  “Hell, yes!” Abby said.

  After jumping back on the boat, Charles put out his hand to his smiling wife. As he was getting her settled, Abby wrapped her arm through Matt’s. “A bit more than eighteen feet?” she murmured. “This is at least twice that. Makes our twenty-footer back home look like a toy.” She reached up to take Charles’s outstretched hand and leaped to the deck.

  When Abby turned to Matt and held out her hand to him, her eyes shining, he decided that his sculpture wouldn’t be enough; he had to capture this moment, this smile, as well. Claire must have read the distant look in Matt’s eyes, because she rifled through the bag she’d carried on board and handed him a pad of paper and a pencil. He got immediately to work. Capturing motion in a static media was always a challenge, but he felt sure this subject wouldn’t be a problem; he’d studied Abby so thoroughly that he’d see her clearly in his mind for the rest of his life.

  He heard a groan from behind him. “This fantastic boat…this beautiful cove…and you’re sketching me?”

  Matt smiled down at the paper. “What boat? What cove?”

  “Crazy man,” Abby said. “Charles wants to show me around his baby and teach me a little about this coast. Do you mind?”

  “Nope. Have fun.”

  Having sailed with Charles and Claire often, Matt knew enough to stay out of the way and just enjoy the sun. After finishing his sketch, he set it aside and stretched his legs out on the deck. He tipped his head back.

  “Posing?” Claire teased.

  “I thought you were a boat lackey.”

  “I’ve been supplanted by someone who actually cares.”