"Is this for me?" Aislinn whispered.
"Aye, it says Red on Green Gallery outside," Shane said.
"Shane, stop it. She knows it is for her. She's having herself a moment," Cait said, narrowing her eyes at her fiancé.
Shane motioned zipping his mouth shut as Flynn slowed to a crawl behind a long line of cars.
"Do you want to walk the red carpet or go around back?"
Aislinn thought about it. What she really wanted to do was sneak in the back door. Which meant she needed to walk the red carpet. As an artist, she'd learned that when something made her uncomfortable, that meant that she needed to push through it. Taking the comfortable route never led to breakthroughs or personal growth. She took a deep breath.
"Red carpet," Aislinn said.
"I'll get out and run ahead, talk to security," Shane offered and slipped from the SUV. Aislinn watched him approach two men in suits and then gesture to the car. They nodded and waved towards the door. Aislinn saw Martin step from the front doors of gallery and she smiled at his gray paisley suit. The man had a style all his own, she thought.
Martin waved their car forward and panic gripped Aislinn.
"What if I trip?"
"Then you get up, silly," Cait said easily and Aislinn stopped herself.
So what if she tripped? That was what life was all about. The moods of her paintings reflected that. The ocean whispered her secrets to anyone that wanted to listen. Pain, joy, love, anger, and sadness….all were a part of the human experience. The point wasn't to avoid the emotions. It was to embrace them and live life through them, as majestically and flamboyantly as the dramatic waters of the sea did.
A chill swept over Aislinn and for a moment, she felt like something soft brushed against her cheek. Instantly, a calm settled through her and she straightened her shoulders, shifting herself to turn so that she could easily step from the car.
"Ready?"
"I'm ready," Aislinn said and waited until the door opened before stepping into a blinding flash of light from the crowd of cameras that lined the red carpet. She'd never experienced anything like it before. Martin was immediately by her side, hooking his arm through hers, and she was grateful for his support. Cait snagged her purse from her and together, she and Martin posed for reporters and answered questions.
"You look magnificent, my dear. Like a flame that is devouring itself," Martin whispered to her and she turned to smile at him, grateful for his support.
"I'm sorry that I couldn't get here earlier," she whispered.
"No need, your show is flawless. One of the easiest that I've ever had to set up," Martin assured her and they swept through the slick doors of the gallery and Aislinn gasped.
"Oh…oh I'm going to cry," Aislinn whispered and Martin immediately pulled a handkerchief from his pocket.
"It was Morgan's idea."
"It was spot on. I need to give her a raise," Aislinn said. She had wondered where Morgan had disappeared to earlier today.
What looked like thousands of candles ran the length of the room, clustered on driftwood-style pillars and small tables. Clear glass votive holders lined pathways through the gallery while larger pillar-style candles were clustered in odd groupings on the tables. It was the only light in the gallery aside from the soft lights that highlighted the paintings and the effect turned the gallery into a mystical, enchanting underwater cave. Her paintings raged across the walls while the candles flickered softly, the movement of the light seeming to make the waters of her paintings roll and dance.
It was the most exciting and humbling thing that Aislinn had ever experienced.
"I can't believe that these are mine," Aislinn breathed.
Martin nodded in agreement. "Every great artist has a tendency to step back, as though emerging from a cloud, to look at what they've created and wonder…how did that come from me?"
Aislinn nodded at Martin. He understood.
"That doesn't mean you are a fraud, my dear. It just means that you are so immersed in your work that you don't always step back to see the bigger picture. And, this, oh this bigger picture, it's magnificent," Martin purred and pulled her through the line of candles as her paintings writhed in emotion around her, to her masterpiece.
The Revelation.
The panels were hung perfectly on the wall, and what had to be a thousand candles lined the floor in front of it, creating a barrier between people and the painting. The light danced across the panels and the painting was haunting, ethereal, and like a punch to her gut.
Aislinn looked at the glow from the cove and the softly lit figures that walked the sand beach. Turning, she looked at Martin.
"Sell it," she said flatly.
Martin drew back, his eyes wide in awe…and concern.
"You're quite sure?"
"Yes," Aislinn said simply and turned to where a line of people stood at the doors. "Shall we get started?"
"Of course, let's get you set up over here with your friends to start." Martin motioned to where Cait and Keelin and the others stood in the corner. She saw Morgan peeking out from behind the group, clad in a black knit dress, looking like a model having just stepped off the Paris fashion runways.
"Morgan!" Aislinn exclaimed and ran to her, wrapping her arms around the girl and pulling her in. Morgan stiffened for just a moment and then allowed herself to be hugged by Aislinn. It was a big improvement from her earlier days of refusing to be touched, Aislinn noted and then drew back from the girl.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you. You've brought my show to life," Aislinn whispered.
"No, it was just an idea; your paintings needed a moody sort of lighting is all that I could think." Morgan shrugged it off but Aislinn grasped her arm and turned her to look out at the gallery.
"No, look at this. Really look at it. You've talent. We are going to talk more about this when we get back home. I think that I have some ideas on a direction for you…if you'd like?" Aislinn raised her eyebrow in question at Morgan and the girl nodded furiously.
"Aye, I'd love that."
Turning, she nodded at Martin and he pushed the doors open, inviting the waiting crowd of people.
"Ready? I'm going to say that I knew you when you weren't famous," Cait declared and snagged an appetizer from a passing waiter with a tray.
Aislinn laughed at her and turned to greet the incoming crowd of people.
An hour later, Aislinn's head was dizzy. She'd had her cheek pinched, her shoulder patted, and more than one invitation to dinner. People had congratulated her, condescended to her, and asked to commission her work. Her head spun at the craziness of it all.
Stepping back from the latest art buyer, who was trying to discuss painting technique and her motivation for one of the fury paintings, she reached for a glass of champagne to cool her dry throat.
The crowd swirled around her and Aislinn could see more than one discreet SOLD sticker on the paintings that lined the walls. She couldn't bring herself to look at The Revelation.
A flash of red caught her eye and she turned to see Fiona sailing through the crowd, her arms full of red poppies.
For a moment, just a brief second, happiness filled her as she thought about Baird. She crushed the thought down, refusing to think about him, knowing that if she did, the cold knot in her stomach would seep through her until it overtook the joy from the experience of her first show.
Fiona stopped before her and smiled up at her.
"Flowers? For me?" Aislinn smiled, refusing to think about how closely they matched the bouquet that Baird had given her just a day ago.
"For you," Fiona said, and as Aislinn reached to take them, she glanced up, across the room.
For a moment, time stood still and she could have sworn that she saw Baird standing in front of The Revelation. Her heart stopped and stricken, she raised her arm to say something, to motion to security to have him removed.
Fiona grabbed her arm and turned her, pulling her towards a quiet corner, Aislinn tried to look
over her shoulder, but the old woman was speaking to her.
"There's a card," Fiona said, her words finally penetrating the fog that hung around Aislinn's head.
"Oh, what? Oh," Aislinn said and looked down at the glowing bouquet of flowers in her arms. The petals so closely matched the color of her dress, it was hard to see where one stopped and the other started. Dipping her hands into the blooms, she pulled a small card from the depths of the bouquet.
I believe in you. Can you believe in us?
Aislinn's heart clenched and tears threatened to fill her eyes. Fiona reached out and grabbed her arm, and as a small tingle of energy washed through her, Aislinn's eyes cleared.
"I don't usually do that, but there should only be tears of happiness tonight, my child," Fiona said and Aislinn raised her eyes, grateful for Fiona's help.
"He's here?" Aislinn breathed.
"He'll not disturb you. But the question on the card is valid," Fiona said.
"What? You're on his side?" Aislinn raised her eyebrows in shock at Fiona.
"I'm on the side of love," Fiona said easily, smiling up at her.
"He hurt me," Aislinn breathed.
"Aye, and it won't be the last time," Fiona said. "That's the thing with love…with emotions. It's messy. Things become intertwined, feelings hurt, and it's only true love when you seek to understand the other person's motivations and agree to forgive. That is the type of love that grows over the ages. A lasting, forgiving love."
"So you want me to forgive him?" Aislinn asked.
Fiona laughed and gestured around to the paintings that raged across the walls.
"You need to look to yourself for that answer, my dear. But, ask yourself this…why didn't you tell him that you loved him? What are you afraid of?"
Aislinn stopped, ready to defend herself, and then her eyes went to the trio of paintings across the room.
"I'm afraid that he won't love me or accept me…all of me," Aislinn whispered.
"And what happens if he doesn't?"
Aislinn shrugged her shoulders. "Then I pick myself up, paint through my heartbreak and move on."
"Exactly. The world won't stop for you. But what if he does…love you. All of you?"
Aislinn felt a warmth flow through her and she smiled at Fiona. "Then my world opens up, my life moves on, but with him by my side."
Fiona nodded at her.
"Exactly. Two different paths through this world. In both, you'll find your way through. One way might bring your more happiness, is all." Fiona reached up and kissed her cheek. "It seems to me that you have a decision to make."
"You're right. And, here I am, acting all hurt and heartbroken when I never even told him that I loved him. And, he all but did everything he could to help make this show a success." Guilt churned at Aislinn suddenly.
Fiona turned a commanding gaze on Aislinn. "I'm not saying that the man doesn't deserve a little butt-kicking. I'm just saying that you have some thinking to do. Oh, and that I am so incredibly proud of you. Would you just look at this?" Fiona swept her arm out to the packed gallery, illuminated by candlelight and the emotions of her paintings. Aislinn caught a glimpse of her mother flirting with Martin and smiled. "It's beyond words. You, my dear, are a power to be reckoned with. Never have I seen such emotion simply bleed from paintings before. I've already purchased one and I'm considering another."
"Fiona! I would have given you one," Aislinn said, her mouth dropping open.
"Absolutely not! I can dine out on purchasing your work for years to come and I'll raise my nose in the air and crow about knowing a famous artist that shows in Dublin." Fiona's eyes twinkled up at her and Aislinn bent to crush the old woman to her chest, not caring if the flowers got damaged.
"You saved me, you know."
"Nonsense. You saved yourself. Now, think about what I've said. Choices to make," Fiona said and then pulled away to follow a waiter with a tray of champagne.
Aislinn looked down at the poppies in her arms.
Choices.
She spied Martin through the crowd and moved through people, holding her hand up politely as people rushed to talk to her. Finally reaching Martin, she pulled him aside.
"Those poppies are fantastic," Martin enthused, looking down at her flowers.
"Martin, don't sell The Revelation," Aislinn whispered to him.
A stricken look crossed the man's face.
"Darling, I'm sorry, I've just completed the paperwork."
"What? You sold it already?"
"Yes, there was a huge line of people that wanted it. I sold to the highest offer. Astronomical price. You'll make out quite handsomely." Martin smiled down at her and Aislinn pasted a polite smile on her face as her heart cracked.
Turning, she walked to her paintings and stood before them, ignoring the crowd of people that surged around her. Her heart hammered in her chest and she struggled to breathe as she realized what she was giving up.
And the realization that it was more than just her paintings.
Chapter Forty
Late that night, Aislinn was still trying to wipe the silly grin off her face. The show had been a smashing success and every painting had sold.
Including The Revelation.
Aislinn shook her head as she forced herself to tamp down on the panic that raced through her at the thought of losing those paintings. With the proceeds from the sales, she planned to harass Martin until he gave her the name of the buyer and then she would buy them back.
Aislinn approached the night manager at the front desk. He smiled brightly at her as she tottered towards him on her heels, half-buzzed from the champagne she'd drunk at dinner after the show.
"Can I help you, miss?"
"Yes, can you tell me if the man in room 338 has checked out? Baird Delaney?"
"One moment, please."
The man scanned his computer and then smiled politely at her.
"Yes, it looks like he checked out around 6:00 pm today."
Before her show. It hadn't been Baird that she had seen at the show after all.
Aislinn tried to push away the sadness that covered her.
Nodding her thanks, she went to the elevators to head to Fiona's room. She had an extra bed in her suite and tomorrow, Aislinn had agreed to ride home with Fiona on the train. It would give her time to decompress from the show without having to talk to people for hours in the car. Fiona knew the power of silence for healing the heart and Aislinn had had her fill of people, of emotions, of absorbing the impact of having an extra gift in the crowds of people that wanted to interact with her. It was positively exhausting trying to keep her mental shields up.
The next morning, Aislinn found herself squished against the window of a train, idly watching the countryside zip by in a state of sheer exhaustion.
She was right, she thought. She did sleep better with Baird around. Aislinn allowed her eyes to unfocus a little so that the countryside blurred past her and she tried to convince her mind to nod off and sleep. Unfortunately, it wasn't working. She sighed and crossed her arms over her chest, continuing the refrain that had plagued her all night.
Why hadn't she told Baird that she loved him?
Not that he was off the hook for hurting her, but – and this was the downside to her gift – she also knew how he felt about her. Like, really knew. And, there had been no subterfuge in his behavior or any underlying motives the day that they had gone to his school. She would have been able to feel it a mile away.
So why did she let herself become enraged with him if she knew – truly knew – that he had meant her no harm?
It was still hurtful, what he had done, she reminded herself. Through the night, as she had tossed and turned, the real reason had finally worked its way to the foreground of her mind.
She was afraid of commitment.
Maybe because she came from a broken home. Or, perhaps it was because she viewed commitment as a responsibility and much of her life as an artist had been based on eschewing respons
ibilities and following her own path. And, she'd finally reached the conclusion that just because she was afraid of something didn't mean that she shouldn't try it. Typically when something frightened her, she challenged it or jumped in feet first. She couldn't be scared of being hurt, Aislinn lectured herself. Look at the beautiful paintings she had created in the midst of her fury. Could she really call herself an artist if she refused to allow herself to feel the full spectrum of human emotion, both good and bad?
Uncomfortable with the turn that her thoughts had taken and knowing that she most likely owed at least a small portion of an apology to Baird, Aislinn sighed again.
“Huffing and puffing isn’t going to make this train move any faster,” Fiona murmured and Aislinn shot her a grin.
“I’m glad that you came with me, thank you," Aislinn said.
"Of course. I can't wait to hang my paintings when they arrive."
"I could have had Morgan bring them back with her."
"Nonsense. And miss having the cute delivery man come to my cottage? Never."
Aislinn chuckled at Fiona, loving her presence and enjoying the soothing effect that Fiona inevitably had upon her. It was easy to lose herself in the rhythm of the train, the clicking of the wheels against the rails, the exhaustion that pressed against her eyes. She promised herself that she would take a sleeping pill when she got home, just simply fall face down in her bed and hide from the world. Just for a day.
"Ah, Fiona. What am I going to do?"
"Paint more paintings, become world famous, let Morgan run your shop." Fiona shrugged her shoulders.
"You know what I'm talking about," Aislinn said.
Fiona dipped her head and looked at Aislinn over her reading glasses. "Sure and you aren't thinking that I'm going to tell you what to do with your love life."
Aislinn looked back out of the window, the green landscape sliding past her, and grimaced.
"I think that I owe him an apology."
"So apologize," Fiona said simply.
"You make it sound so easy," Aislinn protested.
"It is. Nobody ever feels worse after giving an apology, you know," Fiona commented.
Wild Irish Soul Page 17