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Stroke of Love

Page 22

by Melissa Foster


  “You are more than worthy of me, Sage. So you get a little lost in your work.” She shrugged, but he saw a shadow in her eyes.

  “That look you have right now? I’ll never be the cause of it again. Come on. Let’s find Luce. We’re getting a little deep, and if I can’t carry you up the stairs to your hut and make sweet love to you to get rid of that hint of worry in your eyes, then at least I can deliver you to a girlfriend who is better prepared to tell you all the reasons why you can’t put up with a forgetful artist.”

  THEY FOUND LUCE sitting at the small table in her cabin, surrounded by handwritten notes scrawled on notebook paper. She looked up as they said hello through the screened door. Her hair hung straight down her back, still wet from a shower.

  “I knew you’d find your way here eventually,” she said. “Come on in.”

  Luce waved to the bed. “Sit down. I want to show you guys something.”

  Kate sat on the bed, and Sage hovered over the table, scanning the loose papers. “You’ve been busy.”

  “Hell yes. Like a dog with a bone.” She gathered the papers in a pile and reached for Kate’s beer. She took a long drink. “Oh, that is so good on a hot night. Thank you.” She handed the bottle back to Kate. “Sage, I’ve been thinking about your idea, and I made a few phone calls. Do you know Shea Steele?”

  Luce had a spark in her eye that Kate hadn’t seen more than a few times since she’d known her.

  “No,” Sage answered.

  “She’s one of the best internationally connected nonprofit PR reps around. Whatever she touches turns to gold. She splits her time between Colorado and New York. Anyway, I hope you don’t mind, but I asked her take on your concept, and she had some great ideas about how to package and market it. She said she knows companies that’ll want to invest if you want to go that route, and she rattled off at least fifteen artists she thinks will want to take part. You might want to give her a call when you get home.” Luce shuffled through the papers and spread three of them out across the table. She tapped one repeatedly, her eyes darting from Sage and Kate.

  “I also did some research on different nonprofits that started and failed that had to do with the arts. I haven’t come up with any that were trying to do what you’re thinking of doing, but I did take note of a few so that you could review what didn’t work for them.”

  “Thanks, Luce. This is great information.” Sage picked up the papers and scanned them, then handed them to Kate.

  “So, this is totally real. I mean, we’re really moving forward with this?” Kate already knew it was real, but sitting there with the two of them and seeing that Luce had taken the initiative to research and think so much about the idea was confirmation. The serious look on their faces was proof of their commitment.

  “Unless my attorney comes up with a reason not to or my accountant says it’s going to be a total money sucker with no potential benefit—which we both know isn’t going to happen—then yeah. I think so. I mean, once I took the idea further and went on a fact-finding mission about wells, I realized how much good we could do for people.”

  “You’re doing this because of me.” Kate’s eyes shifted between Sage and Luce.

  Sage sighed. He ran his hand through his hair and rubbed his hand over the tattoo on the back of his neck.

  Kate scrutinized the look in his eyes and quickly named it. “You’ve got another look. The shit, I’ve been caught look.”

  “Kate, the things you said sparked the idea, so in that sense my fact-finding mission began because of you, yes. But if you think I’m doing this as a way to keep my girlfriend around, or as some kind of crazy gift or whim, you’re wrong. This is going to take serious dedication, a lot of travel, and at the beginning, a moderate amount of capital. I’ve got my guys looking into the ins and outs of it all now and we’ll see what they turn up.” He took a long drink of beer and then set his bottle on the table.

  “I’m dying in New York. I’m working day and night because what else is there to do? Go to bars? Socialize with the rich and famous? I told you, I’m spending half my time wondering how to get the hell out of there and the other half buried in my work. I have so much that it turns my stomach to think about it.” He paced the floor.

  Luce tucked her feet beneath her chair, giving him barely enough room to pass.

  “I came here looking for answers, Kate. I found the answer. I love what I do, and it earns me an obscene living. Tossing money into an envelope addressed to charities doesn’t feel good. Doing something for others feels good. Making a difference, meeting the Javiers, Oscars, and Sylvias of the world and helping them get the resources they need to remain healthy or to make their lives better, that’s what matters. Reaching out to the people who value their families and their simple lifestyles instead of their high-powered lunches and their fleet of vehicles, that’s what matters.”

  “Wow. You two really are made for each other,” Luce said.

  “In everyone’s eyes, I have everything. A great town house in Greenwich Village, enough money to buy anything I want, and a studio big enough that I could live in it. But I was empty, Kate. Depleted of all that mattered except my family, and thank God for them. Then I came here, and I met you.” He sat down beside her. “I saw the needs of the people here, and it opened my eyes. You opened my eyes. And then I fell in love with you and—”

  “Love? Love! Whoa, Nelly. Back up.” Luce slapped her palms on the table, her eyes locked on Kate.

  “You knew that. You told me he loved me before he did.” Kate covered her mouth and mumbled “Crap” behind her hand.

  Sage laughed. “I’m that transparent?”

  “Like a kid chasing an ice cream cone,” Luce said with a smile.

  “Go on, please. You fell in love with me, and?” Say it again. You fell in love with me. I’ll never get sick of hearing it.

  “Then I fell in love with you and you were what was missing, Kate. And along with you came your generous heart and your desire to help others. Your industriousness and your determination and your drive. I’d be killing you slowly to ask you to come to New York and drown in the concrete jungle with me. When you love someone, you want to help them be the best person they can be. Kate, I want to help you realize your dreams, not stifle them, and if that means you stay with AIA or another nonprofit, then that’s what you’ll do, and I’ll travel to wherever you are as often as I can. But if we can build a nonprofit together, travel together, use our connections and wealth to help others, then that’s even better.”

  Oh my God. This is real. This is very, very real. She reached for his hand, needing to be sure of him. He was so confident about everything, even without knowing every detail or if they’d succeed. She stole strength from his touch.

  “Okay,” she said softly.

  He continued talking as if she hadn’t spoken. “You’ve helped me find the missing puzzle piece. I needed to have a connection to the outdoors. That much I’ve known since I was old enough to walk, but what I couldn’t figure out was how to quell the nagging feeling that I needed to be doing more. I needed to be giving more, and I needed to still do my art because it’s part of me. Without it I might go insane.”

  Luce’s chin rested on her palm. She had a dreamy look in her eyes. “I think I just fell in love with you.”

  “Hey,” Kate snapped. “Get your sights off my man.”

  Sage shifted his eyes to Luce.

  She touched his cheek to draw his attention back to her. “Okay. I get it. It wasn’t because of me, but I helped you find your way. That’s good. I like that.”

  Sage drew his brows together. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. I really want to do this.”

  He leaned his forehead against hers. “Oh, thank God,” he whispered. “I thought you had reconsidered from earlier.”

  Luce sighed. “This is better than a romance novel. Just don’t sweep her off her feet and take her on my bed.”

  “Luce!” Kate laughed.

  “Sorry for the di
atribe,” Sage said. “I’ve kind of had a lot going on in my head lately. It feels good to get it out.”

  “Belize does weird things to people. When you get back to New York, you’ll wonder who you were for the past few weeks.” Luce reached for Kate’s beer again and took a drink.

  Sage rose to his feet. “I’m a changed man, all right, but it has more to do with Kate than Belize. I’m gonna leave you women alone to talk about romance novels, or the nonprofit, or everything I’ve just said.” He kissed Kate’s cheek. “I promise you I’ll come by tonight.” He turned to Luce. “You’re incredible, Luce. Thanks for all you did. I think we’ve got a winning team. We’ll connect on all of this once I’m back in New York. Until then, I’ve got painting to do and a woman to woo.”

  Kate watched him leave, and as soon as he was out the door, she scooted closer to Luce and leaned forward, whispering conspiratorially, “My badass alpha hunk has a soft side, and I’m totally, completely, one hundred percent head over heels for him.” She flopped back on the mattress with her arms out to her sides.

  “As if I couldn’t tell?” Luce finished Kate’s beer. “Does this mean I’ll be seeing more of you in New York?”

  Kate sat up. “I have no idea.” She laughed. “I have no clue. Not a single detail that I can hang on to or plan around, other than the way I feel about him. He bought me sticky notes.”

  Luce laughed. “Ooooh. Romantic.”

  Kate pushed her knee. “It was romantic. He ordered them from the States two days after he met me. Before we’d even kissed. And a leather day planner. Personalized.”

  “Well, forget the romance novel hero. They usually sweep the heroine off to Paris and buy them diamonds.”

  “I wouldn’t last a day as a heroine, but he’s definitely my hero.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  THE SCHOOL WAS silent, save for the sound of Sage’s breathing and the gentle tapping of his paintbrush against the pallet. The lighting in the classroom wasn’t ideal, but the alternative of painting by moonlight, although more relaxing, wasn’t a suitable option for the images that Sage had in mind. His arm moved in even, steady strokes. The scene in his mind was as vivid as if it were currently taking place before him. He envisioned Kate, wearing a short, colorful dress that hung loosely on her lithe frame, surrounded by rich hues of greens, browns, yellows, reds, and oranges. He imagined her breaking through a wild patch of verdant plants, the undiscovered beach falling away behind her. The water, a few shades lighter than her eyes, and the translucent sky keeping watch over her.

  Sage’s shoulders rounded forward as he focused on defining the lines of her brows, slightly arched up at the edges of her eyes, thinly manicured, so delicate and lovely. It was her lips that gave him trouble. In his mind he saw them as perfectly bowed, the lower lip fuller than the top, slightly parted. But when he dug a little deeper, he felt the fullness of her upper lip against his, and he knew that when he painted, to truly capture the essence of Kate, he had to put the fullness he felt into the image, even if, at first glance, it might appear wrong to others. He chose the brushes carefully, focusing on the shading and the shadows where the corners of her lips came together.

  When he reached her chin, he had to take a step back. Her beautiful chin. That sweet little dimple that softened her face when she was upset. He could imagine that dimple would lend youthfulness when she’d grow old and gray with wrinkles traveling across the loose skin of her cheeks. He wanted to be by her side when she looked in the mirror after decades had passed and know that they’d enjoyed a lifetime together. He set to work on her chin and the line of her jaw. Sweat beaded on his forehead. Without thought, he pulled his shirt off and tossed it on the floor beside him. Hours passed like minutes as he poured his passion for Kate into creating her likeness.

  Kate. God, he loved her. Maybe he would keep this painting as a surprise for her. He could see their lives coming together. Envision a future with her. The thought drove him to check the time. Almost midnight. He wasn’t going to let her down again. He set his paintbrush down and stepped back from the canvas. He breathed a little harder now knowing he needed to stop painting. He promised Kate. It would be so easy to pick up that paintbrush and work for another three hours, four even, until he was content with the rounding of her cheekbones and the cast of light on her perky nose. He reached for the paintbrush. Maybe just a few more strokes. Just a little definition around the dimple. He thought about the frustrating phone call with Jack. Change had to come from within. This he knew, but damn it, what he really needed was a person to take away his brushes and demand that he leave.

  He painted a few more strokes, rounded out the curve of her chin. Jack’s voice rang through his mind. I think you just liked what you were doing more than you liked who was waiting for you. His hand stopped midstroke.

  He set the brush down and stepped back again—every nerve in his body pulled him toward the canvas. Images of the lush forest that he longed to paint appeared in his mind like movie clips, mixing with the fear that if he lost the connection—lost this moment of inspiration—he’d forget the finite details that would make this painting come to life. His hands fisted, fighting against his heart, which willed him to clean up and walk out the door.

  This moment. That’s all they could be certain of. The future was a hope. A dream. He thought of Jack and Linda. Jack had never thought he’d lose her. He’d thought he’d see her after she returned from the store. He hadn’t known she’d skid off the road and take her last breath while wrapped in his arms.

  Sage’s hands began to shake. He clenched his jaw against the memory of his brother’s devastation. The empty look in Jack’s eyes, his loss of will to carry on. Sage picked up his brushes and carried them to the sink, where he scrubbed them clean as if he were on autopilot. Thinking how, when he’d embraced his eldest brother after the accident, he’d felt the difference in him, the numbness that consumed him and settled around him like a cold winter’s day.

  After cleaning his supplies and work area, Sage carried the painting into Oscar’s supply room and left a note for him. He grabbed his shirt from the floor and headed across the thick grass toward the cabins. He stopped in his own cabin. The missing mattress gave the room a deserted, lonely feel. He grabbed clothes for the morning, checked his cell phone for messages, and was surprised to notice he had a new text. He scrolled through a text from Rush. Rush? He clicked on it and read it quickly. Sorry 4 saying that stuff in front of Kate. Didn’t know u were in that deep. Happy 4 you 2. Sage shook his head at how fast word traveled through his family.

  He texted back. No worries. Get 2gether when I’m back?

  Rush responded right away, which didn’t surprise Sage. His brother loved his nightlife as much as he loved skiing. Definitely.

  Sage typed a quick response. K. Shutting off phone, not ignoring u.

  He turned off his phone and tossed it into his suitcase, then headed up to Kate’s hut.

  The lights were out when he arrived, and he found Kate sleeping in one of his T-shirts, sprawled across both pillows. He loved coming home to her, and the realization that he was leaving in a few days weighed heavily on him. If only he could stay with her in Belize, or bring her back to New York with him, but neither was feasible. This was one of those times his father’s words would come in handy. Man up, son. Do what you have to do. He brushed his teeth, washed his face, and then stripped down to his boxers and, careful not to wake her, lay beside her, understanding exactly what Jack had meant—I think you just liked what you were doing more than you liked who was waiting for you—and knowing there was nothing he couldn’t accomplish where Kate was concerned.

  She turned on her side and cuddled against him. He wrapped his arm around her waist and she sighed, a contented sigh.

  “You’re here,” she said sleepily.

  “Always.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  IT DIDN’T MATTER that they’d made love for an hour, or that Caleb had come by to steal Sage away at e
xactly the agreed upon time so Kate could head over to the school with Luce for the surprise party. It didn’t matter that Sage’s favorite bird—a toucan—had appeared right outside their screened-in porch that morning, like a sign that everything was going to be okay, or that now, as she walked toward the school with Luce, her friend held her close and said all the right things to make her feel better. It’s only a few days. You’ll see him soon. He’s gonna miss you just as much. You’ll be so busy here that the time will go quickly. None of it made a difference, because Kate had spent the predawn hours fighting the heartbreak of Sage’s impending departure.

  “Do you want me to figure out a way to stay?” Luce asked as they arrived at the school.

  “No. I want him to stay, and he can’t. I appreciate you asking. I really do. I just feel so…not like myself.” Several of the children ran toward them, speaking so fast that it took all of Kate’s energy to put on a smile and focus enough to catch the meaning of their native tongue. She bent to speak to a little girl with pigtails.

  “Yes, honey. Mr. Sage will be here very soon.”

  Sylvia had made fry jacks—deep-fried pieces of dough with honey drizzled on them—Johnnycakes, eggs, rice, and beans, and they were all laid out on a long table, each covered to keep the bugs away. She looked beautiful in a blue dress and a wide-brimmed hat.

  “Your man will be here soon?” Sylvia asked Kate.

  My man. Great. Here come the tears. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.

  Luce patted her on the back and whispered, “This is so not like you.”

  Kate needed the reminder. She couldn’t fall apart in front of the kids, and really, she couldn’t afford to fall apart at all. She swallowed her sadness and forced a smile. “Yes, he’ll be here very soon. This looks wonderful, Sylvia. Thank you for working so hard.”

  “My pleasure. He is a very nice man,” she said with her thick accent. “The children will miss him.” She winked at Kate. “You will miss him. Not to worry. I will keep your stomach full. That will help.”

 

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