Waiting for You

by Elle Spencer

  Even with the house lit up and the tree decorated, December had felt cold for lots of reasons. Lindsay had packed up all the paintings of the boy and put them in storage along with the paintings of Roo. Then Brooke went to Europe for ten days. Lindsay had found it difficult to get in the Christmas spirit with so much missing from her life.

  She thought of Ren every day. Longed for her touch and to hear her voice again. Nothing was keeping her from making contact. Of course, nothing was keeping Ren from making contact either. And yet, neither of them did. They’d left it where it was, a beautiful memory.

  That night, the school choir was putting on a Christmas performance for the town as a thank you for supporting their efforts to make the trip to Europe. She chose to wear a blue and gray scarf instead of the more festive red or green like everyone else was sure to do. “No reason,” she said out loud to no one. She wrapped the scarf around her neck a couple of times and tucked a matching knit hat in her coat pocket.

  * * *

  You Mocha Me Crazy was You Mocha Me Busy. Lindsay circled the block again, looking for an open parking spot. She wasn’t walking into the coldest place in town without a tall Americano, extra hot, in her hand. Patty blamed the lack of heat in her gallery on the renovations. Lindsay blamed it on Patty’s early menopause. There were other symptoms. Paranoia. Nervousness. Indecisiveness. Moodiness. All the nesses, Patty had them lately.

  And the headaches. Patty couldn’t get lunch because she had a headache. She couldn’t come over for dinner because she had a headache. Lindsay was starting to feel like a sexually deprived husband. If Patty had found a new best friend or something, she should just be honest about it. The headache excuse was getting old.

  “Yes!” Lindsay slammed on the brakes and waited for a car to reverse out of the parking space.

  Deb knew how to heat a building. Or maybe it was all of the warm bodies filling up the tables. Lindsay gave her a wave from the back of the line. She acknowledged a few people she knew and waited because cold gallery plus no hot coffee would make for a cranky Lindsay.

  Deb came from behind the counter. “Hey, Linds. What are you doing here?”

  Lindsay furrowed her brow. “Um…coffee?”

  “Right. Right. Um, so how are you? I love that jacket. What is that, teal?”

  Lindsay looked at her Patagonia jacket. “I know, not exactly Christmasy, but I just couldn’t bring myself to wear the ugly sweater this year.”

  “The one with the injured squirrel climbing up your arm and the holly that’s really poison ivy?”

  Lindsay put up her finger. “Wait. Are you telling me that my ugly sweater is infamous?”

  “Some of us wait all year to see it again,” Deb said.

  “Well, crap. I should go home and change. I didn’t think anyone would even notice. Don’t want to disappoint my sweater fans.” One of the high school kids Deb had hired came around the counter with a to-go cup and handed it to her. “Oh. I could’ve waited in line like everyone else, but thank you.”

  “Please. Perks of knowing the owner.” Deb took her arm and led her to the front door. “I think you have someplace to be, don’t you?”

  Lindsay looked at her watch. “Yeah, gotta run. Patty’s waiting for me.” She opened the door and turned back around. “How did you know?”

  Deb smiled and gave Lindsay a small push out the door. “Enjoy your surprise.”

  * * *

  The gallery felt warm. “Cakes? It’s actually a reasonable temperature in here. Have the hot flashes subsided? What about the secrecy and paranoia? And don’t tell me you’re not here because you have a headache.” The door was unlocked. Of course Patty was there. “Cakes?”

  “I’m back here!”

  Her reply came from behind a large sheet of plastic that covered the dressing room area. “I don’t want to go back there. Come out.”

  Patty came through an opening in the sheet. “It’s not dusty anymore. Wanna see?”

  “Can I stand right here and see?”

  Patty gave the sheet a good tug, and it fell to the ground. Behind it was a wide-open space with bright white walls. New lighting lit up the space. “It looks fantastic, Cakes. But what about the memorial you painted? You know, with all the words.”

  “Two things,” Patty said. “Number one, my best friend wouldn’t come into my gallery anymore because she hated the memorial so much, and number two, it’s still a memorial.”

  “How so?”

  Patty went to the far wall where a sheet covered something on the wall. “Are you ready?”

  “So it’s not menopause? I’m so relieved. You’re way too young.”

  “Focus, Linds.”

  Lindsay cleared her throat. “Right. I’m ready. Always dangerous words where you’re concerned, but yep, ready. Hit me.”

  Patty pulled the sheet away, and Lindsay gasped. “Cakes!”

  Patty stood behind Lindsay and put her hands on her shoulders. “She’s too beautiful to keep locked away. The world should see her and know who she was.”

  Lindsay stood there, stunned. It was the painting of Roo. The one where she was looking over her shoulder, lit up and on display for the whole world to see. Roo, who had suffered in that very spot, was there again, looking larger than life and full of joy. Patty was right. It was the perfect memorial. Lindsay wiped a tear from her cheek and turned. “This is amazing, Cakes. Just amazing.”

  “That’s not all,” Patty said. “Go in the first dressing room.”

  Lindsay opened the door and found a book sitting on the bench. She sat and opened it. Her mouth dropped open when she saw a photo of Roo. Below it was her name, Eleanor Roosevelt Allred. Lindsay had painted her image almost perfectly. “Roo,” she whispered through her tears.

  Lindsay took the book and rushed out of the dressing room. “Cakes! I can’t believe—” She stopped short when she saw Ren.

  “If you keep reading,” Ren said. “You’ll see that Roo and Katie’s story didn’t end in this place.”

  “No?” Lindsay said.

  Ren took a step closer. “Roo’s family was wealthy, so after the incident, she was shipped off to Europe to finishing school. Katie’s family didn’t have much, but she had the talent and big dreams to become a famous artist.” Ren pointed. “Just like you.”

  Lindsay shook her head in disbelief. “You know who Katie was?”

  “Kathryn Beck. But she didn’t paint under that name. She ran off to Europe to find Roo and changed her identity. They raised a child together, Linds. A boy.”

  Lindsay covered her mouth with her hands. The boy she’d painted over and over but never knew who he was had an identity now. It was almost too much to take.

  “You don’t have to feel sad anymore,” Ren said. “They found each other again and shared a happy life for twenty great years.”

  Lindsay went still. “Twenty years? What happened after that?”

  “There was a terrible car accident,” Ren said. “Neither of them survived. But before that tragic day, they built a life together. A good life. And if my research is correct, Katie painted under the name K.C. Allred. She took Roo’s name, Linds. They were as good as married. Just like Millie and Mrs. Stokely.”

  Lindsay’s hand shook as she reached for Ren. “And the boy?”

  Ren stepped closer. “I thought maybe we could find that part out together. He lives in a nursing home in Switzerland. His name is Matthew Allred.”

  Lindsay let out a little laugh through her tears. “I’ll have to get used to the new name. I love your new hairstyle.” Ren had a shorter, blunt cut. She looked amazing. Lindsay took out her phone. She held it up and took a photo.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Capturing this moment. You at this moment. So I can paint you later.” Lindsay looked at the photo. Her voice full of wonder, she said, “I don’t think we know anything about the universe. Nothing at all.”

  Ren took Lindsay’s hand. “Paint us going to Switzerland to visit Matthew. Then pa
int us living in Paris together while you attend that art school you had to put off for Brooke.” She took Lindsay’s other hand. “Paint us happy and in love because I’m already in love with you. We just need the happily ever after part.”

  “I’m in love with you too,” Lindsay said. “I always have been.”

  When their lips met, Patty cheered from outside. She rushed back in with Brooke in tow, grinning from ear to ear. Lindsay and Ren pulled them into a group hug. Lindsay glanced at the painting of Roo. She wasn’t meant to let her go. And the woman in her arms—Ren—she was meant to love forever. “Now,” Ren said. “About this ugly sweater I keeping hearing about…”

  About the Author

  Elle Spencer (http://ellespencerbooks.com) is the author of several best-selling lesbian romances, including Casting Lacey, a Goldie finalist. She is a hopeless romantic and firm believer in true love, although she knows the path to happily ever after is rarely an easy one—not for Elle and not for her characters.

  When she’s not writing, Elle loves working on home improvement projects, hiking up tall mountains (not really, but it sounds cool), floating in the pool with a good book, and spending quality time with her pillow in a never-ending quest to prove that napping is the new working.

  Elle grew up in Denver, and she and her wife now live in Southern California.

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