Love & The Goddess

by Coen, Mary Elizabeth

  “Hi Shannon, I’m Kate.”

  “I know. I wondered what you’d be like. Do you like your picture?”

  “It’s gorgeous. Very flattering.”

  “Come downstairs. I know Dad’s looking forward to seeing you.” My face must have betrayed my shock at her willingness to share her father with me, because she leaned forward as though sharing a secret. “To be honest, I hope you’ll save him from the black widow’s clutches!”

  “Black widow?” I wondered was she referring to Myra.

  “Never mind. She’s no competition as Dad’s already said he likes you. Come on down with me or you’ll miss the party. Everyone wants to meet you.” She placed her hands on my shoulders and turned me towards the door. As teenagers go, she was certainly a tour de force – tall and blonde as a Valkyrie with an attitude I’d never before encountered in all my years teaching her age group. As I descended the stairs, I caught sight of a young man with a magnificent dog standing near the door. With an immaculate white coat, shaded dove grey and anthracite in spots, it gave off the air of nobility which Geoff had captured so well in the painting. I went over to them.

  “Hi … I’m Kate. I love your dog.” I bent to stroke the animal. From the corner of my eye, I was relieved to see Shannon disappear without me into the inner room.

  “I’m Liam.” The boy had slanted eyes in a flat face; he extended his hand for me to shake. “And this is Koda, the Indian name for wolf.”

  “Ah! You’re Geoff’s son.”

  “I paint too,” Liam stammered shyly. “Do you?”

  “I used to. Haven’t done for a long time and certainly not as well as your dad does.” Suddenly I was conscious of somebody standing behind me. I could smell his musky scent and my heart skipped a beat before I swung around to see Geoff’s blue eyes looking intently into mine. A smiling Shannon stood nearby, after having obviously directed her father my way.

  “Kate. I see you’ve met my family before we’ve had a chance to talk. Will you take a short walk with me?”

  “Okay, but will your guests not miss you?”

  “Just fifteen minutes to talk outside,” he said to me, while simultaneously throwing a nod at Liam. “Back soon.” The strong father-son bond was immediately obvious in the way they understood each other’s glances.

  Outside the air was chilly and I hadn’t worn a coat over my favourite dress – an art deco patterned silk jersey number in swirly shades of teal, burnt orange and cream. Seeing me shiver, Geoff removed his tan suede jacket and placed it on my shoulders. “No, really, I don’t need it.” I handed it back to him; I didn’t want him having any advantage over me given our previous misunderstanding.

  “I’m so glad you came, Kate. You’ve no idea how much it means to me.”

  “You’re right. I don’t. I’m completely perplexed as to why you chose me to be one of your main subjects.” I sounded unintentionally abrasive, yet I needed to hear his explanation.

  “Kate, I haven’t been able to get you out of my head since that day we spent together. That’s what artists do. We convert our obsessions into art to try and make sense of them.”

  “But you told me you were heading back to Dublin to collect Liam that Saturday. Then I saw you with Myra on Sunday. What was I to think?”

  “I know. That’s why I sent you emails trying to explain but they all bounced back. And I tried calling you, to no avail. You’ve no idea what I’ve been through.” He rubbed the back of his neck in an agitated manner. I resisted a strong urge to console him by wrapping my arms around him. No molly-coddling a man this time around, I reminded myself. The mothering thing doesn’t work long term.

  “Well, if you had been where you told me you’d be, the misunderstanding wouldn’t have happened in the first place. And I found it very odd that you didn’t tell me you were in Galway when I rang on Sunday morning. Surely, I thought, if he’s interested in me he’d have asked to meet me when I told him I was confused?”

  “It all happened unexpectedly,” he said. “My ex rang on Saturday morning to tell me she was taking Liam to see her parents in Drogheda, so there was no need for me to collect him. Then I got a text from Myra telling me she wanted to give me her late husband Joe’s unused canvases, so I thought it was as good a time as ever to call and collect them since I was in Galway.” He stopped to turn and face me. I also halted, expecting him to light a cigarette, but he didn’t. “Myra was supposed to be on her way to the Oyster festival – she’s been a committee member for the past two years. But when I called to her house, I found her in a state of shock, crying her eyes out. She’s not normally like that, but she’d never gotten on with her husband’s family and her mother-in-law had just been on the phone and said something nasty to her about not insisting Joe give up cigarettes after his diagnosis of lung cancer. Myra was inconsolable. He’s only dead four months so it’s still raw for her.” Geoff glanced at me. “I’ve given the cigarettes up by the way.” He waited, looking at me for a reaction before returning to the subject of his late friend. “Joe and I go way back as childhood friends, so I told her I’d stick around and go with her to the festival that day and the next.”

  “And there’s nothing between you and her?” I asked. “I mean you’ve painted her quite a bit.” I realised the ironic nature of my question given that he had painted me and put me on the cover of his brochure.

  “Kate, I only know so many pretty women who carry themselves well. Myra happens to be one of them. I’ve advertised for sitters in the past, but the women who turn up are more suited to page three than art.” He was smiling now and we both laughed. “As well as that, Myra is brilliant at public relations. She knows everyone in the art world and she kindly agreed to help me with this exhibition. But as for fancying her? No. She’s not my type. Too poised and detached for me.”

  “Well, she seemed very possessive of you the day we met in the gallery and you looked very close to her that Sunday. And Shannon suggested something to me about her having you in her clutches.”

  His face flushed crimson and he stopped dead in his tracks. “You met Shannon for just a few minutes and she said all that? Well, why am I surprised? She can be just like her mother.” He spat the words. “Sees and hears the grass growing and thinks she knows what’s best for everyone. God, I’m sorry she said that Kate. I’ll kill her.”

  “Please, Geoff, just tell me the truth. There is something going on between you and Myra, isn’t there?”

  “It was only a snog. I told you the truth about why I went to see her. Then you rang on Sunday morning to say you were confused after meeting your ex and I felt let down. It’s not just women who get hurt when it comes to matters of the heart, Kate.” His eyes were teary as he gave me a pleading look. I never knew what that word “snog” meant. Was it a kiss or was it much more?

  “So the black widow welcomed you into her bed, no doubt?” I threw the bait out to see what he’d say.

  “More like she tried to climb into mine – but that was after you rang, and it was over before it started with her.” He added: “Her husband was my best friend.”

  I felt a flush of anger sweep over me to think how quickly he’d run to her after engaging with me on such a deep emotional level. “Oh my God. I knew it when I saw the two of you together.” I started walking fast with the intention of crossing the street in the direction of the car park, but the traffic whizzed by without a break.

  “Kate … Kate.” He grabbed my arm. “Please give me a chance. There’s nothing between us apart from her setting up the exhibition. Joe asked me to mind her. That’s why I stayed with her when she was upset.” Breaking free of his grip at just the right moment, I made a quick sprint across the street. He followed and once again clamped my arm, tighter this time so I couldn’t move. “Kate, it’s all in her head. I care about you. Please come back to the exhibition with me.”

  I hesitated. “If you let go of my arm … But don’t think it means anything.”

  We walked another few yards b
efore finding ourselves opposite the gallery. I thought about heading for my car but spotted Shannon waving across to us. If he was worth fighting for, then I had a powerful ally on my side. Geoff looked at me, an endearing smile on his face as he held his hand out to me. “Have I told you how much I love holding your hand?”

  “No.” I huffed, refusing to give him mine.

  So instead, he placed his hand gently behind my back as we walked across the street towards the gallery where more guests were arriving. Red stickers had already appeared on nearly all of the paintings, denoting a reserve, and the gallery manager hurried over to us. “It’s a sell out … Unbelievable! I’ve never known this gallery get a crowd like it.” Myra was also coming towards us, a disapproving look on her face. Geoff once again placed his hand on my back, this time as a gesture of reassurance. Throwing me a look of utter contempt, Myra linked her arm in his, trying to drag him away.

  “Geoff, it’s time we opened. People were starting to miss you.” The manner in which she accented her vowels gave the impression she was a member of the Anglo-Irish ascendancy class. The posh accent was perfect for waxing eloquent on matters of art. I found her intimidating.

  “No problem. We can start now,” he said, bringing me through the crowd to the top of the main room.

  “Kate!”

  I swung around to see Ella and Billy. “What are you two doing here?”

  “James rang me a few days ago to tell me you were coming and …” Ella started.

  “… And I wanted to see Geoff’s work so I contacted him through his website and wangled an invite. Aren’t you pleased to see us?” Billy said, finishing her sentence as if they were an old married couple.

  “The two of you?” I said, looking from one to the other.

  Ella laughed and kissed me. “We’ve been going out since your party and we’re getting on pretty fine so far. Happy days.”

  “How’re you getting on with the artist?” Billy asked.

  “So-so.” I said, balancing my hand like a scales.

  “Kate, he’s mad about you,” Ella gushed.

  “How would you know?”

  “We had coffee with him earlier today. Don’t give me that look, Kate. Billy wanted first look at the paintings ’cos he needs some art for the café in the shop. When Geoff heard you were moving to Wicklow he started jumping for joy.”

  I shrugged. “The Myra situation is complicated.”

  “Oh, I know she’s all over him like a bad rash, but it’s obvious he can’t stand her. He’s too polite to tell her where to go.” Then, wrapping a reassuring arm around my shoulders, she continued, “Ignore her, lovey – she’s irrelevant!”

  I was about to answer when Myra began hitting a gong to get the crowd’s attention. I could understand Shannon’s dislike of her now that I saw the possessive way she looked at Geoff. Her condescending attitude was at odds with the bohemian air she worked so hard to affect and the hardness of her jaw hinted at a ruthless streak.

  When the room finally fell quiet, she spoke: “Ladies and gentlemen. You’re all very welcome to Geoff Kelly’s much anticipated exhibition on ‘The Goddess’. This is his first major solo show and judging by the reaction here tonight it certainly won’t be the last. Now please put your hands together to welcome the artist.”

  “Thank you, Myra. Ladies and gentlemen, you’re all extremely welcome. I’m most grateful to you for leaving the warmth of your firesides to face the elements on a cold November night.” He was obviously nervous, his shy blushes endearing, but the gentle laughter that ran around the room seemed to relax him. “Firstly, I want to thank all my Goddesses, some of whom were unwitting models.” Yes, me, I thought, wondering what he would have done if I’d objected. He’d certainly taken a huge risk. “Thanks for being the women you are. I have to posthumously thank my late friend Joe Riordan for all his support. And a special thanks to his wife Myra for organising this. We miss you, Joe, but you’re here in our hearts.” The clapping that followed was controlled, reverential in its deliberate rhythm as Geoff wiped away a tear. He went on, “I’m going to talk to you about my fascination with contradictions or opposites and how they exist side by side like male and female. It’s one of the reasons I love magical realism as an artistic genre, allowing me to combine the ordinary with the extraordinary.

  “I chose Hekate as my poster girl.” He smiled fleetingly at me. “Hekate has learned the gift of alchemy, whereby she can transform her life experience into the gold of wisdom. She knows that a life which has been truly lived is like a multi-coloured tapestry; its inherent flaws adding to its overall beauty. And that brings me back to contradictions; the Goddess is seen as an extraordinary woman, yet she is everywoman. Take Kate here!” He swept his hand over to where I was standing. Oh no! I hadn’t expected to be singled out. “A beautiful woman who embodies the very essence of femininity and creativity while remaining grounded in reality.” Clapping erupted with the odd suggestive whistle. He winked at me, setting my heart fluttering like a hummingbird. I blushed as I became conscious of several people throwing surreptitious glances in my direction. I was mortified by the attention and wished I’d stayed near the back of the room. “Kate is the person who inspired this exhibition. From our first encounter it was obvious that we shared a love of mythology but never before had I met someone who understood the significance of Goddess archetypes in the modern world. Kate was able to bring the myths to life for me, allowing me to see their rich symbolic meaning. As soon as that clicked with me, my art took on a new, more vibrant energy. That’s the reason why I’m suddenly getting reviews like I never got before. To you, Kate, I owe my heartfelt gratitude.”

  Somebody started to clap, then a few more and soon a mad clatter of clapping threatened to lift the roof off the building. I just couldn’t stop myself from smiling and laughing. I’m sure I must have looked like the cheesiest cat that ever got the cream. Well it’s not every day a girl meets a gorgeous man who makes her the star of his show.

  Epilogue

  One year later ...

  “Mam, stop fussing and leave the food alone. It looks amazing, but you don’t. You need to go upstairs and get ready right now.”

  “Okay, okay. As soon as I finish touching up the desserts.” I was just about to refill the piping bag when she snatched it out of my hand.

  “So much for your suggestion that we’d do a twenty-minute meditation before everyone arrived for the book launch. Not a hope in hell.” Julie’s tone was authoritative. “Get out and get ready now or you’ll regret it when it comes to getting photographs taken.”

  “She’s right, you know,” Shannon chuckled from the doorway.

  It was bad enough being bossed around by Julie, never mind Shannon chiming in. It was all very well for the pair of them, having had nothing else to do all day apart from dolling themselves up like super models. They had a point though. The press would be arriving soon and I’d be disgraced if they caught me looking like the wreck of the Hesperus while sneaking into the big house. It was great to have the use of a room here, so near the cookery school. Billy was magnanimous in opening his home to the world. Strange, I thought, for someone who was reared an only child. Personally, I was glad of the solitude the cottage afforded me.

  As I showered, the plumbing choked and rattled from the amount of water used throughout the day. Floor boards groaned and creaked as everyone ran around pulling on their glad rags. I needed to keep an eye on the clock in order to get back downstairs ahead of time. After drying I pulled on my smalls. Well, no longer so small, after all the experimentation and food tasting. I looked in the full-length mirror at my more voluptuous figure encased in a vintage bias-cut dress in shades of copper and gold. Next I back-combed and tweaked my hair in different directions. On appraisal, I was pleased that my hair looked great, more natural than salon perfect. I was in the process of sliding into embroidered copper mules, when I heard a light tap on the door. “Come in.”

  The door opened. He locked it behind him a
nd walked towards me.

  “You look and smell good enough to eat.” Geoff planted a kiss on my neck. “I’ve an idea?”

  “What?”

  “We keep the door locked. Then pretend there’s no one here when they come looking for us. We can surely keep ourselves amused – right?” He traced his fingers along my neck as he spoke softly. The mere suggestion of intimacy with him caused desire to flush through every cell in my body, such was the delicious yet authentic nature of our love-making which could go on for hours on end. “Then when they’re all getting sloshed because you’ve stood them up, we sneak down the fire escape and head for Dublin airport.”

  I laughed as he tickled my imagination with his zany humour. Even when I was stressed he could make me loosen up and feel suddenly carefree, like we had a choice every minute of our lives either to conform or just go off like Percy and Mary Shelley had in the eighteen hundreds. At times we were like two naughty children, yet our love allowed us to respect each other as two separate selves coming together as one.

  “How about heading for Buenos Aires and you read Borges to me each evening?” I said, before changing my tone to mock concern “But what if my publishers sue me for failing to turn up at my own launch?” Taking my hand and holding me at the waist, he leaned me backwards into a tango pose.

  “We’ll phone them after three weeks and tell them we’ve spent the advance so they’d better send us more money to get you home. What do you think?” he whispered in my ear as he brought me back up towards him.

  “I think you’re gorgeous and irresistible but we’d better be nice to everyone who’s coming to meet us.” I kissed him on the lips. “Later my love.”

  “Is that a promise?” Teasing me, he waved the key in front of me, alternating with hiding it behind his back.

  “Yes, a promise. Now, please open the door.”

  “Here she is!” Ella announced as we came downstairs. The crowd clapped and cheered. After we’d greeted everyone fleetingly, Ella ushered us into the drawing room to have photographs taken. Some of the furniture had been removed to make the room more spacious. A display stand stood to the right of the baby grand piano, filled with several copies of my new cookery book.