by Jane Hardee
“One of the things that has made this possible is our joined strength. Something women have an abundance of. With that thought, we now reveal our new and original lobby sculpture. A creation from the heart and mind of our sculptor, Ms. Michael Shafer.”
As the crowd began applauding, Jess carefully backed toward the door. Before she got farther than the waiting area, two men pulled the tarp from the large sculpture, revealing Michael’s creation.
Jess stopped cold as shock paralyzed her. Towering over the audience was the most realistic, gorgeous, and perfect piece of art she had ever seen. The elegant woman held a wide stance, most of the weight on her right leg in the front. Her left leg, just as strong, was planted a few feet back, her calf muscles bunching. Her shoulders were squared and her hands were curled into loose fists. She appeared strong, ready for battle, but a little tentative. Her eyes stared into the distance with a determined expression that didn’t distract from the beauty of her face.
Speechless, Jess glanced through the throng of people, whose eyes were all riveted on the sculpture, and she spotted Michael. The sea of eyes focused on the beautiful creation, yet Michael’s eyes were locked on Jess. It appeared to Jess that she was searching her face for approval. Did Michael doubt the faultless work she had created? And why on earth would she search out Jess for reassurance? Jess’s heart ached and she returned her gaze at the sculpture.
Jess sucked in a breath as realization dawned. It’s me. That beautiful, strong, elegant woman is me. The soft curves of her hips, her upturned nose, and the full lips. How had she not seen it sooner? It looked like a mirror image of herself. She looked strong and capable. She looked amazing. Is this how Michael sees me?
Jess couldn’t think. She could hardly draw breath. Jess walked closer to the sculpture to take in the intricate details of the carved marble, from the musculature to the tiny toenails. All of it showed incredibly hard work and an unbelievable passion.
As the applause died down, Marguerite continued, “Michael, will you please say a few words for us.”
“This work…” Michael stopped, overcome with emotion.
Jess turned her eyes from the beautiful work of art to Michael. The love of her life.
“This sculpture depicts a woman with strength, beauty, elegance, and compassion. She represents what all women should strive to become. I am honored to bring her to life for La Femme. Thank you.”
And with that, Michael left the stage and headed to another room beyond the statue. Where was she going? What did all this mean? The audience dispersed and continued to drink champagne and converse, most lingering near the enormous artwork. Jess began to follow Michael and saw she had darted into a room separated by a large, heavy curtain.
“We are all overcome and impressed by Ms. Shafer’s sculpture, but she has offered to share some of her other works with us. The private gallery will open momentarily. This new collection of work is entitled Everlasting. Please have more champagne and enjoy the refreshments. Gaze at the detail and the powerful presence of our new sculpture. Enjoy!”
A private gallery showing? Jess was overwhelmed and so excited for Michael. She must have been even busier than anyone thought to complete other pieces for a gallery showing.
“Ms. Gable?” The same man from earlier with the well-manicured beard approached. “Your presence has been requested in the private gallery. Will you please accompany me?” he asked politely.
Jess didn’t say anything but followed the man toward the heavy curtain separating the lobby from the private gallery. Jess was too beaten down from the last two months to name the feelings bubbling up inside her. What did all this mean?
“Right through here, Ms. Gable,” he said, as he held the heavy curtain aside for her.
It took several moments for Jess’s eyes to adjust to the dim lighting, but she saw that at least thirty sketches and paintings adorned the walls in the small room, each with a small bulb illuminating it in a circle of light. She started with the wall to her immediate left, noting these were four sketches that appeared to have been pulled from a sketchbook, the rough, torn edges still visible. Upon closer inspection, she could tell they were all sketches of her in differing candid poses. If Jess had to guess, she’d say she had been no older than seventeen. What is this exhibit?
The next wall was a series of oil paintings. These were paintings of Jess with her students. While it was obvious Jess was with children in the paintings, Michael had done an incredible job making her face—with an expression of love—the central theme of the pieces. She recognized the images as framed pictures Michael had in her loft.
After taking in every detail she could, Jess looked around the room to see there were dozens and dozens of other pieces. All depicting her. Some on large canvases, some on cocktail napkins, ranging from their young high school years to as recent as a few months ago.
“I saved every drawing or sketch I ever did of you. I saved them all,” Michael said quietly from behind her. She seemed to have appeared out of nowhere.
“These…but how did you…” Jess began, tears rimming her eyes. She didn’t know if she could turn around to face Michael yet, but she could feel her everywhere.
Still standing behind her, Michael gently touched her hand. “Shh. There’s one more thing you need to see.” Gripping Jess’s hand, Michael led her to the back corner of the small gallery. With Michael now leading the way, Jess had no choice but to stare at her. What if this was just one of those wonderful dreams? A dream where she and Michael lived happily ever after, and then she woke up in a cold sweat? Jess squeezed Michael’s warm fingers to make sure she was really there. As Jess moved her attention to the wall, Michael backed away as if not wanting to interrupt her perusal of the images.
There were three very large canvases that had been covered in bright reds and oranges, with stark black lines indicating the subjects of the art. These were the only works where the central theme was not Jess alone. Walking closer to the paintings, Jess ran her hands lovingly over the lines.
These were paintings of arms and legs, tangled in sheets. Lips during passionate kisses. And bodies intertwined. This was a depiction of Jess and Michael’s night together. How perfectly she was able to convey the emotion, the explosion, the catharsis. Jess turned to face Michael.
“I don’t…” Michael began, shoving her hands into the pockets of her tuxedo pants. “I mean, I can’t begin to tell you how much I regret leaving you that morning. I can’t begin to ask for your forgiveness. So I’m not going to. I’m just going to tell you…you mean the world to me. You are the world to me. You have been my best friend forever. But more than that, Jess, I don’t know how you feel about me or what that night meant to you. But I love you. I love you with everything I am. I always have. I can’t deny it anymore. And even if you don’t want my love, it’s yours just the same.”
It seemed Michael rushed all those words in one breath. One sweet, precious breath that told Jess everything she needed to know. Michael loved her. Michael wanted her. She felt something inside shift. Something that told her everything was going to be okay.
Throwing herself at Michael, she began to sob. “I love you too.”
“Say it again,” Michael begged in a whisper, her eyes as dark as night, as she pulled Jess close.
“I love you, Michael. I’ve been so stupid. I don’t know what took me so long.”
“I don’t care about that. I don’t care about anything but being with you. Always.”
Michael smiled as she put her hands on Jess’s cheeks and gently pressed their lips together. Their breath mingling. Their tears mingling. They were together at last, as they should be. And neither of them was going to let go.
EPILOGUE
Michael concentrated on the smooth lines of Jess’s waist and hip wrapped up in a sheet. She quickly sketched the outline of her body. Sitting naked and cross legged on the floor near the window, sketchpad balanced on her leg, Michael was determined to get the lines right before Jess woke.<
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They had only been home from New York for four weeks, and Michael was distressed at the idea of Jess returning to school today where she couldn’t see her, touch her, or make love to her any time she wanted. They hadn’t been apart since the night her sculpture was revealed at La Femme, and Michael hated to see their precious time together end. Jess would return to work, and Michael would be starting on a new commission next week. Camille said she was fighting offers off with a stick. Michael was on her way to succeeding in her dream—sculpting strong, fierce woman and creating a vision for thousands to see and admire. Yet her success in work paled in comparison to the joy she felt at having Jess by her side.
The time since the opening had been the happiest period of Michael’s life. She was able to be with Jess in a way she hadn’t even let herself imagine before. They were still best friends as always, but there was now a layer of love and trust that took Michael’s breath away. And of course, the nearly nonstop sex had her exhausted, spent, and deliriously happy. Jess’s appetite for sex both surprised and delighted her. They couldn’t keep their hands off each other, making up for lost time. Two weeks ago they had even messed around in the bathroom at Morgan’s apartment during Girls Night In. Michael excused herself, and as she was about to return to the living room, Jess had barged into the bathroom, backed her against the wall, and demanded that Michael make her come with her mouth. Michael had obliged. Jess was spending most nights at Michael’s loft, except for two or three they had spent together at Jess’s apartment. Michael didn’t want it to end. Jess belonged here. With her.
Steeling herself, Michael put down her sketchpad, grabbed the red velvet box from the drawer next to her bed, and rubbed Jess’s bare shoulder as she crawled under the sheet with her.
“It’s too early,” Jess grumbled as she pulled Michael’s arm tight around her waist.
“I don’t want you to leave.”
“I don’t think I have the energy to do anything after last night.” Jess moaned softly into the pillow as she pushed her ass into Michael’s crotch.
“Hey,” Michael whispered.
“Sweetie, what is it?” Jess looked concerned as she turned her head to face her. “You look so serious.”
With her left hand Michael grabbed Jess’s fingers and slipped on the ring, never letting her eyes leave Jess’s face. Michael knew Jess loved her, and she felt fairly certain she wanted a future with her, but her nerves were still on edge.
“Jess. I mean I don’t want you to leave. Ever. I want you to live here with me. Or wherever you want. I want you to come home to me every day. I want to lie with you every night and spend the rest of my life making up for the time I wasted being so stupid. Please say you’ll be my wife.” Michael spat it out in a rush and hoped she didn’t sound as nervous as she felt.
Jess’s smile was as big as Michael had ever seen, her cheeks pink and her eyes wide. Michael wanted to see that smile every day. And be the cause of it.
“Yes. Yes. Yes,” Jess squealed and moved to straddle Michael as she stared at the ring, a vintage art deco ring Michael bought from their favorite antique dealer. The diamond was circle cut with a square setting and the band had small, intricate detail work. It was breathtaking and unique. Just like Jess. “It’s beautiful. When did you find it?”
“Last Friday when you went shopping with Morgan. I was going to wait and give it to you at Christmas when we were with Mom…but I…I just couldn’t wait. I’m not waiting anymore when it comes to you.”
“Well, I’m not waiting either. In one hour I have to get to work to start a new school year,” Jess said, rolling her naked hips against Michael’s stomach. “But I can’t wait until after school for you to touch me again.” Grabbing Michael’s hand, she shoved it between her thighs.
Michael gasped at how wet Jess already was and slipped her fingers inside. Jess’s words, her body movements, and the thought of Jess as her wife set loose a tidal wave of emotion and longing inside her. “My wife,” Michael breathed as Jess moved against her.
About the Author
Jane Hardee lives with her partner in Chicago, Illinois. She was born in North Carolina but left the Old South to pursue a career working with children with autism. When she is not teaching, writing, or watching Family Feud, she is probably figuring out a design for her next tattoo. Jane suffers from middle child syndrome and is a very loving aunt to a beautiful niece.
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