by Lisa Emme
“Mommy! You’re squishing me.” Dougie squirmed out of her arms.
“Come along, Dougie. Let’s let your mother get dressed. Why don’t you come with me and we’ll fix her up a nice breakfast.” Elaine held out her hand to the little boy.
“Okay. Can we make pancakes? ‘Cause I could eat again.”
Allie laughed. “I’m sure you could, Mr. Hollow-leg. But how about you just make me toast with some of Aunt Elaine’s yummy strawberry jam?”
“Okay Mommy.”
***
Three rejected phone calls from Mike and a riding lesson for Dougie later, Allie was tidying up the lunch dishes in the kitchen. She had just put Dougie down for his afternoon nap and was hoping to get a couple of hours of spare time to work on her freelance assignment. She wanted to get the sketches finished and approved so she could move on to the colouring. She was excited to get to work on this new job because the illustrations were going to be done as muted watercolours, a medium she didn’t often get to use.
The phone rang, interrupting her thoughts. She waited, listening as her aunt hurried down the hall and answered the phone. As bits and pieces of the one-sided conversation drifted back to her, she let out the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. It wasn’t Mike. He had already called three times and each time she had managed to persuade her aunt to tell him she was unavailable. She was surprised that her aunt had let her get away with the dissembling as long as she did and knew it was only a matter of time before Elaine pinned her down and got the truth out of her.
She pulled the plug in the sink, letting the dishwater drain away and then dried her hands on the dishtowel. Maybe she could sneak out the back door and work with her sketchbook out in the yard for a while before her aunt caught up with her. Yeah that’s really mature Allie. Just avoid the problem. Maybe it will solve itself. She shook her head, disgusted with herself.
Before she could make her escape however, her aunt hung up the phone and bustled into the kitchen, her face full of concern.
“Uh-oh. Let me guess, Erma Botley just called?” guessed Allie.
“No, it was Helen deWitt from the café.” her aunt looked less than amused.
“Wow, the story is really making the rounds.”
“Is it true? Mike is engaged to a Hollywood actress?”
“Hollywood? Actress? No, not even close.” Allie shook her head in disbelief at how the story had morphed.
Her aunt looked relieved. “And so there wasn’t a knock-down, drag-out fight between you two then?”
Allie sighed. “No, of course not. Aunt Elaine, you know what this town is like. The story has already been blown out of proportion.” She slid onto a stool and ran her hands through her short hair in frustration.
“I think you had better fill me in, dear.” Her aunt looked at her sympathetically.
By the time Allie had finished her story she was crying, at last shedding the tears she had denied herself previously. Her aunt stood and pulled her into a warm embrace. “Oh Sweetie. I’m sorry.” She patted Allie’s back and then dug a handkerchief out of her sleeve. “Here dear, it’s clean.”
Allie took the hanky gratefully and dabbed at her eyes. “I just don’t know what to do.”
“Well, avoiding the issue isn’t the answer,” her aunt chided gently.
Allie smiled weakly at her aunt’s words that repeated her own self-admonishment. “I know, it’s just…I need some time.”
Her aunt patted her hand. “Well, don’t wait too long. That young man is a keeper if you ask me.” She winked at Allie. “And that motorcycle he drives, damn sexy.”
“Aunt Elaine!” Allie gasped and then laughed. Just like Elaine had hoped she would.
***
Allie did work on her sketches outside in the yard in the shade of the house, not because she was avoiding her aunt but instead because, despite everything, it was a beautiful day and a shame to waste it inside. Mike seemed to have gotten the message and there were thankfully, no more calls to be avoided.
Allie had finished up her evening chores, gotten Dougie off to bed and was on her way into town to Becky’s, because as Becky had put it, “the mountain couldn’t come to her, so she had to come to the mountain”. Lori was planning on stopping by too, for some good old fashioned, best-friend therapy.
She pulled up to the house to find Becky and Lori on the front porch waiting for her, Lori waving an open bottle of wine. “Come on up Allie. The cork is already popped and since I’ve been pumping breastmilk and stocking up the freezer, the two of us can drink your woes away.” She pointed to the label. “And don’t worry, it’s the competition.”
Allie laughed and climbed up the stairs to the porch. Just then, the front door opened and Brian came out tucking in his uniform. He headed over to Becky who was lounging in a chair beside the porch swing and gave her a quick peck on the cheek. “Boys are out like a light. Call me if you need anything.”
“Thanks, Honeybear.” She smiled cheekily at the use of his pet name. Brian grimaced when Allie and Lori laughed.
“Honeybear?” Lori chortled.
Brian turned and pointed a finger at her. “You will forget you heard that unless you want your husband getting traffic violations for the rest of his life.”
Allie laughed again and Brian turned on her. “That goes for you too, leadfoot.” His face softened and he gave Allie’s arm a squeeze. “Heard you had a bad day yesterday.”
Allie snorted. “Yeah, you could say that.”
“Well, I know you won’t want to hear it, but Mike is good people. I’m sure if you give him a chance, you two could work things out.”
Allie scowled. “You too?” She put her hands out in supplication. “Isn’t anybody on my side?”
“Of course we’re on your side Allie,” Lori replied. “But that doesn’t mean we’re going to let you just wash your hands of the best thing you’ve ever had going.”
Allie’s retort was stalled out by the sound of a truck roaring up to the curb. She turned to look and saw Mike’s truck.
“Uh, I’ve got to get to work.” Brian quickly looked away and headed down the steps.
“Brian! You didn’t! You told him I was going to be here?” Allie shouted at his retreating back.
She watched as Brian stopped and shook hands with Mike, just catching the barely audible “Thanks, man.”
“Traitor!” she scowled at Brian who turned and shrugged.
“Hey, with you three hooligans always ganging up on us, us guys have to stick together. Just give the man a chance, Allie.” Without waiting for a reply, he jumped in his squad car and headed out for his evening shift.
Allie watched Mike approach the porch, her eyes narrowed and her arms folded across her chest defensively. She scowled at him. “I don’t want to talk to you right now, Michael Finn. If that is even your real name.”
Mike paused, hands on his hips, shaking his head. “It’s going to be like that is it? Well, alright then.” His face took on a look of determination as he stomped up the steps.
He looked at Lori and Becky. “Ladies. If you’ll excuse us, Allie and I have a few things to sort out.”
Becky smirked. Lori crossed her arms. Neither of them moved. “Don’t mind us,” replied Becky.
Allie’s face took on a look of outrage. “You can’t just barge in here - ”
“Oh, yes I can,” Mike growled. He took a step towards Allie and before she could even protest, grabbed her arm and yanked her towards him. He tipped his shoulder and shifted his grip to her waist and with one quick swoop had her up and over his shoulder, fireman-style.
“Mike!” Allie shrieked. “You put me down this instant.” Allie kicked her legs in protest. Mike hitched her up a bit and wrapped an arm firmly around her legs at the knees, securing her in place. He turned and flipped a salute at a thunderstruck Becky and Lori. “Ladies,�
� he said with a grin.
He proceeded down the steps of the porch towards his truck. Allie kicked her legs to no avail. “Put me down, you big bully.” She pounded him in the kidneys with a fist.
Mike grunted and slapped her on the ass. “Settle down or I will spank you right here.”
Allie opened and closed her mouth, at a loss for words. She looked up at the porch to see that Becky had managed to waddle out of her chair and was standing beside Lori watching the show. Becky was grinning; Lori covered her mouth trying not to laugh.
“I’m surrounded by traitors!” Allie shouted at her friends. “Call Brian. I’m being kidnapped.”
Becky raised her hands. “I think you’re on your own with this one Allie-Cat.”
Lori nodded her head in agreement. “Just listen to what the man has to say, Allie.”
“Geez, with friends like you…” Allie let her head hang back down.
Mike reached the curb and strode around to the driver’s door. He slid Allie down to stand in front of him. She tried to escape but a firm hand on her wrist held her still. “Stay right there, Kitten.” He opened the door and shoved her in. “Slide over.”
Allie complied, sliding right across the seat to the other door. She tried the handle, but it wouldn’t budge.
Mike smirked. “Child locks.”
Allie huffed, and let go of the handle. “Listen, you Neanderthal. You have no right to just drag me off…”
“I’ve been trying to talk to you all day. It’s not like you gave me any choice. You won’t take my calls.”
“Well, maybe you should take the hint.”
Mike scowled and fired up the truck. “Put your seatbelt on.” When Allie failed to do as he commanded, he turned and looked at her, raising an eyebrow.
“Fine.” She huffed out a breath then turned and pulled the belt across, clicking it into the buckle. Mike pulled away from the curb and did a sharp U-turn.
“Where are you taking me?”
“My place.”
“What? No way! I don’t want to go anywhere near there.”
“Well, then where do you propose we go?”
Allie frowned. There really wasn’t any place else. “Fine,” she scowled at him. “But that plastic Barbie better not still be there.”
“Plastic Barbie?” It was Mike’s turn to scowl. “If you are referring to Madeleine, she left first thing this morning. And since you seem to already be aware that she spent the night, I’ll add that I slept on the couch.”
“ Hmph!” Allie crossed her arms and turned away to look out the window.
The short ride to Mike’s apartment was frosty in its silence. Mike roared up to his apartment and lurched to a stop. He turned off the engine and looked at Allie. “Well?” he asked. “Do I have to carry you inside too?”
Allie scowled and huffed out another loud breath, but clicked open her seatbelt and yanked on the door handle. The door didn’t open. She turned and gave Mike a pointed look. “Child locks,” she growled.
Mike snorted and hopped out of the truck, moving around to her door. He opened it with a flourish, flicking off the child lock switch as he did so. “After you, Kitten.” He grinned.
Allie slid off the seat and pushed past Mike, heading to his door where she stopped, arms crossed angrily, her foot tapping with impatience. Her angry pose only made Mike’s grin wider. He slipped past her and unlocked the door and then turned to look her up and down. “Damn, you’re sexy when you’re angry.” He opened the door and gestured for her to lead the way.
Allie stood dumfounded for a moment, and then frowned. She dropped her arms to her sides and stomped through the door only to stop so abruptly that Mike bumped into her from behind.
He brushed past her and looked at her with concern. “Allie? Allie, what’s wrong?”
Allie stood absolutely still, a look of shock on her face. Mike followed her gaze across the apartment to the living room. Since the last time Allie had been in the apartment, he had managed to get some unpacking done. His shelves were full of books and he had hung his favourite painting above the couch. He looked at the painting. Aside from the sheer size of it – it measured a whopping five feet by six feet – it was a stunning piece of work. A prairie landscape done in long sweeping brushstrokes; it was a riot of golds, browns and bronzes, all blending into a windswept sky. He had loved the painting the moment he had seen it in the gallery. There was just something about it. The artist had managed to convey the stark beauty of the scene while also giving it a sense of motion. You could almost feel the wind blowing across the field, bending the stalks of grain. Despite its stormy appearance, Mike always thought of it as a hopeful painting. The grain bent over under the weight of the storm, but you knew that when the storm passed it would spring up again; the sky was turbulent and stormy, but off in the distance a ray of sunshine broke through the rumbling clouds and blue skies could be seen beyond.
Mike looked back at Allie. Tears streamed down her face. “Allie?” He reached out, placing a hand on her shoulder. Allie flinched, startled, like she had forgotten he was there. She turned her head slowly her face a mask of pain. “Take me back to Becky’s,” she whispered hoarsely. Her hands balled into fists at her sides. “Take me back, take me back….” She turned and rushed out the door.
“Allie! Allie, tell me what’s wrong.” Mike chased after her, pulling the door shut behind him. Allie was already sitting in his truck waiting, her face blank of any emotion. She scrubbed at her cheeks, wiping away the tears as he climbed into the cab.
“Allie…Kitten. Please, tell me what’s going on. I don’t understand why you’re so upset.” Mike turned in his seat to look at her.
“Please Mike. Please, just take me back to Becky’s.” Allie’s voice was full of pain.
With little choice, Mike fired up the truck and backed out his parking spot. As he threw the truck into drive, he chanced another look over at Allie, but her expression was totally closed off. With a sigh, he stomped on the gas and roared away.
When they reached Becky’s, Allie was out of the truck practically before it stopped. She ran up the porch stairs and pounded on the door. Lori opened the door, a confused look on her face, but one look at Allie’s expression and she was beckoning her in. She threw Mike an icy glare and then took a quick look over her shoulder before storming out the door.
“What the hell did you do to her?” she demanded.
“I…nothing. I don’t know what the hell is going on.” Mike’s face was etched with grief. “We didn’t even get a chance to talk. She…I think she got upset over a painting.”
“A painting?” Lori looked as confused as Mike felt. “I think you had better take me to see it.”
Mike looked like he was about to protest, but Lori put up a hand to stall him. “I know you are concerned, but I don’t think going in there right now is going to help.”
Mike nodded and turned back to the truck.
***
At Mike’s place, Lori stopped in the doorway much the way Allie had. “Holy shit!” She turned to look at Mike, her face incredulous. “Where did you get that painting?”
Mike shook his head, his face a mask of confusion. “At a gallery in the city. What’s the big deal? I’ve had that painting for five or six years.”
“Five years. You have had it for exactly five years and four months.” Lori still looked stunned.
“How can you possibly know that for sure?”
“Because I watched Allie pour blood, sweat and lots of tears into that painting,” Lori replied, her voice breaking.
“Allie?” Mike asked, his face mirroring his confusion. “Allie didn’t paint that picture. The artist is someone named Howard. Grace Howard.” Mike shook his head in denial.
“Yeah, Grace Howard. Don’t you get it? Those were Allie’s parents’ names. She uses them as her signature on all her
paintings.
“Oh, God.” Mike stumbled to a chair and fell into it numbly. “How…I mean…what…” He swallowed audibly. “What are the chances of me buying one of Allie’s paintings over five years ago?”
“I don’t know,” answered Lori, shaking her head. “Seeing as how it is the only painting she has ever put up for sale, I would say one-in-a-million at least.”
“The only painting?” Mike looked surprised. “But she’s so good. Why wouldn’t she try and sell more?”
Lori shrugged. “I don’t know. She says her paintings are all so personal that she can never bring herself to part with them. I guess you’ve never seen her bedroom. She has stacks of finished paintings.”
“So why did she sell this one then?”
Lori frowned. “This painting was the most personal of all. I think she sold it because it hurt too much to keep it.”
Mike looked at her perplexed. “You’re not making any sense.”
“Look, I don’t know. Maybe you should get the story from Allie.” Lori frowned. “I mean, maybe it’s not my story to tell.”
“Please?” Mike pleaded. “I need to know.”
Lori sighed then shrugged. “Well, okay.” She took a deep breath, as if trying to figure out where to start. “You know that Dougie is a special kid right?” At Mike’s nod, she continued. “When he was born he was really sick. He was in the hospital for weeks. Allie spent practically every second of every day at his side. It was all we could do to force her to sleep or eat. When the geneticist finally diagnosed Dougie’s syndrome, Allie went home to her little studio apartment and locked herself in for two days straight. We didn’t know what to do, or what she was doing. Finally, Brian broke down the door.” Lori stopped to brush a tear from her cheek. “She was a mess. Crying, screaming, all but attacking the canvas. She wouldn’t stop; so we sat and watched. We managed to force-feed her every few hours, but even then, she wouldn’t put down the brush or even speak to us. A day later it was done. She went to bed and slept for almost 24 hours, then showered, got dressed and announced she wanted to see her son.” Lori took a slow, deep breath. “A week later, Dougie was released from the hospital. When she brought him home, she asked Brian to take the painting away. We took it to a gallery downtown and heard it sold a week or so later.”