Four Months Later
Summer painted. The town watched.
The fire department parking lot had been cordoned off for her to work.
The final decision had been hers. She’d looked at eight spots, rejecting the water tower, overpass into Echo Falls, and the gazebo outright.
The fire department downtown had the space for her to work, the visibility of the mural to the whole main street area, and had the eagle eye of the fire personnel to keep vandalism at bay.
In fact, the crew was watching her now. The towns people gathered across the street.
Business boomed on Main Street. The party atmosphere had become normal.
Tom checked on her regularly, fascinated as always with her creative process. Jonathan had been here over the weekend, evaluating the progress. He kept her grounded in the professional. Yet, the work had become more dear to her than anything she’d done except for Tom’s drawings.
Jake Cara and Daniel Leonard kept her organized and did all the heavy lifting and moving – from ladders to tarps to paint.
They were quick to figure out what she needed and when.
In fact, she had to set the ground rules early on for Jake and Daniel only to be her helpers or the whole town would have insisted on being involved.
Especially after little Stevie decided to fingerpaint on the concrete with her paint.
She stepped back, yellow smudged on her fingers and blue blotches on her shirt, and studied the wall. She’d sketched with charcoal the positions for everything she’d decided based on her sketchpad. The structure was here and now she would paint with utmost attention to every detail.
The wall stretched like a storybook, and the pieces burned in her imagination with a sweep of color and nuance.
On the left, sepia tones would whisper of cattle trails, first trains, courthouse steps, and the grit of families who first carved a town out of Texas dust. The middle promised brighter visions, colors exploding in green fields and metal engines; quilt squares would represent many of the families in the community and the first storefronts built brick by brick.
She’d spent nights studying old photos of the community to get those details right. More hours talking with Olivia, Adelina, Lori Devlin, Mr. Snidely, and Gage Caldwell – until the images and stories were so fresh and detailed they sang.
And the right side – where today she had started her paint process – the Echo Falls of today, the town she knew.
Lights strung across Main Street, kids with bikes, Sal’s Grocery, Mustang Stadium, the Applegate pumpkin patch, couples hand in hand, and laughter in every brushstroke.
It would be weeks before it would emerge from her imagination to the wall.
But the ideas had life now and wouldn’t be silent.
All the pieces tied together in an arc that stood with heart, steady and unshakable.
She’d paint familiar faces, the Applegate’s by the courthouse, the Carnahan’s from an old photo of their first auto shop, Clem balancing a tray from the restaurant, and Carlsson Cars gleaming under holiday lights.
Lopez, Slade, Caldwell, Heigl, LeFey – they’d all be here in symbol or true form.
She wiped her brush off and used the turpentine on the rag to clear her fingers. Tom strode up, civilian clothes and his guitar in hand.
“Ah, man. Are we going to see you all the time?” Adam Cartright smirked at him.
“My wife, my town, my visitation time.” Tom fist bumped Adam and came to her side.
She smiled at him and shook her head. “Now, boys,” she said, sounding like Mrs. Heigl.
“It has paint now.” His eyes swept over the wall.
Summer nodded, happy with the small section she’d chosen to start.
“This is us.” She leaned into Tom. “Every family, every story.”
“I don’t know how you move from what you showed me in your sketchbook to this outline to the colors that will finally bring the piece to life. This thing is huge. It fascinates me. You fascinate me.”
“Are you flirting, Sergeant?” She raised a brow and gave their audience a pointed look.
“I like flirting with you.” He bent and kissed her. It wasn’t a peck, and her heart thrilled once again.
And, of course, Adam whistled.
Jake and Daniel grinned.
Summer blushed. She might have wanted more, but she stepped away. “What’s with the guitar? I’m busy.”
Tom winked at her. “I thought this party could use a bit of music. Help you think.”
“I believe I’d like that. Will you get me a lemonade later?” She squeezed his hand.
“Always, whatever you need.” He smiled and stole another kiss. Settling to play his guitar, she listened to the easy strains and let her mind go back to her work.
She bent to the newly mixed green for a bike on Main Street, and watched her husband tease this person and coax another to sing. Ned Foley joined him with his guitar. This casual relaxation was in direct contrast with the dedicated cop. The man behind it all filled her heart with love.
“This is where I’m meant to be,” she whispered. Home.
T H E E N D