Chapter 22 Look for the Rainbows
TWENTY-TWO
Look for the Rainbows
Remembering the promise I’d made Declan, I asked, “Is there a reason it has to be now? My gallery is open. Can my boyfriend and I go after we close here?”
“Absolutely,” he said, standing. “I’ll meet you there whatever time works for you.”
Hernández stood as well.
“We close at seven, but Declan’s going to want to make sure I eat before we go anywhere.” I didn’t want to rush to the morgue, but I also didn’t want to stay up late. “Is nine too late?”
“Not for me,” Kaknu said. “I can’t speak for the detectives, but I’ll meet you in front of the building”—he grinned—“as we both know the coroner won’t let you in on your own.”
After they left, I went into the gallery and got some strange looks, but the nice part about being an artist is that eccentricity comes with the job.
I went to the café counter and my Aunt Hester brewed me a cup of tea. “How has it been?”
She put her hand over the cup, speeding the steeping along.
Hester, a Goode by birth, wasn’t a strong wicche, but she was gifted with plants and tea.
Mom had even talked to her about maybe working a day or two at her tea shop.
Mom recognized that Hester looked lighter, less dragged down by grief, since she’d been working at the gallery, so I think she wanted to give her the option of another outing each week.
It made me happy to see the budding friendship between Elizabeth and Hester.
Both were incredibly kind women who naturally kept to themselves, no doubt to avoid the crappy members of our family.
The gallery put them together on a regular basis, and they realized how much they enjoyed the other’s company.
Last I heard, they were getting together once a week for lunch.
“Arwyn?”
I turned to find Frank standing with an older man.
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” the man said, “especially since it looks like you’re working, but I wondered if I might ask you about one of your paintings.” He looked like he’d be at home on a golf course.
Nodding, I took my tea with me. “Which one?” I asked.
He pointed to the newest one I’d added as we walked to it. “I was here opening weekend, and I didn’t see this one.” He looked around in wonder. “To be honest, a lot of your work that weekend seems to be gone, so congratulations.”
I kept my gloved hands around my teacup. It was less awkward. People didn’t expect me to touch things when I was holding stuff. “You have a good eye and a good memory. This one is new.”
He studied me a moment out of the corner of his eye before focusing on the painting. “Are you okay?” His voice was so quiet and gentle, I teared up almost immediately.
Blinking up at the lights on the ceiling, I turned partially away.
I’d painted this after Gran had been tortured and killed, after I had in turn killed my cousin Calliope.
I was so twisted up over all of it. Did Gran ever really love me?
Did it matter? Goddess knew I’d loved her.
How could we not have seen Cal becoming a sorcerer?
How did I make peace with taking a life?
It had to be done. I knew that, but I’d also forever carry that mark on my soul.
“Please excuse me,” he said. “I’m a therapist. There’s so much pain in this painting, it concerned me.”
I gave him a watery smile. “You’re very good, aren’t you?
Most people look at abstracts and comment on the color and whether it’ll look good in their living rooms.” I held up a hand.
“No shade to those people. I just worry about having disturbing art in one’s home and the unintended ways it might affect them. ”
Eyes dry again, I continued, “Like when people insist on painting their kitchens or baby’s rooms yellow, I want to warn them against it, to make sure they know that more arguments happen, more babies cry, in yellow rooms.”
He nodded. “The psychology of color is fascinating. It’s also why I question schools that paint their hallways yellow or orange.
Do they want more fights in the halls?” He raised his eyebrows like a shrug.
Gesturing to my painting, he said, “And that’s why when I look at this, I see grief, but I also see horror and guilt, which made me want to make sure the artist was all right. ”
“That’s very perceptive and very kind of you.” I glanced up as Declan walked in the gallery front door. “I painted this after a traumatic event in my life. Painting can be quite cathartic.”
He glanced between the painting and me. “But not this time.”
I shook my head as Declan walked up. Wrapping an arm around me, he kissed the top of my head.
“Sorry to interrupt,” he said. “I just wanted to say hello.”
I glanced up at him and his expression darkened, looking between the gentleman and me.
“I’m okay,” I whispered.
He gave the man one more glare before his expression softened, looking down at me. “Why were you crying?”
“I’m afraid that’s my fault,” the man said. “I asked about this painting.”
Declan glanced up, recognized it, and nodded his understanding.
He spun me around to face the opposite side of the gallery, my back to his chest, and wrapped both arms around my middle.
“Look at the way the sun is hitting your glass, the way it’s creating rainbows on the walls and floor, on the people admiring your art.
There’s darkness in the world, yes, but there are also rainbows. ”
I tilted my head up. “I see.”
The man had turned with us, to witness the rainbows. “I know I don’t know either of you—and it’s none of my business—but I’m glad I got to be here for this. I won’t go home and worry now. Before I go, though, I would like to buy the painting.”
I turned to him in surprise. “Why?”
“I’m going to put it in my office. I think it will be a catalyst for many to break through their emotional blocks.
” He reached out and patted my arm, a finger barely brushing my wrist. “I’ll go discuss it with the nice young man I spoke to earlier.
It was lovely meeting you both.” He walked across the gallery toward Frank while I dealt with a sudden intense headache.
“Damn,” I muttered.
“What?” Declan asked.
“Give me a minute,” I said, following the man to the desk.
“I’m sorry, sir?”
He turned to me and held out his hand. “Mark.”
I held up my gloved hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Mark.”
He dropped his hand, looking confused.
“I wear the gloves because psychometry is a gift of mine,” I said quietly.
His eyebrows rose again. It wasn’t shock or disbelief, only interest in this new information.
“When you touched me, your finger brushed my wrist.” I pushed down my sleeve to cover that inch of skin again.
“I got a sudden and very painful headache. You don’t have to believe anything I’m telling you, but I’d really appreciate it if you went to the doctor, a neurologist. You need an MRI.
” I gestured to the back of my head. “You have a dark spot in the occipital lobe.”
He blinked, his expression frozen. “What?”
“I’m not wrong,” I whispered.
His shoulders straightened. “I see. I think this is why I felt such a strong need to stop here after my golf game.” He nodded like he was talking himself into something. “I still have time?”
I considered that. “It’s small right now, but you should clear your schedule tomorrow and go. This isn’t the sort of thing you want to wait on.”
Frank, who hadn’t been following our conversation, came back with the painting, adding cardboard caps to the frame edges so nothing was scratched or dinged.
I gestured to the painting. “Do you still want that?”
He closed his eyes on a slow blink. “Now more than ever, yes.”
“I’m glad we met.” I stuffed my hands into my overall pockets. “Please take care of yourself.”
He smiled. “You too.”
“The gallery is closing in twenty minutes,” Carter said to the customers as he walked by the pottery section.
I went back to Declan, who I knew had heard the whole thing. He gave me another big hug. “You saved his life.”
I leaned into him. “Hopefully.”
He tugged on an overall strap. “Did you work today?”
“Oh. That’s right,” I said. “Come with me.” We went through the studio into the hot shop, where I flicked my fingers, opening all the windows while I told him about my visitors earlier.
“I didn’t know Kaknu was FBI,” Declan said.
“Neither did I.” I went to the railing, soaking up the cool breeze after walking through the hot shop again. “I swear, I’ve checked all my gauges. It’s not any hotter than usual when I’m working with glass, but I feel like I’m going up in flames these days.”
Declan scratched his cheek. “Sorry. I think that’s on me. I run hotter than humans. The little one probably does too. I think she might be heating you up from the inside.” He came to the railing to stand beside me. “Can’t you spell your shirt to be cold or something?”
I stared at the waves for a moment, completely flummoxed. “Why the hell didn’t I think of that?”
“Shall I list all the things you have swirling around in that head of yours?” He took my hand and tucked it into his elbow, walking me back to the gallery.
Frank and Faith were checking out the last stragglers.
Elizabeth and Robert were back to pick up the kids, which told me how nervous they both were.
Normally Elizabeth did the drop-off and pickup by herself.
Bracken was back, talking quietly with Hester.
Carter, in his usual spot by the front door, waved Declan and me over.
When we got there, I asked, “Do you want a chair? This is a long time to stand.”
He gestured to the café. “Hester has an extra stool back there for me, but it’s been too busy for that.
She rarely ever sits back there either. She’s the one you should make sit down.
I isolate muscle groups to flex and exercise while I stand here.
” He shrugged one beefy shoulder. “It’s only two shifts a week. I’m fine.”
“Okay,” I said. “So, what’s up?”
He opened the front door, the original heavy metal door of the cannery, so we could see out at the road and the trees beyond. “I can’t see anyone. With all this traffic going back and forth, I can’t smell anything. But I know damn well there was someone across the street watching us all day.”
Declan hit the back of Carter’s shoulder and said, “Let’s go.” They both tore off, leaping over the porch railing and racing across the street, dodging cars without slowing.
The last customers left. I wished them a good evening, but my focus was really across the street where Declan and Carter were prowling. Before I knew it, Robert, Elizabeth, Hester, and Bracken were all standing with me.
“Frank and Faith?” I asked.
“They’re doing their close-up duties and filling in,” Elizabeth said.
“What happened?” Robert asked.
I shook my head, eyes still glued on the men across the street. “I’m not positive. When Bracken and I came in after warding your car, we sensed someone hiding over there. Bracken sent a spell that caused a little pain. I think we both hoped that would encourage them to go.”
I glanced at the people lined up beside me and got a little choked up.
These epiphanies hit at the strangest times.
I wasn’t alone anymore, and it didn’t look as though I ever would be again, which was an incredible thought.
“Carter told us he’d felt someone watching the gallery all day.
The car fumes made it impossible for him to identify who was over there, but he felt it, so he and Declan went to investigate. ”
Bracken leaned on the railing, his gaze trained on the men stomping through the brush. “We need to ward Hester’s car as well. They’re far too interested in what goes on over here.”
“Oh, I don’t want to be a bother,” Hester said. “I doubt anyone even notices me.”
Bracken turned at that. “Nonsense. You’re a member of this family and we protect our own.”
I nodded. “What he said. We’ll do it when the guys get back.”
Cars continued to cross back and forth on the main road, but we were all looking over and around them, our eyes glued to Declan and Carter.
“They don’t seem to be finding anyone,” Robert murmured.
No. Unfortunately, they did not.