“So, are you going to tell me how all of this came about or am I just supposed to be content reading between the lines?” Howie called, a smile still playing on his lips as he made himself comfortable, perching on the foot of Chemelyn’s bed. He could hear her faint laughter filter through the bathroom door.
“Well, apparently, Ms. Neal paid a visit to the cafe hoping to contact me when she struck up quite a conversation with Malone,” she began, voice slightly muffled by the wooden panel which separated them, “He gave her my phone number, she called me, one thing led to another, and before I knew it, we made an appointment for tomorrow morning!”
The door opened then, revealing Chemelyn herself, wrapped in a light blue terry cloth robe, hair spilling over her shoulders, still damp from the rain. Howie held his hands out, prompting her to cross the room to stand before him. He let his palms rest on her sides and gently began to massage her hips through the material of the robe.
“Is she going to evaluate all your work or just a few select pieces?”
“I’m not sure,” Chemelyn sighed, brow creasing as she nervously twisted the fabric of the towel she held in her grasp. “Probably the latter....I’m sure Radiance has other business to attend to, rather than spending her morning cooped up with me and my finger painting.”
“That’s not the Chemelyn I know and love,” Howie admonished softly, taking an immediate dislike to the self doubt and deprecation lacing her voice and words.
“That Chemelyn wasn’t on the verge of exposing herself to a stranger....and possibly more.”
“You were excited about this a moment ago.”
“A moment ago I hadn’t considered the repercussions.”
Howie tugged softly on her waist, urging her into his lap, her back against his chest as he silently contemplated his next words carefully, “What’s the worst thing that could happen?” The question was posed quietly, his tone soothing yet serious all in the same breath. Instinctively, Chemelyn knew the thought provoking inquiry held more than it’s superficial value.
“Radiance will hate my work.”
“Okay....what if she doesn’t?”
“Then I’ll make a fool of myself and the rest of Seattle will think I’m some sort of charlatan.”
“But what if one person walked through the exhibit and a single piece touched him so deeply, the experience became something he’d never forget....what then?”
Chemelyn watched Howie’s fingertips play across the skin of her forearms as she thought. He let his hands wander tenderly, tracing invisible patterns of comfort. “I.....I think that’s all I could really ask for. I’d have succeeded,” she admitted.
“Exactly...and maybe Ms. Neal will have other business to take care of tomorrow morning. But something tells me, once she catches a glimpse of what you have to offer, she’ll be too enraptured to leave.”
This statement elicited a giggle from Chemelyn; she could feel his smile on the back of her neck as he planted feather like kisses to emphasize his point. “Kind of like a certain Latin man I know?” she teased, then felt his chest vibrate with a soft chuckle.
“Exactly,” he growled with mock menace in response and lay back on the bed, pulling her with him. In one fluid motion, he had hauled her across his lap and tossed her lightly on the mattress beside him. The sudden movement startled a shriek out of Chemelyn quickly followed by a flurry of laughter.
Howie raised his torso up on his elbow and gazed down into her captivating features, loving the way her lips curved back in a brilliant smile. He felt himself grinning in return and the want to consume her mouth with his was nearly overwhelming. The only thing stopping him was the knowledge that there was still more he needed to make Chemelyn understand.....still more he needed to understand about her.
“You know, when you shared your paintings with me, the first thought that rampaged through my mind was the fact that it was a pity the entire world couldn’t see them.”
“Really?” she murmured, tipping her head to one side as she lay watching him.
“Mmm hmm. The colors and definition of the images are so startlingly real, it makes me want to reach out and touch them. Granted, I know nothing of art, but I do know a little something about the human soul. And I know that when I saw that piece you did of the Sound and the one of the vase....it touched me to the core, in a way I can’t even find the words to explain. Maybe that had a bit to do with the fact that I have a relationship with you, but in time, when you allow patrons to view your work, they’ll feel as if they have a connection with you too. You see the world through eyes I can only envy, Chem. But when you put all your visions on canvas, I don’t have to envy anything anymore; I can be inside what you saw.....and that’s the greatest gift an artist can give to the world.”
Tears welled up in Chemelyn’s lower lids as he spoke, and when the last syllable fell between them, she cupped his face with her hands bringing his lips down to hers. Their mouths touched lightly in a kiss that was filled with passion, though it was not fiery by nature. The caress was a tender exploration of feelings which plunged so deeply into the psyche, it immersed the pair in a nirvana entirely of their own making.
Howie eased himself closer to her, drawing the length of her body tightly against his own. Chemelyn responded by wrapping her arms about his neck as her knee raised, an edge of the robe falling away. Howie continued to accept her kisses and lavish them in return when his palm slid over her hips, coming into contact with the soft warmth of bare skin. As the touch of her thigh registered in his mind, he forced himself to ease gently away. Chemelyn gazed up at him, her lips swollen from his caresses, her eyes dilated with the same pleasure he felt coursing through his own veins.
“Howie?” she whispered in question, fingers fluttering across his chest. He smiled tenderly and stroked her creamy cheek with his thumb before sitting back against the headboard and urging Chemelyn to sit up as well. She adjusted her robe and cast an inquiring glance in his direction.
“We can’t do this yet,” he told her softly. “I don’t want to rush our relationship and right now, with everything up in the air, it’s just not right. Besides, I want everything to be perfect the first time we come together. I want to see your skin bathed in candle light while strains of Brian McKnight fill the room. I want to be able to stay in bed until noon, just watching you sleep. And then I want to make love to you all through the afternoon while the rays of sun light dance on your body. Perfection, Chem. Tell me you understand,” he plead, his gaze locked with hers.
“Every woman should be so lucky,” she breathed, letting her fingers run through his hair, coming to rest on the nape of his neck as she kissed him briefly.
Lifting her gently, Howie settled the brunette between his legs, her back to him, as he reached for the brush on the nightstand.
“Your hair’s still wet,” he told her, voice husky with repressed emotion. She nodded and a sigh escaped her as she felt his tender touch on the crown of her head while he carefully ran the brush through her strands.
Moments like these were the ones she had longed for, as far back as her childhood when she had believed in fairy tales. Howie’s soothing presence and sentient care fed the ache in her heart which throbbed each time he was near. It wasn’t a painful ache, but one borne of sublime happiness; the kind of ache that was present only because her spirit was overflowing with love, unable to hold every ounce of affection.
“Is that how you feel when you perform?” Chemelyn asked, breaking the silence which had descended over them and effectively catching Howie off guard. “What you said before about sharing a gift? About the emotions it inspires?”
“Yes,” he hesitated briefly before continuing, “It’s not my place to question why some Higher Power would choose to grant a particular blessing; making the most of the gift of opportunity is what counts. It takes a great deal of courage to share a facet of yourself with the world, but in the end, it’s all worthwhile. I won’t pretend it wasn’t difficult in the beginning of my career, but it was my dream. And the assurance that I was approaching an opportunity of that magnitude with an intrepid spirit made things easier.”
“You could have been a Tibetan priest the way you’re spouting wisdom,” Chemelyn teased, though she realized the truth of his words.
“Add it to the list of things you love about me,” he laughed, shaking his head.
“Is there anything you’re unsure of?”
“Myself,” Howie answered honestly, causing the woman in his lap to turn around, her gaze seeking his. “I don’t know if it comes from the constant metamorphosis between Howard Dorough and Howie D, but.....I am, by no means, as confident as I seem.”
“That’s why you have me. Everyone needs someone who understands them. We’re just incredibly lucky that we found the other half of ourselves in each other.” A serene smile emerged on Chemelyn’s lips. Howie drew in a sharp breath and enveloped her in his strong embrace.
“More than lucky.....serendipitous,” he proclaimed, pressing his lips lightly to hers.
“My, but that’s a big word, Mr. Dorough,” she teased with a playful grin.
“I’m full of ‘em,” he told her seriously before capturing her wrist in his palm, scattering kisses along the inside of her forearm.
“Mmm....you know something....your vocabulary is the least part about you I’m interested in at the moment.”
“Oh really?”
“Really.”
“Now, that’s the best news I’ve heard all day.”
*****
“I think I’m going to be sick.”
“No, you’re not,” Malone admonished though he was on the verge of panicking himself. “You’re going to be just fine......I hope.” The latter part of his remark earned him a smack on the arm and a groan of protest from Chemelyn.
“This is the single most important day of my life and I’m ready to be committed,” she grumbled.
Derik rolled his eyes and leaned close to Howie, “You know why they fit so well together, don’t you? Both have a flair for the dramatic.”
“I heard that,” Malone sent a searing glare in Derik’s direction, “You’re lucky this counter is between us.”
Howie stifled a chuckle and took a mug of tea in hand, making his way around the kitchen island to slip onto the bar stool beside Chemelyn. She smiled gratefully at the proffered cup and tried to take it with a semblance of dignity, but ended up immediately setting it back on the counter, as her hands were shaking so badly, they were hardly able to keep a grip on the mug without sloshing it’s contents onto the floor. Howie smiled sympathetically and took her trembling palms in his. As Malone moved to the kitchen itself in search of coffee cake, Howie brought his forehead to rest against Chemelyn’s.
“You’re going to be just fine, I promise.”
“I know.....I know....” she replied weakly, starring into his penetrating mocha gaze.
“Just remember what we talked about last night, okay?”
A nod was all the answer he received as a resounding knock on the door echoed throughout the apartment.
“Here goes nothing,” Chemelyn sighed, standing on unsteady legs as Malone and Derik gravitated toward the entry. Howie gave her hand a reassuring squeeze as they moved to join the others. Derik opened the door and gave a charming smile to the woman on the other side, who could only be-
“Radiance Neal. Is Chemelyn Clavaro in?” a tall, statuesque blonde inquired. Her hair was swept up and away from her face in an elegant chignon, the fabric of her navy blue business suit cleaving to her figure, hinting at the sophisticated nature of the woman herself. A gold pendant adorned with inset freshwater pearls in an abstract pattern drew the eye to her ample bosom, while a silken scarf in bold colors accentuated the fine column of her neck. Chemelyn would have felt uneasy had it not been for the friendly smile gracing the female’s features.
“Ms. Neal, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Chemelyn began, trying with all the courage she had, to sound confident as she attempted to mimic the other woman’s charming expression.
“Please, call me Radiance. And truly, the pleasure’s all mine, Ms. Clavaro.”
“Chemelyn. Thank you for seeing me, do come in.”
Radiance stepped inside the entryway while Derik and Malone slipped out unobtrusively. “Please, don’t leave on my account,” Radiance called.
“We have somewhere we need to be, it’s no matter,” Howie replied, tracing the men’s footsteps. He sent a covert wink in Chemelyn’s direction before closing the door softly behind himself. Though she felt a twinge of regret at their departure, Chemelyn knew it was best that they leave. She had seriously thought about asking Howie, or at least Malone, to stay but had come to the conclusion that this was simply something she had to do on her own. Taking a deep breath and tearing her eyes away from the solid oak panel, she faced her guest.
“You have a lovely loft, Chemelyn,” Radiance complimented, “it’s quite enchanting.”
“Thank you. Would you like a cup of tea? Coffee?”
“No, thanks. I’ve got several other appointments I must be getting to later this morning. I don’t mean to seem hasty, but might I see your work?”
“Certainly. The studio’s right this way.” Chemelyn’s heart pounded loudly in her ears, inducing a rushing noise that she couldn’t seem to quell, no matter how hard she tried. “I took the liberty of selecting a few of the pieces I’m most fond of for you to view,” Chemelyn began, watching Radiance’s features for any sign of her opinion. Unfortunately, the woman’s countenance gave away nothing as she stood several feet from the first canvas which was propped up on the easel, eyes narrowed in critical thought. The painting Chemelyn had chosen was of the Sound at sunset. She knew it was one of Howie’s favorites and hoped that fact might cast a certain amount of positive karma over the situation.
“What do you call it?” Radiance asked, her voice low and somber.
“I.....I don’t really have titles for any of them....” Chemelyn admitted, feeling her face flame as she anticipated the curator’s thoughts of her ignorance. Radiance nodded to herself and seemed to take it in stride as she continued to appraise the work. Finally, without Chemelyn’s prompting, she moved on to the next painting which was hanging on the broad expanse of white wall beside the balcony doors.
And so it continued, Radiance moving from one piece to the next, not offering a word of commentary nor even a hint at her thoughts. Chemelyn was hesitant to interrupt the woman’s evaluation, opting instead to remain quiet.
“May I use your phone?” Radiance finally asked, breaking the silence which had descended like a cloud over the loft. Chemelyn complied and a few moments later, the other woman’s hushed tones could be heard, wafting in from the kitchen. She pivoted away from the ongoing phone conversation and starred down at the city street below her apartment.
A woman stood on the corner of the avenue, peddling flowers to the passing pedestrians. Chemelyn knew her face well, every line and contour. She had painted the aged woman many months ago, around the time she had first come into contact with Howie. The street florist hadn’t changed much, save the type of flowers she sold as the seasons morphed into one another. She still wore the same yellow straw hat, faded from sun and drooping from rain, tattered around the edges. A single yellow daisy was tucked within the threadbare ribbon gracing the base of the hat; it was always a yellow bloom, never any other color. Just yellow.
Unlike the urban scape about her, the woman offered an unending source of normalcy. Something Chemelyn was grateful for, particularly at times like these.
The sound of someone clearing her throat jarred Chemelyn from her thoughts and she turned to pay proper attention to her guest. Radiance scrutinized the brunette intensely, her gaze unnerving. Chemelyn inhaled deeply when her eyes finally diverted to the painting on the easel.
“I’ve just canceled my appointments for the rest of the afternoon,” Radiance told her, line of sight not wavering from the red, orange, and violet of the sunset depicted on the canvas. “To be completely candid with you, I feel you show great potential as an artist. You’re good -damn good. Granted, not every piece you’ve shown me today has been up to par, but quite a few have. In fact, I’d like to see the rest of your collection.”
Chemelyn stood shell shocked by the words which had just fallen from the woman’s lips. “I....I don’t know what to say,” she confessed, joy and uncertainty mingling in her expressive orbs.
“You don’t have to say anything,” Radiance smiled in amusement, “but it would be nice if you’d agree to let me evaluate the remainder of your work.”
“Oh! Of course -by all means!” Chemelyn’s gaze swept across the stacks of canvases leaning against the walls in orderly groups. “Where would you like to begin?” she asked amicably, barely containing her jubilation. Radiance laughed lightly.
“It really doesn’t matter. In fact, if you’d rather not sit with me as I go through you pieces, that’s quite all right. Believe me, I understand how nerve wracking this can be,” she added kindly.
“Thank you,” Chemelyn breathed, shoulders relaxing. “My most recent efforts are this way, closer to the living room.”
“So noted.”
“Can I get you anything?” the nervous artist ventured hesitantly before sojourning to the rest of the apartment.
“I’ll call if I need something,” Radiance assured her before setting about the task at hand.
Chemelyn watched for a moment, then edged into the kitchen where she spent the better part of an hour scrubbing every pot, pan, and surface to a mirror shine. After alphabetizing the canned goods, she moved on to the living room, rearranging the stacks of books and magazines several times over. A load of wash was set in it’s cycle and the upstairs bathroom purged of any speck of grime while the curator of Expressions delved in among the depths of Chemelyn’s picturesque soul illustrated in vivid detail. Every so often, Chemelyn would creep past her studio, pausing momentarily to peer at Radiance Neal’s features, hoping for some sign of the emotions within. She found nothing and settled back to wait.
*****
Howie cocked his head to one side as he appraised his handiwork. The shelves of coffee mugs, tea cups and saucers for in house use sparkled back at him, the spotless sheen of their ceramic glaze courtesy of his nervous energy. A quick glance at his watch revealed more than three hours had passed since he’d left Chemelyn and her anxiety alone, at the mercy of Radiance Neal.
Malone wasn’t faring much better, having been banished from working the floor of the cafe by the other employees; he hadn’t been able to concentrate on taking a customer’s order, let alone make the simplest espresso based beverage. Just about the only thing Malone’s fragile attention span was capable of at the moment was whipping milk into the foam which floated gracefully atop most of the caffeine concoctions served in the cafe. As testament to his extraordinary ability to produce milk foam at a record speed, seven stainless steel creamers sat in neat lines on the counter awaiting use.
Derik had otherwise occupied himself sorting through various paper goods in the back room, pausing every so often to peek at the clock. The other employees were on edge as well, having heard the news from Malone. Charity seemed to be the only one even remotely functional, thus the task of keeping everyone in line had fallen to her. She worked the floor with ease, prodding the other waiters and the chef when necessary while regularly pausing to offer pats of reassurance on the shoulders of the three men closest to Chemelyn.
Howie heaved a sigh and knew suddenly, that he had to get out of there. The cafe had become a cesspool of anxiety and he was sick of wasting energy on fruitless fidgeting. Snatching his overcoat off the back of a nearby chair situated at the counter, Howie slipped wordlessly from the coffee house, unchallenged.
Breathing deeply in relief, he relished the wet humid scent of the first afternoon rain. The cobblestone avenue in front of the establishment was slick, evidence of the recent downpour of liquid sunshine. The overcast sky offered a mere drizzle at present, seeming to coat every surface with it’s thick residue.
As he turned the corner, Howie felt compelled to travel in the direction of the Public Market. He passed a variety of shops along the way before entering the market itself. Passing displays of goods that reminded him of Chemelyn, memories flashed through his mind like scenes from a movie. The tomato she’d dropped like a hot coal when he’d asked her to dinner. The incandescent sun catchers which hung in her bedroom window, casting rainbows on the wall and ceiling in the early morning. The pattern of ceramic dishware occupying the shelves in her cupboard - plates they’d rinsed and loaded into the dishwasher together on more than one occasion. All of these things held remembrances so vivid in detail that they nearly took his breath away whenever he thought of them. The sum of the physical time Howie had spent with Chemelyn was less than a month - but felt like an eternity.
He knew without a doubt he wanted to stay with her and she with him. But that was where things got tricky. She had a career to consider, a niche she’d carved out for herself in Seattle. And he had countless obligations in Orlando; across the country. She had a life and friends here; he had the same back in Florida.
The more Howie thought about it, the more it became obvious that he led a seemingly separate existence with Chemelyn. Perhaps that was because Washington had become a place where he was free to remain Howard Dwaine instead of slipping in and out of the persona known to the world at large as “Howie D”. But somewhere along the line, the two would have to come together, the last place he wanted them to -Seattle. And all because he loved her.
”And never the twain shall meet.”
The line ran through his head, echoing in the depths of his mind, his heart. Was it selfish of him to hope that her ‘hobby’ wouldn’t interfere with their relationship? Without contemplating further, Howie knew the answer to his self imposed question: yes. Especially when his trade was the ‘greater evil’ of the two.
Feeling a pang of remorse for his traitorous thoughts, Howie halted in his tracks, placing his hand on a structural pillar for support. Tearing his eyes away from the flagstones under his feet, he found himself starring from beneath the Market awning at the crossing where he’d met Chemelyn that bleak afternoon the day before his departure.
A storefront across the street beckoned, racks of the best Chardonnay showcased behind the glass display window. A smile emerged on his lips as he pictured Chemelyn and himself raising a glass in celebration of the contract he was sure would come to her. She was worthy of a place among Seattle’s art community - and she’d get it. He believed because he had faith....in her and in them.
*****
“Excuse me?” Chemelyn asked inanely, brow furrowed as the room seemed to weave back and forth before her very eyes. The sounds of Radiance’s laughter assured that this was not a dream.
“Of course, it’d mean a lot of effort, pressure-”
Chemelyn held up a palm to forestall any further explanation for a moment, “No, no. I’ve got patience in spades....I’d just really really appreciate it if you could say it again?”
Radiance smiled indulgently, “I’d like to offer you a place as a featured artist at Expressions.” Chemelyn’s eyes drifted shut in delight but the curator continued, “The unveiling of our latest exhibit will be in two weeks - short notice, I know. But then, we hadn’t anticipated an artist of your caliber ‘popping up’ unannounced.”
“Two weeks....”
“That’s right. There are approximately a dozen and a half pieces I’d like to display, unfortunately, I can only accommodate an even twelve. My apologies.”
“None necessary,” Chemelyn assured her in a daze.
“I’ll leave the choices at your discretion, but keep in mind your selections will have to be made by the end of the week. Proper lighting and presentation will need to be considered, which is why I can only afford you such a small amount of time.”
“No, that’s fine. Regarding the sale of my work -”
Radiance shook her head, “That will be left entirely up to you. Of course, you are more than welcome to request our help in pricing your paintings, but you’re under no obligation to sell. I can practically guarantee that there will be offers, but you retain the right to refuse them. Expressions is dedicated to the exhibition of fine art, not the sale of it. However, should you choose to part with a piece, we will collect a commission,” Radiance spared a glance at her watch then pulled the napkin from her lap, placing it on the table next to her plate. “If you don’t have any further questions....”
“Oh, of course. Please, don’t let me keep you,” Chemelyn bid the other woman. Radiance smiled and extended a business card.
“My office number, fax, and cell should you need to get in touch with me. We’ll worry about presentation contracts later. For the time being, I suggest you begin the elimination process. I left a list of the pieces I’m interested in displaying on the easel in your studio.”
“Thank you.”
“No, thank you, Ms. Clavaro.”
*****
A light drizzle fell from the overcast skies as Chemelyn made her way toward the cafe. She could hardly believe it; her own exhibit in a local gallery. As she strolled at a brisk pace up the several hundred steps from the waterfront to the Public Market, she couldn’t help but let the phrase ‘featured artist’ run through her head on repeat. It didn’t seem to matter that she had had no formal training in watercolor. Apparently, the afternoons she’d spent with Rebecca as a child had paid off more than she could have ever hoped. While Chemelyn was far off from making a living by her hobby, the thought that someone might be interested in one of her paintings to add to a personal collection was astounding.
Taking the last flight of cement stairs to the Market avenue, she barely paused before darting into the crowd, maneuvering her way into the Square and jogging across the pavement to the shops lining the other side of the street. Rounding the corner of the block, the cafe’s fixtures became visible through the glass window panes of the corner building.
A familiar figure leaned against the brick in a futile attempt to stay out of the rain, which was beginning to fall in earnest. Chemelyn slowed, coming to a halt across the street. He lifted his head at that moment, their gazes locking. He pushed himself away from the wall and gave her a boyish grin with an exaggerated shrug as if to say, ‘I couldn’t help myself.’ Chemelyn laughed and noted the bottle of champagne he held in one hand and the bouquet he held in the other.
Thankfully, there weren’t any vehicles claiming the avenue, as most people preferred to walk in the vicinity of the Market. The rain had, for once, deterred Seattlites from seeking to spend their lunch break patronizing the smattering of restaurants in the district, leaving Chemelyn free to cross the boulevard without hindrance. She came to stand several paces in front of him, a secretive smile curving her lips.
“So?” he asked anxiously.
“There’s an exhibition coming up in two weeks,” she told him, “mark it on your calendar because attendance is recommended for featured artists and I need a date.”
Howie exhaled the breath he hadn’t even been aware he held captive in his lungs and let out a joyous shout as he stepped forward to envelop her in a tight embrace. The flowers were crushed between them, but neither seemed to care as tears of happiness overflowed from her eyes, sliding hotly down the column of his neck. He increased his grasp around her waist, holding her petite frame off the ground as he buried his face in her hair. “I knew you could do it, I just knew! Oh Chemelyn,” he murmured drawing back enough to press a kiss to her forehead, the bridge of her nose. She laughed through her tears and closed her eyes as his lips swept across her lids.
“I’m glad one of us wasn’t blind sided,” she mumbled against his mouth.
“What, are you kidding me? You had doubts?” he teased, giving her a squeeze. “I didn’t. See, I even bought a bottle of champagne.”
“I noticed. I take it we’re going to celebrate?”
“You better believe it,” Howie accented his statement with another kiss, this time letting his lips linger on hers as the two simply enjoying the sweet taste of triumph.
Inside the cafe, Malone stood, nose nearly pressed against the glass as he watched the couple outside, oblivious to the curious glances they were receiving as they successfully blocked the flow of sidewalk traffic. He watched as Howie’s lips claimed Chemelyn’s again and again; watched as she returned his ardor feverently, winding her arms around his neck. Malone couldn’t suppress the smile that threatened.
“I take it she got a place at the gallery?” Derik guessed sagely, observing the scene over the other man’s shoulder.
“I certainly don’t think that’s a kiss of consolation,” he chuckled wryly.
“Do you think we should tell them it’s raining?”
“Somehow, Derik, I don’t believe they care.”
“Maybe you’re right.”
“I’m always right.”
And indeed, he was.
***Feedback only takes a minute, and it inspires and warms the heart of the author. Drop me a line, if you feel inclined. Thanks!***
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