“When are you going to start on the first of these small pieces of art?” Filly asked.
“It was just an idea,” Emma answered. “I hadn’t thought about when and what, and I’m not even sure about a gallery showing. Maybe if the art buyer likes them, I could sell locally like all y’all do.”
Filly took another slice of brisket and then passed the platter around the table a second time. “I think you should paint a hummingbird first. They’re small and would make a perfect subject for a cheery picture. I’ll share my table with you anytime you want to come watch them for inspiration.”
“I just might do that.” Emma could hardly believe that her idea had taken root and was already growing among these sweet folks. Just days ago, she’d had no future except more rounds of therapists and a sterile room in an institution, and now the world was open to her. Just thinking about it was exciting—and a whole lot scary.
Josh could see a little of the haunted look leave Emma’s eyes. That made him think about how much Arty had helped him. He had been more than a little overwhelmed when Harry had passed away suddenly and left him a fortune. Josh had never liked living in the city or in a big house. He went straight to the lawyer who had been hired to help manage his newly found fortune about buying something small in the southern part of the state—away from his parents.
Had Harry not left him the means, he would never have been able to leave his parents’ home, and he never would have met Arty and Filly. His folks didn’t think he could live on his own out in the big, wide world, no matter how intelligent he was, but he’d wanted to be out of their house and on his own. He had even looked at a few apartments, but then he became rich, so he adjusted his thinking to buying rather than just renting. He had looked at a few houses, but when the real estate agent his lawyer was dealing with mentioned a trailer park and a lot of land, he asked to see it.
His folks thought he was crazy. His lawyer tried to talk him out of buying it. He had never lived in a trailer before, or managed a small park, either, but he proved them wrong.
He owed Arty for suggesting that Josh show his artwork to Leo, the art dealer. The night before the man came to the park to buy Filly’s and Arty’s work, Josh hadn’t slept a wink. Now his work was known all over the United States, and people paid good money for a Josh Corlen original. Yep, he wouldn’t have the confidence he had today without Arty’s help and Harry’s faith in his ability to take care of himself. Hopefully, Emma would look back someday and see that she had friends right there on Hummingbird Lane who helped her.
“I’m going to take a walk tomorrow to work on a picture of an eagle.” Josh kept his eyes on his plate. “Every now and then he flies overhead and I get another detail or two by shooting a picture of him with my camera. If you want to go with me and maybe sketch some cactus blossoms, you are welcome, Em.” He held his trembling hands in his lap and wished he hadn’t said anything at all. What if she said yes out of pity because she didn’t want to hurt his feelings? Or worse yet, what if she said no because she was afraid of him?
“Yes, I’d like that.” Emma smiled.
“I’ll be waiting on your back porch about ten o’clock, then. I usually see the eagle about ten thirty.” His pulse stopped racing.
Emma gave a brief nod. “I’ll be ready.”
“So, you like to be called Em instead of Emma?” Arty asked.
“Yes.” Emma nodded again. “It reminds me of happy times.”
“Then Em it is,” Filly said. “I don’t like to be called Ophelia. It sounds so pompous and stilted. Filly says that I’m a free spirit. Em is kind of the same. Wearing that beautiful outfit, and with your hair all pulled up, I can see that you got a little bit of rebel blood in you, too.”
“That’s so sweet. Sophie’s mama’s name is Rebel, and I always wanted to grow up and be just like her,” Emma said.
Arty pointed toward the southwest. “Looks like Mexico is sending a storm our way.”
“Well, dammit!” Filly swore. “If it rains, we won’t get much of a visit, and I was hoping to talk y’all into a game of gin rummy tonight. Maybe after your walk through the cactus fields, you can come over for coffee tomorrow, Em?”
“That would be nice.” Emma nodded.
They had barely dipped up the cobbler when a dark cloud moved across what sun there was left, and a loud clap of thunder sent Coco running for the pet entrance in the front door of Josh’s trailer.
“Time to go inside.” Josh was disappointed, too. He liked card games and the banter that went on between Filly and Arty when they played. “I can smell the rain, and if you look out there, you can see it headed this way.”
Arty put lids on the plastic containers of food, stacked them up, and started for his trailer. “Temperature is dropping, so we might even get some hail.”
Filly re-covered the cobbler with foil, set the relish tray on top of it, and hurried off to her trailer. “Y’all hunker down until it’s over. If it’s rainin’ tomorrow night, we’ll have supper at Arty’s place.”
Josh jogged across the yard, but he didn’t make it inside before enormous drops of rain began to fall, and the wind picked up. He hurried inside, took time to wipe the water from his glasses, and then opened the door to the back porch. He loved the smell of rain and the sound of it beating on the metal roof. For the first time, though, he wished it would only be a passing storm, not one that lasted through the night. He didn’t mind walking in the rain or getting wet, but he wasn’t brave enough to go out when there was lightning.
He sat down on the sofa in his living room and glanced over at the easel where he’d set his latest work. He refused to be nervous about the next day. He had to calm himself or else he would have insomnia. Only one thing ever got rid of the jitters, and that was work, so he moved from the sofa to the easel and began to put the tiny lines into the eagle’s feathers that would give them life and movement.
“We’re all afraid of something,” he muttered. “Even someone as pretty as Em has fears. I’ll have to take it easy with her if she’s ever going to be my friend.”
In Emma’s mind the dream was real.
Emma couldn’t move. She kept thinking that if only she had been the girl who wore a flouncy skirt, she would have the strength to fight that guy off. She’d gone willingly to his apartment. Dallas was one of her fellow art students, after all. He had said that Terrance had a painting he wanted her to critique. It was an unusual abstract painting, and Emma told both guys that she had no expertise in that kind of art. Then they had offered her a glass of champagne to celebrate Terrance winning the picture in an online auction. She told them she didn’t drink, but they assured her that one or two sips of champagne wouldn’t hurt, and it would be rude not to celebrate with them. She didn’t want to be a nerd, so she’d drank maybe half of what was in the glass.
Dallas and Terrance were talking about something on the television in the living room, but they sounded as if they were in a tunnel. Everything appeared to be covered by a thick gray fog, and then Dallas took her by the arm and led her into a bedroom that opened off the living room. “You should lie down and take a little nap,” he said.