“That’s tomorrow’s worry.” Emma laid her hand on Sophie’s shoulder.
“I’ll be gone for a week. You’re not ready for me to leave you alone. I took you out of that place, and now I’m deserting you. Some friend I am. I thought I’d have more time but they moved the showing up.”
“I’m not really alone. You’ve brought me to the park. I’ve got Filly and Arty and Josh. You need this trip, and . . .” Emma seemed to be searching for the right words. “It’s scary, but you need to do this, and I would feel horrible if you didn’t. I might fall apart, but if I do, I’ll go see Filly. I promise.”
“I’ll call every day,” Sophie said.
Emma gave her a sideways hug. “Just remember what Rebel said. We are strong, and just because there’s an ocean between us doesn’t mean we’re not together in spirit. I want you to go.”
“All right then, but I’ll still worry.” Sophie nodded.
“And I’ll worry about you and the showings. I know how important this is for you,” Emma said. “Now let’s talk about something else.”
“All right. How did things go with Josh? Were you comfortable with him out there?”
“I really was,” Emma said. “He said that it takes an artist to know an artist, so we have a lot in common even though we work with different things. He’s so good at what he does. His eagle drawing is just awesome. I wasn’t afraid of him. To tell the truth, I was comfortable with him. That’s saying a lot for me.”
“Yes, it is, and Leo is going to love your picture,” Sophie said. “But even if he doesn’t, I think it’s beautiful, and the fact that you are working again means more to me than what you are working on. It says that you’re taking control of your life again.”
“I hope so, but it means more to me that you like it,” Emma said. “Tell me about Leo. Is he a big man? Is he going to intimidate me or remind me of Terrance?”
“You don’t need to be afraid. He’s a big guy, but he’s sweet and has a kind heart,” Sophie told her.
Emma held her hands tightly in her lap. “Maybe I can give you some money to help with expenses if he buys it.”
“I told you”—Sophie shook her finger at Emma—“no money is needed. You could have a couple more paintings done by then. You should call your work the Hope Collection. By the end of the year, folks will be buying prints, and your originals will go for big bucks.”
Emma sat down in one of the red chairs. “That’s dreaming too big for me today, but painting again was liberating. Maybe tomorrow I will do another one, and maybe you can get past this fear of commitment and get something done tomorrow, too. That reminds me—Josh said that it’s going to rain tomorrow. Maybe you should paint the rain and a lightning storm in addition to sunrise and night.”
“That’s a great idea,” Sophie agreed. “Will you do something with rain, too?”
“Maybe a bird on the porch rail?” Emma said. “Or a lizard crawling up the porch post and blinking at the raindrops. You do remember that rain, dirt, and clouds are tough to paint, right?”
“Oh, yeah, but a challenge is good for the soul.” Sophie finally felt a little peace settling the turmoil in her heart and soul. “Let’s get cleaned up for supper. We’ll eat at five tonight so we can have time to make our eggs and hunt them before dark.”
“Where do we eat when it does rain?” Emma asked.
“Always at Arty’s place, since he cooks the main meal of the day. Filly brings the dessert then, too. His dining area is quite a bit bigger than any of ours,” Sophie answered. “If you get antsy while I’m away, will you promise that you’ll go talk to Filly? She’s like a grandmother to me, and I know she’ll be here for you.”
Emma laid her hand on Sophie’s arm. “I can’t promise that I won’t be lonely without you here every day, but I will promise that I’ll talk to Filly if I think I’m having a panic attack.”
“Let me show you who I always talk to when I get worried or antsy.” Sophie brought out her phone, hit a few icons, and then handed it to Emma. “That’s my Teddy. Those were taken just before he left.”
“Oh. My!” Emma gasped. “He’s not at all what I thought he would look like. I thought he would be six feet tall, dark, and . . . oh!” She slapped a hand over her mouth. “I didn’t mean . . .”
“Mama had the same impression.” Sophie laughed. “I dated the tall, dark, handsome, sexy, well-built guys in college. Teddy isn’t much taller than me. He’s a little pudgy around the middle and he wears wire-rimmed glasses, as you can see. He likes his ivy hats because his hair is getting thin on top. But, honey, he makes me feel like I’m a queen, and he makes me laugh.” Sophie didn’t tell Emma that one of those tall, dark, brooding guys had gotten her pregnant and failed to even mention that he was married.
“You mean like a Great Gatsby hat?” Emma asked.
“Exactly.” Sophie grinned.
“Well, I’m glad he makes you happy,” Emma said.
“Oh, he does, and I’m a lucky woman to have him in my life.” Sophie kissed her forefinger and laid it on the picture.
Filly had boiled two dozen eggs to decorate after supper and had given five to each person in the group except for Arty, who only got four. Oil had always been Emma’s choice of painting medium, but painting a little yellow chicken on an Easter egg with fast-drying acrylics was a lot of fun. She felt a lot like the little peep with its soft yellow down and wide eyes. Even with the obstacles ahead of her in overcoming the ordeal she’d gone through, she had made a start that day. She had popped out of the confinements of the egg and was now holding a paintbrush. She was making her own place in the little artist group—and that made her happy.
“Why do I get cheated?” Arty asked.
“Because you hate to paint,” Filly told him, “but you do like to cook, and that ham tonight was delicious.”
“So was the coconut cake,” Sophie told Filly.
“Thank you,” Arty and Filly said in unison.
“Now, do something spectacular on your four eggs,” Filly fussed at him.
“You want to see artwork?” Arty smarted off. “When I get done with my eggs, you won’t even want to peel them for deviling when we get done hunting them.”
“Show, don’t tell,” Filly told him.
Arty dipped his first egg in warm wax and then picked up a small tool that Emma had only seen used for picking out nuts. He carved an intricate lizard on the egg and then dipped it in purple dye. “What do you think of this, Miz Em?” he asked.
“Oh. My. Gosh! Look, Sophie! He’s made our purple lizard,” Emma squealed.
“What’s this about a purple lizard?” Arty asked. “I just did that to get a rise out of Filly.”
“You old fart!” Filly slapped the air at him.
“Emma and I spent hours coloring in books when we were little girls,” Sophie explained. “One day, she made a calico kitten that was perfectly right, and I colored a lizard purple.”