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Turning himself around, he wrapped his arms around her and lifted her up in his arms, planting a sweet kiss on her lips. “I knew you would,” he replied, swinging her around, a joyful giggle escaping her mouth.
Putting her down on her feet, he gave her another chaste kiss as they continued unloading the truck and started setting up the tent together. Once their camp was set up, Ben started on a fire with some firewood he brought from the farm. Setting up the lawn chairs around the fire, Ever took a seat and watched him as he stoked the fire with a long stick. The haze of early evening was emerging, and it gave the clearing a feeling of peaceful tranquility. Her recent creative awakening made her think of the shadows reflecting on the water and how she would paint them.
Ben glanced over at Ever and moved his chair right next to hers. “What are you thinking, sweetheart?”
“About how I would paint those reflections on the water.” She grinned at him. “I just see color, shade, contrast everywhere.”
Ben reached for her hand and intertwined his fingers with hers. “Ever, I am so happy you are painting again.”
She smiled in reflection. “It feels good. I feel like a faucet you cannot turn off. I feel like I did when I left Prairie Sky for Toronto. Like my creativity is overflowing.”
Ben turned to stare at the fire, both falling into quiet contemplation. “Can I ask you something?” he asked, breaking their reverie.
“Anything.”
“I know we have never really discussed it and I never wanted to ask you because I didn’t want to bring up anything painful, but…”
“You want to know why my dad and I had not spoken for so long?”
He nodded, stoking their fire causing golden embers to rise into the sky.
Ever swallowed, an emotional tightness forming in her throat. Thinking back to the day that changed her life forever was difficult. A day that was burnt into her brain and branded on her heart. She sighed as she shared her story.
“My dad was always very protective.” she began entranced by the fire. “He always wanted what was best for me, or at least what he thought was best for me. My senior year of high school, the Counsellor encouraged me to apply to several art schools as by then it was very clear art was my passion and the teachers thought I had a genuine talent. My dad would never really acknowledge that passion and encouraged me to consider teaching or business, something that would keep me close to Primrose and close to him. He also would never attend any of my school art shows and would say to me, ‘Art will not pay the bills.’ She looked at Ben with sadness in her eyes. “I was not accepted right away into any of the art schools, so after graduation I worked for my dad, helped with bookkeeping and took a job at the Eazy, trying to figure out what to do next”.
Ben nodded, taking in her story, encouraging her to continue.
“Well, one year after graduation, I continued to paint whenever I had a chance and reapplied to my number one choice of schools, Toronto School of Art. Early that following winter, I received a letter of acceptance telling me there was a spot for me in spring.”
“Amazing.” he acknowledged, looking at her with a smile.
“I thought so, but I was scared to share it with dad as I was sure he would discourage me from going. So, I kept it from him for a few months, until I could figure out the details and finally mustered up enough courage to tell him.”
Ben met her gaze and squeezed her hand.
“He was in his barn office, and I sort of blurted it out, not very eloquently in fact, and showed him the letter of acceptance. His response was an immediate ‘No’. After that, it was all a bit of a blur. I was upset, obviously, and we didn’t talk much for several days. It was February at the time and the start of Art School was about three months away. The tension being too much to bear, I asked Bea if I could stay at her house temporarily until he calmed down or finally decided to accept my decision.” she said with a look of regret on her face. “In retrospect, I knew it was a bad idea, but I was so determined and wanted my independence so fiercely that I felt doing something drastic would get his attention and make him realize how unreasonable he was being. So, I wrote him a note telling him my plans and that if he wanted to talk to me again, I would be at Bea’s. I packed my things and loaded my car, internally praying he would not notice me, as I didn’t want a confrontation. I was not that lucky. Coming in from the barn, he caught me carrying the last of my bags down the stairs.”
“He must have been shocked.” Ben offered.
“I think he was. He just looked at me with a combination of anger and hurt. I have never seen him look so incredibly hurt. He told me ‘If you think this place is not good enough for you, leave, go and don’t even think of coming back.’ So, I left.”
Ben leaned forward and rubbed his hand over his beard, then turned to meet Ever’s regretful gaze. “So that was the last time you saw him?”
“Yes.”
Both sat there for a few minutes, staring into the fire. “I am so sorry Ever.”
Giving him a grateful look, she squeezed his hand. “Honestly, I never thought it would be the last time I would see him. I honestly thought if I left, spent a few weeks with Bea he would calm down, accept that I needed to follow my dreams and would finally be happy for me. After a month, I realized that was not going to happen. So, I left for Toronto early, driving three days till I got there, in the middle of winter no less.”
“What did you do when you got there? Did you have a place to stay?” he asked.
“No, I had nothing, just my things in the back of my car. I had saved a significant amount of money, so I rented a long-term hotel room by the airport and started hunting for an apartment. Of course, everything was incredibly expensive, but finally I found a sublet on a loft apartment that was reasonable enough. I still have that apartment. It is small but is in a great area and has fantastic lighting for painting.”
“Wow, so you were completely on your own?” he asked.
“Yes, for a few months. My building manager and neighbours were nice and once I started school, I met some new friends. It was a very difficult, lonely time for me. A lot of emotions, which I think benefited my painting. It became my therapy in a way.”
“I can see that,” he mused. “So, did your father ever reach out to you?”
