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Joey giggled. "Well, hes got a dick, doesnt he? Theyre all that way. "
At the front of the room, Sarah clapped her hands together. "Good evening, ladies. Its great to see so many familiar faces. "
Joey grabbed Elizabeths arm and led her to side-by-side chairs, where they sat down.
Sarah was in the middle of her opening remarks when Mina popped to her feet. She was smiling so brightly her face was scrunched up like a dried apple. "I drove here!" Her lower lip, made fuller by pink lipstick, trembled. "I can go anywhere now. "
The applause was thunderous.
Elizabeth was surprised by how deeply those few words affected her. I can go anywhere now.
What a feeling that must be. How was it that shed never imagined such a thing, though shed been driving for years? Freedom had always been there for her, available every time she started the car. Available to any woman who dared to look up from the preplanned route and wonder, Where would that road take me?
When the applauding died down, the women returned to their seats. This time, because there were no "new" faces, Sarah led the group in a discussion that delved into previously expressed dreams.
Joey was the first to speak. "I took the kids to the dentist yesterday. I just love all that clean space. " She sighed. "The dental hygienist just bought a brand-new Volkswagen Bug. Can you believe it? Id love to drive that car. "
"Have you ever thought about becoming a hygienist?" Sarah asked.
"Yeah, right. I barely got through high school. I think my grade point average was a negative number. " She tried to smile, then bent down and rifled through the huge diaper bag at her feet. "I did think about someones dreams this week, though. One of my customers left this on the table last week. " She pulled out a paintbrush and handed it to Elizabeth. "Is that, like, karma, or what?"
It was a Big K quality paintbrush, probably from a childs paint-by-number set. A cheap little brush no self-respecting artist would ever use.
So, why did Elizabeth feel like crying?
"Thank you, Joey," she said, taking the brush. When she touched it, her heart did a funny little flop.
"Tell us about your painting," Sarah said.
Elizabeth took a deep breath. "In college, my professors said I had talent. I was accepted into several fine-arts graduate programs. "
"Did you go?" Joey asked, her voice hushed with awe.
"No. After the girls were born, there wasnt time. Later, when Jamie started first grade, I tried to go back to my painting, but when I picked up a brush, nothing happened. I just sat there. " She looked around at the womens faces. Every one of them understood. Sometimes you missed your chance.
And yet . . . when she looked down at the paintbrush in her hand, something happened. Nothing major, no Voice of God or anything, but something.
She remembered suddenly how it had felt to paint. It was like flying . . . soaring.
Suddenly, she couldnt think about anything else.
After the meeting, she parked in her carport and ran for the house. Without bothering to turn on the downstairs lights, she went up to her room. In the back of her closet, she shoved the clothes aside and dropped to her knees.
There it was: a cardboard box filled with old supplies. She pulled it toward her, inhaling the long-forgotten scent of dried paint. On top lay a single sable brush, its fine bristles a glossy chocolate brown. She reached for it, brushed the tender underside of her chin.
Smiling, she got to her feet and walked into the bedroom to the pair of French doors that opened out onto the second-floor balcony. She pressed a finger to the cool glass, staring out at the night-darkened sea.
If there was anywhere she could paint again, it would be here, in the safety of this yard. She closed her eyes, daring for just a moment to imagine a shiny new future.
Jack drove slowly down the twisting once-gravel and now-mud road that led to his house. Although Stormwatch Lane ran for almost a half a mile, there were no other dwellings along the way. For most of its distance, the road was bordered on the west by a sheer cliff. Below it lay the windblown Pacific Ocean.
He pulled into the carport and parked, then grabbed his garment bag and head
ed for the front door.
A single light fixture cast the porch in orangey light. In the corner, an empty Adirondack chair cast a picket-fence shadow on the plank floor.
Inside, the house smelled of the cinnamony candles Elizabeth burned at Christmas. She always said she was going to save them for the holidays, but she never did. She burned them night after night, until the wicks were blobs of charcoal stuck to the bottom of the jar.
