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Now, I’ll make him a thousand paintings, each painting for him, and maybe they’ll live up to how I feel for him too.
Chapter46
Hellie
One Year Later
Marina shovesa bowl of cereal at me. “Eat.”
“I’m not hungry.”
She stands, hands on hips, and glares. “You turned down eggs. You turned down bacon. You ignored fruit. You will eat the cereal and thank me for stooping so low as to offer it to you. Now do not insult me further. Eat.”
I pick up the spoon. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Good.” She stalks off, muttering to herself.
I manage a few bites. I’m nauseous and exhausted, my ankles swollen, my belly beginning to grow, but all things considered, I’m okay. Marina’s been on my ass to keep shoveling food down my face, which isn’t exactly the most pleasant thing in the world, but she’s right. I need to keep my strength up now that I’ve got a baby growing in me.
Marina fusses around, brings me juice, crackers, tea, anything she can think of as I try to read the paper. It’s early, but Erick left for work nearly an hour ago now. I’m antsy, already thinking about what I’ll spend the afternoon painting. I’ve been doing this series focusing on moments from my father’s life—the truck at the bottom of the canyon, the armored truck, money in a pocket, fake documents, his face always obscured. When I’m finally ready to get up and get working, Erick appears in the kitchen doorway, wearing his customary fitted suit and looking like a straight-up slice of heaven.
“Hello, my devil girl,” he says and comes over to kiss me.
“Hey, what are you doing here? I thought you were on the Strip today.”
“Something came up last minute and I decided to stay home.”
“Sounds good to me.” I get up and kiss him. He puts a hand on my belly, and even though I’m only two months along, he swears he can feel the baby moving around. “I’m headed up to the studio if you want to come.”
“Actually, I was hoping you’d take a little detour with me first.”
“Well, sure, what do you have in mind?”
“Come this way.” He takes my hand and tugs me along.
I follow him, not sure where we’re going. We move to the back door, out onto the patio, and that’s where I stop in my tracks.
There are plants everywhere. Colorful plants, flowers, the sort of stuff that can’t survive in this climate. It’s like he transplanted an entire jungle into the back yard, so dense and thick it almost feels like the foliage is taking over the world. I breathe hard, head spinning, staring around, completely overwhelmed.
“What did you do?” I ask, my hands covering my mouth.
“You said the one thing you dislike about the desert is the lack of color. I know it won’t last, but at least for today, I brought the color to you.”
“Holy shit.” I laugh and move out the door, heading down into the chaos. There are manicured lanes between the various outcroppings. Reds, yellows, blues and purples, plants I don’t know and can’t name, all beautiful. “This is what you’ve been up to?”
“I had some help.” He walks with his hands behind his back. “Do you like it?”
“I love it.” I turn to face him. “But why now?”
“I have one more surprise.” He takes my elbow and steers me along the central walkway. Ahead, there’s a small archway made of wood and vines, and underneath is an easel holding a painting, but it’s covered by a cloth.
“Erick. What did you do?”
He plants me in front of the painting and slowly removes the cover. I stare in total shock, unable to comprehend what I’m looking at.
The girl at the piano. Her father’s back to the viewer. Her mother’s face glowing with light.
“I started looking for it the day after your father retired. I knew you’d be hurting from his fake death, and I wanted something to make you feel better after I told you the truth.”
