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She’d made small changes, but overall, things remained mostly the same. Her appliances now all worked, although I doubted she used them much, still relying on takeout and her trusty microwave. The bee situation had also been taken care of, and thankfully, their hive hadn’t been in the house, just near enough that they could get in through a hole near the roof, which was now fixed.
Her keys and purse were placed on the kitchen island as she turned to look at everyone. “Everything is in the guest bedroom,” she said, a hint of nervousness in her voice.
We headed down the hall with her leading the way. I followed close behind and watched as she turned the corner. The lights came on, and I looked around. The bed was made, and the dresser was neat and clean.
No paintings anywhere.
“Need any help, Marin?” I asked.
“Oh…” She hesitated, clearly flustered. “Over here.”
She headed toward the small closet, sliding it open. A brief memory of a younger me slipping in there during a game of hide-and-seek came to mind.
“Most of them are in here. This is where I kept most of my supplies and stuff. I had plans to turn this room into a studio, but during those first few months, my family and friends kept coming down to visit, which is why it’s set up like this.”
And why it remains…
Although she spoke about her late husband with ease, I still couldn’t shake the guilt that clung to me.
The fact that this room had stood frozen in time because he’d died.
Because their dream had been so tragically interrupted.
Could I ever make it up to her?
I stepped forward to help as she buried herself in the closet, moving an easel and a few blank canvases until, finally, she got to several that were leaning against the wall.
“Oh, here they are.” She grabbed the smallest one, pulled it out, and placed it on the bed with little finesse. She didn’t even bother looking at it before she went back for another.
As soon as I saw it, my breath caught.
Oh, holy fuck.
I’d lived in Ocracoke for most of my life, and I’d never seen anyone capture the island’s raw beauty like Marin. The way the light glinted off the water and the movement of the trees.
“Jesus.” The curse flew from my mouth, and Marin turned swiftly around.
She found all three of us frozen in front of the bed.
“What?” she said, looking down at it and then back at us. “Is it bad? I have more if you hate that one.” She nervously started biting her bottom lip.
“Good God, Marin,” Eli said. “This should not be in a closet. It’s a crime against humanity.”
I looked up at her. I’d always assumed she was a good painter—I didn’t know why; I’d just had a feeling. Maybe it was the way she talked about it—the enthusiasm, the passion. But this…this was beyond my comprehension.
“I don’t know shit about art, but this is…Eli’s right; this should be shared.”
She pulled out several more, and they were all just as amazing, if not more so. She’d accomplished a lot in a short amount of time, and I loved watching her eyes come alive as she talked about her technique and style with Eli.
She was in her element, and it was hot as hell.
“I know Billy was joking,” Eli said as we all headed toward the front of the house. Eli and Billy stopped just shy of the front door. “But I would love to buy one if you are ever interested.”
“Charge him a fortune for it,” Billy said with a sly wink as he slid his arm around his waist. “He’s got it to spare.”
“I’ll think about it.” She laughed.
Eli gave Marin his number, and we bid them good night after they both assured us they’d take care of the cleanup from dinner.
