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“Blake, I can’t just sit around while—”
“We’ll walk,” he told her. “Out in the mountains. Fresh air. No staring people. You can’t do anything here. I know you want to. I know you’re desperate to help, but they won’t let you touch anything until they complete their investigation. Come on. Let’s take a walk.”
He realized then that she was shaking, perhaps on the verge of another breakdown, but a gentle clearing of her throat paired with a few hard blinks seemed to keep the storm at bay.
“A walk?” she murmured.
“Just a walk.” His heart raced at the thought, at what he planned to share with her on that walk—a secret that would make or break them. “To clear our heads. It’ll be good for both of us.”
“I…” The tension eased out of her limbs, and while he thought he might need to prop her up again, she managed to hold her own just fine when he hesitantly released her. “I could manage a walk. But just a quick one.”
He exhaled softly, smiling. “We’ll be back before you know it.”
***
Although Tanith had been skeptical at first that a walk could cure all things, she had to admit now, as she strolled along the mountain trails behind Blake, that Mother Nature had certainly stepped up and played her part. Something in the air rejuvenated her, dragged her away from the abyss that she had almost toppled into as she’d stood staring at the charred remains of her gallery.
Because there was certainly a hell of a lot to freak out about. All that money—gone. All those priceless works of art—gone. All the works-in-progress in the basement studios, all the hard work their creators had given to birth them, nurse them, and prepare them for this world… It was all for nothing. Cynics had always told her not to pursue art. It was a fool’s errand, a worthless career. One day, it was all going to blow up in her face.
And today, it had.
Yet the mountains calmed her—enough to keep her from having a full-blown mental breakdown in the middle of Main Street. Even if the forest and its paths hadn’t cured her, Blake had been right to take her away from the scene of the crime.
People were curious by nature, and small towns like Angel Fire had a knack for breeding the most curious sorts of people. From the time she had arrived at the inferno to the time Blake finally steered her away, placing her in his Jeep and taking her out into the wild, people had stopped to stare. To gawk. And not just at the building or the fire or the hunky firefighters. They were there to gawk at her, too. They were there to see her reaction, to tell their friends about it, to whisper it to coworkers later that morning. Remember that kooky gallery owner? She lost everything today. Yes. Such a shame.
Maybe she should have dedicated her life to something more normal, something more stable—something that couldn’t be destroyed in under an hour.
She shook her head, holding herself in a solo hug, and turned her gaze toward the mountains. Through the sweeping forest, they stood firm, unshakeable—maybe they were trying to tell her that was how she ought to be in a time like this.
With a soft sigh, Tanith looked to Blake. He had been so wonderful through all this; their fight last night seemed so petty now, so pointless. Had she just been looking for a reason to bicker with him? Had it been because she was also a little unsure about taking on a teaching gig after all?
Well, now she would have to. The costs to fix the gallery would bankrupt her, and it was just stupid to have no reliable source of income. Not for herself, of course, but for Hayley.
Tears blurred her vision, and she stumbled forward, snagging Blake’s hand for support. He pulled her close as she cried, saying nothing, just walking on, steering her toward…somewhere. It had been a long time since she had ventured out to the trails. A longer time still since she had had the freedom to be somewhere else besides the gallery or at home with her daughter, outside of an hour or two here and there with Blake recently.
What a shame that it took the destruction of her dreams to give her free time.
He eventually brought her to the edge of the lake, a massive body of water that sat nestled along the base of several mountains. Dark blue water awaited them, a stark contrast to her inner turmoil, the raging swirl of terror that threatened to consume her. Steadying herself, knowing she couldn’t lean on Blake forever, Tanith inhaled deeply, filling her lungs as much as she possibly could, then let it all out. Her exhale ended with a sob, but when it was over, she felt better. Not whole again. Not even good, really. Just a little bit better.
“Tanith?”
Blake’s voice sounded as though he were calling out to her while she hovered beneath the water’s surface. She stared out over the lake, admiring its serene stillness. It would be wonderful to paint. She could already envision how she would lay it out, what brushes she’d use, the particular canvas size…
How could she imagine doing anything else? Tanith was born an artist, she’d die an artist, and losing her gallery wouldn’t change that.
“Yes?”
“I know you have a lot on your plate already,” Blake told her, his hand falling to the small of her back, his voice more present, more in her ear, “but I have to tell you something. Something that might change… Well, just hear me out.”
