Family Of His Own

Indian Lake’s infrastructure needed work. Some streets were nearly impassible. It was an important issue for the town, but...

He saved the work and flipped off the computer. He dropped his head into his hands and raked his fingers through his hair. “How much lower can you set your bar?” he groaned.

Concrete and asphalt. That’s all his talent was being used for. When he was in Chicago, he’d covered stories about political corruption. Police brutality. Topics he’d thought would make a difference if he brought them to light.

He drummed his fingers on the desk. His articles used to be well-researched and thought-provoking. Or else he wouldn’t write them.

But that was long ago. Lately, he measured his importance by his relationships to his friends and family. Not in how many minds he could sway with his written words. He was a different Scott now.

Or was he?

The door whooshed open, breaking into his thoughts.

“Hello, Scott.” Her voice floated toward him with the magnetic force it always had.

He spun around in his desk chair. “Isabelle.”

She was stunning, dressed in a winter-white wool coat with a collar that rose up under her chin, two huge black buttons off to the side. Her hair, which fell in torrents nearly to her waist, gleamed in the winter’s sun as it broke through the store window. Her dark-lashed green eyes looked, as always, like she’d just risen from the lake.

He stood, went to her and hugged her. She felt so good in his arms and yet he had the familiar, nagging sense that she could vanish at any moment like one of her faeries.

“I need you,” she said.

He held his breath. Not possible. She was still upset with him, wasn’t she? “Why?”

She lifted her shoulder strap that was attached to a tan leather briefcase. “I brought my iPad. Can you please help me? I have to find the right projects to send to Malcolm.”

“Malcolm.” He blinked. The gallery owner. That’s what she needed him for. Made sense. How could he think she wanted anything else? She was bursting with enthusiasm and he caught its fire.

“Come. Sit down and let’s look,” he said. “Do you want some tea or cocoa? Anything you want.”

She gazed at him with so much anticipation and hope, it made him ache. He remembered being this excited about his own career. Once. He wanted this for her. He did. No matter how much it might hurt her. If she got rejected, he would be here for her. Again. He would do that.

Scott pulled up another chair and they sat nearly forehead to forehead as she scrolled through dozens of photos of her paintings.

“I had over two thousand pictures, Scott. Can you believe it? I spent nearly all of Christmas Day discarding the bad ones, and I came up with these. They’re the best of the best. But I can only send three.”

“Three. Out of two thousand?”

“Well, you can imagine all the duplicate shots. Trying to get the right light. That kind of thing. So,” she said, not taking her eyes from the screen. “This one is my favorite mermaid.”

The watercolor was painted in every shade of green an artist could devise. The mermaid had long dark hair, nearly to the end of her tail fin, which was spun with jewels, starfish and pearls. The expression on the mermaid’s face was one of wonder and bliss as she broke through the surface of glistening, iridescent water. “I’ve never seen this one before.”

“I know. I’ve never shown it. I love it.”

“It’s—astounding.”

“Good. Then that’s number one.

“This is another possibility,” she said, showing him the painting of a faerie who walked among the stars toward a quarter moon where another faerie was sitting, beckoning to her. This one was all in blues. “It’s a mother and daughter. I like to think it’s my mom and me.”

“Fantastic. I’ve never seen better,” Scott said. “This is pick number two.”

They perused another dozen photos before Scott stopped her. “I like this one. It’s so...so real.” A boy sat in a sailboat, gazing up at the moon as a faerie sprinkled stardust on him. It was fantasy, yes, but there was something so genuine in the boy’s expression.

“You don’t think it’s too, well, childish?”

“Absolutely not. And it’s a departure. There’s such longing in his face. He’s so unhappy.”

Isabelle considered the boy. “He’s you.”

“What?”

“I painted him two years ago. He reminds me of you. Looking to the stars for something, but he doesn’t know what. At least not yet.”

Scott stared at her. She’d done it again. Stopped his heart. Mesmerized him. He took her hands. “I’m sorry we argue so much, Isabelle. I don’t want us to be like that.”

“Neither do I. It’s my fault. I’m too ambitious for my own good.” She squeezed his hands. “But I can’t help it, Scott. I have so much I want to do with my life.”

“Isabelle, I don’t want to hold you back or do anything to discourage you.”

She turned off her iPad. “I hate it when we argue. I need to be able to count on you, Scott. But this is my golden opportunity. You do see that, right?”

“It’s just that I don’t want you to be hurt again...if it...if it doesn’t work out.”

She moved close and dropped her eyes to his lips. “It will work out. I can feel it. Have faith.”

Then she pressed her lips lightly to his. It was a good thing he was sitting down because he was completely under her spell.

His cell phone buzzed and played the screechy, sci-fi sound that Scott thought was funny, but which was annoying to just about anyone in listening distance. Isabelle broke the kiss and passed him his phone. “You better answer this,” she said. “It’s Trent.”

“I can talk to him later,” Scott replied.

“No. I have to go anyway.” She rose quickly as his phone rang again.

The doorbell tinkled. “Are you still open, Scott?” a woman’s voice called.

“Sure am.” He turned around. “Hi, Mrs. Knowland. How are you? You remember Isabelle?”

“Of course. Isabelle, how are you? And your mother? Did you have a nice Christmas?”

“My mother is fine and it was the best Christmas ever,” Isabelle gushed.

Helen Knowland looked between them, a knowing smirk on her face.

Scott turned, wiped off Isabelle’s lip gloss and rose. He held out his hand. “I’ll call you later, Isabelle,” he said.

“Great,” Isabelle said and kissed his cheek. “Bye.”