A Place Called Home

“Maybe I’ve just grown up, Matt. Maybe I’ve realized there’s more to life than clubbing.”

He reached forward, taking hold of her chin with his thumb and forefinger. His touch was gentle. “The answer to your question is yes. I suppose I’ll always love you, Ellie, in a way, but it’s not enough anymore. We’re not on the same page.”

“And I still really care about you, but I feel that way, too,” she admitted.

He smiled, and Ellie thought she saw relief in his expression.

“Then I think we should have a break for a while, a total break, so that we can both decide where we are. You can go and do your country thing and I’ll meet up with some of my old friends again...catch up on what I’ve been missing.”

In a sudden flutter of panic, Ellie reached out to take hold of his hand, clutching it tightly in both of hers.

“Are you trying to tell me that we’re over?”

“I suppose I am... Is that a problem?”

Ellie shook her head slowly, staring at the man she had once intended to spend the rest of her life with. The panic faded and she withdrew her hands. “You may as well have this back then,” she said quietly, sliding off her diamond ring.

“No!” His objection was immediate, from the heart. “I never said I wanted the ring back.”

“What do you want then, Matt?”

“I told you... A proper break.”

“We’re over, Matt. I think we both know that.”

Taking the ring, he pressed it against her palm, closing his fingers around her hand.

“Don’t wear it, then. Just keep it for a while, say a couple of weeks or so. And then we’ll meet up again. If you’ve got this country thing out of your system...”

“Country thing!” Her voice was cold, her hands shaking. “I was born in the country, Matt.”

“Yes, and you hated it. That’s why you moved to the city.”

“No, I never hated the country. I just couldn’t stand the memories it held for me.”

“Exactly,” he declared. “And now you’ve changed. I loved the crazy girl I met, you see, but it feels as if she’s gone.”

“I’m still me, Matt. Aren’t you supposed to love me for myself?”

“And I’m still me. I’ve never made a secret of who I am.”

“So you’re saying that I have?”

Matt’s jaw tightened. “No,” he responded. “Of course not—well, not intentionally, anyway.”

Ellie stood up, reaching for her bag and slinging it over her shoulder.

“I guess it’s goodbye, then.”

An acute sense of loss dragged through her chest as she kissed him on the cheek. He grabbed her arm, pulling her down to press his lips fiercely against hers.

“For now,” he murmured, releasing her. “Ring me when you’re ready.”

As she walked out of the bar, into the golden light of the late evening sun, Ellie’s sense of loss was replaced with a glimmer of excitement. She would never be ready to get back with Matt, she knew that now. There was so much to think about, so many memories still to relive. So many pictures to paint...beginning with Blue’s.

CHAPTER SIX (#ulink_1661a58b-9326-5633-b4c6-dd3aeefffd35)

ELLIE NOSED HER car along the street, looking for a parking place. An angry driver honked his horn and she threw him a smile, mouthing sorry as she carefully maneuvered into a tiny space, holding up the traffic.

For over a week, apart from the nights when she worked at Dominoes, Ellie had spent most of her time painting, totally inspired by her new ideas and material. Her image of Into the Blue—no horse with the majesty he displayed in her painting could ever be thought of as just Blue—was probably the most satisfying work she had ever completed. He stared out from the canvas with real expression in his eyes, exuding presence. She couldn’t wait to show it to her dad.

Mel was waiting impatiently when Ellie staggered through the huge front door of the gallery, clutching two paintings.

“I’ve got an appointment at three,” Mel said, looking pointedly at her watch.

Ellie placed the paintings carefully against the wall.

“Sorry, the traffic was awful and I couldn’t find a parking place close enough to carry them all in at once. I’ll go back for the other one in a minute.”

“Well, let me see the ones you’ve brought.”

Mel Morton was revered as an art critic and gallery owner, and Ellie was well aware that being given some space in one of her exhibitions, however small, was a huge honor as well as a chance to get her work seen. She believed that the two paintings she’d just brought in, the fox cub on its day of freedom and the one of her dad’s pup, Shadow, working the sheep, were probably the best she had ever done, along with her portrait of Into the Blue.

As the tall, elegant, middle-aged woman lifted them onto the display table, standing back to survey them with a critical eye, Ellie’s nerves jangled.

For several minutes the two women stood side by side in silence, absorbing the emotion displayed before them: the young fox’s look of fury combined with vulnerability, the dog’s keen expression and the apprehension of the sheep.

“I’d like to exhibit them if I can,” said Ellie. “But they’re not for sale right now.”

“They’d make a good price,” remarked Mel. “But maybe it would be better not to sell yet—drive up the value. The other paintings you’ve shown me aren’t bad, but they aren’t in the same league as these two. Did you say there was a third?”

Ellie nodded, trying to contain her excitement. “I’ll go and get it.”

When she arrived back at the gallery with her third painting, Mel was still absorbed by the two already on display.

“It’s the emotion,” she exclaimed. “It draws you in. You can feel the fox’s fear behind his snarl and the intelligence on the sheepdog’s face is something else.”

Ellie hesitated in the act of removing the cover from the painting of Into the Blue. “It’s not quite as contemporary a style as these two...more traditional.”

“Well, you don’t need to apologize for that,” Mel said. “Come on, let me see.”

Into the Blue looked magnificent, thought Ellie, staring out across the countryside like a king surveying his kingdom. It was hard to believe that she