The Inside Diaries

Canvas

Shielding her eyes, she gazed toward the horizon. Dawn was breaking, and she had a garden to tend to. A patch of forestry on elevated ground, next to the treehouse in which she had most recently found herself. Catticus was back at their place, sleeping by the sunlit window, fed earlier that morning by Matias.

Tangerine pools of light radiated into marble blue sea as she bunched her dress, stepping carefully down the steps onto the timbered platform. One jug of water to be distributed equally among the leftmost stalks, the rightmost herbs, and everything in between.

Surrounded by the chirps of the odd bird and flickering dragonfly wings fluttering here and there, she contemplated the world in which she created for herself. Herself and her characters, that is. Fernando had found more reasons to spend time with her, and while she herself was amenable, she sought to balance this with the people and relationships she had already forged within this island. Luckily, he was understanding.

The plants having been watered, she gathered her purse, making her way down the polished, recently refurbished wood bridge, past sand-strewn residential lanes, palm trees swaying throughout, to Morgana's residence. Or more specifically, the woman's she-shed. A journey of no more than twenty minutes' duration.

Then again, Melanija thought to herself, was it really a she-shed? She gazed up at the glass-plated ceiling and the surrounding clay tiled walls and flooring. Canvases of every which size and shape decorated the walls. One, a bright pineapple yellow, with palm frond stenciling. Another contained violet blossoms, most likely orchids. And in front and center, was a single canvas propped up on a wood easel, behind which was a potted palm plant.

"For Marcella and Henry's condo—" came a voice behind her. Morgana.

"I didn't hear you come in—" Melanija began, but the older woman shushed her.

"Acrylic on canvas, a water scene to promote ambiance and soothing emotions." Morgana pushed her pince-nez glasses up, her auburn-grey curls wrapped in a messy bun. "But something's missing—"

"What's that?"

Morgana sighed. "I haven't the foggiest idea. Thought perhaps you'd know?"

Melanija studied the image before her. A rush of water, juxtaposed with verdant hillside. "What about palm trees? Sandy beach? Maybe a bit of tangerine in the water, to reflect sunlight? Or yellow? Gold?"

The older woman nodded, tilting her head this way and that, mentally visualizing those suggestions, finally nodding, to the writer's relief. "Yes...I think...yes, I think that'll most certainly work!"

She smiled. "Glad to help. How's Marcella doing, anyhow?"

"Funny you should ask..." Morgana's voice trailed off, the younger woman appearing confused.

"What happened?" Oh no, maybe she and Henry—ended things?

"No, no, no, nothing like that!" Morgana piped up, noticing Melanija's clouded expression. "Quite the contrary. Congratulations are in order."

"Wait—seriously?"

"On two counts—their engagement...and their future bundle of joy."

"Oh—oh my gosh!" Melanija exclaimed, a surge of joy permeating her senses from within. "How exciting! I never expected—I mean, I knew that they were together—but—" she stopped, realizing she was beginning to ramble.

"It certainly came as a surprise to them both," chuckled Morgana. "The baby, I mean. But I think they'll make wonderful parents. Once they get over the initial shock of it all," she added. "Happens to the best of us."

"I'm so happy for them," Melanija responded. "That and the wedding. Speaking of which—" she paused. "Have they set a date?"

"A couple of months from now, so it seems. That said, they're taking things one day at a time, and Marcella's growing accustomed to motherhood. Fresh fruit, sunshine, and a side of candied ginger works wonders in the early months," Morgana added with a knowing smile.

After leaving Morgana's residence, Melanija headed back to Catticus, and home, changing into a bathing suit and linen caftan shirt atop, for a bohemian chic ensemble. Taking her pre-packed duffel containing sunblock, a towel, a book, and more, she turned toward Catticus while standing in the threshold. "Behave yourself, mmmk?"

"Mrrrrrrrrrrrow," came the reply, as Melanija smiled, closing and locking the door softly behind her. Forty minutes later, her feet met pearlized sand, smooth, pebbled, and warm, as she found herself on the part that which most resembled a desert island in every sense of the word. Water, extending for miles upon miles, a glossy transparent aquamarine. Cabanas too, three up ahead a hundred or so feet from the shoreline. Plus a lone palm tree, its fronds waving in the tropical breeze—behind which a familiar figure stepped forward.

Fernando.

"Hey, you," she grinned as he approached, kissing her slow on both cheeks, then finally on the lips.

"Hey, yourself," he murmured, stroking her raven hair in the way he knew best.

A date, in paradise.