Journey's Child

19

I felt really uncomfortable being put on the spot like that. "I already told you, we moved here for the summer so my mother could write ' the great American novel'."

Thad gave me a skeptical look and turned back to his painting. He smeared some grayish paint that he'd mixed with some dark green towards the top of his canvas.

Storm clouds.

"You're not telling me the whole story, Gilly."

"My mom probably told you everything."

He gave me a quick glance, then shook his head as he added more dark paint to his canvas.

I stood stubbornly silent for a few moments, then I remembered about his daughter and decided to take a chance that he'd understand. "My father and little brother died in a car crash a couple of months ago."

He froze with his paint brush hanging in the air as it waited to make contact with his canvas. He let out a big sigh and said, "I'm sorry, Gilly. That is unbelievably sad."

That's when I should have shut up, but no...

"I was supposed to go with them. I overslept instead and..." my voice faded away - just like I wanted to.

Thad didn't say anything, but he began to wipe at his canvas as if he wanted to make the dark sky disappear. I watched as he spread some light blues and white on his easel.

"You're going to paint the cove the way it looks right now?" I asked.

"That was our deal," he said glancing at me and winking.

*

I spent the morning playing on the beach with Captain. He loved to chase pieces of driftwood, but he refused to give them back. I had to find another stick and throw it, then he'd keep the first one while trying to pick up the second stick as well. He made me laugh more than I had since Linda left.

Once in a while, I'd peek at Thad's painting which held the exact color of the late morning sky. There were some light grays but pale blue was winning the fight to take control.

"Let's break for lunch," Thad called out. Captain came running, passing me up and not stopping until he was at the front door waiting for us.

While we sat in Thad's kitchen nook, eating ham and cheese sandwiches, we fell into a comfortable conversation.

"When you're not visiting our fair town, where do you live, Gilly?"

I told him about San Jose and my Willow Glen neighborhood, about Susannah, the new school I was going to start and what we did for fun. For a few minutes, it felt like that world was still in one piece. I changed the subject when it got too close for comfort.

"Have you ever been to California?" I asked.

"He gave me an amused look. "Yes, I go two or three times a year to Los Angeles and San Francisco. There are galleries in those cities that show my paintings. A gallery in Sacramento just signed on, so I'll be stopping there, too.

I must have had a surprised look on my face because he laughed.

"Don't believe everything you hear, Gilly. I'm not a hermit, I was married once, and I travel more than most people."

"Were you born here in Drakes Harbor?" I asked, now fascinated.

"No, I was born in New York." he said matter-of fact as he poured more milk into his glass. "You want some?" he asked.

"Yes, please." I was enjoying our visit. I didn't know if I had been hungrier for food or conversation, but I was filling up on both.

"Was your wife born here?" I asked, trying to figure out why he lived here instead of New York or California.

He shook his head. "No, she was a New York City girl all the way. I dragged her out here. She would have been much happier staying there." He looked sad and I realized it was time for him to stop remembering, too.

*

After we cleaned up, we headed back down to the cove. Captain had rested while we ate and now he wanted to play again. I chased him, then he chased me. I dug for little sand crabs and collected a few shells that had been washed up on the beach. Finally, the sun had warmed the air enough that I felt like getting wet. I waded out to my knees, enjoying the cool water as it wrapped around my legs. Before I knew it, the cuffs of my shorts were wet, then I was up to my waist as the ocean gently nudged me on.

"You better not go out any further, Gilly," Thad called out.

I was about to yell back to him that I was a good swimmer, but then I remembered what my mother told me about his daughter drowning. "Okay," I shouted back as I began to walk towards the shore.

I checked out his painting and smiled at his kept promise of the day's soft colors staring back at me.

"Well, how do you like it so far?" he asked.

"I love it. You're a great painter."

"Flattery will get you anywhere," he said. "Now help me carry this stuff up to the house."

"Okay, then I better go. I didn't mean to stay so long." I told him.

"Will your mom be worried?"

I laughed, then shook my head, "No she probably won't be at the cottage when I get there. She usually goes out around dinner time and doesn't come home until later."

He gave me a knowing nod and said, "Tomorrow I'm going to paint at your beach."

"Really?" I asked, surprised.

He gave me one of his exasperated looks and I quickly said, "I know, don't believe everything I hear." I handed him his paints and began to walk over to the trail. "Goodbye Thad, goodbye Captain," I called to them as I waved, "see you tomorrow."

I walked down the path feeling so happy and light that I wasn't sure my feet were touching the ground. Going back to the cottage wasn't scary or sad. I didn't care if my mother wouldn't be there. I had so much to write in my journal, I knew I wouldn't be lonely. What I didn't know, was that time was running out for all of us.

20

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