SOMEWHERE by the Sea

Lighthouse

Lifting her paintbrush to the fourth and final painting Michael Wainwright had commissioned, Vicky signed her signature as Vee and stepped back. The scene was beautiful, even if she said so herself. In fact, she was extremely pleased with the way all of her acrylic renditions of everyday life in Somewhere, both now and in the past, had turned out. This painting, however, was different because it was an ocean sunset, as requested by Michael. The colors were primarily orange and red, with splashes of yellow, and she'd actually painted the scene from atop Hope Hill. When she'd first started the project, she'd driven to the lookout and set up her easel with the intent of sketching the panorama and finishing it at home; however, the beauty had been such that she'd returned for a week and only spent today finishing it in her sitting room.

She gazed around the room at the rest of the commissioned artwork leaning against the walls and sighed. Again, she was reminded of how much she loved to paint. She started cleaning her brushes, but was interrupted when she heard the doorbell ring. Since Faith often stopped by on Sunday afternoons, she assumed it was probably her. Wiping her hands on her apron, she hurried from her third floor suite and rushed downstairs. She was excited for Faith to see her finished sunset.

She reached the front door and peered through the peephole. It wasn't Faith. It was Michael Wainwright!

Smoothing a hand over her hair and sighing because she looked like hell, she cracked the door and then realized how rude that was. Opening the door wide, she said, "Hello, Mr. Wainwright."

He cocked his head to one side and grinned. "Michael, please."

His grin was so engaging that she returned it with a wide one of her own. "Michael, please come in." He surprised her when he said, "I was headed out for a drive along the coastline and wondered if you'd join me."

Vicky hadn't been asked to go anywhere with a man in years. "Ah, ah, how long would we be gone?"

"However long you want."

She felt herself blushing. "Um, that sounds nice."

His grin widened. "I was hoping you could point out some of the attractions outside of Somewhere. I hear there's a lighthouse about twenty miles away."

"Yes. It's lovely. I'd love to go there." She hesitated and said shyly, "I just finished the last painting."

Michael looked ecstatic. "May I see the paintings?"

"Of course. But you'll have to follow me to the third floor." As she led the way upstairs she marveled at her trust in this man. Normally, she would have shied away from bringing a man upstairs, but in her heart she knew Michael was a good person. She opened the door to her sitting room and stepped inside. He followed and she motioned toward the easel. Biting her lip in nervousness she waited for his response. When he exclaimed, "I knew you had an exceptional talent when I first saw your paintings!" her heart sang. He stepped closer. "I absolutely love it!" He moved his gaze to the other acrylics, stepping in front of each in turn. When he reached the last one he said, "Every painting is pure genius."

Vicky was so pleased by his admiration that she placed a hand over her heart and said breathlessly, "Thank you for your kind words."

Michael turned to face her. "Have you ever had an art exhibition exclusively for your paintings?"

She felt flustered. "No. I've never considered myself that good."

"Well you should. Why don't you think about it? I know several influential people in the art world."

Mortified, she replied, "Oh, I don't think so. The first criticism would send me into tears."

Michael's expression softened. "And anyone who criticized you would come into contact with my wrath." For a long moment he studied her face and then said cheerily, "There's no pressure. If you change your mind, just let me know and I'll get the ball rolling. Now, how long do you need to get ready? Should I wait downstairs or come back later?"

"It'll take me about twenty minutes. You can wait in the parlor if you like."

After Michael headed downstairs, Vicky entered her bathroom and gasped when she saw herself in the mirror. She had orange and red paint streaks on both cheeks.

**********

At Cape Blanco in Cape Blanco State Park, Michael watched Vicky while listening to her history lesson. Her unassuming manner and shy smile wasn't something he was accustomed to. In his world of high finance, real estate deals, and schmoozing, she was a refreshing change.

Scanning a brochure she read, "The lighthouse was built in 1870 to warn mariners away from the reefs extending from the cape and it stands on the farthest westerly point of the Oregon Coast, jutting one-and-a-half miles into the Pacific Ocean. The white cliffs are 200 feet high and were named by Spanish explorers."

Michael enjoyed listening to Vicky's condensed version of the history of the lighthouse, not only because it was so interesting, but because she enjoyed telling him. Her eyes came alive when she shared historical facts, which was something he'd noticed at the museum.

She said, "And the lighthouse is still in operation."

They left the interior of the structure and walked to the cliff's edge. Gazing across the sparkling ocean he said, "Vicky, have you ever painted a lighthouse?"

"No. Although I've considered doing so."

He waved a hand outwardly encompassing the blue expanse. "Can you imagine a ship lost at sea on the blackest of nights and a desperate crew suddenly coming upon this beacon of hope?" He felt Vicky's gaze and turned toward her.

Rather than answer his question she said, "Why is the ship lost? Was it a storm? Bad navigation?"

He sensed something deep in her question and smiled slightly. "How about both? First a storm took them off course and then, in trying to correct their direction, they made things worse."

She glanced back out to sea and mused, "So even though they made bad decisions trying to get back on course, they were still saved."

"Precisely."

After a moment she said, "It would be a wonderful painting."