“I want you to accompany me somewhere tomorrow.”

Chapter Nine

Fiona

Today was the day Christian and I set aside time to let him see my painting. I talked about it singularly, but whenever Christian mentioned it, he gave off the impression that I had a collection.

I did have a collection, but nothing compared to the butterfly in the painting. The butterfly at the time of the painting was done to signify freedom. In a way, I was free, given how I was fired from my waitress job then.

With too much free time on my hands, I made the painting to signify how free I felt. Now, looking at the painting, it has come full circle. I am happy now. My job with Christian felt secure.

I was slowly freeing myself from that worry. I didn’t wake up every morning wondering if this was the day Christian was going to fire me. I had come a long way.

When Christian saw the painting, he would realize what a lovely painter I was. He’d see that I was really multi-talented.

The doorbell rang, and I threw a white piece of fabric over the canvas and hurried to the door. I took a deep breath before opening it, a smile on my face as Christian stood there with a bottle of wine in his hands.

“Hi,” I greeted and moved to the side to let him in.

“Thank you for having me and showing me your lovely painting.”

“You don’t know that it’s lovely,” I said and ushered him onto the sofa. The entire event was starting to feel very formal, even though we wore very casual clothes. I was wearing sweatpants and a white shirt.

Christian was wearing a black shirt and black shorts. The baseball cap he had on now sat next to him on the sofa.

“If it’s done by you, then it’s the prettiest thing in the world.”

It was amazing how he was able to pretend that he could see the canvas.

“And you have nothing to worry about; it’s just me.”

I nodded because he was right. It wasn’t like he was an art appraiser. It was just Christian. And that was the reason why I was so nervous. He was Christian, and there was nothing just about that.

I left the living room and returned to the kitchen to grab two wine glasses. When I returned, Christian was now aware of the canvas because he was looking directly at it.

“Alright,” he said after I poured out the wine. “Time to see it.”

“Promise not to laugh.”

“I won’t.”

And I believed him, like that would surprise anyone. True to his words, he didn’t laugh. He stared at the butterfly painting, and I wondered what it was about it that had him speechless.

Maybe blue and brown weren’t good colors to combine. Did the butterfly look weird? Did the painting even look like a butterfly?

“It’s pretty. What does it represent?”

I looked at the butterfly. “Freedom.”

When I looked back at him, he was nodding with a smile on his face. He patted the space next to him, and I dragged myself over to him. When he handed me my wine glass, he clicked his on it.

“Here’s to freedom.”

I took a sip of my drink as did he.

“So, where are the others?”

“Others?”

“Bring all the paintings out, I want to see everything you’ve got.”

“This is the only good one.” I protested, trying to hide my nervousness.

“I don’t care,” he shot back, his determination unwavering.

The more I argued, the more insistent he became, and I found myself powerless against his resolve. Reluctantly, I brought out each piece, my heart racing with every revelation.

To my surprise, his eyes softened as he examined each painting, a genuine smile spreading across his face.

“These are pretty,” he murmured, and I felt my cheeks flush at his praise.

With every compliment, my heart warmed, melting the last remnants of my resistance. His unexpected admiration made me see my paintings in a new light, and for the first time, I believed in their worth.

*****

The architecture of the farmhouse was not short of my expectations. It stood tall and mighty among a fine bush and had a wide expanse of mowed lawn in front of it. Far off, the mountains elegantly stood, representing the background of the delicate nature.

This is the last place I expected to find myself. But Christian was away on a business trip that he insisted didn’t need my presence, and I should take the time to rest. And I would have been resting if a text hadn’t come from his mother asking me to meet her at the Carrs’ farmhouse.

Nothing good ever came from meeting Melissa alone, but there was nothing I could do about the situation at this moment.

I made the long walk into the farmhouse, refusing a ride from one of the men at the gate. My excuse was my desire to see the scenery when, in reality, I wanted to delay seeing Melissa. The woman terrified me, the mother of my best friend, and boss or not.

“Welcome!” Melissa must have seen me from a distance as she walked briskly to meet me halfway in her fine summer clothes.

“I hope you are not too tired. It’s been such a long time since I saw you!” She cried, pulling to the porch. “You’ve grown so well. Who’s older? You or Allison?” She made me sit on one of the cozy crimson sofas.

“We’re the same age,” I responded.

“Ah, I used to think you were younger than my Allison.” She commented.

I quietly dismissed her.

She had not experienced the tiniest change over the past ten years. She was still the always excited, and often, condescending type of woman.

Fortunately, neither Christian nor Allison took after her in character, but they both strikingly looked like her. Allison was like her mother’s twin.

“It’s quite nice outside. The weather is cooler today.” She beamed.