Breathe

Eve walked through the door of the community hall carrying a box of paper cups.

“Just over here ducky, that’s a good lass.” Sofie called across the room from the refreshments table. Frank was beside her arranging a fresh batch of sweets and cakes next to the big carafe of coffee and Lemonade.

Eve’s footsteps seemed to echo across the dance floor and the butterflies in her chest erupted into an even more dramatic swirling pattern.

The soft click of the door and the soft intake of breath behind her was quickly followed by the sound of Jen’s excited squeal.

“Wow Evie, the hall looks incredible! Today’s the big day, how are you feeling?”  

Eve couldn’t answer, her heart in her throat as she looked around her. Easels stood in thoughtful arrangements around the edges of the room, canvases waiting under cloth.

Jen seemed to understand what she couldn’t say and hugged her instead. She was a regular customer at the bookshop, making orders for text books and reading material for the school and her class. Jen was one of those people that didn’t take no for an answer and she had decided early on that Eve was going to be her best friend. Not that Eve minded. Getting to know Jen and Mike and their two young children had been a bright spot in what might have otherwise become a lifetime of living in the past.

“You can’t deprive the world of this incredible talent! That would be rotten, and you’re not rotten Evie.” Jen didn’t give up once she adopted a project. So, when she first saw the paintings in Eve’s home, she had been relentless.

Eve resisted. Then she compromised with a painting class open to the community. And finally, she’d folded.

Today was the day she would exhibit her art to the public for the first time. She’d checked in with officer Wheeler and he’d been enthusiastic so long as she took certain precautions, and the nearest police station was on speed-dial in her phone just in case.

She’d refused to allow Jen to advertise the event online, but word of mouth and flyers had been spread to every town and village in two hours driving distance of the bay.

The Gala would begin in half an hour and her nerves where already fraying at the edges. She sipped uneasily at the chamomile tea Sofie handed her and ran over her mental checklist for the twentieth time.

Mike had volunteered himself and a buddy to man the doors and enforce the ‘No photos’ sign posted in big bright letters. Jobe was bringing his accordion and a great-nephew of his from inland was bringing a guitar. Frank and Sofie had refreshments ready, and Jen was ready to serve as Eve’s mouthpiece, revealing each painting and answering questions from guests on her behalf.

Eve had stood immoveable on few points, but those she held with the conviction of a mountain. No online advertisements, no photos, and she would not be directly addressed as the artist during the event. This last condition was a bit dubious as the locals knew her, but there wasn’t much she could do about that now. So, Jen had stepped up as the MC, determined to help Eve succeed in whatever way she could.

“Right muggy out there, hope it don’t rain, eh love?” Jobe asked Eve, wiping his shoes at the door and waving the younger man who was holding the door, forward. “Don’t dawdle boy, come in. Evelyn, this is my nephew Andrew, Andrew, Evelyn.”

“Lovely to meet you, Evelyn.” Andrew said. shaking her hand, and grinning in that slightly embarrassed way that told Eve that he knew all too well what Jobe was trying to accomplish by introducing them to each other. “Don’t mind the old feller, he’s not got much to do but putting his nose in other people’s business, you know. Call me Drew.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Drew, and you’re right about the old man, maybe we should see about getting him a date, see if that might keep him out of our hair?” Eve suggested grinning wickedly.

“The old man can hear you; you know.” Jobe grumped, even as his eyes twinkled back at her.

“Oh, we know Uncle, we know.” Drew answered, patting the old man’s shoulder and smiling more easily at Eve. “But it’s nearly time, and we’d better tune up.”

Eve checked her watch reflexively as cheerful music began in on the little stage.

Ten minutes.

Five.

“Hey Evie, you alright? Breath lovey, breath.” Jen coached her gently as Mike gave the signal for one minute at the door. “You look lovely, and you’re work deserves to be celebrated, so just sit back and take it in, we’ll handle the rest, ok?”

“Ready?” Mike asked.

Eve nodded numbly, as the butterflies cartwheeled in her throat.

The first people in the door where faces she knew, Jen’s mum with the grandkids, Reverend O’Keefe, Angela, followed by many of her students from the bi-weekly paint classes and the families and friends they’d brought with them.

The music picked up as the conversation swelled and Eve held onto the melody like a lifeline.

(Song: Saltwater joys by Buddy wasisname and The Other Fellers)

I was born down by the water it’s here I’m gonna stay,

I‘ve searched for all the reasons that I should go away,

But I haven’t got the thirst for all those modern-day toys,

So, I’ll just take my chances with those saltwater joys.

Jen stepped onto the stage and the music cut away.

“Alright now folks, we’re going to unveil each painting one at a time, then you’ll be free to wander about, refreshments are to my left and the bathrooms are to the right, and please don’t touch the artwork. If you have any questions, just ask me.”

Each painting was revealed to oohs, and ahs, and even laughter at the more light-hearted scenes and portraits. Lastly, the mural that covered the back of the stage that her students had created under her instruction. Like stained glass each student had filled in a pane with a simple image of their choice, and the scroll-like ‘lead’ that bonded them together was crafted of a thin continuous strand of textured impasto ivy in Eve’s unique style.

The crowd clapped and Jen stepped off the stage as contributors both young and old pointed out to their families and friends’ which part of the piece they had painted.

The flow of people into the hall, around the exhibit, past the refreshments and back out of the doors was constant through the afternoon. The windows had been flung wide to welcome in a gentle breeze to counter the heat of so many bodies. The live music had come to an end eventually, and soft jazz was now piping through the speakers.

Drew approached Eve where she sat on the steps up to the stage. “Could I convince you to join me on a walk-about?”

His tone was friendly, but not overly flirtatious and Eve pushed aside her anxiety to answer him in kind.

“If said walk-about includes a stop at the sweets table, then yes, I could be convinced.”

“Of course, we can’t very well have the artist starving at her own event.”

She accepted his offered arm and let him lead the way from one piece to the next. The conversation was light and easy between them and it reminded her painfully of James. Would she ever not be thinking of him? Would the ghost of him ever truly fade?

She was pondering that question as she looked over the selection of cakes and cookies when a shuffle at the door caught her attention.

That couldn’t be… She was just tired, and she’d been thinking of him. She must be imagining things.

His profile was unmistakable, and she would know the slow, deliberate way he moved from a mile away. Her breath caught in her throat.

James.