The Finding Tree

Chapter 29 - The Reunion

He watched her enter the gallery and his heart thumped in his chest, off rhythm for a few beats. She was actually here, and she was stunning.

God, why was she so beautiful? Her professional suit and small heels just made her that much more attractive. He studied her features, but still couldn't put his finger on it.

Her body had matured since highschool, and she wore little tortoise shell glasses now. Her hips were a little wider, chest a little deeper. He appreciated it all, and felt his heart tug.

He smirked at her hair...it was still a mess. But an appealing mess. All dark brown waves contained by a barrette that was in agony from the overfilled nature of the clasp. Any minute it could lose the battle and go springing off into the ethos launched by the failure of manufacturers to gauge hair thickness correctly. The thought made him grin.

Peter crossed his arms and leaned against the office door. She hadn't noticed him in the shadows. He was wearing his interview clothes as well. Khakis, a light blue button down with open collar, and black blazer. Very un-artist like. But he wasn't much like a typical artist all around. He was much too logical, and fiscally motivated.

Peter had graduated Columbia with an MBA focused in financial markets. He immediately went to work with Ferris at a trading house that he recommended. Within the first year he'd amassed not only a tidy sum for himself, but also established a very successful portfolio of clients.

But he wasn't happy. Pure capitalism rarely allows for that. He'd tried to date in college, and nothing ever stuck. He didn't ever feel anything for these women who were so hell-bent on getting him to love them. The more they tried, the less he felt. Eventually he didn't even try to fall in love. Every interaction was based on convenience.

Last year after a particularly nasty break up, he realized he'd given his heart away at eighteen and had never gotten it back. He had told Janey he didn't love her, but it was a lie.

The worst part was he believed it himself for far too long.

Every weekend he painted.

He painted beautiful scenes from his hikes and added a few special tokens for his own enjoyment. But they just weren't finished until he destroyed the beauty with invisible anguish. Then he felt better, and nobody knew anything...until Randall Anderson had a party in his mom's basement and took pictures of the painting on the wall.

All hell broke loose when Randall's mom submitted those photos to a community paper, and then the AP got hold of the local story.

Ferris laughed his ass off at Peter, telling him to focus on the art. He'd take over the portfolio and clients until Peter either decided to go off grid into the art world permanently, or the popularity fizzled.

He slapped Peter on the shoulder and told him in a thick brogue..."I can't imagine those shite paintings making you much money kid, but you go do what you love."

Ferris appreciated the irony of people gaping over invisible ink, and paying Peter inordinate amounts of money for essentially something they couldn't see. He thought it was funny.

Peter took his uncle's advice. He focused on the art and it grew bigger than anyone could have imagined. Himself included. Then four months ago his agent had called to tell him he had an interview request from the Plain Dealer with a reporter named Jane Cameron.

His heart had dropped to his feet, and all the years of suppressed emotion came out.

Realizing the need to look at the past, he started the biggest painting of his life. Something he'd always wanted to do, that meant more to him than anyone ever knew. He wanted so desperately to talk to her, but she needed to know the whole story first.

She was there now... searching the painting, sniffling, crying. Looking at it like it spoke more to her than even to him. He couldn't keep away.

He grabbed the Kleenex off the reception desk and walked toward the woman on the bench, and what he hoped was the rest of his life.

***

"Excuse me, but are you okay?"

She stiffened at his words, but didn't move. About five seconds passed in silence.

"Why is it, that you always seem to find me at my worst?" Her voice was low, a little more full, but just as expressive as he remembered.

"I came prepared this time, JJ. I brought tissues."

He set the box on the bench and watched as she grabbed a few and blew her nose.

"Hi Peter," She said softly, and moved the box to her other side. "Please sit."

He did. He sat down next to the woman he loved, and leaned forward, elbows on knees and his sleeves rode up, revealing his wrists and the remnants of oil paint on the back of his hand. Their shoulders almost touching, he shivered at the proximity he'd dreamed of for so long.

"Hi Janey."

A small space of silence, then. "Are you MAC?"

Peter chuckled a bit and pulled a small flashlight out of the interior pocket of his sport coat. He shined it at the painting in front of them, where his signature was boldly placed on the lower right side of the painting.

The light revealed an initial in front of and behind the MAC letters, in bright neon green.

"P. Mac D. actually. I don't know why no one has taken the time to actually look at my signature in both lights before."

"Did you know it was me coming here today?"

"Yes, I did...I made sure with your editor that it was you scheduled for the interview."

She smiled a bit and turned toward him. "I really love your artwork, Peter. It speaks to so many people. This one."  She turned back toward the big tree. "This one speaks to me so much... can you tell me about it, please."

"I'll let you interview me up one side and down the other, JJ....but first, can I buy you an early lunch or a late breakfast? I'd really like to talk to you."

She searched his eyes, the blue was greyer, his hair which had been lighter in high school had darkened to a medium chestnut. His jaw was deeper, along with his voice, and he wasn't a thin basketball player anymore. He'd become a man, in every way a woman notices.

She sighed. He was still beautiful, but troubled, and still very concerned about her.

"Yes, I'll talk with you. I think we do have some things that need to be said."

"Wonderful..." he grinned. "Now since you live here, you don't happen to know a good place, do you?"

Janey laughed so hard, she almost snorted. "It's just like school...do I need to take you on a tour, Peter?"

"Nahh.. I just want to buy you a meal, and maybe a drink, and find a place where we can have a good talk."

Janey smiled at him. "I know where we can go, but they open at eleven-thirty, so we'll need to walk slowly while you tell me all about your art."

He stood, offered his hand and pulled her up. "It's a deal. Where we going, Janey?"

"Flannery's Pub, they're about half a mile away."