November 15th, 2004
Christine's hand felt hot and heavy clasped in Lindsey's. He could tell by the quick rise and fall of her chest that she was panicking as they walked into the town, away from the long country road leading to her house, hidden away amongst thick trees.
Her grip became tighter as they approached the main street, where people were gathering. But she clung onto him desperately and took a deep breath, letting him guide her into the gallery and press a kiss to her forehead.
"See," he whispered softly, "I'm so proud of you, you did it!"
She smiled weakly.
"Can we go somewhere quieter? Have a look upstairs?" she asked, squeezing his hand.
"Of course," he said, leading her by the hand to the top floor of the exhibition, into a room filled with familiar artwork.
They walked hand in hand for a few minutes, ending up in front of a painting of a beautiful landscape. Lindsey's couldn't tear his eyes away from Christine, however, wishing he could take away all of her loneliness and pain. He had considered moving to England to be with her but knew he couldn't. His home was in L.A.
"Ah, a lovely piece," a booming voice said behind them, making Christine jump, "Oh, sorry, Ma'am, I didn't mean to scare you."
They whipped around to find a curator stood behind them,
"I'll let you in on a secret, that piece will be on sale on Tuesday. Stunning piece, I haven't seen something like this in years."
"It's certainly..." Lindsey smiled awkwardly, "Nice?"
The curator looked at him with a distinctly confused look, but they were spared the lecture as another voice cut in,
"Not trying to sell that travesty again, are you, Ivan?"
"The painter herself, Miss Indigo Green," Ivan smiled, "And yes, I am, it's beautiful."
"I wouldn't usually say this," she smiled, "But don't bother listening to him, it's probably the weakest piece in the collection. I didn't want to display it, but Ivan here likes strangely surreal sunsets."
Her eyes fell upon Christine, and Lindsey felt his heart beat fast as he watched the two women looking at each other.
Indigo? Had that been the name of her...surely not?
"Christine?"
"So you know each other?" Ivan said before she shooed him away, pointing at an elderly couple smiling at another painting.
"We do," Indigo murmured.
Although Christine was clutching harder to his arm, he quietly extracted it, nodding towards the small cafe,
"You gonna be okay if I get a drink?"
"Yeah," she said quietly, not breaking their stare.
"It's really you?" Indigo asked.
"Yeah," Christine felt her heart race and her hands shaking in her pockets.
Indigo looked back at the painting,
"And that's your husband?"
"No, no, Lindsey's just a friend," she said, "So it was your show we saw in the eighties."
"Yeah, you did," she said.
"You saw me? You didn't say anything."
"You were hanging off of his arm, I thought you were on a date."
"I didn't even recognise your name, how could I not recognise it?"
"You were busy being a rock star, it's fine. You moved on," her voice broke, "I didn't."
"I wouldn't call myself a-"
"You stopped calling and moved to America without telling me, Christine. You went on to your life in Fleetwood Mac, and you were happy. You don't need to lie."
"I thought you'd forgotten about me."
"I was in hospital."
"I'm sorry," she whispered, feeling tears clouding her vision.
"I don't blame you," she whispered back, "All my life I've dreamed I'd see you again. I can't move on, no matter how hard I try. I really missed you."
"I missed you," Christine choked up, "Were you at The Dance?"
"Yes, in the front row. You were amazing."
"And your art is still amazing."
Indigo laughed,
"You're still so sweet."
Feeling bold, Christine reached across to take her hand, making Indigo look up and gasp, but hold onto her hand, stroking the back of it with her thumb.
"Will we always be this much of a mess?" she asked, resting her head on Christine's shoulder.
"Probably, if you'd like it to be 'us' again?"
"I'd like to see you again, yes," she smiled, "If you want that?"
"Absolutely," she grinned, "I'd love that."
December 2nd, 2004
"I know it sounds crazy, we've been apart so long," Indigo murmured, "But I don't ever want to leave you again."
"I don't want you to leave," Christine murmured, "I wanna spend the rest of my life with you, Indy."
Indigo turned onto her side, propping herself up on the picnic blanket they'd set down in Christine's garden,
"You really mean it?"
"I do," she smiled, leaning up to peck her lips, "If we could get married, I'd ask you right now."
Indigo's breath hitched,
"And I'd say yes."
