The Visitor
Amanda was the kind of artist who felt like her paintings were never quite finished. Even after she was done one, sometimes a year or two would pass and she would dig it out and make changes, always seeking the elusive perfect image that she had in her mind.
“I don’t know why you’re fussing with that one. It’s already perfect.”
Amanda gasped and spun around. The brush in her hand sent a few droplets of paint splattering onto the floor. She hadn’t even heard Jason come in. He’d been outside doing chores so she’d set up her easel and brought out a canvas to eat up the morning hours alone.
“Don’t sneak up on me like that. My hand could have slipped and ruined the whole thing!” She could only pretend to be angry with Jason and his wide, self-assured grin told her that he knew it well.
“Sorry. I just wanted to see what you were touching up. You know your work is beyond excellent.”
Jason stepped closer and studied the painting of their small cabin, the trees surrounding it, the mountain peaks in the distance. She’d painted the cabin in summer and fall and she wanted to do one in winter now that the snow blanketing everything made it all look so different.
Droplets of water still clung to his short, dark beard where frost had gathered in the chill of the morning air. His plaid jacket was undone, hanging open to reveal the same hue of plaid beneath. His faded jeans were wet at the bottom, where they’d overhung his boots. As always, his blue eyes danced with life.
“I know, I just can’t get the trees right. I keep trying and it doesn’t look like they really do out there.”
“Yes they do.” Jason shook his head. “You are the best artist I’ve ever known.”
“Probably the only artist,” Amanda grumbled.
Jason’s grin grew wider. One strong arm circled her waist, his hand resting casually but protectively on her hip. “That might be true, but I’ve been to galleries. I’ve seen other people’s work and yours is every bit as good.”
Galleries. The word brought back the horrible promise Phil had used to bait her into going back home, just for a few days, when she thought she had nowhere else to go. She’d been so foolish and naïve to trust him, to believe that he would help her.
Luckily Phil was her past. She loved Jason more for the fact that he understood her. He listened to her. He took the time to care for her and love her, not just jealously guard her like a trophy, like she wasn’t a living, breathing person with hopes and dreams of her own.
“You know, I was thinking,” Jason continued. “We should get the internet here, like we talked about. I haven’t called yet, but I can do it this morning. I know there are good sites that you can go on to sell your work. Crafty and artsy sites and what not.”
She giggled. “Craft and artsy? Is that what I am?”
“You’re so much more than that and you know it.” Jason’s eyes glistened with love. The intensity of that look nearly stole her breath. “I don’t know anything about it, so you would have to do most of the research, but if you need money to get started or get the word out, I can help with that.”
That funny feeling bloomed in Amanda’s stomach again. She was thankful for his offer, but again, Jason’s finances, their finances, were a huge question mark in her mind. She shook off the tight feeling in her chest, determined not to ruin the very nice offer she’d just been presented with.
She turned and stared up into Jason’s face. “Really? You would do that for me? Do you think people would actually buy this stuff?”
“Not the ones of our cabin. I want to keep those, if you’re okay with that. Everything else, I’m sure anyone would be proud to own.”
“You’re just being nice.”
She slid her hand up Jason’s chest to rest on his shoulder. His plaid jacket chaffed her hand, the wool far too coarse, but it suited him. The cold of the outside still clung to the folds of the fabric. She knew if she pressed her nose to it, the fresh, pine scented air would linger there as well.
“I’m not just being nice,” he insisted. “I’m serious. I think that it could be a good source of income and it would clean the place out.”
Amanda laughed softly. “So that’s it. You’re just concerned that your guest cabin is getting quite full of useless art.”
Jason laughed heartily, a deep rich sound that shook his broad shoulders. “Yes, that’s my whole intent.”
He was about to say something further but the sound of tires crunching down the driveway, the unmistakable crunch of snow and gravel and frozen ground colliding and disturbing each other, brought them both in a quick turn.
Amanda faced the window. Jason stiffened beside her. It wasn’t often they had visitors to their cabin. And often meant almost never.
A newer style cherry red pick-up pulled down the driveway and stopped beside where their own truck was parked. It was impossible to hear the exact second the engine was shut off since it was so quiet to begin with, but the clouds of exhaust from the tail pipe ceased and faded away, stolen by the brisk winter breeze.
“Who on earth could that be?” Amanda scrunched her face into a frown. “No one ever comes here. Most people can’t even find the place.”
“No,” Jason said softly beside her. There was something strange in his voice that brought Amanda’s head around. “Not unless I give them directions.”
“What? Are they the people for the internet? Is this another surprise?”
“Uh, not for the internet, no.” His eyes tracked to the window quickly in an evasive measure.
Amanda’s heart thudded inside her chest. Her stomach clenched tight. “What are you talking about?” She didn’t like the secrecy in his voice nor the measure of guilt in his tone.
“Just watch.”
Jason stood beside her, one arm resting on the small of her back. Amanda went rigid, but her eyes stayed glued to the window and she watched, as he’d told her to.
The truck’s driver side door eventually opened and a slim, flaxen haired figure emerged. Amanda went cold all over. Goosebumps raised the hair on her arms and the back of her neck. A hard shiver of shock ripped up her spine.
“Jason?” She finally croaked out past her dry, closed up throat. Emotion welled there, tight, uncontrolled. A wild panic was taking over, filling her chest, making her hands shake.
“It’s alright, Amanda. I know you’ll forgive me for this as soon as you’ve talked to her.”
Amanda spun, amazed that her frozen body could once again move. “What do you mean forgive you? You did this?”
“Yah. I called her two nights ago and invited her. I thought you would be happy.”
Another hard, audible swallow was forced down her throat. The tremors spread from her hands to her entire body as she turned back to the window and watched the solitary figure climb the steps and walk across the small porch. She disappeared out of sight a second later but the dull knock echoed through the cabin.
Her mother, the woman she’d thought about, dreamed about, hoped and wished and longed for countless times over the years was now standing on her doorstep.
“You really had- had no right to call her,” she stammered, not daring to look at Jason. “This is my life. My mother. It was my problem.” She didn’t know what to feel. Her entire body and mind was a tangled, jumbled mess. She couldn’t even begin to sort through the tight knots wreaking havoc on her insides.
His hand moved up her back to her shoulder and he gave a gentle squeeze of reassurance. “It’s not anymore.” His breath was hot at the side of her neck as he bent to speak gently in her ear. “We’re a family. You. Me. That baby inside of you. I called her for all of us.”
Amanda let out a hard exhale. Her breath reached the window, making a little frost spot where it hit. “You’d better let her in,” she whispered shakily. “I’ll go put on the kettle.”