Chapter 19
Josh worked late into the night, his sketching almost frantic, his pencils practically flying over the paper. The last several nights when he knew she’d be asleep, he’d snuck away from Gabriel and come home, spending the entire night just sketching away. The idea hit him when he’d been watching her sleep, and he’d noticed his collection of sketchbooks still piled in the bookshelf. It was the perfect idea. Subtle. Something she could find in her own time and know he was there.
Taylor set her shopping bags down and started to rub the circulation back into her hands as Avery walked into the room behind her, another handful of bags in each hand. At least she looked happier. There was color in her face. The paleness was gone, even if it was hidden beneath her artfully applied make-up. Getting lost in an afternoon of baby necessities had brought the desired effect. Avery seemed to have relaxed a little. She’d even seemed to enjoy lunch at the little café, sharing a piece of chocolate cake and laughing at some stupid joke.
Avery set her bags down beside Taylor’s on the bed, looking at the collection of various bags, each holding something that would put the finishing touches on the nursery. “You’re turning into a shopaholic,” Taylor teased with a smile as a couple of the bags toppled over on the mattress.
Avery shook her head, the corners of her mouth lifted ever so slightly into a hint of a smile. “It’s for the nursery. When I spot something I know Josh would have picked, I buy it.”
That was true. Every item had been carefully scrutinized before purchased, as if she were trying to match it up to some image in her mind before she bought it. Taylor had let her do whatever she wanted, spend an hour picking out stuffed animals or going through a rack of baby sleepers, anything to keep her out of the prison that her house had become. She understood the need to be close to Josh, that’s what this house was, what this room was, but Taylor knew it couldn’t be healthy, for her or for the baby. The constant sadness was talking its toll on her.
“This kid is going to have about fifty different jerseys before his second birthday at that rate.” Taylor laughed and went to the armchair to take a seat. An afternoon roaming around had tired her out. She fell back in the chair with a contented sigh until something jabbed into her back. “Ouch.” She jumped forward and turned around, noticing for the first time Josh’s sketchbook tucked down the side between the cushion and side of the chair. The coil of the book had hit her. She picked it up. “Avery?”
“Hmm?” She wasn’t looking at her, too busy taking a few baby toys from the bags, setting them on the bed. “Did you get the bag with the sleepers?”
“I think so.” Taylor opened the sketchbook and gasped at the picture facing her. She knew Josh sketched and sketched well, but the image staring back at her was so real, so lifelike she felt like she was staring at a photograph. A very recent photograph.
She raised her eyes from the paper to see Avery refolding a sleeper. She looked almost identical to the sketch. But that wasn’t possible. This was now, and Josh had been gone for months and she hadn’t even been showing then. “Avery, uhm,” she stammered, trying to find a way to say the words. It didn’t make sense, her rational mind couldn’t make sense of it.
Avery looked up at the change in her best friend’s voice. She seemed unnerved, scared almost. She was perched on the edge of the armchair, Josh’s sketchbook in her shaking hand. Avery looked at it, confused for a moment. She knew that sketchbook well. It was the last one Josh had bought a few months before. His others were stashed in the bookshelf somewhere, filled with a mix of cartoon figures and whatever else came to him. His mind amazed her at times. “Taylor?”
But her friend stayed silent and flipped another page, shooting another look at her before staring at what was on the page.
Avery frowned, wondering what had her attention. She knew there weren’t that many filled pages in there. “Where did you get that?” She took a step closer to her, the baby items temporarily forgotten. For a moment she was suddenly protective of anything that was Josh’s. She didn’t want someone else looking at his sketches, at his innermost thoughts that expressed himself on paper.
Taylor looked up again, her eyes wide in surprise. “It was on the chair when I sat down. It literally jabbed me.” She held the book out to her. “Did you see the drawings?”
Avery took the book from her, feeling relief once it was in her own hands. Of course she’d seen the drawings. She’d been outside with him when Josh had gotten into his cartoon mood. She sat on the edge of the bed, her gaze falling on the image staring up at her. Not the cartoon figure she’d expected at all. It was her, sound asleep in their bed.
Her throat threatened to close up as she studied the lines, the intricate shading. Something about it felt wrong, funny. She blinked, thinking it had to be her tired eyes playing tricks on her. Just because she looked pregnant in that sketch didn’t mean anything. Josh had always had a vivid imagination. He’d probably had insomnia one night and hadn’t wanted to disturb her, so he’d grabbed his sketchbook and decided to draw. Nothing more to it than that.
The mattress beside her went down, and from the corner of her eye she saw Taylor sitting there, leaning closer, her gaze locked on the sketch. Her friend was suddenly a little paler than she’d been moments ago. Avery dismissed the thought and studied the picture closer. He must have spent hours on it. It was so detailed, every stroke placed perfectly on the page.
“I don’t know when he would have done those. You’re as pregnant in the sketches as you are now,” Taylor said, vocalizing Avery’s own thoughts.
Avery flipped the page. Another sketch of her asleep, this time just a close up of her face, her hair fanned across his pillow, her hand tucked beneath. She bit her lip, a sudden wave of apprehension washing over her. This wasn’t right. Somehow this didn’t add up. She had the feeling she should keep going through the sketchbook.
She flipped the page and found another sketch. Just as detailed, just as unseen.
“Avery?” Taylor’s voice was worried.
Avery quickly flipped the pages, again and again, scanning every one. A different pose, a different angle, but all as beautifully detailed and intricate as the first. The last one was one of her sitting and staring off into the distance, the sadness on her face so real it made her heart ache just seeing it.
She quickly closed the book and set it behind them, far enough that it was out of her friend’s reach. “Maybe he had a good imagination,” she lied, her heart racing. “Where was it?”
“Over there on the chair.”
The chair looked the same as it always had. Right beside the lamp, positioned to face the bed, it had been one of her favorite spots to curl up and read. It would be the perfect place for Josh to sit and sketch. She studied the nightstand, trying to see what was there that shouldn’t be. Tucked behind a framed photograph, barely visible, was the tip of one of Josh’s pencils. She took a slow, deep breath. It was real. The sketches were real, not the product of his overactive imagination or a daydream. He was really around.
“Are you okay?” Taylor’s voice was soft and concerned.
Avery nodded, blinking back the stinging of tears that were all too familiar. “Fine.” She just needed to ignore that at the moment. Ignore what was all too obvious. That he’d found a way to give her a sign. She wished she’d been alone when she’d found them, and not had her best friend there beside her, no doubt worried she was about to have a major meltdown in front of her. “I’m fine, Taylor.”
“Okay.” She didn’t sound convinced. “What do you say I take all this stuff to the nursery, and we find a new home for it?” She got up and patted Avery’s leg. “Meet me in there in a few?”
“Great.”
She watched Taylor put things back into the bags and leave the room. She let out a deep breath and glanced behind her at the sketchbook on the bed. She reached out, touching the cool cover. For a moment it all felt so surreal that he’d somehow managed to touch that book, that he’d been able to put those images on paper.
She turned and leaned against the headboard, pulling the book toward her.
She was crazy.
Delusional maybe.
That was the only explanation she had that seemed to make any sense whatsoever, but a dead man didn’t sketch. He also didn’t put engagement rings on fingers or light candles, but somehow he’d managed to do both. Yet the real proof of everything sat in front of her on that sketchpad. Her likeness done in pencil, his signature scribbled on the bottom corner. The barely visible I love you beneath. She knew it was a recent sketch. She’d spent hours flipping through those pages. The last thing he’d been working on was a sketch of some hockey player. The card he was basing the sketch on was still paper clipped to that page.
“How is this possible?” She laughed at herself. How stupid to even ask that question. It wasn’t like he was about to appear in front of her with the answer. Maybe some things she was better off not knowing anyway. If only she could really convince herself of that.
She opened the book back to the very last sketch, wanting to touch the lines he’d put there yet so afraid of damaging the work he’d done. Instead she let her finger graze lightly over the words at the bottom.
“I love you, too.”
***
Avery put the thought of this is crazy completely out of her mind as she opened the shopping bag from the art store. She’d gone out after Taylor left and picked up a couple sketchbooks and a new set of pencils. She set the sketchbooks on the chair, leaving the new set of pencils where he usually kept them. “Don’t want you to run out of paper when you need it,” she said quietly before she turned the lights off. She set the empty shopping bag beside the chair then climbed into bed, wondering if Josh was there and she just couldn’t see him. “Good night, Josh, I love you.”
Josh didn’t notice the sketchbook as he picked it up and sat down in the chair. He didn’t think he had long that night. He reached over and picked up one of his pencils from the nightstand. His gaze rested on the cover of his sketchpad, surprised to realize it was a new one. It took only a second to realize what that meant.
A smile crept onto his face as he glanced toward the woman asleep in the bed. “You found them.” He set the sketchbook down and slid forward on the edge of the chair. “Did you like them? Wish I could have seen your face when you found the sketchbook.”
He moved to his side, surprised to find a picture of the two of them lying on his pillow. Her favorite shot of the two of them. He picked it up carefully, studying the two smiling faces. He had his least favorite pair of sunglasses on in that pic. “Your favorite picture. I never understood why you thought I was so cute in those damn glasses. You were the only one I could stand calling me cute, you know.” He set the photo back down on the pillow. “Course, I let you do anything, didn’t I?” He studied her sleeping figure, her breathing even and relaxed. Sound asleep for once. He was even more convinced that somehow she could sense his presence, and that he was the reason behind her finally sleeping through the night again. “I only wish we’d had more time together, sweetheart. Time to do all those crazy thoughts you had.” He’d asked her once if she could go anywhere in the world, where would she want to go. There’d been no hesitation as she’d listed half a dozen places, describing places she’d dreamed of ever since she was a little girl. At the time he’d thought he’d take her to each and every one someday. Now he wished he’d had the chance to take her to just one.
Picking up the photograph of the two of them again, he reached over and grabbed his sketchbook, already knowing his inspiration for his next sketch.