Swim Deep - Page 126

“I thought we decided you wouldn’t watch me drive away,” I said, avoiding his eyes at all costs.

“I know I agreed I wouldn’t try to stop you, no matter what you decided. I lied, I guess. I can’t stand it, Anna.”

“You have to. I have to. Us staying together, it just doesn’t make sense.”

His fingers slid gently beneath my chin. At his urging, I met his stare reluctantly.

“It doesn’t matter what brought us together. The only thing that matters is now. This moment. We were meant to be together.”

“It does matter, what brought us together. It’s like you said before: Noah Madaster—all of the Madasters that came before me: They taint everyone. Everything. That includes us, Evan.”

“I know what this is about. You can’t forgive me. Can you?”

I shut my eyes. I couldn’t bear this. Grief suffocated me.

“Maybe I could. In time. I don’t know. But it’s not just that.” I opened my eyes, entreating him to understand with my gaze. “I love you. I’ll always love you. But it’s all become so twisted. No matter what we do, no matter how much time passes, Elizabeth came first. She’ll always have come first. We were only us because of Elizabeth. And she’s gone now, Evan.”

He looked like death in my blurry vision.

“You’re still my wife,” he said. “You’ll always be my wife, Anna. You’ll never want for anything. Just tell me what you need, and you’ll have it.”

I stifled a whimper, and turned away. I jerked open the car door and sat behind the wheel. Using every last ounce of my will, I slammed shut the door, separating us with a final bang.

Evan was wrong.

I would be left wanting for the rest of my life.

Epilogue

One Year Later

I waited on the other side of the entryway while a dozen chattering tween art students passed by, each hauling a sketchpad and collapsible stool. My gaze lingered on their faces: this one full of laughter, this one reserved, this one sparkling with excitement, all of them beautiful and fresh. Innocent. I remembered my own art class at age twelve, and the thrill of going to the Art Institute in Chicago to view and copy the masters there.

It seemed like forever ago.

I was in San Francisco for a showing at Tommy Higoshi’s gallery. Six months ago, on a trip to the city to visit Lorraine’s new doctor, I’d reconnected with Tommy. We’d gone out to dinner. Over a bottle of Lafitte Rothschild, he’d confessed how Noah Madaster had gotten to him last year. He explained that Noah had called him and insisted Tommy tell him every detail he knew about me, and about Evan’s courtship of me. Tommy had refused at first.

But then, Noah’s trademark manipulations began.

Tommy had explained to me that Noah had somehow gained knowledge that years ago, Tommy had paid off a Federal Drug Administration official to push his medical technology through the long and difficult testing process… to put Tommy’s product at the front of the line for approval. That knowledge, and the threat of exposure of it, had been Noah’s means of blackmail to get the information he’d wanted about Evan and me.

Tommy had been apologetic and distressed by what he’d done, especially when I told him—while avoiding the dirtier details—that Evan and I had split. I’d taken pains to alleviate Tommy of his guilt. No one knew better than I did Noah’s methods. I was only glad that Tommy and his wife, Ellen, had been harmed only minimally by Noah’s poisonous touch.

Our friendship had resumed. Soon after that, Tommy asked me to do another exhibition at Yume. He’d seen my Tahoe paintings and was eager to show them. I, however, had been dragging my feet about finishing the series.

The collection had been on the verge of completion when the shit had hit the fan at Les Jumeaux. Since then, I’d been hesitant to return to that beautiful, haunted landscape, even in my mind. At some point, I realized why it was so hard for me to finish the series. It made me homesick, thinking of that beautiful place.

Thinking of Evan.

I knew that Evan had left Les Jumeaux and had been working out of both San Francisco and New York. I hated thinking of the Twins standing empty, of their windows looking out at the massive pines, the mountains, and the blue lake with blind, empty eyes.

Tommy’s enthusiasm about a showing had been contagious, though.

Over the past few months, I’d found that I could travel in my mind’s eye to the overlook. It’d helped me, to transfer those stunning images from inside me to the canvas. It’d been a catharsis of sorts.

Tommy had insisted that the last paintings were even better than the earlier ones. He’d called my exhibition “Tahoe: Light and Time.” The showing had taken place yesterday, and by all accounts, had been a huge success.

Now, I was here at the SFMOMA for a quick visit before returning to Lorraine’s and my new home in Half Moon Bay.

Tags: Beth Kery Romance
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