And with that, I leaned down and kissed Frodo on the lips. I don’t know why I did it, but it wasn’t sexual; it was driven by emotion, too much of it to put into words, and instead, I used my lips.
“Beautiful Katherine,” he whispered, his lips still touching mine as he said, “A gift from a golden queen. Go. Go to your king.” He never stood up and didn’t turn to watch me go. When I looked back, he had his fingers pressed to his lips, and I would never tell a soul, but now, I understood him, his secrets, and why Frederick Charles Bell had become the extraordinary man he was.
***
With my wrists wrapped up, I headed home. It was perfect timing, seeing as how I was the bride and I could pretty much do whatever the fuck I wanted. In the last few months, I heard people say things like, “Well, she’s the bride…” and somehow that excused everything from unexplainable tears to cold-blooded murder. (I hadn’t killed anyone…yet). Instead, I took advantage of my Bridezilla status by allowing myself to be late.
I’d parked Holst’s car in the alley behind Dee’s cottage. I was on a kind of high, excited about my first tattoos, excited to get married, excited to walk down the aisle and see Holst at the end. I loved that my mom and I had finally connected and my dad was out of my life. And, of course, just when you think you’re in the home stretch, something comes out of nowhere to fuck with you.
“Kath.” The voice of my boyfriend from long ago.
Mark stood against the hood of the car, his arms folded across his chest and his face set carefully. I couldn’t tell if he was happy or pissed, because he gave me nothing, not even the way he’d said my name.
It was after seven. The sun had already set, leaving that beautiful dusky hue of dark peach and purple on the horizon. When there was a lull in the traffic, I could hear the waves roll in and out, but standing in that alley with Mark, I knew I was very much alone. The alley was covered by the shade of pepper trees, which left tiny red berries all over the cars, houses, and ground, but provided shade for the last three cottages. Dee’s being one of those.
“What do you want?” I moved back a few feet, trying to make the action look as natural as possible. I hitched my hip and stance with full attitude to make it appear as if I was in control.
However, I couldn’t pull one over on him.
“Are…are you afraid I’m going to hurt you?” he asked.
“Well, we didn’t exactly part on good terms, Mark, so I’m just giving us some space. Not only that, the last time I saw you, you made a scene in a public place and insulted me, and did it in a big way.”
He didn’t move closer to me, but he slumped and clasped his hands behind his neck. “If you can spare half an hour, will you come downtown? It would mean a lot to me if you could…”
I shook my head. “I’m already late, Mark. Now, if you don’t mind, get away from my car.”
“I heard you’re getting married tomorrow.”
“You heard correctly, and right now, there’s a party I have to get to, and since I’m the bride, it’d be bad form if I didn’t show up because my crazy ex-boyfriend—”
He moved from the car, and, in three long strides, he was there, his face so close to mine I could smell the aroma of soap and oil paint. I hated to admit that I liked the scent. It wasn’t some overdone cologne; it was the smell of a man who couldn’t hide the job he did, and I liked that.
“Kath, please do this for me. Come to the gallery on Forest, the one in front of the clock. It won’t take long, but I have something for you and your fiancé.”
“I’ll be there in five, and I’ll stay for five, but I need to call Holst first.”
I got in my car and watched as Mark walked down the alley toward downtown Laguna. Then I called Holst.
He answered on the third ring.
“H?”
“Tori and Cam aren’t here yet. You’re not getting cold feet are you? I was beginning to have visions of the two of you, Thelma and Louise style.” He chuckled.
“That would never happen. Mostly because we’re both Louise and would fight over who gets the gun and who gets to drive…and, who gets to fuck Brad Pitt.”
He kept laughing and asked, “Are you going to be much longer?” He then said quietly, muffling the phone, “Your mom is looking a little worried.”
I had a missed call from her and a text that asked, Where are you???
“Mark was just here. He wants me to come down to the gallery. He said he has something for us and…”
“I’ll meet you there. Which gallery?”
“The one by the clock on Forest,” I said.
He disconnected, and I suddenly felt like someone forgot to tell me my fly was down or there was a booger in my nose. And Holst didn’t ask me to pick him up for whatever reason. But it wasn’t long before I drove the two minutes downtown, and, being a Friday night, it took another ten to try to find parking, so I finally gave up and paid an attendant.
The long roller blinds of the gallery windows were pulled. I knocked, the lock was turned on the inside, and Holst opened it.
“I’m officially weirded out,” I told him.
“Baby,” he said to me and took my hand. He stopped though when he felt the bandage on my wrist. My sweatshirt was pulled down enough to cover most of the bandage, but not enough. “What the fuck, Katherine?”
I furrowed my brow in my own what-the-fuck expression. “Seriously?”
“What happened?” he demanded. “Did you burn yourself on the coffee machine again?” That happened one time, and ever since, he always said the words, “Be careful,” which I found supremely annoying.
“It’s a surprise for tomorrow. Tattoos.” There. Explanation over and done. “Now, what’s waiting for me in there?”
His face softened again from worried and pissed to just plain beautiful and handsome. “Come on. But close your eyes.”
I did as he asked and let him pull me inside. The door locked behind him, and I stood still and waited.
“The night of Mark’s show…the one in the canyon?”
I nodded and told him sarcastically, “Yeah. I can’t forget that awesome night.”
“There was a painting at the end of the exhibit. You didn’t see it. I know you didn’t. I think if you had, there’s a chance you and I wouldn’t be standing here together right now.”
I opened my eyes. “Holst, I…I…” Then I looked around the room and saw what he meant. Paintings, beautiful oil paintings, and I knew Mark was the artist. The subjects were different: a seascape, a meadow, an old man. But the focal point of the room was a portrait, a painting, and the subject was me.”
“Holst…I don’t know what to say.”
“That one is his. But there’s another one…at the far wall of the gallery.”
He took my hand and led me to the back, and there was Mark, standing next to a painting that was clearly meant to portray me and Holst. The funny thing was, I remembered that day clearly. It was the day I asked if Holst was going into battle with me. The day I told him…
I’m in.
“I came to talk to you after that night at the pizza place, to apologize. You and Holst were standing outside your café, and this is what I saw. It was a moment between two lovers and the moment I knew I should take his advice. He advised me to paint my pain, and I did exactly that. But this…this belongs to the both of you.”
I started to blubber as Mark put his hand out to shake Holst’s. “Congratulations, and thank you. The paintings are to be displayed for two more months, so I’d like to hold onto it until then, but after that…I can have it delivered to your home or…”
“Bear Claw,” I said, wiping my face. “That’s where it belongs. And we have space on the wall when you walk in to your right for some smaller works, if you want a place to advertise or something,” I offered. But it sounded more like I insisted.
Mark moved his eyes to Holst. “May I?” he asked.
Holst nodded and kept his hand on my shoulder as Mark kissed my cheek, opposite from my fiancé, and whispered, “I know you’ll be beautiful tomorrow.”