Deliver the Moon (20 page)

Dropping his bags on the blanket she’d spread out, he pulled his camera from its case, popping on a telephoto lens. He had just finished adjusting the focus, when she bent forward and dipped her fingers in the water, her hair falling over her shoulder and contrasting with her white blouse.
Beautiful
. He snapped a few frames of her like that. After a moment, she straightened and leaned back onto the rock, her hands supporting her from behind. Her eyes closed and her neck arched, inviting the sun to paint her uplifted face.

Gabe zoomed in for a quick shot, then out again to capture all of her. When she kicked her foot out and splashed the water, he practically groaned. He couldn’t ask for better shots if he were deliberately posing her. But then, his best pictures had always been of her.

She chose that moment to glance his way. He snapped a picture of the dreamy look on her face before her eyes focused on him. Her shoulders gave a small start.

“Gabriel, dammit! You scared me to death.” Her cheeks flamed. “How long have you been here?”

He looped the camera strap around his neck and navigated the rocks as he walked toward her. “Long enough to get some incredible shots. You’re amazing, Lou.”

Her blush deepened.

She put a hand to her hat to keep it from blowing off in a sudden gust of wind. “I was beginning to wonder if you’d stood me up.” Her voice and her eyes were teasing.

“Not a chance,” he said softly, coming up beside her. “Any sign of the others?”

She peered inland. “Not yet. Maybe they met up and are hashing things out.” She scooted to make room for him on the rock.

He shook his head and nodded toward their things. “I brought you something. Come over here a minute, will you?”

Curious, Louisa followed him to the blanket. She sat down as he pulled a flat wooden box about the size of a briefcase from a paper sack. She took it from him with both hands and set it in her lap.

“What is it?” she asked, peering up at him.

“Open it and see.” He knelt beside her.

Giving him a puzzled look, she flipped the clasps of the lid. It opened on hinges. She gasped at the contents. “Gabriel, what’s this for?”

Inside the box was a brand new box of pastels, not the standard beginner’s kit, but top of the line sticks that serious artists used. She sorted through the rest of the contents with eager fingers, discovering a pad of good quality paper and an assortment of other materials.

“Art was always such a passion for you,” he said softly. “I was sorry to hear you’d gotten away from it. If nothing else comes of this weekend, I hope you can recapture the joy you used to get out of your work.”

“I was just thinking about how I needed to dust off all my art supplies. I was just thinking that,” she said again, her voice catching. Moisture rimmed her eyes as she turned to look at him. “I don’t know what to say, Gabriel. Thank you.” The sweet smile she gave him was more than enough thanks.

He cleared his throat and showed her how the box converted into a portable drawing easel. “Why don’t you play with these a while? I can find something to entertain me.”

“Oh, I haven’t drawn in years. I don’t know if I’d even remember how to draw a stick figure, let alone anything that resembles a work of art.”

“It’s like riding a bike, Lou. It’ll come back to you.”

She pulled the paper from the box and opened the package of pastels. Her eyes widened as she took in all the beautiful colors, her expression that of an incredulous child.

He reached over and nudged up the brim of her hat with his index finger. Her eyes were wide with excitement. He couldn’t help smiling. “I’ll see you in a little while,” he said. “Have fun.”

****

“Shit! He’s leaving,” Sarah whispered, grabbing her husband’s arm. They stared through the shrubbery from the path. “How can they work things out if they’re not together?”

“We can’t force them to talk,” Arty said. “What’s that he gave her?” They moved aside some rhododendron branches and squinted to see better.

“She’s drawing something,” Sarah said excitedly. “He gave her art supplies. Ooh, that’s
so
sweet and romantic.”

“I thought women preferred flowers and chocolate.”

She punched her husband in the arm. “You’re such a man.”

“I like to think so.”

She punched him again.

“Ouch.” He rubbed his arm. “I hope you don’t plan on staying here and playing Peeping Tom for the next couple of hours.”

“You don’t want to?”

He spun her in his arms. “I’d rather go back to the room and play something else.”

She grinned. “Okay, but only if you promise we’ll check up on these two later.”

He gave her a scout’s honor salute.

****

Louisa watched as Gabe meandered down the beach, periodically pausing to snap a picture or two of whatever caught his fancy. He had such a way with the camera, able to make the most mundane object come alive, seem exciting. It was his passion.

She scanned the beach for Sarah and Arty before glancing down at Gabe’s gift. This used to be
her
passion. She’d let it fizzle away for so long, she’d almost forgotten the joy it brought her. As she fingered the different colors, a happy feeling surged through her, reminding her of how she’d felt as a child when she’d received a brand new box of crayons and coloring book, knowing she would be the first to use them. She’d relished the first stroke of every new color; she’d regarded each new page of that coloring book as a future work of art.

This was so thoughtful. He really was sweet. As she watched, Gabe turned and met her gaze from afar. Although he was too far away to see clearly, she was certain his eyes were intense. Brooding. She giggled and waved to him. He waved back, then pointed his finger sharply at her as if to say, “Get to work!” She laughed and waved again, before attaching a piece of paper onto the easel.

She wasn’t sure how long he’d been gone, but when he returned, she realized it had been long enough to be caught off guard at how good he looked today. He’d taken off his shirt and had threaded it through a belt loop so that it hung in an upside down V at his waist. Her gaze traveled upward from there, to his bare chest and the way his muscles rippled under sun-kissed skin and a dark smattering of hair.

Swallowing hard, she forced her gaze away, otherwise he would surely see the want in her eyes, if he hadn’t already. She concentrated on her drawing as she heard the crunch of pebbles with his approach.

“No Arty and Sarah yet, eh?” He scanned the shoreline and upper part of the park.

“Not yet.”

“Hmm. How’s it coming?” he asked as he sat down beside her.

She hugged the easel toward her chest. “Don’t look. It’s not done yet.”

He grinned and grabbed a cold pop from the cooler. “Want one?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Oh. Sure. I forgot you brought some.”

He handed her a ginger ale. Her favorite. “Too caught up in your work, eh?” He adored the sweet blush that covered her face as she nodded. “Well, don’t let me keep you from finishing. I’ll just take a quick snooze here. Wake me when you’re done.”

He’d just stretched out onto his stomach, when something cool drizzled onto his back. “What—?” He started to push himself back up, but Louisa’s hands over his shoulder blades pushed him down again.

“Sunscreen,” she explained, understanding his cryptic question. “I’m sure you forgot to put some on, didn’t you? Don’t you know this is the worst time of day to be in the sun?”

He did know that, and was about to tell her he’d already applied sunscreen, when her hands started rubbing the cool lotion into his warm skin. She began in the middle, between his shoulder blades, and worked her way out. Her touch was firm but gentle as her fingers glided over him. He closed his eyes and let himself enjoy the feeling of her caressing his bare skin.

As she worked the lotion into his upper back and shoulders, she asked, “When did you become so buff, Mr. D’Angelo?” Her tone seemed carefully light.

Gabe didn’t want to read anything more into her question than she’d meant, so he kept his voice equally light as he said, “I started working out with weights as physical therapy for my back after the accident, and I got hooked. Staying fit motivates me to stay away from the booze, too.” He would have elaborated, but her hands slipped downward and slid across his waist, right above his jeans. He didn’t trust his voice to speak again.

He heard the lid snap onto the sunscreen bottle as Louisa said, “Well, you look great, Gabriel. I meant to tell you that before.”

He rolled to his side and propped himself onto an elbow. “I thought you said I looked old.”

There was that blush again. “Older. I said you looked older.” She pulled a towel from her tote bag and wiped the lotion from her hands. “There’s a difference.”

He watched her with narrowed eyes as she picked up her art box and set it back on her lap. Without looking at him, she waved his gaze away, hinting she wanted to finish her drawing.

He sighed and rolled back to his stomach, resting his face on his hands. He couldn’t let himself be affected by her words or by the way she’d so carefully rubbed the sunscreen onto him. Nor could he be affected by the way she’d looked at him as he’d approached. There had been no mistaking the desire in her eyes and in the parting of her lips.

No matter how much he might like to satisfy that desire—not to mention his own—he wouldn’t. Their past and the old problems hung between them like a broken bridge. Until it was mended, if that was even possible, he certainly wouldn’t be the one to make the first move. He’d given her his word.

****

Gabe woke up with a gentle nudging on his shoulder. He rolled over groggily. “Did I fall asleep?” he asked as he swung up to a sitting position.

She nodded and grinned. “Only for about an hour.”

“An
hour
?” It had felt like two or three minutes, tops.

“You obviously needed it. I mean, you didn’t sleep much last night, thanks to me waking you up.” She dropped her gaze.

He wanted to hold her in the worst way, tell her he could be there for every storm if she’d have him back. His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides. “No Arty or Sarah?”

She shook her head. “I think maybe this was deliberate on their part.”

“You mean they’re giving us a taste of their own medicine?”

“That’s what I’m thinking.”

He shrugged and thought about that, none too upset that the other couple might not be joining them. He nodded to her drawing. “Let me see what you’ve done.”

She reached for her artwork. When she turned back toward him, she looked about to say something, but finally just handed over the heavy paper.

He studied it with narrowed eyes for several moments.

“Well?”

He finally lifted his head. “You haven’t touched a pastel in five years, yet you come up with this?”

“You like it then?” She spoke the words slowly as if unsure of his meaning.

“Lou, it’s fantastic. I’d forgotten how good you are.” He glanced around. “Did you draw this from memory, or—?”

She shook her head. “The kids in the picture were playing in that driftwood over there,” she pointed behind them, “and I was able to sketch them out before they ran off.”

The drawing was of two children, a boy and a girl, sitting in the shade of a gnarled piece of driftwood, the sun glinting off their hats and the white shells they were using to dig in the sand. She’d captured the innocence and charm of the moment with simple strokes and soft use of color.

He shook his head. “You have to start painting again, Lou. You have too much talent to let it go to waste.”

Smiling, she took the paper back from him, laying it carefully inside the wooden carrying case and shutting the lid. “I didn’t realized how much I’ve missed this.” She sighed, a dreamy expression on her face. “You know what I would love, Gabriel? I’d love to be able to draw or paint for a living. To have my own studio, get up in the morning, throw on an old smock and dive into my art.”

“What’s stopping you?”

“Oh, just the small matter of needing to pay the bills.” She gave him a pointed look from beneath the brim of her hat. “I can’t sell my work for thousands of dollars unlike somebody else I know.”

He leaned onto his elbow. “What about after you marry Evan?”

“What about it?” She kept her eyes lowered as she tidied up their things.

“He’s a successful guy, couldn’t you afford to paint full time once you’re married?”

She bit her lip and didn’t answer for a moment. “I hadn’t really thought about it,” she said slowly.

“What does Evan say about all this?”

She turned several shades of red as he watched. “Not, uh, much.”

“You’ve never told him about your dream, have you?”

She rose and brushed sand from the backs of her legs, sand that had crept onto the blanket with the wind. “It’s never come up.”

He stood up beside her. “For as long as I’ve known you, you’ve wanted to be an artist. You went so far as to major in fine art in college. You were
always
painting or drawing, Lou. How could such a passion never come up with your fiancé?”

She stepped off the blanket and waited for him to do the same, then she reached for the nearest corners. “I know what you’re implying, Gabriel, and I don’t appreciate it.”

He grabbed the opposite corners of the blanket and helped her fold it up. “What am I implying?”

“You’re trying to point out flaws in my relationship with Evan.”

Is that what he’d been doing?
He grabbed the folded blanket from her and picked up the cooler with his other hand. “I didn’t mean it to come across that way. I’m just amazed Evan doesn’t know about your incredible talent.”

Louisa contemplated his sincerity a moment, then nodded her head. She peered at him from under her lashes. “You really think I’m good?”