Emerald Fire (Christian Romance) (The Jewel Series) (13 page)

With natural grace, she slid across the hardwood floor of her studio and silenced the music. She rolled her head on her neck as she walked back into the main apartment.

Long before Tony entered their lives, Robin had worked two jobs to put Maxine and Sarah through college. Maxine lived with her even after college and after securing a good job with an advertising agency. While she tried to help Robin pay for tuition or living expenses or even food, Robin thwarted every attempt until Maxine just decided to start banking the money with the intent of handing Robin a paid tuition package the year after Sarah graduated. Before that could happen, Robin married Tony. So, Maxine had a large portfolio and no plans for it.

With Tony’s sharp business mind, he took half of her savings and taught her how to invest it. With the other half, she purchased the top floor of a brownstone on Newbury Street. The two large apartments on that floor easily converted to one large apartment and one studio. With the help of a contracting company that Tony owned, she soundproofed the studio and installed a state-of-the art stereo system that played music with enough volume that she could feel the beat in her pulse, but kept the noise contained so as not to disturb everyone within a three-block radius.

She often found herself pulling all-nighters, rushing home from work, kicking off her heels, slipping out of the suit of the day, throwing on torn and tattered jeans and an old football jersey or sweatshirt from her college days and just painting and painting until the sun peaked through the blinds. Despite the artistic outlet her job afforded, she resented its intrusion on her purely creative side and often wondered, “when?”

When would she feel comfortable enough with her portfolio to quit that high paying job with the newly acquired office and shared secretary and just give in to her dreams of simply painting? Painting; the passion of her life; the succor her jaded soul required; the solace her troubled heart sought. When could she just paint?

Tony’s guidance and mentorship had allowed her portfolio to grow and grow. Every quarter, Maxine watched the numbers and had almost reached her comfort level. She owned her apartment, she owned her car, and she owed no one anything. Maybe in another three months, she’d have the magic number savings that would allow her to quit her job and rely fully on her painting for the rest of her days. The very thought made fear and anxiety form into a tight little ball in her stomach. What if she couldn’t succeed?

Maybe she needed to raise the number a little higher. Growing up the daughter of a drug addict who pimped herself out to whatever druggie boyfriend would take in her and her three girls made security extremely important to Maxine. So many nights she’d lay on her bare mattress or on dirty sheets next to one or both of her sisters and her stomach would growl with such intensity that the pain of hunger would claw through her body. The first twelve years of her life revolved around terror and hunger and pain. She needed that cushion of self-sufficiency to back her so that no matter what happened, no matter if she ended up completely alone and isolated from everyone she loved, she would still never be hungry again.

Maxine moved through her apartment. A brick wall on the far end made the room feel very “Newbury” Street to her. She loved it and had installed it, brick-by-brick, herself.

Her big red leather couch sat against that wall covered in bright pillows designed with stripes, polka-dots, zigzags – it didn’t matter to Maxine. She sought a hodgepodge look with the patterns and kept a similar color scheme going. Angled with the couch sat a love seat in a red and blue with yellow floral design. Maxine found it at a flea market and fell in love with it so instantly that she sat on it while bargaining over the price because she worried someone else would come and take the treasure away before she could complete the deal. A large area rug with a large, modern floral design in muted reds and blues and soft yellows sat on the hardwood floor between the two couches. She covered the walls with her art, picking up little details from the furniture pillows or rugs or bright knickknacks and painting them to tie all of the room together.

Against the picture window looking out onto the street she dearly loved sat her Christmas tree. She surprised herself by going traditional with it – a green tree with reds and golds and silvers. She had it decorated with angels and stars. On the top of the tree sat a tacky plastic lit-up star covered in worn-out gold tinsel. Robin bought that to go on top of their very first Christmas tree when Maxine was sixteen. She’d been with Robin for just a few months, then, after being separated from her for two long years. As they put that cheap little star on the top of their sad little tree, they vowed that no matter what, they would win. They would win in this battle they called life – the pitiful hands they’d been dealt would win the house.

The first Christmas after Robin and Tony married, she and Maxine fought over who got to keep the star. They ended up drawing straws for it. Maxine won, and in the subsequent three Christmases, she had her sisters over for dinner and together the three of them decorated her tree and topped it with that star.

She moved past her living room and through her dining room with the stark black table and Amish backed-chairs. A flat gold bowl of red ornaments sat on the center of the table.

Maxine had remodeled the kitchen almost immediately upon completion of the studio. She loved to cook and loved to entertain, so she had a large island work station installed along with a commercial-grade stainless steel stove, double ovens in the wall, a massive refrigerator, and deep steel sinks. She could spend hours in the kitchen, preparing recipes, making big trays of perfect little hors d’oeuvres, applying frosting to a sister’s birthday cake. She loved the whole art of preparing food and often hosted dinner parties with church friends or work colleagues.

She reached the sink and used the back of her hand to flip the handle to open up a stream of warm water. Before going to her studio to paint, she’d left a dish of olive oil by the sink. She dipped her hands in it and started scrubbing the paint off. The oil worked the oil paint off her hands in no time. Then she used a light soap to remove the oil.

Grabbing the towel she’d lain out for herself, she went back through the dining room and living room to enter her bedroom. This room she’d decorated in grays and turquoise. A thick gray rug covered the floor, a shade lighter than the walls. A turquoise spread covered the bed accented with dark and light gray pillows.

The open suitcase on the bed made her stop. Little butterflies of anticipation reawakened in her stomach and started fluttering around. Her heart beat a little bit faster and sweat beaded her upper lip. Why in the world had she agreed to go with Barry to Las Vegas?

Shopping bags covered the bed. For some reason, her extensive wardrobe didn’t seem to suit for this trip. In a fit of nervous energy, she’d left work last night and gone straight to her favorite mall. New boots, new pants, new sweaters – Christmas and plain – new pajamas … they all lay on the bright spread while she put together outfits and tried to think of what else she’d need. Maxine knew they would be with friends, so she assumed there would be dinners out and such. That in mind, she tried to add some dressy and some casual until she just wanted to call him and cancel the whole thing.

Yet she knew, deep down, that clothes weren’t the problem. The problem lay in the fact that she preferred to never be alone with a man, and somehow she’d managed to allow herself to agree to be alone with a man for several days, thousands of miles from home, and completely out of her element.

Maxine had always liked Barry. For some reason his immense size had never intimidated her. Now she realized that not only was he big, he was incredibly strong, and had spent a good portion of his life knocking down men at least as big and strong as him. If he wanted to …

The butterflies flew together and formed a ball of nausea. Maxine fisted her hand and pressed it against her stomach, pushing back old memories. Memories that had sent her racing to her studio to mindlessly paint for the last six hours. He wouldn’t want to. He wouldn’t force. He wouldn’t do anything. Maxine could trust Barry. She had to make herself trust him.

Because if she couldn’t trust him that would mean that she didn’t win this hand she was dealt, no matter what.

The ringing of her phone brought her out of her little panicked moment. She snatched up the extension next to her bed. “Hello?”

Robin’s voice answered. “Hi.”

“Hey, sis. How’s my niece?”

“Your nephew’s still there. I think he’s going to take up permanent residence.”

Maxine chuckled as she opened her nightstand and pulled out a small pair of scissors. “You’re not due for another two weeks.”

“I know. I just kept hoping that maybe he or she would get tired of hanging out in my stomach and get ready to meet the world.”

Maxine picked up a sweater and carefully cut off the tags. “As long as we aren’t a Christmas baby, all will be good.”

“I know. I’ve been dreading this week coming up.” As Maxine folded the sweater and laid it in her suitcase, Robin continued. “I hear you’re taking a couple of days off.”

Maxine’s busy hands stilled and she closed her eyes. “You heard about that, did you?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.” Opening her eyes, she picked up the scissors again and methodically removed the tags. “As long as it’s a question and not a lecture.”

“No lecture. Question: Is there an end game in sight here?”

“How so?”

“Are you just going with the flow, or do you have an objective in mind?”

For the first time in her life, Maxine started to feel anger toward Robin. Robin, her sister, the one who saved her from unspeakable horror, the one who worked two jobs to put her through college – made her angry with this line of questioning. “I don’t know what you think my objective might be.”

She heard her sister sigh. “Listen. I just feel like you’re getting involved in a situation that is going to get out of control.”

“Oh, really? How?”

“Barry is really hurting right now. You are beautiful and wonderful and outgoing and nice. Most of all, you’re nice. Kind of the antithesis of his late wife. I’m worried that he’s going to rebound and end up getting hurt even more.”

Anger spread across her shoulder blades and down her hands, where her palms started sweating. “I’m just a rebound, huh? Maxine, who bounces from man to man like a flighty little hummingbird. You think I’m not worthy of a real relationship because I don’t ever have them? Is that it?”

Robin’s response came very quickly, very hurriedly. “No. No, Maxi.”

“So you’re just saying that I am bound to hurt Barry?”

“No! That’s not what I’m saying. I don’t want either one of you to get hurt and I’m just worried that …”

“You’re worried that he’ll rebound and fall madly in love with me and I’ll dump him after a couple of weeks, as is my normal pattern, and then both of us will be depressed lumps that you’ll then have to contend with.”

“Maxi, please. I just …”

“No. You listen. Barry and I are friends. Just friends. He had an extra ticket to this game because his wife will not be able to attend. And, despite MACCO and the holiday, he managed to swing getting an extra hotel room. You don’t have to worry about Barry’s virtue or his heart or anything. We’ve been friends for a long time and there’s nothing wrong with that. Does it occur to anyone that Barry might need my friendship right now? That being able to count on it might help him through this season of his life?” She folded a pair of pants very precisely. When the seam wouldn’t line up, she unfolded them and started over. “You know what? I have some packing to do. I love you. Have a great week and I’ll see you Christmas Eve.”

When she hung up the phone with shaking hands, she realized that wet tears streamed down her face. Beyond anger lay hurt; hurt feelings because Robin obviously thought so poorly of her. She went into her connecting bathroom and turned on the faucet. Looking in the mirror, she could see the fatigue from painting. Her eyes, normally a very bright green, stared dully back at her, wet with tears, rimmed in red. She broke eye contact with herself and leaned down to splash cold water on her face. As she dried her face with a soft towel the color of her bedroom rug, she went back to the bed and the suitcase and the clothes.

Fear didn’t paralyze her from packing anymore. Instead, umbrage drove her to pack perfectly, completely, precisely – she went through her written list and managed to get it all packed in a short amount of time and all in one suitcase.

After changing into a soft flannel nightshirt, she brushed her teeth and left the list on her bathroom sink ready to pack the toiletries. It was late, almost midnight, and she had to meet Barry at the airport at nine. She set her alarm because she knew the traffic would be horrendous. She had no desire to keep Barry or his friends waiting in the morning.

The painting session, combined with the strong emotions, combined with the restless emotions of the last few days, lent to her exhaustion and she fell right to sleep.