First a Dream (Dreams Come True #1) (4 page)

Chapter Four

Isabella

By the end of the week, Isabella grew frantic. She had been hoping after seeing Dr. Pam on Monday, her work would improve. Yet it hadn’t. Every afternoon, she and Kristofer poured over her latest photos to discuss the positives and negatives. Always he offered her constructive criticism. Now, early Friday afternoon, Isabella fought back a panic attack.

Glancing first at the clock, then the appointment book, Kristofer urged Isabella to take a break. “Go see Dr. Pam. She’ll be in her office now, I think.”

This time Isabella walked over to the office, hoping to clear her head before speaking with a woman she deeply admired. In minutes she found herself seated in the chair she’d sat in only a few days previous. She took a deep breath. She knew the words would come, they always did. Somehow she needed Dr. Pam to understand why she must back out of the gallery show. Even thinking it stung. She had never given up on anything in her entire life, except maybe her marriage. As far as she was concerned, it didn’t count since Jack gave up long before she did.

“I can’t do it,” she explained. “I have tried all week and still no improvement.” She sighed. “I guess I’m not ready for a show.”

“Not ready yet,” Dr. Pam repeated. She seemed to be contemplating something as she spoke, barely seeming aware of Isabella’s continued presence. Then she uttered those dreaded words. “I won’t let you back out.”

Isabella’s heart sank. It was so terribly difficult for her to ask to begin with, but then to be denied the one thing she had ever requested was comparable to having to swallow a stone. A lump formed in her throat. She recognized it. The lump formed frequently, but the tears rarely did.

“You have over a year,” Dr. Pam reminded her. “I’m going to be part of the Fulbright teacher exchange program. I will be trading places with a professor from England for an entire year. We will keep in touch via email. Kristofer will be around to help you. You can do this, Isabella.
You must do this
.”

Isabella stared at her professor dumbstruck. “You’re leaving and I have to accomplish this without you, Dr. Pam?  It’s impossible.” She began to protest futilely. She could see that her professor had made up her mind, but still Isabella continued to try to argue her case. “I really need to concentrate on working through my problems right now. At least if I don’t have the gallery show hanging over me for an entire year...” Her voice trailed off.

“Rubbish. You’ll find inspiration again and you will be ready for the show. I‘ll send a letter to Jean Paul detailing our agreement.” Dr. Pam crossed her arms over her chest.

“Our agreement?  Dr. Pam, did I just agree to something?” Isabella straightened as the color drained from her face. This was not part of the plan.

Dr. Pam slowly leaned forward and laid her arms on the desk as a slow smile spread across her face. “Well you see, dear,” she began with a chuckle, “I didn’t give you much choice. Now in the meantime...” Her voice trailed off as she began to rummage through one of her large desk drawers for something. She finally pulled out, with some effort, a composition notebook. “Here this will do.” She handed Isabella the notebook.

Isabella looked at it, as though she’d never seen one before. She had no idea what Dr. Pam had in mind. Did Dr. Pam expect her to take up writing as a new hobby?   “For me?” The question seemed ridiculous, even to her.

But Dr. Pam didn’t seem to notice her embarrassment. “Yes,” her kindly professor beamed, “I know you’re a photographer, but that isn‘t the only way to take a picture. Record your experiences here; find the words to describe what you see and you will be able to fix what your work is missing. Remember writing, too, is an art.” She paused for a moment, again putting a finger to her chin. “Oh, but you’ll need something more now won’t you?  This will never do. This will
never
do
.”
She pulled open the middle drawer, reached deeply in the back, noisily patting around. A smile covered her face. “Ahhhh, here it is.” She handed Isabella a silver pen this time which had been engraved with a Carl Sandburg quote.

“Nothing happens unless first a dream,” Isabella read aloud. “I don’t know what to say. I mean, thank you, but I don’t understand.” Her brow arched, questioning the gifts, the quote, and the way everything about this meeting had turned out. Dr. Pam said nothing, her fingers were knitted together. Isabella began to rise to depart.

“Oh, no. We’re not through yet.” Dr. Pam smiled widely. She reached out as if to shake Isabella’s hand, grasping Isabella’s delicate hand in her age-spotted wrinkled one. “Dream again, my Isabella,” she murmured, “Dream and be happy.”

Something changed within Isabella at their touch. Her natural instinct told her to fight the concept of dreaming. What good had it ever done her?  Hadn’t she just recently promised herself she’d be grounded in reality in order to survive?  
But what if you are meant to do more than survive?
Something within her screamed. An electrical current shot through her, an energy-boosting tingle. Those words. Were they a command?  Were they simply encouragement or something more?  A spell?  Whatever the answer, Isabella felt suddenly more alive than she had been since before Jack. Somehow in that moment, in that instant, with that touch, all of her deep-rooted sorrow simply withered and died. In its place, hope sprouted in her soul.

As Isabella left the office, she became oblivious to her surroundings, completely lost in thought. She no longer noticed the creaking of the stairs, the shriek of the fire door, or the aged floorboards groaning under her. Tunnel vision had her focuses on the exit, which would explain why it seemed in retrospect, that he came out of nowhere.

The guy could only be described as tall, blond, and handsome. He wore a goatee, a royal blue button down shirt hung loose over khaki pants, and a bag slung over one shoulder. He, too, seemed to be have his mind elsewhere. Before either of them could react, they collided in the hall.

For the first time in months, Isabella giggled, surprising even herself. She excused herself and tried to slip past him once more. Unfortunately, he performed the same ritual, so they collided again. They paused and looked at each other. Isabella’s cheeks flushed as she stared up at him through her eyelashes. With a shy smile, she stepped aside to let him pass, no longer feeling pressured or rushed since her conversation with Dr. Pam.

Without a word, he dropped his bag carelessly to the floor, and grabbed Isabella’s hand in his. She barely had time to notice his dry palms or be self-conscious of hers. He bowed slightly, never taking his eyes off of her face, before speaking with a thick French accent. “Shall we dance?”

Before she could even respond, he had her in his arms and twirled her about while humming some unrecognizable waltz. Though she’d always considered herself clumsy, in his arms, Isabella felt light on her feet. As quickly as they had begun, they stopped. He deposited her in front of the exit, slowly letting their hands slide apart. The stranger squatted to pick up his bag. Instead of standing, he dropped to one knee and grasped her hand in his once again. Her mouth opened slightly as her insides began to quiver. Slowly, he his lips grazed her knuckles while gazing at her with these amazing deep blue eyes. For the first time in forever, she wished she had a camera. The pull to capture him and this moment for eternity was strong.

“Merci, mademoiselle,” he murmured against her hand, sending chills up and down her spine. Then he stood and bowed slightly. He seemed torn, but then he glanced at his watch and rushed up the stairs.

Isabella stood there, stunned. Her hand drifted to her flaming cheeks while she backed herself up against the cool plaster wall, suddenly unsure of her balance. She walked out to her car, humming the strange melody he had hummed, replaying in her mind repeatedly her brief meeting with this man she would probably never see again. The encounter fed her hope. She must not be hideous. He did kiss her hand. Oh, and it had been some time since anyone had treated her so respectfully, delicately. Smiling, she suddenly knew what the first entry in her new composition notebook would be about.

As she walked back to the studio, she thought about the man she had just run into. “So, what’s the rest of our afternoon look like, Kristofer?” Isabella asked as she wandered dreamily through the door.

He glanced up from the proofs he was studying to gaze at her intensely. “Something happened,” he announced.

She blushed. “No big deal. I just ran into a really hot guy today, literally. Oh, and we danced.” She smiled and moved to look at the appointment book. “Only one shoot this afternoon?”

“Yes, and the guy called to say he was running late. I think it may conflict with our other appointment.” He made some marks on the proofs before addressing her again. “I’m sorry. I need to finish these. They are for a client from a very important company, our other appointment. He needed pictures for his new business cards.” He stacked the proofs and slid them back in the envelope.

Her brow furrowed. “I don’t remember a business card shoot.”

“Remember the Thursday afternoon you had to leave early to meet with the lawyer?” His shoulders slouched slightly as though he felt guilty mentioning it.

“Ah. Well, that explains it.” She nodded.

Leaning on the counter, Kristofer made a proposal. “So, what if you work on the photo shoot and I’ll take care of this client?”

Isabella thought for a moment. Even as early as this morning, she would’ve been too nervous to take another picture. She might have begged to go over the proofs with the client, something she knew she wouldn’t mess up. Now, however, she discovered she was ready to jump behind the camera again. “Okay,” she said with a slight nod and a shy smile.

He beamed. “You’ll be great. And when you’re done, we start our weekend.”

***

Gabriel

Gabriel had felt completely unsettled since he ran into that beautiful young woman in the Meyers Fine Arts building. For some reason, it had really messed with his head. In fact, because of it, he nearly forgot the pitch he’d practiced for Dr. Pam, the woman who held his future in her hands. Honestly, if she didn’t sign off and allow him into the art history class, his plans were down the drain.

When he opened the door after knocking, she looked up at him over the rim of her glasses from her seat behind the desk. “What can I do for you?”

“I...I…” For the first time in his life, he stuttered. Gabriel felt out of breath, but it wasn’t from rushing up the stairs. No, this was a byproduct of having brushed against
her
.

Dr. Pam pulled off her glasses, leaned back and tucked one hand under her chin. “Take your time.” Her eyes seemed to sparkle and a knowing grin played at the corners of her mouth.

Sinking into the seat, he covered his eyes with his hand for a moment, then Gabriel took a deep breath before he blurted out everything on his mind. “I have no idea what happened. This isn’t me at all. I’m refined and confident, then I ran into this beautiful woman in the hall…”

Leaning forward, she stared at him intently. “This hall?  Just outside my door?”

He shook his head. “Downstairs. The hall near the exit.” Gabriel sighed. “For some reason, it messed with my head. And I have a very tight schedule to keep.” He glanced at his watch. “Dammit.” He clamped a hand over his mouth. “Shit. I didn’t mean to swear. Twice.
Fuck
. Ugh. Make it three times.” He growled. “I have an appointment off campus in fifteen minutes and I haven’t even convinced you to let me into your art history class yet.” Slamming his mouth shut, his shoulders sank. “I’m just going to stop talking now.” When he finally met Dr. Pam’s eyes again, he realized she was laughing. At him.

“What’s your name, young man?” She chuckled unrepentantly.

“Gabriel Charmant.” He frowned. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Pull yourself together, Gabriel. Describe this woman to me. I’m intrigued.” She folded her hands on the desk.

“I’m sorry I brought it up. This isn’t who I am.” He shook his head. “What if instead of convincing you to let me into the class, what if I just beg you instead?” Gabriel offered her his most winning smile and struggled to regain his composure.

Sitting up straighter, she smirked. “Hard ball, huh?  What if you tell me about this woman, and I’ll think about signing your form?”

“Think about?” Suddenly he felt weak as he imagined his future slipping away.

“Art history. I need to see if you even have a passion for art, an eye for form. This will help me make a decision. Then, show up to my first class and we’ll take it from there.” She stared at him seriously as she waited for his response.

“Okay.” Gabriel took a breath and rubbed his hands together. “She had these amazing chocolate brown eyes, serious, with a hint of sadness. When I saw it, it felt like a gut punch, and I wanted to take it away.” His head dropped and he stared at the floor a moment, hoping it was enough.

“Keep going,” she urged.

Clapping his hands together, he looked up. “She was nothing like the girls I’m used to in Montreal. They are practically plastic, all would-be models.” A corner of his mouth twitched. “This one, she’s real. Perfectly imperfect. Completely real and natural.”

“Brown hair?”