Illicit Canvas: political romance and stand alone romance (29 page)

The painter turns around facing me. “There is more, further down the alley.”

Frigid air freezes in my lungs, but I don’t stop this time, walking further. It’s a pattern. On each street there is a new scene from our past. Our meeting with Antoine and the visit to Alain’s pottery. In one of the paintings I see us in the car, driving, passing the sign to Bruges. I can’t physically keep going; my heart is racing. His gesture is so romantic. Ethan is slowly breaking down the hardened walls of my soul. All I want is to see him, to talk to him. My heart swells in my chest when I reach the end of the alley. This man that stands in front of me is a very gifted painter. The last painting shows Ethan and me holding each other on Saint-Malo beach, happy and lost in each other’s gaze. It’s an exceptional piece of art. I see the artist has detailed the scene well, using the exact colours that are in the sky today. It’s the most beautiful thing that I’ve ever seen.

The artist hands me an envelope.

“He asked me to give this to you. Open it,” says the last painter. I detect his Spanish accent, but I can’t help but smile and take the envelope from him. Inside there is a message for me.

Arwen

You make me happy, so please let me talk to you. Come down to the beach when you’re ready. I’ll be waiting.

Ethan

“Thank you,” I mutter, squeezing the envelope in my hand. My legs are moving faster than the rest of my body. I pass the wall, entering the windy coastline. The cheeks on my face are numb and I look around for moment, searching for him. Then when I look at the sea and the landscape, I understand. Ethan asked the painter to show me the future—the last scene on the painting is today.

Ethan is standing further down, closer to the water, watching me. I rush toward him, and my heart seems to thud deeper and louder in my chest. I keep closing the gap, feeling my love for him, so deep and moving. His handsome smile that always reached his eyes fills me with happiness.

“Arwen, I hope you liked the paintings?” he asks gently.

“Yes, all of them are beautiful. I can’t believe you did this for me.”

“I had to get your attention somehow,” he says. “Are you cold?”

“A bit, but I’ll be fine,” I reply, not knowing what else to say. I want him to cradle me into his arms, to forget about the past. He knows. He is aware that I wanted to end my own life, so why is he here? There is so much that happened between us and we can’t pretend that it’s all going to be all right. Ethan is so quiet, so calm. After a moment he reaches in his pocket and takes another envelope out, then hands it to me.

“Here. Open it and please read the contents.”

I narrow my eyes, confused and a bit taken aback by everything that is happening. “Why? Just tell me, what is this?”

“Open it, Arwen. This will explain a hell of a lot.”

 
Inside there are several sheets of paper, emails and something that looks like messages. I start reading it.

Mr. Rivera, I have been hearing a lot of good things about the exhibition that was meant to happen on the 20th. I’m very disappointed that the date has been postponed…

M. J.

People are talking about Arwen West, a new talented, innovative artist. I have been told that you were the one that represents her. Is there any information on when the exhibition is going to take place?

Carol.

I read the blog post about this young talented painter and heard that you were going to showcase her work. Please can you advise me if you have a new date for the launch?

Michaela.

There must be a hundred emails on these pages. I read through them, attempting to understand what’s going on. These people are saying that they heard about me from the media, and they are curious.

“What’s all this, Ethan? I don’t understand.”

“Apparently a lot of people were very disappointed when I had to cancel the exhibition. I thought that the story in the media had ruined everything, but I guess that the attention actually gave you more exposure. Last week I was so busy with traveling, trying to secure some deals, that I stopped checking my emails. Some of my friends had turned against me after the scandal, so I stopped checking my voicemail too. Last night was the first time I sat down and went through my mailbox. I can’t explain this, but I think someone must have seen your paintings and started spreading the word about your innovative style. Other artists and dealers have been talking about you on social media.”

I open my mouth to ask him questions, but no sound comes out. I look back at the emails and messages. This is impossible. I’m just a student. No one knows about me. How come this happened?

“But what about the papers and those horrible stories?” I finally manage to choke out.

Ethan takes a step towards me. “In some ways Colin has done us a favour. Someone made a lot of effort to turn our story around, to show the romantic side of our relationship. Artists have always gone about things in their own way, regardless of society’s rules. Some pictures of your work have been leaked out through social media, intriguing the art community. People wanted to see more of your stuff, but I was too busy to keep track of my emails. Once the word was out and people found out that the exhibition was postponed, they started asking questions.”

“Someone, but who?”

“I have no idea. Someone who probably loves art.”

“Great. I mean, it looks like you have to set a new date,” I say, keeping my voice steady.

He inhales and moves closer, and my breathing speeds up instantly. “Arwen, I made a terrible mistake and I panicked. I should never have left you.”

“Ethan, please—you were right. I was immature and overly emotional,” I say, not wanting to look at him, because I know that I can’t trust myself with him so near. “And I deserved being abandoned by my father. You were right about everything.”

His eyes widen and I think he stopped breathing for a few seconds.

“Arwen, what are you talking about? Why do you think that you deserved this?”

I bite my lip. “I heard you, Ethan, that day with Brigitte when I went to the bathroom. You said that I was an emotional wreck and I’m always starved for affection and love.”

“No, I wasn’t talking about you, Arwen. We were talking about Brigitte’s daughter. It looked like Ronan wasn’t a good father, after all. He became cold and withdrawn after he found out about Brigitte’s pregnancy. I was trying to build her trust, to let you into their life again, so you could speak to your father alone,” he adds quickly, touching my arm. A wave of heat travels down my body. “Arwen, I love you and I regret that I didn’t tell you that before. I don’t care about your past. I know that you’re strong now and I’m ready to face whatever challenges life throws at us. You’re the love of my life and I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

I stare at him speechless, running his words over and over in my head. His eyes give everything away: the emotion, the burning love. My whole body shudders. “You do?” I ask with a whisper.

“Yes. You’re everything to me, Arwen. I loved you from the moment I laid my eyes on you in the gallery. I was too ignorant to notice it and I apologise.”

My heart melts in my chest and I look at him, recognising what I failed to see before. Real love.

“Oh, Ethan, I love you too, but I’m scared that you’ll leave.”

“Never, baby. I’m always going to be here loving you, so stop worrying about the past. I’m here to stay, forever.”

Then he places his lips on mine, kissing me gently, and I believe him.

Epilogue

“Shhh, don’t open your eyes yet. It’s a surprise,” Ethan says, covering my eyes as he leads me into the building.

“Ethan, don’t be silly. Guests will start arriving soon. We don’t have time for this.” I chuckle, not knowing what he has planned. An exciting thrill runs through me as his fingers guide me. I like his touch on my skin.

“We're almost there, just a few more steps,” Ethan adds.

This is silly. We still have so much to do before everyone begins to arrive. The caterer needs to be briefed.

“Right, here we are,” Ethan says. His mouth brushes my ear. “I’m pulling my palms away in one, two, three!”

I open my eyes and see myself surrounded by friends and guests that came for the grand opening of his gallery. Everyone starts clapping and I glance around, stunned. My eyes wander back to the wall where I see my secret painting, the one I had to sell in order to find my father. It’s mine again. Ethan bought it back for me. Tears swell in my eyes. I can’t quite believe that he managed to pull off this kind of surprise without my knowing about it.

I look back at Ethan; his eyes are filled with joy. Someone whistles and people are clapping.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to this exhibition featuring Arwen West’s work,” Ethan says loudly. “The champagne is on the way; please enjoy yourself. All the pieces in the gallery, apart from this one, are for sale. I’m here to answer all your questions. Please do not hesitate to approach me.”
 

“Oh my God, Ethan, how did you do it? How did you manage to buy this painting back from him?” I ask after I accept congratulations from a few close friends.

Ethan takes me into his arms and places a soft kiss on my forehead.

“I have my ways. That painting meant a lot to you.”

I can’t believe that I’m such a lucky woman. I kiss him again and a young photographer takes a picture of us. Ethan smiles and brings me closer. We are not hiding anymore; we are simply happy.

“You’re such a distraction, Arwen. I have to go do my job, talk to people and earn a living,” he whispers.

“I’ll be around. I love you.”
 

“I love you more.”

I stare when he walks back to the waiter, probably to check if everything is all right. We have gone through a lot, some because of my deeply rooted insecurities and depression, and some because we wanted to protect the loved ones in our lives. When we came back to Brussels, we didn’t waste any more time but simply worked towards the grand opening. I still can’t believe that he got my beloved painting back. After he told me how he really felt back in Saint-Malo, I didn’t want to be apart from him anymore.

 
I couldn’t lie, and if there was a chance to be happy, I was ready to grab it. I love him and despite all that happened I couldn’t see myself living without him. He helped me with the search for my father and although that still hasn’t been resolved the way I wanted, I’ve closed the door on that part of my life. I no longer want to see my father; he chose his life and it’s time to move on.

“Congratulations. All the paintings are looking great. I can’t believe how many people came!” Maja shouts, hugging me.
 

“I know, right? We had only a few days, but Ethan managed to pulled it off.”

“Well done. I’m happy for you, glad that everything worked out in the end.”

“Thank you, Maja. I’m going to get us some champagne.”

I feel goose bumps all over my arms. Maja is right: everything has worked out great. Ethan is going to have to work really hard to gain people’s trust as an art dealer, but this exhibition should open up some connections. The word about my paintings is already out. People from all over Belgium and France have been contacting Ethan, wanting to buy my pieces. After all, he represents me now, but this is just the beginning. My degree is important and I want to keep studying. But there is a demand for my work and the kinds of art Ethan selects with his keen eye, and once his website is up and running, his business should take off.

Colin hasn’t spoken to his father yet, but Maja has seen him and Valerie together. I don’t want to think about him. It will take time for them to rebuild that relationship, especially after what Colin did, but I’m willing to try. Ethan’s ex-wife started communicating with him again and I’m glad. I even chatted with her over the phone the other night.

People are congratulating me, telling me how great my work is—and I’m starting to really believe them and I’m not running away. Mum had to go to Paris, but she promised to fly over for the next exhibition. I chat with people, answer their questions and then walk back to the main wall to look at my special piece, my copy of the one I wanted to find for so long.

Someone approaches and stands next to me. I glance to my side, seeing a man in his fifties. He looks mesmerised at my recreation of D’Orsay's lost work. For some time neither of us speaks; we both just stand there admiring the art, taking it all in.

“I’ve thought very hard about showing up here tonight,” says the man all of a sudden. I turn to face him. My eyes move over his familiar features, the dark thick hair and sharp blue eyes, so similar to mine. I take a step back, parting my lips.

“No, no … this is not happening. You can’t be here right now,” I stutter.

The man pats my shoulder, attempting to calm me down. “I want you to know that abandoning you was the worst decision that I ever made.”

My heart pounds in my chest as I stand there rooted to the spot, unable to catch my breath. I’m not ready—I was never ready to see him again. “Why are you here?” I whisper.

“To tell you that you were never the reason that I left. Things back then were complicated. I made my choice, but I regretted it for many years,” he tells me, staring at me with what looks like regret—and love. “I tried to be a perfectionist my entire life, but you, Arwen … your talent is overwhelming and it breaks me. When Lucas showed me what you created I couldn’t believe what I had missed all these years. I started talking to others about you and your work. Despite what you might think, I haven’t given up on art and I still have valuable contacts.”

I shake my head, looking back at my own painting. My heart beats all over my chest, and when I look at him, I realise that my father is the one that started the rumours about my art online. He wanted me to succeed.

“I’m happy to see you, but I don’t think I can simply forget about what happened.”

“This man that you have chosen, is he good to you? Does he look after you?”

“Yes, he does. He’s the love of my life.”

“I’m not delusional, Arwen. I’m not expecting you to forgive me. I’m here to tell you that I’m proud of you and I’m sorry.”

I look at his blue eyes, wanting to say how much I missed him all those years, but he is already walking away. I don’t move, repeating his words over and over in my mind.
 

I’m proud of you …

The man disappears in the crowd. A few minutes later I feel a strong arm around my waist. Ethan kisses my neck.

“Who was that?”

“That was … my father.”

I turn around to face him and smile, blinking back tears. Happiness overwhelms me and tension disappears.

Ethan’s expression is serious. “Your father?”

“Yes, he came to let me know that he regrets leaving me and that he is proud of me.”

Ethan stares at me for several minutes and then he brings me to his chest.

“Who wouldn’t be proud of you, Arwen? I’m glad that he finally realised it.”

The End