Primary Colors (13 page)

“Two, he asked for balloons of all the primary colors he loved to paint in to be released after the ceremony. In turn, I’ll be spreading his ashes tonight across Lake Camden, where he often retreated to during the summer.

“Three: he asked for his personal views on life and his artwork be celebrated today, without tears or sadness. He prepared a
slide show, which I’ll start in a minute. Let me just say that his final farewell reveals the kind of man he was, the legacy he left behind. He must have put this together long before he died, leaving us one last work of art.” His voice cracked on the final sentence.

Rafe crossed to the small table set up for the projector and clicked into the first slide. Jonas’s face came on the screen up
front. There he was, a young man, smiling with a self-confidence that never left him. The next slide was one of Rafe’s favorite paintings,
Living Life
, which consisted of a series of pinks and blacks, spots and lines forging together into a whole. The quote under his photo read, “Your life is your message to the world. Make sure it’s inspiring.”

Next, a work which always reminded Rafe of a
path wending its way through a thicket. Simply titled
Two Roads
, after the Frost poem, it was done in yellows and grays. “For this one, he chose the quote, ‘In the end, it’s not the years in your life that matter, it’s the life in your years.’”

There were more. Bright-colored paintings expressing love, after which he’d written, “Never stop showing someone how much they mean to you.” He’d often
told Rafe that love is the center of the universe, which was the name of the painting
.

There were other photos of his artwork, which were equally inspiring. Then a slide came on that made Rafe’s throat close up. A picture Jonas had painted, a collage, really, of Rafe at six, at ten, at twenty, and one not too long ago. With a strain in his voice, Rafe read, “‘If I could sit across the porch
from God, I’d thank him for lending me you.’”

Tears welled in Rafe’s eyes as the last painting came on. It resembled a starburst, with silver-and-gold strands entwined, intermingling lines of various colors and lengths and widths. The captions ended with “Don’t cry because it’s over. Smile because it happened.”

And that, Rafe thought, besieged by gut-wrenching emotion, was Jonas Crane’s
life
.

A cold winter wind lifted the balloons into the air, like a hundred multi-colored birds flying to the heavens. All the mourners were given bunches to release to say good-bye to Jonas. Nia saw Sal let go of his, and it joined the beautiful collage in the sky. Her family surrounded her as they watched them all disappear, puffs of cold air coming from their mouths as they
oohed and aahed over the sight. At the end,
Matka
grasped her hand. “We are leaving. Rafe has friends to meet with.”

“I’ll go home with you. Let Sal and me tell him we’re leaving, too.” She crossed to where he stood in front of the church. She caught his eye and waved
.

“Excuse me,” he said and approached them.

“We didn’t want to interrupt. You have people you need to talk to. But we
wanted to say good-bye.”

Seeming drained, Rafe knelt in front of Sal. “You okay, buddy?”

Sal said, “Yeah. That was sad but kinda nice. I loved his pictures.”

“We’ll have to make you better acquainted with his work.”

Nia’s spirits lightened to hear him talk about the future.

Rafe glanced over to her family. He waved, then said to Sal, “Go see your aunts a minute, buddy. I want
to talk to your mom.” Leaning down, he kissed the boy’s head.

“Will I see you again?” Sal asked.

“Of course, just as soon as I get back.”

After Sal left, he turned to Nia and took her hands. His hair had been ruffled by the wind. He’d forsaken gloves, and his skin was ice-cold. “You okay?”

“Yes, more than. Rafe, the memorial Jonas planned was so uplifting.”

He shook his head.
“It was just like him, looking out for me to the end.” At her questioning look, he said, “He did this for me. It was a message not to let grief overcome me. He loved me that much.” The last word came out on a whisper.

“I can see he did.”

Taking a deep breath, he looked into her eyes. “I’m leaving for Camden Lake now.”

“I know. Drive carefully.”

“I’m staying overnight at the cabin.”

“You should. It’s a long trip.” She didn’t want to let him go, but she’d helped him all she could.

He cupped her cheek with his hand. “Nia, come with me.”

“Oh, Rafe.” She turned her face into his palm. “I’d love to.”

The cold air whipped off Camden Lake even more fiercely up here than in the city. Rafe, in a heavy thermal sweater, a down vest and gloves, braved the cold. His cheeks were bright red and his eyes teary. From the weather or the last parting he was about to do? Either way, Nia moved in close and curled her arm through his. “This is hard.”

“Not as hard as
the last few days.” He shook his head and looked down at the urn he carried. “Thanks, old man, for guiding me through this. Like everything else.” He walked to the edge of the dock he’d put in for Jonas. She was beside him as he knelt down, opened the jar and carefully emptied the urn into the lake. “Rest with the water, Jonas. You always loved it.”

Nia laid her head on his shoulder and said
her own sort of good-bye.
Thanks for taking care of him all these years, Jonas.

After five minutes, when the cold started to seep into their toes and through their gloves, Rafe turned away from the water and, holding the urn in one arm, took Nia’s hand and started up to the cabin.

The remoteness of the place astounded her. Since she was originally from the big city, she had no idea that
homes like these existed, isolated from other places by a cove of trees, set back into woods that had been cleared just enough for a beach.

“This place is unreal to me, Rafe. And beautiful.”

“We started coming up here, mostly just the two of us, after he adopted me.” He laughed a little. “Some dads take their kids fishing up here, but we came to paint. One of my favorites”—he winked at
her—“other than the one I did of you, I painted right on this little patch of heaven.”

“Have I seen it?” They stepped up onto the small porch, behind which was another screened-in room spanning the entire width of the cabin
.

“I don’t know. I still have it. Now, since it reminds me of him, I’m glad I didn’t sell it.”

“Your paintings sell well, don’t they?”

“Yeah, not that I’ll need
it. Jonas left me everything. This place. His fortune, all the paintings he still owned.” He bit his lip. “I’d trade every single penny for one more day with him.”

“I know the feeling.”

He turned to her when they got inside the cabin proper. “I’m also the beneficiary of what you learned, Nia, through Peter’s death. You’ve helped me so much. I’ll never be able to thank you enough.”

Reaching up, she ran a hand down his jaw. He was clean shaven now, in deference to the memorial service. She kind of missed the scruff. They divested their coats and flopped onto the couch. “What would you like to do now?” he asked.

“Are you hungry?”

He grinned and gestured to the picnic basket on the table. “It depends. Is that your mother’s cooking?”

“Of course. She was preparing
a meal to take to Gerald’s tonight.”

“Why are you smiling?”

“It’s hard to imagine her and Gerald, you know, making love. But I know they do.
Matka
stays overnight there. We’ve had a hell of a time explaining that to the kids.”

“Kids adjust. Even to the thought of adults having sex.”

She looked out the windows at the lake. Its waves crashed on the shore, the sound soothing. During
the last weekend, with the confidences they’d shared and the constant physical proximity, she’d had a gradual awareness of what she wanted from Rafe. Now this talk of making love crystallized it. She wanted intimacy with him. She wanted to feel his hard body next to her and the supreme connection that sex was between two people. Should she let him know that? Would it be rude in the wake of his
grief?

“What are you thinking Nia? You’ve got the strangest look on your face.”

“I’m embarrassed to admit it.”

“Don’t be. You can tell me anything. I’m certainly an open book to you now.”

She turned, faced him fully and grasped his hands. “If this request is out of line, just tell me.”

“Nia…” he said impatiently.

“I, um, wondered if you’d like to make love.”

His eyebrows
skyrocketed. “Wow, I never expected this.”

“Is it too much, too soon into your mourning?”

“By the reaction of the lower half of my body to your question, I think not. But what about you? Do you want to do this?”

“Yes.” She bit her lip. “But I wanted to last time, too.”

“Things are different between us now. I feel an intimacy with you that I never felt with a woman before. Ironic,
because we haven’t done anything yet.”

“I feel it, too. I loved sleeping with you. In the literal sense.”

“I want to, Nia. But this has to be from you, the woman, not the caretaker.”

She moved in close so her hip bumped his. And whispered in his ear, “Make love to me man to woman. Like the lovers I want to be.”

For Rafe, it was magical. Almost as if she’d come
to him in a dream. This time, when he eased off her sweater, relieved her of her jeans, she was busy kissing his chest, which she seemed to like baring. “Hold on, love. Let’s enjoy this.”

She whispered against his already-damp skin, “I am, Rafe. I am.”

Once her outer clothing was on the floor, he knew this was the crucial time. Snagging her gaze, he slid his arms around her and undid the
clasp of her bra. She spilled into his hands. God, her breasts were lush. Firm, high and not too big, so she didn’t really have to wear the undergarment. Again, as last time, he knelt and took off her panties, noticing somewhere in the back of his mind that her underwear was a pale pink. His heart pounded in his chest as he stood. But instead of the tear-stained cheeks he’d found before when they’d
gotten this far, her every feature was etched with pleasure. “Touch me more,” she said simply but telling him loudly,
I’m ready for this, Rafe
.

Leaning over, he buried his face in her neck. The skin was so soft there, yet supple. Grateful for the gift offered him, he vowed to make this experience good for her. Tender. Loving. Despite the pulse beating double time in his groin, she would be
his focus. He took her hand and led her to the bed in his old room, where he knew they’d be more comfortable today. No ghosts for her and none for him.

He scooped her up and laid her on the bed. To him she was the
Nude Maja
from Goya’s painting. But real. All beautiful flesh and hot blood instead of canvas and oils. After he stared his fill, he put one knee on the bed. “I want to touch you.”

“I want that, too.”

Cupping her breasts with both hands, he bent down and took a nipple in his mouth. She startled, then sighed. “That feels so good. So, so good.” Left unsaid was
It’s been so long.

He gave attention to the other breast. Sighs became whimpers. Was there a more beautiful sound in the world?

“Rafe,” she whispered as he kissed his way down her body. Laved her ribs,
took tiny bites out of her abdomen.

“You are so lovely, everywhere.” He buried his face in her stomach. “And I care about every inch of you.”

Because his mouth went lower, Nia couldn’t get words out to him, words that would let him know she cared, too. She was lost in sensations, the feel of his roughened hands and clever mouth on her. She moaned at each subtle, intimate caress. He moaned,
too, and the virile, all-male sounds mixed with breathy female responses echoed in the bedroom.

When his mouth closed over her, the spirals began. Slow, fast, soft, hard until Nia could feel only, him, Rafe, loving her. Pleasure burst through her so intense, she was shaken by it.

When she came back to the world, she saw him between her legs. He grinned, smug and cute. “Good?”

“Oh,
my God. If it was any better, I would have stopped breathing.”

He pressed his hand against her and she arched off the bed. “Oh, God, I forgot about that aftershock.”

Leaning over, he kissed her between her legs. “Happy to remind you.”

She sat up and he pulled her to kneeling. Staring right into his eyes, she said, “It was only you, Rafe.”

His face sobered. “I know, and it was only
you, Nia. For me, too.”

Slowly, she inched over to him. She glanced down. He was hard and pulsing. “Hmm, looks like there’s more to go.”

“Oh, there is baby. Care to help me out here?”

Free, she said, “Gladly,” and drew him down to the mattress. They lay side-by-side, their eyes locked. Then he slid into her.
Thank you, dear Lord
, she whispered to herself,
for giving this back to me.
When she was connected to him, she added,
For giving him to me.

Rafe awoke with Nia, this time naked, in his arms again. His first thought was he could get used to this. His second was, of course, of Jonas. And reality hurt. As if she knew, she stirred, opened her eyes and smiled. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

She kissed his chest. “It hits like a ton of bricks when you wake up, doesn’t
it?”

“Yeah, but I don’t regret last night.”

“I’m glad.”

“Jonas would be so glad we did this. The way we did this.”

“Excuse me? He taught you positions?”

A laugh, a real one, from his belly. “No, although he would have if I’d asked. There wasn’t a modest bone in his body. What I meant was Jonas would rejoice in our closeness last night. You felt it, too, didn’t you?”

“Yes.
I did. I loved it.”

“No guilt?”

She shook her head. “Peter would be glad, too.”

“Listen to us, talking so morbidly.” He sat up and peered out the window. “Time for a polar plunge in the lake.”