Raphaela's Gift (20 page)

Marian nodded, dropping her eyes to the chipped white paint on the table. She picked at the flakes, peeling them free from the wooden surface. "It's not your fault. I made too many mistakes. They can't forgive me. He can't forgive me. What more can I do?"

"You still have two days left. We have an art therapy session tomorrow morning, and you have a family therapy session after that. I can't make any promises, but if you come with an open mind, you never know what might happen."

Marian slowly shook her head, the broken sunlight blazing red in her brown razor cut bob. "Maybe. But the chances are slim to none. Something, someone, has come between Garret and I. I can feel it."

Faith's breath caught in her throat as she thought about those photographs in Steven's camera. "What makes you say that?"

Marian's shrug, an unconvincing attempt at casualness, didn't hasten Faith's attempt to breathe. "Garret and I have known each other for years. It's just something I know. Why? Has he said something to you? I can see you've managed to get somewhat close to him."

Faith's gaze slipped, falling to rest on the paint clinging to Marian's fingernails. "No, he hasn't said anything. I talked to him about reconciling, but he became very defensive and told me it wasn't possible. I'm sorry, Marian. I tried."

"I know you did, but I can't help but wonder who she is. I know there's someone else."

Did those words sting! Or was Marian digging for something? Did she suspect Faith yet?

It was possible. "Maybe there isn't anyone. Maybe he's simply content with the way things are between you now."

"No. I see that look. A wistful, distant look. I haven't seen it in a long time. Garret Damiani is infatuated. Hell, for all I know he could be in love."

Garret Damiani…in love… The words echoed in her head. Could it be true? Without a doubt, she knew he was attracted to her. Oh, God, her heart might leap from her chest. She rested her hands on her breastbone, feeling the thud through its thickness. "Well, if he is in love, would it be so bad?"

"Of course it would. Why would you say such a thing?"

Stupid me. "Well, I mean, if he were to remarry some day, and you have to admit that is possible, wouldn't it be good for Raphaela?"

"No. How would having some other woman step in as mother to my baby, a woman who couldn't possibly love my daughter like I do, benefit her?"

"Granted, no woman would love her like you do. You’re her mother, and no woman could take that away from you. But don't you think there is room in Raphaela's life for a mother and a loving stepmother? She couldn't suffer from that."

Marian's gaze dropped to her hands, her fingertips now raking the paint from the tabletop. "What if the woman was cruel to her? I know how difficult Raphaela can be."

"That is where you have to trust Garret. After knowing him for thirteen years, don't you believe he would choose someone who would be a good stepmother?" She couldn't believe she was talking about this--as if it was a given. As though she and Garret were about to get married. They'd only known each other for two weeks, for God's sake. How could anyone know for certain they were meant to be together after only two weeks?

Of course, their conversations had been deeper than most, because of the nature of their relationship. She had learned more about Garret, Raphaela and Marian in the short time they'd been at Mountain Rise than she would normally have in months of dating. Still, the whole notion of a relationship with Garret felt foreign--exciting and energizing--but nonetheless awkward.

Was there a relationship at all?

Marian's eyes were fixed upon hers now, searching, probing.

Faith reached her hand up and swiped at a strand of hair that had blown across her face.

"Your ring. It's gone," Marian said, pointing at Faith's left hand.

Faith stared at the empty finger and nodded. "I broke the engagement."

"I'm so sorry." Silence, then, "Do you want to talk about it?"

Ironic, her client was offering to discuss her personal problems. Or was she? Was it a ploy to find out what was going on? "No, thanks anyway."

Marian smiled. "Well, if you ever need someone to talk to, you can come to me. I know we've worked together as therapist and client, but I like to think we're more than that."

"Thanks, but I think it's best if we keep things simple between us. More professional."

Marian looked dejected, hurt, like a child who'd been told her best friend had found a new best friend.

What was she doing? Look at the pain she was causing. She wasn't only messing with her own life here; there were three other people involved. What the hell would she do?

In two days, they would leave Mountain Rise. Marian would return to her weekly art therapy sessions at the church, with a new therapist, and Garret would be nothing but a pleasant memory. Could she live with it that way? She knew she didn't want to.

"Professional. I suppose you're right. At least until we're through here. I'm thinking of quitting the art therapy too. You're gone, and it's too long a drive to come way out here. But, I'm not sure yet."

Didn't Marian have any friends? During their sessions, Marian had talked about a number of people. Their names escaped her now, but she recalled the way Marian had described each of them. Guilt treaded up Faith's spine like a pack of soldiers and pummeled her brain.

She struggled to continue the conversation with Marian, trying to hide the conflict within. "I hate to see you quit the sessions, but you must make the decision that is right for you."

"Yes, don't we all?"

A lump formed in Faith's throat. Don't we all? She swallowed hard and nodded. Marian knew. She had to.

* * *

Dread sitting in the pit of his stomach, Garret gripped Raphaela's delicate hand and led her down the corridor to the art therapy room. He hid his unease behind friendly banter with Marian. Chattering incessantly about a myriad of subjects, none of which interested him, she walked on the other side of Raphaela.

When they reached the familiar door to Faith's studio, he paused, drew in a long breath, and opened the door. The first thing his eyes were drawn to was Faith, standing in profile, sunlight skimming the outline of her body as she stood before the windows.

The air leaked from his lungs, and failed to inflate, sending a wash of heat over his face and neck and down his chest. She turned her head and met his gaze, and he wished they were alone. And then he thought they might be. The world had suddenly closed in around them, and they were the only two people alive and Raphaela by his side.

"Garret, what is with you today?" Marian asked from behind him, breaking the spell.

Faith bit her lip, a soft smile tugging at the mouth he'd kissed only yesterday. That had been a lifetime ago. Would he take another breath if he couldn't do that again? Did he want to?

"Nothing's wrong with me. I'm a bit tired, that's all. It's been a long week." Raphaela tugged her hand free from his and shuffled toward Faith, and he watched as she walked across the room. Faith's gaze dropped to his daughter, and a smile, tentative and warm, touched Raphaela's face.

Faith stooped down, greeting Raphaela as she approached, and the shy smile flashed brilliant, angelic, as his baby threw her arms around Faith's neck and squeezed.

Faith's eyes lifted, her gaze locked once more with his. Her hand ran down the length of Raphaela's hair as it tumbled in waves and curls down her back.

"If you don't mind, I'd like to get on with the art session, Faith," Marian said.

Faith's smile faded only a touch, her gaze shifting to Marian, who stood next to the table where a smattering of art supplies had been laid out. "Sure," she answered her tone light and cheerful. After giving Raphaela one more squeeze, she stood and led her by the hand to the table.

Garret sat in one of the child-sized chairs, his legs too long to fit under the table, he scooted his chair closer and faced sideways, catching a playful smirk on Faith's face as he scraped the chair over the linoleum floor.

Marian sat on the other side of the round table, Raphaela taking a seat between them. Faith sat across from Raphaela, between Garret and Marian. Their positions, he reflected, were telling.

A circle, Raphaela on his left, Faith on his right. "Are we drawing circles again today?" he asked.

Marian snickered, and he immediately wondered why.

Faith simply grinned. "No, not today. Although I know how much you enjoyed that particular exercise. Actually, since today is the last day, I thought we'd have a free session--you may choose." She glanced at Raphaela. "I know Raphaela likes to paint."

A pallet of bright colors where presented to the little girl, who smiled brightly. Picking up her pallet and brush, she dashed for the easel next to the window.

"What about us?" Marian asked.

Garret could easily imagine what project Marian might like to try--maybe clay. And then he chuckled to himself when he realized that was probably the best medium for himself as well. Always changing people, reshaping them.

He wondered what Faith's favorite might be. Something deep, with layers, translucence. Oils.

"Actually, I thought you and Marian might work on something together."

"Really?" he asked, bewildered. What was she trying to do? Not that reconciliation thing again.

"Yes, really."

"I like the idea," Marian said as she sat at attention across from him. Her face beamed with satisfaction.

"Good. Since you'll be working together to help Raphaela, I thought you should work together to create something symbolic of your relationship with her, and with each other."

Faith really did have some strange ideas. It was art, for crying out loud, coloring, painting…symbolic of their relationship? What did coloring a picture have to do with anything?

"Now, the trick of this project is, you need to decide where each other's strengths are, and capitalize on them as you make your project."

"Oh, this sounds interesting," Marian rubbed her hands together as though she were preparing to dig into a feast.

Why was Marian being so cooperative--so eager? He studied her, the expression on her face, the set of her shoulders and chin. Had she talked to Faith again? Planned this? Was it some sort of ambush? "Well, considering my artistic talents, or lack of, I guess I won't be doing much. I could supervise," he offered as he leaned back in his chair.

"Oh, no you don't," Marian said, a glimmer in her eye. "You're not backing out on me. Faith said we should work together, and that's exactly what we'll do." She turned to Faith. "Right?"

Faith shrugged her shoulders. "I said you should assess each other's strengths and use them to your benefit. I'm not going to be more specific."

Marian scowled. "Well, I'm not going to let you back out."

Garret looked at Faith, who had leaned back in her chair as well, watching him argue with Marian with keen interest. She thought they were amusing, entertaining even? "Aren't we a sight? See why we're not married, now?"

"That isn't fair! What did you have to go and say that for?" Marian's face grew redder by the second.

He looked at Marian and rolled his eyes. "It's a joke. Don't go getting your skirt in a tangle. You should know my sense of humor by now." He listened to Marian's breathing grow louder, until it was a loud huff.

"That's stupid. First, I don't wear skirts, and second, it wasn't a funny joke. Sarcastic insults disguised as jokes aren't funny."

He looked at Faith again, wondering when she would interrupt, but she remained relaxed, apparently amused by their bickering. "Can we just get on with this?" he asked at last. Marian was plain too sensitive, always reading into things more than he'd intended. He thought the statement had been pretty funny. Maybe a little off-color, but not as bad as Marian made it out to be.

"What are we making?" Marian asked, her tone clipped, her face set in a scowl.

"Don't ask me. I'm not creative." Why did the program include art therapy? It was such a waste of time. Faith might be a good therapist, but the whole art therapy thing was nothing but a joke. He felt sorry for her. Surely, she had to realize how little she could help people with art therapy.

"How about a sculpture?" Marian asked, rummaging through a box of cardboard cartons, oatmeal boxes, and other containers on a wheeled cart next to the table.

"Fine." The more cooperative he was, the sooner it would be over.

Faith stood, triumphant. "Good. You work on your project, and I'll go check on Raphaela." She glided across the room, so smooth he thought she was floating. Her motions were graceful like a dancer, as were the soft curves of her body. He yearned to see what lay hidden under her top and narrow skirt.

Marian spoke, breaking his reverie, "My God, Garret, could you make it any more obvious?"

He flinched. "Make what obvious?"

"It's her, isn't it?" she whispered. "So I take it this means 'no'?" She moved very slowly, her movements clearly controlled as she stacked several small boxes atop each other, her gaze concentrated on the leaning tower.

"No what?"