Summer's Passing (15 page)

Two old curtains served to separate the back room from the front. We followed Samuel through them.

"You must excuse the mess," he said while yanking on the chain of an overhead light bulb.

We stood in the center of what could have easily been thousands of paintings of various shapes and sizes. They lay strewn on the floor and walls. Some were stacked in piles, others on their sides in cabinets.

"Impressive," I said as I took everything in.

"We have more at home, my wife and me. Well, to be honest, most are paintings I picked up in my travels. Gloria would just as soon be rid of them."

He went to a group of paintings leaning against a wall. "These are the ones I wanted you to see. The same artist, Rachel Cain, painted them all. I counted twenty altogether. There may be more. As you can see, this room is a mess."

Beckie and I knelt in front of the stack. 

"I'll leave the two of you to browse. Yell if you need anything." With that, Samuel left us alone.

Even in the room's dull light, the colors of the paintings before us seemed to jump off the canvas. 

We took each one separately and held it to the light. The first one showed a cottage in a field surrounded by woods. 

"She painted this one before the portrait I have. I'm sure of it," Beckie said.

The second canvas displayed a town scene, outdoor stalls with shoppers sampling the wares. The third was a portrait of a cat curled up on a blanket, on a bed. Then it was back to the outdoors: a painting of two horses grazing in a field.

The next few were again of the village and the cottage, and were of different quality, some quite professional to my eye, others not so much.

"She was learning," Beckie said, reading my thoughts.

Then the settings changed dramatically. The painting that followed showed a wide river in a wild jungle, the water appeared to be red. Then, a painting of a pirate ship, the skull and crossbones flag, hoisted on a mast, plainly visible. Next, a castle stood high on a cliff overlooking the sea. Then another of the castle, closer now, painted from a nearby field. 

"Do you find it odd that there are no more portraits of your lookalike?" Beckie asked.

"A little," I replied.

Beckie reached for the last painting. It faced the wall and she moved it to the light before turning it around. When she did, she let out a loud gasp and dropped the canvas. I grabbed it before it hit the ground.

"Dear God," I said.

The picture was of the house on the pier where Beckie once lived. It looked identical to the structure and the pier appeared to be the same too.

I took a breath. "So, she did this one not long ago." There's no chain across the entrance. "I'd guess maybe ten or fifteen years ago. Wait." There were markings below the artist's name. I held the canvas closer to the light.

"What does it say?" Beckie moved in closer. 

"It says 1783. It's a date."

"The others don't have dates." Beckie rummaged through the paintings. "Why this one?"

"I don't know. Maybe Samuel can help out." I went through the curtains, squinting in the bright light. Samuel was dusting off wall paintings with a feather duster that had seen better days. I told him about the dated painting.

"It happens more often than you'd think. Sometimes an artist will date a painting because the picture holds more significance to him or her than others. Maybe a special event, or something along those lines." Samuel said as he dusted.

"Are you familiar with the house on a pier on the gulf about fifteen minutes out of town?" I asked him.

"Can't say I am. Why do you ask?"

"The painting is dated 1783, and it portrays a pier house my fiancée lived in," I said.

"Odd, your fiancée doesn't look that old," he replied. "Sorry, couldn't help myself. I wouldn't be overly concerned if I were you. I imagine they had piers in those days, and maybe houses on some of them too. Or maybe it's dated improperly. She may have meant 1983."

"Okay, thanks." I turned to the back room.

"1783," He said as he lowered the duster. "There is something about the year that seems familiar." He cocked his head to the side and rubbed his chin. "For the life of me, I can't think what it might be." He lowered his hand and began dusting once more. "Don't get old, son," he said. "Don't get old."

Beckie remained spooked about the pier painting. The comments from Samuel were no help at all. 

"What does he know?" She asked as she continued to stare at the picture. "We should go back there tonight and get the rest of my stuff."

"The stuffed animals," I said.

"There may be other things too. I don't know. I've got a lot on my mind."

Beckie hesitated before she spoke. "I want all the paintings, Doug. I know we can't afford them now. Maybe Samuel will hold them until I get a job and I can buy them one at a time."

"Wouldn't hurt to ask," I said.

Samuel sat behind a glass counter, his dusting complete. He now studied the screen of an open laptop.

"All done, are we?" he said without looking up.

"All done," Beckie answered. "I do have a question for you, though."

"Yes, I'll hold them for you. You can pick them up one at a time." He looked up at Beckie and smiled. "Voices carry in here."

"Thank you," Beckie replied.

"They won't be as much as the others, especially with your employee discount."

"I'm sorry, my what?"

"Your employee discount. I heard you're looking for a job and I'm looking for a full-time manager to run my store. It's time I retire. Gloria wants to travel some; she's seen the world in paintings, now she craves the real thing."

Beckie didn't say anything so Samuel continued. "I'll provide health insurance and a decent salary, say twelve dollars an hour to start and a ten percent commission on each sale. We're open ten to six, Tuesday through Thursday, ten to eight on Fridays and Saturdays, closed on Sunday and Monday. What do you think?"

Beckie looked at me. I saw the flicker of excitement in her eyes. Her eyes, they told everything. 

"It's up to you," I said.

She turned to Samuel. "You don't know me," she said.

"I know you love art. You don't realize it yet, but you do. That's good enough for me. Oh, and Maggie from the restaurant up the street recommended you."

Beckie's jaw dropped as did mine. "You talked to Maggie?"

"Maggie and I go way back, she's the daughter I never had, or maybe that's you. Time will tell. In any case, she told me all about you." He leaned forward on the counter and motioned Beckie closer. She leaned in front of him.

"You'll like this more than waitressing," he whispered in her ear.

"When do I start?" She whispered back.

"How's Tuesday sound?" 

"Like a plan," she said.

She gave me a tight hug the moment we hit the sidewalk.

"Can you believe it, Doug. I have a job. I have a job!"

"Way to go, Beckie," I said, grinning away.

"Let's walk to Maggie's. I want to thank her personally. I'm so happy. Everything's coming together for us, isn't it? I bet you get a job soon, too. That's the way it works."

She had forgotten about the painting of the pier and the house at its end. That was good. I loved to see her happy.

"What was he showing you on the internet?" Beckie asked me as we walked.

"His store has its own website. He ships paintings to customers all over the world. The guy knows computers. He's a sharp old businessman. Oh yeah, he wanted to show me something he found out about 1783 too. It seems there was a big storm in Port Grace that summer. It did quite a bit of damage from what he showed me."

Maggie met us at the door of her establishment. Samuel must have tipped her off to our arrival. Jill and Beth were there too and for a few minutes a grand celebration took place.

After so many strange happenings of late, the normalcy of friends meeting again after months apart was refreshing. I sat in a booth by myself, nursing a draft beer, compliments of Maggie, and watched the girls talk and laugh. Seeing Beckie so happy, after everything she had been through, was a thrill, and for a short while, my mind did not veer toward the unexplained. 

Eventually the activity found my hiding place and I became a part of the festivities. I was outnumbered four to one, but the women, after an initial threat of being shot if I tried to take Beckie from Port Grace, took me in and I quickly melted into the group.

"So, I understand your days at the beach house are numbered," Maggie said to me once the three of us shared a booth. Jill and Beth had left to take care of customers.

Maggie looked younger that I had imagined. She was maybe in her late thirties or early forties. And she was quite the looker, with thick curly red hair, a cute face and a nice figure. Beckie had told me her husband left her years ago for another woman. He must have been an idiot. 

"We probably have through September, but that may be pushing it," I replied.

"Well, if you need a temporary place to stay, let me know. Some of my winter regulars don't arrive in town until early January. I'm pretty sure one or two have empty places until then."

"Are you sure they wouldn't mind?" Beckie asked.

"Honey, I promise you they wouldn't mind. In fact, I might be able to get you something for longer than that if needed."

"Thanks," I said. With the shooting threat still in my head I added "I guess we're staying in Port Grace."

"A toast." Maggie raised her glass of iced tea, I raised my beer mug, Beckie, her almost empty glass of wine. "To the future Mrs. Monroe and her lucky fiancé, Doug. I officially welcome you as the newest residents of Port Grace, the best community in the United States."

Our glasses clinked together and we drank. We talked for another hour or so. I found out a few things about the history of the town and its inhabitants. 

Beckie must have made a huge impression on Maggie in the time she worked for her. Maggie spoke of her with such high regard they might well have been friends for years. Beckie seemed to have that effect on people. Once you got to know her, you couldn't help but fall in love with her. 

"I'll ask around about a job for you," Maggie said to me as she excused herself from the table. "Anything in particular?" 

I shook my head. "I'll take pretty much anything to start. I'm a quick learner."

"I'll see what I can do. Now, I must get back to work." Maggie gave Beckie a hug. "I expect to see a lot of you now that we're neighbors. I want you to visit often."

"I will," Beckie answered. "I promise."

"Good. You two are welcome to stay. Food and drinks are on the house."

"Thanks Maggie, but I need to ask around about a job before it gets too late," I said to her.

"Well, good luck. I'll work on it from this end."

"Wow. What a great woman," I said once she was out of earshot. 

"And a great boss," Beckie added. "You can see why I liked working here."

We left not long after that. Beckie pulled a stick of gum from her purse and handed it to me as we walked. "Applying for a job and smelling of beer don't mix," she said.

I did ask a few merchants along the main drag if they were hiring. Most said no but a couple took my name and cell phone number and I actually filled out an application at a bookstore a few doors down from Samuel's place.

It was after five when we arrived back at my car.

"Well, we certainly made a day of it," Beckie said as I opened the passenger door for her.

"We sure did," I added. The day could not have gone much better, a full-time job for Beckie and a possible place to stay until we found a permanent home. Now, I had to get my act together. But I had a newfound air of confidence. Everything seemed to be going our way. 

Beckie knelt on the car seat and cupped my face in her hands. She gave me a long hot kiss before she sat back and buckled herself in. Her white dress with the flowers of summer rode up a little as she did so. 

I put a hand on her leg, a little above her knee and squeezed her gently. "How about we go home and celebrate in a more intimate manner?" I said with a smile. 

"Let's make a quick stop at the pier house first. I want to pick up whatever's left."

The picture of the pier from the painting flashed in my head. I wondered if Beckie saw the same image.

"Sure," I said. "Let's do it." And we drove away.

In the short time it took us to arrive at the pier house, the sky had darkened considerably.

"It looks like a storm's coming." I said as I parked the car by the beach. "Maybe we should wait until tomorrow. You know, to be on the safe side."

"Since when did my fearless hero become afraid of a few raindrops? Come on. Let's get this over with."

We left the car and headed for the beach. I didn't like the looks of the sky. It had a bruised orange look to it. In the distance I could see heavy black clouds, streaked with lightning and moving rapidly in our direction.

"We'd better make this quick," I said.

"Five minutes, tops," Beckie answered.

We were at the locked chain and Beckie searched her purse for her keys.

"I seriously doubt this chain would keep anybody out. Most would just duck under it," I said. 

"It shows we mean business," she said. I wasn't sure what she meant by that but by now the wind had picked up and the black clouds had begun their conquest of the orange sky.

"Got it!" Beckie yelled over the wind.

She unlocked the chain and we hurried up the pier. The wind was really starting to kick in now and the wooden planks beneath our feet creaked and groaned.

I would have turned around right then. We should have, but Beckie was a woman possessed. 

"How about if I just buy you some new stuffed animals?" I yelled to her over the wind. If she heard me, she didn't answer.

She stuck a key in the door and opened it. Once the door shut behind us, it became much quieter. The rattling of the windows and the faint whistle of the wind attempting to gain access were all we heard.