Truth - Romig Aleatha - Страница 12
- Предыдущая
- 12/147
- Следующая
Hot water pelted her upturned face as she stepped into the shower. The sensation of warmth flowed over her. Slowly, the heaviness washed away from her soul. By the time her feet hit the tile floor her thoughts centered on the future. The past was gone. She had survived. She wasn’t the same woman Anthony Rawlings took three years ago.
As Claire exited the elevator with her telephones in tow she inhaled the unique scents of the parking garage. Easing herself into the leather driver’s seat of her car, she relished her new found independence. Yes, life threw her some obstacles; she was stronger for them.
The GPS instructed her to turn right from the garage. The morning fog had begun to dissipate revealing patches of pale blue sky. She turned her Honda into traffic and thought about the jewelry inside her purse. Her lips turned upward as she pondered the value and remembered Anthony’s perpetuity for appearance. This time, she hoped it would work in her favor.
Light thinks it travels faster than anything, but it is wrong. No matter how fast light travels, it finds the darkness has always got there first, and is waiting for it.
—Terry Pratchett
Chapter 4
Sophia watched her husband pack his suitcase. “Derek, I just got back from Florence. Can’t you stay home?”
“I told you, they want to meet me face-to-face.”
Sophia sighed and smoothed the t-shirts he’d so precisely placed into the bag. It was so different from the way she packed. But then again, they were different. Some of their friends called them Darma and Greg. Looking at Derek’s suits, pressed shirts, and cuff links, they definitely had different styles. However, those differences brought them together and kept them united.
Her bare feet allowed her head to fit perfectly under her husband’s chin. Standing to wrap her arms around Derek’s neck she smiled lovingly, “I know, just please hurry home.”
His light brown eyes mellowed as he stared into her tender expression. “I’ll come back as soon as the interview process is done.”
“Tell me again, who are these people, and why do they want you?”
Derek tipped his head to Sophia’s and grinned, “I’ve told you. You just don’t listen.”
Her hands wandered down the buttons of his white silk shirt. “Maybe it’s because I get distracted. I keep thinking about wanting you for myself.”
“I think you’re trying to distract me so I’ll miss my flight.”
“Oh, well, so you leave tomorrow, instead of tonight.” She nibbled his neck, “Would that be so bad?”
Punctuality was Derek’s thing, not Sophia’s. She was a free soul – an artist. Perfect for her personality, she could work, sketching and painting, whenever the impulse hit. Sometimes that was three in the morning. Often Derek would wake to find her covered in chalk dust, still wearing the night gown she’d worn to bed.
Despite their differences, their love was intense, passionate, and real.
*****
Just south of thirty, Sophia had given up on happily-ever-after. She’d had her share of romances, but something always seemed to intervene. Most of the time, it was her art. There were few men willing to take a backseat to a sketch pad.
If she chose to reminisce, there was one man that met her requirements. He did a great job smoozing with investors, but honestly preferred spending time alone with her. He understood her art and said everything right. However, as time passed, their goals grew incompatible. It was as if he could see her dream, but it didn’t matter. He wanted things she didn’t understand. One day he received an unbelievable job offer, requiring travel. They promised to stay in touch. The final act proved lonely.
Then unexpectedly in December of 2010, her life changed – she met Derek at a mutual friend’s Christmas party. It happened so fast. In January of 2011 they married– a whirlwind elopement to Paris. Sophia shared her affection for Europe and memories of Paris while working on her Master’s degree. Derek surprised her with a prearranged wedding. They exchanged vows in the park at the foot of the Eiffel Tower. Afterwards, they dined in a small French cafe with their witnesses. Derek secretly flew both of their sets of parents to Paris. It was the dream wedding she’d given up ever having.
Occasionally, her love of art and a desire for self-promotion required her to travel for art exhibitions. Personally, her art was gaining notoriety. Recently, she’d accepted an invitation to exhibit her work at the Florence Academy of Art during a three week exhibition. Although she didn’t like leaving Derek, they both knew this was a remarkable offer.
And now that she was home again, in Provincetown, Massachusetts, it was Derek’s turn to follow a remarkable offer. Shedis-tics, a software Fortune 500 company in Santa Clara, California, recently contacted him. The parent company, Rawlings Industries, wanted this branch of its empire to be again in the top 100. They believed Derek could help them achieve that goal.
It wasn’t that he didn’t already have a great job and career. He did, in Boston for a major electronics company. Everything was going so well. He was satisfied with his career, and Sophia was happy in the community she loved. That all changed when he received the phone call from a Shedis-tics’ representative. The contact person told Derek he came highly recommended. Now – he wanted more.
Truly, the offer seemed too good to be true. Unsolicited propositions rarely happen in today’s economy. He was rightly cautious; however, after days of research Derek found everything with Shedis-tics legitimate. He also reasoned the new job would allow him the ability to greater support his wife’s passions. Even with notoriety, art didn’t pay well. Derek loved her passion and wanted to make her every dream come true.
*****
His warm breath bathed her cheeks, “You know, I don’t like leaving.” He kissed her nose, “I’m doing this for you, for us.”
Sophia’s gauze skirt brushed the tops of her bare feet as she purposely pressed her scooped necked t-shirt against his chest. “I love you for it. But I don’t want you working yourself to death to support my art. I want it to support itself.”
He encircled her trim waist. “It will, Baby. You’re so talented, one day it will.” His lips lingered on her pouting lips. “Someday you can support me. Let me do it now, and get you that bigger studio.”
She exhaled, melting against his chest. “Please call me before you accept anything.”
Derek nodded, as his lips found her slender neck, brushing her dark blond waves away, and sending chills down her extremities.
“You know I won’t make a decision without talking it over. We’re a team, Baby.”
Sophia looked into his eyes, marveling at his long lashes. “I just wish our team could play on the same court more often.”
Derek pulled away and glanced at his watch. “Are you driving me to the airport? Or do you want me to leave the car there?”
Sophia slipped her feet into her flat canvas shoes, “Oh, no, if you’re leaving for an undetermined amount of time, you’re not getting rid of me until the gate.”
“Sorry, Sweetie. I’ve got a commuter from Provincetown to Boston, so no two hour drive in your future.”
Sophia pouted again, “So, I have to give you up sooner rather than later. Well, you aren’t parking there either. I’ll see you all the way to the tarmac.”
Provincetown had its distinct advantages: first and foremost – its reputation in the world of art, also, its small population, close to 3,000 – until tourist season. During prime summer months it’s estimated there were as many as 60,000 people in their small town – each one a potential art buyer. The free spirited world of the Cape fit Sophia perfectly.
- Предыдущая
- 12/147
- Следующая
