“I’d love to draw you,” Anthony said, then he blushed. “Honestly, I want to draw everyone.”
Delores and Anthony continued to converse, and without thinking about it, I wandered off to look at the other drawings. There was a crowd in the third room. They all seemed interested in the works on the far wall. They were whispering, a low hum of chatter that hinted at a certain kind of reverence. I made my way in that direction and the people seemed to move aside as I arrived. There were three drawings on the wall. One was my face, as if I was looking in a mirror. The drawing echoed everything I knew about myself. It was in the eyes, all my pain and sorrow but also my hunger for life and all the love I had to give. All it took was one glance to know that this was Luke’s work. He was the only one who knew me like this. The only one who studied me long enough to capture not only my likeness but also my soul.
The second drawing was the one Rufus must have been referencing. It was me on my green couch, the night we made love. The night he told me he loved me. And I was nude, very nude, but I was also absolutely free of inhibition. The drawing was black and white, save for swirls of blue pastel that served to depict my hair, the unruly blue mane of a lioness. There was nothing about looking at my body in that moment that felt sanctimonious or fearful. Through Luke’s eyes, I was like a wildflower, free to grow as I pleased and infinitely more beautiful because of my lack of cultivation. He didn’t shy away from the creases or bumps or round bits. He seemed to treasure them, highlight them, as if they were the elements that made me hard to look away from.
My chest felt tight and I could feel my pulse picking up speed. The drawings were hard to look at. They reminded me of how happy I felt in his presence, how comfortable and loved I was. I closed my eyes and took a breath before looking at the third. A part of me worried what he drew after I hurt him, after I pushed him away because I wanted to protect him. When I opened my eyes, the image before me was unfathomable.
It was us. Luke and I, only, not now. It was us, older. We were standing with our arms around each other. My head was thrown back in laughter and he was smiling, watching me with such love. There were laugh lines around my mouth and I looked a little rounder. He had gray in his beard and crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes. The picture was in full color, my hair was still royal blue and behind us was the rolling green and the big blue sky of Montana. The little white placard on the side of the drawing read:
Luke Morgan
Home Sweet Home,2020
Pastels
As soon asI read the title, I gasped and my hands jumped to cover the sound. It was at that moment that I became aware of the utter silence around me.
I sensed him before he said any words. He was directly behind me. Not so close that he could touch me, but close. The room was so quiet that the sound of his voice seemed to dance around me when he spoke. “Maddie?”
I turned before I said anything and then I was speechless. They were all there, his family. Wyatt and Cody, I knew, but also two other men who resembled him, one I assumed was his father, the other his older brother, Bill. The brown-haired girl who had run away from me earlier in the evening was there, and she looked familiar because she had the same eyes as him. That was Sarah, and she was smiling so wide her face must have hurt. Standing next her was my Claire, who was also smiling and leaning on Delores. They were all behind Luke standing in a semicircle, looking at me. In front of me, Luke dropped to one knee and tears started to quietly streak down my cheeks.
“Sometimes, you don’t know what you want. Like you look at a menu and you could choose any one of the entrees and you’d be perfectly happy, and then there are other times when only one thing will do. This is one of those times for me, Maddie. It doesn’t matter what anyone else has to offer, you are the only thing I ever want.”
I tried to interrupt him, “But…”
He smiled at me, “I’m not finished.” He pulled a ring box from his pocket. “This ring was my mother’s. My father gave it to me to give to you. My whole family knows about us, they know our secrets—yours and mine—and they are here to assure you that I want our future, whatever it brings. My father, my brothers, my sister… we all want you to wear my mother’s ring and become a part of our family. You are more than enough. You are everything.” He paused and cleared his throat, “So, what do you think? You wanna grow old with me?”
I bit my lip, trying to stop the onslaught of emotions from pouring out. He was so beautiful, bearing his soul before my family and his. Looking into his eyes, I was afraid that I would fail him, but I wasn’t willing to put myself last anymore. Sometimes you have to let someone love you. Sometimes that’s what’s best for you both.
“Well?” he asked, still smiling but starting to look a little nervous.
“Will there be cookies?” I asked, cheeky until the end.
His eyes lit up, “Truckloads, baby.”
“Then, yes.”
He stood up, wrapped his arms around me, holding me to his chest, and the audience behind us broke into cheers.