35. Epilogue

Epilogue

B ea and Cleo strolled through the Metropolitan Museum of Art several months later, hardly aware of the priceless art surrounding them. Cleo had each room memorized anyway. They were discussing plans for expanding Bea’s foundation.

“I can’t believe you still want to help with it,” Bea said.

Cleo scoffed. “Of course I want to help. It’s the highlight of my day.”

Bea rolled her eyes. “I think we all know who the highlight of your day is.” Cleo felt her face grow warm. It was true; they all knew the highlight was a who, not a what.

“Clark loves the foundation almost as much as I do.”

“Clark loves you, and anything that makes you happy makes him happy.” She wasn’t wrong. “He’s much more enthusiastic about you helping me with it than your dad or Jameson ever were.” She was right about that, too. Cleo’s dad hadn’t always loved the time she spent on the foundation, but he was coming around. He wanted Cleo to be happy and could recognize that this brought her joy, so he had stopped grumbling about it.

Cleo had flown home with Clark to New York after Dottie’s wedding. She went straight to her house to see her dad. He took one look at her and wrapped her in a hug she didn’t extricate herself from for several minutes. Clark didn’t stay; they decided to take their time telling her father about him. The two men didn’t actually meet for over a month, and even then her father’s reception was pretty frosty. They were winning him over to the idea of them slowly but surely, however, mostly as her father saw how happy Clark made Cleo.

Cleo had explained as much of her adventure as she could to her father, but she still didn’t tell him everything about her mother or the brother she’d lost. That was Patty’s story to tell, not hers. Patty would be arriving for Thanksgiving tomorrow, where she’d have the chance to see Cleo’s father if she chose. Cleo hoped she would. She wasn’t naive enough to think that her parents would completely reconcile, or even that they should do it, but she hoped they’d both be able to find some closure in a long overdue discussion about what had actually happened nearly twenty years earlier.

As for closure for Cleo and her former fiance?, she’d gotten that via a drunken phone call from Jameson a few days after her return. She expected it wasn’t something he’d ever do sober, so she was strangely grateful for the alcohol loosening his tongue.

“I’m sooooo sorry, Cleo,” he’d slurred into the phone one night. “I washn’t very good to you.”

She’d tried to tell him that it was okay, that she was over it, but he wouldn’t hear of it. “I chased you away. Bea said so.” Bea had confirmed that she’d told him off good after he’d discovered Cleo gone. “I knew you didn’t love me, and I asked you to marry me anyway. I chased you away. I’m soooo sorry,” he repeated. He became tearful then and kept asking Cleo to forgive him. She found it wasn’t hard to forgive him, something that was probably made easier by the existence of new significant others in both their lives. He had moved on just as she had, and she truly wished him happiness. In a way, he’d been a pawn in his parent’s games, too, and she found herself actually feeling sorry for him. She hadn’t been honest with him, either, and apologized for that and for leaving the way she had.

Bea led Cleo to a section of the Met that Cleo knew was under construction. She tried to protest that they shouldn’t be there, but Bea just grabbed her wrist and pulled her forward through some plastic taped over a doorway.

There were no lights in the room they entered, just some temporary spotlights set up in the corners. Framed pictures lined the walls, which was strange. This room wasn’t ready for art. They were several weeks or months away from that, she’d been told.

The semi-darkness prevented Cleo from noticing what the art was until they’d gotten closer to it. Her eyes snagged on one particular piece hanging in the center of the room. It was a sketch of the Black-Eyed Susan. Hanging next to it was the Sunsphere and downtown Knoxville. Beside that was a landscape Cleo had sketched of Arkansas as they’d driven through it. As Cleo scanned the room, she realized that all the art hanging there was hers.

“What is this?” she asked Bea.

“A preview.”

“A preview of what?”

Clark spoke from the doorway behind her. “A preview of an art show I think is going to make a big splash.”

Cleo spun and her breath caught in her throat. Clark sauntered toward her in a blue button-down, his hands resting in his pockets. His face was clean-shaven, his eyes pools of milk chocolate. His full lips tipped up in a smile so cataclysmic Cleo wrapped her arms around herself to keep from coming apart. She loved this man so much it nearly undid her.

“What are you talking about?” she whispered.

Bea explained, “Clark reached out to a contact in the industry who was very interested in your sketches. He wants to do a small show.” Bea was beaming, bouncing-on-her-toes-excited as a girl at her first dance performance.

Cleo turned back to Clark where he’d stopped. “He’s got a gallery on Orchard Street. He’d like to do an informal show there whenever you’re ready to, if you’re interested.” If she was interested? Cleo would be crazy to say no, but her gut affirmed what her heart already knew.

Still, she paused to savor this moment. A year ago she’d have jumped at this chance. But she wasn’t that same girl; she knew herself better now. A tender smile tugged up her mouth. “I don’t need to have my art in a gallery show to enjoy it. Having it hang here for the two of you to see is enough for me.”

Clark started to object. “But–”

“Believe me, I appreciate what you’ve done for me. You’ll never know just how much it means that you love me and my work enough to champion it.” Clark opened his mouth but she continued, “But I don’t want this. I want to create art because I love making it, not because I want the whole world to see.”

Bea placed a hand on Cleo’s arm. “Cleo, I think you should take some time to think about this before you say no.”

She shook her head. “I don’t need to take time. I know what I want, and I’ve been working with my father to figure out how to make it possible. I think it’ll be a compromise you’ll be okay with. I’m so grateful to both of you for supporting and loving me for me. It’s given me the confidence to start something I’ve been wanting to try.” She licked her lips and went on. “I’m going to open a foundation of my own, one which allows me to help aspiring artists who can’t afford to go to art school. I’ll review their applications and choose a few to sponsor through school, then help them get their start by featuring their art in a gallery I’m purchasing.” Staring at her best friend, then her boyfriend, gratitude emanated from every pore for these people who loved her unconditionally. “Maybe I’ll even hang a few of my own pieces there as well. How does that sound?”

Clark closed the distance and enveloped Cleo in a hug. “That sounds incredible, Cleo. I’m so proud of you.” Bea joined them in a group hug, echoing Clark’s sentiments and kissing Cleo’s head.

Clark added, “As long as you’re sure, I won’t take these to my contact, no matter how much I might want to.”

“If you did, I’d tell everyone about your not-very-manly tattoo,” Cleo said into his shoulder. He squeezed her tighter and she began to laugh as Bea moved away. Cleo had giggled outright when she’d first seen the constellation above his shoulder blade. She’d teased him about having girly stars on his back but he’d insisted that Orion was, in fact, quite masculine.

Clark relaxed his hold on her and took her face in his hands. “I’m glad to know that eventually others will get to see how brilliant you are.” Cleo’s heart jumped in her chest, just as it did every time he said things like that. He was so good to her. She pulled his mouth down to hers to express to him how grateful she was for him believing in her. The only person who’d ever done that before was Bea, but now she also had this man and Patty, and even her dad as well. It was intoxicating to think that she could have so many people in her corner.

“The best thing I ever did was jump in that taxi that day,” she whispered when they paused for air.

“The best thing I ever did was follow you,” Clark added. She wrapped her arms around his neck and showed her favorite carmate that she wholeheartedly agreed.

The End