Chapter 22

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

When something was your everyday setting, it became easy to take that for granted. Darla knew this was true, and so she liked to make a note to pause every now and again and look around the museum she'd built with her own sweat, hard work…

And yes, occasionally tears , she thought with a playful glare at the gallery wall that had needed to be entirely rebuilt while she was setting up the museum.

There was no need for tears today though, she reminded herself happily as she glanced around, pride warming her chest. She'd just cleaned up the inevitable trail of debris that got littered about whenever they hosted a kids' activity. That morning's had been a "paint your own seascape" class hosted by a sweet older lady who was a local artist. The atmosphere had been lighthearted and fun and the kids had made some really great paintings.

The museum was, as Darla had dreamed, becoming a center for the community.

Being a community center, however, she thought to herself with a sharp shake of the head, was exhausting . As a wave of tiredness overtook her, she realized she wasn't going to make it through her day without a little pick-me-up.

She glanced around. The museum was nearly empty, and she had another part time worker here. That was as good an excuse as any to take a quick jaunt over to Seastar Espresso.

The air conditioning in the coffee shop was a breath of cool air on Darla's heated skin, which was threatening to get a little sweaty despite the short walk between the museum and the coffee shop. That morning had been more humid than was typical for a seaside town, which had contributed to making the morning art workshop so crowded.

She would definitely be getting an iced coffee, not a hot one, Darla decided.

"Welcome to Seastar—oh, hey, Dar!" Charity broke off her practiced "customer service" greeting in favor of a more casual, friendly salutation as she saw who had entered her shop. "Am I nuts, or have I not seen you in ages?"

"It's been a little more than a week… so for us, basically ages," Darla answered with a laugh. She approached where her friend stood behind the counter, then froze as she caught sight of Charity's hand.

"Um, excuse me," she asked, "but is that an engagement ring, Miss Turner?"

Charity had looked slightly nervous when Darla had stopped short, but now her expression melted into a look of joy.

"Oh, man, I was going to tell everyone this weekend when we were all together but… yes! Dominic popped the question and I said yes!" she exclaimed, holding up her hand so Darla could get a good look at the beautiful diamond set in a golden band.

"Oh my gosh!" Darla squealed in excitement. "Girl, come around that counter so I can hug you!"

Charity did and the two women embraced. Then Darla released her friend only to grab onto just Charity's hand so she could peer at the ring.

"Okay, this is gorgeous ," she said. "Dominic has good taste, and not just in girlfriends—ahem, fiancées , I mean."

A pretty, happy flush graced Charity's cheeks. "He does indeed, if I may say so myself." She grinned. "Although Addie keeps trying to take credit, since she helped him pick it out."

"Are the kids thrilled?" Darla asked.

"Beyond thrilled," Charity said. "Dominic did a really great job of involving them in the proposal, which was just perfect for our little family." She told Darla all about how Dominic had hidden the ring in a box of mementos about their relationship, and how he'd totally surprised her by making her think the box was just one more thing to unpack during their move.

Darla sighed. "That's so sweet."

"It really was wonderful," Charity agreed. "It feels wild to be thinking about wedding planning again, not that we've set a date yet or anything. But still! I never thought I'd get here again."

She beamed with happiness, and Darla reached out to squeeze her shoulder.

"You deserve it more than anyone," Darla told her friend.

Charity reached up briefly to cover Darla's hand. "Thanks." Then she laughed. "And hey, who knows? I can picture our family growing a little bit more too. Maybe I'll end up trying to get pregnant along with the rest of you!"

Darla struggled to keep her smile from looking strained. She knew the horrible thought that cropped up, that this would be just one more friend who managed to get pregnant while she continued to struggle, was both unkind and not something she could ever know would come to pass. She also knew, with a little help from Rick's reminders, that this wasn't how she really felt, deep down. It was just a reaction to her own fears about fertility.

So she took a quick breath and reminded herself that she loved Charity to pieces and would be thrilled for her to have the family of her dreams, just as she was for Marty and Monica. That thought helped her smile become a bit more genuine.

"You deserve all the happiness in the world," she told Charity, meaning every word. "I'm so glad to get to share part of this journey with you."

The hug was a little awkward, as Charity had to reach over the counter a bit to reach Darla, but it was no less heartfelt for it.

They chatted for a few minutes longer, just idle small talk, before Darla got her coffee and both women returned to work. Back at the museum though, Darla found that she couldn't get her head on straight for any of the more ‘business-centric' museum activities. Her head was too much a jumble of feelings for her to worry about invoices or public relations activities. After a few minutes of trying, she threw down the papers in front of her with a huff.

Then her eyes wandered to the little studio space in the back of the museum. It wasn't open all the time. It was something they used for classes and events, none of which were scheduled for today.

That meant the studio would be empty and quiet.

With that thought in mind, the answer seemed obvious. Darla had never found any form of meditation, yoga, or journaling that helped her sort through her feelings half as well as painting them out did for her. Smiling, albeit in a way that was slightly tinged with sadness, she went to the back room, closing the door behind her.

The natural light in the room was abundant and gorgeous, especially in the golden tint of late summer, so Darla didn't bother turning on the electric lights. Instead, she pulled on a smock to protect her clothing, set up an easel, and let herself paint without a real plan, just following the impulses of her mind and heart.

She lost herself in the brushstrokes, in the practiced motions of portioning and mixing paint before applying it in long, smooth movements on the canvas. As a sense of peace settled over her, she realized that it had been too long since she'd felt relaxation like this. Her fears about having children were something she was carrying with her constantly, even when she wasn't consciously thinking about it. A break from that, even a temporary one, felt powerfully healing.

She wasn't sure how much time had passed when she felt, instinctually, that the painting was done. She cleaned her brushes and leaned back, taking in the canvas as a whole.

It wasn't her usual style. This painting was a little dreamier, a little more abstract than what she usually did. But it was fitting, the bright, warm swirls of reds and oranges and yellows interspersed with cool, contrasting blobs of blue and green. The painting felt the way Darla felt, like a woman who anticipated her future and loved her friends but who, nevertheless, could not help being disrupted by the fear and anxiety that she wouldn't manage to conceive. It was beautiful and a little sad, just like her.

She breathed in the familiar scents of paint and turpentine as she cleaned up her workspace. Even if the painting was a little sad, and even if she was still a little sad, she felt a lot better for having completed it.

Art therapy, she thought to herself as she returned to work, her head feeling a lot clearer than it had previously, had never failed her.