There was really nothing she couldn’t do. When she first got sick, she still went outside and painted every single day. I mean, every day. But when she died, there were six paintings she never had a chance to finish. I’ve finished up three of them—I made two of them into multimedia things, that’s more my style. That and photography. But this one I’m trying to re-create as if she’d had the chance to finish it. Her paint, her light, the whole nine.”
Julianne felt herself getting antsy—she had a hard time sitting still when she was talking about her mom—so she circled back around the easel and walked a few feet down the beach, picking up seashell fragments. “One of the other pictures is this really bright portrait of our house in November. The light is really ethereal and the beach is all vacant—it’s really cool. So I expanded it on a larger canvas and intercut some of my photography, prints, and etchings with it.”
“Wow. What are you doing with the other one?”
Remi asked.
“It’s hard to explain,” Julianne started. “But I guess you could say I sort of rebuilt it.” She described how she had sliced it up into strips and installed it, strip by strip, into a huge wood-and-wire sculpture. The whole piece was huge—she had constructed most of it standing on a step stool smack in the middle—and Julianne loved the feeling that she could live inside of it. Both had won regional art shows in their respective years. The portrait of their little beach cottage was even on display in the lobby of the Chamber of Commerce.
“Wow.” Remi looked at Jules with pure astonishment.
“That’s amazing. You and your mom must have been close.”
“Very. Our whole family is.” She stared ahead at the ocean.
“So, is that why you’re an artist? Because that’s what she did?” Remi leaned in, scooting a little closer to Julianne.
“Nope,” she said thoughtfully. “I mean, not really.
I’m an artist because I can’t not be. It’s like breathing, you know? I’ve been doing this since I was too young to understand that it was what Mom did. But I guess she’s become a part of it. Knowing it’s something we share, even if she’s not here anymore. Continuing her legacy, or whatever.”
“But you don’t want it to be all about the loss,” Remi said softly.
“Yeah, exactly.” She stared at him, hard, her blue eyes locking with his big brown ones. “That’s exactly what I was going to say.”
Remi leaned in toward her and draped his arm across her shoulders. Julianne leaned into his side and breathed him in, surprised at how natural and easy it felt.
Suddenly, fat raindrops splattered everywhere, shooting down in rapid fire. Julianne and Remi propelled themselves up from the damp sand and ran around trying to collect Julianne’s things. Julianne quickly found her flip-flops and slid them on, then hurried over to pack up her palette and brushes. Remi had already disassembled the easel and was lifting her canvas gingerly off the sand. “You know what?” Jules began, an idea forming in her brain.
“Hmm?” Remi asked, still packing up.
“This looks like it’ll blow over in a few minutes. Let’s just toss a cover over the painting and wait it out. We’ll be fine,” she suggested.
Remi grabbed a tarp from Julianne’s art supply stash and covered her painting gently before sliding back down beside her in the sand.
They sat side by side and took in the sights of the beach in the rain. When she squinted, Julianne could just make out her house in the distance. Even dwarfed by the huge glass-and-metal McMansion that had sprung up next door, Jules thought her house was beautiful. Even from down the beach it looked warm and cozy—small, but completely charming. She silently fumed looking at her new neighbors’ pretentious monster home, but then she took a deep breath and decided to let it go. She turned to Remi and said brightly, “You know what? I feel the rain letting up. I think I’m going to start setting my stuff up again. I’ll be able to do some really neat stuff with the light after the rain clears out.”
Remi nodded and smiled, obviously impressed with Julianne’s dedication. “Since I took all of your stuff down, I think it’s only fair that I help set it back up.
Sound like a deal?”
“Deal,” Julianne said, grinning back at him.
They got up from the sand and walked in small circles, gathering Jules’s discarded art supplies, just chatting. As he turned and checked out the full panoramic view of the area, Remi’s face lit up. “Oh—I totally know where I am!” Great, Jules thought. If Remi is figuring out his way around already, he’ll definitely be able to find his way back! The tiny hairs on her arm prickled at the realization that her hand was nestled in his. Standing on this familiar stretch of sand with Remi, the beach looked more gorgeous than ever. Just as Jules had predicted, the rain was weakening, the clouds brightening and clearing. By the time Jules and Remi had reassembled her work spot, the afternoon storm had all but cleared up. Surveying the horizon, Jules noticed that most of the surfers hadn’t even come off the water when the rain started.
As Julianne removed the tarp from her painting, Remi plunked down on the sand next to her, his surf-board sitting by his side like a loyal dog. Jules eased down into the sand beside him and he scooted just a millimeter closer. They were near enough that she could practically feel the tiny goose bumps dotting his arms.
She was tempted to rest her head on his shoulder and recreate the cozy scene that had been interrupted by the rain a few minutes earlier, but Remi beat her to it, wrapping his arm around her
