The commercial break ended, bringing the news back. Cynthia reached to change it. “Let’s not taint a beautiful day with all that,” she said, sniffing.
But that was when Jasmine saw it on the screen. It was a painting of a young girl at the edge of a mountain, her face as tormented as the sky above her. “Wait!” Jasmine cried, leaning so far forward in her chair that she nearly fell out of it. “I’m sorry. But please. Let me see.”
Cynthia looked at her incredulously. But Jasmine could do nothing but stare at the segment, which spoke about a “newly discovered yet long-working painter in Nederland, Colorado. His name is Larry Calvin Johannes. It’s a regal name, the name fit for a famous painter. And that’s just what he’s become. In the previous month, his long-hidden paintings have sold for hundreds of millions and counting. Of his success, Larry Calvin Johannes has this to say.”
And then, they showed the eighty-year-old man with those same sharp blue eyes, that rugged jawline, and that wild, curly hair (thinner now, but still present). Jasmine stood from her chair and braced herself. She thought she might faint.
“It has certainly been a whirlwind,” Larry said, laughing. He stood in front of a cabin in the middle of the Rocky Mountains and gazed out across the jagged mountains. “I’ve been up inthese mountains by myself for decades. My paintings have been collecting dust. It’s an act of God, truly, that Oriana Coleman discovered the one I did all the way back in seventy-three. She plucked me out of anonymity. I’m eighty years old, and it feels like my life is just beginning.”
After that, the camera panned over paintings secured in a warehouse somewhere in Manhattan. Jasmine couldn’t breathe. Seeing those brushstrokes again yanked her back through time. She’d hardly been able to appreciate a beautiful painting since.
When the news broke for another commercial, she sat on the edge of her chair and told herself not to faint. Beside her, Cynthia stared at her, her gaze startling. Jasmine felt pinned down, like a bug in a case.
“Jasmine,” Cynthia whispered. “Is that him?”
Jasmine swallowed. She thought she was going to throw up.
But before she could answer, Jade, Alyssa, and Chase scampered into the house, took Jasmine’s hand, and begged her to join them by the fire. “You have to see the stars, Grandma,” they said. “They’re magical.”
Cynthia followed Jasmine. Jasmine could feel her eyes on her as they sprawled beneath the black night, speckled with stars. Chase told them about the constellations. He told them that every star in the sky was now dead, its light beaming out to them from millions of years away.
“They aren’t dead,” Jade shot back. “They’re literally glowing.”
“We’re seeing them in the past,” he said.
All the while, Jasmine’s mind raced. She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t believe that all the way across the ocean and half a continent, Larry was still alive. He was still locked away in his little cabin and still filling the dark corners of his world with paintings.
She felt that everything about her gentle and beautiful Hawaiian world was about to crumble. It was only when Jade hugged her from the side and nestled her head onto Jasmine’s shoulder that Jasmine returned to earth again. “It was a great Thanksgiving, Grandma,” Jade whispered. “Thanks for saving it.”
Jasmine barely remembered what she meant. She felt she’d never saved anything. She felt she’d only ever made anything worse.
Chapter Ten
It was a quieter Thanksgiving on Martha’s Vineyard. Due to Reese’s diagnosis and subsequent treatment, all the Nantucket family members agreed to meet at Meghan’s place on Martha’s Vineyard so Oriana and Reese didn’t have to travel far. “It wouldn’t be the same without you there,” Estelle said over the phone, worry echoing from her voice.
Family members called often. Neighbors checked in on them and brought them prepared food they could pop in the oven at a moment’s notice. Of course, Reese’s appetite hadn’t returned and probably wouldn’t for ages—provided he got well at all—and Oriana struggled to eat what was brought. Often, she forgot to eat and found herself nibbling toast late at night, her heart pounding. These were dark thoughts that came to Oriana out of the blue.What if he doesn’t get well? What if I have to bury my husband, my beloved? What if I never feel happiness again?
It was enough to make her feel older than time.
On Thanksgiving itself, Meghan, Sam, Hilary, and Estelle worked like fiends all morning to prepare a massive feast of turkey, stuffing, green bean casserole, clam chowder, homemade rolls, plenty of pies, and ten different appetizers, to be snacked on before the main meal began. By the timeOriana and Reese arrived, there was a full house, and laughter ricocheted from one side to the other. People swarmed from all corners to hug them, making sure to be careful around Reese. Their smiles were overwhelming.
Reese was incredibly weak and had no plans to stay long. But as soon as the greetings petered out, Roland and Grant appeared to loop him into their football-watching plans and prepared him a plate of appetizers. “We need your eagle eye for this game, my man,” Roland said. Oriana felt crushed with gladness. Her family’s love was ever-present.
Reese cast her a half smile that she knew meantI’ll try to get through this as best as I can, but I can’t make any promises about how long I can stay.She nodded in agreement. They had an understanding, an easy way of being with one another. They had their own language.
In the kitchen, where the women hung out and cooked and prepped for the multi-hour feeding fest, her sister and half sisters peppered her with questions about not only Reese’s health but also her mental health.
“You have to make sure you take care of yourself as well,” Meghan said, filling a glass of wine for Oriana and grimacing. “I know how you are.”
Oriana sat at the kitchen table and raised her glass of wine to her sisters, her nieces, her dearest friends. “One of the reasons I was put on this earth was to love Reese,” she said finally, surprising herself with how genuine she was. “If I’m going to run myself ragged taking care of him during his time of need, so be it. It’s the way it has to be.”
Meghan sighed. Estelle slid a plate of appetizers onto the table in front of Oriana and ordered her to “start eating pronto.”
“You need your strength,” Estelle said.
Oriana took a tentative bite, one that tugged at her hunger and demanded more, more. She ate a little bit faster and foundherself smiling more, laughing at her sister-in-law’s stories, and asking questions about everything that had happened in the past few weeks. She felt as though she’d been in a fog.
A half hour after their arrival, Sam returned from the airport with Rachelle in tow. Rachelle lived in Rome and worked as a chef, leading the kind of life any twentysomething with an adventurous spirit ached for. As Rachelle moved around the house, she hugged and kissed everyone in the Italian style. Her tan was bright and made her look healthy. Her sister Darcy insisted that she sit in the kitchen for a little while and regale the rest of them with tales from abroad. Rachelle ate a spinach-and-artichoke roll and told them about her latest boyfriend, an Italian named Federico who made “art films” and thought she cooked “almost as good as his mother.”
