Saved by the Bride

chapter Twenty-One

Bride loves invitations. Now need sample kit 4 casual outdoor wedding in August. Bride in Milwaukee for F2F meet. Can U come to us for Thanksgiving? Max and I would love 2 see you! Nicole x

Send Bride’s number for me 2 contact. Thanksgiv would b great. Can I bring Ax? Anni x

Annika put down her phone and smiled. The thought of going back to Whitetail no longer daunted her. Whitetail was finding its niche and she was finding hers. She picked up a paint palette. An enormous canvas dominated the small light-filled space she’d rented and the cacophony of colors that swirled, from devastating black to the hope of nature’s green, told the story of what she’d seen on her trip and her interpretation of it. She had no clue how it would be received by the gallery that was expecting a traditional Dawn, Day and Dusk series, but the most important thing was that she’d done it. Almost done it. She still had a ways to go before it was completed but she’d make the gallery’s hanging date. Just.

She checked her sketches—the ones she’d made on golden sandy beaches, the ones she’d drawn next to nuclear power plants and Chicago’s Deep Tunnel, and a dozen other places around Lake Michigan and Lake Superior. She’d spent three weeks of September alone with only a dog and her sketch pad for company, and she’d found a sort of peace. It wasn’t perfect but it was better than what she’d had in years. Ironically, a big part of the new Annika was due to Finn. The man who couldn’t love her had been the reason she had her art back and money in the bank. Whitetail was slowly growing her wedding invitation business and her darling brother had “backup” work for her if she ever needed it.

The only thing missing in her life was Finn. She ached for him but without love between them she knew they had nothing, which was why she’d changed her phone and cut her ties with all the Callahans. As hard as that was, it was the only way she knew how to move on. She’d finally confessed all to Nicole on a late-night apology phone call halfway through her trip, and although she doubted Finn would contact her she’d asked Nicole not to give him her number. Cold turkey was the only way she’d survive and grow into this new and more rounded life of hers. She rolled her shoulders back, swiped marine blue onto her pallet and scraped it across the canvas in a big, bold stroke.

* * *

“Any news?” Kathleen selected a miniature éclair from the ornate cake stand that was positioned between her and Finn on the table at Palmer House.

“None.” No one would tell Finn where Annika was. He’d spoken to her brother who’d offered to sell him an apartment on Lake Michigan but refused to tell him where his sister was. He’d tracked down her parents through their company called Third Age Travel and spoken to them in Fiji. “Anni is safe and well but that’s all we can say.”

They’d hung up before he could utter another word. Nicole had sounded like she really wanted to tell him but had said she was sorry she couldn’t. He’d even trawled through the Weddings That WOW website looking for her phone number, but every inquiry was directed through Nicole. “She doesn’t want to be found.”

He sipped the Earl Grey tea and wished it had a shot of something stronger in it. He’d spent his vacation searching for Annika but short of doing a line search of Wisconsin he didn’t know what else to do. “It’s ironic, don’t you think, that when I finally fall in love and realize it, I’ve screwed it up before I’ve started.”

He leaned back from the table, finding the refined atmosphere stifling. The sports bar Sean had dragged him out to the other night had at least been noisy, making it hard to think.

“Don’t give up just yet.” Kathleen pulled an envelope out of her handbag. “Geoffrey gets invited to just about every gallery opening in Illinois, Wisconsin and Indiana. He brought over a folder of them the other night and asked me if I wanted to attend any of them. I thought I’d go to this one.”

She slid the rectangular invitation across the table.

Milwaukee’s Waterways Gallery presents a retrospective—Living Lakes.

Annika’s name was in the list of contributing artists.

* * *

Annika’s stomach churned as she walked the short distance from the parking garage to the Waterways Gallery. Agitation pummeled her and it had taken her three attempts to park the car. If she’d thought watching the gallery men carry Act Now from her studio into their truck was hard, she realized it had nothing on walking into the gallery and seeing it hung. Seeing other people looking at it and listening to them commenting on it.

She gulped in a breath. She really should have let Axel come with her. He at least could have parked the car straight, but as much as she loved the support of her brother she knew she had to face down her demons of opening night on her own. It was all part of the new Annika. She stopped outside the gallery’s huge and heavy glass doors. You can do this. Rolling back her shoulders, and lifting her head, she pushed all her weight on the large silver handle. Her shoulder slammed into the glass with a thud.

Breathe. The sign says Pull.

She rubbed her shoulder. Oh, God, just getting inside the door was a challenge. This time she pulled and stepped inside.

Her throat tightened. There were more people than she’d expected. Muted music played quietly and some of the black-clad waitstaff carried trays filled with glasses of champagne and assorted drinks, while others held platters of tiny canapés which they offered to the crowd of attendees.

“Drink?”

“Yes please.” She gave the waiter a weak smile and managed to pick up a glass of champagne without knocking over the other glasses. It was a start.

She picked up a program and started at painting one, planning to work methodically around the gallery, especially given that Act Now was number sixteen. She had no rush to see it or hear what was being said about it. All that would come soon enough. There were a great variety of works—some ink and wash, watercolors, fabric art and of course, oils. Most of the scenes depicted either tranquil lake scenes or were season specific. There were quite a few lighthouses and she loved every one of them.

She rounded the partition and came face-to-face with Act Now. They’d hung it on the main wall and lit it so that it almost seemed three-dimensional, reaching out to the observer and demanding their attention. It dominated the space and dwarfed the other paintings around it. She knew it would either be loved or hated and there wouldn’t be any other emotion in between.

“Annika.”

She turned around to see Richard, the gallery owner, walking toward her smiling. “I’ve got great news. Someone’s put in an offer for the painting. In fact they’ve offered more than the asking price.”

Annika stared at him in disbelief. “I’m stunned.”

He laughed and then immediately sobered. “You shouldn’t be. I’ve had one critic describe it as ‘broad strokes of heartache leaching from the canvas,’ and another as ‘harsh and questioning yet purveying hope.’ I think you’ll want to be cutting out tomorrow’s reviews and keeping them for your scrapbook.”

She nodded but she knew differently. Of course she was thrilled that this painting was being received so well but good or bad, she was never again defining herself by one or two people’s opinions.

“We’re also very honored tonight to have one of the curators from the Chicago Museum of Contemporary Art and I’d like to introduce you to him. He was quite taken with Act Now.”

Annika’s legs trembled and she sat down on the banquette behind her. “Do you normally get a curator come to your openings?”

Richard smiled. “Not often, but if they’re in the area they call in.” He turned, quickly scanning the room and then frowned. “I can’t see him at the moment but you stay here and I’ll go find him.”

“Okay.” It was all a bit surreal and she stood up again, accepted another glass of champagne and hugged herself tight. It only takes one painting, Annika.

Kathleen had been right.

“It’s amazing, Annika.”

The deep and melodic voice that was an intrinsic part of her—a voice she’d recognize anywhere—sounded behind her.

Finn. Her heart shuddered and her hand gripped her glass so hard she was amazed it didn’t shatter. Without knowing exactly how she got all her body parts to cooperate, she turned around slowly and made herself breathe.

He stood in front of her in a charcoal-gray tailored suit that fitted him perfectly. His curls were tamed and his white shirt and lake-blue tie lightened his eyes to the color of rich, dark chocolate. He was easily the most handsome man in the room and the most handsome man she’d ever met, but it was the lines around his eyes that she noticed most. They hadn’t been there the last time she’d seen him. The time he’d stood in the cabin and told her he couldn’t love her. I don’t do emotional connections.

He smiled at her. “Nothing at all like your pretty lighthouses but totally awe-inspiring.”

She steeled her heart. “I wasn’t in a pretty mood when I painted it.”

Finn had rehearsed in his head exactly what he was going to say but from the moment he’d glimpsed Annika, every word had vacated his brain. All his senses were hungry for her, so much so that he barely heard her reply. She was wearing her long hair down and it flowed across her shoulders in a shimmer of white and gold, brushing against her simple, black sheath dress. Her only accessory was a necklace of tiny seed pearls which caressed her throat. Her mouth was as red and lush as ever, only her face was thinner, but it was her eyes that held him riveted. Behind the wariness there was something new—he couldn’t put his finger on it exactly but whatever it was it suited her. She looked elegant and slightly remote and a part of him wished she was wearing her misshapen, paint-stained T-shirt or was sleep-rumpled in one of his shirts.

He’d seen her painting earlier—chaos merging with calm—and it had gripped him by the throat. Now as she stood in front of it with her commanding height and the square set of her shoulders, she was having the same effect. She held herself like an Amazon warrior—his warrior. The one who’d fought for him even though he’d been too blind to see it.

A rush of love so strong surged through him, nearly knocking him off his feet. He moved toward her, desperate to touch her, but she took a long drink from her glass and then fixed him with an uncompromising stare.

“Why are you here, Finn?”

Any thoughts of her falling straight into his arms got hammered on the spot and it disconcerted him. “I wanted to see you. See your art.”

“To gloat? I’ll save you the trouble.” Her face hardened. “In front of all these people I acknowledge that you were right. I needed to get out and live my life my way. I needed to paint. Act Now is the first step.”

He started to sweat. “You really think I’d come here to gloat?”

“I recall some of your last words to me were ‘I won’t let you live your life through me.’ Given that, I really don’t know what to think, Finn. Is there a reason that I should?”

A few people looked toward them and heads started turning. Finn lowered his voice but he couldn’t quite keep an edge of anxiety from seeping into it. “Annika, can we please go and talk somewhere more private?”

She sucked in her lips and shook her head. “There’s nothing I have to say to you that can’t be said here.”

He tugged on his collar. “I promise you, I didn’t come here to gloat. In fact I’m thrilled you’re painting again.” He smiled at her expecting to see some softening in her stance when he told her the news. “So happy in fact that I’ve bought Act Now.”

Her face drained of color. “No!”

No? That wasn’t part of the script in his head.

This time the crowd fell silent and all heads snapped their way with curiosity and interest written clear on their faces.

Damn it, he had to get her into a private space.

With a laugh he said to the crowd, “And people think artists can’t haggle over price.” Sliding his hand under Annika’s elbow he continued talking, “Come on, Ms. Jacobson, let’s go and talk privately and find a figure we can agree on.”

She gave him a look filled with such utter loathing that he seriously thought she’d prefer to walk on hot coals than to walk with him, but she slowly put her glass down on a tray and took a step. As they walked away, he heard someone in the crowd saying, “Who is that?”

Ushering her into the first door they came to, they were instantly enveloped by the smell of warm wool. He’d found the cloakroom. He quickly closed the door behind him and stood in front of it in case she tried to leave before he’d said what he needed to say. He no longer cared about the script. She’d told him she loved him. Now he loved her so he went straight to the point. “Annika, please listen to me. I love you.”

She shrugged as if he’d just said, “I think the Chicago Bears will whoop the Packers.” “You don’t love me, Finn.”

He blinked. “Of course I do.”

He reached for her again but this time she sidestepped him. “Okay then, see it my way. The last time I saw you, you look absolutely appalled at the idea of me loving you and you told me you could never love me. I hear nothing from you in almost three months and now you appear with a declaration of love. Why would I believe you?”

God, why would she believe him? Her withering gaze didn’t look like it belonged to a woman who still loved him and it sent terror scudding into every cell. “Because I’m sorry for how we parted and because I’ve bought the painting.”

“You’re sorry?” Her chin jutted out in that stubborn way. “Did you buy Act Now because you think no one else will?”

“No!” He ran his hand through his hair trying desperately to navigate his way through a conversation that was littered with Stealth Bombers.

She drew herself up to her full height. “I won’t let you buy this painting, Finn. I’ve worked too hard for this and I’m not going to let you steal it from me to make yourself feel better. You once told me I couldn’t live through you and yet if you buy this painting you’re doing exactly what you accused me of.”

Desperation clawed at him as he envisaged his future stretching before him without Annika in it. The pain of that realization almost rendered him mute. “Annika, I bought it because you painted it. Because when I look at it, it’s full of you. Your drive and compassion, your laughter and your caring for the people that you love. I see your indignation over things that aren’t fair and your hope that things can change. I see your stumbles and I see your smile. I see everything I’ve missed so much since you left.”

“Since you asked me to leave.”

She wrapped her arms around herself but her face stayed impassive as if his heartfelt declaration had just fallen on deaf ears. He’d rejected her love, hurt her too much, and taken too long to realize she was the love of his life. He was too late and there was nothing he could say or do to recover from that. Nothing he could say or do that would convince her. He felt the ring box in his pocket dragging him down into a pit of black despair.

Annika could hardly breathe. Disbelief, pain, fear and utter desolation sucked at her, pummeling every intention she’d had to live her life her way. He had no right to suddenly appear after three months of silence and drop a bombshell like this. Not when she’d fought to stay upright and keep going after he’d broken her heart so badly. And she feared he could do it again. Did he even know what love was? She gripped her hand around the coat rail to steady herself.

“Look, Finn, I really don’t know where this is coming from or why. But you buying a painting is easy. You wouldn’t even notice the dip in your bank balance. Saying ‘I love you’ is easy too. Paintings and words just aren’t enough.”

He suddenly looked haggard and gray. “You think me telling you that I love you is easy?” His anguished voice sliced through her. “God, Annika, you of all people should know that me standing here telling you I love you is the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”

I don’t do emotional connections. I don’t fall in love. Love destroys more than it ever builds.

She bit her lip and didn’t want to hope.

He sat down between the coats and dropped his head in his hands for a moment before looking up. “The last three months have been hell. When you left you took the rudder of my life with you and I’ve been drifting. Before you fell into my arms at Bridey’s party, I thought I was content but you stormed into my life and my heart and started questioning everything I believed. I’m not proud to admit that scared me witless. You asked me why it’s taken three months for me to find you. When you left I was angry. Angry at everyone and everything but despite all of that it seems I’d taken on board some of what you’d said without even realizing.”

“Like what?”

“I built the zip line with Sean and it wasn’t all bad. We’ve made a start at having a type of friendship.”

The man who held himself apart from everyone had made a connection. Her heart lurched. “I’m glad.”

He gave her a wry look. “Yeah. It’s been interesting. Last week after I’d spent ten days trying to find you only to have your family and friends block me at every turn, Sean took me to a sports bar. He also got me home after I got filthy drunk.”

“I always said he was a good dad.” Her heart expanded and sang, not just for Finn and Sean but for herself. Finn, who was always in control, always had it together, had got publicly drunk because of her.

He stood up and gazed down at her, his eyes filled with sorrow. “I know all of this has come too late, Annika, but I want you to know that if my rejection of your love made you feel one tenth of the pain I’m feeling right now then I’m beyond sorry.”

He loves you. He honestly does love you.

But could they make this work?

She blinked back tears and held back every instinct to throw herself into his arms because it was too soon. “Part of me knows you were right. I needed to leave Whitetail. I needed to take this time for me and had you realized you loved me this summer, I might never have done it.” She picked up his hand and pressed her palm against it, matching her fingers to his. “But the day you left me on the dock—” she drew in a steadying breath, “—I never want to feel that way again.”

His voice was thick with emotion. “Neither do I.”

She pressed on, as a tear slid down her cheek. “You once told me that love destroys more than it ever builds.”

“I was an idiot.”

She gave a half sob, half laugh. “But what about when things get tough? When we disagree? I’ll want to talk about how you’re feeling and your natural tendency’s to push it all down. How are we going to deal with that?”

He rested his forehead against hers. “I’m not saying I’m going to get it right every time, but given my family’s been banging me over the head for weeks with the evidence that I love you, I’ve had a bit of practice talking about my feelings.”

She thought her heart would burst. “They have?”

“Oh yeah.” He gave a soft smile. “I tell you, once you start letting people into your life they’re in your face about things, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. You once accused me of being like my father and I hated it but the old man’s worked out what’s important and you opened my eyes so I could see it too.” He slid his fingers through hers, linking their hands together. “You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me, Annika Jacobson. Please marry me.”

Tears poured down her face. “On one condition.”

He tensed against her. “God, Annika, you’re killing me. What?”

She stroked his hair. “Tell Richard you’re not buying Act Now.”

He sighed and it shuddered through her. “Okay. I understand you need it out there to stand on its own feet no matter what. Believe me, it’s going to stand. Kathleen’s Geoffrey is already muttering something about the possibility of it being part of a new artists’ expo. I’ll rip up the check on one condition.”

But he was smiling down at her so she knew she had nothing to fear. “Tell me.”

“I want to buy your Lighthouse series, which, according to the internet, never sold.”

She gazed up at him. “You want to buy my immature, derivative and stylized offerings that are stashed somewhere in Axel’s garage?”

He tucked strands of stray hair behind her ears. “I’m not an art critic. I’m just some dumb schmuck who thinks they’re full of love and the promise of the joys, frustrations and delights of an annual family vacation by a lake.”

She threw her arms around his neck, loving him more than she ever had before. “Ask me again.”

He grinned down at her, his dark eyes shining and his face full of love. “Will you make me the happiest man alive, not to mention making my entire family ridiculously happy, by becoming my wife?”

“Oh, Finn, I most certainly will.”

He gave a loud whoop of joy and then he kissed her. He kissed her with love, with his promise to build a future with her and to be by her side always. He kissed her through the sound of running feet, the door being swung open, and a dozen faces peering in at them.

“Sir? Miss? Is everything all right?”

Finn broke the kiss for a moment and grinned. “Everything’s perfect. I’m getting married!”

And then he kissed her again.

* * *