The Singing Trees by Boo Walker
Chapter 29
AN ARTIST COMES ALIVE
“So . . . I got engaged,” Annalisa casually mentioned from her seat in the back of Walt’s Plymouth Belvedere. She wondered who would turn around first, Walt or Nonna.
“What’s that, young lady?” Walt asked, turning down the bouncy jazz on the radio. They were fighting Boston traffic on their way back from Logan Airport.
Annalisa leaned in between the two seats, hoping that Nonna wouldn’t lash out at her. She could smell the polisher Walt used on the shiny dashboard. “I’m getting married,” she said, the thrill of the news tickling her insides.
Nonna’s head twisted as quickly as a triggered mousetrap snaps down on its prey. “You what?”
Annalisa held up the gold band that she’d been hiding since meeting them at the gate. “Thomas proposed to me. We’re engaged.” No matter Nonna’s response, Annalisa loved feeling the words as they left her tongue.
“Congratulations, young lady,” Walt said, gifting her a smile as he turned down the music even more. “Isn’t that something, Elena?”
Walt glanced over to his girl with, most likely, the same curiosity with which Annalisa was looking at Nonna. She could easily go either way.
Nonna held a hard and straight face as Annalisa’s heart pounded. The car went so quiet that Annalisa could hear Walt’s dusty lungs working overtime. Even his regular breathing had taken on a sound like an old air-conditioning unit. Her grandmother crossed her arms and looked away, boring a hole in the dashboard.
It was all for show, though, because she then turned back with a loving, toothless smile. “I couldn’t be more happy for you, nipotina.”
Annalisa nearly let loose a floodgate of tears, and with a full heart she reached up and touched Nonna’s shoulder. “Thank you, Nonna. I’ve been terrified to tell you.”
Nonna raised her left hand. “I guess the times are changing, aren’t they? What do I know? Besides, who else will ever hold your heart like him?”
“Only you, Nonna.”
Nonna jokingly side-eyed her.
Annalisa sat back in the seat. “We haven’t made any plans yet, but he’ll be back from Asia sometime in December; then we’ll have another six months somewhere in the States. So maybe a wedding in August or so next year.”
With one hand on the wheel, Walt reached for Nonna’s hand. “That is one occasion I wouldn’t miss for the world.”
“I hope you’ll have the wedding in the Mills,” Nonna said, talking over her shoulder.
Annalisa had expected such a request. She scooted to her left so she could see Nonna’s face. “I’m thinking so, but we didn’t make any decisions. His parents don’t even know yet.”
Nonna glanced back at her. “He hasn’t told them?”
As much as she wanted to keep a lid on their engagement until Thomas returned, she knew she couldn’t do that. “We’re not going to tell his father until he gets back, but I’m going to call Mrs. Barnes and Emma today. They don’t even know that I went to see him.”
“I think telling them is the right thing,” Nonna offered, confirming Annalisa’s decision.
She looked at her ring. Though his parents’ reaction wouldn’t change how much she loved Thomas, it would be nice to have their support. “I’m sure they’ll want to do something at the club. Can you imagine the Mancusos taking over Davenport?”
A few minutes later, she said, “Hey, Walt, I’ve been thinking. How would you feel about hiring someone else to help with the shop? I’m getting back on track and taking lessons from Sharon again, and I really need to make some more time to paint. I’ve never been so motivated.”
Walt considered the idea as he putted along in the right lane. “Do you have anyone in mind? I think it’s a wonderful idea. Matter of fact, we sold half our inventory while you were gone, so it is time you get back to work. Turns out your grandmother is quite the saleslady.”
“Where do you think I got it from?” Annalisa asked, nudging her grandmother’s arm.
As Walt flipped the sign on the door of the shop, Annalisa told him she’d be down shortly and ascended upstairs with Nonna to make the call to Davenport. She needed to get it over with as quickly as possible.
After sitting through judgments of her life’s work by both Jackie Burton and Sharon Maxwell, she would have thought she had unshakable nerves, but she could barely breathe as the phone rang, thinking that her secret trip to Hawaii could detonate any potential familial relations.
“Mrs. Barnes? Hi, it’s Annalisa.” As much as she didn’t want to make this call, it was her love for Thomas giving her the strength.
“Oh my goodness,” she replied in her typical jovial voice, which could either be sincere or far from it. “What a blast from the past.”
“I know.” Here we go, she thought, the moment of truth. “I was . . . I’m calling to share some big news. How’s Emma, by the way?”
“She’s good, wrapping up school for the year. I think one more exam to go. So to what do I owe the pleasure?”
No use stalling any longer. Annalisa looked at Nonna, who was searching the fridge for dinner ideas. “I have a secret I’d like to share with you, but I was hoping we could keep it from your husband.” She was sure Mr. Barnes was at work, which was why she’d chosen to call in the early afternoon.
A long pause. “Is this about Thomas?”
Annalisa sat up. “I just went to visit him in Hawaii. He was on leave.” She realized how many secrets she’d been keeping. It wasn’t just one! “We’ve been writing, as you know, and we both realized that we still love each other so much.” Annalisa hated the silence on the other end and wondered what Mrs. Barnes might be thinking.
She forged ahead. “He asked in a letter that I come see him. While I was there, he proposed to me. And I accepted, of course.”
More silence, this time a black hole of it, swallowing Annalisa’s excitement. At least the cat was out of the bag, though.
“I knew you two were writing,” Mrs. Barnes admitted, “but I had no idea what was bubbling up between you.” She didn’t sound upset, only surprised. That was a start.
“I love your son with all that I am, and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that I was going to Hawaii, but . . . we haven’t spoken in so long, and . . . he needed me.”
“I understand. How is he?”
Annalisa was feeling better by the minute and was so happy that they’d agreed to share the news. “He’s excited to get back home, and in the meantime he’s handling it well. You’d be very proud of him.”
“And you’re getting married . . . ,” Mrs. Barnes said, processing this life-altering news. Annalisa could only imagine what it would be like to stand in the woman’s shoes right now.
She switched the phone to her other ear. “We wanted to tell you and Emma but thought it might be best to let Thomas break the news to his father when he gets back. Don’t you agree?”
“Yes,” Mrs. Barnes said quickly, any other option seemingly absurd. “It’ll be our secret. I’m sorry. I’m still getting over the shock. I’m very happy for you all. Oh my goodness. Did he have a ring?”
Thrilled that Mrs. Barnes seemed interested, Annalisa filled in the details of their week and the proposal. As Mrs. Barnes ran out of questions, Annalisa said, “I was hoping I could tell Emma. Is she back from school?”
Mrs. Barnes had apparently been thinking about Emma’s reaction. “Actually, I’d like to tell her myself, if you don’t mind. This is going to be big for her. I’m sure she’ll be thrilled, but it’s probably best I pick the right time.”
Annalisa was let down. “Oh, okay. I’m sure you know what’s best.”
“I’m so glad you called, Annalisa. Let me wrap my head around the news, and let’s talk again in a day or two. I want to talk weddings and grandbabies and all those things.”
How incredibly gratifying to hear Mrs. Barnes’s chipper tone. “Please let me know when I can talk to Emma. I’d still love for her to come down for a weekend at some point. We’d have a lot of fun.”
“I think it’s a wonderful idea,” Mrs. Barnes said, more jovial than ever. “Talk to you later.”
After they’d hung up, Annalisa looked toward the kitchen. Nonna was slipping her apron on. “That went better than expected, actually,” Annalisa said to her, flushed with optimism. “At least one person in his family is on board.”
Nonna tied the apron around her waist. “That Emma. She’s a real handful, isn’t she?”
Annalisa walked into the kitchen and stole a sprig of parsley from the bunch on the cutting board. “Makes me realize how difficult I must have been when I moved in.”
Nonna smacked her hand. “Raising kids is never easy. You’ll see.”
“Ha! First things first,” Annalisa said, smacking Nonna’s hand back in a gentle tease. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, old woman.” She bit into the parsley with a crunchy smile.
Not even her jet lag could slow her down. After a more formal chat about hiring someone with Walt, Annalisa ran back up the stairs, kissed Nonna on the cheek, then went out to the balcony to get to work. There were so many images she’d brought back from her trip that she couldn’t wait to get onto the page, but one had burned into her memory like no other.
It was the morning Thomas had escorted her to the airport, walking her all the way to the gate. Just before she’d disappeared through the door leading toward the plane, she’d turned back to him. He stood there in his green uniform, her fiancé, with a look of such incredible power: longing and strength at the same time. She could feel him not wanting to let her go, and at the same time his duty pulling at him from behind. In essence, she felt Thomas more than ever before, and she could sense how badly he wanted to get through the rest of the year so that they could start their life together. Never had Annalisa felt so loved than in that moment.
Even as she sat to sketch him, she knew that she would call the piece The Last Goodbye, as that would be the last time they ever told each other goodbye. She painted all the way to dinner and then raced back out for another session afterward, capturing him with her paints for the first time. Working through the night, she put the finishing touches on his army-green eyes around five in the morning. Standing back to admire the piece, she found herself more mesmerized by the man she loved than by her own technique in bringing him to life.
Annalisa hired one of her fellow artists in Sharon’s classes to work at the clock shop so that she could put more time into her painting. In the weeks that followed, as the warmer temperatures crept higher toward estival perfection, she became incredibly prolific. Setting up her easel all over town, she felt like she’d taken the world by its tail. Everywhere she turned, she saw opportunity, new subjects to bring into her artistic world. The more she painted, the easier connecting with them became.
The moment of truth came when she decided to bring some of her latest works in to show Sharon and her fellow classmates. It was the last Tuesday in June, one year after first attending these classes. A month earlier, Sharon had asked one student per week to bring in their portfolio to share. Tonight was Annalisa’s turn, and she was both eager and apprehensive as she carried her orange tote to the front of the class. She felt naked standing there, like the model whom they’d painted a year earlier.
These were artists that she’d come to know well—her circle when she did agree to the occasional social function. They surely wouldn’t boo her off the stage, but would they see something extraordinary in her? More important, would Sharon? Annalisa had certainly found her own satisfaction in what she was doing, and she might be able to accept that as enough, but she did want to be seen as extraordinary, no doubt about it. She wanted to know that her voice mattered.
Unclasping the orange tote, Annalisa drew out the first of five paintings she’d chosen to share with the class. To set the stage, she showed them the painting that had set her on the correct course. She told them how much this image of Nonna reaching up to kiss Walt had impacted her, and she described exactly what her breakthrough had taught her. She even opened up about Thomas and Hawaii. She couldn’t dare leave out how it was her external life that had elevated her art, all thanks to Sharon’s urging.
After answering a few questions on her technique, they gave her a round of applause that filled Annalisa’s cheeks with pride. She worked her way through the others, talking technique and inspiration, but focusing mainly on the stories of her subjects.
As the class ended, Sharon waved goodbye to everyone and asked, “Annalisa, would you mind hanging around for a few minutes?”
“Sure.” She was terrified that Sharon was going to hit her heart with another sledgehammer of brutal honesty.
When the last of the students had disappeared out the exit on the other side of the warehouse, Annalisa, tote in hand, approached Sharon.
Her teacher put on a smile so warm that Annalisa lost her breath. “I love where you’re going,” her teacher told her. “Especially the one of Thomas. It’s my favorite yet.”
Annalisa beamed. “I’m really trying.”
“No,” Sharon said. “You’re not trying. You’re doing. You bring in another ten pieces like this before the end of the year—your absolute best ones—and you’ve got a spot on these walls in April.”
Her words knocked Annalisa sideways. “What?”
“You heard me,” Sharon said, still wielding her smile like a magic wand. “You are one of the most talented and hardworking artists that I’ve ever known. Don’t get me wrong; you’re still young and have your work cut out for you, but what I see in your pieces is an experience and wisdom well beyond your years. I’m not telling you that you’ll be someone one day. You are someone, and I’d be honored to let you join my show. In fact, it wouldn’t be the same without you. What do you think?”
Annalisa barely heard her tote drop to the floor. She couldn’t believe it. The realization of her dream and all the hard work she’d put into it hit her like a tidal wave. She was no longer trying to be an artist. She’d just been shown the door to her destiny. Sharon Maxwell, one of the finest painters on the East Coast, had told her that Annalisa Mancuso had a seat at the table.
“I’d love it more than anything in the world,” Annalisa finally spit out, racing to throw her arms around Sharon. “Thank you.”
“No,” Sharon said, squeezing her, “thank you.”
“I’ll start as soon as I get home,” Annalisa promised her when she let go.
“Just don’t forget what got you here. Keep living and loving. Don’t forget to mix in your soul with your colors on that palette, okay?”
Annalisa nodded, finally knowing exactly what her teacher meant.