Indigo (47 page)

Kennedy’s eyes meet mine, and when he rolls them I stifle a giggle.

“Please take the next half hour to set up your work. I am going to put a schedule over here to the side of the stage, so everyone knows when they’re on.”

We’ve gone over this stuff a hundred times already, and I know that the musical performances aren’t until last, so I have the whole afternoon to enjoy the Fundraiser myself, and spend some time with my mom and Jack, who should be arriving any minute.

After a few more announcements, she excuses herself to go greet everyone who’s come out for the fundraiser. Kennedy makes his way over to me and grabs my hand. “Come on, I want you to be there when I set my paintings up. You should be the first one to see it.”

The anticipation mounts as he carefully carries his paintings, keeping the cloth on, until we get out to the hallway. He doesn’t even let me peek until we reach the cafeteria, where a few other painters already have their work revealed. He goes to his assigned station, and then tells me to close my eyes.

“Can I look now?” I ask, after what seems like a full minute has gone by.

I hear some sort of light switch on, and then a little bit of rustling. I’m just about to ask again, the anticipation killing me, when he finally tells me to open my eyes.

Kennedy is standing there, hands on his hips, his face nervous as he tries to gauge my reaction. The paintings are of me, all of them, in a deep blue and white. Indigo and white, I know, without asking. There’s a small light shining up from the ground, putting a faint spotlight on me in all three of the paintings.

My hand slowly comes up to my mouth as I take in the first one, an unbelievable likeness of me right before the kidnapping at one of my final dance recitals before it happened. I recognize the girl in that photo, the old me, the carefree happy girl I used to be. He’s captured it perfectly.

The second painting is the photo of my at the gas station when I was first rescued. Me staring blankly at the camera, oblivious to the pandemonium going on around me. My hair is blonde, and I also recognize the girl in that photo, the one with no voice.

The third is of me now. It’s another one of me dancing but in a different pose, and this one prominently featuring the scar on my face. I’m in my point shoes, leg out behind me, arms up and chin high. But the girl in the photo is confident, poised, and beautiful.  Could this be me now?

“This is how I see you,” he tells me, anxious as he looks between me and the painting.

I’m speechless over the work spread out before me, it’s done so perfectly, and so thoughtfully, I don’t know what to say. I move in close, look at the detail and love he’s put in to each one, and when I can’t stand it a second longer, I throw myself into his arms.

“They’re beautiful,” I whisper. “This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

“You’re beautiful,” is all he says back, capturing my lips with his own. “The third one is my favorite. It shows the strong and amazing woman that you’ve become. The woman I’m so fucking in love with.”

I look back at the third painting, at the serene smile he’s painted on my face. “I don’t think I’m there yet.”

“You will be,” he grins.

Our conversation gets cut short when a few people come up from behind, looks of interest on their face. “Good luck,” I tell him, giving him a quick peck on the cheek. “And thank you. I love you.”

“I love you too,” he says, before turning to greet the interested crowd that is growing around his work. I watch him for a while from a few feet away, so proud of him.

My cell phone rings, and when I see my mother’s number, a smile breaks out on my face.

“Hey honey! We just got here. Where are you?”

“I’ll come meet you guys now. Stay near the front entrance.”

“Okay, see you soon.”

I walk through the growing crowd of people, across the lawn, excited to see my mom after the couple months a part. When I see her familiar head of black hair, I run the final distance into her arms. After saying hello to Jack, who has brought me a bouquet of red roses, the three of us make our way around the Fundraiser to check out all the awesome artwork.

My mom bursts into tears when she sees Kennedy’s paintings, and immediately offers to buy them. Apparently he has gotten a few offers, but he leans down and tells me that the decision is up to me and they’re my paintings. I can do with them what I like.

“I’ll let you know,” I tell them, even though I want to keep all three for myself.

Kennedy grins and then checks his watch. “Sabrina and Shawn are going on in a half hour. Let’s go make sure we get a good seat.”

When the time comes, the four of us make our way to the auditorium, and I end up walking alongside Jack. I can tell he isn’t one for art, but it means a lot that he’d come out to support me.

“I’m glad I came,” he says, smiling down at me. “We’re all really proud of you girlie. I didn’t get to tell you before.”

“Thank you,” I say. “I also wanted to thank you, for being there for my mom. I know it’s been hard on her since I’ve been away.”

A dark look passes over his face, and I wonder if he is thinking of his sister when he says. “Yeah, it’s hard when you’re loved ones aren’t nearby. I’m glad to hear you understand that.”

His sudden dark tone throws me for a second, but Kennedy comes up next to me and throws his arm around my shoulder, to make sure I don’t get jostled by the crowd entering the arena and I don’t say anything. We find great seats in the third row, and two pianists later, the four us clap loudly when Sabrina and Shawn walk on stage, hand in hand. There are two stools placed a foot a part on the stage, and they both take their seats, Shawn turning to the side to make room for his guitar.

“Good afternoon,” Sabrina says in a confident tone. “My name is Sabrina Mackenrow, and this is Shawn Keats. We’re performing a cover song today, Adele’s Make You Feel My Love, in honor of a friend of ours, Indigo Olsen.”

The crowd roars as my mouth drops open, unable to believe that all of my friends have dedicated their work to me today. Sabrina looks down at me, grins when she sees the look of shock on my face, and begins the song.

Shawn’s guitar plays the melody perfectly, and Sabrina’s voice is enchanting, hypnotizing the audience with her exceptional tone. The words hit deep, and for the hundredth time, I feel so thankful to have such amazing friends that truly do care about me.

The rendition is beautiful, and the two people performing together, I note, look just as in love as Kennedy and me. When it’s over, I get to my feet, clapping enthusiastically and when Shawn and Sabrina meet my eyes, I shake my head to convey how much I can’t believe they would do this for me. I mouth that I love them, and when the crowd starts to calm down, I turn towards everyone.

“I’m going to head back, I’m up in a few.”

Kennedy waggles his eyebrows. “Are you nervous?”

“Excited,” I say automatically, even though I’m more than a little of both.

My mom looks over at me, wiping yet more tears from Sabrina’s performance, her camera in hand. “Do you think they’ll let me stand in the aisles with this during your performance?”

Jack laughs. “We’ll make sure you get your photos, dear.”

I roll my eyes, but smile all the same. She’s always been a stage mom. “I’m sure you can. And then let’s head home right after.”

Kennedy comes backstage with me to grab my bags, since this morning was such a rush and I didn’t have time to bring them to his car. He pretends to heave under the weight of my one duffel bag, making me giggle.

“Break a leg baby.” Kennedy swings me around and in for a quick kiss, and not so quick tap on my behind. “And good luck, although you don’t need it.”

“Thank you,” I say breathless, then force myself to pull out of his arms. “And stop distracting me!”

He laughs and then I watch him walk back out into the auditorium.

“Here goes nothing.” I take a deep breath and start stretching.

KENNEDY

I walk back into the auditorium, about to head out to the car to drop off Indigo’s bag, when I’m stopped by a handful of people inquiring about my artwork. A few are curators from local museums, interested in doing a student showing one night and inviting me to contribute a few of my pieces. The news is elating, and I give out my card to a few people before trying to head towards the parking lot. The fact that so many people are finally getting to see my work has me whistling as I walk into the hallway.

I’ve only gone a few feet when my phone rings.

“Kennedy, Frank DeBlaney here.”

“Hey. What’s going on? Everything okay?”

“I’ve got fantastic news. We’ve just uncovered some letters from Joan’s cell. To make a long story short, we were able to glean that she was the mastermind behind the poisoning, she was working with someone on the outside.”

I stop short, my heart sinking. “Who was it?”

“That we don’t know yet, there’s no name so far. But we’ve got a good lead. The Ketamine was traced back to an old farm hand who has been selling it illegally on the side. The police are already doing some digging. We still have some letters to go over, but I wanted to tell you right away. I tried to call Indigo but there was no answer. The good news is, this gives me something to work with. She either pleads guilty, or we sue the crap out of her, either way, she’s not getting out anytime soon.”

“That is great news…” But I can’t help but still be worried about the yet unidentified man who actually did the poisoning. Who was he?

“I know,” Frank says reading my mind in his usual way. “But we’ve got something. We’ll find him. Don’t worry.”

I thank him, and when we hang up, I realize I won’t have enough to make it to the parking lot and be back in time for Indigo’s dance. Readjusting the bag on my shoulder, I head back into the auditorium to take a seat.

When I return back to our row, I smile when I see Indigo’s mom moving around the aisle and then looking through the lens, as if trying to figure out the best view. Jack and I share a laugh and chat quietly, but my mind is on Frank’s news. I decide to tell everyone together before we all head home, after the show.

I want Indigo to have her moment, the one she has been waiting for and deserves.

The lights dim, and the energy in the room seems to intensify, as everyone is eager to see Indigo perform. She mainly gets left alone on campus, mostly because I make it known that’s she mine and probably hover around her a little protectively. But she still gets a lot of stares, and now that everyone gets the chance to have all eyes on her, they’re going to take it. I see a small shadow walk out to the middle of the stage, and then a loud pop as a spotlight highlights her silhouette in the otherwise dark room.

My artist’s eye takes in all her angles, her flawless ballerina pose and my heart races, overwhelmed with pride. There’s a few seconds of silence where she stands perfectly still, before the song comes on and she begins to move to the music.

I lean back in my seat, seeing before my eyes the confident woman emerge, my elegant lover. It is no less fucking magical then every other time I’ve seen it. Only about 30 seconds have gone by when Jack starts squirming in his seat, distracting me.

“I’m going to go stand in back, this seat is so darn uncomfortable.”

I nod, a little annoyed at the interruption and try to focus back on the stage. But when he gets up, the flowers he got for Indigo get knocked off the seat next to him, and I sigh as I bend to pick them up. A white card gets my attention, and I squint to make sure I’m reading it correctly.

To Inndigo.

From Jack.

I frown as I note that he spelled her name wrong, and then, dread drops like dead weight in my stomach. I recall Indigo’s note that she got on the cupcakes had her name spelled wrong in the same way. Could it be? Could it be Jack? I try to convince myself that it couldn’t be for a few seconds, but when I recall Jack telling me he used to work on a farm with his first wife, I nearly bolt out of my seat.