Love Comes Silently(Senses 1) (24 page)

In the lobby, the limousine driver was waiting for them, and they got the painting inside and then rode from midtown down to the art gallery in Soho. Patrick looked out the window every few seconds like he was memorizing landmarks. “It’s going to be fine,” Ken reassured.

“
I haven’t been out in public like this much since the accident
,” Patrick confessed. “
I’m just a little nervous because people always wonder what happened
.”

“I’ll handle them if they do. I just want you to have a good time and not worry about any of it,” Ken said, shifting so he was sitting next to Patrick. “If you want to go back to the hotel, I’ll understand.” He really would,

Patric k shook his head. “
I want to be there with you
,” Patrick signed as the car stopped in front of the gallery. Ken reached for Patrick’s hand, kissing his fingers softly before the driver opened the door. Ken let Patrick get out and then carefully handed him the wrapped painting, tilting it to get it to fit out the door. Once he climbed out, Ken took it, and they walked into the gallery.

“Mr. Brighton,” a young man said as he held the door. “I’m Bradley, and it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Patrick took the painting, and Ken shook Bradley’s hand. “I’m a huge fan of your work,” he said with a smile as he continued shaking Ken’s hand.

“Please call me Ken, and this is my partner, Patrick,” Ken explained as he extricated his hand. Bradley shook Patrick’s hand and then took the painting and hurried away through the gallery.

“Thank God, you made it,” Phillip gushed as he hurried down the gallery’s glass staircase. The whole thing looked like it floated on air. “I was about to break out the alcohol.”

“It’s fine, Phillip. We’re here, and so is the painting,” Ken soothed as his agent hugged first him and then Patrick. Phillip had visited Pleasanton a few months earlier, and when he’d seen Ken’s work, he’d managed to set up this show on very quick notice. “Let’s see what they’ve done, shall we?” Ken took Patrick’s hand as Phillip gave them a tour.

“This is a relatively new gallery, and they’re so very excited about showing your work,” Phillip commented as he led them up the stairs.

Ken heard the gallery door open and then what sounded like a herd of elephants on the floor behind them. “Daddy,” Hanna nearly screamed, and he hurried down the stairs, catching her in his arms and swinging her around. “We had the bestest time. Aunt Julianne and Uncle George took us to the Statue of Liberty, and we got to ride on a boat and everything.”

“It sounds like you and Todd had a lot of fun today,” Ken said happily as he shook George’s hand and kissed Julianne on the cheek.

“I should take them both back to the hotel,” Julianne said, but Phillip intervened.
“The gallery has a room set up for you and the kids.” He looked at Ken, who nodded.

Phillip motioned for Julianne to go first. George took her hand, and the two of them descended the stairs with the rest of their crowd following.

The gallery workers were still putting the finishing touches on the displays, so they made their way to a small room off the main gallery that had a sofa with blankets and pillows resting on the back. Julianne spread one of the blankets and laid Todd on it. He barely moved as she covered him up.

“You should stay too, to watch over him like a big girl,” Ken told Hanna, and she nodded and went to sit on the other side of the sofa. Hanna lay down as well, and Ken knew she’d be asleep in minutes. Ken sat next to her, watching Hanna as she settled on the cushions. He couldn’t resist stroking her silky blonde hair. It just reached her ears, but it was shiny and beautiful. Sometimes he could hardly believe he had his daughter back. She had energy and was as precocious as ever. Ken felt Patrick’s hand on his shoulder, and he met his gaze before slowly standing up. “I’ll stay with them,” George volunteered, and Ken nodded his appreciation before leaving the room.

They were met by Scott, the gallery manager, and Ken made introductions. “I can’t tell you how honored we are to show your work,” Scott said as he looked first at Ken and then at Patrick. “They’re you,” he said with a smile. “We placed the paintings of Patrick in the first gallery,” Scott explained as he motioned them toward a medium-sized room. “Rather than grouping them close together, we placed one painting on each wall so when you come in here you’re surrounded by him. The expressions are very powerful and moving. These were very obviously painted with love.” Ken moved closer to Patrick, and Patrick took his hand, neither of them saying anything. The portrait of Patrick singing, and the life-sized one Ken had done, were not here. They were hanging in their home in Pleasanton. Ken had done enough paintings of Patrick, and Phillip had begged him to let him show a few, but Ken hadn’t allowed any to be shown until Patrick had agreed.

“They definitely were,” Ken said softly, moving a little closer to Patrick.
“Do you like it?” Scott asked him, and Ken smiled at the nervous young man.
“You did a good job,” Ken said, and Patrick elbowed him slightly. Ken grinned. “Yes, I really do, and I think Patrick does as well.” Ken looked to his lover, who nodded, his eyes sparkling.
“I believe they’re ready in the next room,” Scott said after peeking inside. “We just finished hanging everything, and if there’s something you don’t like, we can make a few changes,” Scott explained. Ken nodded and walked into the next gallery space.
The walls were covered with the portraits of Hanna. They began when she was healthy with long, blonde hair, and showed the progression of her disease to where she was wearing hats, and then her recovery. The final one showed Hanna the way she looked today. Ken still found it hard to look at the ones of her sick, but without those, the others wouldn’t be as powerful. “
They’re beautiful
,” Patrick signed, and Ken nodded, his eye drawn to the works hanging on their own wall. There were two of them, framed nearly the same. One was a print of the drawing Hanna had done on her last day in the hospital, and the other was Ken’s painting of the same people. Both were entitled
The Faces of Recovery.
Ken had not been willing to part with Hanna’s actual drawing, so the gallery had had a single print made that would go to whoever bought Ken’s work.

Ken stared at both pieces of art, his daughter’s and his, hanging side by side, and he felt tears well in his eyes. Looking around, it was then he realized that he and Patrick were alone in the room. He leaned against Patrick, holding his arm as he looked at the exhibit one last time. “Is it okay?” Scott asked, breaking the silence as he and the others entered the room.

“There’s just one thing we need to do before the evening is over,” Scott explained. “I need the artist to sign her print.” Scott pointed to the print of Hanna’s drawing, and Ken grinned.

George came into the gallery holding Hanna’s hand, with Todd on his shoulder. Hanna walked over to Ken, and he lifted her into his arms.

Ken looked at Patrick and moved closer, feeling Patrick’s arm glide around his waist. “A family portrait.” Ken looked to Patrick, and he nodded.

loved to tell stories and a mother who loved to read them. Since then he has lived throughout the country and traveled throughout the world. He has a master’s degree from the University of WisconsinMilwaukee and works in information systems for a large corporation. Andrew’s hobbies include collecting antiques, gardening, and leaving his dirty dishes anywhere but in the sink (particularly when writing). He considers himself blessed with an accepting family, fantastic friends, and the world’s most supportive and loving partner. Andrew currently lives in beautiful historic Carlisle, Pennsylvania.

Visit Andrew’s website at http://www.andrewgreybooks.com and blog at http://andrewgreybooks.livejournal.com/. E-mail him at [email protected].