Private Acts (8 page)

In the middle of the room and in front of the stage, clearly the star of the show, sat a large alabaster sculpture of a woman holding a boy in her arms. Samirah and Thomas joined the others who stood around admiring it.

The woman in the sculpture sat on a stool, cradling a young boy in what seemed to be a comforting embrace. The level of detail was so remarkable Samirah could see the creases in their clothes and even the eyelashes lying against the mother’s cheek. It seemed at any moment life could be breathed into the inanimate object and the mother and son would get up and join the party.

“Lovely, isn’t it?” Thomas said.

“It
is
amazing,” Samirah agreed.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say that was a Delgado.”

At the mention of Miguel’s name, Samirah’s heart lurched in her chest. “Was he supposed to donate one of his works for the auction?”

“No, but perhaps he did.”

“It is a Delgado,” a man in front of them said in a thick Spanish accent. He turned sideways so they had a better view of the sculpture. Pointing to the base, he said, “See his signature? There is a rumor he will make an appearance tonight.” He sounded like an excited child who couldn’t wait to open gifts on Christmas morning.

 
“Splendid!” Thomas said. “This piece will raise so much money for the arts.”

“Mhmm.” Samirah’s gaze darted around the room. Miguel should be easy to spot because of his height, but she didn’t see anyone who looked remotely like him.

Avoiding him had turned out to be much easier than expected. A taxi pulled up to his house on Thursday morning, and he left with a duffle bag. She hadn’t seen any activity at the house since then.

Fifteen minutes later, she and Thomas strolled into a smaller room to view the abstract sculptures made from everyday items and scrap metal. As they made their way back into the main room, she asked Thomas if he’d decided on a piece to purchase.

“I think I’d like the one on the wall over there.” He pointed to a mixed media piece comprised of paint, paper, and aluminum. “Or the collage over there.”

“You’d better get a numbered paddle if you plan to bid on those.”

He nodded his agreement. “Will you be all right if I leave you alone?”

Samirah smiled. “I’ll stay close to this wall in case I lose my balance, so I’ll have something to hold onto.” Concern clouded his face. “I’m kidding. Go.”

As the night wore on, Samirah became comfortable with the idea that Miguel would not attend the event. He must still be out of town. A small amount of disappointment surfaced, but she squashed it. She didn’t need him hanging around, distracting and tempting her.

She and Thomas stood with another couple, enjoying nibbling on appetizers, when a commotion near the entryway into the grand hall caught her attention. A small crowd had gathered and a series of flashes burst from the cameras of the onlookers. She didn’t have to see the man to know who had arrived, but she caught sight of him through the crowd anyway.

He looked even better than when she’d last seen him. Like Thomas, Miguel wore a tuxedo, but he filled his out in way Thomas didn’t. The ivory vest and matching tie contrasted against the black of the open tuxedo jacket. His dark hair hung loosely around his ears, and when he looked up, their gazes connected across the room. Her stomach quivered a welcome and memories of their short, hot embrace crashed through her mind.

* * * *

He noted how other men cast surreptitious glances in her direction. Her shiny, black hair was swept atop her head in a loose twist—looking easy enough to undo with the tug of a finger. A golden array of bracelets encircled her small wrists, and the earrings she’d purchased at the boutique glittered in her ears.

Unable to stand it any longer, he muttered an excuse to the people around him, intending to make his way over to her.

Esteban came into his line of vision. “Are you ready?”

Miguel had agreed to give a brief speech before the auction began. Resigned, he nodded, cast one more glance in Samirah’s direction, and followed the older man to the stage. After the introduction, he took over the microphone.

“Good evening,” he said in Spanish. “Thank you for coming tonight. It’s both an honor and a privilege for me to attend this event and give back to my community.”

“Thank you for coming!” a female voice yelled from the audience, which prompted laughs and a round of applause.

Miguel lifted his hand to quiet the crowd.

“I appreciate your enthusiasm,” he said with a smile. “As I said, it’s a privilege for me to be here. Before I became an artist, I had a very rocky start as a young man. Were it not for this man—” He gestured in the direction of Esteban. “I don’t know where I would be. As a teenager, he kept me out of trouble, and he showed me how to channel my energies into more positive pursuits. Without him, we would not be able to have this event here tonight, and very likely, I would not be here before you as Delgado, the sculptor. Please, give a round of applause to the faculty chair and my mentor, Dr. Esteban Callas.”

A loud round of applause broke out.

When the clapping died down, Miguel launched into his prepared speech about the importance of supporting the arts and their relevance in society. Drawing on his own experience, he pointed out how as a youth, he’d gotten into and out of trouble. Esteban caught him defacing public property with graffiti one day. Instead of calling the police, he told him he had real talent. If he agreed to remove what he’d done, Esteban said he would show him how to create acceptable images.

Through his encouragement and guidance, Miguel developed a love of creating, rather than destroying. He discovered a love for sculpting, and Esteban funded his first few projects by providing him with sculpting tools and materials. The rest was history.

Tonight’s donations would be used to expand art programs in the area—to the benefit of those young people who wanted to pursue careers in art. The money raised would also help local agencies produce more events, shows, and exhibitions to the benefit of all of
Cuenca
’s citizens.

“And so I encourage you to search within your hearts tonight as you consider your bids for these unique pieces from our future artists. Think about the impact each of your dollars will have in our city. Consider the importance of art in our lives—whether it is visual or performance art. Understand that it not only adds beauty to the world around us, but it helps to make us well rounded. It keeps us civilized, and separates us from other living things through the ability to create. Through art, we have a means by which we grow to be better people, and it moves us forward through creativity, the expansion of our imagination, and hope.

“Hope. An important element in dragging a teen out of self-destructive despair. Hope that there would be a better tomorrow, and a young man could live a better life than the one he’d grown used to.”

Deafening applause followed when he finished his speech.

Miguel stepped down from the stage and a woman took over to conduct the auction. A few minutes into talking to another guest, he noticed Thomas Hill slowly winding his way through the crowd, a worried expression on his face. Once or twice he stopped and stood on tiptoe, searching for someone.

Miguel excused himself from yet another conversation he’d barely been paying attention to and approached the older man.

“Mr. Hill, is everything all right?” His first thought was that something had happened to Samirah. Since descending the stage, he hadn’t seen her, though she’d been easy enough to spot in her red dress when he stood behind the podium.

Thomas Hill seemed surprised Miguel knew his name. “Yes, I mean no. I came here with a young woman—Samirah, but I don’t see her. We need to leave immediately. I left my wife alone, and it seems she hurt herself trying to move around without assistance, and now I must hurry home to see to her.” He clenched his hands together in worry. “I really, really must go.”

Miguel rested a reassuring hand on his arm. “Samirah and I met the other day, so I know who she is. You should go and see to your wife. When I see Samirah, I’ll explain to her what happened and make sure she gets home safely.”

Thomas’s frowning face expressed his reluctance to leave. “I hate to leave her, but…” Miguel didn’t have to say another word. Thomas quickly talked himself into a decision. “Please, let her know what happened, and I’ll see her at home.”

“Of course.” Miguel nodded. “I’ll explain everything. Don’t worry. I’ll take care of Samirah.”

Chapter Eight

Samirah wiggled her toes one more time before she rose from the padded bench in the ladies’ room. Her feet ached like they never had before, and she cursed herself repeatedly for the vanity of buying and wearing these heels. After listening to Miguel’s speech, she came into the restroom for a break because all the seats in the main exhibit hall had been taken.

She winced as she squeezed her feet back into the shoes. “How do women wear these things all day?” After a quick check of her face and dress, she exited the restroom.

Back in the main hall, the auction was in full swing. Standing on the outskirts of the crowd, she searched the faces of the attendees but didn’t see Thomas anywhere. She did, however, see Miguel talking to another man. During his rousing speech, she’d seen another side of him. The devilish, charming conversationalist had disappeared, replaced with a serious, thoughtful professional who had apparently experienced hardship as a youth.

Samirah wandered away from the crowd assembled before the stage. As the minutes slipped by, she grew concerned because she didn’t see Thomas in the group of bidders, nor did she see him among the people still milling about.

Where could he be? In the restroom?

“You look exquisite,” a voice said over her left shoulder. Her nipples budded at the sound of his voice, and she closed her eyes for a moment as desire coursed through her veins from his remembered touch.

“Thank you.” She could feel him. He was so close.

“Every man in this place wants you.” His voice was thick.

“Every man in this place does not want me.”

“If they don’t, they’re blind fools. Every last one of them.”

Samirah looked over her shoulder to find Miguel’s lowered head close to hers.