Page 3 of Unforgettable
A small smile graced her lips. Not wide. Not loud. Just… real. It finally knocked.
She’d built this life herself. From nothing. From an extreme loss so devastating, it had once swallowed the sky and swept all joy from her life.
A siren blared in the distance and made her pause. It was instinct. Every time she heard it. Her heart skipped a beat … always. Storms had a sound. Even when they weren’t close by. Her fingers gripped the palette knife tighter than necessary and hovered over her canvas. For a moment, she was twelve again.
Flashback.
The wind was screaming.
Thunder cracking the air. Windows shaking in the kitchen. Her parents there frantically calling her name … and then; their voices no longer heard as lightning strikes, hitting a propane tank near the back of the house, an explosion engulfing the kitchen, fire spreading, consuming the house. Parents gone. Randi half-buried amongst the rubble.
She tremored and slowly exhaled multiple times to ground herself, as she wiped at the tears misting her eyes.
Not today. No severe storm forecasted for today.
Today was going to be different.
Today she was going to step into a new beginning, a day of joy and finally the recognition she deserved, desired, and worked tirelessly for so long to achieve. It was a future she had carved with her own hands.
She set the palette knife down carefully, wiping her fingers on a cloth before crossing the room.
Her phone lit up on the table.
Gallery Director – Walker Art Center
She answered with a soft breath.
“Hello. This is Randi.”
“Hello, Miss Caleb. This is Clair. I’m just checking in. Are you still on track for tonight?”
She glanced at the oil painting standing before her. It was everything she had fought to become.
“Oh, yes,” she exclaimed happily. “I’m ready, nervous, and anxious.”
“Take in every moment, my dear. I’m confident the public is going to adore and embrace your creations.”
CHAPTER 1
Randi’s song list was still playing as she stepped from her shower. She loved listening to the crooners like Perry Como, Frank Sinatra, and Englebert. She gazed at the digital clock on her bedside table. Four hours remained before her expected arrival at the Art Center.
She couldn’t help thinking about her mom and dad.
How she wished they were still alive to witness her success and attend her first formal showcase at one of the country’s premier fine art institutions.
There was so much she missed out on in life once she was forced to live in a group home run by the state. It provided for her basic needs. But that was all. It wasn’t a family.
She never went on a vacation, got invited to parties, went to dances or on a date, had a seasonal wardrobe and wore hand me downs, never celebrated the holidays like families do, or got her drivers permit at fifteen. Being adopted at twelve years old passed her by. She transitioned out at eighteen and beneficiary of a trust fund the State set up for her when her parents died to guard their assets. She had no living relatives as both her parents were orphaned as well.
It was her sixth-grade teacher, Mrs. Graci, who noted her artistic talent, encouraged her along, and introduced her to Miss Fremont, Rochester High School’s Art Teacher, who submitted a scholarship application for the Minneapolis College of Art and Design, where she was accepted.
Her Professors and childhood teachers were proudly attending her showcase. If not for them, she would’ve never survived, never progressed her talent, and created a life for herself.
She finished her toiletry and dressed in jeans, sneaks, and long-sleeved tee.
Outside, the sky stretched wide and impossibly blue. The wind was calm and the day was bright and perfect. Spring had finally arrived and it was about time as May was right around the corner. Winter refused to leave and was notoriously long, cold, and snowy with temps that steadily maintained below zero, and she welcomed the blissful change.
Randi turned off her playlist, reached for her keys, and slung her bag over her shoulder as she gave the painting one last glance.
