Fifty-two

“IT WAS ME, WASN’T IT, TONY?”

Kate and I were lying in the big bed on Sunday afternoon. I had been given ownership of the big bed for the long weekend—Friday with Melody, Saturday with Lissa, now Sunday with Kate and tomorrow with Wendy. We weren’t alone in the house. Melody was off on a play date with Bree, but Lissa and Wendy were enjoying each other downstairs in the room we still called Wendy’s, even though it was mostly a closet. The four of us had had lunch together and Wendy seemed to be thoroughly enjoying Lissa’s attention—and vice versa.

Kate and I made love, but we were spending lots of time just talking. We’d been on wedding plans a few minutes ago. The abrupt change of topic threw me.

“What was you?”

“In your newest panel. It’s beautiful. It might be my favorite, even though from the floor of the chapel most people won’t be able to see the detail. I went up on the lift to look at it yesterday. I could see your eyes. I could pick out Wendy and Melody and Lissa and everyone else. I can put a name to every person in that picture—and wow! I had no idea Morgan was such a fox. But it’s the one who’s missing—that his hand is reaching out to touch. It was me.”

“Well. Yeah. It’s about nothing being able to replace what is lost.”

“Do you still feel I’m lost? You left me out of the picture and your eyes are so sad.” I told Kate about my conversation with Ellis and how I wanted to make a point about what it takes to grow past the scars.

“I don’t feel the anger or bitterness or the gaping hole anymore. But I don’t feel the same innocence either. I remember them as well as I remember the scent of your arousal and the taste of your lips. We are growing stronger than ever before. But I still think of the wonder and disbelief I had that first night when you pulled my hand to your breast.”

“You have an amazing memory for emotion and image. I love it.” Kate sat up and then turned around to straddle my legs facing me. She held my face in her hands so I couldn’t turn away from her amazing eyes—not that I would have. “I understand. I felt hurt, uncertain, angry. I didn’t know the depth of what I was doing. I didn’t know how much damage I was doing; I was so wrapped up in my own petty problems. You’ve taken me back, and you’ve given me this ring. I’ve said yes to your marriage proposal. But what I haven’t said is this. Tony, I love you with all my heart and I will never, ever leave you again. I will do everything I can to make sure that hurt and anger and loss are never seen in your eyes again. I can’t submit to you like Wendy does. God knows, we don’t want to try that again. But I will be your partner, your lover, your biggest fan, and most demanding critic. I will challenge you and demand your challenge. But Tony, I will never leave you. I hid behind my age, saying I was too young to make a commitment. Well, I’m twenty now and realize the commitment I’m making is exactly the same as the one I wanted to make when I was seventeen. That hasn’t changed and never will. I love you. And I am yours.”

Kate was dead serious. I’d never seen more intensity in her eyes. They bore into me. She still held my face between her hands and as she looked into me, she must have seen my acceptance and joy at what she was saying. Her face broke out into the smile that always took my breath away and made my heart sing. When our lips met, our bodies joined and I made love to my wife to be.

“They’re going to what?” Kate exclaimed. I’d just told her about my conversation with the archbishop. Most of it. The important part was that he wouldn’t allow the painting that we both loved so much in the chapel. “We need to talk to our advisors. Call Doc. I’ll call Clarice. Come on. Get dressed.”

“There isn’t anything to talk about,” I complained. “I’m collateral damage in a holy war. Al-Qaida could send a bomber and blow it up. No one cares what is right. They only care about who is right.”

“Tony, you taught me that I should depend on the people who care for me. Now you need to do the same thing. Make the damned call.”

I called. Clarice and Doc both agreed to meet us at the chapel. We talked. Clarice made a couple of phone calls. Bob Bowers showed up and added his perspective. He’d warned me I was a piece in a minor religious war between the Jesuits and the archdiocese. I thought the only skirmish I was involved in was getting the commission. I was beginning to see a bigger picture, but still wasn’t sure what to think about it. Monsignor Grundy, the Vicar General, had taken personal offense at the Jesuits’ independent stance.

“It’s done. They will be here Tuesday,” Clarice said.

“Who will?” I asked.

“Erika and Gerhardt Strauss. Jade will be working with them. We’ll get the appropriate scaffolding ordered on Monday.” I knew Erika was going to come to photograph Kate’s Stations, but I thought Jade was going to do the photos for my fresco prints.

“We debated this quite a long while,” Doc filled me in. “We planned to have Jade photograph all the panels in the chapel including the mosaics for your book, but we weren’t sure what to do about the limited edition prints. Gerhardt says that Erika has become quite proficient and he is willing to supervise her in creating your prints. It will be her project, but he’ll watch over it.”

“That’s wonderful! But why are they coming now? I only have a little over half the panels finished.”

“It may take them as long to photograph them as it takes you to paint them. But if we want this panel preserved, we need to act quickly.”

“This panel?”

“Tony,” Clarice explained, “the Church and the archbishop can dictate what is in the chapel. They have no say over what is in the book or what art print you create. That was clearly in your contract. The creation of collateral pieces, including posters, limited edition prints, the book, slide shows, DVDs, movies, licensing, and everything else are solely under your control.”

“Holy shit!”

It still irritated me that I was going to have to destroy my own creation, but Doc had a solution to that as well. He told me to paint over it instead of scraping and re-plastering. I was confused because that would mean this panel would no longer be buon fresco. The new work would be à secco, or painted on a dry surface. It wasn’t that unusual in the Renaissance to cover large areas of a wall in dry painting between areas of fresco. But the à secco paintings usually flaked off with age so all that was left was the fresco with blank spots between.

“Dear me, you did learn something in class,” Doc laughed. “You mean that in a hundred years or so, what you paint over this piece might flake off and only the original would be left? How sad.”

That devious old bastard. I laughed until I was exhausted. I had things in the vault, but nothing I intended to wait 100 years to display.

Erika and Gerhardt arrived Tuesday and set straight to work on the photos. It was great to see them and when Jade showed up with her intensity, the whole environment in the chapel changed. Gerhardt was being taken care of by Clarice—whatever that meant—and Erika was given our guest room. The blonde dynamo fit into our household like a natural. The first time she walked into the kitchen in the morning with no clothes on I blew coffee out my nose. I felt a hand slip around the front of my robe to grasp my cock and Kate whispered in my ear.

“See something you like? I told Erika we often didn’t wear clothes around the house unless the boys were home. She’s fine with that.”

Erika walked right up to me, pushed herself against my erection, and kissed me. Then she pressed even closer so she could reach Kate’s lips next to my shoulder. That kiss and the two naked beauties sandwiching me did nothing to relax my boner.

“I did mention that I spent a month with Erika last summer, didn’t I?” Kate teased.

I got the word from Father Michel on Friday that they had caved to the archbishop’s demands. Clarice joined me for the final negotiation. I agreed to paint over the offensive scene and to show no exposed male genitalia in any other paintings in the chapel. Nothing was said about further inquiries by the archbishop or the vicar general. Andy quietly told me that he was instructed to make a weekly report on progress, but that no other interference was expected from the archdiocese.

Erika and Jade had finished the photographs of that panel. My family had all come to see it, as had many of the models.