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Some artists believe in creating every single day—writing, painting, doing whatever it is you do—to stay productive. Others believe in a concept called “filling the well. ” This means stopping for a while to just take in something new, whether it’s a book you’ve never read, an activity you’ve never tried, or a place you’ve never been before. The new experiences sink deep into your consciousness and take your creativity in new directions.
If I didn’t already believe in filling the well, the stark, wild beauty of this place would convince me.
I packed a sketchpad, thinking only to fill the hours when Jonah was working. Now I can’t wait to spend every spare hour drawing. The rugged landscape—the rocky shoreline—even the way our B&B seems to snuggle against the nearest hill: I want to capture every detail, forever.
From across the water I hear the sound of an engine and the choppy impact of waves against metal. Somehow I know, even before I turn to see the white boat coming nearer, that this is Jonah’s return. When I wave in greeting, I see him lean out—no more than an outline, at this distance—and raise his hand.
I’d thought seeing him would shatter the dreamlike quality of this place. Instead it seems as though Jonah has entered my dream.
• • •
“What did you tell your friends?” Jonah asks that night over dinner.
Unlike most B&Bs, the one we’re staying in serves food and drink throughout the night—mostly, I think, for the fishermen gathered at the other two tables. Jonah and I sit at a beat-up wooden table, near a crackling fire, with lamb stew and dark beer. The firelight illuminates the harsh planes of Jonah’s face; sometimes the flickering shadows make him look almost demonic, but at other moments, he looks as beautiful as I’ve ever seen him.
This is one of those moments.
“I told my friends the truth,” I say. “They were surprised, but Carmen and Arturo are excited for me. And Shay . . . she’s trying to wrap her head around the fact that you aren’t always as, um, reserved as you come across in the office. ”
“She thinks I’m cold. ”
“No, no! It’s not like that. ” Shay would never be that bluntly unkind. “One of the first things she ever said to me about you was that you were the best professor in the department to work for. ”
Jonah thinks that over, then nods. As well as he’s concealing it, I can tell—Shay’s opinion means something to him. I doubt he ever goes out of his way to ingratiate himself with people. So if he cares about what Shay thinks, it’s because he realizes Shay is a person whose respect is worth having. This, in turn, makes me realize he’s a good judge of character.
“What about you?” I say. “Did you tell your friends about bringing me along?”
“Most of my close friends are from undergrad. We don’t communicate every day. But I told Rosalind. ”
I remember the way she smiled at me when she realized I was “Jonah’s Vivienne. ” Her respect is worth having too. “What did she say?”
“She said it was about time I ‘stepped up my game. ’” Jonah says this so seriously that I can’t help but laugh. Slowly, he smiles too—and yet he’s wary about something else. “You didn’t tell me how that ex of yours reacted. ”
“Geordie? He said you were making him look bad, because he never took me anyplace fancier than Ruth’s Chris Steak House. ” I would giggle at the memory, but Jonah’s expression seems to forbid it. He’s become stony again, and I wonder if the emotion he’s holding back is anger, or jealousy. “You realize there’s nothing between me and Geordie any longer. ”
“So you’ve said. But you spend a lot of time together. ”
We do. I’ve been surprised how easily Geordie and I transitioned into a platonic relationship. Then again—“We were always closer to ‘friends with benefits’ than any red-hot love affair,” I say. “You know, we tried romance on, it didn’t fit for either of us, and so now we stick to what did work. Our friendship. ”
“Does he understand that?”
“Definitely. ” Truth be told, Geordie looked a little wistful when I told him about this trip, and the fact that I was seeing Jonah Marks—but no more than that. “You sound jealous. ”
“I am,” Jonah says. He looks straight into my eyes and speaks with a calmness that belies every word he says. “I’m jealous of every man who ever touched you. ”