Ocean Palms Resort
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Nassau County, New York State of America
December 25th, 1990
There was a knock at the door. “Yes,” said Julianne. “Come in.”
The door opened and Elaine stepped inside. She was wearing jeans and a white blouse with an open neckline that revealed her cleavage to its fullest extent. “Merry Christmas Eve,” she said. “I brought you some gifts.”
“Oh, thank you!” said Julianne. “Please come in. I’ll put these things away.”
Elaine took off her shoes and followed Julianne into the bedroom. “You know how much I love your paintings,” she said as they walked across the room toward the closet where Julianne kept all of her artwork. The two women sat on the edge of the bed together. “It’s so nice to be home for Christmas. You’re going to have such fun tonight, aren’t you?”
“Yeah,” said Julianne. “We’re going to have a big dinner and watch television. We haven’t done anything like this since we were kids.”
“That sounds wonderful!” said Elaine. “You must tell me about it later. Now let’s see what you’ve got for me.”
She reached out with both hands and picked up each painting carefully between them. It was only then that Julianne noticed that there was something different about the way she held the paintings. As if their weight or shape made it difficult to hold them normally.
There wasn’t any special significance to the fact that Elaine was holding the paintings differently than usual. But Julianne had been noticing odd little changes in Elaine ever since she’d met her.
They looked at one another for several moments before either spoke. Then Julianne smiled. “Now, don’t make me guess which is mine,” she said. “You can just tell me.”
“All right,” said Elaine. She set the paintings back on their shelf and turned around. “This one’s yours.”
Julianne picked it up and took the frame from its place against the wall. “Thank you! This is beautiful.” She placed the painting on her lap and began to examine it more closely. The colors were soft and warm. A robin’s egg blue sky. White clouds float across a clear blue expanse. And snow-covered mountains rising above a field of green grass. Beautiful. Intense. “Where did you get it?”
“It’s my own work,” said Elaine. “Your present. I painted it myself.”
“How extraordinary!” said Julianne. “I’m so impressed.”
“You’re not supposed to be,” said Elaine. “At least, not until I show you the rest.”
Julianne laughed and handed Elaine the painting. “I am so sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh. I really appreciate this.”
“Don’t worry about it,” said Elaine. “I’m happy to do it.”
“When will you show me the others?” asked Julianne.
“Tomorrow night, after dinner. Okay?”
“Of course,” said Julianne. “Let’s eat first though.”
“Okay!” said Elaine. They headed toward the kitchen.
Later that evening, the two women relaxed by the fireplace in the great room. Julianne had lit the fire earlier and now watched it dance and glow in the dark room. Elaine was lying on one side of the couch with her head resting on Julianne’s lap and her legs stretched out onto the floor.
Both women were drinking wine from their glasses and talking quietly about nothing in particular when Elaine spoke.
“You know, I need to ask you something.”
“What’s that?” asked Julianne.
“Do you believe in coincidences? Do you think there are actual, tangible coincidences among human beings?”
“Why do you ask?”
“I find myself wondering whether there’s a relationship between us. If we’re somehow connected. Whether we’ve known each other before.”
“Well…that’s a strange thing to wonder,” said Julianne. “But I suppose you could be right.”
“I wonder why we met again, fifteen years later,” said Elaine. “Isn’t it amazing that we should meet here in Ocean Palms—both of us living in the same house and being able to spend time together…to talk to each other…”
“I suppose it is,” said Julianne. “Sometimes I feel as if we live in this house together.”
“And when we walk through the town, we run into people who remind us of each other,” said Elaine. “There’s always someone.”
“Yes, but that’s not the same thing as meeting again,” said Julianne. “Not even close.”
“Maybe,” said Elaine. “I don’t know. I just want to be sure.”
“It’s not necessary for you to be sure,” said Julianne. “In fact, it’s probably better that you aren’t certain. Because if we’re related, then we might have to share everything.”
“No,” said Elaine. “That’s not fair. Not to either one of us.”
The next day, Julianne went down to the beach early in the morning and sat alone on the sand near the water’s edge. At that moment, the sun rose over the distant horizon and the air became filled with the scent of salt and smoke from the sea. Warm sunlight caressed her skin. Julianne closed her eyes and breathed deeply of the salty air.
A child’s laughter came from nearby. Julianne opened her eyes. A little boy was running away from her laughing at the ocean spray he sprayed behind him. His mother was following slowly and she waved. Julianne raised her hand and the woman returned the gesture.
Julianne stood up and walked toward them. The woman held the boy in her arms and they both looked up and smiled. Julianne gave the little boy a big hug and kissed his cheek. She turned and watched the waves crashing on the shore. Behind her, the mother thanked Julianne.
“You must be Julianne,” said the woman.
“I am,” said Julianne. “Have we met before?”
“We haven’t,” said the woman. “But I heard about your art. I’m sorry I hadn’t thought to come to see you sooner.”
“Oh, it’s okay,” said Julianne. “I understand how it is.”
She led the way back to her home. As they passed by a row of houses on the street, Julianne pointed to one and said, “That’s my studio.”
“I’m so glad you’re here,” said the woman. “My name’s Jennifer. I’m Julianne’s friend and neighbor.”
Jennifer explained that she and Julianne had moved to the area recently and soon discovered that they lived just a few doors apart. After they’d spent some time talking, Julianne took the baby and the two women visited inside Julianne’s home. There, Julianne showed Jennifer the paintings on display and told her more about the series she was working on.
Jennifer was fascinated with what she saw.
“Your work is gorgeous,” said Jennifer. “This is really good stuff.”
“Thank you,” said Julianne. “I appreciate that.”
After breakfast, Julianne went back to her painting. Jennifer followed and helped with the preparations for lunch.
Before they ate, Julianne excused herself to take care of a couple of things in her studio.
Jennifer finished eating quickly and went upstairs to begin preparing for a nap. While she was changing into bed clothes, she noticed that Julianne’s bedroom door was open and the lights were still on.
Jennifer entered the room quietly and looked around. She peered into the bathroom. Julianne wasn’t there.
As she stepped onto the balcony, she looked out to the ocean. Julianne was walking along the shoreline. She picked up a handful of shells and placed them carefully into a small bag. Then she stooped to pick up a rock. She threw the stone as far out into the sea as she could and then did the same with another stone.
Finally, Julianne bent down and reached under the water’s surface until her hand touched something solid beneath the waves. Julianne took hold of the object and brought it to the sandy shore. It was a beautiful shell.
Julianne put the shell down and looked at the sky. The moon was rising over the ocean. Julianne turned and walked back to the house.
Jennifer awoke suddenly from a deep sleep. Her heart was beating rapidly. She felt faint. She rolled off her bed and fell to the floor.
As she lay on her back, gasping for breath, she tried to remember where she was. She realized she was in Julianne’s bedroom. In fact, she was lying on the very same pillow and sheets that Julianne had slept on.
Jennifer got up and went to the window. Sunlight was pouring through the glass pane. The light hit the wall opposite the window and illuminated Julianne’s painting. It was a scene of the ocean. A wave crashed upon the rocks, spraying spray across the canvas. Julianne was standing at the edge of a cliff, looking out over the sea.
The artist seemed to be watching an approaching ship, perhaps a pirate or a merchant ship.
Jennifer gasped. This image was exactly the same as the one she’d seen when she first entered the room. She knew there would be no mistaking it—the painting was identical.
Jennifer ran downstairs. She found Julianne sitting on the couch in the living room.
“What are you doing here?” asked Julianne. “It’s after eight o’clock.”
“I’ve been sleeping,” said Jennifer. “Can I help you with anything?”
“No,” said Julianne. “I was just thinking about this new piece.”
“Yes,” said Jennifer. “I like it a lot. Where did you get the inspiration for it?”
“The inspiration came from the idea that we’re all connected to each other,” said Julianne. “And we can only know what’s going on in our world because of the stories that are shared.”
Jennifer nodded. Julianne continued, “For example, if I paint the story of the man who loses his wife but finds love again with someone else, that tells me more than just about losing a spouse. That tells me about hope and faith.
And it helps us to learn what happens when people make decisions based on those feelings. You should see the effect it has on young children. They seem to have a special ability to feel it.”
Jennifer smiled. “It does, doesn’t it.”
“You know, Jennifer,” said Julianne. “A few years ago, I might not have been able to express myself in that way.”
Jennifer nodded.
Julianne stood up and started pacing. As she moved, she spoke. “In my studio, I was trying to understand how I could communicate emotion without words. If I’m painting something, I want the viewer to experience the feeling behind the scene. I want them to share that moment with me—to feel what I felt at the time.”
Jennifer watched Julianne closely. She thought she understood why Julianne painted these scenes. But she also wondered how Julianne had managed to convey such powerful emotions and memories. She hadn’t seen Julianne’s painting. How could she tell?
“Do you find that difficult?” asked Jennifer. “To paint something so deeply personal and then show it to others?”
“Of course, it’s difficult,” said Julianne. “But it’s worth it. To me, this is the ultimate form of communication—a way of speaking directly to a person’s soul.”
Jennifer sat down next to Julianne. As Julianne faced away from her, Jennifer leaned forward and kissed her cheek. As she drew back, she whispered, “That’s why your paintings touch people so deeply.”
Julianne turned toward her. “Thank you, Jennifer.”
They spent the afternoon together, talking about art. Jennifer listened intently to Julianne’s ideas. She learned more about Julianne’s philosophy and artistic process.
When Julianne finally left, Jennifer was exhausted. She made herself dinner and ate alone in the kitchen. After she finished eating, she cleaned up and crawled back into bed. She closed her eyes and fell asleep.
Jennifer didn’t wake up until late the following morning. When she opened her eyes, sunlight filled the room. She glanced around and noticed that the painting was gone. She jumped up and raced to the living room.
She found Julianne sitting on the couch. She was reading a book.
“Hey,” said Jennifer. “Didn’t you hear me come in last night?”
“I heard you,” said Julianne. “But I chose not to answer.”
Jennifer stared at Julianne. She was sure she’d seen the painting in the corner of the room, but she couldn’t remember seeing it go.
“I painted it,” said Julianne. “I brought it in this morning and put it right here.”
Jennifer looked around. There was no painting. Instead, there was an empty space where Julianne had placed it the previous day.
“Where is it?” asked Jennifer. “Is it upstairs somewhere?”
“No,” said Julianne. “The painting was already here when I arrived.”
“How do you know?” asked Jennifer.
Julianne shrugged and smiled.
Jennifer walked over to the wall. She touched it. The entire surface was clean. No dirt or dust covered the walls. It seemed as though nothing had changed since she’d first arrived.
Jennifer turned back to Julianne and said, “Who did you paint it for?”
“You,” replied Julianne. “This was supposed to be yours.”
“Mine?” said Jennifer. “Why would you give something like this to me?”
“Because,” said Julianne, “you deserve it.”
The End