I rushed to the glass door and pulled it open, scanning the surroundings. As I took in the art hanging on every square inch of the gallery walls—our spring, morning glories, and me—over and over, everywhere, always the back of me, or a very slight profile, but always me. Excitement, fear, adrenalin and extreme anxiety coursed through me. But mostly awe. I felt as though my heart was beating right out of my chest. I looked around wildly.
Where is he? Where is he?
Molly's hand clamped down on my arm and I gratefully leaned in to her for support. "Come on," she said quietly. "He's gotta be close."
"Yes," I squeaked out, my blood pressure skyrocketing.
He has to be close. There's a spring. I'll wait for you. I'll be there.
We walked around a wall of art and when we came out on the other side, there he was. The whole world faded away and it was just him. Calder. My Calder.
He was alive. He was alive.
I felt the tears coursing down my cheeks again and all I could do for a full minute was stare, drink him in, allow my mind to try to make sense of the reality right in front of me.
He was standing and talking to a small group of people and as he turned his head to me, a small smile on his lips, his eyes blinked and widened, his face draining of all color. A glass he was holding in his hand went crashing to the floor as the people around him gasped. His expression was a mixture of confusion, shock, and disbelief. Suddenly his face went dreamy and he tilted his head, his eyes fixed on my face. He started walking toward me, the people around him stumbling out of the way as he merely bumped them aside with his movement, his feet crunching over the glass on the floor. I couldn't move. I was rooted to the spot.
I heard Molly breathe out, "Oh my God," next to me, but I didn't turn her way. My eyes were locked with Calder's.
When he made it to me, he tentatively reached out his hand and felt my cheek, one of his thumbs swiping at a tear. He brought his hand back and looked at it in confusion and then back at my face. His mouth opened and closed. His expression seemed to clear as he grabbed my face in his hands, and let out a tortured gasp, his eyes going wild. "How?" he croaked out. "How, how, how?" He shook his head back and forth, his hands squeezing so tightly on my face that I cried out.
I brought my hands up and put them over his and we both sunk down to the floor. Calder's eyes roamed my face wildly and his breathing came out in sharp bursts. "You're real," he kept saying over and over. We were both on our knees on the gallery floor, Calder's hands running down my shoulders, my arms, shaking me gently. I squeezed my hands into his broad shoulders, too, convincing myself he was really there. Really real, really alive.
"Eden, Eden, I don't understand," he choked out. "How, how?"
Suddenly people were pulling us somewhere. I stumbled up as did Calder, our eyes never leaving the other as we were guided along and a door was closed. I could smell coffee and something sweet and hear the voices of the people who had come into the room with us. But I couldn't look away.
"You survived," Calder said. "God, you survived. How, Eden? How?"
"I floated," I said simply, tears coursing down my cheeks. "Just like you taught me. I floated."
Tears were flooding his eyes, too. "There was no air though. No one survived. There wasn't any air."
I squeezed my eyes shut tightly and shook my head, not able to form words, my head not clear enough to think about anything other than him . . . here, right in front of me.
Instead, I grabbed Calder's hands in mine again. We were both shaking like leaves, the adrenaline draining from our bodies. Behind me I heard lots of voices in hushed tones. "I know, there's so much, so much, and your art." I started to cry softly again. "Your art, oh my God, Calder. It's so beautiful." I breathed out a small sob. "You're an artist."
"Where are you living, Eden? Eden." He shook his head as if the words coming out of his mouth didn't sound real to him.
"With my mom, and my cousin, Molly," I said.
His eyes grew wide. "Your mom? Eden—"
"Hey what's going on in here? People outside are—" I turned toward Xander's voice just as he stumbled back against the wall. "Holy shit," he breathed out, and then, "Holy shit!" He rushed toward us and started shaking me slightly. "Holy shit. Holy shit." He threw his arms around both Calder and me and we stood there crying and squeezing each other until Xander pulled away and blotted at his own eyes with the cuff of his shirt. "How Eden?" he finally managed, his eyes roaming over my face with a look of wonder.
I opened my mouth to speak when a woman's voice came from behind us. "Maybe we can all have coffee after the show and go through the details?" she said very calmly. We all turned around and I wiped my eyes and attempted to get my breathing under control as I took her in. She was beautiful with dark brown, shiny hair that hung smoothly to her shoulders, and large green eyes.
"Madison, I'm cancelling tonight's show," Calder said, looking back at me, his eyes scanning my face again as if he still couldn't believe I was real.
Madison put her hands on her hips. "Calder, this show could mean everything for your career. Don't do that. It's only three hours. Three hours you'll never get back."
"Eden," Molly said gently from behind me, "let me take you home, honey, and you can call, uh, Storm, after his show. Right after his show, okay?"