Annie's room was quiet, save for the low hum of the heater and the sound of Ellie's boots clicking against the hardwood as she paced. Annie stood by the window, her pale skin looking almost translucent in the afternoon light, her fingers nervously twisting a stray strand of her ink-black hair. She then closed the curtains.
"Okay, El. Tell me the truth," Annie whispered, her blue eyes wide with a mix of exhaustion and anxiety. "Is it too much? I don't want to... I don't want to break them."
She pulled the cloth back.
The portrait of Raymond Hawthorne seemed to command the entire room. In the dim light, the broad-shouldered man with the dark brown hair looked startlingly real. Annie had captured a specific glimmer in his green eyes- a look of quiet pride that Ellie recognized instantly because she saw it on Ethan every time Annie entered a room.
Ellie stopped mid-stride. Her sharp tongue, usually ready with a quip to keep things light, went momentarily still. She stared at the canvas, then back at Annie, who looked like she was ready to bolt out the front door.
"Annie," Ellie started, her voice uncharacteristically soft. She stepped closer, her brown eyes scanning the brushwork. "If you give this to them at the party, Kia will faint, Ethan will probably walk into a wall, and the entire guest list will be crying into the shrimp cocktail within ten minutes."
She turned, a familiar, protective spark returning to her gaze."It's not 'too much.' It's everything. But you're right- the party is a terrible idea. That place is going to be to social, and this?" She gestured to the painting. "This is a 'quiet Tuesday on the porch' kind of gift. They need to be allowed to fall apart when they see this, and Ethan... God, Annie, the way he looks at you already? This might actually take him out."
Annie looked down at her hands. "I just... I know what it's like to have no photos left. Since Mom passed, I keep thinking about how the Hawthorne's don't even have a blurry polaroid of him anymore. I don't want to be a 'hero,' I just want them to have him back."
Ellie walked over and slung a supportive arm around Annie's shoulders, mindful of her friend's fragile state.
"You're the humblest person I know, and it's actually annoying," Ellie teased, nudging her. "Listen to me. We wait until the day after the party. You take these over when the house is quiet. No crowd, no pressure. Just you, them, and Raymond."
Ellie glanced back at the painting of the man who shared Ethan's powerful build. "Besides, it gives you one more day to prepare yourself. Because once Ethan realizes you've been 'seeing' his father's face well enough to paint it from memory... he's going to be even more gone for you than he already is. And I know you're not ready for that '17-days-back' drama yet."
Annie blushed a deep crimson, her shy smile finally making a brief appearance. "Thanks, El."
Annie pulled the covers off the remaining two canvases, the sound of the fabric sliding against the wood floor echoing in her quiet room.
Ellie leaned in, her brown eyes narrowing as she studied the second painting. "Whoa," she breathed, her sharp wit momentarily silenced. "So that's Kia? I've only ever known her with that 'tired but elegant' mom-vibe. She looks... she looks like a movie star here."
The painting captured a younger Kia and Raymond in a moment of pure, cinematic bliss. Kia's short black hair was tucked under a delicate veil that spiraled out into the wind, the white lace translucent against a lush, nature-filled background. Annie had used fine strokes to blend the colors of Kia's eyes- that unique, shifting mix of brown, blue, and hazel, looking up at her husband with total adoration.
Young Raymond was leaner here, the tux fitting his broad frame with a sharp, youthful edge. He looked like the archetype of a man starting his life, strong and steady.
"I remember that photo sitting on their mantle," Annie said softly, her voice trailing off. "When I was little, I used to think they were royalty. I painted the flowers from memory- peonies and wild sage. It was the only thing the fire couldn't touch, because I could still see it when I closed my eyes."
Ellie moved to the third painting and let out a soft, genuine laugh. "Oh, stop. Look at those ears! Is that actually Ethan?"
The third canvas was a burst of sunlight and nostalgia. An eight-year-old Ethan stood on a vibrant green field, his small hand tucked into the crook of his father's arm.
They were wearing matching custom "Hawthorne" jerseys, the fabric rendered so realistically you could almost feel the polyester.
Little Ethan had the same striking black hair and green eyes he had now, though back then, his smile was gap-toothed and unburdened.
"He's his father's twin," Ellie remarked, her tone turning uncharacteristically somber. She'd only known the Hawthornes for a year- she'd heard of the charred remains of the house and seen the stoic way Ethan carried his grief, but she had never seen them like this. "I didn't know Raymond, Annie. But looking at these... I feel like I'm trespassing on something holy."
Annie hugged her elbows, looking smaller than usual. "Is it too much? Giving them back their wedding day and Ethan's childhood? I don't want them to look at these and only feel the loss. I want them to feel the... the 'having' part."
Ellie turned to her friend, her expression softening. She reached out and tucked a strand of Annie's black hair behind her ear. "Annie, you've been home for two weeks and you're still grieving your own mom. Most people would be hiding under their covers. Instead, you're out here performing literal miracles with a paintbrush."
She looked back at the painting of 8-year-old Ethan. "He's going to cry, you know. Big, ugly, broad-shouldered Hawthorne tears. And he's going to want to hold you."
Annie's blue eyes filled with a sudden, panicked light. "I can't. Not yet, El. I'm still... I'm still in pieces."
"I know," Ellie said, her voice firm and protective. "That's why we're doing this the day after the party. You hand over the memories, you give them a hug, and then I'm dragging you home for tea and silence. Deal?"
Annie let out a shaky breath, nodding. "Deal."