The Twelve Days of Stella (Part 12)

The twelfth (and final) installment in the Twelve Days of Stella, in which Stella has dinner with the family. Now all of you who have been waiting until the entire story was posted (cough, Melody, cough) can read it all at once. Here are the links to the previous installments:

• The Twelve Days of Stella (Part 1)
• The Twelve Days of Stella (Part 2)
• The Twelve Days of Stella (Part 3)
• The Twelve Days of Stella (Part 4)
• The Twelve Days of Stella (Part 5)
• The Twelve Days of Stella (Part 6)
• The Twelve Days of Stella (Part 7)
• The Twelve Days of Stella (Part 8)
• The Twelve Days of Stella (Part 9)
• The Twelve Days of Stella (Part 10)
• The Twelve Days of Stella (Part 11)

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“What did you girls do today?” Stella’s stepmom, Valerie, asked as she passed the bowl of tzatziki.

Stella stifled a laugh when Phoebe’s cheeks turned bright pink. Though she usually took every opportunity to find pleasure in her stepsister’s embarrassing powers mishaps, tonight she was in a generous mood. Rather than sit back and let Phoebe flounder, Stella spoke up.

“I started painting again,” she said as she spooned a helping of the tangy yogurt sauce onto her plate. “Until this afternoon I hadn’t painted since my mother passed.”

A look of sympathy passed over Valerie’s face, indicating that she knew the significance of today’s date. For a moment Stella was afraid she would offer some apology or empathy or something equally pity-induced, but then her gaze shift over Stella’s shoulder and her face lit up.

“Did you paint that?” she asked, her voice full of awe.

Dipping a small piece of bread into the tzatziki, Stella nodded.

When she’d finally declared the work finished and started clearing off the table for dinner, she’d set her painting on the buffet behind her chair. She was pleased with the result—a shower of bright colors against a plaster white background. It captured the moment perfectly.

“It’s marvelous,” Daddy declared. “Such vibrant colors.”

“Very abstract,” Valerie added. “What is it?”

Stella smiled. “A rainbow of fruit flavors.”

Daddy and Valerie frowned in confusion. Phoebe sucked in a quick breath. And, because she was feeling particularly cheeky, Stella made Skittles rain down from above. (After she drew a protective shield over their heads and their dinner, of course—she did not want a repeat of her earlier scalp wound.)

“What on earth?” Daddy scowled at the candy downpour.

Valerie gasped. “Phoebe!”

“It wasn’t me this time,” she insisted. “I swear.”

“This time?” Valerie echoed.

When Daddy raised his hands to stop the cascade, nothing happened. He might be a very powerful hematheos, but Stella knew a few tricks. With one swipe of her hand she froze every Skittle where it hung.

“I did it,” she announced. Then, with a glance at Phoebe, added, “This time.”

Stella popped the tzatziki-covered bread into her mouth and made the hovering Skittles disappear.

Nine years ago, she would never have guessed that she could be happy on this date, this anniversary. She would never guessed that she would find herself painting again. And, most of all, she would never have guessed that she would find contentment in a collaged family. But somehow all of those things had happened. Her mother would be pleased.

Plus, she had a full jar of Skittles waiting on her desk.

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This was the (sniff, sniff) last installment of The Twelve Days of Stella. If you enjoyed this special, blog-only short story then let me know. I might do more of these in the future, but only if you want them!

And now, back to our regularly scheduled blog programming.

Hugs,
TLC

The Twelve Days of Stella (Part 11)

The eleventh installment in the Twelve Days of Stella, in which Stella chooses red and yellow. If you missed the previous installments, here are the links:

• The Twelve Days of Stella (Part 1)
• The Twelve Days of Stella (Part 2)
• The Twelve Days of Stella (Part 3)
• The Twelve Days of Stella (Part 4)
• The Twelve Days of Stella (Part 5)
• The Twelve Days of Stella (Part 6)
• The Twelve Days of Stella (Part 7)
• The Twelve Days of Stella (Part 8)
• The Twelve Days of Stella (Part 9)
• The Twelve Days of Stella (Part 10)

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“Hey Stella, are you—?” Phoebe burst into the dining room. “Whoa.”

Stella didn’t look up from her canvas. Dipping her brush into the bright red paint on her palette, she lifted it to the painting and made a swirling motion with her wrist. An imperfect oval formed among the dozens she had already painted.

“Did you want something, Phoebe?”

“Yeah, I—“ Phoebe shook her head. “I thought you said you didn’t paint.”

Stella added another red oval.

“Oh yeah,” Phoebe said. “Hesper wanted me to ask you to clear the table for dinner. I don’t know how she knew you were in here, though,” she continued. “I was sitting right there in the living room the whole time and never heard you.”

Stella shrugged. “Hesper has the sixth sense.”

“Duh.”

“Tell her I’ll be done in a few minutes.” Swishing her brush in the jar of murky water, she washed off the red and then took a swipe of yellow. “I’ll set the table when I’m finished.”

“Okay,” Phoebe said, stepping closer to get a better look at the painting. “This is beautiful, Stella. Really.”

She pretended the compliment didn’t matter—just continued making brightly colored ovals on the canvas—but deep down it felt good. Her stomach had been a flutter of nerves since she laid the first brushstroke. No artist can truly judge her own work, so what she thought was a lovely composition might look horrendous to the rest of the world.

Not that the rest of the world mattered to her—this was purely personal—but it was still nice to hear the praise.

After Phoebe left the room to deliver her message to Hesper, Stella whispered, “Thank you.”

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Tune in tomorrow for the next (and final) installment. [Part 12]

Hugs,
TLC

The Twelve Days of Stella (Part 10)

The tenth installment in the Twelve Days of Stella, in which Stella finds a box. If you missed the previous installments, here are the links:

• The Twelve Days of Stella (Part 1)
• The Twelve Days of Stella (Part 2)
• The Twelve Days of Stella (Part 3)
• The Twelve Days of Stella (Part 4)
• The Twelve Days of Stella (Part 5)
• The Twelve Days of Stella (Part 6)
• The Twelve Days of Stella (Part 7)
• The Twelve Days of Stella (Part 8)
• The Twelve Days of Stella (Part 9)

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After searching the basement for twenty minutes, Stella finally found the boxes labeled MAYA. As she brushed off the layer of dust that had accumulated in the last nine years she wondered what treasures her father had packed away. The label on the first box read: MAYA—DRESSER. Her mom’s clothes and jewelry.

Stella started to drift into memories of playing dress-up in brightly colored dresses and costume jewelry, but pulled herself back into the moment. She was here with a purpose.

After setting aside the first three boxes, she found the one she wanted. MAYA—ART.

Hefting the box off the floor, Stella autoported upstairs into the dining room. She could hear Troy and Phoebe in the living room. Rather than venture into the kitchen for a knife, she neofactured one and sliced open the box.

She found a wealth of art supplies. Brushes tied up in a canvas pouch. Rags and sponges for texturing. A tackle box full of half-squeezed paint tubes, sketching pencils, gum erasers, and dozens of other tools.

It smelled like her mom.

The only thing not in the box was a blank canvas. Since she was not about to paint over one of her mom’s works, she neofactured one of those, as well.

Though it had been years since she attempted anything more artistic than an intricate hairstyle, as Stella laid the contents of the box across the table it felt like yesterday her mom had first taught her how to mix her own colors. Pulling the tubes of acrylic paint from the bottom of the tackle box, she paused when her hands brushed over a scrap of parchment.

Stella knew what it would say before she read it.

What would life be if we had no courage to attempt anything?
—Vincent van Gogh

Her mother’s favorite quote.

She placed it next to the blank canvas, where it could inspire her as she sought the courage to attempt her first painting without her mother’s guidance.

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Tune in tomorrow for the next installment. [Part 11]

Hugs,
TLC

The Twelve Days of Stella (Part 9)

The ninth installment in the Twelve Days of Stella, in which Stella hugs her dad. If you missed the previous installments, here are the links:

• The Twelve Days of Stella (Part 1)
• The Twelve Days of Stella (Part 2)
• The Twelve Days of Stella (Part 3)
• The Twelve Days of Stella (Part 4)
• The Twelve Days of Stella (Part 5)
• The Twelve Days of Stella (Part 6)
• The Twelve Days of Stella (Part 7)
• The Twelve Days of Stella (Part 8)
  

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Without saying a word, Stella stepped over to her father and slipped her arms around his waist. His arms came around her shoulders, wrapping her in a warm, safe place.

“I’m so sorry, Daddy,” she said, ignoring her tears. “I can’t believe I forgot what today was.”

“It’s all right,” he replied, hugging her tight before leaning back. “Your mother would not want us spending our days, our years mourning her. She was too much of a vibrant, vivacious woman to wish us anchored to the past.”

Stella forced a watery smile. “I know.” An awkward laugh bubbled out. “She would probably want us to forget the date altogether.”

“Doubtless,” he agreed. “But she would appreciate the fact that we will not.”

For several long moments, they stood there—hand-in-hand—gazing at the simple white headstone and lost in their own memories. Stella’s focused on painting the mural. If she closed her eyes, she could imagine herself sitting on the floor of her room, surrounded by pots of paint laid out on a spatter-covered dropcloth. Her mother would paint the basic shape and then let Stella paint in the details.

Even when it looked wretched, she never went back and corrected Stella’s work.

“I’ve been thinking,” she said before she realized what she was going to say. “I’d like to start painting again.”

His hand squeezed hers tighter. “I think that is a marvelous idea.”

She swallowed over the tightness in her throat. “Are her art supplies still—“

“In a box in the basement. Yes, of course.” He gave her one of his knowing smiles. “I always hoped you would resume painting one day. You loved it so much.”

“I did, didn’t I?”

Finally, she felt the melancholy that had plagued her all day begin to lift. It should feel odd that her mood would lighten while she attended her mother’s grave, but it didn’t. Not when it would make her mother smile.

Stella smiled, too.

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Tune in tomorrow for the next installment. [Part 10]

Hugs,
TLC

The Twelve Days of Stella (Part 8)

Happy New Year!

Also, the eighth installment in the Twelve Days of Stella, in which Stella eats some Skittles. If you missed the previous installments, here are the links:

• The Twelve Days of Stella (Part 1)
• The Twelve Days of Stella (Part 2)
• The Twelve Days of Stella (Part 3)
• The Twelve Days of Stella (Part 4)
• The Twelve Days of Stella (Part 5)
• The Twelve Days of Stella (Part 6)
• The Twelve Days of Stella (Part 7)
  

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“Troy!” Phoebe squealed as he and Stella walked through the front door. Then she noticed Stella behind him and frowned.

If Troy noticed her questioning look, Stella noted, he ignored it and flopped onto the sofa next to her. “Hey Phoebes.”

“Omigods,” Phoebe said, apparently forgetting her confusion. “You will never believe what I accidentally did today.”

As she explained the incident to Troy, Stella glanced around the room, confirming that there had been no Skittles recurrence in her absence. The thought reminded Stella of the jar on her desk, and she held back a smile.

“I’ll be in my room,” she announced, although she was quite certain neither of them would take notice if she autoported herself to New Guinea. Stella hated feeling like an outsider. She suddenly wished Adara had not gone home for the winter holiday.

She would just have to console herself with Skittles.

Pulling the door shut behind her, Stella kicked off her ballet slippers, grabbed the jar of candy, and sank into her crisp white armchair. As she sat there, popping Skittle after Skittle (wondering whether a single candy would be called a Skittle or a Skittles) and gazing at the quartet of portraits on her bed, a flash of light drew her attention to the door.

When she went to inspect, she found a folded sheet of notebook paper on the floor. Scowling, she snatched it up and read the messily scribbled note inside.

You’ll find it, you know. Your passion.
You just have to keep an open mind.
—T

Stella blinked rapidly at the note until the words started to blur. It took a moment to realize there were tears in her eyes. Why was she being so emotional today? It wasn’t just Troy’s sweet note—Phoebe did have good taste in friends—because she’d felt this way all day. Crying over the thought of leaving for college, over her mother’s paintings—

Her gaze fell on the paintings and she instantly knew.

How could she have forgotten? She was a truly horrible daughter. Today was the anniversary of her mother’s death. And she hadn’t remembered.

Before she could blink Stella was standing in the little cemetery on the east edge of the island, in front of her mother’s grave. She was only more surprised to find her father already standing there.

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Tune in tomorrow for the next installment. [Part 9]

Hugs,
TLC