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“Okay…?”
“When I was in high school, I had dreams of studying abroad. And I did. I went to one of the finest schools in Venice. I was there for a few years. But when I came back, I never tried to paint like that again.”
He crossed his arms and frowned. “I still don’t understand, Lucy.”
It struck her as funny that he always called her Lucy; it sounded so formal. Most of her friends called her Luce. Then again, they hadn’t been friends that long, and she didn’t know him that well either. She felt vulnerable even telling him this, and now she could imagine how vulnerable he felt hearing her and the pastor tell him such wonderful things.
“Listen,” she told him. “People think art school makes them better. Sometimes it does, but in my experience, it didn’t. When people want to be trained to do things the ‘right way,’ a lot of times it makes them nervous and jittery and they worry about doing it wrong. It takes a bit of the art away.”
He still looked confused. Maybe he needed her to fill in the details.
“I had been away at school for three years, and I was doing a final project of Versailles. I’d re-created Versailles in Paris, and I thought it was the most beautiful painting. I went in to my instructor, and he took my painting and he threw it on the ground. He took some fresh paint, splashed it on the canvas, and said that I had to start from scratch and that I had to learn to do what he’d asked me to do. He wanted me to paint in a very trained way, following certain people. I left school that day, and I packed my things and came home. I was crushed.”
Raine frowned. “I’m so sorry.”
She sighed. “I’m not going to lie, it was tough. My parents, who were the most amazing people, were so concerned. My mother wanted me to re-create the painting just so she could see it, because I hadn’t taken a picture of it. After weeks of cajoling, I re-created this painting, and as they stood there looking at it, they said everything I’d wanted the professor to say. They gave me compliments and an overwhelming amount of praise. They told me how much I’d improved since I was young, and they pointed out all the cool things about my painting.”
Raine nodded and then sat back down. “But you couldn’t even feel their compliments because you already believed that you were horrible.”
Pain filled the center of her chest, and she slowly sat next to him. “Exactly. I couldn’t believe them because other important people in my life, people I thought should know my art and see how good I was, had told me I was horrible.”
Raine’s eyelashes fluttered, and he sucked in a long breath, then let it out slowly. “Lucy, for the first time, I get it. I get it.”
Lucy put her hand on top of his. She wasn’t quite sure what he got. “Raine, you gotta tell me what you’re thinking.” She grinned at him. “Because I know that’s a thinking face.”
Raine broke from his seriousness and let out a light chuckle. He stared into her eyes. “When I was young and I had different foster homes, some treated me terribly. Told me I was worthless and that no one wanted me. They locked me in closets and beat me. Some of them were better as I got older. They tried. But what I’m realizing right now is that it was too late, because I couldn’t believe they really cared about me. It’s like …” He snapped his fingers, and he started talking quickly. “Truman and I program things. I told you we invented the computer software that tracks the stock market and can track the algorithm of when to buy or sell something. But we had to create a code. And lots of times when you’re coding, you have to be really careful to get the code right, because if it’s not right, the whole program is messed up.”
“You had bad programming.”
Raine clapped his hands together. “I had bad programming.”
Her mind filled with epiphanies. “Oh my gosh. I had bad programming about my art, and you’ve had bad programming …”
“About my whole life. I had bad programming that I was a bad person, that I wasn’t worth anything. And then, when I heard you and Pastor Henry praising me, it just didn’t feel right.” He stood. Excitedly, he asked her, “This is what it means to be spiritually reborn, right?”
“I think so.”
Raine paced the deck. “Oh my gosh, the Lord was working a miracle in me, and right now, He is showing me that I am good. I can be good. I can be all of those things you guys are saying.” His voice broke, and his eyes became misty with tears.
Lucy stood and walked over to him, pulling him into a hug. “You are good, Raine.” She was crying now. The warmth of the spirit filled her. “You are good. And you were sent here. You were sent to South Port to help us just as much as we were put here to help you.”
Raine held her for a long time, then chuckled. He pulled back, and she saw a tear run down his cheek. “I’m a good person, and you’re a good artist.”
Lucy walked for a second, and then she realized that in their whole conversation about Raine and his insecurity and vulnerabilities, she’d easily pointed out to him that several of his problems were self-inflicted—but for her and Matt, that concept was much harder to accept.
Raine put one hand on her shoulder. “I want to see the painting of Versailles that you did for your parents.”
The intensity with which he asked made her want to run away. Her heart raced. “What? No.”
“Please, Lucy. Could I see that picture? Please? Are you brave enough to show me that painting? Just like I’m trying to be brave enough not to run away from this town—or from myself.”
Lucy put her hand on her head and then grinned at him. “Don’t you know I was on an errand to help you tonight? You’re not supposed to be the one trying to help me.”
“So can I?”
She sighed. “Not today, Raine. Give me a little time.”
A huge grin brightened his face. “Maybe after the wedding and all the drama with Matt.”
