Come Home - Part 1

Good Afternoon FFFs,
Oh, wait, you won't be reading this until Friday morning at the earliest. I am getting it ready to post on Wed. afternoon. You see, we will be in Wichita at the home-school convention staffing the Light of Faith booth. And, we won't have internet there, so I get to get this ready now.
This story didn't turn out to be one of my favorites. I think it was partly because of the instructions and who I was writing it for. I hope you don't think it is too bad.:)
I guess I just won't ramble on and on like sometimes I do because I've to other things to do. But, I did want to say Thank you, Abigail for you faithful comments. It is nice to know that at least one person is reading my stories.:)

Characters: Andrah's character-
Jessica is an artist residing and working in New York. She has always loved art and finds it easy to express herself through her work. After graduating from college with an art major, she opened up her pottery studio just outside New York City. At the age of twenty three she is satisfied that business is steady, and she has plenty of extra time to explore other interests. Hard working and with a love for learning she is destined to be a success.
Words: 5 pages
Instructions: modern artist 2010

Come Home
by
Rebekah M.

The sky was overcast and rain was falling steadily as Jessica Chang looked out the airport windows in Denver, Colorado. It was June, and she was returning from a three week trip to Los Angeles for an international arts festival. Sighing, she returned to her seat and snapped open her purse. After rummaging through it, she pulled out her pocket calendar and flipped through the pages. “Well,” she thought, “if the plane is grounded much longer, I’ll miss my appointment at Alaine Studios. I should give Linda a ring. Perhaps she can go.”
Quickly pulling out her phone she flipped it open and hit a number. In another moment someone answered. “Linda, it’s me. . . . Hey, it looks like I won’t be getting out of Denver for a while. . . . No, it’s a storm over Chicago or something. It doesn’t look bad here except for rain. . . . Yeah, . . . That’s why I was calling. Can you make the appointment? . . . I see. . . . What about Sonya? . . . Why don’t you. . . . I’ll let you know. Okay? . . . Yeah, real good. I’ll tell you about it later. Okay, see ya! Bye!” Tucking her phone back in her purse, she stood up, adjusting the strap of her carry-on on her shoulder.
“I guess I might as well walk around a bit.” She was of middle height, with dark, almond eyes and carried herself with an assured air. There was a poise about her that spoke of confidence and success. Graduating from a prestigious college and now an up-and-coming name in the pottery world at the age of twenty-three, Jessica had broadened her horizons with this trip to L.A.
Strolling slowly about the airport, Jessica glanced at the pictures hanging on the walls. One specifically caught her eye. It was a moonrise over some mountains and a nearly perfect reflection was in the lake below. The tips of the mountain peaks were glowing red in the light of a setting sun while the clear sky changed from deep blue to pale powder blue which merged to light salmon and then disappeared behind the hills in a pink flush. Across the mountainside, on slopes and in sheltered places, snow was to be seen helping to bring out the features of the mountain ridges more clearly.
For several minutes, Jessica stood before the picture as though mesmerized by its simple beauty. Something, somewhere seemed to be calling faintly to her: “Come home.” Giving herself a shake, the budding artist turned away from the picture. This was no time to get sentimental about home. Besides, she was far from her childhood home in Washington, in the Catskill mountains. Now her home was in New York. “I am going home as fast as I can get a plane to take me,” she muttered, moving across the room to a seat.

“At last,” Jessica sighed, several hours later, picking up her carry-on and edging her way down the aisle of the crowded plane towards the exit. Once out in the busy NYC airport, she edged away from the crowd and drew a deep breath. “Now for my luggage and finding Linda or Sonya.” Her dark eyes brightened and she flipped back her black hair and glanced around. “Nearly home!” As the words flashed through her mind, so did that picture in the Denver airport.
Decidedly, she tipped her chin up, threw her shoulders back and strode to claim her luggage. But that picture wouldn’t leave her, neither would the words: come home. “What is the matter with me?” Jessica frowned.
“Lose your luggage?” a familiar voice questioned teasingly.
Jessica whirled around. “Sonya!”
The friends embraced warmly.
“So, did they lose it?” Sonya repeated.
“What, my luggage? No, it’s here. Let’s go.”
“Then what were you scowling about?” Sonya persisted as the two girls, each with a piece of luggage, made their way out of the air terminal.
Jessica shrugged. “Oh, I was just remembering a picture I saw in Denver. So, did you or Linda get to Alaine Studios for me?”
Sonya grinned as she popped open the trunk and lifted the first suitcase in. “Yeah.”
“Well,” prompted Jessica, eyeing her friend’s face curiously, “what did they say? And which of you went?”
The trunk shut with a click and Jessica slid into the front seat next to Sonya.
“Linda’s making supper tonight, but she said we had to stop and pick up some french bread. Mind?”
Jessica shook her head. Why wasn’t Sonya telling her anything? “Come on, Son, what happened,” she begged.
Sonya shook her head, continuing to grin. “Have to wait till supper.”
“Oh, you!” Jessica groaned. “Was this your idea or Lin’s? And don’t look so innocent!”
Sonya burst into laughter, and in a moment, Jessica had joined in.

“Welcome home, traveler!” Linda greeted Jessica with a warm hug. “I see you made it safely after all. Supper will be ready in ten minutes, so you just have time to clean up.”
As Jessica carried her luggage to her room, the words ‘come home’ echoed over and over again in her mind. In vain she told herself that she was home. Still they persisted in their call. Hurriedly she kicked off her travel shoes, tossed her jacket on the bed, ran a brush through her hair and unclasping her necklace, dropped it on her dresser before returning to her friends in the kitchen.
“Now,” she exclaimed as the lasagna, french bread and salad were vanishing off of the cute square plates, “what happened at Alaine Studios?”
Sonya glanced over at Linda, “You tell her.”
With a smile, Linda began, “Well, to begin with, they really liked your pottery. But they like your little bead necklaces even more, and when you added beads to that bag you made, well, you’d better get busy making more because they just ordered two hundred!”
For a moment Jessica stared at her friend, her fork poised halfway to her mouth. “What?” she managed at last to gasp out.
Both Linda and Sonya nodded. “And, they didn’t bat an eye at the price.”
Jessica dropped her fork, not noticing the salad that was now in her lap. “I just can’t believe it. They really think they will sell? After all these years! And I thought I was good at pottery.” Her voice was bewildered.
“You are good at that,” Sonya put in, “it’s just that you’re better at making bags with beads on them. I mean, if I could make those things, I wouldn’t be spending such long hours painting, though I do love it,” she added.
For several minutes Jessica just sat in stunned silence staring at nothing while her friends watched her with delighted smiles. Her dream of becoming one of the popular designer artists seemed a reality. What would her mother and uncle think of her? She was a success! Her name, Jessica Chang, would soon be known among the designer sphere. Life just now, was perfect.
“Come home.”
Abruptly she straightened up. “What did you say?”
Linda and Sonya looked puzzled. “We didn’t say anything. You must be imagining things.”
Shaking her head as though to clear the cobwebs, Jessica laughed. “I must be. This news has done something to me.”
“Well, I hope it doesn’t make you forget how to make those bags,” Sonya giggled.
Smiling, Jessica assured them it hadn’t.
Talking incessantly, as girls will when they have been apart for any length of time, the trio finished supper and cleaned up the kitchen. Jessica told her friends all about the art festival and then Linda and Sonya told her all the home news. It was rather late before the three girls turned in for the night.
As Jessica lay in her bed staring wide eyed at the ceiling, thinking of all the things that had happened in the last few days, that picture from the airport and its accompanying words kept flitting through her mind at odd moments. She couldn’t seem to get rid of them. In vain she told herself that she was home, that she was done with her past life in Washington forever. Still the words and picture haunted her.
When at last she drifted off to sleep, it was only to find herself walking in the old places she had loved so well as a child, and when she woke up she could still see the picture. Why were those thoughts bothering her? Maybe she just needed to call Mom. She would do that later this morning. On deciding that, she sprang from bed and dressed.

To be concluded next week. Will you be back?