Chapter 7: Savannah, Blank Page

The train rumbled on, metal wheels echoing the steady beat of my heart: moving on, moving on. The scenery changed—golden fields, pine forests, small towns. The train finally arrived in Savannah, sunlight pouring through the glass roof, Spanish moss draping the trees outside.

I found a lakeside inn, the room small but bright, with a quilt on the bed and a porch overlooking the water. I took my drawing board and wandered out to the lake. The air was thick with magnolias, the water glassy and peaceful. But every time I tried to paint, my hand froze. Recovery was hard. Most days, I just watched the light change across the water, waiting for inspiration.

One afternoon, a group of students came to sketch. Their laughter was infectious, easels scattered along the shore. I watched, envious of their freedom, sitting quietly at the edge of the group.

The teacher walked among the students, offering gentle comments. Chalk dust floated in the air, sunlight slanting through the trees. My palms sweated as he approached. Memories of art class anxiety rushed back—Annie praised for her natural style, me told my work was lifeless. The only one who ever praised me was Ethan—until he didn’t.

The teacher drew closer. I held my breath, bracing for criticism. He laughed, “Lauren, don’t you recognize me?”

I looked up, squinting, and realized it was Ben Foster. He was older, more lined around the eyes, but the smile was the same. I remembered he was from Savannah. “I brought students here to sketch. What about you? What brings you here?”

He sat beside me, gaze gentle. I didn’t know how to answer. “It’s okay,” Ben said, still as patient as ever. Annie, Ben, and I were classmates for just one semester, before life pulled us in different directions. He always seemed to move at his own pace.

He waved his phone. “You on Instagram?”

As soon as we added each other, he sent me a location—coordinates, a little map, paintbrush emojis. “We’re going to the old town the day after tomorrow. Where are you staying? I’ll come pick you up.”

For the first time in forever, I let myself hope. Maybe in this city, I could finally paint something just for me.