Broken (4 page)

She was glad her gran hadn’t been around to see the mess she’d made of things though, at least that was one thing she could be grateful for. That her grandparents weren’t around to witness just what a failure she had become. She brushed those thoughts aside as she heard Ms. Thompson returning down the hallway. She’d made it a point not to fall apart in front of anyone, never let the world see her pain.

“Here you are.” The old lady returned carrying a white box with an apple on top. Kerry took a step back as her heart sank.

“Oh Ms. Thompson I really couldn’t. Do you know how much those things cost?” She’d been expecting a low-end model at the most, but not this.

“Who cares how much the fool thing cost, what good is it just sitting there catching dust? Now you take it and put it to good use.” She took the offering with her heart racing away in her chest. Somehow she felt as if she was standing on a precipice. It was all so unreal.

“Well, is there something I can do for you?”

“Not a blessed thing child, my children see to my upkeep. It’s the least they can do after all my years of hard work raising the little heathens.” She sniffed and Kerry realized for the first time that what she had perceived as nosiness was just the woman’s penchant for straight talking. After the hell that was her life it was a breath of fresh air to be given it straight.

“I still want to do something for you this is very generous of you.” She looked down at the box in her hand in wonder.

“That’s the problem with you young people, always thinking everything comes with a price. An act of kindness is just that, nothing more.”

“Thank you Ms. Thompson this is, this is wonderful thanks.”

“I figure you could do with a bit of kindness after all that nonsense. I hope you’re not losing any sleep over those so-called friends of yours that scattered to the enemy camp. Not the one of them is worth a second

thought. Now what is it you mean to do with this fool thing?” She pointed her finger at the box like it was a snake getting ready to strike.

Oh boy, this was the hard part. She wasn’t quite ready to share her secret with anyone and especially not the town gossip, but the other woman had been so kind how could she not?

“I think I’ll try my hand at writing.” She held her breath as she waited for the scoff or the lecture about finding something more constructive to do with her time.

“There any money in that?” Ms. Thompson squinted at her over the half glasses she wore on the tip of her nose.

“I think so, if you’re any good at it.”

“Are you any good?”

Kerry fidgeted a bit under the scrutiny.

“I think so, but I haven’t really done any writing in a while. Paul didn’t think it was worthwhile.”

“Paul’s a jackass. Well he’s not in your life anymore so you’re free to do whatever the heck you want ain’t you?”

“Yes ma’am.” That sounded so easy.

“Well then get to it. I want the first autographed copy of your book when it’s ready. Now be off with you, go get to your writing I have to take my morning nap before my stories start.”

“Yes ma’am and if you think of anything I can do for you please don’t hesitate to ask. I don’t have a house phone as yet but as soon as I get one I’ll love to exchange numbers…”

“Why don’t you have a phone?”

“Um, I can’t really afford one right now.” Her cheeks heated up with shame and she felt tears prick her eyes again. Just about every teenager in the country had a cell phone and here she was a once married woman and she couldn’t afford a landline.

“Are you telling me that that jackass skinned you in the divorce?” The old woman’s chest puffed up like she was ready to explode.

She didn’t bother to answer, what was there to say? At least she didn’t need Internet service to write, and now because of Ms. Thompson’s generosity she could write to her heart’s content.

“It’s nothing really Ms. Thompson, I’ll be fine. I have a little money put away, I just don’t want to waste it on anything unless it’s necessary.” Yes, because I have to do things like eat and keep that leaky roof over my head.

“It’s Lucille, you can call me Lucille. You go on and get to your writing I’ll see you when I see you. Wait a minute you have food don’t you?”

“Yes, thank you-I do.” She made a hasty retreat after that, too embarrassed to hang around. She looked around for Mr. Hottie but he was nowhere in sight.

Kerry almost smiled for the first time in months at the memory of him. It had been quite some time since she’d felt that little spark of interest, now she had two things to get her juices flowing; the hot new guy in town, and her stories.

There was nothing wrong with admiring his handsome self from afar. And though she had no real interest, at least it was good to know she could still feel; she wasn’t dead. She hurried back in the direction she’d come less than an hour ago with new purpose and a weight lifted off her shoulders.

She was still going to have to visit the library at some point, but thankfully not today. She could put off her walk of shame for one more day.

Chapter 3

***

B
ack at the little apartment she opened the windows to let in some air. There was no air conditioning and she wouldn’t have used it if there were one, because she couldn’t really afford to waste money on the electric bill.

She’d barely made it out of the divorce with a few thousand dollars, money she’d squirrelled away each month to plan for a trip. Money, Paul knew nothing about or she was sure he’d have taken that as well.

Every time she thought of the injustice of it, she got really sad or really mad. The fact that someone who had once proclaimed undying love for her could do such a horrible thing to her left her cold and afraid. The world truly was a scary place.

She had a sudden flash of Kyle and the way he’d looked down at her. She wondered what kind of man he was. She knew better than to judge a book by its cover, look at what the boy next door had done to her life. But there had to be some kind of story there, what with all the tats and that bike.

She actually found herself daydreaming about him as she sat there recalling that little zing when his hands had touched her skin. Lucille was right.

It sure did feel like sparks. She ran her hand over the spot before reality struck back.

It was never too far these days, always nipping at her heels that self-doubt. As usual, after each high she had to face the low, but she was getting better at it. She knew that when this bout of melancholy passed, she had her writing to look forward to, so she let her mind go where it wanted for now.

It was the same every day almost verbatim. Her mind would list everything that was wrong with her life, all her limitations. There were more stumbling blocks in her way than she cared to count. But today, there was something else to worry and gnaw over. Like writing was all fine and well, but it wasn’t going to pay the bills. Not for a long time if ever, if she wasn’t good enough to get published. And the fact that she wasn’t qualified for anything more than a waitressing job, and there was nothing available in the little town.

She’d need a vehicle to drive to the nearest city forty-five minutes away since there was no public transportation, and for a car you’d need insurance. Paul had removed her from all their insurance policies at about the same time he’d cancelled her credit cards and transferred all the money from their joint account.

She had no vehicle and no means of transportation, no way of getting around. They’d only ever had the one car since the old second hand one she’d bought years ago had given out not long before the marriage had.

Looking back, she realized that she was as much to blame as Paul and Jenny. She was the one who’d made the choice after all, to give up her own identity so that he could become the great surgeon he’d always wanted to be. She was the trusting fool who’d put all her eggs in one basket and given her care and livelihood over to the snake that was her ex.

It wasn’t easy accepting her part in her own demise, but it was part of healing she supposed. Instead of shying away from reality as she had been doing, maybe it was time to take it all out and look at it for what it was. It was time to stop sugar coating things and remembering them the way she’d wanted them to be instead of the way they really were.

Maybe Ms. Lucille was right. Maybe the divorce had been a blessing in disguise. And maybe one day that thought might make her feel better. For now she chose to shove it aside before it had time to overshadow the rest of her day. As far as her mind was concerned, it was her biggest failure.

She looked around at her little rinky-dink apartment and sighed with relief that her first outing hadn’t been the disaster she’d expected. Now with the morning’s flagellation out of the way, she gave free rein to the excitement that had been bubbling just under the surface from the second that little white box had been placed in her hands.

Dropping her bag on the floor, she placed her new best friend on the table and headed into the kitchen. Grabbing a cold cup of coffee, she sat at the little broken down table and fished one of her stories

out of the box, ready to transfer the words from paper to machine.

She read the little booklet that came with the computer and was a little flummoxed to find that she needed Internet connection to set the thing up. “Well crap.” That was a little disconcerting after the high she’d been feeling only a minute ago. Then she remembered that there might be a way.

A few months back the new mayor had made a big deal over the fact that he’d single handedly brought Internet service to their little backwoods haven. She knew a little bit about free wireless connections so she searched around for one in the area and lucked out. That brought her second real smile of the day. They were coming easier now than they had in a long time.

She went through the mess of setting up a free trial with one of the better word programs and fought back the dread of what would happen when that trial was up. Today seemed to be the day she was finally ready to put one foot forward, because even that thought didn’t nag at her for too long.

Running her hands lovingly over the keys, she said a quick silent prayer that whatever came of this would be for her good. She could do with some good. In the end she decided to forego the older stories for the one she’d started the day before and was soon lost once again in her reawakened passion.

She sat there for hours just tapping away, the joy of creating coming back to her with every word. She didn’t feel the hours go by, didn’t feel the crick in

her neck or the hunger that made her stomach growl.

Words poured out of her as if they’d just been waiting there beneath the surface for release. When she started seeing the story unfold in her mind’s eye, sucking her in, the characters coming to life on more than just paper, she knew she was on the right track.

She wasn’t thinking about making it rich, she wasn’t that delusional. But at least here was something that could take her away from herself if even for a little while, and she reveled in it.

She was startled back to the present by the loud banging on the door. “Who could that be?” Her first thought was that it was Paul coming back for her. He’d come to his senses and realized he’d made a huge mistake and wanted her to come home. Her heart raced for the first five seconds before she scolded herself for being a spineless ninny.

She pulled the door open and almost tripped over her feet. “You, what are you doing here?” He lifted a bag in the air that smelt like heaven.

“Ms. Lucille was worried about you so she asked me to run this over.” He didn’t wait for an invite just walked right in and placed the bag he was carrying on the table next to the computer.

“Come on in.” She said facetiously, which he ignored.

“Don’t mind if I do.” He started reading what she’d written until she rushed across the room and folded the laptop closed.

“Hey.” Her face was ten shades of red and she avoided making eye contact.

“Pretty steamy. I’m under strict orders to make sure you eat so let’s go.” Thank heaven he didn’t embarrass her by mentioning what he’d read. She well remembered the last words she’d tapped out on the screen. Crud!

“I’m not hungry right now, I was just getting into the groove of things.”

“I can see that.” He smirked at her and she could’ve kicked her own ass for opening up that door. He took pity on her though and dropped it.

“You been at this thing since this morning?”

“Yes so?”

“Eat.” He took the containers out of the bag and went into the kitchen for cutlery. Kerry could do nothing but watch, mouth open, as he took over her house. He asked her where stuff was and she had to clear her muddled brain to answer as she stood just where he’d left her as if transfixed.

She was reminded once again of just what a gorgeous man he was. Her cheeks heated up as she realized why it was that she had been able to picture the story she’d been in the middle of writing so vividly. Oh crud, it was him. She’d somehow subconsciously superimposed his image over that of the hero in her tale.

He moved around the room like poetry in motion, opening drawers and reaching up for plates, while she stood transfixed taking it all in. Oh yeah, he was most certainly who she was picturing while writing those hot steamy scenes.

Her eyes widened in self-deprecation. She hoped he hadn’t seen the description of the character. She’d just die on the spot of sheer humiliation. She calmed down only when she reassured herself that those words had been written hours ago and were no longer visible on the screen.

She tried to keep her eyes above the belt so to speak but the man sure did something wondrous to a pair of jeans. She couldn’t decide which was better the front or the back. And what are you doing Kerryanne?

She turned her head quickly when he returned from the kitchen after rattling around in her drawers. He brought in two plates and set them down on the table. That brought her out of her reverie quick.

“Wait, you’re staying?”

“Yep, what do you have to drink?”

“Um.” She was a little embarrassed as she tried to rack her brain to remember if she had anything other than coffee or tea.

“I haven’t been to the store yet this week sorry. I do have coffee if you’d like.”

“Don’t sweat it we’ll have coffee after. Eat up, Lucille makes a mean lasagna.” He plated two heaping helpings for both of them before taking a seat. She had no choice but to follow, and the food did smell amazing.

She dug in and didn’t realize how hungry she was until the savory meal hit her stomach. “Wow this is really good.”

“Told you. Here, have some of this bread.” He broke off a piece of the mouth watering homemade garlic bread and held it out for her. Sparks flew again when their fingers brushed against each other and she pulled back quickly with the warm bread in her hand.

Their eyes met and held and she warned herself not to fall for his perfect face and movie star physique. She was nowhere near his league, and besides, there was no way she was going to ever risk her heart again.

You can always just have a wild torrid affair and keep your heart out of it. Her mind teased. If only she was made that way. “So how long have you known Ms. Lucille?” That was safe enough and kept her mind from travelling too far into the gutter even if her voice did sound like a drowning squirrel.

“Pretty much since I was a kid, we use to come here a lot back then, but then life got in the way and my family hasn’t been here since I was like thirteen.” He took a bite of food and her eyes followed his every move. Pitiful! He even chewed pretty.

Paul always ate like it was his last meal and someone was standing over him to snatch his plate. Dammit why are you comparing? You will not go there. She scolded her wayward mind. Good, now that that’s settled.

“Oh, she told me about your grandmother I’m so sorry for your loss. Was she ill for a long time?”

“Not really no, she was eighty-three, started suffering from Alzheimer’s in the last few years. We wanted to put her in a home but my grandpa was against that so we had someone come to the house instead. She just passed peacefully at home in her sleep. Now I’m trying to talk grandpa into moving back with me but he’s not budging.”

“I’m sorry, I’ve been so caught up in my own life I had no idea any of this had been going on. Your grandparents were really nice when I was growing up.” They had been, like most small town lifers, the neighborly type who knew everyone and was always friendly.

“Yeah, they’re salt of the earth types, married sixty two years and never spent a day apart, not since my grandpa came back from the war anyway.” He seemed proud of that fact as he forked more noodles and meat in his mouth. Meat! Oh dear heavens Kerry what the hell is wrong with you? She cleared her throat and took a sip of water.

“Wow that’s amazing, you don’t find love like that anymore that’s for sure.” She thought of her own failed attempt before squashing the memory. Hey even that was getting easier.

“I don’t know about that, my mom and dad have been at it for thirty five years and they’re still going strong.”

“Huh, lucky them.”

“A bit jaded are we? That sounds kind of ominous for someone who’s writing steamy love stories.”

Her cheeks heated up again at the reminder. “That’s just fiction, everything looks better on paper.”

“If you really believe that-that’s sad.”

“Okay then what’s your story? Where’s your wife?” Mr. Know it all. He studied her for a long time before answering.

“I don’t have one as yet.”

“What you haven’t met anyone to hold your interest?” She all but dared him with her eyes. Since when do you ask a complete stranger his personal business Kerryanne? Geez, maybe the writing has gotten to you. She wasn’t usually that forward with anyone, in fact she was more the silent type. The one who kept quiet when things were going on around her; never wanting to make waves. Well look where that got me? Nowhere.

“We’ll see.” It took her a minute to remember what it was they were talking about and when she did she ducked her head and went back to eating. The look he gave her left no mistake as to his meaning but she’d been down that slippery slope once already and had no intention on going for another ride. Especially not with someone that looked like him; he was the poster boy for Player’s R’Us. No way no how! Besides, they’d only just met a few hours ago. The man was crazy.