Pieces of My Heart (22 page)

“
My
father?”

“Yeah.” His eyes sketched my face as his fingers twisted with mine. “You’re sort of incredible, you know that?”

I didn’t, but he seemed to believe it and that was more than enough for me.

“I’ll go hop in the shower.” He tossed his head toward the bathroom and dark hair fell into his eyes.

My fingers itched to touch it and I surrendered, combing it away from his forehead. Reveling in the fact that he was mine to touch. “And I’ll go grab some breakfast with your mom. Take your time.”

There was love and appreciation in his smile, but there was apprehension, too. He wasn’t sure I could do this. Neither was I. But I was going to try my hardest.

***

“Something smells good.” I followed my nose into the kitchen to find Mrs. Parks standing over a sizzling skillet.

“Frying bacon.” The glass smile she offered looked ready to shatter at the slightest disturbance. “No better smell in the world. Is Caulder up yet?”

“I think he’s in the shower.” Settling in at the kitchen table, I watched her flip a few slices and listened to the hiss of grease.
“Mrs. Parks?”

“What is it, sweetie?”

There really was no good way to say it. So I just said it. “Caulder got a message from his dad this morning.”

She drew a deep breath in through her nose and carefully placed the spatula on the counter beside her stove. “I see. Was he . . . was he angry?”

One shoulder lifted in a half shrug. “Maybe. A little. Mostly I think he’s just . . . confused. I don’t think he really knows how to feel about him.”

“That’s understandable.” Reclaiming her utensil, she lifted the pan and shifted the fragrant breakfast meat onto a plate. “Thank you for telling me. I’ll call my . . . husband and see that it doesn’t happen again.”

“Are you sure that’s what you want?” I had to force the words through my rapidly tightening throat. My life was in shambles. Who was I to be offering advice to anyone about anything? But I’d promised Caulder I’d try.

“What do you mean?” Sitting across from me with her eggs and bacon, she slid a second dish in my direction.

“I just mean . . . well . . . . he’s your husband. And Caulder’s dad. I’m not exactly the man’s biggest fan, but . . . I don’t know. You have no reason to forgive him. I’m not sure I could. But I just . . . I don’t want to see you make a decision because you’re mad or hurt, and regret it later.” There. I’d said it. Maybe not the most eloquent speech ever made, but I’d gotten my point across.

Mrs. Parks leaned over the small wooden table and placed her hand over the one I was using to tap my fork rapidly against the side of my plate. “That’s really good advice. You’re a very wise young lady. But Sam and I . . . it’s not about forgiveness. I have forgiven him in many ways. Maybe not in all, but at least I understand where he’s coming from. I’m not angry with him. Sam was . . .”

With a sigh that sounded more nostalgic than sad, she pulled back. “He was the love of my life. He was someone I could have happily loved my whole life. But . . . I guess it’s true what they say. That ignorance is bliss. You can’t really know a person until you’ve faced the worst with them. When . . . when I saw the real Sam, let’s just say I didn’t like what I saw very much. You and Cal, you’re lucky in a way. You’ve seen each other at your worst. You’re so young, and yet you know each other better than I knew the man I was married to for twenty-five years.”

“We . . . uh . . .” When had this become about Cal and I? How did she even know there
was
a Cal and I?

“Honey.” She smiled with that mind reader ability she’d passed on to her sons. “I’m not blind. I see the way he looks at you. The way he’s
always
looked at you. I know my son. I know he keeps things bottled up inside. I know he’s lets them eat at him. He was letting them devour him. Until
you
. You can reach him in a way that I never could, in a way that he needs to be reached. You were there for K-Kiernan,” tears pooled in her eyes and I felt an answering sting in my own, “when he was afraid. When he needed you. And now . . . now you’re here for Caulder when he needs you. And you’re here for me.

“I know you think it’s this family helping you, but know that goes both ways. You’ve played such an important role in holding this family together. Don’t you dare think that’s gone unnoticed. Or unappreciated. Cal isn’t wrong when he calls you an angel. Whether you’re Kiernan’s angel, or Caulder’s, or mine . . . that’s irrelevant. My son is a lucky man. Don’t you let him forget it.”

Heat infused my cheeks and I nearly dunked my hair in the puddle of ketchup on my plate, letting it fall across my face.

“But what about Cal and his dad?” Just because she was ready to let go of the past, didn’t mean he was. A husband and a father were two entirely different things.

Her lips parted, but she made no other sound than the quiet clink of her fork being set down beside her empty plate.  “I’d never keep Cal from seeing his father if that’s what he decides he wants. He’s a grown man. It’s his decision. But as for me . . . I’ve closed that chapter in my life. It was good while it lasted, and there’s a part of me that’s sad to see it go. A piece of my heart will always belong to him. But . . .” She pressed her lips together, but couldn’t conceal the way they curved into a delighted smile. Or the excitement twinkling in her eyes. “My date with Martin went really well.”

“It did?” Her excitement was contagious and it infected me. I scooted my chair closer like a child about to be read a bedtime story and Mrs. Parks laughed out loud. “Tell me about him.”

I’d never experienced the whole ‘girl talk’ thing before. I’d never had any close girlfriends and my mother . . . well, my mother was my mother. Gushing and giggling weren’t exactly in her repertoire. But that’s exactly what Caulder found his mother and I doing when he joined us after taking what I was sure was the longest shower of his life.

A wide smile parted his lips, revealing two rows of sparkling white teeth, which I was certain would taste minty fresh if I could just— “What’s all this about?”

Before I could answer him, Mrs. Parks interjected. “Girl talk. And you’re not invited.”

I glanced her way and she winked at me with the tiniest bit of apprehension. If she wasn’t ready to go there with her son just yet, I wasn’t about to spill the beans. “No boys allowed. Sorry.”

Caulder placed a dramatic hand over his heart and stumbled backward into the counter. “I’m wounded.” His words laced with dry sarcasm.

“And outnumbered.” I bit my lip against the giggle threatening to escape, but my comment appeared to amuse him as much as it did me.

“Now
that
I actually am afraid of.”

“Oh, hush, you.” Mrs. Parks collected my plate along with her own and stood. “And kiss your girlfriend good morning.”

Caulder’s mouth popped open in surprise and I’m pretty sure my eyes came close to bugging out of their sockets. I knew she knew. She’d told me as much. But I was shocked she could be so casual about it.
We
weren’t even that causal about it, yet.

Surprise gave way to something that could only be qualified as love, softening Cal’s features. For his mother? For me? For all of us. I felt it, too, growing deep inside me. Warming me.

I barely noticed Mrs. Parks leaving the room, I was so focused on him stalking toward me. Drawing up beside my chair, he bent at the waist and I didn’t even have the chance to tip my head all the way back before his lips were on mine. Soft and smooth, he kissed me slowly. Spearmint burst over my tongue and I sighed into his mouth.

“Good morning.
Girlfriend
.” Ooh, that word did funny things to my stomach. His lips twitched in amusement before they brushed over my cheek once more and settled near my ear. “Thank you.”

***

The frost crusted ground crunched beneath my feet. Caulder was working on some make-up assignment he had due and if I watched one more movie, I thought my brain might explode the way everything else seemed to onscreen. I needed to get out. Get some fresh air. Move around.

I’d never lived in a house with a yard before. It felt sort of novel to have my own little private outdoor space to explore. Granted, not many people had an outdoor space like the Parks’. I didn’t know how far their property line extended, but grass stretched out for a good two-hundred yards. I’d headed out expecting to see tennis courts or—I don’t know—a golf course? There were neither. Not even a pool, which surprised me considering how much Caulder seemed to like to swim.

A few chairs sat around a fire pit on a large stone patio right outside the glass sliding doors, and beyond that it was really just grass. And gardens. Large, intricately designed sections of yard, bordered with stone and cultivated into what must have been beautiful scenery in warmer months. Now they stood mostly barren save for a few hardy, leafy plants that lacked any real color.

Giving myself the private tour, I meandered from one dark soiled plot to the next. I couldn’t help wondering if Mrs. Parks cared for them, or if they hired someone. Or a lot of someones, judging by the amount of work they must require. I’d had a plant once. A marigold I’d brought home from school. But whatever the opposite of a green thumb was, that’s what I had. I was like the kiss of death to flora. If I so much as breathed in the general vicinity of a plant, I swear it would curl up and die. That didn’t mean I didn’t like looking at them, though.

I tried to imagine what it would look like when the gardens were overflowing with color and life, but I was certain I wasn’t doing them justice. Sitting on the edge of one of the raised flowerbeds, I prodded at the frozen soil and brushed aside some of the dark mulch. Out poked a tiny purple flower.

I couldn’t believe my eyes. There in that frozen wasteland, one little bud had managed to find its way to the surface. It was beautiful, and yet so small. Insignificant in the vast scheme of the surrounding gardens. Lost to all, except those who bothered to look for it. I felt a strange kinship with that tiny flower. Tender and fragile, and yet there it was. Overcoming the odds set against it. Pushing through the obstacles in its way with nothing more than sheer determination. I was in awe of it. I wanted to be like it, to know that kind of quiet strength. And maybe I did. After all, look at where I was. Where I’d come from. All I’d had to go through to make it there. I wasn’t a tank, rolling over the hurdles in my life. But I did persevere. Quietly. In my own way.

An image sprang to mind, a visual representation of how I saw myself. My life. And, for once, it wasn’t ugly. It was beautiful and inspiring and I knew what I wanted to do.

Twenty Two

The tattoo parlor was cold. And dark. And a little bit scary with loud music pumping from speakers set in the black painted walls. I don’t know what else I expected from a place where they essentially stabbed people repeatedly for a living.

My steps faltered as we entered and my gaze darted everywhere at once. Maybe this wasn’t such a great idea. Maybe I wasn’t ready. Maybe—

“Angel.” Caulder’s hand wrapped around mine and tugged me closer. I collided with his solid chest as his arms folded around me, anchoring me there. “You can change your mind if you want. It’s not too late. But
don’t chicken out if this is something you really want. Trust me, it’s worth it. And not nearly as scary as they want you to believe.”

I scanned the depictions of gothic crosses and reapers and snakes and swords and broken hearts. I wasn’t convinced Caulder was right, but I was willing to go on a little faith. “Okay.”

“You’re sure? This is what you want?”

“Yes. I’m sure. Really, Cal.” He’d only asked me about five-hundred times on the ride over.

“Alright. Here we go.”

Behind the counter was a bald man with enormous holes in each earlobe. He had tats covering both arms as far as I could see and some peeking up from beneath his shirt collar. A bit much for my taste, but I couldn’t help being intrigued. In a welcome contrast to the smoky black dragon wrapping around his left forearm and the blood dripping skull on his right, he was actually a really nice guy.

Glancing at the appointment book, he smiled at me. “Jade, I assume?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Well, I’m Steve and I’ll be your artist for the day.” He had a bit of an accent that I couldn’t place, but it distracted me enough to ease some of my nerves. “Just a guess, but first time?”

“Mm-hmm.” Evidently not enough to form any actual words, though.

Caulder and Steve shared a laugh that I couldn’t quite find the humor in and then he pushed open a door beside the counter. “It’s a little less . . . overwhelming, back here.”

Caulder stayed by my side as Steve led us into a back room that was bright with plain white walls covered with a few posters here and there. Stainless steel counters ran alongside several black padded chairs that looked like something you’d see in a dentist’s office. My warped brain immediately sought out implements of torture, puddles of blood, or other screaming victims—I mean, human canvases—but there were none. We were alone.

“Trent will be in soon.” Steve said this to Caulder, who nodded as though he knew who Trent was. But I guess that made sense seeing as Caulder had obviously been there before. More than once.

“Why don’t you hop on up and we can discuss design ideas.” This was to me.

I complied, climbing up onto the tall cold plastic chair. The thing was wide with a partially reclined back and full footrest. I opted to sit up straight sideways across it with my feet dangling a solid foot above the floor until told otherwise.

“Okay, so what were you thinking?” Steve pulled up a rolling stool and plopped down on it with a pad and pencil in hand.

I gnawed at my lip as my eyes darted between the two guys. Caulder was standing directly behind me, a heavy hand resting comfortingly on my shoulder. The last thing I wanted was for him to leave, but I’d intended to have this done alone so I could surprise him with the final product.

Don’t chicken out if this is something you really want. Trust me, it’s worth it.

Caulder was right. If I was really doing it, then I was doing it the way I wanted to. I wasn’t going to let fear get in the way. That was kinda the whole point, anyway.

I twisted to look up at Caulder and saw the question in his eyes. He thought I was backing out.

“Would you mind if I did this alone?”

Surprise flashed over his face. “You’re sure you don’t want me to stay?” His grip tightened slightly around my shoulder.

“This is something I want to do for me. And I want to surprise you when it’s done.”

Hesitation held him rooted to the spot for several long moments before he nodded. “Alright. I needed to talk to Trent, anyway. But I’ll be right in the office. If you decide you want me, just tell Steve. He’ll come and get me, okay?”

“Thanks, Cal.”

With a quick peck on the cheek for me and a nod for Steve, Caulder disappeared through a second door I hadn’t noticed earlier.

“So . . .” Steve leaned back against the steel counter, rolling the wheel of his stool with one foot as a mischievous grin stretched his lips. “What is it we’re surprising the boyfriend with?”

If he was expecting something sleezy, he was going to be disappointed. This tattoo wasn’t for Caulder. It was going on
my
body. It was for
me
.

Steve’s playful nature took a backseat as we got down to business. I described what I wanted, even going as far as to give him a minor insight as to what it symbolized, while he scratched feverishly away at his sketchpad. He kept at it long after I ran out of words, scribbling, erasing, blending. Molding lines into an intricately beautiful design before switching to colored pencils. There wasn’t much color involved. Mostly tinting. A bit of green. But it wouldn’t have been complete without the purple.

When he finished, the image he laid out before me was . . . incredible. It was absolutely perfect and I fell in love with it in every way.

“Yes. That’s it. That’s exactly what I want.”

Steve beamed with pride and that gleam came back into his eyes. “Now the fun part. Where do you want it?”

Strangely enough, I hadn’t actually considered that. “Um . . . somewhere I can see it.”

I wanted it to be a daily reminder of who I was. Not who others made me feel like I was.

“Alright. That leaves us with several options depending on how visible you want it to be.”

“That doesn’t really matter.” I didn’t plan to put it on display, but I wasn’t going to try and hide it either. And it wasn’t like I had the kind of job where I’d need to cover it up.

“It’s not really a good shape for your foot, but there’s your ankle. Your arm. Your wrist.”

“Wrist.” I almost always wore pants to cover up my chicken legs, so if it was on my ankle it would rarely see the light of day. And the arm seemed more like somewhere a guy would get a tattoo. But the delicate skin on the inside of my wrist felt like the perfect location. Vulnerable and yet tough enough to withstand the process. A lot like the design itself.

“Alright, then. Let me scale this down a bit and we’ll get started.”

Nerves took a backseat while we worked out the image that would be permanently printed on my skin, but as Steve worked scanning and resizing the image on his computer, they came rearing back with a vengeance. The printer whirred to life spitting out my tattoo on some special kind of paper and then he set to collecting items from drawers beneath the counter. Items that looked a lot like those implements of torture I’d been searching for earlier. Sneaky little bastard. Now that I’d seen the completed design, I was hooked. There was no way I was backing out.

Steve helped me get comfortable in the chair—comfort being a relative term in my case—and laid my arm across the padded armrest. He twisted it until it sat, palm up with my hand dangling slightly off the end of the rest and pinned it in place with an iron grip.

“Let me know if I’m holding you too tight. Keep your palm open, just like this.” He tapped my hand and I let the muscles that were beginning to curl, relax. “This part won’t hurt. I’m just placing the design before we ink it.”

Using the special paper he’d printed the design on, he applied the image to my skin almost like a temporary tattoo. It took a few attempts and some scrubbing with a washcloth to get it in a position that Steve approved of, but when he did I knew it was right. I could just feel it.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to go get Caulder? We can surprise him with this one and then he can hold your hand while I do that hard part.”

“No.” I didn’t know why, but this felt like something I needed to do on my own. “I’m okay.”

“Alright then. It won’t be so bad. Just try not to tense.”

Won’t be so bad, my ass.
The needle-gun started buzzing and the moment it touched my skin, my entire arm lit up like fire.

“Don’t move.” His grip tightened around my arm, immobilizing me.

Holy hell. People did this more than once to themselves? Were they insane? It took all of my self-control to keep my legs from thrashing. My fight or flight response was kicking in and I wanted to run for the hills.

“You’re doing good.” Steve mumbled some textbook assurances, while his focus remained solely on his work in progress, but the sound of his voice helped distract me and I hoped he kept it up. “It looks really good. I like this design. Did you think it up yourself?”

“Ye-yes.” I forced the word out through gritted teeth.

“Nice. You’re creative. Are you an artist?”

“No.” I wasn’t exactly the best conversationalist at the moment either.

“Photographer? Writer?”

“I like—” deep breath. “—to write.”

“I knew it. It takes a creative mind to come up with something like this. What do you write?”

“Um . . .” Nothing I wanted to admit out loud, but he was successfully taking my mind off of the pain. “Whatever I feel like, usually.”

“Do you write often?”

“Not recently.” I hadn’t written a single word since the story I wrote for Kiernan. I hadn’t felt inspired by anything the way he inspired me. But maybe . . . someday.

“Well, when you’re a famous author, I’ll be expecting my own autographed first edition.”

“If you can make this pain go away, I’ll give you anything you want.”

Steve laughed and snapped off the gun. “Wish granted.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“It’s done?”

“Almost. But you get a break while I switch colors.”

I groaned, watching him reach for another, equally sharp needle. That no-good tease.

“Relax. That was the long part. Now it’s just highlights and accents. You’ll be out of here in no time.”

The buzzing that I knew would haunt my nightmares came back and so did the fire in my arm. I fisted my pant leg with my other hand and held tight.
Almost done
. It was almost done.

The next break came quickly and was over just as fast.

“Last part,” Steve assured me and I took a deep breath to hold myself over.

One, two, three . . . Steve wasn’t talking anymore, so I counted tiles in the ceiling above me to distract myself. Twenty-two-and-a-half per row and thirty-four rows. The mental math that required was more than enough to get me through the last bit. Before I had a solution I couldn’t have cared less about, Steve shut off his torture device and set it aside.

“You’re all done. You did it.”

I did it? My gaze zeroed in on my wrist and the beautiful, meaningful artwork on my reddened skin. I did it. I couldn’t believe it. A laugh bubbled up from somewhere inside, bursting free of my smiling lips. “I really did it.”

“You really did. Ready to go show your boyfriend?”

That was twice he’d called Caulder my boyfriend. And I supposed he was. I mean, we did everything together. We loved each other. Hell, we
lived
together. But it just felt strange hearing it out loud like that. Strange . . . and really, really nice.

“Yeah. Let’s show him.”

Caulder still hadn’t emerged from that side room he’d gone into earlier and he wasn’t in the lobby when we remerged.

“Wait here. I’ll go tell him you’re ready.” Steve left me alone with the skulls and the snakes and the swords, but they felt less intimidating now. Like I’d been initiated into the club. Like I belonged. A moment later, he was back sans Caulder. “He’ll be out in a sec. He’s just finishing up.”

“Finishing up what?”

“Let’s just say you’re not the only one with a surprise up her sleeve.”

My brain juggled that little morsel of information, paying absolutely no attention whatsoever to the aftercare instructions Steve was giving me. I assumed everything I needed to know was in the booklet he handed me and anything I didn’t know I could ask Caulder.

Steve abandoned the attempt altogether when Cal stepped out into the lobby. He was shirtless, but that wasn’t what had snared my attention. It was the thick black lines curling across his left pec. A fresh tattoo. Another of those Chinese characters.

I approached slowly, captivated by the graceful design. My fingers fluttered through the air, tracing it without coming in contact with his raw skin. It was beautiful, the marks flowing and elegant. “What does it mean?”

“It means . . .” he paused until I lifted my gaze to his, “Angel.”

My breath caught and I felt the sting of tears welling fast in my eyes.

His knuckles trailed down my cheek before his hand twisted, wrapping around the back of my neck. “I told you, Jade. I’m not going anywhere.”