Pieces of My Heart (7 page)

“Sweet dreams, Mom.” Tugging the throw from the back of the couch, I tucked it around her, careful to make sure her feet were covered because they always got cold, and pressed a careful kiss to her hair. “I . . . I love you.”

They weren’t words I spoke often or frivolously, but that made them all the more genuine.

I read somewhere once that loving someone allows you to see their flaws more clearly. My mother’s weren’t exactly hidden, but love meant defying the impulse to abandon that person despite those flaws. So, yes, I loved my mother. Very much.

My stomach led me into the kitchen where I rummaged through cabinets until I came up with two slices of bread. One was the end piece, but it would do. Popping them in the toaster, I leaned back against the counter and let the morning sunlight coming through the window warm my arms.

Michael roused from hibernation and shuffled into the room behind me, wearing his boxers. Wearing
only
his boxers. He took one glance at the deer-in-headlights look I must have been giving him and smirked. Tossing an empty can on my newly cleaned counter, he reached into the fridge for a new one. What he came back out with was two cans, one of which he held out in my direction.

“Have a drink with me.”

“Um . . .” My gaze shifted around the room, wishing the toaster would hurry the hell up and spit out my breakfast already. “No thanks.”

“It’s only beer.” He lifted the can higher, but my hands stayed glued to my sides.

“I’m only eighteen.”

His smirk grew deeper and he used his bare shoulder to rub at some of the sores on the underside of his chin. “You don’t tell, I won’t.”

“I don’t . . . I don’t really want to.”

He looked me over once more and huffed a humorless laugh. “Fine. Have it your way, Princess.”

Every little girl wants her daddy to call her a princess. But not the way Michael said it. Taking both cans with him, he stumbled his way into the living room where I heard him flip on the television and crank it to max volume, careless of the fact that my mother was trying to sleep in there.

My toast sprang up and I snatched it, burning my fingertips on the hot bread. I didn’t bother with butter or jelly, not that I knew if we actually had either. I just wanted to get the hell out of there. Throwing up the white flag, I retreated to my safety zone.

Trying not to get crumbs on my bed, I leaned forward off the mattress as I took a bite and chewed slowly. And I waited. For what? For Mom to wake up? For the inevitable fighting that would start again as soon as she did? For the fighting to end? For the next call from Caulder? For my next shift at work?

I was sitting there, in a darkened room, wishing my life away, waiting for some kind of light at the end of the tunnel that I couldn’t see. But what if I couldn’t see it because it wasn’t there? What if my tunnel was a dead end? What if the light never came?

Six

Do you have work today?

I blinked at my phone and rubbed the sleep from the corner of my eyes.

No.
Which was why I
wasn’t
awake at the butt crack of dawn when Caulder decided to text me.

Good. Get up.

Really? Wasn’t that counter intuitive?
Why?

We’re going swimming.

Umm . . .
What?

I don’t have a bathing suit.

Don’t worry about that. Just get ready. I’ll be there in twenty.

Twenty?
Clearly Cal knew nothing about girls and swimming. Bathing suits required prep work that . . . took longer than twenty minutes first thing in the morning.

Maybe today isn’t the best day for me to go swimming with you.
Or any day.

I waited. No response.

Maybe another time?
Or not.

I waited. And waited. Still no response.

He was either already in the car or he was purposely ignoring me. My money was on the latter. Either way, I was down to twelve minutes.

***

The smell of chlorine tickled my nose. It wasn’t altogether as unpleasant as I imagined it would be. The way the overhead lights played on the gently rippling water fascinated me. It looked so calm. So deceivingly harmless.

“There are locker rooms where you can change through there.” Caulder pointed out a thick wooden door, while rooting through a shopping bag he’d brought with him. “Here ya go.”

I damn near died on the spot. What he pulled out was
not
a bathing suit. There wasn’t even enough fabric involved to cover a Chihuahua.

I’m certain my mouth fell open as I gaped at him, making no move to touch the string bikini dangling from his fingers. Caulder started right back at me, completely straight-faced for what felt like the longest minute of my life before he burst out laughing.

“I’m kidding.” He dove back into the bag, and this time what he brought out was a modest, pale pink one-piece.

I was lost. “You bought
two
bathing suits? Just to trick me?”

It seemed like an insane waste of money to me. Knowing him, neither one was cheap. But I guess, being Caulder Parks, things were a little different from his point of view.

“Your face . . .” The jerk was still grinning ear-to-ear. “Worth every cent. Besides, there was always the chance you might put on the first one.”

No. No, there was not.

Snagging the suit with a huff, I turned and headed for the changing room.

It fit perfectly, which was something I chose not to think too hard about as I made my way back into the deserted pool area, grateful that we were the only ones there, seeing as I didn’t even have a towel to cover myself. Caulder was bent over a set of bleachers near the wall, tugging a gray tee over his head.

As he straightened, I couldn’t believe my eyes. “You have a tattoo.”

He startled and twisted his neck to glance back at me over his shoulder as he continued to fold the shirt in his hands. “Yeah. Three, actually.”

Bold, black strokes fit together in a series of patterns that I assumed made up some kind of Chinese lettering. Two—one on either side of his spinal column—sat directly below his neck. Two more below those. And then a series of four slightly smaller ones ran in a vertical line down his spine almost reaching the top of his swim trunks. The smooth lines and elegant curves enchanted me and my fingers itched to trace them.

“What do they mean?”

“The middle one means strength.” He kept his back to me, allowing me to continue to inspect the artwork as he gave it meaning. “I got that for Kiernan when he was diagnosed. The four on the bottom mean . . . connection? Like an unbreakable bond. I got that one after the funeral.”

“And the top one?”

His back bounced on a silent laugh. “That one means freedom. I got it with a couple friends when I turned eighteen. Don’t know exactly what it was I thought I was free from, but it seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“They’re . . . beautiful.”

He laughed again, finally turning to face me. “Not exactly what I was going for. But from you? I’ll take it. Do you have any?”

“Tattoos?” I couldn’t help it. I laughed. “No.”

I’d never have the money to do something like that—much less the guts.

“Do you want one?”

Well . . . that was a question. Did I? I didn’t think I would, but seeing his . . . They were amazing. More than that. They meant something. They were a statement to who he was. To what mattered to him most in the world.

“Yeah. I mean, maybe. Someday.” When—
if—
I ever discovered who I was.

His eyes drifted down over my body, but I didn’t get the impression it was the suit—or the lack of what it covered—that he was seeing. He was imagining ink on me. And I did the same. I liked the idea. A lot.

When his gaze came to a sudden stop, fastened somewhere south of my face, I felt my nerves ignite. He reached for me and I had to physically stop myself from taking a step back.

“You’re wearing it?” His fingers wrapped around the silver charm that I’d forgotten to remove from around my neck.

I’d worn that angel wing pendant every day since he’d given it to me at Christmas. Something about having it close gave me strength.

“I always wear it.” Surprise mixed with unexpected pleasure in his eyes when they jerked up to mine. “I love it. I never got to thank you for it.”

“It was nothing.” He released the necklace and the charm thumped against my chest.

“It was thoughtful.”

He shrugged, his teeth going to work on the inside of his cheek. “You deserved it.”

“Well . . .” I didn’t really know what else to say. The conversation seemed to have taken a sudden left turn into awkward territory. But there was one thing that needed to be said before we abandoned ship. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Clearing his throat, Caulder shifted his gaze to the pool. “Let’s get to it. We didn’t come here to stand around
out
of the water.”

In two long strides, he’d made it to the edge of the pool and executed a graceful head-first dive, breaking the surface with a tiny splash. His reemergence was far less serene. He erupted, shaking his head and spraying water in every direction like a wet dog.

I laughed, slowly inching my way closer. He looked so fluid out there. His arms and legs flowed with the motion of the water, somehow keeping his solid body from sinking like a stone despite all laws of reason. I could never do that. I would, without a doubt, go straight under and never draw breath again.

Lowering myself until my butt made contact with the cold tile, I dared to dip my toes, lowering them until my thighs lay flat and the water nearly reached my knees. My fingers wrapped firmly around the smooth, rounded edge, gripping tight enough to make my knuckles ache.

“You coming?” Caulder cocked his head and watched me, a curious smile playing on his lips.

Not in a million years
. “I think I’ll just sit here and put my feet in the water.”

“No way, Angel. Get your butt in the pool. The water’s nice.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?” The smile faded away, replaced by confusion.

“I . . . um . . .” God, this was embarrassing. I pulled a lock of hair over my shoulder and twisted it just to give my fingers something to do. “I don’t know how to swim.”

Surprise lifted Caulder’s brows. “At all?”

I shrugged and dropped my gaze to examine my hair for split ends. There were a lot. “I’ve never been in a pool.”

I intentionally avoided his reaction to that one, but the underlying pity in his voice couldn’t be ignored. “As in
ever
?”

I shook my head and kept my eyes plastered to the ratty pale brown strands wrapping around my fingers like vines until I felt the water shifting around my calves. When one large hand folded around the pool edge on either side of my body, I peeked to find Caulder floating right in front of me.

“Trust me?”

How could I not? “Of course.”

“Then give me your hand. I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise, Angel.”

Oh, hell. He really wanted to get me into that tub of death. “I don’t know if—”

“I
promise
.” The look on his handsome face was so sincere—eyes burning into mine, droplets of water dripping from the scruff on his set jaw, and the wild hair hanging over his forehead and around his ears—I felt myself caving despite my fears. “You’re safe with me.”

“Okay.” I whispered the word, sealing my fate, as I reached for his outstretched hand.

Ever so slowly, he lowered me into the lukewarm water with one hand on the wall and the other wrapped firmly around mine. When I was low enough, he released me for one heart-stopping second to secure his arm around my waist, instead.

We floated there, chest-to-chest, barely breathing, until I felt my heart rate start to come back under control. This wasn’t so scary. Not with Caulder right beside me. It was actually . . . kind of nice. The water lapped at my shoulders and chest. My feet paddled through open space. It almost felt like flying.

When I smiled up at Caulder, he eased his grasp, slightly, and I instinctively reached for his shoulders.

“I’ve got you. Don’t worry. You’re doing great.” He let go of his hold on the wall, kicking hard to keep us both afloat as he peeled a strand of damp hair away from my face. “You want to try swimming?”

“Uh . . .” So
not
. “I’m in the pool. Maybe we could save the swimming lesson for another day?”

“You got it. Here, take my hand. I’ll give you a ride.”

I did as he said and tried not to stroke-out when he released me, letting me float beside him, held up solely by the strength of his arm. He waited patiently while I grew comfortable with that before pushing off the wall and dragging me along behind him across the pool, one powerful arm cutting deep strokes through the water.

Part of me felt foolish. This was something you did with a small child. But another part was so exhilarated by everything that was happening that I couldn’t bring myself to really care. By the time we reached the far side, my laughter was echoing off of the cement walls.

Caulder turned at the far end, pulling me back into his arms and smiled at me with the biggest grin I’d ever seen from him. “You liked that?”

Was that even a question? “I
loved it
!”

He threw his head back and laughed at my exuberance. I felt . . . alive. A feeling I hadn’t experienced in a long, long time.

After a moment, his eyes settled back on my face with something more serious in them. “You shared something special with me up in that clearing. If you’ll let me, I’d like to share something special with you, too.”

I think my heart stopped. I
know
my breathing did. “What is it?”

“There’s a reason I swim as much as I do. The water can be fun, but it can be peaceful, too. Underwater, everything else just fades away. There’s no noise, no thoughts, no . . . feelings. There’s just you. And silence. It’s . . . indescribable. Something you have to experience for yourself.”

“
Under
water?” Wasn’t that exactly the thing I was trying to avoid, clinging to him like a howler monkey?

“You’d have to trust me.”

I did trust him. I knew in my heart that he would never let anything happen to me. But my head kept screaming reminders that underwater there was no oxygen. An essential part of staying alive.

I went with my heart. “Alright.”

Caulder smiled gently at me and took my hand again. “Pinch your nose and take a deep breath. I’ll hold your hand while you’re under. When you’re ready to come back up just squeeze my hand and I’ll pull you right out. Okay?”

I nodded and did as he said, taking a few deep breaths before holding one. With one last glimpse of his face, I shut my eyes and allowed myself to sink beneath the surface. My initial reaction was immediate panic, but I pushed that aside, feeling Caulder’s hand in mine and trusting in that. 

I was floating.
Really
floating. My arms, my legs, my hair—all of it weightless. And he was right, it was quiet. Not just quiet. It was silent. No noise. No commotion. But more than that, there were no loud thoughts.
I
was quiet. My brain had shut up for the first time ever. I wasn’t worrying about work, or money, or bills, or rent, or food, or Mom, or Michael. My only concern, drawing my next breath. But putting that in Caulder’s hands—literally—there was nothing left to think about. I was free. So
this
was what peace felt like.

Before I knew it, I felt a tug on my hand and I was being lifted from my sanctuary. Breaking the surface, I sucked in lungfuls of oxygen, replenishing a long overdue supply.