Pieces (The Breakaway #2)

by Michelle Davidson Argyle

“Going back to what you said before,” her mother said, meeting Naomi’s eyes, “whatever you choose to do at Harvard, I’m proud of you.”

  Naomi opened the door and grabbed her purse off the floor. “Thanks, Mom.”

  “I mean it.” She gave Naomi a beaming smile and wrapped an arm around her as a greeter opened the door for them. “You’re going to add beautiful things to the world.”

  Naomi took a deep breath and scrunched her nose at the smell of fish and garlic. She hated fish, but she had never told her mother that. She had told Evelyn, but only because Evelyn had thought to ask her. It was always an odd sensation when she realized her kidnappers knew more about her than her own parents did.

  V

  June

  JUNE STRETCHED OUT BEFORE NAOMI AS an ocean of nothingness. Several times she thought of calling or texting Finn to see how he was doing. She missed talking with him. She missed her regular Wednesday breakfast of almond cake and iced tea. The local café didn’t serve almond cake. Every time the craving swept over her, she picked up her phone and scrolled to Finn’s number, but couldn’t bring herself to hit call.

  Thinking back on last summer, she remembered it as tolerable. Aside from helping her parents with the Naomi’s Hope foundation—a project she was proud her parents had started to help fund searches for missing children—she had spent a lot of time on the beach or going for long walks. She tried to dive back into the same things as soon as she was home.

  One thing she hadn’t done yet was borrow her mother’s Mercedes SUV and drive along the coast. Last summer, she had taken the SUV every few days and stopped to take pictures of water or rocks or a beautiful sunset. Other times, she drove into San Francisco and went shopping or asked permission to film a street performer. Summers were declared free from counselors, so it was her time to relax and see if she had truly made progress during the year. This summer seemed to be moving backward. As June slipped into July and she thought more and more of Jesse, it was as if the few months after he had helped her escape were happening all over again. All she wanted to do was curl up on her bed and sleep forever. So she did, but only for a week instead of forever. On the sixth day, her mother came upstairs and opened the door without knocking.

  “This has gone on long enough, Naomi.”

  She rolled over in bed, an arm over her eyes as if she was sick and couldn’t look at anything. “What has gone on long enough?”

  A heavy sigh. “You know what I mean. It’s been over two years. You’ve had time to recover past this stage, and knowing Jesse is out on parole changes absolutely nothing. Moping about it isn’t going to get you anywhere.”

  She was wrong. It changed everything. “I’m not moping.”

  “What do you call hibernating in your room for a solid week?”

  “I call it nothing. I spent last month shopping with you and helping with the foundation. And I just finished an entire semester of school. I’m tired.”

  There was a pause and Naomi imagined her mother putting her hands on her hips and glaring. “You haven’t helped much with anything. Anytime I’m with you, you’re moping. Last summer you were at least trying to be happy. Now you’re acting like a sulky five-year-old.”

  That was it. Naomi moved her arm from her face and sat up, her eyes narrowing. “And how would you know how I acted when I was five years old? You were never around.” She lowered her voice as it started shaking. “You didn’t even care.”

  It was the first time she had ever confronted her mother directly about how she had been raised by nannies, and she could see the dagger hit its mark. Her mother winced, faltering for a moment until she regained her composure. Naomi looked away, ashamed of her outburst.

  “Yes,” she admitted, “but that has changed. I care now.”

  “Yelling at me to grow up is not caring.”

  Her mother’s shoulders fell. She looked up at the ceiling and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. This ... this parenting thing is new to me.” Walking into the room, she sat on the end of the bed. “I don’t know what to do for you, Naomi.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “I don’t know.”

  Naomi sat up a little more, realizing it was one in the afternoon and she was still in her pajamas. She had to admit it was pathetic. She couldn’t blame her mother for being concerned. “I’m twenty-one, Mom. You shouldn’t feel like you have to parent me now.”

  Sliding her hand from her nose, her mother turned with tears glittering in her eyes. She was so beautiful. Naomi knew she was forty-seven, but her age didn’t show in her luminous complexion and silky blonde hair. Even though she was working from home today, she was dressed in her usual attorney clothes—a cream pencil skirt with a white silk blouse. Naomi knew her closet was filled with such outfits. She always wore creams and whites, as if she was outwardly projecting how innocent and pure she was. The ironic thing, Naomi realized, was she was far from pure. She had made huge mistakes, and they both knew it. Still, in so many ways, Naomi envied her happiness and success.

  “I want to parent you,” her mother said, blinking back her tears. “I’m your mother, and you deserve to have me be there for you, even as an adult.” With a gentle hand, she cupped Naomi’s face. “Please let me try now that I have that chance, even if it’s awkward.”

  Naomi reached up to touch her mother’s hand. For a long moment, they looked at each other. Naomi wondered what it was like to have a daughter, to feel that need to control another person’s life like her mother so obviously wanted to control hers. Or maybe it wasn’t control her mother craved. Maybe it was something else. Before she could let that sink in too far, Naomi softly nudged her mother’s hand away. “I’ll stop moping,” she said in a confident tone.

  Her mother looked at the ceiling. “That’s not what I want. I want you to be—”

  “Happy?” Naomi interrupted, her confidence slipping away. “Of course that’s what you want. That’s what everybody wants for me. Even my kidnappers wanted that, but it was because they thought I wouldn’t try to escape if I was happy with them. Why do you want me to be happy, Mom? So you don’t have to worry about me? So you can focus on other things instead?”

  Naomi knew the words would sting her mother, but she didn’t mean them in such a way. She was truly curious.

  Her mother focused on the ceiling, her jaw tightening. “I suppose it’s not all about happiness,” she said. “I suppose it’s impossible for you to understand what I want for you and why I want it.” She looked away from the ceiling and stood up from the bed. With hardness in her expression Naomi had never seen before, she said, “I know you’re an adult now. I know you can make your own decisions, but you’re not living completely by your own means. I’ve sacrificed so many things for you—things you can’t even imagine—so you can have a comfortable life and pursue anything you want.” She took a deep breath. “Even if I don’t approve of those things. I almost lost you because of those sacrifices. I’ll admit a lot of it was selfish, but after you were gone, I remembered my initial motivations. I remembered ....” She pursed her lips and turned away.

  “Remembered what?” Naomi leaned forward. She had never seen her mother open up like this.

  “Nothing. I can’t talk about it right now, not when you think I don’t care.”

  “I know you care, Mom. I—”

  She waved her hand. “Forget it. Go back to sleep. Your summers are supposed to be free of pestering and counselors.”

  Before Naomi could protest, her mother walked out of the room and softly shut the door behind her. Naomi scolded herself for being such a brat, but she didn’t know how to fix it. Everything seemed broken and distant, and it was all her own fault.

  Picking up her phone on the nightstand, she stared at the screen. With a trembling finger, she scrolled to the name James Sullivan. Jesse’s father was so much like him. It comforted her to know James had given her a standing invitation to visit him anytime. Now that Jesse was on parole and apparently living with him, maybe that invitation was closed
. She had visited him once last summer. He was an English professor at Berkeley, and they had talked about books and art and spoke little of Jesse. Maybe if she showed up at his door ....

  No, no she couldn’t.

  Either way, she had to get out of the house. She had to do something besides moping, as her mother put it.

  IT WAS almost too easy to get the keys to her mother’s SUV. All Naomi had to do was put on a comfortable outfit, pack all of her camera equipment, and slip on a pair of sunglasses. She found her mother in her office, her attention fixed on the computer screen in front of her. “I’m going to take pictures,” she said, shifting her feet. “Can I take one of the cars?”

  Her mother looked up and smiled. “Decided to come out of your cave, huh?”

  “Yeah, you were right. I need to stop moping.”

  Nodding, her mother wheeled back from her desk and stretched out her arms. “You want the Mercedes?”

  “Yeah, if that’s okay?”

  “Of course it’s okay. Jason and I haven’t driven it for months now, so it’ll be good for you to take it out.” She tilted her head and her eyes narrowed. “Where are you going?”

  “Up the coast.” She adjusted the backpack on her shoulders and leaned against the doorway, wishing she had driven her own car back from Harvard instead of flying home.

  With a glance at her watch, her mother frowned. “How far up the coast? It’s two-thirty.”

  “I don’t know. I might go shopping if I get as far as San Francisco. I can stop for dinner somewhere.”

  Her mother’s frown deepened. “That’s getting pretty far from the coast.”

  Naomi knew what was going through her mind. That far north was dangerously close to Berkeley. “Maybe I’ll just go to Santa Cruz. I have my phone. You can call me. Come on, Mom, you were telling me I need to get out. So, I’m getting out.”

  An uncomfortable silence stretched between them. Her mother looked her up and down, checked her watch again, and then wheeled her chair closer to the desk once more. “Alright, you can have the Mercedes for the day, but please be back by ten or we’ll worry. Your father doesn’t like it when we don’t know where you are or when you’ll be back.” She paused. “I don’t, either.”

  “I promise I’ll be safe.” She narrowed her eyes. “How the heck do you two deal with me gone all year at school?”

  “That’s different, I guess. You’re in your own house near campus, and you’re so busy with schoolwork you probably don’t go out much. Right?”

  “You make it sound like my life is pretty lame there.” She looked away. “But yeah, you’re right.”

  Her mother leaned forward. Naomi could see her fighting to say something, but then she bit her lip and steadied her hands on the desk. “Call if you need anything, okay?”

  “Okay. I’ll be fine, Mom. I’ll be in the car most of the time, and I can drive safely. I did this all last summer, remember?”

  “Yes, I know.”

  But Jesse wasn’t on parole last summer, Naomi reminded herself before turning to leave. She didn’t know if she was going to go as far as San Francisco, but her heart beat faster at the thought of being able to do such a thing—even if it was against the law for him to see her. Somehow that made her want to see him more.

  VI

  ONCE SHE WAS ON THE COASTAL HIGHWAY, Naomi cranked up the stereo and rolled down her window to let the wind blow through her hair. Sometimes she wondered what it would have been like if Jesse had never helped her escape. She could be in Italy with him and the others. She might have learned to live a normal life there, forgotten she was held captive as they took her on trips through Europe and spent the money they had stolen. No jobs. No school. She wondered what it would have been like and how she could still think it might have been a good thing, or how it would have been possible. A different identity, maybe? Knowing Jesse and his connections, that was probably how they would have accomplished it. They were criminals. They were insane thinking they could live the rest of their lives like a vacation. Despite everything, she yearned to see them again. In so many ways, they were victims too, especially Evelyn. At least she would be out in fifteen years if she didn’t do anything stupid. That wasn’t too much of her life to lose.

  Naomi’s iPod switched to a song that made her take her foot off the gas. It was the same song she and Finn had danced to at the club. Its pounding bass thumped through the car and the muscles in her body ached, as if they wanted her to stop the car and get out so she could move like she had on the dance floor.

  No.

  No more Finn.

  It was all Jesse now. The kiss had been a mistake, and she would tell Jesse she was sorry.

  She glanced at her camera equipment in the backseat, her resolve breaking. She had no intention of stopping to take pictures. She was on autopilot, heading straight for Berkeley.

  TWO HOURS later, she was rubbing the tops of her aching thighs with one hand. She wasn’t used to sitting in a car for so long, even with the cruise control engaged. She was in Berkeley now, and after stopping to fill up the car, she drove to James’s apartment. It was a clean, quiet street. James’s building was yellow.

  Naomi imagined what it might be like to see Jesse again. Frightening. Surreal. From what she understood, it wasn’t illegal for her to seek him out, but she still wanted to be careful. Maybe she was wrong. Getting him in trouble wasn’t her intention. She only wanted to see him, even if it was from afar. Her mother had hinted he would have a job, so if she waited long enough, she might see him coming or going. Then she would ... well, she wasn’t sure.

  Parking the Mercedes across the street, she undid her seatbelt and stared at the third-floor apartment where James lived. What now? She tapped her fingers against the steering wheel as her stomach started to growl. She hadn’t eaten lunch, and now it was five o’clock. If she had been thinking clearly, she would have stopped for something to eat earlier, or at least brought something to snack on. When it came to Jesse, she didn’t think clearly.

  Maybe there was something in the glove box. She leaned over and popped it open. There were insurance papers, a pen, some napkins, and a box of Good & Plenty. That was surprising. She had no idea who liked them—her father or her mother, since they both used this car. She tore open the box and dumped some of the candies into her mouth, her mind stuck on the fact that she had no idea what kind of candy her parents liked. One of them liked licorice, apparently. Or maybe neither of them did since the candy hadn’t been opened. It was stale now, but it still tasted good. She chewed it, letting the gritty sugar coat her mouth as she watched James’s apartment like she was some sort of stalker. For a moment, she considered leaving, but as soon as she saw Jesse, it all faded away.

  She almost didn’t recognize him behind the wheel of his father’s green pickup truck. His hair was longer than she remembered. For a moment, her head spun. She dropped the box in her hands and it fell to the floor, spilling the pink and white candies everywhere. He was parking almost directly across the street from her now. As stupid as it was, she hadn’t planned this far. Now he was getting out of the truck.

  She had long since rolled up her window and turned on the air conditioning, so it wasn’t as if she could yell to him. Instead, she opened her door as fast as she could and tripped over her feet as she stumbled out onto the road. She shut the door and the sound made Jesse stop and look up. His mouth dropped open.

  “Naomi?”

  “I heard you were on parole.” She brushed a sweaty hand across her forehead. “I ... I—”

  “I’m not allowed to see you,” he interrupted, taking a step back. His hand lingered on the open truck door. “I’ll be sent back to prison if I attempt to contact you or see you. I’m not even sure I can see you after my parole is over. It might be a long time.” He looked at the ground. “I have a hearing next week. I’ll find out more then.”

  Even from across the street, Naomi could see the muscle in his jaw tightening with anger. She knew it wasn’t aim
ed at her. “You aren’t attempting,” she said. “I’ve taken the initiative, so it’s not your fault.”

  “Yes, but if my parole officer finds out about this, he won’t be happy. I was lucky enough to be released to my father. If you’re found here, I’ll be in more trouble than you can imagine.” His face was stiff, his body tense. Naomi realized what a mistake she had made, but there he was, right in front of her. It was too much. She took a step forward, relieved the road was quiet with no traffic at the moment. Jesse glanced down the street, then back to her. His expression softened as she walked toward him. Each step was heavy, as if she didn’t believe she would ever reach him.

  “Naomi,” he said when she was halfway across the road, “I have an impeccable record so far. It’s why I was put on parole so early. If I ....” His voice trailed off as she stepped closer. The need in his eyes was apparent now. He was lonely and tired and desperate for her— that much she could see as he rushed forward and took her into his arms before she could reach him on her own. He kissed her hard on the mouth, his lips as steady and passionate as she remembered. The kiss blossomed around her, his breaths deeper as he squeezed her so tightly she almost ran out of breath.

  He pulled out of the kiss. “I missed you.”

  “I know,” she whispered. “I missed you too. I need you. I couldn’t stay away. I’m sorry.” Burying her face in his shoulder, she let herself melt against him despite the sharp, bitter smell of grease and dust on his skin. Being in his arms felt so good she thought she might start crying with joy.

  He rubbed her back and kissed the side of her head. “Naomi, I know you want to stay with me, but I have to ... I have to get you back in your car. You have to leave.”

  She pulled away and nodded. Her nose was starting to run. He always made her cry. Nobody had seen her cry as much as he had. It should have been embarrassing, but a part of her felt more attached to him because of it. He knew her weakest spots and how to patch them up when she couldn’t do it herself. He knew her better than anyone.