Breaking Hearts

by Melissa Shirley

  After my arrest, my parents posted my bond in exchange for the majority share in my company. I had an ankle bracelet with an alarm in case I tried to stray too far from the confines of my parents’ yard and house. If I took one step too many from my little blinking box, Luke assured me a swarm of cops would come banging down the door to haul me to jail.

  Grace dropped me off, and I walked up the steps to the house. Kieran threw himself into my arms, and I smothered his face with kisses as Mom came into the foyer, drying her hand on a dishtowel. I loosened my hold on Kieran when she reached in to kiss my cheek. “How did today go?”

  I begged my parents not to come to court because I couldn’t stand the thought of them thinking worse of me than they already did. A lot of things were going to come out, and I couldn’t bear for my mom to know how bad I’d become. I also needed someone to keep an eye on Kieran, so not having a lot of close friends had finally worked to my favor.

  While I knew they could stream it live online or watch it on TV, they wouldn’t. They would respect that I wanted to keep my secrets private, if only from them. “Okay, I think.”

  “And Grace?” My mother had never liked any of the Wade girls, but she especially hated Grace. “With all the drinking she did, it’s a wonder they even let her practice law anymore.”

  I smiled. “Did you know Grace has never lost a case?” I’d heard that once and decided to impart the pearl of wisdom to my mother.

  “Of course not, when she makes a production out of sleeping with the prosecutor.”

  Mom hung on to gossip like a lifeline. Grace’s liaison with the prosecutor had nothing to do with my case. In her defense, it only happened one time when she worked in Texas with her college roommate after opening a law practice. For her indiscretion, she almost lost the guy she loved more than anything in the world--her perfect match. Instead, she came home, hauling him right behind her. “Mom, she made mistakes, but so did I, and she’s my best friend. I can’t think of anyone I would rather have defending me.”

  “Well, I’m just saying….”

  She had been saying it since this whole damned mess began. I sucked in my anger, replacing it with a peaceful smile. “I know, just try not to say it to me.”

  Mom wrung the dishtowel through her hands and huffed out a breath.

  “Honestly, wouldn’t you rather someone who loves me be my lawyer, rather than a hack who only sees dollar signs and TV cameras?”

  She sighed. “Are you seeing Simon tonight?”

  I never knew when Simon would be free, since he’d become an arson investigator and the dry weather made him all the busier. “Maybe. I don’t know.” I shrugged. “I’m taking Kieran out back.”

  “Your dad and I have a dinner tonight with one of the associates at his firm.” She checked her watch. “As a matter of fact, I better get ready. Your supper’s in the oven.” After bending down to ruffle Kieran’s hair, she kissed my cheek, then walked away.

  We ate dinner, then I played outside with Kieran until dark. At his first yawn, I gave him a bath, read him a story, and settled him with the dinosaur blanket I’d brought him home in from the hospital . As he hugged me, I wondered how many more bedtime hugs were in my future. A dull ache worked its way from my heart to the left side of my face and settled in behind my eye.

  Ten trips to the bathroom later, he dropped off to sleep. I wandered around downstairs for a while, then opened the door and plopped into a lounger on the patio. With my eyes closed, I took a few deep breaths, willing the pain away. I concentrated on the soothing sounds of the night. Wind chimes tinkled above my head. Leaves on the branches smacked into one another as the wind whipped them back and forth, brewing up a summer storm. A not so distant rumble of thunder said rain loomed in the near future.

  “Hey, beautiful.”

  If there existed a single thing with the power to make me feel better, his voice held the magic.

  “Are you sleeping?”

  Without opening my eyes, I murmured, “No, just listening.”

  “To what?”

  “Silence.”

  He leaned down and touched his lips to mine. “How was your day?”

  I didn’t want to talk about it so I shrugged.

  He scooted me over with his hip to sit facing me, and pulled my hand into his. “Lizette called me.”

  The ex. “Yeah?” A little ball of jealousy crept into the pit of my stomach, starting a war with the pot roast I’d eaten for dinner.

  “She wanted to get together and talk.” He took a long pause, probably waiting for my tantrum. “So, we met for coffee at the bakery.”

  The battle in my belly intensified. If he wanted to flounce around town with her, I had nothing to say about it. Yet, the world narrowed.

  “Cal is calling her to testify.”

  Nothing about her being a part of my trial made any sense. I barely knew her. “Why?”

  “Apparently, Sean stopped at the bakery the morning he died, which explains why he was walking out when you saw him. He told her some things about you and him.”

  I couldn’t have ventured a guess, but blood pounded in my ears and my breath came in short shallow gasps. “Did she mention what he said?” My voice squeaked out as though I’d inhaled a tank of helium, but I had to ask.

  “Not really. She only said it had something to do with Kieran and Keaton. She said he was pissed, and he told her he might lose Kieran because of it.”

  I loved Simon because he never pried, never asked me for details, and still acted like I was some sort of goddess. Even as the world came crashing down around me, I held on to his hand and pretended nothing could ever come between us.

  Chapter 25

  I lay cuddled with my pillow, snuggled deep into my blanket, when Grace came bounding into my room on Saturday morning. She yanked on my arm, almost pulling me out of bed. “Wake the hell up!”

  I angled my head to look at her and pulled the pillow from beneath me to cover my eyes from the morning sun. “Go away, Grace.”

  She snatched the pillow and held it by the corners as though she intended to deliver a wallop. “Get up so I can kick your ass!”

  “What’s your problem?” I couldn’t summon the energy to yell back so I stayed in bed and watched her.

  “Did you know I hate looking stupid? And I went to school for a really long time so there would be no mistaking I’m pretty damn smart?” She paced as she continued holding my pillow.

  Uh-oh. Having a lawyer who rose with the sun spelled trouble, especially one who had no compunction about kicking my ass.

  “Did you know all that?”

  “Yes, Grace, you were queen of the A-plus papers. Did you come over to brag or is there a point to all this?” Under her bright-eyed glare, I sat up straight, ready to duck and cover, or tuck and roll, whichever need presented itself.

  She leaned across the bed, bracing her body on her fists as she glared at me with the angriest eyes I’d ever seen. With her face inches from mine, heat radiated from her body. “My point is you and your lies made me look stupid in front of the prosecutor. And now I’m going to kick your ass for it.” She advanced across the bed, ready to strike

  “Wait!” I scooted backward, only to fall off the other side of the mattress. “What are you talking about?” In case she’d found something else--anything else--I needed an explanation before I stepped in an even bigger pile of crap.

  “Lizette Lightener, I’m talking about Lizette freaking Lightener.”

  “Oh. I didn’t lie to you, Grace.” I shrugged, but swallowed hard. “I just didn’t tell you.”

  “Which leads me to wonder why the hell you wouldn’t tell me. I’m your lawyer, and supposedly, your friend.” She threw her hands up in the air and slammed them back to her thighs. “I like to think growing up together, and sharing secrets for thirty or so years, would mean we’re friends. Maybe I’m wrong. In which case, I should never have told you about Blane and Jamie. Why the hel
l would you keep something like this to yourself?”

  I stood and sighed. “Because, Grace. I never told Keaton he was Kieran’s daddy, and I never told Sean he was, either. I can’t just blurt out to Simon that he’s got a kid.” Well, that was one way to tell her. “Not now, after all this time. He’ll think I kept it from him because of his injury, or because I didn’t want him to see Kieran, or because I’m going to jail and I need him. I don’t need him. I want him, but I’m not telling.” I paused as her glare burned through my forehead. “Period.”

  She rolled her eyes and sighed in a loud whoosh of breath. “You’re so stupid. The longer you wait, the more hurt he’s going to be. You’ll lose him no matter what.”

  “Then let me have this time with him, even if it’s only a few days or hours. If I tell him, it’ll be on my time, not yours or Cal’s or that stupid baker bitch’s.”

  “Well, is jail okay with you, moron? Cal has you caught in a lie. Another lie.” She poked a finger at me. “And you don’t think it matters? The jury is going to hear that you lied again, and they’re going to be sitting in those chairs wondering why they should believe a liar who seems to think her child doesn’t deserve to know about his own father. A liar who doesn’t seem capable of speaking the truth. Period.” Her head flounced to one side, and her hands fisted on her hips as she mocked my choice of words.

  “Well, Grace, you’re supposed to be the best damned lawyer in the history of damned lawyers. So, you figure it out. Make it not matter. Isn’t that what you do?” Telling him now would only ruin everything.

  Chapter 26

  As though Grace’s raging anger wasn’t enough, Mom cornered me in the kitchen as her coffeemaker released one drip of coffee into the pot every three seconds. I tapped my foot waiting…and waiting for a full cup. “That woman said he came into the bakery and told her the baby doesn’t belong to him, either.” Mom sniffed in a big breath and blew it out, waiting for a reply I didn’t have.

  She’d obviously caught up on all the latest gossip during her morning trip to Gatlin’s salon. “Yeah. I heard.”

  Kieran was outside with Dad, so I went to the sofa quite intent on watching a movie. She spoke more words, more of the story she considered pertinent. When I continued to focus on the screen, she snatched the remote off the table and clicked the TV into silence.

  “Do you really plan to keep ignoring me?”

  “Well, it’s half naked Matthew McConhaughey, for goodness sake.” And her earth shattering headline stopped being big news to me the minute Grace burst into my room that morning.

  Unconcerned that one of People Magazine’s sexiest men alive stood shaking his moneymaker on the screen, my mother held the remote out of my reach and plopped down on the arm of the couch. “Your dad and I are worried about you, honey.”

  I sat up and pulled my knees to my chest, hugging them, curling into my own fears. “Mom, no matter how this turns out, I’m going to be fine.” The words choked out of me, broken by an untimely breath.

  “And what about Kieran? Have you thought about him?” She licked her lips and tears sprung to her eyes. “He needs you. If you know who killed Sean, then you’d better tell someone. You can’t leave Kieran without a momma when you won’t tell anyone who his daddy is.”

  This wasn’t a new bandwagon she’d hopped on. She drove the damned thing and probably took reservations for others to join her.

  If the jury came back with a guilty verdict, I intended to tell Simon he had responsibilities to our child, but not one minute before twelve of my judicially charged peers forced my hand.

  “Don’t you think I know, Mom? It’s all I think about. I’d rather die than leave him.” I sighed, content to repeat my story once again while I hoped for a reaction of belief this time. “Sean was dead when I went in there, and I didn’t see anyone leaving or hanging out waiting to be identified.” I suspected who’d killed Sean, but I couldn’t let someone who’d gone out of their way to protect me go to jail. I just couldn’t.

  “Dani”--her voice softened, and she put a hand on my shoulder--“you know your dad and I will do everything we can to help you and to keep Kieran safe, but we’re getting older and he needs--”

  “Mom!” She’d picked the absolute last thing I needed to hear. “Stop. I’m not going to jail. Grace is going to make sure.” I cleared my throat and repeated those words in a more forceful tone.

  She scoffed before leaving me alone so she could finish dinner. With a grim set of her lips, her usual huff and a big bowl of pasta in her hands, she continued the badgering from the other room until I finally flounced out in a cloud of rebellious attitude.

  “Dad.” He turned his gaze away from the pasture and looked down at me. “It’s time to eat.”

  “I’ll be in a little later.” A piece of my heart broke for the anguish I’d put in his eyes.

  “Dad.” I touched his shoulder. “I know you don’t understand my decisions about everything, but please know I’m trying to do what I think is best for Kieran.”

  “I know.”

  I leaned against his chest. His heart thumped a reassuring rhythm under my ear. “I wish I could get along with Mom as easily as I do you.”

  He chuckled. “She’s a worrier. Don’t get me wrong, I’m worried, too, but she does hers with a little more volume than I do.” He pressed a kiss to the top of my temple. “Want me to talk to her?”

  “Would you?”

  “Of course, but if I end up sleeping on the couch tonight, you’re making me breakfast in the morning.”

  “Deal.”

  As we walked across the wooden deck, he stopped, my elbow in his palm. “I would never let anything hurt you or Kieran. You know that, right?”

  I nodded and reached up to kiss his cheek. “Of course I know. It’s why we’re here, Daddy. You’re my hero.” A girl couldn’t go wrong with the daddy hero figure.

  When we made it inside, Dad took Mom into the pantry, claiming he needed help with something. After their return, she quieted, instead using body language to silently perform her interrogation. Her perfectly shaped eyebrows raised more than once in question as we ate in uncomfortable silence.

  When Dad walked Kieran down to the stables to feed his new pony, I washed the dinner dishes. I whipped my head around at the sound of the back door opening. Gatlin stood with one foot and most of his head inside the back door.

  I smiled broadly at him as soon as I noticed the antique doctor bag he used to carry his house call hair supplies. “Not that I’m complaining”--I beamed my best cover girl smile up at him--“but what are you doing here?” We’d never been the kind of friends to drop in on the other.

  He clucked his tongue. “I saw you on television Friday and you looked a little brassy.” He set the heavy bag on the table and extracted the magical bottles--dyes, gels, mousses, wax, conditioner, Heavenly Gate shampoo--that would have me back to glowing in no time--well, in about two and a half hours, anyway. “And, in my book, brass is a hair emergency.”

  After the kind of hug I saved for special occasions--weddings, births, visits from a master colorist with scissors--the processing began. He stood to the side, chewing a thumbnail, considering me from every angle as he tilted his head. He’d trimmed, colored, conditioned, spritzed, gelled, and sprayed my hair into a flattering style without chopping off a lot of length.

  I checked out my new do in a hand mirror. “You are a hair genius.”

  “Everybody has to be good at something.”

  By the sly little grin turning his lips heavenward, I knew he had more to add.

  “I happen to be good at everything.” He wiggled his brows and dropped down in the chair. “I have been after your boyfriend”--he rolled his eyes--“for weeks to let me get a hold of that mop on his head to put some fresh color in it.”

  Visualizing Simon sitting still for thirty minutes with enough foil in his hair to pick up Spanish television produced a smirk. Challenge accepted.
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br />   He cocked his hip, balling his fist and punching it into the bone. “What? You think I can’t convince him?”

  “I could convince him, but you? Not so much.” I looked him up and down. He’d toned down his previously eccentric wardrobe choices and wore jeans and a T-shirt advertising his salon. He was a little too masculine, but not masculine enough to have any kind of power over Simon.

  “Whatever. Our little golden god has changed since his accident. I think you might find he’s not so easily swayed by your pitiful powers of persuasion.” He narrowed his eyes and grimaced as though my persuasive attributes were in need of some surgical enhancement.

  “Are you challenging me, diva boy?”

  “My diva days are over. I will simply force him to sit in the chair while I work my magic.”

  I laughed and he put his hands to his cheeks and made a perfect circle with his lips. “I suppose you have a better plan?”

  “What do I get if I win?” I didn’t care about Simon’s highlights or the prize at the end, but it had been a while since anyone joked with me. I missed it.

  “Oh, no, little sister. When I win, and it will be me, you have to cook my dinners for a solid month. And no hamburger helper. I want full meals like your momma makes--steak and potatoes, fresh picked corn, garden green beans, and I’m thinking some mac and cheese that melts on your tongue.”

  “Again, if I win?”

  He sighed. “If you win--not to be repetitive, but I find it highly unlikely--but if you win, what do you want?” He huffed his bangs out of his face and drilled his fingers on the counter, while I contemplated a suitably nasty punishment.

  “You have to clean the stable for a week.” I could have pressed for longer, but he’d never have survived more than a seven day span of shoveling manure. I’d probably end up in court for that one too.

  “Deal.” We shook on it, and then Gatlin looked up at me with narrowed eyes. “And no using that body of yours to entice him, either.”