“Oh, darling.” My mom brings me into her arms. I close my eyes and rest my head on her shoulder. She strokes my back. “That man loves you, Ava. I know you may not believe him, but I wouldn’t lie to you. I’ve seen you with him several times now, and you can’t fake love like that. The way he looks at you…” She pulls away, a small smile playing on her lips. “It’s the look of a man in love. He looks at you like you’re the sun.”
I know my mom hasn’t read his poems, so the analogy makes me jerk back. “And how do I look at him?”
Her smile broadens. “Like he hangs the moon.”
I stare down at the floor. “I don’t think that anymore.”
I hear the smile in my mom’s voice. “Yes, you do. Even when love is joined by hurt, or anger, or even hatred, it’s still in the mix somewhere. You just have to look close enough.”
“It sounds like you’re on his side,” I say.
She raises my chin with her fingers. “I’m always on your side. Always. But I can tell you’re hurting, and I think the only way to begin to heal that pain is to talk to Gabriel.”
“He’s the one that hurt me in the first place.”
“Do you really believe that?” My mom nods at my silence. “I know he lied—”
“You warned me, when we first started dating, remember? You warned me to be careful, that there wasn’t something right about him, but I didn’t listen. I feel just like the stupid and naïve little girl I promised you I wasn’t,” I tell her.
“Sweetheart, when I said that, I could never have imagined a situation like this. I know what I told you, and I stand by it, but in this case, I don’t think it’s Gabriel that deserves most of your anger.”
“Who does then?” I ask her, genuinely wanting to know. If there’s somewhere else I can channel this pain, I will.
“Well, if you’re going to be mad at anything, be mad at life. Life is responsible for Gabriel’s wife dying. It’s responsible for sending him your way, and the two of you falling in love. Gabriel is just as much of a victim as you are.”
“I know.” It’s one of the only things I’m sure of in this mess.
My mom skims her fingers over my hair. “Sweetheart, I know it’s hard. But think about it from Gabriel’s perspective. That poor man hasn’t just lost one woman he loves; he’s lost two. Your pain is indescribable, but his is unimaginable. Oh, that reminds me,” she says, twisting around to bring her purse onto her lap.
“I collected your mail on the way in. You and Finley really need to check it more often. It’s starting to look like a mountain. And you need to do a better job of cleaning the apartment. There’s dishes stacked everywhere in the kitchen. Anyway, this came for you.” She pulls an envelope from her open purse and holds it out to me.
I recognize Gabriel’s handwriting immediately. Hesitating, I reach for the letter. It just has my name on it in his bold slanted script, which means he must have delivered it by hand. I wonder when he came by. My gut twists at the thought of him being so physically close, and yet emotionally so far away. I glance up at my mom, begging her with my eyes. For what? Help? Advice? Permission?
Whatever I was looking for, I receive in the form of her encouraging nod. Taking a deep breath, I slide my finger under the envelope and pull out the letter inside. It takes me several minutes to steady my hands enough to read what’s on the single sheet of paper. I gasp when I realize what I’m looking at.
The warm blanket of love we wrapped each other in,
Was woven with the thread of loss.
The hand-sewn hearts,
Stitched down the middle with sadness.
And still,
We tucked ourselves in tighter,
And sank deeper under the covers.
Clinging to each other with passionate desperation.
Hoping the blanket would not slip off our shoulders,
And leave us cold.
Knowing if it fell off,
We’d fall apart.
I wanted Gabriel to start writing again. I wanted him to write a poem about me. About us. But not like this. Never like this.
His pain leaps off the paper. I trace the words with my fingertips, absorbing them into my bloodstream. My tears splash onto the page. Unable to see the words anymore, I hold out the letter to my mom. She reads in silence, but her emotions are as palpable as Gabriel’s. She folds the letter with care and puts it back into the envelope.
“Looks like Gabriel isn’t the only one torturing himself.” I follow my mom’s gaze to the open poetry book on my bed. I hug my knees closer into my chest.
Mom reaches out to tuck away some of my hair. Her sigh is heavy as she wipes the wetness from my skin with her thumb. “There’s a fine line between being a victim and a martyr, sweetheart. You may be a victim of love; we all are at some point, but don’t be a martyr. Don’t suffer unnecessarily. Call him. Talk to him. Whatever you decide, put yourself and that poor man out of your misery. You both deserve better than this.” She gestures at the letter and the book.
Closing my eyes, I nod. Her comforting scent surrounds me as a gentle kiss lands on my forehead. My mom places something heavy in my hand. Wrapping my fingers around it, I know what it is. Her proud smile when I open my eyes gives me the courage I need.
She stands. “I’ll give you some privacy and get started on dinner. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.”
I reach out and grab her hand, squeezing it. “I’ll always need you, Mom.”
“And I you, sweetheart. But I’m not the only one who needs you right now.” Tilting her head at the phone in my hand, she blows me a kiss and leaves.
There’s something poetic about being back where it all started. We’ve come full circle. But did our story really start here? Or did it start on the night of Gabriel’s wife’s death, the night I almost died, too?
Two small children giggle as they run past me, chasing some birds. I cup my hand over my eyes to block out the sun. Spotting Gabriel up ahead, I walk past the trees, allowing their solid strength to ground me.
As I climb up the hill, I take in the beauty of this new vantage point. I’ve never seen the park from up here. You can see the whole city sprawled out beyond the green. Gabriel stands as I approach.
He looks every inch as beautiful and as tortured as the last time I saw him. The stubble coating his jaw is thicker than I’ve ever seen it. His eyes are red, surrounded by dark circles, much like my own. My heart speeds up like it does every time I see him. But now, my reaction takes on a whole new meaning.
We stop walking and stand in front of each other. My restless arms hang heavy by my side.
“Hi.”
He takes in a sharp lungful of air, as if he’s breathing in the sound of my voice. “Hi.”
“How are you?” I ask, shifting my weight.
He swipes his hand over his brow. “Terrible. You?”
“The same.” The distant sound of laughter from people in the park below drifts up. We continue to stare at each other in silence. “Screw it.” Closing the gap between us, I wrap my arms around him. Gabriel doesn’t hesitate in hugging me back. His grip is so tight, I can’t breathe. I clench my eyes shut, and don’t have to look at him to know he’s doing the same.
We’re in the middle of an emotional warzone, but for a brief second, I’m at peace. Then reality floods back in, leaving us both stranded. Breathing him in, I pull away and step back. His face falls.
Despite the busy park below, we’re the only people up here. I’m grateful for the privacy. This conversation needs to be had without an audience.
“Shall we?” I extend my arm toward the grass.
Clenching his jaw, he sits down. I sit down next to him, leaving a small space between our bodies. It feels unnatural. Gabriel must think so, too, because he shifts and closes it so that our thighs are touching. I could pull away again, but the truth is, I don’t want to.
“Thank you for coming.”
“Thank you for calling me. I was beginning to
fear you never would.”
“I’m sorry. I haven’t handled this situation well at all.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for, Ava.”
“I should have called sooner.”
“We both have things we should have done.”
I have nothing to say to that so I look back out at the view. For once, the silence between us isn’t comfortable. It’s stifling. Remembering why I asked him to meet me here, I turn my head to speak and find Gabriel already watching me.
“Tell me about her. What was she like?” I struggle to sit still while Gabriel analyzes my face.
“You really want to know?”
Do I? My nod is hesitant. This whole thing unraveled because of my curiosity about the woman who saved my life. Where better to learn about her than from her husband? The same husband who is also my boyfriend. God. What a mess.
He closes his eyes and tips his head back, as if summoning her image in his mind. When he opens them, they’re distant and glazed. He stares out at the park as he speaks. A small smile tilts his lips up. “Charlotte,” he begins in a quiet voice. “She was incredible. So full of fire and spirit. She was like a lioness; fierce and protective of those she cared about; but so kind and funny, too.”
I try not to react, but I must fail because Gabriel turns to look at me. “The world needs both butterflies and lions. One is not better than the other. They’re both beautiful and brave in their own ways.”
His hand covers mine as it fiddles with blades of grass. “Ava.” I look up. “I do not wish you were a lion any more than I would have wished her to be a butterfly.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“I…”
“This was a bad idea.”
“No! Please. I do want to know about her. It’s just hard not to compare myself to her. You married her. You’d still be married to her if life weren’t so screwed up. I’m only in your life because she died. You have to understand how difficult that is to deal with.”
His jaw locks. I am not afraid of his sudden anger because I know it isn’t directed at me. “It’s difficult for me, too.”
“I know. I’m sure it’s harder.”
His hands fist in the grass. “You cannot compare pain.”
Isn’t that the truth? Who loses the most in this situation? Charlotte, surely. She lost her life.
“Um, how did she die? If you don’t mind me asking.”
I regret the question as soon as it leaves my lips. Gabriel’s reaction is so immediate, so visibly painful that my heart squeezes in my chest. We’re connected, whether by choice or circumstance, so his agony spreads through my veins like poison.
“You don’t have to. Forget I—”
“No.” The quiet command echoes through the trees. It seems the whole park falls silent. “No. It’s your right to ask. I just haven’t spoken about it to anyone.”
“Gabriel…”
He raises a hand to stop my protest. “I need to do this. Not just for you, but for me, too.”
His chest expands with heavy breaths, as if he’s running a marathon. When he starts to speak, his words cut into my soul like knives. Tears stream out of my eyes as Gabriel recounts the night of Charlotte’s death. Each horrifying moment plays in my mind like a movie, every scene more devastating than the last.
When he explains that she was pregnant at the time of her passing, I sob so hard that I almost choke. Gabriel continues over my cries, purging himself of his pain. My heart doesn’t just break; it shatters. He has lost so much. How he’s still sitting next to me, I’ll never know.
Gabriel doesn’t cry, but his shoulders shake with silent agony. I pull him into my arms, both of us clutching each other like a lifeline.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. For all three of you.” I wasn’t responsible for her death, but it’s the only way I can express my grief. Gabriel’s hold on me tightens. We sit there, holding each other while the world goes by.
After a while, Gabriel pulls us down onto our backs. Resting my head on his chest, I bunch my hand in his shirt. His heartbeat thumps beneath my ear. We stare up at the sky, reminding ourselves that this world is bigger than our pain. Gabriel’s pulse slows, his breathing becoming steady and in sync with mine.
“Can I ask you something?” I break the silence, watching the clouds drift by.
“Of course.”
“When did you know who I was? At what point did you find out about our connection?” I hold my breath. When Gabriel goes rigid, I have my answer. Except it’s not the one I wanted. My stomach sinks before he’s even spoken.
“From the beginning.”
My eyelids draw shut. I saw the truth in his eyes the night of the confrontation, but a small part of me was still hoping I was wrong. The shame in his voice does nothing to soothe me. “Why, Gabriel? Why couldn’t you have just been honest from the start? How did you even find me? Both sides have to agree to the contact, and the transplant center would have contacted me, like they did to you.”
“I hired a private investigator.”
I launch up into a sitting position. “You what?”
Shaking his head, he sits up and rests his arms on his knees. “Believe me, if I could do it all differently, I would. But I didn’t know what would happen. I didn’t know when I started looking that I would find you.”
Crossing my arms, I raise an eyebrow. “Who did you expect to find?”
“I don’t know. Not you. Not this. I thought Charlotte was the only woman I’d ever love. I didn’t know I’d find a second soul mate.”
I glare at him, shielding myself from his sweet talk. “I can’t believe you had me followed. Why all the deception? Why couldn’t you have just been honest from the start about who you were?”
Regret swims in his downcast eyes. He hangs his head. “The year after Charlotte died, I died, too. I was breathing, but I was dead inside. One night, a few weeks before the anniversary of her death, I drove to the stop where she died, and I sat there, staring at the tree, my foot on the pedal.”
He ignores my quiet gasp and continues. “I wanted to join her. I had nothing left. Just as I was about to… I remembered the doctor in the hospital on the night she died. The one who talked to me about her organs.”
He lifts his head and looks at me. “She told me that giving others pieces of her meant that Charlotte would never die. That she would live on through those people. They were her legacy. I missed her so much. I was so desperate for any piece of her that I could get, anything that would stop me feeling so alone. So I decided to seek them out, to see if it would bring me any comfort before I died.”
“Oh, my God. You were still planning to kill yourself? Even after you tracked me down?”
He nods once.
“What…? Why?” I struggle to ask the question in a sensitive way. As mad and as heartbroken as I am, the thought of a world without Gabriel Cruz is unbearable.
“You.”
“Me?”
“You are the reason I am still here. You brought me back to life.”
“Gabriel, I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t need to say anything. I’m just telling you the truth. Like I should have done from the beginning.”
“For what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re still here.”
“Me, too. You will never know how happy I am that you are still here, too.”
I gape at him. “How can you say that? Knowing what it means, what it cost you for me to be here?”
“Being happy you are alive does not mean that I am happy Charlotte is dead. Besides, what you need to realize, Ava, is that Charlotte still would have died, even if you did not receive her heart. All it means is that I would have lost both of my soul mates that night, instead of one. But I would never have got the chance to meet you. I wouldn’t have realized just how much I’d lost that night.”
His words shake me to my core. He’s right. I’ve been thinking of it as if Charlotte would have lived if it weren’t
for me. But I only received her heart because she was dying anyway. Without her heart, we both would have died. I can’t process how much this new perspective changes things right now, so I store it away for later.
“It still doesn’t explain why you used the private investigator. Why not just do it the proper way?”
He shoves a hand through his hair, bristling with dark energy. “It’s hard to explain.”
“Try. Please. I want to understand.”
“I didn’t want to meet those people, the ones she helped. I thought it would be too strange for me. I just wanted to watch them from afar. To see the sort of people they were. Whether they were worthy of her goodness, and making the most of the gift she’d given them, you know? I wanted to see what kind of legacy she was creating. She was such a special person, it would have been wrong for her to help someone evil to live when she had to die.”
I nod, knowing how unfair life is. Bad things happen to good people every day. And vice versa.
“Did she help anyone else? Apart from me?”
“Yes. Three other people. Her lungs, her liver, and her kidneys.”
“Did you have them followed, too?” Despite my compassion, I can’t keep the bitterness out of my voice.
“Yes.”
“Did you interact with them?”
“No.”
“Why not? Why did you decide to talk to me and not them?”
“Several reasons. I felt a… pull to you that I didn’t to the others.”
A disbelieving snort escapes my mouth. He winces. “I know I’ve destroyed your trust, but it’s true. From the second I saw your pictures, I felt something other than numb for the first time in a year. In all the photos the investigator showed me, you were so alive. You were enjoying the life Charlotte had given you. Truly enjoying it. For someone who had forgotten what it meant to be alive, it was so refreshing.”
“Weren’t the others making the most of their lives?”
He shrugs. “In their own ways. But none of them had the same spark as you did. There were photos of you dancing, laughing, and several of you in the ocean. The look on your face was as if it was the best thing you’d ever experienced.”
This Old Heart of Mine Page 22
