Shattered

by Pamela Sparkman

  “What did you do last year for Christmas?” I asked her.

  “Nothing special really. I went to visit my brother and we had a small dinner, just the two of us.”

  I glanced over at her. “No parents?”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  “Did they die?”

  “No.”

  I nodded slowly, trying to figure out how to frame my next question. “Do you ever see them or talk to them?”

  She took her time placing the next ornament on the tree before she answered. “My dad…” she paused, and I could clearly see the hurt in her eyes. She cleared her throat and started again, “My dad didn’t deal real well with my mom leaving us. I haven’t spoken to him in years, not since I left for college.” She paused again and for a moment, something dark flashed behind her eyes. Whatever darkness that lurked there, she pushed down and continued. “I wasn’t very close to my older brother, Caleb, back then. He’s seven years older than me and was out of the house by the time he was eighteen. We didn’t see each other very often. He and my dad couldn’t be in the same room with one another very long. I went away to college and when I moved back to Colorado we reconnected. We usually spend the holidays with each other. This year he’s got a steady girlfriend, so he’s spending Christmas with her family. That’s one of the reasons I came here.” She turned her head to face me. “I didn’t really want to spend Christmas alone.”

  The image of my Maggie spending the holidays alone and knowing about her broken childhood… ouch. I rubbed at my chest, which felt like a weight had been placed on it. My chest swelled with an ache so brutal that breathing literally hurt.

  I shifted the conversation a bit to give myself time to ask the questions I wanted answers to and to give Maggie a break. I wanted to know everything about her. I also didn’t want to ruin her night recalling a shitty childhood.

  “You went to college at Vanderbilt, right? With Lily?”

  “Yeah. We met one day in a coffee shop near campus. She was so nervous. I could tell she needed a friend just by looking at her. Best thing I ever did was walk up to Lily that morning. We’ve been best friends ever since.”

  “So, when she was attacked nearly six years ago, you knew her then?”

  “No. We actually didn’t meet until after that had happened. I mean, I heard about the attack and saw TV reports about it, but I didn’t know her at that time.”

  Maggie hung another ornament and moved the last one I hung to another branch. “She never talked about it. I tried a few times to get her to talk to me, but she had her walls. It was as if… as if she’d convinced herself that not talking about it meant she wouldn’t have to deal with it. She didn’t, you know, she never really dealt with it. That’s why I wanted her to move to Colorado with me when she graduated. I thought getting her away from the place that held such dark memories would help her. I was wrong though. You can’t run from things.” Maggie gazed at the tree with a faraway look. “When Lily eventually told me everything that happened I understood why she didn’t want to remember. I know how someone could forget something like that, why they would want to. I think it was her way of surviving it.” She looked at me. “Coming back home seems to have actually helped her. Although I think we both know that it was Cooper who helped Lily truly find herself again.” She looked away once more, placing another ornament. “Sometimes all we need is a soft place to land when we fall.”

  She glanced my way and gave me a small smile.

  I reached over, took her hand, and squeezed it. Together we continued staring at the tree in companionable silence. A few minutes later Maggie said, “This is nice.” She adjusted some things here and there and then stood back to admire our work. “And no dangling Christmas penis.”

  “Not right now anyway.”

  “Joe Carlisle, you had better keep that penis off of this tree!”

  “What the fuck?”

  Maggie and I both spun around to face the voice that came from behind us.

  “I’m not even gonna ask,” Hayden said.

  “Joe wants to–”

  “No,” Hayden replied. “Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.”

  “What are you doing here, man? You couldn’t knock first?” I asked, pretending to be annoyed.

  “Trust me, I wish I had,” Hayden said. “I wanted to see Maggie.” Hayden opened his arms for Maggie to walk into them.

  “Hey big guy,” she said, giving him a big squeeze. “How have you been?”

  “Until a few seconds ago, I was doing pretty damn good.”

  Maggie playfully slapped Hayden on his chest and asked, “Want some hot chocolate?”

  “Did you make it or did this bonehead?” he asked, hitching his thumb towards me. “It’s obvious he cannot be trusted around Christmas trees. I sure as hell don’t trust him with hot chocolate.”

  “What’s the matter you big baby?” I taunted him. “That rash on your ass come back?”

  “Stop talking about my ass.”

  “Would you rather I talk about my pe–”

  “Stop!” Hayden chuckled. “I can’t take it.”

  I walked up to Maggie, who was preparing more hot chocolate.

  “You boys are a total mess. I’ve missed you guys.” She handed Hayden his cup.

  “Missed you too, Mags,” Hayden replied, blowing the hot chocolate and taking a tiny sip.

  Yeah. Missed you, too, I thought. And how fucking true that was. I’d missed her every day since she left. Oddly, if I really thought about it, I’d missed her my whole life.

  Maggie and Hayden sat on the sofa and got caught up. I let them talk while occasionally chiming in with a well-placed comment or joke. Later, after Hayden left, Maggie started down the hall.

  “Mind if I take a shower before bed?” she asked.

  Instantly, I thought of Maggie in the shower. In my shower. “Of course I don’t mind.” I liked the idea of her in my shower very much. “Need any help?”

  She chuckled softly. “No, I’m a big girl. I think I can handle it on my own.”

  “Just checking,” I said with a wink. “You know, trying to be a good host.”

  “Yes, Joe. I’m sure you were,” she smirked.

  Maggie was in my shower, and I was standing on the other side of the bathroom door because the thought of her in there made my blood boil. Boil in a good way though. Boil like my blood was literally changing from a liquid to a vapor that rises to the surface of swirling bubbles of desire and need. I was a freaking volcano ready to erupt.

  I tapped on the door. “Hey Maggie?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Tomorrow, I want to take you somewhere.”

  “Okay. You can’t wait and tell me this after I’m out?”

  “No.”

  “Are you being serious?” she yelled through the door.

  I could hear the water splashing and I imagined how it flowed over her skin, and I thought this was definitely the first time in my life I had ever been jealous of water.

  “Yep,” I said. Seriously, crazily in love with you.

  “Where are you taking me?”

  “That part actually can wait until morning,” I answered.

  “So, you can’t tell me where we’re going, but you couldn’t wait to tell me that we would be going somewhere?”

  “Exactly.”

  The water shut off and I heard the shower curtain pull back. “You’re very strange, Joe.”

  “I prefer unorthodox, Maggie.” I left at that point, before she had a chance to respond, and went into her room and turned down her covers and even had the forethought to place a chocolate on her pillow.

  She came in before I had finished making the room comfortable for her. “You turned down my covers?” She looked around behind me. “And placed a chocolate on my pillow?”

  “If I had known ahead of time you would be staying here I would have bought mints for your pillow. I’m sorry to say you’ll have to live with the chocolate instead.”

 
Her lips tugged into a shy grin. “Thank you. And for the record, I prefer chocolate.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  She was standing there in a little white tank top and pajama shorts. I couldn’t help admiring her beauty once again. She was breathtaking.

  “Is part of your services a kiss good night as well?” she asked jokingly, and maybe somewhat serious too.

  “Do you want it to be?”

  “Maybe. I don’t know,” she shrugged. “This is only my second visit to Casa Joe’s. Last time you kissed me. I think I expect it now.”

  “Is that so? Well now I feel pressured.”

  “You want to kiss me. Admit it.”

  “I do. But you’re awfully demanding.”

  “Get over here and kiss me.”

  “No. You’re too bossy.”

  “Get over here and lay your lips on me damn it.”

  Before I even realized what I was doing, I’d reached out and grabbed her hand and pulled her into me; and then I was kissing her. I’m pretty sure I caught her off guard, since she let out a soft moan. My hands held her face, and I… forgot how to do this. My lips froze. Her lips and mine were touching and nothing more. The kiss was simple. It was chaste. It was precious. And for a whole minute that’s what we did, touched lips, because I forgot how to do this. My lips completely paralyzed against hers made this the most innocent and the most sensual kiss I’d ever experienced.

  I slowly, very slowly, backed away. She still had her eyes closed. She was mesmerizing. She opened her eyes and looked up at me, her eyes holding mine.

  “Don’t say anything,” I quickly told her. “Just…just let me look at you.”

  She complied, and remained silent. She held my gaze, as I held hers, and I slowly counted in my head all the things I loved about her. She was beautiful, kind, funny, sophisticated... The list grew longer as I stared down at her, and I finished my mental list with this realization: she was Maggie, which meant she was everything.

  “Tomorrow,” I said, “I’m taking you somewhere fun, so get some rest. And wear comfortable shoes.” I stepped around her and guided her to the bed, stopping her when she touched the mattress with the back of her knees. “Lie down, and I’ll tuck you in.”

  She still had not said a word, only obliging my requests. She lay down and I pulled the covers up over her, then reached around and turned off the lamp. I leaned in, lingering quietly above her, wishing I could tell her what was in my heart. I placed a kiss on her forehead, a soft whisper of one that lasted for a beat longer than I intended, but not as long as I would have liked, then gently pulled back.

  “Night, Maggie,” I said, walking toward the door.

  “I didn’t think you would really do it,” she whispered.

  “What? Kiss you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I wasn’t going to, but you challenged me. I guess you could say you made me do it.”

  “Is that what I am? A challenge?”

  “You’re definitely a challenge, sweetheart. It’s a challenge just to keep my hands to myself whenever we’re in the same room. Get some sleep, Maggie. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Maggie

  I have learned two very important lessons in my twenty-six years. That may not seem like a lot, but it’s not the quantity of the information you take away with you, but the quality of its impact on your life. I place a lot of value on the two crucial lessons I have learned. One: people can truly suck and can make you bleed out if you let them. The trick to that lesson is not to let them. Two: people can truly elevate you to heights that you could never reach on your own. And the trick to that lesson is to let them, if they’re willing to soar above the clouds with you. This is a lesson I’ve learned only recently, like in the last few weeks. We are not creatures designed to be alone. We can get by on our own, that’s true, but I don’t want to get by. I want to touch the clouds.

  Last night when Joe kissed me, I felt weightless. I wasn’t cloud-walking yet. That was because Joe broke the kiss before I floated away. Maybe that was best. Too much too fast can lead to a tailspin¸ resulting in a nosedive back to Earth.

  “We have a lot to do,” Joe said through the closed door. “You about ready?”

  “Yes,” I answered back, lacing up my shoes, and refusing to think any more about clouds or impending freefalls today. “You still haven’t told me where we’re going yet.”

  No answer.

  “Joe?”

  Still no answer.

  I stood, grabbed my purse, and in a rush opened the door. I had taken maybe one step when… humph…I crashed into a hard, muscled chest. I looked up and realized Joe had a firm grip around my waist, both arms wrapped tightly around me, our faces only inches apart. He had a glimmer in his eye and a smirk on his face.

  “Easy tiger,” he said.

  I tried to regain my equilibrium; however, Joe’s scent wafted around me, encasing me in a fog, a delicious haze of… I don’t even know, although, I imagine heaven smells a lot like this. I pulled myself out of his hold and stepped back. It was then I noticed what he was wearing: blue jeans that hugged his body in all the right places, and a t-shirt that said, I’d flex, but I like this shirt. I rolled my eyes and laughed at that. His black hair was still a little damp from the shower, and his blue eyes were staring right at me.

  “Why didn’t you answer me?” I asked.

  “You didn’t ask me a question.”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “No, you didn’t.”

  “I asked where we were going?”

  “No, you stated that I still haven’t told you where we were going, which is true. I haven’t.”

  “The question was implied.”

  “I have coffee, want some?” he asked, changing the subject and turning to walk down the hall toward the kitchen.

  I inwardly accepted defeat, and said with a huff, “Sure.”

  “Not a morning person?” he called over his shoulder.

  I said nothing.

  Joe glanced back at me. “Not gonna answer that?”

  “I didn’t realize it was a question. I thought you were stating the obvious.”

  He grinned. “Touché.”

  I followed behind him and observed him making me coffee. Cream and one sugar. “How’d you know how I take my coffee?”

  He handed me my cup and leaned back against the counter, crossing his legs at the ankles. “You’ve been here before, Maggie.”

  “We had to leave in a rush. We didn’t even have time for coffee.”

  He took a sip. “I remember how you take your coffee from when you were here for the wedding, not from when you spent the night here.”

  I tossed that around in my head, trying to recall when he saw me any other morning before that morning. When did he see me drink coffee?

  “At the restaurant.”

  I glanced at him over the rim of my cup. “Huh?”

  “You ordered coffee that night at the restaurant, after dessert.” He took another sip. “The night we met.”

  “Oh.” That was all I could think to say. I took a sip as well, and then finally I had to ask. “How do you remember that?”

  His attention was no longer on the cup in his hand. It was now solely on me. “I remember everything about that night.”

  I decided to test that theory. “So, what was I wearing?”

  “A black dress. Your hair was down, and you were wearing a silver necklace with a heart-shaped pendant.”

  “Oh,” was all I could think to say again.

  “Your shoes had sparkles on them, and you were wearing a ring on your pinky finger, and on your other hand, a silver thumb ring. I remember thinking how tiny your hands were.” He glanced at my hands wrapped firmly around my cup. “I also remember looking at the empty chair beside you and being relieved to find out you were alone. I mean, without a date.” He was still staring at my hands as he pointed, “I see you’re wearing the thumb ring today. I like it.” His eyes flickered up to mine and he
held them there for …one…two….three beats.

  He placed his cup on the counter, and then asked, “Ready?”

  Am I? “Yes,” I said. “I think I am.” Ready for what, though, I had no idea.

  “Famous horses such as Iroquois, Secretariat, Seabiscuit, Funny Cide and Smarty Jones can all trace their lineage back here, to this plantation. It all began in 1807…” the tour guide, dressed in a period costume, went on to say, “when John Harding bought two hundred and fifty acres and a log cabin on the southern edge of Nashville. Belle Meade estate became known as ‘Queen of Tennessee Plantations’ as Mr. Harding established a reputation for training and breeding winners for the track. Winners of the past nine Kentucky Derbies can trace their bloodlines back to Belle Meade.”

  “Oh wow,” I remarked to Joe quietly as we listened to the rich history of this beautiful thoroughbred breeding farm. It was exquisite in both charm and legacy. “I had no idea the auction system for buying thoroughbred horses began here.”

  Joe leaned in and kissed my temple. “I thought you’d like this place.” He held my hand in his, and together we walked along with a small group, who also seemed to be impressed with our surroundings. The 5,400 acre estate had a carriage house, stables, smokehouse, garden house, dairy, blacksmith forge, racetrack, and train depot. I was enthralled by the farm. At a glance it seemed to defy the passage of time. The mansion sported period fixtures and furniture, and the stables were a grand affair. If I didn’t know any better I would swear I woke up this morning in the 1800s. I almost expected to see Joe standing next to me wearing a tailcoat, trousers, and a derby hat. I allowed that mental image to play for a bit before he disrupted my reverie with his laugh.

  “What?” I asked, looking around to see what amused him.

  “You,” he said.

  “What about me?”

  “You were looking at me just now like you wanted to eat me for lunch.”

  “I was not!”

  “Yes. You were.”

  Was I? Shit. “Well maybe I’m hungry. All you fed me this morning was coffee,” I said haughtily. “You should feed me something with sustenance.”