Nice. Already they were bored. Rivers cleared her throat. “Anyway, I’ve always drawn and painted, and then I studied for a master’s in art therapy. But enough about me.” She lifted the canvas from the easel near Gabriella. “Tonight we’re going to work on what I’ve dubbed our Feeling Hearts. Maybe there’s a better name, but since I normally work with children, I keep terminology simple.”
“We aren’t children.” Star scowled.
“I draw like one,” the older redhead joked. “I can’t make a stick in the mud.”
“No worries. I won’t judge.” Rivers forced a smile and tried to make eye contact with the ladies who were actually paying attention. “On each easel, I’ve given you a canvas with a penciled outline of a heart. If any part of your heart is happy, show that with the colors you choose or even words you paint or write there. If you have anger or sadness, you can shade those parts of the heart too. I’ve brought other multimedia pieces that can be glued to the picture if you like.” She motioned toward the costume jewelry and fabric scraps from the cottage. “You won’t have to share about the finished work unless you want to.”
“Good. Because I’ve got some junk stored up in here,” a blond chimed in, patting her chest.
“We all do.” Rivers nodded. Finally, some participation.
“Humph.” The grunt came from Star, who leveled a harsh look on Rivers.
Face simmering, she continued, “When we create art, we want to represent our journey.”
“And what journey would you know, Barbie? You broke a nail once?” Something in Star’s sarcasm struck a match in Rivers.
How dare she? River’s vision went red. Every spark of anger and hurt she’d held in since she arrived erupted into flames and burned to spew out like molten lava. “How about the part of my journey when my mother came home trashed most of my life? That is, until the one night she didn’t come home because she had driven away from an office party drunk and crashed her car, killing the man she was with—not my father—and ending up with permanent brain damage and causing us to get sued over the adulterous man’s death. Don’t worry, though, I didn’t break a nail. Or how about the part of my journey where some addict shot my fiancé right in front of me? I didn’t break a nail then, either.” She slid aside the shoulder of her loose, short-sleeve top to reveal the bullet scars. “Even when he turned the gun on me. Except, unfortunately, I lived. Jordan didn’t.” She held up her hand. “But, hey, what would I know? I’m just a Barbie, right?”
The room fell silent. Mouths and eyes wide, the ladies stared.
What had she done? Heat rushed through Rivers and scorched her cheeks. It wasn’t fair to these ladies to behave this way, no matter what Star said. “I’m sorry. I don’t think I’m ready for this. The grief is still too—” She had to get out of here. Tears blurred her vision, and she made a dash toward the exit.
“It’s okay, Rivers,” Gabby called behind her.
But she opened the door, scooted through, and shut it behind her. Pivoting toward her car, she ran headlong into Cooper’s chest.
Chapter 25
“WHAT HAPPENED?” COOPER caught Rivers and rested his hands on her shoulders. He’d started to take off in the Jeep, but something in his spirit whispered for him to come back.
“I can’t...” Her breath came in ragged puffs, and she burrowed her head against his chest. “I couldn’t do it. I fell apart and blew up at them.”
“What happened?”
“I was nervous. The ladies looked bored. Star made some snarky comments. I spouted off something about my mom, her wreck, and Jordan and me...getting shot.”
“It’s okay.” Yearning wrapped his heart, and he slid his arms around her. If only he could heal her wounds. Moonlight fell around them, and the evening sounds of crickets chirping filled the salty air. He lifted her chin. “I’d trade anything to take your pain away.”
She gazed up at him, blue eyes all weepy and beautiful.
Cooper swallowed hard. That gaze stirred longings he’d given up way before he’d gotten sober. Longings for someone to share his heart. Longings to love and be loved.
“You’re always here when I need you.” Her gaze fell to his lips. She couldn’t be thinking of him in the same way he was thinking of her.
Though his pulse pounded, he was afraid to move, barely believing this was real. If she needed to use him as a temporary crutch and then discard him, he was willing. Unless doing so would cause her more pain.
She moved closer, and his mind went absent of all thoughts apart from her lips. Her mouth brushed his, soft and sweet and gentle, then explored with more passion. Though he tried to restrain himself, the call of her touch drew him. He kissed her back, lost in the moment and the emotion. He cupped her face, ran his fingers through her hair, soaking in the taste of her and the scent of lavender.
“What the—” Shane’s voice broke into the moment. “Cooper, you of all people? Taking advantage of Jordan’s fiancée?”
Rivers broke away, touching her fingers to her pink lips. “He didn’t.”
Shane approached from down the sidewalk. They hadn’t even heard him drive up. His chin jutted and he scoffed. “Rivers, you don’t believe he’d manipulate you to keep this place? That’s what addicts do.”
“That’s not...” Cooper focused on Rivers, desperate for her to discard Shane’s words. “I’ll move from the studio tonight.” He released her and waved a hand toward the gallery. “I’ll clear out the artwork by the end of the week.”
“No.” Rivers caught one of his hands. “Take me away from here.”
“Of course.” He shot a look at Shane, torn between doing what Rivers asked and making the truth clear to Shane. But he led her to his Jeep and opened the door.
Shane stood, arms crossed, staring as Cooper drove them away.
“This was never about the property.” He squeezed the wheel and stared straight ahead, pressing his lips together. What more could he say? There was no sense trying to convince Rivers of anything. She would believe what she wanted to believe. He drove out of town, across the causeway, past Brunswick, and then headed south, the full moon lighting the starry sky ahead of them.
When they reached the Sidney Lanier Bridge, Rivers gasped. “It’s beautiful.”
He slowed the Jeep. “Georgia’s tallest cable-stayed suspension bridge.” The architectural structure was a sight, the massive cables sweeping upward to form two giant pinnacles in the center.
“What body of water are we crossing?”
“The Brunswick River. We’re heading toward Jekyll Island. I wasn’t sure where or how far you wanted to go when you asked me to take you away.”
“It reminds me of the Mississippi River Bridge back home. That’s what I was doing that evening when”—her voice broke—“when Jordan was killed. He’d just given me that sketch pad.”
The pad she’d been clutching that first day? No wonder she wouldn’t let go of it. “I’m sorry. I can’t imagine how horrific it was for you.”
Silence reclaimed the ride, but again, there was nothing more he could say. They reached the public beach access, and he pulled into the lot and parked. “Want to walk?”
She answered with a nod and opened her door.
They crossed the lot and the boardwalk, past the dunes, to reach the water’s edge. She plopped down, so he did the same. Not much of a walk.
A debate raged inside, whether to make conversation or shut up. He didn’t trust himself to speak anything of worth with his turbulent emotions. Her kiss only confirmed what he’d feared.
He was falling in love with her.
“What are you thinking?” Her voice was soft.
Not about to tell her that. He turned to face her. “I wish I knew what you were looking for, Rivers. How I could give you closure, mend your heart, stitch up everything and tie a nice bow on it. I’ve come to care about you, but I can’t figure out what to do for you.”
“How could you? I can’t understand what I’m feeling.�
� She raised a hand and caressed his cheek. His breath caught, and he forced himself to hold still under her touch. “There’s so much emotional history here, and it’s fogging up the present. I’m drawn to you, but I can’t figure out what’s real. I don’t want to hurt you. I shouldn’t have...”
He placed his hand over hers. “I’m willing to take a chance, even if it means being hurt.” And he was. If it broke him into a million pieces, he’d risk it all.
She leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss on his other cheek. “You’re a good man, Cooper. A strong man. A forgiven man.”
His eyes burned. For so long, he’d wanted to hear words like these from his family.
“I’m not.”
“You are. You’ve turned your life around, which took faith and hard work, and now you have a heart for the lost.”
If this was as close as he came, hearing the affirmation from Rivers would do.
“I messed up tonight.” She groaned. “I was anxious, and I let Star get under my skin.”
“You’re shouldering too much alone. My family should be helping you. My parents. Aunt Brooklyn and Uncle Alex.”
“It’s no excuse for my behavior.”
“Re-Claimed is a forgiving group.” He laughed. “They have to be. When you’re forgiven much, you forgive others much.”
“Sounds familiar.”
“My Luke seven paraphrase.”
Her eyes shone in the moonlight. “I found old letters at the cottage from your grandfather to your grandmother. And her journal.” She gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “He was an alcoholic. Your grandmother and the twins went through a lot of bad stuff. Maybe that’s why they shut you out.”
Cooper let the revelation sink in. Even if the past explained his family’s reaction, it still hurt. “I had no idea. They never said anything.” He’d tried to explain that he hadn’t provided Savannah with the alcohol that day, but no one would listen. No one trusted him, which was his own fault. He’d lied too many times. He’d stolen prescription medicines from them, stolen cash from their purses and wallets, lied about where he was. Why should they ever trust him again? He didn’t deserve it.
And he’d used that day.
“I want to give you the letters. The journal too. But if you don’t mind, I’d like to finish reading it. I feel like I’m getting to know Stella.”
Stella. His grandmother. He pictured her. Tall, graceful, smiling. Always thinking up great projects for the cousins in the summer. Whether it was going on a night walk to watch baby sea turtles hatch and make their way to the sea, or taking them to summer art classes, she kept life fun. Summers in St. Simons had been his escape from his hideous life at school.
Though he’d secretly believed his grandmother, like everyone else, favored Jordan, she’d tried to make Cooper feel special, encouraging him to pursue his art. She’d shown him love.
That was, until that last time he’d seen her.
Chapter 26
SHE’D ACTUALLY KISSED Cooper. Rivers stared out at the moonbeams floating on the waves, listening to their constant, haunting whisper. What kind of crazy realm had she fallen into? She’d even enjoyed the kiss—felt strong emotions surging through her. But it should never have happened. She shouldn’t feel the way she felt. What would Jordan think?
God, I know Jordan’s with you. I don’t know what I’m doing. I need direction—some sign to guide me, or maybe a whole slew of signs. I’m so confused.
“I miss them.” Cooper’s voice came out shaky.
“Your family?”
“Yeah, even though I always felt like I was on the outside looking in.”
He’d brought it up, but did she dare ask questions? Instead Rivers turned and studied his profile. The breeze ruffled his untamed, dark hair, and his eyes glistened.
“The last time I saw them was at the hospital.”
“Want to talk about it? I’ve heard I’m a good listener.” She tisked. “Barring my bad behavior tonight.”
His feet shuffled in the sand, and his brows dipped. “I woke to bright lights, dazed and confused—my father and Sheriff Barnes standing beside my hospital bed. I tried to get up, thinking I still had to search for Savannah, but the pain in my chest laid me back down. The guy who pulled me out of the water had broken my ribs while giving me CPR. Of course, he saved my life.”
“Thank the Lord he did.” And she meant those words, though meeting Cooper had poked holes in her balloon of plans and a few of her presumptions.
He gave a small nod. “Once they heard I was awake, my mom and Aunt Brooklyn and my grandmother left the beach and came to the hospital. But instead of a visit to see how I was doing, it was a free-for-all of accusations. ‘Why did you take Savannah out? What were you using? What did you give her? Where did you last see her? How could you betray us this way? You killed her as surely as if you’d put a gun to her head.’” His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed.
“Then my grandmother said she could never forgive me and left. My mom and Aunt Brooklyn followed. When my dad stayed, Mom leaned her head back in the door and said for Dad to choose, ‘Cooper or our marriage.’” Cooper cleared his throat. “He said he loved me, and he was sorry, but he left.”
“Oh, Cooper.” She wove her fingers through his, craving to impart some form of comfort. She could picture the scene, the grief, the shock. She knew those feelings intimately. What would she have done if someone she’d known had accidentally—yet carelessly—caused Jordan’s death? How horrible she’d feel if she had been the one to accidentally end a life. The shame and guilt and burden of that would be unbearable.
But He was pierced for our transgressions, He was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was on Him, and by His wounds we are healed.
The verse swept through her soul, excavating memories of her sins, along with the realization that her guilt had caused her Savior’s death. Nausea flooded her. Her sin, her shame had nailed Him to the cross.
Sure, she strove to do right, but she’d fallen short. Tonight’s explosion was a perfect example. And she’d judged. Oh, how she’d judged and held bitterness in her heart, especially toward her mother.
“You are forgiven.” She spoke the words to herself as much as to Cooper, because God’s love was that big and that good.
“I know I’m forgiven—in here.” He touched his forehead. “But the knowledge gets muddy here.” His hand went to his heart. “Right now I seem to be losing everything, even Re-Claimed. It feels like a punishment, but I know it’s not. And, by the way, I would never manipulate you. Whether you trust me or not, I care about you.”
How could his admission both set her on fire and turn her inside-out with fear?
“I care about you too.” Truth was truth. Even though she’d originally come to evict him from the gallery, now she wasn’t so sure. But that eviction had nothing to do with the sober living house. “What do you mean even Re-Claimed?”
“There are some petitions going around to get us to move. We can fight it, but it’s going to cost some serious cash. And frankly, it just hurts.” He turned her way, conviction in his gaze. “I never wanted to be a part of one of these clubs, you know. I don’t know why I have these brutal compulsions. I don’t understand why my brain has to work the way it does when other people get to be normal.”
Ouch. That didn’t seem fair. “Honestly, I never thought of it that way. I realize I’m guilty of a lot of prejudice.” She pulled her knees up to her chest. “Can I ask what it’s like? Or is that too much?”
His gaze traveled upward toward the starlit sky. “It’s like you’re really hungry—starving, insatiably hungry—and all you can think about is finding food. Nothing else matters. And I mean nothing. It consumes your every thought, and you’d trade anything to fill that gnawing.” He sucked in a breath and shook his head. “You feel desperate, as if you can’t survive until you get whatever chemical you’re addicted to, even though the hunger will never truly be filled no matter how much
you get.
“Once you find your fix, shame sets in. So much shame. For being weak, for breaking trust, for lying or stealing or whatever you did to get it. Depression and anxiety and guilt entwine, and you bounce from denial to helplessness. And that’s just the emotional part. Physically, you feel horrible because you’re killing your body.”
“Sounds miserable.”
“Pretty much.”
“It’s sad and wrong, but I’ve just thought of addicts as ruiners. Like how my mother ruined our family, leaving others to have to pay the stupid tax. I’ve never thought about the other side.” Reaching over, she brushed her hand across his back. “I’m sorry for that.”
“Thanks.” He quirked an eyebrow and smiled. “I think.”
“That didn’t come out the way I meant it.”
“It’s okay to speak truth when you’re confessing.” He ran a hand through his hair then across his forehead. “Have you thought about attending Al-Anon, the meetings for families of alcoholics? The people I know who attend find it helpful. You don’t want anyone’s addiction to define you or steal your peace.”
“My dad took me to Alateen meetings way back, but I wasn’t ready then. I was mostly mortified. He attends an Al-Anon group, though.” She pressed her heels deeper into the sand in front of her. “I think I should try again. Maybe even while I’m here.”
“Perfect time to give it a shot, since you’re stuck around the lot of us.” He laughed quietly. “They actually hold some that coincide with the AA meetings our residents attend. They’re down the hall from each other in the same church. Kev and Gabby go to them, unless there’s a crisis like when Star and Blake were in the hospital.”
“Oh! The hospital.” She scrambled to her feet. “I need to walk the possum.”
THE STRESS DEFINITELY must’ve been getting to Rivers, or there was some strange lingo in Memphis he wasn’t aware of. Either way, Cooper stood and brushed the sand from his shorts. “And where might you need to take that walk?”
The Art of Rivers Page 16
