Hearts of Jade (A Hidden Hearts Novel Book 3)

by Mary Crawford

  I set my menu to the side as I answer, “Okay, I hear you now. Personally, I dream about her meatloaf sandwich when I’m on the road. It’s just that good. I also crave the open-faced roast beef and gravy sandwich and the turkey dinner. This is one of the few places you can get a turkey dinner year-round. I love being able to get turkey and stuffing with cranberry sauce in the middle of summer.”

  Jade holds her hands up in surrender as she confesses, “I give up. I’m starving and I usually just resort to inviting myself over to Rogue and Ivy’s mom’s house if I want some decent home cooking. Mama Rosa and Isaac have started calling me their ghost daughter because I’m over there so often. I love to have some roast beef and gravy. My grandpop used to have it all the time. He swore that if he ate it before baseball games, his team never lost. Even when I was nine, I knew that wasn’t exactly true, but I never pointed it out to him. I just liked that it became our ritual to have meals together before games.”

  “That’s a really sweet memory. In my family it was corned beef and cabbage. They would always make a big pot of it before church and then everybody would eat before watching the football games on Sunday. Well, that is the family members that didn’t have to work. Most of my family works at the lots on Sunday, so it’s not like we have a huge gathering or anything. There’s something that’s so great about corned beef and cabbage. It can sit around for a few hours without much damage. People could come and graze on it as they needed to.”

  “Lots? What do you mean lots?” Jade asks with a befuddled expression.

  “Ever heard of Stone Auto? ‘Our cars are as solid as a granite, but our prices are rock-bottom’. That’s my family. It’s been in the family for generations and there will likely be many more. I was one of the few to escape – much to my dad’s chagrin.”

  “Of course I’ve heard of them. Everybody in Florida has heard of them; it’s like a gargantuan company, they have ads everywhere. Do they still give a pet rock out to every kid who gets dragged along when their parents buy a car? I always thought that was kinda cool. I’m confused though — your last name isn’t Stone.”

  “It is and it isn’t,” I start. “My family is an interesting mix of very prideful people. When my grandfather emigrated here from Greece, he decided that Ailín didn’t sound American enough so he changed it to Stone to fit in. The names mean the same thing.”

  “Wow, isn’t that funny? Our last names mean the same thing, but Declan isn’t Greek, is it? It sounds Irish to me,” Jade comments.

  “That would be my mom’s side of the family who wanted very much to keep naming traditions alive in the family, as apparently I am named after a great uncle.”

  “You have met most of my eccentric family, Jett, Diamond... I’m sorry you didn’t get a chance to meet my brother, Onyx, but are you sensing a pattern here?”

  “I like your name I think it suits you well. It’s beautiful just like you,” I compliment like the gentleman my mom taught to me to be.

  Jade groans. “When did you turn into such a cheese ball? I think I liked you better as the armchair philosopher.”

  “Hey,” I protest, “I might actually resemble that remark. I write lyrics for a living. I thought women liked this sappy stuff.”

  “I don’t know, maybe some women do. You should know by now that I’m not like most women. Maybe I just march to a different drummer or something, but it just sounded like a really lame line to me. It sounded like something you’d say to any old woman in a bar or at a club to pick her up. It just seemed skeevy to me.”

  “Wow! Talk about your fundamental misunderstanding. I was just trying to be nice. I do happen to think that you’re very pretty and that your name reflects your personality and your beauty very well. I wasn’t trying to be creepy at all,” I explain in an attempt to clarify my remarks. “If that’s the way I’m coming off, perhaps I need to work on my interpersonal skills.”

  Jade takes a long drink of her iced tea and then sets it down on the table. She runs her fingers through her hair and then takes a rubber band off her wrist and puts her hair in a ponytail. I try not to cringe because I like her hair down and wild. Having long hair myself, I know why she puts it back. It can be a pain to have it fall in your face all the time. When she finishes fiddling with her hair, she sighs and says, “Look, I’m sorry; I might be just a little oversensitive. It’s been a bitch of a week.”

  “Is there anything I can do to help?” I offer.

  “Sadly, I don’t think so. Unless you can change a lifetime of expectations. It’s really complicated and I don’t think there are any great answers. If there are, I haven’t come up with any and I’ve been trying to work it out for months, if not years.”

  “I know that feeling. Sometimes you have to do what’s right for you even if it hurts the people you love.”

  “Really? Because you know all the people I love. Do you think I’m big on hurting them?”

  “I know you’re not. It’s all a really hard balancing act Sometimes you have to watch out for you, too. What’s your dilemma?”

  “Declan, I don’t know if I should even tell you. First of all, you’re going to think I’m crazy and secondly, you’re technically my dad’s client,” she argues after the waitress puts our food down in front of us.

  I silently ponder her arguments as we eat our lunch. After a few bites, “I usually try my best to see both sides of an issue before I make up my mind,” I counter. “I’m as much your client as I am your dad’s. Besides, where is it written that you have to have some sort of sacred relationship with me like a priest or a doctor? We’re just friends.”

  Jade takes a deep breath and blows it out as she acquiesces, “Okay, it’s not like I have anybody else to tell this to. Marcus is too busy making googly eyes with his wife. Ivy’s friend Jessica is cool, but she’s got Mitch now. I can’t tell my own family because they’re part of the issue.”

  “If there’s anything I can relate to, it’s family being the issue,” I commiserate.

  “So, what you’re telling me is if I completely unload on you, you’re not going to go running to my parents to tell them what I said?”

  “I told you I had broad shoulders and I meant it. If you need to talk, I’m here for you.”

  “I hope I don’t regret this decision,” Jade remarks as she pushes her plate away. “Do you ever wonder if you are destined to do something with your life that’s completely different from what you’re doing right now? I mean, the whole world thinks that I’m wickedly talented at being a tattoo artist. I suppose I probably am, but I don’t know anything else. I’ve done this since before I could write my name. You know my dad had me practicing on old ham hocks when I was in preschool? I don’t remember a time in my life that I didn’t know how to handle tattoo equipment properly. I see objects in life as if they are tattoos. It’s the way I was taught to evaluate things. I know how to shade and layer designs instinctively. I’m grateful to my parents for that knowledge. I can never thank my parents enough for what they’ve taught me. I know so much about art because of what my dad taught me and so much about literature and books from my mom.”

  “Your parents are great, so what’s the problem?” I prompt.

  “My parents want to retire and travel. My dad really wanted my brother to take over the business, but now that’s not possible, so it’s all on my shoulders.”

  “Maybe you could talk to your brother and ask him to share more of the burden,” I suggest.

  Jade looks stricken for a moment before tears start to gather in her eyes. “I wish I could. I can’t. I forgot you were touring in Mexico when it happened, so you probably don’t know. My brother committed suicide during his third week of his freshman year of college. My parents never talk about him”

  “God, I swear I don’t try to be a jerk,” I exclaim. “When I came back into town everything with the shop had changed and I thought something must’ve gone wrong with the remodel or something — they had your street shut down for weeks and I figured
business was just slow. I didn’t ask any questions because I didn’t want to stress anybody out. I’m so sorry Jade, that must’ve been awful.”

  “It’s the worst pain I’ve ever been through in my life. Even though he was older than me, we were sort of like twins. We lived out of each other’s pockets. People said we were like two sides of a coin. I don’t know that I’ll ever be whole again. It’s like part of my heart is missing — the syncopation is off in my life.”

  “I can only imagine. But how would stepping away from Ink’d Deep help with that?” I ask. “That place is as close to a family as I’ve ever seen, even if you take your dad out of the equation.”

  “Onyx was going to be my path out of the business. We had it all planned out. He knew what I wanted to do, and he was totally supportive. He was going to go to college to show my dad that it was safe for me to go away to school. The plan was that Onyx was going to go to school and major in art so that he could come back and work at the tattoo shop. He was the one who was supposed to take over for Dad. After he finished school, I was going to go to college and become a teacher. I wanted to be able to teach kids about the power of learning about arts and English and being creative. More importantly, I wanted to teach about being true to yourself in setting up for who you are and the power of believing in yourself and your dreams.”

  “That sounds like an amazing plan, I’m sorry that it never had a chance to come true. The world needs more teachers with your kind of passion,” I reply.

  “You have no idea,” Jade responds tearfully. “Onyx, my beautiful, talented, creative brother, probably killed himself because some strange kids that he barely even knew convinced him that he wasn’t worth anything because he was different from them. What if more people had been in his life to teach him to stand strong and believe in himself when others didn’t? Would he still be here today? What if my role in life isn’t to draw pretty pictures on people’s bodies, but to be that one voice in someone’s head that reminds them that they are worth it when they feel like they are out of choices?”

  “Don’t take this the wrong way, Jade, but teachers make crap pay. Although I don’t know exactly how much you make at Ink’d Deep, I know it’s a solidly successful shop and your pieces go for a premium amount of bank. I also know that you’re booked up for months in advance. You are more booked up than any other tattoo artist in the shop; believe me I know. I’ve tried to make an appointment with you — I know personally how hard it is.”

  “Yeah, so?” Jade snaps at me.

  “All I’m saying is that you have an incredible, God-given talent as an artist and it would be a shame to lock that away in the classroom somewhere so that they could pay you pennies. You could be making tons of money that you could give to some charity somewhere where they could put qualified professionals in the classroom to help teach those skills that you want students to have,” I argue.

  “Hey, Declan? Does your family think you’re pretty good at the art of the sale?” Jade asks me in the ultimate non sequitur.

  “Yeah, they call me a natural, why?” I inquire, puzzled by the change in topic.

  She throws her napkin on the table as she remarks, “Finish your lunch, Declan; suddenly I’m not hungry anymore. I’m going home.”

  AS I DIP MY BIG TOE into the bathtub to assess the temperature, I start to mentally tear myself apart. I really wish Onyx were here. He would’ve been able to instinctively tell me whether I should have trusted Declan.

  I don’t know what I was thinking. I know better. Maybe I was just taken in by his beautiful face or his chiseled jaw or that gorgeous hair or his impossibly long eyelashes. Beats me. I know that I shouldn’t have trusted him with my memories of Onyx or my hopes and dreams. He’s just like everyone else I know. They all think that I am nothing more than some weird child prodigy, which boils down to dollars and cents. They don’t understand that I’ve never really had a chance to explore anything else or decide what my career should be. Maybe I never wanted to be an artist or maybe I’m not the wild, crazy celebrity-chasing, social media icon people want me to be. The world has decided that I am this iconic social media character that is essentially invented. The Jade they think exists is largely a figment of their imagination. She has very little in common with the person I really am. They’ve pegged her as being outrageous, plastic, flamboyant, sassy and mean. I’m really not any of those things.

  My idea of a fancy evening is whipping out the genuine Dutch chocolate that my parents bought on their last European vacation and sitting in front of the fireplace reading a really good bestseller that I spoil myself with in paperback. I have a Kindle and read books on it all the time. Every once in a while, I’ll splurge and buy a signed paperback edition. It’s sort of my weird, odd collection that no one understands. I guess you have to be a true bookworm to understand my weird obsession with signed paperbacks. If I really, really love the book, I’ll go all the way in trying to find it in hardcover. I know it’s a rarity when my parents buy both a signed edition and good chocolate and I have to wonder what they are up to as I study the gift basket. Maybe my dad feels guilty for all the extra pressure he’s been heaping on me.

  I thought maybe talking things out with someone else would help me make sense of all the thoughts rolling around in my head. Unfortunately, I think it actually made it worse. I guess I thought Declan might have my back a little more solidly. I figured as an artist, he would understand my need to be true to myself. Honestly, I thought he would be a lot more like Onyx and lot less like my dad or that creepy career counselor in high school that kept trying to convince me that I should join the veterinary sciences classes because animal husbandry is a lost art and there’s a lot of money in it. Mr. Lewis simply would not listen to me when I tried to explain to him that I’m deathly afraid of large animals. When they come to visit, Mitch’s search and rescue dog, Hope, is pushing every boundary of comfort I’ve got — although I have to admit she’s growing on me.

  Of all the people that I thought might be judgmental of my potential choices, Declan wasn’t one of them. The man is the definition of a free spirit. He carries virtually everything he owns on his back. As far as I know, he doesn’t even have a home. He is one of many people in town that use Ink’d Deep as their personal mailbox. When Marcus married Ivy and he started explaining some of the challenges that he faced as one of the owners of Ink’d Deep, Ivy got together with her dad and built a personal set of wooden lockers and messaging system for ex-employees and long-term clients like Declan. If our space had showers, I think Declan would actually live at Ink’d Deep. He’s always been really supportive of the tattoo shop, but I just expected him to be more supportive of me. I would’ve never pegged him for a guy that would support traditional values. As far as I know, he bucks any and all traditions on principle. Why is it okay for him to go against everything conventional, but want me to follow tradition to the letter? That doesn’t seem right. Usually, Declan is all about the fairness in life. I’ve seen him take money out of his own pocket to buy a toy for a kid if he sees the parents showing blatant favoritism between their children just so he could level the playing field.

  Onyx understood me better than anyone else on the planet. I still feel lost without him. He would know what to do in this situation. He would probably have some pithy advice that was equal parts painful and funny, but yet so spot on that I could never afford to blow off his advice even if I was tempted to be offended by it. I thought that he shared everything with me too, but I guess I was wrong. He didn’t clue me in until it was way too late. I almost made it in time — just not quite.

  I’ll never forget that day for as long as I live. I decided that I was too impatient to wait for the master plan to come together, so I started taking online classes at the local community college. I had to attend an in-person orientation session to get started. As I was waiting for class to begin, I got what I later learned was a goodbye letter from Onyx. I didn’t know that at the time. I just knew that the tone of the letter
was really strange and something that my brother would never ever write if he was in his right mind. I had visions of somebody holding a knife to my brother’s head and making him write something under duress. I had no idea what was wrong. I knew that I had to get to him and figure out what was going on, so I left a note for the professor and left it on the top of the lectern. I ran out of the class, practically mowing over the professor as I mumbled something incoherent about a family emergency.

  I threw my book bag into my car and drove nine hours straight to get to his school. I stopped only to go to the restroom. I’m not even sure to this day what possessed me. I guess instinctually I knew on a soul level that something was terribly wrong. When I finally reached his university, I made up a story to tell his RA about Onyx needing medication. The RA finally relented and let me into Onyx’s room. What we saw when he opened the door will haunt our dreams until the day we die. We both stood in stunned silence as we tried to make sense of what was in front of us. I can make guesses, but even all these years later, I don’t know what could’ve possibly been so wrong in my brother’s world to make him hang himself from the ceiling rafters in his storeroom. My brother, who lived to make people laugh and inspire the world with his art, died in the center of the room with a belt and a chair in just a pair of old Levi jeans with a hole in the knees. My brother was always a compulsive neat freak. The only other thing in his whole room that looked remotely out of place was a single piece of paper containing a note written in his scraggly print. It cryptically read, “I’m sorry, I just couldn’t handle the hurt anymore. Even hell has to be better. Mom and Dad, I love you. Jade, go conquer the world, for you are stronger than I.”

  I rinse the washcloth off with ice cold water and ring it out again as I place it over my eyes. Hot tears are streaming down my face as I remember my brother. Onyx had it wrong. I’m not strong; I’m not strong at all. I’m a complete mess. The world just thinks I’m strong. Some days I miss Onyx so much, I can barely breathe. Everybody expects so much of me and I’m afraid that someday I’ll just crack open and the world is going to find out that there’s nothing inside of me, that I’m just one big fraud.