All the Broken Pieces

by Cindi Madsen

  She shot him a look she hoped conveyed she didn’t find him funny.

  He took her hand in his. “Can’t you just talk to your parents? Tell them what you remembered and ask them for the truth.”

  “I’ve tried. They’ll just take advantage of the fact that I can’t remember anything and lie. Ever since I woke up from that coma, it’s been one lie after another.” She twisted to face him. “Sometimes I’m not…I’m not me. Except I am…” She shook her head. “I’m not explaining it very well.” Her chest squeezed and she had to blink to keep the tears from coming. “It’s like I’ve got all these pieces, but none of them fit together. The more I try to make them, the more broken I feel.”

  Spencer cupped her cheek, looking at her as though she might shatter right before his eyes. Part of her felt like it wasn’t entirely impossible. “Liv…” Instead of saying anything more, he lowered his lips to hers. The kiss took on an urgent edge, from her or from him, she wasn’t quite sure. “Let’s get out of here.”

  She still needed to know the truth about her past—she couldn’t go back now. But she could see the desperation in his eyes, a mix of fear and need. The same fear and need that echoed within her. So before doing something that had the potential to ruin everything, she could spend a few hours with her boyfriend, pretending her life wasn’t so screwed up. She let him pull her to her feet and took a moment to soak in the feel of his hand against hers, the way he smelled like warm sunshine, and the way his hair curled around his ears and the top of his glasses.

  The way that being with him had made her feel whole in a way nothing else had.

  …

  Spencer pulled up to a beige rancher with a red door and rock-and-gravel landscaping. “Good. No lights are on.”

  “Why?” Liv asked. “Are we breaking in?”

  “Yeah, I figured that’s something else we ought to check off the list.” He looked at her, fighting to keep his expression serious, then a smile broke free. “This is my dad’s place. He told me I could use his pool whenever.”

  When Spencer had mentioned going swimming, she told him she didn’t want to be around a bunch of people. Then he’d said he knew a place they’d be alone. He claimed that swimming was the best thing for blocking out the rest of the world—said it in a way she could tell he’d used it many times before. She’d run out of excuses, anyway, so she’d finally, albeit reluctantly, agreed.

  They got out of the car and walked up to the front door. Spencer knocked, and when there was no answer, he reached into the planter and grabbed a key. He led her through the house and outside to the pool.

  He took off his glasses and set them on a table, then pulled off his T-shirt and tossed it on one of the nearby lounge chairs.

  And suddenly the little bit of courage she’d managed to build up on the drive over disappeared. Her throat went dry, her heart hammered against her rib cage, and her rapid pulse throbbed through her head. “I don’t think I can do this.”

  He stepped closer, put his hand on the side of her neck, and ran his thumb along her jaw. “We’ll start in the shallow end, and even the deepest part doesn’t go over five feet. I’ll be right beside you the whole time.”

  “It’s not that…Well, it is. But it’s not just that.” The point had been to forget about her problems for a little while, but she thought about the scar on her chest, and the kid with the Frisbee telling her how disgusting it looked, and she couldn’t bear it if Spencer looked at her the same way.

  His eyebrows drew together. “What is it, then?”

  A couple months back, she wouldn’t have even considered it. But now the scar had faded to light pink, and she wanted to feel strong; she wanted to shake off her insecurities. Unfortunately, it was easier to want than to actually do.

  Just get it over with. Taking a deep breath, she peeled off the shirt covering her navy bikini top. Then, feeling immediately self-conscious, she put a hand over her scar.

  Spencer grabbed her hand and lifted it off. “That’s what you’re worried about?”

  “It looks gross.”

  He leaned down and kissed the raised line on her chest, then moved his lips up to the scar on her neck. “Obviously I haven’t done a very good job of expressing how beautiful I think you are.”

  A lump formed in her throat and she blinked back tears.

  His fingers traced the top of her scar. “It makes me think how lucky you are to be alive.”

  Liv wrapped her arms around his waist, kissed him, then rested her head on his bare chest. She could hear his heart beating out a steady rhythm, and she did feel lucky to be alive. The stress she’d felt moments ago melted away. She stepped back and smiled up at him. “Now that the hard part’s over, I guess it’s time to try swimming.”

  …

  Liv wrapped her hair in a towel and squeezed out as much moisture as she could. Swimming with Spencer had been just the pick-me-up she needed. Opening herself like that had made her feel stronger, like she could face anything now.

  Looking into the mirror on the bathroom wall, she could see the change, too. The girl reflected back at her was finally familiar. In need of a good hair-combing, but familiar. She brushed her hair out, gathered all her belongings, and went to stuff them in her bag. The photo album was still in there, taking up most of the room. She didn’t want it to get wet, so she pulled it out and stuck it on the edge of the sink.

  Spencer knocked. “You ready yet?”

  “Yeah. I’m just gathering all my stuff.” Liv unlocked the door and swung it open. Spencer’s hair was damp and his glasses were back on. A grin spread across his face as he stepped into the bathroom.

  He’s so freaking cute. And he’s smart, and he makes me feel amazing, and I love being with him. And I just love him.

  Slinging her bag over her shoulder, she stepped in for a kiss. But her bag bumped into the album and it fell to the floor. “Oops. Looks like I need to work on my smooth moves,” she joked.

  “Well, you’ve always been a little clumsy.”

  She smacked his chest with the back of her hand. “You better watch it, or I won’t ever finish the move I was working on.” She crouched down to pick up the album. The photo of Mom pregnant caught her attention. Down at the bottom right corner were red numbers. The date the photo was taken.

  Her blood ran cold as she stared at it.

  She did the math again, sure there had to be a mistake. But it wasn’t like it was hard math to do.

  “Earth to Liv,” Spencer said. “You okay down there?”

  Her eyes remained fixed on that date. “Ten. My mom can’t be pregnant with me in this picture, because that would make me ten years old. Which means…”

  Terror gripped her heart. Elizabeth. That would be about the right age for her. And when Mom had looked at the picture, she’d gotten choked up.

  What if Elizabeth was with me when the car wrecked?

  The scenario unfolded in her mind. Driving drunk with her sister. Who wasn’t here anymore. She lifted her hands to her mouth, praying for it to not be true, but the more she thought about it, the more it made sense.

  She picked up the book and tapped the picture. “This proves that my parents are lying to me. You remember how I told you I thought I remembered a sister named Elizabeth? This picture means she might be real. And if she is, I’ve got to know. There has to be an article about my crash, or a police report, or something. Some way of figuring out what happened.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know if it’s a good i—”

  “I need to know what happened, Spencer.” She locked eyes with him, and her voice shook with emotion. “Please help me.”

  He studied her for a moment. Finally, he extended his hand to her. “Come on, then.”

  37

  Spencer led Liv into a small room with a packed bookshelf, big gray filing cabinet, and paper-covered computer desk tucked in the corner. He moved the mouse, and the computer screen lit up. Another couple clicks and the Internet browser opened. “Okay, w
e’re online.”

  He grabbed the chair in the corner and set it to the left of the computer desk. “Have a seat.” Then he entered information into a search engine. “I’m not exactly sure what to look for, so this might take a while.”

  She scooted closer to him. “Thanks. For helping me with this.”

  He turned to her, and the tenderness in his eyes made her heart squeeze. “I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but you could talk me into pretty much anything.”

  She brushed his hair off his face, gave him a quick kiss, then rested her head on his shoulder.

  …

  The search was taking forever, and she was about ready to call it off for the day. Needing to stretch her legs, she headed to the kitchen for water. When she stepped back into the office, two glasses in hand, Spencer leaned closer to the screen. “No way…”

  Liv set the glasses on a side table. “What?”

  He clicked the mouse, exited the screen he was on, and turned away from the computer. “It’s nothing.” He stood, keeping his body between her and the screen. “It’s getting late, and my dad and Dana will probably be home soon. We’ll have to try some other time.”

  “I can tell you’re lying.” She crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes. “What is it? Tell me.”

  “Liv…” He sighed. “It’s big. Huge. It might ruin everything.” He squeezed her shoulder, imploring her with his eyes. “Can’t you just trust me on this?”

  “I trust you. But I need to know.” She stepped past him.

  His arms came around her, and he gripped her wrist as her hand closed on the mouse. “Just wait. Sleep on it.”

  She jerked her arm out of his grasp and pulled up the history. It was a jumbled mess, so she set it to sort by order visited and scrolled to the bottom. She clicked on the last link.

  Spencer moved in front of the computer, blocking her view. “Let me look at it tonight, make sure it’s got all the facts, then I’ll show it to you tomorrow, I promise.”

  Teeth clenched, she said, “Move.”

  “Just—”

  “I need to know what the hell’s going on. Now, move.” Keeping her eyes on his, she said, “Please.”

  He threw up his arms and got out of the way.

  Liv stared at the picture.

  Her picture.

  Missing, it said across the top. Her knees felt like they were about to give way. She flopped into the computer chair. This couldn’t be right. This wasn’t the secret she’d been thinking. “Maybe this girl just looks like me,” she whispered. But as she read more about Vivienne Clark, she learned that she had a sister named Elizabeth. A sister who was ten years old.

  At the bottom, there was an added plea from the family, mentioning the fact that Vivienne—or Viv, as the family referred to her in the article—had a heart condition and needed medication.

  “It’s weird, too,” Spencer said, leaning over her and scrolling down. “This girl went missing on the same day.”

  Lindsay Rogers was blond. Liv couldn’t even try to focus on the words next to her picture. She looked exactly like the cheerleader from her dreams.

  “According to her boyfriend, he tried to stop her from leaving a party because she was drunk, but she wouldn’t listen to him. Her mom said that she never showed up at home, and no one has seen her since.”

  Liv scanned through the information Spencer had summed up. Then she got to the part about Lindsay working at Táo’s Chinese Restaurant and her shaking hand sent the cursor bouncing wildly across the screen.

  She clicked back to the picture of Vivienne Clark.

  The picture of what she saw when she looked in a mirror.

  Spencer put his hand on her shoulder. “You know, you’re right. That just looks like you. I’m sure there’s a good explanation.”

  “It doesn’t make any sense,” she choked out, her mind spinning as everything she thought she knew unraveled. “One…but both? How could it? What…?” Her breath came out in quick, shallow gasps. “Not the blond cheerleader.”

  What the boyfriend had said about the party, the way the girls looked, it was all too much. Too confusing. The words onscreen blurred together as her mind reached to find a logical explanation that wasn’t there.

  “You think you knew the blond girl?”

  “I think…I…” The room spun, images bleeding in and out of focus. All the dreams and visions from two very different girls. The conflicting voices in her head.

  Liv saw the headlights coming at her; she saw the blood soaking her shirt, leaving large drops on her jeans, and thinking she was going to die. Searing pain shot through her head, making it feel like it was splitting in two.

  Splitting in two.

  In the back of her mind, she heard Dad saying he and Mom had come across the wreck. He’d talked about all the blood, then said he and Mom had done the best they could with their skills.

  I didn’t wake up in a hospital. She’d woken in a bedroom, hooked up to medical equipment with Mom looking over her.

  What did they do to me? She thought of the pink line on her chest, then lifted her fingers to where staples used to be. Who am I?

  What am I?

  “You think…what?” Spencer asked.

  “I can’t even say it out loud. Because you’ll never believe me. Because I don’t even know if I believe me.”

  38

  Liv ran up the stairs, threw open her closet, and started shoving clothes into a suitcase.

  Mom poked her head in. “Olivia, darling, what are you doing?”

  Ignoring the question, she threw her pajamas onto the growing pile of clothes and grabbed her toothbrush from the bathroom, adding it to the rest of her supplies.

  “Young lady, you tell me what’s going on this instant.”

  “You don’t get to know! I didn’t get to know, and now you can see how you like it!” The suitcase fastened with a click. She heaved it off the bed and headed for the door.

  Mom grabbed her arm as she tried to step into the hall.

  “I know, Mom,” Liv said, jerking free. “I saw pictures of two missing girls. One looks exactly like me, and the other—well, the other has been showing up in my dreams. I’m still working out all the details, but I know it means you’re a liar.”

  Mom’s eyes widened; her mouth dropped open. “It’s…I…I can explain.”

  “I can’t believe anything you say.” She rushed past Mom, down the stairs, and charged out the front door, slamming it behind her. Her chest felt like it was on fire as she flung open the back door of Spencer’s car and threw her suitcase on the seat.

  Mom stepped out on the porch, tears streaming down her face. “Olivia, please wait. I can explain.”

  Liv got into the car and pulled the door closed.

  Spencer’s attention was on the doorway. “Are you sure we shouldn’t—?”

  “Just go.” The tears she’d been trying to hold back broke free. “Please. Just go.” She buried her head in her hands as Spencer turned the car around and drove away.

  …

  The noise of the sliding glass door sounded loud in the quiet.

  Liv took the can of root beer Spencer extended to her. Now that the sun had gone down, there was a chill in the air. It was about the only time she remembered feeling cold since they’d moved here. Or maybe the cold was more about what she’d found out earlier today.

  Spencer sat next to her on the patio swing. “My mom just got off the phone with yours. She and your dad were going to come over—”

  Liv whipped her head toward him.

  “But my mom convinced them to give you some space. You can stay here with us tonight.”

  She breathed a sigh of relief. No way could she face them now. I don’t know if I can even look at them ever again.

  She shivered and Spencer put his arm around her. “I’d ask if you’re okay, but I know that’s a stupid question.”

  With his arm around her, she did feel better. And warmer. If only she could shut off her thoughts
for a while. “Tell me something to get my mind off of it all.”

  Spencer took a swig of his soda, then stared at the top of his can for a moment. “Mr. Harmsen and I finished building the plane today.”

  “You built a plane?”

  “One of those model planes.”

  “With Mr. Harmsen? Isn’t he the school counselor?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Why’d you build a plane with him?”

  Spencer gave her a sidelong glance. “The long or the short version?”

  She leaned her head on his shoulder. “The longer the better.”

  “Well, after my dad left and I started getting into trouble, my mom decided I should talk to someone. Of course, I didn’t want to, but Mom made it clear it wasn’t really an optional thing. So I sat through a few sessions with Mr. Harmsen. He had this huge model airplane, and when I asked him about it, he talked about the hours he’d spent putting it together, painting it and getting it to look just right. Then he asked what I thought.”

  Spencer shifted, looking uncomfortable. “Remember, this was back when I was a jerk. And I felt so damn angry all the time. About everything. Anyway, I walked over to his plane, threw it on the ground, and stomped on it. I told him I thought his sessions were as big a waste of time as building that plane was. Then I walked out.

  “I felt awful just after—even in my jerk phase, I knew I’d crossed a line. So when school started up this semester, we worked out a deal. Three days a week we’d work on building a new plane, no talk of anything else, but two of the days, we’d talk about the serious stuff. After what happened at the end of the year, we talk about Peter a lot.” Winding his fingers through her hair, Spencer shook his head. “I still can’t believe you want to be with me. Or did that story change your mind?”

  “I wish you’d stop being so hard on yourself. In fact, if you think about it, you and I probably never would’ve started talking if you hadn’t stayed after school to meet with him.”

  “If that’s supposed to make me feel better, it worked.” He kissed her cheek. “I know you don’t think I’ll believe you, or that I won’t understand, but I’ve found that sometimes talking things out really does help.”