Flawed Beauty

by Potter, LR

  As it was early in the day, the bar had very few patrons and Alan was easy to spot standing, leaning as Nick had done, against the bar. He was as tall as she remembered and really hadn’t aged very much. If he had any grey hair, the sandy-blonde of his hair covered it. She took a deep breath and walked slowly towards him. He straightened at her advance. A smile curled his lips.

  “Tate. You are beautiful,” he exclaimed softly.

  “Thank you.”

  He hesitated in hugging her until she gave him a small nod. She felt him tremble against her.

  Glancing around, she asked, “Is Beth here with you?”

  He blushed and looked away. “No, she’s not. She… doesn’t know I’m here. In fact, I have a flight back in about an hour.”

  As it was what she expected, she simply nodded.

  “It’s so good to finally see you after all this time. How have you been?” he asked.

  Slipping up onto a barstool, she shrugged, not sure how to answer. “Fine, I guess. It all… worked out. Thanks for the cards and the money. It was very thoughtful.”

  He heaved a huge sigh. “It was the very least I could do. I’ve been so tore up about what happened to you in my own home, by my own son. I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I am… for so many things.”

  “Things happen for a reason,” Tate murmured the words she’d heard time and time again.

  “If I would have had any idea how deranged he was, I promise you, I’d never have petitioned the court for you. I… just meant to help you. I just didn’t know,” he seemed to plead to her.

  “What doesn’t kill us makes us stronger,” uncomfortable with the conversation, she recited yet another cliché.

  He eyed her for a long time. “Tate, is there any of you left in there?” he said, tapping a finger against her head.

  She flinched and with quivering lips she responded breathlessly, meaning to be humorous but coming out watery, “When life gives you lemons, you make lemonade.”

  Sadly, he shook his head. “I’m so sorry. You didn’t deserve any of the things done to you.” Clearing his throat, he continued, “I have something important I need to discuss with you. Do you mind if we sit at a table?”

  Her stomach clenched. Did he know about Nick coming here? She nodded her head and led the way to a private table.

  She sat in silence with her hands folded tightly in her lap. He sat and studied her for a long time before scrubbing a hand across his face.

  She swallowed hard at the seriousness of his expression. He lowered his gaze and tapped a fingertip against the tabletop.

  Finally unable to stand it any longer, she begged, “Please just tell me whatever it is.”

  Exhaling deeply, he said, “Tate, I hate to tell you this, but Travis Moon died last week. He had pancreatic cancer.”

  It was her turn to exhale and sit back heavily in her seat. “My father?” she whispered inanely, as if she didn’t know her own father’s name.

  He gave her an odd look, but nodded. This wasn’t at all what she expected. She wasn’t sure how she was supposed to feel about that. She’d hated him for so long and now, she felt… nothing. Not better, nor worse for his passing.

  She blinked back to the present when Alan began to speak again. “There’s more, Tate. Worse things, I’m afraid…”

  “Okay,” she said warily.

  “Travis Moon called and requested to speak with me in person. I was hesitant, but he was persistent, so I went. He was dying and apparently found religion while incarcerated. Because of his ‘newfound’ change, he wanted to make amends for some of the things he’d done in his life. One of those things pertained to you.”

  Calling upon all her years of containment, Tate refolded her hands and sat up straight. “Okay.”

  Alan looked away from her, allowing his eyes to glance around the room as he seemed to be gathering his courage to tell her whatever horrible thing he needed to say.

  “I don’t know how to tell you this, so I’m just going to come out and say it. Do you know what human trafficking is, Tate?”

  Slowly, she nodded her head. “It’s what he did with me online, right?”

  Just as slowly, he nodded his head. “Yes, but I’m afraid it was worse than just that. You see, Tilda and Travis Moon didn’t actually have any children of their own. According to him, he abducted little girls at an early age – specific girls, blonde, blue eyes, usually anyway. Then when they turned thirteen, he’d sell them.”

  Blood roared in Tate’s head. She couldn’t get her mind to absorb his words. “I don’t understand,” she whispered.

  Alan moved his chair until he sat next to her and wrapped his arm around her.

  “Travis and Tilda Moon weren’t your parents. I checked her medical records after I left him. Tilda never gave birth.”

  Whispering on a shaky breath, she asked, “Who am I?”

  He gave her a bittersweet smile, “I don’t know, exactly. He could only tell me where he took you from. It seems Tilda was from a small town in Tennessee called Bulls Gap and when they’d go back to visit, on the return trip, they’d abduct the next girl, usually from one of the surrounding towns.” Alan scrunched his eyebrows in mystification. “He said they had some type of ritual. They always bought the girls ice cream then took them to some sort of caverns. A place called The Lost Sea in…”

  “Sweetwater,” she choked.

  He lifted confused eyes to hers. “You know it? You remember?”

  “I don’t know… maybe… I don’t know. Do you know who my parents are? Where I belong?”

  “Travis Moon didn’t really remember. Before I left Illinois, I ran a check of children kidnapped at the time Moon said he took you. There are thirteen open cases close to Bulls Gap. I marked off the ones whose descriptions didn’t match yours – that leaves you with three possibilities. I haven’t done anything more than that. I’ll leave that decision up to you. It seems to me that your whole life, people have been making decisions for you instead allowing you the chance to decide for yourself. I’ll give you that chance now.”

  Alan reached into his shirt pocket and withdrew a piece of paper. “On this paper are the names and addresses. The choice is up to you. If you need help, I’m there for you, Tate. I want you to be happy.”

  Tate’s eyes were bright with unshed tears. Shock kept her rooted in her seat.

  Alan rose and pressed a kiss on her head. “I have a plane to catch. You have my number. Take care of yourself, Tate Morgan. You deserve an amazing life.”

  Tate didn’t move when Alan left. She was numb. Who was she? She began to shiver, a deep cold seeming to invade her body. She was nobody.

  Eventually, she felt hands on her shoulders. Startled, she suddenly became aware of her surroundings: the clicking of glasses; the murmur of voices; and the radio softly playing an old seventies song – Just take those old records off the shelf… The continued pressure on her shoulders caused her to glance upward. Thor stood looking down at her with concern in his eyes, the light above glaring off his shiny, bald head.

  “You okay, little one?”

  Use of the endearment hurt her chest and she rubbed against it. She lowered her head and whispered, “I don’t know.”

  “Who was that man?”

  “Someone I knew from a long time ago.”

  Thor moved to sit next to her. “What did he want?”

  “To tell me my father died.” A bitter laugh escaped her dry lips. “Father,” she snorted, “a father gives life… that man stole mine.”

  “What do you mean?” Thor asked with concern.

  Tate tossed her eyes over at him and finally saw him – really saw him. “Nothing. It’s… nothing. I need to go,” she murmured as she rose woodenly and walked out of the bar. Her brain and body were on autopilot and she just walked as her chaotic thoughts spun in her mind. Her sisters hadn’t been her sisters. Her parents hadn’t been her parents. She guessed that made sense in a way. Would her life have been better or worse had
Travis Moon not stolen her? Did her parents even miss her? Had they looked for her? Did they even remember her… want her?

  The next time Tate became aware of her surroundings, she was surprised to find herself standing in front of the lighted fountain, staring at the swans swimming. She heard her cellphone ring and answered it absently.

  “Hello.”

  “Hey, baby. Are you okay? Thor called here looking for you. He was worried but wouldn’t say why. Are you sick?”

  Jace. Beautiful, considerate Jace. She remembered asking him how much he could take before it became too much. This was too much… even for her.

  “I’m fine. I must have lost track of time. I need to go. I’ll talk to you soon. Bye.” She slipped her phone in her pocket and the next time it rang, she ignored it. With her shoulders hunched, she move to the bench and sat down wearily. What was she supposed to do? What if she contacted the families and they ended up being even worse than the Moons?

  The night had cooled and she shivered. She knew she should get up and go to work, or at the very least, go home. Home? What home? She’d never had a home. It was a terrible thing to not belong anywhere.

  “Tate?”

  Tate lifted her blank eyes up to Jace’s concerned face. Slowly, he sat down on the bench beside her.

  “What’s happened?” he asked as he tucked her hair behind her ear and kissed her forehead. “You’re ice cold. Come here,” he said, pulling her into his arms and rubbing warmth into her body.

  She leaned her face into the curve of his neck and inhaled deeply. “How did you find me?” she asked softly.

  “I heard the fountain in the background when I called. How come you didn’t answer my calls? What’s going on?”

  She couldn’t do this anymore. She didn’t want to hurt this man, but in the end, it would be better. Their lives were just too… different. He wanted things she would never be able to the give him. Better to just tell him now. She inhaled deeply just once more, soaking in his smell, fortifying herself.

  She pulled back and straightened to look forward at the fountain. “Jace, do you remember the first time we came here?”

  “Yes,” he answered quietly.

  “You said you wanted to be like the swans and find a mate for life.”

  “I remember,” he murmured as he slowly rubbed his hand lightly against her neck.

  “I’m not… that person… I can’t be that person.” Bowing her head, she said so low he had to strain to hear, “I won’t ever be that person.”

  His hand stilled on her neck. “Tate, tell me what happened.”

  She sat quietly for a moment before sadly shaking her head. “It doesn’t matter. You’re a really good man, Jace, a really good man, and you deserve better.” With her chest burning, she swallowed hard and continued, “I want you to go and find your swan.”

  She closed her eyes briefly when she heard him inhale sharply. “I have found her,” he said huskily.

  She shook her head and pressed her fingertips against her eyes. “No, you haven’t. We both knew it would end eventually. My life is very… complicated. And your life is too busy and chaotic.”

  “I don’t know what to say. I’m not sure what’s happened. Is it because of Brit? You must know what she and I had was over long ago. She chose her life and it wasn’t with me. I’ve moved on. Please talk to me, Tate.”

  Tate blanked her mind to his words and to the emotions threatening to overwhelm her. “I don’t want to talk to you, Jace. I’m done. Please don’t call me or come by. It’s better this way. One day you will thank me. I promise. Goodbye, Jace.”

  She rose and walked away even when she heard him call her name.

  She’d gotten halfway home when the tears began. She let them fall unbidden. Blank slate, that’s what Dr. Randall called it. That’s what she was… a blank slate.

  She lay staring up at the ceiling for a long time before she eventually drifted to sleep. For the bulk of her life, she had felt such shame coming from such deranged people such as Tilda and Travis Moon, but yet now, knowing her tie to them had been severed, she felt lost… unwanted, even. How was she supposed to repair her foundation when she didn’t even have one? Was this how her life would always be? Filled with pain and isolation?

  Images of Jace flitted across her mind: Jace, the first time she’d seen him as she picked up those ‘damned water bottles’; Jace, with his sexy, little smile; Jace, lunging over her, making sweet, sweet love to her; Jace’s face as she’d said goodbye. She’d read in her literature class a poem written by Tennyson, which said: Tis better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all. He was wrong, this was much, much worse. It was like being on top of the mountain, only to be plunged down – free- falling, to the hard, cold ground below. Instead, Tate sided with Socrates who’d written: The hottest love has the coldest end. Pain as none other filled her body and she cried for the loss of him. She almost rose to get her phone and call him, beg him for whatever he’d be willing to give her – for however long. But she didn’t want this life for him. He deserved a life unblemished by filth and degradation. He deserved a good life, filled with love and children.

  His intoxicating scent reached her first. She thought she was dreaming and smiled. She needed him tonight like no other. She felt the warm press of his body as he spooned her from behind. She felt the brush of his arm as he folded it over her, enveloping her, encompassing her, pulling her back against him. She felt the brush of his lips against her neck. She heard the softly spoken words: I love you, my little swan. She felt the sound of his voice as he hummed a tune she should have recognized but couldn’t think of right away.

  Slowly and unwillingly, she opened her eyes, liking the dream world she’d created for herself. But as she inhaled, she still smelled him; still felt the comfort of his arm wrapped tightly around her. Her breathing became rapid at the reality of having him with her, but knowing she’d once again have to tell him goodbye.

  “Why did you come?” she whispered, not wanting to disturb the silence.

  “Because you need me.”

  “You’re making this hard,” she said through the tightness in her throat.

  “No, you’re making this hard by not trusting me.”

  “I… I can’t. It doesn’t matter anyway. I need you to… “

  He interrupted her abruptly. “I spoke to Alan.”

  She stilled at his words. “What do you… how did you… I don’t understand.”

  “Thor called me back to check on you. He found the card Alan left with Ramona. So, since you wouldn’t tell me, I decided to find out for myself. While I admit he wasn’t too willing at first to betray your confidence, I think he felt you needed someone.”

  With her voice wobbling, she said, “I don’t know who I am.”

  He pulled her tighter against his body, seemingly to protect her with his size and strength. “You are who you have always been.”

  “I don’t know what’s real anymore,” she whispered.

  He pulled back enough to pull her onto her back. He leaned over her and lifted her hand and placed it over his heart as it thudded in his chest. “This is what’s real. I love you, Tate. I don’t care what your name is. I don’t care who your parents are. I. Love. You,” he said, punctuating each word with a soft jab to her chest.

  “You can do so much better,” she whimpered up at him.

  He chuckled, “I know, because you tell me that often enough. But, Tate, you’re all I want. I wish you would believe that.”

  With the softest of kisses, he touched his lips to hers. When he drew back, she stared deep into his eyes, searching for surety, certainty, or just something real to hold on to. She lifted a trembling hand up to his face and ran her fingertips across his angular features and into the fringes of his hair that he’d still not taken time to cut. Tears began to trek slowly down and dampened the pillow beneath. Dropping her hand, she rolled back on her side as sobs once more were rent from her body.

  Jace immedi
ately enveloped her again within his embrace and whispered words of comfort in her ear.

  “Everything will be okay. Just give it time. We’ll work through this together. You’re not alone. You are my swan – my beautiful, golden-haired swan. And one day, I hope to build a life with you… buy a house… and even have a kid or two.”

  The joy at his initial words turned hollow and her chest burned. She placed her hands on the arm surrounding her.

  He planted a kiss against her hair. “I have to be at work in a little while.”

  “Okay.”

  “Try to go back to sleep. I’ll stay as long as I can,” he murmured against her ear.

  She closed her eyes and didn’t really expect to sleep, but behind her he sang a soft, lilting song against her hair and rubbed a hand soothingly against her belly, until the tendrils of sleep pulled her sweetly into its peaceful abyss.

  This time the angel was a man. She didn’t know angels could be men, how strange. She sat up high as he spun her around and around. She couldn’t contain the joy within and laughed in delight.

  “Dandelion, dandelion, dandelion wine; this little girl is mine, all mine,” the big, burly man sang as he spun around and around with the little girl on his shoulders, making sure to hold her hands tight within his own.

  “Sing it again, daddy,” the little girl with big, bouncy blonde curls, squealed.

  Heaving her off his shoulders to hug her tight to his chest, he said, “Aren’t you tired of that song?”

  The little girl giggled in delight and threw her arms around his neck, “No, daddy.”

  “And why not?” He grinned as he tweaked her nose.

  “Because it’s about me,” she enthused.

  “And why do you think it’s about you, little girl?”

  “Because I’m Dandelion,” she laughed.

  “And how do you know that?” he asked with a grin.

  “Because you told me and you wouldn’t lie,” she said in such a serious tone, the man couldn’t help but laugh.