9781631056314TattooedHeartsJolieNC

by Mika Jolie

  “I’m not saying it’s going to be easy being so far away from each other,” he continued, his brows knitted. “But we are worth it.” Thrusting a hand in her hair, he exhaled and a muscle in his jaw ticked. “Forever, Claire. I’ll wait for you forever.” He kissed her neck, a wave of pure pleasure ran through her entire body. “I have to go. I’ll be waiting for you tonight.”

  "Your parents are home."

  He shrugged. “They’re on the other side of the house. They won’t hear us. Call my cell when you get to the farm and I’ll let you in.” He leaned in for one last kiss before jumping into his Jeep. “I brought a shitload of condoms in case you want to get off the pill.”

  “I liked how you felt,” she whispered, feeling just a little bit shy.

  “I love how you felt.” He stuck his head out of the car window and brushed his lips over her forehead. “When should I expect you over?”

  “One hour.”

  “See you then. I love you.”

  She reached into the car and kissed him once more. “Forever.”

  With a final wave, he was gone. She didn’t move until the soft rumble of the Jeep faded. Smiling, Claire practically skipped her way to the house, happy as a dog in a dinosaur dig. Her steps slowed when her mother’s and Victoria’s voices echoed from the kitchen.

  “I’m just saying Rosa, you need to talk to Claire.”

  Victoria’s voice, while calm, carried a level of warning. Claire stopped dead, her stomach shifted uneasily. This had to be about her sneaking out. Shit. She promised Forrest she’d be over. Hell, she wanted nothing more than to be with him again tonight. She caught a fleeting stiffening of her mother’s shoulders and quickly withdrew out of sight. In the shadow, back pressed against the wall, she inched a little closer.

  “Talk to her about what exactly, Victoria?”

  Claire held her breath.

  “You can’t let Claire believe there’s a future between her and Forrest. I mean, he’s a…” Victoria paused. “His parents are millionaires.”

  The sound of dishes being dropped in the dishwasher was deafening in the tense silence.

  “Your point?” her mother asked.

  “In the Vineyard, we have the haves and the have nots,” Victoria answered.

  A sharp stabbing sensation ran through Claire. “So you’re saying Claire falls in the have nots?”

  Claire stood knee-deep in silence, hoping this was all a dream. Water dripped from the faucet into the sink, reverberating around the room like a cymbal, yet no one moved to stop it.

  “I never thought you saw Claire that way. Me perhaps, but never my daughter,” her mother continued, her voice tight and controlled.

  “Oh, I don’t. But the reality is this is how things are. When Forrest is ready to settle down, it will be with someone of similar background, not with a sub-par singer.”

  Victoria’s words flew from her mouth like vapor but landed in Claire’s guts as shrapnel, tearing her insides.

  She absently stroked the tattoo on the inside of her wrist. The memory of the needles moving in and out, up and down, pushing the ink below the surface of the skin made her wince. Unlike earlier, when it brought life to her soul, and gave her a sense of longing and hope, it now stung like a hot razor blade carving her skin.

  A pair of heels clicked across the room. Her mother said in a tight voice, “I see.”

  “Rosa, he’s going to medical school. When Claire goes to New York, she’ll drown among all the big fish.”

  “Why are you so invested in what Forrest does?”

  “He and Jason are basically brothers,” Victoria said in a matter-of-fact voice, “and no matter how close we are, or how we put it, Claire is the daughter of a housekeeper. That will never be good enough for any of the boys. Forrest will realize that one day and turn to someone within his circle.”

  Victoria’s words slashed Claire with betrayal.

  “That’s enough, Victoria,” Charles ordered in a stern tone.

  “Darling…”

  Claire heard the surprise in Victoria’s voice and cringed. Charles, while approachable and giving, was not one to fuck with. Born with a silver spoon in his mouth, he was accustomed to have things done his way and could be ruthless when crossed. In the world of lawyers, business negotiations, he was known as shrewd and callous.

  “I was just telling Rosa…”

  “I heard what you told Rosa,” Charles interjected, his voice carefully quiet, but edged with steel. “You should apologize.”

  “Her daughter sneaks out of the house whenever he’s here to be with him.” Frustration evident in Victoria’s voice. “We all thought it would end, but now they are probably having sex.”

  “How do you know they are sexually active?” her mother asked.

  Victoria laughed. “She didn’t come home until what time this morning?” She paused, waiting for an answer. When none came, she continued. “I doubt they are even using protection. Heaven! She might end up pregnant.”

  “Victoria,” Charles warned again.

  “I’m just warning Rosa what will become of Claire if she thinks Forrest will marry her,” she continued, ignoring Charles' cautioning tone. “As her mother, it’s your job to save her from being heartbroken or worse.” She huffed. “Would you rather hear the warning from Forrest’s parents themselves? I’m the one they discuss this with.”

  Anguish swelled in Claire’s chest, tears clogged her eyes and filled her vision. She slapped a hand over her mouth to keep in a bitter cry. The distorted view she had of the people who became the bedrock of her life slowly came into focus, killing her self-esteem and trust. She should walk away, run to Forrest, but she sucked in a breath and held it. If only for a moment, she willed herself to be strong and continue seeking shelter in the shadow.

  “Victoria, I said that’s enough.” Charles heavy footsteps ran out in the stillness. “Rosa, I apologize for Victoria’s behavior tonight. Please disregard her words and do not mention this conversation to Claire.” He exhaled deeply. “I’m sorry you had to be the recipient of…this.”

  The apology from Charles made Claire’s heart squeeze. All her life, he’d been the father figure she never had. He never made her feel any less than Jason. At times, she had forgotten she wasn’t his biological daughter. He taught her to swim, drive, and even attended all of her father-daughter dances. She loved him and in her heart of hearts believed his apology was sincere, still she couldn’t help wondering if he’d be as accepting had she been dating Jason. No matter what, she was the daughter of the housekeeper. The charity case.

  She listened to partnered steps until they left the room. Her mind started to fail, like an engine that turned over and over, never kicking into action. She glanced at the door. Her eyes went to the walls, then back to the door.

  Life had suddenly become a roller coaster. Everything too fast to comprehend. Her stomach lurched in her throat, choking her and making a huge tangle of devastation.

  Claire’s head pounded, every cell in her body screamed for oxygen. She had to take a breath. She had to get out. Leave this house, the island, Forrest. Her mother would be frantic, but she’d call her in a day or two. Grabbing her purse and key to the Cabriolet, she pulled the doorknob and embraced the night.

  Outside was nothing but moon speckled darkness. She inhaled, but her lungs were filled with betrayal and hurt, leaving less space for air. She sucked in the cool night air as if it were the remedy to her heartache. It failed to lessen the pain. She was still dizzy and worse, all her nerves were alive as ever and her senses heightened. She needed clothes, but that meant returning to the house, and she couldn’t do that, couldn’t face them.

  Thankful for Charles’ regular allowances, she had enough to get her started with the basics. She wouldn’t need much—two shirts, two pants, intimates, toiletries, and enough to pay rent for a month or two. Everything else could wait until she found a job.

  She rushed into the car, started the engine, and drove onto Main Str
eet. Her mind screamed out as pain pierced through her heart. Confusion, hatred, hurt, and agony stifled her throat. Tears made wet tracks down her face and dripped to her wobbling chin. She swiped them away, but they stubbornly continued to flow until she surrendered and let the sadness surge through her veins and deaden her mind.

  On Main Street, she steered the Cabriolet and made a left turn, away from Edgartown, toward Oak Bluffs, to catch the last ferry leaving the island.

  About twenty minutes later, the captain’s voice shrieked in the night. “All aboard!”

  Heart in shreds, she sat in the car and listened to the engine of the ferry as it sailed away from the place she called home. Her phone buzzed in her purse.

  Forrest.

  Her heart skipped.

  She patted the hobo bag until she located the vibration and quickly retrieved her cell. She flipped it open and studied the text message.

  You’re not here. What’s going on? It’s been one hour. I’m waiting.

  Her heart contracted in pain. Forrest was out of her league, the son of millionaires, on his way to one of the best medical schools in the country. Long distance relationships never worked out anyway. He’d be tempted by other girls and the flesh was weak. But more importantly, he deserved to marry his equal, one of those perfect college girls. Not the daughter of a housekeeper.

  Nausea swirled unrestrained in her stomach. Her head swam with half-formed regrets. Air, love, life, and warmth sucked out of her inner core and left her empty. She shut off her phone and dropped it in her purse, leaving the text unanswered.

  Claire stepped out of the parked car and made her way up the stairs to the deck. The night breeze whisked her ebony hair and she let out a little quiver. Stretching out in front of her like a map, the unknown studied her fears, her courage and her knowledge. Blackness engulfed her thoughts. She glanced back at the island where she grew up. There was no life here, at least not for her. Not anymore.

  Her eyes settled on the narrow and elegant infinity symbol inside her wrist. Her love for Forrest permanently etched on her flesh. A part of him—of them—would never come off, imprinted on her skin until the day she died to remind her of how beautiful he was and how clueless she’d been for allowing herself to fall in love with him.

  The African-American, Japanese daughter of the housekeeper shacking up with the son of millionaires. What was she thinking?

  The joke was on her for listening to her heart. It was a freakin’ muscle for Pete’s sake, its job was to pump blood, nothing else. Last time she’d let a stupid muscle guide her. The ferry left the Vineyard, promising a new beginning. She entombed her memories of Forrest in thick-walled ice, closed her eyes and took in a deep breath of the salty air, steeling herself to only think of her future. A future she would mold, build, and direct without Forrest.

  She was in charge, in command of her own mind, body, and soul. She now walked into her own destiny, a destiny that lay squarely in her own hands.

  Chapter Five

  “The heart takes and gives life.”

  Luc Desvareaux

  Martha’s Vineyard, Present day…

  The soles of Forrest’s running shoes hit the ground. Calves burning, breath forming clouds in the air, he settled into the rhythm of his daily run. You’re temporary, I don’t want temporary. Exactly four months ago, he uttered those words to Claire the night of Jason and Minka’s wedding. They hadn’t spoken since. In the past, they always kept a rapport, no matter where her singing career took her; he always received a text, an email, even if it only contained her typical two words: Saying hello.

  He’d respond with the same or similar words and that would be enough for them. But even that stopped. For years, they managed to ignore the strain that existed between them, mostly for the sake of keeping the wolf pack intact. They even trained themselves to be friendly with one another, like the time he gathered the whole gang at his house for an impromptu dinner. No matter what, they were friends, their circle ran small and tight. Being raised as an only child compelled each of them to seek companionship with one another.

  So what Claire ripped his heart apart ten years ago. Like any love-struck young man driven by anger and a crazy libido, he’d gone on a quest to forget and heal his heart. It worked for the most part. Time eventually petered out the anger, and he’d gotten his heart back. Well, half of his heart anyway. Frozen memories thawed and seeped into his consciousness, but he paid no heed to his tormentors.

  An icy blast of February air congealed the last of his thoughts. He glanced over at his jogging partner. Even in the frigid weather, sweat soaked his hoodie. “Still trying to make babies?” he asked between ragged breaths.

  Blake chuckled. “No success yet, but having fun trying. You’re the last man standing in the group.”

  And Claire. Her existence in his life wasn’t an option he could choose to pass on. The unofficial sister of his longtime friend Jason, by default, she held a rightful place in his circle. Besides him, the wolf pack as Adam labeled them, contained four others–Jason, Blake, Adam, and Claire. Now that all three of the other guys were married, their knit had expanded to welcome wives and soon children. He did a quick mental calculation. Adam’s wife, Lily, was about six months pregnant. In spite of all the additions, their circle managed to stay whole. The bond between him and the others was as strong as ever.

  Except for Claire.

  The relationship nowadays was a matter of necessity to not rock the boat. It hadn’t always been that way. Morphed from friends to lovers, everything had been fine. Perfect. Until that summer night when she uprooted and hightailed out of town. From that moment, a whole lot between them changed. Now their communication had come to a halt. He told himself it was for the best. He needed to let her go. She was temporary, a wildflower.

  He inhaled. Cold winter air rushed in and out of his lungs in a mild burn, forcing him to keep his breathing in tune with his steps. Forrest’s running shoes pounded across muddy ground and patches of gray snow. Stark, bare trees with outstretched arms gave them a full view of Lake Tashmoo, the body of water where he often went sailing, and the view from his kitchen–now nothing but a blanket of ice. Typically, he’d admire the calmness of the lake, but today fighting the unrest feeling inside, he kept his gaze straight ahead.

  The path drenched in glutinous muck for miles, an indication it still hadn’t recovered from the couple inches of snow that touched the island two days ago. Wet dirt squelched beneath his feet like the tentacles of an angry beast, spitting out mud.

  “Hey, what’s the problem?” Blake hollered, speeding up to Forrest on their midday run.

  “No problem,” he bellowed.

  “Looks to me like you got some demons chasing you. Good thing I can keep up.”

  Forrest continued in silence. Puffs of moisture left his mouth. Blake chuckled.

  “When was the last time you spoke to Claire?”

  “Four months ago,” he answered, his breath hitched.

  They rounded the bend in the path, and the afternoon sun beat down on his forehead. With the back of his hand, he wiped the sweat of his brow. Sex, he told himself. He needed sex. Quickly he flipped through his mental list of available women and groaned. His jogging pace accelerated to a full sprint.

  “Still dating…” Blake’s voice trailed. “What’s her name?”

  “Kerry, and no.”

  “What was wrong with this one?”

  She wasn’t Claire. He’d dated a fair amount, but those women did nothing for him. Not one could ever live up to the time he spent with Claire. Lord knew he’d tried to move on, and hoped the memories would fade. They hadn’t. It didn’t matter that their time together had been a fleeting couple of months. She still managed to brand his heart, just like that stupid infinity tattoo they’d gotten together a decade ago, forever marking them.

  When the small wooden pedestrian bridge and his orange Jeep came into view, Forrest and Blake slowed their pace to a jog, cooling down from the vigorous run
, until they came to a stop.

  “Nice run,” Blake said, barely out of breath.

  “How did we do?” Forrest referred to the app they usually used to track their miles. His calves burned, that should mean something.

  Blake checked his phone and smiled. “You ran like a maniac today.” He shoved the phone in Forrest’s face. “See for yourself.”

  Forrest eyed the screen. They averaged a mile every six minutes, a total of ten miles in one hour. “Good stuff.”

  “Do we have time for a few pull-ups?”

  Blake was the king of pull-ups, an excruciating core exercise Forrest long concluded he hated but loved the result. “Let me check.” He opened the driver door of his Jeep and grabbed his phone sitting by the drink holder for a quick time check. Immediately, he noticed the three missed calls from his mother, and a text message from Peter, a fellow doctor who worked the ER.

  Report to the hospital. STAT.

  His gut tightened. Mrs. Kane, one of the island’s favorite senior citizens, was battling Lyme disease. She was due at his office for a checkup. He wondered if she had taken a turn for the worse.

  “What’s going on?” Blake asked in the background.

  Forrest held up a finger. Brows creased, he hit the code to retrieve his messages and froze.

  Forrest, your father’s been in an accident. Come quick.

  Similar words were repeated two other times. In each voice mail his mother’s speech became more and more urgent.

  “I gotta go.” He was already sliding in the car, his heart thudding in his chest.

  “What’s going on?” Blake reached for the door, concern in his voice.

  “Dad was in a car accident. Peter sent me a text to get there ASAP.” He checked the text message again for a timestamp. That was twenty minutes ago. As a doctor, he knew a person’s condition could quickly deteriorate in the span of five minutes. Shit.