Feathers: A Novel

by Kylie Stewart

  I knew she had me at nineteen, so that would put her at forty-two now. For as much anger, resentment, and sorrow I felt over the years toward her, seeing her now actually made me inwardly relieved. We’d both survived.

  The waiter set down her latte, leaving quickly.

  I sniffed, taking a sip of my own drink. “So why did you let Rich sell me to those men?”

  She visibly winced, swallowing hard as the gravity of my question sunk in. “I didn’t know he was going to do that.” Her head shook, tears welling in her eyes. “But the moment he came back with money and without you, I knew.” She bit her lower lip. “And I went to the police to file a missing person’s complaint, but they could tell I was high. Just another junky mother so Rich and I got booked.”

  Her show of emotion made me uncomfortable. I shifted in my seat, trying to control this situation. “So you tried to find me?”

  “Of course, I tried to find you.” Her voice rose slightly. “You were the only good thing I had in my life, Lottie. You’re my daughter; of course, I wanted to find you.”

  Half of me wanted to comment, “You didn’t care enough,” but I held my tongue. Now wasn’t the time to be mean. I wanted to understand—needed to in order to move on.

  “Why did you even start doing heroine?” Absently, I twirled the feather ring around my finger. “We were doing just fine.”

  She blew out a breath, nodding in agreement with me. “I got in with the wrong guy.” Her shoulders slumped. “He convinced me to try it, and I promised myself just once. You were safe with your grandmother, so I knew I didn’t have to rush home to get you to bed.” Tears glistened in her eyes. “And then I loved how it made me feel nothing and everything at the same time.”

  Silence fell between us.

  “Do you regret it?” I asked cautiously.

  Her hand reached across the table, gently placing it atop mine, stopping my fidgeting. “Every day.”

  Something about touching my mother again made me want to throw my arms around her and sob into her neck, but I couldn’t do that with her. Not right now. We had a long recovery ahead of us.

  “Are you engaged?” she asked, motioning to the ring on my finger.

  Blushing, I shook my head, “No, it’s just a sort of … a promise ring.”

  She smiled, looking five years younger. “Do you like him?”

  “I love him,” I replied without hesitation.

  That made her smile widen even more. “That makes me so happy, Lottie.”

  I took a fortifying sip of coffee, steadying the uneven rhythm of my heart. “Do you think we could meet once a week?”

  Her pale blue gaze widened, hazing with tears once again, but she nodded. “I would love to.”

  The two of us fell into an easy conversation about school. I didn’t want to tell her that I planned on moving to Florida once I graduated. All I wanted to do was get to know the woman who used to read to me before bed, make bath time an adventure, and cuddle me for hours.

  I just wanted my mom back for a few hours a week. That wasn’t asking for too much, was it? When we both stepped out of the café and into the cool spring air, a slight awkwardness came over us again. This time, Mom made it easy. She wrapped me in a big hug, pulling me tight against her.

  “I never stopped loving or missing you, Lottie,” she whispered as she rocked me from side to side. Tears now threatened to spill over my eyes. I wrapped my arms around her and just inhaled her familiar pre-druggie scent. She’d always smelled like vanilla. Maybe I always chose lavender-vanilla scented perfumes to remind me of her.

  “I know,” I admitted, sniffling. “I just wanted you to be the one to find me.”

  “Me too, honey, me too.” She pulled back, cupping my face in her hands. “But we’ve found each other now. That’s a start.”

  We said our good-byes, promising to meet next weekend for dinner. She’d just celebrated her thirteenth year clean and sober. So even though I worried about her as she walked confidently down the street, a small voice in the back of my head eased my fears. Mom made it this far, and she always said we were a lot alike back when I was little. If she was anything like me still, she’d never look back and never touch the stuff again.

  Exhaling a long sigh, I pulled out my phone to call Hawk. I couldn’t wait to tell him about finally catching up with my mom. But hearing his deep, rumbling voice would also be a nice pick-me-up. Someday soon, time and space wouldn’t keep us apart anymore.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” My mom wrinkled her nose as she sat next to me in the tattoo parlor’s waiting room. Three weeks had flown by, and after a successful second meeting, I wanted her to be the one to come with me for this.

  “I do.” Excitement made my stomach flip to think of how Hawk would react when he saw me next.

  “It’s not going to be his name, right?” Mom didn’t seem convinced. “Because you know if you get someone’s name, you’ve jinxed your chances.”

  I tossed her an incredulous look. “I’m not that stupid.”

  She chuckled, flipping through some of the artwork left out by the artists for customers to look at. Shaking my head, I laughed inwardly. Three weeks of being back together, including texts and phone calls, and she’d taken back to playing mom as though nothing had ever happened between us.

  We both explained to each other bits and pieces of what we’d gone through. Her desperate to find me and me being held by the bad men. She’d sobbed when I told her the truth, begging for forgiveness, and surprising myself, I gave it freely. I’d learned a lot about her, shocked at how far she’d come from her time spent in jail.

  She worked part-time at the restaurant where Hawk and I saw her the first time. But during the day, she split her time between going back to college and working at an in-patient rehabilitation center for women. She wanted to be a therapist to help people who went through the same addiction she did.

  I found myself warming toward her faster than expected. Just like me with music therapy, my mom wanted something good to come from her horrible experience. In that way, we were the same.

  “Charlotte?” A petite girl sporting a spikey short haircut and a nose ring came around the corner. She smiled as we stood. “My name’s Abby, and I’m ready if you are.”

  I followed the tattoo artist to the private room down a hall and sat down in the plush chair. It reminded me of a dentist’s chair but with less equipment surrounding it. She sat down on a rolling stool.

  “Okay, so we’re doing this on your wrist, correct?” Abby lifted a piece of paper as I flipped my right wrist over.

  “Yes.” Excitement surged through my body, along with a bit of trepidation. I knew it would hurt, but it wasn’t going to deter me.

  Abby rubbed the spot on the inside of my wrist down with alcohol before shaving some of the hair away from the side of my arm. Afterward, she placed the piece of paper down on my skin, pressing lightly. When she pulled away the paper, a gorgeous, delicate feather in blue ink remained on my skin.

  I couldn’t keep the smile from my face at seeing nearly the same feather on my body that Hawk already had embedding in ink on his. Soon, I’d join him.

  “That’s going to look beautiful,” my mom commented. She sat to my left, flipping through her Kindle. She admitted that anything needle on skin made her a bit wary, but she didn’t want to miss this.

  “Thanks,” I replied shyly. Abby put on a pair of gloves, then started the low buzz of the tattoo gun. I watched with a pounding heart as she dipped the needle into the black ink.

  “Ready?” She grinned up at me, taking her position over my arm lying on the armrest of the chair. “It’ll sting a bit, but the outlining is the worst part. You’ll get used to it, I promise.”

  Forcing a smile, I nodded. “Go for it.”

  The moment the needle pierced my skin, I realized it was nothing like I’d imagined. While the vibrations were annoying, the quick back and forth of the mechanism helped to ease the pain at bit. Glancing over
my shoulder, I met my mom’s skeptical gaze.

  “Does it hurt?” she asked curious.

  I shrugged my opposite shoulder with a grimacing smile. “It’s not as bad as I thought it would be.”

  Abby chuckled, pausing from the first line of the feather to wipe my arm. I appreciated the brief reprieve, but she soon started again. “A lot of people, mainly men, think they’ll be fine. Then they ask for a rib piece, and they’re crying for their moms.” Her gaze focused in on her work. “I don’t lie to my clients about how much tattoos hurt. Some body parts are worse than others.”

  That made me wonder how Hawk dealt with getting his tattoo on his own ribs. Did he just grit his teeth and bear it? Was it that important for my feather to be close to his heart? Either way, knowing how much the tender flesh on the inside of my wrist stung, I gave him props for sitting through a tattoo on the ribs.

  After half an hour, Abby gave a final wipe, leaning back. “Well, what do you think?”

  An elegant, realistic feather now graced my wrist. Etched in my skin forever to reflect the man I loved. Abby rattled off instructions for how to take care of it during the healing process. She smothered the fresh ink in a cream, then wrapped my wrist in cling wrap.

  “If you have any issues, just give me a call.” She passed over her card along with a tube of cream. “Keep it covered for about three to four days and use this two to three times a day. It’ll keep the scabbing down and heal it faster. You can wash it with basic antibacterial soap, but that’s it. Nothing scented or fancy.”

  “Thank you so much. I love it.” I couldn’t stop looking at the art on my body.

  “Anytime.”

  When we left the shop, I was still mesmerized by the ink gracing my flesh.

  “Let me see,” my mom said, peering over my shoulder. I stopped, holding out my arm for her to see. “It’s gorgeous, Lottie.”

  “Thanks for coming with me, Mom.”

  The slip of the word mom shocked us both. While we’d gained so much ground over the past three weeks to heal old wounds, I’d never called her mom. I looked over to see her eyes glistening with tears. Marie Waters didn’t allow herself to spill over, instead choosing to tease me back.

  “Come on, let’s go get some food, daughter.” She slung her arm around my shoulders. “My treat.”

  A small part of my heart ached knowing that I’d have to eventually tell her that I didn’t plan on staying here in New York once I graduated. But for today, I wouldn’t spoil anything. I leaned my head against my mother’s shoulders, so grateful that I took up Mrs. Ames on her demand of me. I’d gained not only a mother from it but also a friend.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Charlotte

  Graduation - May

  Sunlight graced the football stadium that my graduating class took over for the long ceremony. Syracuse University was by no means small, and waiting for my name to be called seemed like it would take forever. Sadly, for me, my last name started with W, so I’d be one of the last to go.

  My mom, Mrs. Ames, Heather, Kelly, Cassandra, and Lily and her fiancé were somewhere in the stands. Melody stood somewhere in the crowd as well with her English department. Her last name was Smithson, so she didn’t fare much better.

  Hawk’s flight had been delayed to both of our dismay. Maybe the long list of people in front of me would help that situation. I hoped he’d make it in time. I still felt the sting of his absence from my high school graduation and knew he wanted to make up for that.

  My blue robe fluttered in the light breeze that gave us a reprieve against the unusually warm May day. The orange and blue tassel flew into my face, and I brushed it aside. As I did so, the pocket of my dress under the voluminous garment vibrated. Immediately answering, I saw the text I wanted to see the most appear on the screen.

  Hawk: I made it. Just found Grams. Go get ’em, baby girl.

  Inwardly squealing, I felt my cheeks flush, and heartbeat attempted to fly out of my chest. This was it. This was the final stretch before my new life with Hawk. I didn’t know if it would work or if we’d even last, but my gut told me to jump. To trust in the man who’d offered me silent friendship and constant strength. That some people were fated to be together no matter the age gap, distance, or circumstances.

  An hour went by listening and clapping every so often when names were called to the podium. Then, finally, after another half an hour, my name was called. I stood next to the dean of the college of music, shaking his hand, smiling for the photographer set up to take each graduate’s photo. A swore I heard a loud whistle from somewhere, but I didn’t want to read too much into it.

  I carefully walked down the steps from the stage to round back to my seat. Finally, we were allowed—if we wanted—to throw our caps in the air. I chose instead to bolt off the football field. My eyes scanned the moving crowds for any sign of Hawk.

  “Charlotte!”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a man jump down over the five-foot barrier. He jogged over to me, wearing a wide smile on his face. Meeting him the rest of the way, I threw myself into his arms. Hawk spun me around twice, lifting my feet off the turf, before setting me back down.

  “Congratulations, Lottie.” He smiled, rubbing his nose against mine. “You did it.”

  “I did.” Without caring who saw, I lifted myself onto my tiptoes. Pressing my lips against his, I inhaled his familiar scent. He tasted like spearmint as our tongues met in a gentle challenge.

  When we broke apart, the love reflecting in his gaze made my throat tighten. I wasn’t the only one relieved that our trials of distance were over. Now, our only struggle would be to survive each other. Something I knew deep down in my heart we’d be able to do easily.

  “Congrats, Lottie!” Heather grabbed me in a hug from behind. I turned to see our small group of familiar faces, including Melody, encircling us.

  “Thanks, Heather,” I replied, hugging her back.

  Mrs. Ames stood next to my mother and Kelly. All three women looked misty-eyed but proud. I wouldn’t be here without them. Even my mother’s horrible mistakes helped catapult me to this very moment. The happiest moment of my life knowing that I was free. Free to fly wherever I wanted to go. Knowing that the man I loved would soar by my side.

  “Hawk, this is my mother, Marie Waters.” I took Hawk’s hand, guiding him over to where she stood. She smiled broadly at him, opting to hug him instead of offering her hand.

  “Thank you for taking care of my little girl,” she whispered in his ear.

  He hugged her back, albeit slightly taken aback. “I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”

  After I’d gathered the courage to tell my mother about my plans to move to Florida with Hawk post-graduation, I could tell the news saddened her. But it quickly turned to excitement as she asked me a million questions about him. So I told her everything.

  She wasn’t sad anymore, explaining, “You’re merely moving on with your life, sweetheart. I understand. It doesn’t mean I’ll like the distance, but I’m proud of you. I just want you to be happy. You deserve that.”

  Now, seeing her and Hawk smiling and talking together lifted a weight from my shoulders. I didn’t want him to hold a grudge against a woman so riddled by her addiction that she made a mistake. Though it was a grave mistake, she wasn’t that person anymore.

  Mrs. Ames clapped her hands. “Come on! We have a party to get to back at the house.” She shooed Melody and me toward the exit. “I don’t want to keep the caterer waiting.”

  Hawk slipped his hand in mine as we followed our group, pausing as he caught sight of my new ink. His eyes widened on me, and I glanced up to meet his gaze, sharing a secret smile. Not sure if I believed in fairy tales, fate, or wishing on feathers yet, but I knew I loved Hawk McLean. And by the expression shining in his own blue-gray eyes, he loved me.

  For now, that was all we needed.

  Chapter Forty

  Hawk

  Florida - Three months later

  Cha
rlotte walked along the calm surf, feet playing with the rolling waves. Her long, lace-crocheted wrap hung loosely around her shoulders. The lavender color blended well with the sunset. Blues, purples, oranges, and pinks all splashed in the sky over the horizon. From my vantage point on the back deck, I could watch her gentle grace without her knowing. Ever since I’d met her, Charlotte always held an air of reserve. Never quite relaxing even around people she knew well.

  Here, she’d blossomed into exactly who she’d been born to be. Something about the sand and the ocean brought her to life. Or maybe, I was the one who’d changed. Lord knew from day one, we’d been on a collision course. Our threads of fate crisscrossing, looping over, until we were so entangled with one another we couldn’t break apart. And I’d never want to break that bond.

  Some might see it as a messy tangle, but I knew it to be the truest form of love. To be so in tune with someone that you know exactly what they were thinking by a glance. Wordless conversation and still being about to laugh at the end. That was love.

  Did I lose myself in the knot of love? No, I’d have to say I found out exactly who I needed to be. Charlotte gave me more of a purpose to be a better man. She complimented my usually standoffish demeanor with her warmth and kindness. I learned to trust from an abused girl who’d experienced hell.

  If learning to love someone was hard, learning to live with them was even harder. The past three months had been an adjustment for both of us. It wasn’t just me anymore. We’d navigated the first month with lots of sex and romantic dinners. Now, we’d learned each other’s quirks, pet peeves, and would continue to do so.

  After a few discussions about laundry and the layout of the fridge later, both of us were learning to communicate better. We hadn’t argued but gotten pretty heated. She was just as stubborn as me, so I’d made the first move to give. Then, to my shock, she gave in return.