Broken Wings (A Romantic Suspense)(52)


“Eat up before you go. I insist.”

We eat quickly. Half my bites come off Jack’s fork as he insists on feeding me. His sisters give us funny looks, but the younger one thinks it’s funny.

In half an hour I’m sitting in the car while Jack talks to his mother at her front door. They embrace and she kisses him on the cheek and he comes running down to the car and gets in next to me.

The car starts with a snarling rumble, and we’re off.

“Still want to hit the Grand Canyon?”

“Yeah, let’s go see it. I might never get another chance.”

He takes my bad hand in his. I can’t really feel it but I don’t care anymore. I like the gesture.

“You know, we’ll figure this out. We’ll be able to go wherever we want. Once we’re married I’m going to tell my father, look, I’m staying with her and if you want to cut me off or disown me or whatever, go to hell.”

Jack leans over and kisses me softly.

“No matter what, I’ll be okay as long as I have you.”

I nod silently and sit back in the seat as he pulls away. I look back at the house, at his mother waving, and pull my hood up.

After a while Jack says, “You’re pretty quiet all of a sudden.”

“I miss my mom.”

Jack is quiet for a while. “Jessica?”

“No. My real mom. My birth mother. I can barely remember. I wasn’t very old when she died. She had cancer.”

Jack nods. “What do you remember?”

I shake my head. “Nothing specific. A feeling. Being held. It’s more something missing than something that’s there. Even after Dad remarried it was the same way. Something was missing. Half of him was gone.”

“I really liked your father, Ellie. He was a great guy.”

“He liked you. I was always surprised by that.”

“We, um, had a talk.”

“You did?”

“Yeah, remember that fourth date?”

Oh, that. I remember.

We were so young. Our dates were so childish, in their way. My father drove us to the art museum for our fourth official boyfriend-girlfriend date. Somewhere I still have a picture someone took of the two of us in front of the Rocky statue.

They were having an event that day. I can’t remember what it was, some kind of fundraiser, sort of a black-tie thing but not really. Most of the people there were old enough to be our parents. I think Jack wanted me to see him as cultured or something. There was wine and champagne, but we weren’t allowed to have any, so the staff working the drink table gave us ginger ale in champagne flutes.

We left the event itself after we ate a light dinner of tea sandwiches and soda, and walked through the museum. It was open, but everyone was at the event, so it was weirdly quiet.

I was wearing my only pair of high heels. I know Jack liked them. He kept looking at my legs. Not that I was showing much in a loose skirt that hung past my knees, but those shoes sent a certain signal. I might still have them in my closet. I’m not sure.

I can’t remember where he kissed me. Well, he kissed me on the lips, but I can’t remember where we were when he did. Somewhere in the arms and armor collection, some old dead samurai’s mask scowling at us in reproach as we locked lips.

It wasn’t my first kiss, wasn’t our first kiss, but it was different. It was the first time it wasn’t awkward, exploratory, teenagery. If I had to point you to my first kiss it’d be that one. It was my first grown-up kiss.

Jack pulled away from me, my overdone teenager’s lipstick on his cheek, and looked at the angry dead samurai.

“The hell you lookin’ at,” he said, grinning.

“Yeah,” Jack says, snapping me back to the present. “I wish it could be like it was.”

“Maybe it can.”

I look down at my tortured, broken hand resting on top of his. The mild nausea I always felt when I looked at my melted twisted fingers… It’s not gone, but it’s not there, either.

Jack glances at me and smiles.

Maybe if he loves me, I can love me, too.





Jack





I yawn and nudge Ellie’s arm.

“We’re here.”

She wakes and sits up abruptly, her head rising from my shoulder. She licks her lips, yawns, and stretches in the seat. I’m glad I already parked, because I love watching her do that. Her back pops and she winces a little.

I give Ellie a hand out of the car and she stretches again, rising on her toes and extending her arms over her head. Another yawn, and she looks around.

Her face lights up.

“Oh my God, we’re here?”

I nod, grinning.

She looks so happy, joy plain on her face. I take her hand and walk with her up the trail from the parking lot. While she was sleeping I pulled over and used her phone to find the best overlook. I’ve never seen it either, but her face is more interesting to me than a canyon.

There are a few other tourists, but she doesn’t notice them, somehow. She walks right to the railing and leans on it, staring. I look out when I’ve had my fill of soaking in the radiant awe on her face.

It is beautiful. Tough to describe. The river trickles by so far below it’s barely a sparkling line in the distance, so deep in the earth that a haze hangs over it. On the far side, mules walk down a path that disappears into the rock after their passing, carrying tourists staring down into the bottom. The low morning sun draws out all the colors, banding the earth in rich hues.

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