Pieces of Camden (Hole-Hearted #1)

by Yessi Smith

  “Get a room,” Jeremy, a teenage boy just as lost as I was, grunts.

  Eyeing him from over Yanelys’s head, I give him a good-natured middle finger, and he chuckles, shaking his head at me, while I continue to hold Yanelys. I’ll be damned if I ever let her go.

  “Quit bustin’ my balls,” I say.

  “Quit being so soft,” he retaliates.

  After a quick peck on Yanelys’s lips, I charge after Jeremy, who runs out the front door and into the lawn of our church. Not having exercised in years and with the symptoms of withdrawal swimming inside me, I tire easily, and when I stop chasing him, I lean over, putting my hands on my knees, out of breath.

  “You’ve gone soft, old man.” Jeremy walks to me, the corners of his mouth wrinkling as his mouth breaks into a mischievous smile.

  When he lightly smacks my shoulder, I wrestle him to the ground where we tussle until he’s able to pin me down.

  “You need to work out more.” Jeremy smirks.

  “Yeah,” I huff out. “I’m getting to it.”

  “You’d better work harder before she leaves your scrawny ass for someone stronger.” His grin grows, and I scowl at him. “Like me.”

  “Like you, huh?” I punch his shoulder.

  He rubs where I punched, his smile never faltering. “Yeah, someone stronger and better-looking…” He trails off.

  “Cocky little shit,” I mutter without a hint of anger.

  “Camden.” Yanelys’s voice rings over the yard.

  I glance up to see her standing by the front steps, wringing her hands together.

  Concern creases her face, so I stand and rush to her side just as a familiar face takes a step out from behind Yanelys. I take the girl in, the familiarity mixing with the years of her growth I’ve missed.

  “Jocelyn Marie?” I croak, my hand covering the erratic beat of my heart.

  Shy, she takes a step toward me, her face more mature than I remember. Five years have passed since I’ve seen that angelic face, but now, with her standing in front of me, time stills, as if it never truly existed. Overwhelmed, I go to her, kneel in front of her, and gather her in my arms.

  “Jocelyn, my sweet girl,” I murmur in Creole, cradling her head against my shoulder.

  Her tears fall in rapid succession, so I hold her longer, harder, not able to let her go.

  “Yvon?” I whisper, fear gripping me like a vise.

  “I’m right here,” his recognizable voice calls to me and I love the sound of it and the familiarity of the language I haven’t spoken in years.

  I whirl around to find his eyes dancing with humor.

  With Jocelyn Marie in my arms, I go to Yvon and pull him to me, wrapping my spare arm around him. Their frames are still thin but so much sturdier than the last time I saw them.

  Unashamed of the emotions washing over me, I fall to the floor, taking them with me and they nestle onto my lap. I cry as I hold on to the children I believed I’d lost. Their arms encircle me, binding us, and we stay like that, our tears blending together.

  “I looked for you,” I whisper, still speaking their native tongue. My voice heavy with years of devastation. “For five years, I looked for both of you.”

  Yvon steps back, leaving Jocelyn Marie sitting on my lap on the floor. “We weren’t in Haiti.” His eyes go to his little sister, the misery of the day our lives changed evident on his face. “Jocelyn got hurt, and we were air-lifted to Miami.”

  A ball forms in my throat, and I swallow hard to push it down.

  “How bad?” I ask, brushing her hair away from her face.

  She shrugs and lifts her right pant leg, revealing a prosthetic leg. Unable to look away, I stare at her artificial limb, its existence tearing at my heart.

  “It’s not so bad,” she says in English, her accent noticeable and sweet.

  With her still on my lap, I dig my fingers into my jeans pocket for a pill that I no longer carry. Agitation and unease swim inside me, so I stand up, taking Jocelyn Marie with me so that she’s standing on her own.

  “I can still dance,” she says, spinning on her tiptoes with the same joy displayed on her face that I remember from five years ago. “My mom takes me to classes and everything.”

  My heart stalls at her words, and my brows crease together. “Your mom?”

  Jocelyn Marie peers behind me, a small smile toying with the corners of her mouth. I follow her gaze and find a young couple standing next to Yanelys. Their hands are clasped, holding on to one another. The woman smiles at me and lifts a hand in silent greeting, so I do the same.

  “While Jocelyn was in the hospital, I stayed with Daniel and Gloria,” he says in the same heavily accented English as his sister. He tilts his chin toward them, peace passing between them in an unspoken vow. “Jocelyn moved in with us after the doctors let her out of the hospital. After that”—he pauses, as if he’s still coming to terms with his new life—“they adopted us.”

  Relief slams into my gut, mixing with a hint of sorrow because, damn it, I wanted these kids for my own. On shaky legs, I walk to Daniel and Gloria with my hand outstretched for a handshake.

  “You’re the Camden we keep hearing about,” Gloria says, bypassing my hand and giving me a hug.

  After an awkward moment passes, I hug her back, patting her when she sniffles in my arms.

  “They’ve been so worried about you. We’ve been looking for you for years.”

  “Yeah, me, too,” I say, meaning that I’ve been looking for them as much as I’ve been looking for myself. “Thank you for taking care of them.”

  “They’re our life.” Daniel says, and he and Gloria exchange a warm glance when their eyes lock.

  I shake Daniel’s hand. “I’m glad they have you as their family,” I say.

  Yanelys wraps an arm around my waist, and Olivia takes my unoccupied hand.

  “You were their family first,” Daniel says, both of their kids settling on either side of them. “That makes you a part of our family, too.”

  Love swells, overflowing in my heart and seeping into my soul.

  Yanelys squeezes my side, and I know I got this whole love thing all wrong. Love doesn’t hurt. Losing people you love—that hurts. Disapproval and rejection from those who are supposed to love you unconditionally—that hurts. But love…love doesn’t hurt. It fills those vacant spaces and softens the hardened edges.

  That’s what I have, what I’ve always had, but I was too afraid to hold on to it. So, I ran away from the love that burns from my chest and catches in my throat. It’s invasive and scary, so I left it in the guise that I was protecting Yanelys when I was really protecting myself.

  THIRTY-TWO

  YANELYS

  Each morning, with its light and the gold speckles from the sun, is a new moment to conquer ourselves. A fresh shot at becoming who we are meant to be. A unique opportunity to live in love.

  That’s what happens when you grow up with parents who are so obviously in love. You believe in love and happily ever afters. You believe the fairy tales with the happy endings, and you crave it for yourself.

  Camden is my fairy tale. He’s my warrior and dragon slayer. But more than that, he’s my best friend. Having him back, even if we’re not living together yet, is something I won’t ever take for granted. Life is too fickle, and we don’t know what any of the tomorrows might bring. We have today, so we live for today.

  Nothing more. Nothing less.

  “Mom!” Olivia whines.

  I roll my eyes and continue to take my time with putting dinner rolls in a bowl in my mom’s kitchen. Today has been hectic, but in the best possible way. What happened at Pastor Floyd’s small church was…a gift. And now, after the emotional reunion, joy and gratitude warm my soul.

  “We’re hungry!” she shouts and I hear my dad shush her.

  From beside me, my mom chuckles as she gets the last dish from the oven. Together, we walk into her dining room, and after I place the rolls in the center of the table, I take my seat
between Camden and my dad.

  With multiple conversations going on at once, we begin to serve ourselves.

  Just as we’re about to eat, Camden speaks up, “Can we say grace?” He coughs into his hand as his cheeks enflame from his blush. “It’s something Pastor Floyd and I have been doing for years and…” He trails off, his eyes catching Pastor Floyd’s, as Camden turns his lips into a sheepish smile.

  “Yeah,” I agree, taking his hand from underneath the table, “I think that’s a good idea.”

  Without further instructions, we—Camden, Olivia, my parents along with their friend Henry, Pastor Floyd, Jeremy, Yvon, Jocelyn Marie, Daniel, and Gloria—close our eyes and bow our heads.

  Camden clears his throat, his fingers interlacing with mine. “Dear God, thank you for this day you’ve given us. For the opportunity for family and friends to come together and honor you. Thank you for our health and for the food prepared with love. Thank you for watching over us, for guiding us, for helping us find our way.”

  Seconds pass by where he remains silent, so I open my eyes to find him looking at me.

  “Thank you for not giving up on me and for loving me, even when I wasn’t easy to love.” His lips part slightly when he smiles. “In Jesus’s name, we pray. Amen.”

  “Amen,” we all say in unison.

  When Camden reaches for the butter, I grab his hand and lean toward him. “Loving you has always been easy.”

  He lifts my hand to his lips and kisses my fingers. “Loving you has always been my salvation.”

  “Soft.” Jeremy fake coughs into his hand.

  I look back at him in question. He shrugs his shoulders and catches a roll that Camden tossed at his face.

  “Children,” my mom scoffs, but her smile gives her away.

  As food is passed around and stories are shared, I look back at my family. New faces mix with old, and I’m reminded that blood isn’t what binds a family. It’s the people we want in our lives, who stand by our side, celebrating the good with happy hearts. It’s the people who see us and accept us. It’s the people who help us write our story and make sure we create one worth telling. It’s the people who love us when we fall but push us forward, not willing to let us settle for anything less than who we’re meant to be.

  Because we owe each other that. Our family needs us to be ourselves, to push aside the bullshit lies we tell ourselves and listen to who we really are.

  Camden pushes the food with his fork and nibbles on a roll of bread as I eye him with concern. He smiles, as much for my benefit but also with joy. Real joy, and it makes my heart rejoice.

  “Tell us”—my dad’s voice booms over everyone else’s, and the room goes silent to listen to him—“how did you come to find Cam?”

  Daniel washes his food down with a sip of water. “We just kept searching. We knew he was a part of a church in North Carolina, but no one could tell us the name of the church or where it was located. We just had Camden’s and Pastor Floyd’s names to go by.”

  “We flew to Haiti twice to see if we could find someone who knew more,” Gloria offers, her eyes combing over her children’s faces with warmth. “Yvon and Jocelyn Marie knew you two were alive. They never gave up hope”—her eyes meet Pastor Floyd’s and then Camden’s—“so we didn’t either.”

  “We eventually got lucky,” Daniel finishes. “We finally asked the right person, and he had Pastor Floyd’s business card with the church’s address.”

  “So, here we are,” Jocelyn Marie chimes in, her eyes twinkling, as she looks back at Camden with innocent adoration.

  “Mom and Dad wanted to call you guys,” Yvon says, “but Jocelyn and I wanted to surprise you.”

  “You surprised me all right.” Camden chuckles, his eyes flashing with the hurt of his past for the briefest of seconds. “Just about gave me a heart attack, too.”

  Laughter rings out at the dining room table with smiles and ease being passed around.

  And, for the first time in seven years, I’m truly happy. I’m whole. My family is whole.

  THIRTY-THREE

  CAMDEN

  Tired but content, Yanelys leans her small body onto my chest and nestles her head on my shoulder while Olivia takes a shower. I stroke her arm with calloused long fingers. My quiet love for her hangs between us, connecting us, magnified by the infinite emotion that pulls me toward her.

  In moments of weakness, I tore us apart, not understanding what Yanelys and I offered each other. I lived under the weight of loneliness and walked further and further away from my true self, who I was meant to be, and my heart.

  Looking into Yanelys’s eyes, those beautiful, soulful eyes, I get a glimpse of the truth. Her truth. My truth. Real love lasts.

  For so long, I’ve been scared of who I was and what I could become, but I’m getting more comfortable with the notion. After all, I’m Camden Riley. Pastor Floyd was right. It’s about damn time I find out who he is.

  “You’re thinking too loud,” Yanelys whispers, tilting her head so that she can peer up at me.

  I chuckle. “You can hear me, huh?”

  She nods, her eyes never leaving my face. “Are you hungry? You barely ate.”

  My stomach revolts at the mere sound of food, and it’s hard, so damn hard, not to seek refuge in a small pill that’d make the body aches and nausea go away. “I’m okay.”

  “You sure?” she asks.

  My head bobs up and down. “I will be.” I hesitate, drawing in a sharp breath. “I don’t want to leave you again. I hate the idea of spending the night away from you.”

  Her brows draw together, her eyes mirroring my misery. “Me either, but it’s only for a short time. You’ll be back before you know it.”

  Yanelys gives me a small smile and lets out a breath of content air as she snuggles impossibly closer. With my arms wrapped around her, I hug her to me, breathing her in and letting her sweet scent intoxicate me.

  With her hair still tangled, Olivia walks to us, and before Yanelys can take the offered comb, I take it from Olivia’s outstretched hand.

  “I’ll do it,” I offer, a sheepish smile pulling at my lips, “if you don’t mind.”

  “Yes!” She dances in place.

  When she sits on my lap with her back to me, my heart stutters once before it picks up a rapid pace as I comb her hair. Soft tendrils fall to the side as I pass the comb through. The strawberry scent of her shampoo fills my nostrils, and when I finish, I pull her to me, hugging her the same way I should’ve been hugging her for years.

  A ferocious love for my daughter pulses through me when she crawls off my lap and settles on the couch between her mom and me. Yanelys points the remote to the television and hits play, and The Avengers flashes on the screen. A content sigh brushes over my lips when Olivia presses her face against the side of my chest, and I wrap my arm over her shoulders.

  Yanelys looks back at me, adoration brimming from her eyes. When she smiles, my heart smiles back at her.

  I hardly watch the movie as my fingers caress the arm of the little girl I didn’t know existed until not that long ago. This little girl who let me into her life with an open heart, and my own heart has latched on to her like the life support her mom and she are.

  Olivia needs a dad just as much as I need to be her dad. While I want to shield her from seeing me at the rehab center, the idea of not seeing her daily for another three weeks distresses me.

  So, after the movie finishes and I tuck Olivia into her bed with over a dozen kisses, I ask Yanelys to bring Olivia to visit me. In response, her lips stretch into a smile that reaches her eyes.

  Our eyes lock on to one another when we hear the soft rap at her front door. Santiago opens the door and waits for me at the threshold. Desperation claws at me, and I hold on to Yanelys.

  “I’ll come visit tomorrow,” she promises.

  I swallow hard, hating my situation and the separation it’s causing us.

  “It’s okay, Cam. The days will go by quickly.”


  “I love you,” I tell her for the hundredth time today. “Don’t ever forget that, Yan.”

  Her lips caress mine in response. “I love you, too,” she says, her soft breath falling on my skin, giving me goose bumps.

  I pull her harder to me and kiss her with all the emotions swimming inside me, knowing it’ll be the last time I’ll be able to kiss her like that for close to a month.

  “I have to go,” I say, my eyes darting to Santiago. “You come when you can. Don’t stress yourself out with trying to come every day.”

  Yanelys rolls her eyes, and her hands rest on my chest. “I’m gonna see you every day, Cam. Nothing could keep me away.”

  THIRTY-FOUR

  YANELYS

  Eager feet dance around me as Nisa circles me while we wait for Camden. It’s been a long twenty-one days, and every day, my desperation to have him back home with me grew stronger and stronger.

  I kept my promise though and visited Camden daily. Olivia and my parents would go with me as often as time allowed, and although Olivia didn’t understand why Camden was living in a hospital if he didn’t look sick, Camden promised he’d explain everything to her when she was older. It was a conversation I was dreading, but I knew it would be important for both Camden and Olivia to have.

  Just like she did when Camden and I were kids, my mom has filled my house with balloons and a Welcome Home banner. The smell of cupcakes and pizza hang the air, making my stomach rumble.

  My heart stutters when I hear my front door open, and I anxiously wring my hands together when my dad’s laughter bounces through the span of my house. When Camden walks into the living room, our eyes meet, and his smile spreads, overtaking his face. He’s filled out in the month he was at the rehab center. Eating and working out has done him well, making him even more beautiful than the boy I remember and the man who came back into my life. No longer nervous, I chuckle as I launch myself into his waiting arms, clinging on to his neck, as he kisses me hard and urgent. He lifts his face from mine, and we both take a sharp inhale of breath.