Etching Our Way (Broken Tracks Series Book 1)

by Abigail Davies

  Two hours later, Mom walks over to me, wiping her hands on a cloth. “That’s all the food prepped. Get on home, you need to go and get ready for your big night!”

  “I just have to—”

  “Get!” she says, pushing my purse into my hands and turning me toward the door. “I was prepared and brought my clothes here to change into, I’ll finish up.”

  I chuckle. “Alright, thanks, Mom.”

  She waves a hand in the air like she’s swatting a fly and I close the door behind me, walking out to my car and getting in. I drive back to Mom’s with the radio on, feeling good about tonight for the first time today.

  I dress in a colorful poodle skirt and a crisp white shirt, tying my hair up into a high ponytail and putting on a coating of mascara, some lip balm and blush. I stare at myself in the mirror and for the first time in weeks, I like what I see. I smile wide and walk out of the bathroom with excitement for tonight.

  The drive back to my studio goes by in a flash and I open the doors and walk into my office, placing my purse on my desk and hanging up my thin, red cardigan.

  “Thought I heard someone come in,” Mom says, startling me.

  I spin around, hand over my chest. “Gosh, you scared me!”

  “Who else would it be?”

  I shoo her out of my office so I can lock it up for the night. “Don’t sneak up on me, my nerves are already shot.” I walk into the back room and stop in my tracks. “Wow! It looks great in here,” I exclaim, admiring the colorful setup.

  “You think? I added a few finishing touches after you left.”

  I beam at her. “I can’t believe we’ve been open for six weeks.”

  She smiles in response. “Me neither, it seems like you’ve been doing this your whole life.”

  “Well, I did have practice,” I reply, chuckling and turning in time to see the first arrivals of the evening. I point toward them and she grabs my hand, giving it a light, supportive squeeze before we both walk forward.

  “Daaaaaddy!”

  I jump out of my chair at the sound of Izzie shouting, my gaze flitting all around the room as my brain tries to catch up to my body. My elbow smacks off the door frame as I rush out of my office and I curse under my breath, holding my arm as the cringing sensation shoots down my arm and through my hand.

  Clay steps out of his room at the same time as I make it to Izzie’s door, pushing his glasses up his nose and squinting against the harsh sunlight that’s streaming through the hallway window.

  “Izzie?” I gasp, pushing into her bedroom where she stands on her bed, hands on hips.

  “We’re going to be late!”

  “What?” I look down at the Rolex on my wrist. “Shit.” I must have lost track of the time while checking my emails.

  Izzie gasps and Clay chuckles from behind me. “Daddy! You said a bad word!” she shouts.

  “Erm… no I didn’t,” I say, trying to backtrack. “I… I erm... I said, shoot.”

  “Uh uh, you said shit.”

  “Izzie!”

  She flutters her eyelashes, the long strands batting like the wings of a butterfly as she smiles innocently.

  “Never mind,” I say, scrubbing my hands down my face. “Nana and Edward will be here in thirty minutes, let’s get moving.” I clap my hands together and walk back to my bedroom.

  I jump into the shower quickly, washing my hair and body and then getting out, throwing on some dark blue jeans and a white t-shirt before putting some socks on and shoving my feet into my combat boots.

  I grab my dark brown leather jacket out of my walk-in closet, pushing my arms through the sleeves before heading back to the kids’ rooms.

  “Clay? Izzie?”

  “One minute!” Clay shouts back.

  I push open Izzie’s door, looking left and right but not seeing her. I step back when I hear an annoyed huff and smirk.

  “Izzie?” I call again, heading to her closet where she stands inside, looking up at all of her dresses.

  “I have nothing to wear!” She spins around, her brows forming a deep v on her forehead.

  I step into the closet with her, pushing several dresses aside and picking out three.

  “Here,” I say, stepping back and placing them on the bed. “Pick between these.”

  She looks at the dresses on the bed, her face serious as she tries to pick the best one. “What do you think, Daddy?”

  “I think you’d look pretty in all of them, pumpkin. But I love the green one.” I smile at her and I’m rewarded with the same smile that used to grace Natalia’s face. The sight of it has my breath catching in my throat. She would have loved to have seen their art show, witnessing what they’ve created.

  I shake my head and walk out of her room, turning back when I get to the door. “Five minutes, Izzie. Amelia still has to do your hair, be quick.”

  She doesn’t acknowledge me so I make my way down the stairs, the door flying open as I hit the last step.

  “Grandbabies!” Mom shouts, making me wince as her voice echoes off the walls. “Are we all ready?”

  “Dad’s making us late,” Clay says as he comes out of the kitchen. “He was working.”

  Guilt floods me at the look on his face and the sound of his voice. I try my hardest not to work on weekends, but sometimes I have no choice.

  Mom looks up at me, a smirk on her face as Edward comes in behind her, dressed in jeans and a shirt. It takes me a minute to adjust to what he’s wearing; I’m so used to seeing him in his suit that he always wears when driving us.

  “Edward.” I nod and walk forward. “Mom.” I kiss her on the cheek before turning around and heading into the kitchen.

  “Nana brought muffins,” she announces.

  Izzie’s squeal comes before we see her and then she’s running down the stairs and toward Edward who holds a box in his hands.

  “Did you get blueberry? They’re my favorite!”

  “I sure did, munchkin,” Mom says, crouching down and wrapping her arms around her before pulling away and putting her arm around Clay’s shoulders, pulling him toward the kitchen.

  I follow them and head for the coffee pot, switching it on and waiting for it to brew as Mom hands out the muffins.

  “What time do we need to leave, Tristan?” she asks, coming to stand in front of me as I lift the pot and pour three cups.

  “Ten minutes,” I reply once I’ve checked the time on my watch.

  The door that leads from the kitchen to the backyard opens and Amelia asks, “Who’s excited?” a smile taking over her face.

  “I am!” Izzie shouts.

  “Hi, Charlotte,” Amelia says, stepping forward and giving her a hug. “You look lovely.”

  “Thank you,” she replies, pulling back, her gaze tracking from Amelia’s feet up to her face. “You look beautiful.”

  I roll my eyes, she would say that, she’s wearing one of her designs. The green colored dress hangs off one shoulder and flows down to below her knees.

  Amelia’s face turns bright red as she clears her throat and turns to face me. “Can I get a ride with you and the kids?”

  “Of course,” I answer, frowning at the dress she’s wearing. “You need to get a coat.” It’s meant to come out like a question but sounds more like a demand.

  Amelia is like the little sister that I never had, and as such, I try to look out for her.

  “No.” She rolls her eyes. “I don’t.”

  She doesn’t give me a chance to reply because she’s flitting off toward Izzie, admiring her dress and pulling her hair into a braid as she tells her that she looks pretty.

  Mom smirks and takes the cup of coffee that I offer her and Edward’s, handing it to him before turning back around and leaning against the counter next to me; watching Clay and Izzie as they eat their muffins.

  Izzie asks Edward if he likes her dress and he nods, telling her she looks just like a princess.

  “Daddy said he liked this one the best, so I picked it.” She then gasps
and looks at Amelia. “We’re matching!”

  “Would you look at that, we are!” Amelia says, her voice rising an octave and I chuckle at their dramatics.

  “Are we ready?” I ask several minutes later.

  Mom walks over to Clay and Izzie, standing between them and hugging them both at the same time. “I can’t wait to see all of your artwork.”

  Clay’s face is unsure, but Izzie is very obviously excited.

  They jump down from their stool and walk out of the kitchen and I follow behind, all of us heading toward our cars.

  Edward starts walking to the car he drives me around in and I call out to him, “Wrong car.”

  I smirk as he looks up at me and chuckle as he shakes his head. “Sorry, force of habit.” He walks away with Mom’s laughter behind him as they walk to his car.

  I go to strap Izzie in but Amelia has already beaten me to it so I slide into the driver’s seat before I start the engine, ready to see what they’ve been making at the art class for the last six weeks and excited that I finally get to meet the elusive Miss J.

  I pull into the first space that I can find outside the studio, which took a while because the street is full of cars for the gallery night.

  I slide out of the car before opening the back door for Izzie to get out. She steps onto the sidewalk and pats her dress back into place as Amelia opens the door for Clay, walking with him over to where we’re standing.

  I hold my hand out for Izzie and she leads the way, pulling on my hand as we get closer to the studio.

  I hear Mom’s intake of breath as she walks up behind us with Edward. “It’s beautiful,” she whispers, her eyes filling with wonder as her gaze flits around the building.

  I know exactly what she’s feeling. It’s as magical now as it was the first day I pulled up to the beautiful studio.

  “Come on, Daddy!” Izzie squeals, pulling me with more force than a girl her size should have.

  We walk along the cobblestone path, stopping at the line that is forming at the door. Once we’re there and waiting, I look down at Clay, frowning at the worried look on his face.

  My gaze catches Mom’s and I tilt my head down to Izzie, silently asking her to switch places with me. She flits her gaze down at Clay then back at me, smiling and switching places with me without a word said.

  Once Izzie starts talking her ear off, I crouch down in front of Clay and place my pointer finger and thumb on his chin, capturing his gaze. His gray eyes hold so much sadness that it almost knocks me over.

  Planting my feet firmly on the ground, I clear my throat. “What’s the matter, Clay?”

  He’s silent for several seconds, his gaze moving from mine before coming back, his eyes misting over.

  “I wish Mom was here to see this.”

  My stomach dips and I’m stumped, not knowing what I should or shouldn’t say; yet again.

  “Well…” I look up and catch Amelia’s gaze. She smiles sadly and crouches down beside me, taking Clay’s hands in hers.

  “She’s watching over you, Clay. She sees everything you do,” she says softly.

  My chest deflates and I mouth “thank you” to her.

  “Really?” he asks, his gaze going back and forth between the both of ours.

  “Really,” she answers, nodding and giving his hands a small squeeze.

  He smiles sadly before looking up at the sky and then back at me. “I still wish that she was here.”

  “I know,” I say, my voice breaking. “I do too, bud.”

  I hold my arms out wide and Amelia lets go of his hands, standing up before I pull him into my chest and close my eyes. We stay like that for a moment; I think I need it just as much as he does.

  “Want to see what I made?” he asks softly, pulling away slightly and looking behind me toward the studio.

  My head whips around, noticing that everyone has gone inside. “Yeah, I do!” I grin wide and stand up, placing my arm around his shoulders and walking inside, thankful for the subject change.

  He leads me around, showing me all of the different places. Telling me where everything normally is, but as it’s gallery night, most of it has been moved elsewhere to allow for all of the people that are attending.

  There’s all kinds of people here: parents with their children, couples laughing and drinking wine, and an old man who is studying some paintings. He looks down at someone and my gaze follows his movement. My lips can’t help but quirk up at the corner as I see Izzie explaining something to him.

  My thoughts drift back to Natalia the longer I’m in here. I know she’d have loved all of the art they made, she’d have hung it all up around the house. The thought makes me smile.

  “I made a sculpture.” Clay’s excited face has me shaking the thoughts from my head as I follow him to the other side of the studio.

  “Daddy!” Izzie joins us, barreling into my legs but I see her coming so I brace myself, lifting her up into my arms and tickling her, her giggles surrounding us.

  I place her on the floor and we walk past a staircase; I can’t help but dip my head to see if I can see where it leads. There’s no rope there; nothing to say it’s off limits.

  I tear my eyes away, stepping toward where Clay is standing, but my eyes wander back of their own accord to the stairs; something is pulling me to them and I can’t understand what.

  Clay picks up his sculpture, turning around and holding it up, his face beaming with pride.

  My eyes widen at the sight of it and I take it from his offered hand, twisting it this way and that as I study all of the small details he added.

  “Is it a candleholder?” I ask.

  “Yeah,” he whispers, his voice unsure.

  “Wow!” Mom says as she comes up behind us, clapping her hands. “That’s so good, Clay! Did you do that all by yourself?”

  “I did,” he answers.

  I continue to turn it around and marveling at all of his sculpture work, along with the bright colors that he’s used.

  “It’s really good,” I say, handing it back to him and crouching down. “I’m so proud of you.” His cheeks heat and he looks away, but I don’t move, not taking my eyes off his. He needs this, I need this. We all need to know that no matter what happens, we have each other.

  “There’s my friend!” Izzie squeals, grabbing Edward and Amelia’s hands at the same time. “Come meet her.”

  I shake my head and chuckle, watching as they walk away. “Do you really like it, Dad?”

  “I love it,” I say, opening my arms and pulling him against me again for another hug.

  When he pulls back he looks up at my mom. “Want me to show you around?”

  “I sure do!” She plants a kiss on his cheek and takes his hand, turning to me and asking, “Are you coming?”

  My gaze flits back over to the staircase and I hesitate. It’s still pulling at me like an invisible cord that I can’t fight against. I can’t understand why, but the need to see what is at the top of those stairs is overwhelming.

  “I’ll catch up to you,” I tell her. She nods in reply and walks off with Clay.

  My feet move closer to the stairs and I take a quick look around before standing on the first step, stopping and debating whether I should do this. What if it is off limits? I shouldn’t be going into someone’s personal space, what the hell am I doing?

  I start to take a step back but at the last second, I change my mind and climb the stairs two at a time, my hand skimming along the wooden handrail.

  Once I’m at the top, I stop and marvel at the space. Several paintings sit against the wall along with a bench that’s covered in tubes of paints and a jar that houses paintbrushes.

  I step farther in, my eyes soaking up all of the art on display. It looks professional so I know that this must be Miss J’s personal studio.

  My eyes land on an easel that’s covered with a sheet, only the corner of the painting showing. My curiosity gets the better of me—yet again—and I walk closer.

  I
push the stool that sits in front of it aside and reach my fingers out, grasping and pulling the sheet up.

  My breath hitches as I reveal some of the painting and I can’t stop my movements as I whip the sheet off it fully, needing to know if it is what I think it is.

  My gaze travels along the canvas, soaking up the scene depicted in paint. I know this place, hell, it’s one of two things in my life that haunts me. But it can’t be.

  This can’t be the same tree that I left her standing under all those years ago, knowing that I wouldn’t get to talk to or see her beautiful face again.

  My fingers reach forward, stroking a branch of the willow tree, my heart burning with something that I haven’t felt since that day. I haven’t allowed myself to feel like this, not for a long time, at least, not with anybody but Clay and Izzie.

  “Excuse me, you can’t be up here.” I stumble back, falling into the stool and righting myself before I knock everything over.

  That voice.

  My heart beats hard in my chest, so loud that I’m sure everyone in the building can hear it. I turn around slowly, my head and heart at war with each other. If this is really happening, then I don’t know which one I want to win.

  My eyes clash with hers and she gasps, her hand flying to her chest as her beautiful honey eyes widen.

  “No, you...” She shakes her head, her hair swinging in the ponytail that she wears high on her head.

  My hands start to shake because my body wants nothing more than to go to her, to hold her like I used to, but my head is running rampant with thoughts. Anger at seeing her starts to bubble over, spilling through my veins like toxic waste. “Harmony?”

  “Tris—Tristan? What are you… Why?”

  Her face is still the same as when I left: her eyes big and bright as her long lashes flutter against her cheeks as she blinks in shock. The colorful skirt she’s wearing captivates her personality and love for colors to a T.

  I’m stumped, not able to take my eyes off her. What the hell is she doing back? Did she know that Clay and Izzie are Natalia and my kids? Is she doing this on purpose, making my kids love her to drop them like I did with her?