Soul

by Audrey Carlan

  Claire leaves her household items in preference of coming over to me and lifting her hands. “Up, Daddy,” she demands with absolutely no concern for whether or not I want to hold her. She knows I always want her in my arms. If I’m not holding my wife, I’m holding one of my children. I scoop her up and she wraps her arms around my neck. Together we go out onto the patio but not before she takes a monster sized bite out of my cookie. I don’t care. We share cookies every morning. At least when Mom’s not awake to see it.

  Our guests should arrive soon. The rooms have been made up, and I know Gillian is beyond excited to see them. It’s been months and we’ve taken the entire summer in Bantry and now that it’s coming to an end, we want to spend the last couple weeks with our friends and family.

  A little hand smacks at my face. “Daddy?”

  “Yes, sweetie?”

  She holds my chin in her hand, her little face very serious. “I want a sister,” she says definitively. For a two and a half year old, I’m convinced these children are advanced. Gillian believes it’s the My Baby Can Read series she’s been doing with them, but I must say, either way, it’s working.

  I scrunch my nose and kiss her cheek. “Now why would you want that?”

  Her sweet blue eyes narrow and the wild red curls glint in the sun. “Car-Car don’t like dollies.”

  I nod. “You make a very good point sweetheart. How about I talk to Mommy about it?”

  She smiles one of her I-own-the-universe smiles, scrambles off my legs and goes running into the house screaming, “Sister, sister, sister.”

  “Planting ideas in our daughter’s head again?” The voice of my sweetest dreams, and a hand to my shoulders. She leans forward, and I’m instantly assaulted with the scent of vanilla and sex. She hasn’t showered yet. Mmm, I love smelling me on her. I turn fast, pull her around the waist and plop her into my lap, then kiss her silly, her arms around my neck.

  Gillian gives her all in every kiss, and this one is no different. When she pulls away she’s smiling as bright as our daughter. “Claire decided she wants a sister,” I announce. I’m greeted with a sharp pointed brow.

  “And what did you tell her?”

  I nudge my nose against hers, kiss her again then say, “I told her I’d talk to you.”

  “Do you want more children?” Her gaze is guarded.

  I slide a hand up to cup her cheek not liking that she’s hiding something in those emerald pools. “Hey, I didn’t promise her anything.”

  “But do you, want more kids?” she asks biting her lip.

  Looking deep into her eyes I respond honestly and without hesitation. “Marrying you, having Claire and Carter has filled my life with reason and purpose. Making another baby with you could only make our lives more full.”

  She kisses me hard, wet, and deep then pulls away gasping. Then she sits up, pulls her hand she’s been hiding around my back and shows me three sticks I’m very familiar with.

  “I’m glad you think so because it’s time to pee on three sticks.”

  Her eyes are smiling, the sun is shining down on us, and the sound of our children playing in the kitchen doesn’t prevent me from lifting her up, her legs wrapped around my waist as I carry her into our bedroom.

  The children squeal in delight seeing Daddy carrying Mommy through the kitchen. Rebecca just shakes her head and continues making pancakes.

  “What are you doing?” my wife laughs into my neck, but I don’t stop until I’ve led her through the house, and to our master bath where I set her on the vanity.

  “You need a glass of water?”

  “I love you,” she says kissing me.

  “I love you more. Now, woman, get down, and pee on these three sticks. Can you do it all at once?” I ask with a heaping dose of déjà vu coming over me.

  Her eyes quirk into a point. “Do you like having sex?” I look at her and laugh. “I told you once before don’t ask me stupid questions.” She shakes her head. “God, men. Dumb.”

  “Is there a test that tells you if we’re having twins again?” I ask her while she proceeds to pee on the three sticks. Then her eyes come up looking pained.

  “Do you seriously think we’d have two again?”

  I shrug. “Anything’s possible.”

  “Fuck me,” she cusses.

  “I did. That’s why we’re here again.”

  We both laugh until we can’t laugh anymore. She sets the sticks on the counter and jumps back into my arms. Instead of waiting the five excruciating minutes, I choose to undress her, and fuck her up against the shower wall.

  When we get out, happy, clean, and sated again, the three tests are there, our answer another blaring moment of Déjà vu.

  Two lines.

  One plus symbol.

  One electronic device clearly stating: PREGNANT

  Gillian

  The girls arrive in one long limo. Bree steps out, her petite little body back in perfect shape. She steps aside and her little mini-Bree they named Dannica toddles out. At three years old, she already has hair down to her shoulders, and it’s the color of spun gold. Her blue eyes are soulful and happy. Her little legs bring her to me fast, and I lift her into my arms and hug her tight. “How’s my precious girl?”

  “Ire Land is forever away. That plane never stopped.” Well it obviously did, but in her three-year-old mind it took a very long time.

  “I know precious, but Rebecca has treats waiting for you. She runs off into the house. It’s not her first time here, our families have come here three and four times a year since we had the children. It’s been a wonderful home away from home for all of us.

  Bree embraces me, pulls back and looks at me. “You’re glowing.” She squints and her lips twist into a pretty pout. “Shit. Again?” She shakes her head. “Just when you got that fine body back.” She clucks her tongue. “How far?”

  “Just found out for sure today.” I watch as Phillip shuffles out of the limo.

  “Crazy girl. I’m never having any more. My body is my temple and after pushing out God’s most perfect child, I am not risking a demon spawn. Besides, we have Anabelle too, so technically, I have two.”

  “Whatever. Rebecca has food out on the patio ready to go. She included all the healthy, organic shit you like too.”

  “Excellent!” she smiles and heads into the house. Phillip gives me a teddy bear hug. “I need a beer.” His face looks tired, and I know that look. It’s the same one I have after a twelve-hour flight with my children.

  “Where’s Anabelle?” I look around and find her hiding behind her Dad.

  “Boo!” She screams so I act frightened. Then I hunker down and hug her little body to mine. Her bright blond hair smells exactly like Bree’s. It’s refreshing and reminds me of the yoga studio.

  After hugs from the Parks family, I turn back to see Maria stepping one long dancer’s leg out of the limo. Damn, that girl has a great pair of legs. “Cara Bonita, that is one long flight.” She says this every time. “But thanks for flying us in one of the Davis jets. They treat us like royalty mi amiga,” she says happily pulling me into her arms. Directly behind her is a giant of a man. Massive with eyes so familiar I gasp. Every time I see him it takes me back there. Back to three years ago when we lost Tommy. It’s hard to look into his face without remembering.

  Chase places a hand to my shoulder and brings me into his arms when Maria locks one around her beau. I don’t judge, I never have, and she’s finally happier than she’s ever been, and it took a really long three years to get to this point.

  “Go on in. Soup’s on,” Chase says and the two locked at the waist enter our home. I shiver against Chase. “It’s okay. I know you miss Thomas. It’s hard for me to see her with him too. It will get easier. Just takes time.”

  “Three years is a long time.” I remind my husband.

  “But it hasn’t been that long seeing them as a couple.”

  “True.”

  “Speaking of couples, I wish Carson were here.”


  “Me too, babe, me too, but we can’t get involved. It’s her life. We just need to love and support her the way only you and your girls can. I’m here for backup,” Chase whispers in my ear as Kat walks up the path alone.

  She’s wearing a long sleeved shirt in the dead of summer and seeing it hurts my heart. I’m sure she’s dying of heat, but she refuses to show her scars. Says she gets too many questions or grossed out looks. As it is, she keeps her hand tight to her body so people don’t comment on the mangled tissue. When it’s just us girls she’ll remove her sweaters or allow the skin to be visible. It’s not pretty, but the last reconstruction made her neck smooth as well as down her side. Her arm still looks like skin was wrapped around an abraded surface, so it’s bumpy, different colors, blotchy, the skin pulled tight in some places, and loose in others. The surgeons have done what they can but she’ll live most her life with a deformed looking arm. She can now grip things in her hand but nothing with substantial weight.

  Finally, she reaches me and I lock my arms around her. She’s like sunshine and love rolled into one, but a sadness fills her. One so deep we’ve tried for the last three years to heal it, but it hasn’t left her. I know only one person who can fix her, but he’s tried over and over, still, she refuses to let him back in. I fear he’ll move on. No man is that strong to be turned down for three years and continue waiting. Last I heard he was finally dating someone else. It nearly broke her.

  Now she seems okay. Every time we’re in Bantry it’s as if the entire crew can breathe again.

  I lock my arm around her waist and lead her to the patio. We all sit down and drinks are passed around, food is hefted onto plates, and the four children run around at the landing below the first deck. Chase had Colin put up a small fence so the kids wouldn’t run off toward the ocean cliffs. We also added a swing set and toys to keep them occupied.

  Once everyone’s sitting, Chase brings out two bottles of pink champagne. The same we drank on our wedding night, here in Bantry, three years ago today. Once all the glasses are poured, he grabs my hand and walks me to the edge of the table where all eyes are on us.

  “Three years ago today, my wife and I eloped. At the time, it was what we needed to do to be together. Though we wish you could have all been there, you were definitely there with us in spirit.

  “I’d like to start the next two weeks of celebration by reminding my wife of the promise I made to her three years ago today.” Chase picks up my hands turns me to look into my eyes. “Gillian Grace Davis, I promise to love, cherish, and worship the ground you walk on every day of my life. I’ll strive every day to be the man who’s good enough for a woman like you.” Just like when he said these words to me three ago, my eyes fill with tears. He smiles wide when he sees them fall. “When you cry,” he moves forward and kisses each cheek, “I’ll kiss away your tears. When you love, I’ll love you in return. I will never forsake you, and I’ll always make you and our children…” He looks over his shoulder at Claire and Carter running around with Anabelle and Dannica, then he puts a hand over my stomach, half of the table gasps, our secret fully out, he grins. “I’ll always make you and our children” he repeats, “priority number one. Today is the first day of the rest of our lives as one whole family. Three years ago I found my other half. Through infinity.”

  I look deep into his Caribbean blue eyes so he can see how much he means, how important this moment is surrounded by the people we love, the family we choose, our children, and a baby on the way. “Infinity,” I repeat and then kiss him. When he pulls away I whisper the words I said to him and meant with my whole heart. “Chase William Davis,” he holds my gaze and I see the moisture there, the same way I did on our wedding day. Then I say the exact words he wants to hear. “I give you me.”

  “Body. Mind. Soul.”

  The End.

  TO THE READER

  I want to thank you for taking this journey with me. Sometimes it was gut-wrenching, other times, filled with laughter, a lot of heat, and mostly heaping bouts of love.

  My mother was a victim of domestic for ten years. In the Trinity Trilogy I wanted to bring light to a very difficult subject but also to show that with the right support, women who have been in a violent relationship can make it through that time in their lives and come out strong to live healthy beautiful, fulfilling lives. Of course I’ve taken liberties with the rich billionaire but that part is fiction.

  If you are a woman being emotionally or physically abused, I encourage you to seek help. Tell a friend, call a battered woman’s shelter, or a domestic violence hotline. If you type the words “DOMESTIC VIOLENCE HOTLINE” into your internet browser you will be given a wide variety of options to call and get immediate help in your area. Taking that first step is the hardest. Women everywhere are silently saluting you on making the first move. If you close your eyes and try really hard…you can feel us. Solidarity.

  For the rest of the readers that were unhappy with Thomas Redding losing his life, for Maria losing her man, there is a plan for her and a book with her story in it coming. Same for Kathleen and her time with Carson and her experiencing recovering from her injuries. I promise…they will eventually get their happily ever after. For now though, I need to take a little time to write something less soul altering.

  Thanks again for being with me.

  Namaste.

  Audrey

  EXCERPT FROM CALENDAR GIRL: JANUARY

  “Mia! My sweet baby girl,” said my aunt as she wrapped her bone-thin arms around me, crushing me to her chest. She was strong for such a slight woman. Her black hair was pinned up into an elegant French twist. She had on a white blouse that was soft as silk, probably because it was silk. It was tucked into a fierce black leather pencil skirt, paired with sky-high stilettos that sported that red sole I’d heard so much about when randomly flipping through the latest Vogue. She looked beautiful. More than that, she looked expensive.

  “Aunt Millie, it’s so good to see you,” I started to say when two fingers with long nails capped in blood red nail polish shushed me.

  She tsked her tongue, “Ah ah, here you will call me Ms. Milan.” I rolled my eyes for dramatic effect. She narrowed hers in return. “Doll-face, first off, don’t roll your eyes. It’s rude and unladylike.” Her lips pinched into a tight line. “Second of all...” She walked around my form assessing me as if I was a piece of art, a statue. Something cold and impenetrable. Maybe I was. In her hand, she held a black lace fan that she opened and closed then flicked against her open palm during her perusal. “...never call me Millie. That woman is long gone, died when the first man I ever trusted fried up my heart and fed it to his dogs.” Such a vile image, but Aunt Millie was nothing if not honest.

  “Chin up.” She smacked the underside of my chin forcing an immediate adjustment. Then she did the same to the bare patch of sensitive skin at the base of my spine where my tight concert t-shirt didn’t quite meet the painted-on jeans I adored. Instantly, I straightened my spine, thrusting my chest out. Her red-lipped smile widened showing perfectly bleached, straight teeth. The teeth were the nicest money could buy and a regular expense for the rich girls here in Los Angeles. I couldn’t spit five feet without hitting someone who sees their dentist more than is medically necessary, but just barely less than they see their dermatologist for their monthly Botox injections. Aunt Millie was obviously a regular paying customer at veneers-R-us. Still, as she kissed the edge of fifty, she definitely had it going on.

  “Well, you’re definitely gorgeous. More so once we get you into something presentable and take your test shots.” Her face twitched into a grimace as she took in my very biker-on-the-go threads.

  I stepped back and banged into a leather chair not far behind me. “I haven’t agreed to anything.”

  Millie’s eyes narrowed into a point. “Did you not say that you needed a lot of money and fast? Something about my no good brother-in-law being in the hospital? In trouble?” She sat down slowly, crossed her legs, an
d laid both arms delicately on the white leather arms of the chair. Aunt Millie never liked my father. Which was unfortunate because he did the best he could as a single dad, especially when her sister, my mother, abandoned her two daughters. I was ten years old at the time. Madison was five and, to this day, doesn’t have even one tiny memory of our mother to hold onto to.

  I bit my lip and looked into her pale green eyes. We looked so much alike. Aside from all the little nips and tucks she’d had, it was like looking into a mirror twenty-five years from now. Her eyes were the same light green, almost yellow, that I’d had people rave about my entire life. Green amethyst they’d say. Like looking into a rare green diamond. Our hair was exactly the same shade of jet black, so much so, that when the light hit it, you’d swear it was midnight blue.

  Adjusting my shoulders against the uncomfortable chair, I took a breath. “Yeah, Dad’s got himself in big this time with Blaine.” Millie closed her eyes and shook her head. I bit my lip, the memory of my father pale and gaunt, bruises covering every inch of his body as he lay lifeless in the hospital. “He’s in a coma right now. Four weeks ago they beat him pretty bad. He still hasn’t woken up. The doctors think it could be the trauma in his brain, but we won’t know for a while. A lot of his bones were broken. He’s still in a body cast,” I finished.

  “Jesus Christ. Savages,” she whispered and slid a hand up to her hair sweeping back a strand around her ear silently composing herself. I’d seen her do this before. Millie was a master manipulator and could control her emotions better than anyone I’d ever known. I coveted that talent. Needed it.

  “Yeah. And last week when I was holding vigil at Dad’s bed, one of Blaine’s goons came to see me. Said, this was it for Dad. If they didn’t get their money with interest, they were going to kill him. Then they’d come after me and Maddy for the money. They called it “survivor’s debt.” Whatever that is. Either way, I have to come up with a million dollars and fast.”