Pure Hearts

by Jeannine Allison

  She laughed with me. “What were you going to say?”

  I let go of her and stepped back, rubbing my hand over the back of my neck. “I was gonna say I’ll still help you. With your school thing. The food.”

  Jesus, I sound like a caveman.

  She managed to keep herself from grinning, even though her eyes were lit with humor. “As long as you’re sure you don’t mind…”

  “I don’t,” I immediately answered.

  Nodding, she crossed her arms, seeming a bit anxious. “Would you be able to meet me somewhere tomorrow?”

  “Yeah.” I pulled out my phone and asked for her number. After she gave it to me, I sent her a quick text. “There. Just let me know when you decide where.”

  This time, Iris smiled, with her lips, her eyes, her entire being…

  Before I did something stupid, I turned around, opened the door, and left.

  But for some reason I felt like I was leaving a part of myself with her.

  Iris: Boston Common. The George Washington statue. Two o’clock. xx

  I stared down at the text message Iris sent me last night before glancing at the clock above the bar. Kevin didn’t have me scheduled to work today, but I knew I had to come in and give him an explanation for yesterday.

  It was five past noon now.

  “Nick?”

  Looking up, I saw Kevin walking out from the back hallway. “Hey.” I nodded, watching him settle behind the bar.

  “What’s up? And if you’re here to ask me to sneak you on the schedule today, I can’t. Lindsay would kill me.”

  I smiled and began twirling the coaster in front of me. “No, it’s not that. I thought you deserved an explanation for yesterday.”

  “As your boss or your friend?”

  “Both.”

  He was grinning as he pulled out a bottle of beer, popped the lid, and slid it to me. “Good answer. I gotta say I was pretty pissed when you took off. You’d been moaning and groaning for months about getting back to work, and yesterday you were suddenly fine with fucking things up? I call bullshit.”

  I briefly smiled before taking a sip. “It—”

  “And don’t even think of lying,” he interrupted, pointing a finger at me. “Or I’ll sic Lindsay on you.”

  “It was about Iris. We had a fight.” Kevin straightened and his eyebrows rose.

  “So you were a dick?” he asked. I narrowed my eyes. “What? Tell me I’m wrong.”

  I gritted my teeth in frustration. Not because of what he was saying, but because he was right. I hadn’t been purposefully trying to hurt her; despite my douchebag tendencies and knack for saying the wrong thing, I never wanted to intentionally hurt someone. Especially her.

  Because, somehow, and without really meaning to, I was starting to care for Iris. And being in an argument with someone you cared about put a gray cloud over everything, which was why I’d avoided relationships in the last few years.

  Woahhh.

  A relationship?

  “Hey,” Kevin said, thankfully breaking me out of the rabbit hole my thoughts were about to take me down. He squinted, intrigued and unsure. “You being a dick isn’t a new occurrence. You feeling bad, on the other hand… holy shit.” His eyes grew wide, and I didn’t like the thoughts I could see brewing behind them.

  “She’s nice, okay? I’ll give everyone that. So yeah, I felt bad. But doesn’t anyone else think she’s unnaturally friendly? I mean, who’s that happy all the time? She could have a bird shit on her head and her first thought would probably be, well at least he isn’t constipated.”

  Kevin chuckled and leaned back. “You like her.”

  So much for escaping the rabbit hole…

  It wasn’t intentional, but I remained quiet, a fact Kevin eagerly pounced on. “You do. Oh my God, Lindsay totally called this. How the hell does she do it?” he whispered to himself, his voice filled with awe and affection for his fiancée.

  “I don’t dislike her,” I mumbled, looking at my beer.

  “I’ll take it,” Kevin said, and I could hear the smile in his voice. I rolled my eyes. “And don’t worry. Lindsay is pissed at me like three times a day. So I’m sure Iris will forgive you soon. She doesn’t really seem like the kind of girl to hold a grudge.”

  My gaze collided with his when I lifted my head. “Well she certainly wasn’t happy. But yeah, she’s already forgiven me.” Kevin didn’t say anything; he just leaned back, a smug expression on his face, and crossed his arms.

  “Hey guys,” Lindsay said. We both turned to see her walking toward us.

  “Hey, babe,” Kevin greeted. He immediately tugged her forward and gave her a light kiss on the cheek. Her lips lifted as he pulled away.

  “What were you guys talking about?”

  “Nick’s new—”

  “Hey,” I cut Kevin off with a frown. Lindsay turned in his arms and faced me.

  “C’mon. You’re finally healed and back at work, what could be so bad?” When I stayed silent, she made her way over to me. “Nope. I’m not letting you mope when things are finally looking up. What’s my motto?” Lindsay asked in an annoyingly perky voice.

  Rolling my eyes, I said, “To live life like you’re a dog with its head out the window.”

  “Exactly.” She beamed, while Kevin and I started laughing, like we always did when her life motto came up. Lindsay’s lips tipped down and she glanced back at Kevin. She opened her mouth to say something, but he beat her to it.

  “God, I love you.”

  Lindsay blushed and looked down at her feet. I shook my head and stood up. Before I could walk away, her head snapped up and she leaned across the bar, grabbing my arm. “Hey. It’s a great motto to live by. I mean, have you ever seen an unhappy dog with his head out the window?” Her face was completely serious now.

  “I know, Linds. You tell me that every time.”

  “Well maybe someday it’ll make it through your bonehead brain,” she said with a slap to my head. Kevin grinned as he reached forward, wrapped his arm around her waist, and with one strong tug, pulled her into him.

  “So what were you guys talking about? And why was he so cranky?” she asked Kevin, and I knew he was gonna spill.

  “Nothing.”

  “Nick’s future girlfriend,” he said at the same time.

  “I’m leaving,” I muttered as I dropped some money on the bar.

  “Aww… don’t be like that. It’s cute. She’ll be the Beauty to your Beast,” Kevin called out to my back. They both chuckled when I held up my middle finger in response.

  Kevin was right… I did like her. I didn’t necessarily want to like her, but I did.

  While I didn’t understand it, I couldn’t help but be pulled in by her. My ma was right. Iris was like a miracle. And even though I may not have believed in them, I couldn’t help but take notice when one appeared to be taking place right in front of me.

  Trying not to glance at my watch for the fifth time, I anxiously waited by the statue. Iris would be here any minute, and I was more nervous than I’d ever been. My apology last night felt like wiping the slate clean.

  I wasn’t sure what she saw in me, but I was determined to do better this time around. Second chances were a gift most threw away, so sure that a person willing to give them one other chance meant they could squeeze two or three more out. I knew different. I was hardly one to grant second chances let alone third or fourth ones, and I had a feeling that while Iris was kind enough to give me another chance, she wouldn’t give me any more. Somehow she was strong and vulnerable all at once.

  My gaze was on the ground as I kicked at a rock, when I saw a stroller stop a couple feet away from me. I lifted my head, preparing to offer a stranger directions, and my eyes collided with a pair of unmistakable warm brown ones. I didn’t need to look at her mouth to know she was smiling.

  “Hi.”

  “Hey. I’m glad you could make it,” she said as she stepped closer. I glanced down, and I was a bit amazed that just the
sight of Iris had temporarily made me forget about the stroller.

  Wide blue eyes stared up at me as the little girl—based on her pink flowered headband—sucked on a yellow pacifier. Her chubby arms waved toward me, almost like she was saying hi.

  “I think she likes you,” Iris said. Then she reached down and tickled the baby’s belly, causing a loud giggle to pierce the air when the pacifier fell out of her mouth.

  “Is… is she… yours?” I asked. I hadn’t meant to ask that first, or be so blunt and awkward, but the truth was, I didn’t know much about Iris’s life. I only really knew the small things. I knew she wasn’t married, but that didn’t mean she was single. Hell, she could have had a house full of children and a boyfriend, and maybe they just weren’t home last night. Though I didn’t remember seeing any pictures.

  Iris straightened. “You think I had time to give birth to a child in the last few months while I was busy donating a kidney?”

  I rubbed the back of my neck and looked down. “Ah, yeah, I guess I didn’t think about that.”

  She was smiling when my eyes found her again. “She’s my niece. Actually… she’s the reason you have a kidney.” My brow furrowed as she explained, “I was in the hospital that night because my sister just gave birth.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah.”

  I glanced at the little girl again. “What’s her name?”

  “Mirielle. It means miracle in French.”

  It was pretty, if not unusual. I wondered for a moment if it was a trendy way to keep their daughter unique. Rich people always did weird shit like that.

  “How’d they come up with it?” I asked, because despite my attempts to turn over a new—less bitter—leaf, I couldn’t help but assume the worst. Habits were hard to change.

  “My sister had been trying for nearly three years to get pregnant. About two years before Mirielle was conceived they started fertility treatments. After four months one took…” She trailed off and looked toward her niece. “They lost him five months in,” she whispered. When she turned back, there were tears in her eyes.

  “It broke my sister’s heart.”

  You would think I’d be used to being wrong about this girl and her family, but I was still stunned silent. There was no way she was lying—her grief was too genuine. It was the first time I’d seen anything less than a smile on Iris’s face. It was a horrible sight, and something I never wanted to see again.

  “Hey, it looks like everything worked out,” I said, pointing down at Mirielle. I was rewarded when that bright signature smile took up residence on Iris’s face. All felt right in the world again.

  “Yes it did. They didn’t try again for another eight months, and seven months later she was conceived. They were hesitant to get their hopes up again. But with each passing month, their excitement grew. When the seven-month mark came, they started picking names. A French colleague of Kent’s suggested it and my sister fell in love. Mirielle has been responsible for so many miracles.” Her smile transformed into something more meaningful as she looked at me.

  My mouth felt dry when she continued to stare at me. I admired that about her—she never shied away from her feelings or seemed embarrassed. She may have thought the same about me, but she’d be wrong. Distrust and anger masked everything else. It was hard to be embarrassed when your heart was so heavily guarded. And now that it wasn’t, it felt like I was putting it on a chopping block.

  I cleared my throat and pointed down the sidewalk. “Should we start walking?”

  Nodding, she turned the stroller around and began pushing. It was a beautiful day out, the temperature hovering in the high sixties, and people were everywhere. Boston Common was spacious enough that it didn’t feel crowded, but there was a myriad of things going on: teenagers playing Frisbee, people jogging, having picnics, or walking dogs. I couldn’t remember the last time I enjoyed a day like this. It was nice.

  “Did you have a good morning?” she asked.

  “Yeah, not bad.” I shoved my hands in the pockets of my jacket. “Yours?”

  “It was great. I’m spending the whole day with this little one.” She leaned forward and brushed Mirielle’s leg. “How are you adjusting to everything?”

  I blew out a breath. “Pretty good, I think. I have to set alarms on my phone to remember my meds and all the appointments, but I think it’s just a learning curve. I’ll get used to it in no time.”

  “That’s good,” she said with a smile. We were quiet for a few minutes as we kept walking. It wasn’t awkward; it was the kind of quiet that came when you were comfortable with another person.

  “Can I ask you a question?” I asked.

  “Of course.”

  “Last week you said things in your life weren’t always easy, that there were times of heartbreak. What did you mean?”

  She frowned. “Why are you asking me this?”

  “My ma trusts you completely. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t still struggling a bit,” I admitted with a cringe. I didn’t want to piss all over my second chance, but I wanted to be honest with her.

  Iris faced forward again, the brief silence filled with tension this time. “And you think if I tell you about my past it will justify something?” Off my silence, she sighed. “I didn’t expect your trust, Nick. That’s earned. I understand that. All I ever wanted was your respect. You don’t have to trust a person to treat them with respect.”

  I rubbed my hand down my face. “You know what’s pathetic? This is me trying.”

  We walked a little farther before she said, “The Chamberlains adopted me when I was nine years old.”

  She paused, and my mind flooded with the horror stories I’d heard about foster care. Abuse. Neglect. And things far too horrifying to even think about…

  “Nothing like that happened,” she quickly added, recognizing the expression on my face. “I actually don’t remember much about my time with other foster parents. I know they were decent homes. Nothing terrible happened, nothing ruined me.” I stayed silent. I’d asked for her story, the least I could do was let her tell it without interruptions.

  “I’m not happy because my life has been perfect, Nick. I’m happy because I decided to be. I know you probably think it was easy for me. But it took work.”

  Iris pulled the canopy over Mirielle, blocking her from the sun so she could drift to sleep. “My birth parents died when I was seven years old. I had no siblings and no extended family. I was alone and scared, forced into an imperfect system with no guarantee of ever leaving.”

  She took a deep breath before continuing, “Most of the information I have is secondhand. My birth father never had an easy life. He didn’t finish high school, too busy running around with drug dealers and thieves. I guess the only option he saw was a life of crime. Then he met my birth mother, and his whole life changed.” She smiled and her eyes were bright with the happy memory. “He fell in love with her immediately, and he tried to turn his life around. He proposed after only two months, and within a year they were married and had me. In one of his letters he wrote that it was everything he never knew he wanted, and he couldn’t have imagined a better life. He never thought he’d get a happily ever after.”

  Her eyes filled with tears and the small smile she’d had slipped. “Then she got cancer. It was fast spreading and required a lot. A lot of drugs. A lot of treatments. And a lot of money. What could my parents do? She was a diner waitress and he worked in a garage.” She shrugged.

  “So he went back to what he knew. Selling drugs, stealing…” Shaking her head, she said, “He wasn’t a bad person. He just wanted to save the love of his life. I don’t condone what he did. I know it wasn’t right. But I think it’s a mistake to condemn people for the worst thing they’ve ever done. You probably think he deserved what he had coming—”

  “Hey.” I had to stop her now. In an effort to protect myself these past few months, I’d put on a mask. A mask of a monster considering how she thought of me. I didn’
t want her to see me that way anymore. I stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and lightly gripped her elbow. When she paused beside me, I slowly dragged my fingers down her arm until I was holding her hand in mine. We were both quiet for a moment, our eyes on our connected hands.

  “I’m not judging, I promise,” I said. She nodded in response.

  “He got caught. And with his priors, his sentence was a lot longer than it might have otherwise been. Not that it mattered—she died a month after he was sentenced.”

  Tears fell from her eyes, but she reached up and quickly wiped them away. “I think he blamed himself,” she whispered. “But I was there. And despite my young age, I know there wasn’t anything else he could have done for her.”

  My hand squeezed hers. God, I couldn’t even imagine. Watching your wife, the mother of your child, and the love of your life wither away before your eyes, powerless to stop it.

  “I was put in foster care because of her death and his imprisonment. I remember being told I’d be released to my father once he got out.” Her eyes dipped, and my heart broke. “He never did. He died three months after she did.” Iris laughed, the sound unhappy and getting stuck in her throat. “You’d think it was prison that killed him. It’s not exactly a safe place. But that wasn’t it… he just… died. His heart stopped and they couldn’t find a reason. They ruled it natural causes.” Our entwined fingers became blurry as I stared down at them.

  “Iris…” I murmured.

  “I think…” She looked up at me, her face wracked with despair. “I think he died from a broken heart. I think he couldn’t handle living in this world without her. And I think he knew, because his last letter felt like goodbye.”

  “He wrote you?”

  She nodded. “My mom had started writing me letters when she got sick, first just general ones. Then she made some for important milestones. Sixteenth birthday, eighteenth, graduation, wedding, etc…

  “Once he was arrested, he did too. Like I said, I think he knew he wouldn’t be able to live without her. I remember some of his letters, how I could feel his love for her just from his words.”