Splinter of Hope

by Jody Kaye

  “That’s not wrong, Kimber. Don and Ghillie had the next eighteen years. One day, two days? You don’t think you deserved time to bond with Aidy?”

  “That’s the problem. I did bond with her and I didn’t want to give her up.” Ashamed, I direct my line of vision to the fire hydrant on the corner, willing it to explode.

  I inhale, ready to tell Trig the worst part. “No contact for the first two years… I mean, I got pictures. Reminders she was living the life she was meant to without me. And, stupid me, I knew where Don and Ghillie lived. So each time the mail showed, I’d go to their house and try to sneak a glance at my baby girl. When I handed her over, I didn’t even know what color hair she’d have, and all I wanted was a real-life glimpse of her soft red curls…”

  “Kimber, you didn’t?”

  “Nuh-uh, what I did was worse than trying to get her back. I started drinking, which led to drugs. On Aidy’s third birthday, they finally allowed me to see her. Every year after, I’d get myself cleaned up, so it didn’t show and I got a few minutes with her. Until the pain I felt when I saw how good she had it, and how horrible her life would have been with me, was too much. I stopped coming to see her each year for a while. I was too busy throwing a pity party of my own.”

  “Did you ever ask yourself if it was the postpartum thing?”

  “In hindsight, it was. But back then? Who treated a teenage girl who’d gotten herself in trouble and given her baby up for adoption for depression? I was told I was lucky Don and Ghillie were allowing me to be a small part of Aidy’s life. All those experienced adults directed my actions. They made me believe my private thoughts made me an ingrate when I was grateful. Aidy’s parents are wonderful people. It’s why I chose them.”

  Trig’s lip twitches, curling at the side into a small smile. I don’t have to ask if he’s done background checks on them. I’m sure he’s privy to far more about Don and Ghillie than I ever was when the adoption agency handed me their profile two decades ago.

  “By then, I was, uh, living with this girl. She was using too and started turning tricks to afford her addictions. I won’t ever pretend I didn’t sleep with someone to get high, Trig. My pride won’t let me. But she wound up pregnant and the writing on the wall was sobering. I’d already given up one baby. A second would kill me long before I overdosed. I beat myself up because Aidy was living without me, instead of making a life she’d understand and be proud of me for. It struck me how someday I’d be dead and my daughter would believe I threw her away; that getting high was more important to me than she was. I’d never have a chance to explain. She’d only see addiction as my weakness when it was really her all along.

  “So I stumbled flat on my face into sobriety.” I’m around free-flowing alcohol at Sweet Caroline’s and there’s plenty of it at the mill.

  Trig nods. “Your unwillingness to even enjoy a glass of wine on girls’ night or have a beer with me made it much harder to convince you to come to my bed.”

  “Now you get why.” I let out a strangled laugh and begin wringing my hands.

  “Hey,” he says. “I just don’t ever want you missing out on having a good time. I understood why all along and didn’t mind working a little harder. The first time with you was magic. Why do you think I haven’t let you leave since?”

  “Thanks,” I say, barely audible. “I love you.”

  Rubbing my knee, he whispers the same words back.

  We’d stayed parked on the street for a while with Kimber revealing her truths. I asked questions because I was glad we were finally communicating about this. It opens the door for other things. I also hadn’t wanted her to clam up, believing my opinion of her had swayed. Or worse, if I remained silent it meant I was disinterested in her past. Some of what she said I’d always wanted to know. But again, it was her private business, not mine to nose into.

  The car was running on fumes when we pulled away from the curb to go get gas. I’d have figured Kimber was running on empty too. However, she kept talking. Little smiles played at the corners of the lips as her life turned around. I liked that a heck of a lot more than hearing about her struggles.

  Fuck, if I didn’t want to find Aidy’s birth father and beat the shit out of the guy for stranding Kimber. Or go back in time and make sure I was her boyfriend instead. I might have been up to no good, but I’m sure as shit positive that the last thing I would have done was leave Kimber high and dry, pregnant with my baby. Like I said, the first damned thing that floated through my brain when I laid eyes on Kimber was that I was determined to make her mine. I don’t doubt had I met her as a teenager those same words would have brought us together.

  I listened intently as she told me about her sponsor and the program.

  “That’s about the time I started dancing. I was still young enough to pull it off and guess the shame about being naked in front of people isn’t half of what I’d already felt. I’d been at another club and one of the girls, who was way younger than me, was using her income to pay for college. I was making enough that it made sense. I wasn’t the dumbest girl in school, even if I hadn’t made the wisest choices. Jake saw me and offered a spot in his revue with a raise. How was I supposed to say no?”

  “Cuz he comes off as a complete jerk.” I’d snorted.

  “You’ll never understand what dreams someone’s lost out on until you get to know the real person.”

  “Don’t let Jake hear you talking kind about him. He’s worked hard to garner his reputation.”

  “Turtles are soft under that hard shell.”

  I raise a brow.

  “Well, they are. My point is everybody has armor.”

  “You’re right.” I conceded, kissing the back of her hand before I got out to pump gas.

  Kimber was closing the mirror and flipping up the visor when I shifted the car back into drive.

  “I look a wreck.” She flopped against the seatback.

  “You’re beautiful. I was searching for a way of getting that makeup off your face anyhow.”

  She huffed like she didn’t believe me, but out of the corner of my eye I saw her blush.

  I pull Carver’s car up to the rear of the three-story building and hit the button for the bay door to garage it. I have to be honest, I’ll be sorry giving the keys back to him. Watching My Love open up and let me into her past made me realize she should have more nice things. Creature comforts. Maybe a sweet ride after the roller coaster these past eighteen years were for her.

  I’ll be repaying my buddy for his generosity. Not only for allowing me to use his vehicle, but for inviting Kimber to live at the mill. It’s our home. Though, I’d prefer not for much longer.

  She lets out a ragged breath, taking the words on the tip of my tongue right out of my mouth. “Don’t get me wrong, everyone here is special to me, Trig. But I can’t deal with them tonight. Does it make me a bad person?”

  “Not at all. It’s okay to need space. Grab the bag. Let’s go for a ride.” My Harley is parked next to Skye and Jasper’s by the garage. We ride together. It’s not a club like Jasper’s sister, Sloan freaked out about. I do enough other illegal shit that it doesn’t leave time for running guns. Smoking pot? If Kimber’s not around. I won’t bring any of that crap around her. It’s not fair to ask of an addict. I’ve known she’d struggled from the beginning.

  “How far can we make it tonight?”

  “Depends on which direction you’d like to go in. The beach? Mountains?” Blowing Rock is a good three hours from here. That may be a trek.

  It doesn’t take the rumble of my stomach to tell she’s aware I’ve missed lunch. Not that my bastard gut cares as it lets out the gurgle.

  “We could go for dinner and turn around and come back once we know everyone is asleep.” Kimber’s white face turns green. It doesn’t seem as if she wants to eat. Or come home. I can’t blame her.

  I haven’t had much in the line of sustenance today. It hits a little spot that she doesn’t want to put me out. We keep a to-go
bag ready for the times the walls at the factory close in on us. It’s a simple backpack with an extra set of clothes. Kimber drops the few extra toiletries we need in depending on where we plan on winding up. The destination I have in mind is special.

  “I know a place. You go change and pack us up. Toothbrushes included. We’re not coming back tonight.”

  And if I can help it, the next time we’re back at the factory, it won’t be for long.

  “We have a room here?” I take off my helmet in awe of the tall white columns and wraparound porch of the old manor inn.

  The mill where we live is pretty darn nice accommodations. Yet, this isn’t any place like we’d normally stay on the road. It doesn’t slip past me that this is an upscale bed and breakfast.

  I’d changed into dark jeans before we left the mill. Both Trig and I wear our leather jackets early fall through late spring unless the heat is excruciating. The helmets stop bugs from getting in our teeth, but right now I feel woefully underdressed.

  “What is this place?” I pluck a beetle that didn’t make it from Trig’s open collar and say a little prayer before dropping him in the grass.

  “It’s like an event place with nice hotel rooms. They hold weddings out back and have a gourmet restaurant. I made overnight reservations while you were getting our stuff together,” Trig removes the light backpack from my shoulders, sliding it over his and takes my helmet.

  I’m forever amazed at how his wide grip holds the cumbersome weight of both.

  “You mind if we have dinner before checking into our room?”

  “Oh, I don’t mind.” I shake my head—feeling like Alice getting her first glimpse at her garden surroundings—and reenter the real world. “We can go to the restaurant first.” I’ve forgotten my manners. Trig hasn’t eaten since breakfast. He must be starved.

  Wide old wooden steps creak under our boots. The smell wafting out to the porch as Trig holds the door for me is amazing. I picked at the party buffet earlier, not in the mood to fill my belly. Now, after about two hours on the road, I’m feeling better, more like eating.

  First, we wound westward over the back roads out of Brighton, enjoying the scenery. Then Trig hopped on I-85 north of Durham. With my thighs pressed to his ass and my arms wrapped around his sides, the wind rushed by us. The hum of the bike’s engine underneath and the closeness of his body brought our conversation in the car to completion.

  Not wanting to stay home tonight aside, I’ve never wanted to escape my past. My journey made me who I am, and I have pride in me the way I want Aidy to be proud. However, with everything out in the open, I’m freer and able to move on.

  Trig requests a table for two. The hostess is gracious given our appearance.

  We both slide off our jackets, trying to blend in with the other diners. When Trig goes to hide our helmets and bag under the tablecloth, the hostess offers to keep them up at her station.

  “Not a big deal.” Trig tries to wave her off. “I’ve got a room booked.”

  “I’d be glad to bring them up there if you’d like,” she says, full of kindness and hospitality. “Give me a few minutes and I’ll bring you back the key. I’ll even check you in while you’re waiting for your meal. The inn does things the old fashioned way. We don’t have much in terms of computers. I’ll need you to fill out your room card—in pen.” She laughs at the antiquated methods of the past with a mock eye roll.

  Trig allows the hostess to take our backpack and helmets. She juggles them the way I would. Not long after the server brings out a beer for Trig and a coffee for me, Trig has signed the card and we’re ordering.

  Seated across the table from one another, Trig and I hold hands. His fingertip nudges underneath my cuff bracelet and I take it off as a matter of habit. His brows slam together and he frowns. It’s not until then when I remember the bruise.

  Did I do that? Trig’s harsh expression judges his own demons and pleads for it not to be the truth.

  “It looks worse than it is. It’s not painful.” Knowing it would be a long ride, I’d snagged ibuprofen to be sure my wrist wouldn’t lock up while we were on the highway.

  Trig sighs heavily, refusing to meet my eyes. He’s ashamed of himself, and he shouldn’t be.

  “It’s not your fault,” I whisper. “It’s never your fault, My Love. You don’t even know it’s happening.”

  “How many times have you hidden it from me, Kimber?” Trig scrubs his face.

  I reach out to cup his cheek, forcing his steely eyes to mine. “Only today. There was too much going on. I’d forgotten about it, and the sweatshirt I had on over my pajamas hid it from me. I didn’t even notice until I got out of the shower this morning.”

  My big man’s jaw ticks, trying to hold back his emotions. He’s shattered every time this happens. Yet, it’s never been as bad as the night he clocked me with his fist hard enough that no amount of makeup could hide the shiner he gave me. Most of the problem stemmed from when Carver saw me. He didn’t understand, and he threatened Trig’s life should he put his hands on me again.

  World War three almost broke out at the mill. Carver has no tolerance for violence against women. He was ready to ban us from the guy’s rooms the same way he refuses to allow men on the third floor. Even the exception he made for Trig rides a very fine line for him. Trig had to get a psych eval from the VA and he still goes to therapy.

  It may seem like the people I surround myself with have no conscience, and maybe there are times that rings true. But, in reality, their hearts bleed like everyone else’s.

  Trig grasps his palm over the Airborne tat on his arm. He’d enlisted and served out of Fort Bragg. His military career ended post two tours overseas. He’s been honest about what he saw in Afghanistan and how being in a war zone affected him.

  The things Trig experienced in combat have settled on the periphery of his mind. He doesn’t dwell. It’s not unlike the way I handle my feelings about Aidy. Except, whenever Trig is troubled, he has awful dreams. He jerks beside me, holding on for dear life, grappling with the loss of friends, and survivor syndrome. I’m glad to be his anchor and understand that if he could stop this, he would. Trig never intends to hurt me.

  In our hotel room, Kimber lies unashamed of her body on the white sheets. They’re the same shade as the whipped cream that was on the dessert we shared, and she’s as delectable. My fingers tickle her navel and an easy smile plays on her lips. I shimmy down the bed so her tummy is even with my head and lean on my elbow, caressing the softest parts of my woman. I dip my lips forward, trailing them across the solitary, three-inch, silvery line stretching from her pelvic bone to her hip. She’s tried to hide the beauty of it with Aidy’s name in a swirling font. Two little footprints are inked after the “y”. The scar, tattoo, and wound on her heart are delicate. The same as Kimber. But I haven’t once doubted her strength. You don’t do what she did for her kid without a shit ton of backbone.

  I feather kisses against the tiny feet, steeling myself for her honest answer to the one question I haven’t had the spine to ask. I don’t think I’ll like her response. As a matter of fact, I’ve always believed it would lead to our demise. That’s why I haven’t pushed. Why I haven’t had the balls to bring it up until now. I don’t want to be without Kimber, but we can’t go on the way we are. Something’s gotta change.

  “Would you do it again?” I can hardly hear my voice despite the quiet of the room.

  Kimber shakes her head sadly, but responds, “For her, yes.”

  “That’s not what I’m asking you, My Love. Your regrets when it comes to Aidy aren’t any of my business to judge. And unless you care to share any more of the story with me, I’d never consider interrupting the way you’ve chosen to heal.”

  Kimber touches the stubble on my cheek, taking in a heavy breath as if my words are ones she’s been waiting to have confirmed.

  I push up onto my wrists and lower myself back down on both elbows, placing my body over Kimber’s, protectively caging her
in. I bite my lip the way she does before voicing what I need. “Would you have another baby?”

  Kimber blinks. Her pretty little lips form an “o”.

  “Now that she’s grown?” I add. I’ve waited because it seems like this chapter of Kimber’s life needed to end.

  Her blue eyes dart to the closed curtains. “I didn’t know you wanted kids,” she says with contrition.

  “With you, I want it all. I want to come home at night to a house in whatever suburb you please, to see you standing on the front porch with our baby on your hip and my ring on your finger. I don’t call you ‘My Love’ for any reason other than it’s what you are. You freely gave every ounce of love you deserved from Aidy to Ghillie and Don. It was at so much cost to your heart. I just wanna fill that well back up.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me this sooner?”

  “It wasn’t the right time.”

  “And it is now that my daughter is an adult?”

  “It is. If you’ll have me.”

  “If not? Are we over? Is this an ultimatum?”

  Feeling the rush of wind before seeing the light of the train, I shift to slide back to my side of the bed. Kimber holds my hip and tents her leg, stopping me from going too far.

  Her fingers find my face again. I’m captivated by the faint glimmer in her eyes. It’s similar to the one I’ve been hiding from her every time I’ve envisioned what it would be like hearing her say a test came back positive and that we were in this for life.

  “I’d never force you to stay.” I grunt.

  I might. Perhaps not before when I didn’t have the balls to admit this to Kimber. But now that it’s out in the open? Fuck, I’m coming up with a million reasons to stop her from leaving. If she goes, then every hope and dream I had for the future disappears. Every minute spent waiting for today was a waste.

  I could have found someone else. No, that’s a lie. I couldn’t. She is My Love. And I won’t love anyone else the way I love Kimber ever again.