Finally Unbroken Read online

  “But…” I didn’t know what exactly I wanted to say, just that I needed him to be clear. I was so confused, and it was partly his fault. I crossed my arms over my chest as anger bubbled inside me, I could feel it prickling just under the surface. “What was all that talk about running him over then? Was that just to see my reaction? Did you want to see if you could ‘get the girl’ then when I come here to give myself to you, I’m suddenly boring? The chase is over… is that what this is?” I spat out.

  He looked at me not saying anything. For a moment, I thought I saw something soft flicker in his eyes. Then all at once they frosted over. “There’s nothing here, nothing between us that’s romantic. You belong to Keith. I’m not going to tell him about this. As far as I’m concerned this conversation never happened, Bel.”

  “Don’t call me that,” I hissed. “Don’t ever call me that name again. Nicknames are reserved for real friends. Not for people who lead you on, give you hope, act like they want to offer you their heart just so they can trample on yours.” I didn’t give him a chance to respond, and I didn’t see the pain in his eyes. I stormed off, forcing myself to not look back. To never look back.

  I still remember that time clearly, and whenever I think about it, I get a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. Because I moved on, well, I tried to. Distancing myself from Keith at first, thinking that I needed to make a clean break. But he must have sensed something was wrong with me because he played the perfect boyfriend, something he hadn’t done for a while. So much so he was almost suffocating. I avoided Danny for three weeks until he left for college. I broke when he moved away. Only Amanda ever knew the truth. Slowly, over the next few months, I got better. Keith was actually pretty amazing back then, things were changing and I felt like we were all growing up.

  Keith stopped spending time with the bitchy girls that had always unfortunately made up a large part of our group. He got a job and showed me what a great boyfriend he could be. It was like it had been in those first few months once again laying on the back of his truck and watching the stars.

  Then he proposed and I agreed.

  My fate was sealed.

  We planned out our wedding to be in seven months. Three months before the wedding, we started trying for children. A week before the wedding, Keith and I had a massive argument. He accused me of still being on birth control and of not really wanting a child. He told me to cancel the wedding. Of course, he came back that night and apologized. I wasn’t sure whether I was relieved or not. It had been the first big argument we’d had since before we got engaged. But I noticed he’d been acting strange for that last month, and I had wondered if he still wanted to marry me.

  The day of the wedding I asked Amanda to take me to Danny’s parents’ house. I was confused since our argument Keith had been frosty and when I asked him if he still wanted to get married he’d snapped my head off. Something I was sure about for the last few months had suddenly become unstable. I put all my doubts, all the feelings I wasn’t supposed to have inside a black box and locked it tight. Since our argument that box had broken open, and I was filled with unease. I needed to get my head straight and I couldn’t think of a better way than to be near Danny, in any way possible.

  I’d known the Quinn’s for my whole life, even so, I was sure they were shocked when I broke down on their front porch in my wedding dress. Everything came out. His mom was amazing, she comforted me. She told me I shouldn’t be getting married. Not if that was how I felt. After releasing all the built up frustration I had inside, I asked her if she had Danny’s number, I said maybe I should call him.

  She patted my hand with pity or sadness in her eyes, I couldn’t quite decipher which it was. “I’m so sorry, Anabel. He’ll be playing a game right now, and, well, my dear, he’s dating someone, and he has been for the last six months.” She smiled sadly at me and I tried to do the same thing back. Nodding, I got up and made my way back to the car. Finding myself, ten minutes later, back at the chapel.

  Amanda turned to me. “I’ve brought you here because it’s time, Bellie. It’s time to get married or to cut loose. You can come with me, you know?” She had hope in her eyes, I could see it as clear as glass.

  I thought about my life, about her life, about all of us. I was one of them, one of those people that would live in this town my whole life. I had no real future. Not like Amanda. The only thing I’d ever been good at was drawing and that wasn’t going to get me anywhere. I didn’t have money for college, so I needed to face my future. Keith loved me. I loved him. We might fight, but most couples fight. It’s normal. Natural. He hadn’t always been a good boyfriend, which is one of the reasons I was second guessing, but I hadn’t always been the best girlfriend either. I convinced myself of it all.

  I was a devoted wife, though. From the moment I made my decision to marry Keith, I was dedicated. I pushed Danny and all thoughts of him out of my head. I removed all the photos I had. I never destroyed them, I believed too firmly in memories and how important they are. But I stored them at my parents so I could begin married life with a clean slate. Keith never seemed to put his everything into our relationship, though, not until a month or so before the wedding. Things never got better, they only went downhill.

  I tried. I truly believe that. Eventually, though, you have to admit defeat. Once my parents died, Keith was almost unreachable. Then whatever we still had, stopped being husband and wife and turned into master and servant and nothing more. That’s when I brought all my memories back. When my parents died, I had a few boxes of belongings from their house that I had stored in our garage but never looked at. When things turned irreversibly sour between Keith and me, I opened those boxes. I took out the things that made me cling to a happier time. They were all I had left. Only memories but memories have kept me going for all these years.

  I smile at both photos and place them back, then I take out the last memory that I keep in my wallet. Carefully unfolding the worn piece of paper I look at the drawing. Different shades of gray, soft and hard edges. Shadows bounce across the paper in the darkness, but I can still make out the tenderness etched across his face. His striking face still makes me catch my breath. My shoulders drop as a heaviness settles in my stomach. I remember why I drew this. It was because I realized I didn’t want to forget anyone I loved. Ever. So I drew Danny. I drew him and I kept him. It was my silent rebellion. It was my hope. Then I folded him up and hid him away. Now I know he’s always there when I need him.

  Looking up at the clock I shine my torch on it and gasp when I see it’s almost one in the morning. Keith will be home before me. That’s not what I wanted. Not that I can do much about it now. Sighing, I stand and stretch. When I was at Pastor Wilson’s house earlier, he mentioned that the fancy members-only club on the edge of town wanted a waitress. He said that the owner—one of his parishioners—had mentioned it to him and he had, in turn, said that I might be interested. Pastor Wilson had secured me an interview for tomorrow. He told me it was my choice if I wanted to go, but there was a chance for me if I wanted it. I knew what he was doing. Both Martha and Pastor Wilson have become impatient waiting for me to leave Keith. They, of course, can’t say as much. The Bible says, ‘What therefore God has joined together, let no man separate.’ I know how they really feel, it’s in every look, every hug and most of their actions. This is them giving me their help by way of a stepping stone, allowing me to branch out, find a job, and earn some money. It’s a start. I’m not going to let them down. Dying my hair was just one step. The next will be facing Mr. Cumberland tomorrow at The Hatfield Club.

  I smile while putting the torch away already feeling stronger. This might be the start of something. I hope so. Hope. It’s an incredibly powerful emotion.

  Walking out the back door I lock it as quietly as possible and tuck the keys into my pocket. As I turn, there’s a figure in front of me about a foot away. I gasp and jump backward slamming into the door I just locked. I feel my body starting to shake. I can’t open
the door. I have no cell because of Keith. I have no money. What the hell else could this person want from me? I don’t want to think about it. I try to take in as much of him as I can, something to pass onto the cops if I ever get away. He’s tall, six foot or more, but I can’t see much else. He has a beanie on and his clothes are dark.

  “I don’t have any money,” I whisper, my voice shaking.

  “Bel?”

  I hear the word muttered and I stop moving. Stop shaking. For a moment, I stop breathing. When my breath gushes back into my body, I start coughing, leaning over to catch as much air as I can. I feel a hand rub my back. “Bel, are you okay?”

  Managing to even out my breathing, I stand up and look, really look. The person in front of me has bright blue eyes. Stubble across his beautifully etched chin, one just like the drawing I have in my back pocket.

  “No,” I splutter.

  “Bel?”

  Shaking my head, I pull away from the hand I didn’t realize he had on my arm. I walk away already feeling tears stinging my eyes.

  “Bel!” he shouts behind me and I pick up my pace. “Bel!” This time, I run… run until I can’t breathe. I run from my past. I run because I don’t want to be here, but there is nowhere I want to be anymore. I can run, but that’s only any good if I have somewhere to run to. I drop to my knees the moment I reach my back garden and sit on my haunches, my heart beating wildly, as my hands shake.

  “What happens now?” I ask looking at the sky, waiting as always, for my parents to give me an answer. Knowing they won’t. They never do.

  Staring at the dark empty alleyway, I feel like I’ve been winded. Anabel Adams in the flesh. Well, I guess she’s Anabel Vincent now. The thought brings me back to reality with a thud, and I find myself sinking onto the step outside the shop door. She just came out of that shop, and now I can’t quite bring myself to go inside. Not just yet anyway.

  I have so many questions circling my brain, all desperate to be answered first. I can feel the pressure behind my eyes and I close them for a moment. My thoughts betray me when all I can see is her face—shocked, scared and horrified.

  She ran.

  Why did she run?

  I know why, there’s no point kidding myself. That night in the barn, I stopped her declaration of love, or whatever she was going to tell me. I stopped her for her own sake. She doesn’t know. But how could I have told her the truth? I couldn’t explain how I really felt. Let her end things with Keith to be with me? In a fantasy, that sounds perfect. Like a dream. The problem with that idea? It is a dream. What would have happened? I know she didn’t look further than her feelings, I can understand that, but someone had to. I did what was best for her. The moment she walked into the barn, I was aware of her. I pretended I didn’t know she was there… took the time to steady myself. My heart and head were at odds, and I needed to take control. I knew why she’d come, maybe even before she fully realized.

  The minute she walked in, I’d wanted nothing more than to rush her and then keep her forever, I had grabbed her arms just to rein myself in. I was going away to play ball at college. She was staying here in this place. With them. If she left Keith to be with me and then I moved away to play college ball, she would have been here, on her own with Keith, his friends, and those bitches. No. It was too much, the wolves would have circled. As strong as she was, I’m sure they would have ripped her apart, worn her down and broken her. I didn’t want that, not for Bel. So I decided the best thing to do was to leave her alone. The only problem with that was I broke my heart in the process.

  And it’s never recovered.

  Blinking against the light, I finally manage to open my eyes. As they start to adjust something suddenly blocks the sun from my face.

  Keith.

  “What the fuck are you doing out here?” he shouts down at me.

  I try to take in my surroundings, I’m in the garden, laying on one of the two recliners he bought years ago. This one he leaves out in the garden, so he can relax while drinking beer. The other is in front of the television. He never offered one to me and he doesn’t like me using either of them.

  “Oh, I must have fallen asleep,” I reply, my voice still tired as I yawn.

  “Do you intend to lie on your fat ass all day?” he questions, but there’s an undercurrent to his words.

  “No, of course not, I have some work to do in town,” I answer too quickly, not thinking straight and almost giving away what I’m supposed to be doing today.

  “What work?” he snaps

  “Oh, Pastor Wilson asked if I would help out with the old folks a bit more this week,” I lie, plastering on a saccharine smile.

  He glares at me, then replies with, “Old fuckers.” He says no more and stomps away only turning around when he’s nearly at the door to shout, “Get the fuck out of my chair.” At his words, I scramble out of his chair thinking about what I can do to get him back for being a dick. For now, I need him out of my way, I have things to do today. Hopefully, these things will keep my mind away from thoughts of last night. I can’t think about it because every time I do I want to throw up.

  “So Mrs. Vincent, Pastor Wilson tells me that you’re looking for a new challenge. You think this is it?” Mr. Cumberland asks me.

  I look around the opulent dining room, wood and glass stare back at me, surrounding lovely French doors that lead out to a patio area. I’ve always wondered what the inside of The Hatfield Club looked like. There was a time my folks would come here. Once a week on Saturdays, their date night. They had good friends. They made good memories. I used to listen to their stories and feel like I’d been right here with them.

  Looking back at Mr. Cumberland, I reply, “I’ve never worked Mr. Cumberland. I’ve been a housewife. Any job would be a new challenge for me, but somewhere like the Hatfield, somewhere special…” I pause as I watch the confusion pass over his face. Then I explain, “…special, because of the memories my parents made here. Memories they shared with me.” I see pity briefly in his eyes and it makes my stomach sink. I hate pity, but it’s the most common emotion I receive these days. I look around again. “I feel like I know this place just from their stories.”

  Mr. Cumberland coughs making me turn back to look at him. “Wednesday,” he croaks out and I swear there’s a glisten in his eyes. He stands up repeating himself, “Wednesday… that’ll be your first shift. I know you’ve never been a waitress before, so I’ll give you some time. Two weeks, I think. Then we’ll meet again and review the arrangement. See Stella on your way out and she’ll sort out your contract. Salary, uniform, hours and all that good stuff.”

  I stand with my mouth open, amazed that he’s willing to give me a shot. Quickly shutting it again I offer him my hand, which he swiftly takes shaking it with a smile, but I just keep shaking forgetting to let go. In the end, when it’s become slightly uncomfortable, he rips his arm away looking at me like I might be slightly mad.

  My first stop after leaving the Hatfield is Pastor Wilson’s house. I thank him over and over until the point comes that Martha has to pry me off him. They both have big toothy smiles as they see me off. It’s only as I walk home, walk past Pop’s shop, that I let the night before seep into my skin coating me with the truth that my mind has been trying to avoid.

  Danny’s back.

  What does it mean?

  “Mr. Quinn, Ms. Tinder has arrived,” Layla tells me with reservation in her voice. She knows that I don’t want to see her. She also knows that there’s something off with me today, I think she can tell my mood has soured somewhat since yesterday, and it was already circling the drains.

  “Thank you, Layla. Has she made an appointment?” I ask not looking up from my laptop. Since last night, I’ve tried to dive headfirst into work. Attempting to keep my mind trapped in a far safer subject, and failing in an epic way. No matter how hard I try, Bel is all I can think about.

  “Shit,” I growl and then realize as quiet descends on the room, that Layla has been talk
ing and I’ve completely zoned out. Glancing up, I see the concern in her eyes. “My apologies. Please repeat what you were saying, I was reading something on here and missed everything,” I lie, pointing at my laptop and laying the blame on the inanimate object.

  Smiling, falsely, she repeats her words, “Ms. Tinder suggested dinner with you tonight. I subtly suggested a light late lunch this afternoon may be a better choice as your schedule is very busy,” Layla relays her lies this time. We both know my schedule has almost been cleared at my request, but I appreciate her putting Ms. Tinder off. I’m not sure a viper at my dinner table is what I need tonight.

  I feel the corners of my lips tip up. “Thank you, Layla. That brings me some relief. However, I still have to face her. So what time should I be downstairs to meet the voracious Ms. Tinder?” I ask feeling my energy draining already.

  “You have an hour,” Layla answers, then adds, “I’ll call your room ten minutes prior to remind you.” She then leaves me sitting staring at my laptop like a douche, wondering how I can get Ms. Tinder to understand that I’m not interested, without having to find another real estate agent.

  “Fuck,” I curse then go take a shower. I need to get ready for a few rounds with Gabrielle Tinder, the woman who never gives up.

  “Gabrielle, these locations are great, but I have already told you what I want. This isn’t it,” I say handing back photos and paperwork she gave to me with details of possible new sites.

  “Surely, Danny, there’s something here that floats your boat?” she asks, casually touching my arm. This is no casual movement, though, even if she wants it to seem that way. I gently pull my arm away, hoping not to offend. If I have to make my point clearer I will, and I won’t be making any apologies. But I believe in trying tact first. A frown appears in her eyes, I believe it’s a frown, but it’s hard to tell what’s happening on her face as it hardly moves due to being over botoxed.