Broken to Pieces Page 4

  "Oh," Tex said jokingly, "a city boy."

  Adam laughed, "Yeah, you could say that."

  Tex tossed down a swig and leaned back in his chair.

  "And what do you do for a living there in the city?"

  Every time that he said it, Tex made sure that the word was dripping with exaggerated contempt.

  "I paint, mostly, though I have done some work in textile design when I need to make ends meet. Lately, though, I have been doing a bunch of commissions."

  "Good, then," Tex proclaimed, "maybe you can explain all of this hoity-toity art that I see that makes no damn sense. A triangle here, a tree there…how's that art?"

  Adam paused and set down his fork.

  "The way I see it, people tend to pour their hearts and souls into the art that they make. So if there is that much emotion behind a piece, it has to mean something, right? It might be just me, but I love to look at a painting and see just how another person chooses to bear their soul."

  When the last word rolled past his pouty lips, Adam's eyes met Emily's. For a second-just for a moment-it felt like he was speaking only to her. But as soon as it happened, he pulled his gaze away and looked back at Tex. In that brief moment between his comment and Tex's response, it seemed like an hour had passed.

  Did he mean to look at her that way, or was it all in her head? Emily tried to shake the thoughts away. Of course I'm dreaming it up. Of course I am.

  For the first time, the fighting spirit seemed to have left Tex. "I reckon you might have a point there."

  Adam cast another darting glance in Emily's direction with a smirk plastered across his narrow cheeks.

  Her stomach did a little flip. What was it about him that drew her in like a moth to a fire?

  "Hey Tex," Caroline's voice broke through.

  "Yes, ma'am?"

  "Why don't you hit me with a shot of that?"

  Emily raised her eyebrow. In the years of painful silence following the incident with Father Hall, Emily caught more and more glimpses of her mother's newfound appreciation for booze. Unfortunately, seeing her drink never got easier. It was only a painful reminder of what Father Hall's actions had done to both of their lives.

  Emily spent the rest of the night wondering about Adam as dinner was finished, the plates were cleared and Carl helped her mother back to their room, but it wasn't until she was alone with the chores that her racing pulse calmed down.

  The thought of Adam looking at her the way that he did lingered mercilessly.

  After some time, the only light left on in the house was the naked bulb above her head. The dishes moving between her small hands clinked and tinkered under the yellow light. It was the only sound in the house that night, leaving everyone but Emily to sleep their cares away under the warm, peaceful spell that had settled over the Virginia country-side.

  Chapter 3

  Much to her closely-guarded dismay, Emily didn't see much of the young artist in the days following his arrival. Every morning before the sun came up, he would quietly shower and leave through the back door with his heavy duffel bag in tow. Most of the time, Emily was wide awake when he left. She would lie there in her small bed and listen to his feet shuffling about. And while she was undeniably curious about what he was doing, she was never able to muster the courage to go out and talk to him before everyone else woke up.

  In a way, she had been terrified of him from the moment that he stepped through the front doors of the Chickweed Inn. Something about him seemed reserved and hidden. When he would show up for lunch, it was almost painful to Emily. She wanted to know about him. She wanted to hear his story and find out where he came from. What does he paint? Where does he go every morning?

  All of this and more raced around in her head on a peaceful Saturday morning just days after Adam had arrived. Emily was already dressed in an admittedly frumpy pair of gray, cotton shorts and a plain white tank top. Her long hair was pulled up onto the top of her head, though quite a bit of it had other ideas. Underneath her, all of her sheets and pillows had been crumpled up and strewn about from hours of fitful, restless sleep.

  She had been dreaming about Adam.

  As she lay in her bed and smoothed her hair down with both hands, she tried to remember the details. Unfortunately, as happens with most dreams, everything sank back into the thick fog of her subconscious.

  She sighed, pressed the heels of her palms in her temples and groaned, "What if it was something good?"

  An unexpected knocking at her door startled her.

  "Who's there?"

  Her dad responded from the other side, "It's me, Em."

  "Come in."

  When Carl opened the door and walked in, Emily eyeballed the suitcase rolling behind him with suspicion.

  "What's that for, Dad?"

  He looked back at it and turned back to her, "For me and your mother's trip to the wineries near Finger Lakes, remember?"

  Emily sat up in her bed. The sudden realization that she was going to have to take care of the whole house while they were gone did not sit so well with her that early in the morning.

  "No, I don't remember because you guys never told me."

  Her mom piped up from behind him, "Sure I did, honey. I told you on the phone right before you came back."

  Emily curled her knees up to her chest and rested her head against the wrought iron headboard behind her.

  "I think that I would remember having to handle this place by myself, mom. It's a massive hassle."

  Her statement wasn't far from the truth. There was a lot to do to keep the inn up and running. It might not seem so bad at first, but dishes, meals, laundry and activities for all of the guests could add up really quickly, not to mention the acres of property that surrounded them. There was a seemingly endless list of chores to be done on any given day and doing it alone was one of the few things in life that Emily really tried desperately to avoid.

  Her father raised an eyebrow and grabbed the retractable handle.

  "Are you sure that we didn't tell you? I thought for sure that we had."

  "No," Emily lied, "but it's fine."

  "Are you sure?" Her mother asked.

  "Yeah."

  In reality, Emily wasn't fine, but she knew how hard her parents had worked to send her away to her dream college, so she decided just to suck it up.

  "You guys have fun and be careful."

  Her dad smiled, "You know it."

  His grin always made Emily feel better. It could easily light up a room…and her heart.

  "We love you, kiddo," he said.

  "I love you, too."

  In her mind, the comment was directed solely toward her father.

  The couple of over forty-two years piled their things into their spare sedan and headed off on the single road leading to and from the property. All the while, Emily laid in her bed with her legs hanging over the edge.

  "It's just for the weekend," she whispered to herself and rubbed her sleep-tired eyes.

  "What's just for the weekend?"

  Adam's voice coming from the doorway made Emily jump up. Almost instantly, she was embarrassed by her old clothes and generally unkempt appearance. She tried to smooth down the wild hairs on top of her head.

  "I, um," she stammered. "My parents left for the weekend."

  Adam crossed his arms over his black tee shirt and leaned against the door frame. The way he stood there made him look almost like a statue, with his chiseled body and equally angled jaw line. His midnight-colored hair had been slicked back and was tied with a simple rubber band behind his head. Below that, a thin layer of stubble brushed his sharp cheeks and slightly dimpled chin.

  Emily discretely dug her nails into the sheet beneath her, imagining how the prickly little hairs would feel as she ran her hand over his tanned face.

  "Does that mean you're free, then?"

  Emily snorted a laugh, "It actually means the exact opposite."

  "Oh."

  Adam looked down at his short na
ils. They were stained with various blobs of color from every end of the rainbow, but that was something that he was used to. Instead of being concerned about it, he used them as a brief respite from Emily's piercing, emerald eyes.

  They were so beautiful that sometimes he was afraid of becoming trapped in her stare.

  "Well do you think that you will have some free time this afternoon?"

  Emily's heart fluttered.

  "I'm sure that I can work something out. What did you have in mind?"

  He finally looked up and responded, "I don't know. I thought maybe we could go swimming or something. I haven't had a day off in a while and I could use some time to relax."

  "Okay," Emily said while doing her best to restrain the joyous grin that threatened to take over her lips.

  "Alright then," Adam pushed away from the door frame. "I'll be back for you after lunch."

  Emily wanted desperately to ask him where he was going but she was having trouble getting any more words out. Before she was able, the mysterious young stranger was gone, leaving behind only the fading sound of his footsteps as he made his way down the hall and out of the house.

  When she was sure that he was gone, Emily fell back on the bed again and exhaled. She hadn't realized that she was holding her breath for much of their conversation and the lack of oxygen made her desperately dizzy. Up above her head, the wood-beam ceiling twitched and shimmied across her vision. Little white dots danced around in the periphery.

  "What a day," she sighed under her breath.

  For the rest of the morning, it felt like the day dragged on at a glacial pace. Emily tried to kill time, but the nervous tingling in the pit of her stomach served as a constant reminder of her approaching outing with the handsome artist. Even as she put together a light lunch of sandwiches and fruit for the guests, her mind felt like it was a hundred miles away.

  Emily was just setting the plate of food onto the table when Adam walked in through the back door. His hands were covered in tiny flecks of green paint, which Emily noticed when he grabbed her shoulder and sent a chill through her spine.

  "You ready to go?"

  "Sure. Grab a sandwich."

  "Sounds good."

  He snatched a square off of the plate and wolfed down half of it in two bites.

  He's even hot when he's stuffing his face!

  "Come on," she said to him. "We have to drive up."

  Adam motioned toward the door with one hand and shoved the rest of his lunch in his mouth with the other, "After you."

  Behind the house, the two of them piled into the creaking truck and Emily kicked the engine to life. Before she shifted it into drive, she glanced over to her handsome passenger, who was staring out of the window and thinking about something. By then, his hair had fallen out of the elastic band and hung around his face like a curtain. He was wearing a paint-stained shirt and a black pair of swim shorts that fell just above his knee.

  Right below the seam of his shorts, a long, jagged scar ran down over his knee and onto the middle of his shin. Emily tried her best not to look at it, or him, as she guided the truck through the property and into the mountains. The winding roads were enough of a challenge and the last thing that she needed was to plunge them over the side of the mountain because she was too busy wondering about some guy's scarred knee cap.

  The drive wasn't long, but it certainly was scenic. In a matter of minutes, the truck breached the top of a small hill, allowing the pair to see down into the lake-filled valley below. There were no other people and nothing else to taint the unspoiled beauty that was laid out in front of them.

  When Emily finally slowed the truck to a halt and killed the engine, she turned to Adam, who was staring out of the window. She watched him like that for a second and wondered again what he was thinking about.

  Adam turned back to her, "Ready?"

  "Yeah," she pulled the handle next to her and pushed the door open. "Let's go."

  They piled out of the decrepit vehicle, each one of them taking up a spot on their side near the hood. Emily looked across to Adam, who was busy stripping off his paint-splattered shirt.

  She couldn't help but watch as every ripple and bump on his upper body was exposed to the bright light of day. He was built well, with a toned chest that almost surprised Emily a little.

  Why would he keep a body like that hidden?

  Across the rusty pile of metal between them, Adam cast sideways glances toward his new companion. She, too, was busy peeling off her outer layer of clothes. When finished, she was left in a blood red bikini that perfectly complemented the golden tan that her time under the California sun had given her.

  Adam had to do his very best not to stare at her long legs or full breasts when she walked around to meet him.

  Once together, they walked to the start of a small, wooden platform, where Emily hung her arms in front of her bare stomach.

  "You have to jump," she said.

  Adam was so entranced by the shimmering sheet of glass spread out in front of them that he didn't hear her. The high noon sun beat down on its surface, making the undisturbed surface sparkle and shine. Reflected in it, the picturesque mountain range spread out into infinity.

  "What?"

  Emily smiled coyly and grabbed his hand. She thought for sure that he might pull away but when he instead curled his fingers through hers, her heart felt like it was going to explode out of her chest.

  It took her a few seconds too long to remember how to speak. When she did, the first words came out in a croak.

  "The water is cold this time of year. You have to just jump in or you'll never get used to it."

  He looked down at their intertwined fingers, "How cold?"

  When he looked back at her, Emily reached up with her free hand and pulled out her hair tie, allowing a soft cascade of dark hair to fall down to her shoulders. Even in the harsh light of day, with no makeup or fancy clothes, he thought that she looked so vibrant and innocent, so naturally beautiful.

  "If I told you, I probably wouldn't ever get you in there. Now come on!"

  Emily started down the dock with Adam hot on her heels. Their bare feet pattered down the sun-warmed planks.

  Just before she reached the end, Emily turned back and looked at Adam, who had a grin that spread from ear to ear. His hair flew behind him and flapped around wildly. The one thing that she noticed most, though, was the child-like gleam in his eyes. When they catapulted off of the last wood beams and flew through the air hand in hand, she could feel the happiness radiating off of him as if it hadn't seen the light of day in a very, very long time.

  The two of them splashed down into the icy waters with a force that tore their hands away from one another. When they surfaced, both of them yelped at the stinging chill.

  "Holy shit," Adam laughed and shook his hair out. "Is it always this cold?"

  "N-not normally," Emily replied through the waning chatter of her teeth. "This past winter must have dragged on a little longer than usual. This whole lake is fed by the snow melt."

  "Well that explains a lot."

  "Sorry. I didn't expect it to be this bad."

  Adam opened his arms up and leaned his head back so that the sun's rays could warm his face.

  "Don't worry about it. The view up here is worth it."

  Emily started to slowly swim around him in broad circles.

  "This is one of my favorite spots. You should see it in the spring when everything is coming back to life. There isn't much like it."

  Adam turned his head to the side and watched her paddle by. She had no idea that the view he was admiring had nothing to do with the trees or water surrounding them.

  It was her.

  "I bet," he replied and looked away right before she noticed him watching.

  "So you're an artist?"

  "Yep," Adam answered.

  Emily stopped next to him and started to tread water.

  "So why did you decide to come here for the summer?"

 
; Adam looked back at her, "I needed a break from all of it."

  Emily was a little shocked. She'd dreamed of living the big city life for years, so hearing that someone was anything other than in love with it perplexed her.

  "The tall buildings, art galleries, parties, the night life…how could you get tired of it?"

  Her doubt suddenly made Adam question his own motives with the young college student. Emily seemed so innocent, so pure. Could she ever understand the life that he lived? Would she be able to?

  Adam couldn't help but think that the answer would be "no"; not if she knew the whole truth.

  "Life was just getting a little too complicated," he replied.

  Technically it wasn't a lie.

  "It must be amazing, living the life of an artist."

  He sat back up in the water and wiped it off of his face before answering, "You might be surprised how quickly it can lose its luster."

  Emily hung onto his every word in a desperate bid to know everything about him. She wanted to hear his secrets; needed to understand what made him who he was. But everything that he said just gave her more questions, so for the sake of her own sanity, she went back to a simpler matter.

  "How old are you, anyway?"

  Adam replied, "Twenty-three. What about you?"

  For a second, Emily thought about lying to him. She hated people treating her like a child just because of her age, though it would sting a little more if Adam did it. In the end, however, she hated lying even more.

  Emily was the kind of girl that couldn't live with guilt like that.

  "Nineteen."

  Adam just smiled and leaned back again, letting his feet float up to the surface.

  The two of them spent much of the afternoon making small talk. Emily was too afraid to ask about the pain that she could sense in him just below the surface. He was practically a stranger, after all.

  At some point, after hours of lounging and talking, the sun started to set behind the tall peaks that fed the icy lake. After that, the brightest stars began to shine, followed over time by the ones without as much power.

  It wasn't until the vast cloud of the Milky Way started to appear that Emily and Adam decided to head back to the Inn. Under the cool breeze that swept through the truck's barely-cracked windows, their previously dry clothes clung to both of their wet bodies, giving them another case of the shivers.