Dedicated Ink (11 page)

“Natalie?”

“Of course it’s me. And I have some good news!”

Thoughts of the queries Natalie had started sending to publishers a month ago immediately sprang to mind, though she didn’t dare voice her hopes for fear of being disappointed. “What is it?”

“I got a reply from one of the publishers I queried. They want to see the whole first book – all the artwork and everything. I’m working on getting everything sent out to them right now.”

Abby’s heart skipped a beat. “Wow, a publisher is really interested?”

“Interested enough to want to know more. I don’t know where this will lead, but you know … they might just decide they want to publish the book. I mean, the
series
.”

Abby willed her heart not to race, but it did anyway. “Who’s the publisher?”

“Red Harbor Publishing.” Natalie’s voice crept an octave higher.

Abby racked her mind. “Red Harbor?”

“You’ll recognize them when you see one of their books. Are you busy right now?”

Abby glanced at her spreadsheet. “What I’m doing can wait if you need something.”

“Can you meet me for coffee?”

“Sure. Where at?”

After slipping her phone into her purse, Abby headed out the door, locking it and climbing into her car, destined for the book store she sometimes took Ava and Lucas to for story hour in order to give Natalie a break. This time, it was only Abby and Natalie – a rarity. The kids were at home with their dad, but Natalie led the way to the children’s section anyway.

“Here,” she said, eventually pausing in front of a shelf next to a rack of stuffed animals.

“Are these Red Harbor books?” Abby reached for the one at eye level, her fingertips brushing the cover’s cool, hard surface.

“That one is. So is that one, and the one below it.” Natalie nodded at two more books. “I’ve kind of been stalking their website anytime I have a spare second – they were one of my first-tier choices for publishers.”

The excitement in Natalie’s voice radiated through Abby as she took the book in her hands, letting its heft weigh in her palms, dispelling the half-amused sense of disbelief that had beset her when Natalie had called with the good news. “This book is beautiful, and look at the little bear…”

A miniature stuffed black bear was packaged with the book, obviously a cloth-and-stuffing version of the main character.

“I know.” Natalie rocked up onto the tips of her toes, smiling. She hadn’t had so much apparent energy since before Ava had been born, and that fact struck Abby on two levels: it made her happy, and fueled her own excitement. But it also left her a little wary. What if Red Harbor turned the book down after all? Now that anticipation was zinging through her veins and lighting up Natalie’s face, the thought of rejection turned her stomach sour.

“You should check out their site when you get home,” Natalie said, picking up another Red Harbor book. “They only publish children’s fiction and they’re known for their gift-quality books. They have several titles that come packaged with toys like these. Can you imagine kids playing with a little Amethyst Fox?”

Abby’s heart sped in silent response. “Yeah, I can imagine it – I almost wish I couldn’t.” She stroked the plush bear’s back with the pad of her thumb. “It seems so real now…” She faced Natalie, her gaze locking with her sister’s. “I really hope I get another good news phone call from you soon.”

“Me too.” Natalie put the book she’d been holding back on the rack and peered down at the one Abby was flipping through. “
Amethyst Fox’s Treasure Hunt
– I can see it being a book just like this. It’d be perfect.” She shrugged when Abby shot her a glance. “Sorry, I can’t help fantasizing – it
would
be perfect.”

Abby nodded, slowly turning pages, reading the story starring a curious black bear but devoting most of her time to studying the illustrations, taking in each line, each splash of color. It really was a beautiful book. The fact that the publisher apparently thought her work was comparable enough to consider was a compliment in and of itself.

“I bet Ava and Lucas would like this book.” Abby closed it slowly. “I’m going to buy it for them.” Truth was, she didn’t want to put it back on the rack. When she’d first touched it, her and Natalie’s efforts and the reality of what they might mean had been fully impressed upon her for the first time. She wanted the book as a reminder of that sense of hope and accomplishment, if nothing else.

“Don’t worry about it,” Natalie said, “I’ll pay for it. They’ll love it, although I’ll have a hell of a time keeping them from fighting over the bear.”

“Coffee will be my treat, then,” Abby said. “Come on.”

They retreated to the café section of the store, where the rich aroma of freshly ground coffee beans mixed with the scent of new books, intoxicating. Natalie chose a corner table tucked between a bookshelf and a wall and Abby laid down the picture book she’d been carrying, rubbing the small of her back. Just walking around the book store had her muscles aching.

“I’ll get the coffee,” Natalie said. “You sit down.”

Abby shook her head. “It’s my treat.”

“At least let me take your money and order for us. I know how hard pregnancy can be on your back, even when you’re not having twins.”

“You’ll have to use Sam’s credit card,” Abby said, digging in her wallet. “He leant it to me this morning – my bank disabled my debit card last night. They said there was a data breach with an online retailer I bought from. My new card won’t be here until tomorrow.”

Natalie made her way to the coffee counter and register by the store’s large front window, where a barista was restocking a display case full of baked goods.

She was smiling when she returned.
“Biscotti?” She lowered two wrapped in a napkin onto the table, along with two coffees.

Abby reached automatically for the lemon, leaving the chocolate chip for Natalie. “Thanks.”

“No problem. Here’s Sam’s card back. For a minute, I was afraid it wouldn’t work, or that the barista would ask me for my ID – she took forever scanning it.” Natalie giggled. “Can you imagine if she’d asked to see my ID and I would’ve had to admit that I was using someone else’s credit card – a cop’s card?”

“I guess if the book thing doesn’t pan out, we could always turn to a life of crime,” Abby teased. “Although I don’t know how we’d manage any major heists with Ava and Lucas in tow, not to mention the twins.”

“Let’s just hope Red Harbor sends a contract soon – I think Sam would be onto us in a heartbeat if we tried anything illegal.”

Time seemed to stop inside the café, at least until the lattes were gone. When that was the case, they left together after Natalie paid for the picture book.

“So, do you think…” Natalie began, fastening her jacket’s top button against the chill. “What the hell?”

“What?” Abby stopped beside her sister, behind where they’d parked their cars side by side.

“My tires are flat!” Natalie crouched down, glaring beneath her car. “Both of the ones on this side – look.”

She was right. “What about the other side?”

Natalie hurried around her vehicle. “This side’s fine – probably because there are no other vehicles over here to block it from view. Whoever did this could’ve crouched between our cars unseen.”

“You think someone slashed your tires?”

Natalie threw one hand in the air. “Look how flat they are! They were fine when I left the house, and fine when I got here – no way would I have been able to drive around on tires this bad without noticing. I just bought them a few weeks ago, too.
Ugh
. Yeah, somebody did this on purpose while we were in the store.”

Abby frowned as the latte she’d just had turned sour in her stomach. Who could possibly have anything against Natalie?

Abby was  there when he opened the front door, sitting straight across from him, typing up a storm at the computer stand in one corner of the living room. “Hey.” She whirled in the desk chair, her ponytail whipping around as she surveyed him with an expression of surprise.

“Weren’t you expecting me?” He tried not to crack a smile as he locked the door and removed his boots.

“Guess I lost track of time.” She stood, stretching, and her eyes went a little wider as she glanced at the computer clock. “Wow, I didn’t realize it was so late. My doctor says I’m not supposed to sit for so long without getting up and walking around every once in a while.” She walked toward him in a hurry, as if to make up for not doing it earlier.

“Your sister ever manage to get her car out of that parking lot?” Abby had called him earlier that day and told him about how someone had slashed Natalie’s tires. He’d urged her to file a police report, which one of his co-workers had handled.

Abby nodded. “Yeah, I gave her a ride home and her husband went back to the store’s lot with replacement tires. The car’s fine now – they’re just out the cost of two tires.”

Sam frowned. Abby’s sister was a stay-at-home mom, and her husband was a working class guy. Some asshole had cheated them out of a week’s worth of groceries by slashing her tires, which presumably had been a random act of vandalism. “Sorry that happened, baby.”

She nodded, looking up at him with bright eyes and wrapping her arms around his waist. “I know what happened was sucky, but I have some good news – good for me and Natalie both.”

“Well, you can’t just say that and keep me in suspense. What is it?”

“Okay…” She let go of him, settling back onto her heels. “Well, you’ve seen some of my illustrations, right? There are some in the art portfolio included on my page at Hot Ink’s website.”

He nodded. “I’ve seen you sketch designs for your clients, too.” She’d brought a big box of art supplies when she’d moved in and sometimes sat at the kitchen table in the evenings, drawing tattoos.

“I don’t just design tattoos. I draw other things, too.”

“Like what?”

“Illustrations.” Her cheeks went a little pinker. “Since moving in, I’ve only worked on them while you were at work. I guess I didn’t want to tell you about the project Natalie and I have been spending time on.”

He fought the urge to frown. Something wasn’t right. What could she and Natalie possibly be working on that she’d felt the need to hide from him? “Are you going to tell me about your project now?”

“Yes.” She looked up and a hint of a smile bowed one corner of her mouth before flickering out. “For over a year now, Natalie and I have been working on a series of books – children’s books. She writes the stories and I do the illustrations. It started out being just for fun, mostly, although now that I think about it, I think she was scheming for something bigger all along…

“Anyway, they’re picture books, for young kids. The main character is a fox named Amethyst.”

“Amethyst?” He reached for her, his hand drawn automatically to her left arm. She was wearing a long-sleeved tee to ward off the early February chill, but the fabric was thin enough that he could see the outline of her tattoos, including the purple fox that raced down her upper arm, along with a cascade of colorful jewels. He traced the dark shapes beneath her sleeve.

She smiled and nodded. “Amethyst was invented years ago. Natalie and I used to stage these elaborate plays when we were little, and he was our favorite character. We’d make up stories and act out his adventures – sometimes we’d fight over who got to be Amethyst, too. A couple years ago, Natalie got the idea to create a series of books based off of our old games.”

“And you’ve finished one?”

Her smile stretched a little wider. “Yes, but that’s not what I’m so excited about. Natalie has been querying publishers, trying to find a company that might be interested in the books. Today, she heard back from one.”

“Wow.” She didn’t look embarrassed anymore, just excited, and no wonder. When he’d noticed her excitement, he’d figured maybe she’d filled her upcoming maternity leave with plenty of guest artists or something. “Someone wants to publish the books?”

“We don’t really know yet.” Her smile faded as her hesitancy returned. “They’re considering that right now, and eventually they’ll let us know. They may or may not offer a contract. Even though there’s a chance that nothing might come of this, I just… I guess I didn’t really expect anyone to be interested in the first place.”

“Why not?” He’d seen her art – not the book illustrations, but plenty of other pieces, and it was top-quality.

She shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s notoriously hard to get a book published. Why would I assume that we’d be so lucky?”

“Because you’re an amazing artist.”

She shrugged away his reply. “You haven’t even seen the illustrations.”

“So show me. Why didn’t you want me to know about them in the first place?”

She turned, heading toward the spare bedroom where a few boxes of her things sat unpacked in one corner. When she knelt carefully in front of one, her cheeks were even pinker than before. “I was kind of embarrassed. I didn’t want you to think that I was sitting around the house wasting time on something so unlikely to succeed – not while you were out working so hard.”

“Wasting time?”

She huffed as she stood, pulling herself up with a hand on one corner of the box. “Yeah.”

He gripped her by one arm – the one with the fox tattoo – and helped her to her feet. “You’re an artist – why would I think your art is a waste of time?” Art was a significant part of who she was; he’d known that ever since he’d first laid eyes on her at a bar and studied her tattoos, which were intricate and unique, not your average ink.

She held a portfolio aloft and focused on undoing its fastening instead of meeting his eyes. “I’m a
tattoo
artist. I’m just a wannabe book illustrator. I already feel bad about having to cut my work hours in half – I felt kind of selfish spending so much time on these, knowing the project would probably never go anywhere.”

Sam took the portfolio and let a stack of papers slide out. Carefully, he flipped through them, taking time to study her work. It was as if the tattoo he’d memorized the night he’d met her had come to life; the same purple fox was in every drawing. Abby was silent and still as he went through the entire stack and then slid them back into the portfolio.

“Those were all the drawings for the first book,” she said, her voice softer than before.

“They’re good enough to be published, and I know you know that.”

She shrugged. “That doesn’t mean they will be. There are a lot of other factors involved in getting a book published, including luck.”

“Still. You wouldn’t have put so much work into these if they didn’t mean a lot to you. Did you really feel selfish spending time on these illustrations, or were you afraid I’d think you were selfish?”

The flash of surprise that lit up her eyes answered his question before she spoke a word. “A little bit of both – but yeah, I was afraid you’d think I was selfish.”

Even if he’d already known it, it grated to hear her say it. It was a lot better to think of her at home working on something she cared about than imagining her sick and lonely while he was at work. “I don’t think you’re selfish. Even if there wasn’t a publisher who was interested in the books, I still wouldn’t think that.”

She smiled faintly, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Sorry. I’m not trying to make you out to be some bad guy. I just … don’t want to be a burden to you.”

“You’re not.”

“I feel like one, sometimes.” She motioned toward her belly. “We only had one night without this responsibility. I know you’d never walk away from it, but it would be almost as bad if you resented me for it.”

Ignoring the unintended sting of her words, he focused on the uncertainty shining in her eyes instead. “Love is never a burden. Maybe it’s a sacrifice, sometimes, but not a burden.” A few months ago, he would’ve laughed if he’d heard himself making any declarations about love. Now, he knew what he was talking about, whether she believed him or not.

Her smile did reach her eyes this time, but it didn’t last long.

“You know, the reason you’ve cut down on your hours at Hot Ink is because you’re supposed to be resting. You don’t need to be working on anything while you’re here. I couldn’t care less if you chose to watch TV all day, or read, or whatever you felt like doing. I hate that you think I’m at work brooding over the fact that you’re at home.”

She nodded, then met his eyes. “It’s just hard not to worry. I love the way living here allows me to spend so much time with you, but sometimes it seems like I’m intruding and I can’t help but want to be more … useful.”

Intruding? How could she think that when they spent every night tangled together – the ones he didn’t work, anyway? “Having you here is a hell of a lot better than living alone – trust me.” Not once had he wished he’d wake up to find the bed empty, or come home to a dim, silent house. Unable to resist, he wrapped his arms around her.

She melted against him, her belly a firm curve against his hip, and he breathed in the clean, floral scent her shampoo leant her hair. It was one of his favorite smells; he’d breathed it for the first time the night he’d met her and she’d left the scent on his sheets and pillows when she’d disappeared without a word. It had faded from the linens, eventually, but had haunted his dreams afterward. “I want you here. I love having you here.”

He was hard just holding her, and the way she was pressed against the front of his body, she had to feel how much he wanted her.

“I love you, Sam.” She managed to get a little closer, despite her belly. “A lot.”

He breathed a sigh that was half-relieved, half-bewildered. It didn’t make any sense that she could have the doubts that she did or think that he’d share them, but he believed her when she said she loved him, and that was what mattered most. After all, without her love, he’d be nothing more than a burden to her – someone circumstance had stuck her with instead of allowing her to choose who she wanted to build a family and a life with.

When he thought about it that way, her worries were a little more understandable. If he’d suspected that her sense of obligation to him outweighed her love – that they were only together because they had to be – the thought would’ve crushed him, too.

* * * * *

Sam seemed impervious to the cold – maybe because he worked in it. Dead of winter or not, he hadn’t stopped his daily runs. Inside, where it was warm, Abby finished a decidedly less athletic endeavor – making dinner.

A casserole dish cooled on the stovetop as the open oven flooded the kitchen with heat and the scent of baked chicken, cheese and broccoli. Pushing back the curtain, she peered out the kitchen window. Sam should’ve finished his circuit a few minutes ago.

He was there, on the sidewalk in front of the house, and he wasn’t alone.

He stood across from a woman with chin-length brown hair. A twinge of familiarity rippled across the surface of Abby’s mind. Why did she recognize that haircut and the slender build that was evident despite the woman’s puffy coat? Was she a neighbor?

The woman crossed her arms over her chest and shifted her weight from one foot to the other. The change in position revealed one side of her face, casting it in the glow of a streetlight that had just come on.

As sudden as the surge of electricity that illuminated the sidewalk, certainty hit Abby. Substitute a green apron for the woman’s winter coat and she was the spitting image of the barista who’d prepared her and Natalie’s coffee at the book store.