Pieces of a Mending Heart (26 page)

“How much time do I have before you kidnap me?” I yell through the house jokingly, pulling on underwear and snapping my bra. I completely forgot to close my bedroom door.

“Katie, are you
trying
to kill me?” I hear an exasperated voice say from the hallway and I turn around to see him retreating down the hall. “Close your door next time!”

I laugh, hard, but feel a little insulted. He is my boyfriend… doesn’t he
want
to see me this way? “It’s my house! I can prance around totally naked if I felt like it,” I reply, still laughing to myself.

I hear a groan, followed by what sounds like the knocking of a head on the cupboards in the kitchen. “Katherine! You’re seriously testing my will-power,” he calls back.

Not five minutes later I enter the kitchen, wet hair piled on top of my head and uniform in place. I walk right up to Tristan and grab his hands in my own, standing several inches away, only our hands touching. His eyes move over mine, like he’s seeing into the depths of my very essence. It’s a frightening feeling, really… to be so totally connected and enthralled in a person.

People would probably ask me why I don’t bother getting closer to others. If I had told them the truth, that I feel like I have all I’ll ever need and all I’ll ever want in Tristan, they’d call me a co-dependent girlfriend on the road to a teen pregnancy and
heartbreak. But if they knew our story, our connection… if they felt a fraction of what I felt for the angel standing before me, they’d understand.

When God gives you all you’ll ever need, there’s no reason to go searching for something else. I’ve made “friends” at school; people you say hello to in the hallways and smile at and laugh with at moments. I use the word friend loosely because I think people need to earn the title. For now, they are merely friendly acquaintances.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks, brow furrowed.

I smile and shake my head, not wanting to put my feelings into words. “Let’s go!” I say, tugging on his hands and out the door. The day is overcast but still bright, so I fish my sunglasses out of my backpack as Tristan opens my door.

“You seem rather chipper for someone who I was told had a rough night,” he says, sliding behind the wheel of his pick-up.

“I’m not, really. I’m just embracing a new motto I claimed last night. I’ll explain it to you another time, though. Let’s just try to forget last night happened,” I say. Avoidance is not a ticket to happiness, but it’s all I have at the moment.

We arrive at a little coffee shop not far from the school and I take a seat as Tristan goes to order us two iced cappuccinos.
The tiny café has elevator-music playing, which is irritating… why does everything have to be so bland and unoriginal? A bell dings, signaling someone has entered the shop.

“Hey, Katherine!” says an annoyingly cocky voice from behind me.

Turning, I see Scott walking towards my table for two. He’s either oblivious to the fact that I’m here with Tristan and doesn’t even notice him standing twenty feet away, or just doesn’t care.

“Thanks for saving me a seat,” he winks.
But it doesn’t even look like the
smooth, debonair gesture
he was aiming for
; it looks like a twitch. I stifle a laugh by coughing, but it doesn’t sound convincing
, even
to my own ears.

“I’m here with-” I begin, but a
genuinely
debonair boy cuts me off.

“Her boyfriend,” Tristan says, sounding pleased and not unkind.

“Hey, Trist. Congrats, man,” Scott says awkwardly, but he doesn’t stand. Instead, he says, “Pull up a chair! Party of
three,” which makes me snort playfully.
Tristan can’t help but smile.

“How’ve you been, T? I haven’t… really… talked to you since you, uh, came… home,” Scott says, and I’m somewhat surprised to hear true concern and regret in his choppy sentence.

“I’m great now, Persico. Found what I needed,” Tristan replies, sipping his iced coffee and passing me mine as he drags a nearby chair over to the small, crowded table.

“Well, I should get going. Don’t want to be late, right? Later, T,” Scott says, squeezing Tristan’s shoulders, which makes him cringe ever so slightly. “Later, Katherine!” he twitches again, this time deliberately making a fool out of himself.

The bell dings again; Scott didn’t even get a coffee. “That was weird,” I say, trying to make light of an uncomfortable situation.

“He’s an idiot but he was always a good friend. You find out who your real friends are after tragedy strikes, because they’ll still stick by you. I guess I didn’t have any real friends,” he says bitterly, which makes my mending heart ache.

My hand reaches across the tiny table and grasps his, which is so much larger than mine it’s comical. The feel of his skin on mine is comforting and as I rub tiny circles onto his palm, I don’t know what I’d do without him.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” I say, feeling a heaviness in my chest thinking of how I felt before I almost took my own life. So full of bitterness and hatred that I stopped believing in the good things around me.

He just smiles, which is nice because we don’t need words. Here, in this tiny little coffee shop that smells like burned toast and espresso, another piece of my heart clicks into place. It’s a feeling like no other and I can’t anticipate when it’s going to happen, but I love the feeling it brings. A peace settles over me, warming my skin and making the world a little brighter. I have a feeling Tristan knows exactly what’s happening to me, because his face takes on a softness that contrasts his rugged looks.

“Come on. Let’s get to school, shall we?” I say, standing up and tucking my arm through his.

When we get to school Tristan shucks his leather jacket and tosses it in the almost non-existent backseat. His strong jawline and somewhat shaggy hair look silly attached to a body dressed in a preppy looking school uniform. I lean over and plant a kiss on his jaw, but he moves so I end up kissing his neck
instead. A sexy half-smile graces his face as he unlocks and opens his door to get out.

“So what do you think Sorren will have to say today?” he asks, taking my hand as we pass a group of rowdy boys throwing a football back and forth. Some of them smile at me and I offer tiny waves to the girls sitting on the grass.

“Hey, Katie! Hey Tristan!” shouts Alexis, the girl in
my AP Spanish class who I’ve
help
ed
with her homework. We both wave and Alexis’ friends Ellen and Justine shout their greetings.

“Is it strange how things… completely turned around?” I say as another girl, one of Malaya’s friends, says hi to me.

Tristan releases my hand only to wrap an arm around my shoulders and caress my cheek. “Katie, I don’t think you know how much people like you. You don’t even have to talk to them on a daily basis; they just genuinely like you. They tolerate me because they’re afraid I’ll go postal,” he jokes, but I bet he’s actually being completely serious.

I roll my eyes, but a bit of well-deserved pride wells up inside of me. People like me; for who I am. People I’ve never shared my past with, who aren’t looking at me like I’m a kicked puppy in need of rescuing. It’s nice to know you’re liked for
you
.

“You know, it must be a sin to be so… content. Something’s bound to happen that knocks everything to the ground,” says Tristan, rubbing my shoulder with his tan hand.

My mouth falls into a frown, not taking any comfort at all in his words. I shrug them off as we enter the halls of the school just as the first bell rings.

Later than night, Tristan is in the kitchen with me. Sorren never showed up at school today and her car was missing from her driveway, so we have no idea where she could possibly be. What a coward; to completely skip school because of a fight between your friends? Worst things could happen, she has no idea.

“Do you think you could do me a favor, Tristan?” I ask, rubbing my forehead with my hand.

“Of course. What’s up?” he says, closing the refrigerator and walking towards me.

“Could you run to the store and get me some Tylenol? I have a wicked headache,” I say, hating that I have to ask him. I’ve
always hated taking things from people, even favors. Actually, especially those.

“Yeah, I’ll go right now. Anything else?” he asks, shrugging on his leather jacket and twirling his keys.

“No. Thanks,” I say, genuinely glad I don’t have to go without some type of pain medicine tonight.

“Anything for you, angel,” he winks, but it’s cute, unlike Scott’s twitch. He kisses me on the forehead and gently strokes my hair for a moment before walking away.

When I hear the front door close, I stand. My vision swirls and black dots dance across my eyes. The phone rings, sending a sharp pain to my head. I lumber across the kitchen and rip it off the hook, nearly slamming it to my ear in frustration.

“Hello?” I say, sounding annoyed.

“Is this Ms. Rachel Sullivan?”

The use of my aunt’s last name disarms me; I very rarely hear my mother’s maiden name spoken aloud. My father forbade it.

“No, she isn’t home. Who’s calling?” I say, trying to appear friendlier.

“Is this Miss. Katherine Prince?” he asks, a sense of urgency slipping into his voice.

“Who’s calling?” I ask again.

“Katherine, this is Detective Hayes from the Los Angeles Police Department. Are you home alone?”

This is weird. Who do I know in Los Angeles? How do I know this man is a real cop? Well… he knows my name and Rachel’s name, and that I’m staying with her. There’s a sign.

“Yes, Sir,” my voice sounds so hesitant that he picks up immediately.

“Katherine I need you to do me a favor. Lock all your windows and doors and turn off all the lights. Do that now, but stay on the phone with me,” he says using a tone that sets me on edge.

“Why?” I say, confused.

“Just do as I say, Katherine. But stay on the phone,” he urges.

My heartbeat picks up but something inside me tells me to listen to the mysterious man on the other side of the phone. “I have to put the phone down; it’s not cordless,” I say, voice shaking.

“Do that. Lock everything in the house and turn off all the lights. Where are you right now?” he asks, still sounding tightly controlled. Robotic.

“The kitchen.”

“Are there any other phones in the house?”

I shake my head, but feel stupid because he obviously can’t see me. “No. I’ll go do as you say.”

So I do. I lock every window and every door and turn off all the lights. My heart is pounding so fast that my hands start sweating and I almost drop the phone when I get back into the kitchen.

“I did it, I did what you said. What’s going on? What’s wrong?” I say, starting to get really afraid. If this is some type of prank call, I’m going to murder the perpetrator.

“Where is your Aunt, Katherine?”

“Stop asking me questions and answer mine! What the hell is going on!?” I shout, the loudness of it filling the frighteningly empty house.

“I’m not sure how aware you are of the murders that have been committed in the Los Angeles area in the past few days?” he says, and I’m happy we’re making some progress here.

“No, I have no idea what murders you’re talking about. They haven’t been in the news. What do they have to do with me?”

“Please keep your voice down, Katherine, merely as a precaution. Your brother has been identified as the killer, Miss. Prince. Your father was found dead in your home last night around seven in the evening. I am so very sorry, Katherine,” he says, his robotic voice tapering off.

My heart stops beating. The world seems to freeze around me: the clock stops ticking, the wind stops blowing, the rain stops beating against the roof. The only sound I hear is my own heartbeat and breaths, escalating towards hyperventilation.

“Katherine? Katherine, I need you to listen to me, sweetheart. I know this is hard but you need to keep calm. We’ve contacted your local police and they’re calling in reinforcements from the other local departments.”

“Reinforcements? What makes you think he’d come here?” I stammer out, momentarily regaining control of my senses.
Stay calm, stay calm, stay calm, Katie,
I chant in my head

“He called this phone number last night from your home. Did you receive any mysterious calls?”

A sob escapes my mouth, but I squelch it with my free hand. Tears begin to roll down my face, but I stay strong. I need more information. I need facts to keep me weighted, because if I let myself think and speculate, I’ll break. I won’t just break, I’ll shatter.

“It’s okay, Katherine. We’ll keep you safe. We had no cause to believe he would go to your residence until we checked phone records today. There was a clerical error; we were unaware of his calling your aunt’s home.”

The silence is deafening. My heartbeat breaks the quiet with its loud bumps, but I feel empty, like my heart is nowhere to be found. I hate this feeling, so I say a quick prayer. I feel the Holy Spirit fill me with reassurance that the Lord is with me. The feeling makes me stronger.