Carved in Stone (11 page)

“Will?” Ellen began, wishing now she had refused to tell him.

Will ran both hands over his face, as scene after scene of how aggressive he’d been with Jessica flashed through his mind.

“Hell,” Will said in pain, unable to stop remembering how often he had grabbed her and forcibly held Jessica against her will. He’d even done it again today.

“What did you do?” Ellen said, walking to Will and putting a comforting hand on his arm. “I know you would never really hurt the woman, William. You didn’t, did you?”

“Not the way you mean, but I certainly scared her. I certainly made sure she knew I could hurt her if I intended to do so,” Will said, shocked at how close to tears he was. “Damn it. I didn’t mean to be so rough when I kissed her that first time. She just shocked me so bad. She was commenting on my art.”

“Well,” Ellen said, rubbing his arm in sympathy though she didn’t know what he meant. She just knew how much Will’s heart would hurt if he even suspected he’d harmed the woman. “Your art is a little shocking, William. If you put a fig leaf over some of the parts, people might not insult it so much.”

“Thanks. Thanks a lot for your typical show of support. Jessica didn’t insult my art, Ellen. Jessica figured it out, figured me out. Now I know why she instantly saw the truth. It makes all the sense in the world now,” Will banged a fist on the table, making the toolbox rattle. “She likes to chase. Of course she does. Why the hell didn’t you warn me about this, Steve? You told me damn near everything else.”

Will stormed off, leaving a still shocked Ellen staring after him. He was heading to the library and not coming out until he knew everything there was to know about Jessica Daniels.

When he got back from the library several hours later, Will went to his room, curled up on the bed, and thought about what she had endured. After a while, he had to make a trip to the bathroom to throw up, and then he came back and cried.

Eventually, after he was both exhausted and disgusted with himself, Will fell asleep just to escape having to deal with what he’d done to add to Jessica Daniels’s pain.

***

After his mother called him, Michael tracked his father down and found him sprawled on the bed asleep, his face haggard, tears drying on his cheeks.

Pulling the phone from his pocket, he sent a text to Shane to get his younger brother over there as fast as he could. When Shane came tearing into the house about fifteen minutes later, and barreling down the hall like a raging bull, Michael shushed him at the doorway. He pointed out and they walked to the kitchen together.

“I met Dad’s new girlfriend today,” Michael said softly.

“She made Dad cry already?” Shane said, running a hand through his hair. “I saw his face. He’d been crying, and crying hard. He didn’t cry over the divorce that much.”

“It wasn’t anything Jessica said or did. Mom came and interrupted their discussion,” Michael explained.

“Oh, shit,” Shane said, covering his mouth to keep the torrent of swearing he wanted to do from escaping.

“No, that’s not the problem either. Hell, I wish it was something that easy,” Michael said tiredly, running a worried hand through his own hair and watching Shane do the same. Odd how all three of them did that when they were nervous.

“Mom felt guilty about what she’d told Dad about the woman, so naturally she had to purge her guilt by confessing her sins to me. That’s when I finally remembered that I had seen some of Jessica Daniels’s art, and frankly I wish I hadn’t,” Michael said, staring the wall and unable not to remember it. “I think I had blocked it from my mind.”

“What?” Shane demanded. “What are you talking about?”

Michael threw up his hands. “Where do I start? Jessica was raped when she was pregnant as a teenager. She turned all the violence, all that hurt, into art. Her early work is not for someone without a strong stomach. She made some pretty realistic clay figurines of what happened to her, to show the world what rape looks like. I looked her early work up because of the new work I saw last year, something she calls
vagina art
. That’s what she had at the art show, a beautiful glass vagina incredibly erotic to the touch. The raw sexuality in it was mesmerizing. She’s probably almost as old as Mom, but I still wanted to ask her out simply because she was fascinating. I didn’t because I had a date with me. Thank God for that now. Dad’s nuts about her.”

“So you think Dad was shocked?” Shane asked.

Michael shook his head. “Shocked at her art—no. I think Dad’s been giving her a full court press and using his best guy moves on her. She showed up here mad as hell with a condom packet in her hand that she said Dad gave her. She was intending to give it back. When I saw them getting a little extra friendly during their discussion, I left thinking they might have come to some agreement about the condom. Then I guess Mom showed up with another story about Luke leaving her, from what I gathered. If I had stayed, I’d have stopped Mom, but it was really only a matter of time before Dad found out about Jessica’s art. I was already trying to place her myself.”

“Wait. Is this the same woman that Dad said figured out his art? The one he said he was too rough with on their first date?” Shane asked.

“Yes. I think so. I think that roughness is what upset him once he knew about her past. That’s why I called you,” Michael said. “You going to be able to use that million dollar doctorate to help him?”

Shane closed his eyes. “I don’t know. I hope so.”

Michael nodded. “You’re a pain in the ass, Shane, but also the best man I know next to Dad.”

Shane smiled at his brother’s praise. “Right. You’re just trying to get me to share my leggy blonds with you.”

“I’ve had my share of leggy blonds and got stuck on a brunette instead. That’s why I pound the hell out of metal every day,” Michael said, rolling his eyes. “Let’s have a beer and order some pizza. I don’t want to talk about this anymore until Dad wakes up.”

Shane nodded. “Give me two beers. If I have to counsel my father about his sex life, I prefer to do it slightly buzzed.”

Michael shook his head and walked to the refrigerator.

“Wise choice, Dr. Larson,” Michael said, bringing back two opened beers and patting his brother on the shoulder “Unfortunately, this is what you get for being the smart son.”

Shane laughed without humor and shrugged.

Chapter 7

After several days of watching their Dad walk around the house like a zombie, Michael and Shane had had enough. They had not been raised to sit around and wait for things to get better. They had been raised to fix things. Neither thought their father’s depression was going to fix itself, and they had jointly decided there was really only one solution worth pursuing.

But Michael still gave his brother a worried look as they pulled into the parking lot of Henry Clay High School.

“What if she tells us to go to hell?” Michael said. “She didn’t strike me as a woman who did anything she didn’t want to.”

“You said you left because they were kissing, right?” Shane asked, scanning the area, looking for a tall redhead.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean much. I’m pretty sure Mom did a good job of busting that up. I mean, God forbid that after a year Dad actually gets to meet someone nice and maybe fall in love with a woman who actually likes him,” Michael said sarcastically.

Shane gave him a look that said
get over it
and shook his head.

“Don’t give me that attitude. I love Mom, and she’s great about many things, but she’s being selfish as hell about Dad. She likes being able to run back to him when Luke disappoints her. She likes that Dad is sitting at home not dating. That’s a bunch of shit, Shane,” Michael said, his anger getting the better of him for a moment.

“Look, I agree with that—which is why we’re going to find this woman Dad likes, and talk her into talking to Dad,” Shane said quietly, firmly.

He put as much confidence into his voice as he could because he did not want his emotionally excitable brother to know how unsure he was about this plan. The last two things in the world Shane wanted to deal with were an upset older woman and a meltdown with Michael, but he had to do something because it was breaking his heart to see his father hurting again.

“So sitting in the car is not going to get it done,” Shane said, cracking his knuckles, which was the only indication of nervousness he was going to allow himself. “Let’s go find her.”

As they got out of Michael’s car, two boys heading to their own car stopped to stare at them. At six-foot-four with shaggy blond hair and massively big shoulders, Shane knew he looked like a throwback to some ancient Viking. Added to that, the tattoos and piercings he had been sporting for six months produced an immediate stupefying effect on everyone who didn’t know him.

“Hey,” Shane called to them, wanting to laugh when they swallowed hard. “Where can we find your art teacher, Jessica Daniels?”

Michael had to fight not to laugh at the boys’ reaction to Shane. It was damn tempting to have some fun with them. He wondered how Shane could resist it with all the ammunition he possessed in just scary looks alone. Michael wanted badly to say something, but instead he just chuckled at their obvious fear. The last thing he and Shane needed was for the two boys to report them to a principal before they found Jessica.

The boys looked at each other, had a brief conversation about Shane’s question, and then looked back at Shane. “Why do you want to know?”

Shane looked at Michael, his gaze twinkling, his tone deliberately condescending. “Young males. They’re protecting her. Speak art to them, Michael. You know the language better than I do.”

Michael snorted and gave his younger sibling a look promising retaliation before swinging a friendly gaze to the boys.

“We came to see Ms. Daniels about some art for an exhibition in Cincinnati this weekend. She asked us to drop by the school this afternoon,” Michael lied easily, then had a brainstorm about how to smooth things over. “Do we need to check in at the office?”

The boy that had not talked elbowed the one who had. The talking one held up an arm and pointed to a building entrance.

“Ms. Daniels is in the art room. If you walk by the shop area in that building over there, you’ll see it. She was still in there a few minutes ago,” he said.

“Thanks,” Michael said, smiling and throwing up an arm. Shane lifted a hand to wave as well.

Michael looked at him after the boys got into their car. “Okay. I have to ask. Why the piercings and tattoos? You were already intimidating without them. Now you scare the shit out of people, even teenage boys who normally don’t have the good sense to be afraid.”

Shane laughed at his brother’s observation about the lack of fear in teenage boys. “If I told you why I got them, you wouldn’t believe me.”

They took off walking in the direction the boys had pointed.

“Oh, try me,” Michael coaxed his brother, grinning. “With seven years difference in our ages, it’s already like we’re in different generations. I find the workings of your younger, albeit marginally intelligent mind, endlessly fascinating.”

“After the divorce, you could tell Dad wondered how much his art contributed to his problems with Mom. I was glad he didn’t give it up, so I got the tat to remind me to respect my art no matter what else happens in life. I like the tat, but I got the piercings specifically because they scare people, and frankly they keep most of the women away,” Shane said on a sigh.

Michael looked sideways to see if Shane was joking as usual and was surprised to find his brother’s face completely without amusement for once. “Why the hell would you want to keep women away? You serious about someone?”

“No, I’m just tired of one night stands. Dad was right. I don’t even remember their names or anything else about them. I’d like to have a normal girlfriend, someone to hang with instead of just—you know what I mean,” Shane said, frowning.

Michael nodded, and for once he didn’t tease back. “I wondered when you were ever going to get over Angela and be normal again.”

“This is not about her,” Shane denied. “Why would you think that?”

“Aren’t you the one with the psych degree?” Michael asked, incredulous that Shane hadn’t figured it out for himself. “You haven’t gone near any smart woman since you two broke up. You probably don’t even like all those leggy blonds.”

Shane laughed. He was disillusioned, not dead from the waist down. “If you seriously thought that, you’d be wrong. I haven’t given up sleeping with beautiful women. I just want them to have some real personality to go with the great body. And it would be nice if they could talk about something other than the way they look.”

“Yeah,” Michael said on a laugh. “You’re done with the superficial blonds, which just leaves more for the rest of us. I have a thousand dollars that says you end up with a tiny smart woman who turns you inside out before you even get your doctorate approved. The relationship will be so shocking to you that you’ll have to devote a whole chapter to it in that book you claim to be writing.”

Shane thought about the dissertation languishing in his desk at home waiting for him to send it out for review. He was close, very close to being done. As soon as the next graphic novel was out to the inker, he could easily go back to working on the dissertation. If he did, he could probably finish his degree in December if he wanted.