Something tells me I’m going to love you forever.

Lady Eloise of the Daffodil Fields

ELLIE

I settled into my job at Lien Mai’s House of Nails and after a couple of weeks, I was practically running the place. Not just answering the phones, but ordering supplies, and keeping inventory. I loved the casual atmosphere of the salon, the chatter that rose and fell through the shop, both English and Vietnamese, the way the days whizzed by, and the way I was bone weary as I fell into bed.

I woke up one cold Friday night, gasping as I sat up in bed. I’d had the dream again, the one where my mother’s voice called to me as I moved through the darkness. Only this time the walls of the space had been growing wider instead of narrower and she’d been urging me forward. He’s waiting for you, she’d said again. He? The only he I wanted was Gabriel.

But maybe he was waiting. I’d had the dream when I’d been with him, though, too. Only … it seemed I’d traveled the wrong way toward him and ended up right in front of him with a barrier still between us. I’d had to turn away in order to travel the path that would bring me back to him, the path that ended with nothing separating us at all. I didn’t know whether I should even dare to hope it, but in any case, the path I’d been on had been squeezing the life from me. I’d turned back not only for Gabriel, but for myself.

The feeling of the dream clung to me so that I couldn’t fall back to sleep. I got out of bed, shivering, and turned up the heat slightly. It started to rain softly and I stood at the window for a few minutes, looking out into the darkness, the streetlights reflecting on the water puddles in the parking lot below.

Turning, I spotted the bag I still hadn’t unpacked from Gabriel’s and sighed. It seemed I could only let go in very small steps and this, too, I supposed was one of them.

As I emptied the contents, throwing the clothes into the hamper, my hand hit upon plastic and I startled, pulling out the plastic bag I’d completely forgotten about in all my misery. I lifted it out and held it to my chest. Lady Eloise of the Daffodil Fields. Seemingly broken beyond repair. But maybe … maybe … I set it down on the small desk I had by the window and switched on the light sitting on the corner. I grabbed a hand towel from the bathroom and then carefully, so carefully, I emptied the contents onto the towel, spreading the pieces out to determine if anything was recognizable. Yes, a small foot, and a bouquet of flowers, and two halves of her pretty face. Hope.

I sat down at the desk, rooting through the drawers until I located a tiny vial of superglue I’d bought for some reason I couldn’t even remember now.

I felt completely overwhelmed, but I figured the best place to start was at the beginning, and so I picked up the little piece of foot and started from there. I couldn’t help picturing that tiny shattered girl as a thousand pieces of me, and as I worked, fitting together small shards, I wondered if the work I was doing with my hands was a representation of the work I needed to do on myself. And so I hunched over that table until the light of dawn seeped through the curtains, and I thought about all the things in my life that had crushed and shattered me as well.

I thought about my mother, and that was the hardest of all. I thought about the day she’d left me with Brad—the hollow, aching grief that still clung to me like a second skin, the pain and the anger of being deserted, left scared and alone.

As my hands moved, finding pieces and trying to fit them, setting the ones back down that didn’t work, and picking up a new one until the lines and ridges worked just right, my mind wandered. Something about the constant movement of my hands and the way my mind was half-focused on the task made me feel safe. I couldn’t ignore thoughts of Gabriel, and wondered if he’d found a similar solace in his work when he’d first come home.

I didn’t attempt to stop or control the wanderings of my mind. I didn’t attempt to shut anything out. I thought about it all and I let it hurt. Tears rolled down my cheeks and into my ears, and I blotted them with my sleeve when my eyes grew too blurry to work, but I didn’t move from my desk that night, not even once.

I thought about how my mother had looked that day, how ill—how panicked—and a lump formed in my throat so large I thought it might suffocate me. But it didn’t. I continued to work and continued to hurt.

What had it felt like to be her? What desperation was she feeling to know she was dying and her last option was to drop her only child off with a stranger? She couldn’t have known Brad would treat me the way he did. From what it sounded like, she’d barely known Brad at all. She’d taken a chance and I paid the price. But she hadn’t known. She’d relied on hope alone. It was all she had.

Lord, please give me strength. I have no choice, I have no choice.

“Oh, Mama,” I gasped, my voice small like the abandoned little girl I’d once been. “I forgive you. And I’m so sorry for what you suffered, too.”

A week after I’d been left at Brad’s house, he’d told me that they’d found my mama dead under someone’s porch. She’d curled up there to die like a lost animal. He’d delivered the news in a monotone voice, and then he’d taken a sip of beer as if it hardly mattered at all. And inside, a whole section of my heart had come loose and crumbled.

I’d learned to encase myself in a seemingly hard exterior so no one could ever hurt me again the way my mother had by leaving me without saying goodbye. But the shell was so thin, so thin and so easily broken.

And then there was my father’s friend Cory who had taken and used—raped me, though I’d never said the word before, not even to myself. I had thought I loved him because he was the first person in so long who had seemed to want me at all, who had even noticed me.

My feelings for Cory had been a different sort of desperate, clawing love, but I didn’t want that to be the way I gave my heart. I wanted to offer something whole—pieced back together maybe, but whole nonetheless.

Just as dawn arrived, I surveyed my work and realized I had put back together two little bare feet. I laughed in wonder. There were still small slivers of missing pieces, parts that must have crumbled to dust, but each tiny toe was completely recognizable. Something in me loved those missing parts, too. To me they spoke of the things that were necessary to let go of—the pain I’d held on to for too long, the anger, the misery, the self-blame. And those empty spaces were just as important as the parts that made me whole. I smiled in triumph, wiping the remaining tears away and stretching my aching neck and back.

Opening the window shade, I took in the distant glow coming over the horizon. I thought back to Gabriel’s story about seeing the tiny portion of light through the tinted window of that long-ago basement and remembered my own thought that sometimes that’s all hope is—just a thin sliver of distant light. And for me that morning, that’s exactly what it was.

* * *

My life became a steady schedule of work at the nail salon and work on the stone figurine. I spent most weekends up until dawn piecing the girl together, going over my life, my hurts, all the places my own heart had crumbled away to dust.

It was exhausting and it was hard, but I kept at it, buoyed by the representation of my work: the art that had been Gabriel’s hope so many years ago. And in this way, it was as if he were there with me. I wasn’t completely alone. In fact, despite how much it hurt, in some ways the nights I spent bent over my desk provided my greatest comfort.

You can’t fix me, I’d told Gabriel once. And I’d been right. I needed to fix myself. And he had loved me enough to make me believe it was possible. That I was worth fixing.

Fall turned to winter and the days grew shorter; the trees outside my window, bare skeletons.

I celebrated Thanksgiving and Christmas with Lien Mai and her family, bringing Kayla as my date. The gatherings were filled with the same Vietnamese chatter that kept a smile on my face, and I felt both a pained yearning as I wondered what Gabriel was doing, and a warm togetherness and affection for my new friends.

A few days after Christmas, I checked my mailbox after having neglected doing so for about a week, and I was surprised to find what looked like a Christmas card with George’s return address in the corner. With shaking fingers, I ripped it open and read the short note he’d included.

I’d read the card as I climbed my steps from the mailbox and grasped it to my chest, squeezing my eyes shut against the tears, then sitting down on the top step to catch my breath. God, I missed them all so much in that moment, I didn’t know if I’d survive it. Chloe came for Christmas. A knife sliced through my heart. Surely she was there for Gabriel. Her work on the paper must be done, or if it wasn’t, she wouldn’t need two weeks of Gabriel providing more information. No, her visit must be of a personal nature.

I let the tears flow, hurting so badly inside it felt like a piercing of my soul. But I had to accept that Gabriel and Chloe might be together now. I’d wished it for him. I’d given him the room to explore his own heart.

Will you come back?

I need you to go on as if I won’t.

I sat there for a moment as my tears dried in the frigid wind, looking down at the parking lot. There were still a few spots of snow that hadn’t melted from the mild storm we’d had the week before. I caught sight of something purple and tilted my head in wonderment, squinting to try and make out what it was, but it was too far away.

I walked down the steps and squatted in the snow, sucking in a breath at what I saw. It was a purple flower growing through the frost. “How in the world?” I murmured, running a finger over one soft petal.

Gratitude isn’t a Band-Aid, Ellie. You still have to experience your feelings to work through them. Gratitude is meant to make it bearable. Sometimes gratitude gets you through the day, and sometimes it just gets you from one moment to the next.

I heard his words as if they were being whispered in my mind and closed my eyes to stop more tears from coming. After a moment I looked back at the flower, taking comfort in the moment, finding thankfulness and hope in one delicate flower that had somehow found a way to bloom, even through the dark, icy cold.

On New Year’s Eve, I drank too much champagne with Kayla as we watched the ball drop on TV. I almost called Gabriel, but forced myself not to. I pictured him kissing Chloe as the clock struck midnight and cried so hard Kayla asked me if she should call an ambulance. That made me laugh through my tears, and then I cried some more and laughed some more and fell into an exhausted sleep.

On January third, Lien Mai delivered a healthy baby boy, and I visited her at the hospital with a “bouquet” of blue balloons. I sat in a chair by her bed and took the small bundle into my arms and looked into the perfect round face of James Allen Nguyen and fell instantly and completely in love.

“You have own baby someday,” Lien said. “You can no have mine.” And then she laughed, a knowing gleam in her eyes as she grinned at me holding her baby boy.

I laughed, too, and then he grasped my finger and I sucked in a breath. “Oh, look, Lien, he disagrees.”

Lien laughed. “Okay, we share him.”

And in a way we did. After a two-week maternity leave, Lien brought James to the shop two days a week from nine until noon when her mother would pick him up. James slept in his car seat in the back office where it was well-ventilated, and if it was slow and Lien was busy, I’d sit back there and feed him his bottle, gazing down into his beautifully slanted eyes, and smoothing the inky black hair from his forehead. And I loved him so much it hurt.

I thought about a lot of things there, too, in the quiet as I provided sustenance to my friend’s baby. It seemed love did that for me—brought everything inside me to the surface so I could examine it all slowly and carefully, casting out that which I was ready to, and saving the rest for those dark nights when I pieced together Lady Eloise.

I thought about whether I wanted to find out what had become of my father and decided that, no, I didn’t need to know. He was a small missing part in the rebuilding of my heart, and I felt at peace that that was the way it should be. I’d hoped so hard for his love, longed for his acceptance, but he hadn’t been able to give it. And I knew now, believed, that that was because of him, not because of me.

I also thought a lot about what I wanted to do with my life as I fed James.

You and your lifelong dreams, I had said disdainfully to Gabriel once upon a time.

I’ve got a few, he’d said as he’d smiled that beautiful smile of his. I bet you do, too.

The thing was, though, I never had. I’d never dared to dream because in my mind, dreams never came true. It was too painful to dream, to hope for what could never be and for what I didn’t trust myself to obtain. Even the books I’d loved as a little girl, the stories I’d spent hours reading in the library after school as a teen, had inspired too many dreams and so I’d given them up. But now … now I found myself allowing my mind and my heart to join forces as they ventured out together into the misty land of hopes and dreams. What would I do if I could do anything at all? What would that be?

I thought about my mother, how I’d wished to heal her, how I would have done anything to provide her comfort. I thought about the sweet little man in my arms and how nurturing him brought me peace and happiness, and I wondered if I could be a nurse. Would I make a good one? Would I be able to pass the necessary classes? I’d always done well in school, despite my home life. I’d received good grades; I’d studied hard, and achieved my high school diploma. At least I had that.

Of course, going to nursing school would cost money. Money that I didn’t have. I sighed, not dismissing my dream, but putting it into the category of future possibilities. Frankly, a miracle would have to arrive at my door if I was going to make that dream come true.

In February, that miracle arrived just as I was grabbing my purse to leave for the grocery store. I heard a knock at my door and frowned. Who in the world could that be? The only person who ever came to my apartment was Kayla, and she was working.

I pulled open the door to find an older woman with a strawberry-blonde bob haircut standing there, looking slightly nervous. I tilted my head, something about her looking familiar. “Can I help you?”

She cleared her throat. “Are you Eloise Cates?”

“Yes.”

She released a breath. “Oh, good. I’m MaryBeth Hollyfield.”

Hollyfield.

“Oh,” I breathed. “Uh”—I stood back—“would you like to come in?”

MaryBeth shook her head. “No, I only have a minute.” She looked back down the steps to where a white Honda Accord was idling in the parking lot. Opening her purse, she pulled out a check. “This is for you.” She held it toward me.

I took it from her, frowning in confusion. Looking down, I saw it was made out to me for the amount of ten thousand dollars. I blinked. “This isn’t mine,” I said, attempting to hand it back.

She shook her head. “No, it is yours. It should have been yours. My mother left five thousand dollars to you. It was all the money she had to her name when she died. She’d spent almost all of her retirement savings, and in the last few years of her life she lived off the interest—mere pennies really—of the small amount of cash she had left and the social security she received.” MaryBeth looked down, an expression of shame passing over her face. “We contested her will and won. I suppose you were never notified. There didn’t seem to be a way to find you …”

I looked at her in shock. “No, I suppose there wouldn’t be. My mother died … I went …” My words faded away as I shook my head.

“Well, anyway, I’ve always felt bad about that. My brother and I didn’t do right by our mother. I will always have that on my conscience. I can’t do anything about that now. But I saw your name in the paper several months ago, and it’s been sitting at the front of my mind ever since. I wasn’t sure how to figure out interest, so I doubled it. I just hope somehow my mom knows that I made it right. I’m sorry it took me so long.” She smiled a sad smile and turned to leave.

I looked down to the check and back up at MaryBeth. “Thank you,” I called. I didn’t know what else to say.

MaryBeth paused, turning back to me. “My mother loved you very much,” she said. And with that she descended the steps, got in the car, and it pulled from the lot.

My legs felt like jelly as I shut my apartment door and sat down at my desk.

I didn’t go to the grocery store that day. Instead I worked on Lady Eloise’s hands, letting my mind wander to red Popsicles and rainbows that had formed on water, maybe not just because of the grime, but in spite of it. But mostly, I thought about a woman who had loved me, a woman who had been a sort of lifeline, not once, but twice. And I remembered Gabriel’s words about having two extra angels on his side. Perhaps I did, too, and had just been too filled with pain to recognize their gentle, loving nudges.

* * *

A week or so after MaryBeth Hollyfield stopped by, I got another knock on my apartment door. And if I’d thought I was shocked by that visit, I was even more shocked by this one: Dominic.

I froze in surprise when I pulled the door open. He was bundled up in a winter coat and beanie, and for a second I didn’t recognize him. His hands were in his pockets and the expression on his face was unsure, nervous. For a moment I just stared.

“Hi, Ellie,” he finally said.

A spear of uncertainty stabbed at me, and I furrowed my brow. “Dominic? What are you doing here?”

He looked back over his shoulder as if stalling for a second, and when he looked back at me, he let out a breath. It plumed in the cold air and then disappeared into nothingness. “I was hoping we could talk.”

“About what?”

“Will you come outside? I don’t expect to be invited in, but if I could just have a few minutes … we could, uh … sit on the stairs.”

I bit at my lip, almost tempted to tell him to go to hell, but he looked so sheepish, so different than I’d ever seen him before, and truth be told, I wanted to hear what he had to say. I was desperate for any news on Gabriel, but knew I wouldn’t ask. I wanted it, and yet I also realized it would potentially set me back emotionally, and I couldn’t risk it. I’d fought so hard for every step forward. “Hold on,” I mumbled, turning away and grabbing my winter coat and pulling it on. I stuck my hands in the large pockets and closed the door behind me.

Dominic took a seat on a step below and turned as I took a seat on the top step. “I owe you an apology.”

I tried not to show my surprise at his words, simply waited for him to continue.

He blew out another breath. “I treated you unfairly, Ellie, and I’m sorry.”

“Where is this coming from? It’s been months since I left. What made you realize this now?”

“Chloe. Chloe made me realize it.”

I furrowed my brow. “Chloe?”

He nodded and smiled slightly. “Yeah, we’ve been, ah, spending a lot of time together. She came to stay with me over Christmas.” He looked pleased and slightly bashful.

I blinked. Chloe had come for … Dominic? Oh. Is that why there had been sadness in his expression when he’d remarked on Chloe loving Gabriel? Because Dominic himself was falling in love with Chloe? Was Chloe’s affection for Gabriel sisterly and the one she’d actually fallen for was Dominic? I couldn’t help the relief I felt, though I didn’t know if that was fair. Should I be relieved at Gabriel not finding love when I had taken mine away from him?

As if reading some of my thoughts, Dominic said, “Chloe does love Gabriel, but she’s not in love with him. I shouldn’t have said that to you. It wasn’t only cruel, it was false.”

I blinked at him for a moment, before I nodded my head. “It’s … it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not.”

I smiled slightly. “Okay, it’s not. How did things start between you and Chloe?”

“She came over with both guns blazing after that awful incident at my brother’s house.” He grimaced. “I was mad at her for a while, too.” He shook his head. “But the only person who deserved contempt was me.”

I studied him for a moment. He looked sincere, the expression on his face was humble, a touch embarrassed. For a moment he reminded me of Gabriel, of the first time I’d met him when he’d asked me to help him endure the closeness of another person, and I felt a sharp pinching in my chest. “I … well, thank you for the apology. I forgive you, Dominic. You can officially remove me from your guilty conscience.”

He paused, his eyes roaming over my face for a second. Uncomfortable, I looked away. “Can I explain why I did what I did? Why I treated you so terribly?”

I moved my gaze back to his, noting the hope in his eyes. “Sure.”

He nodded slowly, looking forward so I was facing his profile. From this angle, he looked more like Gabriel. They had the same nose, the same high cheekbones, the same ears. For a moment it hurt to look at him. But then he faced me again, and I saw the obvious differences in their faces, the ways in which they were unique.

“I was with Gabe the day he was abducted. You might know that, but what you probably don’t know is that Gabriel came to that vacant lot because I had gone there even though my mom told me I couldn’t. I was being a bratty little kid and I’d disobeyed my mom, and she’d sent Gabriel to go find me.” He inhaled a deep breath and let it out through his nose. “It was because of me that he was even there that day. If I had just listened to my mom, if I hadn’t been a stubborn little asshole, my brother never would have been taken.”

I studied him for a moment, the tight way he was holding his mouth, the heartache in his eyes as he recalled that day. I didn’t want to let him off the hook so easily, and yet I understood how the things a person held on to could eat them away from the inside, causing them to lash out at those who didn’t deserve it.

Choice is such a loaded word, isn’t it?

And, yes, that’s what Chloe had meant. Choices, though our own, were so weighted down with all the things that had come before, so stained with the messes of our past. Who knew that better than me?

“There was no way you could have known that,” I said softly. “It was just a matter of terrible circumstance. You were only a kid. You didn’t mean for him to be hurt.”

He looked at me for several long moments. I saw the gratitude in his eyes a second before he glanced away. “Yeah, that’s what Chloe says. I know it in my head, but I’ve just carried around this awful guilt. It feels like I’ve been carrying it all my life.” He paused again before continuing. “After he was taken, it was almost like he was a celebrity.” He shook his head and grimaced. “An awful sort of celebrity, but …” He paused again, squinting into the distance. “My parents were so grief stricken and everyone talked of nothing but Gabe and I just sort of … faded into the background.”

“You were jealous,” I murmured, feeling sympathy for the eight-year-old boy he’d been, the child who must have been so scared and confused when his whole world turned upside down. I could relate to that.

He nodded. “Yes. Jealous and heartbroken and guilt ridden.” He let out a long breath. “I guess because I blamed myself for him being abducted, hated myself for the envy I felt over the attention he received, and the way I became invisible; later, I made myself responsible for him getting his life back. I felt like maybe it would right the wrongs I’d committed against him. Through the years I’ve done everything I could to try to encourage him to live the life he should have lived—the life I felt I was responsible for stealing from him. But it turned into a twisted sort of control. When you came along … well, you know what I thought. I made it clear.”

He shook his head and frowned. “I didn’t give you a chance. I judged you without getting to know you at all. I hurt you when you’d already been hurt. I tried to drive you away and it worked, and I’m so damn sorry for that.”

“You didn’t drive me away, Dom. You didn’t make it easy to stay, I’ll admit that. But I left for my own reasons.” I remembered, too, that Dominic had been drunk that awful night he kissed me, but he hadn’t tried to use that as an excuse, and I appreciated his apology all the more for it.

He pressed his lips together. “What can I say to make you come back?”

I blew out a heavy breath and shook my head. “Nothing. Not now. I appreciate you coming here.” I smiled. “It was courageous, and I really do forgive you. But I have some things to work on, and I’m trying my best to do that.”

He nodded. “I get that. God, if anyone gets that, I do. I’m working on myself, too. I want you to know that.”

“Thanks, Dominic.”

He smiled at me. “You take care of yourself, okay?” He stood and I followed suit.

“Yeah, you, too. Hey, Dom?”

“Yeah?”

I tilted my head. “Gabriel said something to me once. He told me that the life he has is the life he was meant to live. He doesn’t feel robbed or cheated—he’s grateful for the life he’s living despite the pain he endured. He meant it, Dom, and he’s found peace in that. And I think the people who love him have to as well. And not just for him but for ourselves.”

He considered me for a moment as if he was turning the words over in his mind. Then he smiled. “I think you’re right. Goodbye, Ellie.”

“Goodbye, Dominic.”

That night I dreamed I was in the dark alley again, only this time my arms were stretched out to my sides, and when I squinted my eyes, I could see a bare sliver of light in the distance. Keep going, my love. You’re almost there, I heard whispered, and so I did.

* * *

A hush descended over the crowded courtroom as my name was called, and I made my way to the front. My hands were shaking slightly as I laid the piece of paper on the podium in front of me, smoothing out the wrinkles. I took a deep breath, giving myself a moment to prepare before I looked up at the men sitting at the table with their lawyers. I forced myself to make eye contact with each man, but the only one who met my gaze was the one with the black hair, the one I knew had turned both himself and his friends in. His expression was inscrutable, but that was okay. I wasn’t looking for anything from them. I wasn’t even really looking to influence their sentences—I’d leave that to the court. I was here for more important reasons.

I cleared my throat, glancing down at the words I’d written on the paper the night before as I’d sat at my desk, the half-finished stone girl resting on the folded towel on the corner. “Several months ago the men being sentenced today beat me so severely that I didn’t know if I’d survive. They battered and bloodied my face so I was no longer recognizable to myself. They broke my ribs and my leg and my spirit. They did all this behind a Dumpster. I mention this because it’s relevant—you see, they thought of me as trash, and truth be told, I thought of myself the same way.”

I took a deep breath, glancing up to find all three pairs of eyes on me. I moved my gaze from one man to the next, to the next, and then looked away.

“I want them to get the punishment they deserve, but when it comes down to it, I’m not here today for them. I’m here for me. I’m here because it took almost dying for me to realize that I’m not a piece of garbage. I’m a woman, with a heart and a soul, and with pain and regrets. I’ve made mistakes and poor choices, but I don’t deserve to be hit. I don’t deserve to be used. And I don’t deserve to be left to die in a pool of blood in an empty parking lot. It took almost dying to realize that the words you used against me only hurt because I agreed with them. But I don’t agree with them anymore. I don’t know what brought you to the point where you felt justified in beating a woman unconscious, and I hope you figure that out. But that’s not my concern. I’ll say it again: I’m not here for you. I’m here for me.”

I folded up the piece of paper and nodded to the judge, who nodded back. Turning, I made my way back down the courtroom aisle. Once outside, I let out a huge breath, leaning against the wall, a feeling of accomplishment and pride swelling my chest. I’d done it. It was over.

The sound of a door to my right caught my attention, and I saw a man with a head full of gray hair just exiting. Something about his stride looked familiar, and I wondered for a moment if it was George. But I decided not to follow him. I decided this day was about me, and no one else.