Pieces of Us (Confessions of the Heart 3)

Glittering streaks of sunlight broke through, and I leaned forward to see them dancing across my windshield, sprinkling like stardust where they played on the ground.

The sheer beauty of this place struck me with awe.

I’d missed it.

I’d missed it so much, just another piece of myself that had been ripped away when I’d left.

My parents.

My home.

Maxon.

All those stupid, childish dreams that he’d crushed in one sweeping blow.

I looked out to the right to see the meadow peeking out from the copse of dense trees. The tiny house where he’d lived was barely visible in the distance.

A lance of pain tried to cut through the joy I felt at getting the job. I forced it down. I wasn’t going there right then.

I kept driving, winding around one curve and then another until the estate came into view. It had once been a bit lavish, if not pretentious, though there were far more grandiose mansions in the area.

The years had taken its toll on it, though.

The white, two story home fronted by pillars and a sweeping porch had deteriorated, the paint peeling and wood splintering. The once perfectly maintained lawn was shabby in spots, and the wild jasmine was living up to its name, growing completely out of control.

The money had run as dry as the gargoyle fountain that stood not so proud out front.

But still, it was breathtaking. Welcoming. My home.

I pulled to a stop in front of the garage on the left side of the house and climbed out, my heels clicking on the red-brick pathway as I made my way to the porch steps. I climbed them, the wood creaking with my weight, and I wiggled my key into the lock.

Turning the knob, I pushed open one side of the double doors. “I’m home,” I called, just because saying it felt so good when I’d been gone for so long.

A trample of footsteps pounded down the stairs. “Did you get it? Did you get it?”

“Yes, baby, I got it,” I breathed out, my own relief and excitement uncontained.

“Yes!” Dillon threw his fist into the air before he was throwing his little body across the room. I picked him up, swinging him around, even though he wasn’t much of a baby anymore, already five years old and larger than life.

He pulled back and looked at me seriously. “I’m really proud of you, Mom. I knew you could do it. Didn’t I tell you that you could? You had nothin’ to worry about. Just like you’re always tellin’ us we can be whatever we want to be.”

If you could be anything when you grow up, what would you want to be?

So yeah, I was guilty of that question, too, and didn’t feel bad about it at all. I was just glad he wanted to be a jet fighter when he grew up rather than to marry Brigid, the poor little girl next door who’d bawled her eyes out when she’d found out we were moving and her favorite playmate was leaving her behind.

I poked at his chubby belly, giving him a tease. “Does that mean you’ve been listening to me?”

“What do you think? Listenin’ is part of the rules, isn’t it? And you’re the one who said I had to follow all the rules, and I was listenin’ then, too. See?” he rambled out so fast it was a wonder I could process through the words.

“Just makin’ sure,” I said with a playful grin.

He was my life.

My soul.

My soul that was completed when I carried Dillon across the room and through the swinging doors that led into the kitchen. It was where I was sure I’d find Benjamin at the bay window that had been converted into a big reading nook at the far corner of the expansive room.

The second he’d seen it, he’d claimed it as his own, and if I was looking for him, I could bet that’s where I would find him.

I ruffled a hand through Dillon’s hair and smacked a kiss to his temple before I set him on his feet and headed for my oldest son.

“Hey there, handsome man.” My heart leapt as I took him in where he sat in the swath of light that blazed in through the window behind him. He had a book on his lap, five others spread out on the cushions around him—those words Benjamin’s own escape.

My eyes moved over him, taking in his super skinny legs and arms, the joints of the right side of his body set at an odd angle from the contractures he’d dealt with his entire life, his knees and shoulders knobby and his mouth permanently twisted on that right side.

He looked so frail sitting there. Fragile. But I’d never met anyone quite as strong.

He struggled to push himself up higher against the pillow rested against the wall.