Page 43

For the first time since he arrived, she took stock of what she looked like. Her hair was an absolute wreck from when Rachel pulled it and she was still wearing her jeans and tank top, covered in flour and cleaning solution. Oh no … she was wearing a tank top!

Putting the bag of frozen corn down, she placed her hand over her scarred bicep, pulling in on herself. Her heart started to race, and she felt tears sting her eyes. He emptied the dustpan in the trash and put the broom away.

“Are you hurt?” he asked.

“No, I—” She hesitated. “I didn’t realize I was still wearing my dirty work clothes. Let me check on Rachel, then I’ll change.”

He took the bag of frozen corn from her, putting it back in the freezer.

“Rachel?” Gently rapping her knuckles on the door, she didn’t hear anything. Pushing the door open, she peered inside. Rachel lay atop her bed, her breathing deep and even. Her fit had worn her out.

“She’s asleep.” Subconsciously, Clarissa put an open hand over her exposed scars. “I’ll just be right back.”

Tom nodded, a crease forming between his brows. She was in her doorway when she heard him behind her.

“Please don’t feel like you have to cover your marks because of me.”

She closed the door without acknowledging she’d heard him.

Yanking her hair from its bun, she pulled her comb through the tangles. After stripping down to her panties, she spritzed herself with perfume, then went to her dresser. She rummaged through the drawers, retrieving a clean pair of jeans. On a stroke of luck, she found an old blouse shoved in the back corner; it was the type with a built-in tank top and a buttery soft lace overlay that covered her arms. Her burns were, and weren’t, covered at the same time.

Pulling her father’s necklace on and fluffing her hair, she scrutinized herself in the mirror. It was as good as she was going to get in less than ten minutes.

Back in the main room, she found Thomas looking at their meager shelf of movies and books. Smirking, he pulled out one of her old sketchbooks. When Rachel put it out, she didn’t protest because not in a hundred years could she have foreseen this situation. She groaned internally as he turned to her.

“Is this yours?” he asked.

“From college, yeah. You don’t have to—”

“I want to, do you mind?” He opened it.

“I guess not,” she muttered.

“Oh, it can’t be that bad.” Flipping through the pages, the laugh fell from his lips. “These are really good.”

“Thanks.” She never knew what she was supposed to do with herself when someone was looking at her art. Bouncing her weight between her feet, she stared at the floor.

“These landscapes are amazing. Everything looks so alive. I can’t understand it though. You’re so talented, why did you stop?”

She hesitated for a beat, the question was personal and invasive, the type she always shut down. Yet, for some reason, she didn’t mind his asking. She’d never had anyone she could tell before.

“When I was in high school, I struggled. I had more bullies than friends. Art was safe, it made me feel better, hopeful in a way. Letting me see the beauty and the silver lining in the world. My senior year before graduation, it got really bad.” She shook her head. She wouldn’t burden him with the gory details of the shower incident. They weren’t there yet. “I kept it up in college, thinking I’d be able to share my hope with others who needed it. When Rachel got sick, I couldn’t find much hope anymore.”

“Having her near, yet not near, that must be very difficult.” She nodded, encouraging him to keep looking. The next pages were a collection of wolf studies she’d done at the zoo in Lawrence one weekend. His eyes lit up. “Do you like wolves?”

“I don’t know, I guess I’m just curious.”

“What do you mean?”

“Sometimes I like to think my dad gave me this carving for a reason. Maybe he just really liked wolves, I don’t know.” She played with the necklace.

“Is that them? Your parents.” He gestured to a picture on the wall.

“Yeah, that was a year after they got married.”

“What happened to them?”

“There was a fire. The firefighters got me out, but my parents were already dead. I spent my fourth birthday in the burn ward, then when I got out, I moved here with Rachel.”