Page 31 of Little Shattered Dreams

As their relationship grew stronger into Faith’s adult years, Quinn worked on forgiving herself for what she hadn’t been able to offer her in the past. But guilt was the constant pricking of a needle on her skin, always there, always reminding Quinn of her flaws. She’d bared her soul to Karl, hoping he’d suggest a way to rid herself of a past she wanted to forget.

Karl encouraged Quinn to talk to Faith that night, offering her full transparency about the decision she’d made all those years ago. She’d spoken to Faith before but had always held back, never giving her the whole story about what caused her depression. Although hesitant, Quinn agreed to Karl’s suggestion. They were to discuss it at her next session—a session that never came to pass.

As I left Karl, questions flooded my mind. Had Quinn talked to Faith as she said she would? And what about the regret Karl spoke of, the one Quinn had above all others? Was it possible her big regret had occurred around the same time Faith was sent to live with her father? If the two coincided, it was possible it could have added to Quinn’s already fragile state.

Until I learned more about Quinn’s life during that time, I had no way of knowing whether my suspicions had merit. I needed to know more. And that meant talking to Faith.

I placed a call to Faith’s doctor. He couldn’t give me details but said he was pleased with the additional testing he’d done. He’d released her with a warning to take it easy for a couple of weeks until her next visit.

Faith had given me her number before she’d left that morning, so I tried giving her a call. A man answered the phone on the first ring, his voice almost a whisper as he asked who I was and why I was calling. He said he was Faith’s fiancé, and he thanked me for looking after her that morning. I wasn’t sure I deserved his thanks. After what happened, I had some guilt of my own, worrying I was to blame for her spotting in the first place.

I asked if it was possible to speak with her and was told she was sleeping. Bummer. I had so many questions about her relationship with her mother. Questions or no, they could wait. She needed time to recover while I explored other leads.

I glanced at my watch. It was almost one in the afternoon. If I wanted lunch before the dining hall closed until dinner, I needed to hurry. I headed that direction, pivoting about halfway when I remembered how cold it always was in there. If I didn’t want to freeze, I needed a cardigan.

My phone buzzed. It was a message from my mother, the third she’d sent in the last fifteen minutes. They’d finished eating but decided to hang around and wait for me. I started to reply when I noticed something stuck to my front door. Upon closer inspection, I found a six-inch piece of paper rolled up and wedged between the door handle and the jamb.

Odd.

I reached for it, unrolling it to read a warning in all caps, penned in black ink:You stay out of my way, and I’ll stay out of yours.

CHAPTER14

You stay out of my way, and I’ll stay out of yours.

As far as warnings go, I gave it a three out of ten for creativity and a big fat zero for deterrent value. As I was staring at the handwritten note, I found myself stifling a laugh. Whoever left the message didn’t know me. They soon would, and they’d come to realize I’d never been any good at staying out of anyone’s way.

Why start now?

The note wasn’t just a warning. It was a threat. Not only was I undaunted, I was more resolute than ever to seek out the anonymous writer.

I reached the lunchroom and noticed my clan was just about to head out. My mom shot me a disappointed look, folded her arms, and huffed, “We got tired of waiting for you, dear. You’re almost an hour late.”

The wordlatemade me cringe.

I prided myself on being on time, but sometimes in my line of work, other things took precedence.

“Sorry, I got tied up with something,” I said.

Simone and Hunter stood behind my mother, shaking their heads, a gesture meant to let me know my mother’s sentiments were not shared with the entire group. And though my mother was irritated with me, she’d had the foresight to have a plate full of food made for me before the lunch service ended.

She shoved the plate wrapped in cellophane in my direction. “Here, I hope you’re hungry.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

“I’m late for my massage. We’ll have to catch up later.”

“All right.”

“You think you can be on time for dinner tonight?”

“I’ll do my best.”

“See that you do, and just in case you need reminding, it’s at six o’clock.” She turned toward my sister and my aunt. “Come along, ladies. Time’s a-wasting.”

My aunt gave my hand a squeeze as she brushed by me, and my sister uttered “sorry” under her breath as they followed my mother out the door.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Hunter began snickering. “Your mom is … I mean, she’s like no woman I’ve ever met.”

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