Shattered Pearls Read online

  “So … are you really going to quit dating for a while?” she asked, thinking back to the conversation last night.

  “I am. I’m tired of the drama. I think I want to see if I can find me in this mess I’ve made. It was fine in my twenties, but I’m thirty-three. It’s time to grow up and get it figured out.”

  Maggie didn’t say anything.

  “Do you doubt I can stick to this not-dating thing?”

  Maggie lifted her mug to her lips and softly blew on the coffee to cool it down a bit, stalling and thinking before she answered.

  “I think you can do it, Em, but do it the right way.

  I know you. You can’t just stay home and hide. You can’t take on the attitude that all men suck just because you choose not to date them. If you really want to change, you have to work on it.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked her.

  “Don’t get mad at me, okay?”

  “I won’t,” I assured her and I wouldn’t. I honestly wanted her to tell me why she had doubts.

  “In the past, you’ve sworn you were going to change. The kind of guys you dated, the things you did, how you acted, the beating yourself up shit. I know you wanted to, but you never really changed your thoughts. First, you need to change how you think and how you react. Once you can do that, the rest will come.”

  “When did you get so smart?” I really liked everything she was telling me.

  “Self-help section at the library,” she joked.

  “Seriously, I’ve just been doing a lot of thinking. My own life has been kind of boring lately. I want to make some changes, too. This isn’t the life I envisioned years ago, and the only way it’s going to change is if I do something about it. I talked to Andrea about it when we were out for happy hour last week. She recommended a few books.”

  Andrea was a woman we'd gotten to know the past year. I kind of forced her into joining Maggie and me one night at Louie’s Bar. She was sitting by herself looking a little lost and lonely. I didn’t ask her story and she never told us. Andrea just slowly became a part of our little circle. She was also a psychologist so that came in handy when a bit of life coaching was warranted.

  Since all three of us were single, we tended to hang out socially when the need arose. To be perfectly honest, most of the time I would rather spend my time out with the girls.

  Giving up on dating would be easier than my friends thought because as long as “the one” was still in my heart, relationships didn’t stand a chance with me. Maybe I should look into an exorcism.

  ELLIOT

  I had been up pacing the floors all night long. Old memories I’d tried to wipe out of my head from long ago were attacking me. I honestly thought I’d purged her for good.

  For some reason, last night, every time I closed my eyes, she appeared in my dreams. A mass of untamed, dark curls hiding part of her face and cascading over her shoulders, the sweat beading over her neck and into the valley between her breasts, making her skin glisten in the moonlight. Making love for hours at a time, she made tiny moans and gasps as my fingers explored every inch of her flesh.

  I couldn’t shake the vision. After all these years, thoughts of her still made my body tremble and my dick rock hard. Finally, at six in the morning, I got up and grabbed my surfboard and headed down to the cove. The winds were up, and the ocean was wild as the waves crashed the shoreline. They would taunt me today and I wanted that. I needed to fight something and surfing the bitch of the Pacific would do just fine. I needed to use all my strength, and I wanted the ocean to exhaust me. I wanted to forget my dreams and forget Emily Golden.

  After seven years I was fighting a losing battle. I had not seen her once in all those years, except the tortured picture I carried in my head and those hanging upon my bedroom wall to remind me of how I walked away.

  I could have stalked her. I stayed in Phoenix for almost a year until I couldn’t stand it anymore and moved here to La Jolla, the place we’d both dreamed of moving.

  I’d gone back a few times over the years. It would have been easy to drive by her house or call her, but fear stopped me. What if she was with someone? Married, a mom, happy? It would have broken me once and for all. At least not knowing gave me some kind of twisted hope.

  I could have kept up with her on Facebook, but in a moment of anger, I blocked her. When I looked back I wasn’t sure why I did that. I was the one who left her. I couldn’t fight her demons or her fears any longer. Her insecurities that I was only temporary, because to Emily, life and everything in it was temporary and unjust. I was so afraid one day she would leave, just up and walk out. So I left first. It was the biggest mistake of my life.

  Now I dreamed about her and created stories that made her come to life on paper. I rewrote the scenario a thousand different ways. A little piece of Emily was in every book I wrote.

  I hoped she read them and recognized herself, and I prayed she still felt something. I was pathetic. After all this time, she still dominated my thoughts.

  The water had a chilly bite to it, but my body was hot as I pushed myself, riding the waves into the beach over and over again, beating myself up. Every time the bitch tossed me in, I paddled back out and did it again, begging the universe to purge Emily from my soul. I’d gotten good at it—the surfing part, not the purging. When I finally quit, I was exhausted and crawled up onto the beach to watch the others.

  An old man walked over to me and dropped to the sand. I saw him out here a lot, surfing and walking the beach. His hair was so bleached from the sun that it was almost white. His face and body were tanned and weathered. The lines in his face were deep canyons from a life outdoors. His arms and legs were solid from his years on his board.

  “Still running from your own mind?” he asked, his voice raspy from a nicotine habit spanning a lifetime.

  I nodded.

  “Has to be a woman.”

  I simply nodded again. There was no need to speak as he seemed to know the truth.

  “Has anyone ever told you that those demons never go away? That once she has herself deep in your heart, she will always be there driving you crazy until you do something about it?”

  I looked over at him. Am I that easy to read? I wondered.

  He just chuckled at me with a knowing smile.

  “I’ve been there. I understand what I see. I recognize the obsession.”

  He reached over to the old canvas pack he had left on the beach. Pulling out a pack of smokes and a lighter, he placed a cigarette to his lips and lit it in one fluid, practiced motion. He exhaled slowly and offered me the pack. I helped myself to one. I rarely ever smoked anymore, but for some reason, I wanted one now.

  “The name is Jake.” The stranger told me. “I’ve seen you out here abusing yourself on that pretty board of yours for a long time now. Always alone and deep in thought.”

  Again I nodded. I wasn’t sure what to say to him, as I really didn’t even comprehend what I was doing myself most of the time.

  “I figured it was a woman. Seems like it’s always a woman when a man seems so lost.”

  “It’s … it’s been almost seven years.” I surprised myself by answering him.

  “That’s a long time … where is she?” he asked.

  “Back in Phoenix where I left her. At least she was. She could have moved on by now.”

  He didn’t say anything. He just sat there smoking, thinking.

  “Have you ever thought about going back and getting her? Maybe she’s just as lost as you are?”

  “It's not that simple.”

  We watched the other surfers dancing high upon the water, some of them wiping out in the ocean and others conquering it. Minutes went by as I thought about his question. There really was no easy answer. I was afraid Emily would slam the door in my face, that she hated me as much as I hated myself. Or worse yet, she had moved on and forgotten me. Forgotten what we shared. It was fear keeping me from trying, even though all I wanted was to have my arms around her again.


  Jake broke into my thoughts.

  “Sometimes it is that simple. At least then you would know for sure instead of being afraid of the what ifs.”

  “Have you ever been too afraid to find out for sure?” I asked him.

  “Yeah, I have been, but I think it’s worse never knowing the truth. You don’t know unless you try, and then, if it isn’t meant to be, at least in time, you move on. I lived with the wondering what ifs. I did it way too long. When I finally got the courage, it was too late.”

  “She said no?”

  “She died.”

  His answer silenced me, sending a ripple of pain straight into my soul. The thought of something happening to Emily before I could get my damned courage up was terrifying. My mind raced with all kinds of scenarios. The fear must have been apparent on my face because Jake quickly jumped in and grabbed my arm.

  “I didn’t say that to scare you. I told you because you asked. Don’t let fear stop you. If you love her, go after her. A lot of things can change in seven years. People grow and they look back and have regrets. If you still love her after all this time, maybe you’re supposed to go and find her. The world is a crazy place. People come and go in our lives, but sometimes you get lucky and a second chance steps in front of you. Only a fool ignores that.”

  I watched this stranger sitting next to me. His sun-bleached shorts, his tattered flip-flops. Some would have called him a beach bum as he didn’t appear to have much, just his backpack and his board. Yet as his words sunk in, I realized this stranger had wisdom and insight. He had heart and he saw something in me he recognized.

  His words gave me hope and made me think.

  Jake finished his smoke, grounding the butt of it into the sand and then disposing it into the nearby can. He threw his pack over his shoulder and picked up his board. Turning to me, he waved and headed back up the path to the street. He turned once more.

  “Just think about it, but don’t take too long. Life has a way of slipping away before we know it.”

  I spent another hour watching the water and contemplating. Memories flooded me as they had the night before. Even the arguments we had made me miss her. Here I was, a bestselling author, a house on the beach, success in every way I could ever dream of. And I would give it all up just to have Emily back in my life. Nothing else mattered anymore. It was no longer a question of what to do—it was when and how. The what I already knew.

  I needed to make a plan. I needed Emily Golden. And I needed to make her understand that we belonged together.

  EMILY

  All I could say about this finding myself stuff was that it was really hard work. I was out running every morning and averaged three yoga classes a week. Not that I minded the exercise at all. I actually loved it now that the pain wasn’t so intense. But sometimes I just wanted to be a slug. I wanted to lie around with a great book and eat crap.

  The healthy living stuff was the brainchild of my friend Andrea. Good food and exercise would help with the endorphin releases in my brain, giving me a better outlook and more energy, blah, blah, blah.

  I didn’t want to admit it, but I did feel a lot better after only a few weeks of exercise and eating right. I wasn’t as depressed, but calmer, not overreacting to everything.

  And I had learned a few things; such as, I hated aerobic classes of any sort. Trying to jump around and follow what some upbeat instructor was telling you to do while still trying to look perky and cute? No thanks, that was way too much work, plus it reminded me of the old Jane Fonda tapes my grandmother had on her VCR.

  I’d really grown to like my morning runs. I got up and went every morning before it got too warm. Arizona in the winter was great, but come summer, I would have to get up really early or try something else.

  I lived south of Phoenix in the growing city of Chandler. By growing, I meant it was exploding. When I first moved here, it seemed like a small town. A few developments here and there, open fields, and even a dairy farm down the street. Now houses, shopping centers, and restaurants were springing up all over the place.

  Don’t get me wrong. I loved living here, especially in the winter months. In Minnesota, we walked around six months of the year looking like the Michelin Man swaddled in goose down. I laughed when people in Arizona dressed in parkas when the temp hit forty outside. To me, forty was a sweatshirt and maybe a jacket. Twenty below zero was a parka.

  My ear buds were in and the music was jamming while I paced myself through the side streets of Chandler. I loved this time of the morning. It was six thirty and people were just starting to move about and begin their day. The sun was rising up in the east over the mountains, and the birds were going crazy zigzagging around the sky moving from one tree to the next, and chattering in chirps to one another.

  It had been cloudy and raining off and on over the last week, a rarity in Arizona. A rainy day happened about as often as a blue moon down here. When the sun was shining or even when the temperature was cool, I didn’t usually need a jacket because the sun made it feel warmer than it actually was.

  I kept the music low on my iPod so I could still hear what was happening around me as I ran. It cleared my mind and gave me a beat to keep pace with as I navigated through the side streets. It was forty-five minutes out of my day in which my body and my brain were completely consumed with myself—me time.

  Turning the corner onto Pecos Way, I slowed down to take in the small bodies of water strategically scattered throughout the neighborhood. Ducks swam in packs, a beautiful white egret stood off to one side observing its surroundings, holding court like a queen. A few fish jumped here and there.

  It seemed so strange to see these “lakes” as they were called down here. I was in the middle of a desert. Sand, dust, and cacti abounded, and there were neighborhoods boasting waterfront property with a man-made pond in the backyard.

  I missed the lakes of Minnesota. I loved everything about summer and fall in Minnesota. It was the freezing cold winters I gave up on.

  Having to run out and start my car to let it warm up, because otherwise the seats were frozen and the car made scary grinding noises when you turned the steering wheel. Or the fact that you were so cold, you were shivering while you tried to drive. Or when you breathed, it made the windows inside the car fog up, making it impossible to see out the windshield. Or how about scraping two inches of ice off the car early in the morning when the windchill was minus forty degrees. I didn’t have a garage back in Minnesota.

  On the move to Phoenix, I donated my ankle length parka to a homeless woman I met while stopping for lunch at a small town diner with a sign out front boasting of real home style cooking and grits, midway through Oklahoma.

  A shiver ran down my spine and goose bumps appeared on my arms as I remembered the freezing cold. Then as I pushed my body harder and increased my speed, the chill was replaced by heat as I began to sweat.

  The first year here by myself was really lonely. My business allowed me to work from home, but it made meeting people harder because I didn’t get out and mingle as I should have. Add in the fact that I was somewhat introverted and it became a recipe for isolation. For me, it wasn’t a good thing.

  I made the decision to move down here after my divorce. I married Scott, my college boyfriend, for all the wrong reasons: I didn’t want to be alone.

  Nana was dying of cancer and the fear of being left alone again was overwhelming. As much as she raised me to be strong and independent, inside of me was a scared little girl who was losing her family all over again. I freaked and jumped at Scott’s suggestion of getting married.

  My memory of my wedding day hadn’t dimmed over the years, not because of my husband, but because of the conversation I had with Nana. I always wished I had learned to listen. Nan was the smartest woman I’ve ever known, I was just too young and dumb to hear her.

  “Emily? Are you sure this is what you want to do?”

  Nana asked.

  She sat in the overstuffed, love-worn chair in the
corner of my room. My wedding dress was hanging from the top of the closet door, waiting…

  I put my makeup on and watched Nana through the mirror. Cancer was shrinking her a little bit more each day now. The doctors said it was just a matter of time.

  Nana looked tired and frail, a far cry from the energetic and robust woman who had raised me for the last eighteen years.

  “Emily … do you love Scott with all your heart? Is this really what you want?”

  I wasn’t sure how to answer her. I was scared—scared of hurting her, scared of being alone, and scared that I was about to make the biggest mistake of my entire life.

  Nana knew. She could see it in my face. My grandmother knew me and my thoughts better than even I did.

  One single tear slipped down my cheek and I quickly brushed it aside, but she saw.

  “Emily, don’t get married because you’re afraid. You can walk away right now. We can jump in my car and make a clean getaway. We can go someplace new and have an adventure, just you and me!”

  I smiled at Nana through the mirror, my eyes starting to tear up again. The thought of running away with her was beautiful. If only leaving here could stop her from dying.

  “I’m just having pre-wedding jitters, Nana. Everything is fine. Scott is a wonderful guy and I’m excited,” I lied trying to convince Nana … and myself. “Be happy! I’m getting married today!”

  Nana gave me a sad smile as she stood up and moved closer. Placing a hand on each of my shoulders, she leaned in, her face next to mine. Our cheeks touched slightly, and she looked directly into my eyes through the mirror, as she spoke to me.

  “When the love is right, no matter how hard life can be, or what is thrown at you, you have the strength to make it through because you have each other. It’s always the woman who is stronger, not in build or physically, but in matters of the heart. We feel everything inside of those we love, and when they hurt? So do we, but we hold it inside and carry on. True love gives us the strength to do that. At first everything is fun and perfect, then it will begin to fade a bit. Real love goes up and down. You’ll both keep falling in love over and over throughout the years. That’s how you’ll know it’s real; the love just keeps coming back over and over. If it doesn’t … move on. Sometimes what we think we want isn’t meant to be. Both of you deserve real love, and if you stay in a marriage for the wrong reasons? Neither one of you will get to experience the real thing.”