Pieces of Truth

Pieces of Truth - By Angela Richardson



PIECES OF TRUTH

~ ~ ~

How far would you go to hold onto the kind of love that makes your heart sing and your soul cry for joy? Is there no line you wouldn’t step across? No boundary you couldn’t blur? Would you use the darkness if it meant you could have the light, and have it forever?

Norah

The darkness in me has subsided. I no longer fear the night. I have no need for the comfort in the music. No. Now I have found light in my heart, a reason to overcome, forget and move forward. There is a peace I’ve found from accepting my past, knowing that I can’t change it, but that I can control how I feel about it, and now, in this moment I don’t feel broken. I am repaired. I am who I am.

What I seek now is the truth. I know that the truth doesn’t always lead to love and that love doesn’t always lead to the truth. I’d like to believe they walk hand in hand, but deep down, I know it simply isn’t true. I must get answers because the darkness in me will never leave, it only sleeps dormant until it’s woken again, and I know lies are its biggest alarm.





Chapter 1

Pursuit

~ ~ ~

Kiss. “Norah.” Kiss. “Norah.” Kiss, kiss.

My eyes opened and I smiled. I turned my naked body towards Clint under the sheets in our bed, my radio’s music alarm blaring at us from under the blanket. “Hmmm, I don’t know what I like better...waking up to Sex on Fire by Kings of Leon on my alarm, or you kissing my neck like that.”

“Well I hope it’s option number two,” Clint said, sucking a little harder on my neck. My eyes began to roll back in pleasure.

“Oh, you definitely win that competition.” I moved my face so I could find Clint’s desperate lips that were arousing me. I began to kiss him passionately as we both succumbed to the perks of waking up together in the morning. I had always been a morning person, and since Clint began getting up early for work at his new investment banking job at Harkin and Partners, I decided that I would wake up every day with him too. Clint wasn’t the sole purpose I rose early though. I also had my greatest inspiration for my freelance design jobs in the morning. My mind awoke like a blank canvas craving stimulation. It’s clarity allowed my creative juices to spring to life. I had a few book cover jobs in the mix at present. Working freelance was a good fit for me when we moved to New York. I wasn’t ready to settle in with a company just yet, and the freelance work still gave me enough time to work on the pieces for my new art show which was only a couple of months away.

After I received many good reviews and praise from my first art show back in Morewell, I was keen to push myself to do another. I did realize that pursuing a career as an artist was putting myself into the spotlight, but I couldn’t ignore my heart, and as much as it may have been an unwise move to make, I couldn’t stop my soul’s persistent request, and take risk with the exposure. I never wanted to regret trying to make it as an artist, even if I put myself in the threat of danger. I guess deep down, in some way, allowing myself to take such a risk was like rebelling against the fact I had to keep my identity a secret. It was a compulsion I couldn’t ignore.

Clint’s arms tightened around me as he pulled me closer against his naked body. We often slept naked, finding absolutely no use for bedtime attire, given our constant and never ending nighttime activities. It had been two months since we moved into our apartment on Park Avenue in New York. An amazing, physically engrossing, all-world consuming, spectacular couple of months. It was also two months since we both left Morewell and the awful memories of Arthur Wickburn and the secret society, the Lappell. It wasn’t all bad memories though. Morewell was also the place I met, and fell in love with Clint, so thinking about it was bittersweet.

Moving to New York had meant we had not escaped the Lappell either. Clint was now tied to the New York chapter in more ways than one, and was still required to attend various meetings and mixers as part of his membership. I didn’t ask him about those meetings and mixers, even though he often invited me to attend some of their functions. I did agree to attend some of the more bigger events with Clint to show my support, like the upcoming charity Garden Gala as well as another Lappell party that fell on my birthday this year, but for the weekly meetings and catch ups, I constantly turned him down. I wanted to keep a low profile as best as I could. It was bad enough that my father had better access to keeping an eye on me here in New York, but I didn’t want to place any more focus on my identity than I needed to. As Clint and I both knew; my identity was a valuable commodity in various circles, and obtaining me was useful for many powerful and dangerous groups.

As I tried to get swept up in my carnal needs, a nagging thought reminded me that this little world I had created with Clint wasn’t quite as perfect as it could be. Actually there were two things that kept me from being really happy. The first was a folded up piece of paper I had hidden in one of my paint drawers in another room in our apartment. It told me not to trust Clint, yet without a reason why. It was left in my apartment back in Morewell on graduation night, from my ex-fiancé Samuel. The note was the last, and only thing holding me back from giving my heart to Clint completely, and for some reason, instinct told me not to ignore it. Not that Clint didn’t hold my heart in his palms already, I just couldn’t let him have it permanently unless I knew what that note meant first. I had to be sure Clint wasn’t about to deceive me again; for the second time.

This morning though, I wasn’t going to think of the note. This morning I was going to have multiple orgasms and scream Clint’s name as loud as I could and forget there was another chance this could all be lies. Luckily for me, I was also a master at putting emotional complications aside. I returned my focus to Clint’s rock-hard body and adventurous hands.

“I want you Clint,” I said, running my fingers through his messy blond hair. He groaned at the sensation of my fingers sensually finding their way from his hair and clawing onto his back.

“Say that again,” he said out loud, wanting me to be more vocal in my lust for him.

“I want you. I always want you.” My breath was husky against his neck as I pushed out my desire that flowed from my lips. My words travelled along my thighs and up to where I was screaming for penetration between my legs. His body grinded upon mine, using his hardness on my hip to show me just how excited he was.

He grabbed me and whispered in my ear again. “I have about fifteen minutes before I have to get ready for work.”

I licked my lips. “Then make it count,” I moaned back, equally as hungry as him.

“I always do,” he growled, and went to work. Clint did love to please me, over and over again. He was a very giving lover, and always liked to find new, and might I add, very interesting ways to make me come. Perhaps it was all the practice he had with women before me, but I never tried to think of that. As it was now, Clint was reformed from being the casual womanizer of his days at Morewell. Since we became a couple, Clint had become very devoted, and even a little too possessive of his claim on me. His actions in offering up his trust fund to the Lappell, to keep them from trying to get me to join, was more than enough for me to believe in his love and loyalty, so I felt there was no reason to doubt that I was never enough for him.

“Don’t I know it?” I said, giggling. Clint turned his attention to moving his hands from my head and slowly, and very purposely, teased me as they ventured from the top of my naked body to the place that craved him so ferociously. I reached for him too, so we could both push our fingers into me at the same time. We just loved joint efforts. It was such a turn on. As Clint moaned with my hands firmly linked with his, about to enter my warm place that was wet and begging for him, we heard it.

Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

The second imperfection.

Clint’s body stiffened everywhere but where I wanted. He looked at me, completely going from aroused to angry. “Again!” he grunted. He unlocked his fingers from mine and started pulling away, his body getting cold, the distance in our connection growing further and further apart. I started to panic as I watched him. I didn’t want this to end in another fight. I hated fighting with Clint, and this particular fight went in circles with no end in sight. I had no idea what to do. My hands were tied.

“Please don’t stop Clint. Just forget it. They can come back later,” I stuttered, and tried to pull Clint back towards my naked body. He tensed even tighter and my heart sank. It was happening again and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

“When I’m not here. I don’t think so. I want to see it.” The bitterness in his words seemed to slice through me, but I tried to push my discomfort aside, hoping that this time, I could keep the situation under control.

“It might not be what you think,” I said casually, trying to dull the heat rising in the room.

He looked at me, disappointed. “Like f*ck it’s not. Three times a week for two months Norah. That’s twenty-four times.”

Twenty-four times. It was so many. Hearing that number made me feel ashamed. I hadn’t asked for this, and the way Clint was doing the calculation only made me hang my head even more.

“It’s not my fault Clint,” I said under my breath.

“Don’t you think I know it’s not your fault!” he said, raising his voice, his chest heaving in frustration.

“C’mon, let’s just get back to what we were doing, alright.” I reached for him again as I lay naked in our bed, but Clint was sitting now, his shoulders hunched like he was sulking.

“No, I’m not in the mood now.”

My hands went over my face as I tried to fight my frustration at his change of emotion, and the impending fight now hovering above us, ready to strike.

“Clint don’t be like this please.” I was pleading; hoping and praying that maybe it would make a difference.

“Answer the doorman Norah. You know it’s for you.”

I sighed, knowing I couldn’t change his mind or avoid it any longer. I got out of bed, walking over to the intercom near the door of our bedroom, completely naked. I pushed the button, my hand shaking as I did. “Yes?” I yelled towards the mouthpiece. Clint started to pull on boxers and a T-shirt as he listened to me speak.

“It’s another delivery for you Ms Ross.” I breathed heavily and then swallowed. I could barely find the strength to turn and look back at Clint, who I was sure was listening intently and getting angrier by the second.

“Send it up Norman. And thank you.” I swallowed again and stepped away from the intercom, knowing that in a few minutes, this perfect little world Clint and I had created, was about to come crashing down. I turned back to Clint and walked over to him, but he got up and left the bedroom, heading out to the lounge.

I grabbed my robe that was hanging in the ensuite, pulled it on, and then went and sat on our king-sized bed. Twenty-four times. The large number replayed over in my head. No wonder Clint was about to go catatonic. I didn’t blame him. If the situation were reversed, I would lose my mind too. But I had no idea how I could change it. It was not in my power to control. I had hoped it would stop, but it persistently kept pace, with no end in sight.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

My head swung towards the direction of our front door as I sat silently on the bed, trying to gather what emotional strength I had left for what was about to explode in front of me. My breathing quickened. I tried to mentally prepare for the fallout that was about to come, but every time got worse than the last. What if this was the time Clint finally had enough and walked away? I wouldn’t blame him. Even I could admit; it was a lot to take.

“Norah...your present is here!” Clint yelled to me, as I slowly but steadily headed to the front door.

Please don’t let Clint lose it again!

I opened our front door to a stony-eyed teenage delivery boy. He looked at how I was dressed and half blushed as he handed me the electronic signature device. “Sign here Miss,” he said, pointing to the reader and avoiding my eyes. He was very shy, and kind of cute.

“Thank you,” I said, as I signed and handed him back the device with a tip. He grinned at me, handed me a box, and quickly took off.

Clint glared at the box I was holding in my hands as I shut the front door, and walked back into the apartment. “What is it this time? Perfume? Broadway tickets? What? What did he get you Norah?” His voice felt like razor blades as he spoke; each time getting sharper and sharper as he pierced me with his questions.

I had to consciously steady my hand as I opened the little black box that had a small white bow attached on top. “It looks like jewelry. It’s a Harry Winston box.”

“F*cking jewelry!” There was no mistaking the hateful rage in his voice this time. Clint’s feelings about the delivery, or more specifically, the person who sent it, was loud and clear.

“Clint I understand that you are angry, but please, don’t.”

“Are you defending this?” Clint asked shocked, now getting to his feet from where he was seated on our sofa.

“No, but can’t we be calm this time?” I wanted to say, “Can’t YOU be calm this time?” but decided against it. The less focus on his reaction, the better. I was trying to smother the flames, not fuel the fire.

I looked at the beautifully crafted box. As I opened it, I tried not to gasp, but the sound escaped my mouth. I couldn’t help it. They were so very beautiful. Jaw-dropping beautiful actually. I had been sent a magnificent set of rectangular-cut, antique diamond earrings. Next to my engagement ring I had been given from my ex-fiancé, they were the most beautiful gems I had ever seen. I tried not to let my eyes look soft with appreciation and amazement, but even they had a hard time not reacting to the spectacular beauty of the gift.

“What? What is it?” Clint asked, as he walked over to me. He took the box from my hands and looked in. “Earrings. Diamond f*cking earrings. Are you kidding me?”

“Clint...” I went to take hold of Clint’s hand, but he flinched and walked away, still fiercely holding my gift, shaking his hand in the air as he did.

“He is doing this on purpose Norah! He is taunting me with these stupid gifts!” Clint shouted, snapping the box shut and tossing it across the room. I watched it fly through the air and hit the window on the other side. My first instinct was to run over and pick up the gorgeous gemstones, but I restrained myself from doing the stupidest thing I could possibly do. Instead, I ignored the box that was now in the far corner of the room, and focused my attention back on Clint, who was clearly beyond angry and distressed. I walked over to him and put both my arms around his body. I needed to calm him down or this would escalate in the worst possible way. It had happened twenty-four times already, and I knew the signs before words were even said.

“Clint stop. It’s OK. I’m here with you. I love you. I want you.”

That’s right Norah, reassurance is key.

Clint broke from my grip, and went to walk over to the box again, but then turned and came back to me, holding on to both of my shoulders. “I want you to tell him to stop Norah. I want you to see him and tell him it’s over and to move on, and to stop pursuing you like he still has a chance. This has to end.”

I pushed Clint’s hands off my shoulders. I understood why he was saying this, but he also knew why I couldn’t do anything about it. His demands meant we were about to go to battle, as on this topic, we did not see eye to eye. In fact, we couldn’t have been further apart in our opinions.

Here we go again! Another argument about Samuel!

“You know I can’t see him or talk to him. You know what will happen if I do, what my father will do. It’s not an option.” I tried to get him to see it from my perspective. Clint knew how much I cared about Samuel’s safety. He knew I would never forgive myself if I was the reason he got hurt.

“I don’t care Norah. I don’t care if he is hurt or worse. I don’t care!” So much anger and hurt was combined in his words as he yelled. I wanted to believe he was just saying this all in the heat of the moment. He couldn’t really be asking me to go against the very fibers of who I was as a person, could he?

“You don’t mean that Clint. You know how I feel about this. I refuse to let Samuel be hurt because of me and my father’s hatred of his family. No, it’s wrong. I will not jeopardize his safety. I’m sorry, I can’t. I won’t.” I tried not to make eye contact with Clint. I already knew how sad and desperate his eyes would be, how they begged me to do something that would make this torture for him come to an end.

“Why do you keep saying that? Why do you care so much about this guy? You shouldn’t feel anything for him Norah. Nothing. He shouldn’t exist for you.” He reached for my face so I could look at his, but I continued to avoid his gaze, keeping my eyes on the floor; trying not to get angry about what Clint was asking me to do.

“I don’t care about him the way you think Clint. He doesn’t exist for me in that way. You know that. I’ve told you a million times and more. He is still my friend and I don’t purposely hurt my friends. Why would you want me to hurt someone I care about?”

How could Clint not see where I was coming from? How could he not understand?

“You are hurting me right now, Norah.”

Ohhh, that stung! Immediate disappointment in my boyfriend swirled inside me as I registered what he said.

“Don’t say that Clint. Don’t you dare say that. Don’t lay that kind of guilt on me. You are not being fair.” I looked at Clint now, my eyes ignited in defense. I was trying to be understanding of Clint’s emotions, and be sensitive to his feelings, but now, he was completely disregarding mine.

“I’m not being fair? He has sent you twenty-four gifts Norah. Twenty-four! What kind of fian...” Clint paused and cleared his throat before he continued, “boyfriend, am I, to allow that? Fair, it’s all I am!”

He did have a point. He had showed a lot more restraint than I thought he was capable of. Yes, we had had some bad fights because of the gifts, and we had thrown around some pretty harsh words, but Clint had not told my father of Samuel’s persistence, and that in itself, showed me that he cared about my feelings.

“Stop Clint. You are letting these gifts come between us. It’s exactly what he wants.” I wanted this fight to end. I wanted Clint to forget about it and move on. I wanted to pretend like I never answered the door this morning.

“No, you are letting these gifts come between us. You can stop all this with just one conversation with the guy. Do it for me Norah, for us.”

I didn’t want to scream at Clint, but his lack of understanding on my behalf forced the next sentence out as being yelled.

“I can’t f*cking believe you are putting this on me Clint!”

Clint looked like he was ready to explode, his face turning a deep shade of red. “You can’t believe it! I can’t believe it! This shouldn’t be happening anyway! It should be finished! Done! He should be gone forever!” Clint’s temper was not restrained any more. It was out in the open, loud and hungry, and plainly saying whatever sprang into his head.

Wait, what the hell does that mean?

“What the hell does that mean?” I shouted back at him, just realizing that what he said made no sense, even in the heat of the moment.

Suddenly Clint’s rage was interrupted by a different look on his face, and I knew that look. It was fear. It was as if he had said something he wasn’t supposed to say. That made me even more angry because now I was thinking about the note and the potential of more lies. I was suddenly thinking that I should be a lot more angry.

“It was nothing Norah. Just forget it. I’m going to get ready for work.” Clint strode off to the bathroom and slammed the door, leaving me in the middle of the lounge, my fists in balls and my mind racing with anger and suspicion. Trying to now control my breathing, I was faced with the fallout of yet another argument from the gifts Samuel had been sending me. I really believed he would stop this pursuit. I thought if he saw I was with Clint, he would understand that I made a decision back in Morewell, and that when I agreed to live with Clint, it was a clear sign that I had moved on. But Samuel seemed relentless. The gifts were accelerating in expense and grandeur every week. But why? Why? Did Samuel really believe I still loved him? Did he really think he had a chance? The questions in my mind just reignited the other questions about the note, and what could possibly be hidden from me.

I stood, shaking, still feeling the intensity of our argument. I knew that Clint had let slip something he wasn’t supposed to, and now I was left explosively confused, which, if you knew anything about me, meant I needed to vent, and vent now. Normally I would paint or hightail it to a gun range, but since moving to New York, I had promised myself that I would try and find other outlets to dispose of my inner fury.

I needed to get out of my apartment and fast, but at that time of morning I wasn’t sure where to go. Sometimes in the early morning I would head to the markets or Central Park to sketch and get some ideas, but this morning, all I wanted to do was offload and talk to someone. I wanted some support, and to get some clarity and advice on what I should do. I couldn’t talk to my best friend Tess. She was in Europe on a work assignment and with the cell reception there, as well as the time zones, calling her would be useless.

F*ck, I wish I could talk to Josh right now.

Josh. Oh yes - Josh. My best friend. I hadn’t seen Josh since graduation. We had called each other a couple of times since I moved here with Clint, but we had not spent any one-on-one time together since then. I wasn’t sure why I had avoided seeing Josh, and with that realization in mind, it was now all I wanted to do.

I quickly hurried back to my bedroom. Clint had childishly locked himself in the bathroom and had not come out. I threw on some jeans and tight fitted tank top, grabbed my bag, my sketchbook and my cell, and headed for the front door.