Ink for the Beloved Read online

  My mother thought these drawings were brilliant. (Her words). She loved the fact I was showing a man of color in all these different occupations and workplaces, both fanciful and real. She would just ask me what it was a picture of, and I would answer it’s a pirate, it’s a pastry chef, it’s a race car driver. I never told her they were pictures of my father. The man I didn’t know. Even at the ages of five and six, I knew that to indicate my desire to place flesh on the ghost would be upsetting to her. And as a child, I never wanted to upset her.

  Tuesday

  Right now, my mother was very upset. It had been a few days since the blistering argument with Todd, but the two of them were behaving as if the fight had not occurred. In the presence of Echo and me, they remained pleasant and greeted each other around the house. Terry wasn’t stomping her feet or slamming drawers or staring angrily in Todd’s direction. Except I could see a switch had been flipped within my mother. Her body hummed with intensity. Her attention was focused, and her gaze fixated. She wasn’t relaxed, and she didn’t smile. Ollie picked up on the shift in my mother as well and did what Ollie usually does - gave her a wide berth.

  The Somerville ceremony was scheduled later this week on a school night, a Thursday. Todd continually talked about how he was rehearsing with Annika (as if he was a music producer and not a drug dealer) and the timeline for the decorations being mounted in the studio after the business officially closed. Somehow Todd had gotten my mother to agree to have the area where Annika would be singing adorned with celestial items as if Annika was in heaven. There would be the suggestion of clouds, and soft lighting, and Annika would have props like a lyre and a pair of angel wings. Thankfully, my mother had stopped Todd from ordering a golden gown and a halo, because that’s just…No.

  All of this came about because in the preliminary meeting, when Mrs. Somerville met Annika in all her dark Gothic glory, she had gasped. The shock was not because of Annika’s questionable fashion choices, but because Annika bore a resemblance to Sally, the daughter being commemorated in ink.

  Never one to miss a marketing opportunity, Todd convinced Mrs. Somerville Annika’s performance in song would be as if Sally was singing to her mother. This was a natural emotional string to pull since the songs Mrs. Somerville had chosen for the ceremony were songs she associated with her daughter. Then, (and I must give this to Todd - this was clever) Todd told Mrs. Somerville the performance of Annika singing should be filmed so Mrs. Somerville could go back and experience the event again when she wishes. He added this would be a professionally edited video, and she would be able to share it with her other family members when she was ready to let them know about the tattoo. Only one person was needed to work the camera, so the rest of the film crew Todd planned on bringing in were the supposed ticket buyers to the event (the ones he had mentioned to my mother). And since they were clients of Todd’s anyway, they would hold a makeup brush or a microphone for five minutes if Todd told them to. All this to sell the idea of a film crew to Ellen Somerville in her private tattoo ceremony.

  At dinner on Tuesday, I listened to Todd go on and on about his scheduled plans for the ceremony. Todd was excited, but as I listened, I pieced together in my head how all this activity covered up his distribution of drugs. He was animated and boasting and totally oblivious to what he had done to my mother’s enterprise. Or maybe he wasn’t oblivious, and he just didn’t care. Across the table, my mother silently ate her food, but you could tell she didn’t taste it. Her eyes were down on the plate, and occasionally she would nod her head and murmur “uh-huh”. I could see the strain as she fought to keep herself from erupting and unleashing the anger burning inside of her.

  Echo perked up when she heard Todd mention the angel wings, and she stopped trying to hide her broccoli under the mashed potatoes. “I want angel wings,” she declared.

  “Oh, you can have them after Annika finishes using them,” Todd said magnanimously. His chest was puffed out as if he gave away angel wings daily. Of course, I knew Echo with angel wings meant feathers all over the house for somebody to clean up and that somebody was me.

  Echo turned to our mother with pleading eyes. “Please, can I have them? Please.”

  “These wings are bigger than you are, baby girl,” my mother responded. “They’re not for kids. They were designed for an adult.” She glanced over at Todd. “Perhaps I’ll wear them. They’re beautifully made. I tried them on when they arrived at the store today.”

  “And you looked great in them.” Todd tossed in. “A very sexy angel.” He raised his eyebrows suggestively. Oh barf, Todd not at the table.

  “I’m a bit concerned with all these props that this film crew idea may be too over the top,” my mother said. Todd began to protest, but my mother held up her hand to indicate he should let her finish. “I know Ellen has agreed to it, but I’m worried about so many people around and so much stuff, she might get uncomfortable and cancel the whole thing.”

  “If she wants fewer people in the room during the ceremony, I’ll just shoo people out,” Todd answered.

  “I thought they purchased tickets to watch.” My mother made her statement and then immediately took a sip of wine. She was cloaking something. Taking a drink, after baiting a person was how she steadied herself. She had just tossed a grenade.

  Todd was silent on the other end of the table. His eyes were pinpricks of darkness, and his jaw was rigid.

  “Do you want me to be there?” I asked. I didn’t want to be there, but I thought I should offer. Besides, the mood in the room had suddenly gone hot, and a deflection was needed.

  My mother’s eyes zeroed in on me. I saw her thinking, contemplating. It was like she was seeing me, seriously seeing me for the first time in ages. After a beat, she said, “No. Stay here. Stay with Echo Thursday night.”

  It was the way she said it. An odd tone in her voice made me sit up and take notice. I looked at my mother, and she gazed back. Her eyes flared. There was no smile, but she was communicating something to me. And then she winked.

  What was she up to?

  TERRY

  Wednesday

  It was very early when Terry entered the Cosmic Hearts studio. She would have plenty of time before Dusty arrived. She came through the front, turned off the alarm, and took a moment to appreciate the space. Her space. It was eerily quiet. The morning sun illuminated the tranquil studio. She was rarely at her shop at this hour. But something was hiding here. There was a cancer growing; a cancer that threatened to destroy this artist’s haven.

  She began her search. First, she checked the areas where personal items were deposited. Annika and Dusty both used the space under the sink. Terry usually tossed her purse on the shelving below the display counter. Those areas were clear. She headed back to the storage area and opened recently delivered boxes. While she was back there, Terry remembered the day Bess claimed her backpack was missing. Initially, they had thought it was taken in the break-in. But there wasn’t a break-in, was there.

  Terry quickly spotted the backpack, resembling her daughter’s on the bottom shelf. She pulled it out and zipped it open. Inside were bags and bags of neatly prepared white powder. Terry was not knowledgeable enough about drugs to be able to identify what she was looking at, but it didn’t matter. Todd’s manipulation of her, Todd’s strategic influence in her life, was due to these little packets of powder.

  Terry looked at the evidence before her and took a picture of the bag’s contents. She placed it back on the shelf. She then emailed the picture to herself and deleted the image from her phone.

  She wasn’t sure what she was going to do. The ramifications of what was happening, of what she had allowed to happen, threatened to cripple her thinking. She needed a focused mind. She forcibly pushed back the thoughts, creating havoc in her brain. She had to come up with a plan, and she had very little time to do it.

  The Somerville ceremony was the following evening. The items necessary for the event were already in the studio. She was prac
ticed and prepped. Inwardly, Terry said a prayer of thanks that she had already done the prep work for the engagement because now she had something far more critical to tend to. Saying a prayer brought Luther to mind. Of all the men she had dated, Luther was the only churchgoer. Embarrassment flooded through her as Terry thought about that bear of a man. Her wretched ego had decimated her relationship with Luther, and that man had truly loved her. And Luther loved her daughters. But her inability to bear him a child coupled with the natural way he had become a father to her girls had struck a chord she was ashamed of. Perhaps there was still a way to fix things. Maybe she could do that.

  What had she seen in Todd, besides the handsome features? He had been funny, sweet, and aggressive in his attentions. Was she that shallow where she could be swayed by the charms of a younger man who found her desirable? The sex had been good. It had been great. But she was old enough to know sex wasn’t everything. It didn’t hold a relationship together. Not even babies can hold a relationship together, but she had tried, hadn’t she…?

  Terry wanted to be a good mother. She believed she was a good mother. But that wasn’t enough. You must be a good mother. Just be. Put your children first.

  Terry wondered if her maternal insecurities had driven her into the arms of Todd. He was someone who clearly could not best her in the parenting department. And it turns out he is a drug dealer. She had opened the door and invited the vampire in. It was precisely what Bess said.

  The drugs were here in the studio. Logically, Todd was planning to move them during the Beloved ceremony. Terry pulled out the folder containing the booking information for the Somerville event. Ten names were listed as “invited guests,” even though the service was supposed to be private. Todd had constructed the whole film crew scenario to fool Ellen Somerville. Terry bit down on her lip as the rage from that deception fired up within her. She couldn’t allow her emotions to get the better of her. She had to out-think this guy.

  It had been his insistence on being present for Ellen Somerville’s personalized inking ceremony that had triggered Terry’s suspicions. A musician getting an octopus on their shoulder, yes. A local baker having an inked sleeve of donuts, sure. But not a grieving mother dealing with the public death of her daughter. Todd’s demands to be present at the ceremony had made no sense.

  Terry scanned the list of names of the invited guests who were posing as a film crew. She sucked in her breath as she realized these names were all fake. The giveaway was seeing Rick Grimes on the page. Terry knew the name belonged to a popular character on a show about zombies. These weren’t real people; they were code names.

  Over the last few months, she hadn’t bothered reviewing the lists or checking the names. She had allowed Bess and then eventually Todd to collect the money and organize the guests. He seemed to love to do it as it gave him something to do at the studio. Bess snarked, calling him “the Mayor of Cosmic Hearts.” Terry rummaged through the drawer and pulled out the files for Beloved ceremonies dating back to when Bess was managing the paperwork. Scanning the names and organized receipts of the paying attendees, Terry saw another name pop up that she suspected to be false. Bess had placed a red “x” next to the name. Was that because the person didn’t show or had Bess known that it was a fictitious name. Todd had been sloppy using the name Rick Grimes, Bess would have seen that immediately because she liked to watch gory stuff, but then, Todd knew that Bess wouldn’t see this list. Terry wouldn’t have the opportunity to ask her daughter these questions, but she understood Bess’ observation skills could be an asset now.

  Bess. Bess was the key. Todd had been avoiding Bess as much as he could. She had thought it was a smart move over the last few weeks, thinking Todd was doing it to create peace in the household. But now Terry thought Todd stayed clear of Bess because he didn’t want Bess to watch him too closely. Her daughter was very observant.

  Thinking about Bess, Terry knew she had an Ace up her sleeve. With everything that Terry had divulged to Todd, she had never talked to him about Bess’ ability. Todd didn’t know Bess was extraordinarily empathic. He complained about the things Bess did and how she interacted with people, but Terry had never gone into detail about Bess’ gift. Terry didn’t know how to describe what Bess could do, but she knew she could use it to her advantage.

  She thought about her daughter and the things she knew and the things she had tried to bring to her mother’s attention, and Terry realized Bess already knew a lot. Bess probably knew about the drugs. Warm tears flooded her eyes, and she released the breath she had been holding in. The pain Terry had brought to her little girls and to her household was immeasurable. How could she be so stupid? With all her rules about drugs, how could she end up falling for a drug dealer? She felt naive and used, and the anger that hit her body caused her to smack her hand down on the countertop.

  There was a tingle on the skin of her forearm. It was a reminder. She was wearing long sleeves, and she pulled up the clothing to peer at her arm. The inked wound was ready to receive air to continue healing. She had skin oil in a basket to her left, and she applied a little now. Tears escaped and rolled down her cheeks as Terry comprehended; this was healing that would never reach the depths of her soul. She would never be able to find the forgiveness to accept this action. Terry had known then. Deep down, she had known there was something not right with this man. If he could force her…her, of all people…to do that action and be an accomplice to… The waterworks flowed, and she had to take a moment to handle the sobs vibrating through her.

  She wiped the tears with the back of her hand and stared at the list of false names. This list in of itself was not evidence of anything, but it was giving her an idea. She pulled out her client notebook and flipped through the pages. The pages contained names and sketches of the work she had inked over the last few years. Every now and then, Terry stopped and mentally recorded a name and an image. A plan was slowly taking shape. It was a strategy targeting her little Ace, her mouse. Todd was no dummy, so Terry had to leave information without him seeing it. The idea was risky and audacious, but it could work. It had to work.

  Her eyes shifted across the room, where the backpack sat on the bottom shelf in the storage area. Tomorrow night, after the ceremony, the drugs would be gone, and the bag would have money in it. Friday morning, he would come in and move the backpack. Terry mentally reached back to the various times Todd had been at the studio in the early morning hours. He only touches the bag when it has money, she realized. She would have to strike before then.

  Understanding what she had to do and willing herself to do it, Terry went back to her client notebook. Terry knew Todd’s fury would be taken out on her. She knew she was placing herself directly in harm’s way, and she was ready for that. But most importantly, if Terry did this right, her girls would be protected. She would be a good mother.

  Terry needed more time, but there wasn’t anymore. With her studio appointment book in front of her, Terry dialed the musician client, hoping the man was in town.

  She had to leave a story map. A map for her daughter who lives in pictures. And she had one day.

  Hey, diddle diddle.

  COSMIC HEART

  Friday

  “Elisabeth Wynters to the main office. Elisabeth Wynters, please report to the main office.”

  I was sitting in physics with my head down, concentrating on a formula I knew was not correct. My brain was fading in and out. Numbers and symbols floated about, making things disconnected and foggy. My mother had not come home last night. Sucking on hot sauce packets barely helped the situation.

  My physics teacher came up to my desk and tapped with his hand to get my attention. The office runner was standing there, waiting to accompany me out of the classroom. I gathered up my things. Everyone stared at me as I walked out.

  This can’t be good.

  I was right. Dusty was waiting at the front office. Her face was pale, and her eyes were red.

  “Who’s at the studio?” I asked.
It was about eleven-thirty in the morning.

  “We’re closed right now,” Dusty answered. “C’mon, I’m taking you to the hospital.”

  ***

  The nurse led me into the room where the woman who was my mother lay covered in bandages and tubes. Mercifully, she was unconscious. Both eyes were swollen shut. The right side of her face was raw and red. Someone had repeatedly struck her there again and again. The assailant was left-handed. Todd is left-handed.

  I was told other areas of her body were ruptured and cracked. She had been beaten and kicked within an inch of her life.

  Sobs escaped from my chest as I stood over the hospital bed. I couldn’t embrace my mother or even take her hand. Every part of her was covered. There was nothing I could touch to create a connection. She looked so broken, and looking at her, I realized this could be it. The hushed tones, the beeping machines, and the sorrowful faces of the nurses told me that.

  My mother was dying, and Echo and I would be alone. I didn’t think she had made custody arrangements for us. I wracked my brain, running through the possibilities of our future. Ollie couldn’t take us. He was an old man who smoked pot and had no clear source of income. Dusty was good for the little moments of advice or phone calls in the night, but she could never handle the school drives in the morning or cupcakes for the PTA meetings like Terry could. Luther could do it. Luther wanted the job. My mother just had to remove her ego and give him a legal right to claim us, or at least Echo.

  Otherwise, we were looking at the foster system while the state tried to figure out who our biological fathers were. With a little detective work and asking the right people, it could be deduced. Blood tests would finalize the deal. The thought of becoming a financial burden to someone who had never signed up for the gig was demoralizing.