The Breaking Point. Mariella StarrЧитать онлайн книгу.
forgive you for this one. I’ve missed both of you so much. I’m still angry about a lot of things, and you being here for a month may not resolve all our issues, but we can try to get to the bottom of a lot of them!”
“I thank you, and Mack will thank you. Jill is going to have a stroke when she sees what they’ve done to her house. I should call and warn him that she’s coming home. Maybe he can get a maid service in there fast.”
Faith smiled. “I think he’s already been warned. I walked in on the tail end of a conversation this morning, and Jill was saying, “My house had better be as clean now, as it was when I left, or you’ll be sleeping on the couch!”
Ales smiled. “Machismo runs in our family, even to my sister. Oh, I forgot…” He reached into his jacket pocket and handed her a cell phone. “Mack and I went to the junkyard where your car was towed. The guy who runs the place has a reputation for being honest, and he personally goes through the cars and stores the personal belongings under lock and key until someone retrieves them. We found your purse. There’s still money in your wallet, and your credit cards are there. We didn’t find your phone, so I went to the phone store, and they transferred all your data and contacts from your old phone to this one.”
Faith turned her new phone on and closed her eyes at the number of unanswered calls. “It will take me a month to work through all these,” she complained.
Chapter 3
Ales pulled Ricco from the floor and balanced him on his feet. “Upstairs, kiddo.”
“I’m not asleep,” Ricco protested.
“You were snoring,” Ales laughed, giving his son a nudge toward the stairway. “You’ve had a busy day. Say goodnight, and go to bed.”
“Night, Mom, Dad,” Ricco said sleepily, and he trudged up the first few steps. Then suddenly they heard him running the stairs.
“Boundless energy,” Faith said, smiling. “I’m going to miss the quiet, but not too much. Thank you for bringing Ricco to me. I’m sure Jill thanks you, too. She’s home by now, bossing her crew around.”
“How are you?” Ales asked of Faith.
“I’m tired, but that’s become my normal. I didn’t do much today, it was all on you.”
“It’s going to be that way for a while. You’ve been through a major trauma. I can remember how I felt in high school after a rough football game. It’s no fun being hurt,” Ales said. “Tomorrow, you’re going to be busy, too, although most of it will be directing Ricco and me.”
“What will I be doing?” Faith asked.
“Tomorrow there is going to be a huge shipment of stuff coming in from Amazon,” Ales said.
“Of what?”
“It’s another thing I didn’t discuss with you, but it was necessary. A complete art studio is going to be delivered. I went on your Amazon account, and I ordered everything that you’ll need, I hope. I had to guess on a few things like easels, but I ordered the best, and the same goes for brushes, canvas, and paints.”
“Ales,” Faith exclaimed in dismay, although she was inordinately pleased. “What did it cost?”
“I don’t care what it costs,” Ales said firmly. “You can go through the stuff as it arrives, and if I missed something, I want you to order it. We’re not paying the bill on it, either. Mom doesn’t know it yet, but she’s paying the bill. She was responsible for destroying your equipment. You need a studio set up here in Hancock.”
“How? She doesn’t have that kind of money!”
“I’ll sell off something of value if I have to!” Ales said determinedly. “I can’t replace what she ruined, Faith, but I intend to make restitution as best I can. I want you to know that I support your work. If I could trade my talents for yours, I would do it in a heartbeat. My talents may be commercially rewarding, but what you paint and sculpt is a God-given gift that shouldn’t be wasted. I talked to Mr. Cartland at the James Gallery. I told him about the accident and about your concussion. The result is when you think you’re ready, or almost ready, start sending him photographs, and he’ll reschedule a showing for you.”
Faith was silent for a long minute. “We had an agreement that I wouldn’t interfere with your business, and you wouldn’t interfere with mine. You calling the James Gallery crossed that line.”
“I know,” Ales said, and then he shrugged. “I did what I thought was right and fair. I can change a lot about myself, but I’m a take-charge kind of guy. I have many faults, but I have always envied and supported your talents. Realizing that I might lose you has shaken me badly. The accident was my fault.”
“No, it wasn’t!”
“You would not have been on the road if you hadn’t felt like you needed to get away,” Ales argued. “That is on me. I’m willing to do whatever it takes, Faith. You have to be willing to do your part too. Ricco says we can’t get divorced.”
Faith sucked in her breath. “What does he know about divorce?”
“Less than the kids that have gone through it,” Ales admitted. “Still, from what he says, half the kids in his class are from split homes. He thinks divorce means the dad has to go away.”
“I don’t want that,” Faith said. “I know we have our problems right now, and the idea of divorce has crossed my mind several times, but I don’t want a divorce to be the answer.”
“It’s not going to be!” Ales interjected.
“As far as the accident goes, you are not at fault. That was my ‘Jesus Take the Wheel,’ moment. Even though it wasn’t my fault, I shouldn’t have been driving. If I had pulled over, until I had control of myself, or checked into a hotel until I calmed down, things might have been different. Unfortunately, we don’t get redos on hindsight. I was there, and all I can do is thank God that I wasn’t killed or crippled. It could have been a lot worse, and I’m thankful it wasn’t. It was a wake-up call for both of us, and I hope you realize there will be changes, and not just from you. I’m guilty of not standing up for myself. I’ve been bottling anger inside me for a long time.”
“We can have redos,” Ales said. “We have strayed from our root principles.”
“In many ways,” Faith agreed. “We were truer to ourselves when we lived in Baltimore and were going to school at the Institute of Art. We lived in that horrible little two-room apartment that was all easels and drafting tables in the living room.”
“The bedroom without a closet,” Ales said, remembering. “We tried to use rolling clothes racks. One for your side of the bed, and the other for mine.”
“They kept falling over, and you got mad one day and threw them away, and asked my Dad to save a bunch of wooden crates for us. You nailed them together to create open boxes where we stored everything,” Faith remembered fondly. “We were young, but we were honest with each other. Things started going wrong after we moved to Cumberland.”
Ales nodded. “I’ve thought a lot about that, too. We fell into roles after we moved to Cumberland. Those roles were close to what we’d agreed upon when we married, but they started changing. We forgot the foundation of truth between us that we hammered out during the two years we lived together. It worked for us.”
“It did,” Faith agreed.
“It’s been five or six years since we practiced domestic discipline,” Ales said. “Do you want to return to the practices of a D/D relationship?”
“As strange as it would sound to most people, it did work for us,” Faith said honestly. “I’ll probably change my mind the first time you decide I deserve a spanking.”
Ales chuckled. “Did you know both my sisters are