designs, and I hated every second of making them. It stifles my creativity and the process becomes frustrating.” He shrugged and said, “Now I design what I want to make, and if a client likes it enough to commission it, I’ll make it for them.”
She ran her fingers over the marble and said, “What will she look like when she’s done?”
He reached for the drawing he’d sketched for the piece. “Like this. Her legs will be tucked beneath her, her arms crossed over her face, and she’ll be holding her shoulders.”
“And what are all these dark lines?”
“Her body will be marred and scratched, with deep pits and angry slashes. The dark lines are representative of the thoughts and fears that bind her. All of that will be polished to a shine, and see that slab that looks like a turtle shell on her back?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s the weight of those thoughts and fears holding her down. That part will be rough and ugly, not polished.”
“Justin, your work is so powerful. That piece might be the saddest thing I’ve ever seen, if I hadn’t seen the ones at the gallery. Did you sell them all?”
He shook his head. “I sold most, but I kept two. They’re in my house.”
“Which two?”
“Do you remember a piece called Cornerstone?”
“Yes, if it’s the one I’m thinking of. A woman’s face emerging from chipped stone, right?”
He nodded, thinking of the sculpture. He’d defined and polished her lips and nose, but from the apple of her right cheek to the bridge of her nose he’d made it appear as though it had been violently broken off.
Chloe walked a little farther down the table to the sketches he’d drawn for the suicide-awareness auction. Her gaze moved over the image of a woman breaking through a brick wall, a woman with angel wings, and a dozen other sketches of images that just hadn’t felt right.
Chloe lifted her eyes to his and said, “Which other sculpture did you keep from the gallery?”
“A naked, armless woman lying on her back on top of what everyone thought were waves. Her head was tilted back, eyes closed.”
“I remember her. She was big, right? Her features were intricately carved, and she had wide paths of stone wound around her torso and legs like an enormous flat snake squeezing its prey.”
“That’s the one. I call her Beholden. That thing you think is a snake is obligation, and the foundation supporting her that people thought were waves is love.”
“Justin,” she said softly, touching his arm. “When you showed me the picture of your mother, I thought I had seen her before. Now I know why. Is Beholden Mary?”
His chest constricted. He turned away and draped the sheet over the sculpture she’d uncovered to give himself time to think. No one had asked him that question before, although he wondered if people who knew about his past had put the pieces together.
“Justin…?”
“They’re all her, Chloe,” he said, turning to face her. “Every damn one of them, or at least a piece of each of them. And they’re me. I’m the obligation that bound her so tight she chose to leave this world instead of risking my life by leaving my father.”
“That’s a lot of guilt on your shoulders, and when you put it together with the guilt you felt about your father’s crime, it’s a wonder you’re still standing. Doesn’t all that guilt take a toll on you?”
“No,” he said softly, wanting her to understand. “It’s not guilt. It’s reality, and it’s how I keep my mother alive in my head. Remembering what she went through, creating her face over and over again, in all the ways I’ve seen it, so I never forget how beautiful she was, all that she went through, and all that she gave up so I could survive. It makes me stronger, and it makes me want to continue being the best man I can be, because she gave me that chance. If anything has taken a toll, it’s trying to conceptualize a sculpture for the rally.” He waved to the dozens of drawings he’d attempted and said, “Nothing I come up with feels right.”
“Can I ask you something? Rob said the rally honors Ashley. Is there a reason they don’t also honor your mother?”
“I asked them not to. The rally is important. It offers support for all the people who have been affected by suicide. The people who are left behind. I want to support it, but it’s not an easy event for