Shards of My Heart Read online

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  Copyright © 2013 by Nicole Andrews Moore

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher Nicole Andrews Moore except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  All names, work of arts, places are all fictitious and from the imagination of the Author.

  Cover Design and Formatting by:

  Indie Pixel Studios | www.indiepixelstudio.com

  Image Copyright:

  Jose AS Reyes, 2013

  Used under license from BigStockPhoto.com

  To all those impacted by domestic violence, mental health issues, and addictions…you are not alone.

  To the best friends a girl can have in challenging times…

  JB, Jennie, Lindsay, Becky, Danielle, Kris, and Jenn…thank you for listening, assisting, housing, hugging, hoping, helping, and loving me through it. Love you more than you know.

  Prologue

  Monday, October 14

  Tuesday, October 15

  Wednesday, October 16

  Thursday, October 17

  Friday, October 18

  Saturday, October 19

  Sunday, October 20

  Monday, October 21

  Tuesday, October 22

  Wednesday, October 23

  Thursday, October 24

  Friday, October 25

  Sunday, October 27

  Monday, October 28

  Wednesday, October 30

  Thursday, October 31

  Friday, November 1

  Saturday, November 2

  Sunday, November 3

  Monday, Novembere 4

  Tuesday, November 5

  Thursday, November 7

  Friday, November 8

  Epilogue

  Resource Guide

  About the Author

  Acknowledgements

  Bonus: Saving Alex by J. B. McGee

  I blame fairy tales.

  There was something about being raised to believe that once I found my prince, I would get to live happily ever after that set me up for disappointment. Life isn’t like that. Yet time after time, fairy tale after fairy tale, that’s where the story ends.

  We don’t get to see that Prince Charming snores, leaves the seat up, goes out hunting with the guys a little too often, or isn’t as loving and supportive as Cinderella imagined him to be. And the Prince, well, he might just tire of a bunch of rodents running around in clothes, coupled with a wife who talks to animals and bursts out in random songs.

  The chase is the part that is glorified. That’s why marriages fail. How can they possibly live up to the hype of the chase? How can anything compare to the excitement of new love?

  That’s why there are so many divorces. After all, divorce seems simple. It’s the ultimate do over. If that marriage didn’t result in happily ever after...no worries, just find someone new and start all over again.

  At the same time, for those of us who are stubborn, who have a hard time giving up and giving in, how do we know when it is time to let go, to move on, and then admit we made a horrific mistake? What is an acceptable excuse for sticking a fork in a relationship?

  I remember when I met Shane. He was several years younger than I was, but he seemed much more together, and so much more mature than my almost ex-husband. Here was a man who had a career. Shane had been in the same field for ten years, employed by the same company that entire time. He owned his home and drove a nice new truck. As a neighbor, I had watched him maintain his lawn, service his vehicle, do all those things that men were supposed to do. Even the interior of the residence was neat, despite having two really lazy roommates.

  We dated for a while growing closer and closer. Finally, he made some admissions that touched my cold, brittle heart…

  Shane: No one knows me as well as you do. No one has ever been allowed to get this close.

  It was such an honor, and soon I was so crazy in love that I knew...I knew nothing could tear us apart. For a while, it seemed that we were destined to be together, forever. He made me feel safe and loved. Every moment spent together was incredibly special. That’s why I vividly recall one night when we were alone in the house and Shane was walking around without a shirt on. He loved showing off his muscular physique. Honestly, I loved seeing it, loved touching his bare skin. In that moment, he leaned his back against the counter and faced me. Without thinking, I walked into his open arms, inhaled his scent to imprint it upon my soul, and kissed the broken heart tribal tattoo on his chest.

  Shane: Are you trying to heal my broken heart?

  Shaking my head, I responded.

  me: Nope. Just loving you.

  Shane: Good. It can’t be fixed.

  He looked down and instead of wrapping me up in those muscular arms and pulling me closer to his washboard abs and ample pecs, he stiffened and stood straight.

  Shane: Sometimes, I think you are only attracted to me because you want to fix me.

  His demeanor had me tensing up. Somehow, I knew what I said next was going to be really important. Shaking my head, I found the words I sought.

  me: Baby, until I got to know you, I didn’t even know you were broken.

  That softened him. My words worked. They were magic. He admired my ability to communicate, to speak eloquently, and to make an impact through simple speech. Words did not come easily for him.

  He held me close. Bending his head, his chin in my hair, he finally spoke what was clearly bothering him.

  Shane: You make me want to be a better man, but I don’t want to change. What are we going to do about that?

  With my chin on his chest, staring up into his pained eyes, I told him the truth. There was only one way I knew to make this work.

  me: I’m going to love you through it. No matter what, I promise I’ll love you the best I can with all that I am.

  I meant it, too.

  Must be he liked my response because within seconds, his lips closed the distance to mine. That kiss. That love.

  That was five years ago.

  Life has changed, much different from what I knew...all because I said, ‘I do.’

  From the beginning of our relationship, I have recorded every moment of it, in one form or another. For some reason, I had to. It was that special, that important to me. So, I have a box, six inches deep, overflowing with an entry a day cataloging our life. Then I started blogging and have another three years online. This...is altogether different. The only similarity is that I don’t want to forget a moment of this experience either.

  By all indications, it was going to be an ordinary day.

  When he wandered out from our bedroom, I was on the phone with Julia. We had been long time virtual friends brought together by similar circumstances. Like us, Julia and her husband had special needs children, and like me, she was a freelance writer. After ten months of daily conversations and frequent messaging on Facebook, they were coming to Charlotte from Atlanta for a doctor appointment and we were all supposed to meet for lunch.

  Shane smiled when he walked out. That was encouraging. Since we
were in the middle of joking and making plans, I decided to incorporate him into the conversation.

  me: Hey, babe, which restaurant did you want to meet at?

  Shane: Don’t start with me, Nina.

  He had snarled at me before heading out to the garage for his morning smoke, and though I tried to cover it up, I was already hurt and licking my wounds. Ending the conversation, I convinced Julia to meet at Taco Bell. It was right across the road from the doctor and even though Shane was a picky eater, he loved tacos. I figured since it was only 9am and we weren’t meeting until almost 2pm, I had plenty of time to finalize the plans with my grumpy husband.

  When he hadn’t come back into the house nearly an hour later, I checked and found him asleep on the couch in the garage. I suppose I imagined this would be like the last few days of constant sleeping. The longer this continued, the harder I tried to convince him to see a doctor and get help…all to no avail. He was still there at 1pm.

  me: Babe, you wanna come with us to Taco Bell?

  The second his head turned my direction, I knew that sleep had not improved his mood any. Still, I stood my ground and waited for a response. He hated when I acted nervous around him.

  Shane: Why would I want to go to Taco Bell?

  me: I thought you might want to meet Julia and her family.

  Shane: I don’t want to be around anyone right now.

  me: Okay. Want me to bring food back for you?

  Shane: No.

  His arms were crossed over his chest, his balled up fists tucked into his armpits. His head was facing away from me, nestled into the corner of the couch. Occasionally, he would open his eyes just enough to look at me out of the side of them.

  me: Okay, well, I’m leaving. I’ll be back after.

  He sneered at me.

  Shane: I supposed you want me to move the truck.

  My vehicle was blocked in by his, but disturbing him further was the last thing I intended. I shook my head.

  me: Nope. I’ve got it.

  So, I went back in the house, packed up Kylie, and headed out after parking his truck on the street. Then I hopped into my vehicle after securing my baby girl in her car seat.

  The drive was short, less than three miles. It took me little time to shake off the melancholy that had been hanging over the house. Seeing Julia…eating Taco Bell…all of that had me feeling happy and hopeful once more. Yeah, I’m easy.

  Lunch was good, but entirely too short…which is why I went with them to the doctor. After all, the doctor Julia’s son was seeing had been Kylie’s pulmonologist since she was discharged from the NICU. It meant that we could talk more before she interviewed me that evening as a special guest on her radio show.

  By the time I returned to the house, it was 4:30pm. I was pleasantly surprised to discover that Shane was no longer asleep on the garage couch. Further investigation, however, showed that he had merely relocated to the bedroom where he was sleeping diagonally upside down on the bed, bare feet on the pillow. Laying Kylie down in her crib, I planned to use this quiet time to my advantage. I had writing to do. Since Shane hadn’t worked in weeks, there was his income to replace.

  As I started to leave the room, I heard his phone ringing. Knowing that he was attempting to sell some of his excess tools on Craigslist, I stood beside him a moment before speaking quietly. I had learned never to rouse my sleeping bear.

  me: Do you need to answer that?

  His eyes shot open and within seconds he was glaring at me.

  Shane: What are you doing here?

  me: Well…I live here. Where else would I be?

  Shane: You left.

  me: And now I’m back. Check the phone.

  I gestured towards his pocket. The phone seemed to ring insistently and I really needed the time to work, which would quickly end if Kylie was awakened. I watched as he struggled to reach inside the Velcro secured pocket of his cargo pants and pull it out. He silenced the phone and began the struggle to put it back once more.

  This is where the tension began. This is where I started doing what I do, trying to calm him down, trying to keep life level and normal.

  me: Want me to help?

  Still, he struggled alone while I watched and tried to talk to him, distract him, and keep him from overreacting. I’m not sure I remember what I babbled on about…something about lunch, meeting Julia, the appointment…then it happened. His hand shot toward his face and he began to bite down on the side of his index finger. It was the universal signal that he was about to blow a gasket.

  me: Let me help you.

  Without waiting for his consent, I shoved his phone in his pocket.

  me: There.

  Somehow, I had ended up on the other side of the bed, away from Kylie’s crib in front of the window. It was a definite oversight, allowing Shane to be in the middle, for me to be that far away from my baby when he was this volatile. I realized it the minute he started kicking the headboard violently while his head was still at the foot of the bed.

  me: Shane. Calm down. Relax.

  It didn’t work. I knew it wouldn’t. He kicked harder and more violently with both feet. I could picture the bed frame just giving and the entire bed collapsing with him on it. That wouldn’t make him any happier. We had already damaged the bed during happier times. The iron works that filled the void in the head board had come off long ago one night when he let me use silk ties to restrain and tease him. In the end, he hadn’t been able to handle it, ripped the metal leaf scrollwork out and had me ducking while sections of it swung wildly from his wrists. We had laughed at the time. It didn’t dampen our mood any. The lovemaking was only hotter. This…was a different kind of hot.

  During this rage, he injured his foot. I sighed. Loudly. I knew what this meant. He would only be angrier now.

  Sure enough, he leaned over the side of the bed near where I hovered out of arm’s reach and picked up one of his sneakers. He launched it and it ricocheted off the wall and flew at Kylie’s crib. Rushing past him, I hissed.

  me: Shane, Kylie is sleeping. You almost hit her!

  Snatching my slumbering baby, I walked briskly from the room and didn’t slow down until I reached the great room. As long as we were in the same house, I wasn’t safe from his tantrum. Sadly, this didn’t bother me any more. It is terrible to have grown accustomed to the tantrums, these outbursts, but over the past five years, I have. So, it didn’t affect me at all.

  Snuggling Kylie on the couch, I listened to figure out what was happening just down the hall. It was quiet once more and I hoped that it meant he was asleep or calm once more. After plugging the tubing into the surgically embedded button in her belly, Kylie’s feed was started through the feeding pump. It had been running all of ten minutes of the thirty it was programmed for when Shane came limping out.

  At the moment, he was shirtless and wearing only one shoe. I stared at him calmly while I tried to decide what to do next. He flopped down on the opposite end of the sofa looking confused and upset.

  Shane: Why would you bother me about going to dinner?

  me: I didn’t.

  Shane: Yes, you did. You came in and you woke me up to talk about dinner. I don’t want dinner. And I certainly don’t want to meet Julia.

  me: That’s fine. I already met Julia. We met for lunch. You were invited. Remember?

  I was urging him to make sense, urging him to recall our earlier conversation. It didn’t work.

  Shane: And what did you do with my shoe?

  me: I didn’t do anything with your shoe. You threw it. It’s wherever it landed.

  Gradually, he leaned forward and used what little inertia he had created to leverage himself off the couch. Evidently he had decided to head back into the bedroom to locate his missing shoe. I couldn’t tell you what set him off. It could be anything. The walls...all of them...were paying the price. Holes were created near the back door, the light switch, and the area beneath the smoke detector. Still angry, the thermostat was targeted next. S
ince that hurt him, he kicked a huge hole in the sheetrock below it. Finally, he disappeared into the bedroom and I had to rely on my ears to tell me what was happening now.

  It didn’t take long before I heard the sound of shattering glass. Was it a picture frame? Was it a mirror? Like I needed any more bad luck. There was banging and grunting, thudding and crunching. After a brief time, there was silence. Was it too much to hope that he had tired himself out and was finally sleeping off the rage? I listened closely, stuck on the couch while waiting for Kylie’s feed to finish.

  Then I heard it. Pills. The distinctive rattling of the bottle being shaken or moved. He was in the bathroom. The rage would pass, but if he had finally decided to end it all as he had often threatened before, that wouldn’t. Death was a permanent solution to a temporary problem. While my better judgment would have me staying far out of the line of fire, my love for this crazy man had me pausing Kylie’s feed, unhooking her, and rushing to see what he was doing.

  The moment I reached the bedroom door, I paused. This was different. This was so much worse than any rage ever before. The sound of shattering glass had come from the bedroom windows. He had, apparently, broken them with Kylie’s IV pole. Her crib was flipped. There was broken glass all over that side of the room. His side was no neater. There were holes all over the wall that ran the width of the room. Clearly they had been made with the vacuum, which lay on the floor in pieces, and with the IV pole, since one of the wheels was embedded in the wall while the rest of it was bent and broken in the bathroom.

  me: Nice.

  Once I had taken in the extent of the destruction, I headed directly to the bathroom where I found Shane collecting some things. He had a pair of boots in one hand and was stuffing them with his toiletries. He must have stuck the pills in his pockets, since they were nowhere to be found.

  me: What are you doing?

  Shane: Leaving.

  me: *sigh* Why are you leaving?

  Shane: Because you are such a bitch!

  I stepped back in surprise. It was one of those moments where I could have been blown over with the proverbial feather. Shaking my head in disbelief, I finally responded as I walked toward the bedroom door.