Body, Ink, and Soul
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Authors: Jude Ouvrard
Body, Ink, and Soul
By Jude Ouvrard
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Copyright © Jude Ouvrard 2014
Published by Jude Ouvrard
The right of Jude Ouvrard to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her under the Copyright Amendment (Moral Rights) Act 2000.
License Notes: This novel is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This print may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.
This work is copyright. Apart from any use as permitted under the Copyright Act 1968, no part may be reproduced, copied, scanned, stored in a retrieval system, recorded or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
KINDLE VERSION
Cover Artist: Kari March
Pictures: © KatieLittle25
Editor: Debbie Williams - The Pedantic Punctuator
Important Notice Before Reading.
I
f you are going to read this book, you have to crush on sexy tattooed guys or enjoy a girls’ night out at the club.
But most importantly, you need to understand the meaning of friendship. When your friends are all you have left...
And you must feel the need, the passion, the overwhelming sensation of being the lucky girl in the care of her soul mate.
When love spreads in your body, ink and soul.
To Debbie Williams, I don’t think I would’ve been able to do this without you.
To Tracey Millen, for your constant support.
To Sandra Chevrier, for listening to my blabbering as I wrote this one.
To Megan Noelle, for everything you’ve done.
To Simone Beaudelaire because you are awesome!
J
ackie
''Positive? You’ve gotta be kidding me.'' I stared at the pregnancy test in the bathroom of my parent’s house.
''I’m pregnant,'' I whispered as I gasped for air, feeling my lungs deflate and my heartbeat pound in my temple. I felt dizzy and nauseated, the weight of the realization slamming into me.
Panicked, I dropped the pregnancy test on the cold tile floor, unable to control my trembling hands. What was I going to do? My mom would never approve. I promised her I would wait until my wedding night for my first time. I was only nineteen - I had lied to my mother and I was expecting the worst. She was going to kick me out and I would become the biggest disappointment of her life. Of this I was sure. I sank to the floor, dropping my head into my hands.
What about Brian? We had never really talked about having a baby and we had barely talked about any type of commitment. Quite frankly, he wasn't the type to commit. I knew he loved me – he’d told me hundreds of times how much I meant to him. I crossed my fingers, trying to hold on to some hope. A little luck. He had to support me. I couldn’t imagine going through this alone. I wanted him to be with me and help raise our child. But what would he say?
Should I wait to tell them? Should I abort without mentioning anything to anyone?
As soon as the idea of abortion crossed my mind, another wave of nausea coursed through me. I couldn't even think about it without my heart hurting.
I knew two things immediately - I was going to fight for the life of my unborn child. And it wasn't going to be easy.
I
waited two long, seemingly endless months. They were, by far, the worst two months of my existence. Every day was a battle, trying to hide my morning sickness and my growing little belly. I had no idea how far along I was in my pregnancy, but I suspected I was somewhere around four months.
When I started to show, I knew I no longer had a choice – it was time for me to face reality. I had been thinking about how to break the news for months, and I decided I wanted to tell Brian first. He was the father, after all. He had a right to know before anyone... and I expected his reaction to be a lot smoother than my parents’.
One night, we were watching TV in my parent’s basement. I had been worrying myself sick, trying to find the perfect moment to break the news. I watched him as he sat peacefully on the sofa. He had just gotten a huge tattoo on his back. He loved tattoos, motorcycles, and muscle cars. He was a rebel, but I knew he had the sweetest of all hearts. I couldn't think of a life without him. Although he was in a bit of pain from the tatt, he seemed to be in a really good mood. It was now or never.
''Brian, I have something important to tell you. Please, don't freak out.'' I looked at him nervously, trying to tune out the sound of tires screeching on the television.
He looked at me, his eyebrows furrowed. ''What’s wrong, baby?''
I took a deep breath and sat on my trembling fingers to hide how nervous I was. ''I'm pregnant,'' I blurted out.
''You're what?'' His face blanched and he stood up.
''Pregnant. I’m pregnant. We're expecting a baby.'' A small smile traced my lips, but then I realized that he wasn't feeling the same way. I froze, watching him react to my declaration.
His hand had gripped his hair in frenzy. ''Do your parents know? Have you seen a doctor? Are you sure?'' He took a small pause and I could see the distress in his eyes. ''You're only nineteen and I’m twenty-two! Your parents are going to kill me!''
He was right - they wouldn't support us. No tears of joy could be expected from them.
''No, they won't,'' I lied, ''and you are the only one who knows.'' I sat there, holding my breath, afraid to say much more. He was pacing the floor, shoving his hands through his hair repeatedly, I wasn’t sure how this was going to play out.
He took a few deep breaths, obviously trying to calm himself. He walked over to me and stood in front of me, looking at my face, my belly and my face again. ''I need some fresh air, baby. I’m going to smoke a cigarette outside.''
My parents didn't want him to smoke in the house. My dad had stopped smoking and he had a hard time dealing with smokers around him.
Brian bent down to eye level, holding my gaze intently, as if he was memorizing my face. He kissed me softly.
''I’ll be right back," he nearly whispered. He grabbed his t-shirt from the couch, put it on and jogged up the stairs.
''Be quick!'' I told him before he reached for the door. I was a nervous wreck. I needed him to comfort me, to help me figure this out.
He paused briefly before opening the door and walking through it.
He never came back inside.
Brian never came back at all. He never even called. He simply left town and never returned. The last thing I saw of Brian was the tattoo of a phoenix he had gotten earlier that day. The bird remained imprinted on my memory. It was singed into my subconscious, like a burn. I couldn’t forget that tattoo if I tried.
I attempted to call his number many times over the next few days, but the line was disconnected. His friends wouldn't tell me where he was but, to be honest, I don’t think they knew. He left everything he had behind. He’d gotten scared and run.
I was devastated – crying myself to sleep every night. I didn’t expect Brian to be thrilled about the baby, but never in my wildest dreams did I expect him to leave me. I had to try to make peace with Brian abandoning me, before I could face my parents. I had to get myself together before I could deal with them - there’s only so much one person can take at a time.
I waited three weeks before I felt confident enough to approach my parents. My mom, as expected, didn't take it well. She slapped me across the face, yelling that I was an embarrassment to our family. That she could never forgive me. That I should not expect any help or sympathy from her. My dad remained silent through her tirade and I think my dad’s silence hurt more than my mother’s screaming.
They kicked me out, effective immediately. My parents, the two people in the world whom I should have been able to lean on, left me on the sidewalk with a garbage bag full of my personal belongings. I had nowhere to go. I was alone - well, not exactly alone, but I had nobody to count on. I felt more alone than I’d ever imagined possible.
I ended up in a shelter for women that first night. Thanks to the assistance of the people running the shelter, I was able to find a job and earn a few bucks as a waitress in a small cafe in downtown Dallas.
My life was a mess. I’d never expected to end up pregnant at nineteen, and living in a shelter. I put one foot in front of the other for those first few days, silently promising my baby we would make it. That I wouldn’t fail my unborn child. I wouldn’t give up on our future, like everyone else had. I didn’t know what I was going to do, but I knew I wouldn’t give up without a fight.
I
met Carlson at the café a couple of weeks later. He came in one night while I was working, and was charming and polite. We had an easy banter between us from the beginning and he kept me company during the shift. The cafe wasn’t busy that night and Carlson and I traded stories and chatted. He was in town for a few days for business and I secretly hoped he would come back in - I had never met anyone like him before. Carlson was a tall, good-looking man with short brown hair. His suit fit him perfectly, he looked like a responsible businessman.
