Chapter 11: Phantom Limb

Disclaimer: Anything you recognize is not mine.

"When I was younger, I saw my daddy cry
And curse at the wind.
He broke his own heart and I watched
As he tried to reassemble it.

And my momma swore that
She would never let herself forget.
And that was the day that I promised
I'd never sing of love if it does not exist."

-The Only Exception, Paramore

A/N: Some things in this chapter are a little fuzzy and I have some clarification at the end. There are lots of details I had to leave out, so ask questions if you want to! :)

Warning, sad talk ahead...

"Those are nice."

It had been on his mind all day-from the moment he turned down Clove's offer to scope out the town, to the second he spotted the vase sitting dead center on the guest house dining table-what could he give her that would make her want to leave everything behind? Specifically, how could he compete with those?

"Oh, you talk?" She teased, making light of the fact that he had spent the last few minutes scrutinizing her every move. "They're nice, but they'll have to stay. No way they'll last through the flight." She reached out to casually inspect a frail white petal. "So, did you finish whatever it was you had to do?"

"Yup."

"Good." Her response was reflexive as she continued her inspection. "You missed out on some awesome stuff, though. I went out for lunch, saw the new kid's park, saw the lake. There was tons to do."

"I highly doubt you'd have wanted me there." He shrugged, inspiring an immediate frustration in the brunette. Irritation made the brown in her eyes slowly boil to gold. Cato, for his part, was blindly set on disregarding her emotions in favor of his own jealousy. "Come on, you had a great time with whoever gave you those flowers. Three's a crowd."

The molten gold cooled back to brown, retreating behind swirls of dark green. Suddenly anxious it seemed that Clove was solely capable of staring. No, observing. Calculating. She was piecing something together and, if her silence was anything to go by, wasn't fond of the result.

"You..." She trailed off, the statement going unfinished. Clove shook her head a couple times, wandering into the kitchen and reappearing with a pair of scissors in hand.

"What's the plan? Is he going back to New York with us, or will you be staying here to keep him company?"His seriousness hid behind mockery and the 'snip' made as she cut off the ends of the stems echoed through the room in the short seconds that followed. "You have to pick one, Lo, you can't be in-"

"Where are you getting this from?" She set the scissors on the table and carelessly dropped the flowers back into the vase. "What could possibly give you the idea that I'd want to stay?"

Everything was a subliminal clue and Johanna, a catalyst. He watched it happen. After years of absence, Clove's old life welcomed her back. She hesitated only at the beginning, now effortlessly taking her place. New York was a cheap replacement. It just doesn't compare. He was indebted to Johanna then; she forced him to become a realist.

"You've got an entire life here. Everything you don't have back in New York, it's here." He couldn't stop her from wanting what was hers.

She didn't value the sentiment, expression a mix of astonishment and amusement. "I don't know who you've been talking to, but it would have been a lot smarter to talk to me first."

Clove guaranteed it would be faster if he just saw it, but the sun had set and the windows let in no light. Up in the attic-where the vanity dresser, the pictures, and the broken shards of colored perfume bottle glass rested-were paintings. Several of them, leaning against the back wall.

"It's in here somewhere." She handed him the flashlight and proceeded to lift away the paintings from a nearby stacks. "My mother said it was keeping tradition, but my dad hated posing for the thing. Honestly, I don't think he'd mind knowing it's hidden!"

Shame was cold. Why had Cato failed to consider what he already knew? A few hundred land miles was nothing in comparison to this. Death was a permanent manner of separation and he realized Clove must have loved this man. She had a mother who lived in bitterness and father who wrecked a car, Clove tended to treat them as a joke. Though there was never a clear difference between affection for her parents, there was indeed a difference. It was in the strawberry cake she baked and how she'd mention that her dad's recipe was better. It was in the clove studded oranges she placed around her apartment, the ones her dad taught her to make. The difference was in her name. Clove. Her dad picked it.

He was here, she couldn't be. "Clove, I'm so sorry."

"Don't be, I'm not here to grieve." Her search had ended; with strength previously unknown to Cato, she turned a heavy frame to let it face them. "So, what do you think?"

The glossy oil paints captured a surly dark haired man, sharp features similar to those worn by the freckled girl before him. But the eyes, metallic and silver smooth, those were worn by another. "Looks like your cousin."

"And that's probably why it's here. People would look at it and start connecting the dots, you know?" Clove snatched away the flashlight, the yellow glow illuminated her smile as she focused on the imposing oil painted figure. "Gale moved in with us when he was eleven. His mother moved into a hospital room. A year after that, she didn't make it out and my dad drove his car straight into the lake." Clove made those actions sound like common practice. Accident, what happened to the accident?

She wasn't saying anything more, instead she waited. Her patience was telling; she was so insecure about this past, she actually feared others would judge her for someone else's doings. It was up to him. He could bear this with her or he could say nothing and let the night become a crack in their relationship.

"You're okay." He told her, believing it for both of them. Clove didn't scream, or cry, or demand any sympathy. That was strength. That was okay.

"Yeah. I forgave them." The brunette stared at the face, and nodded. "I forgave my mother for six years of secret keeping. She couldn't have known I'd end up hearing the truth from a waitress at the diner. Then, I forgave Gale for leaving me to drown in everyone's pity. It was for him as much as it was for me, but I think he was afraid of it."

An interruption was uncalled for. Merciful, because Cato wasn't ready to say anything substantial. The truth paralyzed him the same way it had done to her when it was new. Today, it was old and stale. She's cried all she can, hasn't she? It's late. Perhaps the last of those tears fell only days prior.

That thought made him angry, introduced a heat that thawed through the paralysis. It was rage directed toward her father, the man long dead and somehow present.

Clove was leagues past that stage.

"I forgave my dad, too. I can't blame him for loving me as much as he loved Gale. My mother can, but that's making her miserable." The light was still dim, but her eyes were dry. "That doesn't mean I understand why he did it. I'm just tired. I can't spend any more time trying to figure it out."

No, no, there was something wrong here-

"I'm not staying, Cato. Anyone who thinks I might, they know half of what I've told you. My dad was a tragedy. Gale's mother was my aunt, and he's still just my cousin. Those are unrelated events. I'm not staying."

Her well being was based on a lie, because what Cato saw was not forgiveness. At some point in her life, Clove had confused that with indifference. How? Why? Why didn't he think you were worth staying? It ached, not being able to give her an answer.

But hazel eyes asked for validation and unable to instill what he perceived to be unnecessary doubt, Cato gave it. "Three more days and we're home, right?"

"Home." She sighed, relishing all it offered. "Sounds good."

That portrait didn't deserve another glance.

Fun Fact: Alma changed her name back to Coin because she hated that her husband cheated and had a child with another woman. More than that, he loved Gale's mother so much, he couldn't see a life without her. Clove and Gale were introduced as cousins and were led to think that was all. Clove left, not only because Miner's Ridge is where her dad died, but because she found out. Her mother lied, her dad betrayed them, and even worse, he willingly left her behind.

That's the problem. Clove thinks she wasn't enough for her dad, therefore she's convinced she can't be enough for anyone else. It's why she's had so many boyfriends. When they get too close, she ends the relationship so they'll never be unsatisfied with her the way her dad was. See?

Anyway, thanks for reading! Until next chapter! :)