Chapter 23

"My dad stopped showing up when I was two. I remember my mom ranting when she was drunk, that he had never loved her and she didn't know why he had married her. I blamed him for a long time, but I don't anymore. He couldn't predict the depth of betrayal my mother felt, or that her drinking would actually get worse.

"Drinking was all my mother did. It was why my dad was never around, why he fell in love with someone else. When he married Amatis, my social worker asked me if I wanted to see them, but I said no. I didn't want to think of my dad with anyone other than my mother.

"The rare occasions that my mother wasn't drunk or hungover, she did take good care of me. But these instances were so few and far between that people began to take notice. A social worker began to come over occasionally to check on us. When I didn't smile at her, my mom would hit me after she left. I learned to act content whenever Ms. Crane came.

"One day when I was three or four, she called my dad for the first time in more than a year in the middle of a drunken haze. I don't know what he said, but my mom grew angry and threatened to kill him if he came near us. She said other things too, petty, hateful words. Two hours later, a policeman knocked on the door with a restraining order from my dad. After that, my mom drank more than she ever had. I think she went through ten bottles within the hour.

"The police must have called Ms. Crane, because she came later. I wasn't prepared for her, though, and I was cleaning the mess of bottles around my sleeping mother when she rang the doorbell. It scared me so much I dropped my armful. Ms. Crane must have heard the glass breaking because she began to knock persistently. I remember the knocking kept going on and on until yelling was added to the noise, but I couldn't move out of the ring of broken bottles. Finally I made it to the door and opened it, but Ms. Crane took one look at my bleeding hands, the broken glass, and my sleeping mother, and marched inside to shake my mom awake. She informed my mom that she would be taking me away.

"I'm not sure who that scared more, me or my mother. My mom started screaming at Ms. Crane, but Ms. Crane just calmly sat there. Finally she stopped my mom and said firmly, 'Celine, you can't take care of Jace.' My mom started to cry then.

"After Ms. Crane left, my mom began to pack. She made me to pack a bag too, and I did, though I didn't realize what was happening. She got in the car then. She had never driven while drunk before, and I didn't recognize that it was wrong."

Jace took in a breath and closed his eyes.

"We drove away. I still don't know where she was going. I don't recall much after that-Ms. Crane said my brain blocked out the trauma. I remember waking in the hospital. I was really scared; all I knew about what had happened was that Ms. Crane was going to take me away. After a while, a nurse came to me and told me that my mom and I had been in an accident, that my mom was fine, and that Ms. Crane would come to me soon.

"Ms. Crane came to my bedside and repeated the nurse's words. But she explained that I would get to see my mother one last time, then I would have to leave. I didn't understand at first. When they took me to my mom, she was weeping and didn't try to hide it. She begged Ms. Crane not to do this, and Ms. Crane went up to her and ordered her to stop and be strong for me. I didn't appreciate Ms. Crane's actions till later; at the moment, I just felt defensive for my mother.

"They let us hug once, then Ms. Crane led me to her car. While I had been in the hospital, Ms. Crane had pulled some strings and arranged for a family to take me in. I was one of the lucky ones; some kids are sent to orphanages. We drove along the coast on the way to my new home, and that was the first and only time I'd seen the ocean."

The image of the painting for the art final popped into Clary's head, her depiction of Jace's memory taking on new significance.

His hand brushed a red curl off her cheek. "I moved around homes for nearly nine years. At first I was intractable, always throwing tantrums and asking for my mom. By the time I was seven, I stopped mentioning her at all. The number of homes decreased after that; foster parents would rather we forgot the past and focused on their love. But some just wanted money, and they fed us, clothed us, but didn't care about us. I made trouble on purpose when I got to those houses; usually Ms. Crane would intervene and find me a reputable family the next time. She tried to be there for me as much as she could. She was the one I asked about what had happened that day, the one who told me I look like my father. She was the one who told my what my parents' names were: Stephen and Celine Herondale. Finally I came to Michael and Sarah when I was 12. I was their first one, and they took good care of me. Somehow I ended up staying there till now."

"Your real name is Herondale?"

"Yes, but I decided to take Michael's name when I was 13. I felt so resentful towards my dad for leaving my mom that I wanted nothing to do with him." Jace paused. "I don't feel the same way anymore. But Michael and Sarah are my parents now, and I should have their name. That's what I think, at least."

"You're right."

They sat quietly for a minute, just holding each other.

Clary broke the silence. "I'm so sorry, Jace."

"Why are you sorry? It's not your fault."

"I'm sorry because that was an experience no one should have to go through. Especially not a four-year-old."

"It happened. It's over. I don't like to think about it."

Clary could see why, but didn't comment. Instead, she asked, "Have you never seen your parents since?"

"No."

"When did your dad remarry?"

"Almost four years ago. Ms. Crane told me about it. She tried to get me to see them. She described Amatis as 'a sweet woman,' to try to endear her to me, but I wouldn't hear of it. I used to hate them so much."

"But you don't anymore?"

"I don't know what to think anymore. I basically have never met him, or known him. How can I judge him? But at the same time, he left my mom. He left me with her. He must have known about her drinking, but how could he leave his child with a drunk? I just don't understand."

"Sometimes it's not that simple."

"It should be that simple!" Jace's hand tightened into a fist that pressed against Clary's back.

"Hey," Clary said softly. She reached behind her and took his hand, holding it between both of hers. "Don't dwell on this, okay? I'm glad you told me, but you shouldn't bury yourself in memories."

Jace let out a breath, his hand relaxing. "I feel...lighter, talking about it. I was scared before. But I don't regret it at all."

"You know you can tell me anything, right?" Clary tilted her face so it was parallel to his.

One corner of his mouth turned up in his trademark crooked grin. "I love you, Clary."

She barely had time to reply, "I love you too," before his lips pressed against hers and she melted against him in the softest, sweetest kiss.

"What was Ms. Crane's first name?"

"Uh...I think it was Marilyn. Why?" Jace glanced at her, his small confusion not marring the tranquility in his face.

"Just wondering." Clary pushed her hair back as a breeze ruffled it. She snuggled closer into Jace's arm and looked out on the sunny park.

"Your hair looks like fire in the sun," Jace said abruptly.

"It does?" Clary patted her head self-consciously. "Well, yours looks like gold. Molten gold."

"Why do you always have the better comparison?" Jace asked in mock irritation.

"Not always. Your description of the clouds as fluffy bunnies was pretty good," Clary teased.

"Shut up, I'd just woken up. Besides, seeing your face drives rational thought out of my head with its beauty."

"Smooth, Jace."

"It's true."

"Thank you, then. Your face is pretty too."

"I already knew that, but thank you. My ego has definitely been boosted by that comment."

"Like it needed any more to be bigger than a house."

Jace laughed lightly and squeezed her shoulders. The sun's rays slanted across the trees as they basked in the peace of the scene.

Marilyn Crane. Clary ran to find a phone book and brought it up to her room, but once she opened it, she realized she had no idea which Marilyn Crane it would be. She needed more information.

Clary closed the phone book with a thump, releasing a cloud of dust motes that swirled in the patch of sunlight. She knew what she needed to do, but she was chary of going behind Jace's back.

She made up her mind when Jace called and told her that he and his baseball team were going on a retreat.

Clary walked to Jace's house the day that he left, her heart pounding as she knocked on the door. Thankfully, Sarah opened the door.

"Hi," Clary said meekly as Sarah's expression darkened.

"What are you doing here?" Sarah made no move to let her in.

"I need to talk to you. Can I come in?"

"Yes, I guess, since you're here." Sarah stepped back.

As Clary walked through the kitchen, she noticed Sarah glancing involuntarily at the side hallway.

"Why couldn't you have called, arranged to meet at the park? You know Jace doesn't want you here." Sarah lowered her voice.

"I don't have your home number."

"Couldn't you have asked Jace?"

"Jace can't know about this."

Sarah's eyes turned serious. "I see. What do you want, then?"

"Do you know Marilyn Crane?"

"How do you know-that's Jace's social worker." Surprise laced Sarah's words and widened her eyes.

"Yeah, I know. So, have you ever met her?"

"Yes, I've met her many times."

"Do you know where she lives? I need her address."

"I can give it to you, but I don't know if I should." Sarah's hands rested on her hips, her face suspicious.

"Please, don't ask why. I just need it."

Something in the pleading tone of voice or her plaintive expression must have moved Sarah, because she moved to grab a paper and pen.

"She lives about a mile north of Arlington. Here's her address and phone number."

"Thank you so much," Clary said, clutching the slip of paper.

"I hope nothing you're going to do is going to impact Jace's happiness, Clary. If you hurt him, I swear to God, you will regret it."

"I won't hurt him." Sarah scrutinized her face for a moment, then relented."

"You'd better leave now. Jace won't be back, but the sooner you're gone, the better."

"If I didn't know better, I'd think you didn't want me here," Clary said flippantly.

The deep voice, frighteningly familiar, stopped Clary in her tracks. "Now, Mother, are you making Clary feel unwelcome?"

Frozen, Clary recalled Sarah's glance towards the hallway, from which now emerged Chris's imposing form.

She forced herself to meet his gaze. Despite her constant denial that anything would go wrong, Clary couldn't help the stab of unease that pierced her at the sight of his dark eyes.

"Chris."

"Clary. I haven't seen you in a while, and now you're here. Without Jace, too. You're very brave." Chris spoke with a tone of mild interest, like he was genuinely pleased to see her.

"What do I have to be scared of?"

"Nothing, of course. But you're disobeying Jace. You have a strong will; I like that."

"People have called me stubborn." What was she doing, carrying on a conversation with the very person Jace most wanted her to avoid?

Chris chuckled, and Clary resisted the urge to shudder. "And witty. Even better."

"Thank you, but I have to go, as Sarah said."

"So soon? Alright, then." Chris followed her to the door and opened it for her.

As she descended the porch steps, Chris called out to her. "You know, you shouldn't rely on Jace so much, Clary. One day, you won't be able to run back to him for safety. One day, he won't be there for you."

Clary didn't turn around as she tried to hold in her instinct to run away.

The phone rang, startling her. She rolled over and grabbed it. "Hello?"

"Hi, Clary. It's me."

"Jace. Hi."

"Did you miss me?"

"Yes, of course I did."

"Good, cause I missed you too. I'm coming back tomorrow. Don't pine away for me till then."

"As if."

"So, how was your day?"

"Fine. Boring. Nothing happened." Clary sincerely hoped he didn't hear the lie in her words.

"Since I wasn't there, right?"

"Think whatever you want, Jace. Your ego will definitely help you in that department."

Jace's warm laugh echoed over the phone. "Alright, Clary. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Goodnight, Jace. I love you."

"I love you too," he whispered. Clary could hear the faint catcalls of his teammates as he hung up the phone.

Placing the cellphone on her nightstand, she fingered the slip of paper with Marilyn Crane's address and number.

I hope this works out.

A/N: thank you, all anonymous reviewers! and ShermyCakes, John merely suspected Chris of raping his girlfriend, since he has a history and she alleged that she had been raped. But later in the police investigation it seems that she has made a false claim. John couldn't take the deception and suspicion anymore and he decided to leave.

Thank you for reading and please review!

~Sami