Cut by Emily Duvall Page B

cadavers of smokers. You should see their lungs.”
    He remembered the embarrassment she tried to hide at the hospital when Carl announced that she used to be in medical school. He wanted to hear from her on the subject. “Why did you drop of out of medical school anyway?”
    â€œI didn’t want the initials M.D. after my name bad enough.”
    â€œThat’s fair.”
    She laughed. “Just like that? Everyone else pushes the subject. My mother, Carl, even my friends think I’m blowing a huge opportunity.”
    â€œIt’s your life.”
    â€œWhat about you? Does Luke give you any flak about dropping out of gemstone hunting?”
    â€œI retired, and no, he didn’t.”
    â€œYou said you needed a change of pace.”
    â€œI did.”
    â€œDoes that include settling down like Luke?”
    â€œWhy? Are you looking to marry me now?”
    She rolled her eyes. “No.”
    â€œAnything else you’d like to know?”
    â€œI don’t know; you went to college, and then what, became a gemstone hunter?”
    â€œI didn’t go to college.”
    â€œYou didn’t?”
    â€œDon’t go snobby on me. You’re not exactly at the top of your career game.”
    â€œFine; we’re even on that front. But still, don’t you need certification or something to do what you do?”
    â€œTo grade gemstones, yes, you do. I’m certified. Is that what you want to hear? Does that make a difference to you?”
    â€œI used to think so.”
    â€œWhat do you do for work?”
    Jessie gave a small laugh. “I wait tables.”
    â€œThen your future is wide open.” He grinned and shot her a loaded glance.
    â€œI’m happier taking orders than I ever was in medical school.”
    â€œAre you going to wait tables forever?”
    â€œI haven’t decided.” She looked down at her hands. “The truth is I’ve been riding on Carl’s dreams and not my own. I have no idea what to do with my life. It’s hard enough to admit this to myself. It’s worse to be made to feel like my career has to define who I am.”
    â€œIt’s honest.”
    â€œDid you always know you wanted to work with gemstones?”
    â€œNot even close. I left home at a young age. I didn’t have the luxury to try and figure it out through classes and internships.”
    â€œHow young were you?”
    â€œSeventeen.”
    â€œI assumed you and your family were close.”
    â€œYou assumed wrong.”
    â€œWhy did you leave home?”
    â€œIt’s not the kind of thing I usually share with people.”
    â€œSorry I asked.”
    Brent’s hand tightened on the steering wheel. If he needed to earn her trust, he had to open up, something he wasn’t comfortable doing, but the circumstances called for an extra measure and reluctantly, he conceded. “I’ll tell you how close we were. There’s this flower garden my mother grew every summer. My father didn’t let her do much of anything, but he allowed her this space in the backyard to do with as she pleased. This one time she managed to produce these impressive red roses. I remember how much she loved them because she rarely smiled and that summer, she came in from her garden and I could tell they brought life back in her. She would take extra care of them, like they were her children. She loved them. One day she did something to upset him, which wasn’t hard, and to get back at her he didn’t hit her—a fact that still gives me chills to this day. I knew it was bad when he didn’t use his fist.”
    â€œWhat did he do?” Jessie asked in almost a whisper.
    â€œHe wanted me to go out to the roses and rip them from the ground. He told me to cut off their heads and put them to the side. Then, when there would be nothing left except a few stray petals and heaps of dirt where the stems used to be, he instructed me to