Chapter 24
Tai wasn’t one to consult Dr. Google about health conditions or treatments. Probably because his mother had spent years sending him articles from various medical sites. Some reputable while others . . . well, not so much.
His cell phone vibrated in his hands, a text coming in. He looked at the top of the screen to the drop-down notification and grunted. Case in point.
Mom
Read this article on ASHMI, an anti-asthma herbal medicine intervention. It’s an herbal combination from Chinese medicine to help improve asthma.
If he scrolled up, he would see similar links from her touting the effectiveness of acupuncture, essential oils, anti-inflammatory diets, and a whole host of other remedies she thought he should try.
It wasn’t that he was against alternative medicine, but there did seem to be a problem when the average Joe who hadn’t even graduated high school thought he knew more than a licensed pulmonologist who had studied, specialized, and devoted their entire professional life to lung health.
He swiped out of the messenger app without clicking on the link, opening instead the previous webpage he’d been looking at.
Alopecia, he read. An autoimmune disorder in which the immune system attacked hair follicles.
Some people experienced balding in spots.
Others, a total loss of hair on their scalp.
And for some, he read on, a complete loss of hair across the entirety of their bodies.
Alopecia universalis was a rare condition, and less than ten percent of people who experienced the disorder ever had their hair grow back.
Tai glanced up from his phone as a few of the questions he’d pondered about Angel fell into place. The reason she wore a wig. Why her skin was smoother and softer than a newborn babe’s, not a hair in sight.
She had an autoimmune disease.
He read on, wanting to know if alopecia caused any other symptoms autoimmune disorders were known for. Did she experience pain, fatigue, or recurring fevers?
He clicked on another article and read some more. The band across his chest lightened. Beyond the loss of hair, it didn’t seem that alopecia came with a host of other symptoms.
There also wasn’t currently a cure.
“Doesn’t matter,” Tai said out loud even though there wasn’t another soul with him at the shop.
He stopped himself from uttering the words it’s just hair because he realized it wasn’t just hair.
So much more was affected by the loss. Self-esteem, confidence, belonging, image, and probably a lot more that he couldn’t even begin to think of.
He put his phone down and picked up a sketchpad and set of charcoal pencils.
His fingers had been itching to draw ever since he’d left the library, his mind going over and over every detail of Evangeline’s face.
The curve of her brow and how it would look without the temporary tattoo’s painted lines.
The radiance of her eyes and the details of the different shades of green in her irises that would shine even without the frame of lashes.
The contours and elegant lines of her head and neck if she were to go without her wig.
He could see it in his mind’s eye, and he had an insatiable need to get the stunning image onto paper.
His phone vibrated again, this time his calendar alerting him that there was ten minutes before his appointment arrived. He needed to make sure his equipment was ready to go.
The front door opened, a familiar voice drifting to the back of the shop. “I can’t believe you’re getting a tattoo, Penelope.”
Just hearing the lilt with which Evangeline spoke caused a reaction in his bloodstream.
Equal parts thrill for the adventure before him and a sense of settling in.
It was like running a river in his kayak for the first time.
He never really knew what lay around the next bend, but he also never felt more alive or that he was where he belonged.
“Oh, don’t get judgmental on me, Evangeline. And don’t pretend you don’t like tattoos. I saw the way you salivated at Tai’s ink back at the library.”
“Shh. He might hear you.”
“So what? I saw the way he looked at you too. What’s the problem?”
“You know what the problem is.”
“Evangeline—”
“Let’s not get into it now. Tai could come out from the back somewhere at any moment.”
Now he’d need to wait a few minutes so the ladies wouldn’t suspect he’d overheard their conversation.
“Oh, wow. Look at these drawings. Do you think Tai’s the artist?”
He pictured them in front of the wall where he’d hung framed pieces he’d done of local history.
A Cherokee chief. A war-battered Confederate soldier.
An eighteenth-century Scots-Irish immigrant.
He’d practiced art in multiple mediums and a variety of styles, but he particularly loved the details and emotions evoked in the human face.
“I’ve never seen any of his work, but I imagine so.”
“You’ve never seen his work? Evangeline, you need to look up his social media account. That man is super talented. It’s why I chose to get my tattoo here instead of from one of the artists in Chattanooga. His realism will take your breath away.”
Tai figured it was as good a time as any to make his presence known. He slipped his hands inside his pants pockets and stepped around the wall separating the reception area from his workstation.
“Evening, ladies.”
Evangeline spun around first, a splash of pink highlighting her cheeks.
“I’m not sure why I didn’t put two and two together earlier,” he said to Penelope.
“I was thinking the same thing. Although, in my defense, your social media accounts are under the shop name and the only photos are of your work. Not a selfie among the lot.”
Tai hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “You want to come on back and we can get started?”
The women trailed him as he did an about-face and made his way back to his workstation. He patted the adjustable black leather chair that he’d set up to lie flat. Penelope had said she’d wanted her tattoo on her hip, so she’d need to lie on her back for the session. “Climb on up.”
While Penelope got situated, Tai dragged a rolling chair from across the room and set it on the opposite side from where he’d be working. “Go ahead and have a seat, Angel.”
“Angel?” Penelope asked, her voice curious and a little shocked.
“A nickname,” Tai supplied.
“I figured as much. Also, very interesting.”
“Not that interesting,” Evangeline argued.
She looked around the shop, eyes wide. There was a pretty good chance this was the first time she’d stepped foot in a tattoo parlor.
She probably had some preconceived notions of what the interior would look like, but by the look on her face, Inked by Design was nothing like she’d expected.
Tai hid his chuckle under his breath and reached for the printout of the design he’d drawn for Penelope’s tattoo. He handed it to her. “Are you still good with the design? Any tweaks you want me to make before we put it on your skin?”
Penelope studied the picture he’d drawn using the design software on his tablet. Liquid pooled in her eyes, and she blinked the emotion away. “It’s perfect.”
“Can I see?” Evangeline held out her hand, curiosity tilting her lips.
Penelope sniffed and handed the paper over.
Evangeline blinked, her features softening. She reached out and squeezed her sister’s hand. “It’s beautiful. Mama would’ve loved it.”
Penelope dabbed at the corner of her eye.
“Our mother loved butterflies. All butterflies, really, but she had a particular fondness for the blue morpho. They’re rare—endangered, actually—and can only be seen in Central and South America.
One day, she was feeling desperately alone—I don’t remember why exactly, but that was never the important part of the story.
Anyway, she was feeling alone and invisible and unloved.
Then she looked up and there it was. A blue morpho butterfly sitting pretty as you please on the cone of a black-eyed Susan.
She said it was like God had spoken to her through that butterfly.
He was telling her that He saw her, that she was never alone, and that she was deeply loved. ”
“That’s beautiful,” Tai whispered. He walked quietly away to prepare the stencil as the sisters gripped each other’s hands. He came back a few minutes later, stencil ready. “Still want it above your right hip bone?”
Penelope lay down on her back. She raised the hem of her shirt, exposing a couple of inches of her midriff.
The band of her pants was elastic, and she tugged it down until the ridge of her hip bone was uncovered.
“Right here.” She pointed to where her skin sloped from her hip toward her bikini line.
Tai prepped the area, then applied the stencil. The ink he’d need was already arranged on his workstation. He pulled on a pair of black medical-grade disposable gloves and picked up his tattoo gun. When he switched the machine on, a buzz filled the air. “Ready?”
Penelope let out a deep breath. “Ready.”
Tai dipped the tops of the needles into the container of black ink. He’d work on the outline and shading before adding color. Pulling Penelope’s skin taut, he began the work of inserting ink into her body.
People reacted differently the first time they felt a line being pulled across their skin. Some screamed a stream of curse words. Some cried. Some shook uncontrollably. Penelope did none of those things. She set her jaw and lay as still as a statue.
“You’re doing great,” Tai encouraged.
“Like the queen you are.” Evangeline beamed at her sister.
Penelope grinned back at Evangeline. “Takes one to know one.” She rolled her head to look at Tai. “Sorry. You probably have no idea what we’re talking about.”
Evangeline blanched. “Penelope, I don’t think—”
“Our father said his daughters would grow up to be queens, so he gave us middle names after great British female monarchs. Mine is Elizabeth, and Evangeline’s is Victoria.”
Tai lifted the tattoo gun, then pinned a look on his Angel. “Evangeline Victoria Kelly.” His grin grew. This was better than any of the names he’d guessed. No wonder she hadn’t wanted to tell him. “Wasn’t Victoria the one madly in love with Prince Albert?”
“You know she was.” Evangeline crossed her arms over her chest and huffed.
Penelope looked between them. “Now I feel like I’m the one out of the loop.”
Tai dipped the machine to gather more ink. “After your sister learned my middle name, she refused to tell me hers.”
“Why wouldn’t you tell him?” Penelope asked. She sucked in a hiss as Tai put the needle back to her skin.
“Does it hurt?” Evangeline stared intently, looking both worried and spellbound.
Penelope threw her a disgruntled look. “It feels like I’m getting stabbed over and over again. Not exactly a day at the spa.” She exhaled through her nose. “But back to the topic at hand. Why wouldn’t you tell him your middle name?”
Evangeline sealed her lips. She turned her head so she was looking at the opposite wall. Finally, her mouth moved, but just barely, and she couldn’t be heard over the vibrations of the tattoo machine.
“What was that?”
She flung her arms out wide in frustration. “I said, he’d read too much into it.”
“My middle name is Albert,” Tai supplied helpfully—and maybe a bit smugly.
Penelope’s mouth formed an O. “You’re Albert.” She pointed at Tai. “And you’re Victoria.” She pointed at her sister.
“No,” Evangeline ground out. “I’m Evangeline, and he’s Tai. They’re just names. They don’t mean anything.”
“She’s playing hard to get,” Tai said to Penelope.
Penelope nodded. “She does that. Especially since—” She cut herself off.
Tai wanted to ask since what, but he knew he wouldn’t get an answer out of either of the sisters. He chose instead to pretend he didn’t hear the beginning of the sentence.
“I’m sure she just didn’t want to encourage me. Although there’s nothing she could do to discourage me.”
Penelope seemed to study him for several long minutes. “Good,” she finally said. “My sister isn’t easily won, but she’s worth the effort.”
Tai pierced Evangeline with his gaze. “I’d go so far as to say that she’s worth everything.”