Jar of Broken Hearts: A Novel

By Lou DeCaro

This is the author’s nineteenth novel. It’s a poignant story about how fragile one’s heart can be when in love. Jar of Broken Hearts will capture the reader’s attention from the very first page.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Aug 25, 2018
• ISBN: 9781984549518

Lou DeCaro

Lou DeCaro is the author of In The Dim Light Of The Day (Xlibris, November 2012), Marshmallow Dreams And Bitter Tangerines (Xlibris, October 2013), Anthony (Xlibris. January 2014), The Blind Eye of Love (Xlibris, October 2014), Once A Widow, Ever A Wife (Xlibris, January 2015), The Champion of Love (Xlibris, April 2015), Forever and a Day (Xlibris, August 2015), The Rose of Cuba (Xlibris, November 2015), The Writer of Lies (Xlibris}, January 2016), The Lonely and the Disabled (Xlibris, March 2016), Like Father, Like Son (Xlibris, July 2016), Maria (Xlibris, October 2016), The Pharaoh Club (Xlibris, January 2017), The Love Armada (Xlibris, May2017), Infirmed (Xlibris, October 2017), The Anger of Love (Xlibris, January 2018), A Moment in Time (Xlibris, March 2018), Johnny Reb's (Xlibris, May 2018), Jar of Broken Hearts (Xlibris, September 2018),Tears from the River of Love (Xlibris, September 2018),and False Love (Xlibris, June 2019).

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

I T WAS ALWAYS more about the chase than the conquest. Women were nothing more than prey to a lot of men. Most men I knew felt they were born to hunt. They believed they were put on this planet to chase their prey and domineer them. First their dominance was physical. Then their dominance became spiritual. Once that happened, there was no way out of the relationship for the woman.

I always believed there were two kinds of women in this world. The first kind allowed a man to physically domineer her. The other wanted a man to be subservient. Despite their major difference, both tended to be control freaks. When I first met Stacy, I couldn’t figure out for the life of me which kind she was. One thing I knew for sure. She was so beautiful, she took my breath away. The first time I met Stacy was in the elevator. It was around 8:30 in the morning. I guess she was on her way to work. She was dressed in a tight pair of slacks that did nothing to hide any of the sinews of her gorgeous body. We told each other our names, then went our separate ways.

I was on the brink of emotional overload. I couldn’t believe how beautiful she was. Her eyes shimmered like diamonds. Her smile was like the rising sun. I couldn’t believe I let her get away without saying more to her. But maybe it was best that I didn’t. I suppose you could scare off a woman by being too aggressive, especially women like Stacy. My initial fear was I had blown a golden opportunity. What were the chances that I would see Stacy in the very near future? The following afternoon, we bumped into each other at the mailbox. The only way I could describe how beautiful she looked was in superlative terms. One look at her and I became instantly excited. I had to practically squeeze my legs together as hard as I could to control myself. But, nothing worked. She had complete control over my senses. Again, nothing she wore could masque the absolutely sensational body she had.

I decided now was the point in time I should make my move. I had to be really careful because the last thing I wanted to do was patronize her. She was far more intelligent than I was, so I had to focus on what she was knowledgeable about and not what knowledge she didn’t possess. I really wanted to develop a meaningful relationship with her, and not wind up in a jar of broken hearts. So I struck up a conversation about the weekend. Right away I realized I had hit the jackpot. Stacy told me she belonged to a prayer group, and was going to attend a Sunday service at 9:30 A.M. Before I could say a word, she asked me if I wanted to attend. Obviously, my answer was yes.

CHAPTER 2

I T WAS NOW Friday. It was last Friday I first met Stacy. She was heading out of the apartment building just as I was heading in. As I walked up to her, I looked right into her eyes. I never saw eyes so beautiful in my entire life. She seemed interested in me as well. I could tell by the way she looked so dumfounded. Then we did something that is rarely done by a man and a woman simultaneously. We both checked out our bodies. I could tell by the innocent look on her face she was interested.

As she began to hurry away she told me her apartment number and told me to stop by whenever I had a chance. Most men would have misunderstood what she was saying. They would have felt she was just saying that to blow me off. But I didn’t feel that way at all. I really believed she meant what she said, but I wasn’t going to just show up unannounced. She certainly deserved more courtesy than that. I would wait for a formal invitation rather than do something presumptuous.

It just so happened that we met each other again by the mailboxes the following day. Before she could say a word, I offered to show her my artwork. I had painted quite a bit in recent years. and accumulated quite a few large oil landscapes, seascapes, and portraits. I couldn’t imagine she wouldn’t be impressed, so I brought her into my apartment. She looked overwhelmed when she walked into my studio.

One of the paintings she particularly liked was the one I called The Birches. It was a 4’x4’ oil on canvas I did when I lived in Florida a couple of years ago. She also liked The Osprey’s Nest. It was a 3’x4’ oil on canvas I did when I lived in Wading River. I had a great space to paint in that house. It was actually a space I had converted over the two-car garage into a bedroom for my father and his companion to sleep in when he spent the summer with me to escape the brutal heat in Florida. She also really liked the one I liked the most. It was called Sunflowers. It was a 16x20 oil on canvas that was unique in the sense that the flower petals on the sunflowers were almost completely transparent. I did this by running the painting under scalding hot water after letting the paint dry for about an hour. That really impressed her. But then turn around was fair game. After she spent a few minutes in my apartment, we went down to her apartment to see her collection.

As I entered her apartment, I couldn’t have been more surprised to see everything so disheveled and out of place. Nothing appeared neat. Everything was scattered all over the apartment. Instead of focusing on her paintings, all she wanted to do was show me her loft.

CHAPTER 3

W HILE I WISHED for the most part that Time would slow down, I must admit I wished it away the following day. I was on the brink of a major meltdown if Sunday didn’t arrive soon enough. I had a lot to consider, especially about any amorous advances. When Stacy brought me down to see her apartment earlier in the week, she showed me her loft. Instead of climbing all the way up the access ladder and actually hopping into it, I just took a brief peek inside. Later that evening I realized I made a tactical error. I should have waited for her to climb all the way in, then pounced on her. How interesting. The prey leads her pursuer into her own space. I realized a few hours later I blew a perfect opportunity to domineer her.

Of course, I doubt very much if that opportunity will ever come again in my life. You’re just not invited into a woman’s private lair every day, decorated or not. Yet that’s not to say that in another world or galaxy far away it couldn’t. Lightning has struck twice for me in the past. But that was water under the bridge. It was now Sunday. My cell phone rang. The original agreement said I would meet Stacy outside the lobby door. We would go for a quick cup of coffee, then head out to the temple by 9:30 A.M. Right after I ended the conversation, I got the distinct feeling something was wrong. I had the feeling she didn’t want me to be anywhere near her apartment. Funny. I thought I heard a man’s voice inside her apartment.

I’m sure she would have denied it if I asked her if a man was in her apartment. If she didn’t deny it, then she probably would have claimed it was her brother or father, or some other male that wouldn’t have been eligible or appropriate to be a sexual partner with. But I wasn’t going to worry about it for the time being. Maybe she rented an apartment with a loft so someone could hide there if necessary. When you thought about it, who would know the difference. Anyway, at precisely 9:00 A.M. my doorbell rang. It was Stacy holding two cups of coffee. Stunningly beautiful as usual, she came in and handed me my coffee. It was light and sweet, just as I had requested.

Stacy started telling me about this prayer group she joined about five years ago. The whole idea of being a member of the group was pretty simple. You had help out with the group’s financial needs and attend its prayer sessions. In return, the leader