The Siren Jewel
Karri Roberts
Copyright © 2021 by Wicked Tales Press, LLC
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof
may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever
without the express written permission of the publisher
except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Printed in the United States of America
First Printing, 2021
ISBN 978-1-7349399-4-1
Wicked Tales Press, LLC
PO Box 503
Newalla, Oklahoma 74857
Cover design by Fantasia Cover Design
Edited by Lawrence Editing
Proofread by Shona McLaren
For all my friends that graciously listened to me talk and cry my way through writing this story.
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Contents
1. Secrets
2. Death
3. Inmate
4. Roomie
5. Offer
6. Memory
7. Bonded
8. Truth
9. Void
10. Stolen
11. Broken
12. Descendants
13. Sorry
14. Lost
15. The Siren Jewel
Coming Soon
Acknowledgments
About the Author
I flipped through the file of yellowed papers, speed reading like my cell phone privileges depended on it, because they did. There was a strict no-kids-in-the-office rule, which my dad enforced religiously. My adoption papers had to be in here somewhere. They were the evidence I needed to ensure he wouldn’t ignore me when I slammed him with the birth mom question.
Last year I found the letter Mom wrote to the judge asking to adopt me. She detailed her experience, not only falling in love with Dad but also with me. I was only three when they met on a little café patio. Their eyes locked and they just knew they were meant to be like some sappy rom-com movie. Her words were emotional gold, and would have been a treasured keepsake—had I known I was adopted. I tore the paper into tiny shreds as soon as I finished reading it, which in hindsight was an epic fail. I made the mistake of not being prepared when I confronted Mom, and that ended worse than anyone could have predicted.
“Ben, do you see Dad?” I asked my little brother. Half-brother. I still had to remind myself of that. We looked so similar. Must be those strong Farrington genes. Ben peeked through the curtain to the front of the house.
“No, Jewels. I know how to be a lookout.” Ben averted his eyes from the window and stared at me. “What are you looking for, anyway?”
“Never mind that and just keep watching for Dad, all right?” I placed the file back in its spot and picked up the next one. As I opened the folder, a crisp edge of paper sliced my finger, sending a jolt of pain up my arm. “Ouch!” I dropped the file, spilling the contents onto the floor. I stuck my finger into my mouth on reflex. The metallic taste of warm blood coated my tongue. Ben ran over and started gathering up the scattered papers at my feet. A car’s engine rumbled from the driveway.
“Jewels! Now he’ll know we were in here. I’ll lose my PlayStation for a month.” Ben’s frantic voice pierced the air as the knob on the front door jiggled. Dad cursed outside and I knew he couldn’t find his key again. He always somehow misplaced it or lost it in a pocket between the car and the door.
“Go. Now. I got this. Get upstairs,” I hissed as I shoved Ben out of the office and stuffed the remaining pages into the file. Ben cleared the top step, making it to the second story as I dropped the folder into the filing cabinet. I made it to the office door as the front door opened.
“Jewels, Ben! Pizza!” Dad shouted. He stared at me as I stood in the office doorway. His eyebrows furrowed the way they always did when he realized I messed up. According to him, I’d messed up a lot in the last year. Dad sighed, setting the pizzas on the entry table. “Jewels. You know the rules. What were you doing in the office?”
“Just trying to steal all your banking information for when I run away to the Caribbean with that guy I met on the internet. I think his name is Matt or Mick. Not sure.” I smirked. He lifted his glasses, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Not good. Mom would have laughed.
“Jewels, give me your phone. You can have it back tomorrow on the way to the lake house. I will also be changing the Wi-Fi password for the night. Stay out of the office.” Dad held out his hand and I slapped my phone into it. “Don’t forget to check your brother’s bag tonight. Make sure he has his toothbrush.” Mrs. McCreaty, the housekeeper, cleared out the bathrooms every winter so we could start with fresh hygiene items every summer. Ben came bounding down the stairs and jumped into Dad’s arms, squeezing him into a tight bear hug.
“Hey, buddy. I brought your favorite. Hawaiian pizza.” Dad held him close and kissed his cheek.
“Thanks, Dad!” Ben slipped from Dad’s arms and grabbed the box of pizzas before running into the living room and launching his body onto the couch. He landed upright, the pizza box in his lap, grinning from ear to ear. “Let’s watch that superhero movie you told me about. What’s it called, Jewels?” Ben’s eyes filled with excitement. Dad took the box from him and placed it on the coffee table. He pulled a slice from it and took a bite, dropping sauce all over his shirt. Mom would have hated that.
“Braywolf. It’s in the recordings on the DVR.” I sat next to Ben as he shoveled pizza into his mouth. Pizza and a movie the night before leaving for the lake house was tradition. Another cozy family moment to add to the memory vault to pull out when I needed a dose of happiness. All of my fondest childhood memories started this way. The only thing missing was Mom.
I tossed my green backpack and leopard print tote into the trunk on top of Ben’s and Dad’s matching blue duffle bags embroidered with their initials. One of the last gifts Mom ever gave them. Ben hopped into the front passenger seat.
“I call shotgun!” He slammed the car door and buckled his seat belt.
“I’m older,” I said, my voice harsh. Ben flinched and glanced up at me with a furrowed brow through the car window. Even I was surprised by the growly tone.
“Car rules. You call shotgun, you get front. Right, Dad?” Ben’s eyes pleaded for his support.
“Yes, buddy. You can have the front until we stop at Sally’s Diner for lunch. Then your sister gets it the rest of the way.” Dad started up the car as I begrudgingly sank into the back seat.
“Dad, phone.” I held my hand out.
“Phone…” Dad said as he tapped his hands on the steering wheel.
“Phone, please.”
He stared at me with the ‘you know better’ look on his face.
“May I have my phone, please?” I asked.
He slipped it from his pocket and handed it to me. I enabled Bluetooth and popped my earbuds in, resting back against the seat as the beat of the music filled my ears. I stared out the window, watching a jogger in a full neon outfit pass by as we pulled from the driveway.
“You’re welcome,” Dad said before turning up the radio. I amped up the music coming from my earbuds to cancel him out.
I drowned myself in the music on the drive we’d made hundreds of times for as long as I could remember. I knew every turn so well I could get there in my sleep. It’d been in the family for generations. Every major event, happy and sad, in my life, happened there. When I broke my arm jumping from the tire swing when I was five. When I taught Ben to swim at age two. My first kiss with Josh Robertson while we were fishing off the dock when I was eleven. That summer I completed my first one-minute, fifteen-second 100-yard freestyle
swim. When I confronted my mom about… well, not being my mom and she subsequently drowned right in front of me.
Yeah, good times.
I pushed the thought aside and tapped open Instagram. I scrolled through pictures of puppies, inspirational quotes, and selfies of people I used to consider friends. Jani and Cari were at their grandparents’ farm. A smiling picture of them with baby piglets made me pause. I clicked the little heart icon. Then unclicked it. Then clicked it again. My throat tightened and my phone started to slip from my sweaty palm. I unclicked it. I hadn’t spoken to them in almost a year. It seemed stalkery to heart their photo now.
I kept scrolling. Cade’s gorgeous face appeared next to Mandi Britan’s, touching cheek to cheek. My stomach rolled. Their grins were so big my cheeks hurt just looking at them. My eyes blurred as I read the caption and saw the word “girlfriend.” I closed Instagram and dropped my cell next to me on the seat. Cade dumped me months ago, but it still stung. I didn’t know what hurt more, Cade having a new girlfriend or me not having a single person I could talk to about it. My battery was about to die, so I pulled out my earbuds and tossed my phone to Ben.
“Plug that in for me, will ya?” I asked.
“Sure,” Ben said as he fumbled with the charger. “Dad, are Mom’s things still at the lake house?”
“Some. Mrs. McCreaty cleared most of it out for us. But she left some of your mom’s more personal items and things I thought we’d want to keep.” Dad’s knuckles went white on the steering wheel.
“It’s going to be weird being there without Mom.” Ben turned his head toward the window and wiped his eyes. “I miss her.”
“Yeah, me too, buddy.” Dad reached over the seat and patted Ben’s leg.
They had to miss her because of me. Because I couldn’t just drop the whole adoption thing. Because I pushed her to talk to me when she wasn’t ready. Because I had us out on the lake during that damn storm. Because despite my years of competitive swimming, I couldn’t save her. My stomach twisted into knots and I shifted in my seat, trying to find a comfortable position. A non-existent position that would ease the gut punch of guilt that washed over me.
“I wish I could see her just one more time. I don’t even remember the last time I saw her.” Ben grabbed Dad’s hand with both of his and held tight. Dad wrapped his big hand around Ben’s tiny ones and squeezed.
“Jewels, do you miss her?” Ben turned to me.
“Of course I fucking miss her. What kind of stupid question is that?” I snapped. Heat rushed to my face as anger flashed through me.
“Watch your mouth, young lady.” Dad’s voice rode the edge of sympathy and anger.
“I just miss Mom. We never talk about her anymore. It’s like she never existed.” Tears streamed down Ben’s cheeks. He pulled his shirt up, covering his face, then his head, like a turtle retreating into its shell. He always did this when he was upset, for as long as I could remember. On the rare occasions he was shirtless, he would bury his face into Mom’s side or cover it with a blanket. It’s like he thought if he didn’t see what was hurting him, it wouldn’t hurt anymore. Maybe I should try that.
“Can we not fucking talk about this! Can we not talk about her!” I screamed. Ben cried harder.
“It’s okay, buddy. It’s all right. We can talk later.” Dad brushed Ben’s hair from his face. “Jewels, I think this would be a good time to put some of Dr. Shay’s recommendations to use.”
I leaned into my seat, pushing myself against the door, regretting having given my phone to Ben to charge. At least if I had it, even if it was dead, I could pretend I didn’t hear the scolding I knew was coming.
Dad made me see Dr. Shay every week since Mom died. She talked about survivor’s guilt, the grieving process, and learning how to trust myself again. It was all bullshit psychobabble. I made the mistake early on of letting her know I knew my mom had adopted me after she married my dad. This led to hours and hours of her trying to use reverse psychology on me to get me to let my dad know the secret was out. Considering how poorly that went with Mom, I wasn’t about to tell my dad.
“It’s normal to miss her. It’s normal to be angry,” Dad said. “You need to learn to process your emotions in a healthy way that doesn’t hurt yourself or others. Lashing out at people is not okay.”
“Yeah, yeah. Just because I don’t want to talk about Mom doesn’t mean I’m not dealing. I’m dealing fine.” I leaned against the window with my face pressed against the glass as I braced myself for him to finish his life lesson speech.
“No, you are not dealing with it. You’re not even acknowledging what the issue is. I wish you’d talk about your problems instead of bottling them up inside. You are so strong, but even the Hoover Dam would burst under enough pressure.” Dad glanced at me in the rearview mirror. I acted like I didn’t see him.
“Can I have my phone?” I held my hand out.
“Talk to me. Talk to Dr. Shay. Talk to Cari or Jani. Just talk to someone. Let someone in. What happened to your mom wasn’t your fault. You cannot keep doing this to yourself.” Dad’s voice trembled as he spoke.
“I get enough of this from Dr. Shay. I don’t need it from you too.” I unbuckled my seat belt and leaned forward, snatching my phone from the charger. I put my earbuds back in and settled into the back seat.
Dad kept his eyes on the road but reached over and pulled on Ben’s shirt. His red face, still covered in tears, emerged with his hair askew, snot stains around his collar. Dad smiled at him and smoothed his hair before patting his cheek. Ben wrapped himself around Dad’s arm, leaning into him, and closed his eyes. Dad glanced at me in the rearview mirror, which I again ignored. A new heavy dose of guilt made its home in my gut and my stomach cramped. My eyes burned as I fought back tears.
It’s easy to talk about moving forward when you’re not the person who caused your own mother to die. It’s easy to talk about trust when you haven’t been lied to the entire eighteen years you’ve been on this damn planet. Streams of tears washed down my face, quietly taking my makeup with them.
Raindrops splattered the window, and the sun dimmed. The darkness invaded the clear blue sky, and a chasm opened in the black clouds, a monster ready to swallow us whole. Suddenly the rain poured, pounding the roof of the car with such force I could hardly hear my music with the volume turned all the way up. Lightning cracked across the sky, a brief light in endless darkness, and thunder roared overhead. Wind whipped around the car, shaking it like a ship on the seas in a hurricane. The road ahead was barely visible as a sheet of rain surrounded the car. I gripped the door handle until my hands went numb.
Dad eyed me, a flash of fear on his face. He always hated storms, but now even more so since Mom died in one. Ben sat up, rubbing his tired eyes.
“I didn’t think it was supposed to rain today,” Ben said.
“It wasn’t,” Dad replied as he stared up at the dark sky.
I glanced out the window as the greenery swooshed by in a blur of chaos. Now and then I spotted a mile marker or billboard, all illegible. Trees bent over in the wind, debris flying across the road, vehicles pulling onto the shoulder or into the grass. This storm was violent and like a rabid animal just released from a cage it wreaked havoc on everything in its path.
The view was blurry and distorted from the water clinging to the windows, like it was begging to be let in. I pressed my palm to the cool glass. Beads of water rushed across the slick surface toward my hand. My heart fluttered and my entire being vibrated as if my soul were on an old wooden roller coaster. A pool of water gathered on the outside of the glass directly across my hand. A rush of adrenaline flooded my body as I questioned the reality of what I was seeing. Chills slithered down my spine. My mind raced, unable to make sense of what my eyes were telling me.
My hand cooled and tingled like I had plunged it into an ice bath. It was so cold it almost burned. I jerked my hand from the glass. The puddle dissipated into droplets that spread across the glass. An ache in my ches
t was accompanied by an urge to touch the glass again. The water swirled on the window, seeming unsure of what it was to do next. It was as if it was part of me; it wanted to be near me; it wanted to touch me. But that’s not a thing. Water wants nothing. Water is water.
A crack of thunder rang out as lightning shot across the sky, impacting the ground directly in front of us. I jumped and snapped my attention to the front of the car. Dad swerved onto the shoulder, avoiding the spot where the lightning hit, but quickly corrected and moved the car into the lane again. The beat of the rain increased, keeping pace with my racing heart. When I looked back at the window, the water was running down the glass in its normal streams.
“Are you okay, Jewels?” Dad asked.
“Yes. No. I hate storms, Dad.” I shivered. “I hate them. It came out of nowhere.”
“Why don’t you put on that meditation mantra playlist Dr. Shay made you? It’ll help calm you till this crazy weather passes. We are almost at the diner.” Dad turned up the speed on the windshield wipers and clicked the hazard lights on.
“I can do that.” I readjusted my earbuds with shaky hands, then sank down into the seat and hit play on the “BS calming crap” playlist. For the first time I actually focused on the mantras playing in my ear. I will stay calm and carry on. This too shall pass. All is well. When I opened my eyes, the rain had slowed to a trickle, and I was no longer shaking. The sun peeked from between the clouds, having forced the ferocious storm to retreat to the depths of darkness from where it came.
The pink Sally’s Diner sign glowed in the distance. The humidity in the air caused a pink halo of light around the sign, making the restaurant even more appealing, almost magically so.
The Siren Jewel: Spellbound Prison Saga Page 1