Seeking Refuge

by Alana Terry

  “I know. And I still don’t know what DiMarco was up to with the text and call Saturday night. He wouldn’t answer my calls. But I figure he knew Greg was coming over here to threaten you, and you’d be scared off. I think he took my probing over our lunch as interest in doing some shady work and that text was to see if I would bite.”

  “But your project . . . ” The pizza sat hard in her stomach. She wasn’t the only one that had suffered because of this mess.

  And she owed Grayson an apology for how she acted. She’d responded out of fear, not faith. “Grayson—”

  He put his finger over her lips. “Shh. I want to say something. Remember last Christmas when we spent all of those services hanging out when we weren’t singing?”

  She nodded.

  “We made a connection there. I got to know you and wanted to know you more. I had planned to ask you out, but I didn’t want to call you out of the blue. Then you were sick and missed a bunch of practices and then I was on vacation. We just kept missing each other. When Bernie said you needed a ride, I jumped at the chance. And he knew I would because he knew I was interested in you.”

  He took both her hands. “Cait, I want you to know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I like you for who you are. You are the most fascinating, complex, determined woman I know. And that doesn’t scare me. It makes me want to know more.”

  Her heart clogged her throat and tears stung her eyes. Why had she ever doubted him? The memories from the past were powerful, but they needed to be put to rest.

  “Grayson, I’m so sor—” Her words were cut off as he claimed her lips. Her hands went around his neck, clinging to him.

  So what if the neighbors could see?

  Epilogue

  Cait wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. Her hair was piled up high to get it off her neck, but she was still hot. The kitchen was steamy with pots of boiling water and strawberry jam cooking on the stove.

  Grayson kissed her neck.

  “Grayson!” She laughed. “Pay attention to the jam. You have to keep stirring it.”

  He went back to his assigned task. “So this is your grandma’s recipe.”

  “Yep. I can’t tell you how many jars I’ve made over the years. But it’s the best. Tastes like fresh strawberries.”

  “I can’t wait to try it. So how did your interview go with Monica West?”

  Grayson had come up with a great idea. Greg Connor was only being charged with vandalism and likely would get off with just a fine. Since everything they had on DiMarco was conjecture, why not beat him to the punch? Monica West was more than willing to do a piece on the state of farming in Orange County and how development threatened it. The paper even printed a map showing the land owners around the farm. DiMarco’s name was quite evident. If anything else happened, he’d have some explaining to do.

  “She’s quite the character. She loved the idea and kept digging and coming up with ideas. I think the best thing we could have done was sic her on DiMarco. He won’t be able to make a move without her knowing it.”

  She dropped the paring knife she had been using to cut strawberries and ran her hands under the faucet. They were faintly pink from all the juice. “How did your client presentation go?”

  “Better than I could have hoped. The new project, revamped without DiMarco, actually makes a lot more sense. I couldn’t see it before when I assumed he had to be in the picture. But with him out of it, it’s a much better situation. Everyone got on board, and we start moving forward next week.”

  Contentment warmed her inside like melted butter.

  As soon as the jam was ready, they poured it into jars, capped them, and set them to boil.

  After they got all the jars filled, boiled, and cooling, they headed out to the front porch with glasses of iced tea.

  She looked around the front porch. “I need some furniture out here. There’s no good place to sit.”

  “We can sit on these lovely front porch steps.” He moved to sit down, and she joined him.

  She grinned. “They are lovely, aren’t they? Like someone spent a few late nights to make them look right and beat the deadline.” She nudged his shoulder.

  He put down his glass. “And I’m willing to go to a lot more trouble for you.” He reached behind and pulled out a small gift bag and handed it to her.

  She raised her eyebrows as she took it.

  “Just look inside.”

  Reaching in, she pulled out tissue paper. As she unwrapped it, a long, fine chain fell out. On the chain was an old fashioned key with PROMISE stamped on it. Next to it hung a small charm in the shape of a hammer.

  “Oh, Grayson. It’s perfect.”

  He took the chain and hung it over her head. “It’s just the first of many. I promise.” He took her face in his hands and kissed her long and deeply.

  Who cared if the neighbors saw?

  From the Author

  ARE YOU CURIOUS ABOUT what happens next?

  What will Greg Connor and Tony DiMarco get up to next? What’s reporter Monica West next investigative piece?

  And what about handsome Detective Kyle Taylor? What’s in store for him?

  Find out by signing up for my latest news and updates at www.jlcrosswhite.com and you’ll get the Hometown Heroes short story, “Never Met a Stranger” as well as the stand-alone contemporary novella, The Inn at Cherry Blossom Lane.

  My bimonthly updates include upcoming books written by me (Scott and Melissa’s story, Special Assignment: Hometown Heroes book 3, will release in summer 2019 and you’ll be the first to know) and other authors you will enjoy, information on all my latest releases, sneak peeks of yet-to-be-released chapters, and exclusive giveaways. Your email address will never be shared, and you can unsubscribe at any time.

  If you enjoyed this book, please consider leaving a review. Reviews can be as simple as “I couldn’t put it down. I can’t wait for the next one” and help raise the author’s visibility and lets other readers find her.

  Missing Destiny

  Traci Wooden-Carlisle

  MISSING DESTINY (A Chandler County Novel)

  SECOND EDITION

  Copyright © 2017 by Traci Wooden-Carlisle

  All rights reserved. The reproduction, transmission or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without written permission. For permission please contact Traci Wooden-Carlisle at tawcarlisle@gmail.com.

  This is a work of fiction. Names characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Scripture references are taken from the King James Version of the Bible.

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to my niece. Without her, this story would not exist.

  To the love of my life, Mr. C, your support, cheering and wonderful cooking skills make writing a pleasure and reality my preference every time.

  Jo and Alexa, thank you for helping me step back and see the forest for the trees.

  Thank you, God for each reader that comes to the end of this book receiving more than just an entertaining read. If this has touched their heart in any way, I thank you for the gift to both of us.

  Chapter 1

  SHE’D WAITED TOO LONG... She’d waited way too long... The words circled around in her mind until they were all she could focus on.

  Shauna placed her hands on the basin. She leaned into her reflection forcing her mind away from the words on the list as the heat in her chest morphed into pain. Puff out one breath, inhale slowly.

  Her hands gripped the sides of the sink harder as she willed her body to obey the instructions of the coping mechanism for her anxiety. Puff out one breath, inhale slowly. She brought her focu
s in tighter so that she looked herself in the eyes. Puff out one breath, inhale slowly. Darn it! It wasn’t working. She saw the flare of desperation in her own glassy, brown eyes as the vice-like grip on her lungs tightened. She couldn’t pass out. Not here. Not like this.

  Puff out one breath. The darkness on the edges of her vision crept in. No, no, no. She wanted to scream. This was too important. Her partner would never forgive her. She gripped harder, locked her elbows, and closed her eyes as her knees loosened. Puff out one breath! She was almost surprised when her body listened. Inhale slowly. She wanted to slump with the relief that flooded her when she took in more air. She repeated the mantra over and over as the vice loosened its grip. She went on to the next in the succession of instructions she’d memorized as a freshman in college, when she’d first developed the extreme form of anxiety. Go away. Still holding tight to the basin with one hand, she fished the wooden box out of her purse along with the pill bottle. She began again. Puff out one breath, inhale slowly. Go away to the place that calms and heals yourself.

  She opened the box and set it on the sink, knowing her hands shook too hard to keep the piece of glass that laid inside, safe. The picture of a hooded man slowly walking outside the gate in front of the conference window flashed through her mind, causing her hands to shake so much that opening the bottle to retrieve two tablets, and getting them in her mouth, was a feat. She inhaled even slower and felt her heart react to the influx of oxygen. She placed the bottle back in her purse and longingly stared at the figurine of a horse snuggled in velvet. After a few more deep breaths, she reached for it and felt the deep relief wash over her on contact.

  Her fingers slid along the deep grooves outlining its mane and closed her eyes. This figurine was seen better with her sense of touch. It had been blown that way on purpose. She opened her eyes and pulled it from its enclosure. Wrapping her hands around it, she was transported back to her childhood.

  She leaned in closer even as she tightened her thighs. She knew they only had a few more meters to fly like this, but she’d take the mare to the very end. The rush of the wind singing in her ears and moving through her fingers that gripped the horse’s mane made her heart sing. Her heartbeat set its rhythm to an unheard tune, and her breath would’ve escaped if she’d opened her mouth even just a little.

  “Shauna?” The sound of her name brought her back to the present. The bathroom came back into focus just in time for her to see Maddison, her colleague and all-around partner in crime coming toward her. The concern clouding her features told Shauna it had taken too long to get herself under control.

  “You okay?”

  She plastered a look of confusion on her face, hoping it would throw off her overly observant friend. “Yeah. Why?”

  She watched as Maddison slowly perused her face. “Because you walked out during the question phase of our presentation and didn’t come back.”

  Shauna turned away from her searching eyes and placed the figurine back in the box and then everything back in her purse. The silence that followed was full of recrimination.

  “I thought you were ready?” Maddison began saying.

  “I was... I am,” Shauna restarted. “I just...” She paused. She didn’t want to think of what had started this bout. Not here. Not now. She squared her shoulders. “Did you finish it?”

  Maddison watched her for a moment. “Yes.”

  “What did they say?”

  “Stoneface Schuster almost cracked a smile,” Maddison said as a slow grin bloomed on her face.

  “Really?” She might get through this day after all.

  Maddison nodded her head. “So, are you going to tell me what happened in there?”

  Some of the exuberance of knowing stickler Dr. Leonard Schuster approved of their presentation dimmed in the light of knowing she’d have to relive the minutes before the telltale signs of her anxiety attack made themselves known. She looked at her watch.

  “How about I tell you over a celebratory cup of coffee?” Shauna asked, trying to keep the pleading out of her voice.

  Maddison tipped her head to the side, and Shauna waited while she studied her. “That bad?”

  “Worse.” It was all Shauna would say in return at the moment.

  Maddison watched her for a moment longer then sighed. “Well then, let’s get that celebratory cup of coffee and you can tell me all about it.”

  Shauna followed her friend out of the women’s restroom, knowing her friend would go ballistic when she told Maddison she’d seen her stalker.

  “Dr. Nathan?” She closed her eyes briefly, trying to block out the stress that raced across her nerves at the voice calling her name, before turning toward the man who was still several feet down the hall.

  She didn’t have enough time to think of a facial expression that would mask her fretfulness so she went for blank. “Dr. Schuster.” She was glad her voice didn’t waver, though it was a little raspy.

  She watched him take in her face and body language as he approached. He stopped abruptly, just short of normal conversational distance. “You don’t look well, Dr. Nathan. Are you ill?” He looked primed to retreat at her answer. Perfect.

  “I think I have a stomach virus. I should be just fine tomorrow.” She knew she should feel bad about playing on his phobia, but she just didn’t have the mental strength to deal with his passive-aggressive tendencies right now.

  “Uh, well...” He inched back. “Since you and Dr. Bayer finished the presentation to the department’s satisfaction...” He took another step back. “I don’t see why you’d need to come in tomorrow. Matter of fact, why don’t you take a few days and make sure you’re fully recovered.”

  Shauna stared at him. She felt guilty about the pretense but was unwilling to take back her words. “Okay. What did you want to talk to me about?”

  He looked perplexed. “When?”

  Shauna resisted the urge to glance at Maddison for her reaction. “When you called me from down the hall just now.” She gestured to where he’d come from.

  His eyes followed her hand then turned back. “Oh, yes.” He rolled his narrow shoulders back, which made it look as though his whole body shuddered under his tan, tweed jacket.

  “I wanted to suggest we go over the parts you missed in the presentation and how it could be more thorough in the future.” Her ire flared up at his words.

  She’d worked tirelessly on the proposal for Synamic’s Emergency Energy Systems' department heads with Maddison. They’d spent at least a dozen hours after normal shift hours trying to go over every aspect of the plant’s propulsion system. Discussing how the energy could be shared with the new labs to bypass the main generator during storms since the energy pull, was much more significant than originally estimated. It wouldn’t only ensure one-hundred-percent usage in the event of storms, but cut energy costs.

  “I’m not saying it wasn’t a satisfactory job, just that some of the questions asked afterward could’ve been covered in the presentation. Either way, I could see the board’s approval on their faces. I’m sure we extended the budget for our department by proving the usefulness of our research. You can rest easy. Both of you have ensured your employment for at least another three years.” He gave her a smarmy, placating smile.

  Shauna was more disgusted than appeased. He was always trying to throw his weight around. She guessed he’d not yet been informed that both she and Maddison were up for promotions. She held back the smile but visibly relaxed her shoulders to make it look as though his explanation did its intended job. She was happy Human Resources did all of the real hiring and firing, otherwise he would be more of a tyrant to work with.

  “Anyway,” he went on when she gave no further response, “since you aren’t well, we can reschedule it for a later date.”

  She nodded. “Dr. Bayer and I will go over our schedules and make it our first priority when I get back.”

  Dr. Schuster turned to Maddison as if he’d forgotten she was there. His already thin lips press
ed together to form a small line between his nose and pointy chin. “Yes. I look forward to your email. Good day.” He nodded his head and made a hasty retreat.

  “Nice job. I couldn’t have done better myself,” Maddison whispered once he was well out of earshot.

  Shauna quirked her lips as she looked up at her friend. Maddison was at least four inches taller than she in the high-heeled boots she wore for their presentation. She sometimes envied the woman for her confidence in her height, which topped six feet, barefoot. Shauna wasn’t too far behind with her own five-foot-ten-inch frame, but she often chose to lessen the effect rather than enhance it.

  As she thought about it, she considered that Dr. Schuster’s obvious disdain for Maddison could stem from the fact that the woman was at least an inch taller than his own lanky, five-foot-eleven-inch frame: in her heels, it was four or more. He always found a way to angle Shauna between them. It would’ve been amusing if he wasn’t such a bully. She actually couldn’t blame Dr. Schuster for being intimidated by Maddison. Many men were.

  He wasn’t a bad-looking man if one liked the John Glover type who had a penchant for Harris tweed and khakis. Someone needed to let him know that nerds could be choosy these days. Intelligence came in all shapes, sizes, and ethnicities. It even came in mocha-colored, ebony-haired beauties with razor wit and higher IQs than most people’s weekly food budgets—named Maddison and Shauna.

  They turned and continued down the hall. “What’s with him and those sports jackets with the leather at the elbow? I’m always tempted to look around for his horse.” The statement pulled a surprised giggle from Shauna. She looked around to make sure all the doors off the hall were closed.

  “And what was that condescending mess about us ensuring our employment here? Maddison sucked her teeth and shook her head. “Someone needs to save me from these short men with Napoleon complexes.”

  Shauna looked at her friend sideways. “He isn’t short, he’s taller than average height for a man.