“I always believed in destiny, but I never thought I’d find my Destiny by chance. I love you, Destiny, and I want to spend the rest of my life getting to know you and making new memories. Showing you just how much you mean to me.” He looked to Sydney and back to Destiny and smiled. “To us.”
Tears rolled down her cheeks as she sniffed again. She nodded her head.
“Yes!” Sydney screamed as she jumped into her dad’s arms, knocking him over.
They all laughed as he crawled back up and stood beside Destiny. He took her hands in his and pulled her to him, kissing her gently. When they parted, she lowered her head, and he kissed the tip of her nose. Sydney wriggled her way between them, and they included her in the hug.
“We have a breakfast to cook,” Bill said, dragging them into the kitchen.
Three hours later, when it was ready to serve, Sydney took a wooden spoon and a pot and banged on its bottom, walking up and down the stairwell, noisily announcing it was time to eat. Slowly, everyone woke and reluctantly left their warm beds in their complimentary bedrooms, yawning and stretching, still in pajamas, making their way downstairs.
“Merry Christmas!” Sydney said to each one as they arrived at the bottom step.
“Merry Christmas,” they each said in return, some followed by hugs or pats on Sydney’s head.
They arrived to a feast of fried ham, biscuits and gravy, German fried potatoes, scrambled eggs and fresh fruit. They all sat down in front of place cards that Sydney had personally created for each of them. Destiny poured each guest their choice of milk, juice or coffee before handing Lisa a teabag for her small teapot of hot water.
Bill looked around the table as he sat. Without a word, he held out his hands to Destiny and to Sydney, who sat on either side of him until everyone was holding hands. He had to catch himself from the emotions he was feeling, but he mouthed a beautiful prayer, thanking God for the blessings of those seated around him.
Destiny looked around the table and smiled. As she slowly closed her eyes, for the first time in a really long time, she thanked God for the good and the bad. For it had all brought her to where she was now. And she knew now, that all the times she was alone, that He had never actually left her at all.
And for the first time in a really, really long time, she had peace.
Epilogue
It was a coming together of family and friends, with food and fellowship for all. There were bounce houses and games and stages for bands who had donated their time for the benefit. There were tears and triumphs. It was an incredible celebration of life, and everyone was invited.
It was the fourth time Destiny had been to California since the accident, seven years ago. And the fear that once kept her away was no longer there. The desire to simply stay away was gone. They drove through the city in a rented mini-van, since they were now a family of five. Bill knew the streets well, as this was now their fourth trip to the OneLegacy event. Every March since the year after they were married, they traveled here, incorporating visits to the parks and the sites into what was meant for something else.
When they arrived at their destination, Bill turned to her, took her hand and smiled. “Ready?”
Destiny smiled in return and slid from her seat, before moving to the back side of the mini-van, to unstrap her two-year-old son. “William Rhett Ireland,” she said, shaking her head; Cheerios, and cookies all over his face, his body, and his car seat. “You’re a mess.” Destiny brushed off what she could from his front, and strategically she straddled him across her hip.
Sydney emerged from the back, bringing with her two small backpacks, one for each of her siblings, to carry for the short hike to the location of the actual ceremony. Sydney stood at Destiny’s side, now almost as tall as her step-mother, and still growing. Her features were softer now, and to her father’s dismay, she wore, albeit light, makeup. Her hair even had a streak of red in it, thanks to her Auntie Lisa, as she now called her. Sydney reached over and brushed the Cheerios from her brother’s bottom and back. She tickled him, and he wriggled in Destiny’s arms.
Bill unleashed his four-year-old daughter from the other car seat, her mass of dark curls tickling his nose. He tried to find a comfortable position in which to hold her, but found it difficult, as she hadn’t stopped wriggling since he had picked her up. She reached up and held his face in between her small hands and pulled it to her so that she could give him Eskimo kisses. “I wuv you, Daddy,” she beamed.
“I wuv you, too, Sweetie,” he said, balancing her as she danced in his arms while he tried to close the door.
They walked as a family to the ceremony site, greeting people they recognized along the way. Michelle, one of the volunteers they remembered from past visits, welcomed them by the stage, hugging each of them as they arrived.
“There’s someone I think you should meet.” Michelle motioned for them to come with her.
Destiny nudged Bill with her shoulder, since her arms were otherwise occupied, and the whole family began to follow her. There was a small crowd of families close to a bounce house that was filled with young children. Isabelle wriggled with excitement in her father’s arms until he set her on the ground. He glanced at Sydney, who rolled her eyes, then followed her little sister who was headed straight for the bounce houses.
Michele walked up to a young red-headed girl and tapped her on the shoulder. “Evelyn. Here’s the lady that you wanted to meet.”
The young freckled-faced girl turned and smiled. “Are you the lady who wrote me?” she asked, looking into Destiny’s eyes.
Destiny felt her body go limp, but somehow she managed to stay standing. She turned to Bill and then handed their son to him before turning back to the young girl. She had to be close to Sydney’s age. Tentatively Destiny approached her.
The girl held out her hand. “I’m Evelyn.”
“Destiny,” she murmured, taking Evelyn’s hand.
“You wrote me about your son’s donation.” Evelyn was soft-spoken, almost whispering. “I got his heart.”
Destiny’s eyes filled with tears as she stepped closer. She slowly reached her hands out again and Evelyn placed hers in them. “Can I—,” she asked, her voice breaking. “Can I hug you?”
Evelyn’s eyes filled with tears. “I actually was hoping I could hug you.” She stepped toward her quickly and then wrapped herself around Destiny.
Within moments, all eyes around them were filled with tears as they watched the emotional meeting.
Destiny held Evelyn tightly as the young girl cried softly against her chest. “Thank you,” she kept saying again and again. She held Evelyn carefully, rocking her gently. “No, thank you!” she cried.
And for a brief second in time, a glimpse of a moment, a breath of her life, she held her son in her arms again, felt his heart beating against hers once more.
And all was right with the world.
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An Important Note about Sexual Assault
If you are struggling with the trauma of sexual assault or know someone who is or has, I pray that you will remember Deuteronomy 31:8: “He will never leave you or forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged.”
I know that I in no way can even begin to convey the ho
rror of rape and sexual assault. I pray that if even one person is touched by Destiny’s story and her courage, then I have made a difference.
If you are a victim, please speak up… if not for yourself, for the next victim. Courage comes in many forms… may you find the courage you need to stand up to your abuser…
ALWAYS report rape and sexual assault… there is ALWAYS a safe place to go.
Call: 911 or 877-995-5247 from anywhere in the United States
https://www.safehelpline.org/about-rainn
Things that just can’t go without saying…
Thanks Armando Villareal for self-defense lessons for Destiny when she needed them.
To Dana Nelson, Assistant District Attorney for Travis County. Thanks for your time and your patience with all my questions. It helped to make my story more real and more true to life. (I hope!)
Rhett Curtis Hering is the real name of a beautiful young man whose life was cut too short in a tragic accident December 28, 2015. His mother is one of my Facebook friends, and it was through her heartfelt story of loss and the incredible memories that she shared on Facebook that I got to know her and her son. It seemed so very appropriate that Destiny’s son’s name was changed in memory of her precious son. Lorna, I can’t imagine your pain. I pray that God gives you and your family some semblance of peace in small and big ways, every day.
The young girl who received Rhett’s heart is named after our Grandma, Evelyn Whited.
Oh, and as a side note, Lisa, was in part fashioned after my sister, Tommie. She’s strong and sassy and definitely eclectic. And as a tribute to my sis, whose natural hair color I haven’t seen in twenty-five years, she has multi-colored hair!
The full name of the main character Bill is William Bryan Ireland; a combination of a great, great grandfather’s name on my mother’s side, and a shout out to my husband, Bryan.
Bryan, I love you… thanks for hanging in there again! Now let’s go write the next New York Times bestseller!
Acknowledgements
First and foremost, I must thank Kat Adair, who has not only been the force in creating my website, my newsletters, laying out all the e-books and paperbacks. She’s been an amazing inspiration. She’s incredibly talented, AND amazingly patient. Not only am I not always (or should I say, ever,) the most technically savvy, (how many times did you have to run my computer by remote because I messed something up?), but she has an incredible eye for mistakes. Even after I, my editors, my husband, the grandkids, the dog, everyone has seen the manuscript, she can be formatting and glance at a page and find a mistake. When I’m ready to put the works out that you are reading, she’s going above and beyond to assure that everything is perfect, to assure that it’s professionally done, so that I shine. But she’s the one who shines. She’s incredibly talented and I’m lucky to have her. (So are you, Bobby.) She’s been a great blessing and an even better friend. Love and appreciate you, Kat…
Secondly, I must thank, Bobby, Kat’s other half, who has been a true force and a great friend in helping—first in pushing me, then encouraging me, then supporting me as I pursue my dreams of being a published author. Not only has he missed his own deadlines, to see that I hit a target date, but he’s given up endless hours coaching me on marketing. Not to mention giving up his better half to work on my novels, putting himself second. You have been incredibly selfless in this, and I can’t begin to repay you for your sacrifices and your encouragement. I have the utmost respect for you and for your talent as a writer. You are a true friend and I love ya (Points in heaven, my man… points in heaven!)
I especially want to thank my editors, Marcia and Cathy. Cathy and Marcia came on-board, on Letters from Becca and I feel my books are cleaner and stronger because of their keen eye. You are both very talented, and I appreciate you beyond measure.
Alex, you have been amazingly patient when working on my graphic art. You are a dream! I can talk you through what I want and you meet my vision every time, taking bits and pieces of pictures and ideas and actually creating art for my books! You are so talented, and I appreciate you more than words can express!
Letters from Becca excerpt
Prologue
July 5, 1948
The soft hues of the morning embraced the two small children as they played on the rocky banks of the Pedernales River. The small girl, her white dress tattered and yellowed with time, cautiously slid her feet across the massive smooth stone in the cool water. The young boy, his faded blue oversized overalls rolled up unevenly to his knees, walked quickly over the smaller stones in the falls just a foot below where she attempted her crossing. It was a race to see who could get across first. A small mixed-breed pup whimpered and bounced on the banks, unsure of the bubbling water running past.
The young girl, seeing the boy was ahead, quickened the pace, her tiny feet splashing as she ran the rest of the way. He met the challenge, rushing faster to find sure footing in the clear water.
“C’mon Taffy,” he called over his shoulder. The puppy bravely jumped in and scampered behind him, scattering minnows and tadpoles in every direction.
The young girl had arrived just moments before him, perching on the stony banks on the opposite side. The rock escarpment was still cool, not yet warmed by the day’s sun. The young boy jumped his last step to the stone just below the ledge on which she stood. He looked up to her and smiled.
“You win this time, Becca,” he said, leaving the challenge hanging in the air for their trip back. He picked up a stone and chucked it into the flowing waters as Taffy shook the water from his ragged coat.
Becca brushed back her matted, golden trusses. She was a year younger than him, and almost six inches shorter. Her momma told her she was born too early and was a miracle in these parts, seeing as there was only one doctor within thirty miles, and he arrived five minutes after she had pushed her out. Her momma told her she’d always be small and that she was lucky to be alive. Becca looked at him and smiled triumphantly. “You can’t beat me, John. I’m too fast!”
“What are you looking so smug about?” he asked her.
“You’re bigger than me, and you can’t even keep up,” she retorted proudly.
“Hrrmmpphh,” he growled and climbed the small ledge to where Becca stood.
“You’re awful sassy for being so little,” he chided.
She smiled at him. He nudged her with his shoulder as a smile crept onto his lips. Taffy jumped up, pawing at his pant leg, whimpering and whining to be picked up.
The wind blew silently around them until it reached the trees just beyond the rocks, making itself known in the rustling of the leaves dried from the three-month drought. But the wind carried another sound, and the children stopped suddenly and turned to each other. It was a terrifyingly familiar sound. They both raced back across the river, not caring who arrived first, the puppy splashing on their heels. They raced toward the old weatherworn house on a small hill but stopped suddenly beside, then stepped behind, a set of massive hundred-year-old oak trees that obscured their view.
John peeked around the corner, then turned back, out of breath. “Stay here,” he instructed.
Becca nodded, kneeling beside him.
The louder his father yelled, the more intense the crying became. John turned to Becca, but only for a moment. Her hands flew to her ears as she hugged herself tighter into a ball, crouched against the grooved wood of the ancient oaks. He turned away, resolute, then took a deep breath and ran the last twenty feet to the window. He ducked beside the house, its paint peeling and flaking under his fingertips as he cautiously touched the green sill. He carefully peered in. The warm wind blew the sheer curtains through the open window, reminding him of his mother’s laundry drying on the line out back. Had the wind been blowing the other direction, John would have smelled his father’s approach.
He ducked out of sight as the tall, unshaven man stood just feet away, his sharp tongue attacking the waif of a woman he dragged with him. She, like her daughter, wore cl
othes that were at least two sizes too big. She cringed before him, her shoulders stooped in defeat under his barrage of obscenities. John cringed as his father struck her, flat-palmed in the face, sending her flying to the floor. John’s fists slowly clenched in anger. How many times had he felt that same wrath, the same unprovoked rage? He called her a ‘lazy cow,’ among other things, belittling her repeatedly. He pulled her up by the arm just to slap her again, letting her go so she would receive the full impact of the fall.
John gasped out loud, causing his father to turn his direction. John, realizing his mistake, put himself flat against the wall. The man slowly walked toward the window; John’s only saving grace the large table inside by the window that prevented his father from seeing him.
“Is that you, Johnny?” came the frighteningly familiar voice. “You come on in here, boy,” he said angrily, looking both directions, but not seeing anything from his vantage point.
John heard his father walking across the wooden floor, the sound mixed with the sobs of the beaten woman. He ran as fast as possible to the tree, then wrapped himself around Becca. They huddled behind the oaks, hoping the three towering trees that had grown from one trunk were enough to hide their presence. They heard hinge springs squeal from stretching and then the screen door slam shut on the front porch. Becca stayed silent and immobile under his body.
“Where are you, Johnny?” the man called out, slurring his words.
“Be quiet,” John whispered. “He can’t see us here.”
“Johnny, you’d better be doin’ your chores, boy,” he ranted. “You’d better be doin’ your chores,” he repeated, more to himself, wiping the sweat from his brow. After looking around for almost a minute and satisfied that he had been mistaken, he walked back to the door and swung it open so hard it hit the front porch window sill before slamming shut behind him. John felt Becca sobbing beneath him, her small body trembling with fear. He moved to peek around the tree, but Becca grabbed his arm and pulled him tighter to her.
Destiny by chance: A Contemporary Romance Fiction Novel Page 33