THREE RIVERS
A GATEWAY TO LOVE NOVEL
CHLOE T. BARLOW
DEDICATION
To my beloved husband,
You are the hero of my heart, of my life, and of every story that I will ever tell.
To my incredible mother,
You showed me how to live a life full of passion, courage, hope, and fierce resolve. Because of you, I will never regret what I do, only what I do not do.
And, to mi carnalitas,
You are the greatest friends anyone could wish for and you both inspire me every day. Without you, there would be no Althea, Aubrey and Jenna. Orale!
Table of Contents
Title
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Epilogue
Sneak Peak Book Two: City of Champions
Connecting with Chloe
Acknowledgements
Soundtracks
About Chloe T. Barlow
Copyright
PROLOGUE
Althea's teeth chattered around a muffled curse as icy sleet from a late December storm finally defeated the barrier of her coat and sweater, which were pathetically gaping under the weight of her overstuffed backpack.
She fumbled in the dark for her house keys as quickly as her rapidly numbing fingers could manage, desperately trying to ignore the slushy droplets that were charting a tortuous victory lap down the line of her chilled spine. At twenty-four, she had plenty of years of experience lugging textbooks home, but law school supplies had always been a whole new level of back-breaking weight.
After finally opening the door, she collapsed inside, stumbling in the dark over the mail waiting on the floor of the entryway. She released a defeated huff of breath. Even though she had guessed the house would be empty again tonight, the confirmation of that fact still stung. She didn't know what she hated more: that her husband wasn't home, or that after his weeks of unexplained late nights at work, it no longer seemed to surprise her.
Althea tossed her keys onto the coffee table with a grunt and dumped her backpack in a chair. She sighed as her eyes scanned their messy living room. She summoned the energy to busy her hands with picking up the usual exam season mess — coffee cups, tissues and protein bar wrappers.
No wonder you're so tired all the time, she thought. You can't sleep when you're alone, and you keep filling your body with this junk.
A sparkling Christmas tree softly illuminated the room, even as its cheerful lights and ornaments mocked her frustrated loneliness. She'd decorated it herself after waiting night after night for Jack to come home in time to help her. Finally, she'd given up, poured herself a huge glass of eggnog and put up the ornaments they'd collected during their five years together on her own.
He'd apologized for missing it, had held her close and made love to her in the middle of the night, promising that all his crazy work would be over soon and they would spend a quiet, romantic Christmas together admiring the tree she'd so thoughtfully decorated. Jack had made it all better then, just like he always did.
But that had been over a week ago and nothing had changed. If anything, he was gone even more now, staying late in his shabby research assistant's office at Carnegie Mellon University, worrying over God knew what and coming home long after Althea had gone to sleep.
She flipped through the pile of old mail and registered Jack's notation to her on each item, indicating bills he'd paid or issues he'd already addressed. Even as distracted as he was, he still handled every problem that came their way. Usually before she even knew about them. He was a fixer by nature, which was probably why he'd chosen to tinker with robots for a living.
Althea was making her way over to flop onto their couch when she paused to pull her cellphone out of her pocket. She stared at it as if it were an alien life form for several minutes, reflecting on how she had repeatedly attempted to ask what was bothering him. Despite these efforts, with each week he still became more distant and she felt increasingly shy with each of his tender rebuffs of her questions.
She was furious with herself for not even being able to talk successfully to her own husband about what was bothering him. She'd always hated confrontation, but this was ridiculous. If she couldn't even demand the truth from him, how could she ever hope to be an attorney?
She took a deep breath and called him.
"Hello. Tea?" His voice sounded so tired that she couldn't help but cringe.
"Hey baby," Althea cooed softly.
"Did you get home okay, gorgeous?"
"I did, but it's pretty cold and lonely here. When are you coming home?"
"Soon. I need to wrap up some things, but then I'll hurry home and snuggle you senseless."
"Mmm, that sounds amazing. I miss you baby."
"I miss you, too, gorgeous. How'd your final go today?"
"It was fine. A couple tough spots but I feel good about it."
"Still think you can make top of the class at graduation this year?"
"Working on it. I picked up my last two take-home exams."
"Great! Then you can take a break from having to hang out with future lawyers all day."
"Ha ha, you're married to a future lawyer, watch it bud," she said with a small smile.
"Objection withdrawn, counselor. You are most definitely the cute, sweet, sexy exception to the rule."
"You're forgiven. Seriously though, Jack, please tell me what's going on. I'm worried about you. Whatever you're working on seems to really be wearing you thin."
"It's fine, honey. I mean it."
"Jack, I know you want to look out for me, but this isn't like when we were in college and you'd sweet talk a professor into giving me an extension on a project. Whatever is going on is really bothering you...and it's starting to scare me."
"Please gorgeous, don't be scared. Anyway, your timing is perfect. I actually made a breakthrough and I think I'm on the verge of sorting everything out. I just need to check into one more thing tonight and then we can spend all the time in the world together. I promise."
"Are you serious?"
"Totally serious. I mean, I promised, right?"
"Yeah." Her heart felt lighter because when Jack made a promise — it was for real.
"I can't wait to see you later."
"Me neither. I love you, Jack. Bye baby."
"Love you, too. Goodbye gorgeous."
Althea smiled to herself at the idea that all this would be over soon. They'd married young and Althea reminded herself it was natural for couples to hit spots where work and life got in the way of love. She fixed herself a cup of chamomile tea and curled up under an afghan to watch the tail end of The Daily Show while she waited for Jack to come home for some of that snuggling he'd promised her.
Things were finally getting back to normal.
Althea was startled to hear a loud knocking on the door. Did Jack forget his key again?
She opened her blurry eyes and turned them to the cable box.
It’s 2:31 in the mornin
g! What the hell? I must have dozed off big time.
She picked up the remote and groggily turned off the infomercial about a hip-hop aerobics DVD and slowly stood up.
A second round of banging jarred her as she walked to the door and figured Jack must be freezing out there for him to be so noisy at this hour.
When she opened the door she was confused to see two uniformed Pittsburgh police officers instead of her husband's smiling face.
Her heart started to race a little. Nothing good ever came from the police being at your door in the middle of the night. Althea had lived a pretty sheltered life, but even she knew that.
One was much older than the other, with graying hair, a ruddy face and pot belly, but it was his serious gray eyes that caught her attention. The younger one looked to be about Althea's age and wouldn't stop fidgeting and shifting his eyes away from her. His nervousness ate at her, making her stomach drop to the floor and her hands shake a bit as she white-knuckled the front doorjamb.
"Good evening, ma'am. I'm Officer Arndt and this is Officer Shields. Is this the home of Jack Taylor?" the older one asked. His tone was steady but Althea couldn't help but stare at the tiny beads of moisture on his upper lip. It seemed so odd to her that he could be sweating on such a cold night. She was in a sweater and jeans and still shivering.
Officer Arndt kept staring at her until she remembered he'd asked her a question. "Uh, y-yes," she quavered. "I'm his wife."
"Can we come in?"
"What? Um, has something happened? Please just tell me."
They wouldn't say anything, instead they looked at each other and she felt herself step aside to let them in.
"We think you should sit down."
"Uh no, I'm okay." She wrapped her fingers around the bottom of her sweater and glanced around the messy room she'd never finished cleaning up, before looking back at them. "Can I get you two something to drink?" She may be jumping out of her skin with worry but her southern manners just wouldn't quit for even a moment.
"No thank you ma'am," the young Officer Shields said and she turned back to look at him when she could have sworn she heard his voice cracking. It sounded so loud in the room it almost echoed.
"Are you sure you won't sit down?" Officer Arndt quietly asked, throwing a warning glance at his young partner that made her fingers wrap so tightly into her woolen top she was sure it would tear.
Althea felt her head shake from side to side, the movement coming from somewhere else, surely not from her own body. With each quickening breath she felt more nervous, practically hyperventilating, until their shifting glances and uniformed bodies began to turn into unfocused, hazy shapes in front of her.
The uniformed blur on the left, Officer Arndt, said quietly on a deep breath, "Mrs. Taylor, we are so sorry but your husband was in a car accident tonight."
"What?" She released her sweater.
Car accident? Those happen all the time, right? Hopefully he isn't too hurt, she thought. Probably drove home when he was overtired. I need to get my purse. Where are my boots? They were right here.
She started scampering around the room, when she asked over her shoulder, "Oh no, is he okay? Which hospital?" She saw her boots and sighed with relief and went to grab them, but as she felt the leather under her fingers, a horrific realization clicked in her brain.
Althea turned and slowly looked up at the two officers, trying to make out their shapes through tears that seemed to come from nowhere. "Wait, why isn't the hospital calling me? Why are you..."
She looked at the young one and his heartbroken face said it all. It was the first time he'd looked her in the eyes and she was struck by how lovely they were. Almost golden, just like Jack's, but they were red rimmed and his face was so blurry. "Oh my God," she sputtered.
As understanding started to take root in her mind, her knees turned to liquid and the floor began shifting underneath her. The boots slipped from her hand and she heard the impact of them as they clip-clopped onto the floor beside her.
"Ma'am, we are so sorry. Please, let us help you sit down."
Arms reached to her, she saw legs move but they were all so far away, spinning out in front of her. It was so hard to hear their words over the ringing in her ears. It was as though she were underwater and they were trying to shout down to her.
How can everything feel so slow and yet so out of control all at once?
"Oh God, oh God, oh God." Althea lost track of the words coming out of her mouth, her joints felt like rubber, her vision turned to pinpricks. She could no longer see the officers. The only thing she registered was the Christmas tree behind them.
It was lit up like it was on fire, illuminating these two angels of death.
They had descended to her living room to tell her that her life was over, that her chance at happiness was gone, that all her dreams, her hopes, her plans, they had all been for nothing.
Yet, through it all, that damned tree kept blinking at her.
Sounds came in and out of her head. She assumed it was the officers talking, but she couldn't focus on anything but the flickering taunts of that tree.
She reached a hand out for support, but there was nothing there and she stumbled a little. Hands were on her elbows leading her somewhere.
Her mouth formed one word. "Where?"
"We think he was coming home, but it looks like he went off course with all this ice on the roads and went too close to the river. He may have fallen asleep at the wheel." That must be the older one talking. His hands were on her right, rough, calloused, and cool to the touch.
"The river?" she whispered.
"Yes, Mrs. Taylor. The Allegheny. We had divers retrieve his body from the water and found his wallet on him, but we're working to pull the car out now." This was the younger one, his smooth hands clammy with sweat. She turned to him, focusing for one moment as the tall blur said, "We're really sorry Mrs. Taylor, but he was pronounced dead on the scene. We need you to come with us to formally identify the body."
And with that, the Christmas tree and the two blurs disappeared and Althea's whole world went black.
Two Weeks Later
Althea threw the pillow over her head and attempted to fall back asleep. Soon her best friends Aubrey and Jenna would be back. They'd tried to order her out of bed, tell her to go shopping, to go out to eat, to start to breathe again. She knew they meant well with all of their pushing, but she wasn't ready to rejoin the world yet.
Maybe later.
Maybe after everything stopped reminding her of Jack and all he did for her every day.
How much he'd loved her.
How much she'd lost.
How she had nothing left.
The first thing to go had been the Christmas tree. Althea had dispatched Jenna and Aubrey to take down all the decorations the first day they'd arrived. She'd tried but couldn't do it herself. Instead she'd blankly stared at the lights through watery, unfocused eyes, seeing red and white turning to screeching tires and metal until she'd screamed aloud.
After that, they took her practically catatonic body upstairs. She'd been in bed pretty much ever since, except for when she dragged her weary bones to the bathroom to throw up from a nagging stomach flu and when they made her get up to change the sheets.
She vaguely understood she couldn't lay in this bed forever, but for now she needed to hide until the pain in her heart eased, or at least until she didn't feel so exhausted and queasy all the time. She stood up to go to the bathroom as a wave of nausea smacked her yet again. She managed to make it to the bathroom before vomiting, but it was still demoralizing.
Some women could make grief look lovely and romantic. Althea was apparently not one of those women. She wasn't ashamed to admit that she looked bad and smelled worse.
Coming back from the bathroom Althea stared at their empty bed. She pulled her cell phone out of her slightly torn sweatshirt pocket and pulled up Jack's contact for the thousandth time. She'd se
t it to a picture of him from their honeymoon in Paris, looking sexy as sin with his broad shoulders wrapped in a striped sweater and his golden tiger-eyes hidden behind sunglasses. He was sipping champagne at the bar on top of the Pompidou Museum with the sun glinting off his sandy blonde hair.
Althea would have given up all the rest of her years for one more minute of the life in that photo.
She stroked the edge of the phone thinking how gorgeous he was — had been. She pressed so hard that it fell out of her hands, clanging and bouncing on the hardwood floor beneath her, until it finally stilled and Jack's smiling image on the screen faded to black.
A series of sobs broke through from her throat so intensely that her knees buckled. She let her body fall on the bed and curled up into a tight, tiny ball, clutching her empty hand to her chest as it squeezed into itself, holding nothing.
Jack had been the center of her universe for years. Now he was gone and she was thrown completely out of orbit, spinning into nothingness.
She thought of all the memories they wouldn't have a chance to create: growing old together, children, and grandchildren. Everything, it was all lost.
In the times when she would doze off she still imagined, still believed, he would come back. In her restless dreams he would open the door and walk in. Kiss her, make love to her and hold her through the night.
But she always woke up far too quickly and the truth would slam into her again that Jack was gone and she was completely alone — left with nothing but the lingering shadows of a life almost lived.
And it had all been her fault.
What kind of woman can't talk to her own husband? What kind of a woman simply believes him when he says everything will be fine? A failure. That's who. A child that can't take care of herself or her man. That's who. And now it is all too late.
She'd created an elaborate daydream about how she could have done things differently during the last few weeks of Jack's life and it played on an infinite loop in her tormented mind.
In this alternate world, she'd had the nerve to refuse to let him keep blowing off her concerns and she'd realized how tired he was. She'd convinced him to take a cab home, or he called her to pick him up. Anything to keep him from taking that deadly drive home by himself.
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