Bella Notte
A Novel by Jesse Kimmel-Freeman
Bella Notte
Jesse Kimmel-Freeman
Copyright © 2011 Jesse Kimmel-Freeman
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Please do not reproduce any part of this work without expressed permission from the author. For more information, send an email to [email protected].
All characters, places, and events in this novel are fictitious and though may share similarities to any real person, place or event, all similarities are purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
Visit the author's website at http://bellanottethebook.weebly.com.
Table of Contents
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
About the Author
Prologue
The sky was growing dark crimson over the clearing in the forest behind our house as I drifted across the glen toward the edge of the trees. I walked as if I knew exactly what it was I was looking for, and where I was going to find it as well.
A small crackling noise caused me to stop halfway across the field. I turned to look in the direction the sound came from- that's when I saw him.
Those dark green eyes and his dark auburn spikes were so familiar after seeing them for the past fourteen years, that it was always a relief to see him.
He walked towards me, and stopped at my side. The dry winter grass beneath our feet was barely audible as we took a step forward, lacing our fingers together.
The sky was no longer crimson, but had transformed into a deep indigo and a slight breeze had picked up. The hairs on my arms rose as the chill in the air assaulted my body. I moved closer to him out of instinct. His body temperature seemed to be so much higher than mine that just being near him kept me warm, strangely from the inside out. The moon had risen. The color was a frightening shade of blood red and the wind strewn clouds blew across the face of the cratered orb. He held suddenly, very still, as the breeze brought scents from across the clearing. With his eyes closed, he breathed in deeply. Those dark emeralds popped back into view and carried the fear that the grimace on his face displayed.
That's when we heard it- the howl. The sound was terrifying, like a large wolf. Somehow, inside, I knew it wasn't a wolf, at least not in the conventional sense, and that scared me more than anything. My body froze and my mind blanked with fear. I watched his grimace change to a visible snarl and those beautiful green eyes flash a dangerous shade of ruby. The next thing I knew he was pushing me out of the field and into the cover of the trees.
I wanted to plead to him, but no words would form with my dry tongue sticking to every ridge in my mouth. He grabbed hold of me and whispered “run” very softly into my ear- then he was gone. It took me a minute to get over the shock, but then my feet moved as quickly as possible.
I could not escape the sound of his scream as the forest closed its arms around me.
I knew it was a dream, not any dream but the dream. The dream I've had since I was a little girl. Every scene was memorized from beginning to end, and I again knew the sting of the silent tears that cascaded down my hot, flushed cheeks.
Chapter One
I knew that I should probably get up, seeing as the alarm had been merrily buzzing for the last half hour. Everything seemed too bright though and my eyelids were weighed down by the dream … and those damn tears.
Why do I always cry? And who is that guy? I thought about the questions that'd plagued me since three this morning.
The dream normally didn't bother me that bad, but something was different last night- it felt more real. Three and a half hours after the episode, I was still awake and now, out of time too.
Today was the first day of senior year and I was going to be late because of some freaky dream that I've had since I was at least three.
Wonderful, better get outta bed, Em.
I've always loved how my brain talks to me on a first name basis, a clear sign of insanity.
I reached out a ruby polished finger to hit the off button on the alarm. The silence was eerie and reminded me too much of the dream. I pushed the emerald comforter off of me and rolled out of bed. My black cotton pajamas were plastered to my damp skin. God, I look like crap!
What the mirror showed was just a minimal reflection of the way I felt after last night.
The hot shower felt good against my stiff muscles and the questions that clung to my mind were washed away. Having a blank mind was a nice change from the flood of words that had bounced against my brain all night long.
After I dried off, I grabbed my clothes and put them on. I wonder if wearing all black on the first day will put a jinx on the entire year?
My black pleated skirt, black button up, and black combat boots looked fine to me, but to be on the safe side, I changed my shirt for my favorite burgundy tee that said, “Beware, I bite without warning.”
As I read the words over again, a wicked little smile played at the edge of my lips. If only I had this shirt when I was younger. All those upset parents wouldn't have been able to say anything to my parents, they would've been warned.
My laughter was the first sound to break the morning silence. If anyone had been around it probably would've frightened them, but Mom and Dad were in England completing a business deal- nothing new there. Grandmama and Grandpa were playing tennis from six until eight in the morning, which they decided was fine since I was seventeen and they no longer had to make sure I got up for school. It was always amusing having them around more when my parents were off working.
We all lived together in our two-story plantation home. However, my parents were only around for the “important” days and left me in the care of my grandparents. It used to bug me that I was so easily left behind, but now I only get upset because they get to go to all these exotic places while I'm stuck here in this small town that I was born in. I guess you could say that I'm a little jealous.
Our house was beautiful, but far too big for this little town. As I walked down the stairs from the second floor, I realized that even the inside was too lavish and rich for here. We were too rich for here; it made us seem out of place, and odd. Even though we had the money, bought most of my clothes from the local stores- Mom and Grandmama ordered their things from Paris and the like. Sometimes, I felt like it was a little distasteful the way my family allowed themselves to throw their good fortune around.
I grabbed an apple off of the counter and checked my wallet for lunch money. Just enough funds to make sure I don't look like a snob, good.
I never liked to flaunt the fact that I was born into wealth and most of the people in town lived on a tenth of what the interest was from my own savings account. I looked at the clock before stepping out of the side door from the kitchen to the garage. It was seven-thirty. Better take the highway so I'm not late.
My 1994 wrangler was already pulled out of the garage and was facing the road. Thanks Grandpa.
He always seemed to know when I'd be behind sch
edule enough to be in a hurry ... and likely to take out part of the garage in my haste to get my black chrome rear end out.
I wasn't one to buy a new shiny car, but my used one was definitely in a better state than when I purchased it. The paint was new, and so was the green flame detail on the sides. I replaced everything I could for chrome, and added all terrain, all weather tires. I absolutely spoiled myself on my 'baby' ... and I loved it.
The drive was especially pleasant this morning. The trees filtered the bright morning shine into soft shapes against my windshield. It was a nice temperature and the cool air flowing in my window added to the calming atmosphere. The trees were a beautiful honey color and the breeze caused the leaves to look like they were doing an intricate dance. It was absolutely stunning. All the fear and dread that I still carried with me from last night vanished by the time I turned out of our huge gate and onto to the highway. It would only take another fifteen
minutes to get into town, being that I never went less than seventy on the highway and we only lived about seventeen miles away by highway.
I got into town in ten minutes instead of fifteen- I admit I have a lead foot when I'm in a hurry. I never really mind being in a hurry through this town though; it's all too quaint for me.
The post office was a place where Mrs. Wilkins has been working since before I was born, and believe me she knows something scandalous about everyone. The sheriff, Mr. Johnson, really only busts tourists for breaking the speed limits, and I've never seen an arrest here in town. I've never been to church, but they say that the Priest can make you cry for spitting in public, and yes, if you did it, someone saw you. Everyone knows everyone else. All the little shops are run by the locals and everyone says “Hello” to you. It is too boring for me, but I grew up here, so maybe I would like it more if I moved from some huge city that was scary or something.
I drove up to the cluster of plain brown buildings that were just as I had left them- dull. I parked in the student lot, my car usually stuck out like a sore thumb, but today there was a shiny, red sports bike in the lot. Being that I was already running late, I'd have to gawk at it later. Wipe the drool and get to class, you can't be late on the first day!
I closed the door of my little beast and slung my bag over my shoulder. The little bat pin scraped my upper arm, leaving behind a scarlet line of blood. Damn! Oh well, best get going.
I wiped the red beads away with my fingers and walked over to the sad two story building that held all the senior classes.
It was the same dreary brown as the rest of the buildings, but, somehow, it stood apart from its cluster. Maybe the administration thought it was a good idea to separate us from the rest of the student body.
The thick, heavy doors were painted an ugly moss green- one of the school's colors, the other was white. I pulled the huge dungeon-like door open and took one last look at the smallish windows, praying they had grown as I stepped inside.
The hot, stuffy air hit me as I entered the white hallway. My eyes stung at the memory of the fresh, cool morning air on the other side of the door. I had five minutes to get upstairs and find a seat in room 2A, my English class. I only hope that this semester will have some interesting novels to read.
Every year seemed to crawl on with the most mundane amount of rubbish that a human could stand to read. I wanted to read Dracula, Pride and Prejudice, Frankenstein, something, anything of substance. I would even settle for Animal Farm and we could talk of Communism.
My feet dragged slightly as I walked up the rough concrete stairs. The door was open to the room next to ours, which was where I would have to doodle my way through math. GAH, I really hate math, why can't I just have two Art classes?
My feet made a small scuffling sound as I walked to the next room. The rich aroma of fresh brewed coffee wafted down the hall to greet me. Mr. Fitzgerald must be behind schedule this morning.
Arthur Fitzgerald, the English teacher for both the juniors and seniors, was a coffee addict. If a student was greeted with the smell of fresh brewed black gold, then he was behind schedule and probably in a foul mood. Even though the scent meant that Mr. Fitzgerald would not be happy if I was late this morning, it was a nice change from the musty smell of indoors.
I walked into the room and smiled my best grin at Mr. Fitzgerald as I took my seat in the back. It was a small room so all the faces looked up as I crossed their path. I knew everyone, and said hello to them- even though this year wouldn't change my desire to not be associated with any of the cliques here.
Once I reached my little desk and sat down, I glanced around the room. The walls were painted the same humdrum white as the hallway and Mr. Fitzgerald had everything arranged in the same manner as his classroom for the juniors- drab and symmetrical. There was nothing on the walls, except for the clock that was in the back of the room so we couldn't stare at it. The chalk boards were well used and never seemed to get back to their original shade of bright green. Nothing was written on the boards yet so we had to wait until he organized himself.
I looked around at the familiar faces once more, and that's when I noticed the new student.
He was tall, and wasn't really paying any attention to anyone in the class- some of whom seemed to be trying to get his attention. His hair was auburn, and spiked. Odd coincidence, his hair looks like the guy from my dreams.
His skin wasn't pale like mine, but held a nice golden hue to it. It was as though he had existed in his own tropical paradise that gave him the slightest tan in this often overcast place. He was wearing black cargo pants, black combat boots, and a tight scarlet shirt. I couldn't see what it said, if anything, but I could see the definition of his toned upper torso.
“You guys match,” the girl next to me giggled as she noticed the direction of my stare.
“Eh? Oh, I suppose we do, Kelly,” I managed to say with a remembering smile to the little blonde that generally sat further away from me, from fear of my vicious bite. Some wounds heal, but they are not forgotten- like a five year old taking a chomp out of your hand.
“His name is Michael O'Shanold, in case you wanted to know,” she whispered in my direction, “but it doesn't seem like he wants to talk to anyone,” she added with a visible frown.
I wasn't listening to her at this point, because, as soon as she said his name, he turned his head and looked at me. The full intensity of his deep, emerald green eyes were upon me in a second and I was lost to this world. Sucked back into my horrible dream world.
This was different though, I wasn't afraid, and I knew nothing bad would happen at the end- I was simply drawn to him.
It was exactly as every dream started- the cool night air shifted in the trees that surrounded the grass circle, and the huge golden orb hung in the sky. I wasn't standing alone in the clearing this time. He was standing next to me instead of coming for me out of the trees. He was smiling, and although neither of us said anything, it was as though we said a million words of relief. His smile reached his beautiful eyes and I could see the slight freckling across his nose. I smiled at him, and he grabbed me in his arms. I knew at once it was him, and this was where I was supposed to be. The entire experience was so pleasant, I had completely forgotten about my English class and the way these dreams normally end.
I was pulled abruptly out of the daydream and back into the classroom as the kid in front of me, Tommy, shoved a paper on my desk. My mind was working in slow motion. It's him, it's him, it's him!
I looked from his handsome familiar face down to the paper in front of me and finally registered that it was a reading list for the semester.
“Yes!” The word was out of my mouth before my brain could catch up to it. Everyone turned to look at me.
“Is there something you would like to share with the rest of the class, Miss Hutchinson?” Mr. Fitzgerald asked with a curious tilt of his head.
I looked at Michael and realized that he seemed to be staring at me with the same intensity that I had at him, the recognition was clear,
but I wasn't sure why.
“Sorry, Mr. Fitzgerald, I am just excited about this semester's reading list is all, it has some of my favorite classics on it,” I finally managed to say as my cheeks tinted red with blood. Great way to start the semester.
“Well, I appreciate your enthusiasm, but if you wouldn't mind keeping it a little less audible … so I can start this morning's lecture.” He finished with a raised eyebrow.
“Yes, Mr. Fitzgerald, sorry about that,” I replied and slunk further down into my desk.
Michael looked away and was back to doing whatever it was that he was doing before he noticed me, but his ears gave away the smile that was now on his face. I am such an ogre, what was I thinking? Surely he can't be the guy from my dreams, and even if he is- it's not like he knows who I am. Idiot, idiot, idiot!
My mind circled back to this train of thought throughout the entire hour that was filled with Mr. Fitzgerald explaining the importance of knowing the classic works in literature, and why we were reading each one.
By the end of the class my head hurt from coming in and out of his discussion, and from the last question my mind came up with; why did he look like he recognized me?
The bell rang and everyone was out of their seat and crowded toward the only door that would let them have a minute of freedom between their classes. Most of us would be together in our classes- there were only so many ways that they could shuffle around our schedules. So, I slowly gathered up my things, and shoved them into my bag. I didn't want to look over to see if he was still there, or if I'd merely imagined him, so I slung my bag over my shoulder and headed out of the room.
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