by S. R. Grey
Even though my responses are vague, I expect my mother to do what she’s always done—start up with her judgments.
But she does nothing of the sort. Instead of saying something cutting or biting, like I half expect her to, she says, “Honey, don’t ever doubt yourself. And don’t let Chase doubt you, either. It sounds to me like he might need you with him more than he realizes.”
I consider her words and mumble a “maybe.”
“Kay,” she continues, “sometimes men underestimate what we, as women, can handle. Chase wants to protect you, sure, and that’s noble, but maybe he needs you to show him what you’re made of. Show him the strong woman I know you are, honey. Show him how your strength can actually strengthen him.”
“He knows I’m strong,” I say softly. “I mean, I think he does.”
“Show him you are,” Mom responds.
“How?” I whisper.
Her answer is simple, but powerful. “Go to him, Kay.”
Sage advice from a woman I thought had given up on me, a woman I almost gave up on myself. I feel elated that I’ve made this call. It was absolutely the right thing to do.
And since I’m ready to keep making the right decisions, I announce, “I am going to go to him. I’ll book a ticket and pack as soon as we finish up here.”
I hear a smile in Mom’s voice as she says, “Then I’d better let you go, sweetie.”
“Okay.”
But before we disconnect, my mother adds, “Be safe, Kay. And if there’s anything you need, anything at all, just call me, okay?”
“I will,” I promise, and then I say, “Oh, and Mom…”
“Yes?”
“Thank you.”
Two hours later, I am on the turnpike, heading out of Ohio and into Pennsylvania. Another twenty minutes and I should be arriving at the airport in Pittsburgh. Surely, my presence will surprise the hell out of Chase. I expect he may resist the idea of me going with him at first, like he did back at the house, but I am not changing my mind. No matter what he says or does. Nope, I am going to Las Vegas with Chase Gartner. I’m booked on the same flight, and I was even able to book the seat next to him.
There’s no going back now.
“Never doubt me,” I whisper to myself as I drive.
It’s what I’d say to Chase if he were here. Because what he doesn’t realize is that danger doesn’t frighten me. I’ve faced a lot, and I’ve come through okay. Maybe a little roughed up sometimes, but I keep going.
Besides, when it comes right down to it, I’d walk into the fires of hell for Chase. I love him that much. Though I don’t think things will come to that.
The situation with Chase’s brother is bound to be resolved. I just hope it’s in a way that everyone comes out safe.
But no matter what happens, one thing is certain: Chase and I are going to overcome this obstacle in the same way we’ve faced everything else—together.
What will happen in Las Vegas with Chase, Kay, Will, and Cassie? Find out in the winter of 2014-2015 (December-January).
The story continues in
Just Let Me Love You
the third book of the Judge Me Not series.
Acknowledgments
Thank you to all the bloggers who support my novels, the readers whom I love dearly, and my family and friends, to which I owe so much.
Thank you also to the individuals involved in preparing this novel for publication. Ashley, Beta Reader A, Beta Reader B, the team at Damonza, and Benjamin. Oh, and a huge thank you to Tom.
On a final note, if you, the reader, like Never Doubt Me, please consider leaving a review on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and/or Goodreads. Small indie authors (like myself) rely on word of mouth to get the word out. Thank you!
Author Bio
S.R. Grey is the bestselling author of Harbour Falls, Willow Point, and Wickingham Way, all novels in the A Harbour Falls Mystery trilogy/series. She is also the author of New Adult/Contemporary Romance novels I Stand Before You and Never Doubt Me, books one and two in the Judge Me Not series.
Ms. Grey resides in western Pennsylvania. She has a Bachelor of Science in Business Administration degree, as well as an MBA. Her background is in business, but her passion lies in writing.
Novels slated for publication in 2014 are a brand new New Adult/Contemporary Romance novel, Inevitable Detour, and Just Let Me Love You (Judge Me Not #3)
When not writing, Ms. Grey can be found reading, traveling, running, or cheering for her hometown sports teams.
Follow S.R.Grey on Twitter for updates and other fun stuff:
https://twitter.com/AuthorSRGrey
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Author page:
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Author Website:
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Read the first chapter of
Harbour Falls…
Chapter 1
Sitting in the idling car in the deserted and rain-drenched parking lot on tiny Cove Beach in Harbour Falls, I absently turned a business card over and over in my hands. Fingertips over smooth, heavy cardstock, with raised, royal-blue printing on one side…
Harbour Falls Realtors
Northern Maine Coastal Properties
Ami Dubois-Hensley
Agent
With an edge of a fingernail free of polish, I traced the outline of the design. It was meant to be a representation of my destination today: a mass of land out there in the churning waters bearing the ominous name of Fade Island. Heavy fogs, quite common in this tucked-away corner of northern Maine, often swallowed up the island—giving the illusion of it “fading” into the sea.
Suddenly the rain intensified without warning. Sheeting off the windshield in thick bands of water, my view of the ink-colored waves crashing along the beach blurred. I leaned forward to turn the wiper control up a notch and caught my refection in the rearview mirror. Wow, this perpetual dampness was really wreaking havoc on my long hair. I smoothed the unruly strands back into place as best as I could and noticed the California sun-kissed highlights, always so evident in my natural honey-brown shade, were already fading. Just like the island in the fog.
I’d only been back a few days, but life as I knew it felt slippery, like it could get away from me if I let my guard down. I adjusted the mirror; uncertainty warred with determination in the hazel eyes—so like my father’s—staring back at me. Questions that had haunted me since I’d first decided to return home washed over me anew. Why had I really come back to Harbour Falls? Just how dangerous could it end up being? Should I turn around and go back…before it turned out to be too late?
But it was too late. A white SUV had just pulled to a stop and parked in the space to the right of my car. Ami Dubois—or rather Ami Dubois-Hensley—opened the driver’s side door. As she began to fumble with one of those oversized golf umbrellas, it was clear, despite her seated position and long raincoat, that she was very pregnant. Guess she and Sean Hensley, friends of mine from the past, had decided it was finally time to start a family. Truthfully, it surprised me they’d waited this long.
Five years had passed since I’d last seen Sean and Ami, having attended their wedding in Harbour Falls. At the time we’d all been twenty-two years old and freshly graduated from college—me from Yale, and Sean and Ami from the University of Maine.
How time flew.
A twinge of sorrow tugged at my heart as I recalled how their wedding was the first major event I’d attended with Julian, a man with whom I ended up spending six years of my life. Of course we’d just been starting out back then. And now it was all over. Back in May we’d decided to go our separate ways. People change over time, sometimes drifting in different directions without ever realizing it. Until it’s too late.
Ami’s sudden rap on my driver’s side window tore me from my ruminations. I yanked at the belt
of the black trench coat I was wearing, tightening it, as the thin material of the wrap dress I wore underneath would offer little respite from the cold and rain.
I opened the car door, and Ami, stepping back, smiled warmly and tilted the umbrella so I could slip underneath it. “Maddy, it’s been too long. God, how have you been?”
“Good,” I replied. “Just trying to adjust to this weather.”
Her pale blue eyes scanned down my form. “Well, you look amazing. I was so excited when Mayor Fitch…uh, I mean, your dad called and said you were moving back.”
Somehow balancing the umbrella in such a way as to keep us dry, she pulled me in for an awkward one-armed hug. Her swollen tummy pressed against my slender frame for a moment, until she drew away.
“It’s great to see you too,” I said. “But I’m not moving back permanently, you know. It’s just for a few months.” To keep the conversation from delving into exactly why I was back for such a specific amount of time, I motioned to her stomach. “Congratulations, by the way. My dad didn’t say anything about—”
“Oh, Maddy, I am so excited,” Ami interrupted. “Only one more month.”
She rubbed her stomach, her hand gliding over the big, clear buttons on her powder-blue raincoat. Standing there—ash-blond hair cascading down her shoulders in big, bouncy curls and a smile as vibrant as ever—Ami radiated happiness.
I’d forgotten how pretty she was, and pregnancy certainly agreed with her. Truly pleased for my once dear friend, I said, “How’s Sean? Thrilled, I bet.”
“Very.”
“Do you know if you’re having a boy or a girl?”
“Um, no.” Ami hesitated and pressed her lips together. She took an inordinate amount of time to adjust the umbrella to block the swirling winds that were starting to kick up all around us, and added flatly, “We’d rather be surprised.”
“Oh,” I said slowly, “OK.”
An awkward silence ensued, and we both watched as a fast-food wrapper of some sort blew by us. It adhered to the trunk of my car, and Ami reached to snatch it up. “Nice car,” she murmured, crumpling the wrapper in her palm and dragging a finger through the beading raindrops. “Sean would love a BMW.”
There was something in her tone, something that made me feel self-conscious. Being a best-selling author of several novels allowed me to enjoy perks, such as my burgundy M6, back in Los Angeles. Flashy sports cars were a dime a dozen in California. But I’d forgotten, the people from this part of my life remembered me best as quiet, unassuming Madeleine Fitch—daughter of beloved and low-key widower, Mayor William V. Fitch.
“Thanks,” I mumbled as I shifted away, shivering as icy raindrops began to pelt the back of my head.
Ami stuffed the crumpled wrapper in her raincoat pocket and said, “Uh, we should start over to the ferry. Jennifer is expecting us by two.” And just like that, everything was back to normal.
Jennifer Weston and her cousin, Brody, owned the only two passenger ferries that operated out of Cove Beach. During the summer, in addition to the usual service, the Westons offered whale-watching excursions, usually for tourists passing through on the much less-traveled route to Canada. Or sometimes folks would venture up from Bar Harbor to explore this quiet little area, since it was relatively close. Not to mention somewhat infamous. But now that we were well into September, there’d be no whale watchers, no curiosity seekers. The ferries would be used strictly as transportation between Harbour Falls and my destination today, Fade Island.
A rocky and rugged landmass, mostly covered in thick, impenetrable forests, the island was located several miles from the mainland. While the eastern half remained untouched wilderness, the western half had seen its share of development over the years. Long ago a tiny fishing village had sprung up near the docks, and several Cotswold-style cottages were built to house the fishermen and their families.
Over time those early settlers dispersed, and the state had the cottages converted into rental properties. When I was growing up in Harbour Falls, it was not uncommon for families to spend at least a part of their summer vacation over on Fade Island. But I’d never been there. Not once. Eventually, as the residents of Harbour Falls expanded their vacation horizons, fewer and fewer people came to the island, and the cottages soon fell into disrepair.
But all that changed a few years back when the state of Maine sold the island to a private party. Almost immediately money poured in. The little fishing town was renovated, giving it a quirky, art deco uplift. The rental cottages were refurbished and made modern but in such a way as to retain their charm.
And a former resident of Harbour Falls—a man named Adam Ward—had a huge home in the style of Frank Lloyd Wright built overlooking the sea on the northern end of the island. Really it was more like a compound, complete with a private dock, a set of garages, even an airfield. It was hard to believe I’d once gone to school with the guy.
I had searched and searched to see if Adam had been the person who’d bought the island. It made sense, with the fancy home and all. But I came up empty-handed. The real estate transaction I culled from public records listed only a limited liability company with a bogus name as the owner. And the bogus name led me back to Harbour Falls Realtors but not to Adam. So the owner wished to remain anonymous. That was fine with me. I was tired of running around in circles.
One thing I knew for certain: Ami, as an agent of Harbour Falls Realtors, handled the business of renting out the cottages to a now-steady stream of wealthy summer vacationers looking for a private retreat. But Ami had no idea, in my case, she was about to rent to someone with a secret reason for wanting to stay on Fade Island.
It wasn’t the peace and solitude touted in the online brochure that I sought. Nor did I have a desire to just hang out in a nicely renovated cottage. Not even that picturesque lighthouse depicted on Ami’s business card, and located on the far southeastern tip of the island, held any appeal. Many a painter and photographer had traveled to the island to capture the image of the tall, imposing structure that harkened back to days past. Positioned at the end of a rocky peninsula and standing sentry in the shadow of a curved shelf of steep, jutting cliffs, the lighthouse was an artist’s dream, even if it was no longer in use. But I wasn’t here for that either.
No, I was much more intrigued by something the brochure failed to mention: the huge, private estate overlooking the sea on the other end of the island. To be more precise, I was intrigued by the sole occupant of that estate, the former Harbour Falls resident, Adam Ward. In fact, I’d purposely chosen the cottage closest to his home as the one I wished to view.
My father told Ami I needed a quiet place to work through a bad case of writer’s block. But that was far from the truth. Only he—and my agent, Katie—knew the real reason behind my wanting to spend these autumn months on a lonely, isolated island. It had everything to do with researching the subject matter for my next book and absolutely nothing to do with some silly, made-up case of writer’s block.
And my research had begun before I’d even arrived. For example, I knew there were only four year-round residents on Fade Island, as it was not the most hospitable place once the summer faded into fall. Heavy rains and storms were common throughout most of the year, but things became particularly treacherous during the winter months.
Snowstorms and loss of power were not uncommon. And there was no reliable way to get off the island, except for the ferry. But the ferry didn’t run when the weather got too crazy. Nothing did, not even the alternative means of transportation—several boats and a corporate jet—that Mr. Ward often employed. During those times Fade Island lived up to its name in another way; it was as if it faded from civilization.
The rain slowed to a fine mist as we approached the ferry, and Ami lowered the umbrella. “So who can I expect to see once we get over there?” I asked and then added, “Like, who lives out there year-round?”
Obviously I was well aware of the identities of the full-time residents. I thought I was b
eing clever, feigning ignorance for Ami’s benefit. The less she knew I knew, the more likely she’d not question my cover story. Right? Maybe not.
I took one look at her face and wished I’d kept my mouth shut. “You don’t know? You’ve never heard?” She eyed me skeptically. “Surely, your father told you.”
I shook my head and looked away. A slender, pale girl with dark hair was messing with some ropes aboard the ferry, so I pretended to be focused on her.
But when I tried to keep on walking, Ami stopped and grabbed my arm. I couldn’t meet her gaze, certain she’d catch on to my deception. “Madeleine! You have to know Adam Ward lives on the island. It’s no secret he moved out there after…” She lowered her voice. “Well, after what happened.”
She was right; it was no secret. Back when Adam lived in Harbour Falls, he had everything, the world at his feet. A brilliant mind, he excelled in all things academic. But software engineering was his specialty. He coded and developed elaborate software systems that had every college and university with a computer engineering program vying for his commitment to study at their institution. And since his academic abilities were rivaled only by his athletic prowess, those schools with a football program offered Adam everything they could without attracting the attention of the NCAA. In the end, though, he gave up football and enrolled at MIT.
All those things were impressive, but what had caught my attention back then were his striking good looks. He was tall and had an amazing body, gorgeous jet-black hair, and stunning blue eyes. Yeah, it had been hard not to notice him. And notice him I did. But, sadly, he never seemed to look my way.
“Maddyyyy! Earth to Maddy.” Ami waved her hand in front of my face.