by S. L. Scott
Table of Contents
Part I
Copyright
Dedication
Ben Edwards
Jane Parker
Grace Stevens
Until I Met You
Jude Boehler
On A Personal Note
About the Author
Also by S.L. SCOTT
Missing Grace
S.L. SCOTT
S.L. Scott
Contents
Copyright
Dedication
1. Ben Edwards
2. Ben Edwards
3. Ben Edwards
4. Ben Edwards
5. Ben Edwards
6. Jane Parker
7. Jane Parker
8. Ben Edwards
9. Jane Parker
10. Ben Edwards
11. Jane Parker
12. Ben Edwards
13. Ben Edwards
14. Jane Parker
15. Jane Parker
16. Ben Edwards
17. Jane Parker
18. Grace Stevens
19. Grace Stevens
20. Grace Stevens
21. Ben Edwards
22. Ben Edwards
23. Grace Stevens
24. Ben Edwards
25. Ben Edwards
26. Ben Edwards
27. Grace Stevens
28. Ben Edwards
29. Ben Edwards
30. Ben Edwards
31. Grace Stevens
32. Ben Edwards
33. Ben Edwards
34. Grace Stevens
Until I Met You
1. Jude Boehler
On A Personal Note
About the Author
Also by S.L. SCOTT
Copyright © 2017 by S.L. SCOTT
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Cover Design: Mr. Scott
Cover Image: Samuel Ramirez
Cover Model: Charlie Matthews
Editing:
Karen Lawson, The Proof is in the Reading
Marion Archer, Making Manuscripts
Marla Esposito, Proofing Style
ISBN: 978-1-940071-47-3
To those who dream big, love hard, and always find the sunshine through the clouds.
1
Ben Edwards
He remembered, almost like it was yesterday. It wasn’t, but he relived every second of that morning like it was, hoping to find the one clue he missed . . .
She opened the door, but stopped before leaving. Large tears clouded the beautiful hazel eyes he could describe from memory. Every color reflected a different emotion, and he loved that he could read her so clearly. This morning the colors were blurred like their emotions. “I’ve got to go or I’ll miss my flight.” Her tone was remorseful and hurt, and he hated it. “Are you really going to let me leave like this, Ben?” A little stupid and a lot hurt, he didn’t reply. “We’ll talk later. I love you.”
Like his attention, he withheld something he had always given her so freely, dead set on proving a point to her. He felt weak under the weight of the argument they just had. She would hear how wounded he was if he spoke, as the sound of his heart breaking would be evident in his voice.
He couldn’t have that.
Ben had never demanded it be this year or even the next. He just wanted their relationship to be a priority in her life again. It was the promotion this year, but another opportunity would come the next, and where would that leave them? He had always been supportive. He wanted nothing more than for her to have the success she’d worked so hard for, but at what price?
The life they had planned together?
Him?
This time he would hold strong and remain silent. He would let her walk out without telling her how much he loved her and watch her go to the cab. Her shoulder-length chestnut-colored hair moved over her neck when she turned and looked up. The smile was faint, but he caught it.
Guilt settled in the longer he stood there, long past when the taxi had pulled away from the curb. It wouldn’t change anything if he went to work, but he went anyway.
By the time he sat down at his desk to start on a new building design in Loyal Heights, he couldn’t take it. It was only an argument. That’s all. There had been others, and they had always resolved and recovered in the past. He was being hardheaded and could admit it, so he got online and ordered flowers. He wanted them waiting in her hotel room when she walked in. He wanted her to know he was sorry. She often said they had forever, and she was right. It was dumb to fight over something they had a lifetime to figure out.
They were getting married in a month. That was the continuance of the forever they already shared. She’d have the flowers for the three days they’d be apart and then he would shower her with more when she got home. She deserved it. He’d make it up to her so she felt cherished and heard. God, he missed her already.
Four hours passed.
Four hours. She didn’t call when she landed, so he called her instead and left a message. “I was an ass. I’m sorry. I love you. Call me.”
Four hours and fifteen minutes.
There was no use in trying to work. He couldn’t focus on the blueprint in front of him, so he called again and left another message. “I’m sorry. Call me.”
Five hours.
“Hey, just checking on you. I thought you were going to Chicago, but maybe I’ve got an old schedule. Call me as soon as you land.”
Five hours and thirty minutes.
“Call me. I’m starting to worry.” He had been worried, but he didn’t want to sound like a psycho for worrying too soon.
Six hours.
A bad feeling sank from his heart into the pit of his stomach. Sitting at his laptop, he looked up the schedule she sent last week in an email. Locating today’s date, he said, “Chicago,” confirming what he thought. Plugging her flight number into the airline site, there were no delays listed. The plane, in fact, had landed on time. Landed on time, three words that echoed through his mind.
She should have landed.
She should have turned her phone on.
She should have called by now.
None of those things had occurred.
Obtaining the hotel’s number from the email, he called.
“No, sir, she hasn’t checked in.”
The verification crushed his hope. A few excuses of consolation came—traffic was bad today with the rain and worsening conditions—but they didn’t comfort him. “We’ll give her this message when she arrives.”
Ben felt ill. Something was wrong. He knew it, felt it deep down. He needed to hear her voice . . . to know she was okay.
That opportunity never came.
She never called Ben.
Her cell phone was never turned back on.
She never checked in to her hotel room.
She never arrived to her business meetings.
Her family and best friend never heard from her again.
Grace was gone, and Ben was left to exist in what remained of their life.
She’d disappeared into thin air.
Vanished . . .
2
Ben Edwards
Grace was gone and Ben became a shell of the man he used to be.
Looking . . .
He kept his phone by his side twenty-four/seven.
No one received a letter.
The local post office requested he leave more than once.
No one found out what happened.
He never found the peace associated with acceptance. After
being told to sit tight for the most painful forty-eight hours of his life, he couldn’t wait any longer and went to Chicago. He refused to give her up without a full-fledged fight. There was no way she disappeared without any witnesses. He would find them. If it took years, he would find her. Ben filed a missing person report as soon as he landed. He prayed she was alive. Praying was something he didn’t do much, but he did then.
He doesn’t anymore.
That went to the wayside along with hope over the course of three years. Grief didn’t strike once. It devastated your heart and your hope over and over again, beating it down until nothing remained of it. Not even yourself.
Ben spent days in the waiting room of every hospital in Chicago as nurses searched their records. He was told the same thing as if on repeat, “I’m sorry, sir. There are no records of a Grace Elizabeth Stevens having ever been admitted.” No records of a Jane Doe. Nothing. The phrase was always followed by a sympathetic smile.
Chicago Memorial was the last hospital he visited. He was exhausted from the tireless searching, weary from the lack of sleep, and emotionally broken by that point. By the end of the first week of her disappearance, the cops told him to consider the options, options he denied in his mind.
Nope, he would not consider them. It didn’t matter that the police were investigating him as a suspect, or that they asked about their home life as if it was anything less than everything he dreamed it had been. “Mr. Edwards, have you considered that she left on her own accord and doesn’t wish to be found?”
“She wouldn’t leave me.”
“But she migh—”
“No. We’re getting married in a month.”
“Are you sure?” the officer asked carefully while studying Ben.
His eyes flashed to the officer’s. “This isn’t in my head. We had a good life.” Ben closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. When he looked up, he said, “We have a life. Even if she wanted to leave me, Grace wouldn’t leave her family. They were very close. There’s no way she could do this without Emily knowing.”
“Who is Emily?”
“My sister, and Grace’s best friend. We grew up together.”
“Ah. Okay. Look, Mr. Edwards. I know this is hard, but I have to be honest. Most of these cases . . . the signs were there, but we’re too blind to see them. Maybe she wasn’t happy and moved on,” he went on without regard to Ben’s breaking heart.
“Not my Grace.” It was a fight. Nothing more. “She wouldn’t leave me alone, not like this.”
Overworked.
Stressed from the wedding planning.
Not enough time together.
A stupid fight.
They were always quick to make up. Nothing was left hanging over their hearts for long. Nothing had been . . . except her disappearance.
Stopping in the middle of the sidewalk in front of a building he’d had a hand in designing, Ben never accepted the theories that his Grace no longer graced his world. No, he couldn’t.
He wouldn’t.
Ben was standing downtown lost in the memories when he should have been texting Rebecca. He met Rebecca while searching for Grace. He couldn’t bear for someone else he loved to call him Ben, so Rebecca called him Benjamin. She didn’t ask much of him, but he rescheduled the client meeting, which would free him to attend her awards dinner. It was an important night for her. Not only would various medical achievements in Chicago be recognized, but they’d also have the chance to schmooze with the on-staff doctors and attempt to secure a permanent position.
Rebecca was nominated in the impressive “Leaders In Residence” category, which meant an official job offer after her stint at University if she won. During the last nine months they’d been together, she’d worked hard to earn a place at the hospital, while simultaneously trying to win Ben’s heart. She’d stuck with him through dark months of his attempts to let go of something that had moored him for so many years. His life with Grace. He and Grace had been friends for four years, dated for seven, and engaged for almost two. Without Grace, he’d buried himself in work, which earned him three promotions.
He had money.
He had success.
He didn’t have Grace.
He had Rebecca.
She never once complained about his work schedule, maybe because she also had a busy schedule. She attended his holiday party and executive dinners, and she never insisted on staying at his place when she wasn’t asked. It was an understanding they had, although she wasn’t happy about it. She didn’t push though, which he appreciated. She remained patient, his amiable companion. She knew about Grace and the hole her loss had chiseled in his heart. They didn’t fight. He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or bad though, but now, it was time he was there for her.
Looking up from the phone briefly before typing out the text, his gaze landed on a woman not ten feet from him. The sidewalk was crowded, people passing between them. He saw her though. She appeared like a ghost from years past, and in a blink, she had disappeared, lost in the bustling crowd.
He could swear on his life he’d seen her. But his body was sluggish, stunned even, so he stood there turning in a slow circle looking to where she could have vanished. Desperate, he looked for the angelic face framed by the long dark hair that he remembered so well. But, like a flash of lightning, she was gone. Without a trace. Again? How was that possible?
He struggled to move, willing images of her to help him, to soothe him, to guide him back to reality.
His phone rang and without thinking, he answered, “Hello.”
“Hey, honey, you were supposed to get back to me earlier in case I needed to change my RSVP.” Rebecca. Always cheerful. He could feel her smile through the phone. Did it ever frustrate her that sometimes their calls only consisted of appointment reminders?
“Oh, um . . .” He couldn’t find the words he needed, not presently in the conversation. Grace. Grace was all he could think about. He started running in the direction he had seen her.
“Benjamin?”
The call became an afterthought as he ran, not thinking about anything but his Grace, focused on finding her again. He couldn’t let her get away, not this time. If it was her, he had to find her. He had to try. He stopped at the exact spot where he originally saw her walking, but it was a corner where she could’ve easily gone in any one of four directions. He ran one block up and searched. Picking up his pace and using all his strength, he ran in the opposite direction. After covering the cross street, he fell to his knees, winded and heartbroken all over again. His hands squeezed at the cramps piercing his side as tears stung his eyes.
Life tortured his battered soul relentlessly. Every time he thought he could move on, he was dragged back into the hell of his past. His delusions of seeing her had gotten the best of him too many times. As he bent forward, his breathing came in gasps, needing air. He wasn’t out of breath. He was out of hope. He wanted the nightmare to end. He looked around one last time, realizing if she had been real, he’d lost her. Again.
Ambling to his feet, he staggered to the closest brick wall, using it for support. His phone rang, bringing him back into the present. “This is my existence. This is my life now,” he said quietly to himself, reminding himself to find acceptance with reality. Grace was gone.
Grace was gone.
He reached into his pocket to grab the phone, but before he had a chance to say anything, he realized the call had been accidentally answered and heard, “Benjamin? Benjamin, what are you doing? Did you hang up on me?”
After exhaling a deep breath, he started to explain, “I’m sorry, Rebecca . . . I had . . . I saw . . . I thought—”
“Are you okay? I was worried. Why didn’t you answer my calls?”
“Your calls?”
“I called you back three times.”
“Oh . . .” He couldn’t tell her he was running down the street, looking for a ghost who’d disappeared off the face of the earth three long years ago. Ben knew that
would upset her, and he’d never intentionally hurt her. He gave her the news she’d been hoping for. “I can go to the awards dinner. I rearranged some stuff to make it work.”
“Really? You’re coming?”
“Yes, I’m looking forward to it.” Trying to act normal, he felt anything but that right then. He was still winded and couldn’t stop scanning his surroundings, just in case.
Rebecca was called to an emergency, and Ben walked home in a daze, his mind disappearing into what could have happened three years ago. Without any answers or clues, he couldn’t heal much less ever move on, despite wishing he could put it all behind him. His family told him he was too young to waste his life searching for someone that was gone forever. Grace’s family had said the same. It pained them to do so, but they did. Ben knew it was for his benefit, and they only wanted something good to come from this tragedy, but how do you forget about a heart that once beat so loudly? Most days his chest felt vacant, but sometimes, like today, it thrummed, giving him a taste of what it once was and what could have been.
As soon as he entered his apartment, every emotion he’d buried came rushing back. Here, in the solace of this place, he could peel the layers of lies away and be who he felt on the inside. Here, he could break down or feed the beast that craved more memories of the past. Here, he could mourn and grieve.
Sitting at the computer, he pulled up the file labeled “Grace” and stared. Tonight he would indulge the cravings never truly satisfied. He would give in because when he had episodes of hope tease him, he was too weak to stay away. Reaching up, he touched the screen as if touching her face again.
The photo was his favorite, his Achilles heel. Grace had never been more beautiful than the day they got engaged. Her smile lived in her eyes, love rested on her lips, waiting to give it away. Ben used to drink her up, savor her laughter, and wrap his body around hers to lose himself, entangling his soul with hers.
“Fuck.” His head dropped in shame, his chin hitting his chest. The same questions still plagued him years later—What happened to her and why couldn’t I save her?