by A. Gorman
A. GORMAN
BOOKS BY A. GORMAN
THEIR SINS SERIES
Rules of Her Sins
Blackmailed
STANDALONE
Love, With All My Heart
COMING SOON
A Gentle Touch (novella)
Unwanted Love
The Weekend
Copyright © 2016, A. Gorman.
Cover design by Donna Dull of Sharp Cover Design.
Edited by Connie Gorman.
Proofread by Marnie Warren.
Formatting/Interior text design by Victoria Escobar of TE Formats.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
This work of fiction is protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author, A. Gorman, except where permitted by law.
The author acknowledges the trademarks status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction have been used without permission. The use of these trademarks are not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
An application to register this book for cataloging has been submitted to the Library of Congress.
PUBLISHED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Other Books By
Copyright
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
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
ChapterTwenty-Seven
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
About The Author
To Delisa Lynn, thank you for not giving up on my words when I wanted to delete them all.
To everyone else, be the change the world needs. —A.
Rain drips off the canopy I’m standing under in a steady staccato rhythm, and my mother’s quiet weeping breaks my heart piece by piece. I don’t know if it will ever heal from the pain that I’m feeling at this moment. The American flag on the large dark oak casket gently ripples in the humid breeze, and in the brief moment of silence, I swear I hear his laughter in the wind.
“Attention. Standby. Ready,” yells the officer in charge of the members of the Honor Guard. I can hear their rifles click into the loaded position. “Ready. Aim. Fire.”
Rifle shots echo through the cemetery, vibrating the air around us. A light haze of smoke makes its way into the canopy, surrounding us. “Ready. Aim. Fire.” Seven more shots ring out, making me jump into my mother, and the final seven rounds blast out, leaving my already frazzled nerves raw.
“Present arms,” the officer calls out as the last echoes of the shots fade out, and a lone trumpeter begins mournfully playing “Taps”. My mother’s unable to stand up by herself anymore, and I grab her around the waist, pulling her into me, holding her up until the minister tells us to take our seats. The song concludes, and I can’t stop the chills running down my spine or the goose bumps rising on my exposed skin.
“Order arms. Port arms. Right face forward march,” bellows out the officer again and the men, except for one, march away from the canopy, and go behind us where I can’t see them.
“You may be seated,” the graying older gentleman tells everyone.
Mom falls into the padded folding chair, but I don’t let go of her because I don’t know if she is capable of sitting up on her own. The six officers move into place, picking up the flag that’s rippling in the wind and initiate their tedious job of folding the flag with precision.
I look away, willing myself to stay strong for my mother, but I see my brother standing under a weeping willow in the distance. I wipe my eyes, allowing them to focus, and I look again. The man standing there is older than he first appeared, and sadly, is not my brother. Although by just glancing at the man, he would easily pass as a relative of mine.
The stranger looks up right as I’m about to return my focus on the flag folding and our eyes meet. Something familiar about him clicks in my mind. Have I met him before? Surely not, because why is he standing over there and not here?
I look at my mom who is still in my right arm and start to say something, but all thoughts of the man under the tree fade from my mind as an officer bends down on his knee in front of my mother. With meticulousness, he presents the flag from Nate’s casket to her. Mom’s hands shake with grief and isn’t able to hold on to the flag, and I take it from her. I hold it close to my heart while still supporting her with my other arm as the officers’ march off.
“That concludes the service,” the older gentleman speaks out to everyone in attendance.
We want some private time to say good-bye to Nate before they put him in his final resting place and as soon as everyone has said their good-byes, we will too.
The condolences and kind words seem to be never ending, but soon it’s the chaplain, the funeral director, Mom, and me left by the gravesite. I don’t know if I’m prepared to do this. I don’t know if I can ever say good-bye to my best friend, my protector, my twin brother.
Mom seems to have calmed herself and is beside Nate’s casket telling him everything she thinks he needs to know. A strong gust of wind blows through the canopy, threatening to blow it over, and I see my mother is lying over the casket with tears running down her face as she softly strokes the wood. I can’t leave her up there anymore.
“Mom. It’s time.” I have to force the words out of my mouth.
“I can’t. No parent should have to bury their child,” she weeps.
“I know, but Nate wouldn’t want us to mourn for him like this.” I pull her into my arms, and the gentlemen from the cemetery lower the casket into its final resting place.
My mom looks up at me, and trembles out, “Emily, I hope know how much I love you and your brother.”
“I know, Mom. And I’m sure Nate knew too.” She pulls me into a tight hug as the casket reaches the bottom of the grave.
“I don’t know why it had to be him.”
“Me either, but he died doing what he wanted to do.”
“I wish he never would have reenlisted.”
“I know, but we can’t change the past. We can only honor his memory, his heroic sacrifice, his love for our country…his job of keeping us safe.”
She doesn’t answer me, but she bends down, picks up some dirt from the previously hidden pile, and throws it on the casket. I do the same, mirroring her gesture of saying good-bye. As if they were waiting on me, the workers cover the casket with the remaining dirt.
“Ladies, are you ready?” the younger funeral director asks.
“Yes, Mr. Hanes,” I reply, needing to get Mom settled in at home.
I look at
the willow tree, hoping the man would still be standing there, but he is no longer there. Wonder if he was attending Nate’s funeral, or if he was just paying his respects since it was a military funeral? I don’t remember him walking through the calling line at the funeral home. If he was attending, why was he so far away? He could have come to the grave site, but it was almost as if he was trying to stay out of the public eye. There was a familiarity about him. Maybe I’ve briefly met him at a family reunion—I’m sure that’s it.
“Emily,” my mom asks, pulling my attention to her. “Are you staying with me?”
“Yes, I’ll stay with you. I don’t have to return to work until Monday.”
“Good. I have enough food to last me a month, and I need help eating it,” she says with composure in her voice.
“I’ll help you store it so it won’t go bad.”
She nods. “I need to help going through Nate’s belongings.”
I don’t say anything as I’m at a loss for words. We make our way to the funeral home’s black Lincoln, climb inside, and Mr. Hanes shuts the door.
Taking a deep, calming breath, I slowly let it out.
“Are you sure you want to do that so soon?”
“If I wait, I’ll never part with his belongings. I don’t want you to have to be stuck with his things and mine when I pass on.”
“Fine. If you don’t mind, I’ll take his clothes to the community center. I’m sure some of the boys could use some newer clothes.”
“Sounds like a good plan. I’m glad they will be put to good use,” she says as she looks out the car’s window.
“Me too, Mom, me too,” I whisper out as I think about what life is going to be like without Nate.
The ride from the cemetery to the funeral home seems to take forever as the unforgiving Reno sun has made an appearance after the rain clouds dried up. Even though the windows are tinted, the heat from the sun is making the backseat unbearably hot. Once we arrive at the funeral home, my mom collects the things that we brought, and we are quickly on our way to her two-story home in Silver Springs, near the Lahontan State Recreation Area.
I pull into the driveway and the house never looked so small, and I help Mom get her things out of the car and my overnight bag and carry them to the front door. She fumbles with her keys and unlocks the deadbolt on the old white door, the smell of Nate’s cologne consumes me, and I’m no longer able to be strong. I fall to my knees, crying. I’ve lost the other half of my heart, my brother. My mom pulls me into her lap, and we sit in the doorway sobbing, letting the grief overtake our bodies.
This day, I’ll never forget, the day I buried part of my heart.
I don’t know how long Mom and I’ve been sitting on the floor, but our tears are dry and our bodies no longer quiver with sobs, and we know it’s time to move past our grief. Moving on would be what Nate would want us to do, and I think smelling his cologne was his way of letting us know that he’s watching over us. Until his death, he hadn’t been in the house since Thanksgiving, and that was five months ago.
“Hungry?” Mom asks as we pick up our bags and shut the front door.
“A little.” Not really, but if I don’t eat, she will be upset.
“Let’s work on the kitchen, then we will work on Nate’s things,” she says as she puts her bag on the couch.
I nod and follow her into the kitchen, and try to prepare myself for what is to come after we eat a late lunch.
After eating a late lunch, we get to work transferring food that friends have brought over from their dishes to plastic storage containers and freezer bags. I thought Mom was exaggerating about the amount of food she received, but I think it was an understatement. By the time we finish, it’s almost evening time.
“Mom, can we go through Nate’s things in the morning? I think it would be a good idea if we try to get some rest tonight.”
“That’s fine.”
“Why don’t you go and take a hot shower while I finish this up? I’ll put the remaining dishes in the dishwasher and we can be finished with the food.”
“That might help me relax.” She smiles softly at me while she pats my right cheek with her right hand. “I love you, Emily.”
“I love you too, Mom.”
She takes a small breath and turns to head upstairs. A few minutes pass and I hear the water turn on in her bathroom. I return to the task at hand so I can take a shower myself before I go to the room I occupied for almost nineteen years.
“Kristin! Please get me the report on donations and grants for this quarter,” I yell into the intercom
“Yes, sir. I’ll send it to you and bring you a hard copy as well,” she replies, pleasantly, ignoring my gruffness.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” The intercom clicks off.
I know Kristin will take a few minutes to bring in the reports I need, so I turn on the TV to check out the local news and weather. I’m supposed to shoot eighteen holes tomorrow if the weather cooperates.
“In local news, twenty-three year old fallen hero and Reno native Nathan Janes was laid to rest today in Our Lady of Peace Cemetery. The governor and first lady paid their respects to the soldier’s family…”
My phone rings, and I miss the rest the news report on the local hero.
“Yes, Kristin?”
“Mr. Nichols called and was hoping you are available next Friday to present a check to a community center on the southwest side of town. He has to go out of town.”
“Yes, please clear my schedule for the day. I’ll spend a few hours there,” I say and instantly regret the words the moment they came out of my mouth. “Will do, sir. I’ll be in a moment.”
“Thanks.”
I hang up the phone in time to catch the tail end of the weather. “…tomorrow will be sunny and a high of eighty-two.”
“Perfect weather for a game of golf,” I say as I sit back in my chair, thinking about my life.
You’re worthless, boy, my father’s voice echoes through my mind. His voice pushes me to better myself daily, but I find myself failing when I drown out his words in a bottle of bourbon.
Ten years ago, I’d never thought I’d be in a position like this: playing golf for work, sitting in an office that’s larger than my college dorm room, and over-looking Reno. I worked at a grocery store in high school, barely sleeping enough to stay alive, but after five years with CU Gold Company, my life has changed. I’m the CFO and in charge of donations and grants. Along with making sure CUGC follows proper accounting practices, I make sure organizations have the money to provide those less fortunate with food, water, clothing, and other necessities.
I pull my mind from my thoughts and flip the channel to CNN, trying to catch the latest stock numbers and any world news that would affect the gold market. Lost in the mindless rhetoric of the news show host, I don’t hear Kristin knock or enter my office until she’s in front of my desk.
“Thank you,” I say and sit forward in my chair as she places the sheets of paper on my desk.
She nods, and adds, “I included the projections for the next two quarters as well.”
“Perfect. Just a reminder, I’ll be on the golf course with Sanders tomorrow. If anything pressing arises, please call.”
“Yes, sir. Will you be in the office Saturday?”
“Yes, but you don’t need to come in.”
“Okay. I will make sure to leave you a detailed list of anything that needs to be handled before Monday.”
“I love your organization, Kristin. I appreciate all you do.”
“Thank you, Patrick.”
“You’re welcome. I’m going to grab lunch; do you want me to pick you up anything?”
“No, I’m fine. Thank you. I might head out early today and will grab something then.”
“Okay. Call me if you change your mind.”
“Thank you. Will do.”
She walks out of my office and softly shuts the door. The kind, mature woman keeps my temper in ch
eck and keeps me sane. I pick up the reports she placed on my desk and lean back in my chair and my mind returns to the funeral of the fallen soldier.
I know soldier deaths are sadly almost a daily occurrence, but there was something about him. Probably because we’re close to the same age or it’s because he’s from here? I’m not sure, but refocus my attention to the reports and get the information I need for a meeting this afternoon.
At a quarter till three, I’m finished with the write up I need for my meeting with Kane Nichols, President of CU Gold Company. I arrange my desk so I know what I need to work on when I come into the office on Saturday, but knowing how my overactive mind works, I’ll return after I run my errands today.
Since I sleep here more than I do at home, I have a couch that turns into a bed as well. Up two levels is a full service fitness center, so I can shower up there, so no one but Kristin knows that I stay overnight. She makes sure I have several clean suits and other changes of clothes for me. I think of Kristin more of a mother figure than an assistant most of the time.
My office clock chimes three and I turn off the screen on my computer. I stand and walk over to grab my jacket that hangs on the back of the black leather chair facing my desk, and pick up the documents I need for my meeting with Kane. Approval from this meeting will free up a million dollars to donate to veteran services around the city. I open my office door, I see Kristin typing away at her computer, and I flip the lock on the door and pull it shut.
“Kristin, I’ll be in Kane’s office for a meeting and then I’m heading out.”
“Good luck, and have a good evening, Patrick.”
“You too.”
I confidently walk to the other side of the office building and up one floor of the massive structure, which houses main corporate workers. Each level houses a chief officer and their department. My department and I are on the eighteenth floor.
Aneesa Rose, Kane’s assistant is sitting at her desk, filing her nails. I swear the only reason he keeps her around is to look at her body. She has to be fresh out of high school. The common sense of a gnat, but she has impressive assets, not that I stare at them, much.