by L. K. Kuhl
Everlasting
LK Kuhl
Contents
Untitled
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Epilogue
About the Author
EVERLASTING
by L.K. Kuhl
published by Clean Reads
www.cleanreads.com
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used. Except for review purposes, the reproduction of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation.
EVERLASTING
Copyright © 2016 L.K. KUHL
ISBN 978-1-62135-502-1
Cover Art Designed by CORA GRAPHICS
For my wonderful husband, Gene, without his inspiration and belief in me this story might not have been possible.
Also to my awesome children: Brittani, Morgan, Nathan and Trevor for being my greatest cheer section.
To my mom, Sharon, for giving me a great foundation and telling me I could do anything I set my mind to.
I would also like to thank Melissa Shirley for giving me hope.
Last but not least, I would like to thank Stephanie Taylor for giving me a chance and making my dreams come true.
Chapter 1
The hypnotizing screech of the wipers against the windshield kept my mind heavily sedated and battened down the churning of my stomach to a slow stir. Since the phone call last week, even the slightest sound caused me to jump. Something about it—the white noise, the crackle of electricity in my ear, something—freaked me out from the first ring.
“Something’s happened.” A pop of electricity had me holding the phone an inch or five from my head. “Can you come…? It’s been ages.” The voice, strained and unrecognizable, struggled again through the white noise of the phone.
My forehead furrowed, and my grip on the phone slipped. “Uh…I don’t know who this is. I’m hanging up now.” I couldn’t stop the racing of my heart. Loud. It was too loud. The pounding in my ears should have warned me, but I clenched the phone closer.
“C’mon, it’ll be fun…. The entire summer.” I recognized that voice, the little sing-song that bounced every word from octave to octave. “Meet me at the Charleston airport…next Friday…I’ll pay for everything…no worries.”
I pushed my damp bangs from my forehead. “Mandy…is this you?” My words quivered, but a rush of relief washed over me. We’d lost touch with each other. Hadn’t talked in years, and it was good to hear from her.
“Good grief, girl, who’d ya think it was…the Pope?”
I ignored the clamoring of my heart since I couldn’t reach in and slow it down. “I…I don’t know…. You had me thinkin’ all kindsa weird things. Didn’t sound the same.”
The phone clicked, the buzz of the dial tone tickling my ear.
So, today, cold water bottle in hand, taking long swigs to chase away the dryness that etched my throat, I concentrated on breathing in and out to quell the nerves battling it out in my stomach—slowly inhaling and exhaling, my long, deep breaths keeping time in my head.
Just yesterday, I bid my junior year at Cascade High farewell. Not that being a senior would matter much to a wallflower like me. I had virtually no friends, and my only experience with boys came from a dance with Jimmy Yale that resulted from his loss of a dare.
Boys were my kryptonite. I couldn’t look at them for fear I would melt into the floor. Couldn’t talk to them without stuttering and adding a few too many inappropriate giggles to the conversation, so eventually, after fifth grade, I gave up. Except for Jimmy Yale, and a date on a dare is never a real date, anyway.
I didn’t believe in love at first sight. In fact, girls saying that they’d fallen in love this way was a huge pet peeve of mine. You needed to know a person first, take it slow, and let love build on its own—this was my mantra. Besides that, the best looking boys always made me itch when they came too close, breaking my entire body out into red, splotchy bumps. Maybe it was just a bad case of the pulchritudinous nerves, I didn’t know, but in either case, I didn’t like them.
Even though the cool day had me covered in goosebumps, the sleeves on my white blouse clung to my skin, dampened from sweat. My armpits, a cesspool of sticky wetness, had me wishing I’d dabbed on one last swipe of deodorant before I left the house. I was sure my aroma would leave people gasping for fresh air by the time I’d arrive in South Carolina. It didn’t help having my blue parka over the top of my blouse, but I’d lose that later.
The fresh smell of rain seeped through the air vents, and I took one more breath, a much needed push toward Calmsville. I glanced at my mom. She gripped the steering wheel with such force, her knuckles turned white. Leaning forward, her green eyes squinted through the pouring rain beating against our windshield. Even though her sandy-blond hair was cut pixie-short, small ringlets still curled around her ears. I looked more like my dad with dark, fine hair and sky-blue eyes, only he had a few more laugh lines.
Mom peeled her eyes off the road for a minute, and gave me a curious smile. “You have a ladybug crawling on your leg, Sophia.” She pointed to the little red-and-black bug clinging to my black pants.
I put my finger in front of the harmless little creature, prompting her to see how far she would climb. Maybe she had packed her bags and told her family good-bye, as well, ready to be whisked away to a place unknown. She crawled halfway up my finger, then onto my leg again. Sweeping her off to the floor, I continued my daydreaming.
* * *
Mom rocked back and forth, shifting from foot to foot when we stood in the airport terminal. She wrung her hands, and her eyes stayed wide as though trying to memorize every part of me in case she never saw me again.
With a grimace, she shook her head. “Are you sure you should be doing this?” Her eyes brimmed with tears, almost ready to take a spill.
She dropped her head and closed her eyes. I turned away. “I’m seventeen years old, and it’s only for three months. Besides, Mandy’s my best friend. I don’t wanna disappoint her.” Stupid voice. Why did it have to shake so bad?
“Just be careful. You’ve never been out on your own before, and there’s a lot of bad people out there.”
Mom’s reasons to be worried, in her mind, numbered in the thousands. I’d never been anywhere on my own before. I wasn’t eighteen yet. I was her baby. Blah. Blah. Blah. Unnecessary worrying gave my mother a reason for living. Well, okay, I could be what some would call scatterbrained at times. At times. But I’d never broken a bone, wrecked a car, or so much as claimed the dog ate my homework. This was about trust…and independence…and a summer without chaos or my nagging mother to remind me to get my feet off the sofa. My summer. She could worry from afar.
“I have to go now.” I gave her another kiss on the cheek and wrapped my arms around her. “Mandy’s gonna be there waiting for me.”
I shook away and picked up my carry-on bag, glancing at my watch, my top teeth sharply stabbing into my bottom lip.
“Call me when you arrive.” She pulled me in for one last hug, the dam breaking on her repressed tears.
I waved good-bye when the call for section B of flight two-ninety-seven blasted over the intercom. My pulse quickened, and my stomach swirled with excitement as I filed in line. The smell of red licorice made my stomach growl. Wish I would have eaten breakfast. Now I’m famished. After giving a few glances around, a boy toward the end of the line had a mouth crammed full of the sticky stuff.
The heady, floral scent of roses delicately assaulted my nose when I stepped through the door of the seven-forty-seven. I found my seat, squeezing myself and my oversize purse in between a heavyset man and a dainty older woman.
The stout man fluffed his pillow, his breathing already labored and loud. I imagined it would probably sound like an atomic bomb going off when he actually fell asleep.
The woman sitting by the window seat leafed through a Harper’s Bazaar magazine, looking over the rim of her silver, horn-rimmed glasses, giving her fingers a lick with each turn of the page.
As we got settled and the plane’s engines roared to life, taking me away from all things familiar, she pulled off her glasses, trusting the delicate silver chains to catch them as they fell softly to her chest. My gaze lurched to the black mole perched on the bridge of her nose where the glasses had been riding, two hairs sprouting out of the middle. I shook my head. Look away, now, just look away.
She closed her magazine, tucking it into her leather Prada bag, her large, pink Victorian feather hat almost glancing me in the forehead when she turned to face me. “Where are you off to, dear?”
“Charleston.” The edges of my mouth curled into a simple smile as I eased back into my seat.
“That’s where I’m going. I just love the South. I’m going there to visit my niece. She lost her son about eight months ago in a tragic auto accident, and I need to see her. He was only eighteen, just a senior in high school.” She shook her head and glanced out the window.
“That’s so sad.” My shy voice squeaked apprehensively. Was this airplane etiquette? Spill the family sorrows to unwitting strangers and ruin their first flying experience with sadness?
“Yes, it is, dear. I didn’t know her son real well. I lost touch with them and haven’t seen them in many years, but I do need to give her my condolences in person.” Hesitating for a brief moment, glancing at her hands, she continued on. “I also have plans to finish something on my bucket list.” She grinned and winked, a touch of orneriness twinkling in her eyes.
Bucket list? “What’s that?”
“Skydiving. Jump’s at seven tomorrow morning.”
* * *
The pilot’s voice jolted me awake. Time to buckle our seatbelts to prepare for landing. My head jerked upright, and I quickly wiped at the drool that had pooled on my cheek. Coughing, I glanced around to see if anyone had seen. The old lady looked at me and smiled.
My tongue washed over my dry lips. “Sorry, didn’t realize I’d fallen asleep.”
My face flushed hot. I pulled down on my shirt and smoothed my hand over my wrinkled pants before shoving my hair back from my face. Wishing I could stretch, my arms reached toward the seat in front of me, but I didn’t want to draw any more attention to myself in case someone else noticed the drool spot on my blouse, so I brought them back to my sides again.
The lady chuckled, patting my hand with her frail, bony one. “You looked so peaceful, I didn’t want to disturb you.”
I yawned, smiled, and ran my fingers over my face, still trying to wake up. “I slept way too hard.”
The plane jerked and bumped on its descent to the ground, and I dug my nails into the armrests, whispering a silent prayer. My biggest fear…dying. I didn’t even want to consider a bucket list, as to me, it was just a plan to die.
When she smiled again, I loosened my hand. “Sorry, planes kind of freak me out.”
I gathered up my parka and the ladybug was there, crawling on the blue nylon sleeve. My eyebrows arched, and I lifted her up on my finger. Somehow, she’d managed to stowaway on my jacket. Guess she wanted to see Charleston, too.
The plane skittered across the runway and came to a stop at the terminal. I stood. “I loved meeting you…uh…oh, gosh, I didn’t even ask your name.” My cheeks warmed again at my absentmindedness.
She held out her pale hand. I shook it, its frail coldness startling me. “Lidia…Lidia Forester.”
We made our way out of the plane, and the sweet smell of roses, once again, tickled my nose.
I dug in my purse—two missed calls from Mom. Her nerves had probably caught fire since she hadn’t heard from me yet. Needing to find a quiet place to call her and tell her I was okay, I dashed into the restroom.
“Hi, Mom. Made it. Just touched down here in Charleston.”
“Oh, thank heavens, I’m so relieved. I couldn’t stop worrying until I heard from you. Is Mandy there?”
“I don’t know. Haven’t seen her yet, but I’m sure she’s here somewhere.”
“Do you have her number?” Panic sharpened her tone.
I’d already worried her, so I steadied my voice, reassuring. “Uh…yeah…yeah I do. It’s right here on my phone. I’ll call her real fast, and call ya back.”
I hung up, scanning to check my contacts and calls from the last week, but I couldn’t find it. My throat tightened fast—like a boa constrictor winding its way around it. Swallowing hard, I flipped through my phone again. Still nothing. There was no way to get ahold of Mandy.
I stumbled out of the bathroom, and in my peripheral view caught sight of a young woman standing with her back turned against the walking traffic of people. She stood ramrod straight, hands fisted at her sides, but her hair…mesmerizing.
I turned toward her, unable to pull my gaze away. The rich, brilliant strands glowed, like they had been spun from silken gold—reaching all the way past her waist. She wore a sheer white rippling gown that swept across her legs, and, turning toward me, she stared, her eyes flashing. Then a sly smirk curved across her pale face.
“Sophia…you made it.”
She advanced toward me, and my heart jumped like a nervous runner at the starting line. Odd…what was so different about her? I jerked my head back, barking out a shaky, high-pitched laugh. “Mandy…is it really you…? You look great.” My eyes blinked once, then went wide. Her flawless skin exuberated an almost sallow appearance.
Something was off. She looked through me as though searching for someone or something else.
Finally, she snorted. “Ha, better than you. Joking…joking.” Then she slapped at me and grabbed me by the shoulders, pulling me against her chest for a long embrace.
“How’d you know what time I was landing?” I grabbed my suitcases from the baggage claim carousel, and we made our way toward the exit doors. “We hadn’t made any plans for you to pick me up, and…I couldn’t believe I forgot. Then I couldn’t find your phone number, and…”
She smirked, and another snort escaped her lips. “I wouldn’t do that…we’re besties. Have I ever let you down?” Her eyes flashed red, again, then settled into their natural deep, dark brown. There was some weird lighting in this place.
“I know this’ll go straight to your head, but you can’t believe how relieved I was to see you waiting for me. The phone conversation was so broken that night, my mom thought for sure it was some serial killer. Cell service here must suck.” I laughed, putting an isn’t-that-ridiculous sneer into it.
She rolled her eyes. “Serial killer? Your mom is nuts.”
I shrugged off her question, preferring not to dwell on my overprotective mother. “That reminds me, before I forget, I need to call her and tell her you’re not really a serial killer, j
ust a deranged psychopath.” Pushing her shoulder playfully, I looked her up and down. “You’re not, are you?”
I sagged against the airport wall, my arms like soggy noodles when I held the phone to my ear and made the call to my mom. My knees buckled, shaking like it was negative ten degrees when I heard her voice. Thankful that I’d finally made it.
Chapter 2
The airport doors opened, whisking in the smell of pine, sea, and salt. Different smells—new and exciting—made me long for home for a brief moment. I inhaled and wrapped my arms around my waist, chasing away the feeling of being alone in a faraway place.
We trudged to the parking lot, bags dragging at our sides.
The trunk of her small sports car would barely hold a fleck of dust, and I bit the side of my lip. Will my entire closet fit inside here? I gave my luggage a shove and slammed down the lid.
I glanced at Mandy out of the corner of my eye. “Here’s to hoping.”
We hopped into the front seat, and the little car roared to life.
We zigzagged around the parking lot and sped down the highway. Mandy held her foot steady on the gas pedal, and we zipped past pine trees and oaks draped in Spanish moss. I clutched the dashboard, and my fingers dug into the vinyl. Here comes summer. Let’s do this.
A half hour later, we pulled up to a two-story Victorian house sitting among a row of other houses along the ocean shoreline. The peeling paint had faded into a dull absence of color. Black shutters hung loose around the old-fashioned windows. It wasn’t what I’d call ugly; it just looked like it had been plucked right out of a scary movie, making a small shiver run through me.
Mandy unbuckled her seat belt, pulling up on the door handle. “We’re here. Don’t ya love it?”
I got out, and closed the door behind me. My gaze lingered too long on the house, but I nodded. “Looks great.”