© 2012 by Nicole O’Dell
Print ISBN 978-1-61626-640-0
eBook Editions:
Adobe Digital Edition (.epub) 978-1-60742-808-4
Kindle and MobiPocket Edition 978-1-60742-809-1
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted for commercial purposes, except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without written permission of the publisher.
Churches and other noncommercial interests may reproduce portions of this book without the express written permission of Barbour Publishing, provided that the text does not exceed 500 words or 5 percent of the entire book, whichever is less, and that the text is not material quoted from another publisher. When reproducing text from this book, include the following credit line: “From The Embittered Ruby, published by Barbour Publishing, Inc. Used by permission.”
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual people, organizations, and/or events is purely coincidental.
The author is represented by MacGregor Literary.
Published by Barbour Publishing, Inc., P.O. Box 719, Uhrichsville, Ohio 44683, www.barbourbooks.com
Our mission is to publish and distribute inspirational products offering exceptional value and biblical encouragement to the masses.
Printed in the United States of America.
Bethany Press International, Bloomington, MN, 55438; March 2012; D10003229
Dedicated to Dawn Huffman, Chris Keaton, and Freda Calhoun as well as the countless others who have served as counselors in a residential setting like Diamond Estates or Teen Challenge. Your tireless efforts with teens like Olivia, Carmen, and me have reaped eternal rewards.
Acknowledgments
A lot goes into the writing of a book. An author might type the words, but she could never accomplish an entire novel without the help of many people…
First I’d like to thank the team at Barbour for believing in the Diamond Estates series and helping me bring it to life. Specifically Kelly McIntosh, you have supported me in big ways over the past couple of years, and I so appreciate your passion and creativity.
Literary agent extraordinaire, Chip MacGregor—thanks so much for putting up with me and helping me navigate the publishing industry.
Valerie Comer, as always, your critiques have been invaluable to me in the process of writing The Embittered Ruby. I thank you, and Carmen thanks you.
Kim Cash Tate, I can’t write these acknowledgments without a nod to your awesome work in More Christian than African American. We discussed the story behind your idea for that book when I had you on Teen Talk Radio. That discussion laid the foundation for much of this story. Thanks for being you!
Writer-sisters, prayer partners, and dear friends—you all have such a huge part in everything I do, and I feel so privileged to be able to walk this journey with you.
Wil, Erik, Natalie, Emily, Logan, Megan, Ryleigh…
Thank you for your constant support and everlasting love.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
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
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Discussion Questions
Chapter-by-Chapter Discussion Guide
The Shadowed Onyx
Chapter 1
Chapter 1
If only heaven and hell shared the same zip code,” Carmen Castillo sputtered into her cell phone as she huddled on the rusty fire escape. Anything for privacy. Even if it did put her at risk of a drive-by.
“You having a tough day, C?”
“To say the least. I mean, I’m stuck here, in Hackensack, New Jersey—some weird version of hades on earth. You’re still in Briarcliff Manor, New York, otherwise known as heaven.” She glared down the street. “Your view is of mansions and rolling lawns; mine is of bars and nail salons.” Could it get any worse?
“Let’s pretend. Close those gorgeous brown eyes, and lay your pretty face on my chest. Now I’m squeezing. And even tighter. Do you feel it?”
Ah. Nate McConnell’s deep, velvety voice massaged the tension from her body. Her fingers tingled as she imagined stroking the stubble on his face and then running them across his prickly blond buzz cut. Next she tried to envision her dark waves lying across his thick biceps. She couldn’t quite grasp the complete visual with the horns blaring and the shop lights blinking. “It’s surreal. It’s like I’m watching someone else’s life fall apart on a TV special. Except it’s mine. All mine.”
Silence.
After all, what could he say to her? Carmen knew he loved her—she’d never had a moment’s doubt. They’d been together since Nate’s junior year and her freshman year. Carmen had never dated anyone else, and though Nate had had a few minor relationships, he said he’d never loved anyone else. She believed him.
The big Castillo move must have hurt him, too—but obviously not like it had destroyed her. Nate still lived in luxury and kept the same address in the elite town they’d both enjoyed all their lives. At most, the distance inconvenienced him—whereas the change, and the divorce leading up to it, affected every fiber of her life. And he clearly didn’t hurt enough to fight for her. But really, what did she expect him to do? Marry her? Yeah right. Like his parents would ever allow him. Judge McConnell and Hillary barely tolerated Nate dating Carmen because of her Mexican heritage—though Carmen doubted they had any idea their disdain was so obvious.
Wonder if his mom lay in bed at night and whispered, “Well, at least she’s half white,” as she tucked silk sheets around her feet. Then Nate’s dad would turn out the light and mumble, “Yes, thank the Lord for small favors.”
Little did she realize that even though Dad looked white, Grandpa Castillo had migrated right from Mexico. Where did Hillary think the Castillo name came from? And Mom…she was straight blue-collar Mexican. Born and raised in Hackensack. Rescued from her fate by a rich, good-looking business man and moved to upstate New York. Funny how fate has a way of rearing it’s ugly head and sucking a person back into its clutches.
Nate cleared his throat. “So where’s everyone else?”
“You mean you can’t hear the construction racket? I can barely think over the hammering and drilling. Mom and Kimberley are in my—er, our—room setting up…get this: bunk beds. Bunk beds? You’ve got to be kidding. I get to play Rock, Paper, Scissors with my little sister over who gets the top bunk. After never having shared a room for a day in my life.” Laugh or cry? Punching something sounded more satisfying.
“Yeah. I bet it’s a pain. I wouldn’t like sharing with Charlie.”
“At least your little brother is cute, and you can kind of overlook his immat
urity because he’s only three. He’s still a baby. Kimberley, well, she’s a spoiled brat. I’d almost rather share with Harper. At only eight, she falls asleep early and is still kind of cute in certain ways—though annoying in all kinds of others.” Carmen peered around the cracks to peek in the window. “Speaking of the diva, there goes Kim now. Towel across her shoulder, off to take a bath in the claw-foot tub. Would you believe she sees an antique tub as an adventure? She imagines she’s an art student living in Paris.” Wonder if she’s looked out the window yet.
“She’s only thirteen. Give her a break maybe?” Nate’s words sounded clipped. “Sounds like she’s trying to make the best of it all.”
Carmen gritted her teeth against her turbulent emotions. Bet he’s glad he called. “I’m sorry. I’m being horrible company. I can let you go and talk to you later.”
“Okay. You know I love ya. But if you want to go for now, I’ll be fine.” The lilt in his voice gave away his relief. “Give me a call when you feel like it.”
Ending the call wasn’t at all what she wanted. Carmen really wanted to discover a genie in a bottle to grant her three wishes. She’d even take just one wish. Or some ruby slippers. There’s no place like home. But if she couldn’t have her ultimate dream of putting things back the way they were, she’d at least take time with her boyfriend. Was even that small a favor too much to ask the universe? Carmen stared at the lifeless phone in her hand. Apparently.
How would she see Nate anymore? Maybe she could talk her parents into letting her live with Dad. A shudder rippled from head to toe. No matter how bad things got in Hackensack, it couldn’t be as bad as being around Cheerleader Barbie and her pom-poms. Tiffany, who turned simple, everyday tasks into a cheer. “The coffee’s…ready? Okay!” Rah, rah. Gag. But Tiffany wouldn’t be around forever. No way. At least not if Carmen could help it. And Carmen intended to help it.
Not ready to go back inside, Carmen closed her eyes. Maybe if she could imagine hard enough, she’d be able to teleport herself back home, taking a dip in the pool or soaking in the hot tub. She breathed air deep into her lungs, somehow expecting the familiar smell of the cedar planks in the sauna. Instead exhaust fumes from the buses and grease from the diner across the street attacked her senses.
No use.
Carmen slipped her phone into the pocket of her jeans and pried herself from the stucco wall she’d been leaning against. Crumbling plaster pelted the metal grid of the fire escape and rained onto the street below.
A whistle pierced the din of traffic.
Shielding her eyes against the sun, Carmen squinted up the neighborhood. Nothing there but two old men on a bus-stop bench outside the drugstore. Down the road, little kids played on the uneven sidewalk. Where had the whistle come from? Finally her gaze settled on four menacing teens leaning on the lamppost across the street. One dark pair of eyes drew hers like magnets. He cocked his head and stared holes into Carmen’s flaming cheeks.
Shirtless, he touched the black-and-gold bandana tied around his bulging bicep. Then he shifted position, and Carmen saw the largest tattoo she’d ever seen in person. A huge lion with a five-pointed crown on its head was inked on his right side, starting at his ribs and winding around to the middle of his back.
Carmen’s eyes roved to take in the garb of the others. All black and gold. The tattoos among them too numerous to count. Latin Kings.
Did they carry…? Oh, yep. Right in plain view. A polished handle stuck out of the waistband of the tallest of the group. How many of the others had guns?
Great. Now she crouched alone on a narrow fire escape, in a place God had forgotten about, being leered at by a gang. Carmen wanted to be safe inside, cocooned on her bunk bed or better yet on the queen four-poster she’d left behind in New York, but she had frozen under their sneers. Too scared to move—too afraid to appear nervous or show any sign of weakness. What were they doing there outside her apartment? More importantly, why were they staring at her?
The leader snapped his fingers, and a cigarette appeared at his lips. Another pair of hands flicked a lighter, and it sparked to life. He took a long drag and blew out the smoke in slow motion. Then he winked one dark eye at her and ran his tongue along his lips.
Carmen shivered as goose bumps speckled her body from head to toe. She flung the sliding door to the side and scurried back through the opening. She slid it shut, latched the lock, and lowered the bar until it clicked into place.
Don’t look. Don’t even turn around. Keep moving, and don’t look back.
She could feel their laser-sharp stares burning holes between her shoulder blades as she moved though the family room. A quick right and she stood in the hallway. Three more steps to her room. Was she safe there? Were any of them?
Those jerks were going to be trouble. Just what she’d expected when she moved to New Jersey.
Chapter 2
Main Street, Hackensack, New Jersey. Great place to take a sightseeing tour if someone wanted pictures of rundown buildings and homeless people. Carmen scuffed along the sidewalk, careful to avoid the side of the street where those gang members had been standing and ogling her the day before. “There used to be a market near Main Street,” Mom had said. Should have been easy enough. People in Hackensack cooked, right?
Pangs of longing struck Carmen’s gut as she remembered the decadent aisles of the Whole Foods in White Plains. Wandering the rows of culinary perfection hour upon hour several times a week, Carmen invented recipes and special treats using the polished produce and pungent herbs. Would the salesclerks forget her name if she’d only be there once a month, or even less?
Carmen shuffled past a run-down library. The grease odor from several hole-in-the-wall restaurants seemed to follow her down the street. And the gym boasted a life-size mural of a steroid junkie punching a bag.
Definitely no shortage of nail salons, barbershops, pawn shops, convenience stores, and lawyers’ offices. But a market? Maybe she could ask someone for directions. She lifted her eyes just enough to peek around for a friendly looking pedestrian, but from the looks of things she’d better explore on her own. Carmen slipped her hand in her pocket and gripped her cell phone…just in case.
Ah. There across the street with a wide green awning, GIANT Farmers’ MARKET. Sounded like a store made especially for her. Carmen waited for a gold Monte Carlo with bass pumping from the speakers to pass and then jogged to the other side. Her head down, she pulled the glass door open and stepped inside. As her eyes adjusted to the fluorescent lighting, she glanced around the store.
Now this place had hope. Fresh. Bright. Almost happy.
Piles of colorful produce. Artichokes, guava, pomegranate. Some things even she didn’t recognize. Shocker. Should probably learn the place before making selections. She wandered up and down the aisles, touching the bags and reading labels. The Latin aisle alone boasted rows and rows of bottles Carmen had never seen. Ethnic oddities, rare herbs and…um…pig ears? Those might have to wait for another time. Mom sent her on a milk, eggs, and bread kind of shopping trip. But maybe, for lack of anything better to do in Hackensack, she’d be able to practice for culinary school with some of the specialty things in here.
Thirty minutes later, Carmen hurried back to the apartment. Her bags banged against her legs and twisted as she walked. The plastic dug into her wrists, cutting off the circulation. She’d had enough culture for one day. Odd though, no one glanced at her the whole way home—at least not that she’d seen. Didn’t she stand out at all? Couldn’t they tell she didn’t belong there—that her home existed far away? Probably a good thing she blended in, though. Not like Kimberley, who had luscious blond hair like their dad. Wonder if things would be more difficult for her?
Dead bolt. Lock. Second lock. The door swung open three inches then jerked. She shoved her face into the opening to see into the room. “Hey. Can someone come take the chain off the door so I can get in? These bags are heavy.”
Little Harper cartwheeled across the room,
her tongue poking through the space where her tooth had once been. “Coming.” She closed the door and slid the chain off before skipping toward the kitchen.
Eight-year-olds never just walked. Or was Harper the only one who bounced everywhere she went?
Carmen rushed through the door, reached her foot back to nudge it shut, then hurried to the galley kitchen. She heaved her packages onto the gold-flecked countertop and freed her wrists from the bags. Red rings remained where they’d indented her skin. “Phew. I almost lost the whole load. Where’s Mom?”
“In your room.” Harper flashed a dimpled smile and bounded down the short hallway.
Carmen took a deep breath before entering her bedroom. She’d been a real grump lately. Maybe surprising everyone with a nice dinner would help make up for some of her bad attitude. “Hey. I’m back.” She stepped over the tools and packing material strewn across the stained and tattered carpet. After all, it wasn’t Mom’s fault they’d had to move into the dingy apartment. Which was probably rat infested. And should be condemned.
Mom probably shouldn’t have told Carmen about the money battles she was embroiled in between Dad and the lawyers—but at least Carmen could sort of understand why they were in the situation they were. At least for now.
Well…not entirely Mom’s fault, anyway. There had to have been a place across the river they could have rented, right? Yeah, yeah. They needed to be close to Mom’s new job at the dentist office. Affordable. Close to public transportation. Carmen had heard it all. But did she buy it? She just hoped they hadn’t been dragged out to the end of the earth just to make Dad feel guilty for taking his lawyer’s advice and withholding money until the court settled the divorce. It sure didn’t look like he suffered under the weight of regret.
“You’re still at it, huh?” Carmen sank to the floor and picked up the instructions. French? She flipped the paper over. “Want some help?”
Mom swiped at the hair strands that escaped from her ponytail then went back to wrestling with a screwdriver. “I think I’m almost done. Finally. How’d the shopping go?”
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