And I meant it. I adored and loved my family. They were my life, crazy schedules and all.
Years ago, I had a structured life with routines and lines that I thought were what I needed to get through each day after my happiness was ripped away. It took an unwanted errand and a broken girl to blur everything and bring it into a whole new focus, and now our future was full of promise and new tomorrows. And I couldn’t wait for all the new chapters we’d write together.
The End
A note to the reader
Thank you so much for reading my stories as well as your love and support! If you’d like to keep up with what I have in the works, be sure to sign up for my newsletter. As a subscriber, you’ll have sneak peeks at upcoming stories and giveaways not posted elsewhere. Sign up here
Facebook|Twitter|Amazon Page|Email
Books by M.E. Montgomery
Polaris Series
North Star
True North
Starlight Wishes
Standalone
Yesterday’s Tomorrows
Want More?
Read an excerpt of North Star, also by M.E. Montgomery
PROLOGUE
Somber charcoal gray eyes stared straight ahead before slowly shifting upward toward the changing skies. Anything was better than looking at the two cherry-wood caskets resting side by side. White cumulus clouds tinged with pink were being overtaken by more ominous slate colored ones. A chill wind whipped around bringing with it the sharp, fresh aroma of ozone. Chirping birds fell silent on their branches, their songs replaced by faint rumbles of thunder. If it wasn't for the tragic circumstances, he might have laughed at the cliché the weather provided.
Finally lowering their gaze, those same eyes took note of the surrounding people. Women sniffled quietly and dabbed at their eyes while the men shuffled their feet and stared soberly at the ground. Above the meditations of the priest, one sound suddenly pierced the air, making the poor man jump in his vestments. A woman wailed in grief, then rather melodramatically swayed on her feet necessitating the man next to her to catch hold of her waist. The owner of the eyes grimaced. He glanced sideways at the silver-haired woman dressed in an expensive black suit and his hands clenched into fists. While his heart should have constricted in sympathy, instead it nearly exploded in anger.
Bitch. You didn't care enough about him while he was alive. Why are you even here?
He deliberately brought his attention back to the caskets and his heart skipped a beat as the ugly reality of the event sunk in. His twin sister and his best friend were about to be lowered into the cold, unforgiving ground. All their hopes and dreams of building a long loving life together and for their children, current and dreamed of, were being buried with them. From the moment he'd heard they were dead, his heart had been filled with anguish. Memories of all the times they had spent together since childhood as well as the future plans they would never get to enjoy ricocheted in his head. The past few days he'd been kept busy helping his parents make all of the arrangements as well as greeting the constant flow of people stopping by his home to offer their condolences and drop off food. Now finally, in this quiet moment broken only by the priest's intonations, an overwhelming sense of grief consumed him.
He blinked rapidly to hold back the tears that fought for their release. His throat constricted as he glanced at his parents who clutched each other’s hands, barely holding themselves together. But unlike the drama queen to his side, they didn’t want to create a spectacle that might take away from this final moment with their loved ones.
It doesn't get worse than this. At least this will be over soon and maybe somehow we’ll find a way to carry on.
His reflections were interrupted by a quiet sob, and his gaze lowered to the small milk chocolate brown eyes looking up at him through great puddles of tears.
Wrong. This was worse than the scene in front of him. His stomach clenched as he absorbed the enormity of this unplanned future.
A small hand slipped into his warm large one. Big and little, they gripped each other tightly. "Uncle Alex, I miss them. I want my mommy and daddy back!" his five year old voice trembled.
Sucking in a deep breath to gain control of his emotions, he knelt down and drew his young nephew into his arms. "I know you do, Aiden. I know. I’d do anything to bring them back for you, but I can’t. But I'm here for you, and I promise I'll take care of you." Oblivious to the dampness that seeped into the knees of his pants, Alex continued to kneel on the ground and held the little boy for the rest of the service.
The priest finished and the committal drew to a close. Shielding the young boy from well-meaning guests, Alex stood up and gently negotiated Aiden to the limousine where they were met by Alex’s parents. He never let go of the hand of the little boy for whom he now bore full responsibility. Swallowing hard, Alex again glanced heavenward and breathed a prayer.
This day was never supposed to happen. I don't know how to do this! Give me strength to be what and who I need to be for Aiden. Please, please help me. Send me some sort of sign to help me know what to do, where to go, and to help me stay the course.
CHAPTER 1
Kayla
"Any big plans for the weekend, Kayla?"
At the friendly voice, I looked up from sorting pencils and crayons at a small table and saw Ally, a fellow Kindergarten teacher and good friend who had stopped in my classroom at the end of the day. "Just the usual!" I smiled.
"So...basically nothing?" Ally smirked.
I rolled my eyes. "I thought I'd spice things up and maybe go to the antique market."
"Keep living like that and you might become an antique yourself before your time, Kayla!” she joked. She walked over to the table and somehow managed to gracefully lower her tall model-like figure into a pint-sized chair. “You need to live a little. Get out and meet more people. There’s even this whole species you could explore called men!”
I shook my head at her teasing. It was easy for someone with her looks and confidence to joke about meeting men. She didn’t even have to do anything. Men flocked to her like ants to sugar. I was the type of girl who everyone liked and was everyone’s friend, but apparently I lacked the ‘sugariness’ that attracted men beyond friendship. That was fine. Those who tried were usually just disappointed and never failed to let me know it. After this summer, I was happy staying in my own quiet world where no one could hurt me.
Ally looked at me sympathetically and clacked her French manicured nails on the table. “Carrie and I are headed out to Back Draft tomorrow night. Why don't you and Jen join us?” she offered. “I hear there will be a band who's supposed to be really good. Just come out with the girls and enjoy the music over a couple drinks. It's got to beat sitting at home moldering away!"
I sighed and tossed a couple crayons into their bin. It wasn't the first time I'd heard similar words. I'd also heard this same mantra from my best friend, who was also my roommate, Jen. I knew they meant well. I even knew they were right, but it just wasn't as easy as they made it sound. The girl I was a few months ago would have eagerly accepted the invitation. But today’s Kayla preferred to stay at home, playing it safe. Events over the past summer left me clinging once again to the safety net of relative isolation. I longed to take control over my life and determine for myself how the past was going to reshape me, but the past never let me escape. It continued to rear its ugly head until I began to believe maybe it really is my present and my future as well.
Acknowledgments
A common question I’m often asked is where I get my ideas for stories. The truth is, I don’t really know. Sometimes I see or hear something that spurs an idea, other times I try to think of a unique, far more interesting twist on something personal that’s happened, and sometimes the story fairy leaves me a tidbit beneath my pillow in exchange for my sleep and sanity. Regardless, this time, Holt’s story falls into the first category. Shortly after getting married and surviving a bad car accident, I heard a story about a woman w
ho died at her wedding reception. It touched me on multiple levels, including that only weeks earlier, another few inches to the left, and I might have lost my new husband. So while Holt and Claire’s story is all from my mind, I’ve always wondered what happened to the poor man who was married and widowed in one afternoon. I truly hope he’s been able to find happiness in the years since.
The other part of storytelling is all the people who help to bring the story to life - while keeping me sane, the second part probably being the hardest job!
Many, many thanks to the following people:
At the top of my list is Heather Roberts from Social Butterfly PR. It would be another short story to list all the ways you’ve taught, helped and guided me (translate - held my hand through all the crazy!) You’re the best!!
My betas - Maari, Kathy, Tanya, Cindy, Heather: thanks for the invaluable feedback and comments that kept me going and laughing along the way, as well as encouraging me when I stumbled. I love you guys!!
To fellow authors: KL Kreig, LB Dunbar, and Emma Scott whose invaluable feedback pushed me to grow while teaching me more things to keep in mind while I wrote. You guys are amazing, and I want to be one of you guys when I grow up!
Sgt. Crimmons, Kelly E., and Heather R. : for legal and police insight…and for not asking too many questions about murder research!
My very tolerant family: thanks for forgiving me for all the last minute meals, finding clothes to wear in the piles I washed but never folded, and for loving me anyway. You are my biggest blessings!
The rest of the ladies at Social Butterfly PR for taking me on, to Marisa for another gorgeous cover, and Shannon for formatting.
And to the readers…who make it all worthwhile! It still amazes me that you read my words and share and comment on my posts – your support means everything!
About the Author
M.E. Montgomery has been an avid reader her entire life, and after falling in love with so many characters created by other authors, she decided to create her own. She is the homework queen to her four school aged children who think she is a genius in math, science, history and spelling. Fortunately, her biology and elementary school teaching background help her to keep up the expert façade, at least for now. She is a proud Navy wife, setting up a home wherever the Navy sends her husband, which has included Virginia, Rhode Island, North Carolina, and Japan. When she’s not reading or writing, she loves to go camping with her family, drink wine on the deck, and be swept off to romantic getaways.
Yesterday's Tomorrows Page 30