Spartan Heart, Part One

by Kristine Cheney

  SPARTAN HEART, PART ONE

  BY KRISTINE CHENEY

  Published by Astraea Press, LLC

  www.astraeapress.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, is 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.

  SPARTAN HEART, PART ONE

  Copyright © 2011 KRISTINE CHENEY

  ISBN 978-1-936852-02-4

  Cover Art Designed By Elaina Lee

  Edited By Stephanie Taylor

  Above all, I dedicate this book to the Lord. Thank you for giving me the desire and creativity to write. I am in awe of your faithfulness, for leading me where I could write without the pressure of dishonoring you, and for tapping my shoulder when I wanted to compromise.

  And to my beloved husband Brett. Thank you for believing in my writing and always standing behind me. Thank you for every night you watched television alone so I could immerse myself in my laptop for hours, writing my heart out. Most of all, thank you for telling me to keep on writing, especially on the days when I wanted to give up. I truly love you.

  And to my children Taryn, Brett, and Zackary. Thank you for lending me your ears, listening to my story ideas, and for not thinking your mother is just some crazy lady taking up all of your Facebook time.

  And a very special thank you to Judi Hartman and Amber Stewart, for always lifting me up, and for your unfailing enthusiasm and excitement every time I asked you to read the newest version of my manuscript. I know you both have read this story at least a gazillion times! Thank you for believing in me and for loving my story. I am forever grateful.

  You all are my heart, KC

  Part One

  Chapter One

  Her father rested in a casket of dark mahogany wood, etched with Hellenistic vases and statues of art. Her mother’s casket was a rich iridescent lavender. Edged like a round Grecian pillar, it was adorned with flowing fountains and lush gardens made from mother-of-pearl and diamond dust. Evangeline had cared nothing about cost. Her parents deserved the best.

  Taryn leaned forward and whispered in her ear. Somehow Evangeline knew what her best friend was going to say.

  “Evan, it’s time. Are you ready, love?”

  With a furrowed brow, she shook her head. But it mattered little that she wasn’t ready. The time to face her darkest fear was now. She wasn’t sure how long she had held her breath. Her body burned its need for air. She sucked in deep, but it felt scarce and thick. Every muscle in her body threatened to spasm in revolt. Taryn and Eliza helped her to stand. Every agonizing step only brought her closer. She was surprised she made it to the caskets.

  Evangeline stared at her father’s pale face. Her whole world fell apart. The depth of her loss sent her reeling. The finality of unquenched pain imprinted on her soul. Fearing the brink of collapse, she placed her hand on his chest, sobbing aloud. Always loving and gentle, her daddy had doted and cherished her. She caressed his strong, broad shoulder. She would forever miss the safest place her head had ever rested. He looked so peaceful, as if he was sleeping. She resisted the urge to pat and wake him.

  Her father’s honey-wheat hair was combed back. His lifeless hands clasped still over his abdomen. Placing her hand in Taryn’s dress pocket, Evangeline retrieved his beloved pocket watch and nestled it into his cold fingers. Desperate cries stuck in her throat. She placed lingering kisses on his cheek and forehead as she wept.

  “I love you, Daddy. Please forgive me. I’m so sorry. I should have known better. You deserved better than me. I would take back every wretched thing I did to you and Mummy, if only I could. Please, know how much I love you. I’m not mad anymore. I should have told you. Please take care of Mummy. Tell her I’m so sorry.”

  Evangeline closed her eyes. She fought for another strained breath. With a twirl of black chiffon, she turned and forced herself to look at her mother.

  Gifted, intelligent, and beautiful, her Mum was the love of her father’s life. The long, black curls she’d always loved swirled around her angelic face. Like her father, her mother appeared happy while sleeping. Her cheek rested against her mother’s breast. She longed for the warm, soft skin that had been replaced by a cold, hard shell. If only her mother could embrace her, stroke her hair and face as she always used to do. Soothing touches were always soft, overflowing with so much love. The sound of Mummy’s laughter was the sweetest balm to her soul.

  “Mummy! I’m so sorry! I want to tell you I’m sorry. Don’t leave me! How can I live without you and Daddy? I can’t do this! But I deserve it! I don’t deserve a family. I’ve earned the punishment of being left all alone.”

  Rocking from the balls of her heels to the tips of her toes, everything swirled around her. The despondency of her mind was a constant reminder that nothing was left for her here. Not the world, not her friends, not even the museum. If only she had the chance to go back! She would live with her parents’ choices, despite her inability to understand their reasons. If given the chance, she would fall to her knees and beg for their forgiveness.

  Her white knuckles latched onto the caskets for support. Evangeline’s head fell limp towards her chest. Jerky sobs wracked her body. Her face was swollen and tight from a constant stream of tears that wouldn’t ebb. It was a wonder she could see at all.

  Stealing a glance at her God-Mum, Eliza’s protective gaze caught and held hers captive. It was certain where Taryn had inherited the pale hazel-green color; only Eliza’s were enriched with far more hazel. Early in her forties, Eliza’s trim beauty could pass for ten years younger. The soft blush of her creamy skin boasted a permanent maternal glow. Straight brown hair was toned with vibrant strands of russet, pinned up in a loose bun. Regal as a queen, no one was more lady-like.

  A sudden smile appeared on Eliza’s face. Evangeline knew it was forced. Even counterfeit, the head-turning dimples in her chin and right cheek demanded attention. Tears misted her sad, lonely eyes. Hollow shadowed rings rested under long, sooty lashes, exposing the depth of her grief. Evangeline knew this funeral was Hell for Eliza, too. Today, her God-Mum would bury her best friend.

  Taryn tried in vain to console her weeping mother. But Eliza couldn’t be comforted. The loss of Helena had swept the rug out from beneath her feet. Nothing would ebb the flow of anguish rolling down her delicate face. Time would never fade the affliction and despondence in her soulful cries.

  Priest Nikolas was patient, never giving any indication for the need to rush. Weary from mourning, Taryn and Eliza guided Evangeline back to her seat. The invasive sounds of lamentation filled the church. With the flow of his robe trailing nobly behind him, Nikolas approached the pulpit. He bowed of his head and opened with a subtle prayer. Evangeline didn’t hear a word of it.

  She was jolted when Taryn called her name.

  “Come on, doll. It’s time to walk to the cemetery.”

  Nodding in absent agreement, Evangeline staggered towards the open church doors. The adjoining cemetery would be a short jaunt. Bright sunlight flooded Evangeline’s face. She squinted against the glare. She gasped. Large crowds of people were congregated in front of the church. Curious gawkers lined the sidewalk. Vans from various news and media outlets were littered everywhere. Reporters gave live reports in front of rolling cameras. Helicopters continued to circle, hovering noisily from above. Caught off guard, she turned her head towa
rd the clicks of cameras. The blinding barrages of flashes were disorienting. Evangeline groaned. She leaned towards Eliza and Taryn in alarm.

  “Why are all these people here? Do they expect us to walk right through them?”

  Eliza’s voice was always so full of reason. “Evan, your parents were well loved and admired here in London. The museum made them local celebrities. Everyone is shocked and saddened by the news of their tragic deaths. As their only heir and sole successor to the museum, I’m afraid their focus now falls on you. It is unfortunate the news stations have decided to make today the start of their media circus. But don’t you worry, love! We’ll break through this crowd.”

  Uniformed pallbearers exited the church. Slow in their steps, the white of their gloves was brilliant against the brass handles of heavy caskets. Eliza clutched her black-beaded satchel purse tight under the crook of her armpit. With delicate strokes, she smoothed her black silk suit. Craning her neck, her gaze found her daughter behind her. She and Taryn’s stares were intense, igniting in challenge.

  “Taryn, I’ll get out first and push the blokes back. Get Evangeline into the safety of the cemetery. I’ll meet you both at the graveside service.”

  Taryn nodded once in acceptance of her mission. “Got it.”

  Her best friend turned to her. Evangeline didn’t miss Taryn’s smile, or her gentle wink of reassurance. “Evan, this might get a little rough, but whatever happens, don’t let go of my hand, all right?”

  Nodding, Evangeline held a hand over her black broad-brimmed hat. They had no choice but to storm through the crowd. Inhaling a nervous breath, the air felt heavy in an instant. The taps of her heels fell silent the moment they reached the bottom church step. Rushed by the crowd, a swarm of people engulfed them.

  Eliza pushed forward, plowing through droves of curious bystanders. Taryn was close on her mother’s heels, pulling Evangeline close behind her. Evangeline cringed at the constant awkward touches of strangers. A firm solid jerk on her upper arm stopped her cold. Her chest tightened in panic when her hand fell from the safety of Taryn’s protective grasp.

  Swaying in a tight sea of bodies, Evangeline was desperate to keep her hat and her footing. If she fell, she would be trampled to death. Pulling her shoulders in tight, it did nothing to alleviate being shoved about. Holding her breath, the rancid scents of sweat, cheap perfume, and body odor made her feel like she would vomit. Unfamiliar faces were all around her. There was no sign of Taryn or Eliza. Pressure from the vice grip shot pain up her arm. Evangeline had no choice but to turn and face the one who dared to hold her captive.

  The petite, sandy-blonde looker was obviously twenty-something. She was stunning in her ruffled lavender skirt suit. Warm honey-brown doe-eyes twinkled with mischief. One eye was shadowed by the dull motley blend of yellow and green, giving away a recent black-eye. Discoloration of the bruise took nothing away from the woman’s beauty. Drop-dead gorgeous, she had more to offer than visual perks; she was educated. Speaking into her microphone, her elegant voice dripped with professional eloquence and enthusiasm. Despite the woman’s live broadcast, a death-grip was still latched on to Evangeline, who was taken by complete surprise when the reporter’s microphone thrust abruptly in her face.

  “Miss Montgomery, I’m Ember Thornton from WE-C-U News. Will you please give our fabulous viewers an update on the status of London Yard’s investigation into the tragic murder of your beloved parents?”

  Caught off guard, Evangeline’s head shook in bewilderment. Was this woman expecting her to answer this question on live television?

  “Um...Well…”

  Ember’s mischievous stare glowed with curiosity. “Is it true that as the heir to your parents’ massive fortune, you plan to assume the reins of London’s coveted Greco-Roman museum?”

  “Ah, yes.”

  “One more question, if you please. Would you like to tell the viewers why you’ve failed to visit home in the last nine years? Was there some family riff-raff that kept you away?”

  Evangeline’s head jerked back in stunned surprise, as if Ember slapped her face. But her wits returned in an instant. Guilt placed her in position for playing a good round of defense. Eyes narrowed into thin slits, prepared for declaration of war. How dare this milk-faced kitten invade her shrine of personal shame!

  A familiar voice drifted through the crowd. Evangeline craned her neck.

  Taryn!

  Her timing was a welcome sight. But upon further inspection, Taryn’s wretched expression was thoroughly peeved and miffed. Dark arched brows furrowed in anger. Teeth were bared and clenched. Her death stare was stuck like glue on her intended target.

  Ember Thornton.

  Taryn shoved her way through the tight packed gawkers, rescuing Evangeline from Ember’s grip. Hands on her hips, Taryn leaned forward, shouting loud into Ember’s face.

  “Let me tell you something, blondie! If you value those pretty locks of yours and want to avoid a matching shiner for your other eye, back off!”

  Ember’s gaze narrowed in retaliation. Her tone dared to be defensive. “Well now! We are only trying to get the facts, Miss…?”

  “Hampton. Taryn Hampton. And for the record, peaches, if I run into you again, my fist is going to be planted in your face!”

  Ember sucked in a mortified breath. With the back of her hand lying flush against her forehead, she feigned the perfect damsel-in-distress. Regaining her composure in an instant, the beauty smiled wicked in parody, making Evangeline think of the Cheshire Cat. Without a moment of haste, a twirl of lavender ruffles swooshed back towards the rolling camera. Ember’s long lashes fluttered in innocence. She flirted with her invisible audience.

  “There you have it, a threat against my person involving the sole heir of the Montgomery fortune. Is there a family secret Miss Montgomery is hiding? We will give you updates as our investigation continues. With a live report from the Montgomery funeral at St. Bartholomew’s church, this is Ember Thornton from WE-C-U News. Cheerio, London!”

  Elbows high, Taryn pulled Evangeline through the tough crowd. It was a relief to retreat into the safety of the cemetery. They stopped to gather their wits at a large old oak tree. After a few haggard breaths, Taryn’s face was flushed. It sounded like she was growling. She re-positioned Evangeline’s hat and fluffed her curls.

  “Evan, are you okay? What is wrong with all of these people? And that Ember bimbo! No respect! Absolute rubbish! I’m so glad I found you! Can you believe that bloody reporter had the nerve to try and create some controversy?”

  Evangeline shivered and caught her breath. Riddled with agitation, her mood changed in an instant. Her eyes narrowed in accusation. Balling up her fists, she rested them akimbo on her hips.

  “I’m okay. A little shook up, but I’ll survive. I felt like I was interrogated by a barrister! And, why are you complaining about controversy and rubbish? Threatening to beat up a reporter on live television wasn’t a big help, Taryn! If anything, you’ve only instigated her!”

  “Well, I’m sorry, Evan. What can I say? Barbie’s lucky I didn’t pop her one in the face, talking to you like that. Anyways, now we’re safe in the cemetery. If I know Mum, she’s calling for a team of security as we speak. They’ll be here in time to shield us when it’s time to walk to the limousine. None of us had any idea this media frenzy was going to happen. Try not to think about that crazy woman’s questions. It’s none of her business, all right, love?”

  Evangeline nodded. She chewed at her bottom lip.

  “Now that we’ve survived, are you ready to go to the gravesite service?”

  Fired up and restless, Evangeline’s nerves were on edge. Heels sunk into the dirt in pace. It did little to relieve her anxiety. If only they could leave and get out of this wretched place.

  “I guess I have no choice,” she whispered in resignation.

  Taryn grabbed her by the hand and forced her to stop pacing. The smirk on her face promised she would stay awful close.

  �
��Okay, here we go, Sister! I’m not letting you go this time!”

  Taryn didn’t wait for a response, which was probably a good thing, especially since Evangeline was about to object. Dragged like a helpless child towards the waiting funeral party, it was a nightmare stuck in slow motion. Evangeline risked a gaze to evaluate her surroundings. In an instant, she was sorry.

  People loitered everywhere. Evangeline heard voices. The necks of gawkers craned. Their stares penetrated her body like a hailstorm of bullets. Her cheeks burned hot in embarrassment. She was grateful for the strength of Taryn’s hand. Without it, how would she keep walking?

  The sounds of whispers and murmurs filled her ears. Evangeline fought the urge to run away and hide. Searching the sea of unknown faces, the tear-filled eyes of strangers stared back at her in apology. She was certain everyone meant well, but she didn’t want their sympathy. All she wanted was her parents.

  But what if there was gossip? The thought made Evangeline want to die of humiliation. After all, Ember Thornton’s observations were right. This was her first visit home in nine years. Perhaps she was bordering on paranoid? But still, if anyone was gabbing gossip, then she deserved it for being such a fool. Did everyone know about the blow-up she had with her parents before they sent her away?

  Painful memories lingered. Evangeline flinched at the gaping hole tearing through her heart. Glancing ahead at the caskets, they rested side-by-side. Bile burned her belly and throat. She inhaled deep breaths through her nose. Sweat beaded along the back of her neck. Hot and weak, she couldn’t move. It was impossible to swallow the knot that formed in her throat.

  The gravesite service was comatose. The constant flashes of cameras persisted. It made Evangeline feel like a freak at a circus. Strangers stared and gawked, pushing her over the edge. Wanting to scream like a woman possessed, all she could do was stand there in silence. The bodies of her parents were lowered into the ground.