Remembered

by E. D. Brady

  Remembered

  The Vistira Trilogy: Book 1

  By E. D. Brady

  Copyright © 2012 E. D. Brady

  All Rights Reserved

  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

  Emily Smith

  Chapter 1

  The scream of a police car, blazing down Queens Boulevard, ripped Emily from sleep.

  She jolted upright.

  Dawn had not yet broken, but the streetlight outside her window illuminated the small bedroom enough for her to make her way to the door without tripping over the various items scattered across the floor. She made a mental note to tackle the mess after work that evening.

  She walked down the tiny hallway, tiptoeing past her roommate’s bedroom, into the kitchen, and flicked the power switch on the coffee pot.

  In the third week of May, New York City was already blistering under unseasonable heat. Spring came and went in a matter of weeks, ushering in the stagnant humidity of midsummer almost two months early.

  Emily opened the window, hoping for some fresh air—or whatever one would call the New York equivalent—only to slam it shut against the metallic screech of the 7 train approaching the 40th Street station.

  She poured a cup of coffee and stood facing the window, looking at the view beyond: a brick wall adorned with a rusty fire escape—not exactly the Swiss Alps, but hey, what could one expect for eleven hundred a month this close to Manhattan?

  She stood transfixed, allowing her mind to wonder back to the dream she had just before waking, the same dream she had five times in the past two weeks, the dream of a beautiful man with light-brown hair.

  She wondered how her imagination could conjure up such perfection. His hair fell into smoldering blue eyes framed with long brown lashes—eyes that held a vivacious twinkle, as though they belonged to someone ready for mischief, yet burning with kindness. His smile was dazzling. But his most exquisite feature was his bottom lip that pouted out just a little too much, and begged to be nibbled.

  He seemed graced with a certain kind of innocence—an innocence that was only affordable to those blessed with an easy life, a life filled with the comfort of a loving family, untouched by hardship, a life very different from her own.

  It began just after her birthday. She woke up that morning feeling oddly unsettled, and since then, had dreamt of the stunning stranger four more times. While she knew that she had never met such a man, the dreams filled her with a longing that she couldn’t define, and a feeling of loss and heartbreak, which was definitely something she had never experienced before.

  She tossed the empty coffee cup into the sink and walked up the hall to the bathroom.

  After a quick shower, she pulled on her robe and opened the door to make her way to her bedroom, smacking forcefully into her roommate, Cappy, who was vaulting towards the bathroom door.

  “Good Morning. Aren’t we eager to get to work?” Emily teased, rubbing the spot where their heads collided.

  “Sorry, Ems, I’m running really late. I have a new client that I stupidly scheduled for much too early. I don’t know what I was thinking at the time,” Cappy replied. “Please make me a cup of coffee. I’ll be your best friend for life.” She squeezed past Emily, pulling her long blonde hair from a ponytail holder.

  “I’ve been hearing that since we were eleven-years-old,” Emily answered. “You’re obviously still not ready to make that commitment yet.”

  “That commitment was made many years ago, and you know it,” Cappy answered, closing the bathroom door.

  Emily went back to the kitchen, poured another cup of coffee, and left it on Cappy’s dresser, picking up a glossy, overpriced magazine on her way out.

  Back in her bedroom, Emily pulled a pair of tan capris, along with a white blouse, from her wardrobe. She crunched up her long, wet, cocoa-brown curls then let the damp ringlets fall around her shoulders. She sat crossed-legged on her bed, flicking through the magazine, waiting for her hair to dry.

  A knock on her bedroom door pulled her attention away from the article she was reading, ‘How to know if your man is cheating’. It was the type of article—inside the type of magazine—that Emily usually abhorred, but at that hour of the morning, before she was fully functioning, anything that required a few more brain cells was a no-go.

  “Come in,” she called out.

  “I’m leaving,” Cappy announced, pushing open the door. “I’ll see you at Aldo’s at six o’clock?”

  “Yeah,” Emily replied.

  “You alright?” Cappy asked, narrowing her eyes.

  “I had that dream again,” Emily confessed shyly.

  “The one with the hot guy?”

  “Yep, the same one.”

  “Holy shit, you’re kidding me,” Cappy gasped. “That’s what, four or five times now?”

  “Five,” Emily answered firmly.

  “Strange. We’ll talk about this later. I have to go.”

  At eight o’clock, Emily pulled on her work clothes, checked out her reflection in the mirror, and headed out of the apartment.

  She walked a muggy half block to Queens Boulevard—in a stifling ninety-two degrees on May 22nd, according to the local news channel. She climbed the long steep staircase to the subway platform. Why they called it a subway in this part of Queens was a mystery. The tracks towered several stories above the boulevard.

  She boarded her train and quickly found herself sandwiched between two men. The man in front of her, attempted to hold his copy of The New York Times at a readable distance with little success, effectively giving her a face full of newspaper every time he swayed forward. Behind her, another man’s thigh rubbed up against her ass. For this kind of intimacy, she would have liked dinner and a movie first, at the very least. But no, here she was once again, involved in a rush hour ménage a trois without even the courtesy of casual introductions.

  The one and only positive aspect to her morning commute was that it was short. The close proximity to work was one of the things she and Cappy loved most about living in Long Island City.

  Thankfully, moments later, she was off the train and on the busy streets of Manhattan.

  She walked past Bloomingdales, stopping once at her favorite coffee kiosk, and on up Lexington Avenue to 63rd Street.

  Emily’s boss, Nancy Parker, was a talented interior decorator—one of those lucky people who made a great living spending other people’s money. She had an impressive list of clients, all uptown millionaires. Apparently, Nancy was one of the best. Rumor had it that she could turn a trailer home into the Taj Mahal.

  The suite they worked from was Nancy’s home as well as her office. It was a large workspace with two desks arranged chaotically around all the usual furniture one would find in a living room. Scrapes of materials, boxes, and books were scattered everywhere. Emily had to constantly watch her footing while walking around so she wouldn’t disturb the unusual filing system that only Nancy could understand.

  “I have over twenty samples for you to get out in the mail, first thing,” Nancy called as Emily rushed through the door.

  “Just give me a mom
ent to change my shoes and I’ll get right on it,” Emily replied.

  “Take all the time you need, Ems,” Nancy said. “The mailman won’t be here for a while yet.”

  “Isn’t it supposed to be spring?” Emily said agitatedly. “What’s with the African heat outside?”

  “I hear it’s supposed to be beautiful next week, though,” Nancy answered. She walked over and sat on the edge of Emily’s desk, making it apparent that she was bursting to say something by the enormous grin smeared across her face.

  “Typical New York,” Emily huffed. “It goes right from winter to summer…no spring whatsoever.”

  “Never mind that,” Nancy said eagerly. “You know that I’m going to that antique show and seminar in London in two weeks, right?”

  “Yes, I remember,” Emily answered suspiciously.

  “Well, I was wondering…” Nancy trailed off, widening her gaze, inviting Emily to ask the obvious question.

  “What?” Emily obliged.

  “How would you feel about coming with me?” she questioned, clapping hers hands jubilantly.

  “Oh my god, I would love to,” Emily gasped.

  “Great,” Nancy replied. “Because I’ve already booked your ticket.”

  “Why?” Emily blurted out, hardly believing her good fortune.

  “I just thought it would be nice to have you there, and you could help me organize some stuff. Of course, you will have to share a hotel room with me.”

  “No problem,” Emily answered, bursting with excitement.

  “We’re leaving on Friday night, two weeks from today, which will give us the weekend to sightsee before the seminar on Monday,” Nancy stated, handing Emily various tour excursion brochures that she pulled from her back pocket. “I’ve already booked a couple of bus tours.”

  “Thank you so much,” Emily said sincerely. This trip would be a first for her. She had never traveled outside the United States before. In fact, she had barely traveled outside the state of New York.

  “Now, back to work,” Nancy said. “I just remembered that I need you to run up to Mr. Newburg’s apartment. He has a check for me that I need to lodge before lunch. It’s the full amount for the job I did on his living room. The samples can wait until later.”

  “Do you mind if I walk?” Emily asked. “I could use the exercise.”

  “You, Ems?” Nancy asked incredulously. “Honestly, you have the cutest figure I’ve ever seen. If I had a body like yours, I’d walk around naked.”

  Emily cringed inside, suddenly getting a vivid mental image of Nancy on Lexington Avenue, completely undressed. “Thanks,” she mumbled.

  She left the office and walked up to Park Avenue, heading uptown. The flowers in the median were in full bloom, saturating the city air with a sweet spring aroma, and providing a colorful sprinkle between the brown and red brick buildings.

  Emily entered the lobby of Mr. Newburg’s building, between 87th and 88th Street. The doorman called upstairs then informed her that she could take the elevator to the fifth floor. An employee led her into the living room and announced that Mr. Newburg would be with her in a moment.

  She marveled at the massive room. Five of her apartments could fit into the living room alone. And the dining room, off to the side, was bigger than most restaurants she’d ever eaten in.

  She fidgeted awkwardly, debating whether or not it was acceptable to sit down. In the end, she decided to walk over to the enormous fireplace and casually looked at the variety of ornaments on the marble mantel.

  A painting, centered in the middle of the space above the mantel, caught her attention—a single daisy on a dark background.

  “It’s unusual, isn’t it?” Mr. Newburg said, appearing beside her. “At first I didn’t like it, but it’s really grown on me.”

  “My roommate would love it. She loves daisies,” Emily replied. “There’s something kind of sad about it.”

  “That’s exactly what I think,” Mr. Newburg agreed. “If you look underneath, it says, ‘The daisy blooms on an island of glass’, which is strange because there’s no sign of an island.”

  “Weird,” Emily murmured.

  Mr. Newburg handed her an envelope and escorted her back to the front door, wishing her a lovely day.

  ‘It already has been,’ she thought, ‘the best day in a very long time.’

  Chapter 2

  Emily pulled opened the door to Aldo’s restaurant—the place she and Cappy met every Friday evening for dinner—eager to share her good news.

  Cappy sat with her back to the door at their usual table.

  Emily slid into the seat facing her, beaming.

  “You look happy,” Cappy said. “What’s up?

  Emily told her all about her upcoming trip abroad.

  Cappy joined in her enthusiasm. “I’m so excited for you,” she squealed, “but also extremely jealous. I wish I was going with you.”

  “I wish you were too. Imagine how much fun we would have together,” Emily answered, looking over the menu.

  “Flirting with all those British guys,” Cappy sighed longingly.

  “Do you ever think of anything besides men?” Emily scolded, peeking over the top of her menu.

  “No, and that reminds me, I want to know all about the dream you had last night,” Cappy answered. Her perfectly-manicured hand held a glass of cabernet three inches from her lips.

  “There’s really nothing to tell as I’ve explained before,” Emily answered, casually shrugging her shoulders, “just a beautiful guy…nothing else.”

  “But these dreams have you all hot and bothered.”

  “So?” Emily replied defensively.

  “So? You don’t get hot and bothered, remember?” Cappy arched her eyebrows, waiting for her friend to divulge more information.

  “I don’t really know what to tell you,” Emily said. “I was standing on a strange set of stone steps, and that same gorgeous guy was looking at me like he adores me…again. What’s your big interest in these dreams, anyway?”

  “The big interest is that you, like I said, never get hot and bothered over men. Now here you are drooling over a figment of your imagination. I find it fascinating.”

  “I’d hardly call it fascinating,” Emily argued. “Women dream about hot men all the time, or so I’m told.”

  “Yes, but you are not any woman,” Cappy answered. “You are the twenty-two-year-old virgin, the ultimate Ice Queen. I’ve know you forever, and I’ve never seen you go soft over a man. Besides, most women dream of men they know, not ones that don’t exist.”

  “Maybe he does exist,” Emily countered. “I really don’t think my imagination is that good.”

  “Ems, I think I would remember if you’d met this guy. We have been glued to one another’s hips for over ten years. If, by chance, you met him without me, you would’ve told me all about him. And unlike you, I have a wonderful memory when it comes to people.”

  “I suppose,” Emily murmured.

  “I’m just curious,” Cappy said, smirking, “but if this guy did exist, do you think you would do it with him?” She grinned childishly.

  “What kind of immature question is that? Are we suddenly back in the tenth grade?” Emily replied sternly, but despite herself, she felt a smile creep over her face.

  “Oh my god, you would. Look at that smile. You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?” Cappy accused.

  “This is so far beyond childish,” Emily answered, rolling her eyes.

  “I’m your best friend,” Cappy stated, “and you know all about my sordid affairs. Tell me, would you or would you not, get down and dirty with the dream guy?” She leaned forward in anticipation.

  “Without a doubt,” Emily replied in defeat.

  “Slut,” Cappy teased. “So does this mean that you do have a libido after all? Dare I suggest that perhaps you’re not a freak of nature?”

  “I wouldn’t jump to those conclusions just yet. Remember, this guy doesn’t exist,” Emily responded. />
  “So, what makes him so different from every other man on planet earth?” Cappy pushed.

  “I don’t know exactly…something in his face or his eyes…” she trailed off.

  “Or is it that there really is no chance of it happening, so you don’t have to feel intimidated by the prospect?”

  “I have never been intimidated by the prospect,” Emily answered, feeling slightly agitated by the accusation. “It isn’t some deep routed fear that keeps me from dating anyone. I’ve just never met anyone that makes me feel special.”

  “Ems…you’ve never even kissed a guy,” Cappy replied flatly.

  “Yes, I have,” Emily argued.

  “Spin The Bottle in seventh grade doesn’t really count,” Cappy answered. “My point is you’ve never had a passionate kiss.”

  “I have so.”

  “No, you haven’t. Seven Minutes in Heaven doesn’t count either, Ems. Besides, I know that you didn’t even do it. Bobby Kebler told half the eighth grade that you refused to kiss him, so you both just pretended that you did,” Cappy said smugly.

  “Oh yeah, that’s right,” Emily conceded, “but Bobby Kebler was really gross back then, remember?”

  “Lets order,” Cappy chuckled.

  They slowly walked home after dinner, enjoying the less humid evening air.

  It was only after eight o’clock, but Emily went straight to bed. Whether, from the wine or the week of work, she was exhausted. She slipped into unconsciousness effortlessly.

  She laid on soft, lush grass, staring into his beautiful face, her arms around his perfect shoulders.

  “I love you so much, Annie,” he whispered.

  “And I love you,” she replied.

  “Never leave me,” he breathed into her mouth.

  “No, never,” she vowed, “I couldn’t endure a life without you.”

  He pulled his head back and gazed into her face, his eyes darting around her features. “So beautiful,” he sighed, pressing his lips to hers.

  Emily’s arms were suddenly empty. She lurched up into sitting position. “KELLUS!” She screamed into the darkness.