Love Redone
By Peyton Reeser
Text copyright © 2013 Peyton Reeser
All Rights Reserved
ISBN: 9781301699254
Title: Love Redone
Author: Peyton Reeser
Publisher: Smashwords, Inc
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This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Peyton Reeser holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
This is for CAZLE
You are my sunshine
Table of Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
EPILOGUE
LOVE REDONE
CHAPTER ONE
Eight years ago……
The room was pin drop quiet. Heavy drapes hanging over a tall row of windows were drawn back to let in what light was left on a day that had slipped into the deepening shadows of twilight. An eerie silence permeated the room lending an atmosphere of total quiet that was almost deafening.
The air was thick with emotion; something dark and painful seemed to be hovering over everything. Barely a bump in the linens, a small form huddled in the midst of a huge bed, it’s breathing the only break in the awkward silence.
Somewhere in the quiet, a door swished open and then, after a few moments, shut again with a tiny snick of sound as the latch caught.
In the hallway outside, two people stopped to look at one another, each reading the uneasiness in the other’s face.
“I’m worried, Ted. Really worried. She isn’t even making an attempt to pull herself together. And I don’t know what to say to her.” The last was said in whispered annoyance and frustration.
“Well, hell, Jane, I have no idea what to say to her either. I mean, let’s face it-she’s my sister, but we barely know each other. My being so much older than her meant we were raised at different times. I was just months away from heading off to university when she was born. And right now as I stand here, staring down forty, I have no more notion of what to say to a messed-up twenty-year-old than you do,” a confused and equally frustrated voice lamented.
“Maybe you should call your parents.”
“And say what exactly?” he hissed. “Hi, Mom and Dad. Just wanted to let you know that Shannon is back from Africa, and she’s had a minor car accident. Got thumped pretty good on the head. Nothing to worry about though. Oh, and by the way, the accident was triggered by a miscarriage that I only know about because I pulled rank on her nurses and demanded to see her chart. Really, Jane, I’m thinking the answer to that is a big no. Shannon obviously isn’t going to tell any of this to us or Mom and Dad. She’s a big girl and we don’t know what happened, so let’s not get involved and just move on.”
Two pairs of concerned eyes turned at the same time, fixing thoughtful stares at the closed room. Beyond that door, in the huge bed, huddled under a mountain of soft blankets, lay a young girl—no, not a girl anymore young, but a woman in pieces. The life-altering events of the past year had brought her far from her girlish youth.
* * *
Inside the room, cocooned safely under the deep bedding, she imagined the anxious whispers of her older brother and his wife, in whose home she’d been staying since her unexpected return to the states from the other side of the globe.
She knew she should try to pull herself together, but her heart just wasn’t in it today. Not even for her family. Reality surged, a sudden pain clutching with its vicious claws at her heart, a ruthless throbbing reminder of the truth.
She didn’t care whether she ever got up and left that room. Did not care at all. Nick was gone, having betrayed her in the cruelest way possible. The child they’d created together, that she hadn’t realized she was carrying, was no more. In that moment, Shannon knew and saw nothing except a dark tunnel of pain and loss spread out in front of her. What was the point of even trying to go on?
She’d been understandably distraught after discovering that the man she had loved was a fantasy, someone who never even really existed so deep were his lies and the subterfuge he worked on everyone.
At first she just assumed that having her heart broken explained why she felt so lousy, but the truth of her situation came crashing home in brutal terms when she’d blacked out while driving, gotten whacked on the head, and been rushed by ambulance to the nearest hospital where she nearly bled to death from a ruptured cyst. The trauma and blood loss ultimately caused an end to a pregnancy she hadn’t even known about. When the doctors reassured her she could have other children, her heart shut down. No. She would never allow herself to let anyone get that close ever again. That part of her life was over.
She’d laid her heart open to her first love and given him everything. Absolutely everything. And from the depths of that openness, they had created a life. Maybe it was best that she hadn’t known, better that she’d been unaware instead of mourning a tiny moment of bliss that was not to be and which she would never, ever get back.
Tomorrow really would be another day, and maybe she’d think then about stepping back into her life. For now, she was so empty and numb that she didn’t have anything left. The only action she could summon up was to simply change positions in the big bed in her dark room and keep those covers over her head because she just wasn’t ready to move on. Not yet. She hated having to stay with Ted and his wife, but at the moment she was adrift and had no place else to go.
Just then a gust of wind picked up, causing the long, heavy drapes to flutter and sway.
* * *
In New York City, Julianna Barrett let herself into the executive apartment at the top of the Barrett office building.
After three days of uncharacteristic silence, she had gone in search of her big brother, who at this moment was M.I.A. from his position as head of the family business.
The last month had been god awful, Jules, as she preferred to be called, thought to herself when the heavy apartment door swung open. People were always saying how life can change completely between one heartbeat and the next, but she’d never truly appreciated that sentiment until recently. Now she could see that very reality all over her life and the lives of everyone she knew.
Eight weeks ago she’d been an excited, soon-to-graduate college student making plans for her future. Then her stern and controlling grandfather, a man who had in her mind been an evil, emotionless puppeteer calling the shots in the lives of her mother, brother, and herself since the day her beloved daddy had perished in a senseless accident, had dropped of a massive stroke. Just like that, all their lives changed instantly.
With her big brother summoned back from time he’d been spending abroad, life
had been turned upside down by the old man’s condition. Then, just a month later, he had died. In the blink of an eye, or a heartbeat, Nicky, the older brother she adored, was at twenty-five years old, the new CEO and majority holder of a huge international family business.
The weeks since then had been alarming for Jules and her mother as the burden and overwhelming responsibilities of running a billion-dollar global company consumed Nicky’s life. Seemingly overnight he seemed more and more distant, as if the duty he’d inherited had changed his life the way a jail sentence would.
Nicky had always been the heir to their grandfather’s enormous business legacy, so why he’d seemed so miserable as the mantle of power and control had settled on him didn’t make much sense to Jules. Or her mother, for that fact, who was equally confused by her son’s apparent fall into a pit of despair, which was so very unlike him.
She supposed that the sham engagement he’d been forced into by the terms of their grandfather’s smarmy will was fueling his isolation. Rachel Dane was the daughter of one of her grandfather’s business cronies. Just one in a long line of older men who ran their companies like feudal kingdoms, wielding power, ego, and control without conscience, and who in this case was willing to put his own daughter on the table as a negotiating point in a multimillion-dollar development deal, which would, when completed, bring an obscene profit to both men.
Jules knew that Rachel was as interested in being married to her brother as the wood column by the front door. They both seemed trapped, however, by the terms of the will and the devious business deal Rachel’s father and their grandfather had struck. Jules and her mother, Alanna, both prayed desperately that Nicky could find a way out of this mess.
Still, it wasn’t just that, because he’d been different from the moment he’d returned from Africa. Something was wrong beyond the forced engagement, she could feel it, but with the whole Barrett world freaking out around them, there hadn’t been time to get big brother alone.
Jules had expressed her concerns to Nicky’s oldest friend, Ned Stewart. She and Ned had gotten seriously close in the last year, and it was natural to share her worry with him. In fact, Jules was head over stilettos with the man, so Ned took her apprehensions seriously. It had been he who suggested she check the penthouse when her brother had gone off the radar. Especially since his less-than-enthusiastic fiancée didn’t seem to care one way or the other. Something definitely wasn’t right.
The moment the door closed behind her, Jules took in what was basically a holy hell mess stretching from the vestibule through to the high-ceilinged living room. There were pizza boxes stacked on the hallway table, and the unmistakable aroma of scotch permeated the air.
Once in the living room, she spied take-out containers, piles of clothes, and boxes of tapes and books strewn everywhere. The place looked and smelled like a wolf pack had been living there. This much evidence hadn’t piled up in just a day or two. The scenario she’d stumbled upon looked to her like Nicky had been going off the rails for weeks.
She thought for a moment that someone else was there when a voice out of nowhere pulled her up short. Then she saw a homemade video playing on the large screen TV just a split second before she then noticed her brother, out cold, sprawled on the sofa.
“Fabulous, just great,” she muttered hurrying over to the sofa to see if he was alright. More sounds of laughing voices and scenes from a part of Nicky’s life that she knew nothing about intruded on her task. With an impatient flick of the remote control, she paused the recording at the exact moment when the image of her brother engaged in some seriously close dancing with a blonde-haired woman froze on the screen.
Face down on the sofa, dressed only in a pair of well-worn jeans, Nicholas Barrett was sleeping off what looked to have been an epic drunk. Quickly assessing that he was alright and deciding it was best to leave him be, Jules went to toss a throw blanket over him when she noticed a small tattoo, real low on his back. What would normally have been covered by clothing had he not been half undressed, was a bird with an unusual symbol done in midnight-blue ink.
She wasn’t surprised so much that he had a tattoo; Nicky always did whatever he wanted, especially if what he wanted was something that would annoy the shit out of their oppressive grandfather.
No, what struck Jules was where the image was located—clearly placed in one of those areas that would not be seen by the casual viewer. This mark and its placement were meant for the eyes of a lover.
The symbol meant something to him, of that she was sure. Glancing up at the frozen image on the screen showing Nicky with his arms wrapped around the blonde-haired woman with his face pressed against her neck, Jules’ instincts went on high alert.
Nicky’d had no choice but to follow his destiny when the time came for him to do so, but in this moment Jules was painfully aware that in order for all their lives to continue on without disruption her brother may have paid a terrible price. One which, judging by the state of things today, she hoped he’d recover from.
Just then a gust of wind blew through the wide-open French doors leading to the balcony terrace, causing the long, heavy drapes to flutter and sway.
Heaving a heavy sigh, Jules turned her attention back to the task at hand. Satisfied that Nicky was alright and just sleeping it off, she began gathering the mounds of trash and dirty dishes littering the otherwise well-organized space.
PRESENT DAY
Nicholas Temple Barrett was a wealthy man. If you took into consideration what was generally understood and written about in the media, he had, in fact, more money than god. Not that he cared. Not that it mattered.
Great wealth hadn’t ensured that he’d have a happy life and certainly hadn’t mattered a whit when his father had been mortally wounded in an accident when Nick had been a teen. No, the money was in actuality a life sentence that came along with a level of power and privilege most could never even imagine. At the end of the day though, all that wealth and all those privileges did not mean a thing when he went home to emptiness and the deafening sounds of a life lived in solitary confinement.
Being born into and raised in the affluent world of the upper class, he’d had an uneasy relationship with the lifestyle and advantages that wealth and power produced. Those with the money had all the influence and control. He’d seen up close and way too personally how ruthlessly these intangibles were called to play in every aspect of existence for those in the highest echelons of fortune’s prosperous elite.
Speeding along the highway in an outwardly plain but oh so ostentatious limo, returning from yet another in a mind-numbingly endless tsunami of meetings and business engagements, Nick was restlessly edgy and out of sorts. He was leading a monochrome life on what seemed to be an otherwise beautifully sunny and vibrantly colorful late summer day in New York City.
Thoughts of bland business meetings full of people who after all these years were easily forgotten and interchangeable were eating away at the edges of his mind. Being emotionally or personally reflective was not something he was prone to, not something that was necessary in his life as the privileged heir and now CEO to a massive company with worldwide holdings and pursuits.
From the moment of his birth thirty-four years ago, Nicholas Barrett’s life had been matter-of-factly laid out before him with no areas of question or possibilities intruding on the strict confines of being the Barrett heir. There would never be those childhood questions such as, ‘What do you want to be when you grow up?’, no opportunities to engage his youthful imagination in superheroes or damsels in distress.
No, for Nick, he would only ever be the man in the executive office at the pinnacle of a towering edifice of business iconography. He’d be the one calling the shots, regardless of his talents or lack thereof, simply because of his having been born into it. People would do his bidding whether he’d earned that level of respect or not due to the circumstances of his birth.
Maybe that was why he was itchy and restless. He’d been following the
plan to a T, not that he’d had much choice, and while the business was thriving, and had done so for the eight years that Nick had been ensconced in the executive tower, he was empty inside. No amount of knowing it wasn’t good to muddle over things that might have been but would never be could apparently keep his thoughts from straying to the danger zone of memory where the only occasion when he had broken free of the restraints of the Barrett legacy lived in carefully hidden visions of a time when he’d been truly, deeply happy.
A time when he’d known what it was to be happy and free; chasing dreams and reveling in the challenges of a normal, everyday life when he had been just one of the guys, anonymous and sharing in a team effort to bring about meaningful change in one of the poorest regions on the planet.
Anytime he shone the light in his mind’s eye on that happier time when, fresh out of grad school, he had accepted a fellowship grant working on a project in Africa, an area ignored and forgotten by time and progress, he would have to deal with that other memory.
The one filled with laughter that erupted in a giggle he couldn’t forget. The memory with the sun-gilded golden hair and startling turquoise eyes. The remembrance of adorable bowtie lips under a perfect little nose and the way it made him feel when this memory of perfection would absentmindedly run her finger along her jawline from ear to chin when she was engaged in deep thought. As it made him feel right now, almost nine years later.
Expressing a deep sigh, Nicholas Barrett forced his mind away from those memories and turned unseeing eyes on the city scene rushing by as his car moved through the always-crowded streets.
Maybe the edginess he was battling was due to his locale, he mused. Perhaps all this pointless reflection and restless distraction was a result of having spent too much time in the city. And not just this city. All cities, he reckoned, since his life was a never-ending itinerary of jet-propelled travel whether here in the States or around the globe, as was the case today. This particular car ride would eventually end at the private hangar Barrett Holdings kept for the company plane, which this evening would be taking him on another long-distance series of business obligations.
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