The Beginning of Always
Sophia Mae Todd
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, locales, or events is purely coincidental.
No part of this book may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.
Copyright © 2016 Sophia Mae Todd
All rights reserved.
www.sophiamaetodd.com
FIRST EDITION: July 2016
Cover design by Alyce Harley of a luxe contraband [lettering & design]
For my love and our skulk,
Who helped me believe.
Table of Contents
Prologue
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
Epilogue
“Remember tonight … for it is the beginning of always.” – Dante Alighieri
Prologue
Alistair Blair, seven years old
Where was Mom? She said she’d be back.
I scratched the back of my thigh. The stupid bugs kept biting me and it hurt. It itched. I was uncomfortable and I wanted to go home.
Once again, I wondered if I should go find someone. Mom had told me to wait for her here by the road, but it was dusty and I hadn’t seen any cars since Mom had sped away when the sun was still hot. I’d been here for most of the day and I was getting hungry and thirsty.
The sun was going down in the sky.
I didn’t want to come. Mom packed us a bag and shoved me in the car, and we drove for hours and hours. We drove for almost two days. Mom barely stopped and she hardly talked. I slept in the backseat and I missed my bed.
She’d been weird since she started dating that guy. I wasn’t an idiot; I knew he was Mom’s boyfriend. I’d never met him. Every time she’d go out with him, she’d lock me in the apartment and be gone all night. I guessed it was fine, because she put me in her room, where there was a bathroom and a TV, and I could play as many video games as I wanted.
She didn’t know that I would peek outside the window above her bed, and sometimes, I could spot that red sports car parked in the space behind our building. If I squinted, I could just make out a man in the driver’s seat. Mom would go to the passenger side, get in, hug the man, kiss the man, and they’d drive away.
I wondered if Mom loved him, to kiss him like that. She didn’t kiss me; she didn’t even hug me anymore.
I asked Mom if I could meet him one day, but she ignored me. She did that a lot, pretended I wasn’t around, especially when I asked questions. Mrs. Graves told me that we should ask questions, that it’s good to ask questions. I liked Mrs. Graves. She taught me how to read and let me help her clean the classroom after school.
I was really happy that I was in school because when I was just at home, it got really lonely. I didn’t usually like to go home right after class ended, but right now, I really wanted to go home.
I scratched the bottom of my legs with both hands and suddenly, a dust cloud began billowing down the road towards me. My heart leapt at the sight. Mom! I quickly stood up and ran my wet palms up and down my shorts.
Maybe we could go to McDonald’s on the way home.
I jumped up and down, waving my arms at Mom.
But as the dust cloud came closer, I realized the car was white. I stopped jumping and frowned. Mom’s car was blue. This wasn’t her. I hated the thought of more waiting, but what could I do? I crouched back down again, a little further away from the road so the dust wouldn’t get in my face.
The car drove down the road and as it got closer, I realized it was a police car. The front of the car was black and it had big letters on the doors that said St. Haven Sheriff’s Patrol.
I ducked my head down into my lap and stared down at the dirt as I waited for the car to pass. But as the sound of the engine grew louder, the crunch of its tires over the rocks also slowed.
I got nervous.
Was he stopping?
I peeked up right when the engine noise got so loud, it was as if the car was on top of me. The car had crossed the empty lane to come to my side of the road, and now it ground noisily to a halt. I made contact with a set of brown eyes peering down at me from behind the driver’s side window.
I stared stupidly back.
The police officer was young and had a nice, handsome face. He smiled gently at me and I gave him a small, uneasy grin back. I absentmindedly scratched my legs again.
The glass whined and whirled when he lowered the window.
“Hello,” the police officer said pleasantly.
“Good afternoon, sir,” I responded. I reminded myself to be polite.
“It’s hot today, huh?” he asked.
I nodded and licked my lips, tasting the dirt on them. I must have been disgusting and dusty.
The police officer considered me for a long couple seconds, and I glanced to the front of his car. The engine was loud, like thunder. Then, all of a sudden, the engine went quiet.
I quickly looked back at the driver’s seat.
“Hey, kid, are you okay?” The police officer leaned out his car window with a furrow on his brow. “I’ve never seen you before. You’re not from around these parts, huh? Are you visiting?”
My heart began to pound furiously and I swallowed the lump that was in my throat.
“Umm …,” I stuttered, and despite the sticky, humid air, I suddenly grew terribly cold.
The cop squinted at me, as if he was trying to see right through me. “The sun’s almost set—it’s getting a bit late to be out by yourself.” He cocked his head to one side. “Where are your parents? You’re a bit young to be out up here by yourself.”
I got up slowly and took a step back, torn about what to do. Mom had told me to wait here, but I didn’t know what I was supposed to do if a cop showed up. Mom always told me not to give them any lip. Mrs. Graves told us to respect them.
The way he was looking at me made me nervous. As if I was doing something wrong by waiting here.
“What’s your name, son?” The police officer began to open the door, and it was then I decided to run.
The policeman barely got out a yell of surprise before I tore away from the road and ran. I didn’t know where I was going, but for some reason I knew I had to run. The cop yelled at me, and then swore. The crackle of his radio echoed, and he spoke angrily into it. I couldn’t hear what he was saying, but I ran faster.
He was mad. I’d made a police officer mad. This was bad.
I was the fastest kid in our class. I always
won tag. Now, I ran as if the biggest, baddest monsters were chasing me.
Soon the sounds of the policeman faded and I burst into a grove of trees. I dodged the tree trunks, looking behind me to see if anyone was following me. After a long time, when I ran out of breath and it seemed safe, I slowed down, then stopped.
I placed a hand on a tree to catch my breath. My chest hurt and my mouth was dry.
“Argh …” To my horror, tears spilled down my cheeks. I couldn’t cry. Crying was for babies. I scrubbed my face with my dirty palms, telling myself to stop, stop, stop. But I couldn’t. Those stupid tears kept coming, and I was so scared and so thirsty and my heart was acting as if it was trying to detach from my body.
Mom, help me.
Come back.
I slumped over and leaned against the tree, then slipped down to the ground. The sounds of the woods sprung all around me and my throat seized, not knowing what was out there. The wind howled around me and I was cold.
I waited and waited, crouched down in the dirt and the leaves, wishing Mom would come and get me and take me home.
The sky grew darker and darker.
The sounds and footsteps of men stomping around the forest got louder and louder.
But Mom never came back for me.
She didn’t even say goodbye.
Chapter 1
Florence Reynolds, twenty-nine years old
“Florence!”
A flurry crashed into me the second I set a foot off the escalators. The other passengers threw amused glances our way while I flailed my arms about, trying to untangle my attacker.
“Nic! Get off me!” I wheezed in between the crunching, rib-breaking hug I was trapped in.
Nicolas broke into exaggeratedly loud sobs and clutched me louder while rocking me back and forth in his arms. “Sis! I’ve missed you so much! Why did you leave me?”
There was a hail of arms swatting and legs kicking each other, fleshy parts of the body that were struck and yelps emitted. Finally, I disentangled myself from my brother and shoved him back.
“Nicolas Reynolds! Get. Off. Me!”
Nicolas detached from me with a laugh. I was no petite flower, but Nicolas towered almost a foot over me at six foot three to my five foot five. His monster grip had almost crushed my skull and now he stood over me, grinning like a fool to my scowl.
“Florence Vita Reynolds, as I live and breathe. Let me take a gander at your sorry face.” Nicolas leaned down and slapped his hands onto the sides of my head, his giant palms enveloping my ears. Grinning, he squished my cheeks until my lips puckered up. As I tried my best to glare at him, he smiled broader.
“Stop it,” I sputtered. He winked and pinched my cheeks hard before letting go. I made sure to push his face back with my hand just for good measure, but before I could withdraw, Nicolas seized my fingers in his grip.
“The prodigal son hath returned.” Nicolas clutched my hand against his chest. “I could just cry with joy.”
“I don’t think that means what you think it means.” I yanked my hand back.
“Whatever.” Nicolas straightened up and announced importantly. “Enough dramatics, let’s get your luggage.” And then he stomped off without a glance backwards.
“Hey!” I cried out, awkwardly stumbling to follow him, my heavy bags weighing on my shoulders. “Nicolas! Wait up, I can’t walk as fast as you.”
Nicolas stopped and turned around with a condescending grin on his face.
“Come on, shorty, try to keep up.”
I bobbled side to side a couple steps, my center of balance offset by the purse and laptop bag. “You’re so annoying.”
“Only to the people I love.”
I trotted after him, feeling as if I was trailing a giant. “You know, I could have taken a cab to the city. You didn’t have to drive here in rush hour.”
“Yeah, yeah. Now be quiet and help me look for your baggage claim.” He walked into me so our shoulders nudged each other. “You know I wouldn’t miss picking you up for anything.”
“Of course, so you can assault me with witnesses.”
“Hilarious. Carousel number, drama queen.”
I wracked my brain. “Five?” I guessed.
Before Nicolas could contribute another witty comeback, we got swept up in a crush of people coming off more flights, and the next two minutes were spent jostling through crowds and pushing our way to the baggage carousel. When we finally arrived at number five, I was winded and a bit irritated, ready for a shower and bed. Nicolas was reading the flashing LCD screen situated at the top of the carousel.
“After it spits out New Mexico, Chicago O’Hare is next,” he said while scratching his stubble.
“Okay.” I absentmindedly hiked my purse up my shoulder to redistribute the weight.
Nicolas snapped his fingers in realization. “Oh yeah, you should call Tracy. She’s nearly breaking my phone with all the texts she’s been sending asking about you.”
“Oh no, I totally forgot to text her this morning. Alright.” Tracy was a college roommate and work colleague who had been waiting for my move back to New York for years now. She was a good friend, and being long-distance for the better part of a decade hadn’t weakened it, which was more than I could say for most of my human interactions. I turned my phone on and scrolled to her number.
As I dialed, I raised the phone to my ear and widened my eyes at Nick in excitement. He grinned in response.
“Florence!” A shrill voice rang through the speaker.
“The prodigal son hath returned,” I said with a grin. Nicolas gave an audible groan next to me.
Thumping echoed from the other side of the receiver, as if feet were stamping wildly against a piece of furniture. “You’re back? In New York? This isn’t a sick joke, right?”
I laughed. “Sick joke or not, I’m back. For good. Tired of plane rides, staying put.”
An incoherent babbling bubbled and the next several minutes was a stream of Tracy chattering happily about all the things to do and places to eat. I nodded, with the occasional grunt of agreement, and finally, a loud bell rang through the cavernous hall.
“Oh, hey, Tracy, my luggage is here. I have to go, but I’ll call you when I’m at Nic’s place.” Nicolas was standing on the other end of the carousel, mingling with the crowd.
“Wait! Wait!” Tracy screamed and I had to hold the earpiece away.
“I’m still here, no need to shout.”
“Oh. Sorry. Anyway, when are you coming into the office? Gordon has been asking about you.”
I made an impatient sound at the base of my throat. “I already told him I’m going to be in the office starting Wednesday. Don’t tell me he got you to try to drag me in earlier.”
“Nothing like that. He just asked when you were showing up. Probably can’t wait to dump something on your plate. He promised me your next assignment is going to be jui-cy.”
“He didn’t tell you that at all.”
Tracy laughed with a snort. “Oh, okay, you got me. Well, I’ll see you on Wednesday. Let’s get dinner afterwards.”
“It’s a date. Got to go, see you in a couple days.”
“Bye!”
Just as I hung up, Nicolas split the crowd and trudged over with my luggage.
“You only had a duffel bag and a suitcase, right?”
I peered around Nicolas to double-check his selections. “Yeah, how did you know?”
“You have the same luggage tags as the ones you bought me from Korea. The ones with the cows on them.”
I laughed. “Good eye.”
“Alright, well, come on, let’s get you out of here.” Nicolas heaved my duffel bag over his shoulder and pulled the house-sized suitcase after him. I jumped up in a vain attempt to snatch the duffel bag from his grip, but he held it away from my reach.
“Nic! Let me carry something.”
Nicolas nudged my face away with his elbow. “Why are you being so difficult? Just let me take your stuff.” Nicolas
turned around while muttering under his breath and began walking away.
I chased after him, saying, “I’m just not used to people doing things for me.”
“Well, don’t get accustomed to it. This is a forty-eight-hour airport special. Once we’re out of the parking lot, the clock ticks down, and ends with me kicking your butt onto the sidewalk.”
I aimed a kick at his shins, but he predicted it and sidestepped away.
“Ha-ha! Still got it.”
I punched his back and he gave a fake groan.
* * *
Nicolas and I didn’t speak much as we navigated our way out of the airport. We finally ascended to the parking lot, and Nicolas led me to a car parked in the corner. It was an aged sedan in dirty ashen white with a giant dent in the back bumper. He popped the trunk and heaved my luggage into it.
“Nice car.” There were paper bags crowding the trunk, and Nicolas spent a while trying to Tetris-fit everything in.
“Thanks,” Nicolas responded sarcastically. “But I went on a grocery run before your flight got in. It’s not often I get to drive to the store.”
“Is this thing even safe to drive?”
Nicolas slammed the trunk shut and gave the bumper of the car an affectionate pat. “It’ll do until I get that Porsche.”
I made a face as we slipped in the front seats. “A Porsche?”
“Oh yeah.” Nicolas fired up the engine with a ratchet-y sounding clank. “My heart has been stolen by that financial unicorn called the Porsche Cayman. One day,” he said wistfully. The car struggled and the brakes squealed as we rocketed down the garage floors and poured out into the street. “Once the hell of school has evaporated into the past and I can start earning a living and living like a decent human being.”
“You’re close,” I pointed out as he navigated us across several lane changes and then onto a freeway on-ramp. “Residency is, what? Three years?”
“Four. More if I want to specialize. We’ll see,” he said.
The Beginning of Always Page 1