by Dena Blake
Table of Contents
Synopsis
By the Author
Acknowledgments
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
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-one
Chapter Thirty-two
Chapter Thirty-three
Chapter Thirty-four
Epilogue
About the Author
Books Available From Bold Strokes Books
Unchained Memories
Jillian McIntyre is ripped from her home in Oklahoma after she witnesses a brutal crime, even though she cannot remember the details. Years later, following her sister’s death, Jillian must return to her hometown to locate her niece’s father, neither of whom knows the other exists. A TV investigative journalist by trade, Jillian conceals her identity to complete the task.
Amelia Mathews is a family attorney who doesn’t have time for romance. After growing up in a volatile household, she’s devoted to advocating for abused and mistreated children. When a woman and her niece come to town in need of assistance, Amelia can’t seem to detach this time. As her attachment to them grows, Amelia’s world becomes more complicated than she ever imagined.
The last thing Jillian expects is to fall for the girl she left behind. Confronted with unreconciled feelings for Amelia, Jillian begins to fall in love with the woman she’s become. Will Jillian give up her high-powered career for a second chance at love?
Unchained Memories
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Unchained Memories
© 2017 By Dena Blake. All Rights Reserved.
ISBN 13: 978-1-62639-994-5
This Electronic Original is published by
Bold Strokes Books, Inc.
P.O. Box 249
Valley Falls, NY 12185
First Edition: September 2017
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.
Credits
Editor: Shelley Thrasher
Production Design: Stacia Seaman
Cover Design By Sheri ([email protected])
By the Author
Where the Light Glows
Unchained Memories
Acknowledgments
Thank you to Radclyffe and Sandy Lowe for letting me do what I love. Seeing it in print is a dream come true. My editor extraordinaire, Shelley Thrasher, will never know just how grateful I am to her for making me look like I can form a well-written sentence. Thanks to Kris Bryant and Lisa Moreau for coaching me through the ins and outs of the publishing process and never letting me miss something important. The BSB family is truly fantastic.
Thanks to Robyn for catching all those words I can’t seem to ever get right, and for asking all the right questions. To Kate for never failing to tell me your thoughts about my writing as well as the world around me. I hope those conversations never stop coming. To my kids, Wes and Haley, for giving me true-life writing material for this book. Some things you just can’t make up. To my family for being the most awesome support system a girl could ever want.
Last, but never least, to all of you who will read this book, thank you for taking a chance on me.
For Wes and Haley. I’m so proud of the adults you’ve become.
I love you more than I can ever put into words.
Chapter One
“I bet there’ll be a sequel to that one.” Jamie twisted in the passenger seat and made a goofy face at Jillian.
“Not,” they both said in unison.
“What’s not to like? You had aliens, zombies, and teenagers?” Ken asked.
“Right,” Jillian blurted as she laughed. “I think it was the teenagers that threw it over the top.” Jillian and Jamie had spent the entire movie doing what sisters do, whispering in each other’s ears, making fun of the plot and the characters.
Jamie twisted to face her again. “Plus the aliens…and the zombies.” She choked on her words as she sucked in a breath and laughed.
Jillian pulled up Rotten Tomatoes on her phone. “It got a green splat on the Tomatometer.” Which it totally deserved. The movie had been unrealistic and hokey. It was their fault for letting Ken choose the day’s entertainment. The last few times Jillian was in town, she and Jamie had chosen the movie so, in all fairness, he was due a turn. Jamie fully admitted Ken was a great husband and father, but he had a uniquely odd sense of entertainment. Jillian just hoped it didn’t rub off on their daughter, Abby, who was too busy with her friends to spend any time with them lately.
“Whatever. Abby would’ve loved it,” Ken said, still trying to convince them of its cult merit. “She’ll probably go see it with her friends.”
Jamie’s eyes widened. “Never. That’s a make-out movie if I’ve ever seen one.”
“Are you letting her date now?” Jillian’s voice rose. She hadn’t realized Abby was that old.
“Not yet, but she’s almost fifteen. It won’t be long,” Jamie said as she scrunched her face.
“Fine. I’ll pick something better next time.” Ken squeezed Jamie’s hand.
Jillian couldn’t hold her laughter. “Oh my gosh, how sweet is that? He actually thinks we’re going to let him choose again.”
“That’s my husband, always the optimist.” Jamie leaned across the console and gave Ken a quick kiss on the cheek. Jillian’s heart swelled at how well her sister and brother-in-law fit together. They were the perfect couple, balancing each other in everything they did. She couldn’t remember ever seeing them fight.
Ken had been such a good sport about their teasing. He’d even began slinging one-liners from the movie as they got closer to home. He was in the middle of one when “Oh, shit!” came out of his mouth.
Jillian had only seen the truck coming toward them from the corner of her eye. Then everything slowed. Jillian heard the metal crunching before she felt the impact. The jolt sent her phone flying from her hand. She heard the ear-splitting pop as the air bag hit Jamie in the face and the back of her head hit the headrest. Jillian went flying next as the air bag punched her in the side. Pain in her arm, now her face as she catapulted into the side of the driver’s seat. She was going to be sick. This roller-coaster ride needed to end. Now. The car scraped the pavement as it launched across the beltway and tumbled into the ditch. All sound was gone. Only ringing in her ears remained. The car w
obbled back and forth as it came to a stop. Jillian wiped the moisture from her eyes. It was thick, sticky almost. It was hard to see. Pain shot through her nose when she tried to suck in a breath.
“Jamie,” she said. No answer from her sister. “Jamie!” Again, no answer. She tried to pull herself forward. The passenger seat was empty. She reached forward, felt Ken slumped against the driver’s door, his head resting forward on the air bag.
“Ken, where’s Jamie?” She heard a gurgle, an attempt to speak. She had to find Jamie. A metallic taste in her mouth overwhelmed her. Her stomach lurched as she found the door handle and pushed out of the car. Oh God. Her head spun. Her face throbbed. She braced herself against the side of the car and took a breath before she scanned the road, looking for Jamie. There she is. She lay on her side crumpled in the grass not far from the car. Jillian stumbled over and fell to the ground next to her.
She put her hand on her shoulder and shook. “Jamie,” she said. No response. She rolled her onto her back. Her chest wasn’t moving. She’s not breathing. CPR instructions flew through Jillian’s head. She knew how to do that. Her heart hammered as she took Jamie’s face in her hands and put her mouth over it. Breathe, Jamie, breathe. Then the paramedic was there, pushing her out of the way. She watched him pump her chest and try to breathe life into her sister.
Another paramedic’s voice came through the constant ringing in her ears. “Miss, please look at me. I need to see your eyes.” He was talking to her. She pulled her gaze from Jamie, and the paramedic flashed a light in her eyes. She blinked and veered her gaze back to Jamie. The paramedic had stopped CPR. A wave of helplessness shot through her when he looked back at Jillian and shook his head.
Her vision narrowed. Her limbs felt heavy and her world swayed. Nooooo! She shot up and tried to push past him to Jamie. Her head spun again. She took a few steps and stumbled. Everything went black.
Chapter Two
Tires screeched and a horn blared loudly as Jillian pulled into traffic on the two-lane road. All she could see in the rearview mirror were arms flailing wildly and an open mouth she knew was spouting some very choice words into the windshield right now.
Abby twisted in her seat to look back. “What’s wrong with her?”
“I guess I cut her off when I pulled out. They drive differently here than they do in New York.” She glanced in the rearview mirror again. “She has no reason to be upset.” Jillian had put on her blinker, and the other driver was going way too fast for this road.
“She’s acting crazy.” Abby pulled the headphones from her bag and slid them over her ears.
The woman was right on her ass. Jillian took a right at the next light onto the four-lane road, trying to lose her, but the woman didn’t let up. She pulled to the right, hoping she would pass, but the woman pulled to the right also. She could still hear the woman screaming out the window, “Pull over. I want to talk to you.” Jillian knew better than to pull over. She’d reported too many stories on road-rage victims. Confronting someone like this could end up getting both her and Abby killed. She had to lose this lunatic before they got to where they were going. She didn’t want to draw any more attention to herself than necessary, and she definitely didn’t want to end up dead on her first day back home. She gunned the engine, slipping between two cars to her left, then swerved into the left-turn lane, barely making the light. She circled around, went back the other way, and headed to the house where she and Abby would be staying for the near future.
Jillian squinted, thinking she’d made a mistake, but she’d already passed the house three times, and from the numbers tacked above the porch, there was no mistake about it. Fifteen-thirty-two Sycamore. She sighed. It looked exactly the same as the day she’d left. The over-the-top gingerbread ornamentation her mother loved, the single tower in front hovering above the open porch. Bay windows at each end of the house. This was it, all right. It even still had the sunflower flourish on the front façade and decorative shingle siding she remembered. The only difference was the porch railing. It no longer had the elaborate decorations of the Queen Anne style. That particular piece of history must have been removed during the renovation.
The place was huge—one, two, three stories, she counted—but it wasn’t quite as large as it was in her memories. She guessed that was a creation of her childhood mind. After giving it a more thorough look, she decided the house was just as she remembered. Large and looming. Somehow, in her absence, she’d forgotten just how frightening it actually was. Maybe it was because she’d put this place out of her mind the day she and her sister had boarded that flight to New York.
Now she was right back where she’d started, in her hometown of Norman, Oklahoma. Among people who wouldn’t recognize her the way she was dressed now. No fancy clothes, no high heels, barely a stitch of makeup. Even a new nose. Not a single shred of Jillian McIntyre was left. She was plain old JJ Davis now. Taking on the false persona every time she left New York had been her sister, Jamie’s, idea. In a small town like Norman, Jillian knew if she showed up as herself, she might possibly be recognized. JJ Davis, however, went virtually unnoticed. With her thrift-store wardrobe and minimal amount of makeup, she blended right in. Right into the woodwork, that is. Changing her look hadn’t been difficult since the accident. Her broken nose had made it much easier, but pulling off a mild-mannered personality was a completely different story.
Jillian McIntyre hadn’t planned to abandon her broadcasting career to move back to Oklahoma, and she hadn’t counted on raising an angry, pubescent teen either. Nevertheless, years ago, when her sister had drawn up her will, she’d made Jillian promise only one thing. If anything ever happened to her and Ken, she was to make sure her niece, Abby, was brought up in a household with two loving parents. Now she had to find one of those loving parents, and this was the only way she knew how to accomplish that.
When she’d gone to the Department of Human Services office, Jillian had almost blown the whole thing. She knew she’d talked too much. Patience was a virtue she no longer retained. Fame and fortune can change a person in many ways. Jillian was no exception. When she wanted something done, she wanted it done now. Her assistant had created the alias, but she’d failed to create a work history and financial records. Essentially, JJ Davis didn’t exist except for the Social Security number she’d stolen from some child who’d died at birth and the phony driver’s license she carried. No way would she be approved for aid. The Department of Human Services would do a thorough background and financial check before assigning her to the group home. They would never believe she was an out-of-work schoolteacher trying to raise her sister’s kid. What a farce that was, in more ways than one. She’d had to tell the supervisor, Maxine Freeman, the same story she’d told Abby to get her to buy in on the trip. That she was doing an investigative report on the benefits of outside-funded housing assistance to bring more light to the needs of the system and to possibly obtain them more funding. Due to the nose reconstruction after the accident, Maxine hadn’t recognized her and was a little skeptical at first. When Jillian had mentioned the possibility of filming her for a spot on the final TV show, she could see the excitement in Maxine’s eyes. After that, she was all in.
In addition to the nose reconstruction, Jillian had dyed her hair blond and chosen to wear brown contacts to disguise the unique color of her eyes. She looked enough like her sister to pass as her. Jamie had a teaching degree, so there would be no questions. Thankfully, only her initials were listed on her credentials. She would now be JJ Davis. Her only concern now was that two people thought she was here on assignment. Which one of them would be likely to let the cat out of the bag first?
She’d waited in Maxine’s office long enough to overhear a very important phone conversation. The new tenants at Heartstrings House, the group home Jillian funded and also needed to access, were going to be delayed a month. That would give her more than enough time to accomplish what she came for.
Jillian felt a little guilty tak
ing someone else’s slot. She certainly didn’t need it, but she’d promised herself when she’d left the DHS office this morning. She would donate double—no, she would donate triple the amount it cost each week to support her and her niece and make sure it got back into the system somehow. She hated doing it this way, but the only way she could get anywhere near Abby’s father without scaring him off was to pretend she needed help. Which, ironically, was true in many ways.
Jillian held the steering wheel, her hands shaking. Knowing she was about to see him again threw her into a tizzy. Blake Mathews, her sister’s first love. Would he still be the same? Would he recognize her? Would he even remember Jamie? Would his sister, Amelia, still be around? Those were only a few of the many questions racing through her head. She adjusted the rearview mirror to look at her reflection and chuckled. It had been so many years ago, and from what Jamie had told her, Blake had never had a clue she was pregnant. Glancing over at Abby, she let her gaze leave the road momentarily again. Fifteen years ago, to be exact. Abby returned her look with a spiteful glare. She had Jamie’s startling eyes, just like her own. When she chose to share it, her smile was as warm as Jillian remembered her father’s to be.
She pulled the old Honda up to the curb and moved the shift knob into park. Glancing at her watch, she slid it off her wrist and tucked it into the side pocket of her bag. A Rolex was much too expensive for someone like JJ Davis to be sporting, but it was the only thing she’d brought with her. She needed something to remind her of Jillian McIntyre’s existence.
“We’re here,” she said, receiving no response from Abby. She reached over and pulled the headphone from her ear. “Hey, we’re here.”