Time Heals Everything

by Linda Swain

  What the reviewers are saying about Linda Swain's – CHASING DESTINY:

  Witches, magic, what more could you ask for? August 14, 2011- 5 Stars

  wistfulskimmie - Wistfulskimmies Book Reviews... (Buckfastleigh, UK) - See all my reviews

  This review is from: Chasing Destiny (Kindle Edition)

  This was a wonderful story. Magic, witches, shape-shifters, curses and at its heart a love story. The story was well told. I found myself drinking in the images of Avalon and once or twice lost myself in the sheer wonder and beauty of it. There were a couple of tear jerking moments but they were tempered with happiness on the other hand. There was some action in the middle and towards the end and I was willing the good guys to defeat the enemy! I so enjoyed this and I hope anyone who loves witches and magic gets the enjoyment as I did.

  4.0 out of 5 stars A gripping adventure with heart, August 21, 2011

  Stephanie Haddad - See all my reviews

  This review is from: Chasing Destiny (Kindle Edition)

  Ebel-Swain's storytelling is graceful and elegant, and perhaps just the way Rusty would tell her own tale. A third person narrative gives the reader insights into the major players, but the author navigates them skillfully, giving us only what we need to know when we need to know it. And, my favorite part, the romance that takes center-stage is a powerful one that seems to jump right off the page, somehow becoming even more magical than all those spells!

  The Three R's Rating: R, for some graphic love scenes and very intense moments that will leave you with goose bumps.

  Recommendation: Fantasy fans will jump right into this magical world and devour it page by page. Romance lovers might need to make more of a transition, but the love here takes on a life of it's own and will see you through to the end.

  Re-read: Maybe. Ebel-Swain paints her picture with enough subtle elements to send you back to the beginning again for a re-read.

  An excellent read! 5 Stars - August 6, 2011

  The Ghost (Florida, USA) - See all my reviews

  This review is from: Chasing Destiny (Kindle Edition)

  Chasing Destiny is quite the saga. Not to spoil the book, but it's an excellent blend of fantasy and romance, leading the reader through the world of a young witch whose shoulders are bowed with more responsibility than almost anyone else in her realm before she's even had time to recognize her first love. Follow the fiery path she blazes through her world and ours as she finds love, learns what it is to lose that love and, through it all, discovers that her own powers are amplified beyond compare when they are used to protect the family she loves. It is a rousing tale of adventure and romance from start to finish, and I thoroughly enjoyed coming along for the ride.

  TIME HEALS

  EVERYTHING

  BY

  LINDA SWAIN

  REVISED EDITION

  April, 2012

  Time Heals Everything

  Copyright © 2011 Linda Swain

  With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from author. Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded, or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/). Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

  A Special Dedication:

  “I loved you, but nothing in this world could make you mine.”

  To Megan Peters,

  Someone who believed in me when I didn’t always believe in myself.

  Prologue

  April 2012

  It was a pretty street – even half-deserted, with rundown buildings filled with the impoverished, renegades, and street urchins. Stone structures lined the streets in various states of disrepair, but Jason could still see them as they once were, filled with teeming laughter while people went about their daily lives, moving from the bakery shops, the delis, or to that little tailor with the funny accent.

  Jason walked along the street, a thoroughfare now filled with potholes and cracks, but he could see where it had once been thundering with passing cars. But looking at this wreck, he thought as he noticed the collection of empty, neglected vehicles lining the streets, you would never have believed it.

  Jason Southerland continued walking along, looking as out of place as a diva at a head banger’s ball. Tall, with broad shoulders and a build that spoke of hard work and exercise, his blonde hair glistened under the summer sun as he sauntered along the walkway with the curiosity of a child. Tinted glasses shaded, but couldn’t hide, eyes the color of the Mediterranean Sea. He had no idea why he was there, of what had drawn him into this outskirt of the city. It was as if a Siren’s call had pulled at his neat little sports car, regardless of his intended destination. Josie is going to be pissed, he thought as he glanced at his watch. His fiancée, Josie, was due to open her act at some new swanky nightclub, and of course, he was expected to be there. But if that is true, he wondered even as he continued walking. What am I doing here?

  Pausing by a deserted building, he peered inside a dirty window sprayed with graffiti; he could barely make out the faded advertising that lay tilted alongside the window’s edge. A faded cardboard placard boasted Simply Blues, presenting Katherine Collins, and Jason knew instantly that he wanted the sign for his own. Mom will just love this – Katherine Collins was the gal who covered that song she loves so much! I gotta get it for her. Pausing, he turned his head and gazed up and down the street. Nobody’s going to mind if I just take this, right? Testing the door, he found it fairly easy to open, his tanned hand reaching in to lift the cardboard billing. Yeah, Mom’s gonna love this.

  As he left, a breeze skittered across the pavement, carrying litter with it in a dusty spiral, and it seemed to sigh with a woman’s voice. A voice that compelled him to stop and listen.

  I know, Nick, it’s the club. It’s always the club.

  Blowing out a deep breath, he shook his head as he shouldered his way back to his car. It’s sad that this part of town is so run down. What it needs is a good overhauling. A grin lit his handsome face as an idea began to take shape. This was what he did best: renovating, rebuilding – or tearing down and starting over. It was something that he understood and could sink his teeth into with expertise and style. Twisting the key in the ignition of his car, the motor roared to life as Jason’s face broadened with a smile.

  He could still make Josie’s first number if he hurried, and maybe it was time that he took more of an interest in her career. She was growing tired of working for someone else while she tried to make a name for herself. Perhaps a club of her own was exactly what she needed; if that building wasn’t the perfect location for it, he didn’t know what was! If he purchased Simply Blues, and fixed it to its original glory, Josie would have her own club and he would have the satisfaction of knowing he had been the one to make it possible.

  As the sun began to set, he began whistling a tune his mother had loved when he was a child. It was a snatch of a song that had haunted him all of his life. He didn’t know why he thought of it at that particular moment, but it filled him suddenly with a lon
ging for something – he had no idea what that something was.

  A sad, haunting voice took up the vocals of his whistled song until he actually looked down at that radio, thinking it had to be the source of the music. Instead of the smooth purr of his expensive radio, there came the scratchy sound of some old tune player – a gramophone, perhaps or one of the old-fashioned record players.

  Distracted by the sound, he took the upcoming, winding curve much too fast, never hearing the shriek of metal as his fender hit the guardrail. Wrenching the wheel at the last minute, when it was entirely too late, Jason’s car spun dizzyingly around. Still, that voice surrounded him, enveloping him even as the protective airbag burst out of its confinement, slamming into his chest. His head snapped sideways, cracking hard against the window, but that low, haunting voice was still surrounding him. It was that voice which seemed to sigh bitterly into his ear. Yeah, Nick, the club – it’s always the club.

  Chapter One

  April 1939

  Hollywood, California

  Nick O’Connor’s footsteps rang heavily across the darkened stage. Sitting on an ever-present white stool, one long leg stretched out onto the wooden floor like a lazy lion sunning himself on the African plains. Reaching inside of his dark suit coat, a pack of cigarettes slid into his hand. As a match hissed, his blue eyes flickered out across the club he had worked on so hard to make into a thriving business. Thugs, mobsters, even the Feds; they had all tried to shut him down, but he was still there.

  Kat’s voice was all about him, echoing in every nook and cranny of the club. Although there was no outward sign of his grief, something in his eyes flared, hot and hard, a terrible display of anguish. Get over it, he snarled to himself. She’s lying in her coffin, waiting for you to say goodbye. She’s still waiting for you.

  Inhaling deeply, Nick’s eyes narrowed as he remembered reading how Kat had been found dead after an ‘accident’ in her home. He had been alone then, as he was now, and he fought the grief and horror, shutting it away just as he had closed off everything else. Now, he was preparing to leave for her funeral and it was all too real to deny. “Oh, Kat,” he sighed softly. “What in the hell happened? You married that dandy to be happy, to have the kids that you always wanted. What in the hell happened?”

  Just as his heart began to acknowledge the awful twisted memory of her obituary, he shut it down as if it were a light switch. Moving to his feet, he threw the cigarette to the floor, one well-shod foot grinding it out just as he would any other emotion that he felt. Clenching his jaw, Nick stuck a toothpick in between his white teeth before slowly walking out the door. This was one time he would not keep Kat waiting.

  As he expected, the funeral home was a madhouse. Photographers lined the sidewalks, milling the streets until a foot patrol had to be called in to break up the crowds. Stepping out of his dark Duisenberg, Nick paused to glare at the popping flashbulbs that flared in his face. Grimly, he walked closer and closer to the glass doors. Keep moving, he told himself as he gracefully stepped through the crowd of onlookers. No one would truly notice him, not with the celebrities that would be vying to get their names into the papers.

  Oh, yeah, Kat, you finally made it big, kid. You finally made it to the top.

  Walking across the carpeted floor, Nick’s blonde hair gleamed softly as he paused to sign the elegantly displayed guestbook. With his scrawling script, he added his name to the list before moving on. For an instant, his heart stopped as he heard Kat’s plaintive voice – like hot chocolate on a vanilla sundae, he had once said. And then he heard the telltale whirling of a phonograph. So, you got your voice on wax, did you, kid? Well, at least you got that wish. Stepping forward, he used a handy potted plant as an ashtray, stubbing out the cigarette that dangled between his fingers. The fragrance of gardenias and roses threatened to overpower him, rising to a cloying stink in his nostrils.

  Didn’t anyone bother to remember that her favorite flowers were lilacs? A smile of satisfaction flickered across his lips as he noticed the large arrangement near the head of the coffin. Yeah, someone remembered. Me.

  “Nick, are you sure that you should be here? Ashton is pretty unpredictable these days and seeing you here just might . . .”

  “Just might what?” Glancing down at Rocky, Ashton Montserrat’s assistant, a brow lifted at the sight of the short man with a fast grin and an even faster mouth. Whipping out a handkerchief, Rocky blotted at the perspiration that dotted his forehead.

  Nick crossed his arms and waited. “Just might what? Might make a scene because I’m here?” He rolled his eyes sarcastically. “Oh that wouldn’t do . . . not from the grieving husband. That is, if he’s even sober. Hell, he was high as a kite the day that they were married. It might be decent of him if he showed up sober for her funeral.”

  “Katherine,” Rocky corrected out of habit. “You know Ash hated it when you called her Kat.”

  “She’s dead,” Nick hissed lowly. “What in the hell does it matter what she’s called now?” Waving a hand of disgust, Nick left Rocky’s side, moving slowly across the room. His plain dark suit was completely out of place among the men with their white silk jackets as they gathered in corners. Not that he cared – most were pimps and parasites as far as he was concerned, and the ones that weren’t were too busy ensuring that all the right people saw them making all the proper comments of shock and condolence.

  If one had been brave enough to stand near Nick as he looked down into the coffin, they would have been surprised at the open pain that reflected in his blue eyes. Nick O’Connor, a man known for his cool wit and no-nonsense approach, showing any emotion? No one would have believed it – not even those that were the closest to him.

  A long, tanned finger reached out to touch the cold hand hidden under a small bouquet of white tea roses. “You always hated the cold, baby,” he whispered softly. “I hope that they keep you covered at night.” His gaze seemed to linger over her delicate features, at the soft auburn curls that framed her face. At any moment, he still half expected her to pop up, her throaty laughter bubbling out. “Surprise, everyone, April fools!”

  Only this time, he knew that the surprise was on him. He had thought that by letting her go, to find whatever happiness she could with that French peacock, she would be safer than she would have been in his world.

  Instead, the nights of champagne fountains and the availability of any drug for the asking, had taken their toll, even before her married life had begun. Sure, he’d heard the rumors, all about the stories that her husband had arranged five-picture contracts, recording deals and the like that would have sent her voice soaring over the airwaves. It had been everything that she had wanted, but all of it came at a cost.

  And you could have saved her, a small voice whispered. You could have called her. One ring from you and she would have been back with you where she belonged. But you couldn’t give her the one thing that he could. Those three little words – I love you. It was all that it would have taken. And you couldn’t do it . . . now look at what you’ve lost.

  The parlor grew strangely quiet as he leaned over the coffin, his mouth inches from Kat’s ear. “You always wanted me to say it. Not that it makes a damn bit of difference now. I love you Kat.” Tenderly, his lips touched her cold cheek. “Behave yourself, kid.”

  Chapter Two

  June, 1936

  It was hot on that fateful June day. Even with his customary dark suit coat hanging limply over the back of a chair and the sleeves to his shirt rolled past his elbow, Nick O’Connor felt as if he were roasting alive. Frowning, he looked once more at his tally book, going over the latest liquor statement one last time. The month before, half of the bottles had been filled with tea, and the month before that, the hooch had been way below his standards. Although Nick was certain that those ‘mistakes’ would never happen again, to say that he distrusted his distributers was putting it mildly. And that’s after I put the fear of God into ‘em.

  Nick prided himself on havi
ng the best of booze, broads and music that money could buy, and he wasn’t about to have that changed now because some asshole had tried to use some muscle.

  Shoving fingers through his slicked-back blonde hair, Nick’s eyes narrowed at the sound of girlish laughter coming from inside the club. What the hell? Who in the hell is that? He glanced at the wall clock. The bar hadn’t opened for business yet, so he was using the time to go over the books. Now, here was yet another problem. Damn it, I left the door cracked so that I could get some air in here, and now look! Grumbling as he swung out of his chair, he moved lightly to the door of his office and stuck his head out. His club, Simply Blues, had become a favorite for the local college kids, both for the entertainment and the occasional high-jinx that went with kids with too much money and time on their hands. The cheap pitchers of beer hadn’t hurt either.

  It was the college deans’ most fervent dream and nightmare. The institutions eagerly accepted his very generous donations, as long as they were anonymous.

  Nick didn’t mind that. What do I need with being on some rich suit’s thank-you list? The kids went crazy over his wild jazz nights, and their high spirits brought in as much business as any clarinet solo.

  “Come on, Buddy, get your fuzzy butt out here, now!”

  At first, he hadn’t seen her, even as he carefully scanned the empty surroundings, but then that lilting voice came again, unfamiliar to him, but somehow welcome.

  “I hate to tell you this, miss, but you already been caught.”

  “Oh!”

  Sitting on the floor, a young woman smiled up at him, her green eyes dancing with laughter as a slender hand shoved her hair band back into place. Unruly curls of auburn hair refused to cooperate, however, falling back around her beguiling face the moment she released them from her fingers. They gleamed through the filtered light of shuttered windows and for a moment, he wondered what it would be like to feel those curls around her fingers, but he kept his thoughts veiled behind a nonchalant stance, keeping his arms casually crossed at his chest. Squirming under his stare, the young woman wiped her hands on her britches before offering one palm to him. “I’m looking for my dog. He ran in here, probably to get out of the sun, and I’ll be darned if I can find him.”