The Cliff
Christie A. C. Gucker
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Pagan Writers Press
Houston, Texas
The Cliff
Copyright ©2012, Christie A. C. Gucker
ISBN: 978-1-938397-32-5
Edited by Toni Rakestraw
Cover by Christie A. C. Gucker
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
http://paganwriterspress.com
To my inspirations:
my daughters, Samantha and Sydney, and my husband Chris.
Thank you for being there through this whole wonderful ride with your love and support. I could not have done this without you, my biggest fans. And you know I’m always your biggest fan and supporter.
With much love, I give this book to you.
Contents
Acknowledgements
Prologue
1 — I’m Home, Anyone There?
2 — Knock, Knock, Who’s There?
3 — I’m Sorry, What Did You Say?
4 — Could You Spell That Again?
5 — You Smell Good Enough to Eat
6 — Well That Was Bizarre
7 — I Don’t Understand
8 — This Can’t Be Happening
9 — Have You Gone Absolutely Mad?
10 — It’s Never Going to be the Same
11 — Well, I Sure Can Shut You Both Up
12 — Slow Down There, Ricochet Rabbit
13 — I Just Cleaned Those
14 — Oh Goody, Another Phone Call
15 — Best Fiends Forever?
16 — Cheese Does Make Everything Better
17 — Tappity Tap Tap
18 — Tonight Is Our Night
19 — Kiss Me, It’s Prom Night Again
20 — Yes, I Know, Dear
21 — This Whole Charade Is Driving Me Insane
22 — It’s Creepy
23 — I Have No Idea
24 — Are You Willing to Double Down
25 — Ouch
26 — God, I Wish I Was a Sandwich Cookie Right Now
27 — I Swear to God
28 — Together, Together
29 — The Your-Dating-My-Little-Girl Speech
30 — Yes, He Is
31 — Speak of the Devil
32 — Raincheck?
33 — Just Romantic Dribble
34 — Why Are You Crying?
35 — You’ll Skype Me Every Night, Right?
36 — Let’s Get This Over With
37 — It’s Not a Date
38 — You’re Breaking My Heart
39 — It’s Time for the Web Conference
40 — You Are My Life
41 — Don’t Move
42 — I Was Close Enough
43 — Our Little Girl Has a Date
44 — Are You Ready for the Main Course?
45 — My Feng Shui Is Off
46 — LIES! LIES! LIES!
47 — I Wanted You to be Mine
48 — I Think There’s Chocolate in my Hoohoo
49 — You May Kiss Your Bride
Epilogue
About the Author
Acknowledgements
I wanted to take a moment to thank a few people for being a huge part of my journey up The Cliff.
Thank you, God, for everything.
Thanks Mom and Dad, for always standing by me and accepting me for everything I am, have been, do and have done. I’m glad we all survived my youth. Thank you for letting me be me, no matter how insane I drove you, because it is this very reason I am who I am. Dad, you might not be here with me physically, but I feel you every day and I know your arm is around my shoulder to let me know I did a good job. I want to thank ALL my family for being there and not laughing at me for trying my hand at yet ‘another new thing’. Kat (love ya, sis), Darren, Chelsie, Callie, Dot, Don, Judi, Erica, and Shannon. And of course I have already dedicated this book to my husband Chris, and my two daughters, Samantha and Sydney for putting up with my sitting at my computer writing (I KNOW AND TWEETING). LOL Without you, I am nothing.
To my best friend, Jennifer Ambrose Schimmel, I love you so much and you are my “other sister”. Thanks to all my friends and family who have supported me throughout my life and continue to today.
To Angie Mroczka, my publisher, who not only had faith in my talent and this story once, but twice, thank you, thank you! I feel lucky to now call you my friend.
Thanks Toni Rakestraw, my amazing editor, for making my book the best it could be. I so enjoyed working with you and our banter! Thanks for being gentle with me, since you were my first! HAHA
Special thanks to my proofreader Lacey Wolfe for helping put the finishing touches on this baby!
To my personality Doppelganger Sarah Carr. Ummm…WOW! LOL We scare me!
Thank you Stephen King who showed me what a storyteller is.
Special thanks to a few friends, who I’ve never met in person. Without you this book would not be here. You pushed me, cried with me, and gave me the strength to give it a try: Gina Bennett, Cheryl Chere, Nicole Harlow and Katie Melton. What an amazing ride – I hope it never ends!
Thank you to my readers for thinking this book was worth reading!
—Christie A.C. Gucker
Prologue
The Past
It was a warm morning, and the breeze off the ocean was enough to give you just the slightest chill. I lay there on my back, wiggling my toes and feeling the warmth of the two boys with me, one on either side. I was comfortable. I was happy. I loved them. They were my boys and I was their girl. We did everything together and had since our births. On my left was Dane Voight and on my right was Grant Bennett.
Our parents were all best friends when they were growing up and had started a business together. They had each built a house on the cliff when their business took off, making them all very wealthy. Three beautiful houses, each with its own distinct personality, just like Grant, Dane, and me.
Our mothers thought it would be fun to have children at the same time so we could grow up as one big extended family together on our isolated cliff. We all ranged within a year of age between us. Grant was the oldest, then Dane and then me, Lanie Rhodes.
My house sat in the middle. It was a beautiful stone beach cottage, with a slate roof and peaks everywhere, including a widow’s walk, which was my favorite place to be. My father, Jack, had given me the room to do what I wanted with—he just couldn’t go there after my mother, Nicole, passed away from breast cancer when I was twelve. None of us were ever quite the same after that, but that room made me feel like she was there with me.
I spent my alone time there, sketching, daydreaming, or having conversations with my deceased mom. I painted the room her favorite shade of blue, somewhere between the sky and the ocean, and plopped a big old papasan chair right in the middle. My dad bought me a mini fridge so I wouldn’t have to run up and down the stairs, a small table and an old radio for music.
The inside of our home was very airy, with high ceilings and lots of windows. We had a gorgeous kitchen, which I often commandeered, that opened up to a sunken living room facing the ocean. The outer wall of the living room was completely glass, and you could see all the way to heaven from there. It had French doors opening to a very large terrace on the edge of the cliff, looking straight out over the ocean and the never-ending horizon. The bedrooms were all on the second floor. Mine was on the end to the
right, closest to Grant’s house. Almost every night, Grant and I would go to our windows, which were directly across from each other, to wave or hold up messages to read with our telescopes.
When I was a teenager, however, I did other things in front of the window, hoping Grant would be looking, somehow showing he felt the same. I would undress and linger in the dim light of my room, walk past the window with the translucent drapes exposing my body to him. I would run my hands over my small perky breasts and tight ass. I had a great body as a teenager, the kind of body other girls would call killer. I’m not sure if he was ever there to notice my window trysts, but in my head he was, and it would make my teenage blood rush to all the parts I was flaunting for him. I learned to take things into my own hands to satisfy my frustration. I would lie in bed and dream of Grant crawling through my window to kiss me, touch me and eventually to make love to me. I knew this would never happen, but it was my room and my fantasy. He never said anything about it and I never caught him looking. We did have a few innocent moments that I can recall, but something always happened to stop any progression.
Grant’s house was much more modern. Wood that looked like teak, and glass everywhere. Clean and sharp and beautiful, just like Grant. Even with all the glass, it was always warm and comforting inside, as almost every room had its own fireplace. It was actually quite amazing! As were Grant’s parents, Jennifer and Joe.
They were both stunningly handsome, and you could see where Grant got his good looks and grace. Grant was tall and muscular with a lean frame. His eyes were a piercing blue, which were accentuated by his dark golden hair. He was normally a casual dresser, wearing mostly jeans and button down shirts, but enjoyed donning a high-end suit when necessary. His smile could knock any woman off her feet.
The Bennett house was always alive with family and friends; it was a great place to be. Joe’s brother, sister-in-law, and their children were regulars on the cliff. I grew up with all of them. Grant’s female fraternal twin cousins, Samantha and Chelsie, were two of my best friends. They came to the cliff often and remained in my life always. All the Bennetts were strong people who would do anything for those they loved, which seemed to be everyone on earth.
Dane’s house stood on the other side of mine—with quite a presence. His house was more like a mansion, with huge steps leading up to giant wooden doors that belonged on a fortress instead of a house, with very large metal knockers so big I couldn’t lift them when I was little. We loved to bust on Dane about his mom’s huge knockers.
Everything about Dane’s house was grand, from the front entrance hall to a mini ballroom for entertaining business guests. Dane was a perfect match to his abode. His short black hair, dark eyes and quiet demeanor made him seem unapproachable at first, but he was actually quite easy-going and very funny. He was meticulous with his appearance, preferring to dress in suits or khakis and polo shirts.
We usually had our holidays at the Voight house, since the dining room was huge and housed a very long table seating at least twenty. Despite the foreboding feeling you got when you first entered the house, its inhabitants didn’t seem to match the décor. Dane’s parents were sweet and warm people, and the house was always filled with laughter and the wonderful smell of something baking. It was Dane’s mother who taught me to cook.
My connection with Grant had always been different from the one I had with Dane. Grant and I were tender and sweet with each other. He and I shared all our secrets and could never run out of things to talk about. With Dane, everything had always been about having adventures and finding reasons to laugh at just about anything. He also had a way of making anything bad go away. I crushed on both of them at one point or another, maybe one a bit more than the other, because it never went away.
My feeble attempts at flirting with either of them were pathetic in my eyes, so I never pursued my feelings for either in any way for fear of ruining our happy threesome. Worse yet, I didn’t want to find out neither looked at me that way. So they remained just for me.
That morning, while we lay together on the edge of the cliff with our feet dangling close to the edge watching the clouds lazily pass over us, we made a lifelong pact. We would never leave each other, never leave our homes, and always be a family, no matter what. We promised nothing would ever come between us, the three musketeers forever. No secrets, no lies. Except for one. Ours wasn’t the only pact made that day.
My boys made one too, earlier: Grant and Dane had promised each other that neither of them would vie for more of my attention than the other, neither would ever be my boyfriend or lover because they never wanted the other to feel left out and didn’t ever want to know who I loved more. With both pacts made, we lived our lives together, inseparable forever.
The Present
I was jarred from my childhood memories as the plane began its descent and my ears plugged up. God I hated that, and I hated flying even more. I felt like my brain was going to start leaking out of my ears. I had spent the past six months flying around the world, visiting our satellite offices. But now, I was going home to my two guys. At least I hoped so. After being gone for so long, even with all the emailing, texting, and phone calls, I knew some things had changed. And some of those changes I was not ready to face. There were people I did not want to see.
I departed the plane, and as I entered the baggage claim area, I saw our limo driver, Pierre, who had somehow already managed to grab my bags. Pierre had been driving for our family since I was ten. He was like an uncle to me. He smiled his huge New Orleans Mardi Gras grin at me and then grabbed me in his arms and said in his Creole accent, “Lovely Lanie, running’ round gettin’ business straight, only to come home ‘n have to do it dere, too, eh? You have been missed. Things just not been ‘de same since you left! Glad you’re home, my baby. Now she goin’ to make things right again.”
And there it was. I could feel all the blood draining from my face just hearing him say it out loud. I knew it already, but he just had to say it. Great, this is just great. I followed Pierre to the car, climbed in and prepared for the hour-long drive home from the airport and for what or who waited for me when I got there.
Chapter 1
I’m Home, Anyone There?
The closer we got to the cliff, the more my stomach tightened. I couldn’t tell if it was excitement or paranoia giving me some six-pack abs. I wonder if I could market that? I felt the car shift from a smooth ride to a rough one as Pierre made the turn onto the gravel road that led up to the cliff top. My heart rate accelerated. I began to gather my things and check my hair and makeup in the window. Like I could see how tired I probably looked. I know I felt it.
I looked pale in the dim light, but I was light-skinned to begin with. I grabbed my blush and eyeliner out of my purse for a quick touch up. My light green eyes actually did look tired, so I gave them a quick outline in black. I pulled my long, caramel-colored hair out of the bun it was presently in, and let it fall in loose waves over my shoulders. I finished off with some lip gloss and a quick check on my clothes. I stared at my reflection in the window of the car. I was a pretty girl whether I was dressed to kill or in my most comfortable sweats with no makeup at all. I had no shame in saying this, because I looked like my mother and she had been beautiful.
As the car ambled up the drive, even in the twilight, I could see it. The widow’s walk, it beckoned me. I realized how badly I had missed being home. As we came around the final bend, I said aloud, “I’m home, anyone there?” and then my heart sank. No one was there.
When one of us was away, the homecoming was quite a production. Everyone would be waiting with hugs and kisses. Since our parents had all moved to warm sunny places and each of us had taken over ownership of our respective childhood homes, it was a smaller reunion. Of course, I can’t forget to add in any “peripherals” that may have attached themselves to my guys … whatever. No one had lasted very long—so far. But my boys weren’t here to greet me, neither of them.
What the hell? I
had texted them both when we pulled away from the airport. I had received a reply from Grant. But he was a no show. Damn. They blew me off. I could feel my eyes welling up with tears and I bit my lower lip to help hold them back. I was an emotional lip nibbler. I couldn’t tell if I was pissed at them or sad. I had been really looking forward to seeing them.
The car rolled to a stop in front of my cottage. I opened my door too quickly and literally fell out, trying to rush inside. They didn’t come see me, so my intention was not to let them see me. So there! I think I actually stuck my tongue out. Pierre just smiled, helped me up and went to get my luggage.
The Cliff Page 1