Atonement (The Atonement Duet Book 1)

by Selene Chardou

  Atonement

  Atonement Duet #1

  Selene Chardou

  Atonement

  Copyright © 2016 by Selene Chardou.

  All rights reserved.

  First Print Edition: December 2016

  Limitless Publishing, LLC

  Kailua, HI 96734

  www.limitlesspublishing.com

  Formatting: Limitless Publishing

  ISBN-13: 978-1-68058-929-0

  ISBN-10: 1-68058-929-6

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.

  Dedication

  This novel is dedicated to everyone who has believed in love, forgiveness, hope, humility, compassion, and romance. It is also dedicated to my two daughters, Brigette and Roisin, as well as my two best gal pals, Laura M. and Lisa W. Were it not for the both of you, I doubt I would still be writing full time. Lots of mad love to you two!

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  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

  Epilogue

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  Prologue

  “Drink up, because school is over!”

  I looked down at the perfectly made dirty martini before I glanced at Drew and rolled my eyes. “Yeah, it is over for Thanksgiving weekend only. I can only stay for a little while though because I promised my mother I would make it in time for Thanksgiving dinner; thanks to you and this stupid party, I’m not leaving until seven in the morning.”

  The ever-perfect Drew pouted in my direction, which on him, looked pretty pathetic. “You are such a girl. Why can’t you just stay here with me and avoid your parents altogether? We are PhD students, after all. What’s so special about going home for Thanksgiving anyway?” he said in a sarcastic tone.

  I downed the martini in one go before I walked back to my vanity mirror and tried to concentrate on flat ironing my hair, but Drew wasn’t the type who could easily be ignored.

  An unabashedly vivacious character, he was also my best friend and ex-lover. Although his bisexuality had nothing to do with us parting ways, his infidelity did, but I loved him so much as a human being, I couldn’t dare shut him out of my life.

  We were both PhD students in our final year, and at twenty-eight, we were damn near ancient. I could have taken a very cushy position in my father’s corporation, but after the economy collapsed in the late nineties, I decided to go back to school and get a PhD in political economy and government. Drew happened to be majoring in the same subject, and since we ran into one another more often than not, somehow we managed to make our friendship work.

  It made sense for Drew to want his PhD in our subject of choice since his father was a senator for Massachusetts who always assumed once his son finished sowing his wild oats, he would join the political elite who controlled state capitals and Washington, D.C. with an iron fist. As for me, I was just lost and hadn’t a clue what I wanted to do with my life. I would probably end up an academic since I had absolutely no interest in becoming a cog in the political machine. I appreciated those that had the time and inclination to join the civil departments of the government, but I would never be one of those people.

  My Android phone began to play “Right Round” by Flo Rida—a ring tone I had specifically chosen for my mother—as I set down my flat iron and picked my phone up.

  “Hello, Mother. How are you?” I sing-songed a tad too loudly, hoping she wouldn’t realize I wasn’t sober.

  She sniffled a bit before she answered. “Deirdre, sweetheart, when were you planning to come back?”

  “Mom, what’s wrong?”

  “It’s your father…” I heard a wail in the background from my younger sister, Caitlyn.

  My heart began to hammer in my chest as I tried to stop the flow of emotions from taking over my body. “What about him?”

  “It’s my fault, really. I needed an ingredient for the organic apple pie I was planning to make for dessert. You know I never cook, and I threw Marguerite out of the kitchen and told her to rest her feet. She’s spent so much time making the perfect Thanksgiving meal, but I just had to make my organic apple pie—”

  “Mom, what’s going on?” I interrupted. Something was definitely not right because my mother never babbled unless she was nervous or frightened.

  “He…a drunk driver…he was run over and left there! The bastard didn’t bother to stick around and check if he was breathing, let alone okay. There wasn’t a single witness. Can you believe that? I mean, who goes out the day before Thanksgiving and gets run over? Can you believe that? And yet, supposedly, there isn’t a single fucking witness?”

  Her voice had reached a high-pitched shrill by the end, and I didn’t know what to say because none of her words told me whether my poor father was dead or alive.

  “What’s his condition? Surely someone eventually called the police and he was taken to the hospital?”

  My mother sniffled again on the other line. “It was too late, honey. They did all they could do, and he fought like a son of a bitch until the end, but…there was nothing they could do. You and Caitlyn have lost your father, and I’ve lost my husband.”

  My heart slowed to a crawl. Suddenly, the phone dropped from my hand, and I collapsed to the floor. The world couldn’t spin fast enough, and no amount of alcohol could ever wash away the pain in my chest. I would have gladly taken any substance, legal or illegal, to make the fucking pain end.

  How could Drew have been so right? School was in my rearview mirror. As far as I was concerned, it was over for me now indefinitely.

  Part One

  It’s All Over But The Crying

  Chapter One

  “Deirdre, how are you feeling today?” Dr. van der Meer inquired in his usual monotone voice.

  “Pretty good, I think. I’m having the nightmares less and less, and the panic attacks have all but come to a stop, but I believe that has more to do with the maximum strength prescription of Xanax I have been taking rather than anything else,” I replied before I shifted in the comfortable chair which arranged me across from him.

  Since my father’s death, I had been seeing a shrink, and it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. He was pretty much a stickler for the old-school type of counseling. I talked out a lot of my problems as opposed to numbed them with drugs. He eschewed prescribing me the most popular psychotropic drugs on the market until he felt it absolutely necessary for my health and well-being. I had just recently been weaned off Wellbutrin after a stint with Zoloft when the situation was extremely rough for me.

  The Xanax had also been prescribed by Dr. van der Meer, a
nd I’d made the mistake of popping one before coming to this appointment. It wasn’t the most brightest idea I’d ever had.

  I was relaxed almost to the point of a false sense of euphoria, and yet I could still feel the pain of my father’s death like a shard of glass digging into my heart. I knew right off the bat this was not going to be a very enjoyable visit to my psychiatrist.

  “I understand you’re thinking about going back to school,” he replied as he jotted down a few notes on his ever-present legal pad.

  “I am. The Seattle branch of the University of Washington doesn’t have a PhD program in the field I was studying at Harvard, but I need a change anyway. I have inquired about their doctorate in public policy and management. The degree seems interesting, and at least I feel like I could be of some use to society.”

  Dr. van der Meer stared at me with clear sky blue eyes. “Why do you talk as if you were the one who should have been sent to prison? You did nothing wrong, and you’re not the reason why your father is dead.”

  The tears came whether I wanted them to or not, and I grabbed several Kleenex from the box the doc kept handy. “I always felt like I was such a disappointment, and now…he’ll never know me to be anything but…that. I didn’t stay at Harvard all that time because I wanted to further my education. I just became a professional student because it allowed me to escape reality and when the recession hit, it gave me more than enough excuses. I was attending this outrageously expensive university on my father’s dime and yeah, I know he could afford it no problem, but…it wasn’t what he wanted from me, and now he will never know how much I am capable of doing or what I will do with the rest of my life.”

  “We sit down with one another three times per week and it’s always the same with you.” Doctor van der Meer put his reading glasses down and looked up at me. “I don’t think going back to school right now is the answer at all, Deirdre. I think the only thing that is going to pull you out of your funk is to live life a little. That means no more school work and no more studying. You’ll be twenty-nine in June, and you’ve said it yourself—you are a professional student. Not because you’re not intelligent and can’t pass your classes and pick up your increasing number of degrees, but because you are afraid to live life. If I didn’t think it was against the rules of my very rigid profession, I would introduce you to my son. He’s a year older than you and a professional slacker. You two would get on quite well.”

  I dried my eyes before I blew my nose. “Well, what do you think I should do?”

  “Your father left you with a very comfortable nest egg. Use part of it to go out there and see the world. Why don’t you take a trip to Europe? The flights are not too bad, as it’s the shoulder season and the high season hasn’t begun yet. You’re allowed to stay as long as you like, yes?”

  I nodded my head. “My dad grew up in Quebec City, but he was born in France and maintained both his Canadian and French passports. When I was born, he and my mom—my real mom, not Jeanette—went back to the small village where his people come from in the region of Lorraine, and they managed to take care of the whole French passport situation. So, to make a long story short, yes, I have all three of my passports. They’re current and I shouldn’t run into any problems, so I can stay as long as I want in any European Union country I like.”

  “Good.” The doctor smiled at me before his eyes filled with pity. “Why don’t you talk about your real mother? Is there a sense of guilt or shame because of her death? Are you upset she didn’t raise you herself?”

  “No, doctor, it’s nothing like that. It’s just…she died when I was three, a brain aneurysm. It was completely unexpected, and my dad was really devastated. I don’t remember much about her to be honest. When I look at old photos, I can see myself in her. Dad married Mom—Jeanette—when I was five, and she was already pregnant with Caitlyn when they tied the knot. I don’t know…you hear all these horror stories about evil stepmothers, but Jeanette was nothing like that. She always treated Caitlyn and I the same, and over the years, she became my mother. I know we aren’t related by blood, but…I still feel so very close to her. I suppose now that my dad is gone too, she and Caitlyn are the only close family I have left.”

  “What about grandparents?”

  I shrugged my shoulders apathetically. “Well, my real mother’s parents are dead and my dad’s parents are back in France. I suppose I could visit them if I decide to do this European vacation. I haven’t seen them since the funeral, and Grandma was really torn up about the whole thing. It wasn’t exactly the best time to bond with them. They have never cared for Jeanette and really liked my real mom so it was awkward, to say the least.”

  Doctor van der Meer jotted down a few more notes. “I think we have made excellent progress but at the same time, I really do believe this is the best thing you can do for yourself. You are a grown woman, and with that title comes responsibilities. If you were nineteen, my attitude would be completely different, but I am a firm believer in tough love and I truly do think you need some time for yourself.”

  I chose not to argue with the good doctor, and we spent the rest of my session discussing which countries I should visit and when would be a good time to buy my plane ticket.

  By the time I arrived home, Drew was in the kitchen making dinner. My mother thought it was plain odd he’d also taken a hiatus and moved out to Seattle with me, but then again most people didn’t understand our relationship. One didn’t stay best friends with a former lover; one moved on and decided to jump back on the horse again. That hadn’t been the case for us, but perhaps we weren’t ready to move on from each other.

  He had a busy social life and always had a steady stream of boyfriends and girlfriends. Meanwhile, I had taken to living like a goddamn hermit. I did manage a date every now and then, just to keep Drew from worrying about me more than usual, but there’d been no one special. Our relationship was complicated with a capital “C.” When he was between partners, we did have a friends-with-benefits type of an arrangement, though I insisted on condoms despite my being on the pill. It had nothing to do with me thinking he wasn’t safe. It was an inner defense mechanism that reminded me we weren’t exclusive, and although I loved him, I could never fall in love with him.

  Ever.

  We lived in an ultra cool three-story townhouse in Fremont. Everything was brand new, from the stainless-steel appliances to the hardwood floors throughout. Although it was a vast space for two slackers in their late twenties, we kept the third bedroom as an office-guest room. We each had massive bedrooms with our own en-suite bathrooms and walk-in closets. There was a beautiful patio complete with furniture and a built in overhead heater for cooler nights as well.

  “How was your appointment?” he inquired as the aroma of garlic and oregano immediately seized my nostrils.

  “The good doctor thinks I should get away for a while,” I said, sitting down at the kitchen table.

  Drew turned off the stove and brought a bottle of Pinot Noir and two wine glasses to the table. “I hate to think I am agreeing with a shrink, but it’s true. You’re much too young to spend your days cooped up in the house, Deirdre. You lost your father and that is a terrible tragedy, but at the end of the day you are going to have to move on.”

  I grabbed the bottle of wine and poured myself a glass before I drank half the contents in a generous swig. “That isn’t fair. Your parents are still alive to bitch and complain at you—”

  “And they do…a lot. They have absolutely no idea why the hell I decided to accompany my ex out to Seattle when I could be freezing my ass off in Beacon Hill. They especially weren’t pleased when I told them we’d already bought a place together, so my finances are tied up in real estate at the moment. My mother almost had a heart attack and wired me a couple mil to my bank account to ‘tide me over.’”

  I laughed, as did he, and I realized he still had that effect on me. The curious look which could arise in those pale gray eyes of his, and the way the light bounced of
f his sandy brown hair always made him seem like a sexy angel with tainted wings. Not to mention the man had the body of Adonis and the face of a god. He was beautiful, tall, and athletic with perfect facial features and skin the color of creamy alabaster thanks to his German-Irish background.

  So why weren’t we a couple anymore? Perhaps because he was too perfect, at least for me. He would always be my first love. However, I had too much respect for our friendship to allow a relationship between us to ruin the friendship we’d cultivated over the years. We weren’t youngsters anymore. We were a lot closer to thirty than twenty, yet we still hadn’t grown up.

  I loved Drew still and we had fun together, but I couldn’t honestly see him as the father of my children or my husband. Despite all his wealth, he wasn’t the least bit pretentious. Not that his social status had ever been an issue with us. I knew there was life after Drew, and to discover it, I would need to get away from him for just a little while. The trip to Europe seemed like the perfect way to achieve my goal.

  He poured wine for himself before the doorbell chimed

  “Are we expecting anyone?” I asked.

  “Yep, I’ve got company.” He raised his eyebrows mischievously before he sprinted to the door.

  I continued to drink my wine and answered an earlier text from my sister. She was just fine and wanted to know how I’d been. Caitlyn was always upbeat and chipper. She’d taken our father’s death hard initially, but she had so much going on in her life, it was easier for her to push the grief to the backburner. Unlike me, she actually did have a career as an up-and-coming junior executive at Amazon, and she loved her job.

  Drew came back to the table laughing and joking with another guy, which gave me a chance to size up my competition.