Her Shadows His Secrets Read online

  621 E. Southern Rd.

  Suite 203

  Cherry Hill, South Carolina 84555

  Phone: 555-215-5555

  Fax: 555-215-5554

  My body feels frozen in time. Everything suddenly loses color, and I’m convinced this is a dream and that the nightly visitor is upping the ante in my head. There is a sharp ringing in my ear, so piercing I’m almost brought to my knees. The words on the page echo in my mind, and now… my body responds, and she chooses flight.

  I move, grabbing the suitcase from the top shelf of my tiny closet and begin packing anything I can. Clothes, shoes, all I can fit in one suitcase. I leave everything else, knowing full well I never intend to return.

  How? I don’t know.

  Am I thinking rationally? No.

  But I need out.

  Changing into some jeans, a bra, tank top, and hoodie, I slip on my shoes and grab the letter. With my free hand, I grab my purse and keys.

  I want to say I open the door and, with one dramatic, long pause, turn and look at the life I’m leaving behind, but I don’t. Slamming the door shut and locking it, I move fast.

  Time will catch up and logical thinking will take precedence, but now.

  Right now, it’s just time to run.

  CHAPTER TWO

  HANNA

  A noise jolts me awake. The morning light is playing peekaboo with the horizon in some farm town as I look out the window of the bus I’m on, which only has four other people, including the driver. When I left, I went to the bus station, grabbed a ticket, and within forty-five minutes of reading the letter that changed my life, I was on a Greyhound to a town called Cherry Hill.

  Realizing the noise that woke me up was the bus hitting a pothole, I straighten up and look around. The other passengers are sleeping still.

  I crashed within minutes, my rash decision and draining adrenaline finally catching up, and I couldn’t keep my eyes open. I left everything—my job, my home, and what little I had—in New York because of some letter.

  What if it’s not real? What if this is a scam?

  But why would someone do that to me, and how would they find me and my information? My parents never mentioned a grandparent, and the foster care system never found anyone, but how could they not?

  Suddenly, I realize it’s most likely the first option, and I am being scammed.

  “Shit,” I say under my breath, shaking my head and cursing my lack of logical thinking. I reach in my purse and grab the letter, which I read over and over again. Each time I do, I analyze it and come to a conclusion—one most people would disagree with.

  This has to be real. And in all honesty, I hope it is. I want to know where I came from. Maybe I have more family. Cousins? Aunts? Uncles? It’s unlikely, since no one ever claimed me. But a lonely woman like me who’s had no family nor a place to call home, I can only pray there’s someone waiting in Cherry Hill for me.

  The day passes, the night after that seeming longer, my short bouts of sleep not lasting long, when we finally arrive. The bus station isn’t at all what I imagined. Envisioning a dirt road and cows mooing a welcome at me isn’t at all what I’m greeted by. I’m charmed by the small town, which is alive with people, window shopping, outdoor coffee conversations, and the occasional bench with friends hanging out. Everything is so very different than New York, which I knew to expect, but seeing it, being in it—it’s homey.

  I hold the letter tight in my hand and make my way toward the host of the closest café. The stand is outside, and I approach the young man who looks to be no older than sixteen.

  “Hi, um…I was wondering if you know where Loweson’s Law Offices is located.”

  He gives me a friendly smile and nods. “I sure do, ma’am.”

  Ma’am? I really am in the South.

  “If you walk up this main street for about five blocks, Jack’s office is just on the corner of 5th and Southern, ma’am.”

  He said Jack’s name, so that’s a good sign—he’s known as a lawyer, so we are one point for no scam.

  “Thank you so much. Have a good day.” I smile and head in that direction.

  It’s not a long walk, maybe three minutes or so, before I’m standing outside the exact address and law office stated in the letter. As I step in, a bell rings, notifying the receptionist of my presence.

  She’s young, her face buried in some gossip magazine. Looking up, she smiles at me. “Hello! Welcome to Jack Loweson’s office. Can I help you, sweetheart?”

  Better than ma’am.

  “Um, yes, my name is Hanna Whittington, and I received a letter from Mr. Loweson about my grandfather’s will.”

  Her face drops, sadness taking over. “Oh, sweetie, we all loved JD. I’m so very sorry for your loss. We were expecting you to call, but it’s even better you’re here. Let me go see if he’s available.”

  Just like that, she scampers off, and I look around. I take notice of all the pictures of what I assume is this small town over the years, going from black-and-white, to sepia, and then full color, new buildings added each time. Her words echo in my mind as I take in the photos. Was my grandpa some kind of small-town royalty? Even though I knew I had to have grandparents at some point, it does feel weird saying it in my head.

  “Ms. Whittington?” A male’s voice pulls me from my wayward thoughts. Turning, I’m met with the sight of a man who's about five-foot five, with thick glasses and a sweet smile. There is a hint of sympathy behind his smile, but I don’t call it out. I’m not sure who my grandpa was, so the pain of his loss isn’t hitting me hard, as it seems to be doing to those in this town.

  “Hi, Mr. Loweson?”

  “Please, call me Jack. Come on back. It’s so good to see you.” He glances at my suitcase but doesn’t address it, thank God. I don’t think there is enough time to get into that baggage. Literally. “I’m sorry we’re meeting under these circumstances. Your grandfather was a wonderful man. I’m greatly sorry for your loss.”

  He stumbles at the tail-end of his apology. He must know I never knew who my grandfather was. Though Jack seems filled with pity, he’s probably trying to imagine how I feel. All these years, I’ve felt lost and like I had no one. Now, I find out there was a grandfather out here, one who loved me enough to leave me his belongings in his passing.

  Trauma. More trauma to load onto my already packed shoulders.

  “Thank you. If I’m being honest, I don’t know why he would leave me anything. I didn’t know him.” Mumbling the last part, I look out the window for a moment before continuing. “I didn’t even know he existed. My parents left me and took everything with them, including family history.” I don’t need Jack thinking I’m some sort of entitled brat who made the choice to not be in my grandfather’s life. Especially with the way he speaks so highly of the man he seems to have been.

  “I understand. There is no need to explain yourself.” When I choose not to respond, he picks up on my cue and continues. “We are going to go over the monies and property that were left to you in his will first, and then we will sign all legal documents. You can ask me any questions you have. Do you have a lawyer you would like present?”

  I shake my head. I barely have two pennies to rub together, let alone enough to afford a lawyer.

  “There isn’t anything here that I believe you would need to have counseling for, but I always ask, and I can also act as your lawyer, seeing as I was JD’s.” His warm smile invites one onto my face.

  “Thank you, Jack.”

  We carry on. The entire time he’s speaking, my mind is whirling. I’m overwhelmed, to say the least.

  “He left you his home and acreage along with his two dogs.”

  “Dogs?” I want to curse myself. Finding out about the million dollars he left, the land and estate, didn’t get me speaking, but dogs? Maybe I should plead insanity and just leave.

  “Yes, his two Great Danes.” He smiles, no doubt reading me like an open book.

  “Oh, names?”

  “Dorothy and Clyde.”

  “Adorable.”

  When I say nothing more, he continues, ignoring my lapse in sanity. He must be a really good lawyer to pick up so well on awkward exchanges. Hours later, we are finally at the end of the meeting.

  “Now, we went over a lot of information. Do you have any questions for me? You haven’t said much.” What really is there to ask? Twenty-four hours ago, I was living a life in New York, a nobody with nothing to her name but her romance novel and a closetful of thrifted clothing.

  I start simple. “How did he pass?”

  “He had a heart attack. He had some health problems with his heart prior.”

  “Oh.” I never met him, but that hits something in me, making my own heart hurt.

  “Why didn’t he find me?” That’s good, Hanna. Go zero to sixty.

  “I’m not sure. I wish I had more answers for you on why he didn’t. But that is one thing he never discussed with me. Kept conversations about you scarce.”

  “Okay.” I don’t know what else to even say.

  “How about I give you a ride out to the house? Show you around the town a little bit?”

  Peering up from my nails I didn’t realize I was picking at, I’m met with his soft gaze. “Thank you. That would be great.”

  We finish initialing everything, and I grab the small folder with copies of what I signed and JD’s will, as my other hand grabs my suitcase.

  My old life in one hand, worth nothing more than twenty dollars, while the other hand holds my new life… worth millions. The comparison is heartbreaking yet filled with hope. I have so many questions, some I will try to find answers to and others that were buried with my grandfather.

  Nevertheless, I’m going to find something here in this small town—the dr
eam I had of running away and living a new life, where I wasn’t just a lonely girl. Or maybe a chance to reinvent myself. Maybe even find myself. Being a child of the state, an orphan, it leaves you empty sometimes—or filled might be more accurate, with questions, pain, and a constant longing for something more. Something you can’t quite place, but here in Cherry Hill, South Carolina, I hope to find it.

  CHAPTER THREE

  THEO

  ONE WEEK LATER

  The sound of the coffee steamers pulls my attention off my phone in my hand.

  “Black coffee with two sugars for Theo,” the barista at our local coffee shop calls out, and sliding my phone into the back pocket of my jeans, I walk up to the counter. She gives me a knowing look, one I’m not new to.

  “Here you go, Theo. Is there anything else I can grab for you?” She presses her breasts together with her biceps as she leans over the counter. If I had time, I would possibly entertain her obvious idea, but I have to get to work, and I’m already running behind from the fiasco that is my sister, Brenda, today and the new guy she started seeing.

  “No, sweetheart, maybe another time.” I wink, and she practically turns into a melted pile of goo. With that, I walk out, climb into my truck, and leave, making my way toward my house. It feels weird being back in Cherry Hill, yet it’s good to be home. A few years ago, I moved to New York for my job.

  Now, I’ve been called home to do a job, which is ironic. What are the odds that a job would call me to the small town I was born and raised in. Coincidence? Or fate. I’m going with fate. Means the job will be easy. The big man or whatever is out there must be on my side, giving me a break and rewarding me for the years of shit work I’ve had to do. This will be my best paid job yet.

  My phone rings, pulling me from my thoughts.

  “Brenda, I just left there. Is that piece of shit back again?” This morning, I got a call that the guy my little sister just started seeing is really married with a family of his own, and when Brenda caught on to his sleezy ass, she ended it. But he didn’t like rejection.

  “No, I just wanted to call and tell you thank you. It’s good to have you home.”

  I pull the phone away and look at it as if it isn’t real.

  “Was that a compliment from my little sis?” I prompt when I bring it back to my ear.

  She scoffs. I can tell she rolled her eyes with that one. “Don’t be a dick about it. I’m serious. I’m glad you’re home, but you’re still annoying.” She grew up with me always hovering and protecting her like she was made of glass. She felt suffocated by me growing up, so when I left Cherry Hill, she was able to gain her own freedom. She gained freedom, yet I went mad with knowing I couldn’t always be there for her. That the control I have to have with all things slipped out of my hands when it came to her. But I trained her well. I love her and am proud of the kickass, take-no-shit firecracker she has become. But I will still be first in line to defend her with no mercy and would protect her against anyone and anything.

  “You’re welcome.” I choose not to give her too much shit. It’s been a hard morning; she’s had enough for one day. When he wouldn’t leave her house and threatened her, she called me, and I had to come put the fear of God in him with my pistol, taking the butt of it and rearranging his nose. That seemed to do the trick. I think being back here, hating the idea of it, and combining it with my pent-up sexual frustration made me snap in a way. I fight daily to contain it. Poor schmuck—not really—was at the receiving end. Should have learned how to listen better.

  “Anyway, how long are you here for?”

  “Until the job is done.”

  “Hmm.”

  “What?” I ask.

  “Nothing, just seems random that you are here for a job. What kind of tech job would bring you to Cherry Hill?”

  I take a second to respond. “Sis, what’s really going on? Since when do you care about my job?”

  She lets out an exasperated sigh. “Fine. Listen, Mom and Dad have been fighting a lot. Mom is constantly calling me to cry, and I’ve just felt… lonely since you left.”

  Straight punch to the chest. “Why didn’t you call and tell me this, B?”

  “I don’t know. It’s like you left to get away from all of us. I didn’t want to bother you.”

  Damn it. Did my leaving really create such a gap, an absence in her life? I didn’t leave because of her. I left, because I outgrew Cherry Hill. This small town is just that—small—filled with rumor mills, lack of opportunities, and a dating pool of barely any fish. I wanted to get out, see the world, chase my dream job, and I couldn’t do that here.

  “I didn’t leave because I wanted away from you. That was never the reason. Okay?” I soften my approach, pulling onto the dirt drive of my small two-bedroom vacation home I bought last year. I had intended on coming around more, so buying a place for me to stay when I visited seem logical. Shutting down my truck, I wait on her response.

  “I’m sorry. Today has just been shit. I really liked him, and he turned out to be another douche like all the men I’ve dated before him. There aren’t that many fish in this little sea anymore. I’m probably going to die alone, with cats. Cats that will feed on me, because I’ll have no one to come check in on me.” I laugh.

  “Whoa, cut the dramatics. You are not going to die alone and be feasted on by cats.” I open the door and step out of my truck. “You could come to New York. You would love it there.”

  “No. No way. I don’t fit in, in a big city.”

  That has me nearly stopping in my tracks. “Brenda. Come on. Your personality is too big for this Podunk town. The city is just the right place for you to be yourself.”

  “You’re just saying that because I put the disturbing image of me being eaten by cats in your head. I don’t need the pity.”

  “I’m serious.” Opening my front door and dropping my keys onto the table in the entryway, I make my way toward my home office.

  “Yeah, okay. Anyway, don’t tell Mom I told you about their fighting.”

  “I won’t,” I lie. I don’t know why she hasn’t called me to tell me they’re having problems.

  That’s not like them. My parents have always been the town’s star couple. High school sweethearts and all that shit.

  “I will see you at family dinner on Sunday. Love you,” she says.

  “Love you too. See ya then.” Ending the call, I finally get my ass in gear and work.

  Opening my email, I click on the assignment information. It’s easy, just like I told my client back in New York. I will be done in no time, back up north within a month.

  While I work out my plans to complete the job so I can ensure I’m not here too long, I can’t help but think about my parents and what I plan to do about them. I can’t just ignore what Brenda told me. Something tells me she knows that, and though she asked me not to say anything, a part of her wants me to.

  Maybe after dinner, I’ll take each of my parents aside and find out just what in the hell is happening between the two of them. How much did I miss while I’ve been away, and what the hell else is this month going to bring?

  CHAPTER FOUR

  THEO

  Standing in front of my bathroom vanity a few days later, I peer up at my reflection under hooded lids, my brown eyes darkening. Today was a shit day, so bad it consumed me, and I felt like every little damn thing could set me off. I felt rage boiling over into each activity, work email, job task, and more. I know why it’s this way; there’s no reason a normal person would feel this way, but I’m not normal.

  No, I have tastes, a hunger that has to be met, and since I’ve been here, it hasn’t. Leaving me violently in need of it.

  Control.

  Lust.

  Venom for my veins.

  I need to bury myself inside a woman, lose my mind in the control and dominance I would claim from her. But I can’t do that here. Everyone is either married or we went to high school together. Besides, they wouldn’t satisfy my needs. This dead space isn’t the only reason I left for the city. It didn’t hold the amount or the variety of women I need in order to sate my cravings, to please the palate.