Always In: The Shore Series Book 2 Read online

  Always In

  Copyright © 2014 M.R. Joseph

  Edited by Marion Archer of Marion Making Manuscripts

  Copyright © Jennifer Kearney Photography 2014

  http://www.jenniferkearneyphotography.com/#2822

  Formatting by Indie Pixel Studio

  http://www.indiepixelstudio.com

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 1500370215

  ISBN-13: 978-1500370213

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  DEDICATION

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  EPILOGUE

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  DEDICATION

  To Brandon & Mia

  Thank you

  For teaching me to be selfless

  For making me laugh everyday of my life, even when at times I’d like to scream

  For letting me into your worlds and to see life through your eyes as you grow and learn and discover new things. This amazes me!

  For the opportunity to kiss your sweet faces every night while you sleep and how I thank God for blessing me with such beautiful creatures

  Most of all, thank you for making my dreams a reality by being the greatest gifts I could ever receive and by far my biggest accomplishments.

  Not only do I dedicate this book to you, for you I dedicate my life.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  Now this is the easy part.

  There are so many people to thank so I’ll start with my adoring husband. My biggest supporter, writing pusher, book cover designing genius, partner in crime, most loving, caring, handsome, funny man I have ever laid my eyes on. I couldn’t ask for a better gift than the gift of his love. I feel blessed every day that God sent him to me. Thank you, Bub for everything, especially our two beautiful babes.

  Thank you to my family and friends for always being in my corner and sharing in this joy with me. I could not have done this without your love and constant words of encouragement.

  My betas, Tina Bell, Tina Moss, Chrissy Massa, Lisa McKewon, Sandy Connor, Stephanie Leone, Laura Hash, and Vanita Gagen. Dear Lord what would I do without each and every one of you? Thanks for the laughs, your hard work, and for being there for me when I wanted to punch a wall or two. Love you girls.

  A special thanks to Wendy Shatwell, my “British Beta”. Thank you dah-ling for all of your help and for being such a wonderful friend to me. I can’t wait till we meet next year! Love you, friend.

  Thank you to my beautiful friend, Julie Prestsater. Without you I don’t know where I’d be. I’ve never met a more caring, thoughtful, fun, and honest person in my life and I will forever be grateful for our friendship and for everything you have done for me. I love you, dimples!

  Bloggers! Man, there are so many of you who have helped me and stood behind me though out these past few years. Thank you Lydia and Heidi from HEA Bookshelf Blogger, Lisa Kane from Three Chicks and Their Books, Tina, Tracey, and Karen from K&T Book Reviews, Tara from Teahoney’s Book Blog, Julie McIntyre from Mac’s Book Blog, Kristine Barakat from Glass, Paper, Ink Book Blog, Kristine Englefield, the girls from Abby’s Book Blog, Jennifer Wolfel from Wolfel’s World of Books, Stephanie Phillips from Stephanie’s Book Reports, Crystal Peik from Kricket’s Chirps, Michelle Kannan from All Romance Reviews, Jodi from Butterflies, Books, and Dreams, Shannon from Cocktails and Books, Sandy Piazza and the rest of the ladies from Lovely Ladies, the girls from We Love Kink, My girls at Bare Naked Words, and everyone I haven’t mentioned who have helped so much in getting my name and my books out to readers. My appreciation and loyalty goes beyond words. Without you, all I have are words on a page.

  To my readers! Yay, I have readers! Thank you, thank you, thank you for your support, honesty, loyalty, trust, and words of constant encouragement! I love each and every one of you. I’m a truly blessed girl to have so many beautiful people read my words and tell me how much they love my books. You are all amazing!

  Thank you to my wonderful, talented, beautiful photographer Jennifer Kearney. You have such a gift and created what I think is your best work yet! Thank you for all of your hard work and eye for detail. The end result is incredible and makes me so proud. You should be so proud! Xo

  Thank you to my gorgeous cover models, Reuben Ondarza and Rose Marie Mount. Thank you for gracing the cover of this book, for giving me your time and the use of your beautiful faces. My appreciation goes beyond words. Reu, thank you for working so hard in order to make the ladies who have a chance to see your pictures go gaga. Ha, Ha.

  To my new heavenly editor, Marion Archer. Thank you for your expertise, your words of wisdom, your ‘Marionisms’ as you call them, for believing in this book, in the story, and for believing in me. You are a true angel who was sent to me! Thank you again, love!

  Lastly, to the person who paid it forward to me, who believed in my talent, who gave me a gift that made me feel like there still were generous, good-hearted people left in this world. Thank you for one of the most beautiful gifts I have ever received. Your generosity goes beyond any words I could ever write. I always hope that you know how my gratitude and love for your generosity will be something I will never forget. I hope one day I will be able to do the same thing for someone else. You are a beautiful person inside and out and I’m so blessed to know you and call you friend. (Oh, and I’m not telling anyone who it is. She knows who she is!)

  PROLOGUE

  Harlow~

  I can hear, yet I can't speak. I can't feel, but I am aware. I am in perpetual darkness and I want to scream, but I can't open my mouth. Sounds are mumbled. People are around me, talking, saying things, but none of it makes sense. I dream about my loved ones, I know I do, but I can't see their faces. I hear so many voices but who is talking to me? What is all this I hear? I hear my name being called but I can't see. Why can't I see? Why can't I open my eyes? Am I dead? Is this death and all the mystery that surrounds it? I dream of floating. I dream of floating like a weightless article. I dream about losing control. I fight against something, but then it passes and I feel afloat once again. I can't figure out why I feel this way. Am I flying? Oh, God, please help me. If I am in heaven, please come to me and tell me. Why can't I move? Please, someone tell me. Wake me up if this is a dream- if I'm not dead, please someone stir me from this nightmare.

  The one voice I hear constantly in my ear, I've heard it before, I know I have, but I don't know who it is. I hear daddy, I hear mommy, I hear my brother. Their voices are familiar.

  Are we all dead? Is my family here with me and heaven is just so dark that we can't find our way to each other? Oh, please I hope it's not like this-death. I hope it's not just the abyss. I'm afraid, so afraid. I want to wake up. Please. Please. Please. I want to wake up. I don't want to be in the dark anymore. I want to move. My body wants to move. Why can't my brain listen to me? Please someone. Wake me up. Please wake me.

  ***

  Cruz~

  6 weeks after the accident

  Her eyes are open. Harlow is awake. My Turnip is awake.

  CHAPTER 1

  Familiarity

  Harlow~

  Everything about Dr. Goldberg's office is familiar. The scent of lemon oil on the mahogany furniture,
the soft feel of the leather chair I sit in, the pictures of his family that hang above the wall behind his desk. It's all familiar. I can even remember the names of his four children. Kate, Mark, Pete, and Lucy. See, how do I do that? How do I remember something so simple as the names of my therapist’s kids yet I can't remember anything about that night?

  As I wait for Dr. Goldberg to come in and begin our session, I hobble out of my chair with my crutches and look out the window of his office. I peer through the blinds onto the Main Street in Princeton. My hometown. I’m glad to be back. I watch the street below. It's late August and I can almost see the heat rising from the black-topped streets. People rushing around from place to place. Some possibly to work, a lunch date, or some shopping. I wonder what their lives are like. I know what mine is like. It's a one-day-at-a-time kind of life right now. But I have to keep moving forward. Push through the bad to get to the good. I remember some of the bad, but unfortunately I can't remember a lot of the good.

  And for that, I feel disappointed. Memories are supposed to live forever.

  Dr. Goldberg walks in and greets me, startling me in the process.

  "Harlow, so nice to see you. Please come and sit. Tea?"

  I make my way back over and sit in one of the familiar leather chairs and stare at the familiar desk before me. I look at the familiar, gray-bearded, balding man in front of me.

  "No, thank you, Dr. Goldberg. I’m good." He eases back in his chair as he takes his pen in hand and begins to bite on the tip of it. This is also a familiar thing about Dr. Goldberg. He always starts our sessions this way.

  "So how is your week going? How was physical therapy this week?"

  I look down at my legs and see deep scaring, evidence of my accident. Those I’m not familiar with. How I got them, how they healed, and why some are larger than others. I brush my fingers over the grooves. The pinkness of the new skin showing through damaged old skin. Some of the skin has been graphed over the much deeper wounds. I try and wear longer clothes to cover the scars, but at this point, I can't allow myself to be vain enough to care. I’m alive and that's what matters most.

  "P.T. is going well. They say just a few more months on the crutches. I don't use them at home as often as I should, but they warned me to use them more often than not once I go back to work in a few weeks."

  Dr. Goldberg opens up my file and clicks the cap of the pen, getting ready to ask me the question again. The one he asks me all the time. Then he'll write down my response.

  "And you are still determined to go back to teaching and not take the medical leave they offered you?"

  I shake my head and give him a slight smile.

  "I know what you're thinking, Dr. Goldberg, but I have to get on with my life. As long as I keep going to physical therapy, and keep coming to see you, then I’m fine. Teaching is also therapy to me, and I’ve made a lot of friends at that school, and Willow is always there. She's going to drive me in every day, and take me home every night. I’m finally back at my own house, too."

  Writing something down, he nods his head in what looks like acceptance.

  "Your parents were okay with that?"

  I laugh. "Not really. Mom cried and wanted to take care of me full time. I just needed to be back on my own. Besides, Greta is due soon and she's going to have to rely on my mom more than I will. Dad is so busy with his new firm. Craw is getting ready for his final semester of student teaching, which in fact, is at Grayson-Elders."

  Dr. Goldberg loves Craw. You can see it on his face when I say his name. He knows Craw is someone special to me and has been there with me throughout this whole ordeal.

  “And how is your family adapting to the new changes with your father leaving his old firm and beginning one on his own?”

  Now that part was a bit tricky for a while. My father had left the law firm my late grandfather had started long before my father was born; leaving behind his share in the ownership in the country club my family has been a part of for fifty years, leaving behind part of his inheritance. All that was a bit messy, but what wasn't messy was kicking my sweet, old granny to the curb. It's something my dad said he should have done a long time ago.

  "My dad is wonderful. So many of his clients followed him. One of the partners, his paralegal, and his secretary went along for the ride. Dad's a smart man. I wish now he would have done it sooner. He only stayed around because my mom wanted to keep the peace between us all. Not for the money, but because family is everything to my mom."

  Dr. Goldberg writes some more and I can hear the steady stream of the cool air come through the vents in the ceiling.

  "When your parents found out about the plan your grandmother had in place for you—to sabotage your relationship with Cruz—they didn't hesitate to put an end to their relationship with her, even though you don't remember your relationship with him. Correct?”

  From what I can recall, yes, all that was true. I missed so much. I really did. I don't remember six weeks of my life... Actually, let me rephrase that, a chunk of the better part of a year of my life.

  "Yes. Even though I urged them not to, because honestly, I didn't know the facts and I don’t remember our relationship."

  “So you still have no recollection of the relationship between you and Cruz?”

  As hard as I try, night after night as I lay awake trying to remember, I don’t. I remember being friends and hanging out in Sandy Cove. I remember the one night, the first night we were together. But that's all. I know the facts about when I was in the coma. I know that he never left my side. He slept there, ate there, lived there until I woke up. When I woke, and I heard him call me baby and when he began to hug and kiss me, I was confused. I didn't understand the intimacy. It was like a stranger was there. He was my friend. We had good times together with the rest of our friends that summer, but I don't remember that we were in love, that we had a sexual relationship other than the first night we met, that we had a long-distance relationship. I don't remember telling him I loved him on New Year's Eve, and about our breakup. I found out later why he did it. Craw told me everything. Evelyn Hannum practically forced his hand into doing it. Albeit it was the wrong way to approach the situation and I feel horrible that he was put into that quandary, but it changed nothing for me. I may have loved him as a friend but as for being the love of my life...I recall nothing. I want to, I really do, but if there is nothing there, how can I force myself to feel something I know nothing about?

  When I think about how freaked out I was when I woke up and his being the only face I saw at first, I feel so terrible. The way I reacted, how I pushed him away not knowing what we shared, it plagues me. He was in love with me, and I apparently with him. It's funny what memory the brain and the heart choose to recall. In the case of Cruz and me, neither one is working.

  “Cruz has written me repeatedly, proclaiming his love and devotion, but no matter what the letters say, I still can’t recall our relationship. Why? Why is that, Dr. Goldberg?”

  I turn my head and look to the window near to me, like out side of it holds all the answers.

  “I’m sorry, Harlow.” He looks discouraged for me because I can’t remember.

  "Dr. Goldberg, I wish with my whole heart I could remember how he felt about me, how I felt about him, but I can't. I have memories of the teasing he did, the wild interludes with girls he had while living next to him and how it annoyed me. I’m not sure I told him intimate details though. Like what happened with Chad and the baby and how I’m not able to have children.”

  The only reason my parents found out was because of my internal injuries. I was bleeding, so when the doctors did and internal exam and ultrasound, they saw that I had a partial hysterectomy. Craw explained it all to them when I was in the coma. They were devastated at first because I kept it from them, but once I woke up and became stronger, I told them everything. I mean everything. The golden boy, Chad, was no longer the golden boy. Dad wanted to kill him. I asked him not to. It was in the past. Chad would hav
e to live with his demons. The sad thing is I can remember such a horrific thing like getting an abortion and almost dying because of it, but I can't remember being in love.

  Chad was arrested for driving a watercraft under the influence, but due to his father's connections, was released and the case dropped. My dad is fighting it. He almost killed me. Perhaps it is partially my fault for going with him, but I don't remember going either.

  The letters just kept coming from Cruz. Almost daily. Cards and flowers, too. I would find him lurking around the halls while I was in the hospital. If I were being wheeled to physical therapy, I'd notice him duck to avoid me seeing him. The nurses confirmed his presence even when I wasn’t sure. I think they felt it was romantic. I know he would come into my room late at night. I didn't sleep very well after I woke from the coma, and even though I faced the other way, I could feel a presence there. He knew all the nurses and the staff so I’m guessing they felt bad for him and let him look in on me. It got to be uncomfortable after a while so I asked Craw to talk to him, to request that he give me space until I could wrap my head around everything. Coming out of a coma isn't the easiest thing for a person. I experienced nauseating headaches, pain in my legs and back, my speech was slurred, and it took me a few weeks to actually eat solid food. When Craw told me he spoke with him, he didn't elaborate on how he took the news. But the look on Craw's face when I asked him, told me it didn't go so well.

  Dr. Goldberg jots down some more, and I uncomfortably move in my seat. My legs are hurting today. I think it may rain tonight.

  “The letters stopped after Craw spoke with Cruz. By that time I was back at home.”

  “And how did that make you feel?”

  “I’m not sure. Sad for him.”

  “Have you heard how he is?”

  "Drinking a lot. That pains me to know that."

  "That’s understandable. Have you tried to reach out to him through Porter? Perhaps Cruz requires reassurance that you still want to be friends, and by being honest with him, he may be able to work through this and accept friendship."