Stern Desire Love Redeemed

by Leah Shay

  Stern Desire: Love Redeemed

  By Leah Shay

  Copyright 2013 Leah Shay All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means.

  License Notes: This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this ebook with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This book is the work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locations, or persons, dead or alive, is coincidental.

  Ebook formatting by www.ebooklaunch.com

  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

  Dedication

  To my husband thanks for the support and space to write.

  To my two beautiful gifts, my children.

  Special thanks to my editor Sigrid Macdonald.

  Prologue

  She walked into my room, and it seemed I had finally died and left this wretched place behind. She roused in me emotions I hadn't experienced in years.

  Didn't I make it out of the surgery? I thought I had. The anesthesiologist must have injected something powerful into me. I was witnessing the most amazing being. Who was she, this spectacular beauty, this paragon of elegance and poise? My angel wore stylish white scrubs that framed her petite, though voluptuous, body.

  She gracefully approached my bed. Her hips swayed, taunting me. She had light olive skin, gentle, honest brown eyes, and thick, dark brown, wavy hair in a ponytail.

  Then she smiled. Even her teeth were perfect, and her smile warmed, relaxed, and comforted me. I knew this was the beginning of my life, not the end.

  "Mr. Stone, my name is Kyra, and I will be your nurse tonight," she said in a sweet, sing-song tone.

  "My nurses get prettier and prettier. No offense, Carlos." Carlos was my recovery room nurse, standing just out of view.

  "None taken," he said.

  Kyra's face stirred life in me again. Maybe there was a chance, but my eyes caught the shimmer of the ring on her left hand. Disappointment doused me, snuffing the flame that had begun to grow. Even so, that had never stopped me: I always got what I wanted.

  "Kyra, please call me Mark." She seemed anxious, avoiding my eyes. "I'm a trooper. I won't be too much trouble."

  She smiled again, and warmth swept back through my body. I could hear Carlos reporting the details to Kyra. "He fractured his third and fourth left ribs. His chest is bandaged tightly."

  "Mark, let's take a look," Carlos said as he lifted my gown, and I noticed the rise and fall of Kyra's breasts stop.

  "External fixator on the left lower extremity. Sensation intact," Carlos added.

  "Mr. Stone," she said, "I mean, Mark, any numbness or tingling in the leg?" She avoided my eyes.

  "No numbness or tingling," I answered. Not in my leg. I tingled elsewhere.

  "Okay, Mark," Carlos said. "All the best. You are in good hands."

  "Thanks for everything, Carlos. You've been great," I said, and tried to extend my hand to him for a handshake, but the pain in my chest gripped me. I winced, and then settled back in bed.

  "Take it easy," Carlos said, and headed for the door.

  "Do you have any questions for me?" Kyra asked. She finally looked me in the eyes.

  "Not at the moment."

  "You have very nice eyes," she said awkwardly.

  My eyes have always been one of my best features. They had an irresistible, seductive appeal that never failed to captivate women.

  "Kyra, where are you from?" I asked.

  "I was born here in the U.S."

  "I detect a slight island accent."

  "I don't think I have an accent," she said, tending to my bed sheets.

  "Where are your parents from?"

  "My mother is English with a dash of East Indian, and my dad's American. I grew up in Jamaica. That might be the accent you heard, even though I don't think I have one."

  The door opened and a woman walked in with a blood pressure machine.

  "This is Claire. She will be your patient care assistant," Kyra said.

  "Hello, Mr. Stone, can I take your vitals?" Claire said in a thick Haitian accent.

  "Go right ahead, and please call me Mark."

  "I'll send your family in. They are anxiously waiting to see you," Kyra said, and exited the room.

  I could tell Kyra was quite anxious herself to leave my room. I watched her go. I wanted to spank that perfectly rounded ass that the uniform scrubs hugged so snugly. She walked out of the door, and the moment I heard it close I couldn't wait to see her again. I felt something inside me that I hadn't felt in years. Kyra held the secret to my redemption.

  Chapter One

  "Mom, it's time to wake up." That was my little alarm clock: my ten-year-old son, Nathan, or Nate, as we called him. He had never failed me yet. I could always count on him to wake me up on time for work. It was time to get to St. Mary's Hospital where I worked as a nurse. Even though I got up on time, it was so difficult to get out of the house and I always found myself rushing to get to Hollywood.

  "Mom, are we going to have dinner together before you go to work?" he asked meekly, his light brown eyes darkening. "Aunt Maggie made us her delicious fried chicken."

  "Isn't that what we always do?" I said, sleepily resenting that I had to go to work.

  Three nights in a row. Please, let it be over soon.

  "Mom, why don't you work days instead? I miss you at night," Nate said.

  "I know, son."

  I'd worked days, but I preferred nights. Days were crazy with six patients, having to deal with doctors, and, even worse than the patients, the patients' family members. Then there were exams to administer, lab calling, physical therapy, speech therapy, and all the while there was a crazy manager breathing down your neck and looking over your shoulder.

  As we sat at the kitchen counter together, Aunt Maggie placed our dinner before us.

  .

  I looked at Nate and was suddenly brought back to that day. It was the lowest time of my life: a day that spawned a perpetual darkness with no light at the end of a proverbial tunnel.

  It was March 18th, 2004. I was almost twenty-two. Nathan was two years old. We were settling into a brand new home in Hollywood Acres on the outskirts of Hollywood, Florida. A beautiful, two-story home on the lake: four bedrooms, two bathrooms, a three car garage, and, in spring, a six o'clock sunset that took my breath away, no matter how many times I had seen it before.

  I was happy, and Rob made sure of that. He had a great job and was the sole breadwinner of the family. He lavished us with all the finest things: a beautiful home, expensive cars, motor bikes, designer clothes, jewelry, and vacations several times a year. He was happiest when he was making us happy.

  I had been sitting at the kitchen counter, trying to get a few pages into a Mark Twain novel before Nathan and Rob got home. I heard a knock at the do
or. Must be a neighbor, I thought. I was not expecting anyone, and the guard did not call from the gates to announce a visitor. I made my way to the front door, and stood on tiptoe to peer through the peephole. I could faintly make out the forms of two police officers standing there. I opened the door and stood there. Immediately, fear overcame me.

  "Ma'am," one of the officers said.

  "Yes, how can I help you, officers?" I finally managed to say, my heart pounding.

  "Ma'am, do you know a Robert Greene?"

  "Yes, that's my boyfriend."

  I could feel myself shaking inside.

  "Where is my son? Where is Rob? Did something happen to them?" My heart pumped so hard at this point that I could detect the pulse in my ears. I felt as though it would burst from my chest at any moment.

  The officers had that awkward glare that precedes bad news. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but there's been an accident," one said.

  "Are they okay?"

  "We do not know, ma'am. Is there anyone you can call?"

  "No...no," I said, completely confused.

  "Ma'am, can we take you to the hospital?" one of the officers offered.

  "Which hospital?"

  "St. Mary's."

  I backed away from the door, numb. I was in a daze, and any coherence in my actions was compelled by some outside force. I picked up my handbag and cell phone, and walked back to the front door where the officers patiently waited. One of the officers held the back door of the car open for me, and I got in. The twenty-minute ride to the hospital felt like two hours.

  I kept telling myself that they had to be okay. Positive thoughts. They had to be okay.

  The police car pulled up to the emergency room entrance and I got out. I was immediately approached by a tall, well-dressed, African-American woman.

  "Miss Harris? Hi, my name is Pam. I'm with hospital administration. Right this way, please."

  "Where is my son? I need answers, please, please, plea..." My voice trailed off as a huge lump welled up in my throat, suffocating me.

  "Your son is doing just fine," she answered.

  "Thank God," I breathed. "Is Robert with him?"

  "Ms. Harris, Dr. Sanchez is waiting. He'll talk to you about Mr. Greene."

  Dr. Sanchez was standing outside the door with "Family Room" written on the side. He was dressed in green scrubs, tall, with attractively strong features. He opened the door for us and Pam and I entered. I sat in the first chair I saw. Dr. Sanchez entered and closed the door behind him.

  "So, where is Robert, Doctor? Can I see him?" I asked anxiously.

  "Ms. Harris, when Mr. Greene arrived, he was barely hanging on. I am so sorry. We did all we possibly could, but he had multiple gunshot wounds to the chest and abdomen."

  "Gunshot wounds?" I began to cry, hot tears searing down my cheeks.

  "Mr. Greene was at the gas station, according to the police," Pam said. "He had just purchased some gas, when a strange car approached and opened fire on his car. The cops are thinking it might be a gang initiation ritual."

  I just sat and stared at her, tears silently burning and flowing down my face. This didn't make any sense. Nothing made sense at that moment. Rob was not in a bad neighborhood. He would not put our child's well-being in danger by taking him to a nefarious part of the city. This was a gas station Rob had frequented.

  "Ms. Harris," Pam said, "Mr. Greene saved your son's life."

  "What?"

  "He must have seen what was about to happen," Pam continued. It seemed as though she was fighting back tears herself. "He reached over and shielded your son with his body."

  "Can I see Robert, please?" I asked, summoning all the strength I could muster.

  "Give us a few minutes, and we'll take you to see him," Dr. Sanchez said.

  "Please, can I see him now?" I pleaded.

  "Ms. Harris, that might not be a good idea. Give us a few minute..."

  "Now, please!" I snapped.

  "Right this way," Pam said, as she stood up.

  I followed her down the hall, enveloped in anxiety. I struggled with a feeling of loss so profound and indescribable that I felt like a shell of a human being. As we got to the door, it opened; a young woman in her late twenties stepped out and closed the door behind her.

  "My name is Jenn, and I am the nurse," she said. "Can you give us a few more minutes?"

  "Please, Jenn," I begged.

  "Okay," she said, taking my hand in hers. "Follow me."

  She led me over to his bloodied body lying on the table. His clothes had been cut from his body, and they were lying next to him.

  "I'm right here," Jenn said sincerely.

  Rob, my lifeline, was covered in blood, and tubes were sticking out of his mouth and chest. The floor was also covered in blood. Instruments, dressings, and tubes were strewn everywhere. I reached down and took his hand in mine. It was still warm.

  "Can you please tell me what happened?" I asked Jenn softly.

  "We got a call around three forty-five, stating that there was a gunshot victim coming in. We were also told that there was a baby in the vehicle, but your son is fine. I spoke with the nurse in pediatric ER just before you came. Your son is resting comfortably. He suffered no injuries. He is just fine."

  "Where was Robert shot?"

  "Six times in the chest and abdomen. The shots badly damaged his organs. He was bleeding so fast, we couldn't save him," she said, sounding genuinely sympathetic.

  "Thank you, Jenn. I really appreciate it." What was I going to do? I had no idea where to start. He had been the one and only man in my life. How was I going to move on from here? We had been together since high school. He had taken care of me, protected me. I could not do this on my own. Why did he have to leave me? We had lived life day to day, never thinking that at any minute it could be cut short.

  Now I knew life as the fragile thing it was. Senseless, unexplainable, tragic things happened to good people. I could have lost my son, too. I could be mourning for my child and the man I loved. As all the "whys" bombarded my head, I realized I would not get an answer that would appease me, or make the pain any more bearable. When it hit this close to home, it was a painful and constant reminder that life was for nothing. We were nothing but dust.

  "Ms. Harris," Jenn said from behind me.

  "Please call me Kyra."

  "Kyra, your son is here."

  "Goodbye, my love, and thank you." I took one last look at Rob's lifeless body on the stretcher. I burst out crying.

  Jenn embraced me and led me out of the room. Nate was waiting by the nurse's station in a bright red wagon, padded with blankets. He was fast asleep. I picked him up to make sure that he was all right. As I held him in my arms, I felt a renewed strength. I quickly realized that my precious baby boy needed me, and I needed him. I needed Nate now more than ever; I couldn't step into the threatening dark that had lured me just moments before. He was my light. He would keep me sane; he was now my reason to go on, to fight, to live.

  .

  When I got back home, I smelled Robert everywhere. Still holding Nate, I picked up my iPod, scrolled through my playlist, and made the selection. I then walked down the hall to the guest bedroom and climbed into bed with my baby boy in my arms.

  As the intricate and sad harmonies of Mozart's Requiem began, I reflected upon life's crude nature, and the profane scheme that pilots us all down death's road. The dark, haunting, melancholic violins lulled me to sleep.

  My cell phone on the nightstand woke me. It displayed a number I could not identify.

  "Hello," I said. I didn't recognize my own voice.

  "Kyra?" the voice asked.

  "Yes, who is this?"

  "This is Jenn, the nurse from the hospital. I have something that belongs to you, and would like to drop it off. I got your address and number from the chart, and it happens that I live in the neighborhood."

  "Okay, come on over."

  "Be there in a few minutes."

  The doorbell rang ten minutes l
ater.

  "Come on in," I said, gesturing for her to enter.

  "Are you alone?" Jenn asked, obviously concerned.

  "My mom should be here in an hour. She was visiting friends in Orlando."

  Mom had been spending a great deal of time at her condo in Orlando. Rachel, my sister, and I had come to the conclusion that she might have found a love interest there. Our dad died on a diplomatic trip when we were in high school. Rachel and I discovered later that his secretary, who also died in the accident, was his mistress. Our mom had never remarried, and the few relationships that we knew about never lasted. I remember how difficult that period was for us: the pain and the anger. But, time is its own master, and heals everything.

  Jenn and I sat facing each other on the sofa. What is it that she had for me? I was going to give all of Rob's personal belongings away. Jenn reached into her coach bag and pulled out a small, burgundy, velvet box. I stared at it, and knew what it was. No wonder he had been acting so strange the past couple of days. With shaky hands, I took the box from her. I slowly opened the box and there nestled in plush purple velvet was the engagement ring, exactly how I had described it to him. Rob and I had spoken for hours about our dreams and the future. And here was one of the central symbols of that dream: the other part of me not there to share it.

  I gingerly picked the ring up, and saw an inscription on the inside - Kyra, my life, my all, together forever - and I slipped the ring on my left ring finger. It was a sparkling, 4 carat, Neil Lane diamond. The cushion cut diamond was surrounded by breathtaking round and princess-cut diamonds. This was more than I expected, but Robert usually went all-out for his family.

  "He was going to propose on my birthday," I said to myself.

  "When is that?" Jenn asked. I had almost forgotten she was there.

  "Today. Today is my birthday." The tears welled up again. Jenn scooted over and let me rest my head on her shoulder. She held me. "You shouldn't be alone. I'll stay with you until your mom gets here."

  "You've done more than enough already. You have no idea how much you have helped me."

  "I love my job, and sometimes it doesn't end at the hospital. I will go the extra mile for anyone who needs me."