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Curveball

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by Teresa Michaels




  CURVEBALL

  Teresa Michaels

  This book is a work of fiction. References to real names, real places and actual events are used fictitiously. All other characters, names, places and events are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual places, events or people, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2014 Teresa Michaels All rights reserved.

  ISBN-13: 978-1502449771

  ISBN-10: 1502449773

  Cover design by Alanna Joy.

  To my husband, Boo-boo, and Little Man – the three loves of my life!

  Acknowledgments

  Thank you to my amazing husband for believing in me and for always encouraging me. Without your support I would not have thought this was possible. Your feedback and insight into a guy’s mind made my characters stronger. I love you!

  Thank you to my wonderful parents, both of who read, critiqued and edited this book…several times! I never would have thought my own mother would encourage me to “spice it up” but I’m glad she did…even if it did embarrass the hell out of my father!

  I also want to thank my beta readers: Nicole, Alanna, Lisa and Aimee. Nicole, thank you for listening to my ideas, giving me reassurance and providing me with several romance novels to make sure I understood exactly what spice was. Alanna and Lisa, you two have been my cheerleaders…thank you! A big thank you to Aimee, who read a book that wasn’t in her genre of choice and gave me better feedback than I could have hoped for because of it.

  Last, but not least, thank you to Marc. Without your help and patience the eBook wouldn’t exist. Thank you!

  Chapter One

  Rude Awakening

  Breanne

  A swift blow to my ribs jars me from sleep.

  “Ah,” I groan in pain.

  I attempt to roll over to soothe the ache in my side only to find that my body is restrained. My eyes flash open but it’s pitch dark. The feeling of silky fabric against my eyelashes tells me it’s not necessarily from a lack of light. Shit! Where the hell am I?

  I struggle to move my arms as they are weighted down and tingling. Without my sight all other senses have become alert, although my brain has yet to follow. I tense as the sensation of being covered by body parts resonates. I am not alone. A muffled voice and rustling to my left causes my hair to stand on end. On my right a low humming pricks my ear, accompanied by rhythmic spurts of warm air against my neck. What the hell? I’m frightened to the point of barely being able to breathe, and yet the warmth is so soothing that in my groggy and confused state, it threatens to pull me back under.

  Wake up! Think damn it!

  I swallow and open my mouth to call out to whoever has me captive. But before the words leave my mouth, the back of a hand strikes my face, followed by another karate-chop to my esophagus.

  I spurt and cough, gasping for air. God, It burns to swallow. A blaring sound pierces my ear, followed by one more swift kick to my ribs.

  “Fuck!” I sputter, flying upright with such force that I finally free my arms.

  “Dats poddy tahk,” a high-pitched voice scolds.

  “Mom, turn it off,” another familiar voice mumbles.

  Relief flows as reality sinks in. I remove my eye mask and glance over one shoulder and then the other to take in the scene. Looking at each of my girls I visualize the sleeping arrangement. Aubrey’s head must have been resting on my left arm, while her body was sprawled out like a starfish, positioned halfway across my body. Maddie’s head took advantage of my right arm as a pillow, curled up in the fetal position and flush against my side. I was laid out like I was chained to a cross.

  The image of my daughters like that compared to my initial fear of being in danger makes me laugh and I have to bite my lip to keep this joke to myself without further disturbing their sleep.

  Beep. Beep. Beep.

  Reaching over Maddie’s tiny body, I quickly hit the alarm. I rub my eyes in disbelief and once again feel panic bubbling. Crap! I must have hit the snooze button several times.

  Carefully, I free my legs from under the covers and remove Aubrey’s miniature foot from my midsection. As I scoot towards the edge of the bed I feel Maddie roll closer to Aubrey. I glance back at my girls peacefully snuggling and smile. Despite the bruise that I sense is forming on my side, and the fact that I’m very late, there is no better way to wake up. And although there is no place I’d rather be right now, I have to get moving. I am late!

  I laugh to myself and shake my head while turning towards the bathroom. Two steps later my foot catches and I stumble on my son curled up in the fetal position on the sweater dress I wore yesterday and forgot to hang up.

  “Oh, Colin, I’m so sorry! I didn’t know you were in here. Why are you sleeping on the floor?” I whisper, crouching down next to him and gently rub the spot on his leg where I kicked him.

  “No room,” he mutters.

  Because my arms are still plagued by pins-and-needles and because Colin’s getting big, I have to use all my strength to heave his limp body from the floor and place him down as gently as possible on the far side of the bed. God, when did he get so big? When did they all get so big? Rolling my eyes in amusement as I walk away, I think my husband was right; we should have gotten a bigger bed. My argument had been that with all his travel for work a king size bed would be way too big and lonely. Apparently, I neglected to realize how much room the kids would eventually take up.

  Pulling myself back to the present, I grab the clothes I laid out last night and rush into the bathroom. I have a plane to catch!

  Not having time to fuss, I rush through my shower and find myself struggling to remember if I used conditioner by the time I’m done. Toweling off I decide it doesn’t matter - I should have an hour or so of free time once I get to the hotel to spruce up if needed. I comb my damp dirty-blonde hair into a twist, secure it with a metal hair beak and mentally plan on doing my makeup on the ride to the airport.

  Hurriedly, I shimmy into my bra and panties then practically fall over as I roll on my thigh-high stockings, snagging one on an open drawer in the process. I guess the skirt is out. I finish the essentials – brush my teeth, put on deodorant and lotion – then dig through my toiletry bag to confirm I have everything that I need. It’s all there. I am really doing this. Am I really doing this?

  Grabbing the counter for stability I give myself a measured look in the mirror. It’s surreal that only two months ago I returned to work after spending six years at home with the kids. Sure, I had done consulting gigs here and there, but my priority was caring for my three little ones and my husband. This trip marks my first time away from them and I’m dreading it with every ounce of my being. Over the years, Mark always commented on how hard it was to leave for each trip. But, he explained, coming home to a warm reception and our sweet faces made it bearable. This is the thought I will hang onto to get me out the door.

  Not only do I have to do this now that I’ve made the choice to rejoin the workforce, I need to do this for myself. Taking a deep breath and drying my misty eyes, I head out of the bathroom to find my suit. I’m really doing this.

  Dressed in a newly tailored black suit and an emerald colored silk blouse, I feel I at least look the part of a confident business woman about to close a large deal. Momentarily pleased by my confident façade, I put in my sliver earrings and then clasp the hook on the necklace Mark got me for our last anniversary. I smile at the memory and collect the small tin jewelry container the necklace came in which I’ll bring so I don’t accidentally misplace my trinkets.

  When I’m satisfied that I have what I need I walk to the bedroom to gather my luggage. Thank God I packed yesterday, I inwardly muse and mentally pat myself on the back. This small delight is short lived as I
notice that the bed, which had been filled moments ago with sleeping children, is now empty. Anxiety begins swarming in my chest.

  I turn towards the clock. It’s only quarter past five in the morning; they wouldn’t have gone back to their own beds. Heading down the hallway to confirm this thought, I stop suddenly at the sound of a familiar voice and sigh in relief. Sarah is here!

  With full hands I awkwardly make my way down the stairs with my luggage, which only consists of one medium sized suitcase that I’ll check, one carry-on and my purse. I’m sure I’ve over-packed for a four-day trip, but I’d rather be over-prepared than under. I step onto the landing and inhale the scent of coffee and listen to spoons clanking against ceramic bowls inharmoniously.

  Sarah, a long-time family friend, is a godsend! Despite having children of her own, she never hesitated when I told her I was going back to work and asked if she’d be our nanny. In fact, I think she was happy for me. The kids have always enjoyed having her here, which has made my transition more tolerable for everybody.

  “Thank you so much for coming early today,” I tell Sarah appreciatively as I enter the kitchen.

  “Please, think nothing of it. I’m glad to help,” she smiles brightly and hands me a granola bar.

  “Oh,” she exclaims, whirling around to the counter as if recalling something important. “I made you a little something to take the edge off.” She winks as she hands me a glass of orange liquid. Suspicious, I smell the contents of the glass confirming it’s a mimosa.

  “A little early for spirits don’t you think?” I whisper in mock disapproval.

  Sarah raises an eyebrow as if to say ‘are you kidding me?’ and I know she’s right. I smile and quickly chug it, hoping it gives me enough courage to say my good-byes and get out the door. What I really want to do is call off this trip or quit my job and go back to how things were. But deep down I know that giving in to fear is not the right example to set.

  “Before I forget, I made a short list of things the kids have going on this week,” I say, picking up my notes and review the list carefully again to be sure I haven’t missed anything.

  “Colin has a science experiment due this week involving color perception. The homework sheet said he needed a paper plate, pencil, ruler, markers and string. I looked around last night and found everything but string and set it on the counter. He’s supposed to do it on his own and take notes which are due Thursday. Can you pick up string and remind him to work on it?” I ask.

  Without looking up or waiting for a response, I continue. “Also, Aubrey has piano tomorrow at 4:00pm which you already know and Maddie’s rewards for staying dry through the night are in a pink baggie on the top shelf of the pantry.”

  Sarah listens politely, though the smirk and raised eyebrows tell me it’s simply for her entertainment. She already knows all of this. I emailed it to her on Saturday and part of it has become routine anyways.

  “I know you’re nervous about being away, Breanne. I’ll take good care of them and it’s only for a few days,” Sarah reassures me, placing her hand on my forearm. I nod in agreement and turn my attention to saying goodbye to the kids. Be brave!

  Maddie, the youngest, proudly walks over to me and hands me a picture. “Cause you’ll miss us,” she says.

  I look at the picture and reach for her face, stroking her cheek with my thumb. The picture is of our family. We are on the front steps of our house on a fall day almost two years ago, sitting in order of age, oldest to youngest: Mark, me, Colin, Aubrey, and Madison.

  “This is so thoughtful of you, Maddie.”

  Aubrey promises me that she’ll compose a song for me while I’m gone and if she has it done in time she’ll play part of it on the phone for me. Colin reassures me that they will be fine and that he’ll make sure the girls don’t fight too much.

  Before I let myself feel or show how scared I am I clear my throat and say, “I love you guys so much. Now give me hugs and kisses so you can finish breakfast and watch a show before you need to get ready for school. I’ll only be gone for a few days and you can call me anytime, day or night,” I say to reassure them. Or maybe it’s to reassure me.

  I give them all huge hugs and grab my things - luggage, purse, coffee and a book in which I place the picture. Standing in front of the door, I turn to Sarah and continue to remind her of routine information because somehow confirming the obvious makes me feel slightly better that everything will be fine.

  “The car is waiting, Breanne. You’ll miss your flight! I’ve got this.” I nod to Sarah, knowing she’s right. When I make no move to leave Sarah reaches past me, opens the door and tilts her head slightly to the side. “You know Mark would have been here today if it was an option. And you also know that if he was the one pushing you out the door he’d remind you that everything will be fine here and to breathe.” I nod again, take a deep breath and step towards the door.

  “Love you all,” I tell them one last time and head out the door.

  Walking across the lawn towards the car I hear Colin call out as he follows behind me. “Don’t forget we have dinner plans the night after you get home,” he says, shivering in the cool fall air.

  “Don’t worry! I made reservations months ago. I’ve got to go but I’ll call you before bed so I can say goodnight,” I tell him. “Now get inside before you catch a cold…and Colin, please help with your sisters.”

  He nods before turning on his heels. I watch him run back into the house as the driver loads my belongings into the trunk. I settle into the car.

  Even in the early morning hours there is plenty of movement in our suburban neighborhood. We live only 20 minutes or so outside of Boston on a street populated with several corporate executives who start their days in the office just when most people are rolling out of bed. In comparison to other houses in this area, our four-bedroom, two-car garage with a brick exterior and blue shutters is modest. To me, though, it’s perfect and holds countless memories.

  The car pulls onto the street and I wave to the three silhouettes lit up in the doorway of our dream house. Tearing my gaze away I pull out the picture that Maddie handed to me moments ago and think how thoughtful she is for a three year old, and also how blessed I am to have such a wonderful family.

  “Would you like to listen to the radio?” the driver asks. Before I can respond he adds, “I can also offer you this morning’s paper if you’d prefer.”

  “Thanks, I’ll take the paper,” I reply, thinking this will be a good distraction. He holds the paper over his shoulder and I take it. The good old Boston Globe. Hmm, so what are today’s headlines? Red Sox lose to the Orioles - I don’t really care for sports, so moving on. Increased crime in Boston suburbs – I find this mildly interesting but given that I’ve just left my children for days in the suburbs with a nanny I know better than to read this. Innovation Airways Maiden Flight – hmm, this peaks my interest.

  Just over two years ago Mark’s company was in the midst of closing a deal to invest in a software company’s technology that was later bought by the airline in the article. I never heard all the details about what went wrong but another venture capital firm was chosen at the last minute to provide the financial backing. Had Mark’s company secured the deal he would have been promoted from Principal to Partner and received a large bonus, on top of the large pay-day the company would have reaped from claiming such significant portions of the start-up’s ownership.

  Before I let my mind get carried away with what might have been, the driver calls me back to reality.

  “Ma’am?” he asks. Clearly he’s posed a question that I’ve missed.

  “Sorry, I must have been lost in thought,” I explain.

  “No worries. It’s really early,” he says. “I was asking which airline you were traveling today so I know which departure area to bring you to.”

  “Oh, right. I’m flying American.”

  “Too bad you weren’t able to get a seat on Innovation Airways. I hear it’s amazing, that you use yo
ur thumbprint for everything! Your favorite channels programmed to the TV, music and movies and pictures synched to your iTunes account, snack preferences…everything!” he exclaims.

 

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