Vengeance:
An Oak Grove Suspense
by
Reese Stephens
Copyright All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof
may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever
without the express written permission of the publisher
except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Printed in the United States of America
First Printing, 2016
ISBN 978-0-9981134-1-8 (ebook)
ISBN 978-0-9981134-0-1 (paperback)
Tampa, Florida
Copyright © 2016 Winyan Press, LLC
Cover Art © Alex Marin
DEDICATION
To my husband. I’ve put you through way more than you deserve, but you’ve stuck around. So, you’re either one of the good ones, or just as crazy as I am. Either way, I’m totally in love with you. Thank you for being you.
I love you, Schmoopy!
PREFACE
I think in everyone’s life there comes a time when you have to choose what direction your life will take. Sometimes that direction is laid out easily by things out of our control, but sometimes we have to decide our direction. The first time I chose a direction in my life was by trusting Christ as my savior; I was nine when I went to my dad and asked him about heaven. He stopped everything he was doing, sat down with me, and told me the story of Jesus. I’d heard it in church a hundred times, but it wasn’t until that moment that I realized how real he was and that he’d died for me. He came to Earth and died on the cross for me! How amazing is that? Since accepting Christ as my savior, I have continued to pray and ask God for direction and guidance. Sometimes it’s hard, and not everyone agrees with my choices, but I have to follow the path I believe God is taking me on.
When my husband and I moved away from our family in 2007, we felt it was what God wanted for our lives. I believe that with all my heart. We had peace, a job, a house, everything laid out in a nice little package. Once we moved and got settled in, we started to talk about children. We decided that since we knew we couldn’t have kids of our own, we’d already dealt with that heartbreak and were ready to move past it, that we’d help those who didn’t have the love of a parent or anyone to really care for them.
We went through the process of becoming foster parents and about six months later had our first placement, then, shortly after, our second. We loved those two little girls as if they were our own. They were with us for over two years, and it really looked like we’d get to adopt them. Then we found out that our first placement would be going back to her bio family. Then a few days later we found out that the second girl, who we thought for sure would be ours forever, was going to live with a family who adopted her half-brother four years earlier. Within five days both girls were gone.
We were devastated. Our children were gone and there was absolutely nothing we could do about it. We knew going into foster care that it was a possibility, but, until that moment, we never thought about that outcome. We just loved those girls and wanted them forever, but that wasn’t God’s plan. He had something else in mind for us and them. It was hard for me to accept. It sent me into a depression, which I had never experienced in my life. I couldn’t get out of bed. I couldn’t leave my house. I could barely do anything, not even the things I’d once enjoyed. I felt anxious, alone, and scared. I felt out of control and, honestly, I felt unwanted. I was angry at myself, my family, God. I couldn’t believe that this could happen after having prayed and trusted Him completely that he’d give us the desire of our hearts.
I was bitter. I was mean. I couldn’t see past my situation. I stopped going to church. I didn’t read my Bible. I didn’t talk to the few friends I had, or my family. I barely talked to my husband. It was a dark time in my life. I never thought I’d see the light.
Then one day I received a call from the DHHR. They had a little girl who needed a home. She would most likely be back with her mother in six months or so. I thought, sure, I can go into this, no expectations. I needed a reason to function. I needed something to push me to get out of bed. So, I said yes. I don’t even remember if I talked to my husband about it or not. She came, and surprisingly, she was just what I needed. She was the wildest child I’d ever met. She was funny and full of personality. She wouldn’t obey anything I said, or anyone else for that matter. She was a mess! But you know what? I needed that mess. I needed someone to get my mind off of losing my girls. It worked. She helped me start to heal a little bit. I still had a hard time getting out of bed or leaving my house, I had a lot of anxiety, but my heart felt a little lighter.
After a few months, I got another call asking if I’d take two more kids. They were already in foster care with a family who couldn’t keep them any longer. Termination of parental rights was set, and they wanted them to be moved to a family who could adopt them. I did talk to my husband this time. The worker wanted to gradually introduce them to us and then transfer them. We liked that, for two reasons: one, it gave the kids a little time to get to know us before staying with us, and two, it gave us time to get to know them. We wanted to go into this with an open mind. We didn’t want any surprises. Well, God had other plans. About two or three days later, the foster mom called me to say I had to take them the next day or they’d have to go to a different home, because they just couldn’t keep them any longer. Their situation was changing so quickly, they had to make other arrangements for the kids.
So the first time I met them was the next day. I met the foster mom at the school so I could be added to the forms and be able to pick them up the next day. Once everything was set, they brought her to me. For a long time I couldn’t describe how I felt the first time I laid eyes on my daughter, but now that I’ve given birth, I know. It was that instant love you have the first time you hold your baby in your arms. I knew. I knew this little bubbly silly girl was mine. There was no question in my mind. She was perfect. The moment I saw her walking down the hall to me with the biggest smile on her face. I knew. Then she hugged me and said, “You’re my new mommy.” That was that. There was no going back. I tell her all the time that I prayed for a green eyed, brown haired little girl and that’s exactly what I got. God gave me the perfect child. She wasn’t a baby like I’d envisioned, but that didn’t matter. She was mine and she was perfect.
We went home and I got to have that feeling all over again when the foster mom took my son out of his car seat and handed him to me. He was just as perfect. He was exactly what I’d prayed for, a boy with blue eyes and brown hair. He couldn’t say much, and he looked at me like I was crazy, but it didn’t matter, I knew he was mine. I instantly fell in love with him. We got all their stuff in our living-room and the foster family left. The kids started to cry a little bit; I wrapped my arms around them and just held them. My daughter asked me if she could stay forever, and even though I shouldn’t have, I promised she could. I meant that. I had an unexplainable peace that they’d always be with us. That they’d truly be ours one day.
Things weren’t completely smooth in their adoption. Those things never are. We had some minor setbacks and delays, but they worked themselves out. I still had issues leaving my house, because depression isn’t something you can turn on and off. It’s something you have to fight, but things were getting better. We went back to church, not as faithful, but we were trying to get closer to God, to do what we thought He’d want us to do.
We were finally able to adopt the kids after two years. Things were great. Everything seemed to be going smoothly. My depression and anxiety had lessened considerably. I only had slight fits of anxiety in public. I was totally happy and content with my family and
our church. I’d even found a passion for creative writing. I’d met some people who had kids the same ages as mine. I had friends close by. I was becoming more active. I was finally starting to feel a little like I had years before all the heartache started, before I knew I couldn’t have children.
I couldn’t find anything in my life at that point that I was unhappy about. Then, right after my daughter’s ninth birthday, my son started telling everyone, even complete strangers, that I had a baby in my belly. At first I just laughed and told him I didn’t, but he didn’t stop. If you know him, you know if he gets something in his mind, he’s not going to give up until he gets what he wants. I honestly tried really hard to not let it bother me, but it did. I knew it wasn’t a possibility, and I couldn't help but be a little sad.
We’d been married almost ten years and had gone through countless infertility treatments. I wasn’t taking any medication at that time. I wasn’t even thinking about a baby. I loved my little family of four. A girl and a boy. It was perfect. It was just what I asked God for. But on May 6th, right before Mother’s Day in 2013, I found out that I was pregnant. My son was right! I did have a baby in my belly. To say I was shocked would be an understatement. It was in no way an easy pregnancy, but the result of having a baby was the icing on the cake. Our little family is complete and perfect. It’s more than I’d ever hoped or prayed for.
God truly answers prayers. It’s not always in the time we want it to happen, but it happens in his perfect timing. That’s something I’ve had to learn over the years, and I’ll probably have to be reminded of it again.
All my life I wanted to be a wife and a mother. I thought it would be the easiest thing the world. But God had other plans for me. He knew if I had a baby when I originally wanted one that I wouldn’t have adopted. I truly believe that my kids were made just for my husband and me. God used another woman’s body to give them life, but Him giving them to me, gave me life when I needed it the most. He gave me purpose and direction when I had none. Most people look at foster/adoptive parents as saving kids in need, but those kids saved me. I’ll never stop thanking God for allowing me to be their mother, for letting me give birth to my youngest daughter. He’s truly and completely answered every prayer request I’ve ever asked for. I’m so thankful that my parents taught me the value and power of prayer.
I know, without a doubt, that if these things hadn’t happened in my life as they have, that if even one little choice had been different, that I wouldn’t be where I am right now. I wouldn’t be fulfilling one of my dreams of becoming a published author.
There are so many people I’d like to thank for helping me on this journey; I almost don’t want to mention names, in case I forget one. But I feel they deserve the recognition. To Sam, for always being there for me and believing in me. Carrie, for reading everything I send you, and telling me how much you loved it, even when its crap. Jessica, for our late night chats, and all your encouragement/butt-kicking. Ange, Tiff, and Chris for editing everything I’ve given you over the years, even when I’m sure you wanted to tell me I was hopeless when it came to grammar. I’ve learned more than I can explain from you guys. Dee, you’ll always be my “Hero”. To my new friends Jessica and Heather, you guys have been awesome, and came into my life just when I needed you. Tawa, who has helped me every step of the way with this book. You’ve truly become a great friend. Alex, for your awesome cover work. To Leanne for editing all my grammar mistakes, bless you! To Amanda for proofreading this story. Winyan Press, for giving me this awesome opportunity and for believing in me. To my readers past and present. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for each and every one of you. I don’t know if this little glimpse into my life will help anyone, but it has certainly helped my heart to be able to share it with you.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENT
Winyan Press, LLC would like to acknowledge the following individuals for their contributions on Vengeance: An Oak Grove Suspense.
Leeanne Lemaster, copy editor
Alex Marin, Graphic Artist/Illustrator
Amanda Rash, proof reader
Tawa Witko, developmental editor
TABLE OF CONTENTS
DEDICATION
PREFACE
ACKNOWLEDGEMENT
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
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
EPILOGUE
AUTHOR NOTE
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
CONTACT INFORMATION
PROLOGUE
As humans, we grow, evolve, and simply change. Everything that happens to us alters our outlook on the world, and the choices we make. Even the people we surround ourselves with make a humongous impact on our lives. Although, some choices are not our own and there’s nothing we can do to change how our lives are forever affected by these events. One choice, just one decision, started a chain of events that forever changed the course of my life.
Chapter One
Shayla
I stand in my shower pondering all the ways my life has changed since my parents’ death when I was thirteen. How would things be different for me if my parents hadn’t been killed, if I hadn’t ended up pregnant at fifteen, or if I hadn’t had to raise my son alone? How different would things be if his dad would have been there for us? What if I hadn’t married a man who was already married? That last one is still a sore subject for me. But none of these things were in my power to control or change. Not that I’d want to change anything … okay, I would change marrying a married man. The rest, though it’s a nice idea to have one’s parents, I couldn’t change it and still be sure I’d have my son. I love my son more than words and I’ve made something out of myself in spite of everything I’ve gone through in my life. What doesn’t kill us makes us stronger they say, and I believe it. I’m definitely a stronger person because of my experiences. Even if those experiences were due to others’ choices for my life.
I haven’t squandered the gifts and privileges that the Thorns (my adoptive parents) and my birth-parents’ trust-fund gave me. I’m sure trust-fund sucked all sympathy for me out of your mind, but it wasn’t an extreme amount. It was enough to get me through college, buy myself a car, and my first house. Plus, the Thorns helped with my son and anything else that came up. They went above and beyond as I became a doctor and got my life started in our new home. They even supported my decision to marry my husband, even though they weren't pleased.
The latter was entirely my choice and it was the wrong one. He was a fellow resident and things were easy with him. I thought he was the forever my son and I needed, but I was terribly wrong. He seemed like a good man. Everyone (minus my parents) loved him, but two weeks ago, I found out that his business trips were really just to see his other wife. He handed me “divorce” papers, giving me everything. In exchange, I was to never contact him or his real wife, whom he had married the day they graduated high school, making our marriage a complete farce. Angrily, I signed the papers and threw them back at the lawyer before storming out of his office.
My son, Dylan, was devastated. Todd had been the only father he knew. He didn’t even have the decency to tell him goodbye. Instead, he left a note telling Dylan he was sorry. I can forgive a lot of things, but that isn’t one of them. A pounding on the bathroom door startles me back to the present.
“Mom! The movers are here!” Dylan shouts.
&n
bsp; That would be my current life choice. One I’m not sure is the best, but at least I’ll be back home. I’ll have the Thorns around for support. Plus, Dylan’s dad (his biological one) wants to get to know him. I’m probably more nervous about that than Dylan, but only because it’s Ryan, the love of my life. I shake thoughts of him from my mind as I quickly finish up my morning routine and head out to instruct the movers what must go. It doesn’t take them long to clear out the already packed boxes, and by ten in the morning, we’re ready to make the six hour trip home. We ride in almost complete silence for the better part of two hours before Dylan says anything.
“Is Ryan going to be there tonight?” Dylan asks.
I quickly glance over at him. He seems nervous. “Um, I asked him not to be.”
“Why?”
“I just thought it would be better if we could get settled in before we have to deal with him.”
Dylan turns in his seat. “What’s that mean?”
I run my hand through my hair. “Nothing bad. I just haven’t seen him in almost sixteen years.”
“Oh.” He pauses then asks, “Do you still love him?”
I scrunch my nose. Not that it’s unexpected for a kid to want to know about his parents, but it’s so complicated. Ryan and I had decided it would be best to not tell Dylan about our phone calls. He knows that I’ve talked to him, of course, just not the extent or frequency. I wanted to be sure Ryan was really committed to having a son and everything that entails and that he wasn’t just feeling entitled because he contributed DNA. Especially, since a lot of his reasoning was that he wanted to get to know me again with the added caveat that we should work through our issues. Our issues have nothing to do with him knowing his son. But, I agreed, because I honestly believed Dylan would be better off in the dark for now. Why get his hopes up if Ryan turns out to be a jerk about the whole thing?
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