Let There Be Life
Melissa Storm
© 2018, Partridge & Pear Press
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All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system without the prior written permission of the publisher.
This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only; it may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author's imagination, or the author has used them fictitiously.
Editor: Megan Harris
Proofreaders: Jasmine Bryner
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Partridge & Pear Press
PO Box 72
Brighton, MI 48116
To my father-in-law, Mark S.
For accepting a damaged, little boy and raising him into the man I love.
Contents
Free Gift
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
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Afterword
Acknowledgments
Also by Melissa Storm
About the Author
FREE GIFT
Thank you for picking up your copy of Let There Be Life. I so hope you love it! As a thank you, I’d like to offer you a free gift. That’s right, I’ve written a short story that’s available exclusively to my newsletter subscribers. You’ll receive the free story by email as soon as you sign up at www.MelStorm.com/Gift. I hope you’ll enjoy both books. Happy reading!
Melissa S.
Liz Benjamin tried to smile as she walked down the petal-strewn aisle toward her father.
He beamed as she moved closer, his expression an unfamiliar mix of nervousness, euphoria, and even pride. This was his special day, and Liz wanted it to be perfect for him…
Even though he was marrying the Wicked Witch of West Anchorage.
As much as Liz despised her soon-to-be stepmother, Vanessa Price, she knew well enough that you couldn’t choose who your heart loved. She’d seen that lesson firsthand as her best friend—and now roommate—Scarlett Cole fell head over heels for the heir to the infamous Mitchell estate.
From her seat in the pew, Scarlett gave a thumbs up as Liz passed by on her long walk toward the front of the church. Her new fiancé Henry sat by her side, his fingers laced possessively through hers.
After a couple false starts, Henry had proven himself to be a good man. He had taught both Scarlett and Liz many lessons in their short friendship. For one thing, appearances could be deceiving. And, more importantly than that, a person isn’t necessarily destined to follow in his family’s footsteps.
Henry certainly hadn’t.
And that’s what Liz reminded herself often when it came to her new stepsisters, Victoria and Valeria, who would soon follow her down the aisle. Sure, their mother was the very caricature of an evil, money-grubbing politician, but that didn’t mean her daughters weren’t lovely people in their own right.
When the two families had first met, the two high school girls had kept mostly to themselves, rebuffing any attempt Liz made to hold a conversation. But that could be immaturity—or even shyness—just as much as it could be a cold nature.
Although…
No, Liz had to give them the benefit of the doubt—both for her own sanity and her father’s.
As far as she knew, he hadn’t gone on a single date since the death of her mother more than twenty-five years ago. Not until he’d met and fallen headlong for Vanessa.
Poor Liz had never gotten the chance to know her mother, who had sadly died in childbirth. It was the one thing she wished she could change about her life. Well, other than the way her father had punished himself by swearing off love for so many years.
He had once told Liz he didn’t deserve happiness, but hadn’t explained when she pressed him for answers. Her entire life it had been just the two of them, but now three more would be entering their family.
She needed to play nice for her father’s sake. Surely he must see something in Vanessa Price that Liz herself hadn’t spied yet. She couldn’t imagine her dear old dad choosing anyone with less than a pure heart to share his life.
But then again, maybe he had been tricked somehow, pulled into Vanessa’s black widow web.
Only, what could she possibly have to gain by going after Ben Benjamin?
None of it made sense to Liz. Maybe one day when she finally fell in love for herself, things would start to make more sense. Maybe Vanessa would change, or maybe she already had without Liz’s realizing it.
A wedding was a day to be happy, yet the only emotion that filled Liz’s heart that day was fear. She still couldn’t decide whether she should be happy her father had finally found a partner or sad by just who that partner ended up being.
When all was said and done, would this truly be the happiest day of her father’s life?
Oh, how she hoped so. And that hope was what she would cling to in the absence of any more attractive option.
She looked up and smiled, finally having finished her long walk toward the front of the church and taking her place beside her father. She was his best man, though she wore a dress that matched her sisters' bridesmaids gowns.
Victoria and Valeria floated down the aisle next, arms linked, smiling proudly out at the sea of guests. Their perfect blonde ringlets seemed to shine and reflect the light from the many flashing cameras. Their pale blue, floor-length gowns added to the ethereal image they projected.
Liz looked nowhere near as gorgeous in her dress. The color clashed with her thick auburn hair. The low cut of the neckline showed off the freckles she’d prefer to hide and the cleavage which, quite frankly, didn’t really exist.
Her new stepsisters were more than ten years younger than her, yet their bra cups runneth over. God may have granted them beauty and money, but Liz knew she was the one who had truly been blessed, having a father like Ben Benjamin.
She had never wanted for anything growing up, and she didn’t want for anything now.
Just for him to be happy with the new path he’d chosen.
As the organist played the first few notes of the "Wedding March," all eyes shifted toward the back of the church where Vanessa Price stood wearing layers and layers of white tulle, a wispy veil that reached straight to the floor, and even a tiara embedded with hundreds of tiny crystals.
Everyone watched the bride as she took smooth,
delicate steps toward the altar, but Liz couldn’t stop looking at the tears that shone in her father’s eyes, the impossibly huge smile that somehow managed to grow even larger.
Happy.
He was finally happy.
And she wouldn’t let anyone take that away.
Liz looked away as her father kissed his bride, making the union of the Benjamin and Price families official in the eyes of both God and the law.
She held her breath as the couple marched back down the aisle, hand in hand. And she didn’t laugh with the other guests when her father leaped up and attempted to click his heels together in glee.
After what felt like an eternity of nodding, smiling, and greeting the guests as they filed through the receiving line, a gleaming black limo came to collect the wedding party and drive them to the banquet hall for the reception.
The reception venue was decorated beautifully, like a scene straight out of a fairytale. A mirrored placemat, glass dish, and crystal goblet adorned each place setting. Even the silverware shone with added bedazzlements on their dainty handles.
An oblong, silver stage rose several feet above the floor with four throne-like chairs set around a thin table. Liz looked back to her father, but he didn’t notice her worried expression as he and his bride ascended to the stage and took the two middle seats. The waiting guests clapped and cheered, ready for the next portion of this evening’s spectacle.
Next, Valeria and Victoria took their seats on either side of the couple. Finally, her father noticed the missing chair and motioned for Liz to join them on the stage.
“Scooch, scooch,” he told Valeria so that they could squeeze in one more place between her and Liz’s father. It was an uncomfortably tight fit. Especially since the slight felt intentional. It was crazy to assume that her new stepmother would purposely exclude her, but how could a woman known for her expert organization skills miss something so obvious when planning her own wedding?
It wasn’t just the stage arrangement, either.
It was the dresses that clashed with Liz’s coloring and build, while perfectly complementing Victoria and Valeria’s. It was Vanessa’s insistence upon having the wedding on the same day as an important qualifying race for the Iditarod, meaning her new husband would have to miss out on the officiating duties he so loved. And it was the fact that Liz’s shoes—the ones Vanessa had insisted match those of her girls—had been ordered a size too small.
The whole day was terribly uncomfortable for Liz, and yet…
Her father seemed so, so happy.
She smiled, nodded, did whatever she could to be supportive until, at last, the dinner portion of the evening had ended and the band announced the first dance.
Liz flew away from the stage as fast as her aching, pinched feet would carry her and straight over to table thirteen where her best friends, Scarlett and Lauren, sat with the special men in their lives.
“Everything’s so nice,” Lauren said with a placating smile.
“Yeah, too nice for her,” Scarlett grumbled. Her friend and new stepmother had practically come to blows over Vanessa’s interference at the library where Scarlett had once worked. Back then, Vanessa had used her strategic budget cuts to drive a wedge between Scarlett and her fiancé, Henry—a wedge that had almost kept them apart for good.
But love always finds a way, Liz reminded herself. Hopefully it would for her father and his new bride as well.
“Be nice.” Henry pulled Scarlett to his side and kissed her on the cheek. “I don’t like her much, either, but she’s Liz’s family now. Besides, I’m sure she was under an enormous amount of pressure from her constituents.”
“To be fair, she’s the one who chose politics in the first place, but sure. Whatever. I’ll be nice.” Scarlett shook her head and made a silly face, lightening the burden on Liz’s heart.
“You look… stressed,” Lauren’s husband, Shane, said. “Want me to grab you a drink?”
“Good idea. Thanks,” Liz answered, realizing just how much a glass of wine might help to quiet her nerves so she could maybe actually enjoy the rest of the evening.
Just then, the band front man announced an open dance floor and invited everyone to come and join the bride and groom for a fun, up-tempo number. Scarlett and Henry exchanged awkward glances, which made Liz wonder if they perhaps were thinking of the night they’d first met at the Miners and Trappers’ ball nearly two years ago.
Liz waved her hand at them. “Go. Go dance. All of you. I’ll get my own drink and join you in a bit.”
Lauren and Scarlett both gave her quick hugs, then led their partners across the hall and onto the dance floor.
Liz had never much been enamored of the idea of love growing up, but now she craved it in a way she hadn’t before. Her friends, her father, all the important people in her lives had somebody.
Liz, on the other hand, only had herself.
Well, until a stranger appeared at her side, seemingly out of nowhere. She assumed he was just pausing in his search for someone across the room, but no. He nodded at Liz as he closed the distance between them.
“Liz Benjamin?” he asked, extending his hand toward her. The way his green eyes fixed on her implied he knew exactly who she was, though Liz had never seen this man a day in her life until now.
“Yes? Can I help you?” She was too puzzled by his sudden appearance to remember her manners. She’d already been forcing them all night. Now, she was too tired to care any longer. And her feet hurt too much for her to so much as fake a smile.
The man didn’t seem to notice Liz’s foul mood, or perhaps he’d been expecting it. His smile remained glued in place as he delivered his next line. “I’m hoping so. My name’s Dorian Whitley, and I’m here covering the event for the Anchorage Daily News.”
“The event?” She frowned at him, wishing he would just go away. “Is my dad’s wedding some political thing now?”
“No, nothing like that. It’s for the society page. And I’m still waiting for you to say hello.” He chuckled and reached his hand toward her again, waiting until she finally took it in greeting.
“Yes, of course. Hello.” She shook his hand once, twice, a third time. Still he didn’t loosen his grip. Instead, he tugged her in closer to him.
His green eyes flashed. Liz wondered why the color reminded her of slime and serpents rather than emeralds or something pleasant. Was she projecting her bad mood onto everyone and everything she encountered, or was her subconscious picking up on something and trying to warn the rest of her?
Dorian smiled again. Smooth. Practiced. Like perhaps he was in a play. “I have some questions. Just little facts I was hoping you could verify for my piece. Mind if I ask you over a dance?”
Liz thought about this for a second. She didn’t want to dance, didn’t want to spend time with this peculiar man, didn’t want to be here at all.
But then again…
Dancing and playing merry could help her blend in better with the rest of the wedding guests. Surely that would make Vanessa happy. The puff piece Dorian planned to write would make her happy, too.
And if Vanessa was happy, Liz’s father would be happy.
“Sure, I guess,” Liz answered, trying to keep her voice light as she did. She did, however, insist upon one condition. “Mind if I leave my shoes here? My feet are killing me.”
Liz sighed with relief as she slid the heels from her feet. The patent leather matched the pale blue of the bridesmaid dresses almost perfectly. The shoes were so shiny they almost appeared to be made of mirrored glass, much like the decorations strung about the hall.
Dorian offered his hand and led her to the dance floor. As far as men were concerned, he was certainly handsome enough. His brown hair lay close to his head in loose curls, the softness of which contrasted greatly with his strong jaw and angular nose. His eyes, which had been the first thing Liz noticed about him, were made up of several shades of green, each of varying intensity. Regardless of their color, Dorian’s eyes se
emed to hold many unspoken words - questions, perhaps - for his column.
All things considered, Dorian did not fit Liz’s picture of a society reporter. Rather, he seemed like an ordinary guy who might be more comfortable in McDonald’s drive-thru than MacGregor’s four-star restaurant downtown. She glanced down and realized his shoes hadn’t been polished, then felt like a snob for even noticing such a thing.
Clearly, the society column must be a stepping stone for a young reporter like him. She should know better than to judge, seeing as she hated whenever anyone did it to her. And yet, how could she not form an opinion when his words and motions seemed to contradict one another?
Liz cleared her throat as Dorian placed his hand at the small of her back and began to guide her in a dance. She would be nice, at least for one dance. After all, it wasn’t his fault her father had married Vanessa Price.
“So you write for the paper?” she asked conversationally. “What drew you to that?”
He smiled sharply, and she was taken aback by the suddenness of it, the forced nature of the gesture. His voice remained smooth, buttery. “Hey, I’ll be the one asking the questions here.”
She nodded. The sooner she gave him what he wanted, the sooner she would be free of him. “Okay. Shoot.”
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