McKinsey's Choice

by Heyward, Brenda

  McKinsey’s Choice

  Brenda Heyward

  McKinsey’s Choice

  By Brenda Heyward

  AMAZON

  ISBM #978-1-937078-15-7

  PUBLISHED BY:

  Brenda Heyward

  @Copyright 2011 by Brenda Heyward

  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 book 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 return to Amazon.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

  Prologue

  Wilson McCrae, and Alexander Williams, lifelong best friends, go on leave from Afghanistan to attend the wedding of Alexander’s sister, McKinsey. Wilson’s best friend, Alexander, killed in an accident on the way to his sister’s wedding.

  McKinsey Williams is in the prime of her life, dreaming of a future for herself. Work becomes her partner; she is unable to let anyone into her world after the tragedy that killed her fiancé and brother Alexander.

  McKinsey awakens from her grief months later, when Wilson is hurt in Afghanistan. When Wilson finds McKinsey in tears, he vows to himself to never, leave her. Their steamy romance is short lived. Will their love survive without the truth?

  ****

  About two years prior, people were out enjoying themselves, but McKinsey was sitting inside another limousine, watching as the streets converged into one. Tears slid down her face, her feelings ranged from sadness to disappointment, because someone had robbed her of a future with Arthur.

  The vehicle she was riding pulled into the Lambs Funeral Services parking lot. She realized that it was the second time in less than a week that she was inside a limousine. She tried hard to remember how she got to where she was now.

  On her left had been Wilson, her brother’s best friend since she was eight years old. She met him when her family moved across country, after her father had garnered a promotion and a transfer. McKinsey and her brother hated to move, but eventually they made new friends there.

  Wilson sat next to her at the funeral, and held her hand. He remained one constant support in her life. She wanted Arthur and her brother, Alexander, back. Why had fate taken them both from her in within hours of each other?

  Her parents, all in black, sat across from her in the limousine and leaned on each other for support. She smiled a bittersweet smile. They had been together more than twenty years, yet they still held each other’s hands. She felt angry; a drunk driver had stolen her life, as he traveled into the next lane when he rounded that deadly curve.

  As she watched her parents, she felt as if she should have been doing the same thing, starting her new life at the beach, holding her new husband’s hand. Instead, she sat in this car, pulling up to his funeral services.

  The word damn repeated itself in her head; she was mad as hell. That truck driver had stolen her future in a few seconds on that curved road. She brought her handkerchief to her face to catch the tears rolling down her cheek.

  The car came to a sudden stop and the hum from the engine no longer sounded off. She could not move. She faintly heard Wilson calling her name.

  She was still numb to the events of the past few days. She felt Wilson's hand underneath her elbow, gently pulling her out of the car. All she could think of was that this should not be happening. Why was she here now?

  It was a fall day, with a cool breeze in the air all you needed was a light jacket. The sun was shining high in the sky; cars and people were everywhere. As she walked toward the two caskets, McKinsey hesitated. Wilson’s arm underneath hers forced her to go forward, closer to the bodies. She looked at the chairs and the people gathering, trying to get a seat.

  The faces looked familiar; they were the same faces who would have helped her celebrate her marriage to Arthur. Still numb, she watched the guests walk over to her fiancé and brother’s caskets. She still believed that she was dreaming. Everything and everyone seemed to be moving in slow motion.

  “McKinsey, McKinsey, are you all right?” Wilson asked, scared that something might happen to another one of his best friends. McKinsey still lay there on the floor, not moving. With one knee on the ground, Wilson commanded, "McKinsey, open up those brown eyes of yours, so I can see them." He could not lose her also; he had loved her for a long time.

  He was only supposed to be here for the weekend to attend a wedding. Alexander and he had not minded the long trip from Afghanistan. They had shared a million stories. Now, the stories would become memories of a friendship Wilson would miss with all his heart.

  She opened her eyes and looked up into Wilson’s face. He patted her hand and called her name. As she moved her head to look around to see where she was, she realized that she was still at the funeral services, on the floor. All of the attention had turned to her.

  As he coaxed McKinsey up from the floor where she fell after fainting, he knew that he had to put his feeling aside, in order to help others make it through the services. First, he had to make sure McKinsey was all right. As he watched her movements, he could see that she had already retreated into a state of denial. She walked around in a fog, not accepting the truth.

  As he watched his friends around him break down, showing their feeling for a loved one, he told himself that he must not fall apart not today. The military had taught him never to lose his cool, ever, when all he wanted to do was howl, scream, run away and hide. The military had also taught him to get the job done and then, during quiet time, release his emotions. Never let others see how you are feeling until the job is completed.

  He looked around at the people who needed his help, his friends and relatives who were devastated over the loss of both Alexander and Arthur. His four days off had turned into ten days. He had to catch the plane in the morning.

  “I am fine!” McKinsey waved her hand for Wilson to back off a little. She gazed at the faces of the people around her who offered their support. How could they think that they could help?

  It was her fairytale world that had turned upside down. She should have been enjoying her life with her new husband, laughing at some joke that her brother had played on her. Instead, she was attending their funeral. As hard as she tried, she could not to make sense of the events of the last few days.

  ****

  McKinsey sat at her parents' kitchen table, turning her engagement ring around her finger and remembering the evening before her wedding. She had remained with her mom and dad, Charles and Charlene, while Arthur had slept at their new home, a three-bedroom ranch-style cottage. They had purchased the cottage less than a month earlier.

  She was still there at her parents’ home, sitting in the kitchen at the table and listening as her mother chatted. She tried not to think or feel, only listen. The listening helped her to avoid thinking about the accident.

  “Mother," McKinsey began. "I have decided to move into my home tomorrow.” She sat there, wondering what kind of reaction she would receive from her announcement.

  “McKinsey, I think you should spend some more time here before you go back over to your home alone," her mother replied. "That is a big house. Honey Brittany from the store called to ask when you will be coming by." She felt scared for her daughter. Charlene believed that her daughter had not truly started to grieve and was merely masking her emotions. Her business and employees also needed her now more than even sense Arthur was gone.

  She had not seen her daughter cry and it frightened Charlene, because she believed that emotions not released could cause a person to do harm to themselves or others. She did not want to go over there, on
e day, and find her daughter dead. Glancing once again over at the table where her daughter sat, she knew that the glass her daughter gripped tightly was full of a clear liquid; she also knew it was alcohol.

  “How are my favorite girls doing today?” Charles exclaimed as he entered the kitchen, hoping to find a tasty treat for his sweet tooth. He thought only of the aroma that filled his home and ignored the sight of the glass that McKinsey held in her hand. He moved toward his wife, where the trays of sweets lay.

  “Honey, McKinsey says that she is ready to move over to her house tomorrow," Charlene blurted. "What do you think?” She hoped her husband would assist her in changing McKinsey’s mind.

  Charles sized up the situation and realized that he should not take sides in an argument between mother and daughter. In this instance, however, he felt as if he had no choice. If he stayed out of it, both women would be disappointed that he had failed to support them. Charles felt sorry for his daughter; she had suffered the most and he couldn't bear to add to her pain. He answered, “Sweetheart if she thinks that she is ready then she is ready.”

  He could not engulf the pain his daughter was feeling. It scared the hell out of him. These last few days made him rethink what he had with his wife. He fell in love with his wife, married her and was still in love after all these years. He wanted to love her even more for remaining by his side.

  His heart mourned for a son who had died. Alexander had not had a chance to love, marry and have kids. Charles wanted grandchildren, and from the looks of it, grandchildren were not in the cards within the next few years. He also mourned for his daughter, from whom life had stolen a gift of love. He could not imagine the feelings that were going through her mind or heart.

  McKinsey got up from the table and walked over to where her father was standing, happy that someone was on her side. “Daddy, I knew you would understand,” she spurted, as she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek.

  “Dad, I promise I will call if things get too scary for me,” McKinsey promised. She returned to the table to pick up the glass. The alcohol continued to give her courage.

  “McKinsey, do you want me to go with you?" her mother asked. "All of your wedding gifts have been delivered. The sight of them may be a lot for you to handle by yourself.” Charlene was still numb herself from the events of the past week, which were supposed to be a celebration of a new beginning, not a time of sadness.

  She watched her daughter exit the kitchen with that glass still attached to her hand. The glass now seemed like a natural extension of her arm and hand. Charlene thought about saying something to her, feeling her own grief for her son. How could she understand what her daughter was feeling she had not lost her love she was still married to him?

  McKinsey awoke from her nap to the sounds coming from downstairs. As she listened, she realized that the house must be, overflowing with relatives. She cringed at the thought of going downstairs.

  She did need a refill of her glass; she had stocked up, she had two bottles in her purse. She just needed some food to calm her headache. She thought about the conversation in the kitchen prior to her taking a nap, and realized her mother had probably called everyone to assist in changing her daughter's mind.

  She was going home; she needed to smell her fiancé’s clothes, look at the places he once ate and slept. Her mother was wrong; she was going to move to her home tomorrow. McKinsey walked over to the closet, reached in her purse and pulled out one of the bottles to refill her glass. She then headed to the bathroom, where she brushed her teeth before going down the steps, hoping to make it to the kitchen without someone stopping her and asking a dozen questions. Food was the only thing on her mind.

  When she reached the bottom step of the stairs, McKinsey heard a familiar voice coming out of the living room. She knew then that her mother had called in the big guns to get her way. Nana always came around whenever Charlene needed allies to help change her daughters mind. "This time, it won't work," McKinsey thought.

  “Hello McKinsey,” Nana greeted. She had been there an hour, trying to figure out a way to dissuade her granddaughter from moving over to her new home. Everyone could see that McKinsey was not ready to be in that house alone. She herself still had the love of her life; she tried to think how it would feel without him, but it scared her each time she thought about it.

  Her daughter had been lucky with love; her grandchildren had not had a chance to feel the joy that having a family brought to a person over a long period. Her heart broke for her grandchildren, their blessings stolen early in life. She cried at night when she was alone.

  “Nana, it is a surprise to see you," McKinsey answered. "Is there a party going on Nana?” She hugged her grandmother, grateful that she had put gum in her mouth to disguise the alcohol smell.

  Nana tapped the seat and coaxed her granddaughter to sit down beside her. “McKinsey, I think you are not ready to be in that house alone," she advised. "You should put it on the market up for sale." Before she would let her granddaughter speak, she added, “You have not created any memories in that house. The dreams you would have shared with Arthur will haunt your soul.” She pointed to the glass her granddaughter held and urged, “Leave those memories as they are now.”

  McKinsey’s mind only focused on the headache; she wanted food along with an aspirin for relief. “Nana," she snapped. "I agree that you have always been right in the past, but you have never felt what I am feeling. You and granddaddy are still living out your dreams. Can’t you see I need to think without your interference?” Turning quickly to head over to the kitchen, she could feel her relative's eyes piercing her skin, but she just kept walking.

  “McKinsey I don’t want you to move to your home at this time.” her mother pleaded, as her daughter entered the kitchen.

  As McKinsey started to go into the kitchen, but turned back around when her mother picked on her. “Mind your own business,” McKinsey snarled. As she came through the door, she could see all heads turn in her direction. Anger coursed through her body and her heart pumped quickly, as she skipped up the steps two-by-two to get her things out of her room. Why wouldn't her family let her make the decision that was best for her?

  She drove to her new home in a blur and stood at the front door thinking. The memory of the drive over to her house was vague. She stood at the front door to her home by herself. "This is not how it is suppose to be," she whispered. Tears rolled down her cheeks of her face as she stared at the front door. She was entering her home alone instead of her new husband carrying her over the threshold. As she felt the weight of her purse, she was glad that she had brought it along.

  She already knew that it would be difficult in the daytime, but the night kept hitting her hard with a feeling of suffocation as she held her hand to her chest. What did she expect it was hard at her parents’ home, and now it was her own home, too?

  After walking into her kitchen and finding a glass, she filled it with the liquid that she had taken out of her purse. She brought the glass to her lips to feel the liquid slide down the back of her throat and help calm her nerves. She still had a slight headache, so she microwaved some food.

  When she finished eating, she headed to her bedroom, looked in her closet and grabbed one of Arthur’s shirts to put on. The smell of his cologne still permeated his shirt, and that comforted her. Sleep overtook her, as she sat in the reclining chair.

  In her dreams, she remembered a night, shortly before the wedding. She had laughed at the change that they were making in their life. Their lovemaking would be different in less than two days, McKinsey thought.

  “Let us treat ourselves that way now!” she remembered him saying, as he turned on some of his favorite music and then walked back to where she was standing.

  She started laughing, as she watched him trying to dance. “You have two left feet," she chided. "Keep trying; one day they will get a feel on what direction they should be headed.”

  He continued to dance in front of her for
a few more seconds, this time doing a strip tease. He first tried to sway his hips as he pulled his sweater over his head. She clapped and yelled, “More, more!”

  “No, it is your turn to show me a little cleavage,” he disagreed, as he clapped for her.

  “I know how to do this,” she assured, as she walked over to the column in their home, wrapping her leg around it and sliding her body up and down in a riding motion as she slowly removed her blouse, then her bra, to the music in the background.

  He ran over to where she was standing, putting his mouth on one of the breasts and then backing off after using his tongue to dance around her nipple. “It’s your turn,” she said, feeling the need for their love making to start.

  “No, let’s take a shower together first,” he suggested, as he put his hand in hers and pulled her toward the bedroom playfully, while both of them continued laughing at what was to come. Once in the bathroom, he turned on the water in the tub for them to take a bath together. “Let start a new tradition for our lovemaking as a married couple,” he announced, as he poured her sweet smelling bubble bath into the water in the tub.

  “Honey” she said, after they both had stepped into the tub and sat down. He had not waited for her to finish her sentence before he pulled her toward the middle of the tub, kissing her. His hands found the spot that made her breathing change. He continued to kiss her until she used her hands to push him back.

  He pulled her closer, before using his hands to get her to her knees and release some of the water in the tub. He slid under her and then slowly lowered her onto him. She used the sides of the tub for support as she bounced up and down while her emotions and the feeling surged through her body until it made her release the sides of the tub and lean back for support.

  He saw what had happened and what she was doing. He reached over and caught her before she hit her head, laughing and saying. “No more spontaneous treats for you in the tub without a pillow.” That was a start to a great night of lovemaking.