The Beginning of Everything_Garner

by Blaire Broderick

  The Beginning of Everything

  Garner-Willoughby Brothers Duet — Book One

  Blaire Broderick

  Contents

  Description

  A Note From the Author

  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

  Epilogue

  The End of Everything — Book Two Sneak Peek

  Contact Us

  About the Author

  Acknowledgments

  COPYRIGHT 2018 PRISM HEART PRESS

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  COVER DESIGN © 2018 Louisa Maggio

  EDITING: Booktique Editing

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or, if an actual place, are used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control and does not assume and responsibility for author or third-party websites or their contents.

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  This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

  Created with Vellum

  Description

  Gold digger.

  Opportunist.

  Trash.

  That’s what they called me.

  Only I was just a girl from the wrong side of town, hired to care for a dying man with more money than God.

  We never meant to fall in love.

  We never meant to hurt anyone.

  We never meant for any of this.

  But when death came knocking at his door … so did all of his secrets.

  And all the things he never told me.

  AUTHOR’S NOTE: This is Book One of the Garner-Willoughby Brothers Duet, and it does end with a cliffhanger. Book Two is available for pre-order and will release on July 2nd, 2018.

  A Note From the Author

  I previously wrote these books under the name Coco Jordan/Gia DeLuca. If you read those books, you have read these books.

  “Things are sweeter when they're lost. I know—because once I wanted something and got it. It was the only thing I ever wanted badly … and when I got it, it turned to dust in my hand.”

  ― F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Beautiful and Damned

  1

  EVIE

  I couldn’t afford to blink.

  Click. Click. Click. Click. Click.

  My eyes fixed on the gas pump, the numbers spinning faster than I could track. A penny over ten dollars, and I’d be overdrawn. Those three gallons of gas would cost me forty bucks. Forty bucks I most certainly did not have.

  Blustery February wind whipped my dark hair into my face and sliced through my coat forcing my body into uncontrollable shivers.

  Warm wool, my ass.

  $8.78. $9.12. $9.24. $9.41…

  I lifted my foot from the puddle of melted snow I’d evidently been standing in the entire time and watched as brown-gray slush dripped from my navy kitten heel.

  $10.01.

  Great.

  I released the trigger on the nozzle, slammed it back into the gas pump, screwed the cap back on, and climbed back into my car for a little respite from the cold. I was lucky that thing started up. I hadn’t driven it all winter. I had no job, no money, and nowhere to go.

  Nine months out of nursing school, and I still hadn’t found a job, though it’d been said before that the unemployment rate in Haverford, Kansas was the highest in the state. My father liked to remind me that not even the fast food joints were hiring anymore. His obsession with the economic downturn had started right about the time he lost his job at the now-defunct appliance factory.

  “Evie,” my mother had called out as she returned from church that morning. Her mouth danced as she blathered out the words that would change my life forever. “We found you a job!”

  Within five nerve-rackingly short minutes, I’d arrived at the Garner-Willoughby Estate on the west side of town, nestled deep within a cocoon of evergreens that seemed to kiss the sky and leafless grand oaks that had stood the test of time. Everyone in town knew where the Garner-Willoughbys lived, but very few people had ever been invited there. A turn-of-the-century Gothic mansion, it was rumored to be complete with everything from a maid’s quarters to a ballroom to an English garden to an eight-car underground garage. Someone had once mentioned it had twelve marble fireplaces and sixteen crystal chandeliers.

  I parked my car in the circle drive, grateful to shut off the god-awful rumbling and ticking of the neglected engine. I was quite certain they’d heard me coming from a mile away. I climbed out praying there would be no oil drips staining their pristine white driveway when I returned.

  I rang their doorbell and waited patiently until an older gentleman dressed in a black suit opened the door. He looked like he was allergic to smiling. “You must be Evie. Come in.”

  I stepped into the foyer as my eyes struggled to adjust to the darkness. Outside, it was two in the afternoon, and the sun was trying its hardest to peek through the clouds. Inside, it was as dark as midnight.

  “Wait here,” the man instructed.

  Drawn curtains covered every window, and ornate, mahogany woodwork covered every inch of the floors and walls. A small amount of light trickled in from a stained-glass skylight a couple of stories above, and the dampness in the air sent a quick shiver through my body.

  “Evie Cawthorn?” an older woman’s voice called out startling me from my thoughts.

  The creaking of steps drew my attention to the top of a curved staircase where a lithe woman stepped out of the darkness and made her way toward me. As she floated into what little light filled the foyer, it reflected off the chilling beauty of her platinum blonde hair and icy-blue eyes.

  “Arthur, she’s here,” the woman called out, her eyes locked on mine. She reached the bottom of the stairs and stepped closer extending her right hand toward me. “I’m Caroline. I’ve heard so much about you at church. It’s very nice to meet you.”

  “I’m here now,” Arthur announced, extending his hand as well. He seemed to have come out of nowhere. “I’m Arthur. Very nice meeting you, Evie.”

  “We’re going to meet over here in the den,” Caroline said, lifting a thi
n arm and pointing toward an arched doorway. I followed them into the dark room filled with leather furniture and an overabundance of mounted, exotic game, their expressions hollow.

  “Have a seat, dear,” Caroline said as she patted one of the loveseats. “So, I hear you recently graduated from nursing school. Are you a registered nurse?”

  “Yes, I am. I mean, I did.” I tripped over my words. “Yes, to both.”

  “So, you haven’t been able to find work yet, huh?” Arthur mused. “Rough economy out there.”

  “That’s what my dad keeps telling me,” I said.

  “Well, I’m just going to cut to the chase here, Evie,” Caroline interjected. She clearly wasn’t one for idle chitchat or small talk. “Our beloved nurse, Eleanor, who’s been with us just a hair over twenty years, has retired.”

  “I guess we paid her too well,” chuckled Arthur, one hand on his globular belly. His wrinkly, golden hazel eyes met mine as his lips spread into a reserved smile.

  “We’re looking for someone who’s as compassionate and selfless and dedicated to our sweet son as Eleanor was,” Caroline said, clutching her hand to her heart. “This isn’t an easy job. Julian’s been sick his entire life. And as his mother, I can say he’s a very bitter and resentful young man.”

  Caroline sat up straight and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear as she raised one eyebrow as if she expected me to bolt out of there and never return.

  “He’s not the easiest patient,” Arthur added.

  “He can be difficult at times,” she continued. “And a bit demanding. Sometimes I don’t know whether he’s twenty-four or six.”

  “I completely understand,” I assured her. “Based on what you’ve told me, I don’t blame him one bit. If given a chance to work for you, I’d not only provide him with exceptional care, but I’d also work to improve his quality of life.”

  Caroline and Arthur exchanged looks as Arthur mumbled, “Good luck with that.”

  “I’ve been told I have the gift of persuasion,” I said, sitting up proudly. “I can pretty much convince anyone to do anything. And I love a good challenge.”

  “Evie, are you familiar with cystic fibrosis?” Caroline asked, studying my face.

  “I am,” I said, recalling my pulmonary rotation during clinicals. “The key to caring for patients with CF is reducing their risk for lower respiratory tract infections. Antibiotics and daily percussion therapy are key as well as regular physical activity and a healthy, high-protein diet.”

  “Can you excuse us for one moment, please?” Caroline stood up and ran her delicate fingers along her neckline as she turned to walk out, Arthur following. They returned after a few minutes of whispering out in the hallway. “We think you’d be perfect,” she announced. “Can you start tomorrow?”

  “Shouldn’t we have her meet him, first?” Arthur suggested.

  “Oh, yes, what was I thinking?” Caroline said, rolling her eyes and throwing her hands in the air. “Come, come.”

  She turned on her heels and made her way toward the grand staircase, her long dress flowing with each step. I followed, plunged into the dark abyss of the mansion and feeling like it could swallow me whole at any moment. As we approached the end of the upstairs hallway, Caroline rapped lightly on the door.

  “Julian, sweetie, it’s your mother,” she said into the door. “I’m coming in.”

  My heart raced a little as Caroline pushed open the heavy wooden door. Immediately greeted with stale air, my eyes honed in on the assortment of various pill bottles lined up along his side table next to several half-empty glasses of water and a nebulizer. Remote controls, books, and a laptop were stacked neatly beside it all.

  Caroline sat on the edge of his bed and gently rubbed her son’s back. “Wake up, Julian.”

  Beneath a mountain of covers, the outline of a frail man with a disheveled mop of chocolate brown hair began to stir. Caroline switched his bedside lamp on, and he rolled over to face me, squinting as his eyes adjusted to the light. His face was gaunt, and his champagne eyes rested above dark circles.

  “Come closer,” he said, his gaze honing in on mine.

  I took a few steps forward as he had instructed. If he wasn’t so sickly, he might have been attractive.

  “May I?” I asked as I looked down at him and took a seat. “I’m Evie Cawthorn. I’m going to be your new nurse.”

  “So, you’re replacing Eleanor,” he said in even monotone.

  “Yes, Eleanor was very special to Julian,” Arthur said from the doorway. “But don’t be too quick to draw comparisons, son. I think you’ll like Evie if you give her a chance.”

  “Evie is starting tomorrow,” Caroline told Julian. “We need to show her to her room.”

  “Oh,” I said. “I didn’t know this was a live-in position.”

  “Yes, it is,” Caroline said, her frozen blue eyes uncompromising. “Is that going to be a problem?”

  “No, it’s fine,” I replied, knowing I didn’t have a choice. I needed this job more than they needed me to fill it.

  “We gave Eleanor the maid’s quarters, but we’re going to put you in a nice guest room next door to Julian,” Caroline said, standing up and working her way back toward the door. “Come now. I’ll show you to your room.”

  “You’ll have to get used to night calls. That’s why we pay so well. Some days you work around the clock,” Arthur explained as the three of us left Julian’s room. “But you will get most weekends off.”

  “Except when we’re out of town,” Caroline was quick to interject. “We travel at least once a month. We have family on both coasts.”

  “And of course, Julian is unable to travel with us,” Arthur said. “So that’s why we need you here with him when we’re gone.”

  “It’s not a problem,” I said, standing behind Caroline as she opened the heavy wooden door to the room next to Julian’s.

  * * *

  My mother leaned against the doorway of my room Monday morning as I packed my things.

  “This is all happening so fast,” she said with a pained look on her face as she nibbled her fingernails. “I didn’t know this was going to be a live-in position. I thought you’d be home for dinner every night.”

  “Mom,” I said as I rifled through my closet. “I’ll be across town. And I’ll be home on the weekends. I’m ten minutes away. I’ll miss your cooking, but I promise I’ll be fine.”

  “Do you need any more help packing?” she asked as she stepped inside and began making my bed and fluffing my flat pillows.

  “No thanks,” I replied as I zipped up my suitcase. “I’m not taking much. They have a beautiful guestroom for me that’s all ready to go. I have my own bathroom and everything.”

  I flashed my mom a reassuring smile and slipped my arms around her for a big hug.

  “I’m happy for you. I really am,” she whispered.

  “Worst case scenario,” I said, “is that I hate it, I quit and come back.”

  She squeezed me with the intensity of a mother bird not wanting her baby to leave the nest quite yet. We’d gone through this a few years ago when I’d left for college. It took her a while, but eventually, she adjusted.

  “I’m proud of you, my sweet Evelyn Grace,” she said as she kissed my cheek. “Now, go say goodbye to your father and Alexa.”

  2

  JULIAN

  I loved to sleep. Sleep was my escape. Sometimes I slept all day long forgetting to eat or shower. My days all blended together, one into another. They were all the same. Breakfast. Bathe. Watch TV or read the news. Maybe play a video game. Maybe read a book.

  Eat. Sleep. Repeat.

  My sickness had not only defined me—it had become me. Everything I did revolved around it. For years, my mother had ingrained my fragility into my head.

  “He can’t go to school with regular kids,” she would say to my father. “What if he were to get sick? We can’t handle a sickness on top of a sickness. He’s too delicate.”

  “J
ulian, you’d better stay home,” my father would say when they would pack their suitcases for one of their extravagant vacations. “Too many germs on airplanes. Too much walking and pollution in the big cities. Eleanor will take good care of you. We got you that new video game you’d been asking for.”

  I was a pet. A responsibility. An inconvenience. They paid people to watch me as if I couldn’t handle being alone for two seconds. Even at twenty-four, they still insisted I needed around-the-clock care.

  The truth was I could do things for myself, but after years of my parents not giving two real shits about me, it was nice being waited on hand and foot. It was nice being cared for even if that person was being paid to do so.

  A light rapping on my door pulled me out of my sweet slumber, my sweet escape. I lived my life in black and white most days, but my dreams were always in color.

  I dreamed of things like traveling the world, living my life outside those four walls, venturing into the great unknown, burying my toes into real sand and smelling the breeze that drifted in off the ocean at sunset. I dreamed of climbing mountains, hiking forests filled with thousands of California redwoods, blending in amongst the thousands of tourists in Times Square, and falling in love.