Kissed by the Sun

by Catrina Calloway

  Kissed by the Sun

  By Catrina Calloway

  Resplendence Publishing, LLC

  http://www.resplendencepublishing.com

  Resplendence Publishing, LLC

  P.O. Box 992

  Edgewater, Florida, 32132

  Kissed by the Sun

  Copyright © 2009, Catrina Calloway

  Edited by Jessica Berry

  Cover art by Rika Singh

  Electronic format ISBN: 978-1-60735-052-1

  Warning: All rights reserved. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringements, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

  Electronic release: August 2009

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and occurrences are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, places or occurrences, is purely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  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

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  “Oh my God, Carlee, you’re as white as a sheet!”

  Carlee Davis lifted her hand and wiped away the perspiration lining her upper lip.

  “And your hair, damn, the pins are coming out.”

  “You only put two hundred of the damned things in my hair.” Carlee huffed in reply. Sliding a foot out of one of her high heels, she wiggled her toes. “My feet are killing me.” She stepped back into the shoe, wincing when pain shot through the arch of her foot. “How much longer do I have to stand here like this?”

  Marlene shrugged. “Probably until every last turkey is sold.”

  “That’ll take all day.” Her shoulders slumped.

  Threading a hairpin through Carlee’s long, thick, curly tresses, Marlene replied, “Honey, it’s the day before Thanksgiving. What do you expect?”

  “I swear if one more person asks me—”

  A woman approached, holding two screaming toddlers. Carlee resisted the urge to throw her hands across her ears to block out the noise. The tighter the frazzled mother held their hands, the louder the children screamed.

  “Where can I get a fresh turkey?” The harried mom asked.

  Carlee pasted a smile on her face, her lips cracking from the heat in the poultry store. “They’re right over there.” She pointed toward several young men standing behind a counter, handing out turkeys. People stood nearby in a line, three deep; an endless sea of customers. “You can get any size turkey you want.”

  “Even a thirty pound bird?” The woman asked with a hopeful look on her face.

  “Holy sh—” She swallowed the words, her stomach rolling and churning, imagining what it must have felt like when that size bird met its demise.

  Poor thing! Just to be someone’s dinner.

  Tears sprung to her eyes. She blinked rapidly.

  “Just ask one of the clerks behind the counter.” Her voice was just above a whisper. “They’ll uh, get you the size you want.”

  The woman tugged on each toddler’s hand, then joined the milling throng of customers lined up by the sign that read ‘Fresh Turkeys—All Sizes.’

  “What’s wrong?” Marlene placed an arm around Carlee’s shoulders, giving her a good shake.

  Carlee balled a hand into a fist, digging it into her thigh. “Why did my Aunt Ida think I was cut out for this? I hate working here.”

  “It’s obvious that your Aunt Ida saw something in you, a quality that maybe you haven’t seen for yourself yet.”

  Carlee folded her arms beneath her breasts, grateful the falsies in her bra remained in place.

  So far.

  She blinked again, but her lower lid stuck to her upper lid.

  “Oh!” she wailed. “I can’t open my eye.”

  Marlene peeled Carlee’s false eyelash from her upper lid. “It’s okay now; just relax.”

  “I wish I could, but I can’t. If I didn’t need the money so much, I’d walk right out of here.”

  Marlene smiled, lifting a hand to tug on one of Carlee’s errant curls—one that sprang free from the elegant up-do Marlene fashioned earlier. “That’s the spirit. I know you can do this. If you want that money to—”

  “I know, I know.” Carlee slashed a hand through the air. “Ida was crystal clear on that point in her will. If I want the money to continue my art education, to live in that apartment in the city, then I’ve got to take over the reigns of the Davis Poultry Farm.”

  Marlene nodded. “And that means doing what your Aunt Ida, your mother and your Aunt Beatrice loved to do. You know how much they enjoyed being in the poultry store during Thanksgiving.”

  “What they loved,” Carlee said under her breath. “Was the money.”

  Marlene nodded, glancing at the sea of customers around them. “It’s a gold mine, that’s for certain. A landmark, too. The town of Montauk wouldn’t be the same without it.”

  “Todd should have taken over, not me.” Carlee said, referring to her estranged cousin. She felt like crying all over again. “Do you think he’ll come around and start talking to me again?”

  This time, Marlene’s eyes misted. “I’m sure he will, but, then again, he’s got to start talking to me first.”

  She gripped her friend’s arm. “Please don’t tell me that you and Todd are having problems.”

  It was Marlene’s turn to paste a smile on her face. “All right, I won’t.” She patted Carlee’s hand. “He’ll come around, you’ll see.”

  “I told him he could run it—the poultry farm, the store, everything. He’s just so stubborn.”

  Marlene raised a brow. “Ida’s will is firm. She wanted the poultry farm and store in your capable hands.”

  “I don’t know a damned thing about running a business.”

  Marlene smiled. “You’ll learn. You come from the same stubborn stock as Todd.”

  She gave Marlene a hug. “You’ve always been here for me.” Her throat constricted, she swallowed back tears. “Ever since we were kids.”

  “And now, we’re family. We’ll get through this.”

  “I hope so.” Carlee sighed.

  Marlene nodded. “I know so.”

  “I wish I possessed a tenth of your confidence.”

  “Go on.” Marlene reached for Carlee’s shoulders, turning her so that she faced the crowd. “Ida would be proud of you. She always knew how to read people, and she saw something special in you. Something that, well, she obviously didn’t see in any other member of the Davis family.” She smiled and patted Carlee’s cheek. “You go be the woman Ida knew you could be.”

  Carlee squared her shoulders, grateful for her friend’s support and determined not to let her down.

  For the next hour, she stood near the cash registers, greeting people, answering questions, and watching each customer hand over wads of cash or credit cards, their purchases of turkeys and Davis’ Poultry Farm famous side dishes in their over-flowing shopping carts.

  She glanced outside at the parking lot. A continuous parade of
cars pulled in, and it seemed that few left. The line of people waiting to buy turkeys and trimmings spilled out the door.

  Would this day never end?

  She shifted from one foot to the other, her feet hot and cramped in her high-heeled pumps, a smile pasted on her face. Nausea swirled in her belly from the smell of roasting turkey and fried chicken. She reached into the pocket of her skirt for a peppermint candy, hoping it would calm her stomach.

  Smoothing a wrinkle from her skirt, she felt another hairpin spring free from the curls piled high on her head. Catching her reflection in one of the security mirrors on the opposite wall, she still couldn’t believe that Marlene transformed her, Carlee Davis, the ugly duckling of the Davis family, into a swan.

  “Well, well, if it isn’t my little cousin, the starving artist.”

  She turned around quickly, bumping into Todd.

  He raised a brow. “Having fun?”

  Carlee shook her head, feeling another pin come loose from her hair. The metal bobby pin fell to the floor.

  He looked down at the pin then raised his eyes to hers. “How does that old saying go? You can’t turn a sow's ear into a silk purse?”

  “Todd, look, we can work this out. If you want to run the farm and the store—”

  He drew his dark brows together. His cheeks flushed bright red. “And violate Ida’s will? That’s all I need.” His voice cracked. “I’m her son.” He pointed a thumb at his chest. “She didn’t give a rat’s ass about me, only about her precious niece.” He shook his head. “You were always her favorite.”

  Carlee moistened her dry lips. A bead of sweat trickled down her back, the heat filling her pores. She watched steam rising from the catering trays nestled in the counter nearby.

  “I just don’t get it. You were always the wild one.” Todd’s voice shook with anger. “Why in hell did Ida think you could do this?”

  Carlee clenched her hands against her sides. “Maybe, Ida saw something…”

  No, she would not go down that path and repeat Marlene’s words. They would only add more fuel to the fire. “Look, we can do this together. You can do the books; you’re good with numbers. I-I can’t seem to get the hang of it.”

  Todd tipped back his head and burst into caustic laughter. “So now you want my help? You’re some piece of work.”

  Carlee reached out and snagged his arm. He pulled away. “I didn’t mean it like that, I meant—”

  “What you meant,” he said, aiming a finger in her direction. “Is that you don’t know your ass from your elbow when it comes to running the family business.”

  He took a step toward her. Carlee tried to move, but there was nowhere to go.

  Todd trembled with fury, aiming his finger at her chest. “Just make sure, cousin, that if you run the Davis family business into the ground, you run, too. Because I’ll come after you with everything I’ve got.”

  He turned on his heel and walked away. Carlee’s eyes never left his tall frame until he sailed through the door marked, ‘Exit.’

  Chapter Two

  “No, the catering department is right over there.” She nodded at some customers awhile later, and then pointed at the counters lined with steam trays. “The line to get fresh turkeys is that way.”

  She blew out a breath. The puff of air pushed the dangling curl over her eye sideways. “No ma’am, side dishes are right there.” Carlee pointed to the refrigerator cases. “You don’t have to wait on line, just help yourself.”

  Her feet throbbed. Marlene wouldn’t let her wear her favorite pair of flats because it wasn’t what Ida would have done. Hours on her feet in heels made her wonder how in hell her mother, Ida and her other aunt, Beatrice, ever did all this.

  They enjoyed dressing up, getting their hair done—wearing tons of make-up.

  In their later years, the three Davis sisters resorted to plastic surgery to enhance their looks. They had cheek implants, breast implants, tummy tucks—hell, every surgery possible. They looked like walking, talking caricatures of themselves.

  People came from miles around to get the best fresh poultry on Long Island, and to see one of the Davis sisters in person, standing where Carlee stood now, with their hair perfectly coiffed, their long artificial nails painted a garish red, their spray tans highlighting bodies a super model would kill for.

  Carlee’s energy drained. She bent her head, pinching the bridge of her nose while memories swirled in her mind. The Davis’ sisters clothing allowance cost enough to feed a small nation.

  Sadness engulfed her. It swallowed her up, threatening her valiant effort to fill her mother and aunts’ shoes.

  Their Gucci shoes…

  Bracing a hand against a nearby counter, she decided Todd was right. She wasn’t cut out for this.

  She shut her eyes, picturing the beach in Montauk on a summer day.

  She’d much rather be roaming those rocky shores right now, dressed in cut-off jean shorts and a t-shirt, instead of standing in elegant high heels, a fancy skirt and blouse, greeting customers.

  Carlee shifted her stance. Her damned pantyhose felt like they held her stomach, hips and butt in a vise grip. They also pushed the back of her thong into the crack of her ass.

  She looked around, hoping no one would see. Sliding her hand around to her backside, she fingered her thong, desperately trying to pull it out of her backside, but the pantyhose kept it firmly in place.

  Shit!

  The damned thing wouldn’t budge, no matter how she twisted and pulled.

  PING!

  Another hairpin came loose. She blew at the offending curl dangling across her eye.

  PING!

  “Damn it! I’ve had enough.” She said under her breath.

  Making her way to the back of the store, she spied a door marked ‘Office.’ She opened it and looked around.

  No one was there.

  She looked at the wall behind the desk, where a portrait of the three Davis sisters hung. Their smiling, collagen-filled lips and artificially lifted eyes gazed down on her.

  She walked in and shut the door behind her.

  Carlee laughed, the sound bitter.

  “Well, ladies...” She said to the picture hanging on the wall. “Sorry to disappoint you, but I just have to do this.”

  She reached under her skirt, stripping away her confining pantyhose, pushing them down her hips, her thighs, across her knees, until they bunched at her feet.

  When she looked down, she realized her thong joined the pile of nylon gathered around her high-heels.

  She sat in chair and kicked off the shoes, pulling the pantyhose off her feet.

  Next came the thong.

  She tossed it all in the garbage can next to the desk.

  “Ahhhhhh.” She sighed, the sound filled with comfort.

  She rose from the chair and tugged down her skirt, grateful for the cool air swirling up her bare legs.

  Shoving her feet back in the high-heels, she winced.

  “Damn!” She wiggled her toes. “My feet swelled.” She moaned.

  Carlee left the office, walking on shaky legs, knowing she had to get back into the store.

  When she arrived, the store was packed to the rafters, with customers spilling out the doorway.

  A little smile crossed her face, knowing she had some measure of freedom beneath her skirt. It was probably the only thing her judgmental, money-hungry, artificially altered family couldn’t take from her.

  If she wasn’t careful, they’d swallow her whole and leave nothing to spit out.

  Maybe, they already had…

  “Excuse me, miss, but do you carry—”

  Carlee blinked once, the man’s face swimming in front of her eyes.

  He angled his head, drawing his dark brows together into a frown. “Are you okay?”

  Her vision cleared.

  The man stood there, waiting for her answer, a pensive look gracing his angular face. His high cheekbones accentuated reddish-bronze skin, kissed by the sun. T
he light coming in through the store windows glinted off his dark brown, shiny, chin-length hair, swept back from a high forehead.

  She moistened her parched lips with the tip of her tongue.

  He removed his sunglasses. Small crinkles lined the skin of the outer corners of his dark eyes as he looked down on her. His eyes didn’t stray from the movements of her tongue.

  Her breath caught and held in her chest. What she wouldn’t give to have a pencil and sketch pad right now! A true Native American Indian stood before her—one of the Montauks, the tribe her hometown was named after.

  Her mind drifted. The summer night she turned sixteen, she and some friends roamed the sandy shores of Montauk. Carlee heard the far-off sound of drumbeats coming from the Montauk Indian reservation…

  Another man approached.

  “Hey Ben, did you find it?”

  Carlee covered her mouth with shaking fingers.

  Ben!

  That summer night, she snuck into the Montauks’ reservation, lured by the sound of the drums’ low, melodic beat. She watched two young Indian braves dance, their tall, lithe bodies glistening in the light of a nearby campfire…

  “No, Dan.” Ben shook his head. A few strands of dark fell caressing the side of his lean face. He grinned, his smile wide. “I think I’ve found something much better.”

  Carlee’s hand strayed to her throat.

  Dan!

  The Indian boys saw her. Carlee’s heart pounded. She crouched lower in the bushes. How she longed to dance with them…

  Dan stood a few inches shorter than Ben, but both had to be at least six feet in height now. Dan fixed his dark eyes on Carlee. He angled his head first one way, then another, but his eyes never left Carlee.

  On reflex, she reached out to touch the long, dark hair that flowed past Dan’s shoulders. Realizing what she was about to do, Carlee dropped her hand to her side, lost in thought again, her mind filled with memories.

  The boys laughed, inviting her to join them. “I’m Ben Strong, and this is my friend, Dan Swift.” They grinned. “Come…dance with us.” Tall, lanky, they moved with grace, in tune with the drumbeats. Each time they lifted a foot and placed it back down on the ground, the fur lining their boots shook, their loincloths covering their most private parts. Carlee joined them in their native tribal dance, a feeling of freedom and light filling her soul…