Glazier

by Bri Clark

  Glazier

  by Bri Clark

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used. Except for review purposes, the reproduction of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation.

  GLAZIER

  Copyright © 2011 BRI CLARK

  ISBN 978-1-936852-28-4

  Cover Art Designed By Elaina Lee

  Edited By Audrey Jamison and J.D. Jordan

  After three long years and countless edits, Glazier has made it to print. Along the way, numerous friends read and reread, providing feedback and support. I thank each of you from the depths of my heart. To name a few…Chris, my love, Eve, Moma, Evie, Tori, Rochelle, Gretchen, my old church book club, Aaron, V, Steph, Alice, Karyn, Michelle, Sandra, Steph Aubrey, JD, and if I forgot you here I will remember you later and suffer from countless hours of guilt after.

  Finally, my Heavenly Father. Grazi…

  PROLOGUE

  Marie Kincaid

  Vermont, NH police station

  As I sat among the group of obnoxious youth, I considered my options. I was far away from home, arrested, and without hope of release. This was my third arrest and it was serious. I had stolen a diplomat’s car. My family wouldn’t come to my aide. They hadn’t a clue where I was. Therefore, I would either be locked up or I could escape.

  As the overwhelming force of being cornered enveloped me, that all too familiar cold crept inside and the chilling fear dissipated. All I knew was survival. A pulsing, hidden strength coursed through me, and just before I thought I would come undone, an officer came, wrapped his sausage-like fingers under my arm and pulled me up. He led me down a secluded hallway. At the end to the right was a door. Within it was a man I could only describe as a living serpent…and I loathed snakes.

  “Thank you, officer. That’ll be all,” the serpent said as he slyly passed a bill. I stood in the middle of the room motionless, yet I was still unafraid as the snake inspected me. I reciprocated.

  He was short with a stocky build. Dark hair with the tiniest hint of salt framed a too-round head. A long, pointed nose sat high above tight, thin lips. Swampy, green eyes roamed up and down my frame as he continued his inspection, circling me. The chill that had filled me earlier was violently replaced by ice. It moved like a fine mist through me and then solidified into hard shards within my skin. It wasn’t a feeling of pain but of protection. He rounded back to the front of me. Even though I was a girl of sixteen and five foot eight inches, he had to look up.

  “Yes, yes!” he exclaimed, clapping his hands. His high-pitched voice added to my edginess and I shuffled my feet. “Marie, you’re definitely what I’ve been waiting for.”

  When I met his eyes, he jerked away and smiled a wicked grin, his beady eyes squinting into thin lines. He sat down behind a desk, crossing his stubby legs and indicated with a finger stump toward a dilapidated folding chair that I sit opposite him. I continued to stand, raising my chin a notch. An intake of breath, the continued smile, and the slight shake of his head communicated his irritated amusement.

  His demeanor seemed to change as he looked through the file on his desk. “It seems you’re in a bit of trouble,” he commented as he picked up a paper, read it, and then chuckled. As he cast it aside, I saw my name in bold red ink. “The Ambassador of Egypt’s personal car. That’s no easy feat,” he said. Then the smile vanished and his eyebrow quirked. His fingers threaded together under his chin, conveying pure arrogance. “This is exactly what got my attention. I have a proposition for you, Ms. Gallagher.”

  The enunciation of the s in Ms. reminded me again of how much I hated snakes. His posture and use of my last name was most likely meant to comfort me but also assert his dominance. I arched an eyebrow in response.

  “My name is Abram. I’m a man of many talents and unlimited means.” His fingers came down on the desk in front of him he sat straight up and continued. “One such talent is that I’m never refused. Keep that in mind as you consider my offer.”

  I considered his name instead, after only hearing it once before by my grandfather, the story of a righteous man from the Bible. As I compared the two Abrams I knew this man wasn’t worthy of his namesake.

  “You can either do a lengthy jail sentence in an adult prison, which I can assure you the ambassador will pursue, or you can come work for me. You have no family, no money, or friends. Your little cohorts out there are cutting pleas as we speak.”

  Cornered again, my relief didn’t come from ice or cold but from the deep growl of a furious Irishman.

  “Marie Aislin Gallagher, where are you?” Patty, my angry Irish grandfather bellowed. He had learned to yell over the noise of a crowd while in command of the Irish Republican Army. Abram looked toward the door. I bent down low over the desk and forced Abram to meet my eyes. I don’t know what he saw, but he started to sweat, didn’t blink or look away. As I opened my lips, the voice that spoke wasn’t my own but something far beyond me.

  “Then let me be the first to oblige you, Abram.” My lips spread into an involuntary smile as deep satisfaction filled me. “I refuse.” I said and left.

  Walking down the hall toward the sound of my furious Patty’s voice, I knew two things. One, I would never forget the man who called himself Abram because I had never reacted that way with anyone before. And two, facing my Patty was a whole lot better than whatever Abram had planned for me.

  Chapter One

  Marie

  In woods in between the Canadian Vermont border

  As the sun set behind the tall maples, I stopped walking and made a small fire for the night. Being awake for three days straight was taking its toll on my body. Setting out on foot just before dawn, I had been hiking all day. I unrolled the sleeping bag and zipped up my coat, glad I came across an old store. It was easy to break into, secluded that late at night and well stocked. Marveling at how the skills I hadn’t used in years came back with ease, I had gathered the supplies I would need to survive. Not having to think ahead, living in the moment, and only addressing my most basic needs comforted me in my otherwise chaotic world.

  Building the fire first, I then piled twigs up beside it. Cool water from the canteen slid down my throat and quenched my thirst. Even knowing I needed to eat didn’t produce an appetite. As the fire burned, I took my coat off and sat down on my sleeping bag, staring into the flames. My hand reflexively began to play with the rings around my necklace as my mind wandered. Each image seemed to flow like a parade, a float for every memory, the day we met, our first date camping in the woods, our wedding day, and then the birth of our daughters. Moreover, with that last thought, I felt the silent wet drops fall upon my hands as the parade ended.

  The funerals had been closed-casket. Michael, my husband, and our two daughters, Katie and Stana, short for Katherine and Christina, were sideswiped by another driver. The guardrail snapped as the Jeep rolled three times before finally stopping where it exploded, destroying all that I held dear. Drivers in Vermont had a reputation for being aggressive and the roads were infamous for black ice during the winter. The baying of a wolf sounded behind me but I was unconcerned.

  Wiping the tears from my cheeks, I lay down and toyed with Michael’s band, seeking a comfort that would never come. As the beauty of the night twinkled above me as memories of midnight blue eyes, blonde hair, and soft, baby-perfumed skin haunted my consciousness.

  Michael and I had endured many trials to have a family, and to have it unrave
l when Katie was only four and Stana two had been the end of my life as far as I was concerned. Everyone had said we started too early, but both girls had such a sweet charisma, even as babes, people were quick to rethink their opinions. Their two most devoted followers were Grandma Rose and Patty, my mother and grandfather. A small twinge of guilt caused the tears to fall unchecked now. Leaving had been selfish, but it was more than that. It was as if some sort of instinct for survival overcame me, and the next thing I knew, I was in a stolen car, taking back roads toward Canada.

  The tears seemed to lose their source. After taking a deep breath, my eyelids drooped and exhaustion hit. Giving in, I covered up and tried to relax. No thoughts for the future equaled any cares as well. Love would never find me again. I was sure. If you don’t feel, you can’t hurt, I mused. Calmness, whether from the release of emotions or the simplicity of my surroundings helped me relax as I watched the flames. It was the type of calm I used to feel whenever I would found a solution to a stressful situation. I’d just make a decision and follow through with it.

  My mind and body were weary and couldn’t function anymore. Closing my eyes, I willed a dreamless sleep. The darkness enveloped me. Then a sting on my arm caused me to turned and seek reprieve. Stupid bugs. Nevertheless, I continued to fall deeper into the darkness, the blessed numbness, and then finally relief...

  Chapter Two

  Marie

  In the infirmary of a base.

  “Is she awake yet?” The deep voice of a man penetrated the caverns of my mind, pulling me into consciousness.

  “No, I’m sorry, Henry, not yet. Please be patient,” another male responded.

  I listened to their conversation, finding it to be an especially odd dream…then feeling the strangest sensations I knew I was awake.

  “Blimey, how do you even know she’s alive?” the deep voice challenged. I recognized the prominence of a British accent and found it appealing.

  “The same way I know you’re alive.” A board snapped. “I’m a doctor,” the other man responded. Pressure out of nowhere began in my chest.

  “I’ll be jiggered.” The voice stopped and the pressure increased. “If she’s alive, why is her heart rhythm a flatline?”

  Suddenly the enchanting accent turned into an earth-rumbling bass and the pressure crushed me. My eyes flew open as I clawed at the invisible weight and gasped for air.

  “Hold her, Henry!” were the last words I heard before feeling a different force pin my shoulders down. My vision was blurry as I still struggled to breathe, and I yearned for the relief darkness provided. Wetness coated my cheeks and just as my eyes began to focus everything went black.

  ****

  “Marie,” a familiar voice called.

  “Marie.” It called again.

  My eyes opened only to be assaulted by bright, white light. A hand came up casting a protective shadow over my face.

  “Oh, pardon me. There, is that better?” the voice asked. My hand came down to find the light averted.

  “Yes,” I whispered through cracked dry lips.

  “Would you like a glass of water?” the voice offered. I nodded. He moved over to a table nearby. As my eyes adjusted to the light, I was able to inspect the man. Tall, with brown hair, a beard, and glasses, he moved with ease. As he turned, I could tell his clothing consisted of a tan shirt and trousers, almost like a uniform, and a long white overcoat. Around his neck, he wore a stethoscope and on the lapel, the name Dr. Sampson was embroidered. Offering me water, I snatched it and drank as if I were a newborn babe. After my mouth and throat were sufficiently saturated, I handed the glass back.

  “Marie…” he began, then seemed to be at a loss for words.

  Tingling, shocking sensations of energy began to assault my senses, but I was unsure of their origin. Worry overcame me but from a source outside my own emotions.

  “I’m Dr. Sampson. I’m so relieved you’re awake.” He finally began to speak again.

  Studying him, I chose to stay silent.

  “Do you feel like you can sit up? Would you like me to help you?” he offered as he moved forward. When I shook my head no, he stopped. Feelings of worry coupled with extreme weakness overcame my body, making me long for the darkness again.

  “May I ask you some questions?” he asked.

  I agreed.

  He began by asking me about any headache, nausea, blurred vision or weakness. I answered yes and nowhere appropriate. As he continued to question me, I was only half listening because I became acutely aware that we weren’t alone. I was finally able to pinpoint the source of my extreme worry as the large figure hiding in the shadows behind the door.

  “So you’re Dr. Sampson?” I interrupted him.

  “Yes.”

  “What sort of doctor are you?”

  “I specialize in many fields.” Answering without specifics, he looked away. Not caring, a smirk formed on my mouth.

  “Where are your nurses?”

  “I….uh…work alone.” The doctor answered sounding unsteady. The smirk grew.

  “Well if that’s the case, then who is that over by the door?” I posed.

  He turned, the figure moved forward, and the doctor yelped, dropping his clipboard. As the figure got closer, I was able to inspect him. He was abnormally large and pale, like an experiment between steroids and bleach gone wrong. Movements sure and accurate like a machine, he approached me.

  “Henry!” Dr. Sampson exclaimed holding his chest. “You know I hate it when you do that. How long have you been standing there?”

  The man he addressed as Henry remained silent. He stared at me without blinking. I reciprocated the action. He left the doctor’s question unanswered as he finally stopped beside my bed. Pale blond hair cut in a military style framed his angled features, while mesmerizing crystal blue eyes continued to openly review me.

  “Henry!” The doctor addressed him firmer. “I asked you a question,” The silent observation was all the answer the doctor received. Maintaining eye contact, I answered for him.

  “He’s been there at least since I woke up.” The doctor turned and looked at me, startled. The large man’s lips slowly exposed his brilliant white teeth.

  “How did you know that?” Dr. Sampson asked, clicking a pen open, becoming excited.

  Considering the answer, I realized I didn’t have one. However, before I could even tell him that much, the silent observer spoke.

  “Leave us, Dr. Sampson,” he commanded. Although his voice was soft, his conviction was firm. It was an order.

  Staring as if startled again, the doctor opened his mouth to object but then shut it and left, slamming the door in his wake.

  Another brilliant smile met me. I smirked in return. His smile only grew. Offering his hand he introduced himself. “Hello. I’m Captain Henry Tenison. But I must insist on Henry.” His words carried a far kinder tone than his earlier order. Hanging in the air between us his hand did not meet my own.

  “Forgive me, Captain–” I began.

  “Henry,” he corrected me.

  “Henry, will you please forgive me if I don’t return the greeting?” I asked. The earlier smile was replaced by a frown as he pulled his hand back. The sensation of pressure I recognized from before began again.

  “But why, I don’t understand?” he asked puzzled.

  I smiled this time. “How can I introduce myself if I don’t know who I am?” I replied and then the crushing weight returned to my chest causing the darkness to return.

  Chapter Three

  Henry Tenison

  In the infirmary with Marie

  “Blimey, Sampson, why does she keep doing this?” Slamming my fist on the steel cabinet across from my bed, I instantly regretted my actions. Completely incapable of controlling my frustration with my longtime bloke, it frustrated me I couldn’t control anything lately, it seemed. Not since Marie came into my life.

  “I’d have a better answer for you, Captain, if you wouldn’t have ordered me out befo
re I could do a full exam,” Sampson replied not even looking up from his clipboard.

  He called me ‘Captain’. My lips curved upward involuntarily. He knew I despised the title and everything about being a soldier. My time in the Queen’s service was a part of my life littered in regret. The things I’d done to gain rank wasn’t at all admirable and my life since was no more chivalrous, but at least now it wasn’t a masquerade. My eyes roamed over Sampson’s as he maneuvered around her unmoving form.

  Placid skin covered a withering body and with her eyes closed and no rise and fall to her chest, she appeared lifeless. However, the lack of heart rhythm confirmed it. She had been vibrant and alive only moments ago, yet here we were weeks later, and she reeked of death. Holding her hand and laying my head against the rail of her hospital bed, I waited. Feeling compassion from Sampson, taking a cleansing breath, I tried to apologize.

  “I’m sorry, Sampson,” I began as I lifted my head, and he smiled before looking at his charts again. My eyes wouldn’t leave her as I tried to explain. “Imagine being completely alone, feeling isolated in a crowd, having no one to ever understand you, then one day…” Pausing, my forehead found the bedrail again. “Then one day finding someone who just might…” Feeling warmth from her hand that I held like a life raft, yet with the care I might afford a flower petal, I gazed at her. “Anyway, my desire got the better of me, and for that I am sorry.”