The confusion and hurt was plain in her voice. I set my palm on her cheek, keeping my gaze on her. “I still need to work on thinking before I react. Matilda’s phone call threw me for a loop. At least I didn’t pass out like I did in September the last time she called.”
Arielle snorted and squeezed my chin. “Next time you’re thinking of disappearing and not telling anyone, come to me. I won’t judge, or talk you out of it.”
“Okay.” I shrugged. “I don’t think I’ll—”
She lowered her forehead to mine. “Promise me.”
A zing traveled down my chest and into my belly at her possessive tone. “I promise.”
She kissed my mouth, just a brushing of the lips. Then she moved back, running her fingers along the side of my face, making the zing grow.
I licked my lips instead of licking hers. That would come later. “I called my dad today, and we had a long talk. I explained everything to him. I thought it would be strange between us, but it was a good conversation. He’s coming this week to celebrate Christmas. He also suggested I stay with him the week of spring break.”
“Some father-and-daughter alone time? A great idea.” Arielle nestled me to her side with her cheek on top of my head.
“We had a big heart-to-heart on the phone. I’ll have to tell you about it later.” I closed my eyes to stop them from watering. It was bad enough I’d gotten weepy on the phone, especially when I told him I wanted to donate a big part of the settlement to charity. He became silent when I told him how much. And when he said he would help me pick the right organization and how to donate, I told him thanks, and I loved him. He said he loved me back in a rough voice that barely hid his tears.
“You both still have a lot of issues to work through. But it will be all right,” she announced.
I wanted to believe her. And part of me did. But it would still take time for me to be normal, especially with Dad, but the call we had was a great start.
Arielle, and my family, would be there to help me heal.
“I have definite plans tonight.” I clutched her thigh. “I’m going to the rape support group with my aunt. Jo and Tris are coming also. Want to join us?”
She dropped her hand on mine and linked our fingers. Then she kissed the side of my head, right under my ear. “Yes. With my hand around yours the entire time. Yes.”
I shuddered in relief. Lifting our joined hands to my mouth, I kissed her knuckles, thanking her.
It was going to be all right.
THE ROOM was exactly the same as the last time I came. The same group of people were there also. There were some new faces, those who hugged the wall and looked distressed, much like I had my first time. But they weren’t alone. They had someone with them, holding their hands like Arielle held mine.
“Where do you want to sit? In the back?” she asked.
“Not this time. We’re sitting in the front.” I tugged her in that direction.
“Why?” She sounded nervous for once.
“You’ll see.” I squeezed her hand. “It will be all right. Trust me.”
Aunt Eloise, Tris, and Jo already sat in the front row. They were the only ones there. The majority sat in the back or off to the side. I almost took a seat behind them, but I brushed off the idea and joined them.
Arielle clutched my hand, taking the last seat near the aisle as if to protect me. Her gesture made me a little giddy. The seriousness of the situation stopped me from hugging or kissing her.
I peeked over my shoulder at the group. I caught sight of the male couple from the last time—Preppy and Leather Jacket were also holding hands. Leather Jacket didn’t look troubled like before. We locked eyes. He nodded at me, and I did the same.
Gita walked to the podium in front of us and welcomed us all.
Then it was my turn. She announced my name, and I stood. Arielle was still gripping my hand. I bent down and kissed her on the cheek and smiled. She let go.
My heart exploded in my ears, and I had trouble breathing. I was a little woozy, and sweat dotted my forehead. But it didn’t stop me.
I went behind the podium and folded my shaking hands on top of it. Closing my eyes, I inhaled and exhaled, counting to ten. Then I opened my eyes, the lights of the room glaring, the faces staring up at me in anticipation of what I was going to say.
The only faces I concentrated on were the women in the front row and Arielle. The people who loved me.
I opened my mouth, and nothing came out. I took another deep breath and finally relaxed.
“Hello, my name is Charlotte, and this is my story.”
Epilogue
I STARED at the mirror a fraction longer than necessary. I turned away, spotting my reflection in the window next to it. It had been raining all morning, and it had only now stopped, allowing the clouds to break apart and show sunlight.
“Oh my God, you look beautiful.”
I spun around, facing Dad in the doorway. It was the first time he’d seen me in my wedding dress, complete with makeup, hair, and these toe-pinching shoes I had been cajoled into wearing.
If his expression was anything to go by, my lover and soon-to-be partner in matrimony would also be very pleased when she saw me.
He lowered his hand to his mouth and walked toward me. He took my hands in his and, after a few seconds, hugged me. I closed my eyes to savor the feeling. I’d made progress in more ways than one, no longer flinching when someone hugged or touched me.
He stepped back but kept my hand in his, inspecting my engagement ring set on my manicured hands. For the first time ever, I had a french manicure in honor of the day.
“I heard rain on a wedding day is good luck.” His eyes were still huge as he studied my face and hair, styled in a ballerina bun with a few wisps of hair framing my face. My veil covered most of it, but just for the ceremony.
“I need all the luck I can get. It’s been a rough road getting here.” Memories of the past few years filtered through my mind—some good, some not so good.
“Hey, none of that.” He swiped a hand under his eyes and then indicated the pearl choker I wore. “That’s new. A present?”
“Yes, it is. Part of the tradition.” I stroked the smooth drops, smiling over the special gift and the person who’d given it to me.
“Tradition?” he asked.
“Yeah. It’s more for brides. ‘Something new’ is the necklace. ‘Something borrowed’ are the pearl barrettes in my hair from Jo. ‘Something blue’ is….” I cleared my throat, my face warming. “I’m wearing blue under my dress.” My bustier set, made of see-through lace, had blue ribbons. Not only did it help suck in my fat and help me fit in my dress, but taking it off later tonight after the reception would be a fun time, especially with help from my new spouse.
“And ‘something old’ is your charm bracelet.” Dad lifted my left arm to check my bracelet. It was the first time in a decade I had worn it.
“I’m wearing it to honor Mom.” I blinked away the blurriness in my eyes. If I started crying now, I wouldn’t stop.
Dad’s eyes looked wet. He swallowed and stared past my shoulder. “I wish she was here. She would be so proud.”
“Proud I’m not having a typical traditional wedding?” I was following some traditions by wearing a wedding dress and throwing a reception with hundreds of guests. But I was getting married by a justice of the peace because religion didn’t play a part in my relationship, even though I had tried to accept it. I had little faith, whereas my partner had a great deal more.
“She would be proud like me, no matter what type of wedding you had.” His eyes shone. “I’m gaining another daughter. It’s a great day.”
“Oh, Dad.” Now I covered my mouth.
He tugged down my hand as bells played in the distance to denote the time. He kissed the back of my hand, setting it in the crook of his arm. “Our signal to go. Ready?”
I inhaled, closing my eyes and slowly releasing my breath. I opened them and checked my reflection in the che
val mirror one last time. “I’m ready.”
He escorted me out of the room and down the hall toward the room where the ceremony would take place. The buzz of voices from our guests grew louder as we walked. When I turned the corner, my partner and her father were there.
Arielle and her father hugged. With closed eyes, she squeezed her father tight. When she opened them, she blinked a few times as she spotted me. It was the first time we were seeing each other in our wedding dresses.
My knees locked together, and my entire body vibrated with longing as I viewed Arielle in her dress. She had designed it. Much tighter and more revealing than mine, the material shimmered. She wore silk, while I wore satin and lace. Her veil was short, barely covering her hair, with silver highlights running through it.
She came toward me with her hands stretched out. I met her halfway and captured them. I trembled, but she didn’t. She was my rock and my salvation.
She set her lips on mine, a soft brushing of lips holding so much promise. She then clasped my shoulders. “You look gorgeous. You clean up good.”
I chuckled, setting my hands on her waist. “You take my breath away. Everyone’s eyes will stay on you the entire time.”
“They’re going to keep their eyes on both of us.” She scanned me from head to toe and back again, stopping on my cleavage. “My mom has good taste.” She indicated the choker.
I nodded, afraid to speak because I was so overcome with emotion.
“Let’s get this over with. I’ve been waiting ten years to make you my wife.” Arielle took my hand.
“When did you realize you wanted to marry me?” I curled my fingers around hers.
“Remember the fall fair at Maison a few weeks after you arrived in town? You sat under a tree playing with your cell. I saw you and was struck blind because I knew you were going to be a special part of my life for a very long time,” she said, her voice shaky.
I still remembered that day all too well. It hadn’t ended the way I wanted it to, but the days after with Arielle had made up for it.
“Even though I was a train wreck when you first met me?”
“You see yourself as a train wreck, but I see the woman I love and cherish.” She kissed me again. “Faults and all.”
“The same goes for me, faults and all.” I nudged her in the side and wound my arm around her waist. She did the same to me as we met our fathers, who waited to walk us down the aisle and toward our future.
Always side by side, ready to start a brand-new chapter to our story.
SHIRLEY ANNE EDWARDS is a Northeast girl who discovered her love for books when she read Nancy Drew’s The Secret of the Old Clock Tower at thirteen. Shirley found her love for writing at a very young age and, since then, has let her imagination run wild by creating quirky characters and vast worlds in her head. Shirley is also a brownie addict who loves to bake when she’s not busy writing. Shirley lives in New Jersey and works in the entertainment industry in New York City.
You can contact Shirley at [email protected] and find her at these other places:
Website: shirlwriteredwards.wordpress.com
Twitter: @ShirlAwriter
Facebook: www.facebook.com/shirley.edwards.31924
Pinterest: www.pinterest.com/shirlwriter/
By Shirley Anne Edwards
Rage to Live
Published by HARMONY INK PRESS
www.harmonyinkpress.com
Published by
HARMONY INK PRESS
5032 Capital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886 USA
[email protected] • harmonyinkpress.com
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of author imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Rage to Live
© 2018 Shirley Anne Edwards.
Cover Art
© 2018 Tiferet Design.
http://www.tiferetdesign.com/
Cover content is for illustrative purposes only and any person depicted on the cover is a model.
All rights reserved. This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of international copyright law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines, and/or imprisonment. Any eBook format cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Harmony Ink Press, 5032 Capital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886, USA, or [email protected].
Digital ISBN: 978-1-64080-210-0
Trade Paperback ISBN: 978-1-64080-209-4
Library of Congress Control Number: 2018901155
Digital published May 2018
v. 1.0
Printed in the United States of America
Rage to Live Page 22
