A Torey Hope Novel Series: The Complete 4-Book Box Set

by A. D. Ellis

  Inside of our house was definitely lived in but it was clean and comfortable and always looked nice. The kitchen was in the back of the house, with a back door leading to a fairly good size backyard where we’d have bar-be-ques in the summer and build snowmen in the winter. For years, our backyard boasted a huge maple tree that had a hollow spot toward the bottom. You can bet that Nick and I made use of that hollow as another “hidey hole” as Nick referred to it. Sadly, that tree got hit by lightning a few years back and had to be cut down. Mom loved her backyard and spent a lot of time out there. She had a swing under a little canopy where she would sit and read while she watched us play. There was a small hill that afforded Nicky and I place to race our remote control cars in the warm weather and a place to sled in the snow. After I moved out, Mom and Dad installed a fountain and a pond where they have some large goldfish. Nicky enjoys watching and feeding the fish.

  Off the kitchen was a door to the basement. Before I went to college, the basement was sort of just used as storage and Nick and I would play down there sometimes. I lived down there during college. Through the kitchen was the dining room. We had a big oak table where all of our meals were eaten. The breakfast nook and table in the kitchen weren’t big enough for a family meal. Off of the dining room was a bathroom, an office, and a stair way. Beyond the dining room was the living room and another bedroom. Mom and Dad had the front bedroom. It was decorated simply and had king size bed, two dressers, and mom’s nightstand. It was a pale green with cream accents and pretty nature prints. Our living room was where we spent the most time. We had a big wrap around couch with an ottoman. The colors were tan and a burnt orange. Mom had little knick-knacks and pictures on the coffee tables and entertainment center. The front door, which was almost never used, opened into a little foyer type room at the front of the house and guests could hang their coats there. Luckily, we had two bathrooms. Mom and Dad mostly used the one downstairs which was attached to their room and Nick and I used the upstairs one. Our rooms were upstairs. Nick and I were always used to being together so, even when Mom and Dad gave us our own rooms and let us pick out the paint colors for them, we usually ended up sleeping in one room. Nick picked blue for his room and Mom accented it with yellows and reds. He had the video game system in his room, along with a computer, and most of our toys. I chose gray and red for my room. Nick had a twin bed in his room, but he usually slept in my room on the futon bed while I slept on my own twin bed. Our bathroom just had a stool, a sink, and a shower, but that’s pretty much all boys need. I loved our house and I loved growing up there. It was comfortable and homey and safe. I knew there was no one there that I had to protect Nicky from. I could relax and let my guard down. Even now, as a grown man, I feel safest and most relaxed in my parents’ home and I spend a lot of time there.

  When we got older, Mom volunteered at our school. She now works part time at the community center but in a capacity were Nick can still be on his own even with Mom there. She’s there, but not smothering him. Mom works as a clerical assistant at the center. She helps with record keeping and general office duties. I know she always has a smile for visitors or new families who come into the center. My mom has a gentle yet efficient way about her that lets people know she cares while still letting them know not to give her any grief.

  My dad is a teacher; he teaches middle school English Language Arts at Torey Hope Middle School. His teaching salary was just never enough to raise his family, so he spent his summers painting houses to make extra money. Dad loved teaching, but he also loved painting. He was always painting house exteriors or interiors or barns. It was like he couldn’t just sit around during his breaks and summer, he had to be busy. He continuously had little projects going on. My Uncle Dale, Dad’s brother, owned the local hobby shop and I think Dad pretty much kept him in business. Dad was constantly tinkering with the vehicles, plumbing, electricity, organizing the garage, etc. if he wasn’t painting someone’s silo or living room or house. If I wasn’t busy with school or sports I always joined Dad painting throughout the summers. It wasn’t hard, kept me somewhat in shape, and gave me a chance to hang with my dad (who, even though I was in high school and wouldn’t admit it, was pretty cool). I still help Dad paint if I’m not busy coaching or helping Uncle Dale at the hobby shop.

  Anyway, my attitude about partying and drinking didn’t really change much when I got to college. I decided to attend the local college in town so I could live at home; Mom turned our basement into the perfect bachelor pad. She set it up just like a normal dorm room. They got a bunk bed so that Nicky could sleep over sometimes. Dad, years ago, had installed a little shower, sink, and toilet down in the basement during one of his winter projects, so Mom had him rig up a shower curtain hoop and she decorated the little bathroom in greens and blues. She went all out and even got me a shower caddy like all the college kids who were living in dorms. Mom had a heyday decorating, I think she actually researched to find pictures of actual dorm rooms so that mine would look similar. I had a black/gray/white comforter, sheets, and pillows. She hung a mirror for me and a big cork board/white board. She got sports posters for me to hang on my walls. Dad rigged up internet and cable, and I set up my video game system down there. It was really a great set up. I was home with Nicky, but I could come and go as I pleased and had some privacy for homework and studying and the occasional date.

  I got an academic scholarship to the local college so it was perfect. I also got academic and sports scholarships to bigger, further away colleges, but it never felt right leaving Nicky. My high school counselor had required all of us to take these little tests to tell us what career we should pursue. Mine said I should be a counselor, so that’s what I got a degree in. I never really planned to use the degree, but it made my parents happy that I got one. I was perfectly happy painting with my dad, coaching basketball and track, and helping my uncle at his hobby shop when he needed me.

  I did get a lot more adventurous in college with the girls. Girls weren’t lining up to date me, but I could always tell there were plenty interested. I guess I’m not bad looking. I know I’m not like one of the hunks in those romance novels ladies read (yeah, yeah....ok, so I’ve snuck a look at a page here and there in the ones Mom leaves laying around), but I’d say I’m averagely attractive. I’m about 6’2” and I weigh about 200 lbs. Since I’ve always played or coached sports, run track, or painted with my dad, I’m pretty fit. I don’t have huge bulky muscles, but my 6-pack is decent and I’m not embarrassed to be in a sleeveless shirt or go without one. I have what I’d call run-of-the-mill dirty blond hair that I keep fairly short letting it go just slightly longer in the front for that messy look. My eyes are blue (not “piercing ice blue” like in those novels, sorry, just plain blue). Nick is the spitting image of me, only slightly shorter and he weighs a little less. He has always just seemed more fragile than me.

  So, back to those girls in college. Once I was in college, the fights slowed down a bit more. Don’t get me wrong, I was always on the lookout for a shit-for-brains that might try hurting Nicky or one of his friends, and I hadn’t grown out of threatening people to keep them in line, but I wasn’t constantly sporting bruises anymore. So, I guess it made sense that I had more time for the girls. I didn’t head to college planning to lose my virginity, but I’d also not planned to keep it this long either. In college, I still didn’t find my heart going pitter-patter over any girl (does that shit even happen in real life?!) but I definitely had fun with them. I remember my first time. Her name was Katie or Krissy or something like that. We had gone to a football game my freshman year. We headed back to her dorm but she told me to pull over first. After some hot and heavy making out in her daddy’s BMW we ended up in the backseat. Katie/Krissy promised no strings attached and I found out that burying myself in a pretty girl is a great way to get rid of stress and tension. After that first time, sex became my go to stress reliever. Kissing is great, and I love a girl’s body, but sex was never an emotional experience for me.
I enjoyed it physically, but kept myself completely detached emotionally. I was always able to stay friends with the girls I hooked up with, with the exception of a few who got pissed that I didn’t want to be their boyfriend, but I was never emotionally invested in taking a relationship any further than a few romps in the sack. I always let the girls know this up front; it wasn’t like I was just using them, but I had no intention of going beyond something mutually satisfying for both of us. I enjoyed sex but it was just something I did to feel good, it wasn’t something I did to “share something” with another person. In a way, this bothered me because I grew up in a very loving home with parents who were obviously still very into each other; on the other hand, I think I was so used to being angry and pissed off and fighting that the detached feeling was fairly normal for me. Also, in retrospect, I think that I was fearful of letting any girl in; it would mean letting down my guard and I was much more comfortable with my walls up, in constant ready position to fight or defend my brother.

  So, I graduated college with a degree in school counseling, but I had no desire to use it. I told my parents as much, and they seemed to understand and support me, even though I got the feeling that they thought I should have attempted a counseling job. I got a small apartment about five minutes from Mom and Dad and Nick. I made sure it was a two-bedroom so Nicky could stay whenever he wanted. I had a little breakfast nook in my kitchen where I put a small table and chairs. I didn’t cook a lot beyond pizza, toast, cereal, and eggs so my small kitchen wasn’t much of a problem for me. Mom always complained that I didn’t have any space, but I never felt deprived. Dad and I had painted the kitchen a cream and green color combo and Mom had decorated it with pictures and knick-knacks of grasses and flowers. My kitchen also had a little technology nook so I set up my laptop and printer there, but I usually had my laptop with me in the living room. The living room wasn’t huge but it had room for a couch and love seat, an entertainment center for my TV and game system, and a coffee table that Mom insisted I needed. Mom had chosen the same tan and burnt orange color scheme from her house for my living room as well. The bathroom was small, a stool, shower, and sink, but it was enough for me; it’s not like I was wanting to take bubble baths. Mom had Dad paint the bathroom blue and yellow and decorated it with white and yellow daisies. She was convinced if the rooms were decorated by a woman then a woman I brought home might be enticed to stay with me. Whatever. The two bedrooms were almost identical, but mine was slightly larger. I had asked Dad to help me paint my room my usual gray, but we added dark purple and dark teal accents with white mixed in occasionally. I fit a king size bed in there even though it meant I had very little room for anything else. I put my dresser in the closet. I loved a king sized bed. The spare room, which I had gotten specifically for Nicky, had a full sized bed. I let Nicky pick his colors. He wanted the same as his room at home, so blue with yellow and red it was. Nicky liked things to stay consistent. He didn’t always deal well with change. We kept a few changes of clothes and pajamas at my place, but mostly, he just brought an overnight bag if he was going to stay over.

  Nicky spent 2-3 nights a week with me and often brought a friend to play video games. Nicky walked or rode his bike places. He and my parents were just not ok with him driving. It made him nervous so he was perfectly content with his own feet or two wheels or someone else driving him around. Nick loved my Jeep. It was the usual red and black that most people think of when they hear Jeep. I could take the top down or leave it up. Nick loved when I left the top down.

  I loved the nights when Nicky stayed over. We’d drive his friend home after pizza, pop, and video games. Then we’d just hang out and talk. I loved listening to Nick tell stories of his day at work or the community center. The first time I heard the name Miss Elizabeth was the first time Nicky brought a book to my apartment and told me he wanted to practice reading it to me. He said that Miss Elizabeth, the new librarian at the center, had helped him pick it out and she was excited to hear him read some of it to her, so he had to practice. I helped him read it and we settled on a part that he could rehearse and read to her. Nick wasn’t that poor of a reader, he just did better with some practice so that his fluency could improve. After that, I heard “Miss Elizabeth” multiple times each visit. It wasn’t like a normal guy in his mid-twenties would be talking about a girl. He didn’t talk about her body or anything in a crass way. Nick thought she was “pretty and nice and smart and she has good books and she’s my friend.” Nicky didn’t really comprehend attraction to the opposite sex past that at this point. Part of me wondered if he would ever meet someone and fall in love.

  When I asked Mom about Miss Elizabeth she went on and on about how gorgeous she is. Mom told me she’s super sweet and quiet and I must meet her. Mom isn’t known for her subtlety, I got the idea that she had had a few daydreams about me dating this girl. Actually, I get the idea that Mom would be thrilled if I just seriously dated any girl. I’m pretty sure she has some inkling of my “dating” tendencies and she was NOT fond of my practices. Nicky wanted so badly to introduce me to his friend, Miss Elizabeth, as well. I couldn’t tell who was more infatuated with Miss Elizabeth, Mom or Nicky. So, I decided to meet this Miss Elizabeth soon. For Nicky.

  Chapter 3

  Elizabeth Claire Decker

  I grew up in the shadow of my younger sister, Audrey Marie. There’s only 10 months difference between us (a little impatient weren’t you, Mom and Dad?!). Kidding….sort of. But, seriously, my father wanted to wait to have kids until he’d moved up the ranks in the Army, so I think they had me and then went ahead and tried for #2 right away since they were both in their late, late 20’s already and all my mom wanted to do was have kids. I’ve always felt that I never got to figure out who I was because Audrey came along so soon and I was overshadowed from that point on. Audrey was a show-stealer from the moment she arrived on the scene.

  Then, when Audrey and I were 10 and 11, our mother died from a massive heart attack that no one had even seen coming. My mother had always been a runner and kept very fit with various other activities. She cooked fairly healthy foods for us. From what we knew, there wasn’t a family history of heart disease on her side. So, for her to go to bed one night and never wake up, was very shocking. Sadly, my dad was the one who found her. He had gotten up to get ready for his day and was concerned that Mom didn’t already have his coffee ready; Mom always got up with him to get him on his way before waking Audrey and I. That day is a vivid blur in my mind, a total contradiction. I remember so much of it, yet I feel like I remember nothing. I do, however, remember that our lives changed drastically that day. And not for the better.

  Being 11 years old, with a handful of a little sister, and a military father walking around bouncing between being a zombie or barking orders at us like we were his soldiers, all while missing your mother, is enough to cause anyone stress. I handled my stress by retreating more into myself, while Audrey hid her pain, but showed the world the rest of herself. Usually the worst of herself. My dad, he handled his stress by drinking, crying when he thought I wasn’t watching, screaming at my sister and I when he was having a bad day, inviting buddies over to play poker, and sleeping off hangovers in hopes of surviving.

  Audrey has always been a little spitfire and super bubbly and outgoing. She’s a little too into herself, and she doesn’t always stop to think about how her words or actions may hurt others. Ok, that’s putting it nicely….Audrey is a complete bitch to me most of the time. Why? Who knows?! I think she’s definitely insecure which is why she’s so over the top with everything trying to prove how great she is. Audrey had the same upbringing as me and we were practically the same age when Mom died, but Audrey seemed to bury all the good parts of herself after Mom’s death and only let the bad girl side out for people to see. Maybe the bad side of Audrey felt more confident?

  Audrey is the exact opposite of me. She’s loud and social, I’m quiet and shy. She wants people around all the time, I like time alone. She dresse
s in loud colors and tight clothes, I prefer soft colors and comfy clothes. She’s a party planner, I’m a librarian. We couldn’t be more night and day, but I love her. I do get upset with how she treats me and others sometimes. It’s not that she’s TRYING to be mean, she just gets too focused on herself and sometimes those around her are the collateral damage. Who am I kidding? I need to stop making excuses for her. Audrey is a mean girl and she DOES try to hurt those around her. I think it’s so she can cover up her own hurting. Audrey is hungry for control and power over everyone in her life, but especially me.

  I have loved books since the first stories my mother ever read to me. At 25 years-old, I’ve moved around more than I care to remember. My dad being in the Army meant we moved a lot. Sometimes every 1-2 years it seemed. Dad always chose to live in officer housing on the bases that we moved to. Luckily, we always had great neighbors for us to be friends with when Mom was alive. Mom never seemed to need help from neighbors, she always seemed to take everything in stride and handle it all on her own; I suspect, now that I’m older, we just didn’t realize she needed help or recognize that neighbors were helping more than we thought when Dad was away. After Mom died, we continued the streak of great neighbors and they were always ready to help out the widowed Captain Decker with his two girls. And Dad was always in need of help with us; he was usually too drunk to take care of us. It wasn’t until he retired that Dad admitted to his drinking problem and finally got sober. He doesn’t talk much about the past or his recovery; I never knew what changed that led him to stop drinking, but I was grateful that he had gotten help. I just wish it had happened sooner.