Journey From the Summit

by Lorraine Ereira

  Journey From the Summit

  By

  Lorraine Ereira

  Copyright © 2013 by Lorraine Ereira

  All rights reserved

  Original draft written 2012

  Written for my husband, who is the very centre of my world, and for our two handsome sons who we love with all our hearts.

  Cover Illustration

  www.canstockphoto.com

  Cover design by Pixel Studio

  Editing by Abi Truelove

  www.ajt-editing.co.uk

  This is a true story.

  However all names and identifying details have been changed to protect the privacy of individuals

  CONTENTS

  Prologue

  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

  Prologue

  I have a belief that is part fantasy, part wishful thinking and part knowledge that elements of my belief are based on truth.

  My belief is that life is a mountain. We spend every waking moment climbing the path towards our summit. We have friends, lovers and acquaintances who accompany us on parts of our journey – some help us along the way, carrying our load for a while; others try to pull us off our path or put obstacles in our way, but if we are strong we keep climbing. Sometimes we need to stop and rest for a while, or we deliberately take another route that deviates from our path, but for those of us who have that inner strength we find our way back, and continue to climb. The true magic in my creed, however, is that I really believe that someone else is also climbing our own mountain, for it is his or her mountain too. Our soulmate: our Mr or Miss Right – the one person who is our true destined lover, is climbing up the other side, and having his or her own trials and tribulations along the way. An invisible safety rope binds you and pulls you both together like a supernatural force.

  I hope that you will have the strength to follow your path, to keep hiking to reach the top of your mountain, and you will then one day find your soulmate has arrived at that exact same moment, and your life together can begin.

  How do you know, I hear you ask, if the partner who may be in your life now is the one who truly shares your mountain, or just someone who is walking with you for a while? The answer to this is very simple – you will know it with every cell that makes you who you are. You won’t have to ask. When you meet him or her, every molecule of you will respond to them, and you will connect in a way you never thought possible.

  However, meeting your Mr or Miss Right does not always mean that from that point on your journey forward will be all plain sailing into the sunset as you begin your descent together – sometimes the path down your mountain, even with your mate at your side, can be almost as daunting and perilous as your climb up was, if not more so.

  My story does not focus on the climb, but is a tale about what happened when I reached the peak, because for me that’s when the most rugged and dangerous part of my expedition really began. This is a story about my journey from the summit.

  Chapter One

  I was eighteen when I met Greg who was to become my first serious boyfriend. He was the proverbial bad boy and I the trusting and unassuming little girl. He offered a diversion from my sheltered and strict upbringing, and answered a need in me to rebel against it. Five years older than me, he seemed hot and sexy in a dangerous and not-to-be-trusted way, which of course only added to his appeal. He simultaneously frightened and fascinated me. He pursued me, finding my naivety a turn on. My friends told me to stay away from him, but the more they did, the more I wanted him. He lured me into his bedroom with practised charm, overwhelming charisma, and a very off-the-wall approach to life, which connected with the part of me that had always yearned to be a little different from the madding crowd. In short, I really thought I loved him. I fell hook, line and sinker for every bit of bait he threw me, and believed every one of his unfaithful, two-timing lies for the duration of our relationship. He took all my innocence and broke my heart more times then I could remember. I tried several times to leave him but he always managed to spin some yarn to justify his actions and reel me back in.

  It took me two years of emotional manipulation to realize that this guy who I thought I loved was really very wrong for me and find the strength to finally walk away.

  Really, I suppose by the time I met mistake number two, my once tender heart was nothing more than a mass of scar tissue.

  I was still recovering from this relationship, despite still (or so I thought at the time) being in love with Greg, when I met disaster number two, Paul. I needed a distraction from all the hurt that I was feeling, and what better way to take my mind off the last two years than the excitement of a new attraction?

  It began with a mere temptation, based solely on the appeal of face value. Enticed by lust mixed with a generous dash of ego repair rather than by any real connection between us, it was destined to crash and burn from day one. However, being very much on the rebound I entered into this new relationship with my eyes shut, and moved in with Mr Oh-So-Wrong. We lived through almost two years of arguments, deceit and betrayal by both of us, until one day we both woke up and wondered what we were doing in this farcical relationship. I struggled free of this emotional entanglement left without so much as a backward glance and found myself washed-up delivered on the pavement, bags and all – the fragments of this wreck is disaster at my feet.

  This experience was the second of my two real relationships to date, both of which only served to emphasize my total lack of ability to make good relationship choices. I had believed until then that I liked being half of a couple, doing things together, having someone to go home with at the end of a night out. I had liked having a boyfriend to bring to family functions, too – it made me feel grown up and accepted in a way that I didn’t feel when I went on my own. Nevertheless, I now realized that all I had achieved was to show my family what diabolical taste I had in boyfriends and, in the process, had reduced my self-esteem to just above ground level. The only good thing I discovered about myself was that being in a relationship was not somewhere I wanted to be. Mr Right was a fictitious character only ever found in the land of make-believe, probably hanging out with the Easter bunny and the tooth fairy!

  I’d had enough of the opposite sex for anything other than friendship or the occasional one night stand – with no strings attached – nice, simple, no pain, no complications – perfect!! I now welcomed the single life, and was excited by the thought of doing what I wanted, when I wanted and with whom I wanted! So I embarked on a summer of parties, clubbing, going out every night and having the ultimate carefree existence, which healed my tattered heart, making it strong again. I emerged from those fun-filled months like a phoenix from the flames: a woman who knew what she wanted and what she didn’t!! And I didn’t want to fall in love.

  Chapter Two

  After moving out of Paul’s place I was in need of somewhere to live, and luckily for me Maddie, a girl I worked with was looking for a lodger. She had a two-bedroom flat at the edge of town and had been looking to rent her second bedroom for the summer. It was a small flat with no garden and no phone, but a good-sized bedroom, a fairly central location and the right price gave it all the appeal I needed. So I moved in and
began hanging out with Maddie and some of her friends, which proved the perfect way to get over a failed relationship. Maddie was a very attractive, confident woman, a good few years older than me. We went out every weekend, and worked together in a home furnishings store during the week. We would spend most of the working day gossiping about our events in our current social life, or planning the next big night out.

  Maddie was lots of fun. Her appealing, bubbly personality drew lots of attention from both sexes and there was always a good supply of people to party with at her flat. Most of these ‘friends’ were just looking for a place to hang out and knew Maddie was always up for a good time, so it was the ultimate party-pad.

  After the novelty of having a full-on social life wore off, however, I found I wanted to spend at least some evenings chilling out on my own, without being pressured to socialize with her and her trail of boyfriends. It suited me at the outset, and most weekends I was as keen to party as Maddie was, but some nights I just wanted to curl up with a good book or watch a movie, without sharing the sofa with any number of visitors. So, eventually, I bought a TV for my room and put a lock on my bedroom door!

  One gorgeous night in July, my friend Sally called. She had just returned from travelling in Australia and we hadn’t seen each other in months. We had been friends since leaving school, and although we had kept in touch while she was away, I had missed her terribly. I’d written to tell her of the latest news of my break-up with Paul, and she wrote back telling me that was the best news she’d heard, that I knew she never liked him, and was relieved I had finally seen sense.

  “Floss!” She shrieked down the phone.

  “Hey Sal! You’re back!! How was Oz?”

  “Oh my God! It was amazing! I’ve got so much to tell you and loads of pics to bore you with. I can’t wait to see you! What you doing later? Come out for a drink with me! There’s a band playing down at the Brit,” she said excitedly.

  “Okay,” I laughed, “that would be great!”

  I couldn’t wait to see her; I was thrilled at the thought of spending some time catching up.

  I knew she would be looking all tanned and gorgeous, so thought I should make an extra effort with my own appearance. I hunted through my not-so-cosmic clothes collection for something to wear. My best feature was always my long tanned legs, so I settled on a denim mini-skirt, and a white vest top to show off my olive complexion. I pulled a brush through my long, chocolate-brown curls, added a slick of gloss to my full lips, grabbed my jacket and headed out for the evening.

  Sal opened the door to me looking every bit the Aussie backpacker. Her short fair hair had turned virtually white in the sun and she was as brown as a berry. Flinging her arms around my neck she almost squeezed the life out of me! Sal talked nineteen-to-the-dozen all the way to the pub, not pausing for breath and managed to cram the last five months of her life into the twenty minutes it took us to get there.

  Several of our friends were already there. The band Sally had mentioned was a local rockabilly band. I could feel their energy vibrating from the pub before we even entered it. The place was heaving and buzzing with vitality, and the tunes were very upbeat.

  They started to play ‘Pick a Bale of Cotton’, an old Lead Belly track, and everyone started to join in, whooping and rocking along. Caught up in the atmosphere and the music, I wasn’t sure what it was that made me turn around. Maybe, like a moth drawn to the warmth of a light, I had felt a presence somewhere behind me, like the heat of the sun on my back.

  He smiled and all at once I could do nothing but gaze at him spellbound. It felt as though the pub and all the people in it were freeze-framed so that I could lock eyes with this stranger. His face lit up, and he smiled so warmly, almost as if he knew me. He was moving in time to the music, his hazel eyes sparkling.

  At last I turned away, embarrassed to be caught off guard like that. I felt as though he could see straight into my soul. All my reserve, the carefully constructed protection built around my heart over these last few months, was transparent to him. And it seemed as though he could feel the connection between us as strongly as I could.

  I continued to chat to my friends, trying to fight the force that was urging me to turn and look at him some more. One of my friends, Jimmy, caught my expression and at once turned to see what was affecting my demeanour. He immediately detected the source of the change in me, and smiled knowingly. He beckoned me over to the pool table, knowing I had a penchant for the game.

  “Floss, bet you couldn’t win a game in this crowd!” he challenged.

  I grimaced, thinking he was probably right, but there was no way I was going to turn down a challenge to play pool. It wasn’t in my nature!

  I had no idea that Jimmy knew the stranger with the sparkle in his eyes, so when he played badly and told me with a wink that it was ‘winner stays on’, my legs turned to jelly when he handed the cue to him.

  “Saul’s next on, I believe,” he said wickedly.

  With my legs refusing to recover, I felt relieved to have the pool table to lean on, especially knowing that my pool playing abilities would fail me miserably. It was impossible to try to make conversation above the din of the pub, so the game became the focus for the two of us, although I was acutely aware of his every move, and covertly studied him as he skillfully handled the game. Luckily Saul didn’t seem to notice how shoddy my technique became or if he did he was too polite to comment.

  Sally came wandering over as Saul expertly cleared the table. She looked over at Saul, and then back to me with raised eyebrows, silently questioning who my handsome pool partner was.

  “We’re heading back to mine, fancy coming to see my pics?” she directed at me, but flicked her gaze towards Saul as well.

  “Sounds good.” Saul smiled without averting his eyes from mine.

  Back at Sally’s, I sat on the sofa thumbing through her pictures, and Saul perched on the arm of the sofa next to me. All my senses were tuned into him. He smelt of fresh lemons and wood spice as he leant over me to look at Sal’s photos. I could not concentrate on Sal’s pictures, as every nerve in my body tingled with the sheer delight of Saul’s proximity.

  When he asked to walk me home that night, I tried to convince myself that he was only after one thing and I was not interested. I told him he could walk me to the end of my road, and that he couldn’t call me as I had no phone – I tried to make it not happen, I tried to protect myself, but it was already too late, it had been too late the second I registered his presence on this earth; I had fallen in love and I was powerless to resist. I already knew with every fibre of my being that he was here on this planet for me.

  As much as I had tried to fight my feelings, I was desperate to see him again. I hadn’t give him my number or even told him where I worked, in a poor attempt to stop what had already begun. But after I spent every second of the next two days yearning to see him, I knew I had to contact him.

  I called Sally.

  “Hey Sal, remember that guy Saul from the pub the other night?”

  “Yeah, he was really cute, how could I not?”

  “Well, Jimmy seemed to know him, and I was wondering about maybe calling him?”

  “Oh,” said Sally, her voice lifting in interest, “so you haven’t heard from him then?”

  “When he asked for my number I told him I don’t have a phone at the flat, and I didn’t give him my work number.”

  “I don’t think you should call him – if he really liked you he would find a way to get in touch,” she advised.

  I ignored her. “Hmm, do you know anything about him?”

  “Not really. I know he lives with a guy called Steve, somewhere near the station. I guess if you are really keen I could find out Steve’s number?” she said reluctantly.

  I thought of nothing else but him. His hazel eyes and the way they sparkled mischievously when he smiled. His voice that was both deep and soft at the same time and, when he spoke to me, regardless of what he was saying, made me want
to fall into his arms. The way he gently held my hand when he had walked me home and left my skin bereft when he had finally let it go.

  The next day Sally walked into the shop where I worked. She had Steve’s number for me.

  “I saw Saul last night,” she said. “He asked where you were. He obviously likes you. Call him,” she said handing me the number for his flat-mate.

  “Thanks Sally.” I realized she had fancied him, and this was her way of showing me that she had accepted the attraction between us and was backing down.

  I went downstairs to the office, and stared at the phone. Did I really have the courage to call him? Maddie wandered in and caught me hovering near the phone.

  “What’s up Floss?” she asked seeing the look of uncertainty on my face.

  “Oh, nothing really. Just deciding whether to call someone or not.”

  “Oh? That wouldn’t be the same someone who walked you home the other night, and the same someone who you wouldn’t give your number to, and in fact the exact same someone who has been the reason you have been floating about in a daze with a look of bemused wistfulness would it?” she teased, knowingly.

  “Well, yeah, maybe!” I said grinning.

  “I don’t know what you’re waiting for Floss!! Just pick up the damn phone and call him!”

  “Oh, I don’t know Maddie. I’m not like you. What if he doesn’t want to see me?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous! Of course he does! Anyway, what’s the worst that can happen? He might say no? It’s not going to kill you is it? C’mon Floss, you’ve got nothing to lose and everything to gain!”

  I stood there feeling my head and heart arguing heatedly. Eventually my heart won and I called him.