Uncovering You: The Complete Series (Mega Box Set)

by Edwards, Scarlett

I caught snippets of the conversation. Angela was blasting Summer for backing out of their agreement.

  Such anger took me then. In light of everything, the woman had the gall to make such demands of Summer!

  I grabbed Angela’s arm and pulled her aside. “What do you want, Angela, leave her alone,” I spat. “Haven’t you caused enough ruin, enough heartache? Let her be, her best friend is dead!”

  A tremor of shock washed over Angela’s face.

  “Celeste is dead?” she whispered.

  Oh, how it hurt to hear that name said aloud. The pain splintered my chest so bad it made me stagger. I was lost, broken, raging, angry, and furious.

  “Yes,” I said, barely holding on to a wall.

  “I’m sorry,” she said.

  I could almost believe the sincerity in her voice.

  “What do you want?” I asked again.

  “You know what I want,” she told me. “Proof that I deserve my share of royalties. The original papers. I want my fair claim, James.”

  “Have them, then,” I hissed. “Have them, and be gone from my life. Have them, and I never want to see your vile face again. Have them, and then go and just fuck off!”

  She smiled then, in that despicable, gloating way of hers, and left.

  Arrangements were made for her to pick up the leather folder from my apartment’s front desk the following week.

  Summer witnessed it all without a word. Then she took my arm and started walking me away.

  “Thank you,” she told me softly.

  I grunted something incomprehensible in reply.

  “How are you holding up?” she asked me.

  I turned to her and searched her eyes.

  “I’m not,” I admitted.

  “Have you read the diary?”

  “No,” I said. “It’s too soon.”

  “James, she wanted you to,” Summer said. “Please.”

  “I cannot.”

  “She left it for you. She told me. She made me promise you would get it.”

  “You’ve done your part,” I said.

  “No,” she shook her head. “She made me promise you would read it.”

  I stared at her. We were at an impasse. Neither of us would budge.

  “What if I read it with you?” she suddenly suggested. “I saw parts of it before I wrapped it up. She told me I could look.”

  “She did?” I asked.

  “Yes,” Summer nodded.

  I searched her eyes for honesty and found it.

  “Let me give you my number,” she said. “When you’re ready, you can call.”

  I left her there, after saying good-bye, thinking nothing of it…

  But the seed was planted in my mind.

  One week later, I rang her and asked her to come over. I still hadn’t touched the diary. But I showed her the note.

  Summer’s eyes misted over as she read.

  “But you know what you have to do, don’t you?” she said when she finished. “You have to tell her story! You have it here, right in her diary! What better way to immortalize her? What better way to show the world your love?”

  I looked at her in shock. “I cannot do that!” I said, quickly growing angry. I snatched the letter back. “It is not meant for the world to see.”

  Summer was not frightened of me. “Please,” she said. “I know you have it in you. Just consider?”

  Grudgingly, I gave a nod.

  She kissed my cheek and left.

  It took me another week, two, three, more, to come around to the idea. I’d rejected it out of hand at first…

  But I had to look at the diary before I could decide.

  And so I did. And the wounds that could never heal were ripped open anew.

  But in the diary I found hope. Celeste’s words proved that she had felt what I’d felt. She had lived what I’d lived.

  I also discovered the truth about Summer. I couldn’t bear knowing and not letting her know.

  So I called her again, and invited her over to discuss.

  As we talked, I came around to the idea of sharing Celeste’s story.

  “I don’t know if the book would be publishable,” I said. “But I do know I need your help.”

  She agreed right on the spot.

  And so I took an extended sabbatical, and, with Summer’s counsel, came up with a draft of this book.

  It was awful. Horrendous. I struggled with it for months. The whole time I was writing, I knew that it just wasn’t working.

  I wrote it as seen from my eyes, then.

  It did not feel genuine.

  That’s when Summer came up with the brilliant idea of telling it from Celeste’s perspective, and not my own.

  As soon as I made the switch? The blockage in my mind was lifted. The words poured out of me.

  Suddenly, I was not looking back on old memories dimming with time. I was there, literally there, with her, again. I was reliving everything with Celeste.

  I was alive with my immortal love.

  And for the first time since her death, instead of sadness, I felt… joy.

  The moments we shared would not be forgotten. They would remain bright and clear, forever on these pages.

  It took another six months to polish the book into what it is now.

  That was the story you just read.

  And as soon as it was out there?

  I finally found the freedom to move on.

  Oh, about Angela? Her lawyers took me to court over the old royalties. The papers in the leather folder strengthened her case but did not make it infallible.

  They were ready to stretch it out. Instead of squabbling over the details, I proposed an out-of-court-settlement:

  She would get all future royalties of books already published.

  She pounced like a starving man on a loaf of bread. But it was, for me, the greater victory.

  It was her “fuck off” money.

  And Summer? She and I became the closest of friends. She does not hide who she is anymore. She’s been dating the sweetest girl for a little over nine months, now.

  I see a bright future for them both.

  She had her license suspended, too, after the crash, and had to do some community service along with a rehab program. The mother and daughter she hit both lived and did not press charges.

  As for me? I went on a nationwide tour to promote this book. I didn’t do it for the cash.

  I did it to see the faces of all the people Celeste’s story touched.

  That, finally, gave me closure.

  I never did get tenure. A whole host of circumstances gave rise to that, but I do not hold it against anyone.

  And anyway, I’ll have a chance to earn the position again soon.

  I’m back to teaching now.

  In fact, my very first class is gathering just on the other side of these doors. Today is two years to the day that I stepped through them, into the auditorium, and found Celeste’s face in the crowd.

  And so, dear reader, this is where we part. I am sorry for misleading you for so long, but I hope you’ll see why I did it. I hope you’ll forgive me, because it was the only way I could portray a tenth—a hundredth—of the miracle that was Celeste Adams.

  She was, and ever will be…

  Forever my girl.

  But for now, back in the present?

  The classroom beckons.

  - James.

  September 2015

  ***

  The End.

  LANDON

  by Scarlett Edwards

  www.landonbook.com

  LANDON Book Club Discussion Questions

  Q1: Celeste's relationship with Brad was never explained in full. Why? Is this a limitation of the narrative style adopted by the author? What do you think really happened between Celeste and Brad to impact her so?

  Q2: Based on her past experience with Brad, Celeste is left unable to trust anyone. Can one bad experience keep you from trusting others? How much does our past affect our present an
d our future?

  Q3: There is a definite shift at one point of the story in terms of who is chasing whom. When does this change occur and how does it affect the two main characters?

  Q4: Summer is a very polarizing character. You never know her true motives. In your opinion, what is the root cause of her erratic behaviour? Were some of her extreme reactions warranted, or was she covering up for something else?

  Q5: Do you think Celeste and James's love was truly doomed from the start? Or was it somewhat of a self-fulfilling prophecy; ie, "I think therefore I am"?

  Q6: Is Celeste's behaviour towards James, especially at the start of the novel, justified? Is her attitude toward life and love something you understand or sympathize with?

  Q7: The story is told from Celeste's perspective -- until the narrator is revealed at the end. If you read the story from the outset knowing the true narrator, would your experience of the book have changed? When you go back and re-read certain parts, are you granted a new appreciation of some pivotal moments of the book?

  Q8: James said that he had to write from Celeste's perspective to truly capture the love between him and her. Do you think this was true?

  Q9: Knowing that James was the narrator, how much do you think his ego played into the lofty descriptions of himself while writing as Celeste?

  Q10: How does Celeste's attitude toward life change after admitting her love for James?

  Q11: Put yourself in Celeste’s place. Are there things you would have done differently?

  Q12: Finding out you have cancer can be a very experience. Celeste has dealt with the diagnosis multiple times in her life. Was her decision to keep it to herself the best way forward for her? Was it justified, was it honest, was it understandable? If you found out you had a potentially terminal disease, do you think you would tell anyone?

  Follow-Up Thought for Q12 From a Reader:

  "It's something I've thought about before, and again while I was reading. When my mother had cancer, she didn't tell anyone. We found out from the surgeon after he finished operating. It's a very personal decision, and I think it'd give the reader a good amount of thought and discussion."

  Never Let Go

  By Scarlett Edwards

  Copyright © 2013, Scarlett Edwards

  eBook Version 1.0

  Publication Date: October 17, 2013

  Cover design by Scarlett Edwards.

  http://www.ScarlettEdwards.com

  Book Description:

  Inspired by true events...

  The first day of college gives every girl a chance to reinvent herself.

  I go and screw mine up by meeting the most gorgeous guy I've seen in five years while talking to my cat.

  But Andrew Crowner is far from judgemental. By the end of our interaction, he has me smitten by his easy manner and kind smile. And from the way his eyes linger on me before he leaves, I start to think that maybe I’ve caught his attention, too.

  I let myself believe that luck may finally be on my side. That is, until I stumble on my roommate, and her overnight guest: Spencer Ashford.

  Lean, tattooed, and sexy as sin, Spencer is exactly the type I need to avoid. I would have no trouble with that... were it not for his swift and inexplicable interest in me.

  Suddenly, I go from a girl with next-to-no experience with boys to one caught in the crosshairs of two completely different men.

  Andrew's interest is wholesome and sweet. Spencer's is edgy and raw. My choice should be easy. But there are always complications, and sometimes, matters of the heart take the least expected turns.

  This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been use fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.

  NEVER LET GO

  Second Edition

  Copyright © 2013 Edwards Publishing, Ltd.

  All rights reserved.

  Edited by Gail Lennon.

  Cover design by Scarlett Edwards.

  Interior design by Scarlett Edwards.

  Published by Edwards Publishing, Ltd.

  Edwards Publishing

  477 Peace Portal Drive

  Suite 107-154

  Blaine, WA 98230

  The uploading, scanning, and distribution of this book in any form or by any means---including but not limited to electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise---without the permission of the copyright holder is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized editions of this work, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s work is appreciated.

  Chapter One

  I grunt, setting down the last of my suitcases in front of the unfamiliar building. Even though the sun has already set, it’s hot. Late summer is here with a vengeance.

  I sit on the steps to catch my breath, wiping the sweat from my brow. “Looks like it’s just you and me, buddy.”

  Meow.

  “Oh, come on, don’t look at me that way. I know this is far from home, but at least getting here a day early means we’ll have our pick of rooms.”

  Meow?

  “No, I’m sure you’re not the only cat on campus. Just because we haven’t seen any others so far doesn’t mean they don’t exist.”

  Meow!

  “Now you’re just being grumpy ‘cause you’ve been stuck in that cage all day. I’m not going to keep you there forever! Just let me rest a bit, and then we’ll go upstairs and—”

  I freeze when I hear somebody chuckling behind me.

  “Don’t let me stop you,” a very male voice announces. “What happens when you get upstairs?”

  Heat rushes to my cheeks. Oh. My. God. I could not be more mortified if somebody had dunked me in a tank of molasses, poured chicken feathers all over, and forced me to walk around campus like that for a week. Being known as the crazy girl who talks to cats is not how I want to start my new life.

  I debate staying absolutely still and attempting to blend in with my surroundings. Given that I’m sitting on the gray stone blocks wearing a bright yellow blouse and tiny green denim shorts, that course of action seems unwise. Of course, I could just pretend not to have heard him. Maybe he will go away.

  “Well?” the voice behind me prompts. “You were saying?”

  Damn. That doesn’t look like it will work either. I have no choice but to face my demise.

  Please be ugly, I beg in my head as I slowly turn. Please be hideously, horrifyingly, mind-numbingly deformed…

  Nope. No such luck. The guy standing there, smiling at me, has a face that belongs in a fashion magazine. He’s wearing cargo shorts and a tussled white polo. His light brown hair curls a little on top, with the sides cropped into a stylish cut.

  Just one flaw, I think, downgrading my expectations. Please, please, please have just one discernible flaw.

  I look him up and down. I can’t find anything wrong. He’s got a sweet smile, nice white teeth, and an athletic build. Maybe he’s one of those mortal beings with one or two glaring personality flaws.

  “You’re new here,” he says, startling me from my reverie. It’s not a question.

  “What?” I swallow and brush the hair out of my eyes. “Um, yeah.”

  What God did I piss off to meet the most attractive guy I’ve seen in a year in my condition? I have no makeup on, a sweat-stained shirt on my back, and he’d caught me talking to my cat.

  Kill me now.

  “I can tell by the suitcases,” he says, nudging one of them with his toe.

  I stare up at him. I don’t say a word. Belatedly, I realize he’s made a joke. Is it too late to laugh?

  God, why do I have to be so awkward? Usually I’m not like this. But usually I don’t meet hot guys after sixteen grueling hours on the road.

  “Um, okay,” the guys says. “Do you speak English?” He enunciates the last word loudly. “ENGLISH.” He tri
es to frown, but his grin keeps winning out. “Yo hablo español. Hablas español?”

  He’s making such a ridiculous effort I have to laugh. It seems to perk him up.

  “So you do have some social skills after all,” he smiles. “I was afraid you only talk to that guy.” He jerks a thumb in the direction of the cage.

  “Yes. I mean, no. I mean—” Damn. I’m flustered. I decide to tackle things head-on.

  I stand up and offer him my hand. “I’m Paige,” I say, doing my best to appear somewhat normal.

  “Andrew,” he replies, shaking my hand. There’s an interesting twinkle in his eye as he does it. “So, are you going to tell me what you were going to do once you got upstairs? Or is it a secret between you and the cat?”

  “His name is Pickles,” I explain, unclasping the latch and letting the tabby out. He stretches, hops on top of the cage and settles down, watching us. “And don’t you dare laugh. My grandma named him.”

  Andrew holds his hands up defensively. “I’m not one to come between a woman and her cat,” he tells me with mock sincerity.

  I decide on the spot that my fears of a bad first impression were unfounded. Andrew has a good sense of humor. He did not judge me once.

  “That your car?” Andrew asks.

  I look over my shoulder at the red Volkswagen Beetle. “Also my grandma’s,” I correct.

  “Okay. But this has to be your stuff, right? I hope your grandma’s not the one moving in.”

  I laugh. “Yeah. All my stuff.”

  “Great!” Andrew surprises me by grabbing two suitcases off the ground. He turns toward the building. “You gonna help me with the door, or what? Chivalry only goes so far, and besides, I’ve only got two hands.”