RELEASE
Book 1 of the Iris Series
Rebecca Lynn
Copyright
Copyright © 2013 by Rebecca Lynn
Cover image © Stutterstock
All rights reserved.
Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the above author of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
Table of Contents
PART ONE
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
PART TWO
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Iris glided down to earth along her many-coloured bow.
Ovid, Metamorphoses 11. 585 ff
The iris's history is rich, dating back to Ancient Greek times
when the Greek Goddess Iris, the messenger of the gods
and the personification of the rainbow, acted as the link
between heaven and earth...with striking uniqueness and beauty,
irises have rich meanings, and when given as gifts,
they convey deep sentiments.
Samantha Green, “History and Meaning of Iris,” 24 August 2012
PART ONE
TWO AND A HALF YEARS EARLIER
…although Shakespeare implies that Romeo has feelings for Rosaline, it soon becomes obvious to the reader that Juliet surpasses Rosaline in his heart, and becomes Romeo’s one true love. What is missing in the relationship with Rosaline, is seen a hundred times over in his relationship with Juliet, a relationship of passion and urgency. Throughout the whole play, Shakespeare creates this sense of urgency around his protagonists so much, that the reader almost expects the tragic ending. If only Romeo would’ve waited, just a couple of minutes longer. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t wait to be with his one true love...
Ryann Thornton smiled as she wrote her final comments to the freshman honor student on the paper, then put the grade on the top of the essay. That had been her last paper in the stack to grade, thank God.
As an English Lit teacher at the prestigious West Side Academy in Manhattan, Ryann had read many an essay written by adolescents about Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet. Seeing the anguish on her 14 year old students’ faces while reading that last scene of the popular tragedy always made her remember why she loved teaching. To see students become so invested in this great piece of literature excited her. She loved hearing their feedback, watching their emotion, usually of anger at the unfairness of it all, and then the sadness of losing a love.
Ryann wondered what was keeping her husband so long in getting home, but when she took a moment to look out her bay window at the snowy and icy New Jersey street in the quaint commuter town of Cranford, a suburb just outside of New York City, she figured it was the weather that was making him late. It was going on 7pm, and he was usually home from work an hour and a half earlier.
Brent had been her college boyfriend...her first. Ayanna, her best friend from grade school, had joked that Ryann had been the oldest virgin she had ever known. What could she say? She was picky.
But when Brent sat next to her in her sophomore English Lit class, she felt an immediate comfort with him, and knew he was husband material. Granted, she had only been 20 at the time, but like most girls that age, she fantasized about the future, and finding her prince. Sometimes you just knew…and Ryann knew. He was funny, charming, cute, and so…familiar. He put her at ease. The fall after they’d graduated college, he popped the question, and the following year, they had married.
They were still practically newlyweds, having been married now for only a year and a half.
While looking out the window, she noticed the police car pull up. She wondered if Mrs. Pardo, her next door neighbor, had fallen down again. But instead of going next door, the two police officers began coming up her walkway.
A feeling of dread began to come over her, and her heart rate began to pick up. A loud buzzing came into her head, and she sat, waiting for the doorbell to ring. When it did, she slowly got up to walk to the door, her legs shaking.
With sweaty hands, she reached for the doorknob, and pulled the door open.
“Good evening, ma’am. We’re Officers Zimmerman and Simms. We’re looking for Mrs. Ryann Thornton.”
“I’m Ryann Thornton,” she said, her breath nearly leaving her.
The officers looked at each other, then back at her as the officer continued to speak.
“Ma’am, do you have a friend who you can call?” he asked softly.
She could feel herself growing faint, and as she grabbed for the doorjamb to steady herself, she said in a whisper, “Oh, God. Tell me what happened.”
Chapter 1
Present day, Friday night
Stupid friggin’ car.
This was when Ryann missed her late husband. Well, she obviously missed him for many reasons, but it was times like these when she wished he was here.
He always took care of this kind of stuff. Why she didn’t take care of it when she first saw the red engine light glowing on her dashboard days ago, she didn’t know. She was usually pretty good at handling situations as soon as they arose. Years of teaching high schoolers had taught her that. But stalling outside the Holland Tunnel was not her idea of fun, and it was her own friggin’ fault. She had been in the midst of grading finals, working on her thesis, packing up the house for the move... and hadn’t taken the time to make an appointment at the service station.
Ryann sighed. Yup. It was her own friggin’ fault.
Being in the middle of a torrential downpour, on her way to an extremely important art showing and wearing her best heels made the evening even worse.
She groaned, and rested her head back on the seat. While she was on hold with AAA, she glanced around outside, watching the traffic crawling around her. At least she was able to pull the car over to the side of the road. As cars passed, swishing tires caused water to splash up onto her windshield.
“Thank you for calling Triple A. This is Jason. How may I help you?”
“Hi. My name is Ryann Thornton, and my car broke down outside the Holland Tunnel. I’m on the corner of Washington and Spring Streets. Is it possible to send a tow truck right away?”
“Let me pull up your account, Ms. Thornton…” Pause. “Would you please verify your address?”
Ryann gave him the New Jersey address that she would call ho
me for the next couple of days. The dispatcher put her on hold while he checked for available tow trucks in the area.
“It looks like I can have a truck there within the next 45 minutes. I wish it was sooner, but we’re busy because of the rain.”
Shit. 45 minutes. Ryann wondered if it would take longer. She hoped not. It was already 9:30pm. Because the day before had been the last day of finals for her students, she had needed the whole day to mark all of their exams and projects to get final grades in to the Academy by 7pm that night. She had discovered that she had needed every minute to get it all done, so she had been running behind all day.
She quickly calculated how long she thought it would take before she got to the event. At least an hour, she thought. The art showing was already in full swing, but this was the City. Nothing ever started on time, and things always went a little longer...right? Maybe she could get there before it was over. There was no way she wasn’t going to try.
She could call for a car service to pick her up, she thought, biting at her lower lip. She didn’t exactly feel like walking the mile and a half to the gallery in the rain. She probably had another 10 minutes to get there by car with the traffic.
Yup, she decided. She’d call for a car and be on her way once the tow truck got there.
“Ok. Thank you. Yes, please send a truck.”
After she disconnected, she sat there staring out the windshield. Tabitha Lowe was one of her favorite artists. Renowned for her ability to capture the essence of New York City in her oil paintings, she was one of New York’s most prestigious artists. For the last 20 years, she had been perfecting her craft, but it was only in the last 10 that she was gaining recognition for her work. Ryann had only begun following her career the last couple of years, and not only had Ryann been looking forward to seeing Tabitha Lowe’s latest creations, but she knew that making an appearance at the showing would be great networking for her, and the new journey on which she was embarking.
In January of her third year of teaching English Lit to the privileged teenagers of Manhattan, she had lost Brent. Ryann let her mind wander to that night when the two police officers had arrived on her doorstep to tell her that her husband of only a year and a half had been killed on his way home from work. His car had hit a patch of ice on the Garden State Parkway, and collided with two other cars. He had been killed instantly, they had said.
She couldn’t believe it had been two and a half years already.
There was no doubt that those first months after his death had been the absolute worst time of her life. She had gone through the denial, the grief, the anger. Now years later, she had finally begun to heal, and was now able to see what her life could be again.
After his death, she had begun to focus more on her own dreams. Always the pragmatist, she had chosen her teaching career because it was dependable. But knowing first hand that life was precious, and short, she had started to re-evaluate her career choice, and began to envision how she had wanted her life to look in the future.
When Brent had died, she had to reprogram her thinking. After all, she had had her life all planned out before his death. Once he died, her plan had been smashed to smithereens, and she knew she needed to get her shit together.
So, during the previous two years, she had begun to save her pennies, invest Brent’s money from his life insurance policy, and started work on her masters in Art and Design at a prestigious university in the City, something she had wanted to do for a long time.
A painter herself, she had always had a love of art, and it had always been her ultimate dream to focus her energies in that direction, but she knew her primary gift was teaching. She had been told by advisors and instructors that she had a charm that put people at ease. And the fact that she had a sense of humor, but was still firm in her approach, made her an exceptional teacher.
So, since Brent’s money had helped to add a little cushion, she had decided to take the plunge, teaching high schoolers during the day, going to grad school at night, during the summers...and she allowed the brutal routine to help distract her, and fill the loneliness.
Now, after two years of hard work, she would be finishing up her thesis for her masters soon, and had applied and been accepted to the art education internship program for instructors at the Manhattan Institute for Art and Design, of which she would be a part that summer.
To prepare her for this new career path, she spent weekends volunteering at local museums, assisting curators, and things of that nature, to build up her experience and resume. Tabitha Lowe was the Vice Chairperson on the Board of Trustees at the Institute, and Ryann had been looking forward to meeting her that night at her art showing.
If the showing had only been one week later, she would have already been in her new apartment in the City, within a few subway stops from the showing, not stuck in her car outside the Holland Tunnell. But she hadn’t yet had the closing for the buyers on her house in Cranford, and her new apartment in the City wouldn’t be ready for two more days.
She sighed.
She might as well enjoy the summer storm while she waited. As the drops hit the roof of the car, she allowed the rain to wash away her anxiety, and lull her into relaxation. She hoped the tow truck would arrive soon.
…..
Approximately forty minutes later, the traffic was still at a standstill, but hope was on the horizon. Not only could Ryann see the tow truck slowly approaching her from behind with his flashers on, but the accident that had caused the traffic was finally clearing up ahead. Once the car service arrived in the next couple of minutes, she’d be on her way.
She got out of the car in the rain with her purse and umbrella, careful to step around puddles and stand on the curb. She noted the crawl of the traffic, and most especially the limousine that had been one lane over from her for the last 10 minutes. It had inched closer and closer away from the tunnel while she had waited for the tow truck.
At one point while she stood there, the chauffeur had looked out his window, smiling sympathetically at her. She had shrugged and smiled grimly at him, as if to say, oh, well. What can you do? He had smiled and shrugged back at her. She had wondered who it was in the limo, where were they going, were they famous.
Traffic had a way of equalizing everyone, didn’t it? she thought wryly. Didn’t matter if you were in a broken down car, or being driven by a chauffeur in a limo. If there was traffic, then that was just tough. Everyone was shit out of luck.
The tow truck was almost there, so Ryann reached into her purse for her AAA card and info, when she noticed the middle aged chauffeur from the limo quickly jogging over to her through the rain with his umbrella.
She was startled, and looked up at him with a questioning look on her face.
“Hi, Miss. My employer wanted to know if he could be of any assistance to you. Can we call someone for you? Offer you a ride somewhere?” Then he directed her attention to the limo where the back window was rolled down, and…
Oh, my.
Or as Ayanna would say dee-lish.
She was momentarily stunned by the face staring back at her.
Hot Limo Man alert!
He looked to be in his early 30’s, with a full head of dark hair, strong jawline with a five o’clock shadow, and darkened eyes that were looking intensely at her. One corner of his mouth was kicked up, creating a lazy gorgeous smile, on his equally gorgeous face.
She didn’t recognize him as famous, but he certainly could’ve been. His rugged good looks could’ve guaranteed him a place on any movie poster.
Her stomach fluttered, and she stumbled over her words in response. “Oh,” she laughed nervously. “Umm. No. Thank you, though. The tow truck is almost here,” she pointed a few cars down the block, then continued, “and the car service is on its way.” She looked between the chauffeur and the man in the limo, then smiled at both of them. She turned back to the chauffeur. “Thank you. That was really sweet.”
The chauffeur touched his hat, and smiled. �
�Of course. Have a good rest of your night, then,” and jogged back to the limo in the rain.
Hot Limo Man continued looking at her for another moment, and she smiled shyly then nodded a goodbye, acknowledging his generous offer.
He looked regretfully at her, and gave her a casual little salute with his fingers, then rolled up his window.
She let go of a deep sigh. She finally sees a gorgeous man who gets her immediately thinking of breaking her two and a half years of celibacy, and it’s in the middle of traffic when she’ll never see him again. It was just her luck.
She glanced one last time as the limo passed and the traffic began to flow more steadily, and turned to see the tow truck finally stopping behind her car.
She took a cleansing breath, and mentally shook herself. She’d be at the showing soon, where she would be distracted from no longer thinking of gorgeous men offering her rides in limos.
She turned to the tow truck driver and got down to business.
Chapter 2
An hour after Ryann had called AAA, the car service dropped her off outside the warehouse in SoHo that housed The M Gallery. She entered through the doors and walked into the wide open space with white walls and stained concrete floors. The columns that separated the area were made of Italian marble, and elegant lighting illuminated the huge room.
She was giddy with excitement. The M Gallery was known for presenting post-war and contemporary art, and Ryann felt in her element since that was her focused area of study.
She walked over to the coat check and checked her trench coat and umbrella, and then immediately looked around for the restroom. Nothing like meeting the beautiful people, and looking like a drowned rat, she thought dryly. She made a beeline to the back corner, and walked into the ladies’ room.
The bathroom was great. A crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, while exposed brick on the walls contributed to the eclectic appearance. The white marble sinks were works of art all on their own, and were accessorized with high end fixtures. Whoever owned the gallery had impeccable taste.
Release (Iris Series) Page 1
