Read Finding You (Finding You Series Book 1) Online
Authors: Amanda Mackey
Finding You (Finding You Series Book 1)
Finding
You
By Amanda Mackey
Finding You
Copyright © 2015 by Amanda Mackey. All rights reserved.
First Print Edition: February 2015
Limitless Publishing, LLC
Kailua, HI 96734
Formatting: Limitless Publishing
ISBN-13: 978-1-68058-047-1
ISBN-10: 1-68058-047-7
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.
Table of Contents
The blissful quiet ended abruptly as car tires churned up loose gravel on the unsealed driveway. Startled birds beat their wings furiously, a flurry of flapping in an attempt to make a speedy exit. Everything else seemed to hold its breath in anticipation.
I stiffened with fear, adrenalin surging blood to my heart like a tidal wave. I could hear the pounding in my ears like a beating drum, my breathing slowing to shallow gasps. With nowhere to run, I swallowed and inhaled hard, then straightened my hair and walked out into the living room to await the inevitable. It felt like the green mile, a long walk towards capital punishment. A walk I shouldn’t have had to make.
Bang! The slam of the driver’s door accelerated my already throbbing pulse threefold. Heavy footsteps. Getting closer. Sweaty palms.
It’s going to be okay. Give him what he wants and then he’ll go away.
I know how to handle this. I’ve done it before. I’m strong. It’ll all be okay.
The front door swung open, hitting the lounge room wall, the handle already having left a permanent dent in the plasterboard. Through the entrance loomed a giant. Hair wild, like his eyes. Teeth clenched. A monster capable of inflicting horrible pain with just the raising of his voice. Tall and solid with brute strength, he preyed on my weaknesses. The moonlight flooding in did nothing to soften his features. If anything, it made him seem even more inhuman.
Whiskey vapors washed over me as the night breeze carried forth his trademark stench. I couldn’t help but gag. I hated that smell.
Riveted to the spot, I tried a smile before looking to the ground, aware that he was in no mood for niceties. My fingers clasped together in front like a meek schoolgirl being reprimanded by the principal, the difference being that the evil that stood before me made even the sternest of principals look like the softest of teddy bears.
“What are you grinning at, you filthy whore?”
Another segment of my heart shredded off. There wasn’t a whole lot of it left. Soon I’d be the equivalent of a giant blob of jelly, wobbling on the carpet, unable to get up because my life force had been sucked out.
Too petrified to answer, my silence seemed to accelerate his anger.
Inevitably, he lunged at me to take a swipe, but missed as I instinctively cowered down to the ground like a chastised puppy. Thinking that this defeated position would keep me safe, he proved me wrong yet again.
Pain tore at my scalp as he pulled me up by the hair with one hand, the other seizing my arm. The physical pain was something I had become accustomed to, and if anything, it was a stark reminder that I was still alive, for my heart had died long ago.
Tonight, it had me really scared, though. There was a different energy flowing from him. Darker. I could feel it the minute he blew through the door. I feared for my life.
“I asked you a question, you useless piece of nothing!” His stale, sickly breath invoked nausea.
This is ridiculous! I think he’s going to kill me. I have to get out of here.
With my feet barely touching the ground, he dragged me towards the bedroom as his gnarly fingers threatened to cut off all circulation in my arm. My feet tried to find traction on the timber floors but it was like trying to brake on ice. Precious keepsakes shattered as attempts to grab onto the pine display cabinet brought everything crashing to the floor. The flight or fight response kicked in as my mind reeled for answers. A feeling of doom loomed in the eerie quiet, a resignation from deep within.
Think, Dakota! If you don’t get away you could die!
Harshly aware that this wasn’t going to end well, for a brief second, my parent’s faces flashed before my eyes. My dear, sweet parents. They would be devastated. If only my dad was here now to protect me like he always said he would.
“I’ll never let anything happen to you, pumpkin,” he’d soothe after tucking my bed sheets in tightly and turning out the light. I’d always believed him, even as a teenager and into adulthood. He was that kind of father. He meant everything to me and I to him. He would have risked his own life for me. The only problem was that he wasn’t here to honor that pledge. I was alone with my demons. Shockingly alone.
My father’s words now sounded hollow and empty, hanging in the air like my panicked breath. There was no one to fight my battles for me anymore. It was time to stand on my own two feet and to stop being a victim.
It was do or die. I really felt in that moment I was at the point of no return. Tonight was the night. With nothing to lose, I did what any desperately afraid woman at the end of her tether would do. As he thrust me around so we faced each other with his hand raised to finish the job, I karate-chopped up into his groin like a lightning strike, hard and fast.
For a split second he screamed, loosening his grip just enough for me to pull away. The adrenalin was keeping me focused. I didn’t care about anything except reaching the back door. His painful scream pleased me no end. I wanted him to experience my world, just for once. I wanted him to hurt so badly. I wanted him to die.
Run and don’t look back. Get outside and yell for the neighbors. Don’t squander your only chance.
Aware that I was on the move, he wasted no time. Bounding after me like a sleek panther as I headed for the kitchen door, his size a definite advantage, there was no possible way to escape. I knew in my heart of hearts that my lack of speed and agility would end this tirade, but sheer grit kept me going. I wasn’t going down without a fight. The panther needed to work for his kill. I wasn’t going to give myself to him on a silver platter. No way.
Time seemed to slow down. The clock on the kitchen wall sounded out its monotone ticking. If only the door handle had been closer, maybe I could have made it. It was only a breath away.
Feeling like freedom was just within my grasp, a massive blow to the head brought me crashing to the ground. In the split second before darkness seized me, I managed to slur a sentence together. “How could you do this to your wife?”
Dakota: 6 months later
“Excuse me, Miss? Excuse me!”
I recoiled to find the flight stewardess standing over me, tapping her arm frantically, a look of feigned concern marring her features. For a split second I wondered where the hell I was and then it became clear. The vomit bag was still in my hand, clutched so tightly that my knuckles had turned white. I had zoned out at thirty-thousand feet, my head practically on the shoulder of the woman beside me. My mouth had been wide open. I hoped there was no drool frothing out of my mouth.
The flight had been long and tedious, just like the daydream. I wiped my bleary eyes, trying to focus. How long had I been out? The last thing I remember was finishing my meal of smoked salmon and vegetables with cheesecake for dessert.
“You’ll need to fasten your seatbelt as we descend into Sapphire Island. We’ll be landing in fifteen minutes. Please remain seated until the plane has come to a complete stop.” The perfectly manicured flight attendant smiled her very best, paid smile before taking her own seat two rows behind, happy that I was cognizant again. At least I’d zoned some of the flight out even if it was to a nightmare.
Patting my hand in a grandmotherly fashion, the grey-haired, pleasant woman seated next to me came to her own conclusions.
“Not good at flying, dear? Well, I don’t blame you. I’m nearly seventy and I still get nervous up in the air. There’s nothing like having your feet firmly planted on the ground.”
Wasn’t that the truth? In this case though, the further away I was from my old life, the freer I became. I needed this.
I quietly placed the vomit bag back in its rightful place before studying the stranger beside me. Light grey, immaculately set hair mirrored the color of her eyes, which upturned gently at the corners, laughter lines weaving their way to her temples. A mouth, once full, now pale and shriveled, hid behind cherry red lipstick that bled into the wrinkles. Her bony, arthritic hand with recently manicured fingernails stayed on top of mine until I spoke.
If I hadn’t been so self-absorbed and virtually comatose, I may have struck up a conversation with the graceful woman who now awaited a response.
“Uh, not really, no. This is my first trip on a plane, actually. My parents paid for this holiday as a gift.”
“Well, aren’t you lucky…”
Thoughts wandering again, another memory flooded my already fragile mind. There were too many memories, too much heartache.
This trip or, more to the point, this salvation I was heading to was a new start. Being close to death all those months ago at the hands of my ex-husband would haunt me forever. It was tattooed onto my brain. How I’d survived was a miracle in itself.
Nausea swished and churned in my stomach as an image of John’s face pushed forward. A chill ran down the entire length of my body.
He thinks I’m dead and I damn well should be.
There were no charges laid. I didn’t think I could have aired my dirty laundry in public, let alone sit in the same room as that monster. Besides, his threats to kill my family if the police got involved had held some weight. He was capable of murder. I knew that like I knew my own name. There would be no way my family would ever be put in jeopardy. I wouldn’t let that happen. My secrets were my crosses to bear. Things would be dealt with my way. Plus, it was John’s word against mine and he was very convincing when he tried.
This was the new start that I had yearned for. Time to forget the past and carve a new future. I couldn’t be the victim any more. I didn’t want to be. The past couldn’t ruin the future. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. I was ready to move on. To start living again.
As long as he thinks I’m dead there’s nothing to worry about.
Forcing his image away and eyeing the ground nearing below, a sense of excitement manifested. The crisp, white sand lined the deep azure blue water. Palm trees frolicked in the breeze, creating comfortable, shady retreats from the warm sun. Small puffy clouds dotted the blue sky, slowly being pushed on their endless journey, eclipsing the bright, radiant sun for a second before moving on.
The island looked bigger and hillier than in the brochures, with green, lush trees and plants covering a large portion of it. Old fashioned white-washed houses dotted the landscape, nestled into the abundant foliage, in stark contrast to the deluge of overcrowded skyscrapers that had intimidated the skyline back home.
Honing in on the meager runway, I came to the conclusion that it was way too small. How on earth would this aircraft pull up in time before it plunged over the edge into that nice, turquoise water I’d been admiring seconds earlier? My hands grabbed the armrests as if squeezing them tightly would somehow avert disaster.
The engines pitched high as the aircraft rocketed down the tarmac for what felt like way too long and then the brakes took over, slowing us down just in time as the water neared. Veering left at the end of the runway, we turned towards the terminal and taxied over.
Once we parked, I foraged for my overnight bag from the above compartment and merged into the slow moving line of passengers as everyone disembarked. An opposing mix of body odor, perfume, soiled diapers, and jet fuel caught my nostrils as passengers pushed and shoved their way out. I had no choice but to go with the flow.
Finally free from the sardine can, the warm, tropical breeze hit me. Even mixed with the swirls of jet fuel my mood became jubilant. Gathering my earlier thoughts and locking them in my tightly sealed vault, I bravely swallowed any fear and walked into the small, quaint building, happy and determined to enjoy myself. This trip was all about me and I intended to make the most of it.
Inside, the smell of freshly brewed coffee wafted up my nostrils, filling the airport and suddenly making me crave my favorite caramel latte. Coffee had always been my drug. Just a mere hint of those little brown beans was enough to trigger withdrawal symptoms. First things were first, though.
Finding my luggage proved to be a no brainer in the one-room terminal, which resembled an oversized hall. The luggage carousel was the focal point of the building, with the conveyer belt slowly churning out the baggage. I had traveled overtly light with only one suitcase and an overnight bag. Having taken everything out of the bag a dozen times and then repacking again at my parent’s house, most of the clothes I’d initially tried to cram in had been left behind.
By the time I reached the retrieval area and made it through the throng of waiting passengers, most of the baggage had been reunited with the correct owners, so spotting the paltry, bright red trolley case was a matter of waiting on it to do another lap before claiming it.
The percolating coffee aroma was consuming me at this stage so I ambled over to the café and ordered, my senses on overload.
I found a small table and sat down, pushing my luggage as far into the wall as possible so no one would trip over it and then let out a happy sigh. I did all but swallow the latte on one breath, smiling happily after each gulp, finally feeling a sense of relaxation wash over me as I watched the hustle and bustle of the arrival and departure gates.
Over to the left a small group of people tearfully hugged each other good-bye, kissing before slowly walking out onto the tarmac to board the plane, stopping every now and then to wave. A lump formed in my throat as I watched. I hated goodbyes. Leaving my family behind to travel alone to a strange land had been hard enough but with all that had happened to me in the months prior to the trip, seeing both parents teary-eyed, letting me go, had almost been too much to bear. They too had suffered at John’s hands. Having to carry their unconscious daughter to emergency, fraught with worry over the outcome, had etched deep, permanent lines into their brows and even deeper wounds into their hearts.
In the quiet of the hospital room when they’d thought I was asleep, Dad had wept on my mother’s shoulder, anguished at not having protected his daughter as promised. It was a father’s oath to his only daughter, a vow he’d always hoped to keep. In some ways, he’d almost held himself responsible and would carry that burden for all time.
Not wanting to dwell on the past a moment longer, I finished the deliriously strong double shot coffee and went outside to hail a cab, secretly wishing that someone special was here meeting me. One day.
The hit of caffeine had wired my brain nicely, giving me a renewed burst of energy after the long flight.
A jolly, overweight man bounced out of the waiting cab and grabbed my bags with such gusto that he underestimated how light they were and nearly threw them on the roof. The poor jalopy had seen better days. The paint was peeling off the panels and a headlight was missing from the front but the driver looked proud, nonetheless.
I guessed he was about forty years of age. He sported a mass of black, curly hair that hung to his shoulders. His face was round and smooth with a small, upturned nose. His full mouth broadened into a friendly smile, spreading the laughter lines from the corner of his eyes until they disappeared behind his unruly frizz.
His clothes looked plain, yet clean, and he wore sandals on his large, weathered feet. His whole face lit up as he opened the door for me like I was his first customer for the day. A set of uneven, worn teeth became the focal point of his face. It was hard to look away.
“Hello, ma’am,” he said in poor English. “How yoo today?”
“Very well. Thank you.” I suppressed a giggle and got into the cab. It was as rundown on the inside as it looked on the outside.
As we drove off a tad faster than I was comfortable with, I looked out the window and drank in the surroundings. The roads were unlined and roughly sealed. The black bitumen bore potholes the size of basketballs. The cab driver gave up trying to dodge them so it was an extremely bumpy and nervous ride through town. He sat with his arm out the open window, whistling merrily. His upbeat mood was infectious and I soon found myself sprawled back into the shabby seat, letting myself go. It had been way too long since I’d really, totally relaxed.
“Where you from, lady?”
“Australia.”
“Oh, I’ve heard of Australia. You a long way from home!”
That’s what was so great about being here. It was, literally, the other side of the earth. I’d escaped my very bizarre world for a while and it was liberating. I was going to make the most of the next four weeks.
The relaxed atmosphere of the island felt like the polar opposite to where I had come from. A handful of passersby meandered down uncluttered roads as if they had nowhere to go and all day to get there. Gleeful dogs off leashes were left to scent and sniff out trails while small children with butterfly nets jump and swoop, laughing merrily as their colorful prey continues to elude them. Leaving behind the hustle and bustle of the smoggy, dense metropolis, it felt like stepping into utopia.
“I think I’m really going to enjoy it here.”
There was no fear of running into my ex-husband John or having any reminders of my past. For the first time in years there was nothing to do but bask in the glory that was Sapphire Island.
The resort materialized. Of course, it was very tropical and fitted in to the surroundings of the island, with the palm trees amply adorning the circumference of the building. The main entrance was a huge circular structure built from timber and the dome straw roof cut an imposing feature. A large annex protruded out from the front with large wooden pillars to support it.
The driver pulled up outside the foyer and unloaded my bags, offering to carry them inside. I was extremely grateful and so paid him a little extra for his trouble as he left. It wasn’t that my meager, embarrassing collection of clothing swimming in the suitcase would weigh me down; it’s just that it was nice to be waited on for a change.
A tall, willowy woman with skin the color of coffee presented herself in the foyer. She was wearing an exquisite sarong with white sandals on her feet. Her features were dark and attractive. She wore no makeup, yet didn’t appear to require any since her flawless skin naturally glowed. Her strands of hair were effortlessly pulled back from her face and done up in a high bun with a bright blue hair tie. Height-wise she kissed six foot, leaving me in her shadow.
“Miss Livingston, we’ve been expecting you. Welcome to Sapphire Island. My name is Ramah and I’ll be your hostess. If there is anything you need, come and see me first.”
The warmth she exuded made Ramah the perfect person for such a hands on, demanding job. Her dark, magical eyes sparkled as she spoke. I held her gaze, feeling an instant rapport with the woman as we shook hands. Her skin was soft, her grip firm, a sign of good character my father had taught me.
“Look people in the eye and give a firm handshake, pumpkin. It shows strength.” Some things stick with you for a lifetime. That was one of them. My dad was a well-respected man of the community, so whatever he said to me was gospel. God, I loved that man.
“Thank you and please, call me Dakota.”
“What an unusual name! Does it have a special meaning?” quizzed the woman curiously, obviously having never heard it before.