My Own Position E-Book

Jeremy McHarry

• Herausgeber: Bentockiz
• Kategorie: Krimi
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023

Beschreibung

Although I was curious as to why he would have something like that just lying around, I wasn’t about to ask him. I hadn’t known him long, but I’d already figured out that he wasn’t exactly the kind of man you asked questions like that. If he wanted me to know, he’d tell me. I wanted to run, but I had nowhere to go. Instead, I stood facing the fireplace, hands stretched towards the small amount of warmth from the dying fire, trying to control the sudden shivering that I was fairly certain wasn’t from the cold.

Leseprobe

Title Page

My Own Position

Turning Point

Jeremy McHarry

My Own Position / 10th of series: Turning Point / By Jeremy McHarry

Published 2023 by Bentockiz

e-book Imprint: Uniochlors

e-book Registration: Stockholm, Sweden

e-book ISBN: 9789198834260

e-book editing: Athens, Greece

Cover Images created via AI art generators

Table of Contents

Title Page

Introduction

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Introduction

Through books we come into contact with everything important that has happened in the past, analyzing also current events and putting our thoughts together to predict the future. The book is a window to the world, acquiring valuable knowledge and sparking our vivid imagination. It is a means of entertainment and is generally seen as a best friend, or as a slave that carries together all valuable information for us. The book is a friend who stays together without demands, a friend you call upon at every moment and abandon when you want.

It accompanies us in the hours of boredom and loneliness, while at the same time it entertains us. In general, a book does not ask anything from us, while it waits patiently on a dusty shelf to give us its information, to get us out of dead ends and to travel us to magical worlds.

This may be the travel mission of our books. Abstract narration, weird or unconscious thoughts difficult to be understood, but always genuine and full of life experiences, these are stories of life that can’t be overlooked easily.

Chapter One

For an hour, I sat on the window seat in my room staring at the backyard, before a soft knock at the door interrupted my self-pity party.

“Come in,” I called without getting up, adding as the door opened, “and just so you know, I’m not in the mood to decorate a tree, Blanche.”

“I realize that,” Blanche acknowledged softly, coming to stand beside me. “Johnny and the other guests are doing fine without us. I would like to show you something, if you have a minute.”

“What?”

“It’s something I think you need to see,” Blanche assured me as she reached down and took one of my cold hands in her warm one. “Please...”

With a resigned nod, I allowed her to lead me out of the room.

We skimmed the parlor where the tree decorating was in full swing, and it only took a moment for me to realize where we were headed...a place I’d rather avoid...Grams’ old room.

In my dark state of mind, that was the last place I felt like going.

Blanche must have sensed my hesitation.

“That is the one thing I’ve changed, Emma. It looks so different that it won’t even feel like the same room.”

She was right. The room had ‘Blanche’ stamped all over it. No more white lacy chintz curtains, homemade pink and blue quilted bedspread, or country blue painted walls.

Instead, the room boasted a more modern look with much more neutral colors blending beiges, browns and greens in many different shades combined with an underlying golden theme that warmed the room.

Grams was nowhere to be seen in that room and I was immensely relieved.

As I took in the whole welcoming feel of the room, my eyes were caught and held by something on the far wall. Without realizing it, my feet had somehow carried me over to it and I found myself staring at a painting of three men carrying rifles and wearing nothing but military issue camouflage pants and tattoos...lots and lots of tattoos...

One face held my attention...even more than the shocking tattoos.

Johnny...

I studied his features, something I couldn’t do when face to face with the live version, drawn to him in some strange inexplicable way.

Although I’d been able to somewhat deny my attraction to Johnny when he was actually nearby, my inability to tear my eyes away from his portrait forced me to realize something I had refused to admit before...even to myself.

I was attracted to him and not just a little attracted, but a lot. Even covered with the horrifying tattoos...I couldn’t help myself.

Caught up in my thoughts, I hadn’t noticed Blanche standing directly behind me.

“Did you notice the signature?”

“Signature...?” I repeated blankly.

“The artist’s signature.”

She reached around me and pointed to the corner.

I gasped. The signature read SJH.

“You recognize it, don’t you?”

“How did you know...?”

“...that Mr. Gilmore sent you here to find SJH?” she finished for me.

“I don’t understand...”

“I know that Mr. Gilmore hired you to work at his firm and I also know he’s been searching for SJH the last few months for a very important client.”

“How in the world could you know that?”

“I’m not sure how to admit to this without alarming you,” Blanche said sheepishly, “but Johnny and I have been...well...keeping track of you ever since you sold us this property.”

“You have?” I exclaimed in astonishment. “Why on earth would you do that?”

“I know you don’t realize it, but you revealed so much of yourself in the papers you left us and you sounded so lost and alone and...frightened...and we felt...oh, I don’t know...like it was our responsibility to look out for you. We’ve kept an eye on you ever since then.”

“But that was almost three years ago,” I said in shock.

“He’ll probably kill me for saying this, but...well...Johnny even attended your graduation from law school.”

“He was there?”

“We both thought someone from home should be. And then, after graduation, when you turned down two solid offers in order to move to DC and started searching for a junior associate position there we realized what you were doing. You were trying to come home...or as close to it as you could get. It nearly broke my heart.”

I couldn’t stop the tears that started out as a small trickle and grew into a flood. All that time I’d felt so alone, like no one in the world cared about me, desperately trying to find a way back home even though I thought I no longer had one, but I’d been wrong.

Blanche, tentatively at first, put her arms around me then pulled me closer when I buried my face in her shoulder.

“When you took that waitressing job at that horrid little diner, I almost sent Johnny to fetch you,” she admitted, “but he convinced me that would be wrong. You didn’t know us or anything about us. He convinced me that we had to let you come to us on your own.”

As I stood there unsuccessfully trying to control my tears, something inside me began to thaw. Only a smidge, but it was there, I could sense it.

And it scared me silly.

Pulling back, I swiped at my eyes and stumbled an apology, “I’m sorry...I shouldn’t have come back here.”

“Emma...”

“I have to go.”

I turned and fled the room.

As I raced up the stairs, I called myself all kinds of a fool.

Even though I knew I’d lose my job, I had to get out of there. It had been ridiculous for me to think, even for a moment, that I’d be able to get in, get the information, and get out without any emotional involvement.

If I stayed any longer, I knew I would be risking the type of pain I’d already experienced all too often in my twenty-five years of life, and I couldn’t go through that again.

There was no way I could survive any more loss.

I packed quickly, throwing clothes willy-nilly into the suitcase without caring how anything would travel.

The worst part was that even though I’d lied to Blanche—lied by omission if nothing else—and she’d known about it all along, she still cared about me.

Why doesn’t she hate me? I would hate me! She should hate me. Why doesn’t she hate me?

I wanted nothing more than to run and hide...hide from Blanche, hide from Johnny, and especially hide from Mr. Gilmore. The last part would be easy, because once he realized that I’d blown it, I would no longer have a job there anyway.

I felt like such a fool.

Just as I feared, Blanche was waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs.

“Emma, please don’t leave. I’m sorry I’ve upset you.”

“I can’t stay,” I choked out brushing past her, ignoring the shocked look on Trish’s face as she dropped the fashion magazine she was holding.

“Emma...Emma...please...”

Hurrying out the front door and down the porch steps, a case in each hand, I stumbled towards the rental car.

It felt so good, knowing someone cared about me, but I couldn’t let myself get used to it...not again. I would just end up losing her like I’d lost everyone else in my life and I couldn’t go through that again.

She had no right to be so forgiving and so nice to me. It wasn’t fair. I couldn’t fight that.

As I reached the car, a cry of pain penetrated the panicked fog that surrounded my brain and I spun around quickly just in time to see Blanche hit the ground at the bottom of the porch steps...face down.

“Blanche!” I exclaimed in fear dropping my cases and racing back towards her.

Trish came rushing out of the house and we reached Blanche at the same time.

“What happened?” Trish asked, face pale and shaken...although, admittedly her hangover could have been responsible for her lack of color.

“Go get Johnny,” I said quickly before kneeling down beside the prone figure. “Blanche...are you alright?” I touched her shoulder tentatively.

A groan was her only answer.

“What is it? What can I do?”

“My ankle,” she said finally as she attempted to turn over on her back.

“What the hell happened?” an irate voice boomed over our heads.