CHAPTER 1

“Get in the car.” Owen. The deep familiar voice barely penetrated her thoughts. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she did hear it beyond the haze of her grief.

In fact, out of all of the people there, he was probably the only one that she would hear. It’s going to rain, Abigail thought tilting her head up and to look at the dark clouds forming overhead.

It seemed fitting for a funeral; almost symbolic. If it was a reflection of her sorrow, it should have been a torrential downpour. A slight fall breeze picked up and brushed over her upturned face causing her bangs to be pushed to one side of her forehead.

How she wished this was just a dream, even a nightmare would be welcome about now. At least that would be something she could wake up from then everything would return to normal. Normal. Abigail hadn’t known normal since her parents died years ago.

Now, this. When she didn’t respond to the masculine command she felt a large strong hand squeeze her shoulder gently followed by his concerned voice again, “Get in the car, honey.

I’ll take care of the rest.” Abigail heard the deep vibrating compassion in his voice and she was too upset to argue. Guiding her eyes up to him like she was in a trance, she slowly nodded. Then like a zombie she let him lead her through the throng of people dressed in black.

She could feel their sympathetic looks and purposely avoided their gazes. It would be better for her to focus on other things, like the scenery.

Absently she stepped across the manicured grass and around headstones toward the sleek black stretch limousine with the gentle guidance of his hand against the small of her back.

Oddly she found herself thinking of the weirdest things. Like, why do people wear black when they mourn? It’s just more depressing.

The Driver dutifully opened the door for her severing her thoughts, and with assistance by a strong hand, she climbed into its luxurious interior not paying attention to the lush surroundings but instead choosing to look out the window over the variant combination of headstones, statues, and crypts that scattered through the cemetery.

She heard him say he’d be a few minutes and she nodded but didn’t say anything. Tears slipped from her emerald eyes and tided down her alabaster cheeks.

Now she had no one. Her brother, the last of her family was killed overseas in a senseless war! He had been paying to put her through school, but all of that seemed menial in the face of this tragedy.

Joseph was dead. Everything that Joseph had insisted that she do have ground to a halt. The house their parents left them had mortgage payments and Joseph was taking care of all of it.

It wasn’t a great asset, because they never had much money, so it was small, but it was theirs. I need to get a job, she thought inattentively.

Already she knew she wasn’t thinking with a full deck, but she was in shock. Usually, she was well grounded and responsible, but this, all of this, completely threw her world into chaos.

When her parents died, she remembered the funeral then and at twelve years old didn’t understand why someone had to stand among a bunch of strangers and friends and cry. She wanted so badly to be alone with her grief, not weep in front of people.

It was a horrible experience back then. Now that she was older, it was even worse. She was alone, horribly alone. Everyone kept looking at her like she was a pity case and because of it, she couldn’t let go and cry like she wanted to.

It was almost if everything was a dream, a ghastly dream that she couldn’t wake up from. There were more people here at this time. Joseph was well-liked and everyone knew him. Like then the looks of pity were too much for her to bear.

Except for Owen, his expression was unreadable and although she knew he shared her grief, you wouldn’t know it from the steeled expression he wore. As odd as it seemed, she found that comforting.

sixteen minutes later, the door opened and Owen slid in across from her in the large interior placing the American flag on the leather seat beside him. She was holding it graveside when it was given to her.

She must’ve dropped it numbly forgotten she even had it. He noticed and that’s why he told her to go to the car. He didn’t say anything else to her except lean forward and hand her his handkerchief.

She mumbled a thank you but kept her gaze averted feeling his vibrant golden eyes on her as he rapped on the glass divider over his shoulder indicating to the driver to go.

Shortly after she heard the engine start and the car began to move.

Owen was her brother’s best friend.

They had gone to school and college together and when her parents had died in a tragic car accident, Joseph quit college and took a job at the local hardware store while Owen went on and became his father’s prodigy son taking over the family empire and prospering while she and Joseph struggled from paycheck to paycheck.

Yet through it all, they somehow remained close, and although Abigail never understood the connection between them, it was quite strong.

Owen came from money and Joseph didn’t, nevertheless, he never acted as though he was better than either one of them.

He looked at it. Every bit of him looked as though he was worth a million dollars when he was actually worth more, much more.

Even in her grief, there was no mistaking the expensive crisp cut of his suit and the way he carried himself with utter and unbelievable confidence.

However, she knew that underneath all of that was a man who was grieving and she was possibly the only one on the planet that knew that.

Owen didn’t let many people close to him but he did with her and Joseph. He loved Joseph like a brother, and they’d known each other for almost twenty years. They had gone through school together.

It was odd really because Owen’s family was very wealthy and yet he went to a public school. She overheard him explaining it to Joseph that his mother was raised in a middle-class family and thought that Owen needed to understand that side of life.

She didn’t believe in boarding schools or any other private school. She wanted her son to be normal.

Apparently, his father was so much in love with his wife that he would have granted her anything so Owen went to public school as she wished.

Unfortunately, his wonderful beautiful mother died and when his father remarried, she’d heard that this woman was nothing like her. It was then that Owen and Joseph became inseparable.

His stepmother wasn’t as loving as his biological one. She wanted Owen to quit hanging around with the lower class and start acting like a wealthy snob.

She would throw lavish parties and expect him to play the part of a loving stepson. One thing Owen wasn’t, was dishonest.

He couldn’t be asked to betray his morals so he ignored her requests, didn’t show up or didn’t act like the lovable doting step son when he did.

She was furious but for some reason his father let him be. Maybe it had something to do with his first wife’s wishes.

On the other hand, Joseph had no social restrictions so Owen could be more of himself when he was with him. It was Joseph that insisted she go to college as he struggled to make ends meet.

When she turned eighteen she finally relented and decided on a degree in business administration.

He joined the military when she left for college telling her he could make more money and when he was done they’d pay for his degree. He had it all planned out, but six months shy of graduating she got a phone call.

Killed overseas, is what the man on the other end said. That was all she heard before hung up the phone and did the only thing she knew and phoned Owen.

She had other friends, but Owen was the only other person she would consider family and he was strong emotionally which she needed.

Besides being Joseph’s best friend, he was reliable to the teeth and no other number came into her head at that devastating time. She dialed him without even remembering until she heard his voice.

She was already sobbing when he answered the phone only after two rings. Before she even said anything, he knew it was her. “Abigail?” he said then he paused “What happened?” He must’ve heard her crying. “Joseph’s been killed.

There was a bomb and….oh Lord, he’s dead Owen!” There was a slight pause before he spoke again, “I’m on my way.” His deep voice cracked slightly.

Now that she reflected on that conversation she noticed that his voice didn’t raise one iota. Calm as always, she thought, even under great stress.

Then she heard a muffled conversation as if he was covering the mouthpiece before he spoke to her again, “I’ll be there in a few hours. I’m just closing a meeting down at the moment.” When she didn’t say anything, he continued, “Abigail?” “I’m here.” She heard herself say.

Her voice sounded hollow and oddly distant. He didn’t miss it, “Honey, is there anyone who could stay with you until I get there?” “I…well…” “Anyone?” he repeated with a slight edge of concern that only she could detect.

“There’s Mrs. Walker…she lives a few doors down. She’s elderly and alone, so I’ve been checking on her for her son who’s…” she was rambling without knowing it. “What’s her number?” he said bringing her back to focus.

Abigail remembered that it was on the fridge and turned to read it off. She was clutching the headset of the phone with two hands like it was her only lifeline.

From the pause on his end, she figured that he must’ve been writing down the number she told him.

“Owen—“ “I’m still here,” he answered quickly, “Don’t worry okay? I’ll phone her, and in the meantime put some tea on. She’ll be over in a few minutes.

My jet is being warmed up as we speak honey, so I won’t belong.”