Brides and Betrayal (Reconciled and Redeemed Book 1)
Read Brides and Betrayal (Reconciled and Redeemed Book 1) Online
Authors: Michelle Lynn Brown
Tags: #forgiveness, #divorce, #religious romance, #inspirational women's fiction, #marriage, #adultery, #Christian Romance, #inspirational romance, #Christian women's fiction, #Contemporary Romance
Reconciled and Redeemed
Volume One
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Michelle Lynn Brown
Copyright © 2014 Michelle Lynn Brown
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rides and Betrayal
Reconciled and Redeemed Series Volume One
A Psalm 40 Publication
Cover Design by Michelle Lynn Brown
Image © coka / Bigstock Photo (10632542)
Image © moswyn / Bigstock Photo (3460797)
Image © Nosnibor137 / Bigstock Photo (49263659)
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cripture quotations are taken from the Holy Bible, New Living Translation, copyright ©1996, 2004, 2007 by Tyndale House Foundation. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., Carol Stream, Illinois 60188. All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form, stored in any retrieval system, posted on any website, or transmitted in any form without written permission from the publisher, except for brief quotations in printed reviews and articles.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to locations, actual events, or persons, either living or dead, is coincidental.
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he Reconciled and Redeemed series is dedicated to my sister, Lisa and her husband, Chris.
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W
hen I was in a deep, dark pit, you welcomed me into your home and into your lives. You allowed God to work through you, and you valued His word over your own desires and your own wishes. You saw me as worthy of redemption when all I could see was worthlessness. As a result of your obedience, love, and light, I was rescued from my dark pit and redeemed. I am eternally grateful.
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He lifted me out of the pit of despair,
out of the mud and the mire.
He set my feet on solid ground
and steadied me as I walked along.
He has given me a new song to sing,
a hymn of praise to our God.
Many will see what he has done and be amazed.
They will put their trust in the Lord.
Psalm 40:2-3
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one of my books would be as successful as they are without the expert knowledge of Nat Davis of Davis professionals. God has truly blessed me with an editor who not only corrects my vast mistakes, but makes me laugh at my blunders, and encourages and pushes me in my writing and in my spiritual walk.
Thanks to the Christian Indie Author’s Group for their wisdom and guidance
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Psalm 51: 1-2
Have mercy on me, O God,
because of your unfailing love.
Because of your great compassion,
blot out the stain of my sins.
Wash me clean from my guilt.
Purify me from my sin.
A
stream of moonlight settled on the barrel of the gun in the man’s shaking hands.
The woman knelt before him, her blue eyes streaming with tears. “Please forgive me.” Despite her entreaty, she showed no signs of fear, just remorse and a deep sadness that even death could not erase.
He looked away from her beautiful face and rested the trembling gun on his knee. Weariness and despair sapped the volume from his words. “I can’t forgive you when I can’t even forgive myself for not seeing you for the woman you are.”
“I never meant to hurt you.”
“But you did.” The softness in his tone dissipated as his anger refueled. Jumping up, the chair he had been sitting on fell backward. He towered over her, growling. “How could you! You let me raise that child – that seed of your betrayal – all these years.”
“The truth just would have hurt you. It was over...”
“It should have never begun!” He roared.
The man’s labored breathing subsided after a few moments. Righting the chair, he sat back down before her. He ran a hand down her hair, fiery red like the passion she had once ignited in him.
He gently cupped her cheek. “What are we to do now?”
Her lips trembled, knowing there was no answer, no justification, nothing she could say that would change the course of tonight.
“I love you.” Her words were a whisper, and the man bent down and came inches from kissing her. But his heart would not let his lips meet hers. Tears rolled down his cheeks and plopped down on her hands resting on his lap.
“I love you, too.” Their foreheads rested together for a moment until he straightened. “That’s the problem, isn’t it? I love you, and I’ll never be able to let you go. Yet, I can’t ever forgive your filthy sin.”
Spittle flew from the force of his words as they erupted from his lips.
The woman closed her eyes and laid her head down on her husband’s lap, resigned to her fate, resigned to the penance he saw fit to extract from her.
H
olly stood amidst the gory scene, staring across the room at her parent’s bodies frozen in their last macabre embrace. Her father’s hand rested on top of his wife’s hair while the other lay dangling limply by his side, the gun resting on the floor.
There were so many officers milling about, oblivious to the young woman standing in the middle of the chaos. The flashes from the camera appeared to be going in slow motion, and the girl stood numb, frozen and unbelieving.
“Whoa, kid, you can’t be in here.”
The police officer looked down into a pair of dazed blue eyes, bright with unshed tears. Questions held captive by her pain and shock were swimming in the sapphire depths. The officer was forced to look away from the pain he saw there.
“This lady here is going to take you someplace safe.” The officer gestured toward a middle-aged woman approaching, a manila folder clasped tightly over her chest as if it were a shield. The girl’s blue eyes focused on the woman as she approached.
“You are going to have to come with me.” There was a stern gentleness about the social worker, as if the woman wanted to care, but the nature of her job had erected protective barriers around her heart.
“Do you have any other family?”
The woman was about to repeat the question when Holly finally shook her head. “I’m all alone.” There was a sad finality to the girl’s statement that tore through the veil of the social worker’s tough exterior.
Clearing her throat from the hindering emotions rising up, the woman said. “Nonsense, we will make sure you are taken care of.”
The woman snapped open the file, blinking rapidly to rid her eyes of the tears. “Holly, you are sixteen, right?” The woman placed an arm around the teenager's shoulder, leading the girl away from the scene. “Come with me and we can get you settled somewhere safe for tonight.”
The girl barely heard the woman's reassuring words as she stole one last glance at her parents over the social worker’s arm. An hour ago she had been laughing with her friends at church during a youth game night - now she was all alone.
Alone and unwanted.
Outside, the police officer opened the door to a waiting squad car. “I know it’s not the best way to ride, kiddo, but for now, it will have to do.”
His attempt at humor fell upon the girl’s numb ears, and she slipped into the car and let him close the door. Through the window, she could see the social worker cross her arms over her chest. Was she protecting her heart from the ugliness of the scene? Though the woman and the detective spoke in hushed tones, their voices could be clearly heard through the car window.
“Looks like it was a murder/suicide as the result of adultery.” The officer handed the woman a note. “The guy found out the kid wasn’t his and...” The man made a shooting motion with his fingers.
The social worker read the note and then sniffled back her encroaching emotions. Clearing her throat, she asked, “So the girl witnessed it all?”
“Just the end, but...well, that’s enough.”
They nodded their heads in silent understanding.
“Well, if you happen to locate the biological father, let me know. Given these horrific circumstances, we will have to tread slowly, but...”
The detective shrugged his shoulders, “Hey, I figure if the dad wants the kid, it is better than bouncing her around from foster home to foster home. Sixteen is not exactly an adoptable age.”
The woman looked into the teenager’s blue eyes again. Dark, haunted, and increasingly going numb. The woman had seen it all too often, children who succumb to the pain and sorrow life deals them. This girl was no different.
The officer’s words reflected her thoughts. “Situations like this are a tattoo branded upon your mind. It may fade over time, but it will always be seen.”
The woman nodded her agreement. “Stained and tainted – that’s how these kids look to others. Well, we can only hope the biological dad wants the kid more than this one did.”
“J
ust the Beginning Bridal Boutique.” Holly Harrison splayed her fingers out in a starburst motion, but from the scowl on her husband’s face, she could tell he wasn’t impressed. Hunter sat with his hip perched on the edge of their bed, one arm crossed over his chest, the other hand cradling his jaw. He scratched at the stubble on his chin, a sign that he was unconvinced thus far.
Not one to be daunted easily, Holly continued. “Anya and I would partner together in the business, with Anya handling the catering and event planning, while I would handle the gowns. Instead of simply offering the traditional dress shopping experience, we would offer the brides an opportunity to host a dress selection party in the comfort of their own home.”
Hunter raised one dark eyebrow. “You can’t just take an entire shop of dresses to someone’s home.”
“No, but through online tools, telephone conversations, and a brief questionnaire, I would be able to put together a selection of dresses that fit the bride’s budget and tastes.”
Hunter narrowed his deep blue eyes, still skeptical over her business proposal. “Anya’s food mixed with white dresses - sounds like a recipe for disaster. Your entire inventory could be destroyed by one drunk bridesmaid spilling her wine on the dresses.”
She came to sit next to him on the bed, her long auburn hair tumbling over her shoulders. Holly and Anya had spent hours trying to pinpoint all the possible pitfalls, from too many opinions in the room to how they would handle the food and dresses. She was prepared, and when Holly fired off answers to Hunter’s questions, she could see a crack in his stony facade.
“The party would be separated into two parts, one where the bride and her friends relax and enjoy refreshments, and one where she tries on dresses. We will not offer alcoholic beverages for a variety of reasons, the biggest is that you are going to have a room full of opinionated women. Alcohol could create a firestorm.”
“And how are you going to handle that - the room full of opinions?”
“We will have voting cards so that people can rate the dresses and jot notes down rather than blurt them out.” Holly pulled out an example of the card from the stack of information that was spread across the bed. “Besides, most brides know which one is the perfect dress when they put it on. Their eyes mist over and their face changes. You know it is the one.”
“So why even offer the at-home option?” Hunter asked as he tossed the card back into the pile.