left for work.
Avary looked at the closed door, listening to the low hum of the car engine as it pulled away from the street. The sun flowed through the window and glinted off the glass panda on the coffee table. Picking it up, she moved her fingers over the smooth, cool glass. She had no clue who left her the gift at the hospital, but she had kept it, an unexpected keepsake from a stranger. Maybe she had a guardian angel.
“Angel, if you’re really out there, please show me the way,” she whispered. “Please give me my hope back.”
CHAPTER ONE
Two years later
Trauma cannot be erased as some people might believe. It cannot be forgotten, bartered, or traded for happiness. It embeds itself into every pathway of the mind, and yet we’re expected to continue like all is okay. I seem to struggle with this—pretending. How did I let this happen? Could I have done something differently? When others push me to let go, I hold on tighter. Why can’t anyone understand? Why can’t I find anyone who understands me?
“Aren’t you supposed to be someplace, Avary?”
She jumped at the sound of her sister’s voice, leaving a jagged pen line down the page inside of her journal. “You scared me, Dawn.” Avary dropped her pen and pushed her glasses further up on her nose.
Dawn stepped from the doorway into the bedroom, her skeptical eye going to the packed suitcase sitting on the floor. “Did you see I packed for you?”
“I’m capable of packing for myself.” Avary didn’t want to sound ungrateful, but her sister had gotten too used to being a motherly figure. At twenty-five, Avary could take care of herself.
“Yeah, I know that, but I thought you’d use that as an excuse not to go.” Dawn was wearing her bright pink scrubs and her long hair was pulled back into a tight bun, making her look older than thirty. She’d recently switched from working in a nursing home to the hospital’s intensive care unit.
“No excuses, remember?” There were moments Avary wondered if she too should have followed a career in helping others instead of following her childhood dream in becoming a world-renowned musician. She felt that somehow her choice was unrealistic, rather than being logical. Dawn’s shoulders were weighed from watching over Avary with sisterly love, or obligation. It could go either way at this point, no matter how much Dawn denied the truth that her life wasn’t on hold. Since the attack, Avary had lived with her sister in the small two-bedroom home. Certain days, the place felt like a tuna can.
“Oh, I remember. But do you?”
No sense in denying my feelings. “I’m not sure this is a great idea.” She closed up her journal and dropped it into her purse.
Dawn’s frown deepened. One of her lectures was building, Avary could see it in the scrunching of brows and thin lips “You’re talking as if you have a choice.”
Avary stood up and smoothed her palms down her shirt. “What man hires a cellist to play privately for him?”
“The rich kind,” Dawn tapped the toe of her clog on the floor.
“How do we know that he isn’t hiring me for sexual favors?” Yeah, it was a far reach, but she couldn’t help herself.
“Victor Knight owns one of the finest vineyards along the east coast. His picture has been on every entertainment magazine, as well as every local newspaper over the last few years. He’s known for helping charities for children, abused women, and cancer patients. In fact, he just funded a gala to raise money for the oncology ward at the hospital. I’m assuming if he wanted a lady of the evening he would have called the beautiful model he had on his arm at the event—the one who seemed pretty infatuated with him.”
Avary blinked. “Am I his current charity case?”
Dawn stepped over and gave Avary a squeeze around the shoulders. “Sis, you know what I mean. What’s it been? Three years?”
“Dating or playing in public?”
“Both.” Dawn sighed. “You’ve hidden
Avary looked at the closed door, listening to the low hum of the car engine as it pulled away from the street. The sun flowed through the window and glinted off the glass panda on the coffee table. Picking it up, she moved her fingers over the smooth, cool glass. She had no clue who left her the gift at the hospital, but she had kept it, an unexpected keepsake from a stranger. Maybe she had a guardian angel.
“Angel, if you’re really out there, please show me the way,” she whispered. “Please give me my hope back.”
CHAPTER ONE
Two years later
Trauma cannot be erased as some people might believe. It cannot be forgotten, bartered, or traded for happiness. It embeds itself into every pathway of the mind, and yet we’re expected to continue like all is okay. I seem to struggle with this—pretending. How did I let this happen? Could I have done something differently? When others push me to let go, I hold on tighter. Why can’t anyone understand? Why can’t I find anyone who understands me?
“Aren’t you supposed to be someplace, Avary?”
She jumped at the sound of her sister’s voice, leaving a jagged pen line down the page inside of her journal. “You scared me, Dawn.” Avary dropped her pen and pushed her glasses further up on her nose.
Dawn stepped from the doorway into the bedroom, her skeptical eye going to the packed suitcase sitting on the floor. “Did you see I packed for you?”
“I’m capable of packing for myself.” Avary didn’t want to sound ungrateful, but her sister had gotten too used to being a motherly figure. At twenty-five, Avary could take care of herself.
“Yeah, I know that, but I thought you’d use that as an excuse not to go.” Dawn was wearing her bright pink scrubs and her long hair was pulled back into a tight bun, making her look older than thirty. She’d recently switched from working in a nursing home to the hospital’s intensive care unit.
“No excuses, remember?” There were moments Avary wondered if she too should have followed a career in helping others instead of following her childhood dream in becoming a world-renowned musician. She felt that somehow her choice was unrealistic, rather than being logical. Dawn’s shoulders were weighed from watching over Avary with sisterly love, or obligation. It could go either way at this point, no matter how much Dawn denied the truth that her life wasn’t on hold. Since the attack, Avary had lived with her sister in the small two-bedroom home. Certain days, the place felt like a tuna can.
“Oh, I remember. But do you?”
No sense in denying my feelings. “I’m not sure this is a great idea.” She closed up her journal and dropped it into her purse.
Dawn’s frown deepened. One of her lectures was building, Avary could see it in the scrunching of brows and thin lips “You’re talking as if you have a choice.”
Avary stood up and smoothed her palms down her shirt. “What man hires a cellist to play privately for him?”
“The rich kind,” Dawn tapped the toe of her clog on the floor.
“How do we know that he isn’t hiring me for sexual favors?” Yeah, it was a far reach, but she couldn’t help herself.
“Victor Knight owns one of the finest vineyards along the east coast. His picture has been on every entertainment magazine, as well as every local newspaper over the last few years. He’s known for helping charities for children, abused women, and cancer patients. In fact, he just funded a gala to raise money for the oncology ward at the hospital. I’m assuming if he wanted a lady of the evening he would have called the beautiful model he had on his arm at the event—the one who seemed pretty infatuated with him.”
Avary blinked. “Am I his current charity case?”
Dawn stepped over and gave Avary a squeeze around the shoulders. “Sis, you know what I mean. What’s it been? Three years?”
“Dating or playing in public?”
“Both.” Dawn sighed. “You’ve hidden
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