The Torn, Book One of the Holding Kate Series Read Free Page A

jolted and toggled us into our seats as they began their lumbering pace down a forest enclosed lane. Our song died on our lips as the hush of the woods demanded reverence. The minute the carriage rumbled into the shadows, my heart flopped. I scanned the thicket wondering who—or what—had made that screeching sound.
    “What the…” Pinky slapped her cell phone. “No reception.”
    “Oh, yeah, none of your electronic devices will work here at Heartwork Village,” Kim interjected. “Right Charlie?” She called to the driver of our carriage.
    “That’s right,” he chortled.
    We frantically dug out our cells and iPods, tapped them and groaned.
    “This is just great.” Caitlyn slammed her back against the red leather cushion and shoved her phone into her bag.
    “Don’t worry. You’ll be too busy to notice,” Kim said mysteriously.
    As if to punctuate her words, another screeching sound ripped out of the woods to the left.
    “What is that?” I rasped out.
    “Already?” Kim cocked her head to the side. She glanced around to take in all of our startled expressions. “Wow, that has got to be a record or something. It usually doesn’t start until after orientation.”
    She stood up in the carriage and called out to Dirk. “Hey, did you get an early jump requisite?”
    “Nope.” He turned to the cowboy slapping reins on the backs of the mules. “Did you, Chaps?”
    He shook his head, too busy munching on a straw of hay to speak.
    “Weird.” She sat back down, pursed her lips, and furrowed her brow in concentration.
    I gawked at Pinky and Caitlyn and we all turned to scan the shadowed woods with astonished faces.

The wagons finally escaped the creepy woods and sunlight broke over us. There was a collective sigh, as if we had all held our breath while in the spooky forest. I sat up as I took in the beautiful rolling hills and white fences. A lake in the shape of a heart rested at the foot of a sloping hill, dotted with peacocks.
    “Oh, pretty,” Caitlyn cooed, echoing my sentiment.
    Dripping willow trees framed the glassy lake and a white arched bridge spanned the point of the heart. A floating gazebo graced the center of the lake and several canoes and paddle boats were scattered along the shore. Long summer days at Grammy and Pops’ lake house filtered through my mind as a sigh escaped my lips. Horses frolicked over the green hills, and red stables in the distance punctuated the picture of perfection. A flight of geese lifted out of the lake and arrowed overhead. I watched them cross us and found myself staring into acres and acres of cornfields. I couldn’t see where they ended as they tucked under the hill in the distance.
    We clip clopped forward in what seemed endless acres, the soft breezes bringing scents as messengers. The fragrance of wildflowers tickled my nose and memories of lazy summer days and family picnics. My heart clenched in my chest at the thought of our not-so-happy family as we crested yet another hill, and a small village came into view.
    A little red school house and a quaint white chapel framed the entrance into the village. Streets were paved in cobbled stones and circled a large fountain at the center of town. A sign below it read, “The Staying Well.” Curiosity piqued when I noticed names had been engraved into the bricks and stones surrounding the well.
    This was not the detention center or army barracks I had imagined. My outlook for a potentially pleasant summer was getting brighter by the moment. I sat up straighter and drew in a deep breath feeling my nerves settle a bit.
    The carriages drew a circle around the fountain and jerked to a stop in front of a graceful and enormous white mansion. A wide porch wrapped around both sides of the Victorian with gazebos perched at each corner. The building faces of the village were all connected by a covered walkway and appeared to be old fashioned store fronts. Apothecary-whatever that was, Post Office, Sheriff, Doc’s Place,