Submissive's Journey (Masters of Blackstone Book 1), page 2
“Please, Master?”
“You’ve given everything, Julia.”
She’d gasped, hearing her name on his lips since he so rarely used her name.
“You sacrificed everything for an old man.”
…no, not everything, not in the end. She’d betrayed his trust, betrayed him…
But he hadn’t know. She hoped he never knew that as he’d laid on his deathbed, his breath ragged, his lips gray and his skin sallow, she’d only been pretending to still be loyal and obedient. Had he known what she’d done in the instance of his death?
He’d been so weak and she’d taken advantage of the situation, scouring his office for information, reading and replying to his emails, and in the end planning her own rescue. She’d been so bad, so very, very bad, and if anyone ever discovered what she’d done to guarantee her freedom. Oh God. No one can ever know.
When his friend Maxwell had replied he would be on the next plane she’d started shaking. She was cutting it so close…
With his friend’s assistance, Master had cut the lock off her collar. Jasper took her hand in his shaky one. His voice didn’t sound like his voice at all when he whispered, “You’re free, Julia. You are free. Remember I was a bastard, but that in the end I did right by you.”
“I love you, Master,” and then Jasper’s last breath came—
The soft, tenacious voice in her head reminded her the love story in her mind was a lie. A fabricated script by her therapist to help her move on.
“If it was all a lie, how had I loved him, conscience?” she mumbled to herself. “No, whatever had happened on the roof—nightmare, hallucination, believing I’d fled danger—that’s what had to be fiction! I loved Jasper.” Even as she thought it, she remembered why she’d ended up on the roof. “Oh god, oh god! They’ll kill me.”
She started to hyperventilate, remembering she’d betrayed Jasper and weakened his organization Unfettered Humans. Without even knowing, she’d been hiding for five years. She covered her face and screamed into her shaking hands.
“Ms. Moran? Ms. Moran!”
She jerked aware and met the gazes of those waiting for her to take her turn. The men who had led Gentle Jones away were watching. No, no, no! “I’m sorry. I’m okay.”
Becky smiled, clearly relieved she wasn’t going to have to hit the panic button attached to her photo ID again. Having gotten Julia’s attention, the facilitator gestured for her to stand. “Please share with us your intention for the new year.”
Awkward and sweating profusely, she stood unsteadily. Shaking from head to toe, she forced herself to make eye contact with the others. It was one of her mother’s many rules to teach her to be a powerful woman. She’d almost forgotten them all living with Master. I’ll do better now, Momma. “Hi, my name is Julia.”
Six voices proclaimed, “You are safe here, Julia.”
Becky held up one finger for her to wait and shouted, “Twenty! I’m sorry, Ms. Moran. Please continue.”
Julia said softly, “Okay, so I’ve never done this before, so bear with me as I work it out in my head, but I think I’ve got it. You see, Skye, my best friend, knows everything that I’m kinda worried about, the stuff I’m working through my therapist, and she says true freedom only comes from living an authentic life. You might be asking, what the fuck is an authentic life? I know I did. You see, my friend Skye is an enigma from another time. She’s all about love and peace, a hippie to her core—“
“Ms. Moran?”
Her gaze guilty met the facilitator’s. Rambling, yep that was her thing. Get nervous and her mouth just didn’t know when to stop. “Sorry.”
“Focus, Ms. Moran”—Becky was nodding her head like she was addressing a three year old, but that was okay since she clearly had the attention span of a toddler—“can you do that?”
Julia nodded. “Yes, ma’am. So, living authentically is being sure our words and actions are harmonious with our core values and beliefs; and by not being limited by any labels attached to us by anyone else. In return the vibration of those authentic actions and reactions kind of tune us in to the passions and joys that fuel a richer, more fulfilling life. Skye believes, and now I do too, that my own authenticity has the power to heal me. I know I’m broken because the song of my soul is silent. I can remember being younger. I hummed, like all the time, because I was so full of light and love, but my inner peace got ripped away. It seems like I’m a scattered jigsaw puzzle most days, but some parts fit together and some parts that are together shouldn’t be.”
She stopped talking and looked at her audience. She could tell by their expressions she had lost their attention. “I’m not making sense, am I?”
“It’s okay, Ms. Moran.” Becky was suddenly leaning forward and looking at her like she was suddenly the most interesting thing in the room. A nurse and orderly stood nearby. Julia hoped she didn’t become as compelling as Gentle Jones had. “It seems like you might be very close to working something important out. Please continue?”
Julia nodded. “Sometimes it seems like I have two versions of events in my head. I know it doesn’t make sense to me either, but I think that for—“
“Speak a little louder so we can all hear you please.”
Julia raised her voice. ”For nine years, I was forced to lie—about pretty much everything. Since lying goes against everything I was ever taught to believe in, it seems strange that in the four years since the person who was controlling me died, I’ve kept repeating them.”
Becky’s smile grew shaky, but Julia’s conviction grew as more and more memories surfaced with her testimony, but she didn’t panic over what she was remembering. “I’ve added to the lies, making matters worse. I haven’t told anyone the truth. So, my positive intention is to stop lying.”
“I believe you’ve taken a very big step in the right direction tonight, Julia. Dr. Merrill is going to be very pleased something this positive has been born from a truly horrible night for you.”
Julia self-consciously rubbed her bristly head.
“Would you like to share with us one of the lies you’ve protected for so long, Julia?”
“I was a child sex slave. I was held prisoner for almost nine years. ”
Julia exhaled, feeling like a huge weight she’d been carrying had fallen away. She waited for Becky to ask additional questions like she had everyone else, but she didn’t. She tried and failed to make eye contact with her audience. Staring through them, she kept talking, “No one knows the truth. Skye suspects, I don’t know how, some crazy hippie third-eye mumbo jumbo maybe, but she really has no idea what I’ve been through. I learned to give my Master, my love and devotion through isolation and pain.”
The pain was never ending some days.
Rocking herself, she whispered, “I discovered if I just submitted to his will in all things, I’d be safe”—her voice stayed strong and steady, making Julia feel like she was on the right path, and once unleashed, the truth just kept coming—“for a while I felt safe, loved, adored. It all might have been a lie, but the lies didn’t hurt. My acceptance of the situation for what it was gave me peace, but I only gained my freedom when he died.”
“In the years since, I got an education and learned to live as an independent woman, but something is missing. I have friends, but no real social life. I ache for companionship, for a lover, but I have no idea how to make a relationship work…”
When she finally stopped talking, her audiences’ stunned expressions taught her the lesson she’d refused to believe. No one in the vanilla world would ever be able to understand her mixed emotions, or her weird needs. The serenity she desired could only be found within the dark world she’d fled; and to truly heal, she would have to face the demons in her heart and mind, naked and on her knees in complete submission. She ducked deeper into her hood and folded into herself, knowing what she had to do.
I need a Dom.
♥ ♥ ♥
Julia paced the small room that had begun to feel more like a prison cell than a room in the hospital over the course of her involuntary hold. She couldn’t wait for Maxwell to arrive to sign her out and take her home. She knew her protector would be worried out of his mind. There was so much she needed to talk to him about, concerning her past. He needed to know the safety measures she’d put in place four years earlier hadn’t been paranoia, but legitimate protection layers. She needed to reassure him she had no interest in killing herself. She couldn’t say what had triggered her psychotic break, but the sheer desperation she’d been feeling had passed and she could say without a doubt she had no interest in dying. If anything, emotionally imploding had helped her face her past. Life was good. Freedom was amazing. She was starting a new job and moving into her first home—
“Julia.”
She pivoted, wide-eyed. “Dr. Merrill! I wasn’t expecting you.”
“My, my, what a mess you’ve made of yourself.” Her psychologist walked right up to her and rubbed her shaved head. “At the moment, you look more marine recruit than school teacher. You’ll need a wig before your report for your first day.”
Uneasy, Julia took a step backward and rubbed her bristly head self-consciously. “I’ve been released. Maxwell is on his way.”
Her doctor turned toward the portable over-bed table her meals had been placed on and took a few items out of her large tote. A rhythmic tic tic tic filled the space. Julia’s gaze went to the metronome the doctor had started. The sound increased her anxiety but she tried to sound confident, stating, “He’ll be here any minute in fact.”
Dr. Merrill turned to face her and smiled, but her expression didn’t put Julia at ease. She pointed to the bed. “He’s in the waiting room and understands we need to talk. Sit and tell me what led up to being admitted.”
“I don’t know what triggered me, if that’s what you’re asking.” Julia stayed standing and crossed her arms. She really didn’t have time for this. “I’m tired and start classes in the morning. I want to go home now. Let’s schedule an appointment for later this week.”
The doctor’s smile tightened. “I said ‘Sit’, Julia. Perhaps you don’t understand the severity of your situation. I can sign your release forms, or I can admit you for thirty days or more.”
Julia gasped, feeling her paranoia was quite justified. She sat.
“Good girl.” The doctor pulled a chair nearer. “Now I want you to close your eyes and breathe slowly and deeply. Relax and listen to my voice.”
Julia closed her eyes, seeing no other option and startled when she heard a rhythmic tic-tic-tic. Dr. Merrill commanded, “Stay relaxed. Clear your mind. I’m going to help you forget the delusions clouding your mind. You have the staff on duty quite worried.”
Tok. Tok. Tok.
“My husband kept me prisoner!”
Tok. Tok. Tok.
“Your grief has muddled your memories, Julia. Listen to the beat, focus on it and allow my words to bring you peace.”
Tok. Tok. Tok.
I won’t forget! I won’t forget. It’s too dangerous to forget the truth…
♥
Meet Everett
Savannah, Georgia
Six months ago
“She’s refusing all pain medication until she speaks to you, Sir.”
When the nurse’s call came to explain Auntie Gertrude’s condition—her organs were unexplainably shutting down—Everett Hawthorne dropped everything to race across town to be by her side. He spoke with her doctors, disbelieving how quickly she’d turned for the worse. “There’s nothing more to be done. We’ll manage her pain, keep her comfortable. Perhaps you would like to spend a moment with her while she’s lucid?”
After speaking to the doctor and understanding there was nothing that could be done beyond pain management, he took a moment to steel himself behind the closed door to her bedroom. Even so, he wasn’t prepared to see her looking so shrunken and weak tucked into her king-size canopy bed, draped with exotic fabric.
Mentally, he’d known she was ninety-two but she’d never seemed old to him. He would always see her as the beautiful, warm-hearted middle-aged woman with the kindest eyes, who’d raced to the hospital when she learned her nephew had survived the horrific crash that had claimed his parents.
Seeing him, her eyes sparked. “There you are, my sweet boy.”
Everett knelt by her bed and held her hand and teased gently, “I hear you’ve caused quite the fuss this morning. You needn’t have been so dramatic, Auntie. I was on my way. Why didn’t you allow the doctors to dull your pain?”
“They don’t want to dull my pain. They want to knock me out, so I’m too dim-witted to even acknowledge my throes of death. What right do they have to steal that from me? No, I’ll face my death as I’ve faced my life. Eyes wide, I say. Throttle open all the way, come what may, son. Come what may.”
“Well, sounds like you’ve got it figured out.”
Gertrude chuckled weakly but smiled widely, a glimmer of her former radiance showing in her eyes. “I wanted to be clear headed enough so that when I make my last request of you, no one could convince you it’s the medicine talking.”
“You know I will do anything for you, woman.” He covered their held left hands with his right, sandwiching her frail fingers between his own calloused ones. “You didn’t have to take in a frail, sickly boy when your brother and his wife, who you never really liked, died. But you did. Everything I am, everything I’ve become, I owe to you.”
“All you needed was fresh air and vegetables. Look at you now, so strong.”
Everett smiled. “I love you, Auntie.”
“You won’t forget me?” She tried to hide her grimace of pain when she squeezed his hand, but he saw right through it. “Never, and I won’t let anyone else forget you either. Now, please, let me know what I can do for you.”
“I will see Blackstone one more time, son, and you are going to take me there.”
Behind him, the nurse gasped. She’d been standing ready with a syringe of morphine to help make his aunt’s final hours less painful, but that wasn’t what his aunt needed to find peace. Without a single second thought, Everett pulled down the layers of covers and lifted her. He whispered conspiratorially, “I brought the convertible and it’s a beautiful, sunny day, Auntie, a perfect day for a summer drive with the top down. Let’s get out of here. We’ll make a run for it.”
And so they did.
Of course after buckling her in, he swaddled her with blankets to keep her from getting chilled and wrapped a scarf over her head. From the glove box, he pulled out her favorite sunglasses and propped them on her nose. “More beautiful than Grace Kelly in To Catch a Thief.”
Gertie tittered, sounding appreciative of his flirting. “You’ll make some woman a fine catch, with pretty lies like that, my boy, but you can keep slinging them my way since I don’t have much more time on this earth to hear them.”
Her brutally honesty and peaceful acceptance of the painful truth they face was almost his undoing. For a moment he was again the scared little boy being swallowed in the pain of loss. He squeezed her hand and kissed her cheek. “Let’s do this, Aunt Gertie!”
As they drove through town and then into the swamplands, he was mindful to avoid every bump and dip in the pavement, knowing every time he jarred her, caused her excruciating pain. Despite her discomfort, she kept up a steady, witty dialogue, making him believe the doctors must be wrong.
She sighed with a blissful smile on her face when he turned into the gated plantation lane. The long driveway was lined with Spanish moss covered oaks. “I want to be buried her, son. The city will have a fit, so you mustn’t tell them. You’ll sneak my ashes here, during the dead of night, on the first full moon after I die and you will crank up the tunes, throw back some whiskey, and dance skyclad as you sprinkle my ashes onto the earth.”
“If that’s your wish, I will surely do it, Auntie.”
“Aye, it’s one of many. That’s why we’re here. I’ve made you a list that you’ll find in the office safe, but you’ll hear them from my very lips so if anyone gives you any bullshit, you can tell them Gertie said. Now, carry me.”
With Everett holding her in his arms, Auntie directed him to notable site around the property as she reminded him of their family’s dark history with story after story. She spent the long afternoon painting for him once again all of her hopes and dreams for the once glorious mansion and grounds, but it was at her prodding Everett finally gave voice to his own dreams, and dark desires. Sitting on the steep steps, leading up to the time and weather damaged building at his back, he settled Gertie on his lap and wrapped a woolen blanket tightly around her to shield her from the breeze.
She softly chuckled and announced, “The Hawthorne blood runs true. Our family has always hovered on the outskirts of societal norms. I might have never spoken of it, but I took my fair share of lusty, deviant suitors into my bed back in the day.”
“I don’t believe I’m old enough for this conversation, Auntie.” He blushed.
The old woman snorted. “I’ve heard tell of your Black Sheet parties.”
Shocked she knew about his secret life, he drolled, “Oh really?”
“I also know you’ve been looking at old warehouses down by the docks, so you can host even bigger events, but I think you should make your dreams a reality here, at Blackstone.” She shared the vision she had for the place and the images she pulled to his mind would be an elegant backdrop to the floggings and sex games an exclusive membership would bring to Blackstone.
He’d never, ever considered it, but perhaps the answer had been in reach all along.
“Oh, Auntie, what you’re describing is exactly my dream, but it feels might sacrilegious to even jest about bringing a BDSM club to the sight of a former plantation where slaves had labored, been tortured, and died. Do you honestly believe the genteel citizens of Savannah are ready for the scandalous past of the Hawthorne’s to barrel back into their present? Even if I make it private and swear every member to secrecy, word will spread—”
“Everett, our family has been aligned by gossip for centuries, are you really going to tell me you give a damn what people think?”
“You’ve given everything, Julia.”
She’d gasped, hearing her name on his lips since he so rarely used her name.
“You sacrificed everything for an old man.”
…no, not everything, not in the end. She’d betrayed his trust, betrayed him…
But he hadn’t know. She hoped he never knew that as he’d laid on his deathbed, his breath ragged, his lips gray and his skin sallow, she’d only been pretending to still be loyal and obedient. Had he known what she’d done in the instance of his death?
He’d been so weak and she’d taken advantage of the situation, scouring his office for information, reading and replying to his emails, and in the end planning her own rescue. She’d been so bad, so very, very bad, and if anyone ever discovered what she’d done to guarantee her freedom. Oh God. No one can ever know.
When his friend Maxwell had replied he would be on the next plane she’d started shaking. She was cutting it so close…
With his friend’s assistance, Master had cut the lock off her collar. Jasper took her hand in his shaky one. His voice didn’t sound like his voice at all when he whispered, “You’re free, Julia. You are free. Remember I was a bastard, but that in the end I did right by you.”
“I love you, Master,” and then Jasper’s last breath came—
The soft, tenacious voice in her head reminded her the love story in her mind was a lie. A fabricated script by her therapist to help her move on.
“If it was all a lie, how had I loved him, conscience?” she mumbled to herself. “No, whatever had happened on the roof—nightmare, hallucination, believing I’d fled danger—that’s what had to be fiction! I loved Jasper.” Even as she thought it, she remembered why she’d ended up on the roof. “Oh god, oh god! They’ll kill me.”
She started to hyperventilate, remembering she’d betrayed Jasper and weakened his organization Unfettered Humans. Without even knowing, she’d been hiding for five years. She covered her face and screamed into her shaking hands.
“Ms. Moran? Ms. Moran!”
She jerked aware and met the gazes of those waiting for her to take her turn. The men who had led Gentle Jones away were watching. No, no, no! “I’m sorry. I’m okay.”
Becky smiled, clearly relieved she wasn’t going to have to hit the panic button attached to her photo ID again. Having gotten Julia’s attention, the facilitator gestured for her to stand. “Please share with us your intention for the new year.”
Awkward and sweating profusely, she stood unsteadily. Shaking from head to toe, she forced herself to make eye contact with the others. It was one of her mother’s many rules to teach her to be a powerful woman. She’d almost forgotten them all living with Master. I’ll do better now, Momma. “Hi, my name is Julia.”
Six voices proclaimed, “You are safe here, Julia.”
Becky held up one finger for her to wait and shouted, “Twenty! I’m sorry, Ms. Moran. Please continue.”
Julia said softly, “Okay, so I’ve never done this before, so bear with me as I work it out in my head, but I think I’ve got it. You see, Skye, my best friend, knows everything that I’m kinda worried about, the stuff I’m working through my therapist, and she says true freedom only comes from living an authentic life. You might be asking, what the fuck is an authentic life? I know I did. You see, my friend Skye is an enigma from another time. She’s all about love and peace, a hippie to her core—“
“Ms. Moran?”
Her gaze guilty met the facilitator’s. Rambling, yep that was her thing. Get nervous and her mouth just didn’t know when to stop. “Sorry.”
“Focus, Ms. Moran”—Becky was nodding her head like she was addressing a three year old, but that was okay since she clearly had the attention span of a toddler—“can you do that?”
Julia nodded. “Yes, ma’am. So, living authentically is being sure our words and actions are harmonious with our core values and beliefs; and by not being limited by any labels attached to us by anyone else. In return the vibration of those authentic actions and reactions kind of tune us in to the passions and joys that fuel a richer, more fulfilling life. Skye believes, and now I do too, that my own authenticity has the power to heal me. I know I’m broken because the song of my soul is silent. I can remember being younger. I hummed, like all the time, because I was so full of light and love, but my inner peace got ripped away. It seems like I’m a scattered jigsaw puzzle most days, but some parts fit together and some parts that are together shouldn’t be.”
She stopped talking and looked at her audience. She could tell by their expressions she had lost their attention. “I’m not making sense, am I?”
“It’s okay, Ms. Moran.” Becky was suddenly leaning forward and looking at her like she was suddenly the most interesting thing in the room. A nurse and orderly stood nearby. Julia hoped she didn’t become as compelling as Gentle Jones had. “It seems like you might be very close to working something important out. Please continue?”
Julia nodded. “Sometimes it seems like I have two versions of events in my head. I know it doesn’t make sense to me either, but I think that for—“
“Speak a little louder so we can all hear you please.”
Julia raised her voice. ”For nine years, I was forced to lie—about pretty much everything. Since lying goes against everything I was ever taught to believe in, it seems strange that in the four years since the person who was controlling me died, I’ve kept repeating them.”
Becky’s smile grew shaky, but Julia’s conviction grew as more and more memories surfaced with her testimony, but she didn’t panic over what she was remembering. “I’ve added to the lies, making matters worse. I haven’t told anyone the truth. So, my positive intention is to stop lying.”
“I believe you’ve taken a very big step in the right direction tonight, Julia. Dr. Merrill is going to be very pleased something this positive has been born from a truly horrible night for you.”
Julia self-consciously rubbed her bristly head.
“Would you like to share with us one of the lies you’ve protected for so long, Julia?”
“I was a child sex slave. I was held prisoner for almost nine years. ”
Julia exhaled, feeling like a huge weight she’d been carrying had fallen away. She waited for Becky to ask additional questions like she had everyone else, but she didn’t. She tried and failed to make eye contact with her audience. Staring through them, she kept talking, “No one knows the truth. Skye suspects, I don’t know how, some crazy hippie third-eye mumbo jumbo maybe, but she really has no idea what I’ve been through. I learned to give my Master, my love and devotion through isolation and pain.”
The pain was never ending some days.
Rocking herself, she whispered, “I discovered if I just submitted to his will in all things, I’d be safe”—her voice stayed strong and steady, making Julia feel like she was on the right path, and once unleashed, the truth just kept coming—“for a while I felt safe, loved, adored. It all might have been a lie, but the lies didn’t hurt. My acceptance of the situation for what it was gave me peace, but I only gained my freedom when he died.”
“In the years since, I got an education and learned to live as an independent woman, but something is missing. I have friends, but no real social life. I ache for companionship, for a lover, but I have no idea how to make a relationship work…”
When she finally stopped talking, her audiences’ stunned expressions taught her the lesson she’d refused to believe. No one in the vanilla world would ever be able to understand her mixed emotions, or her weird needs. The serenity she desired could only be found within the dark world she’d fled; and to truly heal, she would have to face the demons in her heart and mind, naked and on her knees in complete submission. She ducked deeper into her hood and folded into herself, knowing what she had to do.
I need a Dom.
♥ ♥ ♥
Julia paced the small room that had begun to feel more like a prison cell than a room in the hospital over the course of her involuntary hold. She couldn’t wait for Maxwell to arrive to sign her out and take her home. She knew her protector would be worried out of his mind. There was so much she needed to talk to him about, concerning her past. He needed to know the safety measures she’d put in place four years earlier hadn’t been paranoia, but legitimate protection layers. She needed to reassure him she had no interest in killing herself. She couldn’t say what had triggered her psychotic break, but the sheer desperation she’d been feeling had passed and she could say without a doubt she had no interest in dying. If anything, emotionally imploding had helped her face her past. Life was good. Freedom was amazing. She was starting a new job and moving into her first home—
“Julia.”
She pivoted, wide-eyed. “Dr. Merrill! I wasn’t expecting you.”
“My, my, what a mess you’ve made of yourself.” Her psychologist walked right up to her and rubbed her shaved head. “At the moment, you look more marine recruit than school teacher. You’ll need a wig before your report for your first day.”
Uneasy, Julia took a step backward and rubbed her bristly head self-consciously. “I’ve been released. Maxwell is on his way.”
Her doctor turned toward the portable over-bed table her meals had been placed on and took a few items out of her large tote. A rhythmic tic tic tic filled the space. Julia’s gaze went to the metronome the doctor had started. The sound increased her anxiety but she tried to sound confident, stating, “He’ll be here any minute in fact.”
Dr. Merrill turned to face her and smiled, but her expression didn’t put Julia at ease. She pointed to the bed. “He’s in the waiting room and understands we need to talk. Sit and tell me what led up to being admitted.”
“I don’t know what triggered me, if that’s what you’re asking.” Julia stayed standing and crossed her arms. She really didn’t have time for this. “I’m tired and start classes in the morning. I want to go home now. Let’s schedule an appointment for later this week.”
The doctor’s smile tightened. “I said ‘Sit’, Julia. Perhaps you don’t understand the severity of your situation. I can sign your release forms, or I can admit you for thirty days or more.”
Julia gasped, feeling her paranoia was quite justified. She sat.
“Good girl.” The doctor pulled a chair nearer. “Now I want you to close your eyes and breathe slowly and deeply. Relax and listen to my voice.”
Julia closed her eyes, seeing no other option and startled when she heard a rhythmic tic-tic-tic. Dr. Merrill commanded, “Stay relaxed. Clear your mind. I’m going to help you forget the delusions clouding your mind. You have the staff on duty quite worried.”
Tok. Tok. Tok.
“My husband kept me prisoner!”
Tok. Tok. Tok.
“Your grief has muddled your memories, Julia. Listen to the beat, focus on it and allow my words to bring you peace.”
Tok. Tok. Tok.
I won’t forget! I won’t forget. It’s too dangerous to forget the truth…
♥
Meet Everett
Savannah, Georgia
Six months ago
“She’s refusing all pain medication until she speaks to you, Sir.”
When the nurse’s call came to explain Auntie Gertrude’s condition—her organs were unexplainably shutting down—Everett Hawthorne dropped everything to race across town to be by her side. He spoke with her doctors, disbelieving how quickly she’d turned for the worse. “There’s nothing more to be done. We’ll manage her pain, keep her comfortable. Perhaps you would like to spend a moment with her while she’s lucid?”
After speaking to the doctor and understanding there was nothing that could be done beyond pain management, he took a moment to steel himself behind the closed door to her bedroom. Even so, he wasn’t prepared to see her looking so shrunken and weak tucked into her king-size canopy bed, draped with exotic fabric.
Mentally, he’d known she was ninety-two but she’d never seemed old to him. He would always see her as the beautiful, warm-hearted middle-aged woman with the kindest eyes, who’d raced to the hospital when she learned her nephew had survived the horrific crash that had claimed his parents.
Seeing him, her eyes sparked. “There you are, my sweet boy.”
Everett knelt by her bed and held her hand and teased gently, “I hear you’ve caused quite the fuss this morning. You needn’t have been so dramatic, Auntie. I was on my way. Why didn’t you allow the doctors to dull your pain?”
“They don’t want to dull my pain. They want to knock me out, so I’m too dim-witted to even acknowledge my throes of death. What right do they have to steal that from me? No, I’ll face my death as I’ve faced my life. Eyes wide, I say. Throttle open all the way, come what may, son. Come what may.”
“Well, sounds like you’ve got it figured out.”
Gertrude chuckled weakly but smiled widely, a glimmer of her former radiance showing in her eyes. “I wanted to be clear headed enough so that when I make my last request of you, no one could convince you it’s the medicine talking.”
“You know I will do anything for you, woman.” He covered their held left hands with his right, sandwiching her frail fingers between his own calloused ones. “You didn’t have to take in a frail, sickly boy when your brother and his wife, who you never really liked, died. But you did. Everything I am, everything I’ve become, I owe to you.”
“All you needed was fresh air and vegetables. Look at you now, so strong.”
Everett smiled. “I love you, Auntie.”
“You won’t forget me?” She tried to hide her grimace of pain when she squeezed his hand, but he saw right through it. “Never, and I won’t let anyone else forget you either. Now, please, let me know what I can do for you.”
“I will see Blackstone one more time, son, and you are going to take me there.”
Behind him, the nurse gasped. She’d been standing ready with a syringe of morphine to help make his aunt’s final hours less painful, but that wasn’t what his aunt needed to find peace. Without a single second thought, Everett pulled down the layers of covers and lifted her. He whispered conspiratorially, “I brought the convertible and it’s a beautiful, sunny day, Auntie, a perfect day for a summer drive with the top down. Let’s get out of here. We’ll make a run for it.”
And so they did.
Of course after buckling her in, he swaddled her with blankets to keep her from getting chilled and wrapped a scarf over her head. From the glove box, he pulled out her favorite sunglasses and propped them on her nose. “More beautiful than Grace Kelly in To Catch a Thief.”
Gertie tittered, sounding appreciative of his flirting. “You’ll make some woman a fine catch, with pretty lies like that, my boy, but you can keep slinging them my way since I don’t have much more time on this earth to hear them.”
Her brutally honesty and peaceful acceptance of the painful truth they face was almost his undoing. For a moment he was again the scared little boy being swallowed in the pain of loss. He squeezed her hand and kissed her cheek. “Let’s do this, Aunt Gertie!”
As they drove through town and then into the swamplands, he was mindful to avoid every bump and dip in the pavement, knowing every time he jarred her, caused her excruciating pain. Despite her discomfort, she kept up a steady, witty dialogue, making him believe the doctors must be wrong.
She sighed with a blissful smile on her face when he turned into the gated plantation lane. The long driveway was lined with Spanish moss covered oaks. “I want to be buried her, son. The city will have a fit, so you mustn’t tell them. You’ll sneak my ashes here, during the dead of night, on the first full moon after I die and you will crank up the tunes, throw back some whiskey, and dance skyclad as you sprinkle my ashes onto the earth.”
“If that’s your wish, I will surely do it, Auntie.”
“Aye, it’s one of many. That’s why we’re here. I’ve made you a list that you’ll find in the office safe, but you’ll hear them from my very lips so if anyone gives you any bullshit, you can tell them Gertie said. Now, carry me.”
With Everett holding her in his arms, Auntie directed him to notable site around the property as she reminded him of their family’s dark history with story after story. She spent the long afternoon painting for him once again all of her hopes and dreams for the once glorious mansion and grounds, but it was at her prodding Everett finally gave voice to his own dreams, and dark desires. Sitting on the steep steps, leading up to the time and weather damaged building at his back, he settled Gertie on his lap and wrapped a woolen blanket tightly around her to shield her from the breeze.
She softly chuckled and announced, “The Hawthorne blood runs true. Our family has always hovered on the outskirts of societal norms. I might have never spoken of it, but I took my fair share of lusty, deviant suitors into my bed back in the day.”
“I don’t believe I’m old enough for this conversation, Auntie.” He blushed.
The old woman snorted. “I’ve heard tell of your Black Sheet parties.”
Shocked she knew about his secret life, he drolled, “Oh really?”
“I also know you’ve been looking at old warehouses down by the docks, so you can host even bigger events, but I think you should make your dreams a reality here, at Blackstone.” She shared the vision she had for the place and the images she pulled to his mind would be an elegant backdrop to the floggings and sex games an exclusive membership would bring to Blackstone.
He’d never, ever considered it, but perhaps the answer had been in reach all along.
“Oh, Auntie, what you’re describing is exactly my dream, but it feels might sacrilegious to even jest about bringing a BDSM club to the sight of a former plantation where slaves had labored, been tortured, and died. Do you honestly believe the genteel citizens of Savannah are ready for the scandalous past of the Hawthorne’s to barrel back into their present? Even if I make it private and swear every member to secrecy, word will spread—”
“Everett, our family has been aligned by gossip for centuries, are you really going to tell me you give a damn what people think?”
