Crain's Landing
Authors: Cayce Poponea
Crain’s Landing
Copyright © 2015 Cayce Poponea
Published by Cayce's Creations All Rights Reserved
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means; including information storage and retrieval systems-except in the case of brief excerpts or quotations embodied in review or critical writings without the expressed permission of the author.
The characters and events in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
Editing by Elizabeth Simonton and D.J.White
Cover Design by
Jada D’Lee Designs
Formatting by
Champagne Formats
Table of Contents
Other work by Cayce Poponea
Shamrocks Series
Shamrocks and Secrets
Claddagh and Chaos
Even in fiction, there lives a little truth. I’ve been blessed to have several special people grace my world. When the plot for this particular fiction began to form, one of the most influential of those people came to mind. To my daughter Jessica. My reason for rising before the sun, working until I couldn’t see straight and striving to be the best role model I could be for you. You were the first thing I’ve ever done right. Thank you for the constant inspiration you provide me, I love you.
As a young girl, I was shy and reserved. Always worried I was bothering others if I asked a question. I met my best friend when I was in the second grade. She, unlike me, was beautiful and popular with the children in our class. Her family moved away and I thought I would never see her again. However the first day of middle school, there she was, still as pretty as ever. Time was unable to erase the bond we shared as our friendship continued until college tore us apart once again. Lori, you have saved me so many times, several from the defeat I gave myself. Thank you and I love you as well.
“KEVIN ALLEN SCOTT.”
The feedback from the microphone caused several parents to pull back, the loud wailing sounds causing more ear irritation than the Dean’s voice. Kevin seemed destined to excel at everything he did; from football to cross country running, he played every sport he could. Originally from a small farm in Nebraska, he had turned down a number of NFL teams; choosing, instead, to return to his hometown, settle down and raise a family with his long-term girlfriend. I understood Kevin when he defended his choice not to go pro. He wanted what I wanted deep inside—a warm and safe place to lay my head down every night, a world I could call home.
“Winifred Millicent Sherman.”
Oh my, Millie’s first name was Winifred.
I’d go by my middle name as well
, I thought to myself. Millie was one of those people who tried very hard to be everyone’s friend. She lived for joining committees and participated in every organization she could find. Pleasing people was a need for her, like the air she breathed. She was destined to be a leader or at least married to one. Her beauty and determination were all wrapped up in this little perfect package. Being the Senator's daughter didn't hurt her case any either.
Dean Peterson had opened his speech with a plea for everyone to hold their applause until the end. However, with the excitement of seeing their loved one and, let’s be perfectly honest, the notion that the checks to this University were over and done with, allowed everyone to completely ignore him. Heck, he should be used to being ignored. Unless you needed something from him, he was completely useless.
“Carson Marcus Shultz.”
Poor Carson, he was the only guy in my women’s studies class. I suspected he played for the other team; I had no real proof of that other than the company he kept. He was always neat and clean, dressed completely metrosexual, yet I never saw him
with
someone.
“Henry Alabaster Simons.”
Thank God I wouldn’t have to listen to him clear his throat a hundred times a day anymore
.
Henry came from money and it was a blessing for him. He was most definitely challenged in the looks department. His character wasn't much better because he argued nearly every point he was ever given. I had a study group with him one time, that was all it took for me to know he was not someone I wanted to be friends with. I overheard a couple students once say that his parents were grooming him to take over the family business, a seed packaging plant. He would most likely marry a supermodel, complete with an ironclad prenup and a credit card with no limit to keep her happy.
“Natalie Elizabeth Reid.”
This would be the third time I had listened for my name to be called at a graduation ceremony. First was from my high school in Hikers Cove, Oregon. I remembered how I could only think about the world I was about to enter, parent and supervision free. I once heard someone say, “I wish I knew then what I know now.” Youth keeps us blind, guarded from the harshness of real life. Events had shown me that life was what happened when you were not paying attention.
The second time was from college, when I received my undergrad. A time when I felt my life couldn't get any more perfect. I thought I had it all, every dream I ever had, had come true.
But you know what they say about dreams?
Nightmares are dreams too.
Now, I was obtaining my Masters in Literature from Cornell University in New York. It had been my goal from the start to attend school here. In fact, my parents couldn't believe I declined a full ride fresh out of high school, but this was my dream and not Holden’s. This particular graduation had been a long time coming. There had been many days I didn’t think it would happen. Many times I almost threw in the towel after getting a dose of the way life really was for me. My eyes were no longer blinded by my youth. I rose from my seat, the reality of the moment settling in my chest. I had worked hard for this moment, willingly sacrificed so many things. Admittedly, it wasn’t easy, but to live in this moment, I would do it all again.
I walked across the stage, careful not to trip over the many cords that crossed the walk. The last thing I wanted was to end up with the most hits on a YouTube video. Dean Peterson smiled and extended his hand out to me. I was leery to take it; no telling where or rather in which graduating girl, it had been. He was the textbook example of a playboy. He owned the fastest sports car and had the quintessential ‘turn a blind eye’ wife, who had her own side action. He was at least discreet about his prowling; he never came on to a girl, he just never turned one down for any reason. Hell, I thought even Henry would have scored some ass with him if the price was high enough. I plastered on a smile and held back the bile that threatened as I shook his hand. The camera flash blinded me as I smiled, took my diploma in hand, and then walked with purpose to the opposite end of the stage. Far away from the Dean and closer to the rest of my life.
As I descended the staircase, I heard my reason for all the hard work these past few years. The full class schedules, summer school, and online courses when necessary. But it was all worth it; she was worth it. Her big, blue eyes were shining in the bright light of the June sun, her blonde ringlets bouncing as my dad balanced her on his shoulders. Her smile was contagious, as was that laugh of hers, and I’d fallen victim to both many times. She was my lifeline, my inspiration, my reason for everything—my two-year-old daughter, Peyton.
I stepped off the stage and waved to my little miracle. I watched as she excitedly waved back, stopping to blow me kisses. Her giggles and kisses had kept me going more times than I cared to remember. Having my dad here was icing on my cake. He was the only guy in our world right now. As far as I was concerned, it would stay that way, indefinitely. Men were lying, cheating, pieces of slime. My dad, of course, was excluded. The killer part was, they were all the same. They said nice things to you, took you to expensive places, yet only doing these things to get into your pants. Then, when they had what they wanted, they dumped you and moved on to the next short skirt. Some took their time to make you feel special; told you how beautiful you were, how nice you smelled. But in the end, the outcome was always the same—they were
all
the same.
