Dawns Everlastin' (former title: Dusk Before Dawn) Book 2

Dawns Everlastin'

(formerly: Dusk Before
Dawn)

Book 2

by

Mickee Madden

* * *

Smashwords
Edition

© 2011 by Mickee
Madden

****************************************************

Smashwords Edition, License
Notes

This ebook is licensed for
your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or
given away to other people. If you would like to share this book
with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each
recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or
it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to
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the hard work of this author.

Cover by Mickee
Madden

* * *

To my husband, Steve, for
all the years of unselfish love and support;

and to my children, Gwen,
Bud, and Brehan.

Special thanks to my
brothers and sisters; nieces and nephews;

and friends who are very
much my family.

To Cindy Stapleton. What can
I say, kiddo? I'd be lost without you.

Eugenia. Thanks for hanging
in there!

And last but never never
least, Denise.

* * *

Glossary

afore/before —
anither/another — atween/between — aught/anything

bahookie/buttocks —
canna/cannot — corbie/crow — dinna/don't

efter/after — faither/father
— fegs/damn — ither/other — mair/more

maist/most — mither/mother
—naught/nothing — shouldna/shouldn't

thegither/together —
verra/very — wasna/wasn't / weel/well

willna/will not —
winna/won't — wouldna/wouldn't

* * *

For information on up-coming
e-books by Mickee Madden

please contact her at:
[email protected]

C
hapter 1

Beyond the fogged windshield
of the Volvo, thick, downy snowflakes mocked the wipers' efforts to
brush them aside. Not a star shone in the pale grayness awning the
night sky. The coruscant land owned of vast isolation, feeding
Laura Bennett's desperation to find shelter. Despite the three
young boys carrying on in the back seat, never had she been so cold
or so lonely.

The storm was just another
obstacle. One more hardship and she wasn't sure how much more she
could endure.

Her fingers gripped the
steering wheel more tightly as she leaned to and squinted to see
beyond the clouded windshield. A tension headache thundered at her
temples and painfully tightened the skin across her brow. An
invisible vice squeezed the back of her neck. Every sound, every
jostling movement of the car, seemed a personal assault on her raw
nerves.

"Boys, please!" she
groaned.

To her further dismay, her
entreaty produced the opposite effect. Three-year-old Alby's
whining raised a full octave. His sneakered feet repeatedly kicked
at the back of her seat. The argument between his five and
seven-year-old brothers also escalated, their voices slicing
through her sensitized skull.

Her teeth clenched, she
testily rubbed the side of a hand on the windshield, but the
cleared spot began to fog up almost immediately.

"Damn," she muttered,
rolling her side window down another two inches.

"Hey! I'm cold!" Kevin
shouted.

"It can't be helped." Laura
tried unsuccessfully to force herself to relax. "I can't see
anything in front of us."

"Can't drive, park
it."

"Kevin..." Laura took a
moment to calm her anger. In the past three days, she'd learned the
boys weren't intimidated by adults. In fact, much to her chagrin,
nothing fazed her nephews. Her inexperience with children was in
part responsible.

"You're not setting a very
good example for your brothers," she went on, hoping to tap into
Kevin's conscience. "Now, please settle down. My nerves are
shot."

Folding his arms across the
back of the front seat, the seven-year-old demanded, "Roll up the
window."

Laura glanced in the rear
view mirror to see Kevin smugly staring back at her. "The defroster
isn't work—"

"Roll it up!"

Alby released a wail.
Covering his ears, five-year-old Kahl slammed the soles of his
cowboy boots against the back of the tattered, red vinyl front
seat.

"Stop it!" Laura warned, her
patience a long forgotten thing. "Sit back and stop—"

"You're on the wrong side,
you dummy!" Kevin cried. "Get over!"

Seemingly from out of
nowhere, bright headlights bore down on the Volvo. Instinctively,
Laura yanked the steering wheel to the right. Kevin released a
shrill, "No!" and she swerved to the left. The boys cried out their
protests, silencing momentarily when the tires became railed in
ruts of iced-over snow.

Laura's stomach heaved.
Gulping back a rise of burning liquid, she ground the stick shift
into second and tapped the brake.

"You idiot!"

Laura winced, but decided it
wasn't worth scolding Kahl for his harsh outburst. How could she
expect the boys to respect her decisions, when each one had landed
them in one predicament after another? As she slowed the car to a
crawl, she fought back a sudden urge to cry. All she needed now was
to break down in front of the little hellions and let them know
just how much they were getting to her!

She knew nothing about
children. The thought of having her own child had never intruded
upon her neatly organized life.

Rolling down the right rear
passenger window, Kevin poked out his head.

"Kevin!"

He grimaced but ignored his
aunt.

"Dammit, Kevin!" Laura
gripped the steering wheel so tightly, pain shot through her
wrists. "If I stop this car, I swear I'm going to throttle
you!

Roll up that
window!"

"I see a biiig house." He
pointed. "Up on that hill. See it?"

Laura couldn't see anything
but a hazy stretch of road.

"Up there!" Kevin said
impatiently, glowering at his aunt. "Maybe they got a
phone."

"I gotta take a slash," Kahl
announced.

Distracted, she asked,
"What?"

"A slash! Don’t you speak
English? I gotta
peeee!"

Laura glanced down at the
dimly-lit gauges on the front of the dashboard. The fuel needle was
leaning close to the E, and the engine light was
blinking.

"Are we gonna stop or what?"
Kahl grumbled. "I'm hungry."

"Turn right!" Kevin
ordered.
"Now!"

Exhaustion and sheer
frustration prompted her to turn the wheel sharply. For several
maddening seconds, the vehicle bounced and skidded over iced ruts.
Then the tires began to spin on a sudden incline.

Numbly, Laura shifted into
first gear. Her vibrant green eyes strained to see more clearly
what lay ahead within the terrible pale grayness. The world had
somehow vanished. Tears filled her eyes, one escaping down a pale
cheek.

"I can't see a damn thing,"
she said in a barely audible voice.

From the corner of her left
eye, she spied a soft, green luminance. Her head turned. Disbelief
wrapped its icy fingers about her heart and squeezed.

Up on the hill, green mist
bathed an enormous structure, lending it a surreal appearance. For
several seconds, she thought she saw the house glide—rush—toward
her. She felt herself tunneled in darkness, unable to focus on
anything but the looming house. Fear threatened to overwhelm her
until suddenly she could see nothing but the wintery
landscape.

The incline
steepened.

Thrown back into the reality
of her situation, Laura feared the Volvo would lose all power.
Panicked at the prospect of the car rolling backward, she depressed
the gas pedal and popped the clutch, hoping for nothing more than
to crest the hill. The car surged forward. Cries rang out behind
her as the vehicle slid to one side. Grinding the stick shift out
of first and into neutral, she slammed on the brake, but it was too
late to stop the car from nose-diving into a ravine.

Impact with a tall oak
pitched her into the steering wheel. Pain erupted through every
part of her body. From seemingly far away, she could hear her
nephews' whimpers, but she was steadily withdrawing from
consciousness.

Hold on.

Lofty grayness returned when
Laura's reasoning locked onto an omnipresent female
voice.

Help had
arrived.

The left rear door opened
and slammed shut. Laura inwardly struggled to fully revive herself.
The boys were screaming, their diminishing voices indicative of
them moving away from the vehicle.

"Boys," she croaked, trying
to straighten away from the wheel.

Lachlan's with them. Try to
remain still. Help is coming. I promise, everything will be all
right.

Help was coming.

Laura felt a compelling need
to cry, but she was too disoriented to risk weakening herself with
such release.

Jolting movement intensified
her pain, promising to deliver her into a void of unconsciousness.
She wanted to let go of the pain, of the long days of frustration,
and her unwanted new responsibilities.

Let it all go.

Another voice, harsh and
impatient, and owning of a thick Scottish burr, intermittently
sliced through the riotous agony in her skull.

"The boys," she
whispered.

Then blessed, forgiving
darkness embraced her.

"Wha' the bloody hell is
wrong wi' you!"

The strident tone forced her
up from oblivion. Everything hurt. She didn't want to open her
eyes. Her lids were so heavy, she knew it would be agony lift
them.

"Leave him
alone!"

Kevin's shrill voice jerked
her to full consciousness.

"I'll paddle his backside
till he can't walk! Give me those, you little booger!"

Despite the pain racking her
body, she managed to draw herself up into a sitting position. She
instantly became aware that she was in a large bed, in a bedroom
lit only by a fire in a hearth, halfway across the room. A short
distance away from the fireplace, a man was unsuccessfully trying
to take something from Alby's clenched hands.

"Leave him alone!" Kevin
shouted, again slugging the crouching man in the arm.

Fighting back a strong
desire to lie back down and close her eyes, Laura got onto her
hands and knees and weakly crawled to the foot of the bed. Her
stomach churned in warning. She remained perfectly still, watching
in dazed bewilderment as the oldest boy pummeled the stranger with
his fists.

"Dammit, laddie!"

"What are you doing to
them?"

Although her words had
emerged at little more than a whisper, they had the impact of a
boom. Four pairs of eyes turned in her direction. Then the man
swooped up Alby beneath an arm, hauled him to the bed, and dropped
him alongside Laura.

"I'll thank you to take the
matches away from him," he growled down at her, an accusing finger
aimed at the boy who was kicking fiercely up at him. "He's already
tried to set two fires in this room!"

Laura winced. Combined with
her lightheadedness was the burgeoning threat of her stomach
heaving.

"Please," she
whimpered.

"Get him away!" shouted
Kahl, stalking toward the stranger with fists drawn. "He's been
picking on us!"

"Pickin' on
you!"
the man laughed
without mirth.

"Give me the matches," Laura
said to Alby, a shaky hand held out.

"No!"

"Alby..."