Head Start (Cedar Tree #7) (40 page)
Read Head Start (Cedar Tree #7) Online
Authors: Freya Barker
I’m actually blessed with a few fantastic editors who alternate to facilitate my writing schedule. Karen Hrdlicka is involved in all my books. Both editing and alpha-reading. She was pivotal in working out some of the nuances in the plot for Head Start, as was my good friend and fabulous blogger, Pam Buchanan. They both had hands and eyes on Head Start when it was still in its raw form. I owe these ladies a lot and I love them dearly.
I would be nowhere without my awesome, no-nonsense, always available, brutally honest beta-readers; Catherine, Lena, Deb, Kerry-Ann, Sam, Debbie, Chris, and last but not least, Nancy. With each book I finish, I receive a resounding YES, when I ask if they are available to beta for me. I cannot tell you how blessed I feel with such an amazing team at my back. They are my trusted friends who are not afraid to let me know when something doesn’t sit well with them. And I welcome it, each and every time, because without these girls I wouldn’t know if I was on the right track.
All of you are so very valuable to me. I love you hard!
The woman who carries me day by day. Who patiently listens to me when I cry and moan when things aren’t going my way. And who never rests to find creative ways to promote my books, which she does so well with the help of Leanne Hawkes! Francessca Webster, you are a fabulous friend, the hardest worker I know and an absolute treasure I’ve been so lucky to find. I absolutely adore you!
My man. I can’t ever leave him out because most of the time he puts up with my one syllable answers (when I’m ducked down behind my laptop) or watching me walk out the door when I leave with my suitcase for yet another signing somewhere. He takes care the dog is taken care of, the house is kept up and the fridge is stocked. I’m so lucky to have him.
I have a few very close friends. Friends who will always be there for me, whether I’ve spoken with them five minutes or five weeks ago. It just doesn’t matter. They have my back and I have theirs—always. They are the fabric against which I forge the fictional connections and friendships in my stories. Linda, Dana, Barb, Aimee—I love you!!
I come from a long line of strong, down to earth women. Women who are able to pick themselves up and start over. Sometimes time and again. I want thank each of them for what I’ve learned about being a strong and resilient woman. Mom, Maaike, Sanne, Kyra, Mariette, Louise and Holly, thank you for keeping it real and in balance. Lord knows I need that sometimes. I love you more than I can say.
And finally (yes....I’m almost done), I need to put the focus on the incredible support shown by my readers, who embraced my Cedar Tree stories from the very first one—you are what makes me able to live a dream. The bloggers and reviewers who took a chance on that first book and fell in love. And my fellow authors and friends who don’t ever seem to tire of showing their support. Thank you all so much for everything you do!
F
reya Barker inspires with her stories about 'real’ people, perhaps less than perfect, each struggling to find their own slice of happy, but just as deserving of romance, thrills and chills, and some hot, sizzling sex in their lives.
Recipient of the RomCon “Reader’s Choice” Award for best first book, “Slim To None,” Freya has hit the ground running. She loves nothing more than to meet and mingle with her readers, whether it be online or in person at one of the signings she attends.
Freya spins story after story with an endless supply of bruised and dented characters, vying for attention!
Freya
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CEDAR TREE SERIES:
Book #1
SLIM TO NONE
Book #2
HUNDRED TO ONE
Book #3
AGAINST ME
Book #4
CLEAN LINES
Book #5
UPPER HAND
Book #6
LIKE ARROWS
PORTLAND, ME, NOVELS:
FROM DUST
(book #1)
CRUEL WATER
(book #2)
––––––––
Read on for an excerpt of:
THROUGH FIRE
(book #3)
Coming this summer!
THROUGH FIRE
(Portland, ME, #3)
Unedited excerpt
C
HAPTER ONE
Ruby
Madre de dios!
The place looks like a box of crayons exploded. My eyes scan the colorful space as I follow Viv through the sparsely furnished apartment.
When she first suggested I could rent her apartment, I didn’t take her seriously. Why would I? I’ve never rented an apartment in my life. I’ve never had a space to call my own. Not in all my forty-four years. I certainly have never had someone offer me anything without there being an ulterior motive. Something in return. So I was suspicious. But after Pam—my counselor at Florence House, which has been my home now for close to six months—explained that Viv was simply paying it forward, I started thinking. Maybe I could let my guard down a little. Maybe it was safe. So far I haven’t seen any sign of
them
and I’ve been very careful. I never catch the bus to work at the same stop twice in a row, which means I sometimes have to walk a bit, but I don’t mind, even though it’s getting pretty cold out. I’d been nervous initially about working in a bar, but it’s not the type of establishment I would ever expect to see anyone I know. Still, so far I’ve been careful to keep my head down most of the time. But I’m slowly starting to relax a bit, thinking maybe they’ve forgotten about me.
I don’t trust easily. Hell, it took me an entire month of daily sessions before I gave my story to Pam. The story I decided going with, that is. A hint of truth. Just enough to explain why I came there in the first place.
Six months ago I knocked on her door, while keeping an eye on the street behind me. I’d heard about Florence House from one of the girls who used to work with me. A safe place for women, she told me. A safe place is what I needed and Pam seemed to recognize that the moment she opened the door, pulling me in as she herself scanned the street behind me. She didn’t ask anything at first, just asked if I had something to sleep in and if I needed a toothbrush, before showing me to a tiny bedroom with only a single bed and a little table as nightstand. She apologized for needing to look through my tote bag but assured me it was standard procedure to ensure the safety of all the residents. Finding only the few clothes I’d managed to grab and my single picture frame, she handed me back my bag and showed me the bathroom. When she went to grab a few towels for me I couldn’t help flipping back the covers on the bed to find to my surprise the sheets were clean and smelled fresh. I think that may have been the first time since I was a little girl back home that I slept soundly.
Pam is also the one who set me up with the job at The Skipper, a local pub out on Holyoke Wharf. Viv is the manager there. She had some personal stuff going on when I started working, so it was a few weeks before I even met Viv. She’s nice, just like most everyone else there. But I’ve seen
nice
before and often it masks something darker. I don’t really trust
nice
.
Tending bar and waiting tables is not new to me and it was pretty easy to slip into the routine. My first pay felt good. I never held a fistful of bills I could keep. I’ve saved most of it in the toe of my winter boots. Every now and then I take it out and count it, not quite able to believe it belongs to me. What little I brought with me, when I landed on the doorstep of Florence House, fit into a large tote bag. The additions to my limited wardrobe were courtesy of the local Goodwill store and Pam. She’s not a small woman either, although much taller than I am. Luckily over the years I’ve become handy with needle and thread and was able to hem the hand-me-downs to fit me better. Having my own money is a different experience. Gunnar, my boss, said he didn’t have a problem paying me cash, as long as I understood that at some point, when I have my shit together, I’d have to go on the books. That time comes, I know I’ll have to move on.
“So what do you think?” Viv prompts, propping her hands on her hips and smiling. She stands in front of the big window, with view of the water, in the living room and looks at me expectantly.
“Beautiful,” I tell her honestly, making her smile even bigger.
“Perfect.” She claps her hands before continuing. “I’m sure you’ll love it. If only for being close enough to work you can walk it.”
“Thank you,” I quietly say and watch her face turn serious when she spots me pulling out the stack of bills I’ve saved up. “But I checked some of the other apartment listings and I think you made a mistake. The rent you mentioned is much too low.” I slowly count out the bills on the kitchen counter to make up first and last months’ rent for an amount I found to be more accurate than the $500 Viv quoted me. When I look up she is glaring at me. Reflectively I lower my eyes immediately.
“Ruby.” Her smoky voice is soft yet threatening. “Ruby, look at me.” Slowly I raise my eyes to find hers softer but slightly irritated. “We agreed on $500, no last month needed. What you counted out is enough for four months.” She walks over and places her hands on my shoulders, bending down to look me in the eyes. “Trust me. I’m not ready to sell this place and if not for you, it would just sit empty. We’re both benefitting here.”
Trust me
.
“Okay,” I concede on a whisper.
-
I
t’s late by the time I let myself into Florence House with the key Pam provided to me a couple of months ago when we negotiated new terms for my stay here. She’d offered to let me stay here indefinitely until I had a chance to find my feet, and I would clean the house and help take care of the new girls that came in from time to time. That was something I was good at, looking after the girls. I have a lot of experience dealing with the inevitable range of emotions that comes from finding yourself somewhere you’d never expected to be. Not to mention the physical and emotional scarring to inevitably was part of why they showed up in the first place.
I’d also tried my hand at cooking, but was soon dismissed of that task after only a handful of disasters in the kitchen. The same kitchen I could now see light coming from. It softly illuminates the hallway and I head that way after hanging my coat in the wardrobe closet. Pam is bent over her book, a hand loosely draped around a mug. The lone light over the stove is barely enough to read by, but Pam seems to dislike bright lights. Hence bending over her book to be able to discern the words.
“You’re gonna spoil your eyes,” I tell the older woman. She lifts up her head, apparently not having heard me come in which is odd. She slaps the book closed, but not before I spot the torn envelope I see tucked between the pages. “Everything okay?” I ask her, a little worried at the suspicious shine in her eyes.
“Late shift?” She turns the tables on me, obviously trying to avoid my question and I let her. It’s not my place. I’ve felt a deep sadness from her since I met her, but this is the first time I see the evidence.
I dump my tote bag on the table and pull out a chair. “Yes. I stayed late because I went with Viv to look at her place this afternoon.”
Immediately a bright smile lightens up her face. “You did? I’m so glad. Cute place, right? What did you think?”
“I like it,” I tell her. “But she’s insisting on the rent price.” I lean with my elbows on the table. “I know she can get at least double that.”
“So? Not like she needs it and besides, like I told you, she’s not ready to let go of the place completely and I’m sure she’s thrilled to have someone she knows live there.”
Her tone is firm, but I have trouble fully believing it. Good fortune is not something I’m accustomed to and I’m pretty sure Viv wouldn’t be so thrilled if she really knew me. But I don’t say any of that. I know better than to try and argue with Pam.
“I told her I’d take it. It even has some furniture so I only have to bring over my bag. She said I could sleep there tonight, but I want to wait until the weekend.” I look down at my clasped hands, not wanting to give away that I’m really nervous. Terrified, really. I don’t think I’ve ever been truly alone. Oh, I’ve been lonely, but never without someone to share a house or apartment with. In fact, most of the places I’d lived had been so crowded, I would often dream what it would be like not to have to answer to anyone, to truly be alone.
Pam’s dark hand lands on my lighter ones with a light squeeze. “Girl, you’re free to take as much time as you need,” she says, understanding in her dark eyes. She sees more than I’m comfortable with. “Although I will say, I’m gonna miss having you around. Especially with the new girls; you have a real connection with them.”
“I will miss you too. Everything...I mean...without you—”
“Hush,” Pam cuts me off. “Not like you’re moving across the country, for chrissake. You’re a few measly blocks away and I’m hoping you’ll pop in to continue our sessions for a bit longer. As for the girls...perhaps if you have time in your schedule, you can help out from time to time. Get them settled in when they get here.”
“I would like that.” I give her a little smile before pushing back from the table. “I hope you don’t mind, I’m tired, I think I’ll head upstairs.”
“Night, Ruby.”
“Good night,” I tell Pam over my shoulder as I walk into the hall.
It isn’t until I reach the bathroom up on the third floor, that it occurs to me I’ll soon have a bathroom to myself for the first time in my life. If I want, I can take a bubble bath this weekend. Something I’ve always dreamt of.
-
“Y
o, Ruby! Two drafts, please?”
