Valerie's Vow

By Ashley Carmichael

Valerie Campbell doesn’t believe in miracles anymore; in fact, she’s not sure she even believes in a loving God. How can she when there is so much pain and suffering? Each day is a painful reminder as she goes through the motions of living, but inside she is dying a little more with each passing moment. Remembering her vow to Beth, Valerie knows she must keep her promise even if it cost her everything. And it might. First an unpredictable motorcycle ride with a stranger, then a dangerous biker brawl brings chaos to her normally ordered life. When her job is threatened because of these new decisions, Valerie has to make even tougher choices about life, love and God. Will Valerie’s vow teach her the true meaning of a miracle, or destroy her chances for happiness forever?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Indigo Sea Press
• Release date: Aug 18, 2014
• ISBN: 9781630660406

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Valerie’s Vow

By

Ashley M. Carmichael

Higher Love Books

Published by Second Wind Publishing, LLC.

Kernersville

Higher Love Books

Second Wind Publishing, LLC

931-B South Main Street, Box 145

Kernersville, NC 27284

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, locations and events are either a product of the author’s imagination, fictitious or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to any event, locale or person, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Copyright 2014 by Ashley M. Carmichael

All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or part in any format.

First Higher Love Books edition published

August 2014

Higher Love Books, Running Angel, and all production design are trademarks of Second Wind Publishing, used under license.

For information regarding bulk purchases of this book, digital purchase and special discounts, please contact the publisher at www.secondwindpublishing.com

Cover design by Stacy Castanedo

Manufactured in the United States of America

ISBN 978-1-63066-040-6

Dedication

For Sarah Ferguson Garcia

My coworker, mentor and friend

She courageously battled the beast for three years.

In November 2013 she won her final battle,

gracefully taking her place in the Kingdom among the courtiers of God.

Now she dances for royalty.

Dance in Peace, Sarah.

Acknowledgements

I’d like to start by thanking my Creator for giving me the passion and the will to write, along with all the other blessings in my life, because the process of writing this book would not have been possible without the aid of many muses and mentors along the way. First and foremost to Sarah Ferguson Garcia who was my mentor for several years at West. She was an inspiration to so many, and her presence is missed every single day. I can only hope to be half the woman she was. Many thanks to Jennifer Carter, for your encouragement and for, well everything. Let’s be friends, okay? To Christine Ebert who always listens and never fails to encourage me each day at school. You’re a rock. To Rhonda Morgan for listening and reading openly and honestly. I couldn’t have done it without you. To Jonathan Allgood, for pushing me into talking to a publisher—I definitely wouldn’t be here if it hadn’t been for you! To my parents, Linda and Mike Carmichael who never stopped believing in me and who always knew I’d see my name in print someday. To my grandparents, Juanita and Azariah, who were always there to offer suggestions. To my brother, Justin Carmichael for being a genius. To my sister and brother-in-law, Kat and Luke Medlin for putting up with all my craziness and my three little muses: Sadie, Bailey and Maggie Medlin. I can’t begin to show enough love and thanks to you. My aunts and uncles Vicki Carmichael, Ira Mogitz, Julie and Clif Sanders, Ellen Whitesell (and Bobby) for all their support. My grandmother, Anne Jones. To Rachel Hamm for writing and self-publishing; your bravery showed me what it means to achieve your dreams. To Shea Stacy for being my most avid reader. To the West Forsyth English department and of course all my wonderful students who have made me the teacher I am today. My Sunday School class for inspiring many lessons and conversations (especially Emily Meyers!). And to the rest of my family, friends and supporters for everything they’ve done to encourage me. I’d also like to thank my publisher, Secondwind for giving me my debut and believing enough in me to give me a foot in the door.

Chapter 1

If the sun had not been shining that day when I pulled into the parking lot, I may never have seen it. As it was, the glare from the radiant October sky blinded me from one end of the long parking lot to the other and I paused just long enough to notice the bike. I wasn’t even supposed to be there. I was running late for a hair appointment and my stylist was going to be furious.

Yet something about that bike made me pause. Maybe it was the design. I knew nothing about motorcycles, but it looked new, brilliant even against the crisp backdrop of the distant mountains, barely colored from their fall turnabout. If the bike wasn’t new, it was certainly well maintained. Perhaps it intrigued me because of the color. I’d seen many black, silver, and even red bikes, but motorcycles of that deep burnt sienna color were rare. Or maybe there was just an aura about the bike that pulled me in. Whatever intrigued me stopped me long enough to stare, and that was really the only reason that I noticed him, lying in the grass about a hundred feet from the bike, staring up at the sky.

I paused, my hands resting nicely on the steering wheel of my enclosed, protective Prius, and continued to stare. For that fraction of a moment, it didn’t seem to matter that I was going to be late to my hair appointment as I wondered what it would be like to feel that comfortable with yourself. He was contented enough to stop in the middle of the day, in an unfamiliar parking lot, and simply expose himself to the world as a stranger.

He did not belong there the same way I belonged. I had pulled into that parking lot purposefully to drop off minutes for the latest church education meeting; I was a member; I was the secretary of the Education Board; I belonged in that parking lot.

He did not.

Yet there he was, more comfortable than I would ever be.

After a few more moments of contemplation, I opened my car door, the squeak of the hinges sounding loud against the silence of the crisp October air. The chill outside bit at my bare legs, to which my long skirt hugged, but not tightly enough. I began to wish I had put on the leggings I had long debated with at my house that morning. Even so, I knew that once I began moving I would warm up so I quickly walked toward the building, hearing the click of my boots echo in the stillness of the midmorning and trying to shake the bike’s overwhelming sense of awe.

The back of my neck tingled as I opened the mailbox. I didn’t know if the strange man was watching me or if my own interest in the man had fabricated a sense that his eyes were following me, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that each step I took gained me an audience.

Quickly dropping the minutes in the box, I turned around. The wind had picked up and now that my back was no longer to it, my hair whipped around my face and I hurried back to my car. My fingers were on the handle ready to open the door and move on into the next phase of my life, unencumbered by the bike or any thoughts of the man at the end of the parking lot, but then I remembered Beth, a deluge of memories taking my breath away.

Tiny for a third grader, she came into the room, her purple sparkling book bag hanging lifelessly at her elbows. Shouldn’t she be in the kindergarten class? I thought to myself. Her family had just moved to the area and she was painfully shy, barely looking up. I felt sorry for her and wondered why this little, gorgeous girl was so shy. Her long, dark hair reminded me of my favorite Snow White movie, the first one I had ever seen, and the way this little girl’s luscious locks shone in the door way of the florescent lighting simply amazed me. I may have been a mere eight and three quarters, but I was old enough to be as vain as mainstream America and to know that hair was the glory of a woman and I would never be that glorious. Mine was an ugly, dirty, amber color; absolutely nothing brilliant or unique about it. What did a girl with hair that brilliant have to be shy about?

I decided while she was standing there that I was going to be her friend. The teacher introduced her to the class, and I can still remember the way my heart rate increased. Her name was Beth! I’d never had a sister, but my favorite book was Little Women and I wanted to be Jo so badly some days I could hardly stand it. Jo had a sister named Beth and Beth was her pet, her shining star, her favorite. Anyone who aspired to be Jo needed a Beth; it was an absolute requirement. My Beth had just arrived. Fate had spoken! I would finally be Jo March.

When we were finally released to centers that day, I marched up to her, bold as you please, because I was determined.

Hi! It didn’t register to me that my boldness might frighten her, and even the surprise on her face didn’t set me back any as I plowed on. My name is Valerie Campbell! Let’s be friends!

Beth blinked back at me, unable to talk for a few minutes. I wondered if I hadn’t been clear enough. Surely she wanted to be my friend. I mean I wasn’t the most popular kid in the third grade, but I wasn’t unpopular either and even if she was intending to climb the social ladder at Parker Falls Elementary School, she had to start somewhere, so why not with me?

Finally, she spoke.

Hi, Valerie, I’m Beth, she looked down at her shoes and then back at me. I wanna be friends too.

I breathed a sigh of relief; my dreams were still in-tact. Jo and Beth March were reborn.

For all of third grade our bond was forged and strengthened. We had other friends, but it was always Beth and Valerie, BFFs.

When my birthday rolled around later that year, instead of having a big party, my parents took Beth and me to the Hanging Rock State Park. As we were playing out by the lake, we built a large sand castle and dubbed it Caer SizeBell.

Let’s live in a house like this someday, I said looking at our multi-layered, but somewhat lopsided sandcastle. It looked a lot better in my mind than it did on the sand, so living in a house like that seemed a lot more plausible in my imagination.

Yeah! We could live in it together. You could have the top floor and I could have the bottom floor.

Yeah, I could live up there with my husband—

Zach and I’d live with Uncle Jesse.

But Uncle Jesse is married to Aunt Becky.

Not after he meets me.

Beth! I exclaimed, shocked by her bold suggestion. It didn’t last long, though, as I stuck my toes in the sand until they made a nice squishing sound, filling the empty space in between them, as my mind moved in other directions.

After a few minutes, Beth looked to me and said: We’ll always be friends, Valerie, no matter what happens, right?

Of course we will, I said, without even hesitating. I knew that we would, but then I had known that from the first time I saw her walk into the classroom. I had also known that I had scared her to death that day too. Her shyness had long since vanished in the months since we’d become close. In fact, over time she had really blossomed and she became one of the most popular girls in our class. Everyone loved Beth as well as I did now, and I did everything I could for her; I wanted her to continue to love me too.

Good, let’s make a pact.

What kind of pact?

Let’s make a pact that we always keep our promises to each other.

Okay, I said, nodding my agreement.

We have to make it official, though, she said, thinking hard. So we have to seal it in some way.

How do we seal it?

In the books they seal it in blood.

I wrinkled up my nose and shook my head. Blood was definitely not my thing.

I don’t want to do that.

Okay, well how about if we make up a special handshake for it? she said, thinking hard about how we could make it truly an official pact. And then we can write it up back at the campground and sign it.

Okay, deal.

Good.

I glanced at the end of the parking lot again, then back to my car door, struggling with my own sense of confidence. Finally, I sighed, and deciding I had nothing to lose, I checked my reflection in the window and straightened my spine.

Let’s do this, I murmured to myself, and then marched with purpose to the far end of the parking lot.

If I expected the man to react to my footsteps, I suppose I was kidding myself. He stayed in the same position. I evidently had not made a similar impression on him that his bike had on me. I wondered if he even knew I was there at all. As I neared I could see that his eyes were closed.

Maybe he’s sleeping, Beth, I whispered it in my mind to my best friend, trying to convince her memory that this was probably a mistake after all. If I expected a response, I was sorely disappointed. So I kept walking, feeling my confidence fade with every step I took.

He was not asleep.

In fact, the moment my footsteps slowed when I was finally within comfortable talking distance, he opened one eye and just stared at me like a Cyclops, sizing me up and trying to decide if I was worthy of his next meal. I must have warranted more than one eye at any rate, because a moment later the other eye opened, albeit slowly, and he sat up, propping his arms on his knees and staring up at me.

My mouth was dry. I didn’t imagine him to be quite so handsome. I somehow felt more confident when he was sprawled out on the ground like a hobo, but now that he was looking at me with those mossy green eyes, and his dark curls falling into his face carelessly, desperately needing a little trim, I couldn’t find any words at all.

How’s it going? he asked with a nod, unaware of my dilemma, as casual as you please. A small smile formed over his face and I swallowed hard.

Not bad, I managed, surprised at how strong my voice sounded. You?

He looked surprised too, as though he expected me to wilt at any moment, and when I didn’t he was thrown off his game.

Peachy.

Nice day, isn’t it? I said, knowing it sounded lame, but it was really all I had. I didn’t know why I was even talking to him really. I had begun to feel a little more than foolish, but it was too late to back out now, so all I could do was try to get out with a little dignity intact.

Incredibly. It’s why I stopped to enjoy it.

Smell the roses?

Literal or metaphoric?

Metaphoric. Unless you see some literal ones, though I would imagine those might not be very popular in October.

Smelling Pumpkin Spice might be more to the season.

Precisely.

How about it then? he asked, his small smile returning.

How about what?

Pumpkin spice? Lattes? Let’s go smell one?

Wh-what? My voice was no longer strong now; this I had not seen coming.

Sure. There has to be a coffee shop around here somewhere.

I’m sure there is, but…

So, let’s to it then. He hopped up, brushed off his backside, and leaned over to pick up his helmet. I could feel the blush spreading from the top of my head to my toes. The chill in the air was no longer a problem, but getting on a beautiful motorcycle with a strange, handsome man did not seem like a wise decision, though it was tempting.

Can’t now, I said, trying to keep it casual so my alarm wasn’t nearly as evident. Playing it cool seemed like the best choice.

The man paused, watching me. I could feel those green depths burning their way into my soul.

My phone buzzed in my hand and I looked down to see the text from Susan, my stylist, clearly concerned for my whereabouts now, blaring back up at me. I smiled.

I have to be elsewhere now, I said, smiling back at him, wondering if the one dimple that I inherited from my dad had any effect on him at all. I whirled back around and started for my car. I’ll be here at church on Sunday, I called, turning to face him as I continued to walk backward toward my car, my bright smile inviting. Ask me again.

I turned and left him there, staring after me, and this time I knew for sure that it was his eyes I felt on the back of my neck.

The car door slammed and I felt the friction throughout my body, instantly warming now that I was in out of the chilled air. I looked in my rearview mirror to see the man, still staring after me, one hand on his hip as though he was trying to figure me out. I smiled to myself noting the irony of someone finding me to be enigmatic.

As far as enigmas go, I’m far from one. I’m about as dull as a stick most days, which is the whole reason Beth made me make that stupid vow in the first place.

Well, Beth, I said into the empty air, feeling her absence acutely, though she had been gone for months now. Looks like you were right. I can change who I am if I put myself out there more.

I pulled my wallet out of my purse and dug in the crevice behind the checkbook register, pulling out the faded paper I’d kept stashed there since Beth’s death. Slowly unfolding it, I ran my fingers along the creases and read the words slowly, letting their meaning seep into my mind.

We, the two best friends of Caer Sizebell, do declare to be best friends until forever and a day. We swear to this on pain of death and as God as our witness that we will always and forever keep our promises to one and another and we will never go back on our word. If either of us does so, the other has official permission to invoke the pain and torture act. This pact cannot be dissolved once it has been signed. Until death do us part.

Beth had always insisted that I wasn’t really allowing myself to be who I really wanted to be down deep in my soul. I never knew what she meant by that. I still didn’t, but clearly I owed it to her to find out, which was the only reason Curley—it occurred to me that I didn’t actually get his name—back there thought I was an enigma.

My nose wrinkled at the nickname I’d branded the poor guy with. I knew of two fictional Curleys—one was the villainous ass from Of Mice and Men, and the other was the kind of pretty boy cowboy from Oklahoma! Neither really fit the man I had left behind in the church parking lot, not that I ever expected to see him again, but he was definitely more like a Dan from Little Men, or a Jack from Jack and Diane.

That was my curse. I’d