Stephani's Light

By Ceanmohrlass

A powerful father.
A dangerous storm.
The ultimate betrayal.

For the first time in her young life, Macy knows she’s worth something. Her dreams do matter, and she sets a plan in motion to make them come true. Her co-worker, Bill, becomes a distraction she can’t afford when her domineering father issues an ultimatum. Forced to choose between her dreams and her responsibilities, Macy panics.

Desperate to outwit her father, she turns to Joshua, an elderly recluse, and an unlikely alliance is formed, unleashing a decades-old vendetta. Failure is not an option; time is up. Macy needs Joshua as much as he needs her. Will working together destroy them both?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ceanmohrlass
• Release date: Oct 3, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370432424

Ceanmohrlass

Ceanmohrlass is a retired grandmother who has been writing novels for her family and friends for over 20 years.She is the family genealogist, and writing the family history has only increased the passion for writing.Ceanmohrlass resides in Texas and is currently working on three new novels.

Book preview

Tell me, is getting what you want worth losing everything you have? Her father’s voice was low and quiet, his face void of a smile.

Macy took a deep breath. Her long, dark hair flipped to the side across her face as she rushed past the air conditioner vent. This isn’t fair! I can’t believe you’re pulling this. You aren’t going to screw me out of my money, I won’t let you!

His wide, weathered hand advanced toward her face, and she jumped back against the wall. Her palms flat against the paneling, she slid closer to the door. Chest heaving and eyes wide, she waited…

Ted… her mother said, her voice calm.

His hand slowly dropped to his side. Jaw clenched, he raised his chin, stepped forward, and the shadow from his 6’ 7" frame enveloped her. A quick flash of light danced across his bare scalp as he reached for Macy once again, and his ruddy complexion turned crimson as he leaned close. She gasped as her father’s wide, tanned hand came to rest inches from her face, palm pressed firm against the flimsy paneling.

I’ve had enough. You’re 26 years old. You’ve wasted the last two years. I have control of the trust fund, and I decide when you’ve earned it. I’ve waited long enough Macy. Your grandfather worked hard to leave you a future.

I know! I just needed time to decide what I wanted. I know now! You can’t cut me off!

I can, and I will.

I can’t believe this! Mom, say something!

A deep sigh escaped Samantha’s mouth, and she rolled her eyes. She slid the magazine back onto the coffee table, stood up, and shook her head. Without meeting Macy’s gaze, she frowned as she spoke. He’s right. Your grandfather should have left the paper to your father, but he sold it to be able to provide a grand future for you. He left your father in charge for a reason, and I agree with him. It’s time to decide, Macy. You buy the paper and run it, or you make your own way in life. That money was only earmarked to purchase the paper, not chase ridiculous dreams of fame.

Head pounding hard, she brought her hand to her mouth and gagged. I can’t deal with this right now! She grabbed her purse from the floor by the door frame, and ran out of her father’s house.

Frozen in place, he was in shock over her rebellious show. Where did I go wrong with her?

Give her a few days to think it over. I know she’ll make the right choice.

She had better. I’m serious, Samantha. I’ll lock that money up until she decides to do the right thing. I’m tired of watching her waste her life. The funds were supposed to be used by her 25th birthday. I never should have listened to you. Tell her I’m giving her one month, period, to come to her senses. If she doesn’t, I’ll seize that trust fund.

Wheels making tracks in the sand, Macy slowed down. As her tears poured out, the little bus came to rest in front of the sidewalk at the bay. She slapped her hands repeatedly on the steering wheel until her palms stung. The air was too heavy to breathe in. This day went to hell fast…

She jumped when the radio screeched, confirming the hurricane had strengthened beyond expectation, and it would make a direct hit soon. This is all I need. Why is this all happening right now? How can he expect me to give up my dreams? I hate this!

She flung her driver’s door open, stood up, and stomped her sneakers in the deep sand. A deep burn in her chest began, toasting the hiccups, and bile made swallowing unbearable. She kicked her front tire, and cursed at the way they had treated her this afternoon.

Her feet pounded down, and bits of sand sprayed out behind her. Storm-driven waves sloshed against the rocks, and grew more intense by the moment then the thunder rumbled closer. Small raindrops tapped at her nose. Gulping for air, she lost it by the pier. Spit flew from her mouth for a few moments before she wiped the bottom of her shirt across her lips. She sniffed on the long walk back, holding her sore side. The panic attack now derailed with the long sprint across the sand, she kicked her sneakers against the doorframe of her little bus, and climbed inside.

The sky changed from its usual azure to a hazy grey, an unusual odor permeating the beach as the winds began to change direction, and she cringed from the sight of the black line forming far out over the bay. I’m not ready for this. A sticky film covered her tongue, and she had to erase that taste.

It was long past dinnertime when she started the engine, her mind still reeling from her father’s words. Why, all of a sudden, is this so important to him? And my mother just stood there and agreed with him! It wasn’t as if her mother had ever really been on her side before, but Macy certainly didn’t expect her to jump in and attack her in front of her father. They had never agreed on anything, so why start now? She shook her head, her heart thumping hard once again. I’m not buying the paper. I want to make a name for myself. This was all his stupid dream, what about my dreams?

She punched the gas a little too hard, and the back wheels moved the little bus sideways, making her curse. Slowly, she backed out of the space, and turned down onto the little sandy road, her mind still in chaos as she drove into town. A quick stop at the diner didn’t calm her thoughts.

Her stomach flipped as she paid for her food, and it continued to do so on the short drive home. Suddenly, she floored it through the yellow light by her house, yanked the wheel, and sailed into the driveway. In a dead run, she reached her door, tippy-toe danced as she unlocked it, and slammed it behind her. Her purse sailed across the room and landed on the couch as she ran for the bathroom. Dinner had been a huge mistake, and she paid dearly for it.

The long shower did little to help her nerves. Lightning slammed into a tree nearby, and she screamed, and struggled to get into her pajamas. The lights flickered a few times then the television lost signal. Not now! She sucked in her breath, her hand flew to her chest, and she flipped the lantern on just as the room went black. With a yank, she pulled her phone from the charger, plopped onto the sofa, and clutched the lantern and her phone to her side. The room warmed up quickly, and humidity seeped through the walls.

Her knees pulled up to her chest, she wrapped her arms around them, and sweat began to pool on her upper lip. Loud clinks rang out as the first of the hail pummeled the tin carport. The hail and the wind intensified. Her ears began to ring…

Chapter Two

Macy stood at her entry hall mirror; the light from her lantern began to dim. She shook her head and sighed, and with a huff, rushed to finish her make-up. Frowning, she flipped the flashlight on her cell phone, and leaned it against the wall on the table. The power might be out, but she still had to look good for work. She added a coat of clear gloss over her pale pink lipstick, and stared at her reflection.

Her mother had always told her that she was the spitting image of a famous 40’s starlet. The large-framed, black and white photo her mother had given her of the starlet, hung on the wall opposite of the mirror. She compared her reflection to the image behind her. Her mother was right but she hadn’t noticed before now.

An organic, musty, soil smell wafted up when her feet splashed down. Her beautiful yellow roses with streaks of burgundy on the edges had taken a beating in the storm. A few of the newer rose petals that clung on to the limbs under the house eaves, emitted a strong fragrance as she passed by.

The dove blue VW bus started right up, and she gave a sigh of relief. Her grandfather had fixed this little bus up for her only a few months before he passed away, and it was precious to her. Macy picked her way through the limb filled side streets, and made her way across the town. The old Daily News building had remained unscathed, except for a few ridge shingles blown away, and the dark parking lot gave proof of the power outage on this end of town.

She parked in her reserved space after clearing a small sign that had fallen over the line, and noticed a black, antique Cadillac, and a white, four-wheel drive truck sat parked along the curb by the front door. Thankful that her boss, Roger, and Bill, were already there, she relaxed. She wanted to check her look but the light was too dim to see herself in the reverse camera on her phone.

A loud bang and cough from a building generator kicked on nearby. She fussed, retrieved the keys she had flung when she was startled, and unlocked the front door. The small emergency lights over each desk flickered and hummed, and lit the space with a warm, golden glow.

The treads on her muddy shoes left patterned tracks across the yellowed, linoleum flooring but she would have to clean it up later, it was too early to deal with that right now. She yanked open her bent metal desk drawer, dropped her purse inside, and walked to the break room. The coffee maker light was off; no power to the outlets in this little addition to the main building. The cafe down the street wasn’t open yet, so no coffee for her this morning.

She shook her head, took a warm soda can from the box Roger had left on the counter, and pulled the tab on the can. Fizz sprayed her face, and she lurched, and thrust the can over the edge of the sink to catch the oozing foam. A white box sat next to the sodas, and the stale donuts from yesterday left wide grease prints on the sides. Gross... she said.

She was the lead reporter for the newspaper, and it should be an exciting position, but something was missing; there was no spark anymore. Her career had stalled, and she had just realized she wanted, no she needed, more in her life. She wanted fame, and she wanted it now.

Lead reporter... The title made her snort. She was the only reporter. A young man had worked here for a while as her assistant, but thankfully he left for college and never returned. Both of the original cameramen remained, and Bill was recently hired as their manager. The cameramen had worked here for more than twenty years, and they were happy with the steady pay and low activity, but she was so bored. There had been no wild, racy, or even interesting stories here in months. She had grown tired of the usual ‘new business owner’ interviews, and the mundane ‘someone stole a stop sign’ type of news. She had blown it.

At least she owned her historic home outright thanks to her grandfather. Right now, she wished she had taken that job in New York City instead of going to college. Macy’s grandfather had run this newspaper before she was born, and before he passed away, he confided in her that he regretted selling it. Looks like they had both made mistakes...

Her father had outlined her entire life at birth; she was expected to work for the paper, and then buy it from Jay Mountain. Her grandfather had made it mandatory in the sale that Macy have a job for life. She in turn, had turned that early New York City job offer down, went off to college as planned, but she took a two-year break when she grew confused about her ambition. She was reminded yearly of her obligation, had finally just accepted the inevitable, and took the job at the paper right after receiving her degree. She just realized she would probably die an old woman, interviewing milk cow owners when real stories dried up.

Her stomach gurgled and grumbled. After a sip of the warm soda, she made a funny face. With a sigh, she opened the white box, tugged a stuck-on, moist donut free, and walked to her desk without a napkin, damp sugar slowly oozing down her wrist.

With a whistle, Bill trotted past the row of desks and down the hall. He had been wrapped up in a heated conversation about the baseball team, and in his hurry to make coffee, he didn’t notice that Macy had arrived. Damn!

Macy giggled when Bill fussed about the lack of power to the coffee, and how it wasn’t fair. He had only worked here a few weeks, but his morning routine was set in stone. He spent the first half-hour with Roger, jogged to retrieve coffee for them all, and parked at his desk to read the comics. When his cameramen arrived each morning, he gave them their assignments, and then went back to his comics while he waited on film footage to begin filtering in.

Bill was handsome and funny, and she felt her body quiver when he drew near lately. That was an odd feeling as she had rarely noticed the men her age; she considered most of them useless, immature idiots. Bill wasn’t like the local morons though, and it unnerved her. She wanted to get to know him better. He didn’t pay much attention to her, but he always brought her coffee. She smiled as his cologne wafted behind him when he trotted back toward her desk.

Good morning! she said, her voice a bit loud. She then turned, tilted her head, and smiled brightly but he didn’t notice.

Morning.

No coffee to boost their spirits on the muggy day, there was nothing more to say yet. Macy watched him disappear into Roger’s office and breathed in deep. The men laughed about a sports joke, but Macy didn’t get it. What is it going to take to get his attention?

She opened her file cabinet and gasped! It would take a while to place her files back into the right order. The young girl that worked yesterday had left a huge mess. In her defense, the girl had been in a hurry to copy and back up their most important files before the storm. At least she got everything done before the storm. Suck it up, buttercup.

Bill’s cameramen arrived through the back door, and the loud screech killed her ears. Why hadn’t they oiled those stupid hinges last week? The men fussed aloud that they had missed their usual pancake and bacon breakfast in the cafe this morning but she knew they missed the young waitress more than the food.

Mornin’ Macy, the men said, almost in unison. They waved at her, and made their way back to the locked storage room to gather their equipment for the van.

Hey, are we still going out for interviews this morning? she said.

Yeah, probably gonna wait until full light out though. We’ll swing by when we’re ready to head out this morning.

She worked on the disastrous file drawer until she heard her name called out. Sliding into the front passenger seat of the pristine-clean, decked-out news van, she accepted an ice-cold soda from the cooler, and stared out the windshield. Silently, she took haphazard notes, listing ideas that Bill could patch together from the footage. Of course, she made sure the items listed would enhance her sensational story the most.

Stop here a minute! she said. She jumped from the van the second the wheels stopped, dashed across the street, and peered into the window of the library. Her shoulders dropped, and she shook her head and grunted as she climbed back into the van.

What’s up?

Nothing. I thought the wall was damaged in the library. It was the old paint contrasting with the new walls. Let’s go.

The storm had come across the grounds just as they had feared. The sturdy, twenty-year-old grandstand was only a shell frame now, and the roof had spread in bits across the parade trail. The empty booths and the little shops were scattered across the parking lot like leaves on a lawn.

I figured as much, Daniel said without emotion, and he stopped to tie his bootlace.

She followed him up the trail, while Kevin filmed the damage on the festival grounds. Navigation at the last turn of the path was hampered by downed treetops but the first view of the lighthouse showed the power the storm had unleashed.

Daniel stopped short, and Macy almost ran into his back. He held his arm out to stop her. Wow, that’s a first! he said; his voice much too high for such a large man. He had been a cameraman for most of his life, but he had never seen the top of a lighthouse sheared off.

Oh, no… Macy shook her head at the sight, and listened to his call to Bill.

Gotcha’ boss, yeah, okay... He hung up, grabbed his camera, and turned to face the damage. C’mon Macy, let’s get the ball rolling... He tucked his phone deep into his pants pocket, and fastened the camera strap down tight across his chest. They carefully picked their way closer to gain a better look.

Wow! Macy said, and her jaw dropped. The lantern room and lens lay scattered on the rocks below, and several ornate detail boards were gone from the entrance area.

He walked around, recorded the damage, and sighed. He stepped over upturned fencing and across the limb covered steps, and she gasped when he leaned over the edge and recorded the remains on the rocks. She wrote furiously, flipping pages on her little notepad. With a few ideas, and a bit of swapping of horror stories, they headed back to town.

Power was on when they arrived back on Main Street, and Daniel stopped off for coffee to their collective delight. The utility crews had restored power to the entire town in a mere five hours, a new record for them.

She walked in, tossed her purse on her desk, and went right to work; there was no time to worry about whether Bill noticed she was there right now. She had to get this story out before Roger came back to close his office up for the night.

The keys on Bill’s keyboard clacked away, and he suddenly did a funny dance in his chair. She glanced over, and tried to conceal her snicker but he heard her, and unable to resist, soon joined in the laughter. He is so cute... Wait, what am I doing? I have to stop this. I don’t have time for this...

Her elaborate, and sometimes colorful article typed up and submitted in record time, she tapped her fingernails on the desk. When she tipped the blinds up to remove the evening glare from the computer screen, bits of dust twirled around her. The computer dinged when the editor approved her article, and she jumped.

That mission now completed, Macy wondered what other bits of sensationalism she could drum up. There had to be something more she could do, a different angle maybe, something she could submit nationally. Her mind went into overdrive, and her fingers danced across the keyboard.

Bill stood up, and gathered files for a meeting. Macy watched him. He captivated her... She watched the deep creases form on his cheeks when a smile appeared. The dark shadow of a mustache and beard just below the surface of his skin made her shudder. He was so freaking handsome. Why is it that she had just noticed that? He rolled his broad shoulders and popped his neck. Normally that would irritate her, but her breath quickened. When he pulled the heavy reel box from the top of the file cabinet, his biceps pressed hard against his sleeves, and she sucked in her breath. This had to stop before he caught on to her. She forced her gaze back to her desk. Her eyebrows lowered, and shallow wrinkles on her forehead appeared. What was it that she was supposed to do today? The trust papers!

Macy raced home that night, unlocked the safe, and sat down on the sofa with the pouch. She pulled out the paperwork, and flipped through the pages once then found the forms she was seeking. She sucked in her breath, and her hand flew to her mouth. Oh, no... I can’t believe this. I don’t even remember signing this one... She took a deep breath, flipped through the pages again then shoved the trust paperwork back into the pouch. Now what? She had to come up with something fast, or she could kiss her dreams goodbye.

She sped back to work as the sunset began to fade, and plopped down in her chair at her desk. Her head and chest ached, and she fought back tears. Things couldn’t be worse. It was irrevocable... Her father had complete control over her future...

Her phone rang, and she nearly fell from her chair. She caught her breath before she answered. Mom.

Macy, listen, your father is giving you one month to make your decision. I want you to know that you need to get moving on this. Just sign the forms, make the offer to Jay, apologize to your father, and this will all be over.

One month huh? A month... she had a month to make something of this story, and take a shot at her dreams. Her mother thought she would convince her to do what they expected, but it gave her a boost to follow her path instead. Score!

Macy? Macy... are you there?

Macy remained silent until her mother hung up, and she didn’t answer when Samantha called back. I have a full month to make this work, but how? With a renewed vigor to make her dreams happen, Macy’s brain went wild. She tapped her fingers on her desk, and ignored her phone ringer blaring away. She pulled up an article on the lighthouse. Hm… I wonder… The former lighthouse caretaker has information… I need to talk to Joshua...

Chapter Three

Joshua dressed for breakfast, and at last, managed to fasten the top button on his starched shirt. He slid on his polished shoes, and reached for his walker. For a moment, he stopped at his full-length mirror by the door to be sure his hair was acceptable, and that the creases in his pants were straight. He nodded and slowly made his way toward the dining room, stopped to tell the Taylor sisters ‘good morning’ then continued his step, roll, step motion down the hallway.

The seat of his usual red-padded chair fussed as it sunk and cushioned his slim, bony rear. His lithe frame slowly responded and bent, and his weathered hands released the sturdy grip on his walker. With a faint groan, he reached over, lifted the walker seat, and retrieved his small, gifted electronic tablet to read the morning news.

Good morning Mr. Bell. Did you sleep well? a young server asked.

I did. Do we have orange juice this morning?

We do. I’ll bring you a glass right away. The usual this morning?

Yep. Hey, any chance that there are any of those star candies left in the bowl?

I’ll check and see, she said, and she winked.

He ignored her wink. He never acknowledged it; he wasn’t interested in the nonsense. She cared about the residents, and he was grateful that she was one of the good ones. There were horror stories about today’s youth in the news every