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The Switch—Hctiws Eht
The Switch—Hctiws Eht
The Switch—Hctiws Eht
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The Switch—Hctiws Eht

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AFTER ENDURING A DIFFICULT LIFE, Evelyn Parker seems to have it alla marriage proposal from her soul mate and a beautiful eight-year-old daughter. But after her car plunges over a cli?, her life is abruptly snu?ed out; her daughter, Kimberley, is sent to live with her widowed aunt. At such a young age, Kimberley has no idea how the events that soon begin unfolding will shape her future.

Aunt Beatrice, who at just thirty years old is already sporting gray hair after the death of both her husband and her sister, is forced back to work to support her niece. As she grows into a young adult, Kimberley never forgets her aunts act of kindness and is determined to repay her. Just as she is ready to begin her career, an opportune moment not only o?ers Kimberley the chance to ful?ll her long-held dream to show her gratitude to Aunt Beatrice, but also propels her into a relationship that will change her life forever.

In this romantic tale, a young girl begins a coming-of-age journey that eventually leads her to discover the meaning of true love.

LanguageEnglish
PublisheriUniverse
Release dateJul 1, 2011
ISBN9781462004966
The Switch—Hctiws Eht
Author

Lucille LaBossiere

LUCILLE LaBOSSIERE was born on Vancouver Island and lived in Cranbrook and Kitimat before retiring in Terrace, British Columbia. She is married with two children. This is her ?rst novel.

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    Book preview

    The Switch—Hctiws Eht - Lucille LaBossiere

    Copyright © 2011 by Lucille LaBossiere

    All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

    This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

    iUniverse books may be ordered through booksellers or by contacting:

    iUniverse

    1663 Liberty Drive

    Bloomington, IN 47403

    www.iuniverse.com

    1-800-Authors (1-800-288-4677)

    Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

    Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

    Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

    ISBN: 978-1-4620-0495-9 (sc)

    ISBN: 978-1-4620-0497-3 (dj)

    ISBN: 978-1-4620-0496-6 (ebook)

    Printed in the United States of America

    iUniverse rev. date: 05/18/2011

    In memory of my father, George Kocurek, who passed away on October 2, 2009, at the age of ninety-six.

    Contents

    Prologue

    Chapter 1

    Chapter 2

    Chapter 3

    Chapter 4

    Chapter 5

    Chapter 6

    Chapter 7

    Chapter 8

    Chapter 9

    Chapter 10

    Chapter 11

    Chapter 12

    Chapter 13

    Chapter 14

    Chapter 15

    Chapter 16

    Chapter 17

    Chapter 18

    Chapter 19

    Chapter 20

    Chapter 21

    Chapter 22

    Chapter 23

    Chapter 24

    Chapter 25

    Chapter 26

    Chapter 27

    Chapter 28

    Chapter 29

    Chapter 30

    Chapter 31

    Chapter 32

    Chapter 33

    Chapter 34

    Chapter 35

    Chapter 36

    Chapter 37

    Chapter 38

    Chapter 39

    Chapter 40

    Chapter 41

    Chapter 42

    Chapter 43

    Chapter 44

    Chapter 45

    Chapter 46

    Chapter 47

    Chapter 48

    Chapter 49

    Chapter 50

    Chapter 51

    Chapter 52

    Chapter 53

    Chapter 54

    Chapter 55

    Chapter 56

    Chapter 57

    Chapter 58

    Chapter 59

    Chapter 60

    Chapter 61

    Chapter 62

    Chapter 63

    Chapter 64

    Chapter 65

    Chapter 66

    Chapter 67

    Chapter 68

    Chapter 69

    Chapter 70

    Chapter 71

    Chapter 72

    Chapter 73

    Chapter 74

    Chapter 75

    Chapter 76

    Chapter 77

    Chapter 78

    Chapter 79

    Chapter 80

    Chapter 81

    Chapter 82

    Chapter 83

    Chapter 84

    Chapter 85

    Chapter 86

    Chapter 87

    Chapter 88

    Chapter 89

    Chapter 90

    Chapter 91

    Chapter 92

    Chapter 93

    Chapter 94

    Chapter 95

    Chapter 96

    Chapter 97

    Chapter 98

    Chapter 99

    Chapter 100

    Chapter 101

    Chapter 102

    Chapter 103

    Chapter 104

    Chapter 105

    Chapter 106

    Chapter 107

    Chapter 108

    Chapter 109

    Chapter 110

    Chapter 111

    Chapter 112

    Chapter 113

    Prologue

    Kimberley felt total peace as her body drifted toward a bright white light. It slowly encircled her and drew Kimberley even closer to eternal happiness. As quickly as the light had appeared, it was taken away from her, only to return a second later. This jump from light to darkness happened several times, almost as if someone were repeatedly switching a light on and off. Kimberley was confused when the light turned off and she was left in total darkness. She awoke to complete confusion. Not only was she soaking wet from head to foot, but she also sensed an overwhelming smell of the sea. She was coughing seawater from her lungs, which spilled onto the floor. Her head was resting in the palm of a man’s hand as he slowly turned her head to the side to allow the water to escape her body. Her throat burned as she repeatedly choked on the invasive liquid.

    Kimberley felt relieved as he drew her closer to his body. That’s when she realized that a pole separated the two of them, and they were bound tightly to this pole. After several moments, she recognized the man and tried to draw him closer to her. Glancing around, she recalled the horror that they had just been through. Kimberley wondered how she could have fallen into this state and how the two of them could survive the rest of the evening. Scanning her environment and searching outside the building, Kimberley wondered if another wave of water was approaching them. Kimberley already knew that she couldn’t survive another one. The first one had almost killed her. Her lungs had almost exploded as she finally succumbed to the water and an imminent death. She turned to the man with fear in her eyes.

    He cried, Are you all right?

    Kimberley nodded, and her eyes scanned around the building. Soaking wet people hung onto each other, fear engraved in their eyes. Kimberley felt the man release the belt that had bound them together and questioned, What’re you doing?

    He reassured her. You’ll be fine. I need to check on the rest of the people. They may need help. He then rebound Kimberley to the pole and crossed the room. It seemed that in a flash, she was wondering how she got to this point in her life. Surely this is a bad dream, and she would soon wake up.

    Chapter 1

    Fourteen years earlier.

    Kimberley sat on the backseat of her mother’s red Volkswagen. It’s hot in here. Can you open your window?

    Evelyn rolled it down and glanced in the rearview mirror. Her daughter’s hair was blowing around as if caught in a tornado. She grinned and asked, Is that better?

    Yes. Kimberley’s hair flew in all directions, softly tickling her face. Glancing to the right, she shot up in her seat. Stop, there he is!

    Evelyn was startled, pulled off to the side, and scolded her daughter. Don’t ever yell when I’m driving. If we get in an accident, both of us could be hurt.

    Sorry, Mom, but did you see him?

    Who?

    Richard.

    Evelyn became frustrated. Who’s Richard?

    Richard Jackson. He’s the cutest guy in the whole world.

    Evelyn glanced in her rearview mirror but could only see his back. Is that the lawyer’s son?

    Yes, and he’s super cute.

    You’re pretty young to be interested in boys. She pulled back onto the road. Bill and auntie will be concerned if we’re late getting to the restaurant.

    Why can’t I like boys?

    There’s plenty of time for them when you’re older.

    Kimberley rolled her eyes. Like how old?

    Not eight years old. The Volkswagen maneuvered around several corners and down toward the beach. She parked the vehicle across from the restaurant. Evelyn could see Bill and her sister through the window. The two were sitting in a booth that faced the road. Evelyn waved and the two returned their waves.

    Bill stood as they approached the booth. I thought you got lost.

    Kimberley half scared me to death, so I had to pull off the road. We had a talk on safety when I’m driving.

    Beatrice gestured for Kimberley to sit beside her. What did you do to your poor mother?

    Auntie, there’s this really cute boy that I like. He was walking along the sidewalk. When I saw him, I told Mom to look. I didn’t know that she would be so upset. She paused before continuing. She thinks I am too young to like boys.

    Beatrice grinned. I think she may be right. You really shouldn’t distract your mother when she’s driving. So who’s the boy?

    Kimberley looked dreamy. Richard Jackson. Auntie, do you think he likes me?

    I don’t know, dear. I wouldn’t worry about that. Right now we’re all hungry, so why don’t we order dinner?

    Bill and Evelyn agreed in unison. Good idea. The four had their dinner before saying good-bye. Beatrice, Kimberley, and Evelyn went home in her red Volkswagen while Bill left in his splashy blue Mustang.

    Chapter 2

    The picturesque town of Blue Ridge hugged the coastline of British Columbia and was neatly nestled within the confines of a small protected bay. The rugged shoreline was patched with boulders of various sizes and shapes. Large rocks receded into the current and were lost in the sea weed that swayed ever so gently, sweeping under the surface, caressing the rocks. Seagulls flew to great heights and then released stolen shells and sent them crashing to the rugged rocks below. The shells split open, exposing the contents to seagulls that feasted on the tender flesh.

    Waterlines of barnacles and bright patches of dried green seaweed marked the top of the tide line. These barnacles hung onto the rocks and made that part of the beach impossible to swim in. Smaller pebbles were half buried in fine sand while small pockets of water lay around from the last high tide. The incoming tide would be about fifteen feet, so the smell of drying seaweed filled the air with a salty, musty odor.

    The water lapped the shore with white foam and rolling caps breaking on the beach in an endless succession. The current was still coming in, and soon the small bay would be at full tide. This was a twice-daily ritual that the locals were quite familiar with. Small pieces of driftwood floated within the bay and gathered along the beach. Sea urchins and anemones were found in small pockets scattered in larger boulders that were still exposed to the elements. Once the sea returned, these pockets were covered, and the inhabitants’ food supply was again replenished. Small fish hugged the shores as if taking a peek at the world beyond and then disappeared with a single flip of their tails.

    A lighthouse was perched on a rocky point, its light flashing and then briefly disappearing, only to flash once more a few seconds later. This bright light guided many an exhausted fisherman home, who had spent several days at sea trying to earn a living for his family.

    It was about 5:30 p.m., and the beach was still filled with locals taking advantage of their beautifully extended summer. Children sat near the water’s edge, building sand castles with the wet sand. They took great care to fill their brightly colored sand buckets with seawater. Wetting the sand near their homemade fortresses, they continued their construction. They dug deep trenches around their castles and filled them with seawater. Several little boys were only interested in building roads for their sand trucks. They constructed the roads with hills and tunnels, which could be hollowed out once the sand was wet enough. A small group was laughing as they quickly tried to bury their younger brother up to his neck, but he kept moving, making the fun impossible.

    Parents sat close by, watching their children and talking to each other. Some adults sat reading books while others rubbed on sunscreen and lay on the sand, taking in the last slanted rays of the sun. Umbrellas were dotted along the shore, protecting beachgoers from the blinding sun that was slowly approaching the horizon. A woman sat reading a magazine and checking her watch occasionally, as if she feared being late for an important meeting. Her eyes glanced up as she called to her daughter, who was sitting on the edge of the surf, floating on the latest incoming wave.

    Only ten more minutes, Kimberley, and we have to leave. I don’t want to be late.

    As Kimberley watched her sand creation disintegrate from the receding wave, she replied, Okay, Mom.

    Glancing up a second time, the woman set down her book and took in her surroundings. Off to her right, pilings lined the local marina and towered many feet above the water. Each was topped with a pointed aluminum cap to keep seagulls from fouling them. In only a few hours, these caps would once again glisten on the small bay from the reflection of the nearby lights. It was a clear evening with a gentle breeze that was slowly cooling off the beach. Seagulls rested on the edge of the water, hoping for a fish to finish off the emptiness left in their bellies. The next morning, they would head back to sea in hopes of catching a fisherman throwing fish entrails out after a morning catch.

    After the catastrophe of March 28, 1964, when a ten-foot tsunami hit Port Alberni, Blue Ridge constructed a large breakwater to protect their little haven from such a disaster. Port Alberni was lucky there were no casualties, but some homes were completely destroyed. The breakwater in Blue Ridge was designed to not only withstand a tsunami, but also protect the wonderful sandy beach that would have otherwise been swept out to sea. A local contractor, who also owned a fishing charter, donated his trucks to move the large boulders from six kilometers away. It had taken several years to build this breakwater. It started on one side of the small bay and extended out two hundred feet into the opening, leaving a gap of about sixty feet for vessels to enter the cove. The water was about fifty feet deep at this point, and it had taken thousands of large boulders to fill the void. At first, the boulders were lost in the deep water before the first sign of progress could be seen. As it progressed, the boulders decreased in size until the barrier was completed. Once finished, the cove became a safe haven from the elements beyond the breakwater. On a windy evening, waves could still be heard smashing the outer barrier.

    Inside the breakwater, the calm waters sheltered neat rows of fishing boats tied to their moorings, all joined by a geometric array of wooden walkways. The main wooden path of the floats led away from the shore while numerous small branches veered sharply off from it, patterned like the ribs of the prized herring that were so sought after for their precious roe. These smaller branches allowed access to every boat, yet each was connected to the main central trunk.

    The wharf was able to accommodate up to thirty boats. Two-by-sixes formed the main boards, which were already starting to weather from the saltwater. Each rib was joined to the main section by several heavy ropes, and rubber tires were put between each joint to prolong the life of the wood. This caused each section to squeak when walked upon. Along the outside edge of each float, there was a thick plank, raised just enough to slip a rope under, for boat owners to tie up their vessels. Each plank had a thick strip of used tire to protect the boats from rubbing against the wood and scratching their finishes. The boats were often marked with a black rubber line, but it was easily removed with a little effort.

    Evening was fast approaching, and fishing vessels were returning to the safety of their small bay. Some owners tied their boats to the wharf and then tossed out large coolers, which were overflowing with their daily catch. Others, who had no catch for the day, would slowly wander over to see the successful fishermen unloading their vessels. Those with an empty boat would inquire where the others had gone and make a note to try there tomorrow. The heavy coolers were hauled to the end of the wharf, where there was a cleaning trough. Seagulls lingered around the cleaning station, hoping that a generous fisherman would toss them a handful of the discards.

    Small cottages and A-framed huts were set back about fifty feet from the water. Some residents had built small fences to grant them some privacy from the busy beach while others left themselves exposed to the sand and surf. These houses were close together and often only separated with a short hedge, fence, or public access trail. All the homes were finished with shingles that seemed to weather well in the high humidity from the open water. The odd home had just been refinished and had a fresh coat of paint applied to the wood, whereas the older homes had a rather grayish look to them. Houses with awnings had them fully extended to cut out the glare from the fading sun. Wind chimes could be heard along the beach as they caught the slight breeze that was developing. The backyards of these homes were very small, sometimes only twenty feet deep and just long enough to park their vehicles. A great number of these homes were occupied only during the summer and were closed up tight over the winter.

    The public access to the beach was about two-thirds of the way along the shoreline and had enough parking for about twenty vehicles. It had been freshly paved earlier that year, so the lines were distinct and easy to see. Just to the left of the parking lot was a large washroom facility that was maintained by the city. An outdoor shower afforded people the opportunity to wash the salt and sand from their bathing suits before returning home.

    The parking lot entrance connected with the road that hugged the first row of huts. Scattered along the beach were little concession booths, where sunbathers could buy hotdogs and ice cream, as well as other miscellaneous fast-food items. Most of these stalls were already closed for the year, as many were operated by university students, who had already returned for their next semester. A two-lane road separated the beach from small local businesses, where visitors could buy souvenirs, lunch, or coffee at an outdoor cafe. The road rose up the mountain, and as it progressed, the houses increased in size. They looked over the tiny establishments below as if they weren’t even there.

    The higher residents stayed all year-round and were only a few minutes away from the beach. Their patios were high enough to enjoy the view without any obstruction from the huts below. The road corkscrewed its way up the mountain until it reached the crest several thousand feet above the beach. The opulent homes at this level were in the million-dollar range and were owned mostly by prominent people in the community. These homes were exposed to the harsh winter winds and snow that arrived in the late fall and could sometimes hang around until well into March. The hills could turn into very slippery ascensions and were sometimes avoided if freezing rain hit the bay. Each mansion seemed to be supported with only a few sturdy pillars and looked as if they would fall from their tall perches and domino effect down to the miniature homes below. The view from each of these homes grew even more spectacular the higher one went. Glass windows shrouded each mansion, so the views could be seen from all angles. If ever you were invited into one of these mansions, the sight you would see is beyond description.

    Homes on the opposite side of the road were lucky to catch only a glimpse of the view while others could only imagine what they were missing. From the top of the hill, the homes spread back into the wooded valley, with little subdivisions dotting the outskirts of the town. These smaller homes depreciated in value the further away they were from the bay. The homes were set in numerous clusters, broken only by clumps of dense forest that seemed to fill in the blanks between the little homes. Parks were set in these treed areas, complete with picnic tables and small washroom facilities. A narrow twisty road, which skirted the rugged coast, connected these homes to the beach.

    On the south side of the bay, several long streets identified the business area, where locals and tourists did their shopping. The road beyond led out to the point and a very popular restaurant that served the best food in town. This road was a dead end, so diners had to return along the same twisty road to a junction that would return to the bay or make a turn to travel sixty kilometers to the next town.

    When the morning sun rose, the beach was mostly covered with a mist that sometimes took until midmorning to dissipate. At the end of the breakwater was a foghorn that often sent out short low blasts to warn ships of the treacherous entrance to the bay. Once the morning fog burnt off, the view could be seen to the horizon.

    The area was noted for its wind, but the locals had grown accustomed to its gusts and unpredictable temperature changes. By early evening, if the skies were clear, a sunset could appear as clear as a postcard. The pink skies could only be seen for a few minutes, but to anyone fortunate enough to catch the display, it lasted a lifetime.

    The lighthouse, located at the north side of the bay, shimmered in the sunset, although at day break it would often be shrouded in fog. It was a hike of about one-half kilometer to its vantage point, which protruded well into the ocean. Scheduled tours were normally not available to tourists, but if a local resident took any visiting family members or friends out to its location, the caretaker was more than happy to accommodate. Sixty-three stairs spiraled up the tall tower, bringing you to the top and, on a clear day, a spectacular view of the coastline and distant horizon.

    Blue Ridge was a small town of about seven thousand people with most working locally, but some commuted to the next town for their well-being. Fishing and tourism were the main industries. With fall rapidly approaching, both would soon slow down until the following spring. Fishermen would spend the winter months tying new lures and polishing their spoons for the following season. Their boats and motors were then serviced in anticipation of spring. The tourist season was virtually over, with only a few stragglers holding on for the last few days of the fishing season. In peak season, the town could easily double in size, but in only a few short days, it would be back to its normal population. Scattered throughout the residential area, several bed-and-breakfasts existed. Closer to the water, half a dozen hotels were built to accommodate the tourists during the busy season.

    Beyond the exclusive homes, the town spread out in several directions. The business section was on the south side of the cove. The stores in that section lay in a grid pattern, and the streets were named after fish. The first road away from the coast was titled Chinook Drive. From there, the names were Coho Drive, Cod Drive, Halibut Drive, and then Flounder Drive. They were named by a local fisherman, who was the first to homestead in the area, and he titled them after the fish that he caught in this prime location. Chinook Drive consisted of a sporting goods store, a gas station, a liquor store, and a large grocery store. Cod Drive was the location of the real estate, library, municipal offices, police station, and the hospital, which also had the offices of local doctors within it. A strip mall was at the end of the drive, where locals could find odd amenities that weren’t available anywhere else in town. Halibut Drive was the last street and had the elementary and high school, plus a professional building, which housed dentists and lawyers. Across the road from this last drive was the local cemetery, managed by the town.

    On the north part of town, which was the beach side, were several churches. West of the churches was the local theater. The bus depot was just beyond the theatre. It was unusual that such a small community was able to maintain a bus system, but the locals preferred it to driving their own vehicles, plus local schools used the system to transport children back and forth. Across from the bus depot, there lay a deep gully with a very twisty meandering road that led to a series of oval subdivisions. This development not only spread east but also to the north. This area was named after trees and homes were located on both sides of the street. A small grassy area filled in the center and afforded a shady area for residents to retreat after a full day of activity. Pine Crescent led to Maple Crescent, which in turn led to Alder Crescent. Alder then led to Birch, which in turn led to Cedar and finally to Oak Crescent. Several of these ovals were located further from the shore and were named either after explorers or rivers.

    The local bus system made a clockwise route around the complete town, touching each of these streets, only to return to the station and do the route again. A complete circle took the bus about thirty minutes.

    Chapter 3

    Kimberley and her mother, Evelyn, had returned from the beach to their home on Maple Crescent. They lived in a modest home that was on the inside of the oval loop. This meant that they had the privacy of a park just off their backyard.

    Inside their home, Evelyn prodded her daughter to eat. Is that as fast as you can eat? I don’t mind cleaning up the dishes, but if you’re too slow, you’ll be doing them by yourself. I still have to get ready for my date.

    Rolling her eyes, Kimberley blurted back to her mother, I’m eating as fast as I can. Besides, you look fine the way you are. She then added, It isn’t as if it’s your first date with Bill!

    Evelyn turned and faced her daughter. I still need time to tidy up.

    Go get ready then. I can wash my own dishes, Kimberley shot back.

    Evelyn raced upstairs to wash up and slip on something comfortable for the evening. She crossed the room and picked up the receiver and dialed the babysitter’s phone number. Hi, Beth, it’s Evelyn. Are you still available this evening? She paused and then, smiling, said, Thanks, see you in half an hour. Evelyn raced downstairs just in time to see Kimberley finishing the last of her dishes. Thanks, Kim. Beth will be here soon. Maybe you should be thinking of getting ready for bed.

    Yah, yah, I know the routine. Eat, brush my teeth, and then get ready for bed. Kimberley appeared to be in deep thought and decided to test her mother. It’s a Saturday night. What time can I stay up ’til?

    Evelyn’s answer was always the same. No later than nine thirty. I think that’s fair.

    Kimberley whined, Why can’t I stay up ’til ten?

    Her mother spoke firmly, Because you’re only eight years old and nine thirty is your bedtime.

    Kimberley pouted as she dragged herself upstairs to clean up and slip on her pajamas.

    At the sound of her front doorbell ringing, Evelyn went to open it.

    Beth greeted Evelyn in her usual fashion, Hello, Ms. Parker.

    Evelyn smiled and replied, Hi, Beth. Come in. Her eyes then looked in the direction of the stairs that lead to Kimberley’s room. She’s upstairs putting on her pajamas.

    Evelyn rushed around, locating her purse and then made sure her house keys were inside. She had a bad habit of just dropping them anywhere and then got stressed when she tried to locate them at the last minute. Satisfied that everything was in order, she turned her attention to Beth. We’ll be going to the Panorama Room, but we should be home around eleven o’clock. Is that okay with you?

    Beth replied, That’s fine. What time do you want Kimberley in bed?

    I’ve already told her nine thirty. Please don’t let her stay up any later or she’ll be unbearable tomorrow.

    Gotcha.

    Several minutes later, the doorbell rang for the second time that evening. Evelyn opened the door to find Bill standing there.

    He studied the beautiful woman in front of him for several seconds before speaking, Good evening, Evelyn.

    She was quick to respond, Good evening, Bill. I’ll be ready in a few minutes. She then turned to Beth with some final instructions. See you around eleven o’clock. If you’ve any problems, call us. I’ve left the number beside the phone. I’ll make sure that we aren’t late. She ran upstairs to Kimberley’s bedroom. See you in the morning, babe.

    Have fun, Mom.

    Evelyn cautioned her daughter, Be good for Beth or I’ll know.

    Kimberley answered defensively. I’m eight years old, Mom, and too old to misbehave.

    Evelyn returned downstairs and left the house resting an arm on Bill’s.

    Kimberley came bouncing downstairs. Hi, Beth, what’re we going to do this evening?

    Beth answered her question with another question. What would you like to do?

    Kimberley replied, We could either play a game or watch some television.

    Beth snickered. Let’s start with a game, and if we get bored we can switch to television.

    Kimberley was excited. That sounds great! What would you like to play?

    Beth rolled her eyes. Your favorite of course, Go Fish.

    Kimberley ran to get the cards from the drawer in the kitchen. Returning with them, she announced, I go first.

    Rolling her eyes a second time, Beth stated, Don’t you always!

    Kimberley awkwardly mixed the cards and dealt out seven each.

    Chapter 4

    Bill Smithe picked Evelyn up for a quiet dinner at what turned out to be their favorite eating place. Driving to the restaurant, the two sat quietly, and Bill thought back to the first time that they had met. He had a wide grin on his face.

    What’s so amusing, Mr. Smithe? Evelyn laughed.

    Oh, I was just remembering the first time we met.

    What was so funny about it?

    It was at the evening information session the force had on the use and effects of drugs in the school system. Do you remember?

    She appeared to be searching into her past before answering. Clear as if it was yesterday. She grinned. Did you know who I was?

    I knew exactly who you were and also that you were a single mom. Why do you think I went to such extremes to take a seat next to you? Bill responded, grinning back at her.

    Evelyn acknowledged, You weren’t very discreet. Did you see all the other mothers looking at us? You couldn’t have been more obvious.

    Bill was watching the road and glancing at her. He quickly asked, Be honest now. Did you know who I was?

    I knew you only to see you, but I have to admit I was amused that you’d gone to such lengths to sit by me, when half of the auditorium was still empty. Then you so casually said, ‘Hi, I’m Bill Smithe, of the Blue Ridge Police Department and you are?’ By now, Evelyn was laughing.

    Bill chuckled. But your response was even better. He mimicked her, saying, I’m Evelyn Parker of the Blue Ridge City Hall and then you shook my hand.

    Evelyn softly replied, I liked you from that moment on.

    Bill grew very serious. And why is that, Ms. Parker?

    Because your hands were so warm, and they took the chill from mine. I’ve always had cold hands. Evelyn remembered that information session evening only too well. It had opened her eyes to the dangers that she would face in raising Kimberley as a single mother. She sat in silence, reflecting on that evening.

    At the podium, one of Bill’s officers was sorting through his papers. Turning to Evelyn, Bill proudly stated, He’s one of my best officers and has been with the force for five years. Good family man and very knowledgeable.

    That’s good to know. Evelyn smirked.

    The officer looked up and

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