The Promise

By Nathalie Guerin

Successful and independent, 37-year old Lily has become what she had always planned to be. With her fifteenyear career as an IT project manager, from the outside Lilys life couldnt look better. But all is not as it seems. Although Lily puts on a happy face for her family, friends, and coworkers, inside, she feels bored, trapped, and lonely. She constantly dreams of suicide, and each time she goes home, she thinks of how easy it would be to close her eyes and end it all.

Worse, Lily has begun hearing a mysterious voice in her head. Thinking shes gone crazy, Lily does whatever she can to avoid the voice to no avail. The voice reminds her of an old friend who committed suicide and of the promise she made after his death. Now she is forced to confront herself and her circumstances and make a decision: to live or to die.

But just when Lily decides her life is worth living, a routine physical reveals a lump on her throat. Will she find a way to face her demons and make peace with herself, no matter how much time she has left?

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: May 31, 2012
• ISBN: 9781475917444

Nathalie Guerin

Nathalie Guerin is a speaker, author, healer, and spiritual empowerment coach. For the last 10 years, she has helped hundreds of women rise into purpose, passion, and happiness. She is the creator of the Six-Figure Studio and Wild & Happy. The Six-Figure Studio is designed to help female entrepreneurs unblock their money blocks. She created Wild & Happy to help women break free from depression and create a life on purpose. Nathalie Guerin holds a bachelor’s degree in mathematics with a major in computer science. She spent 18 years doing everything from programming to project management. She specialized in process re-engineering and fixing troubled projects. She left the IT world six years ago to pursue her dream of entrepreneurship and start an online business. She has helped clients unleash their greatness, break free from their past, and find the courage to create a life on purpose. There’s nothing better to her than seeing her clients expand into the people they need to be in order to create the result they want. Her passion lies in helping people create/be/do/have their desires by using the laws of the Universe. She’s been fascinated with this ever since she discovered just how powerful the Law of Attraction is and what’s possible when you let go and let the universe guide you. All her life, she has been unstoppable in the pursuit of her dreams. She is the published author of The Promise, a book to help people through depression and the loss of suicide. Nathalie Guerin is currently living in Montreal, Quebec. She loves to travel and spend time outdoors. Want to stay in touch? Grab the free Reset and Magnetize Ritual from her website, http://www.nathalieguerin.com/.

Book preview

Contents

Acknowledgments

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

In memory of Jean-Nicolas Simoneau (1972–2005)

Because of you, I am

Acknowledgments

It’s important to me to acknowledge a special group of people who have inspired me. Some of you have been lifelong friends; others are mere acquaintances. No matter what category you find yourself in, you can be sure that this story would not have been the same without you. To all of you, I say thank you.

This book would not have been possible without Melva McLean, my editor. You not only edited this book, but also thought me to be a better writer along the way. The latter is a gift I will never forget. Thank you!

I’d like to say thanks to my family: my parents, Benoit and Jeannine Guérin, as well as Denise, Sylvie and Eric for their constant support and encouragement. Also to the following individuals for their friendship, support and teachings: Rachel Bedet, Peter Bilissis (1955–2010), Adrianne Blattel, Claude Cyr, Anne-Marie Dion, Gary Dillon, Frederic Guérin, Frederic Ménagé, Farveh Momayezzadeh, Harriet Thomas and Stig Westerlund. My world is better because of you.

Chapter One

L ily, the voice called.

Lily ignored it and stretched her arm as far as possible to grab the last piece of Belgian chocolate on the coffee table, but she stopped, feeling guilty. She imagined the stuffy room with four white walls in which she was about to move into. If that was it, then she decided the guilt could go screw itself.

Lily, the voice said again.

She snapped back to the present, wrapped her fingers around the chocolate and popped it into her mouth.

For the hundredth time in three days, she jumped to her feet to search for the source of the scratchy voice. She jerked open the fridge door and yanked out the bottom crisper; all she found were a few rotten apples. She moved them out of the way but could find no sign of what sounded like a miniature woman calling her name. Deep down, she knew she wouldn’t find her, but she still had to look.

Lily closed the crisper and started to laugh. Oh, God, she said aloud. She couldn’t deny it any longer: it was crazy to look in the fridge for the source of an invisible voice.

A water glass sat on the nearby red marble countertop. She picked it up, curled her arm as if throwing a baseball and let it fly. The glass hit the fridge and bounced on the floor several times before rolling to a complete stop. It was intact, without so much as a single crack showing.

Fuck me, she hissed. I can’t do anything right.

She tried again. She picked up the glass, curled her arm and threw it against the cabinets with all her might. The glass cracked and hit the floor, shattering into a million pieces and leaving Lily standing in a field of tiny crystals.

Lily, the voice said.

Lily, Lily, Lily mimicked. She couldn’t take it anymore. She needed to get the voice to stop talking. It was the problem of the day. And that was a good thing, she realized, because she was good at finding solutions. It didn’t matter what the problem was; she could always find a solution. The first step was admitting that she didn’t have all the answers. The second step was researching how to fix the problem. She’d learned to take apart and fix her toaster that way.

An invisible voice was just another problem, so the night before, she’d spent hours doing research on the Internet. She was just about to give up when she found a reference to a bizarre 19th-century ritual that entailed tying a lunatic to a chair and submerging him in cold water until he regained his senses. This method was short-lived because the authorities had quickly stopped the practice. Also, there was no indication whether or not the practice worked, but she thought it was worth a try.

She walked to the sink, filled it with cold water and dipped in her hand. The water wasn’t nearly cold enough, so she pulled a bag of ice out of the freezer and dumped it into the sink. She put her hand back in the water and waited for her fingernails to turn blue. When they did, she took a deep breath and stood very still. The water was ready.

Lily, called the voice.

Lily ignored the voice, wrapped a purple towel around her neck and planted her feet firmly on the glass-covered floor. She ignored the pain that tore at her feet. Please, God. Make it go away, she prayed aloud. If God existed, she reckoned it would be an excellent opportunity for Him to recruit a skeptic.

Lily, the voice called.

Thanks for nothing, she muttered.

Lily tightened her grip on the edge of the sink and lowered her head until it sat just above the water. She inhaled deeply, filled her lungs with as much air as possible and dipped her head below the water line. The cold penetrated her scalp, and the grey matter inside her brain began to slow.

Okay, start counting, Lily reminded herself. If she could get to 30 without the disembodied voice calling her name, then everything would be okay. At the count of five, her neck cramped, so she clutched the edges of the sink to keep herself from coming up. By the count of 10, her lungs burned from lack of oxygen; she ignored the pain and kept counting. When she reached 28, red-hot pain started shooting up from her lower back. Only two more, she thought, and I’ll be sane again. Lily willed her shoulder blades down to relax her neck muscles just a tiny bit.

Twenty-nine, she counted.

Lily.

She heard the voice more clearly than ever before. She sprung upward, hitting the faucet with the back of her head as she did. Damn it! she yelled. She instinctively reached to rub the skin on her cheeks, which felt like it was breaking under the constant jabbing of an invisible chisel. She shook her head and dried her face with the purple towel. Surely there had to be an easier way to fix herself. She just needed a fresh perspective.

On her way to the couch to go sulk, she stepped on the shattered glass. Crap, she said as a few pieces wedged themselves into her feet. Jumping up on the counter, she slid her bum over to the other side and landed on her couch. It was a small victory, and she couldn’t help but grin.

While she picked away at the glass in her feet, she wondered which was crazier: breaking the glass or nearly drowning in ice water. She decided it was neither—both were actions driven by panic. They weren’t insane at all, just the normal reactions of someone running out of options. All she needed to do to solve this problem was to continue to think outside the box. The status quo wasn’t working with the voice; that much was clear. Maybe the solution was to think like an insane person.

She pulled out a large piece of glass, and blood gushed out of the wound. Lily’s heart missed a beat. If she couldn’t stop the bleeding, she would need to go to the emergency room. She would need to talk to strangers. What’s up with you? they would ask. What would she tell them? That she was hearing voices? She applied more pressure and hoped for the best.

Thirty minutes later, there was blood all over her couch and hands, but the wound had settled.

That was a close call, Lily thought.

Don’t talk to strangers! By the time Lily was 5, her mother had told her that countless times. It was a rule, and rules weren’t meant to be broken. Of course, back then she hadn’t listened. Instead, she talked to everyone she met, all the while assuming the complete best in everyone. It didn’t matter if it was another kid at the park, the attendant at the gas station or the clerk at the corner store. If someone was willing to put up with her, she would talk. It was long after her mother had given up trying to remind her that Lily finally adopted the rule for herself.

It had happened quite unexpectedly when she was 11. It was a particularly sunny and warm March day. To celebrate the warmth and take full pleasure in the sunshine, Lily had dressed in a pink cotton skirt and blue knee socks. After breakfast, she’d headed out to the public library for her weekly craft class, where she constructed a cardboard puppet.

During the class, the wind had picked up. Even with her winter coat, she was freezing from head to toe, so she took the bus home. She chose a seat across from a dark-haired man who was dressed in blue jeans, a dark green parka and a blue hat. Lily couldn’t stop staring at his dimples and at his perfect teeth.

How are you? he finally asked.

Lily’s heart warmed at the question, and she started talking.

A minute later, the friendly man got up and moved to take the seat beside her. She beamed as she felt the warmth of him. When he shoved his big, hairy hand up her skirt, she stopped talking. When his fingers reached the inside of her panties, she started shaking. She didn’t know what to do, but when the bus stopped, she got up, jumped over him and ran off the bus just seconds before the door closed shut. She watched the bus and the man roll away.

That was the day she’d conceded that her mother’s rule made sense. From that day forward, Don’t talk to strangers became Lily’s martial law. Over the years, and for practical reasons, there had been amendments; in other words, there were rules to break the rule. For instance, at school it was okay to talk to classmates or teachers. Now the same went for colleagues. To appear normal, which was a requirement for success, she feigned interest in the chit-chat of her coworkers.

On the rare occasions that strangers did in fact venture to speak to her, she stared at the ground and pretended to be invisible. People usually gave up and left her alone; very rarely did they keep talking, although some people were oblivious to her behaviour. When that happened, she stayed and listened while her stomach got gassy. It was a small price to pay for not having to be rude.

Don’t talk to strangers kept her safe.

Lily wiped her sweaty face with her forearm. She felt herself losing control of her sanity. That worried her because she knew what would come next.

Lily, she heard.

Stop calling my name, she screamed as the wave finally crashed.

With each bead of sweat that travelled down her cheek, she waited for the voice to come back, but all she heard was the tap-tap-tap of the water dripping from the kitchen faucet. She made a mental note to get it fixed. The engine of a bus came to life and roared past her apartment. Well after the bus had gone by, Lily was still waiting to hear her name. Where is it? It can’t have left, she thought.

She heard the beat of her purple clock and smiled. She had bought it on a little island in British Columbia while on vacation five years ago. It reminded her of the ocean, and even in the middle of a bizarre day, it calmed her. On the next tick of a second, she started counting. At 30, she realized that the voice might not be coming back, but she couldn’t rejoice yet. She continued counting. When she reached 600, she yawned and declared victory.

She stood up and reached up with her hands to the heavens. Thank you, God. When Lily was little, she’d watched her mother do that countless times and secretly wanted to try it herself. She shook her head and reminded herself that she couldn’t trade one type of insanity for another.

Not caring that it was the middle of the afternoon, Lily stripped down to her underwear and jumped on top of her bed. It was still too hot to cover up with any sheets. That’s when she heard the voice again.

Lily, stop it!

Lily sat bolt upright. Stop what? she asked.

Stop ignoring me.

Lily closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She pictured a cloud with the word sanity in the middle of it. She tried to reach for it, but it just kept getting away from her. Fighting dizziness, she stood up and walked to the bathroom. At the sink she turned on the cold-water tap, grabbed the bar of soap and washed her face. It felt good. Just as she got soap in her left eye, she involuntarily doubled over in pain from a mini-explosion in her stomach.

Lily yanked down her underwear and hit the toilet seat just in time. She shuddered at her reflection in the mirror: the coarse grey hairs coming through the dark brown hair, and the black mole beside her left eye that used to make her seem elegant. At least I’m not naked, she thought. Then my boobs would be staring back at me. She shuddered at the image.

Please, she banged on the wall. Look what you’re doing to me. Stop it. What’s wrong? I didn’t do anything. You’ve kept me up for three days, and now you’ve given me diarrhoea. She covered her nose at the smell. You did this, all of it. You made my skin get all droopy. I can’t even detect my cheekbones anymore. My face is red, my eye sockets are sinking deeper by the minute and my hands are swollen.

You did that to your hands with the cold water, said the voice. "That was your idea, not mine. You’ll feel better once you catch some Zs."

Sleep? Lily snorted. How the hell am I supposed to do that with you calling my name every 10 seconds?

Sorry, said the voice. I won’t do it again. Promise.

Cross your heart and hope to die? Lily responded.

Lily stroked her temples. She was actually chatting with this intruder inside her head. The nuthouse, wherever it was, would have a new patient soon. It was time to shop for different-coloured straitjackets, one for every colour of the week: pink for Mondays, black for Sundays, et cetera. It was always exciting to go shopping for a new adventure.

Stop it, the voice interrupted. You don’t need a straitjacket.

I don’t believe you. I’m going directly from here to the nuthouse.

Whatever, the voice said. One of these days, you won’t hear me anymore.

When?

Well, that’s up to you.

Really? Lilly choked back a laugh. Please just go away now.

No, the voice said, I’m here to help.

I don’t need you here, Lily said, defiance beginning to win. You have it all wrong; I’m perfectly fine.

You know that’s not true, the voice said.

Lily got up from the toilet, pulled up her underwear and walked back to bed. This time, she yanked the blue cotton sheets away, sunk into the softness of the mattress and pulled the top sheet over her head. Go away!

No. We need to talk. For three years now, I’ve been trying to get your attention. For three years, I’ve been waiting.

Oh, bloody hell, Lily said as she peeled off the sheet.

"You are going to

Reviews for The Promise

[sarah_gruwell · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

This one is a hard one to rate. I enjoyed the three-dimensional characters and the overall theme of hope and lost/found family. Yet, egads, this book had issues...The characters to me were pretty vivid and strong. They all have their fallacies, hopes, dreams, and issues. They're living, breathing individuals that I could connect to. I think a really good example of this was Aaron. Aaron had issues before the Holocaust and those same issues cropped up afterwards. He shows that people aren't instantly better or worse for having experienced such a traumatic event. He's a man with dreams, ambition, and love to spare. Yet, he's also a man who has a serious issue with women and sometimes doesn't appreciate what he has. This book also has a very strong current of family and hope the overall arc of Janusz's promise to bring the family back together in the end provides. I enjoyed the connections our characters found in others when blood family members weren't always available to connect to. A sense that a family can be brought together by love and shared circumstances just as well as by blood was a theme I enjoyed. There were times in the novel where hope was lost that family members survived, but I felt that that same hope was kept alive in the person of Dov. He never completely gave up hope that the fractured Gold family would find each other eventually.Now, let's talk about this book's issues. First off, most of the characters floated through the narrative hardly acting on anything at all. There was a bunch of reacting to situations as they presented themselves. But hardly any proactive actions to actually change a situation or to actively find loved ones were taken. More than once I wanted to shout at these characters when they would just assume someone was dead and go off and do something else over here. I think that if a little bit more effort would have been put into actually doing something and not floating through life, our characters might have met up a bit faster.Then there were the tangents. The author would meander through each of our characters lives, focusing on things that made sense to the overall story yet also discussing things that had no bearing whatsoever. There would also be times where the story would focus on individuals that rightly should have been secondary characters, not the main focus of the story. I know I said how much I loved him already, but Aaron is a prime example of this. I felt there was way too much focus on his lawyer/teacher/politician career post war. More story was spent on him than on Father Dov, the rescuer of the Golds. Just didn't make much sense to me as a reader...When all is said and done, I felt this was a middle-of-the-road novel. Not horrible but not shining either. I loved the characters and themes, but a hodge-podge narrative really broke up the enjoyment. I'm not sure if I would recommend this book or not. I finished it. So what that says I'm not sure. But there are definitely better fictional accounts of this material out there.