Harley's Redemption

By Cassandra Parker

Harley is a rebel soul, lashing out at his family because all they care about is their social standing. They snub nose anyone beneath them, leaving Harley to fend for himself. Harley couldn't be like them and it was destroying him piece by piece.

Harley's world fell apart. He was a biker, a rebel, and on a downward spiral. Together with his man servant, Garrett, he sets out to discover himself and look for the angel he saw in visions. Everyone thought he was crazy to go chasing after illusions on some wild quest. This is his story about failure, redemption and his search for Mari.

Mari thinks he is drop dead gorgeous. He is the stuff of dreams, handsome, tall, self-assured, not an ounce of fat on his body. His hair is an incredible mix of sandy and dark brown that accentuate his blue-gray eyes. When he smiles, she could almost swear he is an innocent saint or a rascally devil. Mari loves how Harley looks after her. He is protective, gentle, and loves her with abandon. Mari doesn’t think of Harley as being a perfect match for her. To Mari, Harley is her joy, her present and her future. He encourages her to seek adventure, and to follow her dreams.

Harley's Redemption is a romance filled with comedic and tragic moments. It tells the story of two college students as they discover the love of a lifetime. Harley and Mari have the kind of love most people only dream about. This is the journey of two people who discover that true love is endless, endures through all the heartbreak and laughter, and transcends time.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cassandraparkerbooks
• Release date: Oct 23, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463664841

Cassandra Parker

I love romance in all its multitude of forms. Romance is wistful, poignant, and classic. It makes the heart beat faster; it brings a twinkle to the eyes, a tear drop, and a smile. Romance is love, joy, pain, and loss. It is endearing and lasts throughout time for all eternity.I love hearing from readers. Please feel free to drop me a line at [e-mail]

Book preview

Chapter One

In 1969 the Beatles made their last public performance. The Concorde jet was being tested. Charles Manson's cult murdered the La Biancas, actress Sharon Tate and several others. Chappaquiddick became a household name with the affair of Edward Kennedy. For the first time mankind stepped foot on the moon.

1969 was the year of the music festivals such as the Atlantic International Pop Festival of July 4th with one hundred thousand attending showcasing Johnny Rivers, Blood Sweat and Tears, Creedence Clearwater Revival, Janis Joplin, and others. The Isle of Wight on August 30-31st had one hundred fifty thousand in attendance to see Bob Dylan, The Who, Joe Cocker, The Moody Blues, and Free.

The summer of love was in full swing with the Woodstock concert August 15-18th being the highlight after a year of protest rallies. It was promoted as three days of music and peace. It actually lasted four days. My cousin Brad and I managed to attend Woodstock at Yasgur's farm in Bethel, New York. Brad and I were very close. We were like fraternal twins from different mothers and grew up doing everything together, even though he was two years older than me.

While I was enthralled by the music, he was not. That summer I came to love Creedence Clearwater Revival, Richie Havens, Joan Baez, Arlo Guthrie, Melanie, Ravi Shankar, The Grateful Dead, Janis Joplin, Sly and the Family Stone, and Jimi Hendrix. It was a glorious time even though it rained and soaked everyone. Can you imagine a half million people rocking out to the music? We danced and sang to the bands playing. We stomped in the mud like five year old children after a summer shower. The music played all day and night for four days. It was awesome. At one point, a hippie calling himself Wavy Gravy announced granola was being served as breakfast in bed to half a million people. It was mind blowing. It was also the first time I smoked a joint, drank alcohol, and ingested other stuff Brad passed to me.

Ashley had refused to come with us. According to Garrett, she spent that week sulking at the mansion. The music festival was beneath her. She spent so much time at my home I often wondered if she had moved in.

Shortly after returning from Woodstock, I asked Ashley out for a weekend retreat at The Red Inn in Providencetown. The place had been in operation since 1915 and exuded an old world charm that I found to be both elegant and relaxing, not to mention they served some of the best seafood in the country. I wanted to do everything right. I had a generous prenuptial agreement with me. I had booked two guest rooms, one for Garrett and one for Ashley and me. Garrett was going to drive us in the limousine.

While Ashley normally spent most of her time at my home, Garrett took her to her parents' place to pack for the weekend. She left her car at my place. I jauntily walked up to the door and rang the bell. Adam, the butler, opened the door. Master Harlan Davis for Miss Ashley, he announced.

She came into the foyer wearing a Parisian summer dress of paisley colors. Her hair was red. It seemed like she was forever changing hair colors. Before I went to Woodstock, it was platinum blonde.

I grasped her hand and lifted it to my lips. You look absolutely stunningly beautiful, I murmured. My other hand rested inside my suit pocket. I kept nervously stroking the small box. Tucked under my arm was a manila envelope that contained the contractual agreement my attorney had drawn up. Although we had discussed marriage and an agreement several times in the past few months, I was always left feeling like she didn't want one. Unfortunately, as my parents and attorney explained to me, a person of my financial stature needed one to protect both parties. My parents felt Ashley was a perfect match for me and pressured me to date her, and now they wanted me to ask her to marry. While I wasn't sold on the idea, everything they had said made sense, plus Ashley and I had been dating exclusively for several years.

You look pretty handsome, yourself, Harlan. Much better than mud caking your clothes and the stench from a few weeks ago when you and Brad came back from Woodstock.

You should have gone, Ashley. It was so much fun! And the music was fabulous.

Garrett held the door open as I assisted Ashley into the limousine before walking around to the other side. Once we were both seated, I pulled out a couple of sodas. Garrett expertly steered us off the estate toward Providencetown and The Red Inn.

We arrived just after five that afternoon and had two hours to freshen up before dinner. Garrett went to visit an old friend, leaving the two of us alone. The suite was well appointed with fireplaces and waterfront views of Providencetown Harbor and Cape Cod Bay. Even Garrett's room had a great view of the waterfront.

When it was time, I changed into a tuxedo, complete with a bow tie. I've never been comfortable in formal attire, but this was a special occasion. Ashley had dressed in a flowing black and white evening gown that accentuated her femininity very nicely. Simply put, she was gorgeous.

The Inn is my favorite place for great seafood. We were seated in a corner offering privacy but not forgoing the beauty of our surroundings. A roaring fire in the fireplace and hardwood flooring completed the rustic decor of the dining area. I pulled out the chair and with a sweep of my hand motioned for Ashley to sit as I scooted the seat back up to the table. I leaned toward her and gently placed a kiss on her cheek before taking my place.

The waiter brought a bottle of wine to approve. I sniffed the cork, took a sip, swirled the liquid around my tongue, and nodded. He poured each of us a glass.

Harlan! Ashley gasped. You aren't old enough!

Shh...they don't know that, I placed a finger to my lips and smiled. But you are? I chided. Ashley was twenty to my almost eighteen. I was always amazed she had agreed to date me, but then again, it could be her parents had pressured her into it like mine had.

Close enough, she hissed.

It's just one glass. Not like you haven't imbibed before, I shrugged and lifted my glass. To tonight. I clinked my glass against hers.

To tonight. She looked at the wine, holding it up to the light to see the twinkling of the beverage.

I took the liberty of ordering the lobster dinner for both of us. I hope you don't mind. I love the lobster split with citrus butter, pan grilled potatoes and vegetables. I could almost feel my mouth watering as we waited for our meals.

That's fine. She looked around and leaned in toward me. So, what's the big occasion?

You'll find out after dinner, I grinned and sipped the wine. It was Gewurztraminer and had a nice aromatic intensive spiciness that would complement any lobster dish.

What was Woodstock like? She asked, quizzically looking at me as she flattened her napkin over her lap. Was it loud?

Oh, yeah. Very loud.

Were people having sex, dancing naked in the rain and doing drugs and alcohol?

Yes, yes, and yes. They even had medic tents for those who overdosed or got sick.

Did you and Brad, um?

We had a few drinks, and we played in the mud. I shrugged.

Drugs?

A little, I shrugged again, becoming more uncomfortable with this line of questioning.

Harlan! You didn't! She gasped in horror.

It's not like you never smoked a joint. You don't think I haven't seen you and Brad in the back garden puffing away? I said to Ashley and gave her a wicked grin.

Okay, Okay! She laughed in that fake manner she has when something hit close to home.

The waiter approached our table and refilled our water glasses. He motioned for the staff to step forward. Our dinners were expertly placed in front of us.

I lifted my fork and knife and sliced a delicate morsel. The lightly salty flavor mixed with lemon and lime created a wondrous sensation. It was like eating a tiny bit of heaven. I set my utensils down and passed the rolls to Ashley.

No, thank you, she said smoothing her napkin. She gingerly picked up a bite of steamed vegetables and nibbled.

Is everything fine? I asked as I watched her tense before swallowing.

Just fine, she gave me that false smile of hers.

If you don't like the meal, we can order something else for you. Maybe the smoked salmon, or Croquette au vin with salmon or scallops? I asked nervously. Tonight needed to be perfect.

No, no, this is fine, she assured me, You know, I eat light.

I sighed as relief washed over me. You could never tell with Ashley. She might act perfectly happy at first. Then later she would tell you exactly how displeased or upset she really felt. With food, however, she always told you up front if she didn't care for something. No beating around the proverbial bush, just a breathless, you expect me to eat this? She hadn't done that, so I was safe from embarrassment at this important moment in my life.

Do your parents know you and Brad did a little drugs? She asked using air quotes when she said the word little.

You have got to be kidding! Why in the world would I tell them something like that? Want me dead? To change the subject I asked, did you like the Rachmaninoff album?

It was nice.

Uh, oh, I groaned inwardly. That meant she hated it. Are you still going to poetry readings at Bridgewater State University Cape Cod?

Some.

I'd love to go with you sometime.

We'll see, she replied and daintily dabbed the corner of her lips with her napkin.

I sat back in my chair. I don't get it. Do you not want me to go for some reason?

It's not that I don't want you to go, she said slowly.

What then? Do I not clean up nice enough?

It's, well, you ride a motorcycle. Ashley acted like she was trying to hide something from me.

I see. I do have cars and we could be chauffeured, you know. I placed my hands together with my index fingers forming a steeple shape. Why didn't she want me to go to the poetry readings with her? What was she hiding?

I know, she shifted in her seat as though I was making her uncomfortable. It's your age. You're two years younger than me.

My age? I couldn't believe she was holding my age over my head. We'd only been dating since I was fourteen and talking about marriage for the last six months.

Everyone I know there is seeing people their own age.

This was certainly not going as I'd hoped it would. Are you ashamed of me, Ashley? I asked quietly.

What? No, of course not! What's to be ashamed of? You graduated high school summa cum laude, you own your own business, are an heir to a fortune, well spoken when you want to be, well read, musically talented. You're quite a catch, Harlan Davis. Her tone of voice didn't quite match with her words.

So, you didn't like the Rachmaninoff album, I again changed the topic of conversation. Better to discuss music than my financial affairs. What would you have liked?

Beethoven, I think, she said after a pause. Mozart.

Mozart, I mumbled. So a waltz?

Yes, I love waltzes.

After a time a selection of desserts were brought around. Ashley chose a creamy cheesecake while I went for apple pie ala mode.

Okay, Ashley, we've known each other since childhood and have dated exclusively for the past four years.

Almost four years, she corrected me.

Almost four years. I reached across the table and took her hand in mine. You are the most beautiful, willful, and complicated person I have ever met. I reached into my tuxedo pocket and pulled out the box. Will you marry me?

Marry? She looked stunned.

Yes, but before you decide, I need you to read this agreement. I placed the manila envelope on the table in front of her. If you agree to be my wife, you will need to sign this document. I will endeavor to make you the happiest person in the world. There would be no need to enact the terms outlined. This much I can promise you.

You want me to sign a prenuptial contract? Who put you up to this? Garrett? Brad? Or your parents?

All of them. I did ask their opinion. I was told I needed to ensure we were both protected just in case our marriage ended badly.

You mean, your wealth was protected. You have a business and inherited millions from your mother's parents.

Actually, I inherited over a hundred million from them, but the amount isn't important. I also have inherited money from my paternal grandparents and both sets of great grandparents putting me well into the billionaire category. My wealth isn't the only thing important. You also have an inheritance that you come into when you turn twenty-one. And you have a future inheritance from your parents when they pass away. Your finances need to be protected too. Additionally, I have made sure you would be generously provided for. This met with the disapproval of my parents, I should add.

You're worth billions? She sat back with a speculative gleam in her eyes as she pondered that bit of information.

Yes, I replied uncomfortably.

No, she stated. You are being too bourgeoisie for me. She tossed her fork onto the table.

No, what? I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I thought she'd be pleased I was looking out for her finances. Guess I was wrong. Seems like I'm always off base when it comes to Ashley.

I will not sign it. If you can't trust me, there is no future for us. I will not marry you! She screeched like a banshee. I thought she might throw herself on the floor in a raging temper tantrum.

Ashley, calm down.

Don't tell me to calm down you..you..you filthy biker jack. She picked up her goblet of wine and tossed it at me, ruining my tuxedo.

Ashley, love, all I'm trying to do is look out for your interests.

I don't need you to do that.

But a prenuptial agreement is in both our best interests, I protested with a sinking feeling in my stomach.

I said no. As of right now, this relationship is over. I expect you to take me home right now!

Not possible. Garrett is out visiting friends. You'll have to wait until tomorrow.

Fine. I hope you can get another room, because I'll not be sharing with you.

I'll sleep in Garrett's room.

Good. She threw her napkin onto the floor and stormed out.

I rocked my chair back onto its hind legs and stared at the table. Once again, Garrett had been correct in his assessment. She was only interested in my financial stature and influence.

I stood and reached down for the napkin she'd thrown to the floor. Mechanically I folded it and placed it on the plate. As Garrett taught me, I arranged the utensils to reflect the meal was finished.

I hoped there was an arm chair in his room I could use, otherwise I will attempt to sleep on the floor. I will not put Garrett out of his bed no matter how much he insisted. It seemed, since my maternal grandparents passed away two years ago, Garrett and Brad were the only people in my life I could rely on. My own family was still upset over the bombshell my grandparents had lobbed at them. They had left their entire fortune to me. I was also granted immediate access to the funds. I sorely missed them.

I left a generous tip and nodded to the people looking on. Some looked shocked, a few seemed indifferent, and others appeared understanding. I should have known this would be the outcome. I was never really able to please Ashley whether it was in bed, dining out, or gift giving. It was always, it's okay, or, it would have been better if...

I was rich enough, but never good enough. All I know is I left that dining room with a heavy heart.

Chapter Two

I sat on my gleaming black and silver Harley-Davidson motorcycle, and gazed across the harbor waterfront at the twinkling city lights. I lifted a bottle of Jack Daniel's to my lips and took a generous swig. I gasped as the fiery liquid burned its way down my throat. I patted my pockets looking for my lighter and a joint. It had only been three weeks since Woodstock. How had my life taken such a downturn?

I had finally mustered up enough courage to ask Ashley to marry me only to be turned down flat. I was too bourgeois for her. I either had too much or not enough money. How can you simultaneously be too wealthy and too poor?

Truth was she didn't agree with having a prenuptial contract. Said it meant I didn't trust her. It had nothing to do with trust. When you are someone in my position, you take precautions. I had been more than generous in the legal brief, much to my parents disapproval.

Seems I couldn't please anyone. Well, to hell with what they wanted. I struck the flint and watched the flames flicker as I placed the lighter to the joint and inhaled deeply. If I wasn't good enough for precious Ashley, or high brow enough to suit my parents, I'd find my own way. I didn't operate a business for nothing. I had built my company from the ground up using my personal inheritance. I can use those funds to chase my dreams, even if it killed me.

Man, this joint was potent! It hadn't been five minutes and I was already feeling a mild euphoria. A headache was twirling around my peripheral vision. Just what I needed tonight, an aching head. Another slug of Jack Daniel's and I was feeling no pain. I put on Steppenwolf's 'Your Wall's Too High.' The song was piped from my sound system through the helmet I had developed. With a kick start, I put my bike in gear. The song was a fitting end to my relationship with Ashley, the Ice Queen. She certainly made it impossible for any prince or commoner to scale her walls. She had unmercifully crushed my balls last night.

I wheeled my hog around and sped toward the road, riding like the devil hounds were nipping at me. The next song was 'Born to be Wild' and fit my rebel soul. I savored the wind blowing around me as I ramped up my cycle to maximum speed and swerved onto the roadway.

I blinked when darkness blocked my vision in my left eye. Suddenly my head felt like it was going to split open. Then everything cleared up and I continued riding hell bent down the road. A few minutes later the vision in my eye clouded over again. The headache returned with a vengeance. I could feel my heart starting to race. What the hell was in the cocaine I'd snorted earlier or was it the joint I'd smoked? The racing beat continued to climb and a vise like grip encircled my heart, squeezing so hard I could barely breathe.

I have only vague recollections of what transpired after hitting the bridge. I seem to recall the screeching of brakes, the sound of metal being shredded, and a guardrail rushing at me. The next memory I have is of blue and red strobe lights, a police siren, followed by disembodied voices. Then I felt the sensation of being lifted into a vehicle and heard Garrett's voice answering questions. Garrett. It's always Garrett who came to my rescue. Never my parents.

I opened my eyes and saw an angel sitting beside me. She had brown hair with russet and gold highlights. Her eyes changed from blue to green to brown. Her smile was so shy and innocent. I'm waiting, she whispered as I drifted back into oblivion.

She was there again the next time I awakened. She lightly ran her hand over mine. This is not the life for you. Come find me.

I awakened in a sterile room. There were all kinds of equipment beeping and shushing. A pole with a bag hanging from it stood next to me. A tube ran from the bag into my arm. Another bag hanging next to it was empty and had remnants of a yellowish liquid; possibly plasma.

Ah hem, the voice floated across the room. Garrett sat perched on a green vinyl lounge chair and looked at me.

Where's the girl? I rasped. My throat felt parched.

What girl? Garrett asked. He stood and approached my bed. He held a glass of water to my lips. Just a sip.

There was a girl sitting by the bed.

Oh, Master Harley, he went tsk tsk, and shook his head. You really did it this time. There's no girl. I've been here the whole time.

But, I saw her. Maybe you went to the restroom when she came in.

I'm sorry, you must have had an hallucination from the stuff you ingested. Garrett felt my forehead, then fluffed my pillow.

Are my parents coming? I asked, wanting to change the topic. Even though I figured he knew, I held out a sliver of hope he hadn't found out everything. Garrett was the only person in my family I didn't want to disappoint, and he wasn't even related to me. He was the family butler, and my manservant. I considered him to be my friend, and a father to me more than my biological parent.

No, he shook his head. They couldn't get a flight out of Monaco until Monday.

Figures. If it'd been Elizabeth, they would have found a way home.

Ashley is here.

Tell that bitch to go to hell. I didn't need her playing kiss up to me.

Master Harley! That is not the proper way to address a young lady. Garrett reprimanded.

Lady, yeah. She's no lady! She's a tramp, money grubber, and a whore, so why not?

Master Harley, need I remind you to keep a civil tongue in your head?

I'm sorry, Garrett. I proposed and she rejected me because of the prenuptial contract.

Is that why you stayed in my room that night? I'm sorry to hear that. I wondered why you two didn't talk on the way back. Then, when we arrived home, you both ran off in different directions. I saw you go tearing out the back entrance on your motorcycle. A few minutes later, Ashley drove her car out the front gate.

Who cares what she did? I hissed in anger.

Calm down, Master Harley. In a bit, the doctor is going to be in to talk with you about what was in your saddle bag the other night. Until then, you need to rest.

What? Wait? The other night? How long was I out?

Three nights, Master Harley. You've been out of it for three nights. They had to transfuse you twice and pump your stomach, otherwise you'd have died. Garrett fluffed up the pillows again and straightened my blanket.

Three nights I'd been out. How in hell did I lose three entire nights?

This is not you, Master Harley. Garrett held a cup for me. I again sipped some of the icy water. The Harley I know is locked in here. He thumped my chest gently. The man I helped raise is kind, gentle, giving, and loving. He is not this hardened shell I see before me. He brushed a lock of hair from my face. How do we get the real you back, hmm?

Get me away from my family and Ashley. My voice sounded raspy.

Do you really want to disown them, or merely put some distance between you?

I don't know. I mean, I love them, but they're killing me, and my spirit. I find myself becoming more like them and I hate it.

A rap on the door was followed by it creaking open. My cousin, Brad, poked his head inside. Can I come in?

Sure, I lifted my hand and weakly waved him inside.

Hey, buddy. He grasped my hand. Gave us quite a scare. He looked as washed out as I felt.

Not enough of one to make my folks charter a plane back from Monaco, I groaned and shut my eyes. I still had a lingering halo vision and a faint headache.

Jeez, man, give 'em a break, will ya? He ran his hand through his dark brown hair. According to the doctor, you're lucky to be alive, Cous. Looks like you ingested a boat load of crap. Brad paced the floor. You're a walking pharmaceutical.

You should talk. You introduced me to the stuff.

I never thought you'd overdose. If I thought you might abuse the junk, I'd never have introduced you to it. I just thought it'd help you sleep through the rough times you've been going through. Brad ran his hand over his face. This is all my fault.

No one made me do them. I brought this on myself.

There was a tap on the door. Ashley peeked inside. Can I come in? She asked innocently. She had this way of making people believe she was the victim, not the instigator.

Go away, I grated through clenched teeth.

But, Harlan, darling. You gave us quite a scare. Tears welled up in her eyes.

Give it a rest, will you? I'm not your darling. We broke up, or have you conveniently forgotten that little tidbit?

Knock, knock. May I come in? A man in a white lab coat asked.

Sure, join the party. I waved him in.

I'm Doctor Hiroshi. He looked at the clipboard in his hand.

Japanese? I asked.

Yes, I am.

I visited Japan last year. Wonderful country. My voice still faded in and out.

I see. Mister Davis, I'm going to examine you now. Everyone needs to leave.

Garrett can stay, I insisted.

Are you sure? What I have to discuss is rather confidential.

I'm positive.

Very well, then. After Ashley and Brad left the room, he closed the door and proceeded to look me over. He peered down my throat. I imagine it's a bit sore from being dry.

I could only nod. Garrett hovered around like a mother hen. The doctor ran his hands alongside my neck as he checked my lymph nodes for signs of swelling. He used a light to look at my eyes and in my ears. Next he glanced at my legs, and then pressed on my abdomen.

Take a deep breath, the doctor slid a cold stethoscope over my back. Again.

After completing his examination, he folded one arm over his chest, using it as a brace for his other arm. He thoughtfully stroked his chin as he studied me.

What? I felt nervous as the doctor continued to look at me. I glanced at Garrett, who was studying the doctor with a look of dread on his face.

Mister Davis, the doctor began.

Please call me Harley. Mister Davis is my father, not me.

Very well, Harley, Doctor Hiroshi said. We found cannabis, cocaine, alcohol, LSD, Phenobarbital, and PCP in your system. Based on the drugs and quantity we found, I'm afraid you need intervention services.

What's that? I asked.

It's a thirty day drug rehabilitation program. Garrett placed a hand on my shoulder. It's an inpatient facility.

No!

You'll come home with me until your place in the program is ready. It's intensive, but I really think it is best for you, Master Harley.

The next day I was discharged into Garrett's care as I was just shy of reaching the legal age of majority in my home state. Garrett insisted I stay in his cottage and not alone or with Brad in the main house. I guess he didn't trust me not to skip out on him. I can't blame him. If I was responsible for me, I wouldn't trust me either, at least not at this point. I was going to have to work hard to re-earn Garrett's trust. While I had been off gallivanting around, Garrett had watched over my fledgling company. It was his diligence that kept it running. While I had a lot of ideas, I had a ton to learn about operating a business. I was lucky I was still in business. I had good people working for me is all I can say.

Garrett? I stared out the window as we drove up the driveway toward home.

Yes, Master Harley?

Who got charged for me having whiskey? That question had been bothering me all day. I had hidden the bottle in my saddle bag when I left the house. When my father finds out, he's going to be royally pissed.

I assumed that responsibility, Master Harley. Garrett spoke quietly as he glanced at me.

Oh, God, no! I'm so sorry I did that to you! You could lose your job because of me. I covered my face with my hands. I swear to you, Garrett, I won't let that happen!

Not to worry, Master Harley. Your parents assured me that my position is safe.

That's good, I sighed.

Coming home felt odd. I felt as though I did not belong there. I glanced up at the main mansion and saw the window to my suite of rooms, yet I would not be staying there. I would be sharing a two bedroom cottage in the back with my manservant and family butler. It was almost as though I was no longer a member of the Davis household and had been relegated to servant status. I spotted Ashley in the window of my room and wondered how she had gained access. Brad stood in the doorway watching my arrival. Here I was arguably the next heir to the estate and I was living in servants quarters. Not that I needed to inherit the family estate.

To Garrett's credit, the cottage was quite comfortable. He had brought my prized albums and tapes, stereo and books along with my clothes and set up a cozy private room. My room did not have a patio like his did, so I would have to enter and exit the cottage by way of the main door. On the bed he placed several pamphlets describing the rehabilitation center, their programs and rates of relapse and success. Apparently, success was up to the effort and dedication I put into it. The one thing I did know, I am not an addict. I didn't have any withdrawal symptoms unless you claim the girl in my vision as a hallucination.

While I could move about the grounds freely, I was not permitted to leave the estate without Garrett as an escort. I resented the loss of freedom but understood he was doing what he felt was best for me.

On my third day home from the hospital, Ashley came to visit. I was annoyed; she seemed to be staying in my room in the main house. Every day I saw her standing in the window looking toward the cottage. Garrett was attending to duties at the house when I heard a soft knock on the door.

Opening it, I saw Ashley standing on the patio. At least she had the decency to look nervous.

What do you want?

Cook is on vacation. Garrett made lunch. Do you want to join us? She crossed one foot in front of the other.

No. I moved to close the door.

Harlan, she stumbled over her words. That night, it's not what you think.

Isn't it, Ashley? I get it. You didn't want to marry me or sign a prenuptial agreement.

That's not it.

Then, what is it? I felt drained of energy. I felt like Ashley was sucking the life out of me.

I didn't know how to tell you there's someone else. I'd been dating Daniel Van Wert for several months before you proposed. I guess I thought you'd never ask me to marry.

I was seventeen, Ashley. I'd only started thinking seriously about marriage when I was at Woodstock and found myself missing you. Yeah, we talked about it in the past, but it was just talk back then. Forgive me for being young and immature for your tastes. Bitterness threatened to overwhelm me. Van Wert? Really? That weasel who bragged about every girl he bedded?

He's not that bad once you get to know him. Anyway, I thought maybe we could be friends.

Friends? What kind of chump do you think I am?

Never mind. I don't know what I was thinking. It'd be better if I never see you again. Stay out of my life.

With pleasure, I said.

Ashley! Garrett came up behind her. What are you doing here? He demanded. I told you to leave Master Harley alone. Now kindly vacate my premises! He ordered, pointing his finger in the direction of the main house. Do not come back here! You've caused him enough pain.

And, Ashley? Get out of my room. You don't have the right to stay there, so move out! I slammed the door shut.

The days passed lazily. I spent my time reading and listening to music. The lyrics of Steppenwolf songs hit home. I especially found 'Disappointment Number,' 'Lost and Found by Trial and Error,' 'Hodge, Podge, Strained Though a Leslie,' and 'What Would You Do if I Did That to You?' befitting of my current state of mind, emotions, and situation.

All too soon my stint in rehabilitation began. The building looked like a convalescent home for old people. After Garrett signed me in, I was taken into a what I call a shake down room. This room held a table and a chair. Nothing else was in the room.

Please empty all your pockets and put the contents into the bag on the table.

I was stripped of all personal effects including my cassette player, my pocket knife, and my watch. I looked apprehensively at him, Even my watch?

Everything, including your watch.

I did as instructed. Now what? I gulped, feeling very intimidated and out of place.

Please remove your clothing, Mister Davis, the orderly requested. He stood in front of the door with massive arms crossing his equally large chest. The man was a giant in medical clothing. "Fold them neatly and put them on the table.

Once again, I did as I was told. Will I wear my own clothes while here?

Not during the first week. Afterwards it depends on how much you progress.

I was shocked when another orderly entered the room and rifled through my belongings. I was given hospital clothing that to me looked like prison garb.

I was shown to a private room. It held a twin sized bed, a dresser, a chair and a desk. There was a security camera that showed a wide angle view of the entire room. There was no bathroom. I learned there were set times for each room to use the facilities on the floor. Every single moment was monitored including taking a shower. If I thought the restrictions at home were jail-like, being in a rehab facility was prison. And I was the prisoner locked away in solitary confinement except for scheduled programs.

The thirty days was a closely regimented, rigorous stripping down and rebuilding of each inpatient. It was purgatory, plain and simple. As one counselor was fond of saying, This is hell on earth. We are going to totally break and rebuild you. By the time you leave here, you will not know the old you.

Breakfast was followed by group therapy. Supervised exercising in the gym preceded lunch. The afternoon was filled with one on one counseling, followed by more exercise, and dinner. The evening was for group socializing, watching television, playing cards, checkers or chess, and reading in the community room. At seven thirty you went to your room and wrote in a journal your thoughts and feelings. What you wrote became part of your individual therapy session. There was no after hours reading or other activities other than writing in your journal. It was lights out at eight.

When I left that place I was anxious to make my own way in life. I had started to change. I emerged from therapy feeling reinvigorated. I was greeted at the entrance to the facility by Garrett. He leaned against a shining black limousine with his arms held open.

Welcome back to the real world, Master Harley. A