Shepard's Rise

By Sheryl Livingston

When Kelly Wells finds out she has a family including her father Weldon Shepard and a brother Sheldon, she was delighted to have finally found the loving family she so desperately wanted. Her good fortune seems to continue when her brother introduces her to his military buddy, Bryant Mitchell and Kelly believes she has captured a love she always thought would evade her. But just as she is settling in to her new life, the peace is broken by sabotage and strange events on the ranch her father owns. Somebody is threatening Kelly, her son, and her new family and it will take all of them uniting together to bring peace back to the ranch as well as passions of her heart.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Mar 31, 2011
• ISBN: 9781257293995

Book preview

book.

Chapter 1

"Something woke me up. The room was dark, with barely any moonlight shining through the window. I could feel my skin crawling with the sensation of being watched. I could see even darker shadows as my eyes adjusted to the darkness. One such shadow detached itself from the others and moved. I realized it was my father and he was moving toward me. There was something very frightening about him. I was already frightened of him, but this evening he seemed … evil. I was just a child and I didn’t even know what evil meant, but I began to learn that night…

"I was very frightened. It was not like him to come to my room. As far as I could remember he never come to tuck me in, and this was late in the night anyway. The clouds blocking the moon parted. The moonlight shining in my window suddenly illuminated him as he stood over me. He looked even larger than he was, and he wasn’t a small man to begin with. He knelt down before my bed and slowly pulled my sheet down. I lay very still… I didn’t want him to know I was awake. I shut my eyes very tightly, so tightly the skin in my face hurt.

He placed his hand on one of my legs and then started running it up my leg, touching me. I tensed up at his awful touch. He had cold moist clammy hands. I couldn’t help the shudder that ran through my body. He chuckled under his breath as he kept going all the way up my leg. Kelly had to stop and gulp some air. She was sweating just from the memory of that touch. It still made her skin crawl. She wanted to take a shower for an hour and scrub her skin raw. She was shocked at how strong that memory had come back. His clammy skin tainted her soft skin. The person she was reciting the story to sat quietly and let Kelly collect her thoughts. Kelly composed herself once more and continued.

"It felt strange, weird, I was so scared. It didn’t feel right. I just knew it couldn’t be right. I tried to stay still, but as he continued further up my leg my body tensed up. I heard him chuckle beneath his breath at that.

I said that already, didn’t I? she asked the woman who sat across from her. She paused as the psychiatrist just gave a small reassuring smile and then continued. He seemed to delight in my being uncomfortable. It seemed my discomfort only made him keep going. He delighted in it. He lowered his other hand to my other leg and started to move it up under my night dress. I was frozen with the fear. I was sweating under my nightgown, beads of sweat running down my face, or maybe it was tears, I don’t know. I couldn’t move, was afraid to open my eyes even a little. I was afraid if I let him know I was awake he would be mad, would beat me.

Kelly Wells paused in her story another moment to gather her nerve before continuing the story she had so long repressed that caused her to feel those touches again, making her feel dirty. It wasn’t a feeling she cared to remember. She had repressed how horrible it had felt that night. She stared at her locked hands in her lap. Her eyes traced the white lines running over her tense knuckles. She then took a deep breath and rushed back into the story.

"He was just reaching the top of my legs when there was another noise outside my door. I heard it open. My Father quickly pulled his hands away and straightened my bed sheet. He was standing up when my Mom came into the room.

‘What the hell do you think you’re doing in here,’ she asked? Her voice was dangerously soft but I heard a new hardness in it I had never heard before. I could feel this strong anger radiating through her, a strength that surprised him as well as me. She suddenly seemed very dangerous. It even made him pause before answering. He finally said something like he had seen my bed covers were messed up and falling off the bed. He was just covering me back up. I wanted to cry out that that was a lie, but I still pretended to be asleep.

"I was afraid of being punished. I knew this had to be my fault somehow. He always told me everything was my fault, and that I deserved to be punished all the time. I must have been naughty again in his eyes and this was my punishment. I peeked thru half closed lids to see Mom advance further into the room. There was this strange terrible look on her face. I had never seen such a menacing look before. I don’t think he had ever seen it either because he left as fast as he could.

She stood over me for a long time, just staring at me. I didn’t want to upset her any further, so I still pretended to be asleep. I scrunched my eyes shut so tight I was getting a headache. She came over and pulled my blanket up over me and ran her fingers through my hair.

She leaned over the bed and whispered to me, ‘He won’t do this to you again baby. I won’t let him hurt you anymore.’ She then turned and left, pulling the door shut tight.

I heard her voice rise in the next room as she verbally attacked my Father and then a thump. I couldn’t believe that she actually threw something at him. Unfortunately she missed." Kelly paused in the telling of her story. She smiled slightly at the memory of the sound of something heavy hitting the wall. She remembered how disappointed she had been that it hadn’t hit her father on the head. She would have loved to hear him yelp in pain just once.

This time she looked over at her Psychiatrist whose head was bent over her note pad. The lady looked up with one painted on eyebrow raised. Gloria Stein was a petite thing, in her mid forties, hair and face made up like a porcelain doll. Kelly’s first impression was, how could a china doll understand her feelings? She nearly turned around before even talking to her, but after that first interview, she found that under that porcelain like exterior lay a warm individual with a great capacity for understanding the pain of others. She has been coming to her now for nearly a year. It had been a long year of painfully dredging deep into her very soul.

They covered many of the issues that kept Kelly from truly being free of her past and look forward to the future. Kelly always skirted the issue of her father and her late husband. Now though, Gloria had pressed that it was time to confront them. To Kelly, the timing couldn’t be worse with her mother sick in the hospital, but she finally grudgingly agreed. Now, here she was digging up long repressed memories of her dreaded father.

You ok? Dr. Stein asked. At Kelly’s nod she added encouragingly, Do you want to continue?

Yes, Kelly answered, took another deep breath and went on. The next day Mom took me shopping. She got me a couple of new pairs of pajamas. I never wore a night gown again for as long as I lived in the same house as him. She also bought a bolt lock and put it on my side of the door. I was to lock my door each night and to never open it at night to my Father.

Then that was the end of that?

No, I wish it had been, Kelly answered with a sigh. She learned that with that man nothing ended easily. She closed her eyes, took another a deep breath and once again continued with the painful story.

The next night I woke to hear him trying to open my door. He wiggled it against the lock. I heard him curse under his breath, but he didn’t try to force it or anything. The next day when I came home from school and went to my room I noticed that the lock had been removed.

How old were you when this happened? Dr. Stein gave no emotion in her questioning. They were clinical questions meant to keep the story going, and to give Kelly a chance to breathe a second while thinking of the answer.

I was eight or nine.

What did you do when you discovered the lock was gone?

I ran to the garden where my Mom was weeding. I told her my lock was gone. She smiled at me and said not to worry, to go play on my swing set. I did as I was told, and after a while she got up and went inside. She returned in just a few minutes and went back to her weeding like nothing had happened. When I went back up to my room to do my homework after supper, there was a new lock on my door.

Your mother was trying to protect you. It was a statement not a question. Kelly frowned at the petite female sitting in the chair across from the sofa she was occupying.

She wondered how anybody could understand how frightening living under this kind of stress was for an eight year old. Or, how could somebody understand what it took for her mother to fight her silent campaign against her father. She knew the usual questions. Why didn’t her mother just leave him? Why did she put up with his abuse? Why? Why? Why? Kelly knew the questions because she had asked them in her mind many times before. The only person who had the answers was her mother and she wouldn’t answer them.

Mom didn’t look strong but had this inner strength she used quietly, Kelly said calmly. He was never allowed to go near me again or be alone with me. It was a covert campaign she waged against him. She never yelled or threatened him, at least not since that first night. Mom never said anything to his face as far as I could tell, but the threat was there in the background if he even looked my way. One good thing that did come out of this was that he never hit me or punished me in anyway again. I think mom had made it clear he was to stay away from me period.

So, he stopped trying to get into your room after that? she prompted.

No, Kelly answered with a nervous laugh. "One thing I can tell you about my father is that he is either very stubborn or just plain bullheaded as hell. Now I think about it, he is just plain dumb when it comes to certain things. He never learned lessons from any of his actions.

He came to my room again that night and you could tell he was surprised as hell that the door was once again locked. The idea my Mom would defy him had never crossed his mind. He actually ran into the door when he tried to open it, thinking it would open easily. I remember laughing out loud at the thump. He stopped and I quickly covered my mouth in case I made another noise. He tried the door several times as if by magic it would suddenly open. He stood out there for an eternity. That is, to me it felt like a long time to hold my breath. I was getting dizzy when I realized I wasn’t breathing. I had to force myself to slowly and quietly breathe. Then he left once again. He removed the lock again the next day.

You found it that way when you came home from school?

No, actually he waited this time till just before I went to bed. I noticed it was gone when I shut the door to change into my pajamas.

What did you do?

I didn’t have to do anything, Mom came in to tuck me in and she saw right away the lock was missing.

What did she do?

"She just smiled down at me and told me to get ready for bed, she would be right back. She left, went into her bedroom and sure enough she was back before I was even finished putting my pajamas on. She must have had a stash of the locks hidden somewhere in her room.

She came back with a new lock still in the package and a screw driver. She put up the new lock, then came over and read me a chapter from a book we were reading together. She made no fuss over it; acting like it was just a normal everyday thing to put up a lock each night. When she was done, she reminded me to lock the door, kissed my forehead and left the room. I followed her to the door and locked it immediately.

So your Dad came again that night?

My father, Kelly replied back with a hiss as she changed the identity of that distasteful man forcefully, and then added sadly with a sigh. He was never a Dad.

Kelly could remember the hurt she lived with that her father didn’t consider her worthy of love. As she grew older she realized that his sort of love was something she could live without.

I am sorry. The Doctor rephrased her question. Your father came again that night?

Of course, Kelly chuckled derisively. She could picture the look of astonishment on his face when he walked into the door again. I told you he was bullheaded. He came again and ran into the door when he figured it should have opened. It was so funny I had to hold my hands up to my mouth to make sure I didn’t laugh out loud again. Kelly mimicked the action as she said it.

"He was not a very happy fellow, I can tell you that. He cursed some rather nasty words loud enough for me to hear. This time I heard Mom behind him saying something softly, too softly for me to understand. He cursed at her and then, all was quiet. That was the last time he tried to come into my bedroom at night, at least for a while.

He would occasionally, over the next couple years, remove the lock and try again. Each time Mom would replace it before bedtime and each time he would walk right into the door thinking it should open. He never learned to test the door first. It was so funny by then. I would hear a thud, some cursing then all was quiet and all would be okay for a while. I never went to bed without locking that door.

You don’t know what your Mom said to him that third night?

I couldn’t hear her. She always was soft spoken, but this time she was even more so. I think she actually threatened him, although that seems far fetched.

Why far fetched?

Mom always seemed afraid of Father and his moods. She did everything she could to placate him. He could get rather violent, but when it came to me, she stood her ground.

Your Mom sounds like a rather strong person.

She had a quiet strength most people didn’t see, specially my father. He thought she was weak, but then he doesn’t have a very high opinion of women.

How did your father treat your brothers?

Oh, they are the apples of his eyes. They looked like him, acted like him, and have grown to be little miniatures of him. Kelly had a hard time keeping the distaste from her voice. They are a menace to women the same as my father.

You’re not very close to your brothers I take it?

Hell, I never had a chance. Father taught them from the very beginning to treat me like dirt. I was their whipping girl, so to speak. Even though he kept his distance from me, they were given free rein to be mean to me. Kelly put her hands to her temple and started rubbing at the beginnings of a headache. These sessions always gave her headaches. No matter how many times she talked about the past and her father’s abuse, she couldn’t get rid of the tenseness that followed thinking of him.

We are almost done now. The Psychiatrist reassured her. Next time let’s talk about your husband, would that be ok?

Yes, I guess so, but we weren’t really married very long, and he was rather a sweet man.

Regardless, I would like to spend at least one session on him. You agree to that?

Yes, yes, Kelly agreed, still rubbing her temple. She suddenly had a thought. Oh, I don’t know if I’ll make our next time though.

This brought a raised eyebrow. Kelly had not missed a session since they started working together about 11 months ago. Oh?

My Mom is very ill, she explained. She has cancer; it has spread throughout her body. They say it’s just a matter of days. She is in the hospital now and I’m going back right after we finish.

I’m sorry to hear that, the Doctor said as she rose from her chair. This was the sign the session was over. Dr. Stein was very punctual. Kelly rose at the same time. You can plan on the session and if anything happens before the next time, you can call and reschedule. Does that sound acceptable?

Kelly smiled and nodded. She liked Dr. Stein. For a psychiatrist, she was rather unassuming and ended nearly every sentence with a question.

Yes it would, she answered, and then added, but, there is one more thing.

The Doctor quickly glanced at her watch then gave her attention back to Kelly. Yes?

After my Mom dies, she choked slightly on the word, regained her composure and continued. I may be moving.

Moving? Where?

For some reason Mom is adamant that I leave Chicago and head west. She mentioned Montana.

Goodness, that’s a rather isolated State. You have any idea why she wants you to go there?

I gather I may have family there but I don’t know for sure. Mom never mentioned her family before. I hope she says something else today, if she feels up to talking.

Well, keep me informed please.

I will, Kelly answered as she walked out the door. A quick glance back through the door showed the Doctor already at her desk bent over the notes she had taken during the session. Kelly sighed and closed the door behind her. She waved at the receptionist as she passed by.

There was no need to stop to make another appointment. It was a standing appointment for 3pm every Thursday afternoon. She didn’t even have to worry about paying the bill. When she went to pay it the first week, she was told that it was being taken care of. She assumed it was her late husband’s insurance policy. She had given them the card the first time she came in to consult with Doctor Stein. He had had the foresight to make sure she was covered in the event of his death, which had occurred less than a year after they were married. He hadn’t even known she was pregnant with their child. She had just found out herself and was waiting for the right time to tell him. That time never came. He had a heart attack just before their first year anniversary.

Chapter 2

The building that housed the Mental Health Center was three blocks from the main Hospital. The whole complex was built in a circle around a central park area. Paths wound their way through the park, breaking it up into sections. There was a playground, a picnic area, a small band shell for outdoor concerts. People either sat on benches that were spread around the edges of a nice grassy knoll or brought lawn chairs or blankets to relax on. Flowering hedges lined the walkways that crisscrossed the park.

Kelly had walked the short distance across the park to the center and decided to walk back as she needed to unwind after that grueling session. She took the main path that dissected the park through the center back to the Hospital.

She had talked about her father before but never on such an intimate scale. She avoided delving deeply because it made her feel dirty and was something she wanted to keep buried deeply. She always knew why she had the lock on her door but the actual memory had been deeply hidden away. She wasn’t sure why she had suddenly dreamt about it earlier this week.

She dreamt after her mother was admitted to the hospital and all the Doctors told her she wouldn’t be coming home this time. She hadn’t lived in that house for over seven years now. She wondered what connection with losing her mother had to do with remembering the main time she had been there to protect her.

The path was quiet, with just a few others out this cool late afternoon. It was late fall and the trees had lost nearly all their leaves. There was a definite chill in the air. Snow would be falling soon. Kelly glanced at her watch, just past 4pm and already starting to darken. She walked at a leisurely pace but still passed the few others who were slowly strolling along with patients from the different care units that circled the park. It was a beautiful place to be alone with her thoughts. Kelly watched a couple of birds flitting around in a water fountain. The idea of them playing in the chilly water made her shiver as she pulled her jacket tighter around her. A child’s laugh echoed from the other side of the low shrubbery that separated the playground area from the walkway. An old couple strolled slowly arm in arm heading toward the senior housing that was next to the building she’d just left. The complex was situated perfectly for all different needs, with everything close enough for care to be efficient and near-by.

She sighed at the perfect picture the old couple presented. They had to have been in their late seventies or more likely in their eighties. They walked slowly, more like a shuffle, side by side. The gentleman had his ladies arm cradled in his; she had her head on his shoulder. He turned his head to gaze into her eyes and whispered something that brought a quiet breathless giggle. It was a lovely sight but nothing that she could relate to.

Her father, Phil Morris, was not the cuddling, nurturing sort. The idea of him ever ambling down a peaceful path showing any love what so ever for his mate was laughable. Kelly had never seen anything remotely loving about him. He was a controlling, manipulative, abusive person. Even the sort of love he showed his sons was distorted. It consisted of bullying, manipulating, and generally teaching them that others needs never mattered over their own. He taught them to take instead of ask, to push instead of wait their turn, to use force if one didn’t give into their demands immediately.

At this moment though her mind turned from her abusive father and his clone-like sons back to her mother. The lady had spent the better part of 27 years submitting to the abuse of this man, yet she never seemed to lose sight of what was important to her; protecting Kelly and showing her she could be strong, independent, kind, and giving. She taught her that a person could give without losing their identity

The trouble Kelly had though was in trying to figure out how a person so internally strong could, or would for that matter, stay with a man like Phil Morris. She wondered if she would ever figure it out.

As she approached the hospital’s main building , Kelly’s thoughts turned to her Mom’s strange request that she move to Montana. In fact, it wasn’t a request so much as an order. She was adamant that Kelly leave as soon as she was gone.

She hadn’t said where in Montana to go or why Kelly should go there in the first place. When Kelly questioned her about this, she had said only that Kelly would find out when the time was right. Kelly knew time was running out to find the answers, and she decided she would try to question her mom more today.

As she approached the main door, an old beat-up car swerved up the circular drive and screeched to a halt in an eschewed angle. She didn’t need to see the man stumbling out to know who it was. Kelly knew Morris’ car by sight, sound and smell.

For as long as she remembered he had never had a decent car. Morris would wear out one junker and replace it with another, at about one a year. He didn’t see spending more than a couple hundred dollars on a car. It was easier for him to just replace it than to take care of it. All the cars had rusted bodies, torn interiors, noisy mufflers and smells one didn’t want to identify.

A cold spot formed in the pit of her stomach as she ran to the main door in order to intercept him before he could enter.

Where do you think your going?

The big man, who looked like he had spent more than one night in his dirty wrinkled clothes, blinked at the intrusion and stared at her through his alcohol hazed mind.

I was, he paused to search for the reason he was there. His head jerked a little when his foggy mind found the answer. I…I was going, huh, going to visit my…huh, my….my wife, he stuttered. His speech was as blurry as his eyes.