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To Whom Much Is Given: A Novel
To Whom Much Is Given: A Novel
To Whom Much Is Given: A Novel
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To Whom Much Is Given: A Novel

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To Whom Much Is Given, A Novel, centers on the lives of a family of strong, proud and independent women from Winchester. Rachel Hewston, the loving grandmother and family matriarch. Her daughter Marie, the fiercely loyal and protective aunt of Janai and Jaime, the two sisters whos lives are forever altered by their troubled mother Blieu Hewston.

Janai Francesca Hewston, the eldest daughter of Blieu and Andrew, is a graduate student at New York University. Janai is living safe; she doesnt allow anyone in - circumstances from her past dictate her inability to trust. For if she opens her heart, she risks her secret being revealed. And when Kris Storm appears in the midst of a Hewston family crisis, his obvious and instant attraction towards Janai, threatens to unravel what shes worked so hard to avoid: falling in love.

Jaime Alexandra Hewston, is a young and vivacious teenager who has been living a charmed life. But when she develops an illness that threatens her existence, her familys race to save her life comes to a devastating climax.

To Whom Much Is Given, A Novel, poses the question: to what depths would you go to save a loved one? And is there such a thing as too much sacrifice?

LanguageEnglish
PublisherXlibris US
Release dateNov 4, 2002
ISBN9781462816262
To Whom Much Is Given: A Novel
Author

Katrina Antoinette Croswell

Katrina Antoinette Croswell is also a published poet. In addition to being a novelist and a creator of short stories, she is also an abstract artists. Previously, she had a non-fiction work published. And currently, she is a Fiction Writing major at Columbia College Chicago. This is her first novel.

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    To Whom Much Is Given - Katrina Antoinette Croswell

    Copyright ©2002 by Katrina Antoinette Croswell.

    All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

    This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

    This book was printed in the United States of America.

    To order additional copies of this book, contact:

    Xlibris Corporation

    1-888-795-4274

    www. Xlibris. com

    Orders@Xlibris. com

    15203

    Contents

    Acknowledgements

    Then

    Memories

    The Ties That Bind

    Cat &. Mouse

    Message In The Wind

    Loosed

    Settled’ Unsettling

    A Deep Breath, And...

    The Struggle

    The Path

    Hurt Begets. Hurt

    Dreaming. Reality

    Breaking Down

    The Signs

    Blind. Appearances

    Slipping

    Tick-Toc

    A Question Of Love

    The Unraveling

    Tasting. Fear

    Only Love

    The Moment

    No More

    Love Begets Love

    And Now...

    Epilogue

    To my brother, D’Mitri Romero. While you are no longer with

    me, you will remain forever in my heart. Thank you for being

    my first fan and encourager.

    Acknowledgements

    To my family, thank you. To Jolie, my dear friend, and second pair of eyes, I cannot adequately thank you enough for your unending support, hard work, sacrifice, and belief in me, thank you, Boo! To Alton (AG), for being my anchor when I sometimes felt as if I were drowning, thank you. Maria (Socky), for your support, in whatever capacity I needed, thank you. My big sis, Ann, for graciously taking on the first read, and for reaching out to me with words of comfort and love, thank you. And to those whom I haven’t named on this page, but you know who you are, I thank and appreciate you.

    Then

    I’m holding you, and I’m not going to let you go! the words were screaming inside her head. Jaime, can you feel me? Can you hear me? she whispered desperately.

    Although she was seventeen-years-old, Jaime’s body was as fragile as a newborn baby, trying to find safety in the arms that embraced her. Suddenly, there was a sound emanating from her throat. She was struggling to speak. I can... I can’t keep... my eyes... open, she slurred, her words thick from her coma-induced sleep.

    Almost a year ago now, Jaime developed what she, her older sister Ja’nai, their Aunt Marie, and their grandmother Rachel, thought was just a really nasty cold. But, no matter what old home remedies Marie used, or eventually, over-the-counter drugs several doctor’s had prescribed, nothing would take her cough away. Finally, and reluctantly, Marie decided to take Jaime to see the one doctor she had been trying to avoid.

    Dr. Steve Bryson, Jr. was a third generation family practitioner. And while he wasn’t the only physician in Winchester, he had earned the reputation as being the best. The genuine care and concern that he showed for his patients preceded him.

    As he reviewed his patient files for the day, he was a bit startled when his nurse rushed into his office telling him that Marie Hewston was in the waiting room with her niece Jaime demanding to see him without an appointment. He immediately felt that whatever the reason for this visit, he would have a struggle on his hands, not with Jaime, but with her aunt. Since the death of her brother, Marie had built what she considered to be a healthy disdain towards the Bryson family.

    Once he directed his receptionist to ask them if they could wait a few minutes, Dr. Bryson tried to prepare himself for what he anticipated would be a very hostile encounter.

    Now, as Jaime lay in a hospital bed, Ja’nai sat in the chair next to her, exhausted by all that had transpired within the last year.

    She began to think back to the day when the nightmare of Jaime’s illness invaded their lives and how it seemed to take hold of everyone ferociously. The mere presence of it felt like it was burning a hole right through her soul.

    Memories

    That day began for Ja’nai like any other. As a graduate student, seeking her Master’s degree at New York University, she never regretted leaving her small hometown to move to the big city. In fact, she couldn’t wait to escape. Oh, she missed her grandmother, her Aunt Marie, some of the friends she grew up with and, she especially missed Jaime—her Little One—as she affectionately called her. But she knew her need to leave Winchester outweighed even her family. At least she brought some solace to her aunt by deciding to attend her alma mater.

    As she lounged on her hammock outside of her loft apartment, she closed her eyes, listening to the sounds of the birds sharing unknown melodies, perched along the weeping willow trees lined throughout the park located directly across from her building. All was calm and right in her world when suddenly the phone rang and snatched her back from her peaceful state.

    I knew I should have turned that thing off! she mumbled annoyingly to herself.

    She didn’t move from her spot, instead she waited for the ringing to end; hoping the caller would just leave a message on her answering service. Just as she began to feel her muscles relax again, the ringing crashed in on her once more. This time, in a fit ofanger, she scrambled to her feet, almost flipping her entire body to the floor, as she silently cursed whomever it was disturbing her quiet time.

    Quickly, Ja’nai slid her patio door open, walked into her spacious living room and made a dash for the phone. After placing the receiver to her ear, prepared to blast the intruder on the other end, her aunt spoke first.

    JJ, it’s me. You need to get on the first flight you can and come home.

    Ja’nai caught hold of herself before she spoke, Why, Aunt Marie, what’s wrong? What’s so important?

    Suddenly, Ja’nai caught her breath, Oh God, is it Nana? Ja’nai’s heart leapt as the fear of losing her grandmother Rachel—’Nana’ as she and Jaime called her—resurfaced.

    Rachel Hewston, the mother of Andrew and Marie, was the matriarch of the Hewston family. While everyone knew her as an endlessly gracious, warm, caring and loving woman, they had also come in contact with Rachel’s fierce nature when it came to protecting her family. She transformed into a lioness. Fifteen years ago, Rachel suffered a mild stroke. And while she didn’t suffer any permanent paralysis or disfigurement, she did, from time to time struggle with walking from one destination to the next. And on occasion, when walking proved more of a challenge to her than she wanted, she would get around with a cane that Marie finally convinced her to use. Rachel was more willing to use it when Marie explained that she’d had it especially designed for me. And as she was no longer able to regularly go to the health club for her rigorous workouts, she insisted that Marie order exercise equipment for her to use at the house. Before it arrived, Marie had an additional room built in the east wing of the house to store the treadmill, the stationary bike, and the sauna. After her mother’s stroke, Marie tried to do everything she could to make sure she was happy and content.

    Ja’nai, Nana is fine, Marie explained, it’s Jaime.

    What about her?

    I’ve taken her to see Bryson, and he’s afraid that what Jaime has isn’t a cold or allergies. He thinks that it’s something much more serious, but he wants her to be taken to a hospital there in New York city that he’s affiliated with in order for her to have more tests done.

    An eerie silence passed between them for what seemed to be an eternity. Ja’nai hadn’t even noticed how her aunt referred to Dr. Bryson only as ‘Bryson. ‘ Instead, her fear began to creep in with the reality that Jaime had to be really sick, indeed. Not simply because Marie had surrendered her usual adamant stance against paying a visit to see a medical doctor, but most especially because one of them ended up being with Doctor Steve Bryson.

    "Well, what does he think it is?" Ja’nai anxiously asked while sub-consciously, gripping the receiver so tightly that the knuckles of her hand began to lose their color. Suddenly, a wave of panic engulfed her.

    JJ, he’s just not sure right now, and I don’t want to frighten you when we don’t even...

    "What! You don’t want to frighten me? Ja’nai shouted at the top of her lungs. She closed her eyes trying to regain her composure before uttering another word. Look, I’m sorry, Aunt Marie, but you’ve already frightened me. Where is Jaime? Is she there? I want to talk to her. "

    Marie sighed before answering, She’s not talking to anybody—she barely talks to me.

    Let me talk to her, Aunt Marie, Ja’nai insisted, right now. She was convinced that it would somehow make things right again if Jaime could hear her voice.

    Marie called for Jaime, who was lying down on the couch in the family room with her head on her grandmother’s lap. Jaime, JJ’s on the phone and she wants to talk to you, honey.

    At first, Jaime wouldn’t acknowledge her aunt. She just lay there with her eyes closed.

    Marie spoke closely into the receiver, She won’t come, JJ; what do you want me to do?

    Ja’nai was losing what little patience she had found. She struggled to sound calm. Please, just tell her she doesn’t have to talk, i just want to say hello, Ja’nai pleaded.

    As she waited, Ja’nai stood with one hand on the receiver, while the other was pressed hard against the stark white walls of her living room. She tried, with little success to hold still the familiar trembling’s rising within her. She started to feel that at any moment she would drop the receiver and go running outside, into the street, screaming at every living thing, damming them all for carrying on as if nothing in the world was wrong, while everything in hers suddenly seemed to be crumbling down around her. in her same stream of consciousness, Ja’nai’s anger reminded her that it only took a call like this to convey to her that the trembling had never really gone way.

    Ja’nai heard Marie talking to Jaime. Rachel gave her a gentle nudge, encouraging her to get up. Slowly, Jaime lifted her head and made her way to the phone with a look of exasperation. At last, Ja’nai heard the wires in the phone lines crackling when the receiver was exchanging hands.

    Just as she was about to say something, Jaime jumped in first. JJ, I don’t feel like talking right now, but please don’t worry about me. Don’t listen to Auntie—i don’t want you to come home. I’m fine really... it’s just a cold that I’m having a hard time getting rid of, she explained, speaking in an even, un-emotional tone.

    And just like that, she handed the phone back to Marie without another word. Jaime quickly turned away to avoid eye contact. She felt unwanted tears racing to the surface and she couldn’t let Marie or her grandmother see them. She mounted the stairs, two at a time and escaped into her bedroom, closing the door behind her.

    Marie’s voice was strained as she began speaking softly intothe receiver, Well, she’s just said more to you than I’ve heard her say to anyone in days.

    Ja’nai pressed her mouth together hard before she let the words scatter from her lips. She couldn’t believe what she had just heard. Aunt Marie, what do you mean she hasn’t spoken in ‘days?’ Exactly when did you take her to see Dr. Bryson?

    Marie held one side of her now pulsating temples, preparing for another explosion from Ja’nai. About two weeks. But JJ, let me tell you why I waited until now to call you.

    But before she could finish, Ja’nai once again cut her off. I’m hanging up now; i have a plane to catch. And please, don’t tell Jaime that I’m coming.

    Marie knew by Ja’nai’s tone that she’d regretted not calling Ja’nai sooner. Just get here as quickly as you can, JJ. I know how much she needs you, even though you and I both know she won’t admit it because she’s scared.

    Ja’nai had nothing more to say because nothing seemed to make sense to her anymore.

    Immediately after hanging up, she felt as if the shellacked wooden floors were sliding from underneath her feet. As she kept trying to make her way to her bedroom to throw some clothes into a suitcase, her body wouldn’t do what her mind was telling it to. In her dazed-like existence, she found herself staring out of her floor-to-ceiling window, looking out into the sunlit spring afternoon fighting back anxious tears of fear.

    Her mind honed in on one question, how could I have been so selfish, so engrossed in my own world that I didn’t even know that my own sister was sick?

    She allowed her head to fall to her chest. Closing her eyes, she fought with the raging feelings of guilt. Finally, she began walking towards her bedroom while wondering how, in just a few moments, the beauty and serenity of this day crumbled into what felt already like an endless abyss. She felt overwhelmed by the sudden silence of darkness that threatened to overtake her.

    The Ties That Bind

    (Memories2)

    For as long as Jaime could remember, her parents were her sister, her grandmother, and her Aunt Marie. She was too young to remember everything about their biological parents. Their father Andrew Hewston was known, among other things, as a womanizer, at least before he met and married their mother. He died very suddenly at the age of thirty-six. On the other hand, her sister would never forget anything about their mother. The anger that she had built up towards her wouldn’t loosen its stranglehold long enough for that to happen.

    Their mother, Blieu Hewston suddenly disappeared into the night two weeks after Andrew’s death. Jaime, who was then about three years old, remembers jumping out of bed the following morning and running downstairs for breakfast as usual, only to be met by her Aunt Marie, which to a little girl like Jaime, did not seem so unusual.

    The Hewston home was special. It was built from the ground up in 1929. And stood on the richness of twenty acres of thedeepest green anyone in Winchester had ever seen. The roses peeking out from the side of the house were planted so that while in bloom, they appeared to dance in unison with the rhythms of the wind, sometimes intertwining beside each other in multi-colored fashion, one red, the others white or yellow. Instead of the ordinary foundation of cement or bricks that laid the pathway leading to the front doors of most of the residents living in Winchester, the Hewston’s walkway was uniquely designed with various shapes of sea shells cut perfectly out of marble. The house was built with a sandy-colored brick that complemented everything around it. upon entering the house, the atrium, positioned in the center of the living room was placed there purposely, at Rachel’s request to give the family and any visitors a feeling of warmth. Several species of plants enjoyed the special ness of being set apart from everything else in the house. Immediately to the left, a black spiral staircase welcomed anyone wanting to get to the second level. At the top, each bedroom—six in all, and each equipped with a full bath—was decorated with various themes and wild colors.

    Andrew inherited the home from his late father Arthur. And insisted that his mother stay in the house with them. At first, Rachel vehemently argued with him and Blieu, pointing out that they needed to be alone to raise their family, and that she would be fine moving into her and Arthur’s summer home at Martha’s vineyard. But Andrew and Blieu wouldn’t hear of such a thing, so they tag-teamed her about staying on until finally, weakened from their constant badgering, Rachel couldn’t take it any longer. She agreed to stay on with them.

    Andrew was a tall, strikingly handsome fellow with dark, coallike eyes that seemed piercing whenever he was conducting business, but irresistibly compelling to all the ladies, married or single wherever he went. He had a reputation for being one of the most stylishly dressed men in Winchester. Every designer suit he owned had been tailored to fit, and to add extra flair; he’d have one of his trademark handkerchiefs sticking out of his breast pocket. The mysteries to all of his charms, however, seemed to be hidden in hisdimples. And he would tease Blieu on occasion that having them is what made her say yes. His mustache and goatee were kept immaculately trimmed.

    He fed into the myth that females were instantly attracted to all Hewston men. As a teenager, and throughout most of his young adulthood, he would flirt with all the girls at school. If they came to watch him play his favorite sport—softball—he would listen to all of them screaming his name as he stepped up to the plate. If he happened to hit a homerun, after rounding the bases, he’d grab a towel in the dugout to wipe the sweat from his face and neck, then step out onto the on-deck circle, find a girl who looked longingly at him and toss the towel in her direction. That was his way of letting her think that maybe she had a chance to be his girl. It didn’t matter in the least whether the girl already had a boyfriend or not. If she got the towel, it was her unspoken sign that it was time to drop him for Andrew.

    When it came to women, Andrew was, quite simply, a cad. He was like a dog in heat; using all his stunning good looks to talk girls into sleeping with him. Always leaving each one to wallow in the aftermath of the empty promises he’d make prior to getting his real need met.

    Damn! It was just sex, baby; who said anything about ‘love’? he would ask innocently while quickly zipping up his pants; usually leaving the girl still lying between the sheets in the wetness of the intimacy they had just shared. Heartbroken and humiliated, she would begin to realize, all too late, that she too would be penned as one of Andrew’s conquests. But in his senior year in high school, and to everyone’s surprise (including his own), all that seemed to change when he met Blieu Daisia Simone.

    She was an exquisitely beautiful girl. Her face was shaped as if it were carved straight from an artists’ hand. It was chiseled down to the curves in her high cheekbones. Her eyes were the color of bronze. Her hair, as black as a raven’s coat, hung just slightly past the middle of her back. She had a cool sway when she walked; mesmerizing anyone who was paying attention. She was of averageheight, which complemented Andrew’s perfectly. Her skin was the color of chestnuts and as smooth as the day she was born. Blieu’s beauty wasn’t limited to what was seen externally. She possessed an aura of beauty that beguiled most everyone. And when she walked into a room, it was as if the sun followed her.

    While Andrew was born and raised in Winchester, Blieu was originally from Port Antonio, Jamaica. A small, slow-paced fishing village located off the eastern coast of Jamaica; sitting between the Blue Mountain’s and the Caribbean Sea. Her parents owned and operated one of the most frequented and exotic hotels on the island and were known throughout the coast for their wealth and were highly respected.

    upon completing the tenth grade, Blieu began having dreams of going to school in the U. S. Her father James, however, was hard-pressed to keep his daughter in his sights, while her mother Saron saw the advantages Blieu could have if she were in a place where she’d be given more opportunities to pursue her dreams. Between Blieu pleading with her father, and her mother having, what she liked to call animated discussions with him, within a year, James finally gave in and agreed to allow Blieu to go to the states. It was arranged that she

    would stay with James’ brother and his family in Winchester.

    As a senior, Andrew was the wish of almost every girl in high school. They all seemed to desperately hang on to his every word. Then came the new girl—Blieu. And while he noticed her in the halls in between classes, she never seemed to pay him any attention. When he couldn’t figure out whether her apparent disinterest was intentional, one day out of frustration, he walked up to her in the school cafeteria.

    So, Ms. Blieu, why is it that you always act like I don’t exist?

    Blieu looked into his eyes and with a sly smile answered with all the calm and grace of a crowned princess, Welcome to my world.

    That was it. Andrew Hewston was a changed young man—at least in the process of winning Blieu’s affections. None of his family or friends could believe it. All the girls who Andrew had previously slept with, or had intentions on sleeping with, quickly became almost non-existent in Andrew’s mind. He even turned over his well-publicized black book, which listed the names and phone

    numbers of each girl he had been with to his anxious buddies.

    Seven years later after graduating from Harvard, then breezing through law school while still dating Blieu, Andrew assumed that he would begin his legal career for Stuart, Hewston & Strawn, the firm where is father had been a partner for several years, at least as a candidate for partner. But much to his dismay and astonishment, he was told by his father that he’d have to earn his legal wings with hard work to even qualify as an associate with the firm. To establish his way, Andrew would often strategically plan his breaks so that they’d coincide with different partners leaving or entering the elevators going to their respective offices. During those brief encounters, Andrew would strike up conversations about the law, giving his opinions or introducing mock case scenarios adding his own legal arguments—never mind if they were warranted—he wanted what they had.

    With the Hewston’s wealth, Andrew obviously didn’t need the money, but he knew he would gain the respect he always craved from his father if he became a successful lawyer. Eventually, one of the partners became so impressed with Andrew’s knowledge and unmitigated nerve, that he arranged a meeting between Andrew and the rest of the partners of the firm. At the meetings conclusion, they were all dazzled—even his father—and Andrew was offered a position as an associate. Andrew was elated and accepted on the spot. He wanted to phone Blieu right away with the good news, but decided instead to wait and tell her on the same day that he’d planned to ask her to marry him.

    Cat &. Mouse

    Would you like something to drink, Miss?"

    Ja’nai’s eyes suddenly popped open as if she’d been awakened from a horrible nightmare. She tried to focus her tired eyes on the young attendant standing next to her seat. Her eyes had been closed as her mind raced, shutting out the outside world; nothing and no one else mattered except Jaime. The flight attendant standing next to her seat with the drink cart had brought her back to reality with a touch on her shoulder.

    No, thank you, Ja’nai replied finally, I’m fine.

    The attendant smiled and apologized for waking her. As she continued to take beverage orders from the other passengers, she could not forget the look of sadness that Ja’nai’s eyes showed. She had been in the flight business for several years. And while she knew that part of her job was to always be courteous, quick and efficient, she could not deny that every now and then, a passenger would have an immediate impact on her, and for reasons she’d never know, the passenger seated in 3-A, did just that.

    Ja’nai needed a deterrent from her hour-and-a-half flight from New York to Winchester. She began to flip through the dozen magazines that were placed in the holding pouches on the back of the seats. Nothing in them could hold her attention. She tried shutting her eyes again in hopes that the smoothness of the flight would be kind

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