She Came Home

By Maggie Ann Ross

Life can change in a matter of moments, as eighteen-year-old Mary Ellen finds out when her parents are killed in a tragic plane crash and she is faced with the loss, the pain, and the rebuilding of her life. The only child of Dallas and JoAnn McCarthy and mature beyond her years, Mary Ellen, with the help, gentle guidance, and unwavering love of her fathers business partner and his wife, is forced to make critical decisions about college, her home, romance, and her life.

Decisions, radical changes, profound love, joy, anger, and deep, immense sorrow are heaped upon this very beautiful young woman-child in the roller coaster ride through the next chapters of her life.

Will she ever be able to find the kind of peace again that shed had before that one tragic day? Will she ever be able to tell herself that she will actually be able to come home again once and for always?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Mar 27, 2012
• ISBN: 9781469180724

Maggie Ann Ross

Maggie enjoys spending time with her family, reading, writing, and volunteering in her community. She’s been married for thirty-two years, has three beautiful and fantastic daughters, and is a recent grandmother. Maggie has won statewide poetry contests, is a member of Romance Writers of America, and writes a monthly article for her hometown newspaper. Look for her next book, Whispers of the Heart, to be available in December 2012.

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She Came Home

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Maggie Ann Ross

Copyright © 2012 by Maggie Ann Ross.

Library of Congress Control Number:       2012904330

ISBN:         Hardcover                               978-1-4691-8071-7

                   Softcover                                 978-1-4691-8070-0

                   Ebook                                      978-1-4691-8072-4

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.

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

Xlibris Corporation

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

[e-mail]

Contents

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To my daughters Carrie, Christie, and Courtnie, and to my niece, Abby. You believed in me from the very beginning, and I thank each of you for your encouragement and your love!

And to God for all the gifts He has given me, I am eternally grateful.

Prologue

RAINDROPS TRICKLED SLOWLY down the windowpane. It was only just early afternoon, but it seemed dark enough to be almost late evening. It was hard to tell. The extreme dreariness hovering outside, shrouding her entire world now in what seemed like an eternity of darkness, clouded her thinking. Maybe it was later in the day than she thought. She didn’t really know. She wasn’t sure. In fact, she wasn’t sure of much of anything anymore. Pain and sorrow and death is all that she could be sure of anymore. It had hovered over her for years. There was no escape for her it seemed.

With a long, slender finger, she reached out and traced one of the little droplets that had splattered against the window, watching it in a daze, as it was snaking its way downward outside her bedroom window, all the time gathering in speed and size. Racing. Racing to nowhere. Most all of them in such a hurry. She stood there staring at the droplets, yet not seeing. Not thinking. Not even feeling. Just standing there, numbly watching it rain. Damn rain. Damn, damn rain. She sank further into the depths of hopelessness. It was cruel. And lonely. And painful. And yet, even in her deep, all-consuming misery, she was still the stunning beauty she had always been. She had always turned heads no matter where she went or what she wore. She was one of those natural beauties that one might read about in romance novels. The kind people secretly wished they might be like. But what had always made her so beautiful to the beholder was the fact that she had never thought of herself in that way. People had always been mesmerized by her beauty. Her hair was still the jet-black, shiny, silky mane that men had secretly longed to touch, and she was as slender at thirty-four as she had been in her teens.

The house was so eerily silent to her. It was as if she moved through a torpid, sluggish dream—foggy, peculiar, and with an atmosphere of uncertainty. Likened to that of walking blindly along a mountaintop and then suddenly stepping off the cliff. Falling. Falling. Spiraling downward into the ravine. Into nothingness with her heart in her throat. And not being able to scream out loud.

It had rained now for four days straight since the funeral. The funeral. Seven days he’d been dead now. How could he be gone? Unbelievable, incomprehensible. She could barely recall those previous days. Did I eat? Did I bathe, comb my hair? My god, she whispered to herself, I can’t think, I just can’t remember at all. It’s all a blur. Oh, Malcolm, she sighed, how can I go on? How can you expect me to when I loved you so much and you were absolutely everything to me? I can’t, I just simply cannot… not without you, darling… She paused, thinking of him, aching for him. Malcolm, I love you, she whispered in anguish, pressing her forehead against the windowpane, fists clenched tightly against her breasts. She missed him so much. Loved him so much. He had been her husband, her lover, her very best friend. He had been absolutely everything to her. Together, they had been such a perfect fit in every way. His name caught in her throat, and the tears started to slide slowly down her cheeks once again. Just like the rain against the window. Relentless. She dropped slowly to the floor in misery with her face in the palms of her hands. She lay there and cried on the coolness of the hardwood floor for nearly an hour. All the hurt, the pain, the years of unbearable sorrow racked her body again and again, like waves washing upon a sandy beach, until she vomited. Again and again. Relentless, violent dry heaves. She couldn’t make herself stop. Convulsions wracked her stomach. Yet there was nothing in her stomach for expulsion.

He had been everything to her. She had loved him with a love equaling no other on this earth. There were not words capable of describing the love that had been shared between them. Why did he die? she cried out in anguish again. Why, why? she moaned softly. I need to know what it is that I’ve done to deserve this, God. What have I done? she moaned sorrowfully. It wasn’t her nature to pity herself, but she couldn’t help it. Her heart was shattered, and she just couldn’t bear facing her loss. Malcolm, she whispered in a hoarse, defeated tone through her tears, I love you.

She picked herself up, wiped the floor, and washed her face. She crawled into their bed, feeling the soft satin sheets. She could still smell him. And she longed for him. Longed to have his arms wrapped around her. Caressing her and kissing her soft, smooth, bare skin. She loved the way he had always made her feel. Loved how he had made love to her. And she to him.

Her stomach ached from the intense retching. Pulling her long legs up to her chest, she curled into a ball, wondering what she had ever done to deserve so much pain, so much heartache, and incredible sorrow. Curled up there, rocking softly to help ease the pain still in the pit of her stomach, she drifted off to sleep… alone… again.

1

SHE WAS JUST eighteen the first time she was alone.

Mary Ellen? Mary Ellen McCarthy? There was a police officer standing at the front door of her parents’ neatly landscaped two-story five-bedroom brick home in this quiet well-to-do neighborhood on the outskirts of New York City. People often wondered why her parents had a five-bedroom home and only one child, but her parents did a lot of entertaining, and guests often stayed overnight or flew in for a weekend visit. Her father was a very successful broker on Wall Street, and her mother loved entertaining his loyal clients and relished helping him groom new potential patrons. Her mother had a knack for becoming fast friends with most everyone she met. She was such a genuine, loving, giving person. And Mary Ellen, her father always said, was just like her. Strikingly beautiful. Intelligent and warm with an ever-present, genuine smile that could light up a room. And Mary Ellen had always had such a maturity about her. Maybe it was because she was an only child, and she often sat in on many adult conversations, or maybe it was just simply her nature. More than likely, it was both. She had played, as a little girl, with many of the children in the neighborhood, but she had always preferred the more interesting adult conversations of her parents and their friends. The education garnered over the years from these adult conversations was immeasurable. And there was no subject that had been off-limits to the child. Mary Ellen as well as the adults were completely comfortable discussing any subject matter.

Yes, I’m Mary Ellen.

Ms. McCarthy, I’m Sergeant Brooks. I’m sorry, but I have some very terrible news. We’ve just gotten a report that your parents, both of them, were killed in a plane crash earlier this afternoon. Telling those left behind was the very worst part of his job. He hated it. It just never got any easier. Not even in twenty-seven years on the force had he gotten used to it.

She stared at him, unbelieving, uncomprehending, barely daring to breathe, eyes wide in horror and shock. Hearing yet not entirely sure she’d heard him correctly. It was as if she was in a slow-motion movie and all the sounds around her were distorted. She felt bile begin rising in her stomach.

Ms. McCarthy? I need you to verify some information for us. Can you do that? he asked, eyeing her cautiously. He knew the look of shock, the horror of the news and what it did to the person. He’d seen it so many times. God, he hated having to do this. Maybe there’s someone you can call? A brother or sister? he offered apologetically. How about a neighbor? A friend? Or maybe an aunt or an uncle? He couldn’t even tell if she was breathing or not. Do you want to sit down, miss? the sergeant offered gently, putting an arm around her shoulder in compassion, all the while wishing someone would come from out from somewhere, anywhere, to help console this sweet, lovely, yet very obviously all alone young woman.

No… yes… no… I mean… I… I don’t know. Oh god, oh my god, I don’t know what to do. I’m all alone, sir.

The kind, sympathetic officer held her for a moment, expressing his sorrow again, then asked her a few questions. He regrettably, and as gently as he could, told Mary Ellen the gruesome story, and when he finished, he again told her she should call someone to come help her and give her some guidance. He didn’t want to leave her. She was all alone. Poor kid, he thought. She didn’t deserve such a raw deal.

Sergeant Brooks had told her that the pilot of their small private jet simply had had little or no warning. He’d complained of a small intensifying weird sort of a headache when Dallas and JoAnn McCarthy, his two most favorite people in the world, had boarded the small plane, which was headed for Denver. Jim Swank had been employed as the company’s private pilot hired personally by Dallas McCarthy when Dallas had ventured his business out to several other locations throughout the country. Dallas visited his offices frequently, so Jim had always been kept very busy flying around the country, and often, Jim had flown out to many different destinations to bring clients back to New York to meet Mr. McCarthy and be wined and dined by both Mr. and Mrs. McCarthy. The clients usually stayed the weekend, taking in a Broadway show or something, and then he’d fly them back to their homes, all compliments of the McCarthys, of course.

This day, the McCarthys were meeting six of their closest business friends there in Denver to help celebrate John Johnson’s early retirement from the company. John and his wife, Elouise, had flown out to Denver the week before for some finalities and then they were all set to travel and sit back and enjoy life. Dallas and John were like brothers. They’d always been best friends. Having grown up together, they had almost always been inseparable. As best friends go, they truly loved each other. They had played sports together: Dallas the pitcher, John the catcher. Dallas the quarterback, John the wide receiver. They were a twosome and good for each other. They had attended and graduated college together, started their brokerage business together, and were each other’s best man in their weddings. Well, it had actually been Dallas that started the company and John was his associate. But Dallas had always made John feel like a full-fledged partner. He just had that way about him.

John and his wife had never been fortunate enough to have children, while Dallas and JoAnn had been blessed with a daughter, Mary Ellen. John had wanted children so terribly, and he knew how badly Elouise’s heart ached for a child too. But it was never meant to be for them. John and Elouise had always been grateful to Dallas and JoAnn for sharing Mary Ellen with them. She would spend a week or two every summer with them at their home on Cape Cod and usually an overnight stay during the Christmas holiday vacation from school. She had given them so much pleasure during those times. They admired her beauty, her talents, and the gift she possessed for treating everyone and everything with such kindness, compassion, and love. She was a wonderful mix of both of her parents. John was sure she was destined for success and many great and wonderful things in her life.

Dallas knew that while he would congratulate and wish John the very best in his retirement, he also knew that he himself loved Wall Street way too much to retire at this point in his life. He lived and breathed it. It excited him way too much! He was such a personable man, and the managers at his three other office locations looked forward to his visits. He thrived on this way of life and it showed. He was a handsome man with completely silvered hair, bright blue eyes, a year-round glorious tan, and a genuine beaming smile that could light up a room. People had always gravitated to him, which was one of the main reasons he was so successful. And John had gone along with him for the ride. But he had learned from Dallas too, though he admitted time and again that he hadn’t had the fortitude and knowledge that Dallas had. Dallas had more drive and determination. John was just simply not the proverbial watchdog that Dallas was about his business. But John was a people person too. Maybe not of the particular magnitude that of Dallas, but he had managed to lay the groundwork for quite a few potential clients over the years. Dallas had always complimented John on the continual list of investors that were sent Dallas’s way. The two men had been a good mix all of their lives, and Dallas was grateful for that. He knew, however, that John was ready for retirement though, and when John had approached him with his plans, he didn’t try to persuade John to stay. They were too good of friends, and Dallas wanted to keep it that way. He knew that if John stayed just because he wanted him to, John might resent and regret that, and in business, that could become an ugly situation. Dallas didn’t want that for them, so in friendship, he would wish John well.

It must have been an aneurism in the brain, Sergeant Brooks had said. He died, and the plane went down. I’m so sorry, Ms. McCarthy. Your mother lived long enough to tell a rescue worker on the scene what had happened, but she said that your father had died at impact. I’m so sorry, Ms. McCarthy, so sorry. I think you should go inside now and call someone. Will you do that for me? I don’t think you should be alone. God, he hated leaving her. Maybe he should just stay. Go in and sit with her. Then what? It was so awkward. This part: the telling, then the leaving. Leaving the crushed and broken party to pick up the shattered pieces of their lives. So awkward. He always ended up with a damn lump in his throat.

Yes… yes, thank you. I’ll call someone, she slowly and nearly incoherently whispered as she quietly closed the door, trying to comprehend the last five life-altering minutes. She stood there with her hands pressed against the door, not moving. Not knowing what to do, where to go, who to call, and the word alone resounded in her head over and over again. She truly was all alone. There was no one for her. No brothers, sisters, aunts, or uncles as the officer had suggested. No one.

The ringing of the phone in the intense stillness of the massive foyer startled her. She was now trembling as she answered the phone with a meek, almost inaudible Hello?

Mary Ellen? Mary Ellen, sweetie, this is John.

The tears welled up in her eyes, and the lump was so huge in her throat that she could scarcely speak. Oh, John! Oh my god, my mom… my dad! Please… help me! Come help me, she begged. What am I going to do? she sobbed.

Sweetheart, we’re on our way back. We’ll be there within an hour, honey. We’ll soon be landing in New York. We caught the first flight out when we heard the news. Elouise and I will be with you in just a little bit, Mary Ellen, he said softly to her. I’m so sorry, sweetheart. And he sobbed too after he hung up his phone. The immensity of this tragedy weighed heavily on his slumped shoulders.

The news spread quickly, and concerned friends and neighbors had already filled the house by the time John and Elouise arrived. Everyone knew how close John and Dallas had been and they knew too that John would take good care of his best friend’s only child. The guests hugged Mary Ellen and again extended their sympathies then quietly departed, leaving John and Elouise to comfort, console, and help guide the beautiful, all-too-suddenly grown-up child.

Mary Ellen, though just eighteen and about to graduate high school, seemed to have aged ten years in the last three hours since that officer had regrettably delivered his gruesome, cruel message at her doorstep. Even now, in all her sorrow, she was still exquisitely beautiful. She had slipped into a simple little chocolate-brown velvet dress with the same velvety brown pumps to match. At her neck was a single strand of delicate pearls. Dainty clusters of the same pearls peeked out occasionally from under the long thick mass of jet-black hair that reached almost to the middle of her back.

John knew that as Wall Street was Dallas’s addiction, fine jewelry had been JoAnn’s love. Her second love, that is. Dallas and Mary Ellen had always been JoAnn’s number one priority, and it was always plain to see it whenever one looked at JoAnn. Both mother and daughter could turn heads whenever they would stroll through the park, arm in arm, chatting endlessly. Both of them always beautiful, yet never knowing it. That’s what made the two of them so attractive, he often had thought. John thought again of how much he loved these people and how much love and care and help Mary Ellen was going to need now. How could God dump on such a sweet, young, innocent child, he thought with deep sadness and despair.

John and Elouise had never had any children of their own, though they had wanted them so desperately. He hoped he could somehow fill the shoes Dallas had just left him with. At eighteen, Mary Ellen could legally do as she pleased. She could do absolutely anything she wanted to. He knew that. Would he have to tread carefully and cautiously to prevent her from taking flight prematurely and unprepared? Knowing Mary Ellen as he did, he highly doubted she’d do anything so stupid or rash. She wasn’t one of those smart-assed kids that would run through the fortune Dallas had built and worked for. Mary Ellen was as smart and even more mature than she was beautiful. At times, she was every bit as mature as a forty-year-old woman of the world. The fact that she had always been far more mature than most any kids her own age never ceased to amaze him. But still, the shock of losing both of her parents made John fearful of what she might do without thinking it through first. But she proved to him now that she was worthy of his accurate, ideological assumptions of her because she agreed that living with them was the most practical recourse she had. She would be leaving anyhow in early fall for college. She’d already been accepted at the end of her junior year in high school at the University of Southern California and had been looking forward to that time. John now thought to himself that sending her to the heart of Los Angeles all alone maybe was too far away, yet maybe, that’s what she would need. To just get away. He made a mental note that he’d need to approach her with this subject, but not now. There were too many other details to attend to right now. Like the preparations for her parents’ funeral. He was dreading the next few hours, but he knew he had to be strong for Mary Ellen.

The funeral, as expected, was absolutely horrible and unbearable, but they all got through it. Together, they cried. They remembered. They even managed to laugh some, but mostly, it was just plain horrible. Left completely alone, except for John and Elouise, had made everyone’s heart break for Mary Ellen. Everyone wondered silently what would become of the youngster.

2

THE DAYS LITERALLY flew by, and incredibly, it was time already to leave for college. They had talked for hours about being sure that USC was the right choice under the circumstances. It was so far away from New York was the thought that kept eating at John’s gut. But they had all eventually come to the conclusion that getting away would probably be good. Not that it was good for John and Elouise, but it would be a fresh new start for Mary Ellen. They had grown so very close to her these last few months. More than they ever imagined they could. She was truly like their own daughter now. They had fretted terribly over the decision to let her go clear to California so soon after the deaths of her father and mother. The three of them had sought counseling with their decision. It had definitely not been easy. There were so many decisions to be made. Ones that should have been made between Dallas and JoAnn and Mary Ellen. And now, the responsibility fell on them. It wasn’t that they didn’t want to help; they had always been so very close to Mary Ellen that she could easily have been their own child. The anxiety came from whether they were handling the situation that Mary Ellen was in, in the way that Dallas would approve. John always felt the need to know that Dallas would approve.

It had been such a big decision for Mary Ellen, but it was finally resolved that it would be best if she sold her house before leaving for college. That beloved house. So beautiful. She had grown up there. It was her home, and she loved it here. She had always loved it here, and it saddened her to think she’d never come home here again. This neighborhood was so warm and friendly, and the air was so fresh out here, and she would always remember the seasonal festivals held not far from her home. They had quaint little festivals like the Tomato Festival, the Summer Moon Festival, and the Pumpkin Festival. But her favorite had always been the Apple Orchard Festival. She loved it out here. It was far enough from the hustle and bustle of the city, yet close enough to drive in to pick up some nice sale items if something came along. This was her home, and now she had to give it up too. It was the only thing she had left, really, that had belonged to her beloved parents. She loved it and would love it always, but she knew she couldn’t keep it. She knew how impractical that would be. John had gently persuaded her to sell it, and she knew that it must have hurt him to know that this was hurting her so badly too. But he was right. There was no way she could keep it. It sold quite quickly, and John had carefully helped her select some good stocks, bonds, and various investments that would provide attractive returns and help to ensure a secure financial future for her. John had delivered the proceeds from the sale of the home personally to the two gentlemen that had been running the office since Dallas had died. Mary Ellen was truly grateful to him for handling this business venture for her on her behalf and to Elouise for everything they had done for her. She loved them so much and only hoped she was not an imposition to them. They didn’t need to be saddled with all this responsibility, she thought to herself. They should be traveling and having fun, but they’re worrying about me instead.

At the airport, they checked her luggage in and found her gate for the departure to California. Elouise and John, she said, hugging them both tightly, thank you so much for absolutely everything you’ve done for me. I really don’t know how I can ever thank you. It’s been so hard, not only for me, but for all of us, and you were there for me. I’ll try to make you proud of me.

Mary Ellen, Elouise said softly, we will always, always be proud of you. You have given us so much happiness just by letting us help you. Elouise’s tears of genuine pride and of sorrow for Mary Ellen and of fear for her too welled up in her eyes as she prepared herself to say good-bye to her dear friend’s daughter. She hoped they were doing the right thing, sending her alone to the other side of the country.

Sweetheart, John said as he embraced Mary Ellen, I wish with all my heart, as I know you do each and every day, that Mom and Dad were here hugging you good-bye instead of us, but we do love you, honey. We always have. He took her hand in his then and kissed her palm, rolled it up, and placed her hand over her heart. Keep this close to your heart because that’s right where we want to be. And you’ll always be right here in mine too! he said lovingly to her. He and Elouise both shared the same pride, sorrow, and fears, but promised themselves they would be on the first flight out west if she needed them for anything. We love you, sweetheart. And you call anytime if you need anything at all, even if you just want to hear a familiar voice. We mean it!

"I know, you