A Reason to Trust: Sisters of My Heart Trilogy: Book Three

By P. L. Byers

Christine Marshall endured a childhood of abuse and neglect. If not for the friendship of her two best friends, her life would have been unbearable. Years later, seeing the happiness that her friends had finally found with two wonderful men made Christine happy. She still didnt question her own stance to remain alone though, especially given her past. Until one night and too many martinis, she makes a decision that would change her life completely.
Jonas Wade was a confident, no nonsense guy who grew up surrounded by his familys love. He worked hard and at a young age, started his own company, enjoying much success. A success he thought completed his life until he met the one woman who made him realize that he wasnt as content as he had thought.
Unfortunately, convincing her they were meant to be together proved to be an uphill battle. Getting past whatever demons plagued Christine from her past was difficult enough, but there was also a threat to his company that involved the very woman he loved. Until Jonas could solve the mystery, both he and Christine were in danger.
As the CEO of his own company, Jonas isnt a stranger to hard work. He takes his job seriously and protecting those he loves even more so. Sadly, and to his utter frustration, Christine continually places herself in harms way in her efforts to help him. Can he keep her safe from what threatens them both? And more importantly, can he break through the barriers that Christine built round herself to give them both a chance at happiness?

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Nov 25, 2015
• ISBN: 9781504963329

P. L. Byers

P. L. Byers is the author of a dozen novels and counting, including her Out of the Darkness Series and Sister’s of the Heart Trilogy. She is a member of RWA (Romance Writers of America), NERW (New England Romance Writers), and PAN (Published Authors Network). Her love for creating her characters and the stories behind them has been an all-consuming ambition. “If any of my readers get a tenth of the enjoyment in reading my books as I do in writing them, then all the time and effort put into this dream will make it all worthwhile,” she writes. P. L. Byers lives in Franklin, Massachusetts with her kind and patient husband and two incredibly spoiled cats. You can contact P. L. Byers through her website at www.plbyers.com or e-mail her at [e-mail]. You can also follow her on Facebook at www.facebook.com/PLByers.

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© 2015 P. L. Byers. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Book cover and author photo taken by Karen Moriarty at www.kemphoto.com

P. L. Byers’ website created and maintained by www.bigpresenceagency.com

Published by AuthorHouse 11/24/2015

ISBN: 978-1-5049-6334-3 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5049-6333-6 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-5049-6332-9 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2015919366

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and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

This book was originally published in 2014 by Dellarte Press.

Contents

Dedication

Acknowledgment

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty One

Epilogue

Author Bio

Dedication

I am fortunate to have many extended family members. We may not be in constant contact or know every detail of each other’s lives but I always know you’re there and that you are my family. My love for you is no less, and though we may not speak often, you are always in my heart.

I especially dedicate this book to my Uncle Paul. If you knew my uncle you would find this amusing because he is the farthest thing from being a romance kind of guy, and in fact barely tolerates most people. I have a particular soft spot in my heart for this man though, and special memories that bring a smile to my face.

Thank you for those memories and for always making room in your life for me! I love you!!

Acknowledgment

I’d like to thank my wonderful husband Mark for all of his support. I typically mention him but truly, knowing I can count on him, brings me such peace. We seem to have found a great balance in supporting each other’s dreams, allowing us each to grow but making sure it’s never apart. I couldn’t imagine my life without you!

Lisa, your inputs and insights are so invaluable. Your love and encouragement are everything to me and I appreciate all you do to make me a better person and writer. I am so grateful I have you!

Rita, what can I say? You have such a hectic life and yet you always make time to help me with my manuscripts. You make my writing better and having you in my life, correcting my grammar and supporting my dream touches my heart. Your friendship keeps me sane and I am blessed that I have you.

Finally, but no less importantly, to you the readers who keep me going. Your comments and feedback are invaluable. Thank you for reading my books! You are in my thoughts with every word I write!

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Daisy Dance

The sea of yellow and white, blowing softly in the breeze,

A special place for girlfriends, to run and play and tease.

This beautiful field of flowers, swaying in rhythm to their daisy dance,

A special place for three friends, together taking a chance.

For life like these beautiful flowers, is fragile and scary and real,

But with their friendship and love, will be faced with laughter and zeal.

P. L. Byers

Prologue

H iding the bruises became a game. And how well Christine Marshall played the game dictated how good or bad her life became.

Losing her mother at the age of seven not only brought sadness and grief to a suddenly lost little girl, but it also generated an angry, despondent father who had no idea how to deal with his own grief, much less that of a little girl.

One day, not long after his wife’s death, Randall Marshall stopped in at the local bar, slid onto a bar stool and ordered a drink. For the first time since his wife’s passing, the pain and loneliness he felt lessened as each glass of bourbon passed his lips.

From that moment on, Randall Marshall sought solace in a bottle of alcohol just about every day. It seemed the only time he found peace was when he was sitting at his new favorite seat at the bar. Going home to his seven year old daughter was something he quickly learned to avoid. It angered him to see the sadness in the blue eyes that stared back at him, making him feel guilty. He was tired of feeling that way, tired of feeling sad and tired of the lost look in the eyes of the little girl who survived the car crash that took his wife and left a daughter in his care. He hadn’t wanted a child, and had told his wife that before Christine was even conceived. Before he knew it though, his daughter was born and he had to find a way to deal with sharing his wife with her. What he never wanted though, was the sole responsibility of a little girl he hadn’t even wanted.

All Christine knew was that the life she had known with her parents became a lonely, frightening life which she wasn’t sure how to handle. She didn’t understand why her mother had to die, why she woke up with visions of glass flying around her or why a father she thought she knew suddenly came home one day and hit her when she asked him a simple question.

That was the start of a life she had no idea how to manage. One of their neighbors must have suspected something was going on because whenever she could, she would look out for Christine, feeding her whenever she had a little extra food. She was an elderly woman though, with barely enough food to feed herself, much less a little girl.

In the beginning, when Christine’s father would come home drunk and angry, he would strike out at her but always made sure that when he hit her, it was either on her back or legs, where her clothing would hide the bruises. One day, he’d come home so drunk and out of control that he didn’t realize he’d gone too far. Christine went to school the next day with bruises on her cheek and forearm. She hadn’t thought to hide anything, so when her teacher noticed and reported it, she ended up in a foster home where she quickly learned at a young age, that there were indeed worse things than being hit by a drunken father.

Christine ran away from her foster home that night and went back to the only man who had ever been a part of her life. From the tender young age of seven, she learned the valuable lesson that better the devil you know, than what you might be stuck with while in the foster care system.

Being lost in a system that was so broken it couldn’t get out of its own way, much less protect a child, it was a good four months before child protective services realized she was no longer in the foster home in which they had placed her. By that time, she’d learned that she was far better off doing anything she could to stay with her father.

During the weekends she cleaned their place, as much as she knew how to, so that the dilapidated old house at least looked neat and tidy, in case someone from social services stopped in to visit. She learned how to avoid her father when he was really drunk, but on the days she couldn’t get around him, she made sure that no matter what, she was at her desk at school each and every day, so as not to draw any attention to herself from the teachers. She worked extra hard to make good grades so the school wouldn’t have a reason to contact her father and she even learned the art of using any make-up she could find to cover up her bruises.

By the time she turned thirteen, she and her father moved to another town, into another run-down ugly house and she was starting another new school. Each time anyone seemed to start picking up on what was going on Randall Marshall moved them to a different place. Christine wasn’t delusional enough to think it was because he didn’t want his only daughter to be taken away from him. She suspected his only fear was being put in jail for abusing his daughter or worse, not having her around to cook and clean for him. As for Christine, she spent much of her time being angry at her mother for leaving her, angry at her father for letting the alcohol ruin their lives and angry at CPS for leaving her with the only two options of either living with a physically abusive father, or going to a foster home and being sexually abused. Either option was untenable for a lonely, scared young girl.

Christine never let go of the hope that someday her father would change. Each time, he would hit her, he’d promise not to do it again. And each time, Christine desperately wanted to believe him. By the time she was thirteen, she’d given up hope, merely biding her time before she could walk away from him and never look back.

When her father moved them to Montgomery, Massachusetts, the only redeeming quality about the old house they lived in was the beautiful field of daises in the back of the property. Christine would hide in the field when she knew her father was drunk and looking for her. She would lie among the daisies, looking up at the beautiful blue sky, wishing she had anyone else’s life but her own.

On her first day at the new school, she entered the building with a heavy heart and pains in her stomach. She’d learned early on that it was best to keep to herself and not form any friendships. Her time in this town was probably pretty limited, given the severity of her father’s behavior the night before.

Discretely pulling out a little mirror, Christine checked to make sure that the make-up she had put on this morning was still hiding the bruise on her left cheek and eye. Squaring her shoulders, she walked into the building to start her first day.

The first two weeks seemed to go well. She always sat in the back of the class, ate lunch alone, and refrained from making any eye contact with the other students. She knew that some of them were starting to make fun of her behind her back, but she continued to keep her head down and prayed just to get through the days.

During lunch, she usually chose a table in the back corner that was empty. Sometimes she would study and on the days where there was actually a little food in the house, she would bring in a sandwich or an apple to eat.

One day, she had only been sitting for a few minutes, her head buried in a book, when she felt a presence hovering near the table. Glancing up, she was surprised to see two girls standing next to her.

When she didn’t say anything, the girl with brown hair and blue eyes spoke up. Hi, my name is Brenna Harris and this is my friend Madison Bowman. Would you mind if we join you? Not giving her time to decline their company, the one named Brenna pulled out a chair and sat down. Her red haired friend with the soft gray eyes followed and before Christine knew it, both girls were sitting down, looking expectantly at her. For what, she had no clue until Brenna asked her what her name was.

Oh…I’m Christine, she answered warily.

Little did Christine know, but that very moment was the second her life would be changed forever. Once Brenna and Maddy introduced themselves, they became constant companions. In the beginning, the girls never pressed her for answers but it was obvious they knew what was happening to Christine. Then one day, coming to school with a particularly nasty bruise, Brenna and Maddy demanded they take her to some officials to report the abuse. Christine begged them not to tell anyone and explained what had happened the last time she was taken from her father. They quickly agreed to remain silent, not wanting to lose their new friend.

Maddy and Brenna worried though, so one day, as they were all three sitting in the field of daisies next to Christine’s back yard, they devised a plan of what she could do if things ever got too bad and she needed help. By sending a fist full of daisies to either Brenna or Maddy, they would know that their friend was in trouble. Fortunately the boy that lived next door to Christine had a crush on Brenna and quickly agreed to do the delivery if it was ever needed.

Not wanting to make their friend feel singled out, the girls decided that they each needed to have a flower. Brenna chose the pink carnation as her flower and Maddy picked the hydrangea. They all agreed that if any girl received a bouquet of just one type of flower, it would mean that that person was in trouble and needed help. If ever a bouquet of all three types of flowers was received, that would indicate that everything was fine.

Feeling relieved that they had their secret code worked out and that their new friend was protected as much as possible, the three girls settled into a friendship that grew stronger every day.

For once in Christine’s life since her mother passed away, she had a set of friends that she knew she could count on. Soon Christine found that she was included on some of Maddy’s family events and even spent a week or two at their summer home on Lake Erie when she was in high school. Unfortunately Brenna’s home life wasn’t as simple, but Christine was able to meet her divorced parents and could tell that at least they both loved her, although they couldn’t stand to be in each other’s presence.

As for Christine’s father, he continued to drink but the beatings soon stopped altogether. As long as she cooked and cleaned the house and gave him money from her part time job as a waitress at the local Denny’s, they pretty much left each other alone.

As for Christine, she knew if she had any shot at a good life, she would have to work hard to get good grades and hopefully earn a scholarship to a good college. Whenever she wasn’t with her best friends, she had her nose in a book studying. If nothing else, having Brenna and Maddy in her life gave her hope that she at least deserved happiness. God chose to bring these two amazing friends into her life so maybe anything was possible.

Chapter One

T he hairy leg she brushed up against seemed out of place. Christine Marshall lived alone and most definitely went to bed alone, every night.

The sun was just starting to come up so there was a sliver of light peeping through her curtains. Opening one eye, she glanced towards the window. Nope…not her curtains!

Turning her head to the left, her gaze fell to the head of a man, resting on the pillow beside her. Taking a few deep breaths, Christine tried to keep the panic that was threatening to overwhelm her at bay. How she ended up in bed with this strange man, she had no clue. She never allowed herself to have lapses in judgment, so how she got herself in this particular predicament was a complete mystery.

Hoping not to wake him, she gently moved the covers aside and shifted her feet to the floor. Standing up, she froze as the man rolled facing her. She watched as his arm reached out, almost as if he was seeking her body. A slight frown came to his face, but he didn’t wake up. Breathing a sigh of relief, Christine tiptoed around the room, looking for her clothes.

It must have been some night, she surmised, finding her dress in the far corner of the room, her underwear along the opposite wall and her strapless bra nearly under the bed. One shoe was in the bathroom and the other one she finally found near the closet door. As she searched throughout the room for her clothing, she came across several condom wrappers thrown on the floor.

Throwing her dress on quickly, she looked around for her purse. Seeing it on the nightstand, she walked over to retrieve it, nearly tripping on the empty bottle of champagne resting on the floor. Picking up the purse, she took a second to glance at the man, still sleeping soundly on the bed.

Lord he was gorgeous! His hair was sun bleached blond, looking like he spent a lot of time on the beach. Even in sleep his strong features held a certain sensuality. There was strength in his face that shone through, his skin pulled taut over the elegant ridge of his cheekbones. With certainty, Christine knew that if he opened his eye lids she would see a set of beautiful blue eyes.

Shaking her head, she held her purse closely to her chest and made her way to the door. Unlatching the deadbolt and turning the handle, she slipped out into the hallway, silently closing the door behind her.

Making her way down to the lobby, Christine immediately recognized that she was at the hotel where one of her best friend’s engagement party was held the night before. Good Lord…Brenna, she thought in a panic as she drew her phone out of her purse and looked at the screen. Just as she thought, there were messages from her two best friends, Maddy and Brenna.

Knowing that she was not mentally in a good place to deal with them, Christine went out the main entrance of the Renaissance Boston Waterfront Hotel to call a cab. Thankfully, the month of July in Boston brought the city to life with an influx of people visiting and touring the city. Already with the sun coming up, there were cabs lined up out front, waiting for the next fare that would take them to the more popular tourist destinations.

After giving her address to her apartment in Cambridge, Christine laid her head on the back seat of the cab and tried to recall the events of