Rieliegh's Story: Secrets Revealed, Bring Truth, Love, and Hope

By Debbie Bennett

Rieliegh's hidden all the money she could save and leaves everything behind the night of her high school graduation. She ends up in New York City scared, hungry, and alone. To get out of the cold, she meets Betty, the owner of a great bakery who gives her work and a room to keep her off the streets. She wanders into a prestigious art gallery, meeting the owner and given the opportunity of a lifetime-to be her first apprentice. During the first gallery event, she meets a renowned artist who invites her to dinner. She is suddenly caught between her past and the future. She's been trashed all her life, told no one will ever want her. Her self-protection resolves and secrets come face-to-face with the truth. She's wondered if she could ever find love and hope. Her story will astound readers with what she discovers.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Aug 12, 2021
• ISBN: 9781638741466

Debbie Bennett

Debbie Bennett has been involved in the fantasy genre for longer than she'd like anyone to know. In that time she's written and published many short stories, been a committee member of the British Fantasy Society for two decades and organised many fantasy conventions.  Her claim to fame is that she once asked Stephen King to dance!

Book preview

Chapter 1

What just happened? She stood on the sidewalk watching as the taillights of his car sped away into the Manhattan traffic. She was out of breath from running to try and catch up with him, but he kept right on going. She knew he could hear her calling his name frantically. Why was he running away from her?

Rieliegh reached in her purse and felt the wooden heart he’d made, carved so beautifully for her. She pulled it out and stared at it. A token of his love he’d said. His heart was hers and he’d never take it back, he promised from the start. She carried it everywhere, a reminder she had worth. Her life had been a nightmare she kept hidden until him. He’d won her trust, listened to her story over the past couple months of dating. Now her heart felt like the cold hard wood in her hand.

Her mind was trying to figure out what was going on? How could this be; not him, too. It was the story of her life. The wind was whipping around her, as she looked down the street one more time, but his car was gone. It didn’t make any sense. She’d grown secure and comfortable in their relationship. There had to be more to his reaction than she knew, but the rejection of this moment was terrible. Memories of the past seized her heart with a vice grip.

She’d met him for lunch, excited to share the news she’d pondered for several days. As they ate and talked, she began forming just the right words to say. Finally, the perfect moment presented itself. She looked him straight in the eyes and told him her surprise. His fork fell clattering on his plate. He looked like he’d been shot. He didn’t breathe or say a word, looked through her to some place beyond. His reaction caused her to choke with tears. She thought he’d be happy, but his whole countenance changed in that instant. The utter terror on his face showed what was going on inside. He stood up, took the check, and left with no words spoken. She grabbed her purse and followed. He’d already paid, was out the door.

She ran to catch up with him, his pace brisk, in flight. He heard her running after him, stopped and turned his face a mask she didn’t know. He turned toward where his car was parked, got in, and drove away.

He gave no further glance. The shock of his treatment left her breathless, in a panic, stranded, alone. How could he turn and walk away? She stood looking after him till out of sight; he was gone. The pain was so great she went to lean against the nearest storefront for support.

A woman passing by, gave a glance as if she thought to stop, but kept on walking. Another man shot her a look of concern but didn’t approach. She didn’t expect any help as it was the usual reaction to trauma on the streets of New York. People avoided getting involved out of fear, not wanting their own lives interrupted, inconvenienced, or tainted. Most were too caught up in the demands and drama of their own lives; they had no time for someone else.

Finally, she saw a bench by a tree and sat down. Her knees were like jelly, her hands trembled. This couldn’t be happening, not now, not with him. But it was. His eyes told it all. There was nothing but revulsion, no love, not a clue he’d ever cared. She sat there for hours, till darkness came. She was almost frozen through, knew she had to get up, find a way home.

A policeman was walking toward her and spoke. He wondered if she needed help. He watched her from a distance, not wanting to intrude. As evening approached, his concern for her welfare drove him to speak to her, hoping not to frighten her further. His words brought her to her senses. She thanked him for his concern, said she was fine. He didn’t believe her but knew not to press and walked on down the street.

She was numb inside, couldn’t move. Kept running it over in her mind. The little heart still held in the palm of her hand. Maybe she’d misunderstood, but she knew. She stood up not knowing where to go. She joined the throng of people heading home from work and wandered down the street. A coffee shop looked warm, so she entered and found a booth.

She sat looking out the window wondering what to do. It didn’t make any sense. He’d been totally devoted to her from day one. She was crying again, and other customers were noticing. She didn’t want to speak with anyone, so paid her bill and left before anyone could ask if she was all right.

Most just looked back at their meal and ignored her, but the waitress seemed concerned. She followed Rieliegh outside calling after her, but Rieliegh kept right on going as fast as she could walk. It startled her that someone cared, but she just wanted to go hide somewhere.

She had no parents to call for help. She’d cut off all connection to her past. No one would care about her anyway. No one would believe her if she told them. They’d laugh and think she was on drugs or something. She kept walking, thinking, and remembering all that had happened since she’d arrived in New York. She wandered in the direction of the gallery, hoping it was dark inside.

Chapter 2

She’d been living across the hall from him for almost two months. A blissful arrangement for someone her age. No worries of housing, money, or food. He provided everything she needed, even new clothes. She was so in love with him, enjoying a life she’d never thought possible.

Her new life was private, a secret paradise, with the prince of her childhood dreams. The upscale apartment he’d rented for her was beautifully decorated by her own creative hands. He’d given her total freedom, whatever she wanted, money not an issue. It was beyond any woman’s dream to have this kind of life. She was learning to cook all the best gourmet meals, exciting him daily with her efforts. They shared friends entertaining often at his or her place. Nothing was missing, a story book romance those watching often said.

He owned his own business in downtown Manhattan, a self-made millionaire in art and design. They’d met at the art gallery where she worked. His art was the subject of an evening gala by invitation only. They bumped into each other as she fumbled for her balance, stumbling backwards into him. The chemistry was immediate, shocking really, as his eyes caught hers. He grabbed her elbow to steady her and introduced himself.

It was love at first sight on her part that night, though she’d always believed it was nonsense. He started talking and occupied her the whole evening in between speaking with guests enjoying and purchasing his paintings. He was famous all over the world. He could turn a canvas into something so rare, people would stand and stare, drawn into the picture as if part of it themselves. People flooded the gallery to meet him and get a chance to see and purchase something with his name in the corner.

As the art gallery closed that night, he asked her to dinner, and she agreed on the spot. He was gallant, helping her on with her coat, leading her to his chauffeur-driven car. To say she was walking on air doesn’t describe how she felt. They drove to one of the most famous restaurants in the city, where a waiter took them to a secluded table, no reservation required. He ordered for them both, and she savored delicacies she’d only heard about in books. They talked till the restaurant staff were closing and with apologies kindly asked them to please come again.

It was a balmy evening when they left, so they’d walked to Central Park by the arch; sat and talked well into the early morning hours. Neither wanted to part. It was the man she’d always hoped to find—polite, kind, and generous to a fault. Though obviously rich, he flaunted no arrogance, acknowledging people they passed with a smile.

He led her back to where his car waited and delivered her to the apartment where she lived with her roommate, Carla. She’d been embarrassed for him to see where she lived. He caught her reluctance when giving her address. Putting her mind at ease, he told her of living out of his car several years ago. She relaxed at his understanding and enjoyed the ride.

He helped her out of the car, took her hand, and kissed it in the palm. Her heart raced for more, but he said, It’s been my absolute pleasure, and I will call you tomorrow! He watched as she walked up the steps and entered her building to make sure she arrived safe, then got back in the car and drove away.

She stood just inside, couldn’t move if she’d tried. Was this real? Had this whole evening really happened? It was beyond anything she could have imagined, at least with her past. She wanted to savor every minute, every memory, of what had been the best night of her life. Realizing it was almost morning and she hadn’t slept yet, she let herself quietly into the apartment. She went quietly to her room laid down on the bed and fell immediately asleep.

Morning came too quickly, the sunshine beating warm against her face on the pillow. Carla knocked gently on the door and teased about her early morning arrival. She just smiled to herself, not responding, just remembering. Get up sleepyhead, you’ll miss your bus were the last words as she walked away.

She climbed out of bed, rubbed her eyes, and stared at the mirror. Today was the beginning of something so new and delightful, she just knew it. Anticipation of his call drove her almost crazy. She couldn’t wait to hear the ring of her phone. She showered, then stood looking in her closet. What should she wear to work? Should it be suitable for a date, or just take something along in case that transpired?

She chose her usual work clothes, not wanting to be disappointed as had happened so many times in the past. No way was she setting herself up for that again. No call, no date, just go home alone and feel stupid again. At the last minute, she grabbed a perfect change of clothes just in case and laid them gently in the bag she carried.

No car was necessary in New York. The best system in the country was available at every corner. The cost of a car and parking spot expense made it impossible for most New Yorkers. She opted like most to walk or ride the transit. Taxis were a luxury and hard to command on most days of the week. She got to her bus stop just in time and joined her fellow passengers for the short ride to the gallery.

Today, she didn’t need a book or paper to occupy her mind. Only one face commanded its attention, and she wasn’t sure how she’d make it through the day. Her face would probably give her away, at least prompt a question from her boss who knew her well.

She got off at her stop and walked the two blocks to the door. Putting the key in the lock, she walked inside to breathe deeply the smell of clay and paint, which she loved. The glow of daylight streaming in through the high windows and skylights three stories above made everything sparkle like jewels. To be working here as a key holder was such a gift of trust and responsibility. In the back was a studio used by them all for their own art projects in process. The front of the gallery was reserved for the seasoned and popular artists to display their work for purchase.

Occasionally, a famous artist show would come to town. Their gallery was the most prestigious in downtown Manhattan. Hosting an art exhibition involved catering, decorating, and displaying the art perfectly. The public were usually invited, but last night was by invitation only; a tribute to the fame of this wonderful man she’d met. She’d done the bare minimum of cleanup the night before, so flew into action, putting everything in order. Today would be busy as the public got their chance to enjoy his work.

She admired the artwork as they’d prepped for the event. Now she was looking at each piece of his art, hoping they could reveal more about him. She was genuinely amazed at his gift. The front doors opened as the business day started with customers wandering in to enjoy.

Each hour that passed brought more anxiety yet hope. Would he come or just call? she wondered. Around five o’clock, the door opened with a breeze that flowed in behind him carrying the scent of his cologne. She steadied herself, heart racing. He was here, not a call; he’d come face-to-face. He smiled with a knowing, then walked past her to the back. He and her boss Sylvia met for a couple hours discussing plans for the length of display, packing and shipping to the next gallery show on his tour.

It was closing time when he sought her out at the front. A customer was purchasing a beautiful sculpture he’d made of a dove in flight of pure white marble. He nodded his approval listening to her comments as she turned inviting him into the conversation. The buyer was delighted to meet him, wanting to know what prompted him to make the piece. He shared the brief story, obviously enjoying talking about his work. She listened soaking in every word.

The patron left, and she locked the front doors for the night. He stood watching her, not moving, silent. She got embarrassed under his appraisal. He quietly said, Hi! and her heart melted at his tone. She was smitten, and she knew it. It scared her to the bone. What in the world was she doing? This man was so refined, wealthy, and way out of her league. He softly spoke her name, then suggested they get burgers at a diner down the street.

She was taken by surprise that he would do something so normal and fun. She giggled, saying, Sure, then ran to get her things. As they left and relocked the door, he looked at her again. He smiled with a look of complete surprise on his face. It caught her off guard and she asked him, What?

He just smiled and said, Let’s walk, and took her hand.

His touch was electric, and it shook her up inside. She’d never had a real relationship; it hadn’t been allowed. She’d been warned to keep away from men or else. Out of fear, she’d lived avoiding male interest, not really knowing why. Even in high school, she refused all dates, leaving guys frustrated. She was truly a beauty yet mysterious, not letting anyone get close.

They found an empty booth; ordered burgers, fries, and cokes. He sat and stared at her so long she began to feel uncomfortable. He noticed immediately and apologized for staring. He started to speak. Then stopped. The waitress brought their food and left. Finally, he broke the silence, saying how much he loved a great burger. She agreed with him and hoped she could eat the tasty food with the butterflies in her stomach.

The silence between them was just starting to feel uncomfortable, when he said, I want to know everything about you, who you are, where you come from, your family, everything!

She just looked across the table and wondered what to say. He was a stranger yet had captured her heart in one night. She’d heard of love at first sight and thought it ludicrous, but now she was beginning to wonder. What was she thinking? This had never been her way of operating. Relationships had always scared her. She avoided getting too close, worked, and studied hard. She spent her time with Carla or her boss Sylvia’s family.

To be asked now, here, about herself was overwhelming. He seemed to sense it and tried to ease her discomfort. He said, Would you rather I just ask you questions? Would that be easier? She smiled and he started. Where do you come from?

She really didn’t want to disclose anything personal yet to anyone about her background, her past, and why she was in New York. Many people fled to the city to hide, and she was one of them. It had been easy that night, not so long ago.

Chapter 3

He discovered quickly she wasn’t going to give him much information beyond the present. After a moment, he changed the subject to his own life. She was mesmerized by his story. He grew up with every advantage possible yet avoided becoming a spoiled rich kid.

His parents lavished him with gifts, travel, and opportunities, yet challenged his greatest gift his whole life.

Art was for people who were lazy, lived in communes in their opinion. As he moved through high school toward graduation, they continued to pressure him to attend Harvard or Dartmouth, one of the great Ivy League universities. They desired a son to be proud of as a doctor, lawyer, or entrepreneur. They wanted him to follow the path they planned for him.

Since he was old enough to hold pencils, crayons, or a brush, he knew what he was created to be. Art was his heart, a gift that everyone but his parents took seriously. In a conversation that still turned his stomach foul, his parents, not one but both, shut him out. The night he told them his plans to pursue an art education met with pure rage. They were shocked, so sure he’d take their advice. He begged for their understanding as he explained all his dreams and showed them some of his portfolio.

Their faces were angry, not wanting to even look at what he presented. His talent at eighteen was constantly being noticed by others, and he was astonished at their blind indifference. Their ultimatum was simple. Give up art and follow their dream for him, or kiss everything goodbye. His heart turned cold at their words. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He realized they were totally blind to who he was. They only cared about position and status, what others would think if he didn’t make something of himself!

He was surprised to realize how deep the pain still was as he shared it all with her. His parents had always been so proud of him; their claim to fame through high school. When they cast him out, cut him off financially; he couldn’t have been more surprised. They’d told him when he came to his senses, he’d be welcome back in their home.

His dad and his mom—the ones who had loved him, raised him, and cared for him—never looked back. His heart was so crushed in that moment that he’d gone to his room and thrown up. He was beyond shocked. They’d argued often through high school about the path he would take, but he never expected to be cast off and forgotten.

It hadn’t been a big secret, his love for art. Why suddenly act like strangers issuing such a drastic ultimatum? He still had so many questions. He sat back in the booth and told her he’d never shared the story with anyone before. He was embarrassed, ashamed of the whole thing. It still made no sense. He knew they thought he’d give up, want their money and fame. The manipulation tactic blew up in their faces as he’d left and never looked back.

Over the past ten years, he’d become a world-renowned professional artist, but still the silence reigned. He was almost twenty-nine years old and sought as an instructor by peers who wanted to learn his techniques and secrets. Many of his parents’ social circle owned his paintings, prominently displayed in their palatial homes. He’d hoped at one point he’d hear from them, but no contact ever came. He knew they were aware, could not avoid his fame. But over time, he’d put it aside until tonight at dinner.

He continued with his story, more memories flooding back. He’d packed his things, loaded his car which they did let him keep, and drove to his grandparents’ home. Their light was still on, and they welcomed him in, always so happy to see him.

They, too, had been written off years ago by their daughter as she left to join forces with the man she married. He was from wealth and position, and they were simple countryfolk in a small rural town where everyone knew you and loved you the same. After his first visit as a kid, he begged to go every summer. His parents agreed hoping he’d get bored with them, but it only grew them closer.

He told his grandparents he was leaving the next morning for art school but never filled them in on what had happened with his parents, hoping to save them more pain. Telling Rieliegh about them, he felt a stab of guilt, as he had closed them out, too. He’d avoided thinking about his past for so many years; he was seeing what only maturity can bring.

Rieliegh listened fighting off her own feelings at his words. He kept on talking, explaining how his grandparents insisted on paying for art school from their own personal savings. They knew with complete confidence his ability when trained was going to take him far. They said it was a gift from God and shouldn’t be wasted. He was an adult and needed to follow God’s plan and design for his life.

He couldn’t recall ever thanking them properly. His mind suddenly raced to remember if he’d ever thought to repay them or do something special for them. The truth hit him hard. The realization of his self-centered pride shook him. Rieliegh saw the look on his face and asked, Are you okay? He was touched by her concern but didn’t answer, too embarrassed to let her know.

He continued with his story, so she didn’t press him further. He left immediately for Europe and studied under the best painters in the world. Over time, he developed new techniques, his natural gift and ability recognized. His teachers were delighted to see