A World Without You: A Touch of Forever

By A. Peterson

A man in his early forties is unable to sleep as he contemplates the
decision of running for mayor of his small town. While considering his
options, his thoughts drift to his wife and their devoted relationship.
As he reflects on his good fortune, one fact becomes apparent—his
relationship with his wife originated even before it began.
In 1992, life is anything but predictable for fifteen-year-old Scott
Furman as he comes of age in his Midwestern small lower-class town of
South Hillside. An incident that happened when he was born haunts his
parents, making his mother’s emotional turmoil a mystery. While dealing
delicately with his mother, Scott’s sensation of being an incomplete
person also mystifies him. On the first day of summer vacation, Scott
meets a girl named Briana from the adjacent wealthy town of North
Hillside. Intelligent hardworking Scott and shy reserved Briana quickly
realize their true love is authentic. When they learn of their family
and friends’ stereotypical feelings of the other one’s town, Scott and
Briana wisely keep their relationship a secret.
However, when Scott’s best friend, Derek, learns about Briana, the boys’
friendship becomes a battle of wits. Self-centered and competitive,
Derek takes pleasure in charming the girls of Scott’s interest. One girl
unmoved by Derek’s charm is Scott’s sister-like friend, Felicia.
Growing up together, Scott and Felicia have a special bond, but Scott’s
overprotectiveness of Felicia causes additional complications,
especially when Felicia realizes she has always loved Scott. With the
love of two girls, Scott’s life is full of twists and surprises.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Newman Springs Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Jun 12, 2020
• ISBN: 9781645318842

Book preview

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A World Without You

A Touch of Forever

A. Peterson

Copyright © 2020 A. Peterson

All rights reserved

First Edition

NEWMAN SPRINGS PUBLISHING

320 Broad Street

Red Bank, NJ 07701

First originally published by Newman Springs Publishing 2020

ISBN 978-1-64531-883-5 (Paperback)

ISBN 978-1-64531-884-2 (Digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

First Day of Summer

Home

Felicia

Patience

Briana

June

Lost in a Kiss

Friends

Love or War

Derek

There’s a Girl

The Meeting

Backfire

Derek’s Second Revenge

A Night with Felicia

Forbidden Love

Scott Opens Up

The Challenge

School

Fall

Broken Hearts

Winter

A Friend in Need

Spring

To my little one who is my inspiration.

Prologue

In the early 1900s, during the heart of America’s industrial revolution, a wealthy Scandinavian purchased land in the Midwest. The land sided up to the railroad tracks, a prime location to build an industry. An unsuccessful iron ore settlement existed east of the tracks, an ideal living site for his work force.

In the old country, the Scandinavian’s family manufactured toys. Using his shrewd business skills, he purchased additional land parallel to the railroad tracks, three miles south of the abandoned settlement where he constructed his toy factory. His mansion-sized house was built west of the tracks, on the choicest elevated land. Relatives and friends in the old country were invited to move to the Midwest. Those who joined him built their large houses near his mansion while the blue-collar laborers built smaller economical houses in the once-failed iron ore settlement.

The affluent people west of the tracks chose to remain exclusive from the hired laborers. They built their own private schools, stores, entertainment areas, and club houses, christening the town of North Hillside. Likewise the laborers built their own public schools, stores, and entertainment areas, launching the town of South Hillside. The two towns coincided only in proximity while remaining a world apart in social class.

By the end of the century, North Hillside had grown lavishly, reaching a population of 2,500 citizens. South Hillside had increased nearly identically, reaching a population of 2,100 citizens. All the while, the two Hillsides remained exclusively to themselves, fostering an intense dislike for one another which persisted throughout the decades. Despite the large division in wealth and the strong loathing between the two towns, a true love against all odds was fashioned, nurtured, and flourished.

Down in South Hillside, at present time, a man in his early forties sipped his coffee as he relaxed on the sofa. It was well past midnight and his family had long since gone to bed. He, on the other hand, had a life-changing decision to consider. Several associates, friends, and family members mentioned he’d be a prime candidate for mayor of their small town of South Hillside. He grinned slightly, contemplating the fact how he never had any other option but to reside in this town.

He took another sip, knowing that if he chose to run, his chances of winning were great. Did he have time in his busy schedule to become an elected official? The citizens of his town and other nearby towns were already keeping his family active with the charitable operations he and his wife had established: The Foundation for Sexually Abused Children, The Foundation for Feeding the Homeless, and The Foundation for the Restoration of Low-Income Housing. If he were elected mayor, he planned to work with the elite mayor of North Hillside, making history for the first time. He was fully aware of the social tension between North and South Hillside. He had lived through that hostility.

His mind raced with the ideas he could accomplish as mayor: beautify South Hillside, bring in more businesses, and work with the elected board members of the school district to increase scientific and mathematical fields while, at the same time, purchasing state-of-the-art technology.

The forty-something man furrowed his brows. His wife was encouraging, remarking that South Hillside needed a conscientious, level-headed, and intelligent man. According to her, he was that man. With the enthusiastic input he had received from his wife, associates, and friends, there was only one person left from whom to request input. Getting that person’s advice was the key to every decision he had made since his high school years.

The man stood and strolled toward his den for the private conversation with his key advisor. Memories of his loyal ally circled his thoughts. He passed the fireplace mantle, picked up one of the two framed wedding pictures, and looked at his wife. He gazed at the photograph. They had been young when they married. Their smiling faces revealed their ardent love and hard-earned happiness. He returned the picture to its location, wondering if other men were as lucky as he was. It wasn’t his wife’s beauty that made him feel like the luckiest man on earth. It was the knowledge that she wouldn’t leave him for another man. Other men had tried to capture her love. A few even proposed. Yet she chose him.

In the second wedding photograph, his wife had a cheerful contented expression, as did he. Their relationship hadn’t been shaped singularly by the two of them but by the people within both North and South Hillside, fashioning who they are today. Their devoted relationship endured through sorrow, tension, and humorous moments—and originated before it began.

1

First Day of Summer

June 1992

Before the internet became so accessible, before Facebook made private information public, before downloading apps to smartphones, or cyberbullying became a well-known word, fifteen-year-old Scott Furman, on his first day of summer vacation, crossed Seventh Street.

Ten minutes had passed since he finished shooting hoops with his best friend, Derek. So-called best friend, Scott told himself as he angrily shoved his hands into his pockets. He could no longer ignore the truth. Reality slapped him in the face. All the evidence proved that Shelley liked Derek. Suppressing his thoughts for the moment, he reached the opposite side of the street. He had an urge to sprint. It was the one strenuous activity that relaxed his mind and put his thoughts into perspective.

He stood on the corner of Seventh Street and Maple Avenue, the perfect place for his private sprint. It was located on the west side of town, running parallel to the railroad tracks where a small grove of trees aligned the street. In fact, once on Seventh Street, his entire town of South Hillside was blocked from view.

The strong morning wind whipped his hair around, throwing it into his face. He pushed it aside impatiently and knelt as if he was in the two-hundred-yard dash. On the count of three, he leaped forward, pouring all his strength and stamina into his sprint. As a well-trained athlete, his body moved with precision and speed while his thoughts thrust forth spontaneously.

He had been a fool. He hated playing the fool. For the past five months, Shelley had occupied his mind. Derek had stolen her attention with his charisma and charm. When Shelley had been mentioned this morning, it was Derek’s confident attitude, showing he always succeeds, that had been the eye opener. No longer ignorant of the truth, which had been in plain view for years, Scott knew Derek had taken every girl of his interest since sixth grade.

Running at top speed, the sprint became a race against himself. A race to eliminate his thoughts of Shelley. A race of acceptance. A race to move forward to the next stage.

Seven blocks later, Scott sprinted past his prearranged finish line at Olive Avenue. Like a champion, he threw his arms into the air. He had beat his own thoughts. He accepted the outcome and was ready to move forward. He had won the race.

Placing his hands on his waist, Scott walked in circles for several minutes, catching his breath. Drops of sweat rolled down his forehead. He wiped the sweat and frowned. Yes, he won the race, but his life remained monotonous. This summer would be identical to last summer and the past four summers: football at ten o’clock in the morning and basketball at two o’clock in the afternoon with his friends. Well, maybe not friends but guys he hung out with and tolerated.

Irritation coursed through him. Losing girls to Derek left his brain calculating ways on how he could get a girlfriend, even with his friend around. He scowled. There was no way—unless he met a girl and never introduced her to Derek until she’d gotten to know him first. Scott rubbed his chin and grinned at his idealistic dream. He rarely left his town, and his chances of controlling his own destiny when it came to a girl seemed nearly impossible.

Scott turned and studied each direction, determined to add some variation into his mundane life. Cornfields were directly north and south, and east led back home. He pivoted, facing west, looking over the 120 yards of open field. Two years ago, Derek had mentioned there was a park above the five-foot sloped embankment beyond the meadow. Determined for a change, Scott climbed over the eight-foot chain-link fence, crossed the two-foot mounded railroad tracks, and strolled through the lower field of tall uncultivated grass toward the private park in the wealthy town of North Hillside.

As the strong morning wind pushed him onward, Scott reached the steep embankment just before the park, the final barrier, an apparent wall, separating the two towns, keeping the lower-middle class in their distinct station. He shook off the uncomfortable feeling the barrier permeated in his mind and thought how odd it was he had lived in South Hillside all his life and had never ventured into North Hillside. Feeling as if he was breaking some unwritten rule, he straddled the last obstacle, ascended to the top, and entered the park.

Scott turned to examine his town, which was hidden by the wall of trees, and knew instantly why he experienced a nonexistence sensation. The affluent people of North Hillside had done a magnificent job of blocking South Hillside from existence.

Ignoring that thought, he moved into the park and counted nine rosebushes aligning the embankment. The bushes were professionally pruned. After spending the past two years reading gardening books, he could recognize the proper method for clipping branches.

Scott quickly straightened his body, scanned the area, and worried someone might be watching him. Observing no one, he sighed with relief. Suddenly feeling liberated, he grinned. In his small town, he rarely had a private moment to himself to enjoy the art of lawn maintenance.

Stepping further into the park, Scott studied several well-pruned maple and oak trees. At the base of each tree, a circular flowerbed added an array of color to the greenery of the park. He moved his attention to the diagonally cut well-maintained lawn. Unlike the two parks in his town, this park had no unsightly grass growing along the sidewalks, the restrooms, or the parking lot. The surrounding leafy woods hid the massive houses of North Hillside which enhanced the park’s privacy. At the same time, the trees buffeted the strong morning wind, turning it into a gentle breeze. Enjoying his solitude, Scott sighed loudly, wondering why this beautiful park was empty. Didn’t the people of North Hillside appreciate it?

Scott strolled to the basketball court, marveling that the hoops had their nets. The concrete court had no cracks or weeds growing between the slabs. As he walked onto the basketball court, he recalled his morning game with Derek.

Deciding this was the perfect time for a game of shadow ball, Scott dribbled an imaginary ball. From the three-point range, he jumped and watched his shadowed form complete a shot. Swish, the ball glided easily through the net. Three to zero, he was already in the lead. He continued his offensive drills, layups, and three-pointers, and managed to stay three points ahead of Derek. In his imaginary game, beating his longtime superbly athletic friend was never a problem.

After playing a five-minute game, Scott pivoted 180 degrees, faced the drinking fountain, and stopped. About seventy feet in front of him, a girl clasped the arm of a white metal bench behind the swings. He regarded this girl, wondering how he had missed her presence earlier. She had studied his every move since he entered the park. He would have been embarrassed if he hadn’t been sidetracked by her beauty.

The girl’s long blond hair was highlighted by her expensive blue sundress. Wealthy and gorgeous, she looked like a delicate flower who had lost her best friend. It was beyond his comprehension how someone this stunning could be lost and lonely. Coming to a quick decision, Scott reasoned with himself that he could be her friend. A gentle breeze blew, encouraging Scott to move forward.

*****

Briana woke up that morning to discover her lovable old dachshund, Minnie, had died during the night. The need to mourn alone, Briana left the house, hoping a walk would solace her grieving heart. Her mother hadn’t stopped her and had only mentioned to remain close to home. Briana walked south, clutching Minnie’s dog collar. For as long as she could remember, Minnie had been her one true friend, comforting her every woe.

Two blocks later, Briana reached Seventh Avenue, turned left, walked one block, and entered North Hillside Park. With tears in her eyes, she made her way across the grass to the bench behind the swings. Surprisingly the metal bench was comfortable and a breeze cooled her face as she replayed happy memories of her loyal companion.

Briana smiled, remembering the moments when Minnie barked and chased squirrels in the backyard. Minnie also enjoyed completing tricks to get a small morsel of her beloved treat, and Briana’s favorite memories were the soothing moments when Minnie curled up on her lap to take a nap.

Tears welled up in Briana’s eyes. Her heart ached, thinking how Minnie would never sleep at the end of her bed again. Feeling numb and empty, Briana wiped her tears. Who would solace her every woe now?

Briana swallowed the lump in her throat as a boy appeared over the embankment of the park. She frowned, upset with the loss of her private memorial. Briana’s first instinct was to leave, but she remained seated, hoping to go unnoticed. She grabbed the arm of the bench and stared at the intruder who carefully studied the rosebushes. This boy wasn’t dressed like any boy she had seen in her neighborhood. He was from South Hillside and definitely unconcerned about his appearance. His white grass-stained T-shirt, faded-blue jeans with holes in the knees, and worn tennis shoes was probably the most deprived outfit she had ever seen. Even though the boy’s clothes were interesting, she liked his light-brown unruly hair. His bangs reached to his eyebrows and at the end of his shoulder-length hair were little curls. It was the curls she liked best.

Briana remained motionless as the boy continued to analyze every attribute of the park. If this boy examined the landscape this attentively, he must notice everything around him. Luckily the slide blocked his view of her when he scanned the entire park earlier. He hadn’t noticed her sitting on the bench.

For the next five minutes, Briana watched the boy play a game of basketball with an invisible ball. He took into account the stance of every shot through his shadow and seemed to imagine someone in the game with him. Engrossed with the boy’s game, Briana didn’t expect him to stop, turn, and meet her gaze. Her breath caught in her throat as they stared at one another. Realizing it was improper to gawk, Briana quickly glanced at the wooded area to her right.

Over at the basketball court, Scott took a deep breath. It wasn’t only the girl’s looks that made her beautiful. It was the softness in her demeanor and her insecurity. He studied her elegant profile and decided to make his move when she glanced at him again. After what felt like eternity, the girl finally looked at him. He stepped forward. When she tensed, dropped her mouth in surprise, and looked around nervously, he stopped.

Unsure what he should do, Scott said the first words that tumbled out of his mouth. I was…I was wondering if you were okay. Do you need anything? When she didn’t respond, he remembered the stories he had heard about the people from North Hillside disapproving of the people from his town. He asked, Do you mind if I walk over to you?

The girl brought her hands together, rubbed them, and creased her forehead while she contemplated his question.

After much deliberation, the girl finally said softly, I…I don’t mind.

Scott smiled and crossed the recently mowed grass. The closer he got to the wealthy girl, the more self-conscious he became about his appearance. He must look like a beggar, and his body odor was suddenly more noticeable. His basketball game with Derek had been competitive, and they had worked up a sweat. If Scott had known he was going to meet a gorgeous girl, he would have gone home, washed up, and changed into some halfway decent clothes.

Three feet separated them when he observed tear stains on her face. Although her face was a little pale, the morning sun added a rosy glow to her cheeks, enhancing her graceful features. Clearing his throat, Scott asked politely, Do you mind if I sit beside you?

Briana blushed, glanced at her feet, and once again contemplated his question.

She stared at the ground, wondering if she should say yes. For some reason, this boy was very interesting, but she had never been alone with a boy. She knew her parents would want her to rush home immediately. Part of her wanted to comply with their demands but another part wanted to meet this boy who seemed concerned about her welfare. Wishing she had the confidence to say I don’t mind, she tried to prompt herself. Tell him it’s okay…But Dad wouldn’t like me visiting with a strange boy… Yes, but this boy looks very nice, and his voice is gentle.

Her thoughts wandered to her parents. They were protective, although that thought hadn’t crossed her mind until this moment. Mom and Dad would not like me sitting next to an unfamiliar boy…But he’s concerned about me. Briana took a deep breath, silenced her inner battle, and let her instinct guide her. Before she could argue with herself further, she managed to whisper, I don’t mind.

The boy smiled and sat closer than Briana expected. Her stomach tightened with excitement. Self-conscious about his nearness, she was unable to look at him, even when he said, I noticed you were crying. Are you okay?

Briana took a quick breath. How could she explain Minnie’s death and the special relationship she had with her dog? While she labored for the words to explain, the boy moved his attention to her hands, noticing Minnie’s collar.

He leaned back against the bench. If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s okay.

While they both sat silently for the next several minutes, Scott remained relaxed, watching the girl massage the dog’s collar to hide her anxiousness. It seemed to take that entire time for her to build up the courage to finally reply. My dog died.

He considered her grief and hoped to comfort her. I’m sure you did your best. You took care of him, fed him, and loved him. You must have made him very happy all his life. He gave her a solemn look. You did your best.

Scott watched as the girl looked at him with such warmth of emotion his heart stopped. Like a dream, she touched his arm softly and said, Thanks. The tenderness of her touch sent a surge of electricity into his body; and he knew in that instant, this beautiful innocent and cautious girl was the girl for him. There would be no other.

This revelation stunned him. He’d always prided himself with the knowledge that these sudden emotions were fantasy, made up in one’s imagination. He remembered last summer when Derek had spent the night. They had watched a late-night movie where the main couple met and instantly knew they were meant to be together. Scott turned off the television, refusing to watch the rest of the movie. He told his friend, "Yeah, like that would really happen."

Derek laughed. Dude, you never know, it might happen to you.

Scott had responded confidently, No, Derek, I live in the real world.

Now here he sat, beside a girl, knowing—without a doubt—she was meant for him. This can’t be happening to me, he thought and glanced at the girl who left her hand on his arm. Her body heat penetrated his skin, making him feel breathless in a way no girl ever had. The girl’s tenderness filled him, soothing a deep lifelong loneliness.

He reached over and placed his hand on top of hers. Will you be okay?

As the girl nodded, Scott looked into her blue eyes. Her shiny eyes dropped hesitantly, revealing her lack of knowledge about life. He doubted she knew about the interactions between men and women. She probably lives a sheltered life, he thought and placed her age no more than thirteen. Her small breasts suggested that age.

While Scott worked through the uneasiness of being attracted to a girl who was two years younger than him, he watched two robins land on a branch of the maple tree near the swings. He hadn’t realized the sounds of nature and a girl’s steady breathing beside him could be this peaceful.

Scott and Briana sat quietly, listening to the chirping of the robins, feeling relaxed, as if they had known each other for years.

Briana sighed. The boy’s response about Minnie had surprised her, sending an affectionate sensation through her. She hadn’t expected such a heartfelt comment, and before she could stop herself, she was touching his arm.

While his hand remained on hers, Briana wondered if this was the boy in her dream from two nights ago. In her dream, she had been weeping. She picked a white lily when a boy suddenly strolled through a mist, wiped her tears, and said, Come with me. She clasped his hand and left with him. The amazing part of the dream was, she dreamt it twice in the same night. Once again, she had been weeping, feeling utterly alone. As she picked the white lily, the same boy, who was now older, looking like a man, strolled through a mist. He had done and said the same thing, and she clasped his hand and left with him.

Scott straightened his legs and looked at her. He gave her a curious expression. Do you go to the private school in North Hillside?

Briana nodded. Yes, I’ll be a sophomore, but I don’t know anyone.

A sigh of relief nearly escaped Scott. She was his age. He asked, You just moved here?

No, I’ve been…homeschooled.

Briana shifted, surprised at her sudden openness. Her parents wouldn’t approve of her eagerness. They had rules—would they approve of her sitting beside this boy from South Hillside? Worried her mother might come looking for her, Briana moved forward on the bench. I need to leave.

Caught off guard, Scott moved forward on the bench also. He lacked experience with girls and wondered how to make his next move. Finally he decided to use the indirect approach. Do you come to this park often?

No.

Taking a deep breath, he asked, Would you like to come to this park again?

Yes.

When will you come to this park again?

Ten o’clock, Thursday morning.

Scott grinned. He hadn’t expected a specific and precise time. Would you like me to come at the same time?

Yes.

Scott stood, extended his hand, and clasped hers. They walked to the entrance of the park, holding hands where he stalled. Fate brought them together. Now he didn’t want her to leave.

As they both hesitated, Briana glanced at his muscular arm and moved her gaze to their joined hands. His body heat flowed easily into her hand and traveled up her arm. She didn’t know holding a boy’s hand could feel this stimulating. She moved her gaze upward slowly, looked into his brown eyes, and smiled shyly. His full lips smiled in return, drawing her toward them. She stepped back. Ten o’clock, Thursday morning.

Do you want me to walk you home?

No, I’ll be fine.

Scott watched the girl stroll to the corner of the block where she paused, smiled, and turned north. When she was out of sight, Scott realized he hadn’t even asked for her name, but at least, he learned a few things about this reserved girl: she was homeschooled which explained the reason for her sheltered life, and she also thought carefully before answering questions. As Scott turned to leave, he couldn’t help but compare this girl to Felicia, his next-door neighbor who spoke continuously without thinking.

2

Home

Ten minutes later, Scott walked through his familiar neighborhood of older homes. The everyday sight of a few well-maintained houses went unnoticed as did the houses with peeling paint, broken shingles, and shabby lawn care. His concentration was on the girl and his late arrival for the football game with his friends.

Derek despised when the guys were late. Even though his best friend was a jerk, Scott tried his best to avoid conflicts with Derek as he did with most people, except his mom. With her, conflicts were constant, 24-7.

Scott crossed Fourth Street and entered McCarthy Park where his nine friends gathered every weekday during the summer. He studied the two teams on the line of scrimmage. Derek’s team consisted of Brett, Lance, and Jess. They were standing in a spread formation and were wearing shirts. Matt’s team consisted of Karl, Randy, Adam, and Troy. They were set up in a three-two defense and were shirtless.

Lance, their tall hefty center, snapped the ball to Derek who faked a handoff to Brett, a solid guard, sending the defense to the left. Derek dropped back, throwing a quick slant right to Jess who caught the ball and was immediately tackled by Randy.

Watching Derek toss the ball, Scott grinned. His athletic friend was a versatile quarterback with a strong throwing arm. Derek didn’t wind up. He just brought the ball up behind the ear and threw, copying his favorite legendary quarterback, Joe Namath.

While growing up, Derek’s dad was relentless about teaching his two sons the rules and techniques of the game. Even now, Derek constantly practiced his fake-and-pass moves. Six days of the week, rain or shine, Derek woke up on demand at five thirty in the morning to practice for three hours. His dad set up tires and built tall obstacles in their backyard to increase Derek’s accuracy. Derek was told to throw over the obstacles, aiming for the tire opening. His throwing accuracy and speed were incredible; and every year, he improved.

If Derek failed to throw three consecutive passes through the swinging tire, his dad would react impatiently. Once Scott witnessed Derek’s dad angrily pick up three different footballs, throwing each one easily through the tire. Then Mr. Paulson turned to Derek, jammed his finger into his son’s chest, and bellowed, I nailed my target because I’m not thinking about the romp I had with my wife last night or my eldest son who’s pining over some girl who threw him away like yesterday’s newspaper or my youngest son who thinks he’s better than his old man. The only thing on my mind is the ball, that target, and nailing those passes. Don’t miss another target. In this game, there’s always someone waiting to take your place.

After witnessing events like that one, Scott felt grateful his dad had a more casual attitude about football.

Scott cruised through the grass, scrutinizing his comrades who usually dressed in faded jeans and T-shirts, except for Matt who owned nothing but newer clothes. Years ago, Scott had learned to have patience when dealing with these guys. Some days, when he played football, Scott felt as if he was on a battlefield. His friends were quick-tempered, competitive, but each made an effort to live by one basic rule: stay away from the girl the other one liked. When abiding by that one simple rule, they usually got along fairly well. Scott scowled. Derek sure didn’t live by that rule.

As Scott approached his friends, his one true rival, Randy, noticed him first. Randy narrowed his eyes, swiped his reddish-brown hair off his forehead, and growled his usual irritating comment. Nerd, you’re here.

Derek glowered. Shut your damn mouth, Randy. Derek eyed Scott and gave an annoyed expression. You’re late.

Scott shrugged. As always, his friend took football way too seriously. As Scott joined Derek’s team, they huddled for the next play. Preoccupied by the morning’s event, Scott stared at Derek who called the next play but Scott’s thoughts were on the girl in the park, wondering about her name and remembering the feel of her touch. He missed Derek’s entire play call.