Masks

By Eric Steven Terry

As Seth Conley continues to sleep a woman from his past must come face-to-face with her own demons.

When confronted with concepts of love and forgiveness, will she give into her cold, broken heart, or will she become even more hardened by the circumstances that sculpted her into who she is today.

When Hannah l

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kingston Publishing Company
• Release date: Sep 8, 2020
• ISBN: 9781645334712

Book preview

Copyright

Masks is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

MASKS: A NOVEL

Copyright © 2019 by Eric Steven Terry

All rights reserved.

Editing by KP Editing

Cover design by KP Designs

Published by Kingston Publishing Company

The uploading, scanning, and distribution of this book in any form or by any means—including but not limited to electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—without the permission of the copyright holder is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized editions of this work, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

Table of Contents

Copyright

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

About the Author

Extras

And let us consider one another to provoke unto love and to good works - Hebrews 10:24

Chapter 1

Antipathy

Tap… Tap… Tap… She waited by the phone and tapped her fingers on the oak desk for what seemed like an eternity. She felt as if she were waiting for a pot of water to boil. If patients were a virtue, waiting for a call from Benjamin Nesher—a man responsible for more high-profile deaths than most people could count—would test the virtue of any man, woman, or child.

Hannah’s Father was always late, regardless of how appropriate his tardiness was. At this moment, when it seemed as if the whole world was rushing faster than anyone could notice, time stood still for Hannah Danforth.

Before leaving Lexington and returning to her home in Pennsylvania, she had received an email from her father, which stated that he would call her at 5:30 on Friday morning. The email also came with instructions that she answers the call on the first ring. He had business to discuss with his daughter—the future First Lady of the United States—so urgent that if the phone rang twice, time would run out on a monumental opportunity to seize control of a phenomenal circumstance. Hannah sighed. When she first read the email, she rolled her eyes at her father’s attempt to feign drama. She knew what he wanted to talk about. It was the same thing he wanted to talk about whenever he called, and it had nothing to do with a monumental opportunity or a phenomenal circumstance.

Unlike many little girls who grew up adoring their fathers, Hannah Danforth despised the man who raised her. It was his fault that her mother left Hannah and her younger twin sisters to fend for themselves while he gallivanted across the world, striking deals with oil companies, banks, and business leaders. He was too busy building an empire to pay attention to the three children who lived in his home. Thankfully for Hannah and her sisters, there was Janice. Janice was an American who had decided to live abroad before starting college. Somehow, the young woman from lower Manhattan had found her way to a small town in Israel, where she was hired by Mr. Nesher to take care of his lovely little girls while he was away. Janice was giddy at the thought of getting paid over three-thousand dollars a month to babysit three wealthy children. But soon that role evolved into being a surrogate mother to the girls. Benjamin Nesher would be gone for months at a time, so it was up to Janice to raise Hannah, Rebekah, and Rachel.

Although Hannah never professed to believe in any deity, she thanked God every day that Janice came when she did. Janice gave Hannah and her sisters a somewhat happy childhood. As was always the case, sorrow would ensue when their father would return home. On the rare occasions that this would happen, he would almost always threaten to fire the humble Janice because the house was too dusty, or there wasn’t enough expensive wine in the refrigerator. Eventually, Janice could not handle the threats, and after playing mother for twelve years—eight years longer than she had intended to stay—decided to take the money she had earned and return home to New York.

Ahem… Ma’am, if you would excuse me, there is someone here to see you.

Hannah shifted her attention from her tapping fingers to the rotund to the old man that Anderson Danforth hired to be his butler. Hannah liked Logan. He was usually smiling and jovial, and would often make random jokes that could lift her spirits. Instead, as Logan approached her, his voice was shaky and his body trembled so badly that he struggled to remain balanced.

What’s the matter, Logan?

Nothing, Ma’am. It’s just… well, you should come out here and see for yourself.

Hannah stood and followed the old man to the foyer. When they arrived, Logan spun around in confusion.

I told him to stay right here. Why doesn’t anyone ever listen to me?

Hannah gently placed her hand on the old man’s arm, trying to calm him.

Who, Logan? Who was here?

I don’t know. He didn’t give a name.

Well, what did he look like?

He was tall, and… Logan could not finish his sentence. He fell to the floor and started convulsing. Hannah quickly knelt down next to him, trying to calm him, trying to do anything she could think of to help the poor man. Hannah was on the verge of panicking when the convulsions stopped. She breathed a sigh of relief and stood up, still observing the man that lay before her.

Logan, you just stay here. I’m going to call an ambulance.

Logan nodded as he struggled for breath. He was coughing now, but Hannah thought nothing of it. She ran back to the phone to call for help but was interrupted by a scream so terrifying it shook Hannah to her core. Hannah quickly dropped the phone and ran to Logan. If something had happened to her friend, she would never be able to forgive herself for leaving him alone—even for a moment. When she finally made it back to the old butler, his lifeless body was lying in a pool of blood.

Ring! Hannah jumped while the cream-colored rotary phone next to her head blared out its song of torment. It was a dream. Hannah shook her head as she tried to gather her bearings but the phone continued to scream at her like a heartbroken infant. Hannah hated that phone, but her father had insisted that the old-school telephone was more secure than a modern smartphone. Ring! Ring! She ran to reach it before it could issue another ring. As the phone began its fourth ring, she snatched the receiver, lifted it to her mouth, and gave a breathless hello.

The phone rang three times.

Oh, how she hated that voice. It was so monotonous and gravelly—filled with arrogance and pride. She wondered how a man who sounded so distasteful could have signed up for internet service, let alone brokered deals with hundreds of businesses across the world.

Father, you’re late.

It doesn’t matter. I told you to answer on the first ring. What were you doing?

Hannah closed her eyes, recalling the gruesome dream.

Father, it doesn’t matter. What do you want?

"It does matter. I’m your father, and you’ll show me respect. Now, answer my question. What were you doing?"

Benjamin Nesher was yelling so loudly, it got the attention of Logan, who had entered the room to bring Hannah some coffee. The man chuckled for a moment, before smiling at his employer and leaving the room. Hannah held her breath until he was out of sight and quietly said to herself It was only a dream.

Hannah, I grow tired of waiting.

Hannah sighed before speaking; If you must know—

Yes, I must know, interrupted her father. What was so important that I had to wait, even though I gave you explicit instructions to answer within the first ring?

Hannah’s temper was rising, there were few things in this world she hated more than being interrupted while speaking. The one negative thing she remembered about Janice was that she would incessantly interrupt Hannah and her siblings whenever they tried to talk with her. It often made Hannah think that all Americans were rash and impatient. Her father was usually more respectful in that he would wait until a person finished speaking to berate them but this morning, he was in a unique mood.

I was brushing my teeth, okay? Is that good enough for you?

Hannah dared not tell her father that she had dozed off while awaiting his call. He would look upon this as the ultimate form of disrespect and anybody who disrespected Nesher would pay dearly. Usually in blood.

I suppose that is good enough.

Father, what is it you need? Your instructions made it sound as if you had something urgent to speak of.

I suppose we can get right to it, then. You’ve wasted enough of my time. It would be nice, however, if just once we could chat like a normal father and daughter, but that is apparently too much to ask of you.

Hannah had no desire to chat, and there was nothing normal about her relationship with Benjamin Nesher.

Yes, Father. That would be preferable. It’s very early here, and I’m tired. I mean no disrespect, but I would very much like to go back to bed for a short time before having to deal with all these inauguration plans.

Very well. You are soon to be one of the most powerful political figures in the world. You do need your rest, I suppose.

Nesher was silent for a time before continuing.

The muscles in Hannah’s neck twitched. Her father’s arrogance and loathing were so thick, they traveled through the telephone and permeated the air of the room, making Hannah sick to her stomach.

Father, what is so urgent?

As you probably already know, your sister is getting married this weekend. I’ve already made preparations for you and Anderson to attend. A car will be there shortly to escort you to the airport.

Hannah felt as if she had been hit by a truck. She talked with them nearly every day on social media, and not once had either of them mentioned a wedding.

I’m sorry, what? Nobody told me my sister was getting married.

Nonsense. You talk to Rachel every day. She tells me so. How can you not know?

Because Rachel hasn’t told me! I wouldn’t even have known it was Rachel had you not mentioned her name.

The line was silent for a moment. Hannah could hear her father’s laborious breathing. In recent years, his health had declined—thanks to the many cigars he smoked daily. He claimed he only smoked because of his social obligations. It was a lie that many had come to believe, but even when he was away from the hustle and bustle of the life he’d created for himself, Benjamin Nesher could be found sitting next to the pool behind his mansion, drinking wine and chain-smoking the most expensive cigars he could buy.

Father, when was the last time you talked with your doctor?

He coughed a few times before responding: Yesterday morning. He says I’ll be fine if I stop smoking. I try to tell him that I don’t smoke much, but he refuses to believe me.

Hannah shut her eyes for a moment. The doctor was probably right, but she knew that the pride of her dear old dad would prevent him from believing that anything he did could be detrimental to his health.

Hannah, when the car arrives, you need to be ready to leave. The plane tickets are with the driver. Oh, and tell Anderson to bring his best tux. He’s been chosen to stand with the groom.

"Anderson and I are very busy right