Discern

Copyright © 2011 Samantha Shakespeare

All rights reserved.

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

ISBN: 978-0983984511

Dedication

For my mother, Barbara,

without whose passion and dedication

this story might still be unpolished.

~~~*~~~

Acknowledgments

~~~*~~~

A huge thank you to:

my husband, John, for listening to me continuously ramble on about my story ideas into the wee hours of the morning, and giving me the opportunity to stay at home with our son and write this book;

my mother and editor, Barbara, for taking the time out of her busy schedule to sit down and edit the book with me. Her love for the story pushed me to continue writing, even when times got rough, and for helping make Discern really come alive;

my sister, Tiffany, for reading through my horrible rough draft and still believing in me;

my son, for always being my inspiration, may all the success of

this book inspire you to believe in your dreams, and know your

mommy loves you more than anything and will always support your decisions, just as my mother did;

And, finally, thank you to my grandmother, Alice Sandra Shakespeare,

you have always been an inspiration throughout my life, I will never forget your words of wisdom and the memories of our time together,

you are truly missed and will never be forgotten.

Contents

1

Broken Promises

My heart raced as I flew down the dimly lit stairwell, dragging my luggage behind. I could hear stomping. He was definitely following me. Bursting through the dull metal door, I noticed a large, dark-haired man standing behind the desk in the waiting area. I assumed he was the doorman. “Sir!” I called out, gasping for air.

He turned and immediately began walking in my direction. “Are you okay?” he asked concerned.

“I need a cab.” My voice cracked as I tucked a few loose strands of long blonde hair behind my ear.

“Right away,” he said, grabbing my luggage. He lightly placed his hand on my back, gently ushering me toward the front desk.

The sound of the same metal door echoed once more in the vacant waiting area. “Haley!” Braden, my now ex fiancé, called out.

I refused to turn around and acknowledge him. No apology would work this time. He had cheated once before and been given a warning—a warning he had obviously not heeded. This time felt worse than the last. Not only to know he had been unfaithful, but to witness the act with my own eyes. That image would be forever seared in my memory.

“Haley Alexis Helms!” Braden shouted.

“What?” I snapped, irritated by his use of my full name.

He wore only a pair of navy blue sweatpants. “It wasn’t what you thought,” he explained, bending over slightly, trying to catch his breath.

“It never is.” I rolled my eyes, turning back to the desk. His betrayal cut too deep to feel anything but anger.

Braden grabbed my arm. “She’s just a friend, Haley,” he insisted.

I pried his hand from my arm. “Leave me alone,” I hissed, refusing to listen to his lies. A naked woman lying in his bed, playfully removing the towel wrapped around his waist would hardly be considered just a friend.

“Haley, baby, I love you, and nothing was going to happen,” he pleaded.

“Is this man bothering you?” the doorman asked, glaring down at Braden.

“Yes, he is,” I scowled.

“Sir, you need to back off before I have to call the authorities,” he warned, placing his body between Braden’s and mine.

Braden slowly retreated, before falling to his knees. His head dropped into his hands. For one very brief moment, I felt the urge to run over and comfort him. But I knew I couldn’t. My pain prevented any such action. We had known each other for 15 years and had been engaged for two, but those years no longer mattered—it’s quality not quantity, as my mother used to say.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the same slender, brunette woman from Braden’s apartment. Her long, wavy hair fell down over her face as she bent over to console him. She attempted to run her fingers through his chestnut brown hair. He pushed her away. Gaining her composure, she stood up, straightened out her dress and began walking toward the exit. With one push of the door, she disappeared into the dark, mid-summer night.

“Your cab’s here,” the doorman announced. He graciously retrieved my luggage.

I glanced back over my shoulder one last time. Braden mouthed the words ‘Please don’t go,’ but it was too late. My heart was shattered.

I slid into the awaiting cab. I refused to make eye contact with the driver, as I was concerned that he would take it as a sign I was willing to talk. I kept my head down, every so often wiping the tears from my cheeks before they splashed onto my jeans. Luckily, the ride to the airport was a short one.

Technically, I wasn’t supposed to arrive until tomorrow afternoon, but I thought I would surprise Braden. He and I had planned this out all spring. As soon as I finished my two summer classes, I would spend three wonderful weeks with him here in
Virginia
; something I had never done during our relationship. I considered myself traditional in my values. Although Braden had not been so traditional in the past with others, he had vowed to abstain until we were married. Obviously his decision to wait was only with me.

I looked down at the diamond ring that was still on my finger. It had been a truly beautiful expression of Braden’s love at the time he proposed, and it held special meaning because it had been in his family for several generations. I slowly twisted and turned the ring until it was loosely dangling around the middle of my finger. It was no longer mine to keep, nor did I want it, since it would just be a reminder of what would never happen.

Braden probably would not take the ring back because that would signify the end of our relationship; something I knew he would not willingly agree to. But it wasn’t his choice anymore.

The taxi stopped, bringing my thoughts back to the present moment. “Seventeen fifty,” the cab driver demanded with his raspy voice.

I handed him a twenty-dollar bill. “Keep the change,” I mumbled.

I slid out the cab door, pulling my bags across the cracked vinyl seat and draping them over my shoulder.

Only an hour and a half ago I had landed at this very airport. The large glass doors slid open, and I begrudgingly made my way to the counter where the ticket agent was waiting. Thankfully, there wasn’t a line. A lady with short, burgundy hair smiled and asked. “Where are you headed this evening?”

“Denver International,” I sighed, as this was the closest major airport to my final destination,
Boulder
. I hoped my father hadn’t fallen asleep yet as I would need a ride from the airport. It was only an hour’s drive from
Denver
, but I couldn’t deal with another cab ride.

Boulder
,
Colorado
rests at the foothills of the
Rocky Mountains
; a quiet, mountain city with roughly one hundred thousand residents. A beautiful city with quaint little shops, year-round festivities and tourists that filled the streets with life—but to me, it no longer held any of the charm it once did.

Returning to the place of my birth, where I had spent eighteen of my twenty years was never in my plans. However, there was no other option but to return home. I anticipated that my father would meet my homecoming with enthusiasm, but that feeling would not be reciprocated. I had left the day after graduating from high school, which had saddened him, but I could no longer bear to stay. I had escaped for two years, but this return was necessary. I needed my father now more than ever.

“Can I see your identification?” The ticket agent smiled once more.

Her friendly tone was disheartening. I would rather have an irritatingly rude person. It would be comforting to leave this city knowing there was no good soul that resided here.

“I have a flight leaving in two hours, will that work?” she asked.

“No sooner ones?” I asked frowning. I wanted out of this horrid place as soon as possible.

“No, I’m sorry, Ms. Helms, that’s the last flight of the evening. The next flight isn’t until six in the morning.”

“The eleven-thirty flight will be fine,” I sighed.

“How many bags are you checking in?”

“Two and one carry on,” I responded, lifting the bags and pushing them onto the worn metal platform.

She placed the flight information sticker on each one. “Do you want me to pull these tags from LAX off for you?” she asked politely.

“Yes, please,” I said embarrassed—it was obvious I had just landed here in
Virginia
a few hours ago and was leaving so soon.

She grabbed a pair of scissors and snipped them off. I watched as the white tags fell to the floor. Soon they would be swept away, no longer having any purpose, which was exactly how my life felt at this moment.

She handed the ticket to me over the counter. “Have a great flight, Ms. Helms,” she smiled.

“Thanks,” I mumbled and turned away. Purchasing a ticket was the easy part of going back home—now I had to call my father.

My father was a successful local businessman. He owned a major car dealership and several other small companies, but his business ventures never kept him far from home. He had always been a loving father who tried to remedy any problems I had—until my emotional state grew too fragile for anything he was able to repair—which is why he was heartbroken when I left.

The first attempt at contacting him was unsuccessful. It went straight to voicemail. I refrained from leaving a message; afraid it would only cause him to worry. I found a seat at the very back of the gate, far away from the ticket desk and tried calling my father once more.

The phone continuously rang, and I almost lost hope. I knew this time I would have to leave a message, but luckily on the fourth ring, he picked up.

“Hello?” he said, almost shouting. It was very noisy in the background, like glasses clinking and several different voices talking loudly and laughing—as if my father was at a party.

“Dad,” I whispered instinctively, even though there wasn’t anyone around.

“Haley?” he asked, as the laughter and sounds began to fade.

“Yes, Dad, it’s me.”

“Everything all right?” he asked worriedly.

“No.” I sighed.

 
“What’s wrong, sweetie?” His voice deepened.

“I’m coming home.”

“What happened and when are you coming?”

“My flight lands in
Denver
at 1:00 am,” I replied successfully without crying, managing to keep emotions aside for now.

“Okay, I’ll be at the airport. I’m assuming you’re the last flight in?”

“Yes, Flight 1935. Departing from
Richmond
.” I gritted my teeth, knowing the questions would begin, and so would the tears.

“
Richmond
?” he asked puzzled.

“Yes,
Richmond
,” I exhaled.

“What in the hell happened?”

“Can we talk about it when I get home? I really don’t feel like breaking down here at the airport,” I explained, choking back the tears.

“What did he do to you?” He disregarded my previous plea and continued.

“I apparently wasn’t enough for him,” I snapped.

“Maybe, I should fly out there and have a few words with him,” he suggested angrily. His threat was serious, but his involvement wouldn’t have changed the situation.

“No. I’m coming home. I don’t know what I’m going to do next—I just need some time.” I felt the tears coming. I inhaled and exhaled deeply.

“I can get you signed up for school here. Don’t you worry about a thing; daddy will take care of it all.” I could hear the smile in his voice.

My father never approved of me going to school in
California
. He tried everything to get me to stay, but with the constant reminders of my mother, it made living there impossible.

“I don’t know how long I’ll be there,” I said stiffly.

“Haley, it’s time to come back home and finish school here at the university. It’s a great school and all your old high school friends would love to see you again. This is where you belong.” He tried hard to sell it to me.

“I’m so confused right now, Dad, I’ll have to think about it,” I sighed. I wasn’t in the right frame of mind to be making such life altering decisions. I just couldn’t go back to
California
right now. My new dorm room wouldn’t be ready for three weeks, and I didn’t want to stay in a hotel for that long.

“Well, just think about it, and I’ll see you soon, sweetie. I love you,” he said, hanging on to the possibility.

“I will, Dad,” I promised. Yes. I might consider it, but I doubted moving back home would improve my current predicament.

We ended our call, and I slunk back down into my seat. I began tracing the pattern on my denim jeans, carefully inspecting each thread, in an attempt to busy my mind. Returning to
Boulder
meant facing the demons of my past—a past I had hoped to leave behind. It held nothing but reminders of my mother’s death, and familiar faces that were aware of the pain I struggled with would soon surround me.
California
had been a welcomed relief—no one knew of my sorrow there.

“Miss?” A voice called out.

An airline attendant stood over me trying to get my attention. “Yes?” I responded, lost in my thoughts.

“Are you waiting for Flight 1935?” she asked politely.

“Yes,” I answered, suddenly alert.

She courteously smiled. “We’re boarding now.”

“Oh, okay,” I half smiled.

I headed to the gate. A short heavy-set, woman scanned my boarding pass. Almost every woman looked short to me, because of my height. I wasn’t model height at five-foot-eight, but I had towered over most of my female peers since middle school. This made any direct eye contact between the two of us difficult, which suited me just fine.

The plane was fairly empty, with just a few businessmen scattered throughout the rows. I found my seat and stowed my carry-on bag above. Picking up the seatbelt, I lowered my body into the seat. I could see nothing but total blackness out of my window. I sighed, preparing for a long, painful flight filled with memories of tonight’s horrible events.