A Memory Worth Dying For Read online




  A Memory Worth Dying For

  This is fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locations is entirely coincidental.

  © 2014 by Joanie Bruce

  All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. Except as permitted under the United States Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced or distributed in any form or by any means, or stored in a data base or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  ISBN: 978-1-62020-253-1

  eISBN: 978-1-62020-353-8

  Cover design and typesetting: Hannah Nichols & Joshua Frederick

  E-book conversion: Anna Riebe

  AMBASSADOR INTERNATIONAL

  Emerald House

  427 Wade Hampton Blvd.

  Greenville, SC 29609, USA

  www.ambassador-international.com

  AMBASSADOR BOOKS

  The Mount

  2 Woodstock Link

  Belfast, BT6 8DD, Northern Ireland, UK

  www.ambassadormedia.co.uk

  The colophon is a trademark of Ambassador

  I would like to dedicate this book to my loving husband, Ben, who supports me in everything I do. He’s my biggest fan. Thank you Sweetheart.

  I love you.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENT

  I would like to thank my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ for giving me the ability to share His love with everyone who likes to read.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Information

  Dedication

  Acknowledgement

  Prologue

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-one

  Twenty-two

  Twenty-three

  Twenty-four

  Twenty-five

  Twenty-six

  Twenty-seven

  Twenty-eight

  Twenty-nine

  Thirty

  Thirty-one

  Thirty-two

  Thirty-three

  Thirty-four

  Thirty-five

  Thirty-six

  Thirty-seven

  Thirty-eight

  Thirty-nine

  Forty

  Forty-one

  Forty-two

  Forty-three

  Forty-four

  Forty-five

  Forty-six

  Forty-seven

  Forty-eight

  Forty-nine

  Fifty

  Fifty-one

  Fifty-two

  Fifty-three

  Fifty-four

  Fifty-five

  Fifty-six

  Fifty-seven

  Fifty-eight

  Fifty-nine

  Sixty

  Sixty-one

  Sixty-two

  Sixty-three

  Sixty-four

  Sixty-five

  Sixty-six

  Sixty-seven

  Sixty-eight

  Sixty-nine

  Seventy

  Seventy-one

  Seventy-two

  Seventy-three

  Seventy-four

  Seventy-five

  Seventy-six

  Seventy-seven

  Epilogue

  Contact Information

  PROLOGUE

  CARSON CITY, TEXAS

  MARTI GRIPPED THE CAR SEAT in front of her with rigid hands and wondered why she let her brother-in-law drive her car.

  “Please, Vinny, slow down or let me out.”

  “Aw, come on, Martha. Don’t be such a scaredy-cat. I know what I’m doin’. I’ll have you to the hospital in no time.”

  Vinny’s wife, Angela, grinned and turned around to glance at Marti in the back seat. “His NASCAR reflexes are still there, hon. He can make a car do amazing things.”

  Marti leaned back in the seat and tried to relax. Tucking an auburn curl behind her ear with one hand, she massaged her stomach when she felt the baby kick with the other. She swirled circular patterns on her stomach and yearned to be anywhere but in this speeding car.

  Up ahead, a crooked stop sign balanced halfway between a vertical position and the pavement. Instead of slowing up, Vinny’s foot forced the gas pedal further down to the floor.

  “Watch me beat that old rattle-trap, Angie darling.”

  Marti’s stomach clenched. With tightness in her throat, she watched a beat-up red truck plowing toward the intersection. The truck was traveling too fast. They weren’t going to make it to the stop sign first. She inhaled a stale gulp of air and watched in horror as the truck barreled toward them.

  Marti closed her eyes. If she ignored the truck, maybe it would disappear.

  What a ninny! It wasn’t going to disappear.

  Lord, please make it disappear.

  Dread forced her eyes shut, but terror opened them up again. The truck was still there, and it wasn’t slowing down. The driver couldn’t see them through the willows blowing on the side of the highway.

  She held her breath as Vinny sped through the intersection, foolishly ignoring the proximity of the two vehicles. The front bumper of the truck passed within inches of the back corner of their car.

  A long horn blared behind them as the truck flashed by—the sound hollow and metallic in the humid air. The tires of the truck squealed briefly, and Marti’s imagination supplied the smell of hot rubber.

  She watched the red truck round the sharp corner behind them and disappear. A gulp of air cooled her parched throat, and a sigh of relief made its way to her lips. She turned to the front. “Vinny, please—”

  Suddenly, she felt the car slide on the muddy road and hydroplane on top of the puddles of water. Her brother-in-law let out an expletive before he wrenched the wheel to the left.

  Inside the car, Marti had the surreal feeling of being suspended in a boat on top of frothy waves. The car skated steadily sideways until Vinny lost control, and the right side of the car lifted into the air. Marti experienced a floating sensation and braced her hands on the car frame.

  Lord, please help us.

  The car tilted. Hard metal met her body as she was thrown against the side door. Broken glass scraped her arms and face.

  The car tumbled. She crossed her arms over her stomach and tried to protect her baby from the blows. Screams filled the night air, and she heard crunching . . . metal ripping apart. The car beat at her whole body. A heavy blow to her arm was the last thing she remembered before something hit her in the back of the head, and the whole world swirled into oblivion.

  A pain in her stomach woke her. Groaning filled the air around her until she realized it was coming from her own throat. The taste of her lips was bitter, but wetting them was impossible. Her mouth was parched, and there wasn’t enough moisture to keep her tongue from sticking to the roof of her mouth.

  Towering over her, a strange woman gazed down at her. Marti stared up at the blurred face.

  “Who . . . who are you?” Marti’s voice was just above a whisper.

  The woman hovered over her. “Don’t you know who I am, Martha?”

  Marti shook her head before another pain in her stomach doubled her over, and the woman moved to help her.

  “Don’t worry, h
oney. I’ll help you. You’re gonna have this baby right here, before the ambulance gets here, aren’t you?”

  “What h-happened? Where’s my husband?” Marti grabbed the woman’s hand as another contraction filled her body with agony.

  “Just relax, honey. I’ll take care of everything.”

  ONE

  LANDEVILLE, TENNESSEE

  THREE YEARS LATER

  “AND I WILL RESTORE TO YOU THE YEARS THAT THE LOCUST HATH EATEN.” JOEL 2:25A

  NO! NOT HERE!

  Marti Rushing gawked at the coffee-colored hair of the man standing fifteen feet to the left of her. He was pointing out the brush strokes in one of her paintings.

  Chills immobilized her heart and muscles for what felt like a full minute. It took that long for her feet to respond to her brain’s command—Hide!

  She slipped behind a rotund man gesturing wildly about his life as an architect and peeked around him at the man who caused her initial panic.

  Daniel Rushing—her ex-husband.

  First surprise and then shame raced through her head before being washed away by the next emotion filling her heart—fear.

  Why was he here? Had he chased her down to torment her further?

  Memories of their last argument three years ago threatened to emerge from deep within the crannies of her mind. She pushed them out of her thoughts. No! She would not think of that now. She’d ignore him. She could do this. Her jaw tightened, and she took a deep, shaky breath. This was her big day. After working for months to prepare for this exhibit, she would not let the appearance of one man ruin it by his mere presence.

  Even if it was Daniel.

  “Marti, here you are.” Her friend and gallery owner, Sandra Wellington, put her lace-covered arm through Marti’s and pulled her over to a couple sipping punch from a vintage crystal goblet.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Samson, this is Marti Rushing. Marti, the Samsons are buying your Blue Mountain landscape.”

  Sandra’s calming British accent soothed Marti’s angst, and she forced a mega-smile at the couple. Trying to keep the shiver from her voice, she spoke. “That’s wonderful. I’m so glad you like it.”

  Mr. and Mrs. Samson smiled and held out their hands to shake hers before Mr. Samson bobbed his head into her space.

  “Like it? We love it. My wife came in every day this week, hoping no one would buy this painting before today’s opening. It’s so nice to finally meet such a talented artist.”

  The smile Marti gave the couple felt genuine, but her face felt like it would break into pieces. She looked at Mr. Samson as he spoke, but out of the corner of her eye, she watched Daniel and the back of an elegantly dressed female in a satin gown standing a few feet from their circle.

  Marti’s eyes strayed to his lean form as she watched the back of his wavy hair, her breath shallow and tight.

  “Marti?” Sandra’s voice prodded, and Marti jumped.

  “Oh, uh . . . I’m sorry. Would you please excuse me?”

  She forged a straight line to the back of the gallery and barely made it around the corner before she collapsed on the chair sitting inches inside the door of the tiny kitchenette. Her breath came in gulps. She struggled for each breath. Numbness traveled through her body, and she recognized the first signs of a full blown panic attack.

  No! Not now!

  She hadn’t had an attack in months. Her eyelids felt heavy as she concentrated on the advice the counselor had given her.

  Relax! Breathe deeply.

  Stop thinking about the stimulus—Daniel.

  Repeat the coping words.

  “I’m fine. Everything is fine. I’m fine. Everything is fine.”

  “Marti, what’s wrong?” Sandra’s voice sounded like it came from a deep hole.

  Marti covered her eyes with her hands and concentrated on breathing.

  Sandra placed a hand on Marti’s auburn hair. “What’s the matter, love?”

  Marti shook her head. “Sandra . . . that man . . . he’s . . .”

  Sandra’s blond head leaned back around the corner. Surprise registered on her face, and she turned to Marti.

  “Is that Daniel?”

  Eyes squeezed shut, Marti nodded jerkily. Her face felt cold and clammy.

  “Should I ring 9-1-1?”

  Marti shook her head. “No, it’s been three years. Surely by now—”

  “What’s he doing in Tennessee? Do you know?”

  Marti shuddered. Tears burned the back of her eyes. “I’m fine. Everything is fine.”

  Sandra placed an arm around Marti’s shoulders in a supporting hug and waited until her breathing slowed and her trembling lessened.

  “Marti, you need to go in there, look him in the face, and demand to know what happened between you three years ago.”

  The shake of Marti’s head moved auburn tendrils of hair into her eyes. “No. Absolutely not.”

  “Well, this is certainly at sixes and sevens. What are you going to do?” Sandra blew out a pained breath. “You can’t hide back here all evening. It’s your show, for goodness sake. Do you want me to tell him to leave?”

  Marti’s eyes popped open. Normally Sandra’s British expressions brought a smile to her face, but not this time. Leaning her head against the wall behind her chair, she looked up. What should she do? She had to go back in there. If he came here to taunt her, he would have sought her out by now.

  She stared at the kitchenette’s wispy blue ceiling she and Sandra had painted and decided to hold fast to the life she had created for herself during the last three years.

  “No. I’ll go back out there. I don’t care if he’s here or not. I’ll ignore him. I can do this.”

  She summoned a look she hoped was filled with determination and spunk. “I will not let him ruin my life—not again.”

  “That-a-girl. Remember, fear exists only in your mind.”

  Marti stood on shaky limbs. “I’m fine. Everything is fine.”

  She took another deep breath and slowly rounded the corner. Daniel and his companion were nowhere in sight. She blew out a relieved puff of air, gave Sandra a faltering smile, and turned to meet her customers.

  After fifteen minutes of dealing with several interested shoppers, she completed the sale of two paintings and three signed prints. She also had a portrait commission pending after the first of the following month.

  When Marti finished handling the sale of her last painting, she turned around and suddenly found Daniel towering over her. His nearness spiraled her back into the past and stirred up pleasant memories of sawdust and basswood. Her eyes rose to meet his like magnets. She felt her soul being pulled into the brown depths, and she could only stare.

  Daniel held out his hand, took her trembling hand into his, and shook it.

  “Hi. Are you the one I need to see about buying a painting?”

  When his hands touched hers, shock exploded across his face, and questions filled his eyes. He pulled his hand back immediately. After masking his own surprised reaction to her touch, he crooked his head slightly.

  When the meaning of his question dawned on Marti, her eyes widened in incredulity.

  “What?”

  “Uh . . . I’m interested in buying the landscape at the end of that wall, if you can give me a price.” He pointed to one of her larger paintings. It was a landscape of mountains she painted from memory—of the mountains outside their former bedroom window.

  “You’ve got to be kidding.” Marti’s breath was coming fast. “Daniel, why are you doing this?”

  “I beg your pardon? You know my name?”

  The world was crumbling around her. Daniel acted as if he didn’t know who she was. She couldn’t pull her gaze away from his, and she could read confusion in the brown spheres.

  He doesn’t know me. He really doesn’t know me.

  The thought chilled her. How could you not remember someone after living together four years as husband and wife? She clutched her stomach and tried to breathe.

  San
dra hurried up to them and turned toward Daniel. “I’ll help you, sir.”

  Marti backed off—never taking her eyes from Daniel’s face. The tan skin and rugged features sent a wave of longing through her that made the breath catch in her throat. Her feelings for him were still strong—the truth screamed at her. In spite of what he had done, she still loved him. She could feel it all the way to her toes.

  The realization hit her between the eyes, and her eyes filled with tears.

  After three years of separation, anyone would think the tingle his presence evoked would diminish, but the gravitational pull between them was as strong as ever.

  She turned to force herself away from the claustrophobic space and came face-to-face with Daniel’s companion—the redheaded woman dressed in a green satin Armani.

  “Veronica!”

  Veronica Duke raised her head in total shock, obviously surprised to see her. Veronica veiled her eyes and raised her brows in a victory salute as she linked her arm in Daniel’s and gave him an affectionate squeeze.

  Marti shook her head and turned in desperation toward the back room. Her head throbbed as she took the steps two at a time to her apartment above the gallery. She plunged onto the comforter stretched across the bed and buried her tears in the pillow.

  All the pain, the deep sorrow, the loneliness that plagued her for the last three years came gushing from her heart to her eyes. She thought she was over the devastation, but one glimpse of the man she loved brought it all back in full force.

  Her heart yearned to stomp back into the gallery and confront him—to hear the truth of what happened that night three years ago in Texas. But the superior look on Veronica’s face stopped her. Veronica’s possessive claim of Daniel’s attention spoke more than words could say. She obviously had stepped in and claimed Daniel as her own when Marti left.

  Marti sat up slowly and reached for the tiny gold chain she wore around her neck. At the end of the long length was a miniature horse’s head—carved from wood with intricate detail. A shiny emerald in the horse’s mane glittered in the light. It was one of a matching set. Daniel had carved them for her as a gift for their third anniversary. The rest of the set had been left behind when she was forced to leave Daniel’s home. She rubbed the tiny horse’s smooth surface as tears once again burned through her thoughts.

  TWO

  MARTI RALLIED WHEN SHE HEARD Sandra climbing the stairway at the end of the apartment.