Finding Julian Read online

  FINDING

  JULIAN

  By Shane Morgan

  TSW BOOKS

  Independent Publishing

  Copyright © 2013 Shane Morgan

  All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in any format. Please do not partake in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials. Purchase authorized editions only.

  ISBN-13: 978-0615945811 (paperback)

  Cover Image by LawSayWhich. Signed model release filed with Shutterstock, Inc.

  shutterstock.com/gallery-1791677p1

  Formatted by S. Morgan

  Connect with the author:

  [email protected]

  www.shanemorganwrites.com

  facebook.com/authorshanemorgan

  goodreads.com/shanemorgan

  twitter.com/itchingforbooks

  www.itchingforbooks.com

  This is a work of fiction and is a product of the author’s imagination. Anything mentioned that relates to actual names, events, places, or institutions are used fictitiously.

  Let your heart guide you. It whispers, so listen carefully.

  Chapter One

  It took the death of Cole Vanderson for me to return to Narragansett, Rhode Island after ten years. My father and I didn’t have the best relationship. Honestly, our relationship was non-existent. Our lack of communication wasn’t my fault. It was his. And now he was gone. Heart attack.

  After everything, I didn’t get to say goodbye. So here I was, sitting on a crowded Amtrak train. The old man next to me kept falling asleep and knocking into my arm. I didn’t see any empty seats. Oh well, I’d just have to tolerate it for the time being.

  As the rail cars passed over the tracks on our way to Rhode Island—the ocean state of America—I tried to keep myself preoccupied by listening to Florence and the Machine on my iPod. But not even the vocalist’s melting tone could calm my nerves.

  The lyrics of the song began to cloud my thoughts. It emphasized being fearless, something I was far from. At the mention of following your heart lines, I glanced at my hand, still tightly gripping the small travel bag since I hopped on the train two hours ago.

  I’d hastily packed a few things this morning. No need for a lot when I was only going to Narragansett to attend my father’s funeral, and then grab the next train back to New York.

  “In and out,” my mother had said last night, when I finally decided to go. “The Vandersons, except for your aunt, are terrible. So the sooner you get away from them, the better.”

  In spite of how she reacted, hearing my father had died, I knew I had to go. It felt like the right thing to do. Like, it was time to face that side of me, the part that felt missing all this time.

  I snapped out of my deep thinking when the old man’s head slid onto my shoulder once again. Feeling uncomfortable, I shifted over more towards the window and he finally woke up, appearing embarrassed. He mumbled something before getting up and walking to the bathroom.

  Ten minutes later, I arrived in the city of Providence and made my way through the busy traffic of people entering and leaving the train station. When I got outside and sought out a taxi, a familiar face as refreshing as the sunshine greeted me.

  “Julian,” she said, taking me in with her piercing hazel eyes, as if amazed at how much I’d grown. Aunt Bev was looking casual in a blue and white tie-dye dress with her hair up in a ponytail. She wasn’t wearing any make-up or jewelry. She looked so bare, so normal.

  “Hi,” I whispered, fixing the bag strap over my shoulder. “What are you doing here?”

  She stepped closer. “I came to pick you up, obviously.”

  “Oh.” I wasn’t sure of my aunt’s feelings towards me, since I’d refused to visit Narragansett every time she called. That was my reason for deciding to take a taxi to Kennedy plaza, then get on a city bus to Narragansett and check myself into a motel.

  When I spoke to Aunt Bev last week, her voice was very solemn over the phone as she told me the news; wedged between being saddened by her brother’s death and the fact that I didn’t get to see him. I knew in my heart if I didn’t attend my father’s funeral it’d be another thing to regret.

  “You didn’t have to do—”

  “Nonsense,” she walked up to me and hooked her arm around mine, leading me to where she parked her car.

  “Thank you,” my voice sounded almost inaudible.

  Aunt Bev smiled at me. “You look so much like him.”

  I wasn’t surprised to hear that. People always told me I looked nothing like my mother.

  Getting to her SUV, I opened the front door and hopped in. Aunt Bev came in shortly and drove out of the city.

  Once we got on the highway, I searched my head for something to say to her.

  “How are you doing?” I asked in a shy tone.

  She let out a sigh before answering, “Not too bad. We’ll make it.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I took in her features. For thirty-eight, Aunt Bev was still beautiful. I didn’t think after a decade of not seeing her that she’d show no sign of aging. Crow’s feet. Age spots. Nope. My aunt was gorgeous as ever. Her shoulder-length chestnut hair had a shine to it my own locks never did. A natural blush marked those model-high cheekbones. Her wrinkle free face appeared perfect.

  Aunt Bev decided to drive through the village of Wickford and avoided the bypass after getting to North Kingstown. Without the signs, I wouldn’t have guessed where we were.

  “Does any of this look familiar to you?” she asked. There was a speck of hope in her tone.

  I turned away from the window and stared at her. “No. I don’t remember much.”

  Going back to see the area filled with houses, looking as if they transported straight out of the seventeen hundreds, I glimpsed the still, dark water of Wickford harbor as we drove across the bridge and anxiety started to chew at my insides.

  By the time we reached Boston Neck Road, I kept an eye out for the motel I’d booked online.

  Aunt Bev didn’t say much else. I was happy for that. If she saw how scared being in Narragansett made me, she would realize my tough armor was a front.

  Thinking the rest of the drive was going to be in soundless comfort, I relaxed even more in the seat. But then Aunt Bev murmured unexpectedly, “It’s so much nicer here in summer. The warm weather doesn’t last long enough, takes the splendor of this place with it when it goes.”

  She got that right; this place was indeed breathtaking, with the bright green trees and colorful shrubs along the ride. My nana used to say how much she adored Washington Country for its natural beauty.

  There were many things scenic in New York; still, it wasn’t as laid back as this place. I adjusted to it though, and I didn’t mind the nightlife. There was no way I’d give up New York for Narragansett. No way.

  I stayed silent, trying to calm my restlessness. I presumed Aunt Bev hadn’t meant her last remark for me after all. But then she said, “You have to at least stay until after the reading of the will, Julian.”

  Taken aback, I spun away from the window and asked, “Why? I’m just here to attend my father’s funeral. I’m leaving on the next train,” I explained. “I have to get back to Manhattan. There’s work—”

  “Don’t lie to me!” Aunt Bev interrupted. “I know you’re not working,” she glanced over at me for a beat, her hazel eyes flashing me a knowing look. “Your mother told me you’ve been out of work since May.”

  “You’ve been talking to my mother?” I wouldn’t have thought they’d be talking more often than usual. Not that it was a surprise. My mom didn’t hold any animosity towards Aunt Bev. She resented the rest of the Vandersons. In fact, her exact words were, “I don’t need your money, any of it. I hope you all rot in hell!” Although spoken
ten years ago, I remembered those words like it was said only yesterday.

  “Your father insisted I make sure you’re all right, even if you refuse to come to Narragansett,” Aunt Bev pulled me out of my thoughts, “and after a while, Sarah did soften up to me when she realized I wasn’t the enemy. So yes, we’ve spoken more times than you think. I wasn’t only calling you, Julian.”

  I turned my eyes back on the road, in time to see Aunt Bev drive past the motel where I’d intended to stay. Damn it, I forgot to tell her.

  “Oh, Aunt Bev, let me out please. We just missed the place I was going to stay—”

  “Are you joking?” she snapped. I swore she pressed her foot on the gas to get further away from the place. “Do you seriously think I’ll let family stay in a random motel?”

  I grew even more uncomfortable. How could I stay in the same house where my father’s widow, not to mention her daughter, lived? That would never go well.

  Turning my body a bit in the seat, I reminded her why that idea was a no-no, “Marlene won’t allow it. Think how strange it’ll be for me to stay there.”

  Aunt Bev shook her head. “You’ll be staying with me in the guesthouse. I promise you, there won’t be any problems.” Her voice dipped, cracking, “Trust me, Julian.”

  Her words held a sense of security. They made me think I could believe in her. I settled back against the seat, resigned to the change in plans. To the Vanderson estate it was then.

  Chapter Two

  After another few minutes of driving, Aunt Bev turned off the road and entered Anawan Cliffs Waterfront Community. I started to rub my hands together. They were sweating out of nervousness as she rounded the corner onto North Cliff Drive and the lavish Vanderson estate came into view.

  Hopefully, I wouldn’t have to lay eyes on the people who despised my very existence until the funeral tomorrow. Afterwards, I’d make my escape back to New York.

  She came to a stop at the tall, black iron gates and punched in the security code to allow us entry. I looked past her and out her window as Aunt Bev drove past a Venetian desert rose, stone water fountain. It was surrounded by hybrid tea roses and lovely green shrubs.

  There were taller shrubs aligning the walls that enclosed the property. I gaped at the effortless landscape as she continued down the long, paved entrance, before coming to a stop in front of the four car garage.

  Staring down at myself, I regarded my jeans and t-shirt. Oddly, I felt out of place. Then it hit me, I was really at Vanderson estate, in a land of luxury.

  Aunt Bev got out, but I sat in the car, paralyzed, staring wide-eyed at the huge brick mansion. The memory of my first and last visit popped into my head, paralyzing me.

  It was raining heavy on that day. My mom and I were in our little apartment in Warwick, packing like crazy. She’d decided it was time to move to New York. Mom always expressed her love for the Big Apple, but on that particular day, she’d made up her mind about going. The pain of leaving my friends, my school, and the place I’d accepted as my home behind had never left me.

  At the sound of a knock on the car window, my mind sprang back to reality.

  “Are you coming, Julian?” asked Aunt Bev, a worried frown creased her forehead.

  “Yes.” I shuddered, tossing old memories aside before opening the door. I stepped out, willing my legs to keep me upright as I draped my bag strap over my shoulder.

  My flats made light patters on the pavement as we walked past the main entrance. Then I slowed my steps and stared at the massive wood door, remembering it being slammed in both mine and my mother’s faces. The more strides I took, the more intense the air got around me. I felt like fainting.

  Aunt Bev gripped my elbow, urging me on, “This way, dear.”

  I followed her around the side of the mansion and down marble steps. We continued across rustic, stoned pathway in the middle of a perfectly manicured lawn. I felt tempted to kick my slippers off and walk barefoot in the grass. Straight ahead was the guesthouse where Aunt Bev lived, a mere replica of the main house, but a smaller version of it.

  Trailing behind her, I glimpsed the ocean to my left. Its rushing waves called out to me. Swimming was one of my favorite things to do in high school, but I hadn’t done it in such a long time.

  Aunt Bev unlocked the door. Glancing back at me, she smiled before she turned and entered, then gestured me inside.

  My mouth opened slightly in awe. The living room was stunning with its hardwood floors, high ceiling and carved wood furniture. A marble fireplace sat against one wall and a lovely white sofa and matching loveseat gave the room warmth. There was an exquisite spiral staircase with metal railings that led to the second floor.

  Aunt Bev noticed how distracted I’d become, the longer I admired the place. She gently took my hand and led me through the arched doorway, passing the seaside themed kitchen. The décor was cool!

  Stopping at the second door on the left of the passage, Aunt Bev pushed it open and moved aside so that I could enter. The guestroom was bigger than my entire shabby apartment—of which I was being evicted from—and more luxurious than what I’d get at any motel. The queen-sized bed nestled against the light-blue painted wall. There was matching white furniture in here as well, and my own private bathroom.

  Walking further inside, I placed my bag down on the bed. Then I twisted slowly, soaking in all of the room’s elegance. Aunt Bev stood in the doorway, beaming.

  I remembered the reason for this entire trip and pulled myself together. Only a sudden gush of wind took me by surprise. The sheer curtains swayed as I noticed sliding glass doors that opened to a balcony. I walked outside and gasped at the view.

  “Isn’t it nice?” asked Aunt Bev, coming out as well. She stood next to me. “You can see Beavertail lighthouse in the distance, over on the island of Jamestown.” She got quiet again, and for split second I gazed at the ocean and its surrounding area, saturating myself in the richness of this place.

  “Your father hoped you’d like it too,” she added. My stomach tensed. Surprisingly, I began to wish I had been here before my father died, to at least say goodbye. I had to stop myself, this wasn’t my fault. He’d made the decision to stay out of my life. He could have reached out to me himself, instead of leaving it all to his sister.

  Feeling weighed down by my thoughts, I retreated back inside. “It’s only the funeral,” I reminded her as I walked over to the bed, “Then I’m outta here.”

  Aunt Bev sighed as she closed the sliding doors, muttering, “If you say so, Julian.” She went over to the room door, stopping to say over her shoulder, “Get some rest. Come out for dinner later.”

  “No, that’s okay. I have snacks.” I took out my bag of Doritos to show her.

  She shook her head while opening the door. “Don’t be silly. That’s not real food. Besides, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.” Aunt Bev was out the door before I had the chance to argue.

  Moments later, I walked into the bathroom to take a shower, resting my travel bag on the edge of the sink. I took out my body wash and the red towel I brought with me. The guest bath had plenty, but I still preferred to use my own things, especially if I wasn’t going to be here long.

  After showering, I stood before the mirror and combed out my long, sandy blonde hair that I’d inherited from my father, as well as his pale blue eyes, both similar to Mackenzie’s. Aunt Bev sent me photos of her without Mom knowing. I wondered if my sister ever wanted a photo, much less thought about me.

  Born only a year after Mackenzie, I understood her anger. If I’d been in her shoes, I’d hate me too. After all, her father was married to her mother when he went out and got another woman pregnant. I could only imagine Mackenzie’s reaction to me being at the funeral tomorrow. Surely Aunt Bev had mentioned my arrival to Narragansett. Still, their reaction would definitely reignite all of my childhood hurt—the kid without a daddy on father’s day. And boy did I wish for one, growing up.

  I slipped into my Capri pants and h
auled on a tank top, lying on the firm, comfy bed afterwards. Taking my cell phone out of the bag pocket, I checked the time. It was only past three, yet I was tired from the journey.

  Closing my eyes, I started to consider what their neighbors, friends, and other family members would say when they saw me tomorrow—the gasps, the looks, and the pointing fingers I’d have to endure.

  I had to face it: the daughter of Cole Vanderson’s mistress had returned. And now I had to prepare myself for their welcome party.

  Chapter Three

  Bright light warmed my face. My eyes flickered until I could open them wide enough. I’d slept all the way to the next day. Easing up on my elbows, I noticed someone had pulled the covers over me. Aunt Bev probably came back to the room last night when I didn’t show up for dinner.

  Sluggishly, I got out of bed and stretched my hands up over my head. Then I walked over to the sliding doors and pulled away the curtains. The sun lit up the room, almost blinding me.

  I opened the glass doors, stepped out onto the balcony and bent over the railing to take in the morning. There were a few people on the beach jogging, while some relaxed on chairs with books in their hands. I was tempted to go outside. But just as fast as the thought popped into my head, I remembered why I was here. Not to get swallowed up in such a lovely environment; I was here for my father’s funeral.

  Nothing else.

  I walked inside and went into the bathroom to brush my hair up into a ponytail, making sure to clean up the loose strands when I finished. Then I washed my face and brushed my teeth. The moment I stepped back into the bedroom, my cell phone rang. I checked the screen. Mom.

  “I’m in Narragansett,” I answered. “Sorry, I fell asleep before calling you last night.” I was trying to save her the energy of getting upset.

  “Well,” Mom drew a breath, “I’m glad you got there all right. Have you seen your aunt? She told me she’d pick you up in Providence. How’s she doing?”