Losing It Read online

  Losing It

  Audra North

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

  Copyright © 2014 by Audra North. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Author.

  Edited by Debra Stang

  Cover design by Croco Designs www.crocodesigns.com

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  First Edition July 2014

  For A.B.

  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

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Thank you!

  Summer Lovin’ Series

  Excerpt from Fitting In by Audra North

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter 1

  Emery

  “Sweetheart? Are you still there?”

  I stood in the middle of my dorm room, one hand clutching my cellphone to my ear and the other pressed over my heart. Damn. It felt like it was about to stop, even while Mom’s words kept ricocheting in my mind. Lost the house…have to be out by end of summer…leaving the island…

  “Emery?”

  I shook myself. “Yeah, I-I’m here. Sorry, I was just—are you sure there’s no way out? No way to extend the loan term?”

  Mom gave a wry laugh. “I wish.”

  How could he have done this? How could Dad have risked the house like this?

  Not that I didn’t know the answer already.

  Because he’s got problems.

  Problems that he’d tried every medication for but still couldn’t manage. Problems that made him do things like re-mortgage the house that had been in his family for five generations so that he could-could—

  “What did he do with all that money?” I tried to keep the anger from my voice, since there was no doubt that it would make Mom feel guilty, but it was hard. I was just so sick of these kinds of phone calls…though none of them had ever been this bad.

  “He says he invested in a mining venture in the Yukon.”

  I didn’t bother to ask how that had gone. Mom and Dad wouldn’t be getting kicked out of our home if the venture had gone well.

  “There has to be something we can do.”

  “There isn’t, sweetheart.” A heavy sigh came through the phone. “I’ve looked over all the paperwork and talked to other banks, but we can’t afford any of the interest rates they’re offering. Ted gave us a private loan, and it was a really great deal.”

  Oh, I hated it when she did that—talked about a problem Dad created like she had known all along what was going on. Like she’d owned the responsibility all along.

  Ted gave you a really great deal, huh? I wanted to ask. How? By dying? Because that’s when Mom had found out—last week, when Ted died. Dad had kept it from her for ten years.

  “Mom, you can’t just—”

  “Emery.” My mom’s voice was short. Businesslike. I preemptively frowned into the phone, knowing what was coming. What’s done is done.

  “What’s done is done.”

  Right on target. She always said that. Always defended Dad, or anyone else who broke her trust. She was too forgiving. Hell, that she forgave people at all for the things they did was too forgiving.

  Trust could never, ever be broken. Once it was, a relationship was over. I mean, fuck, that was the meaning of trust, wasn’t it?

  “No, it’s not done. It can’t be.”

  “Look, this isn’t easy for any of us. I know you want to do something. But there’s no way to fix this. We just have to find a way to move on. It’s not that I don’t wish I would have done more to control your father’s behavior, or that Ted had never died, or that we could actually do anything about that weird clause in the loan contract—”

  I started. “Wait. Wait. Weird clause? What weird clause? All you said was that the loan term expired when Ted died and that there’s not enough money to pay the balance.”

  There was a long, guilty pause, as though I had just caught my own mother with her hand in the cookie jar, and now Mom was looking for a distraction.

  “You’re going to make a great solicitor someday, you know.”

  Yep. There it was. Lame attempt at changing the subject, Mom.

  I absolutely did not feel like talking about my future career when the home where practically every halfway decent memory of my past was about to be taken away. No. Not just my past. The history of Dad’s family since they’d first immigrated to Canada from England was built into that sprawling farmhouse on Prince Edward Island.

  I wondered whether any of his ancestors had dealt with bipolar disorder, too. Whether any of my great-great aunts or cousins had watched helplessly while their dependents suffered through difficult episodes that even modern medicine couldn’t seem to fully control. Whether they allowed their trust to be broken, time and time again like fools.

  “Mom, you’re avoiding the question.”

  Mom made a frustrated sound of protest. “I told myself I wouldn’t say anything, and then I let the cat out of the bag.”

  “Well, the cat is out and running amok, so you may as well tell me.”

  Another pause, and then—“Fine. Did you know that Ted had a son?”

  That old guy actually had a kid? Ted was from one of the families on PEI who had been there for many generations, like mine. Ted had owned the hardware store, the bank, the drugstore—probably more businesses than I knew about. Though he’d always been a kind, fatherly figure, he’d never married nor had kids of his own…or so we’d all thought.

  Today, though, I was finding out that I’d been in the dark about a lot of things.

  I frowned, my dark brows knitting together. “What does this have to do with the clause you were talking about?”

  “Well, it says that, upon Ted’s death, his son—Theodore Chambers, Jr—has three months to sign a loan extension for another ten years. If he doesn’t sign in that time, then our house and all the rest of Ted’s assets get sold off and put into a trust, instead.”

  A trust? That was weird. Was the kid a minor or something? I shook my head. No matter. It was a starting point, at least.

  “So we have three months! There is a way around this, Mom. There is a way to save the house. Just go see this guy and get him to sign the extension, or if he lives too far away then just call him up and—”

  “No one knows where he is.” Mom’s voice sounded suddenly sad. Resigned. “From what I could get from your father, shortly after the son was born, Ted got a letter from the baby’s mother. It said she’d had a kid and named him after Ted. I guess...whatever happened between them to make Ted leave in the first place was pretty bad, because he didn’t go after them right away. By the time he realized he wanted to meet his son, it was a year later, and he couldn’t find them anywhere.”

  You have got to be kidding me. I barely refrained from rolling my eyes. Ted was dead and couldn’t go back and change things, even if he weren’t. But that didn’t stop me from thinking that he was an idiot.

  Mom continued. “I saw Ted’s sister at the funeral. She pulled me aside and told me that Ted got another letter from the boy’s mother out of the blue about eighteen months ago. Ted didn’t say mu
ch about it—no one even knows the mother’s name—only that it was posted from Deerfield. But he must have thrown it out, because his sister can’t find it in his things.”

  “So all we know is that the son’s name is Theodore Chambers and that he might be living in Deerfield?”

  That wasn’t much information to go on, but it was a start.

  “Well, the son is about your age. Your dad said that Ted got the first letter the year before you were born.”

  “So he’s twenty two or so. Not a minor or anything. He could sign the loan extension without a problem.”

  “Emery, no. Enough. I can see where this is going, and just…no. Don’t get your hopes up about this. The solicitors handling Ted’s estate haven’t even started the process of trying to find this ‘kid.’ Who knows if he was even still living with his mother when she sent that letter to Ted? Who knows if even she was living there, or if she was just passing through and decided to just mail the letter from there?”

  “But—”

  “With the way the courts move, and privacy laws, locating him will likely take longer than we have. Even if his mother is still living in Deerfield, he could be in the U.S. or-or Germany, or Mexico, or…well, you get the picture. This is an impossible task that will take more energy than it’s worth. And I wouldn’t have called you if I thought there was any way to fix it without you knowing.”

  Well, that stung. I recoiled a bit. “You wouldn’t have told me? Ever?”

  “Oh, Em.” My mother was most likely massaging her forehead with her fingertips right this minute, like she did every time she had to deal with anything that caused her stress. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you by saying that. But I know how you feel about your father. I knew this would make your relationship even more difficult to repair—”

  “There’s nothing to repair.” I practically spat into the phone. “I have no relationship with Dad, and you know it. Even before he pulled his Vegas stunt things were bad between us, and now this thing with the house? It’s not me you should be worried about. Why can’t you see that he is destroying your life? I don’t understand why you don’t leave him.”

  There was a pause before my mother spoke again. This time, her voice was stern. “I love him, Emery. Maybe life isn’t perfect between us, but I love him and so I forgive him. I’m not the kind of person to cut my losses and run on a twenty-five-year relationship. I know you don’t have a good relationship with your father. But you move from guy to guy, you don’t have any close girlfriends…Dad’s not a special case, here. You don’t have a real relationship with anyone!”

  Jesus. Is that really what my own mother thinks of me?

  Sure, I didn’t have a ton of friends, and maybe I didn’t stay in a relationship with a guy for long, but inevitably, everyone did something to break my trust—it was the one thing I could always count on. Once that trust was broken, it could never be repaired. That’s when I also moved on because, come on…I wasn’t going to turn out like my mom, constantly trying to find ways to forgive. It was stupid. Foolish. And I never wanted to be that woman.

  But before I could make that point, Mom’s voice came through the phone, filled with regret. “God Emery, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to sound cruel. I worry for you. I know the things your Dad does don’t affect just me.”

  I swallowed my comment about her being foolish. Her bringing up Dad’s behavior reminded me why she’d called, in the first place. Whatever. She could think what she wanted about my life. I would be the bigger person and not insult her when she was clearly the one who needed to reexamine her life.

  I pinched the bridge of my nose and sighed. “Forget it. We’ll just forget about it and no big deal. Now, tell me more about Ted’s son.”

  For a moment, it seemed like Mom wasn’t going to respond, but then she said, “Not everything is only black or white. Acting like something didn’t happen isn’t the way to strengthen or fix a relationship. Trying to preserve trust at the cost of life doesn’t work, because love isn’t just about trusting someone. It’s about forgiving mistakes, too. Without forgiveness…what does trust even mean? It’s just another way of saying that you expect the other person to be perfect and never make mistakes. Without forgiveness, you lose out on so many opportunities for real love.”

  Black or white? What does that have to do with forgiving mistakes? With real love? Mom and Dad were on the verge of becoming homeless and my mother was going on about forgiveness? How could Mom not see? How could she not understand that she suffered because she convinced herself that forgiveness was somehow a great thing?

  It wasn’t. It was just a way of fooling oneself into thinking it was okay to be hurt.

  “Can we just not talk about this anymore?” It was really irritating me, and there was work to be done. I stalked over to my desk, pulled up a browser window, and began typing furiously. “Someone has to try to fix this if you and Dad aren’t even going to try. I’m going.”

  Mom huffed out a breath. “Okay, I understand. You need a little time. But will you call me later? I didn’t mean to upset you, really. I’m sorry. I know this has taken you by surprise and I’m worried—”

  I clicked the mouse and started scrolling through the search results. “No, Mom. I mean, I’m going to Deerfield.”

  “What?” Well, that certainly got a reaction. Mom shrieked so loudly that I nearly dropped the phone.

  “I’m going to go look for this kid—Ted’s namesake. School ends in a couple of weeks. I still haven’t accepted the internship at Watson and James, so I’ll just tell them that I had a family emergency and won’t be able to work there this summer.”

  I wasn't sure how long it would take to find this mystery prodigal son, or even whether he’d be willing to sign the extension once I did, but that’s what I was going to do. I mean, fuck. I had to do something.

  “Wait. I—”

  “No, Mom. Someone needs to be level-headed about this. I’m going.”

  “Emery. Please. Traveling thousands of miles to Deerfield is not level-headed. You said the Watson and James internship would help your application for law school. Think about what you’re throwing away.” Mom’s voice was growing more frantic. “This isn’t some grand adventure.”

  “I know this isn’t an adventure. It’s a mission. It’s doing something instead of nothing. Something, nothing, black or white—exactly what you think I’m wrong about.” I snorted. “Besides, it’s not like I’m eloping with some stranger I brought home from a dive bar last night!”

  “I wasn’t implying that’s what you were doing.” Now Mom’s tone was chilly, subtly angry, and I forced myself to take a step back. Again. You’re doing this because Mom doesn’t deserve to suffer despite her foolish beliefs about love. You’re being the bigger person.

  “Okay okay okay. Sorry. I wasn’t trying to antagonize you. It’s just—I can’t sit back and let this happen. This is a chance to make things right. Given the time constraints and the possibility that there might actually be a solution, I can’t let this chance to keep the house go by.”

  After a long moment, my mom chuckled. “I should know better than to argue. I’ve never been able to change your mind once you got something like this in your head. I know we have our differences, but…well, even though I still think of you as my baby, I am proud of the woman you’ve become.”

  I swallowed the sudden lump in I throat. “Thanks, Mom. I love you. And I promise I won’t elope with anyone when I’m in Deerfield. Or bring a stranger home.”

  “Oddly enough, that is not comforting.”

  * * *

  Ryan

  Bang! Bang! Bang!

  I lifted my head with a start. I could feel a crick in my neck, no doubt from spending too much time with my head on the table, sleeping. The banging sounded again, this time accompanied by some dumbass shouting through the door. “Miller! Open up, man! Hey, Miller!”

  Fucking Bobby.

  I stood up, the quick movement ruffling the stacks of papers
that I’d arranged on the dining table. I stared at the key on top of one of the stacks and squeezed my eyes shut for a minute, trying to will it away. The weight of the past year seemed to settle on my shoulders in that temporary darkness, and I was so tempted to walk right out of the house and never come back.

  I opened my eyes again.

  The key was still there.

  I should have told you…things you need to know…

  My mother’s words echoed in my mind.

  I hated that fucking key.

  Bang! Bang! Bang!

  I wound my way through the piles of clothes and boxes scattered over the floor. Shit. It looked like a bomb had gone off in here. I made it out to the living room, then stalked over to the front door and yanked it open.

  My best friend stood on the other side, holding a bag from the local donut shop in one hand and a half-eaten chocolate glazed in the other.

  “Whoa, Miller, you look like shit.” Bobby spoke around a mouthful of donut.

  I scowled. “Fuck you. Leave me alone.” But there was no heat behind my words, and when I turned away and walked into the dining room, I heard Bobby shut the front door and then his footsteps echoing over the parquet.

  “Dude. What crawled up your ass and—” He stopped short at the sight of stacks of paper, clothes, and all kinds of other feminine things spread over the battered dining table.

  Died.

  That’s what he’d been about to say, even though he hadn’t finished his sentence.

  The bag of donuts dropped to the ground. “Oh. Shit.”

  “Yeah.” Seeing Bobby’s reaction made my annoyance deflate. “Sorry, man.” I gestured to the table. “I was up really late cleaning out my mom’s room.”

  Bobby sighed, the sound echoing through the otherwise empty house. “It’s cool.” A moment of silence passed, and then he turned to me. “But you should have called me. I would have helped. Brought some beer or something.”

  I shook my head. Sure, Bobby and I might have been best friends for fifteen years, but I wasn’t about to have let even Bobby witness all the crying I’d done last night. I sucked air in through my teeth. “I’ve put it off long enough, anyway. I need to get this place listed for sale, like, yesterday. No way am I gonna be able to afford med school otherwise. Besides, she’s been gone a year.”