Page 1 of Timeless Pages
Chapter one
Isa
Istood near Uncle Jason’s casket as person after person streamed by me to offer their condolences. Uncle Jason had touched many lives, no more so than mine. He was my savior, my protector, and my friend. And after months of fighting, his body ran out of steam. The cancer won, and now I was all alone.
“Isabella.” The cold, familiar voice broke through the numbness, and my heart skipped several beats before resuming its regular rhythm.
“Father,” I said evenly, my voice not betraying the terror I felt when I looked into his eyes. Like a nervous tic, I self-consciously tugged at the sleeves of my black dress to ensure they completely covered my arms. He was the last person I expected to see at Uncle Jay’s funeral, especially after the last time they had seen each other. The day Uncle Jay stormed into my Father’s house and took me away with him, promising my Father that if he attempted in any way to see me again, he would make sure that the police knew what he had done.
“I will talk to you after the service,” he demanded before walking away.
I fought the urge to run out the back door as I sat. I was twenty-two. A mostly full-grown adult, and dammit, I was going to act like it. I was no longer my father’s victim! My stomach churned as I listened to the preacher’s sermon, pretending that my little pep talk had given me the confidence to face him. The preacher invited me up to deliver the eulogy when the sermon was over.
I kept my eyes focused on the casket as I spoke. If I looked too far into the crowd and spotted Father, I knew I’d get all clammed up, and I couldn’t let that happen. Not today. Not for Uncle Jason. “Uncle Jason was a man who didn’t know a stranger. His heart and kindness were limitless, as evidenced by the many people whose lives he touched. All of you here today are proof of that. To know him was to love him, and I feel doubly blessed because he was my Mother’s twin brother. I never met my mother, but Uncle Jay made sure that he told me everything he could about her so that it would feel like I had.”
I took a calming breath and smiled at the crowd, not letting my eyes travel past the first three rows. “Uncle Jason was a fighter and gave his final battle everything he had. I know he wasn’t ready yet to leave this world, but the grace with which he did it was a testament to his character. Uncle Jay, your battle is over now, but we’ll keep fighting in your stead. You will live on in our hearts and through the kindness we show to others. Rest easy.”
I returned to my seat but remained standing as they prepared to move the casket to the hearse for burial. The preacher gestured for me to follow once the casket passed me. Father was standing just outside the church doors, and I dodged him as he reached for me to pull me aside. The service wasn’t over yet, and I refused to let him ruin it.
I got in the limo directly behind the hearse, alone, locking the doors to ensure he couldn’t follow me. He tapped on the window several times, but I ignored him even as my nausea grew. I was going to pay for that later; I just knew it. Even so, I held on tightly to my fleeting bravery for Uncle Jason. Whatever he wanted could wait until Uncle Jason was in his final resting place.
The burial itself was uneventful, and I managed to return to the limousine before Father could try to corner me again. I was hosting a small wake in our bookstore, my bookstore now, where I knew I would have to face him. But it would be in my space on my terms.
I fell in love with Timeless Pages the day Uncle Jason brought me here. It became a sanctuary, a place where I could lose myself within the pages of the countless books we stocked. When I wasn’t working, I would curl up with a book on one of the comfy couches by the fireplace. I spent so much time in the store that when I turned eighteen, Uncle Jay surprised me with renovation plans to turn one of the storage rooms into a studio apartment for me. And now that he was gone, my home truly was mine and only mine.
People began to arrive, and I focused my mind and energy on completing this final task. After this, I could close the shop doors and finally be alone with my grief. I kept looking for Father as I mingled through the mourners, but never saw him. It wasn’t until the last guest left and I locked the door that he materialized from between the bookshelves.
My stomach dropped when I realized we were completely alone. In my attempts to avoid Father, I had inadvertently put myself into a more dangerous confrontation with him. I knew what my Father was capable of without witnesses. Not even Old Man Dave was around tonight, likely dealing with the loss of my uncle, the only way he knew how—at the bottom of a bottle.
“We will have this conversation, Isabella, whether you want to or not.”
“Say what you came to say and then leave,” I replied, reaching for the last bit of bravado I had in me. If I showed Father I wasn’t afraid of him, maybe he would leave me alone.
“Your time away has taught you bad manners,” Father replied, clicking his tongue. “That means we’ll have to work extra hard to get you back in line.”
“I’m not a child anymore, Father. You can’t hurt me anymore,” I replied. For as long as I could remember, I endured my Father’s abuse. It wasn’t until I was older and saw my friends with their parents and saw that they didn’t have cuts on their bodies that I realized it wasn’t normal.
Father hated me and blamed me for my Mother’s death since she died birthing me. The older I got and the more I looked like her, the worse the abuse became. When I was fifteen, I was snooping through my mother’s things and discovered that she had a twin brother. I wasn’t alone. I called him and told him everything, begging him to help me. He showed up on our doorstep less than an hour later.
I watched Father’s eyes darken at my declaration. I reached for the door’s lock, ready to make a break for it if I needed to. Unfortunately, Father anticipated my actions and had me pressed against the door with his hand around my neck in the blink of an eye.
“I can do anything I fucking want to you, Isabella,” he said softly, my name rolling off his tongue. He was the reason I hated my name and preferred to go by Isa. Hell, I’d answer to anything over Isabella.
“I want you to leave my store and never come near me again, or I will call the cops,” I choked out.
A sinister smile spread across his face as he reached into the breast pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out an envelope. “Thissays it is my store. Start packing your bags, Isabella. I’m selling it, and you’re coming home to stay.” He handed me the envelope, reached around me to unlock the door, and left with a bounce to his step as he whistled a tune.
I locked the door behind him and then, with shaking hands, slipped the papers out of the envelope. I read through the court document and then ran to the nearest trash can to throw up the small amount of food I had managed to eat that day. I wiped my mouth on the sleeve of my dress and sat cross-legged on the floor as I read through the papers slowly, word for word.
My Father got a judge to sign off on conservatorship paperwork without ever notifying me of his claims that I was unstable and unfit to manage the small inheritance and business that Uncle Jason had left me. He now had control of all of my money and of my home. If he wanted to sell the store, there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it.
I took out the trash that I threw up in and then went to my quarters. I didn’t let the tears fall until I shut the door tightly behind me. Losing Uncle Jason was devastating enough, but to now be losing my beloved store and home? There was only so much a girl could handle in one day, and I more than deserved a good, hard cry.
As the tears fell, I made a decision. Even if I couldn’t save the bookstore, I would live on the street before I moved back into my Father’s house. If I stepped foot inside those walls ever again, I’d never leave.
I spent the better part of the following day compiling a list of lawyers who handle these cases and might be willing to take onmy case for a small percentage of my assets if I win. I knew finding someone willing to work for free would be a challenge, but I had to try something.
The door chimed as Mrs. Connolly entered the store. She was a sweet Grandma who came in every afternoon to read the “naughty bits” of books. I smiled brightly at her, but my smile faded when she met it with a scowl.
