Pursued
By Kristin Vayden
Copyright © 2014 KRISTIN VAYDEN
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used. Except for review purposes, the reproduction of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation.
PURSUED
Copyright © 2013 KRISTIN VAYDEN
Prologue
If you told me, seven years ago, that this would be my story, I would have laughed at you. Stuff like this didn’t happen to good girls like me. No. I was happy and thrilled with life. My husband loved me. I had one beautiful baby boy and another on the way. But, though I would have laughed at you, part of me would have wondered if maybe all the silent fears and suspicions I harbored were more than just the product of my overactive imagination. Perhaps they were premonitions of the future. But I would have disregarded the thought immediately. After all, didn’t I just say that stuff like that wouldn’t happen to someone like me? But we can’t see the future, can we?
Chapter One
“Mom? Um, can you come over?” I struggled to keep my tone as the tears poured off my face and wet the countertop on which I was leaning. How had my life come to this? My shoulders slumped under the weight of the world.
“Sure, Abby. Is everything alright?”
My mom’s tone was subdued, tender as she waited for me to respond. Of course she would ask that. I didn’t want to lie, but I didn’t want to tell her that type of news over the phone. Choosing the lesser of two evils, I nodded before answering. “It will be.” As my mind replayed all the horrific events of the past months, I listened for any noises from my kids’ room in case they had woken up early from the sound of my sobbing. Sure enough, I heard a little gurgle from Chase’s room. With a small smile, which parted my lips enough to allow a taste of my salty tears, I rose and made my way to his room.
“Okay...” she answered cautiously.
Before she could ask me about my strange answer, I chose to distract her.
“Mom, Chase is awake, I gotta go. I’ll see you whenever you can make it. Love
you, bye.” A moment later I tossed the phone onto the rocking chair in my baby’s room. Chase was squirming in an effort to free his hands from the secure bundling I wrapped him with when I had put him down for his afternoon nap. The three month old was one of the few reasons I had to smile, him and Javan, his two-year-old brother.
As I leaned over the crib to pick him up, I heard a thump, thump, thump from the other room that let me know that Javan was awake as well, kicking the wall. With Chase happy to be free and sucking on my shoulder, I left his room and went across the hall. I opened the door, and a blur of red hair ran out and into the living room. The toddler bounced up and down as he pretended to be a jackrabbit. My lips pulled into a wide grin in spite of the tears that still trickled down. With a silent prayer, I thanked Jesus for my children.
