Breaking the Seventh

  Breaking the Seventh

  Allie Gail

  ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

  Kindle Edition

  Copyright March 2017 Allie Gail

  Cover Design by Laura Shinn

  http://laurashinn.yolasite.com

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any printed or electronic form without express written permission from the author.

  Breaking the Seventh is a work of fiction. Though some of the locations actually exist, they are used in a fictitious manner for purposes of this work. All characters are works of fiction and any characteristics similar to any person past, present or future are coincidental.

  ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Epilogue

  Bonus Story

  About the Author

  ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

  Also by Allie Gail

  The Immortal Touch Trilogy

  Winter’s Touch

  Fire and Ash

  Red Tide Rising

  ***

  Burning Down the House

  ***

  Unconventional Scars

  ***

  The Firefly Effect

  ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

  “In short, Luck’s always to blame.” ~Jean de La Fontaine

  Chapter One

  age 10

  She still isn’t here.

  Flattening my nose against the window, I scowl at the empty spot in the driveway for what must be the zillionth time since I got home. Mom would say that a watched pot never boils (I once watched while she was making pasta and it did so start boiling so that’s not even true) but if you ask me, this is getting ridiculous. What’s taking her so long? She was supposed to be leaving work for sure by two o’clock especially for this trip, and it’s a quarter to three already. What was the point of Daddy picking me up early from day camp if she wasn’t even going to be here on time?

  I’m ready to climb the walls. I’d do it too, if I could. I’m so excited I want to jump up and down on the furniture but I know I’d get in trouble if I did that.

  Today is only my birthday, after all. You'd think she could make it home on time for just this one day, wouldn’t you? Lately she's always working late. Don't ask me why. It's not like her job is a matter of life or death. She isn’t doing major surgery or saving people from burning buildings or anything like that. All she does is file insurance claims for a foot doctor, for Pete’s sake. What’s so important about insurance that can’t wait ’til next week? It’s just paperwork. We have a six hour drive ahead of us and I’m ready to get this show on the road.

  That's because I’m not having a party at home this year. Instead, my parents are taking me to Sea World. I think that ten years old is too old for parties anyway and besides, mine always end up being a total washout. Either I get sick, or manage to hurt myself somehow, or something else happens to ruin everything.

  Like three years ago, when this stupid skunk shows up in our yard from out of the woods. He was so fuzzy and adorable, like a real live Pepé Le Pew, and I thought hey, maybe he might let me pet him if I give him a snack. So I toss him a corn chip, and what do you suppose happens? Do I get any appreciation for trying to be nice?

  No. I do not. The stripey idiot freaks out and sprays all over the bounce house where me and my friends are trying to have a good time. Do you have any idea what a skunk’s pee or whatever that stuff is smells like?

  Well, it’s not very nice, I can tell you that. I can also tell you that it doesn’t wash off so easy either.

  I start jumping from one foot to the other, trying to be as quiet as I can and not make it obvious that the anticipation is killing me. This is going to be so much fun! I’ve already been to Disney World twice and Universal Studios once, but never, never Sea World. I can hardly wait! We’ll probably stop at Stuckey’s for gas like we usually do and then I can pick out some candy to eat along the way. I wonder if I’ll get to pet a killer whale? Daddy says I’ll get to pet a dolphin which is pretty cool and all, but dolphins are no big deal because I’ve seen them before and I would much rather get to touch a killer whale.

  Unless they bite. In school we learned they’re supposed to be harmless to humans, but when they open their mouths there’s an awful lot of sharp-looking teeth showing so I’m not so sure I believe that. Mrs. Finster said her dumb old poodle wouldn’t bite but she was WRONG because he sure as heck got mad and snapped at me that time I tried to push him down the driveway on my skateboard.

  Speaking of rides, they have those at Sea World too. Roller coasters and a sky tower and paddle boats – oh, and there’s supposed to be this restaurant where you can eat while sharks swim all around you! I’m talking right by your face! Real live sharks! While you’re having your dinner! How awesome is that?

  I.

  Can’t.

  WAIT!

  “Try calling her again,” I suggest, even though I know Daddy just tried her five minutes ago. All he got was her voicemail, which is nothing unusual. I’ve seen Mom ignore her cell phone plenty of times. Mostly she just looks at it and rolls her eyes, but sometimes she takes it into another room so I can’t hear what she’s saying. I think she’s on to the fact that sometimes I’m listening when it doesn’t actually look like I’m listening.

  That’s what you call multitasking.

  “I already sent her a text, Taz.” Daddy looks up from whatever sports program he’s watching to give me a patient smile. He calls me Taz sometimes because he says I remind him of the Tasmanian Devil from Looney Tunes, always spinning around like a tornado. “How about we give her another five minutes. If she isn’t home by then I’ll try calling her at the office. Are you sure you packed everything you need? You got your toothbrush, right?”

  “Yes.” I start ticking off the list on my fingers. “And my pajamas, and underwear, and socks…”

  “Why don’t you run upstairs and double check just to make sure.”

  I know he’s just trying to distract me. My hyper restlessness is probably getting on his nerves. I can’t help it though, I’m ready to go! I’ve been looking forward to this for a month and now it’s time and nobody seems to be in a hurry to get there but me.

  But all I do is mumble okay under my breath and clomp up the stairs to my room so I can open my suitcase again. I pretend to go through it, but really I’m not paying much attention because I know I already packed everything I need. I made a list over a week ago. If it isn’t in this suitcase then trust me, I can live without it. The most important thing is that I don’t forget my money for the gift shop, and I have that safe and sound in my pocket.

  Zipping up the pink and purple travel bag, I skip to the end of the hallway where I sit and slide with my butt bumping down the stairs like I always do. Halfway down I stop sliding when I see my dad pacing the floor while talking to someone on the phone.

  “What? Are you sure?” Glancing up at me, he heads straight for the kitchen out of earshot but not before I hear him say, “She hasn’t been i
n at all?”

  I feel a knot start to form in my stomach. What’s going on here? Who’s he talking to? And who are they talking about?

  I don’t like the sound of this.

  I want to follow him into the kitchen, but it’s clear that he doesn’t want me to hear his conversation so I don’t. Even though I really, really want to. I want to know what’s happening.

  Instead I stand and walk the rest of the way down the stairs before making myself comfortable in Daddy’s recliner. I sit there quietly while I wait, all the excitement and energy sucked away by a feeling that something isn’t right.

  I know something’s wrong. I could tell by his voice. Was that someone at Dr. Marshall’s office on the phone? Are they saying that Mom hasn’t been in all day?

  No way. That can’t be.

  So if she’s not at work, then where is she? And why isn’t she answering her phone?

  Oh no! What if she got in an accident or something? No, stop it, stop thinking horrible things like that. It couldn’t happen. And anyway, even if it did, wouldn’t someone have called? Unless she’s unconscious. Or has amnesia. But she always has her purse with her, so couldn’t someone check her ID? Look, this is Ellen Whitfield, they would say. We should probably call her family and tell them she has amnesia.

  Wait a minute. Maybe this has something to do with my birthday. Maybe whatever she’s doing is a secret surprise for me and she just forgot to tell Daddy about it! Yeah, that’s got to be it.

  I let myself believe that for all of three seconds. My bubble of optimism is burst when I see the shadow in the kitchen doorway. Daddy has a very strange look on his face. Something about it scares me. I’ve never seen anything resembling fear on my father’s face before but that is definitely what this looks like to me.

  I can’t help it. I have to ask because I can’t stand the suspense. I want that look to go away. I want him to tell me that everything’s okay, that Mom is just running a little late because she got held up in traffic or something, that she’s on her way right now and will be here any minute.

  “Nothing’s wrong, is it?” I try my best to sound cheerful so he won’t guess that he’s making me anxious.

  “Leah, honey…” He pauses for a minute as if he isn’t sure how to phrase whatever he’s about to say. “This morning. After I left for the office. Can you remember…did your mother say anything to you? Or act any different than usual?”

  I try to think. What does he mean by different? I’m not sure what to say. I didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary. Although now that I think back, Mom did seem to get a little unnecessarily mushy when she was dropping me off at day camp.

  Have a good day, sweetie. Mama loves you. And remember, you keep your chin up. No matter what happens. You’re a strong, smart girl and you’ll always be okay. Don’t ever forget that.

  That’s not an unusual thing for a mom to say, is it? And anyway, I figured she was just being extra nice because of my birthday.

  “I don’t know. Not really,” I tell him.

  “Can you remember what all she did before she drove you to camp?”

  Why is he asking me this? Doesn’t he know where Mom is?

  “Um…you know, got ready for work. Put on her makeup and did her hair and stuff, I guess. Then she packed and went ahead and put your luggage in the car so it would be all ready to go. And then someone called and she–”

  I’m startled when he bolts upstairs without waiting to hear the rest. After a moment of uncertainty, I decide to follow behind.

  My dad is in the bedroom he shares with my mom, and he is standing in front of the big walk-in closet with the door open. Just staring. Standing there perfectly still, staring into the closet with this dazed look in his eyes.

  Wow. There’s an awful lot of stuff gone from her side of the closet. Why did she take so much? We’re only going to be in Orlando for two nights.

  “She said she’d wait and put my suitcase in the car just before we left, in case I thought of something I forgot,” I offer, as if that will explain everything.

  But even to my ten-year-old mind, that doesn’t make any sense.

  I watch helplessly as Daddy goes over to the dresser and starts pulling open drawer after drawer. The ones on her side are pretty much empty. But then he checks his, too. I guess he’s looking to see if Mom has packed any of his stuff.

  Judging from his expression, I’m pretty sure she hasn’t.

  I feel like I might throw up.

  And then out of the corner of my eye, I spot a glint of gold and my heart almost stops. No, not almost. I swear it feels like it really does stop for a few seconds.

  My mother’s wedding and engagement rings. She never takes them off except to clean them, and yet there they are. Sitting alone and discarded beside the lamp on my father’s nightstand. Not on her side. On his side. As if to make a point.

  “Daddy…” I look at the rings but can’t bring myself to touch them. I don’t dare. I’m afraid if I touch them, that will prove they’re real. That this is really happening.

  I can’t believe this is happening. It isn’t. It just isn’t.

  There has to be some other explanation. It can’t be what it looks like, it can’t be! She wouldn’t do this…

  But when my father finally turns his head to gaze at me speechlessly, I realize with a sickening jolt that she has done it. It’s done, she’s gone and that’s that. We can believe what we want, we can try to deny what is obvious, but when all is said and done the evidence is right there for us to see and it isn’t that hard to figure out.

  My mother, for whatever reason, has decided that she doesn’t want either of us anymore.

  Happy birthday, dear Leah, happy birthday to you…

  It isn’t the day I envisioned.

  I spend the rest of the afternoon sitting on my bed, tightly hugging the patchwork doll I’ve had since I was a baby. Just staring at the yellow and orange striped walls in blank disbelief while Daddy calls everyone he knows, trying in vain to find out where my mother might have gone.

  I spend the endless night curled up in the recliner beside him, trying to be brave but finally breaking down and crying against his shoulder while he strokes my hair and we wait together.

  All night long, we wait.

  But she doesn’t come home.

  Not that night, or any other.

  Chapter Two

  age 23 and holding

  “Are you freaking kidding me?” Juggling an armload of groceries while kicking the car door shut with one foot, I do my best not to drop the cell phone that’s pressed between my cheek and shoulder. “Fourteen days? Is this a – wait, are we talking total days or business days here?”

  “Business days, ma’am,” the bored voice on the other end practically yawns. “Believe me, I understand the inconvenience this must be causing you and I sympathize, but keep in mind that more than likely it won’t take the full fourteen days. As long as they don’t see any suspicious activity, the money could be deposited back into your account as early as the end of next week.”

  I’m not sure exactly who ‘they’ are, but I do know the suspicious activity train has long since left the station. It pulled out this morning when I logged into my online bank account just to find that most of my money had evaporated. Poof. Gone. So long, farewell, auf wiedersehen and see ya, sucker. Because – lucky me – somehow my debit card got hacked and some thieving scumbag used what little money I had to fund a flight to Athens.

  And it wasn’t Athens, Alabama either.

  Seeing as how I sure as hell can’t afford to go jetting off to Greece, I sincerely hope the culprit was stricken with salmonella poisoning from tainted airline food and spent the entire trip crapping their guts out. And then hopefully got sucked out through a defective toilet only to plummet through the sky, landing ass first on the very tip top of a sharp tree.

  No-o-o, I’m not pissed. Not in the least!

  “So as soon as you come in and fill out the paperwork, we
can go ahead and get your claim started,” the bank representative prompts me, subtly implying that any delays will be my own damn fault. “Unfortunately the person who normally handles this is out for the rest of the afternoon, so it will have to be Monday.”

  Monday. Oh, joy.

  “All right,” I sigh, transferring all the plastic bags to one hand so I can unlock the back door. “Do I need to make an appointment, or is anytime okay?”

  “Anytime during normal business hours is fine. In the meantime, I’ve already cancelled your card so you shouldn’t see any more fraudulent charges popping up. I went ahead and took care of that as soon as I got your call this morning. I also ordered you a new card so be looking for it to arrive in the mail within a few days.”

  Business days, of course. Today being Friday, I’ll be lucky if I see it next week.

  “Okay. Well…thanks for all your help.”

  “My pleasure.”

  Dropping the bags on the kitchen table, I shove my phone back into my purse while trying not to trip over Charlie as he bounces excitedly around my feet.

  “You ready to go out, buddy?” I croon. “Huh? Wanna go out? Do ya?”

  The fawn-colored dachshund wags his tail and barks eagerly, and I can’t help but laugh. If anything can cheer me up in a New York minute, it’s my sweet Charlie. He’s the cuddliest, most lovable little cutie pie in the world. I got him from my stepbrother Shane, who is a veterinarian and is always trying to find homes for unwanted animals.

  “Out you go, then.” I open the door and let the dog out, then proceed to start unpacking the groceries. Charlie’s smart enough to stay in the yard, and this is a safe neighborhood so I don’t have to watch him every minute.

  It doesn’t take long to get everything put away. Milk in the fridge, bread in the breadbox, everything else in the freezer. Ice cream, frozen pizza, Hot Pockets, microwave dinners. Nobody ever accused me of being a gourmet cook. My stepmom Louise jokes that I’m doing good to make ice without burning it.