Beautiful Forever Read online

  Beautiful

  FOREVER

  emery jacobs

  Copyright © 2016 by Emery Jacobs

  Beautiful Forever

  All rights reserved.

  This book is an original work of fiction. All of the names, characters, sponsors and events are a product of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously. Any similarities to actual events, incidences, persons, deceased or living are strictly coincidental. Any opinions expressed in the book or solely those of the authors. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.

  Ebook: 978-0-9974115-4-6

  Paperback: 978-0-9974115-5-3

  Published in the United States of America

  Ebooks are non-transferable. They cannot be sold, shared, or given away. The unauthorized reproduction of distribution of this copyrighted work is a crime punishable by law. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded to or downloaded from file sharing sites, or distributed in any other way via the internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher/author’s permission. This book may not be sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase another copy for each person. Criminal copyright infringement including infringement without monetary gain is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of 250,000. All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without permission from the author..

  Cover Design: Amy Queau, QDesign

  Front Cover Model: Alexandria Rose

  Photographer: LJ Photography

  Editing & Formatting:

  Rogena Mitchell-Jones,

  RMJ Manuscript Service, LLC

  www.rogenamitchell.com

  Content Editing: Editing For You

  Proofreading: Julie Deaton

  Beautiful Forever is the second book in the Beautiful Fate Duet.

  Beautiful Torture must be read first.

  DISCLAIMER: Due to sexual situations and language,

  this book is intended for readers 18 and over.

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to anyone who loved and lost—and then found love again. A second chance is the best chance.

  Dream as if you’ll live forever. Live as if you’ll die today.

  ~James Dean

  Prologue

  Caleb

  I’ve often heard if you love someone, set them free. If they return to you, then it’s meant to be. I did this once a long time ago, and it almost cost me my heart. But over the years, I’ve learned you should hold onto the one you love. Never let go. Keep her within your reach at all times. And just maybe, you’ll be lucky enough to find your forever. And when you do, it’s fucking beautiful.

  PART I

  BEFORE

  Chapter 1

  Henley

  Age: Ten

  “Mom, what do those words mean?” I repeat the same question I asked her only ten minutes ago. She’s ignoring me. Like always.

  She takes a deep breath and sighs. She’s irritated with me. I can tell. Hopefully, I won’t get in trouble, but I don’t think it’s fair that everybody knows what’s wrong with me, but me. I may be a kid, but that doesn’t mean I’m stupid. If I ever have kids—I’ll never lie to them. Or ignore them or be mean to them.

  “Don’t worry about what the doctor said, Henley. Those words are not important. At least not now.” My mom grabs my hand before leading me down the stairwell. We’ve been at the hospital all day. It seemed like the doctor sent me to just about every floor for test after test and I’m tired. Tired of this hospital, tired of tests, and tired of being lied to.

  Mom shoves open the double doors, and we walk out into the heat of central Mississippi. She squeezes my hand tighter as she pulls me into the parking lot. Once we reach her car, she swings around, and bends over until she’s eye level with me. “Tell no one that we visited the doctor today. And under no circumstance are you to repeat anything he said.”

  She narrows her eyes before raising her other hand toward my face. My reflexes must be working good today because I flinch, and she didn’t even hit me.

  She points her finger at me before she continues, “Do you understand?”

  I decide to ignore her because that’s what she’s been doing to me all day. Give her a dose of her own medicine. That’s her line, not mine. Mom says it all the time before she does something really mean to somebody.

  “Answer me, Henley!” Her voice is louder than before. This is such crap. She can treat me any ole way, but the minute I decide to kinda stand up for myself, she starts yelling.

  I shrug and nod my head. Maybe she’ll get the message. But she doesn’t because she quickly unlocks the door and shoves me in the backseat. I reach for the seatbelt, but she stops me.

  Her teeth are clenched together, and her face is red. Okay. She’s mad over the fact I won’t answer her stupid question.

  “I don’t know what has gotten into you, but I’m your mother and whatever I tell you to do, you do it. If you continue to have an attitude with me, I will—”

  I don’t let her finish that sentence because it will end in me getting a spanking—her words—not mine. So I hurry up and try to make things better by saying, “Yes. I understand, Mom. I just don’t know why you won’t explain to me what that R word and that P word mean. If I’m dying, then I think it is only fair that you tell me.” Now she’ll feel guilty. Because of the dying comment. I know I’m not dying, but she doesn’t know that I know.

  Her eyes are shiny, just like they always are before she cries. Great. Now she’s gonna cry. Well, it serves her right. She should explain to me what the doctor said, and maybe I wouldn’t hurt her feelings. A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do—my words.

  “We’ll talk about it later. Just you and me. But you’re not dying. I promise,” she tells me. Then she latches my seatbelt and kisses my forehead.

  “I love you, Mom,” I whisper.

  This will make her happy. She’ll probably cry, but at least her tears will be happy tears.

  “I love you, too, Henley. Always and forever,” she says as she closes my door.

  I really hope she’s telling the truth. A part of me wants so badly to believe her, but she’s my mom. And in reality, she doesn’t tell the truth…a lot. I cross my fingers before tucking them behind my back. Crossed fingers always work. She has to tell me, and if she doesn’t, then I’ll tell my grandma there’s something wrong with me and she’ll take care of the rest.

  Chapter 2

  Age: Eighteen

  “It happens in stages, Henley. It’s not like you will go to bed with your vision intact and wake up the next morning in total darkness. It just doesn’t happen that quickly,” Dr. Bartholomew explains.

  “I don’t understand how this happened. Why didn’t anybody tell me? Y’all just let me believe that everything was okay. That I had some kind of eye disease that just had to be watched because it could cause me some problems down the road. And now I find out that one day, I will completely lose my sight.” My gaze shifts from Dr. Bartholomew to my mom before I continue. “This is complete bullshit. You should both be ashamed of yourselves for allowing me to believe there was nothing wrong with me!” I yell.

  “Henley, watch your mouth. You will not be disrespectful. Do you understand?” my mom blurts out.

  “Disrespectful? Don’t you both agree that’s the treatment I’ve been receiving for the last e
ight years? I haven’t been a child for a long time, and today, on my eighteenth birthday, you two spring it on me. Hell, I thought it was normal to have my eyes checked twice a year. Nobody ever told me any different.” I inhale deeply before continuing, “I guess I just got the answers to most of my questions. Thanks a lot!” I scream.

  “Stop with all the drama, Henley. This is your life now, and the sooner you embrace it, the better off you’ll be,” my mom tells me.

  “Drama—embrace my life? Have you lost your mind? My vision is not good. I’ve known that for a few years. The glasses don’t help, so I don’t wear them. I never say anything because—well, I guess I trusted you to be honest with me. But now it’s obvious that honesty is not your strong suit.”

  “I know you’re shocked, Henley, and to be completely honest with you, I didn’t realize you weren’t aware of your condition. You and I never discussed it during your appointments, but I’ve spent many hours going over everything with your parents. I assumed they discussed it with you,” Dr. Bartholomew’s voice is full of concern. His gaze moves toward my mom. She’s nervous—wringing her hands in her lap. Busted. She’s been lying to the doctor all these years.

  “So, you basically told Dr. Bartholomew not to tell me anything during my appointments because you and dad would discuss my condition with me later?” I demand.

  My parents have been divorced since I was five. My dad lives about an hour away from us, but he always visits. At least he used to. His visits are not as frequent now that I’m older. I just hate to think he was in on this with her.

  “Henley, you have to understand I was only trying to protect you. I didn’t want you to spend your childhood worrying about something that would not affect you until you were middle-aged,” she pleads.

  I glance back toward the doctor before asking, “Is that true?”

  Without hesitation, he responds, “Yes and no. You see, Henley, some people are not legally blind until their forties, but some lose their vision much earlier. It’s difficult to put an exact age on it because everyone is different. I apologize that you are just now learning about this. I have to say that I’m extremely disappointed about this entire situation.” He looks at my mom. She immediately cuts her eyes to the left to avoid any kind of visual contact with him.

  “I need to get out of here,” I say.

  My mom stands and moves toward me.

  “Don’t,” I tell her as I raise my arm between the two of us and then continue, “I’m going back to the hotel alone. I will either walk or take a cab. We’ll talk about this later.”

  “You will not walk the streets of New Orleans alone,” she demands.

  God, this woman is going to cause me to lose my mind. Now I know why she was always hovering over me, never letting me be a normal kid. That first doctor—the one who originally diagnosed me--told her I was going blind. I still remember it like it was yesterday. I was only ten years old, and I begged her to tell me what was wrong with me. But the only thing she could do was tell me that I wasn’t going to die. What a bitch. I partly blame myself for keeping my head buried in the sand. I should have seen the signs. I’m either really naïve or stupid. I hate to think I’m stupid. But maybe that would explain a lot more than just my eyesight

  “Fine, then can we leave? I’m ready to get out of here.”

  “Do you have any questions, Henley?” Dr. Bartholomew asks.

  “Yes, sir. I have a thousand questions, but today is not the day for them. I’m not in the right frame of mind to discuss my future right now. I’m sure my mother can fill me in on anything I need to know.” I cut my eyes at her. Her gaze immediately moves away from me and toward the doctor. She stands and smiles at him, as if everything is just wonderful in her world. I can’t stay here and watch her pretend our lives are perfect. So I get up from my chair and head toward the door.

  “Where are you going?” she nags.

  “Away from here,” I tell her as I pull open the door.

  “You need to wait a second because I’m not quite done.” She points her finger in my direction—as if I’m a small child and can’t be trusted to walk outside alone.

  I close the door and wait for her. Control. Over me to be exact. That’s what she wants. She doesn’t have that power over anyone else in her life, so she directs all of her shortcomings toward me. But there are a few things she’s about to learn. One is that I’m not putting up with her shit much longer.

  My mom continues her conversation with Dr. Bartholomew while I wait patiently. She thinks she’s won. But little does she know this war ain’t over yet.

  Chapter 3

  Age: Twenty-four

  “I’m sure you won’t have any trouble finding a teaching job back home,” my mother says as she shuffles the boxes around the living room of our apartment. Yes, our apartment. The last six years have been an absolute living hell. When I moved to Ruston, Louisiana, to attend college, guess who thought she had to uproot her life and follow me.

  “What if your vision deteriorates so bad you can’t drive?” she would say.

  “What if you need me? I can’t stand the thought of you being alone in a strange town—with—your vision changing so quickly,” she would explain.

  What could I do? Absolutely nothing. I was doomed to live with my mother for eternity. She quickly found a decent job here and then found us a two-bedroom apartment and the rest is, well…history. But all of this togetherness is about to change.

  “I already have an interview set up for next week,” I tell her.

  “So soon? Don’t you have to pass some national test or something?”

  “Yes, but this school would be willing to hire me while I’m waiting to take my test.”

  “Oh? Which school is it?” she asks.

  “It’s not important,” I whisper, hoping like hell her wrath isn’t about to become my reality. But I know it’s inevitable. She is going to lose her shit.

  “It is important. You’ve worked hard, and I’m proud of you.”

  Okay, so now, I’m feeling a bit guilty, but I know my current mood will pass once she learns the truth.

  I avoid her gaze as I say, “I’m not going home…with you. I’m moving on with my life. Alone.” I close my eyes and inhale deeply. Preparing for what’s about to come. And she doesn’t disappoint.

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Henley. You’re talking crazy. Now, let’s get everything loaded in the trailer. The movers will be back tomorrow to get the rest,” she says with confusion in her voice.

  “I’m not being ridiculous. If you will listen to me for once, you will understand what I’m telling you. I am not going back to Mississippi with you.” I turn to face her, determined not to back down. She will not bully me into doing what she wants.

  “You will go back home with me. Then you will find a teaching job and work until you are unable to continue with your daily tasks. And then…”

  I cut her off, “And then what? I will sit home day after day just existing? Waiting to die so I can be taken away from this miserable world? Because that’s where I’m living. In a fucking miserable world. I have no life, and for the last twenty-four years, I’ve done exactly what I’ve been told. But that ends today. I can’t do this anymore,” I tell her as I gather the last of what remains on the end table and toss it into a box.

  “You ungrateful little…”

  “Don’t finish that sentence,” I interrupt.

  My gaze meets hers, but there’s no fire there. Only hurt and disappointment. God, I am an ungrateful little bitch.

  “I have spent my entire life taking care of you. Making sure you have what you need. You’re my entire world, Henley. It’s my job to protect you. Even if it’s from something out of my control,” her voice is thick with sadness.

  I look away from her and take a deep breath. Maybe she really means what she says or maybe she’s just trying to manipulate my emotions. But, at this point, it doesn’t matter. My mind is made up. I’m doing this. On my own. Alone. Without th
e help of my overprotective—overbearing mother.

  “Well, now you don’t have to worry about me anymore. I’m a grown woman with a college education. I can and will get a job and make my own way,” I explain.

  For some reason, I’m not that upset. My eyes are dry, my voice full of confidence, and my emotions intact. This is actually going so much smoother than I originally planned.

  “That’s not what I mean. I can’t help but worry about you. I love you. I don’t want us to fight. I only want you with me so I know you’re okay. Please don’t do this,” she says as tears fall from her eyes. She inhales deeply before continuing, “We don’t have to go back home to Mississippi. I’ll go with you. Wherever you want to live and work. You can get your own place, and I’ll live nearby. Just don’t try to do this alone.”

  I stop packing and turn toward my mom. Her face is buried in her hands. She’s trying to hide the tears, but it’s no use. They continue to flow from her eyes—over her hands—and down her arms. The sounds escaping her throat pretty much cut me to the core. Everything is suddenly more real. And I’m sorry. Sorry because I’ve been cursed with this genetic disease that affects one in four thousand people worldwide. Sorry that I am ungrateful and most of all, sorry I want to be alone, away from her and anybody else who knows what I’m facing. I can do this, and if it takes me being hateful and a little mean, then that’s what I’ll do.

  I make my way over to her. She slides her hands through her hair and takes in a huge gulp of air. Red blood-shot eyes stare at me.

  “Mom…” I whisper.

  She wraps her arms around me and squeezes as she buries her face into my neck. I can’t breathe, but I don’t know if it’s because she is holding on so tightly or because of the guilt that’s slowly seeping its way back into my consciousness.