Coming Soon : Find Me - Michelle Mankin

Find Me. Remember Me. Keep Me.

Release date: 1-15-16

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Summary

Almost forty-one-year-old Annabelle Morris, wife to multi-billionaire record label executive Charles Morris of Zenith Productions, and mother of two is at a cross roads.

Separated from her husband after walking in on him having sex in the public restroom of a charity event she was hosting, she has arrived on the island of St. John alone and rejected, determined to re-evaluate her life and her marriage. She's tired of being her husband’s showpiece while he pretends she doesn't exist. She's tired of trying to make their marriage work for the sake of their two teenage boys.

When she meets Johnny Lightning, a sexy but mysterious piano-playing, bearded sailor, she is tempted to break vows she has never before broken. But Johnny is much younger than her and seems to be hiding more than a few secrets of his own.

From the laid-back sandy beaches of the Caribbean to the elite circles of Dallas high society, Annabelle is forced to make critical choices.

Is a chance for happiness worth the risk of giving up the life she has always known?

Worth jeopardizing her own and possibly even her children's future?

In the end, will she stay on her present course or brave a new and uncharted one?

Find Me, Remember Me, and Keep Me is a full and complete novel. A standalone Tempest spin-off in three separate parts.

Release date: 1-15-16.

This Preview Can be Found in The Tempest Raging Boxed Set Available Now on Amazon 

An exclusive preview of Find Me. A standalone Tempest spin-off.

Release date: 1-15-16 for all three parts.

FIND me - Part One

Chapter 1

Expression as empty as I felt inside, I peered out the first class window watching the baggage handlers load the trolleys while trying to summon the energy to get up out of my plush leather seat and deplane.

“Mrs. Morris?”

I shifted to look at the uniformed flight attendant wearing a nervous frown. “Everyone’s already exited. Can I get you something else?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.” I had gotten lost in my thoughts again, lost inside the trap my life had become. I retrieved my light blue Gucci duffle from under the seat in front of me. When I straightened, my mask was back in place. The one that made me appear indifferent. My preferred pretense since I had walked in on my husband having sex with his new twenty-something artists and repertoire coordinator in the women’s bathroom of a charity gala I had been hosting.

Outside on the mobile stairway the bright sun blinded me, and I teetered on impractical spiked heels that got caught in the metal slots. Pulling my Bvlgari sunglasses from the tangle of curls piled atop my head, I took another step, and nearly toppled as my other heel got hung up, too.

I cursed under my breath, took off my Louboutin platforms, and went down the stairs barefoot. The sharp metal stung, but I wasn’t dumb. I could adapt like Charles wanted me to do in our marriage, though adapting felt more like continuing the denial.

At the bottom of the stairs, I slipped my now worthless designer shoes back on. No luggage to retrieve I made my way past the other passengers chatting excitedly about vacation plans around the still empty carousel.

White passenger vans and yellow taxis were lined up at the curb. None with my name on it. This wasn’t a planned trip. It was an escape and re-evaluate my life one. One that the only genuine friend I had outside the status-seeking social circles of the last fifteen years of my marriage insisted I needed. Claire had made all the arrangements for me. Claire was taking care of my boys for me. I didn’t want to think who might be taking care of my husband in my absence or how they might be doing it. It was hard enough to get the one visual out of my mind, but I wasn’t naïve. I knew the coordinator hadn’t been the first. I was just reluctant to tear apart my family and scared to start over again at almost forty-one.

“Excuse me.” I slid my sunglasses down my nose and leaned over to speak to the man in the first taxi in the queue.

He set his sandwich down on a paper bag on the front bench seat and gave me a warm smile. “Yes, Miss? How can I help you?” A bit of the icy tight knot in my empty stomach thawed.

Thank you, Claire, I thought, for choosing an English-speaking island.

“I need to get to the ferry terminal downtown…to St. John.”

“Sure, I’ll take you.” He exited his side and rounded the front end to open the back door for me. He tried to take my bag from me but I preferred to hold onto it. It had been so long since I had traveled alone without Charles, without the boys, without piles of bags. It was just another shield. Something to hide behind like all the designer flippery Charles insisted I wear. I would feel more naked and exposed without it than I already did.

“How far is it?” I asked him as he steered his weathered land barge around potholes in the asphalt and stray chickens crossing the road.

“Not far. Fifteen minutes. You should make the last ferry.”

I hoped so. I stared out the window trying to relax and appreciate the too turquoise to be real ocean I glimpsed briefly between breaks in the buildings. But I couldn’t do either. I leaned my head back against the plastic-covered seat and settled to rest my eyes. I had been up since four a.m. in order to make the connecting flight in Miami. My Armani linen dress was wrinkled. My eyes felt gritty, and I was soul-weary tired. I just wanted to lie down and sleep, preferably for about a week straight.

The cab driver’s estimate had been accurate and within minutes of being dropped off, I was on board a sun-bleached, paint-peeling passenger ferry named Speedy. It sat about fifty in tight rows with barely any leg room. I closed my eyes, tuned out the sounds of the few other passengers, and lifted my face to the salt spray out the slider window. Hugging my bag as if it were a life vest and not a cumbersome loadstone representing the life I was trying to come to terms with, I let the up and down motion of the boat and the diesel fumes lull me to sleep.

“Miss.” I opened my eyes to the same woman with coffee-colored skin and warm brown eyes who had taken my fare when I boarded. “Are you okay? The boat’s about to go back to St. Thomas. Did you want to stay on?”

“No. I’m getting off here.” I stood face sticky from the salt spray, and dress more wrinkled than it had been before. “Thank you for waking me.” Stumbling because of the subtle rocking, high heels were no more practical on board the boat than they had been on the airplane stairs, I scooted down the empty row, attempting and failing to smooth my skirt as I exited.

Out on the dock, I took a quick look around. The harbor at Cruz Bay was much smaller and less commercial than the one in Charlotte Amalie on St. Thomas. The downtown started at the waterfront and crawled up the hill, but it didn’t seem to have any buildings over three stories. A parking lot lay straight ahead occupied by a few vehicles. Tropical trees and a few villas crowned green rolling hills in the distance. An open pink building with a red roof attached to the dock sat on my left. Half a dozen sailboats and a few motor-craft bobbed on the smooth crystal water on my right.

Teetering on the uneven wooden slats of the dock, I carefully made my way toward the shore. I frowned when I reached the loading and unloading zone and didn’t see a waiting car. Claire had promised that I didn’t need to arrange a pickup. The caretaker of her brother’s villa was supposed to meet me and then let me use the villa’s jeep to get around during my stay. Apparently, he lived on the property somewhere out of view of the main house.

I glanced at the mother of pearl dial on my Philippe Patek watch, realizing it was later than I thought. Maybe the man had come and gone already. Afternoon sun beating down on me, I had just moved under the awning of a nearby jewelry shop when a rusty topless jeep pulled up alongside the curb.

“Are you Mrs. Morris?” A heavily bearded man wearing a Quiet Mon Pub ball cap peered at me through his wraparound sunglasses. In his late twenties or early thirties, he looked much younger than I had imagined a caretaker to be.

I nodded and moved toward the jeep.

“You ready to go?” He dipped his shaded gaze slowly, sliding it over me. “Or do you need some more time at the jewelry store so you can find a more expensive watch with bigger diamonds?”

“No, I’m ready.” I frowned at the snidely spoken comment that implied I was as status conscious and shallow as I probably appeared to be. It was an unkind remark and unwarranted. He didn’t really know me. How could he after only one glance? I looked at myself every day in the mirror and hardly knew who I was anymore.

“You’re late,” he complained. “You’re lucky I decided to swing back by the dock one more time, especially since the ferry’s been docked for over a half hour. Still I couldn’t miss you with those designer sunglasses, that fancy dress, and the sun reflecting off that flashy watch of yours. Get in.” He gestured with his chin toward the passenger side. Moving my bag to one arm, I grabbed the handle and yanked, but the door wouldn’t open.

“Probably used to your chauffeur opening the door for you, huh?” He rolled his eyes. “It usually works better if you unlock it first, fancy face.” His voice was a low baritone, but the insinuation was as unpleasant as his lack of manners.

I blew the humidity dampened curls out of my eyes and did as he suggested. “Why even bother to lock it?” I grumbled once I was in the seat, twisting around to grab the seatbelt.

“Because hardly anyone ever sits there,” he answered absently, glancing in the side mirror, looking for traffic and then pulling away from the curb.

I can certainly understand why, I thought sarcastically as I settled into my seat, and he steered the vehicle around the busy shopping area alongside the dock. Not that he was bad looking from what I could see of his face underneath his untrimmed beard, thick mustache, and the long layers of unkempt midnight black hair barely contained by the ball cap. He reminded me of the way Pierce Brosnan had looked as James Bond in to Die Another Day after he had been captured and tortured for fourteen months by the North Koreans without the benefit of a hairstylist or a razor. His lips were particularly interesting, a rich crimson hue that drew my attention, the bottom one fuller than the top. I felt a warm unexpected stomach flutter as I stared at them. His mouth flattened into a displeased line seeming to sense and to disapprove of my interest. “Is there a problem, Mrs. Morris?”

“What? No.” I shook my head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude. I’m just tired. I zoned out. It’s been a long day.”

He didn’t reply or make any attempt to make me feel any less awkward. I hugged my overstuffed bag tighter and tried to swallow back the bitter tears that seemed so near the surface most of the time lately.

The jeep had a stick shift, and he worked the gears confidently as we steadily climbed one hill and then another. The view of the sparkling ocean through the trees was breathtaking. I just wished I could get out of this jeep and away from him so I could try to relax to really enjoy it.

“Here we are,” he announced unnecessarily as he finally pulled the jeep into a driveway and turned off the engine. The one story villa was a simple structure with white-washed walls and a red tile roof. It was even more charming in person than it had been in the pictures Claire had shown me.

“It’s beautiful,” I whispered as I took it all in, the house and the verdant landscaping. I let myself out of the jeep, and for a brief moment completely forgot the grumpy man by my side. He murmured something in a surprised tone, but I didn’t catch the words. I was determined not to care, refusing to let him ruin the moment for me.

The steady, salty breeze lifted my hair and refreshed my flagging spirit, bringing with it the sweet fragrance of the flamboyant tree blossoms. Two of them framed the villa forming a natural awning, their fiery orange flowers and delicate fern-like leaves kissing the turquoise shuttered windows that had been left open for cross ventilation. Just beyond, on the other side, I could hear the siren’s call of the surf. Pink Bougainvillea and lush tropical foliage embraced the house, making it seem as though it was a part of and not just an addition to the island’s vibrant natural landscaping.

“You’re taking excellent care of Mr. Lawton’s property. I’m sure when he comes back he’ll be grateful to you.” Claire didn’t talk much about her brother. She only told me that he had built the house intending to live in it with his bride after they got married, but that the girl had broken it off with him right before the wedding and ruined the place for him. He rarely used it anymore but didn’t want to sell it, either. Claire was unusually tight-lipped about her sibling. I think she only shared the personal information she did so that I wouldn’t worry about imposing on or running into him while I was staying at his villa.

The door slamming behind me was the only response I got to my compliment from Mr. Grumpy. Pebbles crunched beneath his flip-flops as he crossed the drive. Without glancing at me, he inserted the key into the lock to open the gated entry into the property. I didn’t understand why he was being so rude. If he treated everyone who rented the villa the way he had treated me so far I could certainly understand why the house remained vacant when most were rented out during high season. I should probably mention his behavior to Claire at some point. But for now I told myself I wasn’t really offended by his dismissive manner. I was used to being treated that way. My husband had ignored me for the better part of our marriage. I had lost the confidence that I was in any way interesting to the opposite sex with the exception of my role as my husband’s representative.

The iron gate swung open soundlessly, and I followed the caretaker inside without being told. An arched breezeway covered in concrete provided a lovely frame like a postcard for the view of the ocean on the other side.

“Spectacular. I love you, Claire,” I whispered. My feet compelled me forward over the rough Saltillo tiles, my eyes widening as I scanned the seemingly limitless slate of brilliant blue. Without realizing it, I reverentially kicked off my shoes as if the spot I stood on was hallowed ground.

“Are you and Claire really good friends, fancy face?”

“Yes,” I replied without hesitation. “The best.” I moved toward the water, laying my hands on the railing. It spanned the length of the villa and kept people from walking off the elevated deck. Pulling in deep breaths, eyes feasting on the glistening ocean, ears lulled by the crashing of the waves, I also admitted, “She and my boys are my life. My whole life. All that gives it purpose. Besides my older brother and younger sister, I mean.”

I was too tired to notice how sad my words made me seem. The sun was setting, and my mind was lost in the mesmerizing orange and pink kaleidoscope of color. I wished I had unpacked my camera. If I could get the caretaker to give me whatever instructions I needed before he left, I might have time to take a couple of shots before the light disappeared.

“Sir, do you…” I trailed off, surprised to find the spot where he had stood just a moment before empty. The jeep in the driveway was the only witness to my sudden consternation. I retraced my footsteps back through the entryway. I found the house and jeep keys on top of a flat rock, a piece of paper with a masculine scrawl of written instructions about the property beneath them.

“That was weird,” I muttered. He was strange. Though he physically resembled my favorite secret agent the first time he had ever appeared on screen sporting a beard, he certainly didn’t have the suave smooth demeanor to go along with it. He hadn’t even bothered to say goodnight. I closed the gate and latched it, not wanting to have to deal with him anymore anyway.

He lived on the property. But how far away?  I suddenly wanted to know the answer, hoping it was far enough that I wouldn’t run into him again. He didn’t seem to like me much and after the way he had behaved, the feeling was entirely mutual. I was sure we could manage to avoid each other if we both put some effort into the task.

I padded back to the railing at the edge of the deck and dropped wearily onto my rear on the tile. I would get my Canon out tomorrow. It needed time to acclimate to the temperature and humidity so the lens wouldn’t fog up.

I tucked my legs beneath me. I didn’t care that I was probably getting red tile stains all over the expensive ivory linen of my dress. I just wanted…needed to decompress.

Hugging my bag to my chest I stared out at the rolling waves and laid my forehead against one of the iron rails. It felt cool against my skin. As my thoughts drifted off on a lonely tide, I offered a prayer that while I was here I could find both the answers and the solace I sought. The sky turned light pink and then black before the rhythmic crash and gurgle of the surf eventually soothed the raging maelstrom within my heart.