Beloved by You Read online

  Beloved by You

  Molly Sloan

  © Copyright 2018 - All rights reserved.

  It is not legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit H of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locations is purely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  Dedication

  Acknowledgment

  Chapter One: Touchdown

  Chapter Two: The Forgotten Goodbye

  Chapter Three: Driven

  Chapter Four: All Mines

  Chapter Five: Digging up the Past

  Chapter Six: Friends and Butterflies

  Chapter Seven: Once Bitten, Twice Shy

  Chapter Eight: That Girl

  Chapter Nine: Seal the Deal

  Chapter Ten: Deja Vu

  Chapter Eleven: Betrayed

  Chapter Twelve: Coming Together

  Chapter Thirteen: The Call

  Chapter Fourteen: X-Ray Vision

  Chapter Fifteen: The BBC

  Chapter Sixteen: Goodbyes

  Chapter Seventeen: Released

  Chapter Eighteen: City Lights

  Chapter Nineteen: Collateral Damage

  Chapter Twenty: Red on the Carpet

  Chapter Twenty One: Graceful Exit

  Chapter Twenty Two: Dropped

  Chapter Twenty Three: The Eyes Have It

  Epilogue

  Other Titles

  Free Gifts /Email List

  About the Author

  Dedication

  To my sweet RSL. Who encourages me everyday to be the change I want to see in the world.

  Acknowledgment

  To D.A.- You are my champion!

  Chapter One: Touchdown

  “Aren’t you that model?”

  Andrew Atherton pulled off his expensive Hi-Fi headphones and asked, “What did you say?”

  The woman seated next to him on the plane repeated herself. “Aren’t you that model? The one that used to be on those diamond ads? ‘The Face of Atherton’ or something?”

  He always hated this question. Yes, Andrew had done some modeling for his family’s diamond empire when he was in college. His sister Claudia used to tease him and call him The Adonis of Atherton because, evidently, she thought he was good-looking. But, since then, he’d gone on to get his MBA from The London School of Business, and now headed the Acquisitions division of the family business. These days, the only thing Claudia teased him about was the fact that she was the CEO of the company and, technically, his boss.

  But the fact was, they were both billionaires. Atherton Diamonds has been the leading diamond manufacturer in the world for more than two hundred years. And, Claudia and Andrew were the only heirs to the business.

  Looking back at the woman seated next to him, Andrew realized that he really didn’t want to talk. They had a long thirteen-hour flight ahead of them before landing in Botswana. Andrew just smiled at her and shook his head and said nicely, “I’m sure you must be mistaken.” Placing the headphones back over his ears, Andrew reclined his plush First Class seat back to the sleeping position, closed his eyes and began to dream…

  “I’m blinded by your hair! All I can see is red!” Andrew laughed as Janet straddled him. Her full breasts were tantalizingly close to his mouth. Her body was lightly dusted with freckles, and it turned him on to think of licking each freckle one a time. “Mmmmmm...come here, you vixen.”

  The dream fast-forwarded. They were in a pub in London and Janet was angry with him about something. They were fighting.

  “All the women keep hitting on you and you just sit there and smile. I think you like all the attention! That’s why you became a model.” Janet was both crying and angry — something Andrew never understood about women.

  “I do not. I just think their come-on lines are funny. Really. Who says, ‘Is it hot in here or is it just you?’ Not even my roommate Cole says that.” But Janet wasn’t having it, and the next thing he knew, her red ponytail was swinging as she stormed out of the pub. “Come on, Red!”

  The dream changed again. They were in bed in his flat. White sheets tangled around them as sweat ran down his back. Her legs were over his shoulders and they moved in unison. The only sounds were the moans of their lovemaking. Oh, how he loved making love with Janet.

  His heart began to pound in his sleep as the dream became his nightmare. The day he came home to find the “Dear John” letter that she was leaving — going back to America. “Don’t bother looking me up. I won’t take your calls.” Andrew had been devastated. Yes, they had problems. But couples should be able to work through them. How could he live the rest of his life without Janet?

  “Ladies and Gentlemen, we are beginning our initial descent into Sir Seretse Khama International Airport. Please place your seat backs and tray tables…”

  Andrew awoke with a start. What a terrible dream! Except that it had been real. Gazing out the window as the city lights of Gaborone, Botswana came into view, Andrew reflected on the dark period in his life after Janet broke up with him. “I wonder what ever happened to her?”

  “Did you say something?” The woman seated next to him looked overly eager to think Andrew’s comments might have been directed at her. Andrew just smiled and shook his head “no” again.

  Chapter Two: The Forgotten Goodbye

  Janet Girard hated hospitals. One would think that after spending so much time in them that she would have developed some sort of resistance to the feelings that the antiseptic smells, hushed voices, and stern faces in white coats stirred in her, but repeated exposure had only seemed to make her senses keener. The fine hairs on her body notice the shift of energy in the room. Noticed how the mouth of the last nurse that came in to check Gouta’s vitals set in a grim line before she made a few notes in her chart and walked out. Noticed how, even as she cuddled her son in close to her side, Gouta struggled with each breath.

  Her name meant gold in Setswana, and the day Janet met her, her dark skin had shone like a layer of gold was hidden just beneath the surface. With her bright smile and beaming optimism, no one would have even guessed that she was sick. And her little boy, Oba, wide-eyed and shy, who hid behind her leg when strangers spoke to him…that sweet face. It was almost inevitable that Janet would get attached. She tried so hard not to do that. There were so many kids at A Place of Grace that she couldn’t afford to give a piece of herself away to every child in her keep. Practically every child in the orphanage was there because his or her parents had died of AIDS.

  Botswana had once had the unfortunate privilege of having the second-highest human immunodeficiency virus infection rate in the world, with one in three adults infected. This meant that A Place of Grace was filled to capacity and demand for beds was growing by the month.

  Things had definitely improved in the fifteen years since she started her humanitarian work in this part of the world. Safe sex practice was taught and was now the norm so fewer new cases were being diagnosed, which gave Janet some hope that there would be fewer boys like Oba. But that really didn’t help Oba, did it? Janet shook her head to fight off the tears that threatened to flow.

  Her dear friend Gouta was dying. Probably today. And Oba—poor Oba. How does a five-year-old watch his mother die?

  “Janet?” Gouta whispered, lifting her oxygen mask away from her face.

  “Yes?” Janet stood and wiped her hands on her pant legs. Anxiety had clung to her all day. The end was so close that it felt like another presence in the room
. And when she came to stand next to her friend’s bed, she could tell that she knew it too.

  “Our little king is sleepy, I think.”

  Janet looked at him and smiled. “I think you’re right.”

  “I’m not tired,” Oba said, but it was a half-hearted protest. His eyes drooped as he laid his head back down on the pillow that was propping his head up on the chair. “I am awake.”

  Janet walked around to the opposite side of the bed and picked up the five-year-old. He wrapped himself around her and nuzzled his head into the crook of her neck. Since Gouta had been sick, Janet spent more and more time with Oba. She was practically a second mother to him at this point.

  “Hm. He is so long. Pretty soon he’ll be too big to carry that way,” Gouta said. Her smile was sad and her eyes went glassy with tears.

  “We’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” Janet said, reaching for Gouta’s hand and giving it a gentle squeeze.

  “Tomorrow,” she said, but there was no promise in the word.

  Janet shifted the weight of the dozing child in her arms and left the hospital room, ignoring the chill that had passed through her as Gouta’s fingers slipped from hers.

  It wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair. Just eight months ago, Gouta had been a beautiful young woman, brimming with potential, and now she was wasting away in a hospital bed from a disease that still had no cure, but was so easily prevented. How many more children have to face this before something is done to stop the crisis? It was absolutely heartbreaking to see.

  “Are you hungry?” Janet asked as they crossed the street, Oba’s tiny hand in hers. “We can stop and get you something if you’re hungry.”

  “I’m not hungry,” Oba said. His voice was solemn. It was almost as if the same wariness clung to him that had bothered Janet when she was sitting next to Gouta’s bed in the hospital. He was such a sweet, sensitive boy. He knew what was happening.

  “How about some ice cream? I could go for a vanilla cone right now. What about you? Do you want to get—”

  “I didn’t kiss mama goodbye!” Oba’s eyes grew wide in terror as he yanked Janet to a stop in the middle of the crowded sidewalk.

  She stroked the back of his hand with her thumb. “It’s all right,” she said. “Just be sure to give her double the kisses tomorrow.”

  “No!” he said, snatching his hand free. “I want to go back and kiss mama goodbye!”

  Janet squatted down to get at his eye level. “Oba, your mama was very tired and you’re very tired. Let’s just get back to the—”

  “No! I want to kiss mama goodnight!” he shouted defiantly and before Janet could react, he squirmed out of her grasp and took off.

  She always forgot how fast little kids were. Oba was small for his age. Janet had at least three feet on him and most of that was legs, but Oba evaded her grasp with frightening ease. With his little legs and arms pumping, he barrelled down the sidewalk, heading back the way they came, heading straight for the intersection.

  “Oba!” she shrieked, shoving people out of the way now.

  The light had changed and heavy traffic sped through the intersection. Oba stepped off the curb and Janet dove for him. Their bodies collided and she pulled him into her chest and rolled onto her side at the same time, hoping to take the full blow of the fall. With his tiny body tucked against her, momentum rolled them into the intersection. Janet screwed her eyes closed and prayed to a god that she didn’t believe in. Brakes screeched all around them and her back was pelted with gravel.

  Janet was terrified to open her eyes but she was sure that she felt the heat of an engine block on her shoulder. She just held her breath and crushed the boy against her while chanting. “We’re okay, we’re okay,” into his ear.

  “Miss?” A voice called out. “Miss, are you all right?”

  Was she all right? Janet did a quick assessment. Her toes wiggled. Her knees still worked. Her right arm felt like it was on fire but that was understandable considering that she had slid on it across rough blacktop, but otherwise, she felt fine.

  “Oba?” she said, holding the boy away from her so that she could see his face. There was a gash on his forehead and his eyes looked a bit unfocused. “Oba? Oba, speak to me. Are you okay?”

  “My head hurts,” he said finally then began to cry.

  “Miss, pass me the boy. Let’s get the two of you out from under there.”

  Under?

  It was then that Janet looked up and realized that heat she felt on her shoulder was from an engine, they were under a large truck.

  “Oh, my god!” She passed Oba to the man and slowly, gingerly, scooted out from underneath the truck. Once she was out, she tried to stand up her head swam and she faltered.

  “Whoa! Miss, are you okay? Oh my god. The boy came out of nowhere—”

  “I know. He was upset… he ran away from me…” The world started to dim around the edges, but slowly like some was closing heavy theater curtains.

  “Miss!”

  She was passing out. It wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling, but it was a frustrating one. “Oba…” she slurred reaching for the boy. She needed to tell someone where to take him. She had to tell someone who to call. “Call Place of…Place of…”

  “I got ya’.”

  Strong arms scooped her up, cradling her against a broad chest. The voice was American and vaguely familiar. Janet looked up to see who had come to her rescue.

  “Janet?” the deep, familiar voice with a thick New York accent said.

  Her vision was blurry. She must have a head injury. She blinked once…then twice. The man’s face slowly came into view.

  She must have a severe concussion because this was the face of a man that she hadn’t seen or spoken to in nearly a decade. Yes, she had a severe brain injury. There was a big gash in her head, it was gushing blood. Maybe some of her brains had leaked out on the pavement. That had to be it.

  “Janet, it’s me.”

  She frowned. “No…it can’t be you.”

  “Yes, Janet. It’s Andrew. Andrew Atherton.”

  “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Janet said, then promptly passed out.

  Chapter Three: Driven

  “Where have you been?” Andrew was completely stunned to see Janet standing in front of him. He had just been dreaming about her on the plane!

  He’d seen the woman dart out in front of the lead car, with her pale skin and red hair flying out behind her like a flag, and for a second he wondered if he were still dreaming. Of all the trucks to dive in front of, she chose the lead one in his caravan as they made their way through Francistown, heading back to the hotel after spending the day exploring a potential mine site. Part of him was ready to call this divine timing, as if the man upstairs finally decided to answer the pleas he sent up years ago, by throwing her right into his path.

  Andrew had spent a lot of money and wasted a lot of time trying to find her when she ran off, seven years ago. It took him four of those years to get over her and then another two to finally admit that he never really would be over her. So, he’d thrown himself into work and a few meaningless romances here and there. But now, here she was. Running out into traffic, sacrificing her life to save a little boy. Typical Janet, he thought.

  Janet was looking a little woozy and so Andrew decided to wait on the questions until after she was checked out at the local hospital. “Actually, let’s get you and the boy to the hospital. Come, get in my car.”

  Dazed, Janet and the boy hobbled into the back seat of the limo. Andrew was half-expecting her to refuse and to insist on walking. She was stubborn like that.

  As the doors closed, the partition that separated the back seat from the front rolled down. “Should I cancel the dinner reservation or do you think we’ll make it in time?” Fiona asked.

  Fiona Durant was his Personal Assistant—and former lover, but that was insignificant now. She ran his personal and private life like a well-oiled machine and their brief interlude didn’t affect her abili
ty to do her job. It’s not like they ever loved each other… it was just a relationship of convenience that ended when it became inconvenient.

  “Go ahead and cancel, Fi. I’m staying here until I can see Janet and make sure that she’s all right.”

  She raised an inquisitive brow and pivoted away from him as she brought her phone to her ear.

  “You do realize that you’ve done your part, right? You don’t have to hang around to wait and see if she’s okay. You got her to the hospital. That was chivalrous enough.”

  “Nah, I’m staying.”

  Winston Konteh was the head of the African division of Atherton Diamonds and was still in the limo. After Janet and Oba got in, Winston leaned over to Andrew and whispered, “Do you know her?”

  “Yeah, that’s Janet,” Andrew whispered back. Janet and Oba appeared to be dozing in their seats, so he continued in a low voice.

  “Who?”

  “Janet! You know—”

  “The red-haired minx that ruined your life? That Janet?”

  Andrew winced. “She didn’t ruin my life exactly—”

  “Those were your words, mate. Not mine.”

  He may have spent one too many nights deep in the bottle, trying to figure out where he had gone so wrong and how he would win her back.

  “But what is she doing here anyway?”

  “I don’t know which is why I need to stay here until—”