Prologue
~Leah~
I remember the shattering glass most of all. The sound still echoes through my head to this day. It was deafening to my child-sized eardrums, and I awoke quickly, covering my ears to try to mute the piercing sound.
The shrill voices came next. Heated, angry words were shouted outside my frilly pink bedroom that my mother and I had decorated from things we'd found at Goodwill. I was used to the shouting. My parents lived to fight. I spent a good part of my early childhood hidden behind the walls of that room. I'd play with my Barbies and dream of a normal family. Barbie would bake apple pie and sing Etta James in the kitchen, and Ken would take her out dancing. He would never raise his voice...or his hand. When I awoke that night though, it felt different...scarier. Even at seven, I knew something major was about to happen, and my world would never be the same.
Angry stomping passed my door, followed by hysterical cries and pleading words. Someone rushed down the hall, stopping briefly by my door, and then I heard the front door slam. Jumping out of my bed, I peeked my head out the door in the direction of our small living room. It was empty, and dark. The glass coffee table was in shards, and pieces were scattered all over the shaggy brown carpet. The dark shadows of the room seemed to be closing in on me from all angles. With the curiosity of a young child getting the best of me, I pressed on and walked farther into the room. No one was to be seen anywhere, and my exploration proved fruitless. Not knowing what else to do or where else to go, I picked a spot in the corner, curled myself into a ball, and started to count the glittery pieces of glass.
"What the hell are you doing out of bed?" my father asked when he found me some time later. My count had reached the hundreds by then, and my feet were ice cold from the lack of heat in the house. I looked up at the man I both loved and feared. Both of his hands were wrapped in bloody bandages and his clothes looked askew and out of place. I remember wondering if he had a hard time getting dressed with those bandages on his hands and that’s why he looked so funny. I reminded myself to help Daddy button his shirt the next day. Children have such innocent minds.
"I couldn't sleep," I answered quietly, "Where's Mommy?"
"She's gone. For good."
Chapter One
~Leah~
"How are you feeling, sweetie?" I asked the soon-to-be-mother as I walked into the birthing room carrying her chart and a cup of ice chips.
"I'm okay," she groaned before grimacing in pain as another contraction rolled through her tiny body.
Natural childbirth —I would never understand it. It was like going to the dentist and saying, "Novocain? No thanks. Just go in there Doc and rip that sucker right out!" Epidural was the way to go and it made my job so much easier.
I was a labor and delivery nurse and my current mother-to-be was named Hillary. With her granola eating boyfriend, Teegan, she had come in tonight with mild contractions after her water had broken. They were like any soon-to-be-parents —excited, nervous and scared. They were also very adamant in what they did and did not want. They had a three-page birthing plan. Three f**king pages that were single spaced no less. Hillary had promptly handed it to me in between her Lamaze breathing, and she'd instructed me to read and follow it to the letter.
Hippie chick was bossy. Five hours later, she was also bitch-ass tired and hadn't progressed at all. Stuck at six centimeters dilated, she was in a hell of a lot of pain and completely miserable.
Handing her the ice chips, I asked, "Can I get you anything?"
She shook her head and tried to give a polite smile, but I could see it waver. She was losing her strength fast. Hard lines from exertion showed in her forehead, sweat trickled down her brow and her eyes were heavy from exhaustion.
"Okay, I'll come back in a few and check on you." I gave a reassuring smile to Teegan before exiting the room.
Walking down the hall, I headed for the nurses station and spotted one of the other nurses on shift.
"Hey Trish. How's your night going?"
"Just finished delivering a baby boy. It was her third, so I think she could have done my job for me."
"I love the repeat offenders. They're so much easier."
"Yeah, but the newbies are fun too. Hey, I heard you went out with Susan's brother, Neil. How'd that go?" she asked, her eyes flickering with unshed laughter.
Neil and I had gone out the other night, and unfortunately it was three hours of my life I'd never get back. He was a financial advisor and he really loved his job. It had been all he talked about, and by the end of the evening —after repeated attempts at keeping myself from stabbing my own eyes out with a fork —I faked a stomachache and fled. It had been my first date in months —six months to be exact.
"Yes. Why do you say it like that? I asked, eyeing her suspiciously. "What do you know?"
"I'm surprised you made it out alive. Did he talk you to death? I thought I was going to bleed out from my ears from the endless chatter I had to endure on our date," she confessed.
"Oh my God! You went out with him, too? And you didn't feel the need to warn me? Shit, you could have told me he was a walking, talking, ad campaign for abstinence, " I scolded, causing her to burst into laughter.
She muffled the sound with her hand as a doctor walked by, and gave us a look that clearly held judgment, but I ignored it and pressed on.
"Seriously Trish! I thought you were my friend!"
"I'm sorry, Leah. I am. I didn't know. I found out afterwards, when Susan was talking about it in the cafeteria. She was so proud. She thought she'd finally found her new sister-in-law. Man, she is going to be disappointed."
"I have news for her. She's never, ever going to marry that man off. The only chance she has is finding a nice young girl who happens to be deaf."
We continued giggling and talking as I checked charts and entered a few things into the computer. When Susan asked if she could set me up with her hot brother, I leaped at the chance. My love life had taken a serious nose dive lately, and I was sick of sitting on the couch being utterly boring. I had no one to blame but myself. Well, that wasn't true. There was one other person I could blame for my complete lack of interest in the male species —Declan James.
Declan was childhood pals with my best friend's husband, Logan Matthews. Declan and I had met one night at a bar when Clare and Logan were dating. Declan had been an up-and-coming star in Hollywood, and well...he was gorgeous —like, sizzling hot, forgot-every-other-man-in-the-world-but-him-hot. Tall and rugged, with dark chocolate brown hair, he had hazel eyes that seemed to take on a life of their own, depending on his mood. Despite his obvious attempts to hide his appearance, I’d known who he was the minute he'd walked into that bar. Even with his dark sunglasses and baseball cap pulled tight against his head, I'd known.