Amy Lynn, Into the Fire Read online

  AMY LYNN,

  INTO THE FIRE

  Jack July

  Copyright 2017 Jack July

  All rights reserved

  ISBN-13: 9781543295863

  ISBN-10: 154329586X

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2017902882

  Createspace Independent Publishing Platform

  North Charleston, South Carolina

  Cover Art by Kia Heavey

  Questions or comments? Contact Jack @ [email protected]

  Also by Jack July

  Amy Lynn

  Amy Lynn, Golden Angel

  Amy Lynn, The Lady of Castle Dunn.

  Dedication

  I always get misty eyed when I write this. I think back on the last fourteen months. These people were all a keystroke or a phone call away. I thank God I have these people at my side during this process. This special group has taken on the unenviable task of being on my writing team. I never allow anyone to supply content. However, they correct my grammar, find my plot holes and encourage me to be something I never thought I would be. A writer. God bless you all.

  Terrie Williams

  John Earle

  Helen Kerr

  Kia Tsakos Heavey

  Robert Bertrand

  I also need to thank my wife and children for tolerating my little hobby. I love you all very much.

  Jennifer

  Grace

  Carolyn

  Rants and Raves

  The Amy Lynn Series has received world wide critical acclaim.

  These are a few of the author’s favorite comments.

  “Jack July” has crafted his characters with extreme care and detail”

  “This was a “I can’t put it down” book.” (Dozens of similar comments on Goodreads and Amazon)

  “What Mr. July has done here is commit a wanton act of storytelling. The book reads like a tale told by a much loved older relative, the kind of thing that keeps kids spellbound on the porch of the family home as a perfect summer evening darkens to night.”

  “Mr. July tells Amy Lynn’s story with the expert strokes of a master painter.”

  “I fell in love with the heroine of the book and with the book itself. Amy Lynn is admirable, beautiful, courageous, determined, energetic, and...I could go through the rest of the alphabet in praise of her.”

  “I did not want it to end. I feel like I could have kept reading Amy’s story forever.”

  “I would recommend this book to anyone who is looking for a time out from every day tedium and gives a glimpse into a life of a small town Southern girl who finds her way in a world that needs her more than she needs it.”

  The Author’s favorite from a European gentleman.

  It’s actually quite an enjoyable book (Amy Lynn) in many ways. Amy is very likable. Towards the end, however, it becomes a big-ass AMERICA F*CK YEAH!

  AMY LYNN,

  INTO THE FIRE

  By

  Jack July

  Edited by

  Terrie Williams

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAPTER 26

  CHAPTER 27

  CHAPTER 28

  CHAPTER 29

  CHAPTER 30

  CHAPTER 31

  CHAPTER 32

  CHAPTER 33

  CHAPTER 34

  CHAPTER 35

  CHAPTER 36

  CHAPTER 37

  CHAPTER 38

  CHAPTER 39

  CHAPTER 40

  CHAPTER 41

  CHAPTER 42

  CHAPTER 43

  CHAPTER 44

  CHAPTER 45

  CHAPTER 46

  CHAPTER 47

  THE FINAL CHAPTER

  Chapter 1

  Everything stank of cigarettes. From the time they left the plane, the assault on the senses went from lingering to almost unbearable. Throw in an American’s sensitivity to bad breath, body odor and billy-goat-gagging flatulence and the fifteen-mile, stop-and-go, standing-room-only bus ride from Henri Coanda International Airport, to a run down industrial area on south side of Bucharest, Romania was cruel at best. Even so, Cindy Patrick and Mia Stanton were all smiles. In the stifling heat they held each other’s sweaty hands, both looking forward to ending the journey they started a year ago. They would adopt a baby, and their family would be complete.

  They had met ten years earlier as Cindy walked home from middle school on a blustery day in Falls Church, Virginia. Mia stood under a tree, cold, wet, and afraid to go home to an abusive single father. Cindy stopped to share her umbrella. After some small talk, Mia was invited to Cindy’s house for dinner. Mia walked through the door of Cindy’s seemingly warm, loving and stable home. Everything shone. The furniture, wood floors, wall colors, paintings, and curtains all matched. There was a theme and pattern to everything. Through an arched doorway, a black baby grand piano covered in family photos sat majestically in the center of the room. Mia kept looking around in disbelief. She thought only the families on television lived this way. Cindy, shy, kind and overly empathetic, just wanted a friend. Mia stayed the night with them that first evening. Cindy’s father, Marine Major John Fitzgerald Patrick, had a rule about company on a school night until Cindy’s mother, Francine, explained the situation. The Major’s personality to the outside world was forceful and uncompromising. However, his girls knew that at times, he could have a big heart.

  The third day Mia’s father followed her home from school. He was under the influence and became violent, which lead to a short but severe confrontation with the Major. When Mia’s father was released from the hospital, he was arrested and later lost custody of his daughter. The Patricks filed for guardianship, and Mia moved in for good.

  The girls, though very different, were inseparable. Much to the Major’s delight, Mia was a tomboy who liked sports, fishing and helping the Major work on his old Mustang. Cindy was an artist. She loved painting, sculpting and excelled at the piano. When she was sixteen, she began to get work playing classical music in some of Washington’s finer hotel lobbies and piano bars. The Major would sit close by and listen to her play. Anyone within arm’s reach of the Major knew exactly whose daughter she was. From the outside, the family appeared happy and for the most part, it was. The children were successful and John was nearing retirement. But there was a secret in the house. Over time, that secret would blow the family apart.

  John left early one Saturday morning to go golfing with friends in Jacksonville, North Carolina. Francine left to do volunteer work as a gardener at Mount Vernon. On this day, she forgot her boots. She was only five minutes away so she returned home and entered through the seldom-used front door. They always entered through the garage. Francine walked up the stairs to the hallway where the bedrooms were located. Muffled voices, laughter and a few loud moans coming from Cindy’s room piqued her curiosity. Looking through the partially open door, she froze. After a few seconds, she slowly backed away. When she got back in her car she started to shake. Was her good Catholic daughter really doing that? In a panic, she tried to reason, no, no, it can’t be. Immediately, the second strongest human driv
e, rationalization kicked in, followed quickly by denial. She kept her secret as long as she could.

  After the girls graduated from high school, Cindy received a full scholarship to The Julliard School of Music. Mia received a partial athletic scholarship to play softball at Fordham University in the Bronx, where she would study to be a physical therapist. They shared a small apartment about a mile from Fordham, paid for by John and Francine. John’s old friend, David Gist, the Secretary of Defense, offered John a job upon his retirement as the Deputy Under Secretary of Defense for Installations. He travelled the world, inspecting military facilities and playing golf. Six months after the girls left for college, Francine had been left alone one too many times. John’s meek, mild and dutiful military wife was set to explode and slam all the weight she had been carrying on top of his crew cut head.

  Francine heard the front door open, followed by John’s baritone voice calling her name. She sat in the sewing room, staring at a family portrait taken before Mia moved in. She heard him walk up the stairs into their bedroom. She followed him in. He didn’t really look at her; had he done so, he would have seen the bloodshot eyes and dark circles from lack of sleep. He gave her a closed smile and a perfunctory hug and said, “I want to show you something I bought in Japan.” He opened his suitcase and dug through it until he found what he was looking for. John turned and held it up. It was a complete Marine Corps dress uniform sized to fit a toddler. “I had it custom made. Someday when I have a grandson, we will have our picture taken together. What do you think?” She said nothing. He finally took a moment to take a good look at his wife and saw a woman who looked older than her age.

  In an almost whisper she replied, “What do I think? Do you care? Do you?” He looked at her, confused. “I think I’m done. I’m done waiting for you.”

  “Francine? What? What is your…”

  Then she lost control and started screaming. “YOU PROMISED! YOU PROMISED! 22 YEARS I SAT IN THIS HOUSE WAITING FOR YOU. YOU SAID WHEN YOU RETIRE THIS WOULD BE OUR TIME! WE WOULD TRAVEL; YOU WOULD SHOW ME ALL THE PLACES YOU TOLD ME ABOUT! WE WOULD BE TOGETHER! YOU LIED, YOU SON OF A BITCH, YOU LIED!”

  John wasn’t used to anyone openly defying him, much less screaming at him. He barked, “You need to stand down and I mean now!”

  Francine lowered her head while shaking it slowly. After letting out a bemused laugh, she spoke quietly, “Stand down? I’m not one of your troops.” Turning thoughtful, she said, “You know what I am? I’m one of those ribbons on your uniform, the one that says wife. There’s another one that says daughter. You got to check those boxes off. It looks good. Real good.”

  John growled at her, “Do not bring Cindy into this.”

  “Why? Do you think you know her? Have you deluded yourself to the point you actually believe you know anything about her? You didn’t raise her, I did. The only time you cared about her was when she made you look good.”

  “That’s BULLSHIT!” he roared.

  She sighed. “Oh really?” She reached over and picked up the small uniform and stroked the front of it with her hand, “This is beautiful. Too bad there will be no baby to wear it.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “She’s gay, John, a homosexual, a faggot, or dyke. Whatever it is you’re calling it these days.”

  His face went blank. “You’re lying.”

  “I saw them in bed together more than once. The only difference between you and me is I’ve had years to accept it.”

  “Them? Mia?”

  Francine slowly nodded her head.

  “Why didn’t you stop it?”

  “And do what? What was I supposed to do?”

  “Start by telling her it’s a sin!” He yelled.

  “Oh good Christ, really? She’s Catholic, she knows. You’ll have to work through this one yourself. Be careful; her emotions don’t react well to being stomped on. As for you, I’m done. The divorce papers are on the kitchen table. I suggest you sign them. Goodbye.”

  She left the room feeling strong. As she opened the front door, John shouted down the stairs, “You can’t divorce me. We’re Catholic.”

  “Wrong again, Major,” she said with a scowl. “Another of many things I quit believing in. Maybe you can get the Pope to wash your God damn clothes,” she said before slamming the door.

  Later that evening, after a few shots of liquid courage, John called Cindy and confronted her. It ended, as Francine suspected, with accusations, tears, and a father disowning his daughter. The impact was not only emotional but also financial. John cut her off, and while Francine and John battled over the divorce settlement, there was no money to be had. Mia dropped out of school and took a job with UPS to support the both of them. Cindy graduated from Julliard and became a highly sought-after studio musician. Mia completed a business degree at night and eventually became a district manager with UPS. They bought a house on Long Island and filled it with love and beautiful things. But there was something missing.

  They made the decision to adopt a child. But after numerous attempts and heartbreak, they discovered what many same sex couples discover. Though legal, finding a healthy baby was a nightmarish pattern of waiting, followed by crushing disappointment. It was not to be. Then a friend of a friend gave Cindy a phone number. That number would forever alter the course of their lives.

  Chapter 2

  Two Days After the Fire

  Amy sat still in the overstuffed leather chair. The paint smell in the newly completed 6500-square-foot ranch was still fresh. The house was beautifully and professionally decorated with the finest of everything. She should have been enjoying the completion of her dream home. It was situated just across the holler from her father’s house on Stringhill Road in rural central Alabama. However, that was the farthest thing from her mind.

  The second degree burns started on the backs of her hands. The blisters continued up her forearms and stopped at her elbow. Her mane of beautiful blonde hair was singed, the bangs burned away to an inch or two from her hairline. Splotches of blisters appeared on her face, neck and upper chest. Those were the places where her arms didn’t shield her from the fireball. Carla Jo gingerly applied aloe vera extract and covered her burns with light gauze. Cold packs were gently set on the most affected areas. Amy tried to focus her mind on something other than the stinging pain.

  She refused painkillers, fearing they would harm the baby. She said nothing, but as Micky, Carla Jo and Bogus attended to her, they could see the pain in her normally sparkling green eyes. The exhaustion was apparent and, as the pain ebbed, her eyelids drooped. Her adopted son, Micky, moved carefully to the side of the chair, leaned in, and kissed her on the cheek. “I have to go to the Stables and take care of the horses. I’ll be back when I’m done.”

  Amy gave him a slight smile. “It’s okay, go over to your granddaddy’s and have dinner when you’re finished. I’ll be fine.”

  Micky nodded and left. Carla Jo set a bottle of painkillers on the table. “I need to go back to work. The stress of your pain will be just as hard on the baby as the pills. They would be relatively harmless. I recommend them.” Amy shook her head no. “Alright, call me if you need anything. I love you.”

  “Okay, thank you. I love you too,” she said softly.

  Amy dreaded her leaving because the conversation with her husband was one she was not looking forward to. He dismissed Luther, her bodyguard, with just a nod. Luther had sitting on a barstool sipping coffee in the kitchen of the huge open-concept. Once he cleared the back door, Bogus tried to make eye contact with Amy. She wouldn’t bite. He sat on the ottoman in front of the chair, gently slipped his hand under her Tee shirt and rested it on her pregnant belly, lightly rubbing back and forth. He didn’t know what she had done, or how this happened. It was likely he would never know. He also could never have predict that he could love someone so deeply and be so furious with her at the same time. His voice was stern but soft and controlled. “Just what in the hell do you think you’re do
ing? What were you thinking?”

  She looked straight ahead, still not making eye contact, and said in a whisper, “I know.”

  “You know? You know? No, I don’t think you do. I don’t think you know the hell I go through every time you leave to do what it is that you do.” He raised his voice, “Look at me!” She met his eyes without moving her head. “I have accepted that. But I will never accept you putting our child at risk, ever. Now I ask you again, what were you thinking?”

  “I was bored, I just needed something to do. It wasn’t supposed to go like this. It was just, well, a little detective work. Nothing was supposed to happen.”

  “If it were just a little detective work, they would have sent a bloody detective.”

  Amy let out a little sigh and again whispered, “I know.”

  “Never again, do you understand me?”

  Amy gave him an almost imperceptible nod yes.

  “Never. Again.”

  Her eyes opened a little wider and he caught the flash of the emerald green, “I heard you the first time.”

  It was then he knew the conversation was over. They sat quietly for a few more minutes. Bogus got up the nerve to ask the question that could possibly bring forth the answer he most feared. “So, the baby; is it alright?”

  Amy cracked a slight smile, put her hand on top of his and said, “Yeah, I went through a battery of tests. Between Dr. Kennedy and Dr. Alonso, the President’s Doctor, they said she was doing fine.”

  He let out a sigh of relief that shook his whole body. “Good, I feel much better about…wait, she?”

  “Yeah, the nurse slipped and told me. I know you wanted to wait but I knew, so I thought you would want to know, too.”

  He began to smile while his eyes grew misty. He wanted so much to hug her but he couldn’t, so instead he leaned forward, hovering as close as he possibly could, and kissed her.

  She gave him a little grin. “I thought you would have wanted a boy?”

  “If she’s anything like you, I’ll have the best of both worlds.”