Hi friends,
As you know, Secrets of Whitestone Manor: The Winters Family Series, Book One will be released on February 3, 2015 on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, iTunes and Kobo. This book was so much fun and I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. So, without further ado... here's the first chapter! Feel free to let me know what you think about it, and if you have any questions about this novel or my plans for the series, don't hesitate to ask!
Brittany Jo James
Chapter One
The flurry of white snowflakes from an
unexpected winter storm covered the marble courtyard outside. My breath fogged
the window I was staring through as I awaited impending news from town.
“Where are they?” I mumbled worriedly to
myself.
“They’ll be fine.”
I stiffened immediately at my uncle’s gruff
voice behind me. “Grayson isn’t answering his cellphone.”
Uncle Sebastian snorted, which is as close as
he ever came to actually expressing a sense of humor. “And, you’re surprised
about that?”
“Ellison and Pierson aren’t either.”
He shrugged and pensively tilted his head to
the side, “Ah, you’re worrying for nothing. I’m sure they all left their phones
in the Range Rover. They can’t allow it to endanger the job, Orson. You know
that. Besides, they probably knew you would call incessantly.”
I glanced at him over my shoulder as he
pulled a leather-bound book off of a shelf across the room. His hair was
beginning to gray on the sides but it was still dark brown on the top.
Uncle Sebastian wasn’t an abnormally large
man, but his presence loomed around the property like the un-jolly green giant. He peered at me questioningly with cold brown
eyes, urging me to say what I needed to say so he could leave the room and
forget about me.
“The storm is becoming worse and I don’t like
them driving on these dangerous roads,” I shrugged coolly, feigning my
composure. The truth is that the drive up the steep, icy, winding mountain road
that would bring my siblings back to our hidden haven wasn’t the worst concern
I had for them.
My uncle grunted and walked out of the room
without any other words of comfort or assurance. That was his way. He had never
known what to say or how to be sensitive. It wasn’t in his nature at all.
I glanced at the small desk sitting across
the room, by the door. My laptop sat open, revealing an unfinished homework
assignment for my online Finance course. I should have been working on it, but
learning about fixed assets was the
last thing on my mind at the moment.
I turned my attention back to the snow
whirling around the front yard, fixing my stare on the automatic gate I hoped would
open soon. I thought about a sunny day, ten years earlier.
My
ninth birthday had just passed and our family had spent the morning in church
together. On our way back to our home in the suburbs outside of Dallas, Texas,
Dad announced that he and Mom planned to take us on a picnic that afternoon.
“Can
we stop at home first to pick up our baseball gear and some toys?” I questioned
excitedly.
“Of
course. You know that anything worth doing is worth doing right,” Dad chuckled
in response. “Besides, your mother has to pack our lunch.”
My
three younger siblings and I were obviously thrilled with the anticipation of
spending our day at the park. Unfortunately, things didn’t work the way we
planned. I spotted the black BMW sitting in our driveway when we were half a
block away.
“Who’s
that?” I questioned, nodding toward the car.
My
parents stared at it for a moment before casting each other contemplative looks
from across the minivan. “Orson,” Dad commanded in an unusually stern voice.
“Take your brothers and sister to the backyard and find your baseball gear.
This will only take a moment and then we’ll be on our way. Understand?”
“Yes,
sir.” I agreed apprehensively, unbuckling my seatbelt.
As
young as I was, I knew something was going on that didn’t seem quite right.
Still, I followed my father’s instructions and took my siblings to the backyard
while my parents walked toward the dark haired man sitting on our front porch.
As
Grayson and Ellison raced to the shed to be the first to claim the best
equipment for our picnic, tiny Pierson trailing behind them, I snuck back
toward the edge of our chain-link fence inquisitively.
“Can
we discuss this inside?” Uncle Sebastian demanded from the front porch. “Or,
are you too good to let me in?”
My
father sighed in exasperation. I didn’t realize it at the time, but I’m sure my
dad knew his brother wouldn’t leave easily. The bolt on the door clicked
loudly, then the next, and the third.
It
had never dawned on me that three bolt locks on each exterior door and two on
every interior door wasn’t normal, but I smiled now at my own naivety back
then. How did I not know we were different? How did I not suspect anything?
The
front door closed behind them and I sprinted to a window to peep inside. My
mother paced the living room floor, her hands flailing from side to side as she
ranted at the stranger sitting on the couch.
Any
show of anger was uncommon for my kind, calm, loving mother. My father stood
still, staring at the floor with his back against the wall and arms crossing
his chest as the man argued with Mom.
“I
claim this one!” Grayson yelled, running across the yard as he waved our newest
bat tauntingly.
Ellison
chased him as fast as her little legs could carry her. “Orson,” she squealed.
“Tell him to share!”
I
smiled jovially and dashed after my younger brother, momentarily disregarding
the scene inside our home in order to fully focus on caring for my siblings as
my father had requested. Ellison’s face lit up in carefree laughter and
Grayson’s eyes grew wide as he picked up speed to get away from me. My body
crashed against his seconds later and we both rolled across the yard. The two
of us giggled lightheartedly as we tugged the bat back and forth.
“I
found a ball,” Pierson squealed as he ran to join us from the shed.
His
dark brown hair hung shaggily around his face and his bright blue eyes stared
into mine. I let go of the bat, sending Grayson flying backward into the dirt
with his prize. I stood, dusting myself off and then patted Pierson on the
back, “Good job, little buddy.”
He
grinned from ear to ear and tossed the ball to me gleefully. “Alright, spread
out and we’ll play catch until Mom and Dad are ready to go,” I instructed to
the three of them.
The
fun of the game was lost when the yelling began. My father’s voice rang clear
and loud from the house. “Get out! Just go, Sebastian.”
“You
can’t keep hiding. Those kids need protection and we need you.” My uncle yelled
in response.
“We’re
fine here and this is the only way we know how to protect them. Do you honestly
think they’re safe in Montana? Why would I want to put them through the type of
childhood we had? I want better for them.” Dad defended firmly, not backing
down.
“You’re
keeping them away from their purpose, Jackson. They’re bound to find out and it
ought to be from family instead of—”
Dad
interrupted him, louder this time. “I told you to leave, Sebastian. Get out of
my home and don’t come back.”
The
front door slammed loudly, followed by the sound of several picture frames
falling from the wall and crashing to the floor. I stood in the middle of the
backyard, hugging my brothers and sister protectively, listening to the chaos
inside.
The
smooth reverberation from the BMW rumbled as the engine started. Seconds later,
the little black car sped from our driveway and down the road in a furious
flash.
Everything
was quiet from the house for a few long seconds until my mother swung the
backdoor open and called for us to come inside. She glanced around the backyard
suspiciously, beckoning us with a waving motion from her right hand.
“Can
we have our picnic now?” Pierson begged, tugging on her skirt.
She
shook her head negatively and pursed her lips together. “Not right now,
sweetheart. Run to your room and play, alright?”
“Mom,”
I called as I raced toward her. “Who was that man? I heard him say something
about family and—”
“It’s
not your concern, Orson.” My dad interrupted firmly as he walked back into the
house from the front porch. “We don’t have any family. He was just an old
friend. Care for your brothers and sister while I speak to your mother alone.
Understand?”
The wind howled violently through the trees
beyond the rock wall we called a fence, snapping me out of my reverie.
The gate remained motionless and I picked up
my iPhone for the millionth time in the few hours my siblings had been gone. I
pounded the screen aggressively and held the phone to my ear waiting for the
voicemail message I knew I would hear after a few rings.
“Congratulations, you’ve reached my cellphone.
Leave a message explaining what you want and how I can reach you. If you have a
more pressing concern, you should know better than to call me anyway. My big brother can be reached at 957—”
“I don’t want to hear my phone number, Gray! I want you to answer,” I growled, as I
pressed the end call button and
tossed it onto the leather couch a few feet away.
I paced the room for a minute or two but gave
up quickly, returning to my post by the window. My thoughts drifted to another
day, not quite as sunny or jovial as the one from my previous daydream. The two
occasions were only a few days apart but they couldn’t be more opposite from
each other.
The
dark evening had been rainy and I stared out the window watching the raindrops
fall to the ground. Grayson sat on the couch, silent and lost. Ellison and
Pierson cried into each other’s arms openly.
A
policeman from the Dallas Police Department stood next to me with his hand on
my shoulder. “I’m sorry about your parents, son. We were at the site of the car
collision almost instantly but there was nothing we could do. They were dead on
the scene. No pain. No fear. Understand?”
I
nodded.
“I
called your next of kin and he arranged a taxi to pick the four of you up,” he
explained tenderly.
“Our
next of kin? We have no family. Our parents are—were—all we had.” I insisted
strongly, trying to keep my face from showing the devastation I felt.
The
red-haired policeman tilted his head to the side and stared at me with slanted
eyes. “You have an uncle who lives in Montana. His name is Sebastian Winters.
Do you recognize the name at all? Surely you’ve met him at least once, Orson.
He’s your father’s younger brother.”
I
didn’t answer. There was nothing left to be said. I nodded in agreement and
cleared my throat, turning back toward the window. “Grayson,” I demanded with
authority. “Pack your bag, and help Elle and P pack theirs. Do it now. We’re
leaving.”
“Where
are we going?” He asked me as a deep anger and resentment built with every
passing moment.
Grayson
had always been carefree and happy until that day, but he refused to let it go.
He took the death of our parents far worse than any of the rest of us and never
did fully get over the pain from that dreary, rainy evening.
“Montana.
We’re going to Montana.” I answered as strongly as I could. “Our new home.”
A jolt of the automatic gate reclaimed my
attention and I took a deep breath, desperately hoping that the black Range
Rover would pull through, delivering my three siblings home safely.
The gate slowly swung open allowing entrance
into the courtyard of Whitestone Manor, our home and refuge from the dangerous
life we lived. It opened all the way and came to a sudden stop on the other
side of the driveway.
My heart pounded in my chest, hoping for the
best and preparing for the worst. An eternity later, or what felt like one, my
black Range Rover came flying through the open portal with my little sister
behind the wheel.
Ellison rolled down the darkly tinted window,
despite the snow, and blew a kiss toward the house, knowing I would be
watching, waiting and worrying. With a sigh of exhausted relief and the plan to
yell at them until their ears bled, I marched from the library to meet them in
the four car garage attached to the manor.
“Be calm, Orson.” My uncle commanded as he
spotted my frown. “As long as they did their job and lived to tell about it,
the day was a success. Understand?”
“They’re an hour late, Uncle Sebastian.
Unless Satan himself attacked them on the job, they have no excuse that can pacify
me.”
“Well, that’s always a possibility with our career.
It wouldn’t be the first time and I doubt it’ll be the last,” he chuckled.
I didn’t find him funny because the sad truth
was that he wasn’t joking. Unfortunately for us, the family secret and the King
of Hell went together like two peas in a pod.
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