Love Inside the Silence

Copyright © 2020 A.L. Long

Love Inside The Silence

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All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior consent of the author

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or used fictionally, and any resemblance to any actual person, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

Interior edited by H. Elaine Roughton & Enterprise Editing Service

Cover Design by Elena Krishtop

Acknowledgment

To my wonderful husband, who is with me heart, body and soul through each word I write. If it weren’t for him my dream of writing would have never been fulfilled. I love you, sweetheart. And to my family, whom I also love dearly. Through their love and support, I can continue my passion for writing.

To the many readers, who took a chance on me and purchased my books. I hope that I can continue to fill your hearts with the passion I have grown to love.

Most of all I want to thank my incredible PA, Barbara Danks. I don’t know where I would be without her and to my wonderful Street Team (Athena Kelly, Lori Hammons, Kristen Ann Tanner, Marsha Black, Sallie Ann, Andrea Miles Rhoads). You ladies have been a godsend.

Love Inside

The Silence

A.L. Long

Prologue

It’s funny how things can change in a split second, at the drop of a hat. I, for one, never thought I would be a victim of those crazy idioms, but, unfortunately, not even I could predict what the future would bring or what would happen from one minute to the next. Five years ago, my fate was decided. It was an unforeseen tragedy, one no one deserved, especially me. How was I to know that changing my daily routine would have an outcome that would leave me in silence for the rest of my adult life?

The day was just like any other day, with one exception. I was running late, and instead of taking my usual route to school, I decided to take a shortcut. It was the beginning of my senior year at UCLA, and, on that day, I was to find out whether my internship application to one of the leading newspapers had been accepted. It was a day that would take me one step closer to fulfilling my dream of being a journalist. I had everything laid out, including my internship at the L.A. Times. My uncle, one of the top news reporters, assured me that I would be accepted. But on this particular day, that all changed.

The driver came out of nowhere, avoiding all of the traffic laws known to man, by running a stop sign and ultimately hitting me. The authorities said I was lucky that my car only rolled once before settling inches from the fifty-foot embankment. The course of that day flashed before me, and my dream of becoming a journalist slowly disappeared. The last thing I remembered was the sound of metal being crushed against the pavement and glass particles, shattered into small pieces from the impact, piercing my face. It was unfair and not how I wanted my life to end.

The world, as I knew it, changed, but it didn’t stop me from achieving my dream. I received my degree in journalism with the help of my uncle and my college English professor. Changing my daily routine became a reality. I had to relearn everything, and hiding the fact that my world had become silent was not an easy feat. But I was Willow Parker and not a quitter. I was going to do whatever it took to make sure that my newfound disability wouldn’t grant me any special treatment. After five years, I was finally ready to begin a new chapter, putting everything behind me, which meant forgiving the man who caused this preventable tragedy.

I’d like to think that things would have been so different if he had only selected to take a cab instead of driving his impaired self to his destination. Even though I never knew his name or saw him, the police reassured me he got everything he deserved. To me, seven years behind bars wasn’t a fair trade for what he did to me, and he deserved more than the 2,556 days they sentenced him. It was not nearly long enough to think twice about getting behind the wheel while intoxicated. In two years he would be free to resume his life while I spent the rest of my life in silence. In my book, he deserved the same. Just because I forgave him didn’t mean I would forget. How could I?

Chapter One

Willow

Even though I couldn’t hear Mia speak, I could see her lips. Willow, aren’t you excited about your first job interview?

I’m scared to death. What if they figure out that I can’t hear? I never mentioned it when I filled out the online application. I was beyond scared, and I knew the minute I hit send, I should have disclosed that piece of information when the question that asked about job limitations appeared.

I wouldn’t worry about it. Just make sure you are looking directly at the interviewer, and you will be fine.

I wished I had as much confidence in myself as Mia did. Even when we were in college, she was always there to support me. When she suggested I apply for the editing job that recently came open at Marx, Ashton, and Cooper Investments in their marketing department, there was no way I could turn it down. Being the editor for MAC Investments Magazine wasn’t the L.A. Times, but it was still a great way to put my degree to good use. Even though I wouldn’t be writing the headline stories or interviewing the main subject, at least I would be the editor of the final story.

My big interview wasn’t until tomorrow, and Mia thought the best way to get my mind off of tomorrow was to go shopping for something professional to wear for the interview. She didn’t think the black pantsuit I graduated in was professional enough. Personally, I thought it was an excuse to spend some of the monthly allowance her dad gave her. Mia’s dad was a government hotshot, a senator, to be exact, and provided for her every need, but only if she held down a full-time job. Other than covering the expenses for her utilities, Mia didn’t have any bills. Unfortunately for me, I didn’t have a rich father to cover my expenses, and even though Mia didn’t want me to pay rent, I felt obligated to pay her. The last thing I wanted to be was a freeloader.

Setting our sights on the Grove and the Sunset Strip as our shopping venues, we put on our most comfortable shopping shoes, Vans for me and UGGs for Mia, and headed out of Mia’s two-bedroom luxury apartment in Westwood Village. It was about a thirty-minute drive to the Grove, our first shopping stop, and even though I didn’t think it was that far, Mia insisted on buying a to-go cup of coffee from Starbucks.

As we came closer to our shopping destination, Mia’s face lit up with excitement. I never understood how she could get so excited about spending money. Probably because she had money to spend and I didn’t. When we pulled up to the fancy shopping center, it was clearly out of my league. I was more of a Walmart kind of girl, where valet parking wasn’t an option. I never had to venture far from Westwood Village since everything I needed was within walking distance from Mia’s apartment. That and the fact that I didn’t have another means of transportation except for the local transit bus, which I rarely took. Saving money for more important things had something to do with it.

The valet helped us get out of the car, and I was hesitant to take another step from the curb. Mia turned around, noticing that I wasn’t exactly thrilled about being here. "Willow, I got this. All you have to do is pick out something professional to wear that will sweep MAC Magazine off their feet."

I can’t let you buy me an outfit, Mia. I have enough money saved, and I’m sure I can find something that I can afford.

Nonsense. Think of it as an early birthday present.

My birthday isn’t for another ten months, Mia.

As I said, think of it as an early birthday present.

It was useless arguing with her. She always managed to find a way to win the disagreement. Argument or not, I would find another way to pay her back before she knew what I was doing.

~****~

Three stores later, we finally found the perfect outfit for my interview, along with a few other outfits that Mia insisted I get. Even though red wasn’t my first choice, I had to admit the double-breasted suit dress looked good on me. The neckline wasn’t too low, but I felt like I needed to pair it with a red-and-black asymmetrical scarf to be safe. Looking professional, the only thing left was to get the job.

On our way home, I wondered what it would be like to have an actual job where I got paid. Throughout my recovery, I found a way to deal with my disability by volunteering at the hospital. Being surrounded by people was the best therapy, and the hospital was a great place to do just that. If by some miracle I got the job, I wasn’t opposed to volunteering on weekends, as long as it didn’t interfere with my work schedule.

Instead of taking the exit to our apartment building, Mia decided to make one last stop before heading home. She thought it would be nice if I knew where I would be working beforehand. I loved her optimism. Somehow, she always managed to make me feel better. When we pulled up to the MAC building, I was glad that we did. It was when she suggested we go inside and check things out that I panicked. I think I have seen enough of the building, Mia. There’s no reason to go inside.

Willow, if we go inside, we can find out where you need to go for your interview. At the very least, you will know where to go instead of getting directions by yourself.

Mia’s analogy made sense. She was right. I wasn’t sure where the interview would take place and knowing beforehand was better than trying to figure out where I needed to go tomorrow. Then again, she worked in the building. Why couldn’t she show me where to go once I got here? My appointment wasn’t until one o’clock. Certainly she could spare a few minutes to show me. Why can’t you show me tomorrow?

Because I might not be able to get away. Besides, it gives me an excuse to show you where I work.

My eyes remained focused on everything and everyone as we stepped inside the building. I had never seen anything quite like it, and to think this could be where I would be working. What a way to leave an impression on me. Wow, Mia, this is amazing.

I know, right?

The lobby was tastefully decorated in white and gray, with the walls being gray and the floor white. Every line was so clean and precise, matching the artistic paintings that hung on the walls. None of which were askew or out of place. In particular, one painting that hung on the wall above the security station caught my eye. If I hadn’t known better, I would have mistaken it for a Van Gogh.

Even though Mia worked here, I felt completely out of place. Surrounded by professionally dressed people, a security guard walked toward us. It was evident that he was concerned about our presence when he stopped us. Is there something I can help you ladies with?

When Mia turned her head, he recognized her right away. Hello, Mia. Funny seeing you here today. I thought it was your day off.

As the security guard and Mia talked, my attention wasn’t on them but on the gentleman who entered the building just behind us. Dressed in a well-tailored suit, talking with someone on his cell, my focus should have been on his lips, but instead, it was on his face. He was gorgeous and very well built. Very well built. His commanding presence matched his attire, and I wondered if he owned one of the companies within the building.

Unaware that I was gawking at him, Mia grabbed my attention by pulling at the sleeve of my t-shirt. He’s gorgeous, isn’t he? Maybe he’ll be your new boss.

If this man was going to be my boss, I was in big trouble. He didn’t strike me as the type who would give anyone a break. Let’s hope not.

The guard’s boyish smile indicated that he heard Mia’s comment. Mr. Marx is part-owner of MAC Investments. He is everybody’s boss.

Of the people who worked in the building, why did he have to be a part-owner with the company I was interviewing for? Maybe we would never meet. He was a co-owner, after all, and probably didn’t have direct contact with the employees hired to work at the bottom of the pay scale. My assumption was confirmed when Mia said, He’s my boss? Wow. I really need to make it up to the fortieth floor more often.

After a few more words, Mia and I stepped away from the guard and headed to the elevator. All four cars were stopped on the top floors and taking forever to come down. At this rate, Mr. Marx would surly reach us before one of the elevators hit the ground level. Alternating my focus on the LED panels above the doors, I pulled Mia in front of the elevator that would arrive first. Wasting no time, Mia and I scrambled inside the elevator the minute the doors opened. When the door started to close, I thought for sure we were in the clear.

When an older man in a gray suit reached over and pressed the button that read Door Open, I stopped breathing. No…no…no. Please let the door close. My eyes focused on the doors, hoping the man on the other side wasn’t Mr. Marx. Like a magnetic force, hazel eyes met mine, and I couldn’t pull away from them. His eyes were a magnificent shade of green with light specks of amber and gold. He was even more gorgeous close up than at a distance. His dark brown hair was perfectly combed in a quiff hairstyle: every strand expertly placed to match his confident persona.

I was paralyzed, unable to move, when he tipped his head, offering me a dazzling smile. My experience with men was next to none, and the man standing before me was as intimidating as hell. Other than the brief relationship I had before the accident, not even he had that kind of effect on me. Dazed and incoherent, I found his smile turned into words. Ladies.

I moved to my right so that he could enter the car. What was I thinking? I should have stepped back, because then I would be behind him instead of beside him. The earthy scent of musk mixed with sandalwood filled the confined space, and even though I was only standing next to him, already I could feel a tingling sensation down below.

Standing so close to him made me nervous, and whenever I got nervous like I was at that very moment, I would comfort myself by humming. Something about the vibration against my throat soothed me. Unconsciously, I began to hum the melody to "Row, Row, Row Your Boat." Only Mia knew this about me, and, thankfully before I got through the first verse, she nudged me to stop. It wasn’t soon enough. My eyes rose, and, even though I couldn’t hear him, Mr. Marx was laughing.

With my eyes glued to his lips, his words were comforting. That was one of my favorite songs as a kid. Still is.

Keeping my secret, I replied, Mine too.

Maybe Mr. Marx wasn’t so intimidating after all.

Hayden

There was something different about her. I couldn’t put my finger on it. I usually had no problem judging people at first glance, but not her. She was out of her element, that was evident, but her shy disposition was refreshing. More than that was the way she looked. If down-to-earth had a singular meaning, she would be