Cumberland (Not A Dream Book 1) Read online

  Cumberland

  Written By: Amey Coleman

  About Author

  This very successful author, Amey Coleman had come from a small town, in Missouri, to share her fiction fantasies with the world to hear. She likes to write every day, and has accomplished in doing so. Amey Coleman tends to live by the motto, “If you can do it, don’t say it; just do it.” Her most recent books have, and are, available on the Amazon Kindle, Nook, and createspace.com.

  You can find her at [email protected]

  Follow her on Facebook: www.facebook.com/writewhatyoulove

  And twitter: @AmeyColeman

  Her Blog: amey1293.wordpress.com

  Copyright

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used factiously. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locals is entirely coincidental.

  CUMBERLAND

  Copyright © 2014 by Amey Coleman

  All rights reserved.

  Cover Art by Bonnyb Bendix

  This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material or artwork herein is prohibited without the express written permission of author.

  Second Print Edition: November 2014

  First E-Book Edition: November 2014

  ISBN-13: 978-1505221893

  ISBN-10: 1505221897

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  Dedication Page

  I dedicate this to you. Have a wonderful day, and God Bless!

  Table of Contents

  About Author

  Copyright

  Dedication Page

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  From the Author

  Prologue

  Brad paced back and forth waving his hands down to his side. He stopped, in mid pace, and turned to face his periwinkle skinned friend, “Holden, I am not sure what to do here.”

  Holden looked at Brad despairingly, “You have no choice. You have to leave. The Queen of Cumberland is very displeased with you.”

  “I haven’t done anything wrong!” Brad yelled. He brushed back his brown hair out of his eyes feeling betrayed.

  “You cannot help me anymore. Carolyn cursed me to this beast for all of eternity. I am now a Gargoyle.”

  “She needs to make you human again. You are my best friend. We grew up together!” Brad began to get heated.

  Holden placed his long-nailed fingers upon Brad’s shoulder and reassured, “Brad, I will be okay. When the time is right, I will be put back. For now, I have to just hide and make a plan.”

  “She is just jealous. She needs to learn that not every heart can be controlled.”

  Holden paused and said, “A heart can be controlled, but my heart was already held by another. But she will never love me looking like this.”

  “She will. I promise,” Brad explained.

  Holden turned away and growled, “But when? The Prophet said she has yet to even been born!”

  “Love always finds a way,” Brad claimed as he patted Holden’s shoulder.

  “You have to leave. I’ll see you again, hopefully,” Holden began to hold back tears.

  “I don’t think so. No matter how much I want to see you again, I am not sure how it would benefit us any.”

  “I will never forget you, Bradford Kevin James.”

  “And, I, you. Holden Crane Bridges.”

  Many years passed, and Brad still remembers the last moments he shared with Holden. They shared many laughs and tears. Holden and Brad grew up together since they were in pre-k. They did not know any of this would happen. They do not know what to do about their given situation.

  No one believed Brad about his adventures in Cumberland. He was not allowed to express his stories, so he kept them safe in a journal to read to his future grand kids. Then he met Holden on the street again. Holden was ecstatic, “You are alive?”

  “Yeah, what do you mean?”

  “You don’t know?” Holden asked.

  “No.”

  “You were in a coma from a fishing accident,” Holden answered.

  “What are you talking about? I was pulled out of the water in time, and woke up just fine along the shore line right before I was taken and released from the hospital,” Brad managed to say.

  “No, I was there. I tried to save you, but the doctors said you hit your head when you landed on the floor of the lake.”

  “I was sixty feet under?” Brad exclaimed.

  “Yeah. The doctors said it would be a miracle if you ever awoke from your coma.”

  “They didn’t mention a coma to me. How long has it been?” Brad asked.

  “Two years.”

  They had never been separated since that glorious day. Many years down the road, Brad had fathered a son named, Benjamin Andrew James. Ben, as he was called, married a woman named Lillian Kay. She, in return, gave Brad a beautiful and special granddaughter. She was named Milly Kate James. Little did she know, a whole new story was about to unravel for her. A twist of fate shall prevail. Brad read to Milly his stories of Cumberland throughout her whole life growing up.

  Chapter One

  I was five years old when my mother died. To this day, I remember the car wreck, but nothing else. My father, Benjamin Andrew James, would cry anytime I would ask him why the car wrecked. He would simply say, with a hesitation in his voice, “Milly, the mechanic explained that her break line was cut.” His freckled face would turn red when he choked back his tears.

  This would cause him to fall into deep thought. I could tell he was far off in another world when he would brush his fingers through his brown hair. Anytime my mother was on his mind, his blue eyes would swell up rainfalls of tears. He once said, “Lillian, your mother, was very special to me. I am just happy to have at least a part of her here with me.” I would hug him every day, and tell him, “I will always be here for you dad.”

  “Do you think about her every day?” I had asked. But without any reply, he just nodded his head. The memory of my mother was a very small amount, but held truly heavy in my heart.

  He once asked me, “Do you remember her any?” In return, I would just nod back.

  Every night, from then on, he would tell me stories about me and my mother. Then my grandpa Brad would come in and cheer me up with stories he had wrote himself. I felt they were true, but my father explained, “Your mother loved his fairytales as well.”

  I asked my father, “What else does mom like?”

  He w
ould smile and answer, “She has a big heart, and she likes almost anything. She loved helping out those in need.”

  I would smile back and ask, “Just like how I help put money in those red buckets that stores have out every Christmas?”

  He grinned bigger and said, “Yea!”

  Surprisingly, only a couple years after my mothers’ passing, my father remarried. Betrayal hit my soul. I felt as if he was cheating on her by falling for another so fast. For a few months, I had not spoken to him. He came up to me and explained, “I am a father, and you are my daughter. Carolyn has twin daughters your age, and I feel they can give you more to relate to than me.”

  I would just fold my arms and pout and say, “I don’t want a new mom.”

  “I am not replacing your mother, by no means. Carolyn is a nice woman.”

  “I doubt that.”

  I know he was just trying to look out for my best interests, but that evil woman didn’t care for me at all. Her name was even evil sounding. She didn’t even bother replacing her previous married last name. She hyphenated it. Carolyn Porter-James was that wretched women’s name. Her two daughters, Molly and Holly, kept their fathers’ last name as well.

  How could he of ever fallen for her is beyond me. I have yet to have a non-queasy stomach when around her. Her hair was bleached with blonde strips, and she was a heavy set woman. She dressed, as if, she were a super model. My father was very rich, so I can see why she acted like a ‘trophy wife’. My mother, on the other hand, always dressed like she was doing laundry.

  When she would talk to me, she would always purse her lips and place a hand on her squishy hip. She would look down at me, as if I were garbage. My father had always told me, “She loves you as if you were one of her own. I know you resent her, but show her some respect.”

  I would numbly agree to his request.

  I remember getting into a lot of trouble, which was not of my fault. At one time, Holly had broken Carolyn’s favorite shade of lipstick tube lid, and told her that I had done it. Of course, Carolyn believed Holly, and then I was grounded. My father came up to me, “Did you break her make-up?” He would simply ask. I told him, “No. Holly did. I watched her.”

  My father would just look at me, and say, “Okay, I believe you.” I didn’t have a reason to lie to my father, but over time the accusations continued. He started seeing me as a liar more and more each passing day.

  My grandpa came to live with us, and he turned my father straight almost instantly. He knew what all was going on throughout the day. My father worked all day, but my grandpa was retired. He began taking up for me, and laid it all out for my father to see the proof that I was being set up. All my father did was to apologize to me for doubting me. Better than nothing, I suppose.

  After that, my father started being there for me to comfort me if Carolyn ever decided to be nasty to me. Even though I had rarely been in trouble, there were still time when it was intentional. That was the only time I actually deserved to be punished. I didn’t even try to hide it. I was proud to get even with those narcissistic twins of hers.

  My grandpa had always praised me for doing so. He thought it takes a lot of courage to stand up in what you believe in. His way of praising me was to read me a chapter out of his book. He had many stories to share, and told me they are based on facts. They always seemed to be too folly to be true, but in his eyes, I could see a twinkle of remembrance.

  The only part that really sparked my interest was when he talked about Gargoyles. To any other person, the talk of trolls, wolves, unicorns, fairies, and etcetera would have me drawn into his stories. But for some reason I could feel his words in my heart when he spoke of a man, he once knew, named Holden Crane Bridges.

  As those treacherous years passed, my father had decided to take me out for my sixteenth birthday. He took me to see whatever movie I wanted, even the rated R one we did go see. After we went out to eat the day became night. We were on our way back home when he hit black ice. A semi-truck pulled out in front of us and he tried to slam his breaks on but they failed. The car spun out of control and quickly sheltered me with his whole body. I survived without a scratch.

  At the hospital I watched my father slip away. Tears ran down my face and it felt as if my whole world had just crashed down on me. I told him, “I wish you didn’t try to save me. I love you, and I am scared.” I then felt a cold pressure on my shoulder, but did not see anything except Carolyn standing there staring at me. Ice ran through my veins at her stare.

  I bluntly asked, “What?”

  She pursed her lips in disapproval and folder her flabby arms across her chest. I asked again, “What?” But I said it with a more dissatisfied tone. She sighed loudly and said, “We will talk when we get home.”

  She grabbed my arm tightly and pushed me in the car. I tried to pull away but she a man-like grip. Luckily, the car ride was faster than anticipated. But it took longer to get to my room than expected. She slammed the door shut and screamed, “How could you!”

  I quickly snapped back matching her tone, “How could I what?”

  “You killed my husband!”

  “I didn’t tell my dad to save me!” Tears began to warm my cheeks, and then Grandpa Brad walked in, “Don’t you blame my granddaughter! If anyone killed him it was you for surprising him away from his real daughter!” He was waving his finger at her at that time. She instantly dropped the conversation and walked away.

  He approached me and said, “I am sorry your birthday had to end like this, which is why I am giving you my car to drive anytime you want.”

  I smiled and gave him a hug and said, “Thank you grandpa.”

  “Now go to bed, I need you to get your rest.”

  I nodded in agreement and then went up to my room.

  The next day, Carolyn took my room away from me. She claimed that I was not good enough to have the biggest room of all of us girls. She then gave me the attic, in which her daughters resided, and gave them my childhood room. My grandpa tried to defend the room for me, but she just brushed him away as if he is nothing.

  He said to her, “That is Milly’s room. You do not have any right to take that from her.”

  “I am her legal guardian now, so I have every right over her until the day she graduates high school.”

  “Good thing, because she only has a year left. I would never want to live here if I were here.”

  “No one is stopping you from leaving.”

  “So in your mind, Milly is a no one?”

  She placed her hands on her hips and turned away with a sway. I stuck my tongue out at the back of her heard and made a silly face. He chortled, which made her turn around as we just smiled and walked away.

  Chapter Two

  A year had passed since then. Agonizing, as it may have been, I still fought up the strength and drove myself to school. I imagined the harsh pounding of the rain to be my fathers’ tears shedding with me. After school, I had planned to visit my parents’ graves. The rain continued to pound hard upon the roof of my car.

  I felt as if that was the pound of my fathers’ fist slamming down in frustration. It didn’t frighten me, when he had, but it did concern me. The only time he had ever done that was if he missed out on an important opportunity. I knew what that opportunity was.

  I missed his laughter; it reminded me of sunshine. The rain only reminded me of how he would cry. He didn’t cry often, but when he did, it only was because something bad happened.

  This rain is really putting me in a slump today. I had thought to myself.

  A little sprinkle hear-and-there was normal in this town, but not this. The rain didn’t even start until I was a few blocks away from school. There wasn’t even a forecast for it today. It seemed to appear rather all too quickly. Since I was not used this type of rain, I had to shelter myself using my school books as an umbrella.

  Inside, my school had glass windows peering out to the student parking lot. Water ran down the window panes like a Waterfall. I pass
ed these windows each time I switched classes.

  My classes were that of typical classes for a senior. Yet, they flew by faster than usual. I passed the windows six times that day, and each time, the windows mimicked that of a blanket made of water. It was like waves crashing down.

  I imagined rays of sunlight bouncing off the clouds, after a rain storm, and how it would always give someone a hope to see the silver lining, and maybe an occasional rainbow.

  I waited patiently to see that glimmer of hope. It had not shown. My teachers must have known of my daydreaming, because they continuously called on me for answers to the questions on the white board. Of course I would know, but my mind was elsewhere.

  When the bell rang to signal the day was over, I glanced out the windows and seen the rain had lifted. I looked out closer and had seen my headlights were on this entire time. They glared through the streaks of rain left on the windows. The reflection of the light danced off of the sprinkle of rain.

  I ran out to my car in a rush, by the time I had noticed. On my way out of the double doors I had accidentally bumped into the new girl Olivia Hall. Using her hand she flipped back her short black curls and stared at me. Her big brown eyes blinked furiously with a pinched face. I have never known a person to be so little, yet have a huge temper.

  My words stumbled over one another as I tried to apologize, but luckily her face softened and a gold ring appeared around her pupils. I apologized much more easily, “I am very sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” she said politely. She then turned back around to continue her conversation with fellow students. I heard her say, “Yeah, that article was not compelling enough to me.”

  I assumed she was talking about the short story a different student had written about as to why teen pregnancies are not as bad as others’ may think. I did hear her add, “Teen pregnancies should not be glorified. I don’t know it is blasted all over television as well.”