Emerald Fire (Christian Romance) (The Jewel Series) Read online

  Emerald Fire: Part 2 of The Jewel Trilogy

  Part 2 of The Jewel Trilogy

  a Novel by

  Published by

  Olivia Kimbrell Press

  COPYRIGHT NOTICE

  Emerald Fire, Part 2 of the Jewel Trilogy

  Fourth edition. Copyright © 2012 by Hallee Bridgeman. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means – electronic, mechanical, photocopying, or recording – without express written permission of the author. The only exception is brief quotations in printed or broadcasted reviews. Your support and respect for the property of this author is appreciated.

  Some scripture quotations from the King James Version of the Holy Bible.

  Some scripture quotations from the New King James Version of the Holy Bible, Copyright © 1979, 1980, 1982 by Thomas-Nelson, Inc. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

  Cover artwork and graphics by Debi Warford

  Boston photo by Robert Lowe (username rmlowe on Flickr) licensed under Creative Commons (CC) license

  PUBLISHED BY:

  Olivia Kimbrell Press*

  P.O. Box 4393

  Winchester, KY 40392

  ISBN-13: 978-0615634692 (Olivia Kimbrell Press)

  ISBN-10: 0615634699)

  Ebook: 978-1452449715

  Smashwords Edition (Text, PDB)

  ISBN: 978-1476194912

  ASIN: B007WOG3SA

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, organizations, places, locales or to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and beyond the intent of either the author or publisher. The characters are productions of the author's imagination and used fictitiously.

  *Olivia Kimbrell Press is a publisher offering true to life, meaningful fiction from a Christian worldview intended to uplift the heart and engage the mind.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  EMERALD FIRE EF: COPYRIGHT NOTICE

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  THE JEWEL SERIES

  DEDICATION

  EF: PROLOGUE

  EF: CHAPTER 1

  EF: CHAPTER 2

  EF: CHAPTER 3

  EF: CHAPTER 4

  EF: CHAPTER 5

  EF: CHAPTER 6

  EF: CHAPTER 7

  EF: CHAPTER 8

  EF: CHAPTER 9

  EF: CHAPTER 10

  EF: CHAPTER 11

  EF: CHAPTER 12

  EF: CHAPTER 13

  EF: CHAPTER 14

  EF: CHAPTER 15

  EF: CHAPTER 16

  EF: CHAPTER 17

  EF: CHAPTER 18

  EF: CHAPTER 19

  EF: CHAPTER 20

  EF: CHAPTER 21

  EF: CHAPTER 22

  EF: CHAPTER 23

  EF: CHAPTER 24

  TRANSLATION KEY

  READER'S GUIDE READER'S GUIDE MENU Heathy Protein Packed Hummus

  Rabbit Food Chopped Salad

  Succulent Roast Beef

  Simple Fruit and Cheese Plate

  READER'S GUIDE DISCUSSION QUESTIONS

  More Great Christian Fiction THE JEWEL SERIES

  EXCERPTS & PREVIEWS EXCERPT: SAPPHIRE ICE

  EXCERPT: GREATER THAN RUBIES

  EXCERPT: TOPAZ HEAT

  SONG OF SUSPENSE SERIES

  VIRTUES AND VALOR SERIES

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR PERSONAL NOTE

  HALLEE ONLINE

  HALLEE NEWSLETTER

  THE JEWEL SERIES

  The Jewel Series

  by Hallee Bridgeman

  Book 1: Sapphire Ice, a novel

  Greater Than Rubies, a novella inspired by The Jewel Series

  Book 2: Emerald Fire, a novel

  Book 3: Topaz Heat, a novel

  The Jewel Anthology, all 3 novels and the novella in one book

  Available in eBook and paperback wherever fine books are sold.

  DEDICATION

  FOR my Grandmother. Grandma, you have always been my biggest fan.

  Thank you!

  A special thank you to Sara who was always ready to answer my endless stream of legal procedural questions.

  Also, special thanks to Hanna and Amanda who were always ready to answer my endless stream of medical questions. I am blessed beyond measure to have you ladies in my life.

  PROLOGUE

  THAT afternoon, Maxine Bartlett had watched two policemen drag her sister, Robin, kicking and screaming, away. Maxine could remember with perfect clarity Robin’s blood soaked clothes, the blood on her hands, the ferocious look on her face, her blonde curls damp with sweat born of fury, one shoe kicked off in her struggle with the police. They’d separated the girls, bundling Robin into the back of a police car and Maxine into the back of an ambulance. For the first time in her fourteen year long life, Maxine no longer had Robin beside her. She felt completely alone.

  And absolutely terrified.

  Maxine clutched the broken strap of her backpack tightly while she stared down at the hole in the toe of her sneakers. She let her straight black hair dangle down in front of her face while she kept her head bowed, effectively shielding her from the outside world. Despite her many questions, no one would tell her anything.

  The visit to the county hospital in the heart of Boston had humiliated her. A rushed female doctor poked and prodded and scraped and assured that “this won’t hurt a bit” right before hurting Maxine quite a bit. The whole while, a female nurse with bored and somewhat distracted eyes and an absent touch chaperoned the ordeal, snapping occasional Polariods each time the doctor requested one. Someone brought her some new underwear and a pair of scrubs that hung loosely on her long skinny body. The clean scrubs looked starkly bright against Maxine’s darker skin and straight black hair.

  Five long hours later, a harried social worker arrived and collected Maxine. She introduced herself politely and Maxine instantly forgot the woman’s name.

  So here she stood – her fourth foster home in just under two years. She could hear other kids playing somewhere out of sight. She wondered, briefly, if anyone her age lived here. She took time to wonder, yet again, where Robin was and what was happening with her – or to her.

  She zoned in on the conversation the nameless social worker was having with foster mother number four, catching the last part of the sentence. “…watch her closely for any kind of symptoms, since she refused any prophylactic measures. She has two sisters, and is looking for information on them. I’ll see what I can find out.”

  Maxine flinched and shifted away as the foster mother tried to lay a hand on her shoulder. She felt heat flush her cheeks when she realized what she’d done and tried to relax. The woman didn’t reach out again. Fine by Maxine.

  “… any other injuries? Does she have stitches or anything that will require special care?”

  “Just bruises. No broken bones or open wounds, thank goodness. I’d say she’s lucky except, of course, he hurt her in other ways…”

  Maxine wished she could drown out their voices. She missed her music, her earphones. She wondered if her Walkman made it into her backpack or if it got left behind. She’d investigate what got packed later.

  “Do I need to worry about the other children?” foster mother number four asked.

  The social worker flipped through the file in her hand. Maxine knew it was all about her and felt the flush on her cheeks spread to her ears and down her neck. “There’s no telling, honestly. Her mother died violently, her sister obviously displays violent tendencies, her last home environment was less t
han ideal…”

  Maxine lowered her head and let the curtain of hair encase her in solitude once more. She kept her head bowed and tried to make her hair completely hide her strongly native American features.

  She let her thoughts drift away again, not wanting to hear them talk about her anymore. She imagined herself on the docks listening to the sound of the water slap against the side of the boats harbored there. In her imagination, seagulls squawked overhead, flying against the bright blue sky. She could smell fish and wet wood and salt water and felt the bright spring sun shining down on her black hair.

  Her second grade class had gone to a seaport museum once. Maxine fell in love with the docks then and used those few hours she spent there years ago as her refuge – her solace against the horrible outside world.

  In her mind’s eye, she imagined that her sisters Robin and Sarah stood on either side of her, each holding her hands, as they looked out over the expanse of the sea. The breeze blew Sarah’s little curls against her pale cheek. Maxine wondered if Sarah was still really tiny or if finding a good foster home had helped her put on some weight. Almost two years had gone by since that fateful night, and she’d looked like a six year old instead of a nine year old. None of them had ever really eaten well, and Sarah’s body just couldn’t handle the lack of nutrition.

  Robin stood strong and tall against the wind, a force to be reckoned with at the ripe old age of seventeen. She acted as Maxine and Sarah’s protector, their defender, and their caregiver. Without her, Maxine didn’t know what would have happened to them.

  All of a sudden, Robin’s face started to lose detail. Then she faded away altogether. Where was Robin? What would happen to her, now? Would Robin vanish just as Sarah had vanished from her life?

  If she could find the right song, if she could figure out the right music to pump into her ears, it would make all the bad thoughts go away. She wanted her earphones. She wanted the bad thoughts to go away.

  Their mother had used a lot of drugs, which really meant she had used a lot of men to get drugs. When she tired of them or they tired of her, she’d move on to the next man, dragging her daughters along in tow. Robin knew of the dangers, through experiences she would not talk about, and taught her sisters how to hide in closets, how to be quiet as mice, how to go unnoticed in a room filled with used syringes and empty gin bottles, smelling so much like old copper and cheap pine cleaner.

  Robin would put her arms around her sisters in the dark and sing under her breath, sometimes. She didn’t like music so much but it soothed her younger siblings. What did Robin used to sing when things got really bad? She couldn’t remember.

  The sisters survived it. Their mother didn’t. While the sisters hid in the closet and their mother argued with the man who would be the last in a long line of boyfriends, an unseen killer burst into the apartment and murdered them both. When the police came, they took Sarah to a good home and took Robin and Maxine to the first of several foster homes. The two older sisters clung to each other and vowed to get Sarah back one day so that they could stay together and face the world as one.

  Now they were all separated. Maxine didn’t know what to do without Robin there to guide her, so she clung to Robin’s hand on that imaginary dock. She breathed in the scent of the ocean. They continued to talk very loudly about exactly what had happened to her just as if she weren’t standing right there next to them. She tried to hum really loudly to drown out the noise of what’s-her-name the social worker and newest foster mother four million miles away from the place in her thoughts.

  “Maxine?”

  Startled, Maxine returned to the little house in the suburbs of Boston and realized that the social worker had departed. Maxine stood alone in the foyer with new – newest – foster mother. She brushed her hair out of her eyes and blinked. “Yes?”

  “Maxine, I’m Juliette. Do you like to be called Maxine?”

  Maxine shook her head.

  “Well, I have to call you something. What do you like to be called, sweetie?” Juliette asked.

  “Max. Or Maxi.” The words came out slowly, as if she had to form them out of a sticky dough and let the dough rise first.

  “Max it is, then. You can call me Juliette or Jules. My husband, Steven, will be home from work soon. You’ll meet him then.”

  Maxine nodded and tried to swallow around the fist of fear that had closed on her throat. What would Steven be like?

  “Max, Steve is a very good man. He was named for the disciple, Stephen, in the Bible. Do you know that story?” Maxine shook her head. “Well, that’s okay. I’ll tell you the story later if you like. Or maybe he can tell you.”

  Maxine could feel her lip quivering and she tried to make it stop. She didn’t want to show any weakness or uncertainty. She couldn’t afford it. She had to remain strong until she could find Robin. She made herself a promise that she could endure anything that happened until she found Robin again.

  “There are four other children here. Three girls and a boy. I expect you will get along fine with my girls. But you know, little boys are different. He’s going to be sad that you aren’t a boy. When we got the call this morning, he was hopeful.” Juliette smiled, but Maxine was still thinking about the husband, Steve, Stephen, from the Bible, who was due home any second. “They’re in the play room, for now. I thought maybe you’d like to help out for a little while instead of meeting them just yet.”

  Maxine tried to keep her face composed, and forced a whisper out. “Help you do what?”

  “I have a studio in the garage. I’m cleaning out some of my old paintings so I’ll have room to store my new ones. Why don’t you give me a hand and we’ll talk and get to know each other better.”

  The idea of paintings caught Maxine’s attention. She loved paintings and loved to draw. She felt the fingers of apprehension loosen their grip around her gut and shifted her backpack to her other hand. “Sure.”

  Juliette smiled and gestured grandly. “This way to the garage,” she said. “We’ll keep the scrubs on you for now, because there are some dusty corners in there. I have my husband stopping at the store on his way home to get you some decent clothes. Just enough until you and I can go to the store tomorrow morning. As soon as he gets here, you can go take a long bath and stay in the tub just as long as you want. Just for tonight, it’s okay.”

  Maxine slowly nodded her understanding.

  Jules put a hand on Maxine’s shoulder and searched her eyes. “You wash every single inch and scrub really good. And when you get out of the tub, you put on your fresh new clothes, and then I am going to give you a manicure and a pedicure. Do you know what that is?”

  Maxine guessed she was just keeping her away from the other kids because of her “less than ideal” previous home, but she was okay with that. She wasn’t quite ready to face other kids without Robin by her side, anyway.

  “You want to do my nails?”

  Juliette smiled. “The girls will help. We can all get to know you and you can get to know us a little better. And tomorrow, you will wake up feeling fresh and clean and you can start a brand new day in your new home.”

  They walked toward the garage and Maxine knew home was with Robin, not here with Juliette and Steven. But she wondered what waking up feeling fresh and clean would really feel like.

  CHAPTER 1

  MAXINE rolled over in the bed. As the blankets slipped off, she felt cool air on her shoulders. While her partially asleep brain pondered that, she tugged the sheets back up to cover herself and her ring caught a thread on the blanket.

  Her ring?

  Maxine’s eyes flew open as memories of the night before flooded her mind. She whipped her head around and stared at the empty space in the bed next to her, the pillow indented from where her husband’s head had lain.

  Her husband!

  Alone in the bedroom, she lifted her left hand and stared. There sat the ridiculously enormous, preposterously expensive platinum ring, encrusted with emeralds and diamonds, that
the man with whom she had been engaged for less than two hours before their wedding ceremony had picked out for her. When he slipped it onto her finger, he’d said something about the color of her eyes. Seconds later, he’d kissed her.

  After a cursory glance around the room to be certain she was actually alone and the bedroom door was shut, she threw off the covers and rushed to the closet, looking for anything at all to wear. She grabbed a pair of jeans and a sweater and dashed to the bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind her. She leaned against the closed door for a moment while her heart raced and her mind reeled.

  What in the name of all things holy had they done? Rather, what had she done?

  With a few flicks of her wrist, she turned the water on for a shower and stopped to look at herself in the mirror. She lifted her fingers to her mouth and traced lips swollen from his kisses. Her green eyes sparkled like the stones on her hand. She normally had straight black hair and olive skin, both traits inherited from her father, a nameless one-night stand her mother would only ever crudely and often drunkenly refer to as Crazy Horse. But this morning her hair was mussed all around her head and her cheeks looked rosy, flushed. She felt warm inside despite the morning chill.

  In her entire adult life, no other man had ever even so much as kissed her. Not once. Many men had tried to taste her mouth, but whenever they’d gotten close enough, panic would rise up and make her push them away. That typically ended the relationship. The ones who suffered that humiliation soon learned that it wasn’t a one-time thing and very quickly gave up trying. As she stepped under the warm spray of water, she thought back to the night before and to her complete lack of fear.