Tethered Souls: A Nine Minutes Spin-Off Novel by Beth Flynn
Tethered Souls
A Nine Minutes Spin-off Novel
Beth Flynn
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to persons living or dead, places, actual events, or locales is purely coincidental.
The author acknowledges the trademark status and trademark ownership of all trademarks, service marks, and word marks mentioned in this book. All trademarked names are honored by capitalization and no infringement is intended.
No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photography, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system without the permission of the author, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is originally published.
RECOMMENDED FOR READERS 18 AND OLDER DUE TO STRONG LANGUAGE, SEXUAL SITUATIONS, AND VIOLENCE.
Tethered Souls Copyright © 2018 by Beth Flynn
All Rights Reserved
Edited by Amy Donnelly and Cheryl Desmidt
Cover Design by Jay Aheer at Simply Defined Art
Interior Formatting by Amy Donnelly at www.alchemyandwords.com
Proofreading by Judy Zweifel
ISBN-13: 978-1718906297
ISBN-10: 1718906293
For Kelli and Katie
Tethered Souls is the second spin-off novel from The Nine Minutes Trilogy. It can be read as a standalone, but would most likely be more enjoyable if read after Nine Minutes, Out of Time, and A Gift of Time. It contains major spoilers from the trilogy, and although not necessary, the reader might benefit by understanding the background stories of the main characters that are described in the series. There are many twists and turns in all my books that can best be connected if read consecutively.
Tethered Souls is a coming of age story for the grown children of parents with dark pasts. The childhood friends who are now adults were forbidden to see each other because of their parents’ transgressions and buried secrets. Tethered Souls consists of two parts and probably could've been published as a duet, but I decided to keep the story as one. And, you don’t have to wait! My heartfelt wish is that you enjoy both parts of Mimi and Christian's story.
Map of Southeastern United States
Contents
Part One
Prologue
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
Part Two
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Epilogue
Bonus Chapter
Tethered Souls Playlist
Note From Beth Flynn
Acknowledgments
About Beth Flynn
Also by Beth Flynn
Bonus From Nine Minutes
From S.E. Hall
Prologue
South Florida 2007
“Ten days is too long, Mimi,” Lucas whispered in my ear after breaking our kiss.
Lucas, my boyfriend, and I were standing in my dorm parking lot. He’d stopped to see me before I left for my annual spring break retreat and before he headed for his family home in Charleston.
I looked into his dark eyes and smiled. “It’ll fly by, I promise.” I did my best to sound convincing.
“Maybe for you,” he quickly countered. “I’ll be spending spring break doing hard labor.”
“I hardly think working in one of your father’s stores is hard labor, Lucas.” He pulled me closer and gave me an exaggerated sad puppy dog face.
“Any day I don’t get to spend with you is hard labor, Mimi.” He kissed the tip of my nose and sighed, resigned. He picked up the overnight bag I’d set on the ground, and taking my hand, steered me toward my car. Nodding at my Montana license plate he asked, “When will I get to meet your family?”
Like I’d done for the last several months, I expertly avoided his question. This time I did it by using the key remote to open the trunk. I watched as he arranged my overnight bag among two cases of bottled water, jumper cables, a laundry basket filled with clean clothes, a gym bag, and a pile of scattered books. I’d never intended to be so evasive with Lucas.
I was certain he would follow suit and do what every guy I’d ever dated had done. Once I let them know sex was off the table, they couldn’t get away from me fast enough. My original decision to keep my virginity hadn't been so honorable. It had almost been taken without my consent, fueling my decision to hold onto the one thing that was mine and mine alone. There were a few who considered my intact hymen a challenge, but when they realized I was serious, it didn’t take long for them to hightail it away from me and my “closed to the public” lady parts.
Introducing a boy to my family had never been an issue. Then again, no other guy had dated me long enough to want to meet them. Lucas didn’t press me into a sexual relationship and that scared and excited me at the same time. It’s not like he hadn’t tried. We'd messed around a little bit, and he'd attempted to go further, but we never did. And still, when we got to a point I refused, he still stayed. I often struggled, wondering if he could be the one. I’d asked myself this more than once. My heart wanted to believe the answer was yes and I secretly wondered if I may have been falling in love with Lucas Paine.
Glancing at the laundry basket filled with clean clothes, he added, "I know your parents and brothers and sister are in Montana, but your grandfather is only a couple of hours away. You've never asked me once if I wanted to go with you to meet him."
He was right. I'd never invited him, and I'd deliberately chosen to tell a half-truth, letting him and everyone else believe that my grandfather was my nearest relative. It explained how I could leave some weekends with a basket of dirty clothes and return with a clean pile.
The sound of the trunk closing broke through my thoughts. “It's funny you brought up my grandfather. He mentioned having business near the college in a couple of weeks and wanted to take me to lunch. Do you want to come with us?"
He gave me a look that to
I shook my head and avoided his gaze as I headed for the driver side door. Opening it, I turned around to look at him. “Of course not. You’re perfect, Lucas.” And he was. With one exception.
“Then what is it, Mimi?” he pleaded.
“This isn’t a conversation I can have right now.” Looking at my watch I quickly added, “A conversation I don’t have time for. Can you just trust me that it’s not you?”
He brushed his hand through his short, dark-blond hair, gave me a crooked smile, and pulled me in for a hug. I welcomed his embrace and his spicy scent. I smiled and explained, “It’s not you. I swear it's not. It’s my family. They’re…” I paused, trying to come up with a description that wouldn’t scare him off. “They’re different.”
Taking my face in his hands, he gave me a long, lingering kiss. He stepped back and let me climb into my car. I started it up and rolled down the window. He rested his forearms on the roof and leaned inside the window.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were harboring fugitives the way you’re so secretive about them.”
“Of course the criminal justice major in you would immediately jump to that conclusion,” I teased as he backed away from the car. I rolled up my window, shifted into reverse and sighed a breath of thanks that he hadn’t probed further.
If you only knew, Lucas, I thought. If you only knew.
* * *
It would take me a little over two and a half hours to get to Camp Keowee, the Christian youth camp where I’d volunteered as a counselor for the past three years. I was looking forward to the long drive as it would give me time to collect my thoughts and try to figure out how to bring Lucas into the mystery that had been my life for the past five years.
Lucas assumed, as did everyone else, that I was from Montana. After all, that’s what my vehicle plate said as well as my college ID, Montana driver’s license, and all other forms of identification. As far as everyone was concerned, my name was Miriam D. Hunter. Years ago, I'd left Florida as Miriam Ruth Dillon and began a new life in North Carolina under my new name. It wasn't a stretch as far as aliases went, but it was still an effective deterrent since very few people from my past knew me as Miriam, and none of them knew my biological father's surname, Hunter. In addition to switching that up, I’d purposely stayed off of all social media, and even though I wasn't always successful, I did my best to avoid having my picture taken in the event it might be posted somewhere. I didn’t want anyone finding me.
That hadn’t always been true. There had been one person who I’d hoped might’ve cared enough to find me. I sighed out loud and rolled down my window, hoping the mountain breeze would distract me. I hadn’t let myself think about him for a long time. So why was I allowing myself today?
Shaking my head as if doing so would toss all thoughts of my former teenage heartbreak to the wind, I focused on my current predicament. How was I going to introduce my boyfriend to my family? The family that didn’t live in Montana, but in fact, lived only a couple hours away from my college, just over the North Carolina border.
Having been raised listening to ’60s and ’70s music, I stuck a homemade CD into the player and turned it up. It was an odd mixture of my mother’s bubble gum ballads and both of my fathers’ preferences for hard rock. Metallica’s “I Disappear” blasted through the speakers as I continued to ponder my strange family situation.
My parents harbored a huge secret and I was adamant about protecting them. Lucas was a criminal justice major, making the entire situation more than ironic. It was the only flaw I could see in our relationship. And if I wanted Lucas to become a permanent part of my life, it would have to be dealt with. But not today. Today I would think about how much I’d looked forward to this retreat. I’d stayed in contact with a few friends that I’d met at camp over the past three years. Since our college spring breaks didn’t always match up, I never knew who I’d run into.
It would also be the first time that my second semester midterms coincided with the birthday of my twin brother and sister. Ruthie and Dillon had just turned four and I’d missed their birthday party. Since I was leaving directly for camp, I let my family think I would bring their presents on my next trip home. I intended to leave the retreat a day early and stop at home for a surprise visit to make the special delivery.
Before I knew it, I arrived at my last stop before reaching Camp Keowee. Pumpkin Rest was barely a dot on the map and the last place I’d be able to get a halfway decent cell phone signal. The tiny township consisted of a small grocery store, gas station, pharmacy, and diner, all situated in the same building that sat on the northwest corner of the town’s only named intersection. One so small the local folk referred to it as a crossroad.
I filled my gas tank and headed inside to buy one of my most anticipated guilty pleasures—a homemade biscuit with honey. After paying for my treat and gas, I pulled out my cell phone and dialed my mother as I walked toward my car. A sticky biscuit in one hand and my phone in the other, I hit the speed dial and smiled when I heard the worry in her voice when she answered.
Just like I’d done for the last three years, I would be spending the next ten days at a retreat and would have no communication with the outside world. Not only was it the camp’s policy, it was almost an impossibility due to the mountain location and lack of cell towers. Calls rarely made it through, but oddly enough some text messages did. I promised to text my mother as soon as I arrived and reminded her that I would turn in my phone to be locked up for the duration of my camp stay. She could always call the camp's landline in the event of an emergency.
I was still on the phone trying to reassure her when I spotted an old friend.
“Oh my gosh!” I shouted into my mother’s ear as I approached my car. I recognized the bright yellow Miata parked behind my green 2005 Ford SUV and the long blue dreadlocks of the girl whose back was facing me while she pumped gas. The three charms I knew she always wore in her hair, a cross, a dove, and a heart winked at me as the sunlight kissed them.
My outburst startled my mother and I did my best to put her at ease during our crackly connection. I was only hearing every other word when we were disconnected. Trying not to drop what was left of my biscuit, I texted with sticky fingers, “Sorry. Awful service. Will text you later. Love you.”
I smiled when her immediate text reply came through. “Love you too.”
“Bettina!” I shouted as I approached her. She stood up straight and did a swift turnabout, a wide smile lighting up her beautiful face. She quickly walked toward me and we collided, our friendly hug lasting longer than normal. I drank in her familiar scent. Bettina smelled like something clean, fresh and innocent. I had an instant déjà vu from almost four years ago of slathering baby lotion on the twins after their baths. That’s what Bettina smells like, I thought.
It wasn’t until she pulled away from our hug that I noticed she’d been crying. “Bettina?” I asked, my concern obvious. “What’s wrong?”
“You haven’t heard?” Bettina’s words came out quivering. “You didn’t get a text or phone call from Mrs. Mackie?”
“Heard what?” I asked, my attention solely focused on Bettina. I wondered what was so important that Mrs. Mackie, the camp administrator, would’ve needed to alert campers. I absentmindedly tossed what was left of my biscuit in the trash can we passed as we walked back toward her car.
“I got to the camp about the same time I got the text,” Bettina explained through misty eyes. “Camp Keowee’s been quarantined. Everyone is being turned away and they’re trying to get the news out as quickly as possible.”
She’d barely finished the last word when my phone buzzed and the text from the camp came through. Without reading it, I asked her, “Why?”
She sucked in her breath as she struggled for the words. “It’s Josh.”
<
“They thought he had the flu. But that’s not what he has. It’s so much worse.” She paused and closed her eyes. I watched her swallow. The click of the gas pump turning off seemed to startle her and her eyes popped open. “It’s meningitis and Josh is in critical condition,” she explained as she robotically disengaged the nozzle from her tank and returned it to the pump. Turning back to face me she said, "He can die from this, Mimi. And it’s highly contagious. The camp has to stay closed until it’s thoroughly disinfected and given the green light by the Department of Health.”
My eyes went wide as I felt the impact of what she told me. A horn interrupted us and we both turned to see an old man who’d pulled in behind Bettina’s car. He gave us a kind look and indicated that he’d like for us to move so he could use the pumps. We both got in our cars and drove the short distance to the front of the grocery store entrance. Getting out of our vehicles, we stood behind mine and continued our conversation. After about ten minutes we’d calmed down enough to exchange hugs and say our goodbyes.