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  TAKE

  FLIGHT

  T. E. PRICE

  NEW YORK

  LONDON • NASHVILLE • MELBOURNE • VANCOUVER

  Take Flight

  © 2021 T.E. Price

  All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, scanning, or other—except for brief quotations in critical reviews or articles, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  Published in New York, New York, by Morgan James Publishing. Morgan James is a trademark of Morgan James, LLC. www.MorganJamesPublishing.com

  Unless otherwise noted, Scripture quotations are taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version®, NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.® Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved.

  www.zondervan.com. The “NIV” and “New International Version” are trademarks registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office by Biblica, Inc.®

  Scripture quotations marked (NKJV) taken from the 21st-Century King James Version®, copyright © 1994. Used by permission of Deuel Enterprises, Inc., Gary, SD 57237. All rights reserved.

  ISBN 9781631952906 paperback

  ISBN 9781631952913 eBook

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2020943107

  Cover and Interior Design by:

  Chris Treccani

  www.3dogcreative.net

  Morgan James is a proud partner of Habitat for Humanity Peninsula

  and Greater Williamsburg. Partners in building since 2006.

  Get involved today! Visit

  MorganJamesPublishing.com/giving-back

  To our fawn.

  You are so much stronger than you know.

  “The pen heals. Preserves. Remembers. Forgives in time, by necessity.”

  —BRYAN THAO WORRA, “Pen/Sword”

  CONTENTS

  Acknowledgments

  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

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I would like to thank my husband, Matt, who has always championed my writing and encouraged me to follow my dreams.

  Thank you to my parents: Mary-Lynn, who instilled in me a love for reading and writing at a young age and who has played a pivotal role in my writing from day one—thank you for your countless hours spent on my manuscripts and for believing in me; and Bob, who has been inspirational in my spiritual journey since I was a child and who is constantly encouraging me to honor God in all areas of my life, including my writing.

  To my sisters, April and Chanelle, along with the rest of the McRae clan, thank you for being my biggest cheerleaders.

  A big thank you goes to Chad and Mindy Babcock for providing endless details of Oklahoma culture and terrain.

  I would also like to thank Erin Unger, Ruth Buchanan, and Janine Rosche—your coaching, editing, insights, and encouragement have been paramount in the publication of this novel.

  The entire Morgan James Publishing team has been phenomenal throughout the publication process—thank you to each and every one of you for making this dream come true.

  Finally, all thanks and honor be unto God, for “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” (Philippians 4:13, NKJV)

  CHAPTER 1

  He told me I would never have the strength to leave. But look at me now. I did it. I got out. Just hours earlier, I was frantically packing my personal belongings, praying he wouldn’t return home in the midst of my escape. My brother flew in to help—this decision I’ve made sets my stomach in a constant state of churning, but it had to be done, and Harrison understood why. All the memories I have of him have haunted me these past three years. When I finally mustered up the courage to tell Harrison what my life had come to, he didn’t hesitate. He booked a flight from Michigan to Oklahoma and came to my rescue. We managed to escape while he was still at work. Now the question remains—am I safe here?

  I rise from the leather couch positioned in front of the big, bay window and walk beside the fireplace to glance outside. The hairs on my arms stand on end. Should I hang curtains? I feel so vulnerable with my life on display through these naked windows. Maybe I’ll run the idea by Ainsley.

  Checkered sunlight peeks through the mid-October leaves that paint the thick grove of trees surrounding this place. In simpler days, the scene would have called for a pumpkin spice latte and an oversized, cable-knit sweater. But now, I see only a hedge of protection … or camouflage for a trespasser. A shudder courses up my spine. He won’t find me here, Ainsley had convinced me of that. But my best friend doesn’t know what he’s capable of. Still, the pale blue lake house is better than where I came from. At least here I can gather my thoughts and decide where life is taking me.

  I meander past the circular table that sits a few feet from the front door as I move to the small kitchen. My best friend and I share almost everything, but it is now clear why Ainsley didn’t share this one thing with me as I focus my gaze on the huge family portrait positioned on the back, kitchen wall. This little cabin was designed for the three in the photo—no one else. In the still frame, Ainsley’s husband, Will, has one arm wrapped around Ainsley’s thin waist and the other arm is holding their newborn son, Miles. Will’s brown hair is swept to one side, and his clean-shaven face highlights the dimples that Ainsley fell in love with. Ainsley’s pin-straight, shoulder-length hair is blown back by the Oklahoma winds we’re all too familiar with. Her bright smile is a brilliant contrast to her dark features, but in this photo, her smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes. Will and Ainsley met right out of college, and everything moved quickly. She was married in no time, only to discover she was pregnant within months. Then life happened, and now, an inch of dust has formed on the border of the frame. This lake house has been abandoned for some time now. It’s crazy how quickly the inside can collect billowing dust balls and tangled spider webs, even if this place was built only a few years back. Which reminds me, I still need to clean.

  Sighing deeply, I move to the fridge and survey the empty shelves. There is a grocery store farther up the road. Do I have it in me to go? If I did, what would I buy? I press a palm into one eye. It’s not like I’m hungry. I’d rather take a nap—all thanks to my escape earlier today. In a few short hours, Harrison helped me move out of the house that had trapped me in my pain and misery. I’ve done what I thought was impossible. I’ve finally left him.

  My eyes don’t take in much—a stick of butter, store brand maple syrup whose overflow has crystalized on the top shelf, and old salad dressing—so I shut the fridge and lean back on the counter. I close my eyes, let my head fall back, and exhale to the point where my lungs burn. Screech. My eyes fly open as my quick inhale sparks my adrenaline. My body starts trembling. What was that? It came from the front porch.

  Frozen in place, only feet away from the front door, I listen intently. There it is—another scratch. Everything inside me aches to run, and yet my feet remain rooted to the floorboards. My heart thuds heavily in my chest. Is there something outside? Someone?

&nb
sp; I wait where I am for a few more seconds, unable to be seen from the bay window, but I don’t hear anything. Has he discovered I’ve left him by now? His office is just down the road from the house that held me prisoner. Did he somehow follow me here? Has he waited until Harrison left to attack? Slow it down, Hallie. The hair on the back of my neck raises as I slide open the drawer next to the fridge and reach for a knife. I edge closer to check the front door. But opening that door to see what could be outside threatens everything—my resolve, my escape, my safety.

  Holding my chin high, I press my ear against the door and listen with all my might. Another light scrape vibrates through the wooden structure, and in a flash, I unlock the deadbolt and fling it open.

  A wooden plaque, hanging from thick twine, goes flying, clatters across the front porch, and down the three stairs into the hard dirt. Blinking rapidly, I quickly survey the flat, open terrain edged by the forest, then peer down the long dirt drive. The wind blows through the trees, releasing a deluge of red and orange leaves that flutter to the ground. I pause just a moment longer. I’m all alone. I let out a long, shaky breath as I descend the steps and retrieve the plaque. My fingers trace over the words, The Bakers, and I hesitate. Now that I’m here, it’s not technically The Bakers’ lake house anymore. But then, what if he finds me here? Wouldn’t it be best for him to think this is still their exclusive vacation home?

  Nodding my head, I hang it back on the nail. Besides, I’m not going to change it out for one that reads “Hallie McClain,” or even just “Hallie.” Every bone in my body wants to drop my last name forever, but that will take a while. When I made the decision to leave him, it was for good, and the state of Oklahoma could legalize that divorce in ten short days. But thanks to a little promise I made, it’s going to take longer than that.

  One thing’s for sure. I’m not going back. Standing in the breeze, I wrap both arms around my shoulders. This next year is going to be tough. Do I have to keep that stupid name all year long? I shiver as my last name echoes again and again in my mind, alongside the memory of what he did…of what he said he’d do.

  Pressing my free hand to my stomach, I steal one last look around, then walk into the lake house and let the door click quietly behind me. I twist the deadbolt and lean back on the door. It’s quiet out here—in the middle of nowhere, with no one to keep me company. Did Harrison really have to catch that flight? My chin dips to my chest, if only I had the dogs—his dogs—with me right now. Those dogs were always there when I needed them, when things got tough. Whether I was outside in the pens loving on them, or they were kissing on me, one thing remained true … we were all drowning in the reality of being hurt by him. Tears threaten as I lower my gaze. There’s no way I could have saved the dogs, too.

  The tightness in my throat thumps. Ugh! I need to distract myself. Thrusting my back off the door, I turn to the far-corner bedroom of this simple, rectangular structure, intent on unloading my clothes. As I stride between the table and leather armchair that matches the couch, I pause, step back, then lay the knife on the table. There’s no harm in keeping it out, at least for the rest of the day. I tear my eyes away from the shiny blade and lift my head as I continue across the house. This open floorplan isn’t expansive, but I don’t need anything extravagant. A big house with nice things isn’t worth it if it comes at a cost—the cost of freedom … the cost of safety.

  As I enter the hallway alcove, I peek into a little boy’s room to the right, and then flick on the lights to the bathroom in front of me. My eyes narrow, and I tiptoe toward the shower curtain. I bite my lip, then throw back the curtain. Whew. Empty … just as I guessed it would be. But I had to check. I let out a laugh as I exit the bathroom shaking my head. Swinging open the door to the bedroom that was Ainsley and Will’s, I glance around. My shoulders draw farther down my back as my mouth settles into a half-smile. The room holds a queen-size bed, two nightstands, and a dresser directly across from the centered bedframe. It’s not much, but it’s perfect for me.

  Moving over to a big, black trash bag full of clothes, I start to sift through the contents with a firm nod of my head. It’s time to get settled in my new home. I rustle around for a second, looking from bag to bag, hoping to find a good starting point, when my blood freezes in my veins. A noise from the front of the house sends my mind racing. I wait—maybe it’s the plaque on the front door again. It’s not. Thump-thump. Footsteps thud up the front porch. Someone is here.

  CHAPTER 2

  My mind reels. Maybe it’s Harrison—did his flight get delayed? My shaking hand grabs for my phone in my back pocket to check the time. As my breaths shorten, I punch at my blank home screen. Harrison’s flight is long gone. Who’s here?

  A knock on the front door slices through the pulse of my heart beating against my temples like a drum. I crouch beside the trash bag of clothes and wait. Maybe it’s a mistake—someone who isn’t looking for me. A neighbor? I didn’t see any other houses on the drive in. What if someone broke down nearby and needs some help? Whoever it is, they just need to go away!

  Another impatient knock hits me square in the chest, and my body tenses for a fight. I gulp and rise. If he’s found me, it’s all over. My legs threaten to hold me upright as I stumble out of the bedroom and slink toward the bay window. No matter how I crane my neck, the front porch isn’t in sight. Pressing my face against the cold pane, I spy the front grill of a familiar car. Uttering a cry of relief, I rush to the front door and fling it open. Ainsley’s brow creases. She studies me as I place a hand over my heart, unable to catch my breath. Her head juts past me, she winces with the shine of the setting sun glinting off the blade still on the table behind me, then her face melts.

  “Hallie! I should have called to let you know I was coming,” she exclaims as she rushes inside. She flings her purse on the hardwood floor and wraps her arms around me. I haven’t regained enough strength to speak, but I don’t have to. Ainsley squeezes me closer and says, “I got my parents to watch Miles so I could come help you unpack. I didn’t feel right just giving you the key…I need to be here to support you through this.”

  I pull back, and with a relieved smile, I say, “I’m just glad it’s you. For a second, I thought—” and my voice tails off.

  “I should have guessed,” she says. “Does he know yet? Does he know you’ve left?”

  Picking at a hangnail, I shrug, “Dunno. I’ve blocked him, so if he’s trying to get in touch with me, he won’t be able to.”

  “That’s good.” She glances over my shoulder at the clock on the stove. “He should be getting home from work any minute now, so he’ll know soon enough.”

  I nod, take a shaky breath, then start moving back to the bedroom again. Those bags have to get unpacked if I’m going to get any rest tonight. “I was just going to organize my clothes, wanna help?”

  “Sure,” Ainsley says. She follows in my wake as I glance back at her. She rips her eyes away from the family portrait as her face blushes. Biting her bottom lip, she says with a pointed finger, “Maybe you should snag that family picture hanging in your parents’ hallway to replace that one while you’re staying here.” With a quick chuckle, she adds, “You know the one… where you and Harrison look like a younger version of your mom and dad.”

  Harrison is built exactly like my dad—tall and muscular with dark hair and brown eyes. His frame is quite the opposite of my petite build, which I got from my mother. I also inherited my mother’s green eyes and dirty blonde hair. The joke’s always been that we are the cookie-cutters of our parents. Offering a tight-lipped smile, I say, “We’ll see.” I’m not ready to have my parents’ faces staring at me all day. I shake my head, then pause in the doorway of the bedroom.

  Ainsley approaches my side, exhales slowly, then says, “It’s been a while since I’ve been here.”

  I clench my jaw, then clear my throat, “Thank you so much for letting me use this place, Ainsley. You have no idea how much it means to me knowing I don’t have to move b
ack in with my parents—that I have someplace to go where he can’t find me.” I lay my head on my friend’s shoulder in appreciation.

  Ainsley rests her head on top of mine, “No problem. I’m just glad someone is going to use it.” She turns to face me, “It’s been empty for a while. And you were right—this is the perfect place for you.”

  We move inside the room and start rummaging through the bags. “So, how did it go with Harrison here? I’m assuming you got out without any difficulty.”

  I shudder at the thought of my early morning escape strategically planned long before he returned home from work. “Yeah,” my heart thumps hard in my chest, “I just can’t believe I did it, Ainsley. I’m finally out.” My heart soars with my newfound freedom as I add, “Harrison was great. He really helped with moving all the big stuff and renting the truck. I’m shocked he was willing to leave Isabel and the twins in Ann Arbor to help, especially with my parents in town.” A heavy sigh escapes as I add, “They just don’t understand why I’ve left him, so I didn’t feel right asking for their help.” My jaw tightens. It’s not that I need anyone’s help. I can do this on my own—the hard part’s already over. Then my shoulders ease. It’s nice to have company, though, and this is the only place I can go in all of Oklahoma where he won’t find me.

  Turning slowly, Ainsley moves to the dresser with a bag in her hand. Her silence brings me back to the conversation we had when I told her what had happened in my marriage and why I had to leave—when I told her about that one night … when I knew it was over for good. “What’s this?” she asks, spinning back in my direction.

  My eyes land on his box of cigars, that dreadful red and black wrapper visible from the glass pane framed by Ainsley’s hands. My chest tightens as the painful memory of how I got my haunting scar burns vividly in my mind. “Gosh—how did that get in there?” Without expecting an answer, I refocus my attention on my clothes and say, “Harrison must have accidently packed that in the rush of it all. Please take them home to Will.” My stomach does a summersault. The thought of ever smelling a Davidoff Yamasa cigar again is more than I can handle.