Watching Glass Shatter Read online

  Watching Glass Shatter

  James J. Cudney

  Copyright (C) 2017 James J. Cudney

  Layout design and Copyright (C) 2017 by Creativia

  Published 2017 by Creativia

  Cover art by Cover Mint

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

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the author's permission.

  Table of Contents

  Acknowledgements

  Prologue

  Chapter 1 – Ben & Olivia

  Chapter 2 – Olivia & Ira

  Chapter 3 – Olivia & Diane

  Chapter 4 – Caleb

  Chapter 5 – Zach

  Chapter 6 – Teddy

  Chapter 7 – Matt

  Chapter 8 – Ethan

  Chapter 9 – Olivia

  Chapter 10 – Caleb & Olivia

  Chapter 11 – Zach & Olivia

  Chapter 12 – Teddy & Olivia

  Chapter 13 – Matt & Olivia

  Chapter 14 – Ethan & Olivia

  Chapter 15 – Olivia & Diane

  Chapter 16 – Caleb

  Chapter 17 – Zach

  Chapter 18 – Teddy

  Chapter 19 – Matt

  Chapter 20 – Ethan

  Chapter 21 – Olivia

  Chapter 22 – Caleb

  Chapter 23 – Zach

  Chapter 24 – Teddy

  Chapter 25 – Matt

  Chapter 26 – Ethan

  Chapter 27 – Olivia & Rowena

  Chapter 28 – Rowena

  Chapter 29 – Olivia

  About the Author

  Acknowledgements

  Writing a book is not an achievement an individual person can do on his or her own. There are always people who contribute in a multitude of ways, sometimes unwittingly, throughout the journey of discovering the idea to drafting the last word. Watching Glass Shatter has had many supporters since its inception in August 2016, but before the concept even sparked in my mind, my passion for writing was nurtured by others.

  First thanks go to my parents, Jim and Pat, for always believing in me as a writer, as well as teaching me how to become the person I am today. Their unconditional love and support has been the primary reason I'm accomplishing my goals. Through the guidance of my extended family and friends, who consistently encouraged me to pursue my passion, I found the confidence to take chances in life. With Winston and Ryder by my side, I was granted the opportunity to make my dreams come true by publishing this novel. I am grateful to everyone for pushing me each and every day to complete this first book.

  Watching Glass Shatter was cultivated through the interaction, feedback, and input of several beta readers. I'd like to thank Cammie Adams and Kourtney Daugherty for providing insight and perspective during the development of the story, setting, and character arcs. They read several different versions, giving a tremendous amount of their time to help me draft this book over several months. The extended beta reading team, who read a complete version of the novel and provided many suggestions and corrections, also deserve my appreciation: Nicki Kuzn, Becki Silver, Linda Stevenson, Chanel Carter, and Suryasol. I am thankful to a few kind folks who also read many chapters providing helpful comments and ideas that enabled me to refine characters and plot lines: Lisa, Robyn, Cimone, Lina, and Louise.

  I'd also like to thank author Melanie Mole for introducing me to my publisher, Creativia. Without Melanie's generosity, I would not have launched this book. I am also honored to be part of the Creativia team and enjoy working with everyone in this company. Thank you to them for printing Watching Glass Shatter and making this lucky guy a published author.

  Prologue

  Six Years Ago

  Ben uncrossed his legs and hunched forward. Wobbly knees trembled under the mahogany desk as he fought to suppress his plaguing nausea.

  “Do you have any specific instructions on how I should handle the matter?” Ira Rattenbury's mellow voice echoed off the thin, panel-covered walls of an office hiding in Brandywine's downtown historic square.

  “I hoped you might have a solution. This was a difficult decision.” Ben lifted his head from a determined stare at the envelopes he'd dropped on the desk. Uncertain how to broach a troublesome topic, he removed and cleaned his wire-framed spectacles and replaced them on his pale and furrowed face, shuddering at the reflection of graying hair at his temples.

  “Altering your last will can disturb your long-held confidences in prior decisions. Do the envelopes contain a change to the estate's division among your heirs?” Ira shuffled through the paperwork strewn across his desk.

  “No.” Ben inhaled the scent of the sandalwood candle Ira's secretary lit outside the frosted glass office door, its pungent burn reaching his unprepared nose.

  Ira's face crinkled. “Did you acquire new assets we need to account for?”

  “Nothing since we spoke last year.” Ben's hands pressed atop the leather organizer tapping an unknown rhythm incapable of soothing the erratic hesitation in his voice.

  “I want to do anything I can to help. Maybe you should tell me to whom the envelopes belong. It's quite a fine and delicate parchment, early twentieth century. I'm assuming the contents are of significance.”

  “Yes, the stationery was a gift from my wife years ago. I apologize. I don't mean to be unclear. Regret terrorizes even the strongest of men…” Ben flinched while peering out the window at a mother pushing a baby carriage along the main street, unsettled by the grinding whirr of traffic passing by a few feet away. Someone, other than him, needed to know what he'd done all those years ago.

  Ben knew it was time to confess his sin especially after watching so many people ripped from existence around him. His oldest friend recently died of a heart attack on the golf course, mid-swing in front of him, as they finished under par on the last hole. The image of the five-iron and golf ball gliding through the air, both landing several feet away on the dewy grass, as his friend fell to the ground, still haunted Ben. Fear of his own mortality had been cultivated that day.

  Ira pushed back his leather seat a few feet, stood, and adjusted the pocket on his linen coat. “I understand your difficulty. If this contains material of a sensitive nature, I assure you, I will personally handle the matter. No one else in my office will know of our conversation.”

  A wince formed on Ben's face when the chair's heavy legs scraped across the wooden floor. “Yes, I insist only you administer my estate going forward.” Ben's long fingers waded into the bowl of coins on the desk. “You've a promising future ahead of you, Mr. Rattenbury.”

  Ira nodded. “I value our relationship, Ben, if I may. After all these years as your attorney, we should dispense with the formalities.” He handed Ben a glass of aged brandy from the thick crystal decanter sitting on his marble sideboard. The intoxicating smell lingered in his nose before descending upon the rest of the tiny office.

  Ben accepted the tumbler with tense, whitened knuckles and swallowed a healthy pour. The warm liquor soothed him as he pushed the chair further back from the desk. “Yes, please call me Ben.” He stood and walked toward the arched window, focused on the narrow floor-to-ceiling corner bookshelf. His fingers traced the crackled spines of the law books. “I knew the day would come when I needed an ally I could trust, someone removed from my family who wouldn't… hold an obligation to… reveal my indiscretion to them.”

 
Ira nodded, swallowed the remains of his drink and sat in his chair. “Tell me what's troubling you, Ben.”

  “Both Olivia's and my parents have passed away in the last few years. I've inherited responsibility for this family as its new head.” As he paused between thoughts, Ben listened to the wind's hollow interruption whipping through the covered porch outside the glass panes. “I need to face the consequences of a decision made many years ago. Perhaps in the future, I'll want to tell them myself, but for now, my family will better handle the news if I'm already dead and buried.”

  Ben shared his story with Ira, who offered a smile when Ben seemed unable to summon the proper words. “I will do my best to handle this exactly as you wish.”

  By the end of their conversation, Ben grew confident he'd chosen the right man to administer his final wishes. “I appreciate your discretion in this matter. In addition to delivering these envelopes upon my death, I have one more task which requires your assistance.”

  “Certainly.”

  Ben removed from his coat pocket a piece of paper containing a name and thrust it toward Ira. Dogging remorse and pain percolated within his hand's visible tremor.

  Ira studied the translucent parchment. “Who is Rowena Hector?” A dutiful concern in his voice pled with Ben for a deeper explanation.

  Ben turned away from Ira unwilling to let him see the salty drops materialize in his eyes. “You must learn everything you can about Rowena upon my death and not beforehand. I expect Olivia will ask for guidance based upon what I revealed in the letters. Please convey this decision tortured me for years, and that I struggled with choosing the coward's way out.”

  Chapter 1 – Ben & Olivia

  Present, Memorial Day Weekend

  Sitting in the backseat of his steel-gray Mercedes-Benz sedan, Ben switched the mobile phone to his other ear and removed the seatbelt out of his way, loath to strap himself in for any length of time. When its band rested tightly across his chest, he struggled to breathe, preferring instead to trust in his long-time chauffeur's driving abilities more than a piece of nylon fabric hinged to a pulley. “I'm in the car heading toward you. I should arrive in twenty minutes.”

  “Still happily married to the woman of your dreams?” Olivia's lyrical voice echoed on the phone.

  “Ah, my beautiful Olivia. The last forty years have been amazing. There's so much ahead of us and still to come.”

  “I love you more than yesterday.”

  “But not as much as tomorrow.” He played along enjoying their frivolous banter.

  “Please get to the party soon. It's not any fun when I'm dancing a rumba by myself. Remember when we crashed into the instructor while taking those silly dance lessons, and she yelled at us for being fools? Oh, I never laughed so hard.”

  “Ha, yes! We are quite the pair. No wife of mine should ever dance alone. At least not while I can prevent it.” Ben glanced through the car window, surprised by the speed of the muddy water cascading down the mountains as his chauffeur took the exit to their country club in Brandywine, Connecticut. “I believe tonight is the first time the whole family has been together since last Christmas. Am I right?”

  “Yes, they're all here now reminding me so much of the you I remember from our early days.” Olivia sighed and waited for Ben to respond.

  Ben's thoughts drifted while lightning crackled in the sky, and rain pounded the black-tarred roads around him. “Time flies by too quickly, Olivia.”

  “You've got a few months left, then you'll retire and have nothing but time to be a grandfather and a father doling out advice. Even if they don't want to listen to us. They never do, do they? Wishing you could turn back the clock. At least we can finally take our trip to Europe…” She paused. “Are you still there, Ben?”

  Ben snapped from the storm's hypnotic trance upon hearing Olivia's rising voice. “I'm sorry. Recalling their antics over the years distracted me. I don't know how we survived five boys.”

  Ben heard her beautiful snicker–about to tell Olivia he loved her–when the car swerved as it neared the final exit on the slick asphalt curve, unaware traffic had come to a full stop ahead. He dropped the phone from the unplanned change in direction, grabbed it from under the front passenger seat, and raised his head.

  Ben's heartbeat and breath paused significantly longer than usual, enough to recognize the encroaching overpass column directly in his purview and to accept the impending fate laid before him.

  Whoever said life flashes before one's eyes in your final moments never lived to truly describe it. In Ben's case, although they only lasted ten explosive seconds, those moments managed to include all sixty-nine years of his existence, each image punctuated by a blinding flash of pure white light and deafened by the harsh snapping sound of an old-time camera shutter.

  CRUNCH. Grinding squeal. Bright light glimmers in a dark vacuum.

  The enchanting depth of Olivia's cerulean blue eyes the night they first met at the opera. Their wedding day when he truly understood what it meant to find one's soulmate.

  SNAP. Utter blackness, followed by a perforated vibrant glow.

  The Thanksgiving feast spent at the hospital when his sister-in-law, Diane, broke her foot trying to avoid dropping the turkey on Bailey, their ten-year-old Shiba dog. Seeing his granddaughters nestled in tiny pink blankets when his sons brought them home the first day.

  POP. Sharp, dark void. High pitch release of pressure, then a translucent shining flash.

  The white-water rafting adventure on the Snake River in Yellowstone National Park where his boys rescued him from falling into the cold water only to stumble upon an angry moose searching for dinner. The final family portrait taken the prior year when everyone wore shades of black and white for a retro-style Christmas card setting.

  BOOM. Screeching whistle. Bright light fades to total darkness.

  The parchment letters which held the secret he kept from Olivia, pawned off on his attorney to handle once anxiety and fear defeated any chance of Ben telling his wife the truth in person.

  The car hydroplaned atop a few inches of the warm, pooling rain and crashed into the steel overpass. The collision immediately torpedoed him through the front windshield, shattering what was the well-lived but haunted life of Benjamin Glass.

  A final burst of the bulb's filament into jagged shards.

  * * *

  Despite Olivia's tendencies to lead and control, she'd little ability to plan Ben's funeral services on her own. Diane recognized her sister's fragile grip on reality teetered on the edge, volunteering to go with Olivia to the funeral home to manage most of the phone calls, selections, catering, and organizing.

  Choosing Ben's burial clothing served as the only funeral activity Olivia handled without any help. After pocketing an hour's worth of sleep and waking up alone the morning after the accident, she accepted his death was anything but a dream. The restless night highlighted a comfort she didn't know how much she had relied until stolen by fate. Olivia thrust her tired body out of their bed, walked to the closet, and pushed a slew of hangers across the sleek metal rod reminiscing while passing each suit as though every year of their lives disappeared before her weary eyes. She searched for the one he'd worn to the Met's opening opera the prior year. After weeks of shopping that summer, she'd finally convinced him to expand his horizons with a new designer, selecting a modern-cut, three-button black wool suit adorning him better than any other had fit in the past. Even Ben had admitted she chose correctly. And he'd rarely admit so, given she'd laud it over him teasing Ben for days. They enjoyed their game of one-upmanship over the years, but now days later, she knew it was lost forever.

  The final burial service ended thirty minutes earlier, and although everyone else had left, she stayed behind for her own last goodbye. Olivia's memory focused on the somber tones that had serenaded the lowering of Ben's casket six feet into the ground. Once the skirl of the bagpipes blasted its sorrowful resonance, Olivia, standing a few feet from Ben's freshly open grave, coul
d no longer thwart the wrecking ball that planned to decimate any remaining strength. The slow, melodic sound sliced away at the newly loosened threads once tasked with keeping her heart intact and sheltered from acknowledging a widow's pain. Her battered eyes betrayed any remaining fortitude she'd stored deep within her body, and as the chords of “Amazing Grace” resounded from the chanter pipe, the cords of her soul, once intricately woven into Ben, ripped from Olivia's chest. The flood of tears from her stinging red eyes trailed her cheeks as she walked to the car leaving behind a single set of prints that marked an unknown future.

  As she stepped off the cemetery's grassy path, she pulled a black cashmere sweater closer toward her shivering skin to halt the biting frost growing deep within her bones. Ben always said her true beauty glimmered when she wore black and gray, complimenting her on the elegant silhouette against her ivory skin and dark sable hair. She kept her shiny locks shoulder length, usually tied back with a clip, and although gray had appeared the last year, the varying shades were regal and striking on her patrician face.

  Olivia pressed her palm to her chest and lowered her head until she'd emptied a few layers of grief. She opened the car door and slid across the back seat next to Diane.

  All that remained before her impending post-Ben world began was to tell her driver he could leave the cemetery, but uttering those words felt impossible. As if Diane sensed the struggle within her sister, she leaned forward and motioned to the driver to start the car, allowing Olivia a few moments to accept the beginning of her new life. While the car served as a false protection from the reality waiting outside the doors to its passengers, it also evoked a budding nostalgia.

  “I'm so sorry, Mrs. G. He was a good man.” Victor had been her driver for twenty-five years taking her to each child's pediatric appointments, all her charitable foundation work, and every dinner with friends and family. “I'll take care of you today, Mrs. G.” He checked the rearview mirror and nodded when he saw Olivia's eyes, a quiet acknowledgment she'd heard his words. They sat in silence as Victor released the brake and inched the car away from Olivia's latest prison.