Embittered Ruby
Authors: Nicole O'Dell
© 2012 by Nicole O’Dell
Print ISBN 978-1-61626-640-0
eBook Editions:
Adobe Digital Edition (.epub) 978-1-60742-808-4
Kindle and MobiPocket Edition 978-1-60742-809-1
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The Embittered Ruby
, published by Barbour Publishing, Inc. Used by permission.”
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual people, organizations, and/or events is purely coincidental.
The author is represented by MacGregor Literary.
Published by Barbour Publishing, Inc., P.O. Box 719, Uhrichsville, Ohio 44683,
www.barbourbooks.com
Our mission is to publish and distribute inspirational products offering exceptional value and biblical encouragement to the masses
.
Printed in the United States of America.
Bethany Press International, Bloomington, MN, 55438; March 2012; D10003229
Dedicated to Dawn Huffman, Chris Keaton, and Freda Calhoun as well as the countless others who have served as counselors in a residential setting like Diamond Estates or Teen Challenge. Your tireless efforts with teens like Olivia, Carmen, and me have reaped eternal rewards.
A lot goes into the writing of a book. An author might type the words, but she could never accomplish an entire novel without the help of many people…
First I’d like to thank the team at Barbour for believing in the Diamond Estates series and helping me bring it to life. Specifically Kelly McIntosh, you have supported me in big ways over the past couple of years, and I so appreciate your passion and creativity.
Literary agent extraordinaire, Chip MacGregor—thanks so much for putting up with me and helping me navigate the publishing industry.
Valerie Comer, as always, your critiques have been invaluable to me in the process of writing
The Embittered Ruby
. I thank you, and Carmen thanks you.
Kim Cash Tate, I can’t write these acknowledgments without a nod to your awesome work in
More Christian than African American
. We discussed the story behind your idea for that book when I had you on Teen Talk Radio. That discussion laid the foundation for much of this story. Thanks for being you!
Writer-sisters, prayer partners, and dear friends—you all have such a huge part in everything I do, and I feel so privileged to be able to walk this journey with you.
Wil, Erik, Natalie, Emily, Logan, Megan, Ryleigh…
Thank you for your constant support and everlasting love.
Chapter-by-Chapter Discussion Guide
I
f only heaven and hell shared the same zip code,” Carmen Castillo sputtered into her cell phone as she huddled on the rusty fire escape. Anything for privacy. Even if it did put her at risk of a drive-by.
“You having a tough day, C?”
“To say the least. I mean, I’m stuck here, in Hackensack, New Jersey—some weird version of hades on earth. You’re still in Briarcliff Manor, New York, otherwise known as heaven.” She glared down the street. “Your view is of mansions and rolling lawns; mine is of bars and nail salons.” Could it get any worse?
“Let’s pretend. Close those gorgeous brown eyes, and lay your pretty face on my chest. Now I’m squeezing. And even tighter. Do you feel it?”
Ah. Nate McConnell’s deep, velvety voice massaged the tension from her body. Her fingers tingled as she imagined stroking the stubble on his face and then running them across his prickly blond buzz cut. Next she tried to envision her dark waves lying across his thick biceps. She couldn’t quite grasp the complete visual with the horns blaring and the shop lights blinking. “It’s surreal. It’s like I’m watching someone else’s life fall apart on a TV special. Except it’s mine. All mine.”
Silence.
After all, what could he say to her? Carmen knew he loved her—she’d never had a moment’s doubt. They’d been together since Nate’s junior year and her freshman year. Carmen had never dated anyone else, and though Nate had had a few minor relationships, he said he’d never loved anyone else. She believed him.
The big Castillo move must have hurt him, too—but obviously not like it had destroyed her. Nate still lived in luxury and kept the same address in the elite town they’d both enjoyed all their lives. At most, the distance inconvenienced him—whereas the change, and the divorce leading up to it, affected every fiber of her life. And he clearly didn’t hurt enough to fight for her. But really, what did she expect him to do? Marry her? Yeah right. Like his parents would ever allow him. Judge McConnell and Hillary barely tolerated Nate dating Carmen because of her Mexican heritage—though Carmen doubted they had any idea their disdain was so obvious.
Wonder if his mom lay in bed at night and whispered, “Well, at least she’s half white,” as she tucked silk sheets around her feet. Then Nate’s dad would turn out the light and mumble, “Yes, thank the Lord for small favors.”
Little did she realize that even though Dad looked white, Grandpa Castillo had migrated right from Mexico. Where did Hillary think the Castillo name came from? And Mom…she was straight blue-collar Mexican. Born and raised in Hackensack. Rescued from her fate by a rich, good-looking business man and moved to upstate New York. Funny how fate has a way of rearing it’s ugly head and sucking a person back into its clutches.
Nate cleared his throat. “So where’s everyone else?”
“You mean you can’t hear the construction racket? I can barely think over the hammering and drilling. Mom and Kimberley are in my—er,
our
—room setting up…get this: bunk beds. Bunk beds? You’ve got to be kidding. I get to play Rock, Paper, Scissors with my little sister over who gets the top bunk. After never having shared a room for a day in my life.” Laugh or cry? Punching something sounded more satisfying.
“Yeah. I bet it’s a pain. I wouldn’t like sharing with Charlie.”
“At least your little brother is cute, and you can kind of overlook his immaturity because he’s only three. He’s still a baby. Kimberley, well, she’s a spoiled brat. I’d almost rather share with Harper. At only eight, she falls asleep early and is still kind of cute in certain ways—though annoying in all kinds of others.” Carmen peered around the cracks to peek in the window. “Speaking of the diva, there goes Kim now. Towel across her shoulder, off to take a bath in the claw-foot tub. Would you believe she sees an antique tub as an adventure? She imagines she’s an art student living in Paris.” Wonder if she’s looked out the window yet.
“She’s only thirteen. Give her a break maybe?” Nate’s words sounded clipped. “Sounds like she’s trying to make the best of it all.”
Carmen gritted her teeth against her turbulent emotions.
Bet he’s glad he called
. “I’m sorry. I’m being horrible company. I can let you go and talk to you later.”
“Okay. You know I love ya. But if you want to go for now, I’ll be fine.” The lilt in his voice gave away his relief. “Give me a call when you feel like it.”
Ending the call wasn’t at all what she wanted. Carmen really wanted to discover a genie in a bottle to grant her three wishes. She’d even take just one wish. Or some ruby slippers.
There’s no place like home
. But if she couldn’t have her ultimate dream of putting things back the way they were, she’d at least take time with her boyfriend. Was even that small a favor too much to ask the universe? Carmen stared at the lifeless phone in her hand. Apparently.
How would she see Nate anymore? Maybe she could talk her parents into letting her live with Dad. A shudder rippled from head to toe. No matter how bad things got in Hackensack, it couldn’t be as bad as being around Cheerleader Barbie and her pom-poms. Tiffany, who turned simple, everyday tasks into a cheer. “The coffee’s…ready? Okay!”
Rah, rah. Gag
. But Tiffany wouldn’t be around forever. No way. At least not if Carmen could help it. And Carmen intended to help it.
Not ready to go back inside, Carmen closed her eyes. Maybe if she could imagine hard enough, she’d be able to teleport herself back home, taking a dip in the pool or soaking in the hot tub. She breathed air deep into her lungs, somehow expecting the familiar smell of the cedar planks in the sauna. Instead exhaust fumes from the buses and grease from the diner across the street attacked her senses.
No use.
Carmen slipped her phone into the pocket of her jeans and pried herself from the stucco wall she’d been leaning against. Crumbling plaster pelted the metal grid of the fire escape and rained onto the street below.
A whistle pierced the din of traffic.
Shielding her eyes against the sun, Carmen squinted up the neighborhood. Nothing there but two old men on a bus-stop bench outside the drugstore. Down the road, little kids played on the uneven sidewalk. Where had the whistle come from? Finally her gaze settled on four menacing teens leaning on the lamppost across the street. One dark pair of eyes drew hers like magnets. He cocked his head and stared holes into Carmen’s flaming cheeks.
Shirtless, he touched the black-and-gold bandana tied around his bulging bicep. Then he shifted position, and Carmen saw the largest tattoo she’d ever seen in person. A huge lion with a five-pointed crown on its head was inked on his right side, starting at his ribs and winding around to the middle of his back.