Bridges (eBook)

Coup de foudre

Gabrielle Neord (Autor)

eBook Download: EPUB

2025 | 1. Auflage
320 Seiten
Bookbaby (Verlag)
979-8-3178-0176-2 (ISBN)

Infos

Jillian Bauer knows hardship all too well. Abandoned by drug-addicted parents, she grapples with hunger and homelessness. Yet, her striking looks and sharp mind shine through the darkness. Her gift for languages focuses a light on her dream of becoming a translator/interpreter in an exciting world capital. When her older sister takes her to Great Britain, she encounters musician Graham Spencer, a charming man who opens her eyes to London's vibrant life and her own sensuality. But secrets linger in Graham's past, threatening their blossoming love. Can Jillian find the meaning and dignity she craves, or will the shadows of her life pull her back? Join her in this poignant journey of self-discovery, personal growth and a love defined for eternity.

Bored with ho-hum boy meets girl romance novels? Looking for something with a bit of spice taking you on a sensual journey of discovery with relatable characters and fascinating places? Have you ever imagined the man of your dreams suddenly appearing in your life, ready to take you on a transformative journey of self-exploration? The message is simple: Women are strong when they need to be and soft and sensual when they want to be! Drawing from her interrnational travels, Ms. Neord incorporates genuine elements into her books, capturing the essense of the places, crafting relatable characters in real-life scenarios. Gabrielle Sophia Neord is a retired college professor holding several degrees from Lansing Community College and Michigan State University. Widowed as a young mother raising four sons, she now lives in Owosso, Michigan. Ms. Neord's debut novel, Galway Gone, is a story with excitement and humor from cover to cover. Other novels, Coloring on the Wall and It Started in Florence, take readers to spaces and places as if the reader is living it too! Her fourth novel, Blind Thunder, is not only timely but a mixture of humor and strength through love of family after a devastating loss with an all-enveloping story with relatable characters and intriguing plots. So, grab your lip gloss, plop down under that palm tree, dig your toes in the sand and lose yourself with Gabrielle Neord!

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Did you walk past and not see me? Or did you laugh at the dirty little girl whose stomach growled as you turned your back? Did you ever try to know me or just hope I would go away?Fifteen years old and cast aside by drug-addicted parents, Jillian Bauer's existence was marked by a profound sense of abandonment and a lack of love. Wrestling with mice and cockroaches for scraps of food, she battles for survival against insurmountable odds in a world of everyday struggles. But first she must overcome the stench of decay and desperation hanging heavily in the air. After Jillian's sister takes custody, Jillian works toward her goals. Her gift for languages, a talent she honed through years of study and immersion, illuminates Jillian's ambition to become a translator/interpreter in a dynamic world capital. When her sister takes her to Great Britain, everything changes. A chance encounter with Graham Spencer, a charming musician, opens Jillian's eyes to London's vibrant life and her own sensuality. As passion soars, secrets surface. Graham was a pants-on-fire tabloid sensation with a tangled and extensive love life. Will his past shatter her dreams? Did she matter to him at all, or was she just one more notch on his bedpost? Join Jillian on a journey of survival, growth, and self-discovery.

Textauszug

Chapter One

I dragged my feet along the uneven, weed-infested sidewalk. The sight of the cracked pavement, a mosaic of fractures, a metaphor for shattered dreams. With each step, my heart pounded with thunderous beats reverberating as a sense of unease grew stronger. My heart plummeted like a stone into a deep abyss. There it was. Impossible to miss. Like a bright, flashing neon orange sign signaling our misfortune to the neighborhood. Nailed to the front door: NOTICE OF EVICTION.

Not the first or even the second time, to be kicked out of a house. More like the tenth. The small print on the notice stated the rent was three months in arrears. I had two weeks to pay up. My hands shook as I ripped the paper off the door, feeling the weight of the words as I turned the key in the rusty lock.

“Mother? Father? Hello? Somebody? Anybody?” The raw, desperate sound of my fear reverberated in the silence.

The creaking of the door echoed. My lips trembled, my chin quivering as wetness trickled down my cheeks, blurring my vision. Where was I supposed to get the money? My thoughts were frantic, desperate to find a solution before time ran out. I had as much chance of paying the back rent as locating the pot of gold at the end of a rainbow.

I flipped the light switch, sighing with relief the electricity was still on. I expected the utilities would be shut off soon. The warmth of summer was around the corner, sparing me the bone-chilling cold in a dark, unheated house.

I envisioned the dimly lit rooms, an eerie silence replacing the humming of the empty refrigerator. As I crossed the doorway, a suffocating fog of neglect wrapped around my lungs, choking my breath. I gagged on the overpowering stench.

The smell of stale, acrid smoke clung to discarded garments. The stagnant air carried the sour odor of unwashed bodies. My feet made a crunching sound on the debris-covered floor. As my school books slipped from my grasp, a wave of frustration coiled within me like a venomous snake ready to strike. I balled up my fists and screamed. “WHY ME? WHAT DID I EVER DO TO DESERVE THIS?”

Despite my desire to retreat and vanish, I had to summon the strength to brave the last week of the school year. I felt a flickering will to endure, even in the darkest of times, instead of letting the present break me. What choice did I have but to persevere?

My nightly routine began with a lukewarm shower. Dinner comprised fresh fruit leftover from my school lunch. Once finished with homework and studying for tests, I locked myself in my bedroom, shoving a chest of drawers across the worn floorboards, blocking the door. I wrapped myself in the thin blankets, waiting for the darkness of night with the creaks and groans of the silent house to begin.

I listened to the eerie sounds making my heart race, praying no intruders were trying to break in. Anxiety consumed me. I trembled, my breath coming in rapid gasps, muscles tense with fear. The salty taste of tears filled my mouth more nights than not, lost and alone, wondering what was lacking in me to be so undeserving of a place in my parent’s hearts? I longed for daylight, escaping to school. The end of my junior year at Bakerville High offered a small respite, yet the anxiety of finding a place in the world lingered.

From kindergarten on, I was accustomed to the constant shuffle of changing addresses and schools in cities and towns in southeast Michigan. Big or small, they all looked alike. Most were a brief stopping place to somewhere else.

I was always the new girl in class. I was so introverted, gangly and beggarly appearing; I never made friends. The kids I met in school were temporary acquaintances, our time together finite. It was my habit to get a copy of my school records at the end of each academic year. It was unlikely I would be returning in the fall.

My parents had a history of moving to a different rental when the inevitable eviction notice appeared. Waking in the middle of the night as we gathered our possessions for a quick move was nothing new. For the first six months in a new place, my father would be reliable in paying the rent, then lose his job and the pattern would repeat.

My mother and father weren’t always irresponsible parents. Our life was close to normal while my sister was at home. Our mother prepared food she got from government assistance. A cookie, the rarest of treats. When my sister left for college four years ago, every pretense of normalcy went with her.

My older sister, Sunny, was the adored love child born during my parents’ retro hippy days, as students at the University of Michigan in Ann Arbor. They were scholarship students from Europe.

Lars Bauer, my father, was a tall, blue-eyed blond of Viking heritage from Hamburg, Germany. My mother, Blanca Rossi, was from Milan, Italy. Armed with charismatic personalities, they possessed an ability to charm their way out of any predicament. A skill honed to perfection when dealing with school officials or landlords.

My parents made me feel responsible for the way their life unfolded. If it wasn’t for me, they could attend classes not babysitting a kid. If it wasn’t for me, they could follow their friends to better opportunities instead of keeping the kid in school. When I heard my mother say, “You are nothing but the biggest burden on my back,” a piece of me died.

When my mother was high, she would often lament when she found herself pregnant, it was too late to have an abortion. As my parents were discussing placing me for adoption, my six-year-old sister threw an epic tantrum. She begged them not to give me away, vowing to take care of me. Sunny’s unwavering support and companionship were a lifeline, getting me through my early years. I didn’t discover until I was about two years old my name wasn’t actually “Oops”, but Jillian.

I longed for my sister. The sight of her smile, the overwhelming feeling of love, made my life bearable. With her by my side, the weight of loneliness eased. Once Sunny left for college, I was the invisible, unwanted child, fading into the background, leaving me deprived of any connection. I questioned what flaws rendered me so unlovable in my parents’ eyes. What had I ever done to them other than being born?

During the early years, I listened to my parents speaking in their native tongues. Each language carrying its own unique rhythm and intonation. Our multi-lingual household enabled Sunny and me to become fluent in Italian and German. My parents were intellectually gifted, awarded full-ride scholarships from their countries to study nuclear biology and engineering. Over time, our parents failed to appear in class or turn in assignments. They were expelled from the university, losing their scholarships and student visas. They were required to leave the country or request residency, but did neither after plunging into the depths of drug addiction.

First, it was marijuana on the weekends progressing to daily use. Then the harder stuff entered the picture. It wasn’t unusual for strangers to come to the house with drugs for sale. Bags of cocaine, meth, prescription pills, and marijuana were scattered throughout the house. The hazy atmosphere had a profound impact on my parents, leaving them unemployed and disoriented. As a result, simple joys like holidays, family dinners, and a clean house became a thing of the past. Even the basic necessity of having groceries was no longer a priority.

The sight of empty pizza boxes and fast-food wrappers cluttered the kitchen. The focus on drugs took precedence over ensuring access to food. The house, infested with cockroaches and mice, were the only inhabitants thriving and well-fed.

As Sunny and I grew older, we relied on free breakfast and lunch at school, our only meals for the day. We ate every morsel and scavenged the uneaten fresh fruit other students discarded. It was unlikely there would be food in our house other than stale pizza crusts or a couple of cold, soggy french fries. We ate them anyway.

In the summer, when school was out of session, we went to food banks hoarding whatever we could get. We washed our clothes in the bathroom sink, our clothing from local churches and shelters. Sunny and I became the neighborhood foragers, searching trash cans and donation drop boxes for anything we could use. We weren’t proud of it; we had no other way to survive. As a result, school counselors questioned us about our home life on more than one occasion.

Sunny and I became skilled liars, painting a picture of a poor but happy home. The thought of being torn apart and thrown into the unknown of foster care terrified us. By the time the overloaded Social Services system caught wind of the situation, we had moved to a different location.

Since our parents hocked our television, Sunny and I stayed in our bedroom and studied. We avoided going home after school, meeting in the city library. Our parents would party with their friends. Some of them made us uneasy as we got older. The intensity of their looks filled us with anxiety, heightening concerns for our physical safety.

Our safe place in the summer was the library. We spent days reading the books on high school reading lists, even though Sunny was in middle school with me in elementary school. We read books in German and...

Produkt-Details

• Erscheint lt. Verlag: 27.5.2025
• Sprache: englisch
• Themenwelt: Literatur ► Romane / Erzählungen
• ISBN-13: 979-8-3178-0176-2 / 9798317801762