Shattered Dreams - (Behind Closed Doors - Book 1)



  To the Reader:

  Bliss Haven is a fictional island, tucked at the edge of the Caribbean waters of the Bahamas. It is made up of five major parishes: Crystal Bay, Governor’s Creek, St. Rose’s Garden, St. George’s Close and St. Elmo’s Valley. The latter two are considered to be the poorest of the five. The island is small with a populace of approximately seven thousand people. It is well-known for its dainty infrastructures – where sensational stories seem to thrive. The books in this series are centered on the Beaufort family and the people with whom they interact.

  SHATTERED DREAMS

  (Behind Closed Doors Series – Book 1)

  H. H. Fowler

  Copyright© 2014 by H.H. Fowler

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  All characters, names, descriptions, and traits are products of the author’s imagination. Similarities to actual people – living or dead – are purely coincidental.

  Other Books by H. H. Fowler

  The Church Boyz’ Series

  Rod of the Wicked – Book 1

  When Things Go Wrong – Book 2

  My Last Cry – Book 3

  The Church Gurlz’ Series

  Mother’s Black Book – Book 1

  In the Presence of My Enemy – Book 2

  The Aftermath – Book 3

  Behind Closed Door Series

  Shattered Dreams – Book 1

  Poison Candy – Book 2

  Stand Alone Titles

  Javier

  Jezebel’s Apple

  The Devil Made Me Do It (Short Story)

  Connect with H.H. Fowler on Twitter:

  @fowlerguy1

  Website: www.hhfowler.com

  Blog: www.churchboyz.org

  www.facebook.com/www.churchboyz.org

  And have no fellowship with the unfruitful works of darkness, but rather reprove them. For it is a shame even to speak of those things which are done of them in secret.

  – Ephesian 5:11-12

  Prologue

  Three Years Prior…

  A frightening echo followed after the metallic doors slammed shut. A woman’s heels could be heard coming down the pitch-black hall toward a single stage light extending from the ceiling. Straight ahead, a nineteen-year-old male had been brutally shoved to his knees, eyes carefully concealed with a strip of cloth. A makeshift casket had been rolled in front of him, where a dozen hooded men stood in a semicircle in black monk-like robes. They were men with varying degrees of influence and had been assigned to conduct an initiation.

  The woman brought her steps to a halt within two feet behind the young male. She was simply called Ms. V by her inner circle – a name synonymous with sex, wealth and power. She was a former porn star who’d turned businesswoman in the hidden world of sensual entertainment. A ruthless matchmaker whose expertise had eventually catapulted her to the rank of guardian over the organization’s assets in the Caribbean hemisphere. In public, her cover as bank manager of Bliss Community Bank had been sealed tight for almost twenty years.

  “As Christ has given His life for the ransom of men,” she droned in her monotone voice, “let us take note of His example...” She took a gold goblet, which was in the shape of a human skull from one of the hooded brethren. Attired also in a black, flowing robe, her hood was cherry red as opposed to the full black the men were wearing. Her ethereal appearance made it seem as if she had appeared from another planet. “A worthy sacrifice of the holiest and of the purest and of the most divine order. His blood and His body were given as a reminder of His unconditional love for the human race.”

  She continued, “Likewise, we, the House of gods, are inclined to follow this most holy pattern of commitment.” She reached forth and traced the young man’s ear with one of her long, well-polished fingernails – which just hours before she had used to seduce him on a bed of perversion. “May your life be destroyed if after drinking from the cup of the Lord you fail to follow His example.”

  In unison, the twelve men took a step forward as Ms. V tilted the young man’s head back until the spotlight was shining directly in his opened mouth. He was the only male wearing a completely different color robe from the others. From the gold goblet, Ms. V slowly began to pour a red, thick substance down his throat. He gagged, but she continued until the goblet was empty.

  “Newcomer!” she announced loudly. “What is your number?”

  “Double seven.”

  “Why double seven?”

  “Because Jacob loved Rachel and worked fourteen years to obtain her.”

  “Who is Rachel?”

  “The mother of my brother, Joseph.”

  “What color are you wearing?”

  “Pale.”

  “Why pale?”

  “In the book of Revelation the pale horse represents death and I am in mourning over my brother, Joseph.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he was sold into the hands of the Midianites. His supposed death has shaken his father.”

  “Where have you come from?”

  “From going to and fro throughout the earth…I have no resting place…”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m in search of the signs and passwords of the House of gods – the custodians of my people.”

  “And who are your people?”

  “My brother, Joseph and all the Israelites that have come out of Egypt. They entered the promise land of Canaan…”

  The eerie address between Ms. V and the young man continued for close to twenty minutes. When it was concluded, two of the hooded men took hold of the makeshift coffin and opened it. In the sign of the cross, they sprinkled fragrance oil on the pillow and then waited for the next command.

  “Stand up!” Ms. V shouted at the young man. “Tell me your name.”

  “Chazz Brunswick.”

  “No!”

  “I’m sorry…Dedicated One.”

  “Say it with some guts!”

  “My name is Dedicated One!”

  Ms. V yanked the blindfold from Chazz’s eyes and spat, “In submission to the oath that you have taken to the House of gods, you will lay in this casket for one hour as a sign that you have willingly placed your life in our hands. From here on in, you will succeed in whatever your heart desires. But if you wander into the path of Judas Iscariot, this casket will serve as your final resting place. You have now entered into your first dimension…”

  At those words, Chazz trembled. But he had been promised the world and there was no looking back. When he took the first step toward the casket – timid as it were – two of the hooded men seized him from behind and hauled him up in the air. Once they had secured Chazz in the casket, his hands were pinned over his chest and then the lid of the casket was slammed shut.

  Chapter One

  In the mist of the early morning, Asia Beaufort exited her father’s study and made an impulsive move toward the veranda. Last night she had run back to her room and soaked her pillow with tears, but she would not make that mistake again and allow her father to feel as if he had won. The walls in which she lived suffocated any shred of compassion. If she were to maintain her sanity amidst a family who did little to understand her desires, she had to find another outlet of escape. In anger, she looked behind her to make sure her father hadn’t followed her to the veranda.

  The Alsatians greeted Asia’s presence uncomfortably,
growling beneath their breath. But one quick sniff of their master’s daughter, quelled their ferocious interest. Where Asia stood, facing east of St. Donovan’s Chapel, the scene overlooked the luxurious backdrop of Bliss Haven. The Beauforts lived in the affluent parish of Crystal Bay. It was in this canopy of beauty where she and Jorge Bentley shared a few rushed evenings together – hidden in the thicket of her father’s property. Jorge was the only boy who understood her pain, and to have him kicked out of her life by her meddlesome father was beyond anything that she could bear.

  Just moments ago, Asia had been thrown at her father’s feet by two of her father’s property attendants. Fifty-one-year-old Gregory Beaufort rose from his antique seat, and with a quick flick of the hand, he immediately dismissed the attendants. He gently pulled Asia to her feet, attempting to reason with her. She was the apple of his eye. News had gotten back to him that a boy from St. Elmo’s Valley – which was one of the poorest parishes in Bliss Haven – had been caught with his daughter in the toolshed.

  The punishment of such a discovery was worthy of ex-communication, but in comparison to his two other daughters, Gregory loved Asia deeply and did not enjoy punishing her. However, Asia would have no desire to reason with her father. Jorge Bentley was her companion, one whom she planned to marry, and though Jorge was considered underprivileged in appearance, he provided her a stable dose of natural affection. Something she could not find in her house or anywhere else. Her father hadn’t any business poking his nose into her love affairs.

  Even with the whimpers of the Alsatians distracting her thoughts, Asia could still hear the resonance of her father’s words, ripping through her darkened soul.

  “…I’ve told you one time too many, Asia,” her father had spat, pointing his fingers pugnaciously at her. “That uneducated straggler is not a suitable man for you! Have you lost your mind, allowing the maid to catch you two making out in the toolshed? Such a filth of a man to disrespect you in that way! You have disgraced this family in the worst possible way.”

  “Jorge is a decent man,” Asia argued. “He would not go that far with me!”

  “Miss Rose said that you were naked, panting like a bloody dog in heat!”

  “We did not do anything…I am keeping myself for when he marries me –”

  “Stay away from him!” her father bellowed. “If I catch you two together again, you will regret every second you’ve laid your wayward eyes on him!”

  Asia suddenly whipped her head around to the sound of footsteps on the veranda. It was strange that she had even heard the sound, considering how unobtrusive they were. Fearing that it was her father who had followed her, Asia made ready to bolt, but she restrained herself at the last minute. Jorge Bentley made himself visible from the shadows.

  “My father will kill you if he sees you.” Asia paused in her panic, unable to stomach the fear that her father had created between her and her lover. She swatted her tears away, and hastened to join Jorge at the base of the steps. Once in his arms, she whispered emphatically, “I am yours – no matter what.”

  Jorge drew her in for a deep kiss, ignoring the danger his presence evoked on the Beaufort property. Unwillingly, he released her and enjoyed the way her onyx eyes danced with desire.

  “I am a poor fellow with nothing to offer you,” he told Asia. “My last name might be Bentley, but I was born and raised in St. Elmo’s Valley –”

  “It doesn’t matter. Your past or your present condition has nothing to do with your future. You have so much potential, Jorge.”

  Jorge ran his fingers through Asia’s thick curls, loving how she was loving on him. “But still, my love, St. Elmo’s Valley is the least respected parish on this island. Your father will never let us get married –”

  “Then I will run away with you,” Asia said with a defiant tone. “I am nineteen. Old enough to do as I please.”

  From the start, Jorge had fallen in with Asia’s audacity, but he knew it would not hold in the face of the odds that were stacked against them. Boys from St. Elmo’s Valley simply did not fare well in the rich coves of Bliss Haven, especially with the gorgeous daughters of Bishop Gregory Beaufort. Their worlds were like night and day, two distinct cultures that Jorge often wondered how they coexisted for so long on such a small island. The poor stuck with their kind (as if they had a choice), as did the wealthy, who constantly tossed their noses in the air at such indigents as him. There were no middle class, per se, because those who were considered middle class were as well-off as their rich bosses.

  Again, the Alsatians grew uncomfortable, their attention attuned to the subtle changes in the atmosphere. The September breeze rustled Asia’s black tresses, as she met Jorge’s dusty pink lips for one final, passionate kiss. However, it was short-lived, as the blast of gunshots ripped near the ground at Jorge’s feet. The Alsatians flew into hysterics, their chains rattling madly against the pole they were fastened to.

  “My father’s silly men!” Asia screamed. “What is it the matter with them?” She pushed Jorge away in an attempt to protect him. “Go, before they catch up with you!”

  Laughing at the excitement, Jorge planted a wet smooch on Asia’s cheeks. He tucked his straw hat beneath his arm and took off through the lush greenery. It was about ten minutes before the sun would scatter the remnants of the evening shadows. If he safely made it to the main road, he would untie his battered bicycle from the tree and pedal back to St. Elmo’s Valley as if he had ditched his senses into a pit.

  “After that fool!” one of the men cried. “That scoundrel is trespassing on private property!”

  Asia ran a little ways behind the men, attempting to hinder them with her screams. It wasn’t long before the commotion stirred the entire house. Miss Rose, a stout maid from another Caribbean island, pulled open the screen door to the veranda. She waddled down the steps to reach for her master’s daughter.

  “Asia, stop this carryin’ about before your daddy comes out!”

  “It was you who caused it,” Asia countered. “You had no right telling my father about Jorge!”

  “I did it ‘cause I love yuh,” Miss Rose said, never one to mince her words. “Now come…lemme fix yuh a cup of warm cocoa. Your daddy will be upset –”

  “I don’t care about what my father says! You had no right to tell him anything!”

  Asia let her burning tears dash to her cheeks. She folded her arms tight across her breasts, daring Miss Rose to lay a finger on her. Suddenly, two gunshots sounded in the distance, which was followed by an unsettling hush. The Alsatians quelled their barking to sporadic yelps. Asia gasped, in fear of her lover’s fate. She looked up and saw her father standing behind the screen door, as if he’d designed the plot of that morning’s fiasco. It maddened her that he could just stand there, saying nothing, when she knew exactly what he was thinking. She drew in her breath and walked defiantly toward the veranda.

  “If your men have shot Jorge,” she said acerbically, “I will kill myself.”

  Chapter Two

  Dana Beaufort heard the gunshots, but she made no attempt to get out of bed. She had grown immune to the incivilities of her husband and his men. Even if she had intervened, her presence would have only infuriated her husband. She was a thorn in his flesh, an opposing force that seemed to get in the way of how he wanted things to be done. The mere fact that they had slept in separate rooms for the last three years of their marriage, unashamedly revealed her husband’s level of disinterest. It was certainly the reason for the cold attitude she dished out to him. However, out of respect for Gregory’s position within the Episcopal Church, Dana had kept the charade going.

  An hour later, when Dana felt as if the drama of that morning had subsided, she swung her legs out of bed and proceeded with her usual morning preparations, which included a lengthy soak in a Jacuzzi, filled with oatmeal and vanilla suds. Products containing other natural ingredients, such as mango and cucumber were applied as a separate regimen for her facial skin. Continuous use over t
ime had given Dana a radiant, youthful glow. It was hard for strangers to guess that she was forty-nine years of age, because she looked like a woman who was in her mid-thirties.

  Initially, Dana had started the regimen as a means to tease Gregory back into the bedroom, but after a period of time passed without any real breakthrough, Dana gradually settled into a routine that was more for her peace of mind than for her husband’s desire. Gregory simply did not love her anymore and she wanted to believe that the feeling was mutual. But if the truth be known it would show that Dana still cared a great deal about Gregory. Maybe it was because she was the one responsible for the rift in their relationship that she held on to a marriage that really didn’t exist.

  For now, her Italian-designed bathroom, with its luxurious red cabinets, provided the perfect escape from her incessant distresses – if only for a fleeting moment of bliss. She exited her bathroom thirty minutes later, and then took the receiver out of its cradle. She dialed Miss Rose’s extension at the maid’s quarters, giving Miss Rose the same instructions she gave every morning for breakfast, which consisted of green tea with honey, along with porridge and a small bowl of fruit. It kept her immune system in top shape. Twenty minutes on the treadmill kept her muscles toned every day. Dana ground her teeth in ire as she sat on the bed to apply lotion to her legs. She thought, What a pity that Gregory is letting such a fine package go to waste. How long will he let me suffer for my mistakes?

  In facial beauty and form, the residents of Bliss Haven compared Dana and her three daughters to the famous Kardashian family. Dana was of Caucasian ancestry and of course, as the mother, Dana was compared to Kris Jenner. Dana’s youngest daughter, Asia, resembled Kim Kardashian, while Asia’s sisters, Dallis and Candi, resembled Khloe and Kourtney Kardashian respectively. Their long, black tresses and onyx eyes were distinct features that drew attention from men and women alike. Their hips swayed with natural ease – almost too sensual for women living in the Bishop’s lair. Gregory was a handsome, African American man with pecan-colored skin, but all three of his daughters had inherited their mother’s, smooth creamy complexion.