Soulmates



 

  Soulmates

  Mindy J. Kincade

  Copyright Mindy Kincade 2012

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical including photocopying, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system now known or to be invented, without permission in writing from the author, except by a reviewer who wishes to quote brief passages in connection with a review written for inclusion in a magazine, newspaper, or broadcast.

  First Edition: March 2012

  The character and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author. The picture of the castle was taken at Ha Ha Tonka State Park.

  ISBN 978-1470056674

  Cover Design: Emily Warner

  Photographer: Emily Warner

  To order photographs from the book visit:

  mindykincade.com

  Web Design: Robert Adams

  Printed in the United States of America

  For my family

  Chapter One

  Terror coursed through Presley’s body as she ran through the dark forest. She sensed an unknown force following closely behind her. As Presley ran, she squinted to see a young girl. The girl was waving her arms emphatically forPresley to follow her. With a black crow leading the way, Presley tried to catch up with the girl, instinctively knowing she could keep her safe. A strong wind blew and thunder roared across the sky as Presley dodged the oncoming trees and branches that stood between her and the mysterious girl. The closer Presley got to the girl, the further away she appeared. Presley fell to the ground, her heart racing; she looked up and saw mystifying girl hide herself behind a tree. The girl screamed, “Presley! Get up! Get up!”

  Presley woke to the sound of a blaring alarm clock. She sat straight up in bed and struggled to catch her breath.

  “Not again,” she mumbled. She took off her sweat soaked t- shirt and threw it to the floor. “It’s only a dream,” she breathlessly reminded herself as she had done many times before. She leaned over her nightstand to turn off the alarm and noticed that she was going to be late for school once again. As she jumped out of bed and ran into the bathroom, she glanced into her mother’s room. She saw that her mom wasn’t in bed which meant that she had stayed at her boyfriend’s house . . . again, or was still out partying from the night before.

  Presley Dae was a beautiful girl, though she never saw it. She had long wavy brown hair and bright blue eyes, was above average in height, and had a very spiritual soul. She didn’t try to keep up with all of the fashion trends. She thought they were all overrated. She dressed in an inventive fashion, choosing clothing that was reflective of her mood instead of what was in style. She didn’t drink or use drugs to deal with her depressing conflicted life. Instead she expressed her feelings and emotions through lyrics. She was a song writer and though extremely talented she didn’t share her gift with others. Her music was for her only. Her music was an escape; it had become, subconsciously therapeutic.

  Presley took a quick shower and hurriedly dressed for school. She decided on an old pair of naturally distressed jeans and a secondhand, simple white lace top. The shirt had small embroidered flowers entwined into the material. It hugged her in a flattering way around her waist. Her favorite shoes were an old pair of used combat boots which she had recently picked up, once again, after being re-sewn at the local bootery. She ran her fingers through her long brown hair, and then quickly applied a few strokes of mascara and lip gloss before rushing off to school.

  ≈≈≈≈≈

 

  Shortly after the last bell sounded students flooded the hallway. There were only a couple of weeks left of school and the excitement of the year drawing to an end was apparent by the elevated energy level in the building. Presley weaved in and out of the crowds of students. Some were standing and talking to friends, while others were making a mad dash to the exit. It was finally Friday. Presley stopped at her locker to put her books away and to retrieve her song book.

  “Hey, Presley! Are we still on for tonight?” Tyler asked as he stood behind her. With a smile on her face, she turned to her boyfriend as he was admiring his reflection in her locker mirror.

  “Yeah, we’re still on,” she said. Presley had been seeing Tyler for almost six months. All of the girls in school wanted to date him, so she felt lucky to have such a popular boyfriend. She had heard rumors that he had been seen with other girls while they were dating, but Tyler always had a manipulating way of convincing her otherwise. He reassured her daily that he only wanted to be with her and she wanted to believe him. Presley took her song book out of her locker and placed it in her back pocket.

  “So, what do you want to do tonight?” Presley asked enthusiastically.

  “Ryan and I have something planned,” Tyler replied with a smirk.

  “Ryan?” she repeated a bit confused.

  “Yeah,” he said, “I talked to Samantha and Ryan, and they want to go out with us tonight. Is that all right?”

  Presley hesitated. “Oh . . . yeah . . . sure, it’s fine,” she mumbled.

  Tyler Lee was extremely charming, charismatic, and fun. He was known for his fast cars and motorcycles. He was also known for being a serial dater, and never stayed with one girl for too long. His hair was blond and cut short, and he was tall and nicely built. Tyler had always dated popular good looking girls, the cheerleader type- that is until he began dating Presley Dae. Presley had a crush on him all throughout middle school, but since Tyler was a year older, she thought he’d never notice her, let alone date her. They ran with opposite crowds. He hung out with the football players and cheerleaders, and Presley’s group was more a mixture of outcasts. Tyler introduced himself to Presley in study hall earlier in the year. She fell fast for the alluring Tyler Lee.

  “Alright then. What are the plans?” Presley inquisitively asked.

  “It’s a surprise,” Tyler smirked as he kissed Presley on the cheek. “I’ll pick you up around seven,” he said as he strutted off down the hall giving high fives to several of his fellow football teammates.

  “Great, another night with Sam and Ryan,” Presley mumbled. Presley was a little disappointed because she wanted to spend as much time alone with Tyler as possible. She wanted to get closer to him. She wanted to know him better. Tyler was the life of the party and he seemed to enjoy being the center of attention.

  She had learned not to get overly excited about their dates. There had been many nights that Tyler had stood her up. She had spent those nights waiting up for him for hours hoping that he’d show up at her house. Presley overlooked Tyler’s flaws even though at times he really hurt her.

  As she was walking through the halls, she noticed the typical glares and stares that she had grown accustomed to since dating Tyler. These girls hadn’t really ever talked to or acknowledged Presley’s existence- until she and Tyler started dating. They hated her. They made that clear. Presley never really wanted to be in a clique; belonging to a group was never important to her.

  Presley thought, These girls don’t have a brain between them, let alone an original thought. She went out the door to the parking lot. As Presley walked to her car she noticed one of the cheerleaders, Mary, staring at her intensely.

  “Presley! Going out with Tyler tonight?” Mary asked with her usual sweet fake tone. Presley looked at her and shook her head, trying her best to ignore her.

  “I guess it is your turn since I was with him last night,” Mary giggled, along with several of her cheerleader cronies. Presley stopped walking for a brief moment stunne
d by Mary’s comment, and then she rolled her eyes, refusing to give them a dramatic reaction.

  “Mary, I’m just curious, do they teach all of you the same obnoxious voice at cheerleading camp?” Presley smirked as she pointed her finger at the group. She got into her old, used red Pontiac and drove way. Instantly, random thoughts began to flood her mind. She talked to herself, as she often did when trying to problem solve, “Was Tyler really with Mary last night? He sent me a text message that said he was at home and he had to study for a test in history. Was he lying? Why would he lie? If he didn’t want to be with me then he wouldn’t be. Right? He could have any girl in the school. Why is he with me? I’m not a cheerleader and I’m not even popular. It can’t be true. If he wanted to date Mary wouldn’t he break it off with me first? I can’t stand those stupid girls. It’s like their sole purpose in life is to cut people down. Okay, Presley, you have to stop over analyzing this.”

  Presley stopped at a red light, and as she looked to her right she noticed a car full of girls watching her as she talked to herself. Embarrassed, she slowly raised her cell phone to her ear hoping that they would believe that she had been having an intense conversation on her cell rather than with herself.

  Presley had always lacked self- esteem. She was beginning to realize that Tyler might be bringing her confidence level down even lower, if possible. Her heart was conflicted because she loved him and wanted so badly to be with him, but internally she felt something was amiss in their relationship. She turned up her radio loudly in attempt to drown out her unrelenting intrusive thoughts.

  Presley turned onto her gravel road and crept behind a 4440 John Deere tractor until finally reaching her driveway. She lived in an old farmhouse that was left to her mom, Lisa, when her paternal grandparents had passed away. Presley had moved there with her mom when she was ten. Before that they were shuffled around from one dirty apartment to another. One year, she and her mom had moved six times. Her mom had a hard time keeping a job because of her alcohol addiction and they got evicted when her mom couldn’t pay the rent. Although she was sad that her grandparents had passed away she was also thankful that she now had a place to call home.

  Presley’s grandfather had been a well known farmer in the community, and one of the few farmers that didn’t go bankrupt during the farm crisis in the eighties. Presley’s grandmother was the brains behind the scene. She was a smart investor and they very rarely ever bought anything on credit. So between the house and farm land and a substantial inheritance, Presley’s mother didn’t have to work. This allowed her the freedom to be totally irresponsible and enabled her to conveniently ignore any situation that would hold her accountable.

  Lisa leased out some of her land to local farmers which brought in a considerable amount of money after harvest. Presley’s mom went through money like it was never going to run out.

  Presley’s father died when she was two. Missouri had several severe storms that year; and Presley was told that a tornado had ended her father’s life that dreadful night. Even though Presley had never actually seen a tornado, she was absolutely petrified of them. Strong thunderstorms even frightened her for that matter. She kept a small picture of her father on her nightstand. He was a handsome man and she often wondered how her life would have been different if he hadn’t passed away. After her father’s death her mother started drinking heavily. She partied all the time and Presley rarely ever saw her mother sober. When she wasn’t drunk, she was hung over. Presley made an unspoken promise to herself that she wouldn’t end up like her mother and she vowed never to drink. She was embarrassed and ashamed, and she wished for many years that her mother would stop drinking. She finally gave up on that wish.

  ≈≈≈≈≈

  Presley never really fit in with anyone at school. She felt like an outcast. Cheerleading didn’t interest her in the least and she wasn’t at all competitive, so sports were out of the question. Presley was a song writer, and she felt that there wasn’t a course in school that would encourage that. Presley’s passion was writing poems and lyrics, and of course, playing her guitar. She always kept her song book with her so she could write whenever she needed to. When she got inspired by a feeling she would translate the emotion into words that she would then form into a song. Although she would sing in front of Samantha and Tyler, the songs she wrote were strictly for her only. She had never trusted anyone enough to share her most vulnerable feelings and thoughts. Not even Tyler.

  When Presley got home she sluggishly sat on the couch, picked up her Martin guitar and strummed it softly. As she quietly hummed a promising sad tune; her mind obsessively focused on Tyler again. She took her song book from her back pocket and jotted down a few lines when her cell phone rang, interrupting her free flowing thoughts. Frustrated, she answered.

  “Hello,” Presley said.

  “Hey, I’m almost to your house. Do you know what Tyler and Ryan have planned for tonight?” Samantha asked.

  “Not a clue,”

  “Okay, see you in a minute.”

  “Bye." Presley hung up her phone and took her guitar upstairs to her bedroom. She debated asking Tyler about Mary’s remark. Once again, Presley began talking out loud to herself.

  “Maybe I won’t bother him with it tonight. If I do, he’ll probably just get mad at me and it will end up ruining our night . . . and our relationship.” She walked over to the mirror above her vanity to finish the conversation, “On the other hand, if I don’t bring it up then this will eat me up until I do. Maybe I’ll wait until the weekend is over,” she decided.

  The front door flew open and then loudly slammed shut.

  “Hey Pres, you have anything to eat?” yelled Samantha from the kitchen.

  “Yeah, left over pizza, supreme. It’s in the fridge!” Presley shouted back.

  Samantha came from an upper middle class family. She was spoiled in a sense but sweet and she cared deeply for Presley. At times she appeared selfish, only because she was used to getting her way. Some might say that her parents were overly protective. And anything Samantha wanted, they made sure she had. She wore only designer clothes, always on trend. Presley was envious of her best friend.

  Samantha put the pizza on a paper plate and ran upstairs. She swung Presley’s bedroom door open, flopped down on the bed and said between bites, “I hope you know that I’m staying here tonight."

  “No, really?” Presley replied sarcastically.

  “Yeah, well since you don’t have a curfew and mine’s midnight, I thought . . .”

  Presley, clearly annoyed, interrupted, “You don’t have to explain the situation, Samantha. You stay here practically every weekend and I know why. It’s because you actually have parents who have rules, they support you, and they love you. So, yeah, lucky me. I don’t have a curfew, because to have a curfew would mean that I would have a mother who actually cared about me and where I am and who I’m with. We both know that’s not the case. I can’t even remember a time when my mom has beat me home on a Friday night. I haven’t seen her since yesterday morning! I guess she made up with her loser boyfriend, Bob, again,” Presley said as she rolled her eyes.

  “Presley, I’m sorry. Do you not want me to stay? Forget it. I don’t have to stay. I’ll just go home, I mean - ”

  “No, Sam, I’m just mad . . . and upset . . . confused. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to jump you. It has nothing to do with you. I’m just having a really bad day." Presley looked down as she tried to fight the oncoming tears.

  “What’s going on? What are you confused about?” Samantha asked empathetically.

  “Well, Mary Carlson informed me that she and Tyler were together last night, and I don’t know what to believe. What do you think? Do you think that they were together?” she sighed as she picked the green peppers off the pizza.

  Samantha silently looked down, knowing that Tyler had never been
faithful to any of his girlfriends, including Presley.

  “You know, even if it were true . . . let’s say that Tyler was seeing other girls behind your back, would it change anything? I mean yeah, you’d get mad at him for awhile but he always sweet talks his way out of anything so what would be the difference this time? Would you break it off with him for good?” Samantha asked softly.

  “I don’t know. I would like to think that I would. I have never loved a guy this much before,” Presley confessed.

  “No offense, Presley, but you wouldn’t break up with him. Or if you did, it would be for a few days and then you’d be back with him,” said Samantha.

  Presley just wanted him to love her. She never thought that love or a relationship would be so hard. She had always assumed that it would be effortless, like in the movies. Presley sat down at her vanity that was actually a converted old desk she had picked up at a garage sale a few years back.

  Presley diverted the conversation, “So, how are you and Ryan anyway? Anything new with you two?” she asked.

  “Actually yeah,” said Samantha with a giggle, “we’re thinking about taking our relationship to the next level." Presley gently put her make-up down and turned toward Samantha.

  “What do you mean next level?” Presley said with a concerned tone.

  “We’ve pretty much covered all of the bases and now I think we’re ready for a home run!” she said excitedly.

  “Okay, Sam, you don’t even like baseball. Has Ryan been trying to talk you into this?”

  “Okay, Presley, so you are telling me that you and Tyler aren’t ever going to go that far?” Samantha questioned.

  “No,” Presley said confidently. “He has mentioned it a time or two but I just tell him that I’m not ready.”

  “Presley, they’re juniors. They will move on to someone else if they get bored with us. I mean, aren’t you curious?”

  “If they want to move on because we didn’t want to go that far, then maybe they need to move on.” Both of the girls were finishing their hair and makeup when Samantha’s phone buzzed.

  “Ryan just sent me a text. He said they will be here in five minutes. Oh! They are going to be here in five minutes, Presley! We have to hurry!”

  ≈≈≈≈≈

  The girls finished getting dressed just as the guys pulled into the driveway.

  “They’re here,” Samantha yelled. The girls rushed downstairs and out the door.

  They climbed into Ryan’s brand new black Chevy truck; John Mellencamp was playing on the radio. Presley reluctantly kissed Tyler on the cheek.

  “So, where are we going?” she asked.

  “It’s right down the road. You’ll see,” he said.

  Ryan went down a gravel road and then turned off onto a pitted dirt road that led to an old neglected barn Presley used to play in as a young girl. During the day it looked like a typical old run down barn, but in the darkness it took on a different appearance. It was eerie and creepy. The clouds were moving incredibly fast and the sky grew dark and gloomy, which added to the anxiety growing inside of Presley.

  “Looks like it might rain,” said Ryan as they pulled up to the barn.

  “Is this a joke? What are we doing here?” Sam asked.

  “Oh, loosen up, Sam,” Ryan said, “There’s nothing going on in town tonight anyway. You always say you want to do something different, so here’s your something different."

  They all got out of the truck and went inside. Presley looked around. There were numerous candles lit, with flames flickering against the dark wood of the barn. A large bottle of wine with four glasses lay next to several blankets which were sprawled across the dirt floor.

  “Well, it looks like you two have been working hard. You know that I don’t drink. What is all this?” Presley asked in a disgruntled tone.

  Tyler knew Presley didn’t drink. But he was so selfish, caring only that Presley was his designated driver, that he never asked her why she didn’t drink. His egotistical character prevented him from even thinking to ask Presley if there was a reason. Tyler never really asked her much about her life at all.

  “I know you don’t drink but I thought that maybe one drink wouldn’t hurt anything. It’ll just loosen ya up,” he snickered. Presley was instantly put off by his remark. Samantha noticed Presley’s discomfort.

  “You know, this creepy barn gives me an idea. Does anyone know any good ghost stories?” Samantha asked, as she tried to lighten the mood.

  “Don’t you think that’s a little juvenile, Sam?” Tyler smirked.

  “Sorry. I guess you have a better idea,” she snapped.

  Tyler did have an idea and it had little to do with ghost stories.

  “No, I don’t have any ideas . . . that sounds like great fun!” Tyler exclaimed with sarcastic enthusiasm. “Let’s all sit around in a circle and tell scary stories like we use to do in Boy Scouts,” his phony smile quickly turned to a frown.

  “That actually sounds like a lot of fun, and I happen to know of a strange story,” suggested Presley.