Art of Survival: Part One (A Stern Family Saga Book 5) Read online

  Art of Survival

  A Stern Family Saga Book 5 - Part 1

  Monique Orgeron

  Contents

  Acknowledgments

  Note

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Connect with Monique

  More to come…

  About the Author

  Copyright © 2018

  Monique Orgeron

  All rights reserved.

  In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no scanning, uploading, electronic sharing, copying, or reproduction of any part of this book can be done without written permission of the author.

  This book is a work of fiction. Characters, names, and incidents came from the author's imagination.

  References to real people, organizations, establishments, or locations are only to provide a sense of authenticity, they are used fictitiously. And never in a malicious way.

  Formatting and cover art by Erica Alexander @ https://serendipityformats.wixsite.com/formats

  Acknowledgments

  I want to thank my family first and foremost, they might complain about not having a home cooked meal every night, while I’m writing, but they make sure to show their support and express their love for me every step of the way. My husband is my life and his love is what allowed me to do this. My two daughters have made me feel as though they are as proud of me as I am of them.

  To my sister-in-law, Shawna, thank you for giving me the courage to share my first story with you, then the world. Thank to Dawn Lucous who is my Alpha Reader. She is the one who gets on my case to make sure I get things done to stay on track. Even though she’s bossy sometimes, I wouldn’t trade her for the world. Thank you to my Beta Readers Suzanne McGovern, Chasidy Renee, and Cindy Christensen. You ladies are the best.

  To Chantell Reid who does my editing. She’s extremely patient with me and tries her best to make me look good. To Erica Alexander, from Serendipity Formats for all the help. Erica does my beautiful covers and formats.

  A special thanks to Vickie Lebeouf Boudreaux. Vickie helped me in my research for this story. She herself is a survivor. She is brave and fierce and deserves to be honored for the battle she won.

  Finally, thank you to my readers. It has been a rollercoaster ride, but with all of the encouragement, I was able to see my dream fulfilled. Thank you all from the bottom of my heart. I hope you all enjoy my books!

  DEAR READERS

  This book contains descriptions of the main characters life from her past.

  There are some things that might be triggers of domestic abuse and rape.

  It shows the life of a survivor!

  Blurb

  Art of Survival

  Part One

  You think you know me? You think you know what I have been through?

  My life, like I said before, has been written through my sons’ lives.

  But not all.

  Once, there was a girl, who was left alone in this world to fight and defend herself.

  She did exactly that and became,

  Catherine Stern.

  Becoming someone, I wasn’t, was not easy.

  It came with strings that strangled every part of my old self out.

  The girl I once was would have to be destroyed and replaced with a woman who would rule.

  A woman who was a fighter and a survivor.

  The problem is, I’m not sure I have what it takes to fight anymore battles and endure what is to come.

  Prologue

  Survival,

  You want to know what it takes to be me?

  It takes everything!

  Ask me if I have anything left, and I’ll tell you the truth. I’m not sure.

  Life has been hard, too hard for most to have survived. But I did it. I survived the system, the streets and I even survived my husband.

  I did my time, raised my children, I have even seen them flourish and fall in love.

  Everyone that I hold dear is taken care of and I’m tired. I’m not ashamed to admit it. I’ve lived a life of fighting battle after battle and I’m simply tired.

  You think you know me? You think you know the things I have been through?

  Knowing and living them are two different things. You have no clue what it took for me to survive. You don’t know what it took to get me into the position at the top of the food chain.

  The men I had to go through to make it to the top or the things I had to do to earn their respect.

  You might think, why do it? Why live this life? You might even think I could have escaped. I might have been able to at one point, but go where and do what?

  The only thing I knew was how to survive. It was drilled into me at a young age. You either learned or you drowned in the anguish.

  I’ve seen so many that had no chance of survival because they were too weak, too innocent to do the things it took.

  With all that said, I did what I had to, and I don’t need penance, it wouldn’t do any good. I made the choices and I will pay the price.

  I sit here and think sometimes of all the people who look at me and see nothing but the facade I have created. They see what I want them to see; the lie, the idol, the dream. I watch them, knowing what they’re thinking. They want to be just like me. To be Catherine Stern!

  If they only knew the truth!

  Catherine Stern

  1

  Catherine

  Memories come flooding back like tidal waves hitting the shore. No, not the shore. The damn rock walls, bashing against them with so much anger. All the anger I thought I buried deep inside of me is rushing out. Sitting up in my bed, I let my head fall back against the headboard, my eyes shut tight, trying to control the anger. Anger which is truly nothing more than fear. Seems that fear has always been my driving force. Fear I would finally be destroyed, that everything in my life would untwine like a badly tied knot.

  On a deep sigh my eyes open staring at the blank ceiling, at nothing. Then I notice a tiny crack and I can’t help but let out a chuckle. In all my years, nothing has ever come closer to representing the fear I’ve been carrying more than that tiny crack in the ceiling. One hairline fracture in my armor could grow until everything comes crumbling down on top of me. I guess it’s finally time for the truth to come out and let the chips fall where they may.

  As I glance around my bedroom, seeing all my beautiful surroundings, it’s a far cry more than I ever hoped for or deserved but I earned it, all of it. My eyes land upon the table by my windows. Lying on top are pictures of my children not only my boys but their wives and my three grandchildren. They are my life, always have been. They were my saving grace more than they will ever comprehend. If they only knew that they are the true reason for my survival.

  Feeling extra emotional, I reach into my nightstand and pull out my journal. My hands gently rub the leather-bound book, thinking of the first day I started writing in it. It was almost six years ago, after I found out about my diagnoses, right before I heard from Laura and found Fallon. Up until then, I was an internal wreck, going through the motions.
Then that one phone call from Laura gave me the thing I needed the most. From the minute I laid eyes on Fallon, I knew what had to be done. From then on, I had a purpose. One that would help me to prepare and take my mind off my doom. Beginning on that day, the journal became a way for me to tell my story while I prepared my sons for a life without me.

  Grabbing the pen attached to the book, I open it and with a heavy heart, I write my latest entry.

  Today is the day that I have feared would come. It’s not the end, but I never feared the end. In some ways, I look forward to it, to the rest. No, today is the day that I prayed would never come, the day they will all fight me.

  What makes me livid is that in a matter of minutes, everything was exposed. It wasn’t by choice, or by my admittance but the second I saw that medical file in Theo’s hands, I knew all my plans were for nothing.

  Even this journal could be misunderstood. They could take the pages I filled for nothing more than excuses instead of the true reasons behind my decisions.

  I wanted to leave my boys something I never gave them. I wanted to give them, me. All of me. The true me, not the facade. I shielded them from her their whole lives, but they deserve to know their mother for who she really was and why she did some of the things she did.

  Every decision made and every day I survived was for you, my sons.

  Catherine Stern

  My trance is broken by a sudden knock on my door. It opens and Jeffery walks in carrying a tray of food. I’m taken aback but then he says,

  “Ms. Catherine, Mr. Gabriel says your breakfast and your other meals are to be delivered to your room for the rest of the day.”

  He proceeds to lay the tray over my legs.

  “Mr. Gabriel, huh?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Jeffery, where is Mr. Theo?”

  Jeffery looks somber. He grabs the napkin to open it as he tells me, “After speaking with the doctor last night, Mr. Trahan left and has yet returned. I’m sorry ma’am.”

  I reposition myself, trying to cover up my feelings.

  “Jeffery, would you please tell Mr. Gabriel…” Stopping, wanting to change my words, I clear my throat and say, “Would you please tell the family and Mr. Theo if he returns, that I will not be seeing anyone today.”

  Without looking me in the eyes, he nods his head and walks out of the room. I stare at the door for what seems like forever. How easy is it for Gabriel to decide how my day will go? Moving the tray off my lap, I begin to stare out the window again, remembering last night.

  I wasn’t feeling well, like so many other times since starting my new medication but like always, I put on a great front. Right up until I heard Theo screaming my name. I stood and the minute I saw the file he threw at my feet, the remaining strength I had gave out and I slipped under. The last thing I heard was his voice full of anger asking me, “When were you going to tell me?!” The room started spinning and a whirlwind of emotions hit me all at the same time but none more than fear. I passed out, waking a few minutes, later being carried off in Theo’s arms. I heard all of them, my sons and the wives, screaming out to me and hollering that Paul was on his way. Paul is not only my friend, but he has been my family doctor since the beginning. Paul knows and has witnessed more than most.

  Theo stayed by my side as he laid me down on our bed. He never asked or said a word more. He just held my hand without looking at me. When Paul walked in, Theo released my hand and stood. I watched Theo as he walked back into a corner of the room while Paul checked my vitals. I watched the love of my life battle the internal struggle he was going through. I saw everything he was trying to hide from me, the pain, the confusion, fear and sadness. I knew those emotions well. I had been going through them myself for quite a while.

  Paul interrupted me by asking a few questions even though he already knew what was happening to me. He kissed my cheek then walked out the door. Theo followed, and it was the last time I saw him. To be honest, I knew he wouldn’t come back. He needed time. It’s all I have left to give him.

  For the rest of the night I stayed in my room. I knew they were going crazy with a million questions, I wasn’t ready to answer. Answers, they may never understand. But also knowing I was nowhere ready to face any of them.

  Laying back down, I cover myself completely, using the blanket as a shield, until I can find the courage to defend my decisions.

  2

  Theo

  Nothing ever goes like it’s supposed to. I should’ve known, but I was too happy to finally be in Catherine’s arms out in the open. Our love, no longer hidden from anyone. How could I be so stupid? I should’ve known better.

  For the last few months, I’ve been living in a fucked up, make believe life. One where I finally get the girl and the family that should have always been mine from the start. The worst part was she knew.

  She knew what was happening to her and still allowed me to be happy. I hate her right now, but I can’t help but still love her. I‘ve always loved her and I’ve been punished for it many times over but never like this. She has never hurt me more than what she is doing to me right now. I don’t know if I have the strength to forgive her anymore. God, give me the strength to forgive her!

  Pacing back and forth in my home, the same home I shared with my wife Beth, I fall to my knees, screaming to the heavens for all the time Katie and I missed and for the time I will not have with her. She is my life. How will I ever go on without her? Without my Katie.

  Once I wipe my tears away, I look up at the photo wall Beth made. Seeing her smiling face in a picture taken with our son Teddy a long time ago, always brings guilt rushing back. I did love Beth, truly I did. Just not the way I’ve always loved Catherine.

  Beth was such a good woman, kind and true. She was bred into this life and understood her place in it. I feel guilty for even breaking down in the home she made for us. She knew about Catherine from day one. I mean, she knew there was someone else I loved but couldn’t have. She just didn’t know her name, at the time. That came later. But even though she knew, Beth still married me. She accepted what she was always taught, that love was secondary to responsibility, to family. I was an upcoming boss, working my way through the tests and all the bullshit to prove myself worthy. But I needed the wife to tie me in for life. To connect me to this world since I wasn’t born into it. A marriage of convenience was offered, and it was Beth.

  She was young and beautiful. Everything most men would kill for, except I was still in love with another. I thought I could go through with it but the night before the wedding, I came clean to her and told her everything, except for my love’s name. I can still remember the hurt look and then the recovering she could not hide. She said that we would learn to love each other. That this is what was expected of her. She was trained to deal with mistresses, but still, I knew by her face that she loved me. There was no way she could hide it. I also called Catherine that night, hoping she would stop me. Praying she would beg for me to wait just a little longer. She was silent, listening to every word I said. When I finished, she did the opposite of what I wanted or expected. She told me congratulations. I tried to argue but she wouldn’t have it. She told me to marry Beth and wished me well, then she hung up on me, leaving me speechless. I remember thinking, how could it be so easy for her? Did I not mean anything? Did our love not mean anything at all to her?

  The next day, I married Beth and tried to live a happy life, forgetting that my heart was broken in two. Not knowing that it would always be torn between my love and loyalty for two women.

  Memories flashing all around me, I stand snatching a picture of our wedding off the wall. Falling back onto a chair, I allow myself to think of my wedding and the night that followed.

  I shake everyone’s hand with a smile on my face as I make my way up to the podium in church. Sweating, confused, hurt, and angry. Everyone eager to see me married off, even if it’s to a woman I don’t love. This is all business and it’s treated as such. Business meetings are t
o follow, giving me and my bride wedding gifts that simply put, are connections and territories I would now oversee. I’m nervous as hell, barely holding it together when the music starts. Looking up, I see Beth walking down the aisle with her father. She’s breathtaking; all in white, looking innocent and pure. She’s radiant with a huge smile on her face. The minute she looks up at me and our eyes connect, I know I don’t deserve her but would always be grateful to her. My nerves start to settle, the closer she comes. It’s like she’s my calm in the storm. I know from that moment she will be my anchor, holding me steady, where Catherine is a tidal wave never knowing if I’m coming or going with her. This beautiful young woman will mean stability for me and right now I need that more than anything else.

  Her father lays her small hand in mine, trusting me to always keep his daughter safe. I humbly promise him I will, no matter what. As the priest starts the ceremony, I see Beth’s tears under her veil. Not caring what anyone thinks, I lift the veil and wipe her tears away. I lean in and whisper in her ear. “Don’t cry. I don’t deserve your tears. Not now, not ever. I can only try to be the man you need.” I kiss her cheek and nod my head towards the priest to continue. The audience gasps, thinking that the words I told my bride were words of love when they were nothing more than words of our future transaction.