Little Shattered Dreams by Cheryl Bradshaw
CHAPTER1
Quinn Abernathy leaned back on the pillow and breathed in the cool night air, flowing through the open patio door. It was the end of day two of a weeklong stay at The Soul Awakens, a retreat known for its classes on mindfulness, wellness, and the overall care of one’s soul. The Pismo Beach, California retreat was so popular it had a wait list, and given they only accepted a handful of people at a time, Quinn felt privileged she’d made it at long last.
At fifty-five years old, Quinn had been through her fair share of experiences in life.
Two divorces.
One child.
One failed business.
One successful one.
A nasty bout of breast cancer.
And a heart-wrenching memory she wanted to forget.
So many hopes and dreams.
So many of them shattered.
Life had been chockful of choices, both good and bad.
But the days of living in the past were over.
At present, Quinn was a cancer-free, empty nester in need of direction—something she hoped to find before the week was over. The time had come to shed her past turmoil, to learn to forgive herself, forgive those she felt had wronged her, and to rise above the painful memories that had plagued her for decades.
Tonight’s self-discovery assignment was to reminisce on positive memories, and to ponder on what had brought her joy over the years. Quinn recalled the day she’d started college, and the first boy she’d met there. They’d been friends at first, then they became inseparable, always by each other’s side. It wasn’t until two years later that she realized she loved him. But by then, he’d moved on, becoming engaged to someone else, and it was too late.
Think positive memories, Quinn.
Happy times.
Not sad.
The gentle reminder led her to the happiest of all memories—the day her daughter was born. Nothing compared to being a mother. Well, almost nothing.
One week earlier she’d received a call from her daughter and was given some exciting news. Her daughter was pregnant. In seven months, Quinn would become a grandmother for the first time.
Life was looking up.
And Quinn was looking up with it.
A light knock at the door brought her out of her thoughts and into the present moment. She looked out the peephole, smiling when she saw Clara, one of the retreat’s attendants, standing on the other side.
Quinn unlocked the door and opened it.
“Here’s the chamomile tea you requested,” Clara said. “Is there anything else I can bring you?”
“Is it still possible to sit in the hot tub? I’m trying to do tonight’s assignment, but it’s been a hard day. I’m a bit all over the place with my thoughts.”
Clara glanced at her watch and frowned. “I’m sorry. The pool facilities are closed for the evening, though I may have another solution. Karl offers late-night mindfulness consultations from time to time. Would you like me to see if he’s available?”
“Oh, no. It’s all right. I should get to bed soon anyway.”
“Are you sure? It’s no problem.”
Quinn hesitated a moment, then relented. “Sure. Why not?”
Clara made a quick call, nodded, then another frown.
“He’s occupied at the moment,” she said. “If you can wait, he can see you as soon as he’s free. Will that work for you?”
Given how restless Quinn had been since she arrived at the retreat, she was sure she’d still be awake even if she retired for the night. Plus, she’d had a rough evening. It would be nice to talk to someone about it. “All right. I’ll see him.”
“Perfect. I’ll return to let you know when he’s ready for you, and you can meet him in bungalow three.”
Quinn offered a quick nod and went to the kitchen. She remained there for a time, sipping on her tea and thinking about what she’d say to Karl. Then she headed to the dresser in her bedroom to change out of her pajamas and into something more appropriate. The curtain over the sliding glass door fluttered in the breeze, catching her eye. The door was a lot more ajar than it had been when she’d first opened it—a lot more. Given the weight of the glass, it didn’t seem possible for it to move so much on its own.
She approached the door and peered outside, seeing nothing but an array of twinkling lights around the circular roofs of the bungalows in the distance.
Ah well.
Maybe I opened it more than I thought.
Quinn closed the door and pulled the dresser drawer open. A flicker of movement danced along the wall, a shadow cast by the bedside lamp. She pressed a hand to her chest and gasped.
She was no longer alone.
“Faith, is that you?” she asked.
No response.
“Hello? Who’s there?”
In a panic, Quinn scanned the area around the dresser, looking for anything she could use to defend herself if the need arose.
Finding nothing, she swallowed back the fear rising within her and turned around. The intruder had retreated into the bathroom, veiling themselves in the darkness inside.
“Who are you?” Quinn demanded. “What are you doing in my room?”
Silence.
“Whoever you are, you need to get out of here,” Quinn said.
Silence.
What do I do now?
Think, Quinn!
Her cell phone was in the living room, a mere five feet away.
Perhaps she could get to it.
Perhaps she could get out.
She bolted into the next room, jerking to a stop when a hand gripped her arm, and she felt cold, hard steel pressed against the back of her head.
“Please,” she said. “I don’t know who you are or what you want. I haven’t seen your face. Let me go, please. Just leave.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” the intruder said. “Not until you pay for your sins.”