Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 122440 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 612(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 408(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122440 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 612(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 408(@300wpm)
“Harlow.” Her mother’s voice softened. “I know what he did to Zahra was wrong. I’ve never questioned what you told me. I had it out with your father, and eventually, he admitted what he’d done to her.”
“Um, Mom, I caught him red-handed. Zahra was screaming bloody murder and crying. He was tearing her clothes off. She absolutely told him no. Shouted no. She fought him.”
“I remember, Harlow,” her mother admitted. There was pain in her voice. “He’d been drinking, and he took anxiety medicine. He was out of his mind. He tried to apologize, and he did everything I told him to do to help us make it legal for her to stay.”
“A man who cheats on his wife, the woman he’s supposed to love and protect, has no integrity. He’ll lie to and cheat everyone around him. You know that. The senator’s entire life played out in front of the press is a huge lie. He’s on a stage, and you’re helping him deceive everyone.”
“Harlow, he’s a great man and has done such good things for this nation.”
Harlow closed her eyes briefly. There was no hope, no reasoning with her mother. She wasn’t ever going to come to her senses. Harlow didn’t understand her. She never would. “By staying with him and helping him cover up his despicable actions, you’re condoning the perverted behavior of a rapist.”
“Stop using that word.”
“You mean rapist? You want me to stop telling the truth?” Harlow sighed and shoved one hand through the thick mass of hair spilling down her back. “Bottom line, Mom. The senator cannot come here. He isn’t welcome. Find another place to take him. I’m getting off now.” Harlow hit the end button and tossed her cell onto the bed.
There was no way she would be able to go back to sleep. She doubted if she would be able to work in her studio. Running was always the best course of action when her mother insisted on talking to her about her father. There were many times when she tried to outrun who she was, and tonight was going to be one of them.
Misha, her beagle, lifted her head from where she had been sleeping curled up in her dog bed beside Harlow’s bed. She watched Harlow dress and put on her running shoes. Misha rushed to the door the moment Harlow stood, making it clear she was not about to be left behind.
“Silly pup,” Harlow said aloud. Misha was her constant companion. She spent a great deal of her time alone, and Misha was the best company. “You always listen to anything I have to say, don’t you, girl?”
Harlow’s first love was photography, and she considered bringing a camera, but in the end, she decided she wanted to run without any encumbrance. “Although, Misha, I’m beginning to make a name for myself in a few of the more prestigious galleries and getting a few night or early morning pictures might just be worth it.”
She started off with a slow jog, running the familiar path that took her away from her house and up a long trail, still on her property, to the studio she loved so much. She continued around the studio, a large rectangular building with banks of windows to allow the sun in. The trail led behind the studio to the back entrance of her property. A narrow road took her up a hill toward town and Shabina’s Sunrise Café. The café was her favorite and very successful.
Rainier not only worked for the CIA in the Special Activities Division, but he also owned a security company. His company employed men much like himself, with his unique set of skills. Frankly, Harlow found them all a little intimidating, and she was rarely intimidated. That included Wilder. She believed he worked for both businesses as well. The men from the security company ate at the café often, especially if Rainier was out of town, because he never left Shabina unprotected.
Harlow was close to Shabina. She knew the terrible things that her friend had endured. She’d actually been tortured. Real torture. Harlow was a nurse, and she’d seen Shabina’s scars. She had seen her in the middle of a very intense PTSD episode, yet she still envied her. How insane was that?
Harlow had grown up in what appeared to be a loving household. Certainly, there was enough copy of the happy family together, laughing and smiling. Although, if anyone looked at her closely in the footage of all the interviews, campaign commercials and publicity pieces surrounding the family as she’d grown up, they would see she rarely smiled.
People believed what the publicists fed them—and they were fed the illusion of the perfect family. She’d been miserable. Lonely. Aware that her father wasn’t the good man he portrayed, or her mother that perfect elegant woman always supportive and at his side. The senator ran his every campaign on being a family man, and the country bought into it.