Breaking Free
“Jennifer Slattery writes about topics that many mainstream Christians find uncomfortable, if not taboo. However, divorce, addictions, early death, mental illness, family breakdowns, and perpetual victimhood are very real issues that many families face. The far reaching ripples of these life ruiners affect all of us. Sit down and really think it through. How many do you know who are touched by addictions or family breakdowns?
God alone is the reason I’ve managed to remain married for nearly 35 years. My husband’s addiction to alcohol and my issue of self-righteousness drove us to the brink of divorce more than once. Sin is ugly and Satan sets out to steal, kill, and destroy. I’m convinced he doesn’t care which one of those derails us. What he doesn’t want is truth and light. Slattery, though writing about broken families and difficult subjects, tells the truth. Jesus is the only hope for a hurting world. Healing is available. Lives are saved every day in His economy.
Breaking Free gives glimpses into a marriage bogged down with lies, addictions, and fear. Spanning several months, the reader is given a taste of the horrors of lost control. As Alice’s and Trent’s lives implode, the story seems hopeless. Deeper and deeper they climb into deception until they both hit bottom. The story ends with hopeful steps. God, in His mercy, doesn’t always erase natural consequences. However, sometimes that is the one of the best gifts He gives. In growing and struggling, we are changed into people He can use to teach and help others along the way. God reveals that religion and a whitewashed surface are not the antidotes to death, a real relationship with Jesus Christ is.
There are so many people who could benefit from the reality behind the stories Slattery has woven together.”
—KELLY KLEPFER, book reviewer, Novel Reviews
“Slattery reminds us that giving it all to Jesus doesn’t magically fix the messiness of this life but leaning on Him gives us peace in the midst of chaos.”
—SHANNON TAYLOR VANNATTER, award-winning author
“Jennifer Slattery’s book Breaking Free will no doubt be an important read to countless many. Today, our ‘solid families’ deal with private issues—infidelity, alcoholism and drug abuse, wayward children, and gambling disorders. Jennifer’s book attacks the latter head-on, without pretense or soft shoes. This is what life is all about and this is how God can redeem what seems completely unsalvageable.”
—EVA MARIE EVERSON, best-selling, award-winning author of Five Brides
“This story is well written and filled with a great message of hope, forgiveness, and renewal. You can feel yourself glued to the story as the characters try to restore what the enemy tried to destroy.”
—DEANA DICK, NetGalley Reviewer
“Jennifer Slattery tells an everyday story, throws in a little suspense and faith, and the result is a gripping book with characters taken from real life that has a message: there’s always hope in Christ.”
—BARBARA TSIPOURAS, NetGalley Reviewer
“Breaking Free will seize you by the heart and refuse to let go. Author Jennifer Slattery handles the themes of addiction and marriage—and how the two concepts struggle to coexist—with realism and emotion but offers grace and hope for readers who might find it hitting close to home.”
—CARRIE SCHMIDT, NetGalley Reviewer
Other New Hope books
by Jennifer Slattery
Beyond I Do
Intertwined
When Dawn Breaks
BREAKING FREE
JENNIFER SLATTERY
New Hope® Publishers
PO Box 12065
Birmingham, AL 35202-2065
NewHopePublishers.com
New Hope Publishers is a division of WMU®.
© 2016 by Jennifer Slattery
All rights reserved. First printing 2016.
Printed in the United States of America.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—without the prior written permission of the publisher.
New Hope Publishers serves its authors as they express their views, which may not express the views of the publisher.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Slattery, Jennifer, 1974- author.
Title: Breaking free : a contemporary romance novel / Jennifer Slattery.
Description: Birmingham, AL : New Hope Publishers, [2016]
Identifiers: LCCN 2015038355 | ISBN 9781596694682 (softcover)
Subjects: LCSH: Married people--Fiction. | GSAFD: Christian fiction. | Love stories.
Classification: LCC PS3619.L3755 B74 2016 | DDC 813/.6--dc23 LC record available at http://lccn.loc.gov/2015038355
All scripture quotations, unless otherwise indicated, are taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version®, NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide. www.zondervan.com The “NIV” and “New International Version” are trademarks registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office by Biblica, Inc.™
Scripture quotations marked (NLT) are taken from the Holy Bible, New Living Translation, copyright © 1996, 2004, 2007, 2013 by Tyndale House Foundation. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., Carol Stream, Illinois 60188. All rights reserved.
ISBN-10: 1-59669-468-8
ISBN-13: 978-1-59669-468-2
N164108 · 0416 · 2M1
DEDICATION
To my sweet husband, STEVE SLATTERY,
and our princess, ASHLEY,
I appreciate your continual
encouragement and support.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Every gift, opportunity, or blessing we receive comes from Christ, to be used by Him as He wills and for His glory. I’m so incredibly grateful that He has allowed me to do that which I love—write—to point people to Him and, hopefully, inspire them to find their place in His kingdom work.
I want to thank my husband and mother-in-law for reading through this novel to offer suggestions and feedback. I also want to thank my critique partners, especially Tanya Eavanson, without whom this story wouldn’t be nearly as strong. I also want to thank the talented and incredibly patient staff at New Hope Publishers, not only for bringing my novels to print but also for helping me to make them as strong as possible.
CHAPTER 1
This place, these friends—her life—was exhausting. What Alice wouldn’t give to hide away . . . indefinitely. And yet here she sat in an upscale Seattle restaurant with her upscale Seattle friends, playing the part, while her latest keynote cycled through her brain again and again. Authenticity. Transparency. That’s the key to the Christian life.
Right.
Breathing deeply, she glanced around. The quaint little bistro was busier than normal. Wait staff, dressed in white double-breasted shirts, flitted around brightly colored tables, heavily laden trays in their hands. Bottles of wine lined the far wall, their red and green labels adding a splash of color to the exposed brick. Alice raised her fork and nibbled on a piece of chicken, careful not to smudge her lipstick. As she chewed, she studied her friends.
Friends? What a comical word choice. Beth was the only one Alice trusted, and yet she spent countless hours with the others, listening to them go on and on about their passionate marriages and honor roll kids. Either they all lived picture-perfect lives or they were Academy Award winners. Like Alice—always carefully groomed, full of smiles, and positive words. The boys? They were great. Trent, her husband, he was great. Everything was great. Just perfect.
Not.
And the fear that one of them would find out just how imperfect her life was consumed her like a rapidly growing cancer.
“Speaking of getting together . . .” Beth, a petite blonde with sparkling blue eyes and skin too smooth for a woman in her forties, flashed a smile. “Who’s hosting the next women’s game night?” She glanced from one face to the next.
Avoiding eye contact, Alice swallowed and tucked her hair behind her ears. Her house was off limits.
Beth’s gaze zeroed in on Misty.
She waved her hands in the air. “No way. Not me. I’m still trying to clean the chocolate stains out of my carpet from last time.” She threw her hair over her shoulders, exposing large gold hoop earrings.
“Yeah, but you were the one that started flinging the cake around in the first place.” Beth dabbed her mouth with a napkin and looked at Alice. “Looks like it’s on you.”
Alice raised a hand and opened her mouth to protest when someone touched her shoulder. She glanced at the waiter standing over her.
He leaned closer and whispered, “There seems to be a problem with your credit card, ma’am.”
Her cheeks burned as everyone looked at her. “What do you mean by problem?”
The kid shifted, eyes darting from face to face. Turning back to Alice, he spoke quieter. “Your credit card company declined the charges.” He placed the card on the table.
Alice’s stomach dropped. They had a $10,000 limit. She’d done some minor shopping last week, bought a new dress and matching shoes, but nothing big. Unless Trent went on a Saks Fifth Avenue shopping spree, there should still be plenty of credit left on their account. Certainly enough to pay for a chicken-and-watercress salad.
She pulled her wallet from her purse, flipped it open, and stared at the empty pocket. Where had her $20 gone? Maybe her boys had grabbed it without telling her. So she’d pay with debit.
“Here.” She handed her bankcard to the waiter then turned back to her friends with a forced smile. “OK, OK, I’ll do it. I’ll host the next game night.” Anything to get the focus off her and her finances.
Misty’s eyebrows raised and Alice could only imagine all the nasty thoughts swirling through her mind, thoughts that would spew out as soon as Alice left the table. Oh, well, let her talk. Let them all talk. Nothing major, probably just a computer error. But when the waiter returned less than five minutes later and said her debit card had been denied as well, Alice felt sick.
“Are you sure?” She pressed her sweaty hands flat on her thighs. “Maybe if you tried it again?”
“I’m sorry, ma’am. Would you like to contact your bank yourself? Perhaps it’s a security issue.”
She nodded and searched for her phone. “Yes, I am sure that’s what it is.” She flipped the card lying on the table over and dialed the customer service number on the back. Feeling as if everyone’s eyes were boring holes into her forehead, she excused herself from the table with a nod.
After an eternity of elevator music, a man with a deep voice picked up. “Good afternoon. How can I help you today?”
“I’m having trouble with my debit card.”
Alice gave the representative her information.
“Hello, Mrs. Goddard. What can I help you with?”
“Yes, there seems to be a problem with my account. Le Petit Bistro informed me that my debit card was denied, and I know that can’t be possible. Is there a security concern?”
“Ah, I see. Yes, ma’am, I can help you with this. The charge was denied because you’ve reached your limit.”
“That can’t be possible. Could you please tell me the last five transactions?”
“Yes, ma’am. I can help you with this. On March 12 there was a cash withdrawal—”
“Cash withdrawal? What do you mean?”
“Using an ATM.”
“For how much?” Alice rubbed the back of her neck as a dull ache crept up her spine.
“Ah, yes. There was a cash withdrawal for $400 made on March 12.”
The man continued to list a series of debits made over the past month.
“I don’t understand.” She gripped the phone tighter. “There must be a mistake. When did these withdrawals first start?”
Computer keys clicked on the other end. The man’s voice returned a moment later, and she strained to make out each word. “Two withdrawals were made in February, both for $400, the maximum amount allowed per transaction.” There was more clicking. “Three were made in January, again, for the maximum amount.” He paused. “How far back would you like me to check?”
She blinked. “You mean there are more than three months worth of withdrawals? That can’t be possible.” Why hadn’t she paid more attention to their accounts?
“Ah, yes. I see. Are you saying that these transactions are fraudulent?”
Of course! It made perfect sense. Alice exhaled, the tension draining from her neck. “They must be.”
After a brief lesson on how to file a claim with the fraudulent charges department, she felt much better. Until she remembered her credit card had been declined as well. Grabbing her phone once again, she called the credit card company. Five minutes later, she returned to the table with a sinking feeling in her gut.
“Everything all right?” Misty’s plastic smile failed to hide the scorn in her eyes.
“Everything’s fine.” She set her purse on her lap under the tablecloth so her friends couldn’t see her desperate search for cash. Like she would find $15 in spare change. A few bills were tucked beneath a tube of lipstick and 80 cents lay scattered across the bottom among crumpled gum wrappers. Not enough.
Now what? Sure, everything would be straightened out eventually, once she filled out the fraud claims and they found whoever had drained their accounts, but what about now? How would she get out of this mess without humiliating herself further? And how long did she have before the waiter returned?
“I need to use the restroom.” She surveyed the restaurant to make sure the waiter wouldn’t intercept her. Good, he was five tables down busy with a party of 12.
Beth jumped to her feet. “I’ll join you.” She reached under her seat and pulled out a massive brown leather purse.
Alice lifted her chin as she made her way around brightly colored wicker chairs.
Once in the bathroom, Beth faced her with wide eyes. “Is everything OK? Do you think someone stole your identity?”
“They had to.”
The door swung open and a plump lady with auburn hair and freckles that covered nearly every inch of her face walked in. She smiled, glanced at herself in the mirror, then disappeared behind a stall.
Alice lowered her voice. “That’s the only thing that makes any sense.” She swallowed, heat crawling up her neck. “You think you could—?”
Beth raised a hand. “Not a problem.” She reached into her purse, pulled out a crisp 20-dollar bill and handed it over.
Alice smiled. “Thanks. I’ll pay you back.”
“Don’t worry about it. It’s my treat.”
She followed her friend back to the table in a daze. The thought of having her identity stolen, of a stranger rummaging through her things, sent a chill through her. She needed to call Trent. Hopefully he had purchased the credit card protection plan.
“I have to get going.” She placed the money Beth gave her next to her plate then turned to her friends with a tight-lipped smile.
Misty glanced at her watch. “Me too. I need to stop by Broadmoor Golf Club to pick up my clubs. I had them regripped for the ladies spring tournament this weekend.”
Everyone gathered their things and moments later, they stood in the parking lot shielding their eyes from the bright, midafternoon sun.
A cool, spring breeze swept over Alice, making her shiver. She faced the ladies. “This was great. Thanks.”
“See you at the gym tomorrow?” Misty pulled a tube of lipstick from her purse.
“Sure. Of course.” Alice tried to sound cheerful
, but her voice came out flat.
After saying a few hurried good-byes, she walked briskly to her minivan, glanced at her “friends” once last time, then slid into the driver’s seat. From the rearview mirror, she watched Misty’s pinched expression. No doubt she was just waiting to call up all her gym buddies—to share her latest nugget of gossip.
“Are Alice and Trent having financial problems?”
“Maybe Trent lost his job.”
Beth caught Alice’s gaze and held it. Looking away, Alice frowned and headed east on Harrison toward Mercer Street. With trembling hands, she phoned her husband. His voice mail picked up.
“Call me. It’s important.” She rang off and massaged her temples. It didn’t make sense. Had someone gone through her purse? She thought of her trashcan tucked beside the house. Her dad always told her to shred everything, but she never listened. Besides, Trent handled the finances, not her.
She worked and reworked a million scenarios as she drove home. Traffic was backed up on the Evergreen Point Floating Bridge, and Alice found herself sandwiched between two semis.
What if whoever had hacked into her and Trent’s accounts had gotten hold of the college funds? Did their bank have insurance for this kind of thing? With both boys in high school, Tim in his junior year and Danny a year behind, there wasn’t enough time to earn the money back. Then there was Trent’s retirement. How many accounts had been stripped? Her pulse quickened as one depressing thought spun into another. By the time she reached home, the flutters in her stomach had turned into full-out cramps.
She checked the time—1:30. Trent rarely returned her calls, not anymore. Maybe he’d shoot her a quick email, one of those one-liners, but that was about it. And trying to talk to him once he got home wouldn’t be any easier.
She headed straight to the basement. The scent of old, musty socks wafted from the 12-year-old carpet.
She paused, her hand on the doorframe, to steady her breathing. An empty beer bottle sat on the desk and three more filled the trash. An image flashed through her mind of Trent’s father staggering into Danny’s eighth grade graduation so drunk he could barely stand.