Description:
When Marlie agrees to attend a cadaver ball at Vanderbilt Medical School, she did not expect to actually see any cadavers. Or, that a strange apparition would issue her a chilling message.
Despite the cadaver's warning, Marlie is married a year later to Tennessee State Senator, Daniel Cannon, and living in a plantation-style mansion with two step-sons. Add to the mix her growing suspicion that something is amiss with the death of Daniel’s first wife, Gentry, and newlywed Marlie is definitely in over her pretty Yankee head.
What begins as an innocent inquiry into her new husband’s clouded past ends with Marlie in the midst of a dangerous conspiracy.
A modern twist on the classic Gothic romance novels of Rebecca and Jane Eyre, Replacing Gentry follows Marlie’s precarious journey as she learns the truth about the man she married.
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The loud
clank of the door fastening shut behind me gave me a start. My steps skidded to
a stop in the sudden darkness, and I pulled a breath deep into my chest. The
air was heavy like icy needles probing my throat. I rubbed the chill bumps on
my arms with the heat of my moist palms.
Where am
I?
Squinting
against the hazy glow of a single bulb, I scanned one way, then the other,
unable to determine the end of the passageway in either direction. From the
other side of the door, the steady drumming of the bass from the Cadaver Ball
sounded miles away. The perceived distance was a welcome relief. I needed some
time to think, to center, and to get a grip. What had just happened between
Daniel and me? One minute he’d been leading me around the dance floor, the
next I’d lost track of how many dances we’d shared and found myself kissing
him. Sure, I’d considered the possibility, but fantasizing about kissing a
total stranger and actually going through with it were two very different
things. I’d only known one man before who’d been able to draw me in so quickly.
Finn.
I’d also met
Finn at a ritzy Nashville party I had attended with my best friend Anna-Beth.
Only that had been years ago, back when she and I were still in college. Like
Daniel, Finn had been handsome and wealthy. My time with him had ended in
heartbreak and loss. Tonight, being back in Nashville, it was like I could feel
him all around me—a cagey presence deft at staying just beyond my line of
sight. And then I’d met Daniel.
Paul leaned
forward to rest his elbows on the table. “Next question.” His eyes took a
discerning turn around our fellow dinner guests as if he were about to say
something profound. “Do you believe in love at first sight? And if so, if you
met the man of your dreams and he asked you to marry him right then and there,
would you say yes?”
As had been
the case the entire night, my thoughts rushed to Finn, how I’d fallen for him
the first time we’d met. And how two weeks later I had boarded a plane to Vegas
where I’d become his wife.
Obviously, my
true answer would be yes.
“I’d like to send the dilemma to the
social worker,” Paul’s voice sailed
across the
table, bringing everyone’s focus to me.
“Marlie is a therapist for the
California Department of Corrections,”
Anna-Beth
corrected.
Her reproach was polite, as always, with a touch of
perkiness. She
slanted
another salacious look to the dark-haired, fair-eyed plastic surgery intern
she’d introduced earlier as Steven. A far cry from the teary-eyed socialite who
had picked me up at the airport the day before after insisting twenty-four
hours earlier that she couldn’t possibly go on living without the support of
her “dearest friend.” Yesterday she’d been practically suicidal after the loss
of her latest “future hus- band.” Tonight she’d evidently discovered that there
was at least one more potential spouse left to explore.
“Psychiatric
social worker,” I clarified. “And, my training and experience has taught me
that a man willing to jump quickly into marriage is more than likely hiding
some unfortunate character flaw, something he’s afraid he can’t keep hidden for
long,” I answered, feigning a professional confidence.
I was looking
into the black hole of my thirty-first birthday, doubting with every day that
slithered by I’d ever again meet a man I could pledge my heart to. Besides,
what woman, over thirty or otherwise, doesn’t secretly fantasize about a chance
meeting with the man of her dreams?
Paul
considered my answer with a shrewd stare. “I don’t believe you. I think you,
like all women, would jump at the chance to be married,” he said, his drawl
stained with a hint of headiness.
Despite the
fact he was clearly wearing a platinum band on his left ring finger, Paul had
been ogling me all evening, and I could sense a growing affinity. But I was one
hundred percent sure I wanted no part of it. I inwardly groaned. This impromptu
game of Scruples was get- ting on my last nerve. It ticked me off that Paul had
accurately called my bluff, but I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of
yielding to the fact.
I fixed him
with a cold stare. “I’m wondering why you bothered to ask me the question when
you’d already made up your mind as to my answer?”
Paul’s smirk,
downright creepy now, tugged at his lips again. “Fair enough,” he conceded.
“Your boss congratulates you for a brilliant suggestion and hints at a
promotion. One of your subordinates gave you the idea. Do you mention this to
your boss?”
Clearing my
throat, I offered up an answer. “Of course I would give my subordinate his or
her due credit.”
Paul leaned
forward. “Even if it meant you’d get passed up for the promotion?”
I squared my
shoulders. “How could I feel good about a promotion I hadn’t earned?”
Shaking his
head, Paul grunted out a snort. “I’m sorry, Marlie, but no one subscribes to
such outdated, bogus ideals of integrity anymore.” He sent his gaze around the
table for confirmation. “I say she’s bluffing.”
I rolled my
eyes in return. “So, outdated stereotypes regarding women are perfectly alive
and well but showing a little integrity ... that’s old fashioned?” I
retorted, though an announcement had every- one shifting toward the front.
From the
stage, the emcee was lamenting about a doctor—Dr. Peter Daschle—a pioneer in
the field of reconstructive plastic surgery who’d been strides ahead of his
time when he’d met with tragic death and how his expertise would be sorely
missed ... Then, after a minute of silence, the emcee introduced the band and
invited everyone to the dance floor. The buzz of attendees taking one last
drink, or bite of dessert, before pushing back their chairs was quickly
overpowered by the band’s version of Hip to My Heart as everyone paired
up and filed out to the dance floor.
Glancing
across the table, I could see Paul fighting the flow of bodies, cutting a path
straight for me. A look of cool, self-assuredness seemed to be driving him
against the fray. My gaze flitted quickly around the room as I considered my
options. I had two choices: run for the safety of the service exit and spend
the rest of the night hiding, or turn, face him, and let him know exactly what
I thought of his presumptions. Given that I had a general dislike for
cowardice, option number two was my obvious choice.
I’d just
started in his direction when I heard a voice asking, “Would you like to
dance?”
“No, not
right now,” I said through tight lips. “I’ve got something I need to take care
of first.”
The voice
came back along with the light touch of fingertips on my elbow. “I think what
you’re fixin’ to do can, and should, wait for a more appropriate settin’.”
I hesitated.
It wasn’t like I was planning to make a scene, and who was this man that
thought he knew what I had in my mind to do? Whirling around, I shot a bothered
stare into the face behind the voice.
Gazing down
at me, the hint of a smile on his lips, was a man Anna- Beth had introduced as
her cousin, Daniel something-or-other. In his early forties, he had thick dark
hair tapered neatly around his neck and ears but longer on the top and combed
back. His nose was slightly crooked, his chin distinctive. A trace of gray at
the temples gave him the look of striking maturity, a man accustomed to the
finer things in life.
His dark blue
eyes conveyed a subtle insistence as he stepped to the side and motioned to the
dance floor. “After you,” he said with all the graciousness of a Southern-born
gentleman.
Swallowing
back a portion of my resolve, I found myself at a sud- den loss for words.
Unnerving since I rarely, if ever, found myself with nothing whatsoever to say.
After a final glance back at Paul—I would deal with him later—I adjusted my
course and headed for the dance floor. Daniel pulled me in close and proceeded
to lead in a smooth cowboy cha-cha. After a few silent turns around the parquet
floor, I glanced up to see that his eyes, dark blue like a moonless night, were
searching mine as if looking for a truth that eluded him.
“Back at the
table ... your answers, were they sincere, or were you playin’ devil’s
advocate?”
My head spun
under the heat of his gaze. At the moment I couldn’t recall each and every
response, there had been so many, but thinking back, I was fairly certain I’d
meant them all.
“As hard as
it may be to believe, they were all my true opinions.” Pulling me closer still,
his mouth was just a kiss away as he whispered,
“Just so you
know, I don’t think integrity is outdated.”
Why am I
so inanely attracted to all the things I’m not? I mused as I began to pace the tight
circle of light that fanned out into the darkness. Even
more
puzzling, why had Daniel been attracted to me? I wasn’t particularly tall, and
while my face and figure were not unfortunate, I tended to blend easily into a
crowd. But then, he had said that I reminded him of a slightly older Emma
Stone, which I modestly denied, while secretly I’d kind of thought so too.
And then
there was always the possibility that because I was from out of town he’d
considered me an easy mark for a torrid one-night- stand. Except from what I
could see, he seemed to be a perfect gentle- man—not at all the womanizing
type. I stopped pacing and started chewing my thumbnail while the toe of my
sandal tapped the floor.
Why was I so
cold?
I should go
back in. Only now I felt like an idiot for running out the way I had. It was
too frigid out here to spend any more time second- guessing my reaction. How
should I play it when I see Daniel? Act casual? Ignore him? I was mentally
pounding my head when another sound joined the echo of my tapping foot.
Slamming my shoe to the floor, I held it still and listened to the darkness. I
couldn’t hear a thing, not even the muffled drumming of the band.
Turning in a
circle, my eyes searched the shadows, unable to see anything beyond the thick
blanket of blackness surrounding my solitary swath of light. An unsettling
feeling began a slow crawl up my spine. Was it the sudden quiet or the complete
darkness that had me feeling on edge? I couldn’t be sure at first, but then
there was noise, or maybe just a feeling as the presence of something unseen
crept over me, and I realized I wasn’t alone.
“Hello,” I
called, my voice echoing down the dark passageway. “Who’s there?”
The only
reply was the hiss of my own breath, the rush of my blood as it beat against my
ears. “I know you’re there,” I said. I thought I heard something—a sigh or a
brush against the far wall.
“Hello?” I
tried again. Nothing. Maybe my imagination was getting away from me? I mean,
who wouldn’t be creeped out in a dark, frigid hallway? Nothing to worry about.
In case
something feral was indeed lurking out there, I retraced my steps, one foot
behind the other, my eyes sweeping the abyss in both directions until I bumped
up against the steel of the door.
Reaching
back, I pushed down on the handle and then pulled while keeping a close eye on
a predator I wasn’t sure existed. The door didn’t budge. I turned to face the
door, pushed down with both hands this time and pulled. Then I lifted and
yanked again. The door stayed put.
I was locked
out. The fear of being trapped squeezed my chest with a ruthless grip. Droplets
of perspiration rolled from my temples and down to my neck, burning a steamy
trail over my cold skin. The air grew more frigid. The darkness pressed closer.
My heart began to race, my breath grew more shallow as panic pushed hard at my
need to stay calm.
“I’m locked
out here!” I pounded my fists on the door as the music started up again. “Can
someone—anyone—hear me?” I yelled until my throat was raw, the shrieks shooting
from my lips in puffs of white smoke.
Pressing my
cheek against the door, I listened to the muffled sounds of a rousing party.
The cool metal did little to relieve the heat of my exertion. There was no
indication that anyone had heard my screams—at least no one on the other side
of the door.
A thump,
followed by a drag was the first undeniable conformation that
someone—something—was there.
I slowly
turned. “Who’s there?” my voice rasped out again. I heard no audible answer,
just another thump and a drag. “Can you help me?” I asked. “The door seems to
be stuck.”
I waited. The
dragging grew closer, the darkness slowly consuming what little light was there
in the dark hallway.
“Please, say
something.” My voice crackled against the black walls, my eyes focused toward
the sounds as the silhouette of a body materialized out of the haze.
At first, all
I could make out the bareness of a man’s feet and legs against the grey floor,
one foot taking feeble steps forward while the other dragged along in its wake.
His flesh was white like a thin sheet of paper stretched over iridescent blue
veins.
“Are you all
right?” I called out, thinking maybe he wasn’t an attacker at all but someone
in desperate need of help. “Do you need medical assistance?”
Another thump
and a drag brought him closer. The dim light turned blinding as it reflected
off the whiteness of his skin. He was completely naked. His shoulders were
slumped over. His arms hung long and limp at the sides of his torso. A
stitching in the shape of a Y marked across his chest. His hair was disheveled
and receding from a long forehead above sunken cheeks and lifeless, gray-rimmed
eyes. He looked like a walking corpse.
My hand flew
to cover the scream that exploded from my chest. “Oh my gosh!” I pressed my
back harder against the door, feebly edging
myself away.
My ankles gave way beneath me.
The man took a few more steps and
stopped.“Marlie Evans,” he said,
the words
booming over stiff lips.
The breath solidified in my throat.
Absolute silence filled the flickering shadows cast by the light of a dying
bulb. A flash of steel running down to a wheeled box on the floor behind him
caught my attention. Then the squeak of a pulley had my mind leaping back to
the dark-
humored skits
that had opened the medical school ball, but I was unable to recall this
particular prop.
“Is this some
sort of joke?” I called out through quivering lips.
“You don’t
belong here,” he said, raising a shaking arm to point a crooked finger in my
direction. “You should go back, go back to where you belong.”
I cranked the
door handle down again. Again, the latch didn’t release. “Yeah, no kidding,” I
said, forcing a weak chuckle. “I would go back in but like I said before, the
door seems to be stuck.”
“Marlie
Evans,” he repeated with more insistence.
I shrank farther back, my eyes
darting about the space, waiting for
the prankster
to reveal himself. “If this is meant to scare me for some twisted amusement
you’ve done a good job . . . I’m officially freaked out!” I screamed
then waited, my gaze unwittingly locked with the unfathomable site before me.
“Enough is enough already!”
His face was
like that of a ventriloquist’s dummy. “You are weak and will lose all that is
precious to you, and still, you will not change what has already been decided.”
Each syllable
pressed down on me like a heavy weight. I sucked in a ragged breath. Why was I
trapped in the cold, the darkness, with death standing before me? Suddenly,
this didn’t feel like a joke.
Supporting my
weakening body against the exit, my nails bent and cracked as my fingers dug
into the hard surface. “Change what?” I pled, tears blurring my focus. “I don’t
understand.”
He blinked
once, slowly. “The end has already been written,” he said with what sounded
like considerable effort.
Terror pushed
the blood hard through my veins. “What are you talking about?” I cried. “What
end?”
A sneer
pulled across his sullen face, his features contorting into a look so vile I
felt as though something evil had reached inside me and taken hold of my soul.
“Your end.”
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About the author:
Julie N. Ford graduated from San Diego State University with a BA in Political Science and a minor in English Literature. In addition, she has a Masters in Social Work from the University of Alabama. Professionally, she has worked in teaching and as a Marriage & Family Counselor. She is the author of two women’s fiction novels, The Woman He Married and No Holly for Christmas, published in 2011. In addition, she wrote a romance/chick-lit novel, Count Down to Love, also published in 2011. Count Down to Love was a 2011 Whitney Award finalist. Her most recent novel, Replacing Gentry, was released in April 9th, 2013.
Currently, she lives in Nashville, TN with her husband, two daughters and one baby hedgehog.
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