Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 84026 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84026 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
An older man in a crisp tux approached, smiling widely. “Zak, great to see you,” he said, reaching out and shaking Zakai’s hand.
“Jake. Great to be here. This is Karys Grant. Karys, Jake Madsen.”
“Nice to meet you, Karys,” the devastatingly handsome older man said. He glanced behind him as a woman walked up, beautiful in a peacock-colored gown, her dark hair swept away from her lovely face. “This is my wife, Evie.”
“Hi, Karys,” she said. “Zak has told us so much about you. And of course, I’ve read all of your books. They’re wonderful.”
I looked down, feeling shy. “Thank you. That means so much coming from another author.”
She smiled humbly. “You’re too kind.”
“Karys,” Zakai said, “Jake was going to introduce me to some donors. Will you be okay if I leave you with Evie for a few minutes?”
“Oh, yes.” I glanced at Evie, not wanting her to feel as if she had to babysit me. “But it isn’t necessary that—"
“I’ll take good care of her,” she said, leaning up and kissing her husband on the cheek. “Go.”
“Come with me.” She smiled, turning and leading me away from the patio. “I’ll show you the garden. It’s magnificent—a small park actually.” I followed her, through the guests chatting and sipping flutes of champagne, around the house and down a short set of steps.
“Oh my goodness,” I said, stepping down the final step and surveying the beautifully unexpected space.
“I’m told it’s an English garden,” Evie said, smiling as she nodded toward the hedges and rows of flowers interspersed with fountains and stone benches. “But I have to admit that as a city girl, I don’t know much of anything about gardening.”
I smiled back. “Whatever it’s called, it’s beautiful,” I said, walking forward, my fingers running over the velvety leaves of a large blue and purple flower. “It’s very different and yet . . . the beauty reminds me of where Zakai and I grew up.” I blushed, looking away. “I’m sure he’s mentioned—"
“Yes,” Evie said, laying her hand on my arm momentarily as she walked beside me. “He’s told us. My husband and I grew up in a dismal situation too.” Despite her words, a gentle smile graced her lips. “I’m a child who aged out of the foster care system.” She swept her hand around, indicating the formal garden and the mansion beyond. “I never in a million years dreamed I’d be standing in a place like this. Not only this garden but this life. The people who own this home, they have a lot, but they want to share it with those who don’t. We’ve made it our life’s work to surround ourselves with people just like them.”
“Like Zakai,” I murmured.
“Zakai is more like us than the financial donors.” She smiled over at me. “My husband and I have been lucky in that we have the means to give back too, but we’re also made more complete by the work. Zakai is going to be a wonderful asset to our larger team and I believe he’s already come to understand how much healing supporting those in the position you were once in can bring.”
We’re also made more complete by the work.
“Zakai hasn’t mentioned exactly what he’ll be doing,” I said.
“Well,” Evie answered. “Zakai has particular knowledge of what it’s like to be trafficked. Many come to our organizations reeling from a rescue. Zakai has met several times with a rescue team who work out of Las Vegas.” A small frown marred her brow. “They’ve communicated the difficulties of finding appropriate long-term housing for people who have such specific needs.”
I exhaled a long breath, thinking about what Zakai had told me about the house he had lived in when we’d first arrived in New York City, the things he’d experienced that I had had no knowledge of. Reeling was the word Evie had used and it was appropriate. I thought, too, about my uncle and the betrayal I’d felt. As devastating as that situation had been, how would I have fared if I’d been placed in a similar situation to Zakai? Repeatedly attacked by a stranger intent on overpowering me? Not well, my mind whispered.
“The work you do is so important,” I said softly. “I’m very glad Zakai is involved.”
Evie glanced at me and though I didn’t look her way, I sensed her assessing me. “Zakai’s told us a little about what happened when you both moved here,” she said gently.
My shoulders sagged and I sat on a bench next to where we walked. Evie took a seat beside me, turning my way, her eyes filled with concern and kindness. “It’s such a mess, Evie. It’s all such a giant mess.” And I can’t even begin to tell you the extent.
Evie reached out, taking my hand and squeezing it. “I was very much like you growing up, Karys. A dreamer. I suppose it’s no wonder we both turned out to be storytellers. Though admittedly, my stories are nowhere near as well-crafted or detailed as yours.” She laughed softly.