The Lucky Ones

Table of Contents

Title

Copyright

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Epilogue

About the Author

The Lucky Ones

Angel Ayers

Copyright © 2024 Angel Ayers

All rights reserved

First Edition

Fulton Books

Meadville, PA

Published by Fulton Books 2024

ISBN 979-8-89221-085-0 (paperback)

ISBN 979-8-89221-086-7 (digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Prologue

It was either the taste of blood in her mouth or the wet, sticky substance trickling down her face that finally woke her up, but whatever the reason, she was grateful. There was no telling how long she'd been out for, but now that she was coming to, she could smell and see plumes of smoke entering the car and hear the hissing sound of the damaged engine. Oh, shit, she said. What the hell happened? She tried starting the car to lower the windows, but it wouldn't turn over. She tried again, and still nothing.

Dammit! she shouted.

She blinked hard and wiped her eyes, trying to get them to focus, but came away with blood on the back of her hand. She gasped at the sight and used that same hand to reach down to her side and pushed the button to release her seat belt. She had to get out of this car. The belt came undone, and she sat up straighter in her seat so that she could assess the damage. Looking out the window had proven to be a waste of precious time. She couldn't see very well through the front window because of the darkness and all the cracks in the glass, but she saw enough to know that she had been in some sort of accident and was now trapped between a large dumpster and a shabby-looking brick building.

Oh God, no. This can't be happening, she said with panic flooding through her. What had she hit? Whatever it was, it had to be big. For a brief second, she tried recalling what happened here, but when nothing came to mind, she went back to focusing on how to get out of the car. Jumping into the back seat to kick out the window was her only option, and she did so in one hop.

The smoke must have been thicker because as soon as she got to the back seat, she started coughing. First, it started out as a light tickle, but in no time, it was a violent cough with a full-on blaze in her chest. She hacked, drooled, and tears poured down her face. She spat a stringy wad of phlegm onto the floor of the back seat and positioned herself so that she was facing the back window. With as much force as she could muster, she used the steel tip of her work boot to kick the back window. She did a little damage to the glass but not enough to release any of the smoke. She moved over a bit for better positioning and gave the window another vicious blow. With that, tiny shards of glass flew everywhere, cutting her face, neck, and hands. She ignored the pain and used her elbow to knock away the rest of the glass and pulled herself out of the car and onto the trunk.

Holy shit, she said out loud. She was still shaking and breathing heavily when she finally slid to the ground. She righted herself enough to finally take a look at her busted vehicle.

Holy shit, she said again and turned away. There was nothing that could be done about it. No way could it be saved. It was junk now, and that was the end of that. She started walking toward the main street when she heard what sounded like faint cries. Her eyes darted around until they caught sight of the bright red brake lights from the car she must have collided with.

Oh God, no, she whispered and started toward the overturned car. Upon reaching it, she heard voices of more people coming to help, and her brain immediately flashed back to the judge's warning. If she was ever caught like this again, she'd lose her license and possibly face jail time. No, she couldn't let that happen. The car was not registered in her name or anyone's for that matter. She bought it from the street from someone who undoubtedly stole it. Her best option, or only option rather, was to disappear and let someone else help these unfortunate folks. With her mind made up, she started running and never looked back.

Chapter 1

Della didn't feel like being here, and now that she was here, she wanted nothing more than for this to be over with. Bryant, her husband of five years, was the one who convinced her that since she had known the woman most of her life, she should come to pay her respects to an old acquaintance. He was even sweet enough to make coffee and prepare breakfast while she showered and dressed for the occasion.

Her acquaintance, Lucinda Atwater. Yes. That was all she could really call the woman who had been the bane of her existence since elementary school. She was never a friend, more like her nemesis, actually, but none of that mattered anymore because she and all the people present today were here to say goodbye.

Della looked around at all the glum faces surrounding the grandiose casket, most of which she knew, but others were strangers to her. She wondered if these people had known the real Lucinda. Whom were they crying for?

Were they crying for the sweet, adoring woman that Lucinda sometimes pretended to be, or did they know the real her, the one who had mocked and ridiculed Della for as long as she could remember?

Sweetheart, Bryant called to her, cutting into her thoughts. He casually weaved his way through the crowd, kissing her cheek when he reached her. Bryant, who was looking sharp in his dark suit, surveyed the crowd.

I can't believe how many people are here. I haven't seen most of them in years, he said to his wife. The truth was Della was glad she hadn't seen any of them in years. To her, they were nothing more than a bunch of nosy gossipers who fed on the misery of others. Bryant, on the other hand, being the only son of a wealthy business owner in town, was accustomed to chatting it up with the locals. His family was known for contributing large donations to local charities, making his name an important one in Morris Hills. He excused himself now to console a few mourners he recognized while Della took in the pretty scenery.

The air felt a little cooler on her bare arms than Della expected, and she cursed herself now for not grabbing the black shawl her husband had suggested. She rubbed her arms, trying to warm them while admiring her surroundings and waiting for things to get started. The small private cemetery was surrounded by tall perfectly lined magnolia trees outside of a steel gate. No one was sitting yet, but nearly one hundred wooden chairs with white cloth covers were lined in even rows on the grass for the ceremony. The lawn was expertly manicured, boasting of pride and professional care, and Della felt guilty for wondering who the landscaper was.

She made it a point to not look at the hole they would soon be dumping a once living, breathing person into. This wasn't her first funeral, of course, but each time she attended one, her mind would swirl with thoughts of her own life. Did she have any regrets? Had she done everything she could to ensure her children could manage without her? To avoid having to answer those questions, she scanned the crowd and noticed her daughter, Vera, and her fiancé, Travis, both dressed impeccably well, she in a very tasteful long black designer gown and he in a custom-fit something she probably couldn't pronounce, walking toward the casket. Della averted her eyes again. They settled on the sight of hundreds of graves, some taller than others, many with fresh flowers, one with a toy car and some sort of action figure on top, and she sent up a silent prayer for them all.

Members of the choir wearing navy blue robes were now beginning to gather on the stage behind the casket. Most were just chatting among themselves, but others were practicing their music. Soon the remainder of the choir arrived and took their places onstage. The guests all started taking their seats, so Della hurried to hers to wait for Bryant to return. As soon as he arrived, an organ started playing a solemn tune, and the choir rose. Father John, the handsome and beloved sixty-ish-year-old priest at Morris Hills Cathedral, appeared just as the choir began to hum, and everyone else rose as well.

Good morning, everyone.

Good morning, Father, replied everyone.

It's always great to see you all, even at such a difficult time, so I would like to thank you all for taking the time to attend Ms. Lucinda Atwater's send-off, Father John added.

Della couldn't hold out anymore. At the mention of Lucinda's name, she took a deep breath and finally turned her head to view her.

From where she sat, she had a clear view of the casket and the body. The oversize rose gold crate was Lucinda's choice. Everything down to the ivory velvet interior was all chosen and paid for by Lucinda the day after she received her cancer diagnosis. Afterward, she appeared at Della's house with that dry ass-cobbler of hers and her bad news. That had only been eleven days ago.

Della would never admit this to anyone, but Lucinda actually looked prettier than she had ever seen her before. She was dressed in a respectable navy blue skirt with a pretty costly-looking ivory satin blouse. A simple string of pearls hung across her bosom. Her hair and makeup were skillfully done, and a lovely white rose was propped in her folded hands. There wasn't an ounce of pain or fear on her face. Lucinda was at peace.

The funeral lasted roughly an hour, and now those who decided to attend the wake were all mostly standing around, holding coffee cups, and eating stale cookies at the Morris Hills Rec Center. Lucinda had made arrangements with Bryant to have her after-service event held here. She paid for all the catering in advance and, although he tried refusing it, paid Bryant a handsome lump for his help too. Della stuck close to her husband who bounced around from person to person, making sure everyone was comfortable. After a while though, she made herself a small plate and took a seat on one of the hard folding chairs to eat it. She cleared her plate, and on her way to discard her trash, she ran into her son, Eddie.

Hi, baby. I didn't know you'd be here today.

Hi, Mom, Eddie said, leaning over to give her a hug.

I'm here in an official capacity today. Pop asked me to be here to help with anything that needed to make sure everything goes smoothly.

Well, you've done an amazing job. Everything looks great.

Thanks, said Eddie, but I can't take all of the credit. A few of the boys offered to help with the decorating and food serving. They stayed up with me all last night preparing for today.

Well, they did a fine job, and I'm sure Lucinda would have been pleased, Della added. She was so proud of her son for all of his hard work and dedication to the kids. The Morris Hills Rec Center gave the throwaways, as they like to refer to themselves, a safe place where they can thrive and develop into productive young men and women. They are provided more than just shelter. Bryant, Eddie, and the other counselors are those kids' only family.

Eddie kissed his mother on the cheek before hurrying off to check on a loud bang he heard in the kitchen. Things had been going a little too smoothly, and he knew eventually something would go wrong. When Eddie rounded the corner into the kitchen, he stopped short at the sight of his most recent newcomer, seven-year-old Aiden, crouched down, wiping tears from his face and sweeping up broken glass from about fifteen glass cups that shattered on the floor. His eyes widened, and he rushed to Aiden's side.

Aiden, wait, step away. I'll take care of that. I don't want you to get cut, he said, taking the dustpan from the boy.

I'm so sorry, Eddie. I didn't mean to. It was an accident, the boy said, sniffling.

It's all right, buddy. Mistakes happen. Grown-ups like me make them all the time. Just have something to eat and then go around with a bag and pick up any trash you see. This should be over soon, okay.

Okay, Eddie, the kid said, clearly happy that it was finally dinnertime. He bounded off into the other room while Eddie finished cleaning up the mess.

Nearly three hours later, the last guests made their way home, and the rec center was now closed. With the cleaning crew due to arrive in the morning, there wasn't anything to take care of. After a long few days of preparing, Eddie, his wife, and their gang of kids finally went home.

With all the kids settled in their rooms and his wife, Liz, resting soundly in the recliner, Eddie called his folks to get their thoughts on how things went today. He knew that they, his mother especially, would have heard all the gossip by now, and he was interested in knowing what the townsfolk thought.

Hey, Mom, were you sleeping? Eddie asked his mother when she answered.

No, baby, not yet. We're just sitting up, watching the evening news, and talking about all the trashy outfits we saw at the funeral, she responded and laughed. Do you know everyone who attended? Della asked Eddie. There were a few faces I didn't know. I saw two women there, one wearing a wrinkled skirt and the other in jeans. I think they were together," Della added, arching an eyebrow at her husband.

Stop it, Ma, you're terrible. I've seen them both around but don't know much about either of them. I know the taller one spends a lot of time at the bar. I don't go often, but she's always there when I stop in. She's sort of a mess, Eddie added.

I'm just playing, baby. We were just talking about how nice everything looked. The kids looked great and were on their best behavior. You've done such an amazing job with them, son, Della added.

Um, hello, Bryant chimed in. Need I remind you two that that place wouldn't even be there if it weren't for me?

Hold on a second, son, Della said into the receiver. Your pop's feelings are hurt. Della laughed, and Bryant chucked a pillow at her head. She ducked, and it missed her.

I wasn't expecting Travis and Vera to show up there either. It still feels strange seeing them together. I don't think I'll ever trust him, Eddie said.

I know how you feel, baby, and sometimes I feel the same, but I'm hoping it will get easier as time goes on, Della said and let the matter drop. She really didn't want to think about what her daughter was doing to that man. Nothing was ever proven, of course, but many people in town believe he had something to do with the death of a young mother a few years back. Sadie's face, still so clear in Della's mind, appeared now, and she fought like hell to avoid crying. Della's oldest son, Dillon, had been in love with the town harlot and was so heartbroken by her death that he fled the town. To this day, no one has seen or heard from him, and Sadie's death still wasn't solved.

Mom! Eddie shouted a little too loudly.

I'm sorry, baby, my mind wanders on me sometimes. What were you saying?

Oh, I was just saying that I'm going to get some sleep now. I had a pretty long day, and I'm exhausted. Tell Pop I said good night.

All right, honey. Kiss Liz for me.

The moment she and her son disconnected, the dam broke. She could no longer hold back the tears. They streamed down her face so fast, she couldn't catch them all. Bryant, ever present and loving man that he is, rushed to her side and sat down beside her. He didn't need to ask any questions.

Extending his arms to her, Bryant said, Come here, queen.

Chapter 2

Ebbie didn't have time for this. She was supposed to be making arrangements for her sister's upcoming birthday party, but she was a sucker for Franky and couldn't say no. He needed her, and she wouldn't turn her back on him like everyone else had. She left her sister asleep inside with the TV on in case she woke up, and stepped outside her apartment to go looking for him. Ebbie walked past her fence and then farther up the street, searching with her hands shoved into the pockets of her jeans. September evenings in Morris Hills weren't usually this chilly, and she found herself wishing she'd grabbed a sweater. The wind was picking up now, making tree branches sway left and right, and she was pretty sure she remembered hearing someone in town mentioning rain coming soon. Eager to get back before that could happen, she picked up her pace.

The pretty moonlight illuminated the area enough for her to make her way to where she thought he might be. She knew he loved baseball and sometimes enjoys sitting in the bleachers, staring at the field. Weird kid. Ebbie followed the cobblestoned path to the baseball park and, when she made it, was disappointed to find the bleachers empty. What was this? Was he wasting her time?

Franky, she called out to him.

She went over to a rusty bench and decided to wait a few minutes. The thing was covered in graffiti and could really use a few of the screws tightened. She glanced around at the rest of the park and shook her head sadly. This place, once known as Castle Park to the kids around here because of the giant castle shaped jungle gym, which was eventually taken down due to increased crime in the area, was now littered, dark, and scary. Ebbie could still remember she and her friends helping with the construction when she was in middle school, and it was disappointing to see what had become of it. Above her, several pairs of dingy tennis shoes hung from a wire. She never understood why people did that. Didn't they need their shoes? Whatever, that was none of her concern.

Ebbie checked her watch and frowned. Come on, Franky. Where was he? She could only wait a few more minutes, and then she really had to go. As she waited, she took a mental note of everything that still needed to be done for the party. She already had the colors picked out. That was the easy part. Purple had always been Miah's favorite, and Ebbie thought purple and white would be perfect for the preteen. Deciding on a venue has been a bit more difficult, but what started out as six locations, Ebbie had now narrowed down to two. The first four were eliminated right away due to not being wheelchair accessible. That was easy, next. The others were much more expensive, but they also provided the amenities needed for easy access.

Miah, her sweet and spunky almost twelve-year-old stepsister, was paralyzed from the waist down. At age four, while she was asleep in her car seat, her father had been driving them home when they were struck from behind by a small tan car that sent them wildly spinning directly into a median. Her father, a handsome and successful man who was also dating Ebbie's mother and living with them at the time, had died on impact. Miah's life had been spared, but she was left to endure a life full of pain and suffering.

Miah's birth mother had died giving birth to her, and there were no other living relatives that could be located. While Miah was still in the hospital recovering, Ebbie's mother filed to adopt her, and it had been granted by the time the girl was ready to leave the hospital.

Raising two girls on her own, one of which was partially disabled and the other in her second year of college, was no easy feat. Many adjustments had to be made to accommodate their new lifestyle, but they