Chapter 2 Guilt and Longing

Elizabeth was tiredly climbing the squeaky stairs leading to their small apartment, and the world appeared to be squeezing down on her bowed shoulders. Late-night shifts and the dogged search for financial soundness had become an all too natural rhythm in her life, an unrelenting melody she was powerless to escape. She opened the battered door to discover their little house's dimly lighted interior, a far cry from the vivid fantasies she had formerly had.

Her appearance caught the small figure curled into the old couch, a cherubic face defined by messy blonde hair - her child, Jeremy, was asleep. Elizabeth's face started to show a faint smile, an unusual moment of calm among the chaos. Making sure not to disturb his undisturbed sleep, she gently tucked the tattered blanket about his small figure. She focused on his calm articulation, and a weight of obligation drew at her heart. This was not the life she had envisioned for her precious child-a life of conflict, of continual penance. Jeremy deserved so much more-a world full of love and possibilities-where his mother wouldn't have to work so hard to provide for him. Michael Drake entered Elizabeth's thoughts after once promising her the stars but then disappeared like a passing dream. Just the mention of his name set her off in a frenzy of wrath, love, and a residual sense of betrayal. She had tried several times to let his rich family know their grandchild existed. In any case, lost in the impermeable fortress of wealth and prestige covering the Drake government, her prayers were unnoticed. Elizabeth sighed heavily and turned away from Jeremy's side to scurvel toward the kitchenette. Her motions mechanical, her thoughts a tsunami of disappointments and what-uncertainties, she filled the battered pot with water. She grew lost in the memories of that portentous end of the week, the one that had guided her life for eternity as the water simmered. She still clearly smells Michael's perfume, finds solace in his hug, and remembers how his touch had enveloped her whole body. For those brief flashes of love, she was still paying the price day after day, year after year. Jeremy was the pinnacle of that love and a continual reminder of what might have been and what was so viciously snatched from him. Elizabeth was startled back to the present by the high pitched whistle of the kettle, then rapidly poured the scalding water into a chipped mug while the air smelled strongly of chamomile. She held the mug in her tired hands in quest of comfort in its warmth and a little escape from the hard reality she lived. Her brain drifted once again as she sipped the soothing brew, considering the possibility of getting in touch Michael's family once more. Perhaps this time her prayers would be heard, her child's presence acknowledged. But where it counted, she understood the emptiness of such hopes. The Drake world was a fort, impervious to any kind of attack - a struggling single mom hardly scraping by. They lived in different worlds, their worlds separated by a challenging gap of wealth and dignity. Elizabeth's dream was broken by a soft moan from the living area, and she hurried to Jeremy's side as her heart contracted at his wrinkled brow and shutter lips. Dreams seemed to frequent their little house, unwanted guests who targeted her child's naive psyche. She held him in her arms and softly rocked him while singing a calming lullaby to help his whimpers stop and his features reverted to a peaceful slumber. At that moment Elizabeth promised herself she would do all it needed to shield her kid from the terrible reality that had destroyed her own hopes and guarantee his happiness. A steely purpose descended upon Elizabeth as Jeremy's breathing straightened out. She would neither allow the apparitions of her past guide her future nor would she submit to surrender. She would keep on, deliberately, pawing her way toward a better life for her and her child. She got up from the couch deliberately, driven. Looking out at the glittering lights of the metropolis that never dozes, a material of chance seeking her brush, she moved closer the window. She pledged silently tomorrow, her eyes fix with a ferocious assurance. She would start down the path toward achieving her dreams and building a life fit for her son's unbounded future. As the night sky yielded the first hesitant colors of dawn, Elizabeth sensed a spark of hope burn inside her. She would be able to negotiate the hardest of situations with this hope. She would not be refused either as a warrior or a mother. She was unaware, though, that the exact forces she was trying to flee were already rumbling and throwing shadows over her precarious planet. Elizabeth's delicate relationships to her son and the man who had once captured her heart were challenged by a diabolical scheme set against the lavish Drake business. The story would eventually crash catastastically into Elizabeth's life. The players were in place; the stage was set; the battle lines were drawn. Elizabeth's process had hardly begun, and the road forward promised to be a difficult one fraught with calamity, treachery, and maybe just maybe, the potential at reclamation and an adoration that questioned all possibilities. Elizabeth's imagination whirled with possible results, every scenario more daunting than the next. Though she knew they would be many, she was resolved to overcome the challenges ahead for the sake of her son and the life they deserved. Sitting by the window and seeing the city come alive with the sun rising made her uncomfortable. Perhaps the real universe was working against her, throwing many obstacles in her path and testing the limits of her intent. She was startled from her dream by an unexpected sharp rap on the door. Her heart hammered as she gingerly walked up to view through the window. Her breath seized in her throat at what she saw on the other side. She had never seen a man like him before; he was standing there in a perfect suit most likely costing more than her yearly pay. But there was an aura that seemed to radiate riches and power, eerily reminiscent of his steely eye and arrogant tilt of his chin. Elizabeth was unable to shake the idea that this shocking guest was the herald of progress, an impulse that would launch a chain of events that would everlastingly alter the course of her life as her shaking fingers messed with the latch. Her thoughts whirling with questions and doubts, she opened the gateway with a steadying breath. She had no idea the man in front of her was only a pawn in a game that would try the boundaries of her love, her will, even her very life. Elizabeth realized that nothing could at any point be the equivalent once more as their eyes locked and the planet seemed to stop breathing. In that little second.