Warm Souls Read online

  Andre Gonzalez

  Warm Souls

  First published by M4L Publishing 2019

  Copyright © 2019 by Andre Gonzalez

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

  This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

  Andre Gonzalez asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

  First edition

  ISBN: 978-1-7327762-4-1

  Editing by Stephanie Cohen

  Cover art by ebooklaunch.com

  This book was professionally typeset on Reedsy

  Find out more at reedsy.com

  To my dad, Larry. You may not remember, but you were my very first reader in 2002.

  “With endless time, nothing is special. With no loss or sacrifice, we can’t appreciate what we have.”

  -Mitch Albom

  Contents

  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

  Acknowledgements

  Enjoy this book?

  Also by Andre Gonzalez

  About the Author

  1

  Chapter 1

  It had rained every single day since they pulled Isabelle Briar’s remains from the lake. Martin had shed tears as he watched the dive crew jump into the water in search of his long-lost daughter. An hour later, they emerged with a pile of bones and Martin’s heart sunk as the gray skies cried heavy tears over the small town of Larkwood, Colorado.

  His ex-wife, Lela, had already been taken into custody by the local police. Martin was forced to watch old pictures of his family flash by on the news and internet. The story was all anyone talked about, and he soon refused to show his face in public—especially with his new girlfriend nearby, who didn’t need the harassment of the limelight during her first week in 2018.

  In 2018, news stories were posted online for viewers to watch at their leisure. These same stories were shared to social media for the entire world to watch, judge, and even leave their opinions in the form of a comment.

  There were thousands of thoughts and prayers for Izzy, and this touched Martin as he scrolled through the comments. There were even dozens for Martin directly, people trying to step into his shoes and imagine their spouse murdering their child. But, as always on the internet, ugly, cruel people also crawled out of their dark corners and accused Martin of being a neglectful husband. Why wasn’t he home that night? Was he out at the bars? Having an affair?

  Get fucking real, he thought, reading these ludicrous theories. He wondered why people bothered reading articles online if they were only going to form their own story.

  Despite the trolls, the overall support from the online community helped Martin through a difficult week. So did Sonya.

  Sonya had learned over their six months together in 1996 how to handle Martin’s emotions: when to insert herself into the situation, when to back off and give him space. This particular week was a balanced mixture.

  Martin’s cell phone rang constantly from relatives and friends all around the country. Sonya still gawked in amazement every time he spoke into the tiny device.

  “What can I do for you?” she had asked the night after the body recovery.

  “Just be here. Please don’t stress about doing anything. We can order takeout for every meal, I really don’t care. Just being by my side is all I can ask from you right now.”

  Seeing Izzy’s bones pulled from the water had fucked with his mind; part of him had expected her body to still be somewhat intact.

  “Unfortunately, people litter this lake, making it more acidic,” a member from the forensics team had told him. “That accelerates the decomposition process.”

  Martin had spoken with a handful of forensic team members, and each of them spoke in the same tone: flat and emotionless.

  He thought of these events as he stared at the casket, its perfect black gloss still glimmering on the gloomy day. The prior night was the rosary service at the church, an event he still couldn’t remember. Before arriving to the cemetery was the funeral service at the same church, also a fuzzy memory. All he could do was stare at the coffin and allow the burden of regret to settle on his soul.

  Sure, he received the closure he had sought by learning what exactly had happened to his daughter after 22 years of wondering. But what he really wanted was one final hug, one last kiss on her forehead, a final whiff of her scent to hold in his lungs and heart forever.

  He never encountered her when he had traveled to 1996, always keeping a safe distance to watch her from afar like a guardian angel, terrified to tinker with the past before learning how it worked. Only guardian angels weren’t supposed to stand helplessly outside the house while the one they protected was murdered inside.

  Thinking of those few minutes of hell made him clench his fists and tremble with rage. Chris, the old man, the keeper of time or whatever the fuck he was, had knowingly set him up for failure. There was no situation where Martin could have barged into the house and saved the day; he had no reason to believe that Izzy’s demise would come from inside.

  God damn it all.

  The priest droned on in the background as Martin kept his eyes fixed on the casket. His daughter was in there, never able to laugh or sing again. Martin’s mother sat on his right, hugging his arm. A gathering of roughly fifty friends and family came to show their support for Martin and Izzy. When the story became widespread news, Martin was asked if the funeral would be open to the public, which he promptly rejected.

  The priest finally stopped speaking and many of the guests visited Martin in the front row to offer him hugs and handshakes, wishing him the best in his recovery. He mindlessly returned the hugs and mumbled a quick thanks as people moved down the line.

  After fifteen minutes the cemetery had cleared out, leaving Martin alone with Sonya and his mother. The funeral director prepared to lower Izzy into the earth. He didn’t want to watch, but felt comfort in knowing where she was.

  “Do you feel up to grab some coffee?” his mother, Marilyn, asked. “My treat.”

  “Sure.” Martin just wanted to leave the cemetery.

  They all walked slowly to the car, Marilyn struggling up a slight hill to the parking lot. Sonya handled the driving on this emotional day and took them to the nearest coffee shop in a silent car ride.

  When they arrived, Martin grabbed a table while Sonya and his mother went to order the drinks. They had gotten along well despite
just meeting a few days ago. Marilyn hadn’t asked where they had met in the midst of all the commotion, and he was glad because they hadn’t discussed a story to tell people when asked that very question.

  They joined Martin at the table.

  “Martin, I need to tell you something,” Marilyn said, a sudden shift in her already solemn tone. “I know this isn’t the best day, but it really can’t wait any longer.”

  “Mom, what’s wrong?” he asked, a pit forming in his stomach.

  She forced a smile as she stared down to her coffee cup, running a finger nervously around the brim.

  “I’ve been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s.”

  Martin’s jaw dropped and Sonya seemed to shrink into herself. Welcome to 2018 with Martin Briar, where kids get buried and mothers contract deadly diseases.

  Chris, he immediately thought. That motherfucker. He’d been waiting for something bad to happen; the old man had told him it would when he least expected it.

  “I. . . I don’t know what to say,” Martin replied.

  “There’s nothing to say.” Marilyn said flatly. “It’s not in the early stages, either. The doctors said I have two to four years to live, and that the symptoms will start progressing any day now.”

  Not realizing he had any more left, tears formed in Martin’s eyes. “Have you already been suffering?”

  His mother, who seemed to have aged twenty years in the last five minutes, nodded gently as a tear rolled down her cheek. “I’ve been forgetful with silly things: where I put my keys, what I was looking for in the kitchen. I didn’t think anything of it until I got in the car to go to church and couldn’t remember which way to go.”

  The church was only a mile from her house, the same one he had seen burnt to ashes on his trip to 1996.

  “Mom, I’m so sorry.”

  “I know. And I wanted to tell you before I get any worse. I don’t know when that will be. My mind still feels clear, and I don’t know what exactly it’s going to do.”

  She fell silent. They all knew how this would progress and eventually end.

  “I’ve made arrangements with a senior home that specializes in Alzheimer’s. It’s just over in Grant.”

  Martin shook his head aggressively. “No. I’m not letting you go to that home.”

  “Marty, it’s okay. You’ll be able to visit – it’s only a fifteen-minute drive.”

  Martin’s face had turned bright red as tears and mucus flowed from his eyes and nose, pooling together on his chin.

  “No. I’m not gonna let you rot away in a home while you forget every detail about your life. You can stay with me.”

  “Marty, there’s no room for me in your apartment—”

  “I’m moving,” he interrupted. “I’ve come into some money and am going to buy a house.”

  He wasn’t lying, but he also wasn’t sure exactly how much money was waiting for him in his investment account, either. That would have to go on the to-do list for tomorrow.

  “Money from what?” his mother asked.

  “I’ve done some investing, and things have exploded for me.”

  “You never mentioned this.”

  It felt like it had been six months since they last met for dinner after their quick trip to the mysterious store, the Wealth of Time, which it had been for Martin, but in reality it had only been a week. Martin didn’t keep much from his mother, so her surprise was warranted in this scenario.

  “It sort of took off over night. Caught me by surprise as well.”

  “Well that’s great news, Marty. I still don’t want to burden you. The toll this disease can take on the family shouldn’t be questioned.”

  “I know it’ll be hard, but I’m going to step away from my job. I’ve come into that much money.”

  He didn’t know if this was for certain. Yes, there should be a good sum of money to at least live off for a couple of years. It was also possible that his investments changed the route of history and saw the companies flop. Maybe he would have to go back to his miserable job at the post office, but his bad fortune had to turn around at some point.

  “You’re living with me, Mom. You don’t have a say in the matter.”

  He almost said us, but caught himself. His mother wouldn’t have an issue with Martin and Sonya living together, but he wanted to avoid the topic at the moment.

  “I love you, Marty. That’s the main thing I wanted to tell you now before I forget who you are.”

  She resumed crying as if she flipped on a switch.

  “Why would you say that?”

  “Because it’s going to happen. I’ve accepted it. I’ve taken all the pictures of you and your brother, and your father. I wrote on the back of every single one who is in the picture and who they are in relation to me. I don’t want to forget, but as you said, I don’t have a say in the matter. I love you, Marty, and I’m proud of you. I knew one day you’d be able to get your life back on track after Izzy, and it looks like that’s starting to happen.”

  She shot a quick wink to Sonya that made her blush.

  “I love you, too,” Martin said. “Now let’s get out of here. We need to get ready to move.”

  2

  Chapter 2

  The gray clouds disappeared the next morning, and the sun shone into Martin’s apartment for the first time since he arrived back in 2018. The heavens knew the gloom was necessary, and with Izzy now properly buried, the world returned to normal.

  It was Friday, and Martin refused to wait until Monday to learn what waited in his investment account. Waking up in his apartment without a hangover was a new sensation, but having Sonya cuddled up next to him was something he wouldn’t trade for all the alcohol in the world.

  His feet hit the ground at six o’clock and he wasted no time making a quick breakfast. He had slept like a log the night before and felt ready to tackle the day ahead. Butterflies flapped wildly in his stomach as he pondered the prospect of becoming rich in the next few hours.

  He didn’t expect it to happen so quickly, but Martin already felt at peace with Izzy’s burial. After so many years, it was only natural for the brain to accept her death, no matter how hard the heart refused to believe it. The news of his mother’s Alzheimer’s also helped overshadow some of the emotion, as did the pending excitement of what would soon happen at the investment center. The past few days had been an abstract painting of emotions.

  Sonya joined him in the kitchen a few minutes later, her hair a frazzled mess, but still beautiful with its subtle streaks of silver mixed in with gold.

  “Good morning,” Martin greeted her as he flipped an egg in the skillet.

  “You seem awfully chipper today,” she replied with a wide smile.

  “I’m hoping today’s a great day. Do you care to join me downtown this morning? You can explore since it’s changed so much since you’ve last seen it, then we can grab lunch when I’m done with the investment people.”

  “I’d love to. I’ve always enjoyed downtown—can’t wait to see what it’s like now.”

  “Perfect, I’m planning on leaving here at eight to head down.”

  “Works for me,” she said, crossing the room with her silk nightgown flowing behind. She had visited the local department stores to rebuild her wardrobe while Martin spent hours at the police station to conclude Izzy’s decades-old case.

  She wrapped her arms around Martin’s waist from behind and rested her head on his shoulder. “Are you sure you’re doing okay? This whole week has been absolutely crazy. I can’t imagine what you’re going through.”

  Martin nodded, keeping his concentration on the stovetop. “I’m doing okay. I’m sure this will be a process. Some days will be good, and others will be bad. Yesterday was extremely difficult, but I hope to leave it in the past. All I can do is look forward and control what I can.”

  Sonya kissed his back before setting the table. “I’m glad to hear the positive outlook. I’m here for you on the good days and bad, don’t forget it.”

/>   They sat down for breakfast, laughter and life filling the apartment for possibly the first time ever.

  * * *

  Martin debated wearing a suit, but settled for slacks and a polo. There was no dress code to enter the investment center, but he needed to look the part of a wealthy man stopping by to pick up his funds.

  During the drive downtown, they found themselves on the same stretch of highway they had driven during their mission to Columbine High School in 1996. That memory felt like it really had happened two decades ago, and Sonya never acknowledged it after seeing the entire school in flames on the nightly news.

  Within thirty minutes they parked in a garage underground from the Sixteenth Street Mall, an outdoor mall spanning a mile long through the heart of downtown Denver.

  Businessmen and women filled the sidewalks on their way to work in one of the many skyscrapers. Sonya gawked at the city that had nearly doubled in size from what she remembered in 1996.

  “When did Denver become so big?” she asked, more to herself.

  “Don’t get lost this morning,” Martin said as he led them toward the investment firm.

  They crossed one block before reaching the sparkling golden sign that read: THOMAS AND LEONARD INVESTMENTS.

  “Well, this is it. I have no idea how long this will take, maybe an hour. Go grab some coffee and walk the mall, I’m sure everything has changed since you’ve last been here.”

  “Yeah, you could say that,” she replied, admiring the buildings that reached to the clouds.

  “Meet me here in, say, one hour. If I’m not here, just come back every half hour. We really need to get you a cell phone. That will make this all easier. If you find a phone store, maybe take a look. Tell the sales people you’re just browsing, otherwise they’ll harass you into a $1,000 phone.”

  “A thousand dollars for a phone?” she gasped.

  “Yeah, you’d be surprised. Does that all sound like a plan?”

  “Yes. I’ll even find a spot for lunch.”