CHILD OF PRIVILEGE
ROSS PONDERSON
BLURB:
Riding a bus bound for nowhere, nineteen-year-old debutante Dana Van Werner clung to hope, an unbreakable will, and a few hundred dollars. Her nightmares clung to childhood memories of verbal and emotional abuse, terror, and physical violence at the hands of her father.
While she had escaped her gilded prison, lurking in the darkness was the “real world” of buses, sexual predators, jail cells, exploitation, and fleabag motels—survival skills seldom taught in finishing school.
She was also being followed by her father’s investigators: mercenaries competing for the bounty the powerful, deranged lawyer had placed on her head.
One thug in particular was obsessed with mixing pleasure with business.
Dana would endure a physical attack, robbery, arrest and incarceration, and an evening as a stripper in a seedy bar before finding refuge and love with a kindhearted deputy sheriff.
But abuser and survivor would eventually face each other again in a violent and climactic showdown, a confrontation that would tear open a lifetime of hidden scars.
This is an adult novel dealing bluntly with a contemporary issue. However, it more importantly showcases a woman’s determination, courage, and strength in the face of devastating pain.
Come meet this remarkable woman and share her story.
EXCERPT:
The clear blue waters of Miller's Lake felt crisp and refreshing around Dana's bare feet. Fortified by a stout meal, a hot shower, and a good night's sleep, Dana had spent the day exploring the picturesque farming community of Beckett Junction: from its historic railroad station; to the cluster of towering grain elevators on the south end; to the railroad branch line and siding that sliced to the south; to the small factories and light industries to the east; to the truck stop and motel and the Interstate 770 overpass to the north; the quaint downtown business district; and finally to the peaceful, tree-lined shores of Miller's Lake to the west.
The lake was over 1,000 spring-fed acres; its shoreline dotted with affluent residences, rustic cottages, and comfortable vacation homes. With the onset of autumn, the trees hugging the shimmering lake burst forth in brilliant hues of red, orange and gold, the colors reflecting in the gently rippling waters. Although the air was clean and invigorating with the season's characteristic chill, the water felt so refreshing and cool against Dana's tired, burning feet.
The pier upon which she sat was one of only a handful still jutting into the lake waters this late in the season, protruding from a cozy park a short walk from downtown. This time of year the compact sandy beach was deserted, as was the swing set and playground several yards away. An angled string of stacked picnic tables resembled a comic conga line from some classic old movie.
In her solitude, she wiggled her toes in the water and kicked her legs playfully. The clear water foamed and splashed beneath her, moistening the cuffs of the jeans she had tightly rolled up nearly to her knees.
In the warmth of a late afternoon sun well into its descent into the western horizon, Dana faced the reality that some painful decisions loomed before her. The prize money from Red's was rapidly dwindling and would soon be depleted with several more nights at the motel at the north end of town. Then there was the decision about leaving town to remain ahead of her father's detectives ... and where she would go from here. She knew Reavis Macklin must've surely been debriefed by this time, her father gaining precise information on her whereabouts. Soon his people would be in Beckett Junction itself searching for her.
In a town that size, there weren't many places to hide.
But there was also the exhaustion beginning to haunt her, a fatigue deep in her bones from four long weeks of buses, cheap motels, fitful sleep, rushed meals, and continually looking over her shoulder in fear. Dana wrestled with the pangs of a longing to settle down, to once again put down the roots she had torn from the toxic soil of North Briarwood. Four long, lonely weeks on the road had taken a toll on her mind and body.
She yearned to call someplace "home."
Her brooding was interrupted by a dog barking nearby on shore. She spotted a sleek black Labrador retriever galloping onto the pier and ambling curiously toward her. His claws clicked sharply on the weathered wooden planks.
He approached her inquisitively at first, sniffing curiously around her. She began speaking softly to him and petting him gently. He returned the affection by enthusiastically wagging his tail and licking Dana's face.
"Looks like he's made a new friend."
Surprised by a sudden male voice, Dana saw Greg Parmenter standing nearby. Wearing a red plaid flannel shirt, khaki pants, and hiking boots, he could've passed for an ad in some outdoors magazine.
"Are you following me or something?" she shouted from the pier.
Using her question as an invitation to join her, he shuffled onto the walkway and approached her. "Hey, my buddy here takes me for a walk past here just about every day. I have a cottage a little ways down the road."
"I didn't ask where you lived," she said sharply. She paused for a moment. "I'm sorry. That was rude."
Greg nodded his acceptance of the apology.
Dana gently stroked the dog's silky black coat. "What's his name?"
"Whitey."
Dana did a double-take at the jet-black canine. "Whitey?" she asked quizzically.
"Hey, don't blame me. He's not mine. He belongs to a neighbor, an old guy who can't always get out to walk him. So, Whitey and I sometimes go cruising together looking for girls."
Dana laughed. "Thanks for the warning."
Greg eased his muscular form down onto the pier next to her.
"Why don't you join me?" she asked sarcastically.
He countered with a syrupy smile, "Thanks, I already have."
"Dana, can I ask you something?"
She turned away from him and surveyed the lake. "I know what you're going to ask," she said softly, "and it doesn't have anything to do with you. So, don't bother, okay?"
"What are you running from?" he asked sincerely, ignoring her request. "And what's the deal with your father?"
She kept her attention focused on the distant eastern shore of the lake. "Something you don't want to get involved with," she answered distinctly. "So, just let it go, okay?"
"Not everybody in this world is out to hurt you. You may find this hard to believe, but there actually are people out there who would like to get to know you, be your friend, and just enjoy being around you ... myself, for one."
He waited for some sort of reaction from her. There was none. He sighed deeply. "But you just won't let anyone get close, will you?"
Dana pulled her jacket tighter around her and shivered a little. The sun was nearly gone by now and a definite chill was settling by the water. She pulled her feet from the water and hastily slipped on her socks and shoes. "I'm getting cold," she said quickly. "I think I'll be getting back to the motel."
She stood up and quickly brushed past a confused Greg Parmenter. "It's 6 blocks away," he called as Dana strode back onto shore. "I can drive you."
"No thanks," she answered. "I just got the sudden urge to walk 6 blocks."
Greg quickly stood up and called to her. "Dana, there's a restaurant next door to the motel. It's called the Country Kitchen. Meet me there for breakfast, will you? Eight o'clock? Okay?"
"Yeah. Sure," she shouted back.
Dana started a brisk pace back toward the little motel by the freeway overpass.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Ross Ponderson is a retired IT guy from the USA. A former software developer, he now pens actual words in the hope that millions of people will enjoy them. The stories he loves to write are those depicting ordinary people meeting extraordinary challenges with extraordinary courage, strength, and determination. He's a firm believer in happy endings.
He has enjoyed writing since his grammar school days when essay assignments delighted him while provoking groans of pain from his classmates. He wishes now that he would’ve made a few extra bucks by ghostwriting essays for his classmates.
When away from his word processor, he enjoys reading (books on writing, wouldn’t you know!), railroading, Subway sandwiches, history, exploring the Internet, documentaries, museums of any kind, 1970s music, wishing he had become a professional musician, and strolling through the local malls in search of new story ideas. He ALWAYS brakes for McDonald’s Iced Coffee, book shops, and music stores.
“Child of Privilege” is his debut novel; his second novel is currently being first-drafted. Hopefully, many more will follow.
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