From the first time I saw Julia standing half-frozen along the road, I was pulled toward her. In all honesty, it happened before I saw her. It was as I found her car.
Never in my life had I been called a hero nor did I deserve that title. Never did I seek out the stranded or misguided to lead them to the straight and narrow path of goodness and safety. My motives were usually more self-gratifying and less altruistic.
And yet seeing the empty car buried in the snowbank, I felt an unexplainable urgency to search. With worsening conditions, when a sane man would have driven to the safety of his home, I slowed my speed and peeled my eyes through the darkening sky and blinding blizzard.
I didn’t know her name nor did she know mine, and yet once she was in my arms and I laid her down in my truck, I wanted to keep her.
A saying from my childhood came to mind: finders keepers.
I found her.
Julia was mine, and I wasn’t going to let her go.
Over the last eleven years, I’d reined in that all-consuming desire.
I’d refocused my needs away from the unthinkable to the goal of obtainingthings. It didn’t matter what—I wanted it and took it.
I’d concentrated day and night on what I did well and made what I did better, more profitable, superior and grander than before. As I pushed to succeed, the name Sherman, one that was barely known or recognized, became equated with power and savvy in the world of high finance. Fifty-million-dollar deals became one hundred million. One hundred million became one billion. I moved up and over those blocking my path toward success.
I made enemies.
Some enemies became friends.
Others remain embroiled in their adversarial role.
Or perhaps it was me who was the adversary.
It’s the way I preferred to see it.
On the offensive, the predator ready to attack.
In general, I kept my distance, always appearing as the facade of the man society required me to be. The cloak of normality grew heavy at times, too heavy to maintain.
This home became my retreat, my place away from the world, a place where I could safely examine and overcome those things that needed to stay hidden.
It wasn’t because bringing light to that darkness would endanger my career—although it would. It was because to succeed in this world, one must be the lion appearing as the gazelle—quick and sure-footed, aware of one’s surroundings, and gentle enough to approach.
Is that the way Julia sees me—safe to approach?
I wasn’t.
Am I simply luring her closer for the kill?
I didn’t know. This was unfamiliar territory.
My senses were on alert.
Everything about her stimulated them—the perfection of her beauty, the scent of her perfume, the energy in her touch, the melody of her voice, and the memory of her taste.
Will having her present alter my mission for better and more, or will I find that drive also applies to Julia?
My need to succeed was my reason to wake each morning. I required that incentive to move beyond the darkness. This house provided my solitude and a place where I could allow myself to slip into the shadows.
That was why Julia should also rescind her decision to accept my offer.
She should move to the guesthouse or back to Chicago.
My home was a bubble where I kept the memories that mattered without any outward sign of those people, places, or things having ever existed. It was also secluded. I’d orchestrated that on purpose by buying five- and ten-acre lots and demolishing most structures.