Remembrance

By Suzzana C Ryan

On a day when a nation was brought to it's knees a family faces heartache. How do we explain the power of love? It can bring joy and pain. It can make the sunshine and rain clouds appear. It can also transcend time and space. On a day when one man lies dying another man's life is saved. Who can truly explain the power of love. You will not forget Remembrance.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bitten Press LLC
• Release date: Feb 19, 2014
• ISBN: 9781497728653

Suzzana C Ryan

About the Author Suzzana C. Ryan is a wife, mother, and grandmother. She has always wanted to be a writer. She began this journey in 2011, and an indie publisher published her first work, A Vampire for her Birthday. Then she was diagnosed with breast cancer. However, that news never changed her dreams. She wrote even during her darkest days undergoing treatment and surgery. She got lost in her fantasies. Today she is still writing and has conquered her demons and disease. Her advice is never to let go of your dreams. Go for it. She's written over thirty books and will continue to create romance stories that people love to read. http://www.suzzanacryanromanceauthor.blogspot.com http://www.suzzanacryan.blogspot.com Thank you,  Suzzana C Ryan http://www.suzzanacryanromanceauthor.blogspot.com Facebook, Twitter

Book preview

Chapter One

September 2001

In my family, we celebrated the removal of a scab. Mom always made everything in our lives an event. You can only imagine Christmas in our house; it was her favorite holiday. Did we love her festive attitude as kids? You bet we did because living with my Mother required celebrating a holiday weekly. She fussed over good grades on our report cards. She loved when one of us received an award or won at a sport we played, and the list goes on and on, especially since there were six of us.

Okay, Okay, don’t get too jealous. Then there was my Dad, a straight-as-an-arrow New York City police officer and your typical Irish Catholic.

We all went to Catholic school, hated nuns, and never missed Sunday mass. However, I spent my adolescent life dodging bullets—well, not really, but dodging my father as we ditched Sunday mass.

It always amazed me how he wanted us to go to church on Sunday after going to Catholic school daily, studying theology, and looking at virginal women and men all day! Did he really think all that holier-than-thou crap was going to make a difference in our lives? Sad to say, he did.

All six of us graduated high school and got our bachelor’s and master’s degrees, becoming well-adjusted adults. Well, all except one me, the black sheep of the family, Hope O’Keefe

Can you imagine I was still single at twenty-eight years old? I didn’t live at home but had my own apartment in Brooklyn. Oh, the evils of a single woman!

My two older brothers were, what else, city cops, married with pretty wives who stayed at home raising their next generation of O’Keefe kids. My two older sisters were teachers and married with broods of their own. I had enough nieces and nephews to satisfy my appetite for having my own kids.

I liked my life. I dated a bevy of interesting men and didn’t care what my dad thought about my single status. I knew my Mother sat in my corner. She adored my profession as a photographer for the Museum of Natural History in New York City. Dad always shrugged his shoulders and asked what was so special about taking pictures. It wasn’t natural for a woman my age to be single.

I had become an award-winning photographer, traveled the globe, and experienced events that would have horrified most people and titillated them simultaneously. I lived the life of a female India Jones. Of course, that meant living my life on my terms, being independent, sleeping with who I wanted, and being single.

At twenty-eight, I was attractive, kept myself in great shape, and treated sex much the same way a man did, unemotionally. I had no time for relationships, and Mom understood the nature of the beast that I was. She even confessed once or twice she envied my freedom.

Being single afforded me the liberty to do what I wanted and when I wanted to do it. Her approval of my lifestyle meant a great deal to me, and my younger sister, Candy, was following in my independent footsteps.

Dad, a forty-year veteran on the police force and a decorated cop, had finally decided to retire. Okay, my Mother had put her foot down and insisted he retire, but he knew he’d lost the battle when she told him she’d already sent out the invites to his retirement party.

My father was handsome and, at sixty-three, in unbelievable shape. He was tall, six feet, maybe twenty pounds heavier than when he went on the force. He had the most incredible blue eyes and all his hair. Yeah, Dad was hot.

Now we come to Frannie, my Mother, my chubby, well-endowed Italian Mother. At sixty, her heritage afforded her ageless beauty, much like Sophia Loren’s, and she still turned a head or two. And to say they were still in love after all these years was an understatement. My father adored her.

Now that the nest was emptied, he was, as Mom put it, healthier than ever and a royal pain in the ass. She once whispered that he was always after her, turning my face red but warming my heart. How many could say that their parents were still very much in love?

Now, getting back to celebrations, it was my oldest brother’s fortieth birthday, and his wife wanted to throw him a surprise party. As always, Mom took control, ensuring Tommy’s party didn’t interfere with her party for Dad’s retirement.

Mom was the party expert. It’s funny how