Emerson's Fury : L.B. Pavlov
Read Emerson's Fury : L.B. Pavlov Online
Authors: L. B. Pavlov
Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Romance, #Sports, #Teen & Young Adult
Cover Design By James DeVogelear
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner.
Copyright © 2013 L. B. Pavlov
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 1491000961
ISBN 13: 9781491000960
eBook ISBN : 978-1-63007-245-2
Greg, Chase and Hannah,
Thank you for always supporting me and believing me.
You inspire me to believe that anything is possible.
I love you!
I dedicate this book in loving memory to Adrienne Busch.
You are deeply missed every day!
There are so many people that I would like to thank for helping me to publish Emerson’s Fury. Thank you for helping me spread the word about The Hollingsworth Series. I have enjoyed the fabulous book clubs that I have been invited to attend, and all the many new friends that I have met. I would like to thank the following people:
Nicole Moeslacher, Renae Johnson, Joanne Cooper, Dana Miroballi Firkin, Misty, Lexi and Sidney Williams, Stephanie Cearlock, Laura Herbst, Mindy Haskins, Kristin Richardson, Krista Thompson, Dee Allen, Dina Burow, Gail Carey, Cindy and Emily Seigle, Julie Pijnappels, Rosemary Malone, Lourdene Schutte, Tammy Ogletree, Terry Kraml, Mary, Julia and Murray Bell, Kimberly Battung, Mark and Sue Saylor, Judy Meese, Luanne Balelo, Beverly Chipolletti, Stacey Ornstein, Paula Bell-Saxton, Kinsey Netzorg, Sue Kay, The Holthus Family, Laura Turner, Cindy Gregg, and Paula and Micaela Donegan.
Thank you Kathleen Pathi for spreading the word, handing out books, encouraging reviews, and most of all, for being so supportive of the Hollingworth Series. You are one in a million.
I would like to thank my brother Jim DeVogelear for creating another amazing cover! You are extremely talented, and it’s awesome that we get to share this.
A very special thank you to Kathleen Pathi, Sandy DeVogelar and Abi Mehrholz for reading Emerson’s so quickly, and giving such helpful and encouraging feedback. I appreciate it so much!
Thank you to all of my siblings for your support, Lisa, Stefan, Julie, Brian, Eric, Abi, Jennifer, Carlos, Jim and Diana. You are the best!
A special thank you to my parents, Tom & Sandy DeVogelear and Debbie Kelly. I love you!
c h a p t e r o n e
I loved listening to the birds chirping and the wind snapping against the leaves on the trees while lying on our hammock. I loved the smell of fall. Fall in Indiana was the best. The seasons were just beginning to change; the air was getting crisp, and the trees were changing colors. I loved how I could smell the change of seasons in the cut grass and the cool air. It was the smell of football for me. At the Hollingsworth house, this was definitely football season. My dad had been the quarterback for the Indianapolis Colts since before I was born. I had been attending Colts games for the last seventeen years, and it was tradition that our entire family attended every game together.
I had refused to join the cross-country team at my high school, even after the coach had called to talk to my parents year after year and would come out and stalk me on my runs about joining the team. I did not want to play a fall sport and miss my dad’s season. We traveled a lot for his games, and I had hardly missed a game my entire life. I trained year-round by running daily, and I competed on the track team in the spring. Fall was time with my family, and I loved watching my dad play football the most. This was his last year before he would retire, and so I had agreed that I would run cross-country in college. After all, I had been the thirty-two-hundred-meter, sixteen-hundred-meter, and
eight-hundred-meter Indiana state champion in track since my freshman year, and I was hoping to finish my senior year with a four-year reign. When being recruited by colleges, they all wanted to know if I would run cross-country, as well as track, in college. It would be a change, but I was excited to try it in the future.
Everyone assumed I would follow my mother’s footsteps and attend Stanford. That was not an option for me. Indiana was my home, and I always knew that I would run for Indiana University if I had anything to say about it. Several schools across the country had attempted to recruit me, but IU was where I planned to go, and they had already offered me a full ride verbally. My parents completely supported my decision, and they never tried to steer me toward a school. The track coach at IU was fantastic, and I had many goals that I planned to accomplish while running there. My ultimate dream was to try to make the 2040 Olympic team. I had been planning this since I was ten years old. It always drove me crazy that my mom won a silver and a bronze medal and didn’t go back to win a gold. I badgered her constantly, trying to understand how she could walk away after being that close to a gold medal and just never go back. My mom and I were alike in many ways, especially when it came to our love for running. But my mom never had a need to win, which was something I couldn’t quite grasp.
Charlotte Ford was a rare breed. She was as humble and selfless as anyone I had ever known. However, I did not inherit her “go with the flow” attitude. Everyone always joked that I was the spitting image of my mother (with the exception of having my father’s green eyes), but my personality is a hundred percent my father’s. I am definitely a Hollingsworth! It bothered me that my mother had been pushed around as a runner in high school. I am barely one hundred pounds, but being pushed to the ground in a race is not an option. I would never allow that. My dad constantly tells me, “You are small but mighty, Emmy!” and I love that he sees me that way. If someone tried to knock me down, he or she had better buckle up because I could hold my own on the track, and I always did. I always played fair, but if someone tried to shove me, my elbows would shoot out and knock whomever back. I wanted people to know that I would never go down without a fight—and to this point in my life, I never have.
My older brother, Indy, was much more like my mother. He was six-foot-two-inches tall, so he got that from my father for sure. But Indy was very soft-spoken and quiet, except when he was home with us. He had brown, thick, straight hair that was usually perfectly styled with gel and our mother’s dark-brown eyes. Indy was tan like my mother and I, and he was extremely smart.
School always came very easily to him. He was an incredible musician, and he was in a band with a group of friends. He played the guitar, and he had an amazing voice. He played soccer in high school but didn’t have any desire to play sports at the college level. He continued to play music in local bars with his band, and he was very involved in his music. He was also very busy being a freshman in college. He kept the family tradition alive by attending Notre Dame, just as my father and all of my uncles had done, but Indy never had the desire to play football. My father never pushed him to play, because he wanted Indy to find his own passions. My parents were very supportive of his music, and Indy was the peacekeeper in our house, just like my mother. I had considered Notre Dame, but the coach at IU was someone whom I felt could take me to the Olympics. At least we would be close—I didn’t want to be far away from my brothers or my parents.
My younger brother, Finn, was a pistol. He was the opposite of Indy. I called him the “wild child,” and, apparently, he was exactly like my father as a little boy. Finn was only a freshman in high school, but everyone in town knew him. He was already six feet tall and very slender. Finn had wavy hair that was always over-grown and untamed, and he and I shared eye color with our father. Finn was more fair-skinned like my father, and his cheeks were always rosy pink. Finn played football and lacrosse and was extremely athletic. He was one of those kids who was good at everything he tried, but he hoped to play football at Notre Dame just like our father and grandfather. Finn was like a tornado when he entered our house. He was full of energy, and my mom always said that he had a lot of chutzpa.
My parents were the cutest couple that I had ever known. I hoped that someday I would find my soul mate the way that they did. They had been together forever, and they absolutely adored one another. They were so sad when Indy left for college last year, and they were dreading my upcoming graduation. I couldn’t believe that I was a senior in high school already. The idea of leaving home was both sad and exciting for me because I was ready for my life to start but sad about leaving home. I was ready to compete at a higher level and attempt to make the Olympic team in a few years. My parents were dreading it. My mother had spent most of my early childhood steering me away from running. She felt that she had been pushed into it and didn’t want that to happen to me. Therefore, I spent my first seven or eight years of life wearing pink tutus, standing on my tippy toes, and trying to tame my unruly, long, curly hair into a bun. Aside from dance classes, she put me in art class, karate, basketball, soccer,
and cheerleading. She basically put me in every sport possible with the exception of the one that now means everything to me. I was born to run. I loved it. It was my time to think, clear my head, and dwell on my goals. In fifth grade during PE class, we had a timed race, and that was the end of ballet, art, karate, basketball, soccer, and cheer. I came home and told my parents that I was a runner, and I would be going to the Olympics someday just as Mommy had. My mom seemed excited yet completely terrified at the same time. My mom was a worrier, and she gave a lot of herself to this sport. She worried that it would be too much for me, but it never has been so far. My dad loved that I was a runner. He was happy that my mom and I shared this passion, and so was I. I always believed that running was in my blood.