tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-57079360294769730102024-02-06T18:11:32.641-08:00Free Reads from the Genre-istas"romance" "free romance" "free fiction" "short stories" "romance" "flash fiction" "romantic" "contemporary romance" "steampunk" "steam punk" "paranormal" "western" "historical" "young adult" "YA" "young adult romance" "western romance" "steampunk romance" "steam punk romance" "historical romance" "Victorian romance" "paranormal romance" "romantic suspense" "sci-fi romance" "futuristic romance" "time travel romance"Sarah Rapleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17076583905680420909noreply@blogger.comBlogger73125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707936029476973010.post-90913228724210107092015-02-27T00:30:00.000-08:002015-02-27T00:30:04.615-08:00Spring Fever<div align="center" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: '', serif, '', serif; font-size: 14pt;">I chose "Spring Fever" for my Encore short because it represents what the romance genre means to me - support and encouragement from fellow authors. It is also the last Encored short story in our three year run. Please check out the posts that have appeared each Friday since January 2nd. Enjoy!!!</span></div>
<b><span style="font-family: '', serif, '', serif; font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span></b>
<b><span style="font-family: '', serif, '', serif; font-size: 14pt;">Spring Fever</span></b><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-family: '', serif, '', serif; font-size: 14pt;">By Judith
Ashley and Helen Little with contributions from Sarah Raplee</span></b><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<b><span style="font-family: '', serif, '', serif; font-size: 14pt;">April 10, 2014<br />
Mineral Springs, OR</span></b><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: '', serif, '', serif; font-size: 14pt;">Alfred Porterhouse relished the wind
blowing through his hair as he drove his red Mazda convertible at the legal
thirty-five mile an hour speed limit.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>Well,
not mine exactly. Jared’s the best friend ever because he let me borrow it so I
can make a good impression on Allie.</i></span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: '', serif, '', serif; font-size: 14pt;">The leafy
canopy over the tree-lined road dappled the pavement with spots of sun.
“Bfftt!” Frantically Alfred waved the little white puffs swirling about him
away from his face and plucked out the offending piece of fluff stuck in his
mouth. “Bfftt!”<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>What is that?<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></i>He slowed down noticing the spots
on the road were not just from the sun. Breathing through slitted lips, Alfred
glanced around the borrowed car. The stuff was everywhere.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>Got to be careful. Don’t want to
choke to death on one of those cottony snow things. I have important things to
do today.</i></span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: '', serif, '', serif; font-size: 14pt;">At his
destination, he parked at the curb in front of Allie’s house. Taking Jared’s
advice to heart, he checked his appearance in the rear-view mirror and quickly
finger-combed his hair into some semblance of order. Remembering his
co-worker’s admonishment to make sure his eyebrows were straight—a quick finger
lick and swipe and he was done. Another moment to savor Jared’s, “You look
great in the driver’s seat,” and he was ready. Chest puffed out with pride, he
grabbed the bouquet of wildflowers off the passenger seat and headed towards
the front door.</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<i><span style="font-family: '', serif, '', serif; font-size: 14pt;">Who knew I
could land a date with someone as cool as Allie Borders? Without Jared’s help—</span></i><span style="font-family: '', serif, '', serif; font-size: 14pt;">he paused at
the bottom step before jogging up. The list “Tips for a Successful Date” popped
into his mind, circling through it line-by-line.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: '', serif, '', serif; font-size: 14pt;">Bring her
flowers – he took a sniff at the bouquet in his hands and sneezed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: '', serif, '', serif; font-size: 14pt;">Open the
door and help her into the car – like a gentleman does for a lady. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: '', serif, '', serif; font-size: 14pt;">Compliment
her appearance – geez. He blanked out on the rest of the list before he reached
the porch. Wiping his sweaty palms on his pants, he chanted under his breath.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>I can do this, I can do this, I can
do this</i>.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: '', serif, '', serif; font-size: 14pt;">On the
porch, a frisson of panic stopped him in his tracks. Beads of sweat dotted his
forehead and trickled in rivulets down his face.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>Gotta keep breathing, A-Freddie.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></i>Pulling a handkerchief from his
pocket, he blotted his face and dried his hands again before stuffing the damp
crumbled cloth back in its place. Taking the last few steps, he knocked—tap,
tap—tap. He shifted from foot to foot, the anxiety building as he waited.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: '', serif, '', serif; font-size: 14pt;">Side-stepping
to the window, he peered in and squinted through the glass.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>What’s keeping her? Where is she?</i><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>A strange figure glided into the room
and headed toward the front door. Startled, he jerked back like he’d been shot!
<i>Who’s that?</i></span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: '', serif, '', serif; font-size: 14pt;">***</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: '', serif, '', serif; font-size: 14pt;">Allie Borders adjusted her
protective mask as she crossed the room to the door. A serious flare of
allergies this morning had almost caused her to call and cancel. Her gaze took
in her mustard colored sweater and brown tote on the chair by the front door.
Mentally she checked the contents: packets of tissue, rescue inhaler, back-up
masks.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>Why didn’t I cancel if
I need all this stuff to go out for coffee? Because I’m going out with Alfred!
And we’re just going for coffee and that cute bistro down the street is just
the place. I can do this, I can do this, I can do this.</i></span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: '', serif, '', serif; font-size: 14pt;">A smile on
her face, she opened the door. “Hi, Alfred,” she said. “Let me grab my things.”<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>He looks weird with his black
eyebrows scrunched into a straight line. I wonder if something’s bothering him.</i><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>Allie stepped away from the door and
picked up her sweater and tote.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>I’m
not going to ask because I’ve wanted him to notice me forever. He’s a bit
quirky and really shy. It could scare him off.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></i>Turning back from locking up, she
saw the red convertible with the top down at the curb.</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: '', serif, '', serif; font-size: 14pt;">Allie’s
lungs seized, her hand flew to her chest, “Is this your car?”</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: '', serif, '', serif; font-size: 14pt;">“Sure is!
Well, not really. Jared let me borrow it. The feel of the wind in your hair is
great,” he rattled on. “I like your hair.”</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: '', serif, '', serif; font-size: 14pt;">Panic
tightened her chest, her breathing labored.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>I
can do this.</i><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>“Thank.”<span class="apple-converted-space"><i> </i></span><i>I can do this.</i>” You.”<span class="apple-converted-space"><i> </i></span><i>I can do this.</i></span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: '', serif, '', serif; font-size: 14pt;">***</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: '', serif, '', serif; font-size: 14pt;">Alfred opened the passenger door.
Anxiety bounced through him and he rocked on his feet.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>Should I ask her why she’s wearing
a mask? Will she be insulted? Geez, Jared didn’t say anything about this?<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></i>He stood to the side and Allie
slid into the seat.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>What now?</i><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>“Let me help you with your seat belt,”<span class="apple-converted-space"><i> </i></span>he said already matching
actions with words. The buckle secured with a click.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>What else?<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></i>Jared’s list was nowhere in his
memory banks so he quickly rounded the car and got in. The mask barely moved -
in and out, in and out, in and out.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>Was
she talking?</i></span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: '', serif, '', serif; font-size: 14pt;">“Ready?” he
asked pulling away from the curb.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>I’ll
just take her for a little drive, take advantage of this great car. It’s a
beauty!</i></span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: '', serif, '', serif; font-size: 14pt;">Two blocks
away, Alfred stopped at a red light. Allie’s hand clutched his arm. His eyes
widened. The mask bellowed in and out and her eyes gleamed with an eerie light.
“What?” The street noise drowned out anything Allie might have said. She
gestured behind her and he saw the coffee shop over her shoulder.</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: '', serif, '', serif; font-size: 14pt;">“That coffee
shop?”<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>Did she nod?<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></i>The light changed and he drove
off. “Not just yet. I’m taking you for a drive so you can enjoy this cool car.”<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>Where? The park! That’ll do it.</i></span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: '', serif, '', serif; font-size: 14pt;">Blinker on,
Alfred turned left into the city park. Of all the things Mineral Springs was
famous for, the city park was in the top ten attractions. It boasted the
largest flower garden in the state and this time of year it was ablaze with
blooms. The white floaty stuff he’d noticed in the air earlier was thicker
here. The roadway was carpeted with it and a fine yellow dust. A glance in his
rearview mirror showed a swirl of yellow and white lifting into the air as he
drove. He slowed to a crawl so she could take in the full beauty of the apple
blossoms, the lilacs, the—he didn’t know what everything was called but they
were beautiful. He took a deep breath of the many flavored scents. “Aacchhooo!”</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: '', serif, '', serif; font-size: 14pt;">Allie’s
fingers dug into his arm and she jerked. “What’s going on?” he yelled. His grip
tightened on the steering wheel. He looked over at his passenger. Yellow dust
crusted her mask, a wild look flashed in her eyes, rapid sucking motion moved
her mask and her free hand flapped around, waving in all directions. He pulled
to the side of the road and stopped.</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: '', serif, '', serif; font-size: 14pt;">“What?” he
asked, one brow arched in question, giving her his full attention. “Is
something wrong?”</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: '', serif, '', serif; font-size: 14pt;">***</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: '', serif, '', serif; font-size: 14pt;">Allie’s lungs labored with the
effort to breathe. With the traffic noise, she hadn’t been able to make Alfred
understand she needed to be inside, somewhere the air was filtered. Here in the
park, her personal hell, all she could manage was waving her hands around. How
to make him understand?</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: '', serif, '', serif; font-size: 14pt;">She grabbed
his hand and wrote H O M E on his palm. He shook his head, a confused look on
his face. She tried again, marking his palm more slowly. No progress. Desperate
for some way to communicate with him without taking off her mask, she slumped
back against the seat, eyes closed.</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: '', serif, '', serif; font-size: 14pt;">“What’s
wrong?”</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: '', serif, '', serif; font-size: 14pt;">She heard
the worry in his voice. If she removed the mask so she could answer him, she’d
have to use her rescue inhaler.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>Is
there another way to tell him what I need?<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></i>Opening
her eyes she looked at his face etched with concern.</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: '', serif, '', serif; font-size: 14pt;">The
dashboard!</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: '', serif, '', serif; font-size: 14pt;">H O M E –
the white letters showed up plainly in contrast to the pollen coating the
surface like golden snow.</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: '', serif, '', serif; font-size: 14pt;">“You want me
to take you home now?” Alfred asked, obviously perplexed.</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: '', serif, '', serif; font-size: 14pt;">She nodded
vigorously.</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: '', serif, '', serif; font-size: 14pt;">“But we were
going for coffee,” he said, a bit of a whine in his voice.</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: '', serif, '', serif; font-size: 14pt;">H O M E she underlined
the word.</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: '', serif, '', serif; font-size: 14pt;">His
shoulders slumped but he started the engine and pulled away from the curb.</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: '', serif, '', serif; font-size: 14pt;">He escorted
her to the door and she invited him in. Once inside, she removed her mask.
“Aaaccchooo!”</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: '', serif, '', serif; font-size: 14pt;">Alfred
pulled his handkerchief from his back pocket and shoved it into her hand.</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: '', serif, '', serif; font-size: 14pt;">“Aaaccchooo!
Aaaccchooo!” Allie held the damp piece of cloth to her face. </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Taking a deep breath between one sneeze
and the next, Allie realized her mistake as her lungs seized. She shoved the
hankie at Alfred, waved him toward the couch, dumped her tote on the table and
grabbed her inhaler.</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: '', serif, '', serif; font-size: 14pt;">Allie
expelled all the air from her lungs, fit the mouthpiece between her lips,
pushed the lever and slowly breathed in, filling her lungs with the steroids.
The tightness in her chest eased, her body sighed. Her breathing returned to
some semblance of normal.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>What
a comedy of errors.</i><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>Crossing
the room the few steps to the couch, she sat next to Alfred.</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: '', serif, '', serif; font-size: 14pt;">
“I’m so sorry to have spoiled our coffee date,” she started.</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: '', serif, '', serif; font-size: 14pt;">
“What happened?” Alfred blurted out. “I thought you’d like the car. Jared said
everyone likes it.”</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: '', serif, '', serif; font-size: 14pt;">
“It wasn’t the car,” Allie said. “I’ve a bad case of allergies so being outside
when the pollen count is so high is bad for me.”</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: '', serif, '', serif; font-size: 14pt;">“You mean
that white stuff and yellow dust make you like this?” He cocked his head to the
side, his gaze considering as if he were examining the results of a laboratory
experiment.</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: '', serif, '', serif; font-size: 14pt;">“Yes.”
Allie’s eyes watered, her nose ran. She stuffed tissue up her nose to stem the
flow. “I need to shower and change. You know, wash the pollen off me so I’ll get
better.” Alfred looked so earnest so concerned for her.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>He didn’t do anything on purpose.
He just didn’t know.</i></span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: '', serif, '', serif; font-size: 14pt;">“I’d better
go,” he said.</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: '', serif, '', serif; font-size: 14pt;">“I hate to
have you go but I’m not fun now and I know I shouldn’t go out again.”</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: '', serif, '', serif; font-size: 14pt;">“Ever?”</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: '', serif, '', serif; font-size: 14pt;">She smiled
at the panicked look on his face. “No, silly. I have to be very careful outside
until the pollen count is down.”</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: '', serif, '', serif; font-size: 14pt;">“Hey, I have
an idea. I think I can fix this,” he said, his eyes bright with excitement.</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: '', serif, '', serif; font-size: 14pt;">“How?”</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: '', serif, '', serif; font-size: 14pt;">“Promise me
you’ll go out with me next weekend and you’ll see.”</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: '', serif, '', serif; font-size: 14pt;">He was still
Alfred, that quirky guy who pricked her interest. </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">“I’ll be ready,” she said, a lightness or
maybe lightheadedness overcoming her.</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: '', serif, '', serif; font-size: 14pt;">***</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: '', serif, '', serif; font-size: 14pt;">Saturday Alfred Porterhouse pulled
his red Mazda convertible to the curb in front of Allie’s house.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>Well, not mine exactly. Jared let
me borrow it again so I can make a good impression on Allie.</i><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>The top was up and the inside gleamed.
Before getting out of the car, he checked the rear-view mirror. He grabbed the
box of candy he’d brought her and another package off the passenger seat.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>Allie Borders is going out with me.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></i>He exited the car and took the
steps two-at-a-time.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>She’s
something else. Way cool.</i></span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: '', serif, '', serif; font-size: 14pt;">At the top
of the stairs, he stopped a moment and went through his list.</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: '', serif, '', serif; font-size: 14pt;">1. Something
to give her – check</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: '', serif, '', serif; font-size: 14pt;">2. Something
to surprise her – check</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: '', serif, '', serif; font-size: 14pt;">3. Make sure
she agrees to what we are going to do on our date – I will do that.</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: '', serif, '', serif; font-size: 14pt;">He knocked
on the door and rang the bell for good measure. This time he didn’t look in the
window because he knew she was coming.</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: '', serif, '', serif; font-size: 14pt;">The door
opened and there she was–Allie Borders looking like a princess in a long
flowing midnight blue dress, her soft auburn hair piled in a riot of curls on
her head, her green eyes peering at him over her mask.</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: '', serif, '', serif; font-size: 14pt;">She stepped
aside and he walked in. The door shut behind him as he turned and thrust his
packages towards her.</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: '', serif, '', serif; font-size: 14pt;">“What’s
this?” she asked, taking both objects. She unhooked one side of her mask
letting it hang down.</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: '', serif, '', serif; font-size: 14pt;">“Open them.”</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: '', serif, '', serif; font-size: 14pt;">They sat,
knees together on the couch. Her warmth filtered through his slacks and his
cheeks pinked.</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">The </span><span style="font-size: 14.5pt;">opalescent</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"> green
polish on her finger nails flashed as her fingers grappled with the ribbon
tied securely around the first box.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: '', serif, '', serif; font-size: 14pt;">“Oohh, I
love chocolate covered macadamia nuts!” She popped a treat in her mouth. Her
eyes closed in ecstasy and she chewed slowly. “Want one?” she asked, licking
her lips and grabbing a second candy. With her free hand, she held the box out
to him.</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: '', serif, '', serif; font-size: 14pt;">Alfred took
the offered candy and put the box on the couch between them.</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: '', serif, '', serif; font-size: 14pt;">“And this?”
she asked holding up the mystery package. Her eyes sparkled, her rosy lips
turned up in a smile of anticipation.</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: '', serif, '', serif; font-size: 14pt;">Alfred stood
and paced a few steps away before turning back to face her. “Open it and see.”
He clasped his hands behind him and rocked back and forth on his feet.</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: '', serif, '', serif; font-size: 14pt;">Allie tore
open the wrapping and found a plain brown cardboard box. “Alfred?”</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: '', serif, '', serif; font-size: 14pt;">He smiled at
the confused questioning look on her face but kept his hands clasped. It was
all he could do to keep from reaching out and helping her.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>She’s never had anything like this
before.</i></span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: '', serif, '', serif; font-size: 14pt;">“Too much
tape, I have to get a knife to open it,” she said and headed for the kitchen.</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: '', serif, '', serif; font-size: 14pt;">He followed,
waiting in the doorway while she plucked a knife from the rack and slit through
the tape.</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: '', serif, '', serif; font-size: 14pt;">“Oh my,”
Allie said delight and surprise in her voice. “I’ve never—”</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: '', serif, '', serif; font-size: 14pt;">“Words fail
you?” he asked, bouncing on his toes.</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: '', serif, '', serif; font-size: 14pt;">She nodded
and grinned. “I’m confused, there are two.”</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: '', serif, '', serif; font-size: 14pt;">“One for you
and one for me. Want to try them out?”</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: '', serif, '', serif; font-size: 14pt;">“I do,”
Allie said handing one to him. She grabbed her tote along the way. “Are we
going for a drive?”</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: '', serif, '', serif; font-size: 14pt;">“We are but
today the top is up.” Alfred helped her adjust the straps just right before
putting his own on.</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: '', serif, '', serif; font-size: 14pt;">“Why don’t
we put it down,” she said, her voice now having a mechanical edge to it.</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: '', serif, '', serif; font-size: 14pt;">“Really? Are
you sure?”</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: '', serif, '', serif; font-size: 14pt;">She nodded
and headed toward the door.</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: '', serif, '', serif; font-size: 14pt;">His hand on
her elbow, Alfred escorted Allie to the car and helped her in. Top down, he
drove off. The strange looks from people as they drove by meant nothing.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>She’s a little odd but I like her.</i></span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: '', serif, '', serif; font-size: 14pt;">***</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: '', serif, '', serif; font-size: 14pt;">Allie Borders relaxed against the
while leather seats of the red Mazda convertible. White fluffy stuff and golden
pollen swirled in the air and made mini-dirt-devils as they drove through the
Arboretum. The crisscross of straps kept her hair somewhat contained. She
glanced over at Alfred’s profile and chuckled.<span class="apple-converted-space"><i> </i></span>The Darth Vader-like-shape
protruding from his face was the image of the perfect man for her.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>It can’t get more perfect than
this.</i></span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: 14.5pt;">Copyright © 2014 Judith Ashley and Helen Little</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: '', serif, '', serif; font-size: 14pt;">Thanks to my writing friends, Helen
Little and Sarah Raplee, for brainstorming the core elements of this story,
adding content and editing. This story is so much better because of your
involvement.</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<b><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">Learn more about Judith, Sarah
and Helen at </span></b><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<b><span style="font-size: 14.5pt;"><a href="http://www.judithashleyromance.com/">www.judithashleyromance.com</a></span></b><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<b><span style="font-size: 14.5pt;"><a href="http://www.sarahraplee.com/">www.sarahraplee.com</a></span></b><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<b><span style="font-size: 14.5pt;"><a href="http://www.laurabrittshoes.com/">www.laurabrittshoes.com</a></span></b><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 14.5pt;"><br /></span></b>
<b><span style="font-size: 14.5pt;">Judith's blog: <a href="http://www.judithashley.blogspot.com/">www.judithashley.blogspot.com</a> features a new post most Mondays</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: 14.5pt;">Judith also posts the first Friday of each month at <a href="http://www.romancingthegenre.blogspot.com/">www.Romancingthegenre.blogspot.com</a></span></b></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Judith Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04938540978449562798noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707936029476973010.post-62939856395565329132015-02-20T00:00:00.000-08:002015-02-20T00:00:05.842-08:00Allegro - by Deanne Wilsted<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">This is one of my all time favorite Free Reads Stories. I hope you enjoy the re-post!</i><br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><br /></i>
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">ALLEGRO<br />
By: Deanne Wilsted<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Prelude<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sandra took a final swipe at the make-up on her face and
then let her hand fall to the faux granite vanity where she sat. She stared at
herself in the mirror, a wall of glass which spread the length of the room. Her
image taunted her; shoulder length curly auburn hair pulled back with a glimmer
headband, skin, pale from her many hours spent indoors practicing piano or
composing, short nails, like stubby exclamation points at the end of a ten run-on
sentences.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
After years of being known as a
child prodigy, it was so much a part of her identity that she barely recognized
herself as the twenty-six year old woman she had become. An image of her
younger sister, Marie, skimmed through her thoughts. Marie had played the dark angel
to Sandra’s light one. Sexy as soon as she had grown breasts, her appeal had
only become more sophisticated and classy, leading men to trail her like notes
lingering on the piano.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
It had been weeks since she’d seen
Marie. Weeks, in fact, since she’d seen any of her family. She picked up the
phone which she had tossed onto the vanity before heading onstage. The text
from Marie was still there- the words still as nonsensical as when she had
first read them.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Sandy… Dump the gig
and come meet me in Barcelona. You need a break and I need an excuse to escape
Antonio.</i> <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">As if she could just back-out of a concert</i>,
thought Sandra. Marie’s way of looking at the world was so different as to be
incomprehensible to Sandra. And yet, there was something about the text which
nagged at her. She’d been studying it for days now. And as the weekend closed
in on her the niggling idea that she could, indeed, sneak away if she really
wanted to floated its way into her consciousness. It was preposterous. But
aside from the girlish hair, pale skin, and filed nails, the dark circles under
her eyes made a compelling case.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>She
pulled up the calendar on her phone and studied her schedule. She’d need travel
time, she calculated. And time to practice when she returned. It didn’t leave
much of a break. Maybe two days, max- assuming she could reschedule the recital
for the local school. Still, two days was better than nothing. Her fingers
played unconsciously with her phone, like keys on the piano, until the decision
was made.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Okay.</i> She typed;
then pressed reply.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Sonata</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sandra made it to the airport with minutes to spare. Her
plan to meet her sister in updated clothes had been discarded alongside the
plan to reschedule the recital. The school’s disappointment had simply been too
severe to ignore. Instead she had re-jiggered her flights and run, literally,
to make it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Excuse me.” The tall man in front
of her didn’t seem to hear her plea to pass. “Excuse me,” she said, more loudly
this time.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
The stranger continued to face
forward, holding up one finger at his shoulder to let her know he’d heard but
chosen to ignore. Sandra tapped her toe, peeking around him at the ticket desk
where she had hoped to upgrade at the last minute. She had a finger she’d like
to show him, she thought. Sighing in frustration she accepted that she would
have to stick with the cramped middle seat- the only assignment available on
such short notice.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
They called the flight for boarding
and Sandra moved away from the crowd at the ticketing desk and into the crowd
at the gate. Behind her she heard a man’s baritone talking on his cell phone.
One glance over her shoulder told her it was the same man who had blocked her
way to the agents. The annoyed words running through her brain dyed on her
lips. He was- beautiful. Like when she heard a piece of music played
flawlessly, her heart beat was a recognition of his perfection.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Bright blue eyes stared out unseeingly
from a face darkened by a 5:00 o’clock shadow. The V opening of his dark shirt
highlighted his strong jaw; a jaw which formed the foundation for his rugged
cheek bones. But more than anything it was his mouth which had Sandra staring.
The flat, clearly annoyed lips, hinted at straight white teeth underneath, and
quirked up to one side as if perpetually mocking life.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Sandra would have dropped her eyes,
if she could have. So it was with a horrifying blush that he caught her
unintentionally listening in on the last of his conversation.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“It’s not enough to put them on the
cover. You need to give them credit. ”… “Of course they said they can’t fit it.
What else would they say?”… “Right. Well, I don’t care if they threaten to
cancel your contract; we’re talking about a hospital of kids here. Get their
name and information on the cover or find a new agent.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Idiots,” he mumbled, hitting the
end call button with his finger and finally noticing Sandra.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
The red crept up her chest, climbed
her neck and felt like a glowing spotlight on her cheeks. Sandra prepared
herself to apologize. But before she could get a single word out, his glance
skimmed right over her and landed on the open doorway to the gangway.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Sandra spun on her flat, ballet
style shoes and shuffled toward the door, even more embarrassed to have been so
completely discounted by him. She fumbled with her luggage, checking her ticket
and comparing the seat numbers with her assignment. At least she wouldn’t be at
the back of the plane, she consoled herself. She threw her purse onto the seat
and got ready to heave the suitcase up to the overhead. Before she could raise
a finger, though, strong arms lifted it into the small space.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“There you go, miss.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Sandra scooched into her seat and
turned to say thank you, but was again tongue tied when she realized the same,
sexy man was lowering himself into the seat next to hers. Was this a good
thing, or a bad thing? Two hours would surely be enough time to find her voice,
wouldn’t it? She watched the way the man tapped his cell phone on his flat palm
and thought, perhaps not.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">So,
what do you do?</i> Sandra was trying out opening questions when the flight
attendant began her emergency spiel.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“So,” she began; then noticed the
rapt attention with which the man listened to the flight attendant. In front of
them the woman, clicked and unclicked a fake seatbelt, and Sandra wondered what
could be so engaging about that. Until she noted the way the woman’s breasts
squeezed together every time she fit the two pieces together. Sandra had been
on her fair share of flights, but this was the first one where the emergency
directions felt ‘R’ rated.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Sandra stared down at the pearls
which lay against her own, black silk blouse. It was certainly feminine. But
sexy? The buttons which hit above her collarbone hid any sign of cleavage. She
tried scrunching her elbows into her side like the flight attendant had done,
and proceeded in bulging the blouse, but not much else. She looked up and
caught the passenger on the window side of her watching her with a bemused expression.
The older woman smiled briefly, and then returned to the book which lay open on
her lap.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“I’m
Sandra, what’s your name?”</i> Even the voice in her head sounded like a little
girl now. She had yet to come up with a conversation starter- let alone the
courage to ask it. You can do it, Sandra. You perform in front of thousands of
people all the time. Just do it. The Nike quote was a favorite of Marie’s and
finally motivated Sandra to go for it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Do you have cranberry juice?”
Directed at the flight attendant who was waiting for her order, the question
also finally got the man’s attention. His curious eyes were more like, does she
need it in a sippy-cup, than, how about a shot of vodka for to go with it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
His own, low voice rumbled out an
order of diet coke- with a side of rumpled sheets and a steamy shower. The
flight attendant was back before Sandra had a chance to regain his attention.
And, although Sandra had her hand out, ready to take the pink cup of juice, the
flight attendant leaned across the man. She placed it on Sandra’s tray table,
never taking her eyes from the man’s.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
He, on the other hand, was busily
drinking in the mounds of skin which threatened to topple out of what should
have been the very conservative blue dress shirt on the flight attendant. She
stood back and raised her arms over her head in a stretch, as if her job
serving beverages was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">that</i> strenuous.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
A jolt of turbulence sent her
swaying toward the man, who reached out to stop her from falling.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Oh, thank you,” she said,
apparently surprised that at 5,000 feet, with her hands over her head, she
might lose her balance.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Happy to help.” His smile was
warm. And the little quirk at the corner now appeared ironic and knowing. It
didn’t seem to bother him that the woman was obviously working him. His
amusement created the intimacy of a shared joke.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
While he was otherwise engaged, Sandra
decided to take a cue from the very obvious flight attendant. She reached up
and casually flipped open the top two buttons of her silk blouse. Waiting until
the two of them were alone again, Sandra shifted her body toward him and with
fingers graceful from playing piano, lifted her glass of cranberry juice to her
lips. Perhaps the red color would dye her lips a luscious red like the flight
attendant’s.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
With her free hand she pulled the
hair band from her head and shook out her curls. The movement reverberated down
her neck, across her shoulder and through her arm, sloshing the cranberry juice
out of the cup and into her lap.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Damn.” She leaned forward to set
her glass on the tray table, but when she leaned back to dab at her skirt her
pearls got caught and she found herself jerked forward again. She bumped the
tray table, and more of the pink juice spilled from the plastic cup.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Perhaps a juice box next time,” the
man suggested with a chuckle. He laid his spare napkins on her tray table and
Sandra watched the drips from the juice circumvent it and continue to drip into
her lap. Marie would have had a snappy reply, Sandra was sure. But Sandra was
at a loss. Playing a man was nothing like playing a piano. She threw in the
towel, metaphorically, and called for the flight attendant to return. As she
had guessed, the woman was at their seat before Sandra’s fingers had left the
call button. Sandra consoled herself with the thought that at least she would
get good service on the flight. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Crescendo<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sandra woke up to heavy breathing in her hotel room. Near
her on the floor, her sister, Marie was doing some sort of Pilates pose which
must have required some intense effort to hold. She dropped down to her side,
and hugged her knees to her chest, before rolling up to a sitting position.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“How long have you been awake?”
Marie asked.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Sandra yawned and lay back against
her pillow. “I just woke up,” she admitted.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Good. I was trying hard to stay
quiet.” Marie’s stretch was far more demanding and less calculated than the
flight attendant’s had been the day before. “But, now that you’re awake, what
should we do today?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Although Marie had been at the
hotel waiting for Sandra when she arrived from the airport, she had promptly
gone out when it became clear that Sandra’s objective was room service and an
early bedtime. “Kinda seems like it misses the point of a weekend away,” Marie
had huffed, before spritzing herself with a musky scent and shimmying out the
door.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Her late night had clearly done her
no harm. Marie was as perky as ever, even without cosmetic surgery.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Sandra played with the edge of the
sheets and considered how to answer her sister’s innocent question. She’d
reached an uncomfortable conclusion while sitting silently on the airplane. A
twenty-six year old woman should know how to talk to a man. Should know, in
fact, how to entice him to bed. But not only was Sandra clueless, she also
lacked confidence that the word <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">entice</i>
could be used around her with anything but humor.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“So, I was thinking,” she began
hesitantly. Marie was known for extremes, and Sandra was looking for a subtle
change, not a train wreck. “Maybe we could go out shopping.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Marie clapped her hands and spun in
a circle. “Fantastic. A sexy dress for me and…” she stared at Sandra for a
moment and then huffed. “Forget it. It’s too depressing to go shopping with
you.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Sandra put her hands on her hips.
“That’s not nice,” she said. “And anyway, I was thinking you could help me pick
out some new, more, uh, mature clothes.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Marie snorted. “Mature? God, please
don’t tell me you want to replace the headband with a red hat.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“I’m serious.” Sandra jumped out of
bed, filled with purpose. “Tease me all you want, but with or without you I’m
going out to find something fun and sexy to wear tonight.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Marie slowed her with a hand on her
arm. “You’re serious, aren’t you?” She sounded amazed and a bit alarmed.
“Sandy, what’s wrong?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Nothing’s wrong,” she said,
pulling out of her sister’s hold. “I just, I’m tired of being overlooked. I’ve
handled the pressure, the expectations, the image for 20 years now. Did you
realize that?” she demanded. “I counted it up. For twenty years I’ve been known
as the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">child prodigy</i>. Well, guess
what? I’m not a child anymore.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Marie stood right in front of her
and placed both hands on her shoulders. “Sandra, you haven’t been a child in
your whole life. Since you were six you’ve never had a tantrum, broken a rule,
done anything crazy, other than writing that really weird piece you called
Taco.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“I didn’t know the other meaning of
the word, I swear.” Out of steam, Sandra lowered herself onto the bed.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Marie laughed and sat down next to
her. “I’m just saying, if changing your clothes makes you act more care-free,
then I’m with you a 100%.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Sandra bit her lip and considered what
Marie had said. She was ready for new clothes, maybe even a new hair style. But
a new outlook seemed like a bit much.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“How about we keep it at 80%,”
Sandra said. The last time her sister had given a 100% to anything she’d
disappeared for two months. She still wouldn’t talk about that period of her
life, though she’d once mentioned it had something to do with Richard Branson.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Deal. Go shower and I’ll make some
calls.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Sandra didn’t even want to think
about what sort of shopping would require phone calls.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Four hours later, head covered in
foil, Sandra wished she’d asked a few more questions and limited Marie’s
involvement to 30%.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“If my hair is purple, I swear…”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“I told you, nothing too crazy. You
have to trust me.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Sandra raised her eyebrows
skeptically but kept quiet. The hair person had already done something with her
hair that required a sharp looking razor and a heated stone. Okay, that last
part had been sort of nice. Still, she wondered how much money, and time, it
was going to take to revert back to her original hair style.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Marie leaned against the counter,
flipping through a fashion magazine. Every now and then she’d hold a picture up
for Sandra to judge. So far the pictures had received four head shakes, two
emphatic “no’s”, and a laugh so loud the other customers had shot them curious
stares.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Confronted by a pair of suspenders
made out of fur, Sandra got ready to ask what on earth she was thinking.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Not that page, dimwit,” Marie
said. “This one.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Sandra stared at the photo of the
woman, head down, hair covering the top of the cocktail dress. It was obvious
why she’d overlooked it. The photo was meant to be about the large gold watch
on the skinny wrist. But taking in the dress Sandra understood what her sister
was getting at. The short dress was a bright emerald green and landed in
graceful folds above the model’s knees. Peeking from the very bottom edge was a
line of light purple lace which hinted at something sexy and forbidden
underneath. One purple silk ribbon at the ankle managed to somehow suggest
bondage, even in its fragility.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Yep,” Sandra said. “That would
work.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Marie got a Cheshire cat grin on
her face and began to dial again.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If it weren’t for the loud bass in the music pumping through
the clothing shop Sandra imagined the song might have been worth listening to.
She shifted her weight in front of the dressing room mirror, admiring how the
fabric of the newest dress she had tried on slid up slightly as she moved.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Are you going to let me see?”
Marie huffed. “We’ve been shopping for, like, two hours and I’ve seen a total
of three dresses on you.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Sandra considered making her wait
for fun, but couldn’t stand the excitement of her sister seeing her in this
dress. She stepped out of the dressing room, stomping to the beat of the loud
music in spite of herself. At the three way mirror, she executed a perfect
turn, placed a hand on her hip and shot Marie a sassy look.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Well?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Her sister’s open mouth was enough
acknowledgment. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">This</i> was the dress.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Sandra spun back to the mirror and
Marie walked up behind her with a long necklace. She placed it around Sandra’s
neck, hooked the clasp, and stepped back. Sandra’s now short, straightened
black hair clung to her neck, seamlessly flowing into the metal link chain of
the necklace. The look was both hard and sexy at the same time.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Now for make-up.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Sandra’s confidence fled and was
replaced again by alarm. There was no time to argue. Marie had her paying for
the dress and out the door before she could explain that the only time she wore
make-up was when a professional make-up artist applied it before a big
performance.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Finale<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sandra was glad the club they went to didn’t have any
mirrors. Given the amount of black eye-liner Marie had applied she was sure her
eyes looked like two smeared half notes. Dinner had been a rotation of tapas
spots. Sandra couldn’t remember what she had eaten and had lost count early on
of her normal 2 drink limit. She felt nothing like herself, disembodied from
the pixie-like rock-n-roll creature that had stared back at her in the hotel
room mirror.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Over
here.” Marie grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the bar, as if either of
them needed more sangria. “Two Cosmopolitans,” Marie told the bartender then
turned to look out at the night club, people streaming toward a cookie.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“So, who’s Antonio, anyway?” Sandra
asked the question she’d wondered about for days.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Who?” Marie’s eyebrows rose
dramatically, and Sandra wondered if that was what hers looked like now that
her sister had defined them? “Oh, right, Antonio.” She rolled her eyes as if it
weren’t even worth talking about. “Some businessman who thinks he can buy
everything.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
The pointed look Marie gave her
raised Sandra’s protective hackles. Had the guy hurt her sister?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“I’m fine.” Marie waved away the
worry she must have noticed on Sandra’s face. “He should be out of the
apartment by the time I return.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sandra made a somewhat drunken note to herself
to double check that all was fine when they both went back to reality. Struck
by a sudden closeness with her little sis she threw an arm around her shoulder
and gave her a kiss.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Oh yeah.” A disgusting jerk
standing near them was practically slobbering on the bar counter.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Instead of getting upset, though,
Marie laughed and kissed Sandra on the neck. “Come on babe… let’s find
someplace more private.” She grabbed their drinks, hooked an arm through
Sandra’s and pulled her away from the bar.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Seriously, I don’t get how you do
that.” Sandra shook her head, taking the drink Marie held out. “Weren’t you at
all embarrassed?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“By what <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">that</i> idiot thought? Right! Now if had been that gorgeous guy
standing near the musicians I’d have been totally embarrassed- that is,
embarrassed to be hanging out with my sister.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Sandra rolled her eyes and glanced
over to see what sort of mega-star Marie had set her sights on this time. She
nearly dropped her drink. It was the guy from the plane. The one who’d ignored
her like she was twelve but who now couldn't seem to tear his gaze from her cat
eyes.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Well, well, well… it appears it’s
my big sister who’s 'gonna get lucky tonight.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Of course not Marie,” Sandra
started. But her sister was already wandering her way back toward the bar.
Sandra was happy to note that the pervert had at least left the spot he’d held.
She scanned the crowd, debating whether to follow after her sister, or find a
quiet spot to hide, and came face to face with the airplane guy.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“I’m sorry,” he said. Brows
furrowed he seemed truly perplexed. “Do, I know you?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
She would have laughed at the
overused line, if she hadn’t known that, in fact he <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">did</i> know her from somewhere. And it only confirmed what she’d
thought… she’d been pretty well overlooked by him the first time around. She
decided this time he wouldn’t get off quite so easy.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Perhaps,” she said, scanning her
excellent auditory memory for what he’d said on the phone conversation she’d
overheard. “You’re an agent, right?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Oops, that must have been the wrong
direction. His body language changed from interested to closed-off in the blink
of an eye.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Ahhh. I see.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
This time she did laugh out loud.
As if <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">she</i> needed an agent. She’d
never needed to pursue anyone. Agents, artists, producers, other performers,
they’d all thrown themselves at her- or more precisely her mom- since she was
eight. Her laughter confused him. Once again he looked at her curiously. The
quirk in his mouth gave the impression that he was calculating the odds of
being wrong about her. It amazed Sandra how one little muscle could be so
expressive.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“What are you drinking? Can I get
you another?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Sandra squinted at her glass,
surprised it was almost empty. “It was some sort of cranberry drink,” she said,
belatedly realizing the connection with the drink she’d ordered on the
airplane. “But I’d rather have water, if you don’t mind. I think I’ve had
enough.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Huh!” He rubbed his chin and
studied her face intently. “Stay here. Don’t move. I’ll be right back.” He
turned to walk off then spun back as if to check that she was still there.
“Don’t move,” he said again.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Sandra barely took a breath before
her sister popped up in front of her.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Well?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“So, it turns out I sat next to
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then.” As usual Marie’s reasoning was both smart and also a little lopsided.<o:p></o:p></div>
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“But, what do I say?”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“Okay, what? Hurry, He’s coming back.”
Panic gripped Sandra. She held Marie’s arm so she wouldn’t escape.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Marie smiled. “No… I don’t think my
way would work for you. But hey, what if you treated him like a composition?
What’s that first part again?”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“A prelude…”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“And you told me a prelude introduces
the main movement and sets the theme. Right?”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“Okay, yes.” Sandra tried to return
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“So, this is your prelude. Your
theme isn’t my theme. But if I had to take a guess, it would have something to
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She pulled from Sandra’s death grip
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the dance floor. “Probably you should start with your name.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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Sandra set down the sweating glass
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“So, I’m Sandra,” she said when he
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“I’m Sam.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
He still didn’t recognize her, but
that didn’t matter. Sandra realized it gave her the freedom to be whomever she
wanted. The thought was as freeing as a lively allegro. A new composition began
to circle in her brain, something with sultry tones and a strong beat.
Something that sounded like the woman she could be.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0.5in;">
If you liked this story, you can find more by Deanne at her website:</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<a href="http://www.deannewilsted.com/">www.deannewilsted.com</a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i>Journeys Insprised by Love</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0.5in;">
Thank you to all of the Genre-istas for letting me be part of this terrific Free Reads blog. I am so sad to see it end, but wish each of them amazing success.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i>Deanne</i></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09501320307949164078noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707936029476973010.post-18003238406373512702015-02-13T00:01:00.000-08:002015-02-13T00:01:00.216-08:00An Unexpected Valentine -<div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="text-indent: 0.3in;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF3_sO_7mkilgBpjXeQEzp0XhGGkfMJoXn07ZVNaFdV1fvljar39fttMXpGl5zTp4UOA1lxofRvJkseXx0VnmHApGpsSqYO3Zb7InR1pWzuWwXRHNu8d1ya3V303gsELLXGno4dpNcFeW3/s1600/Valentine.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF3_sO_7mkilgBpjXeQEzp0XhGGkfMJoXn07ZVNaFdV1fvljar39fttMXpGl5zTp4UOA1lxofRvJkseXx0VnmHApGpsSqYO3Zb7InR1pWzuWwXRHNu8d1ya3V303gsELLXGno4dpNcFeW3/s1600/Valentine.jpg" height="200" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">My encore story at the Free Reads is a Valentine story I wrote two years ago and posted on this site.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="text-indent: 0.3in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><b>An
Unexpected Valentine</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">By<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Paty
Jager<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Spencerville,
Oregon<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">1890<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.3in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Someone pounded on
the back door of his twin sister’s home as Willem Kerk stepped into the kitchen.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Janna, I need to
hide! Janna, please!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Willem’s heart
picked up speed. He knew that pleading voice well. It was the reason he hadn’t returned
to Spencerville after becoming a doctor. He hadn’t wished to open wounds this
woman had made. The desperation in her frantic plea and pounding fists tugged
at his heart and his feet, drawing him crossed the room. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Willem opened the
door. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The blustery January
wind blew in snowflakes, chilling his hands and face. A thin woman dressed in a
baggy cotton dress fell into him. The moment his hands gripped her cold, boney
arms she glanced up into his face. He barely recognized the woman who’d stolen
his heart and turned to another when he set out to make a life for them both.
If not for her full head of red curls, he would have guessed her to be another
woman. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Her wide,
frightened, green eyes narrowed and she shoved out of his hands. Her arms lifted
as if protecting her head from blows. “Where’s Janna?” she asked, turning her
back to him and side-stepping deeper into the kitchen. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Willem had worked
with battered women at the hospital in Chicago. His heart sputtered almost to a
stop to think the man Molly had chosen over him was hurting her. He counted to
ten, inhaled deep, and slowly released his breath to tamp down the flaring rage
this realization sparked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“She went to the
mercantile to get the powders our father needs.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Shivers not of
fear or revulsion snaked up Molly Lawrence’s backbone and warmed an empty space
in her chest. When she’d realized she’d fallen into the arms of a man, she’d
thought it was Janna’s husband Ronald. But the face she peered into and the soft
voice with an accent just like Janna’s visited her dreams. There hadn’t been a
night since marrying David Lawrence that she didn’t think of the man who left
her for a profession as a doctor. Had
Janna told her brother about the beatings? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Before she made
the decision to turn and let him see the damage David did this time, large
hands gently grasped her arms. She started to struggle, knowing only hurt from
a man’s hands the past five years.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“It’s all right,
Molly. I won’t hurt you. It is I, Willem.” His hands remained, but the grip
loosened.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"> The calm, deep voice reassuring her took her
back to the carefree days when she and Willem were inseparable. She peered up
into his face.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">His bluish-gray
eyes studied her. His expression never changing, but the color of his eyes grew
brighter. She remembered how they would darken when his mood changed. But
mostly right before he kissed her. His grip tightened, and she sucked air,
preparing to flee.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">He released her
arms but stood steadfastly in front of her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Who did this to
you?” He motioned for her to sit at the kitchen table. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Molly’s legs shook
from her run and the realization the one man she’d always wanted had just
witnessed the mess she’d made of her life. She shuffled to the chair and
plopped on the hard surface. The last few months her body had lost much of her
padding and the wood smacked against her sitting bones. She grimaced at the
slight pain and jarring.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Willem’s back was
to her as she settled onto the chair and pulled her sleeves down to hide the
bruises on her wrists and lower arms. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The only man she’d
ever loved knelt beside her, holding a glass of water. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Who did this?”
His fingers skimmed over the older bruises on her face. The touch was soft,
like a feather caressing her cheek. The complete opposite of her husband’s
touch. How many nights had she lain in her bed, spilling tears down her cheeks,
and wishing this man lay beside her?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">He skimmed her
face again, drawing her gaze back to his. “Who hurt you?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“David. I didn’t
have his dinner ready. I’d been helping old missus Crandall and lost track of
time.” She hated to admit to the mess
she’d made of her life, but she couldn’t lie to Willem. Had never been able to
hide her feelings, which was why it had hurt so bad when he chose doctoring
over her. She choked back a sob as the last horrid half hour played in her
mind.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Her arms trembled
remembering the vibration of the skillet when it connected with David’s head.
Fear shot her out of the chair. “I have to go. I need to borrow a coat from
Janna.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“No.” Willem
gently settled her back down on the chair. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">She didn’t hear
the words coming out of Willem’s soft lips, only the calm, deep voice as terror
clawed at her throat. <i>She’d killed her
husband!</i> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“I can’t go to
jail! I didn’t mean to…he was… I couldn’t take another beating.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Shhh…” He forced
the glass of water into her hands. “Drink, then tell me what happened.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">She stared into
his kind eyes. Eyes that as a young man had crinkled at the edges when he
laughed at her silly comments. Her gaze dropped to his lips, now pressed
together in a stern line. There was a time when those lips turned up at the
corners and made her heart skip. The softness of them nuzzling her neck and
kissing her cheek…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The swallow of
water stuck in her throat and she coughed, spewing across Janna’s clean table
cloth. <i>What have I done?</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">A large, warm hand
leisurely rubbed circles on her back. She leaned back into the warm, gentle
touch. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Why are you set
on running away? If your husband is beating you, you have grounds to divorce
him.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Willem’s calm
demeanor helped to settle her rattled state.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Molly drew in a
breath and peered into his eyes. “I may be a widow.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">His hand stalled,
then resumed the circles. “How is that?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Janna has been
badgering me to stand up to David. She said a man who beats a woman is a
coward.” Molly shuddered as the vision of David roaring blasphemies and coming
at her with his fists raised played in her mind. “When I told him I was going
to leave him if he didn’t stop beating on me, he charged like a rank bull. I
grabbed the closest thing…a skillet…and struck him alongside the head.” She
turned to the man sitting on a chair beside her. <i>When had he sat on the chair?</i> Shaking her head she continued. “He
went down to his knees then sunk to the floor, blood spilled over the floor by his
head.” She grabbed his shirt. “I didn’t know what else to do, so I ran over
here. Janna’s always been here for me.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Willem cursed as
the back door opened and shut. His sister returning couldn’t have been timed
any better. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Janna crossed the
room at a run. “<i>Godverdomme</i>, Molly,
he’s been beating on you again.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Willem stared at
his sister. “I’ll speak with you later. Right now I want you to get a blanket
to wrap around Molly. Give her a cup of tea and some broth. I have a patient to
tend.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Both women stared
at him when he returned to the kitchen with his doctor’s bag in his hand and dressed
to weather the cold. If Molly knocked her husband out, he’d patch him up and
give him the same talking he did the husband’s of the women he’d patched up in
Chicago. Give the wife a divorce and move on or he’d press charges. While there
were still many men who believed a wife deserved a beating, the women were
starting to get more voice in politics and with their husbands. Spencerville
wouldn’t tolerate a wife beater, which brought up the question—How had Molly
kept it a secret from everyone but Janna? If the man was dead…he’d find a way
to keep her out of jail.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">It didn’t take him
long to traverse Main Street and find the path to the Lawrence house. Janna had
pointed it out when he’d first arrived to help with their ailing father. His
strides shortened and his gait slowed. How would he respond to the man if he
was merely injured? He’d never liked David even when they were schoolmates
together. He’d seen the brutal side to him then. But he hadn’t been here to
talk Molly out of marrying the man. According to Janna she’d tried to explain
her brother would be back and to wait for him, but Molly didn’t believe her
best friend anymore than she believed him. It still ate at his pride that she
didn’t believe he would come back and marry her. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">He knocked on the
wide open door. “Mr. Lawrence? David?” Willem called out before stepping across
the threshold. The house was eerily quiet. The scent of blood hung in the air.
It had taken him nearly a year to get used to the scent when repairing mangled
bodies at the hospital. The factories and warehouses maimed many men…and boys. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Mr. Lawrence?” He
stepped into the kitchen. David didn’t lie in a heap on the floor, but the
evidence of Molly’s fear congealed on the floor. A cast iron frying pan larger
than he thought Molly could lift lay on the wood beside a fair-sized spot of
glistening blood. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Where was David?
Terror squeezed his chest. <i>Looking for
Molly!</i> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">His first instinct
had been to clean up the mess so no one knew what had happened, but the
knowledge the man could be searching for his wife and would be even angrier at
her fighting back, sent him back out the front door and running to his sister’s
house. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">***<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Molly huddled over
the steam from the tea and the broth Janna had placed in front of her. Pulling
the scratchy wool blanket tighter around her body, she moaned. Her life had
turned out so different from what she’d planned. And now, she could be going to
jail for killing a man who had beat on her since two weeks after their wedding
five years ago. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The back door
banged opened and she froze. Was David still alive? Fear started trembling at
her toes and worked up her body until her head started shaking. She fought to
keep her vision from blurring. What did death feel like? It had to be better
than the past five years. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Willem hadn’t
meant to bang the door open so hard. In his fear for Molly, he’d hit the door
at a run, slamming it against the wall. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Janna jumped and
scolded him, but his gaze was on the woman shaking like a wagon on a rutted
road. He closed the door quietly and
walked over to the chair. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Molly, you didn’t
kill David. He wasn’t there.” He placed a hand on her shoulder, and she jerked
away her body vibrating. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Molly, sweetheart,
<i>liefje</i>, I won’t let him touch you.” Willem
scooped her shaking form up in his arms and carried her into the parlor where
he sat on the settee with her on his lap and rubbed her arms and back, trying
to bring her back to the present. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Janna, bring tea
with lots of sugar,” he called into the kitchen.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">When his sister
entered the room, he flashed her with a stern look. “Lock all the doors and
only let your husband in.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Janna nodded and
scurried from the room.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“<i>Liefje</i>, look at me.” He tipped Molly’s
chin up so her beautiful green eyes stared into his. “I won’t let anyone hurt
you.” Placing her small hand on his chest over his heart, he said, “This heart
still beats for you, and I’ll do whatever it takes to get you away from that man.”
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">He saw a brief
flicker in her eyes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Drink this.” Willem
held the tea up to her lips. She sipped, her eyes steady on his. By the time
the cup was empty, her body had stopped shaking. He continued to rub her arms
and back. She was so bony. Even her adolescent body hadn’t been this thin. It
would be hard to not take a cast iron skillet to David’s head himself when he
saw him. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Molly squirmed and
he realized he’d stopped rubbing and was squeezing her arm. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Sorry. I’ll keep
my thoughts only on getting you well and keeping you safe.” He kissed her
forehead. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Tears trickled
down her cheeks. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Do you hurt
somewhere I can’t see?” His hands felt her ribs, slid down her abdomen, and
started to descend her legs. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">She stayed his
hands with hers. “No.” She sniffled. “I’m not hurt anywhere else. Why are you
being so kind? You walked away from me.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">His neck cracked
as he brought his gaze up to meet hers. “I never walked away from you. I told
you I’d be back in four years and we’d marry. You’re the one who didn’t wait for
me.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Her eyes snapped
with indignation. “When my parents died and I had nowhere to go, I sent you a
letter, asking if you still wanted to marry me, could we do it then, so I
wouldn’t be at the mercy of the only other man who was asking for my hand, David.”
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">An invisible
hatchet split his heart in two. She’d reached out to him and he’d let her down.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“I never received
a letter from you. Only the one from Janna saying you’d married David Lawrence.”
He gathered her into his arms and held her close. “<i>Liefje</i>, I’m so sorry. I would have married you and figured out how
to support you and get through my schooling.” His heart ached for all she’d
endured. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">She snuggled
against his chest, and he thought he heard a sigh. He wasn’t going to let her
get away again. He’d fight whoever he needed to get her out of her marriage and
into his arms every night.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">***<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The next two
weeks, Molly remained in the Kerk household. Willem had told the marshal what
had happened between David and Molly. The man said he’d had his suspicions, but
Molly hadn’t come out in public much, and when she did, she appeared happy. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Willem didn’t care
what the town thought. He escorted Molly to dine at the hotel restaurant. Janna
had loaned her a dress for the occasion. It fit Molly better now that she was
eating well and not in fear all the time. She was blossoming into the young
woman he’d dreamed about every night since he went away to medical school.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“You didn’t have
to bring me out like this,” Molly whispered, scanning the room.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“You have nothing
to worry about. Everyone in town knows what David did to you.” He wanted to
reach across the table and smooth the worry lines from her brow, but she was
still a married woman. He’d take care of that whenever that coward of a husband
turned up. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“But I am still
married to him. We shouldn’t be acting as if you’re courting me in public,” she
whispered and sat back as the waiter set their meals in front of them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Everyone also
knows my intentions and that you are living with my sister, her husband, and my
father. You are worrying too much.” He smiled and nodded to her plate. “Eat.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">She grudgingly
started eating. Halfway through their meal the marshal strolled into the
restaurant followed by Janna and Ronald.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Mr. Kerk, Mrs. Lawrence,
I need to speak with you.” The marshal held his hat in his hands. A dour
expression darkened his face. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Willem glanced at
Janna. She nodded slightly, but her worried gaze rested on Molly. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Of course.” Willem
stood and held Molly’s chair as she rose. The color drained from her face, and
Janna hurried to Molly’s other side. Willem and his sister escorted Molly out
to an alcove in the lobby. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Willem turned to
the marshal. “What did you wish to speak to us about?” He held Molly’s hand,
squeezing it to show his support.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“I just got word
that Mr. David Lawrence is to be hung on February 14<sup>th</sup> for the
murder of a prostitute over in The Dalles.” The marshal kept his eyes on Molly.
“From what I gather he showed up in town, got roaring drunk, found a red-haired
woman, and killed her. Wasn’t no need to go to trial since there were witnesses
to the attack.” He ducked his head. “The
witnesses say he was shoutin’ that it would be the last time she smacked him
with a fryin’ pan.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Molly teetered and
Willem put an arm around her waist, easing her down onto the chair behind her. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“He killed that
woman thinking she was me, didn’t he?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Her whispered
question froze Willem’s heart. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Yes, ma’am I
reckon he did. He was looking for a woman with hair the color of yours.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Molly started
shaking.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Thank you for carrying
out your duty, marshal.” Willem picked Molly up and headed for the door. Janna
held it open, and he headed for his sister’s house. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Molly would be a
widow on February 14<sup>th</sup>. It
was a tragic end to Molly and David’s marriage, but an unexpected Valentine’s
gift for him and Molly. They only had to wait a respectable time after that and
they could marry. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">In the meantime,
he planned to prove to her she would be cherished for the rest of her life. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.3in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><a href="http://www.patyjager.net/">www.patyjager.net</a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><a href="http://www.patyjager.blogspot.com/">Writing into the Sunset</a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/Paty-Jager/132536633482029" target="_blank">Facebook Fan Page</a></span></div>
Paty Jagerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03257614436422105729noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707936029476973010.post-59818929594849872732015-02-09T00:00:00.000-08:002015-02-09T00:00:09.537-08:00Wings of Rapture: Chapter Two<h3 style="page-break-inside: avoid; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">Chapter Two</span></h3>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">Taryn grimaced as
her feet finally touched solid ground. Energy crackled. Tiny
whimpered behind her ear hidden in the small compartment she’d
built into her mini hat. She really should have left her home. The
sky lit up with blue light. The hair on her neck rose with the
static. They’d had to land early because of the storm. It seemed
fitting with the whole trip. </span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">From the moment her publisher had handed
her the packet with tickets and information about her destination she’d had a bad feeling. She’d had nightmares and disturbing
dreams so bad she’d barely slept for more than two hours at a time.
She was sure she looked horrible under all the makeup she’d
slathered across her face to hide the exhaustion. </span>
</div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">As
soon as the storm passes we can be on our way.” </span>
</div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">Taryn glanced to the
pilot as he picked up her carry-on. He had been polite enough though
he clearly didn't want to be going where she was headed. Quiet a
few times he’d muttered something about a curse on the town that he
wanted nothing to do with. It had intrigued her.</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">How
far away are we?”</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">Bout
three hours.” </span>
</div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">Oh.”
To long to call for a ride. She bit her lip uncertain what she should
do.</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">I’ll
get ye set up at the B&B for the night. Storm should pass by
morning.” </span>
</div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">Tiny chittered
softly against her ear. Taryn nodded. She’d at least have to call
and let them know she’d been delayed. She nodded and followed him
off the small runway just before the rain came. Luckily the B&B wasn't far from the little airport. She was also grateful that she packed extra clothes in her carry-on and she’d been sure to carry
cash with her this trip. Hopefully this B&B had decent food. </span>
</div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">The building would
have been quaint if she hadn't felt the energy spiking into her
from the moment she went near it. It was all she could do to stand
next to the pilot at the welcoming front desk while he got them rooms
for the night. Her fingers twitched as if she had a live current
flowing through her. Even Tiny was nervously bouncing around in her
little jar.</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">I
don’t have much room. This storm seems to have stranded many
tonight.”</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">Please
don’t worry about me. I don’t sleep much anyways.” Taryn
shifted her bag glancing around the front hall. There was no way
she’d be able to sleep anyways. “I’m just going to call and let
them know we've been delayed.” </span>
</div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">The pilot nodded
signing for a room. She pulled her cell phone out as she found a
quiet isolated spot in a front parlor. Despite the unnerving energy
she had to appreciate the Victorian decor mixed just right with the
modern convinces. </span>
</div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">Hello?”</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">The deep voice
startled her so that she pulled the phone away to double check the
number. It was the correct number.</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">Hello?”</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">Oh,
uh, yes. I was looking for Paul Vorrick.”</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">He’s
busy. Want me to give him a message?”</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">Yes,
please. Could you let him know that I was delayed. There’s this
nasty storm and the pilot said we can’t fly through it.”</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">And
who are you?”</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">Taryn
Bowyd.” There was a pause as if her name had surprised him.</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">Where
are you?”</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">According
to the pilot about three hours away, but the storm’s supposed to be
pretty bad.”</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">I
haven’t heard anything.”</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">It’s
been all over the news. They were even telling people to leave work
as soon as possible. Their expecting power lines to go down and possibly
flash floods.”</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">Hold
on.” Taryn pulled the phone away again looking at the phone as if
it had grown a head. </span>
</div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">Everything
alright?”</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">Yes.
I think so. I’m just letting Mr. Vorrick know we’re delayed. I’m
on hold actually.” </span>
</div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">You
there?”</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">Yes.
Yes, I’m still here.”</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">Look,
Paul really needs you here by the morning so I’m going to drive out
to get you.”</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">Do
you think that’s safe?”</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">Safe
or not it’s the only way. Where are you at?”</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">The
Rose and Tea Bed and Breakfast Inn.”</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">Perfect.
I know it well. Have your things ready to go.”</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">And
who exactly are you?”</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">Al.
Paul’s twin. See you in a couple hours.”</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">The phone
disconnected before she could ask for a description. Tiny chittered
next to her and she groaned. </span>
</div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">I
know. He does sound sexy, but that’s not why we’re here. No
relationships. Besides, can you imagine his reaction to you?” She
paused and glanced around the room. “To any of the others? He’d
think I was insane, try to lock me up and throw away the key. No
thank you. Look at Sarah. Nope. Not for me.” </span>
</div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">The hair raised on
the back of her arms as the air boomed with thunder. Out of the
corner of her eyes she caught movement. She turned but nothing was
there. Tiny squawked loudly in her ear making her jump. </span>
</div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">Enough
of that.” She whispered to Tiny. Tiny shrank down pulling her
energy close enough to be hidden. Chills chased over Taryn’s body.
Tiny didn't usually act so frightened. </span>
</div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">Did
you get through?”</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">Yes.
Do you think we could run over to your plane and get my baggage out?
Mr. Vorrick is sending someone to pick me up tonight.”</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">The pilot frowned
looking out the window at the rain pouring down. He grimaced but
sighed. “I suppose we could.”</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">I’d
be happy to help.” A young man, a teenager really, spoke from the
door to the front hall. </span>
</div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">Taryn looked up
surprised at the intrusion. The boy blushed and stuffed his large
hands into his dark jean pockets. His crisp black shirt contrasted
with the lime green vest. Taryn smiled. A fellow Steampunk. The
energy in the room lightened just a little, enough that Tiny pressed
up against the glass jar. </span>
</div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">Your
her aren't you?”</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">Who?”
The pilot twisted his head between Taryn and the boy his face
scrunched in confusion.</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">Taryn laughed
standing up. “How do you do?” She held out her hand with her
fingers facing the floor. His chest puffed up and he stepped into the
room as if he’d just been made man of the house. She was very glad
she’d kept her persona in place while traveling. Even if traveling
in a corset wasn't the most comfortable. </span>
</div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">You
are her.”</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">Who?”</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">Miss
Bowyd. Uhm…” He blushed bright red dropping her hand as if it had
burned. Taryn laughed at the pilot’s face. </span>
</div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">I
gather you've read one of my books.”</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">All
of them. You’re my favorite.”</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">This was one of the
things she loved the most about writing. Getting to meet the people
who make writing a full time job gave her pleasure that would last
for weeks. </span>
</div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">What’s
your name?”</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">Oh.
Uh. James. James Willingham.”</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">It’s
a pleasure to meet you Mr. Willingham. I’m sure my pilot would
appreciate your help.”</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">Are
you staying here?”</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">Taryn hated to
disappoint the boy. “I’m on my way to Graves Hall. The storm
stranded us for the night, but I have someone coming to pick me up in
a couple hours.”</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">Oh.”
His shoulders slumped a little.</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">But
I wouldn't mind some company while I wait. If you’re staying
here.”</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">My
parents own it.”</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">How
wonderful.” </span>
</div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">Electrical energy
zapped through the air. Taryn felt her shoulder blades twitch with
unease. The house shook with the next boom of thunder. Tiny fluttered
so fast the jar trembled against her hat. Taryn reached up with
shaking fingers and removed the hat. Tiny would do better freed and
she would feel more stable with her companion able to communicate
freely. </span>
</div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">I
think we’ll have to wait.” The pilot nodded to the window. </span>
</div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">The rain was hitting
the glass with such force Taryn thought for sure it would chip the
thin covering. She swallowed. </span>
</div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">I
think the storm hit in full force.” James spoke stepping up to the
window. He looked more fascinated than scared. Although Taryn had to
admit she didn't care for storms. Storms brought up a lot of
energy. She glanced around the room. That excess energy was
definitely stirring up stuff. </span>
</div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">In
that case, I’m going to bed. I’ll drop your baggage off first
thing in the morning.”</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">Taryn nodded her
gaze locking onto a shadowy form in the right corner of the room. She
gulped. Tiny moved behind her. That wasn't a good sign.</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">So
what are you doing at Graves Hall?” James spoke moving around her.</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">I’m
speaking at a charity event.” Taryn turned trying to put the shadow
person from her mind. She wasn't sure it had sensed that she could see it, but she really didn't want to deal with it at the moment.
She sat back down rearranging her skirts and bustle so that she could
lean back somewhat. James frowned.</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">At
Graves Hall?” She nodded. “I haven’t been there since last
summer, but it didn't look very nice.”</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">What
do you mean?”</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">The shadow pulled
away from the corner as if it had just realized she could sense
things. James turned his head toward the motion, scowled then turned
back to her. He either had sensed movement or he’d seen it.</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">There’s
this rumor about the town.”</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">Do
tell. I love stories.” She smiled trying to break the tension
starting to suck the air from the room. </span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">She wasn't sure how she’d
be able to sit in the building for next couple of hours. James
laughed but his gaze kept drifting to the shadow circling them as if
getting a lay of the land. Tiny slipped into her hat hiding her
presence. </span>
</div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">Well,
I don’t know the exacts. It had something to do with that guy and
his son who made the wings-”</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">Icarus?”
Taryn swung her full attention to James. He smiled nodded. </span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">“Icarus
and his father were stuck in the Labyrinth in Crete. In order to
escape his father constructed wings for them out of wax and feathers.
He warned his son not to fly too close to the sun for the sun would
melt the wax. Icarus didn't listen enjoying his flight too much. The sun melted the wax and he fell.”</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">Yeah.
That’s the story.”</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">Taryn frowned.
Icarus had been to start of the idea from her publisher. Supposedly
Greek mythology was going to be the next big thing and the house
wanted her to try it. She’d figured it might have merit, but almost
three months in she was starting to lose hope. But perhaps not now. </span>
</div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">Glass shattered to
the left. Taryn jumped off the couch twirling to the sound. James gasped jumping up as well. The shadow form came forward and
stared at Taryn. Someone ran into the room.</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">What
happened Jammie?”</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">I
don’t know, ma. Something broke.”</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">Taryn couldn't pull her gaze from the figure. She swallowed. Thunder boomed again
shaking the house. A child cried out in fear. She wanted to leave.
Desperately. She even took a step back. </span>
</div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">Did
one of you knock something over?”</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">No,
ma. Honest.”</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">The room lit up with
blue light. Someone else screamed.</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">Oh
lord!”</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">Do
you think we should move everyone to the tv room ma?”</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">Another bout of
thunder and this time the couch slid across the wooden floor boards
knocking into Taryn’s legs. Her knees buckled and she plopped down
onto the cushions. The energy changed turning darker. </span>
</div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">That
would be a good idea.” Taryn spoke turning her back onto the shadow
trying to portray that she wasn't afraid when in fact she was terrified. </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', monospace;">She hadn't</span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', monospace;"> had dealings with something like what was
clearly trying to scare everyone in the house. The need to leave was
even stronger. She glanced over her shoulder. Something white
flickered behind the shadow. Taryn bit her lip. <i>Damn!</i></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">Then all hell broke
loose. Thunder slammed through the air. Lightening pulsed through the
tree right outside the window. With a groan and what sounded like a
scream the old oak split crashing right into the room. Something, Taryn
assumed a branch, smacked her in the temple throwing her to the
floor. For a brief second she thought she heard laughter. </span>
</div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">Alarik grimaced at
the thunder shouting warnings as he drew closer to the bed and
breakfast. The author had been correct. Even now the radio was
broadcasting reports of power outages and flash floods. It had taken
him half the time to get to the town, but there had been some close
calls as the rain had made the country roads slick. Sirens wailed in
the distance and occasionally he caught glimpses of lights flashing
but as he pulled into the city he was amazed at the amount of
neighborhoods with no power. </span>
</div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">He slowed before
turning and grimaced as his shoulders began to itch again. He rubbed
against the leather seat but it only seemed to make it worse. </span>
</div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">Alarik glanced
around the neighborhood as he pulled in. The once bustling area
looked deserted until he rounded the last corner. Fire, ambulance and
police hustled and bustled around the B&B. His stomach dropped.
His mouth went dry. His shoulder blades burned. </span>
</div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">He parked the old
American Mustang behind the emergency vehicles. As he emerged from
the car a young teenage boy stumbled from the old Victorian front
porch looking dazed. Alarik pushed his way past onlookers as the sky
opened up again. The temperature dropped while his othersenses
opened. He paused for just a second. He shouldn't be able to sense
anything more than the usual ghosts, which was common for an area so
old. </span>
</div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">I’m
fine. Really.” </span>
</div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">Alarik spun towards
the female voice. The woman glowed like a beacon in the dark hectic
night. His othersense screamed at him to move towards her and protect
her back. His gaze lifted to the windows of the second floor. Half of
an old oak had crashed into the building on one side. </span>
</div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">Miss
Bowyd-”</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">Honestly.
Please spend your energies on the pilot. No one seems to have seen
him in a while. He mentioned going to bed.” She moved away from the
ambulance worker and staggered. Alarik found himself instantly by her
side steadying her before the other man could touch her. He frowned.
He hadn't thought to teleport and the show of power unnerved him.
So did the spike of jealousy that pulsed through him at the thought
of her touching another man. </span>
</div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">I’m
fine.” She insisted pushing away from him. </span>
</div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">Blue light blinked
from under her tangled hair. Alarik blinked thinking his eyes played a trick on him. </span>
</div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">You
look a little unsteady.” </span>
</div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">She spun, her blue
eyes wide in surprise. He wrapped an arm around her to steady her.
Light from a torch flashed over her face and he caught his breath. He
understood why the paramedic had been concerned with her. Blood
trailed down her face from a large gash along her right temple. Her
eye was already starting to swell. </span>
</div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">Miss
Bowyd, you look like hell.” He spoke trying to relax her. She
blinked up at him.</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">I
feel like it. You must be Al?”</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">At
your service.”</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">That
was fast. Or did I loose more time than I thought?” She frowned
then winced when the motion pulled on the wound. Fresh blood began to
roll down making a new trail. </span>
</div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">I
was fast.”</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">Oh.
Good.” Her knees buckled as her eyes rolled back. He gulped down
the instinct to using healing energy on her. That would be dangerous
not only for her but for his people. </span>
</div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">She
should be looked at.”</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">I
completely agree. I’ll take her over. What happened?”</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">Lightening
strike hit the old oak. Split it straight into the old inn. Seems the
lady here was in the front room. Took a branch to the face. It could
have been worse. The lady who owns the building was hit in the chest.
Broke several ribs and punctured a lung.”</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">Alarik whistled
scooping her up into his arms. He carried her over to the ambulance. </span>
</div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">I
can clean her up and stitch her, but she really needs to be at the
hospital for observation. She very likely has a concussion. She was
lucky. Another few centimeters would have killed her.” The
paramedic nodded to the gurney while pulling out supplies. </span>
</div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">I’ll
take care of her once your done.” </span>
</div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">He shrugged but
cleaned the wound. The teenager stumbled to the open doors looking
less confused.</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">Is
she?”</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">She’ll
be alright. You know her?”</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">She’s
Miss Bowyd. American Steampunk writer. She’s the best.” </span>
</div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">You
sound like you read her stuff.” Alarik glanced at the boy. His face
flushed red in embarrassment but he pulled his lime green vest over
his stomach and puffed up his chest.</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">Every
book.” </span>
</div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">Do
you drive?”</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">Yes
sir.”</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">Alarik pulled out a
business card. “My brother and I are hosting an event next week. If
your mother can spare you for a few days you should come. I’m sure
Miss Bowyd would enjoy your company.”</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">Uhm,
thanks.” He took the card as if it was an invitation to a royal
event.</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">Miss Bowyd cried out returning to awareness as the paramedic stitched the wound close. Alarik
turned back to her wanting to slug the guy for hurting her. A
completely irrational emotion. She tried to move away from the needle
still in her skin. Without thinking he set a stillness spell to her
while the paramedic finished.</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">You
sure you want to take her in?”</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">I
promise to take care of her.” He let the spell up as police and
firefighters raced around the ambulance grabbing equipment.</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">Found
the pilot. Doesn't look good. Need you now.”</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">The paramedic
grabbed a bag and the end of the gurney as Alarik swung her up. She
groaned. Electricity jolted through his hand as if he’d touched a
live wire. His othersense screamed. He almost dropped her.</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">Are
you taking her tonight?”</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">Yeah.”</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">They
were talking about getting her baggage from the plane before the
storm really hit. She had one bag with her when they came in. I think
I can go find it.” </span>
</div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">That
would be great. Thanks.” Alarik watched as the boy weaved his way
back into the building.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<br /></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
“<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">He’s
sweet. Remind me to send him a card and a signed copy of my books.”</span></div>
maepenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12430992125125553600noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707936029476973010.post-59422843119086665992015-02-06T00:00:00.000-08:002015-02-06T00:00:18.152-08:00Wings of Rapture Chapter One<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Wings of Rapture: Chapter One</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Mae Pen</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Taryn glared at the screen in front of her. This wasn't going to be easy but damnit she was going to finish the stupid story even if it killed her. Hell, at this rate it just might. Who would want to read about a stupid pair of enchanted wings anyways? Stupid publisher. Stupid editors. Stupid idea. She pushed away from her desk with a huff. Maybe some fresh air would do her good. She scooped her cell phone from it’s drawer and practically jumped when it went off in her hand. With a growl she answered knowing from previous times it was more than likely her editor hounding her to finish.<br />
<br />
“Miss Bowyd?”<br />
<br />
Taryn paused. It wasn't her editor. Or her publisher.<br />
<br />
“Who is it?”<br />
<br />
“Shhh.” She waved away the tiny ghost like thing hovering over her shoulder. “Who is this?”<br />
<br />
“Is this Miss Bowyd?”<br />
<br />
“Depends on who this is.” Taryn countered. This cell was a private number. She’d only given it to a select few and none of them belonged to this voice. With an accent. She frowned leaning against the wall next to the front door.<br />
<br />
“My name is Paul Vorrick. I’m calling from a good distance to speak with Miss Bowyd.”<br />
<br />
“And what do you want Mr. Vorrick?”<br />
<br />
“I wish to hire your services, Miss-”<br />
<br />
“Taryn is fine. I don’t-”<br />
<br />
“I’m hosting a large gathering for a Charity auction in a few weeks. I’d very much like you to come and give a reading. And perhaps hold an question and answer session at a tea.”<br />
Ah. Work. She pushed away from the wall scowling at the blue orb flying erratically around the room. It was as if she was excited to go someplace.<br />
<br />
“Miss…Taryn?”<br />
<br />
“Oh, yes, I’m here. What sort of Charity auction? What is it for?”<br />
<br />
“A new hospital wing for children. The building is old and needs massive amount of repairs. One of the downside of being in the countryside.”<br />
<br />
Taryn frowned. “If your in the country-”<br />
<br />
Mr. Vorrick laughed. The little blue glowing ball of energy she’d named Tiny, flittered in and out as if laughing as well.<br />
<br />
“This is a high society event. People all over the world come to mingle and donate.”<br />
<br />
“My schedule is kinda tight at the moment.” She glared at the laptop screen blinking at her in<br />
abandonment.<br />
<br />
“Your travel expenses will be paid for.”<br />
<br />
“Again, I’m on deadline.”<br />
<br />
“You’re a writer, you can write anywhere. Please.”<br />
<br />
Taryn bit her lip to keep from growling at the man. Why did people always assume that because she was a writer that meant she could just up and move whenever it suited them? She had her rituals, her music, her incense… Her gaze flit to Tiny. And her abilities that made it almost impossible to write anywhere. She wished she could be so lucky.<br />
<br />
“I've been trying to get ahold of you for months. A lot of my guests are huge fans of yours. I’m even thinking of putting together a small Steampunk event.”<br />
She covered the phone with her hand and groaned. He really did his research. But, she couldn't. She couldn't afford to take time from her novel. The blasted, blasted novel.<br />
<br />
“All travel expenses paid plus five thousand. In your account tonight.”<br />
<br />
Taryn bit her lip sinking down into the overstuffed love seat. Five thousand was a lot of money at the moment. Her eyes burned with tears. Five thousand would see her sister well cared for. Five thousand, free travel to… wherever this event was held and a Steampunk event with fans. Whoever this man was he clearly knew her weaknesses. She sighed.<br />
<br />
“When and where?”<br />
<br />
Mr. Vorrick sighed. “Thank you. You won’t regret this. I’ll have everything sent over this evening.”<br />
<br />
“Through my publisher. How long have you been trying to reach me?”<br />
<br />
“You won’t regret this.”<br />
<br />
The line went dead. Tiny burst from her little ball her energy practically zapping Taryn with electricity. She grimaced but didn't have the heart to scold the ghost.<br />
<br />
“Oh Taryn! We’re going on a trip!”<br />
<br />
She closed her eyes and shook her head. “You can’t go. You know that right?”<br />
<br />
“I am bound to you. Your guardian. Of course I’m going.”<br />
<br />
“And what do you think people will think when they see me talking to thin air? You've seen how they treated me in high school.”<br />
<br />
Tiny snorted shooting out sparks of blue energy. In her excitement she wasn't concerned with what she was expending. Which meant trouble for Taryn.<br />
<br />
“The living can be so dense. Anyone could see and hear me if they only wished.”<br />
<br />
“Tiny.” She breathed out in sudden exhaustion. The room seemed to close in on her and blacken around the edges. Great! Another one.<br />
<br />
A woman sobbing quickly filled the room. Slowly the huddled form of a woman hunched over rocking back and forth emerged into the physical world. Her bright blond hair had dulled with death though the colors of her drenched summer dress was as bright as Taryn’s own lime green sweats. Taryn closed her eyes gathering her emotions. She really didn't want to deal with this now. She opened her eyes with determination. Whether she wanted it or not she had a job to do. The woman slowly raised her head as if only then realizing she wasn't alone.<br />
<br />
“You know you’re dead right?”<br />
<br />
The woman hiccuped confirming her knowledge. Well, this one would be easy. Should be. She corrected herself. Nothing was ever easy. Look at her sister. Taryn waved to Tiny who smiled gently at the woman. Taryn held out her hand bracing herself for the pain, anguish and fear.<br />
<br />
They always felt the same. Even Tiny had felt that way when she’d attached herself to Taryn as a babe. Tiny inched the woman to Taryn’s hand. Taryn smiled with all the love she held in her heart. The sobbing stopped.<br />
<br />
“It’ll be alright. Your loved ones are just beyond the light waiting for you. It will not hurt you. There is nothing to fear.”<br />
<br />
The woman looked at Tiny who nodded her acceptance and with that tiny little nudge the woman grew bright. So bright that Taryn had to close her eyes or be blinded for days after. Roses wafted through the room and Taryn slouched against the cushions her entire energy now spent. So much for that walk. Tiny curled into her little blue ball conserving her energy as well.<br />
<br />
“You know you could move on as well. I know you have ones waiting for you.”<br />
<br />
“When you are safe.”<br />
<br />
Taryn snorted. She’d never understood Tiny’s insistence that she wasn't safe. She was just as safe as any other person living in this world. More than most, at any rate. She closed her eyes and drifted in the haze between wakefulness and sleep.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
“So now you've got-”<br />
<br />
Paul sighed and slumped his shoulders. He glared at Alarik. “This is your fault.”<br />
<br />
“My fault? How is this my fault?”<br />
<br />
“You and those stupid wings.”<br />
<br />
Alarik jumped from the wing back chair he’d watch the conversation in and glided over to the window that looked out over the deteriorated garden.<br />
<br />
“It is just as much your problem as it is mine. Has being here addled your memory so much?”<br />
<br />
Paul glared at him but kept silent. Alarik twitched his shoulders trying to itch something that was no longer there. At least not physically. At the moment. He sighed.<br />
<br />
All this doubt was giving him a headache. This house, this town, had been the home of their ancestors for centuries. It had thrived for just as many until World War Two when the fabled wings had disappeared. There were some in the town who felt that the wings had been buried deep under the church to protect them from Hitler and his fanatical need for paranormal objects. Alarik had a different idea of what happened. In his research he’d heard rumors of an American author researching the fabled wings for a new novel. He’d scoured the Internet looking for her and had almost given up. Until three days ago.<br />
<br />
“You might as well let them out. You’re twitching all over.” Paul’s words pulled Alarick’s attention back to the present. Paul chuckled.<br />
<br />
Alarik grimaced but shook his head. They were supposed to be human. He would stay in character until otherwise notified.<br />
<br />
“When will she arrive?”<br />
<br />
“Her publisher will be giving her the tickets and such in a couple of hours. Her flight is two days away. And it’s a fourteen hour flight without missing connections to the little airport just outside of town.”<br />
<br />
“Which means four days.” Alarik sighed. What would he do for four days? As if reading his mind, Paula picked up a paperback book and threw it at him. Alarik caught it nimbly as he always did.<br />
<br />
“Research. And help me figure out how the hell to put together a Steampunk event.”<br />
<br />
Alarik snorted. “What made you think of that anyways. What is Steampunk?”<br />
Paul slammed his head against the back of the chair. “The hell if I know. This is all your fault actually. If you hadn't traced her down I wouldn't have to host this stupid event out here in the middle of nowhere.”<br />
<br />
“This nowhere is our home. Do not forget where we come from brother.” Alarik snapped clenching the flimsy novel in his hand. Paul shook his head.<br />
<br />
“I didn't mean it the way it came out Al. I do love this town, but this land… this house… there’s something here not right. It’s always bothered me.”<br />
<br />
Alarik turned to look out over the garden. Despite their ancestry the brothers, twins, weren't the same. Paul was normal - mostly - Alerik wasn't. Far from it. His shoulder itched again and with a growl he used the corner of the book to scratch. Paul laughed breaking the tension as only he could. Once the itch was satisfied for the moment he flipped the book over. The cover was tastefully done.<br />
<br />
“She’s actually pretty good.”<br />
<br />
“It’s a bunch of drivel.”<br />
<br />
“Everything is drivel to you.” Paul eased up out of the chair. “Are you going to help?”<br />
<br />
“Oh no! This is your mess. We could have just invited her for research with the legend of the wings.”<br />
<br />
Paul paused frowning. Alarik bit his cheek to keep from grinning. His twin hadn't thought of that. One of Paul’s many faults, one he didn't usually recognize until too late, was his inability to think simple. Or plan simple.<br />
<br />
“Oh you’re helping. Just as soon as I figure out what the hell Steampunk is.” Paul stomped out of the parlor more than likely in search of his laptop. Alarik laughed so hard he had to clutch his sides.<br />
<br />
“Shut-up!”<br />
<br />
Alarik dropped the novel bending over trying to catch his breath. Tension left him for the first time in decades. This was going to be fun. Maybe.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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<br />maepenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12430992125125553600noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707936029476973010.post-84645677837259739082015-01-30T14:29:00.000-08:002015-01-30T14:29:31.768-08:00Iris, Goddess of Rainbows, Meets the West Wind By Diana McCollum<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><a href="http://dianamccollum.weebly.com/" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">http://dianamccollum.weebly.com/</a></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Copyright 1/30/2015</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .5in;">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="text-indent: 0.5in;">Iris plopped down on her white
cloud bed only to find it lumpy and hard.</span><span style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
</span><span style="text-indent: 0.5in;">She stood up and waved the clouds aside to reveal her sisters the brats,
uh, harpies, Aello, Celaeno, and Ocypete.</span><span style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
</span><span style="text-indent: 0.5in;">They tittered and laughed and flew up to the corner of the room out of her
reach.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Iris unfolded her wings and waved them
back and forth creating a breeze strong enough to blow the harpies out of her
room. Before Aello left the room she
shouted over her shoulder, “Father wants to see you <i>now</i>, Iris.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Summoned by her father, Thaumas,
one of the sea gods, meant one of two things.
Either he had found her future husband or something was wrong in the
mortal world. It didn’t matter which it
was she was screwed. Her father and
mother, Electra patron of Gilly pond in Ireland, insisted the time had come for
Iris to marry. Her mother wanted
grandbabies and her father wanted her settled and living in her own
household. Father’s hands were full
trying to rein in the hyper-active triplets.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
The mortal world should be in good
stead. Let’s see she had watered the
appropriate clouds for rain, she had placed the proper number of rainbows, and
had delivered all the messages left in her in box by the various gods. This time she had remembered to change to
mortal form when delivering the messages from the gods, so she was good there. Nope, she couldn’t think of any reason for
father to be upset with her.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
The blue sea motif on the walls of
the hall way and the cool tile on her bare feet sent a chill through her as she
descended the length of the passage way.
One more level down and she would be at her father’s chambers. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
***<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Cian Boyle is in charge of the
leprechauns at Gilly pond, and the leprechauns are having problems with the
fairies. This is upsetting the balance
of Harmony in the Fairland’s meadows and forests surrounding Gully pond. Oceanic Electra, what are you going to
do?” Thaumas boomed, striking his staff
on the floor for emphasis. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“I’m sending Iris with a message
for dear Cian to come for an audience with us.”
She moved to his side and stroked his arm, hoping to quiet his ill
temper. “I think you and I can kill two
birds with one leprechaun.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Speak plainly, wife. I’ve no patience for riddles.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Cian needs our help. And we need his. He is a close friend with Zephyrus, god of
the west wind. You remember at the
banquet last week, the young man who asked for our Iris’s hand in marriage?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“The same young man that Iris said
she would give her wings up rather than marry?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“The very same one.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Yes, yes, go on.” Thaumas entwined his hand with Electra’s,
pulling her closer; he kissed the back of her hand. “Pray tell wife, what devious plan are you
cooking up?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .5in;">
***<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Iris straightened her robes, tied
the gold cord belt around her waist into a pretty bow, and knocked on her
father’s door.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Enter”, Thaumas bellowed.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Good Eve, father.” Iris curtsied, still perplexed as to why she
was summoned.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Iris we have an important errand
for you. We need to speak with Cian
Boyle. You must fetch him here. The leprechauns and fairies are at odds and
Fairland and, your mother’s Gilly Pond are in danger. The balance is off and something must be
done.” His tone left no room for
argument.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Yes, father. I’ll leave immediately”. Iris would never disobey her father. Even if all she wanted to do was take a nap
on her cloud bed. As she turned to leave
her mother reached out and touched her sleeve.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Leprechauns are tricksters. Be careful dear, and bring only Cian, and
bring him directly here.” Electra smiled
at her eldest daughter.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .5in;">
***<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Iris led the short little man down
the long hallway. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“I’m not liking being here. The gods, egad, I cannot believe I’ve been
summoned. Tell me missy, where is the
goddess Electra? I know her, she is
kind. I’m not so sure about the rest of
them egotistical gods and goddesses.
They might just put me on a platter, serve me up!” Cian wrinkled his bulbous, red nose as much
as was possible. He stroked his gray
beard, took his hat off and then put his hat back on.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Really Cian! No one is going truss you up and bake
you. Mother and father just want to talk
with you. They understand there are some
problems in Fairland.” Iris folded her
wings in and patted the little man on the head.
“I promise, no harm will come to you.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
She knocked on Thaumas chamber
door. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Enter.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Cian! Dear friend!”
Electra took his small hand and led him over to Thaumas’s throne. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“That is all daughter, we’ll see to
Cian’s return to Fairland.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Iris took her leave, closing the
door behind her.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .5in;">
***<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
The next morning Iris was awaken by
the harpies. Aello tickled a feather
across Iris’s nose causing her to sneeze which sent the small harpies
scattering across the room.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Celaeno and Ocypete buzzed back
over to where Iris lay and dove at her like oversized bees. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Get out! Don’t you have some flowers to pollinate or
something?” Iris threw a pillow at
Ocypete as she made a dive knocking the small robust harpie across the room.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
The mad laughter of the harpies
echoed down the hall as they made their escape.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Aello buzzed back, “Father wants to
see you, right now Iris!” She tittered.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
What now? Iris wondered.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“And so there you have it,
daughter. You must settle the feud
between the fairies and the leprechauns, and while you are in mortal
form.” Thaumas stroked his long
beard. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Iris had never seen such a sparkle
in her father’s eyes before. Well, if it
was that important to him she would do her best to solve the feud. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Iris landed at the edge of Gilly
Pond and placed her clothes and wings behind a bush. In her mortal form she’d have no use for
them. She summoned her magic and covered
herself with mortal clothes.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Cian?” She called.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Cian?” Exasperation laced her voice.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Ah-h, girly, I’m right here.” Cian stepped from behind a fallen oak tree,
leaves crunching under his black buckled boots.
“Do not be so loud least them treacherous fairies know ye are here.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“So what’s the problem between the
leprechauns and the fairies?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“They are claiming we stole the
gold from beneath the rainbow.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“And did you, steal the gold?” Iris knew how much leprechauns valued gold,
and how they were known to steal or trick you out of your gold.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“It was given to us, by the head
fairy himself.” Cian brushed some dust
from his coat sleeve, not making eye contact.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Given willingly, or did you trick
him?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“I say he gave it eagerly, but if
you asked him he might say he was tricked.”
He scraped his boot over the leaves.
“We leprechauns just want to be taken seriously.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Then you must stop tricking the
fairies. I want to give the leprechauns
a very special job. You can’t use
trickery and you must guard it with your lives.
It is a very important job. I’ve
already talked with the fairies and they’ve agreed.” She smiled at the nervous little man.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Is it really important, will we
garner some respect from it?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Yes. Whenever I place a rainbow at Gilly pond, the
fairies will place a pot of gold at the ends of the rainbow.” She poked him
gently in the chest, “And you and your fellow leprechauns will be the security
detail. You will guard the pot of gold
until the rightful owner follows the rainbow to the end and claims the pot of
gold. This is an important job that only
a trusted leprechaun can do. Are you all
willing to accept this mission?” She
spoke louder so that the leprechauns hiding in the forest would hear her words.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
A chorus of 'Yes!' rang from the
forest.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“By Gilly, by golly I think you’ve
solved our problem.” He started to
waddle towards the forest. But stopped
and turned, “Iris, I have a bit of magic me self.” He waddled back and handed her a small round
stone. “The very next time you meet a
west wind, you must place this stone on the ground before you and face the
wind. Repeat three times, ‘There is good
fortune in the west wind, show me your true nature.’. Then give this stone to the first person you
encounter. I promise you will not regret
it.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
What an odd little man she thought,
and slipped the stone into her pocket.
She picked her way through the meadow towards Gilly pond. Rounding a huge boulder a gentle west wind
caressed her face and gently lifted her hair.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
She fingered the stone. What the heck? It was growing warm. Pulling it out she lay it on the ground
before her and repeated what the Leprechaun had said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
The wind picked up speed and
twirled around forming a whirlwind. The
dust and leaves blew about and in the middle of the whirlwind appeared a
form. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Her heart beat faster and her
throat tightened. The figure emerged and
held out his hand. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Zephyrus! Iris picked up the stone and when she placed
it in his hand his fingers encircled her hand and the deal was sealed.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Iris belonged to the west wind, and
Zephyrus belonged to her.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Once her clothes and wings were back
on, she rose hand in hand with Zephyrus up to the heavens. Iris looked back once waving her free hand and
created a spectacular rainbow on Gilly pond.<o:p></o:p></div>
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(If you enjoyed my story please
check out my website: <span style="font-family: Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;"><a href="http://dianamccollum.weebly.com/">http://dianamccollum.weebly.com/</a></span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
Sarah Rapleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17076583905680420909noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707936029476973010.post-23685751091869081312015-01-23T00:00:00.000-08:002015-01-23T21:01:23.875-08:00The Language of Flowersby <a href="http://www.christycarlyle.com/">Christy Carlyle</a><br />
<br />
<div style="line-height: 24.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">For the third time in as many minutes
Violet Taylor reminded herself that she had not accepted the invitation to
Milly Wilcox’s garden party in the hope of seeing him. She didn’t even know for
certain he would attend. It was true that he was nearly a member of the Wilcox
family due to his longtime friendship with Milly’s brother. But that made no
odds. He was a taciturn man whose behavior was unpredictable on the best of
days.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 24.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">With no thought to his attendance, she had
come because Milly invited her, and it was the perfect opportunity to renew
their friendship. Though, as she thought on it more, they had never truly
developed a deep and meaningful friendship. Their families moved in different
circles. Indeed, the Wilcoxes were the kind of family her mother called “the
right sort.” The Taylors, on the other hand, were a few crucial steps behind.
But that had never bothered Violet. It kept the penurious men away and allowed
her a modicum of freedom to do as she pleased. Unfortunately, it also kept the
quite well to do men away, and even one who was simply the best friend of a
wealthy Wilcox.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 24.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">He would certainly not attend a garden
party. They were too spritely and colorful for such a dour, mirthless man. Of
course, he would not have to spend time admiring the Wilcox’s flowers on this
afternoon as the April weather had turned rainy and cool. The drawing room
curtains were open so that the handful of guests could admire the gardens, but
the glass obscured their colors, running them together like watercolor paints
under a too damp brush.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 24.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">He liked the rain, but disliked gardens.
He adored the Wilcoxes, but loathed social gatherings that involved more than a
couple guests. No, he would most definitely not attend. Indeed, if he did plan
to attend, he was now unfashionably late. But it would be just like him to
behave abominably.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 24.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">“He’s here!” A chill trickled down
Violet’s back as if she’d been stripped bare in a cool breeze. Her fingers
gripped the delicate handle of her teacup so fiercely that she reached out to
put it down before crushing the painted porcelain into dust. Watching her hand
as she set the cup down, trying to steady it, she noticed that the dainty thing
was painted with purple flowers. Were they violets? Not with those ruffles.
Purple carnations. How apropos. They stood for capriciousness, whimsy,
unreliability. Just like the man who was going to walk through the Wilcox’s
drawing room door any moment.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 24.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Milly had taken her hand and leaned in
close to whisper. “This is precisely why I invited you, Violet.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 24.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">“Yes,” Violet heard herself speak but did
not know how she had formed the word. Her mind was busy, racing through every
memory of him: every tender moment, every sweet word spoken, and every tear
shed. Milly tugged at her hand, scattering memories. The poor girl was beside
herself.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 24.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">“Oh, Violet, I needed you here in case he
came. I cannot believe he accepted my invitation. Violet, what should I say to
him? I simply have no notion what to say.” In the face of Milly’s high-pitched
giddiness, the haze of memory continued to fade and Violet considered the young
woman’s words. She could not mean him. He was a frequent, almost constant guest
of the Wilcoxes. His presence might set <i>her</i> world off kilter
but it would not be cause for Milly’s rapture.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 24.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">The Wilcox’s elderly butler appeared,
silent as a wraith, at Milly’s side. “Miss Wilcox, Lord Greville has arrived.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 24.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">The man himself followed the announcement,
striding into the room as if he meant to plant a flag and claim it for England.
“Do forgive me, Miss Wilcox. I am unforgivably late.” The assembled guests
could not take their eyes off of him and his presence was such that it
encompassed the entire room. Thomas, Lord Greville, was not only the handsomest
man in the county, but also one of the wealthiest. He would be forgiven
anything. In two giant strides, he stood before Milly and gallantly took up her
hand to brush a kiss along her knuckles. Violet felt the girl’s shiver through
her glove, where Milly still clung to her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 24.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">As Greville turned away to greet the other
guests, Milly found her voice and rasped out a plea. “Violet, please go and
fetch Will. He and Edmund are in the billiards room. Do tell them they must put
down their silly game and make Thomas...Lord Greville, that is, feel welcome.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 24.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Now it was Violet’s turn to shiver. He was
here. Edmund Carrick. The most appealing and maddening man of her acquaintance.
The man who’d held her heart, her very future, in his hands. Until he’d changed
his mind. Without a word, an explanation, or even an excuse, their courtship
had ended. But the questions in Violet’s mind never ceased. They all began with
why or what if, and she never found satisfactory answers. Only he had the
answers. And now she’d been tasked with fetching him like a nanny chasing after
an errant schoolboy.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 24.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=5707936029476973010" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=5707936029476973010" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Violet wasn’t even certain where to find
the billiard room. How long had it been since she’d last visited the Wilcoxes?
As she exited the drawing room as inconspicuously as possible, she guessed that
the faithful butler, Higgins, would surely appear and send her in the right
direction. The dining room snagged her attention as she passed. Two maids and a
footman circled the table, placing gleaming plates and sparkling crystal just
so. They spied her and finished quickly, leaving the room to her in all its
glory. Spring flowers spilled from silver bowls and a grand chandelier lit
every surface with an amber glow. Even the name cards at each place setting
were gilded around the edges. She couldn’t resist looking down the row for
Edmund’s card. That’s when she saw it.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn6NjygbumEjdZ2mR-6x7Rt4rnb8n75QMHQyh1AL9Uu5CLNqP0gOuHr273fgGWmSfPrnp2SV_p_1vevNY6L8MutICPTF8j3ctSq1gVT45cvX1JSKSa6FnpNh8GgoJOBN-LFh27FcJVsiU/s1600/forgetmenot.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn6NjygbumEjdZ2mR-6x7Rt4rnb8n75QMHQyh1AL9Uu5CLNqP0gOuHr273fgGWmSfPrnp2SV_p_1vevNY6L8MutICPTF8j3ctSq1gVT45cvX1JSKSa6FnpNh8GgoJOBN-LFh27FcJVsiU/s1600/forgetmenot.jpg" height="181" width="200" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">A single sprig of flowers lay on one of the plates.
Forget-me-nots. Tiny, perfect five-petaled blooms stared up at her with their
bright yellow center eyes. They were a stunning blue, as bright as a robin’s
egg and lighter than periwinkle. She stepped closer and read her own name on
the card in a looping, elaborate hand. Who would leave flowers on her plate?
And not just any flowers. These flowers represented true love and constancy.
Her pulse began to flutter and she felt suddenly breathless, as if she’d run
all the way across the heath. Edmund? Could Edmund have left these flowers as a
declaration?</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 24.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">“Miss Taylor, you’ve found my offering.”
Violet jumped at the sound of Lord Greville’s smooth, deep voice. She turned,
her skirts brushing against his legs. He stood shockingly near.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 24.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">“Lord Greville. I...” Her voice came out
as a squeak, laced with as much panic as Milly’s had been just moments before.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 24.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Greville grinned down at her with the most
dazzling smile she had ever seen. “I missed my mark, Miss Taylor. You see, I
meant to leave those on Miss Wilcox’s plate, but that butler of theirs is quite
too efficient. He swept me into the drawing room before I knew what I was
about.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 24.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">He reached around her and took up the
pretty blooms, moving them to a plate near the head of the table. “There. My
deed is done. Do keep my secret for now, Miss Taylor. Will you?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 24.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">“Of course, my lord.” Based on his status,
Violet could deny him very little, but his blue eyes, a deeper shade of
forget-me-not blue, were persuasive in their own right. Good for Milly. Now, if
only the girl could manage a few coherent words to the man.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 24.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Just as Greville took her hand to drop a
perfunctory kiss of gratitude, another voice rang through the dining room.
Deeper than Greville’s, with a distinctive rasp and a complete absence of
Greville’s easy joviality, it was a voice Violet could never mistake.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 24.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">“Greville. Welcome. Tom will be along
soon.” The man hadn’t changed a bit. If anything, the intervening months had
brought more character to his face. His dark hair was longer, but it suited
him. And for a man of such height and bulk, Violet couldn’t help but notice
Edmund Carrick’s grace of movement. Nor could she stifle a tiny gasp as he
moved toward her. Though he had spoken to Lord Greville, his eyes were on her,
boring into her, looking beyond her plain chestnut hair and pale green eyes,
into her essence. She had always felt that he, more than anyone she had ever
known, saw her, Violet, for who she truly was. Who she wished to be.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 24.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">He cut her off, positioning himself so
that he faced Greville and was neatly situated between them. “Miss Wilcox must
be missing your company in the drawing room.” He paused as if expecting
Greville to jump at his command. “I will escort Miss Taylor back. We are old
friends.” Old friends! Violet’s mouth fell open and she snapped it shut,
stifling the urge to let out a very unladylike scream.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 24.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">The moment Greville strode from the room,
Edmund turned to face her. Before she could speak a word of her hurt, her anger,
or her many questions, he cut her off. “I have missed you, Violet.” Instantly
warm syrup filled her veins and she opened her mouth to speak words of
affection that had been bottled up with her pain. He reached his hand up to
touch her cheek and she turned her head slightly, pressing against his warmth,
relishing his familiar scent. Then, ever changeable, he snatched his hand away.
Her cheek burned where he had touched her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 24.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">“What on earth were you doing exchanging
flowers with Greville?” His voice was as angry as she’d ever heard it and
possessive, as he had no right to be.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 24.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">“We weren’t exchanging flowers.” Her tone
was meant to be dismissive, but she heard it waver and felt the sting of tears
she’d stifled too long. “I thought they were from you!” She shouted the final
word and the release felt glorious.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 24.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">He moved closer and looked toward the
door, as if he feared they would be overheard. When she looked up into his
eyes, she saw that their brown depths were tender. “Why did you think they were
from me, Violet?” His voice had lost all trace of anger.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 24.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">He reached for her again and she moved
away from him. “I have no idea. It was a silly notion considering what they
symbolize.” All the anger of his abandonment began to simmer, threatening to
bubble over into words she could never take back.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 24.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">“Symbolize? What do they symbolize?” She
watched his eyes as he turned to glimpse the lovely cluster of forget-me-nots.
“I would guess their name tells the meaning.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 24.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">“Yes. They mean ‘stay true to me’ and
‘don’t forget me.’”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 24.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">“I could never forget you, Violet.” His
deep voice was soft now, seductive. But she would not give in.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 24.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">“They also symbolize constancy. So you can
see why I was foolish to think them from you.” She expected him to wince or
retort in anger. She was certain her arrow would sting. Instead he moved
closer, his voice still low.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 24.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">“What flower would you have me give you,
Violet?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 24.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">“I am long past wishing for posies from
you, Mr. Carrick.” If she called him Edmund, she would break. She would melt
into him and lose herself again. Her anger protected her like armor, and she
could not let it slip.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 24.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">“Come, my lady, you know the language of
flowers. Tell me what flower I should give you to say...” He paused just when
she needed him to continue. “To tell you what you must already know, Miss
Taylor. I am a fool.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 24.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Violet’s throat burned with unspoken
words, all of them flooding to get out, but he gave her no time to speak.
Instead, he stepped forward and clasped her hand, his long, firm fingers
curving into her palm. He tugged and she followed. They crossed the room and he
opened the French doors along the wall. Like the drawing room, the dining room
looked out onto the Wilcox’s expansive gardens.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 24.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">The rain had stopped but the grass and
every shrub and flower was drenched from the day’s showers. The air smelled
rain-scrubbed fresh and even in the waning afternoon light, the array of colors
was breathtaking.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 24.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">He left her standing on the low balcony
beyond the French doors and made his way into the garden. When he was knee-deep
in blooms, he called back to her. “Which one, Miss Taylor? Which would you have
me give you?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 24.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">The other guests in the drawing room must
have heard his call as Violet saw the window slide open out of the corner of
her eye. She recognized the voice of Tom, Milly’s brother, as he shouted to his
friend. “Give her a rose, Carrick. All ladies love roses.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 24.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Edmund shot her a questioning glance.
“No,” she answered. She did not want a rose. Based on its color, the meaning
might be lost, and the only bud visible this early was a bright pink. A rose
that shade symbolized passion and desire. She wanted more than that from Edmund
Carrick.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 24.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">He moved onto a lovely jonquil, it’s sunny
trumpet bowed by the rain. Its message was “return my affection,” but her
affection for Edmund was never in question. She shook her head and he moved
away, nearly tripping over a clump of poppies. Their papery petals had been
battered by the rain, but a few had recovered, the bold red cup of their bloom
revealing only a glimpse of their silky black center. He leaned down toward one
of the tall, brazen poppies, but Violet stopped him again. Red poppies were
beautiful and exotic, but they symbolized only pleasure. She wished for
pleasure with Edmund, certainly, but still more.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 24.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">He began to move further into the garden
and nearly overlooked a neat row of graceful tulips in a variety of colors.
They had held up well in the rain and stood tall, like little sentries guarding
a sharply trimmed hedge of boxwood. She called out to him. “Wait. There. The
tulips.” She saw his mouth shift in a momentary grin, his full lips broadening
across his handsome face.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 24.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">
He reached down for a yellow one and then picked another. He stood as if to
return to her and she stopped him. “One of the red, too, Mr. Carrick.” Though
the Wilcox’s gardener would probably be appalled at Edmund’s raid on his fine
work, the assembled guests seemed to take great pleasure in the spectacle he
was making. Violet glimpsed Milly leaning out the drawing room window and the
girl shot her a knowing smile.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizaJHOOc1d7MAju3_Cs0c4COLYNjNw0nAdDnitpGqk7HD-rb_KpiA2WXmYFEMN9HaEeMvhDKuU6TxnCgBhnyVxLRsO0KNbY3S9YVRFBxRbC5XueotOhHx89jmNHb3Sqi_6zk-cwy6ET_Q/s1600/tulips.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizaJHOOc1d7MAju3_Cs0c4COLYNjNw0nAdDnitpGqk7HD-rb_KpiA2WXmYFEMN9HaEeMvhDKuU6TxnCgBhnyVxLRsO0KNbY3S9YVRFBxRbC5XueotOhHx89jmNHb3Sqi_6zk-cwy6ET_Q/s1600/tulips.jpg" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">
In a moment he was before her, holding out the vibrant red and yellow tulips as
an offering. “Now you must tell me what they mean, Miss Taylor. I hope they
mean forgiveness. Perhaps even a second chance to put things right.”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"> Violet reached for the tulips, but he would not release them. Instead he
covered her hand with his own. “Will you forgive me, Violet?” His voice was so
lovely, deep and strong. It rumbled through her, though he spoke softly. She
felt his warm breath skittering across her cheeks and realized she was
breathing as heavily as he.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 24.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">
She swallowed hard, sifting the sentiments bursting the seams of her heart.
“The yellow tulip symbolizes hopeless love. That is what I have been since last
we met. Quite hopeless.” A hot tear slid from the corner of her eye, but she
could not stop the words she needed to say. “The red tulip stands for undying
love. That is what I feel for you, Edmund.” On a broken whisper, she finally
said, “And what I wish from you in return.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 24.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">
When he pulled her into his arms, it was an intoxicating relief. Like lead
weights, the pain, anger, and hopelessness fell away and the love she’d always
felt for him could lift its head once again, as vibrant and strong as the tulips
she held in her grasp. She fit with him, against him, as if his body was
fashioned with spaces only she could fill.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 24.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">
He pulled away enough to look down at her, wiping her tears away with the pad
of his thumb. “You are named after a flower, my darling Violet. Tell me what a
violet symbolizes.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 24.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">
Violet took a long breath and closed her eyes, savoring the feel of him, the
scent of the rain-soaked garden and the fresh cut tulips, imprinting the moment
on her mind and heart. When she opened her eyes, she saw all that she hoped for
and needed reflected back in his own dark eyes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 24.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">
“Faithfulness.” She spoke the word quietly, reverently.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 24.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">
His jaw tensed and she saw a flash of pain in his eyes. Then he lowered his
head, his lips just inches above hers. “I should have known.” The words had
barely left his mouth before he pressed his lips to hers. Her whole body
reacted, tautening like a tightly drawn bow, but he gave her only a taste
before pulling back. “Will you still have me, Violet? Will you be my wife?” Her
eyes widened at his words and he added, “We have wasted enough time, Miss
Taylor.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 24.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">
Violet pulled back and offered him the red and yellow tulips. With her eyes and
the wide smile on her face, she echoed their message: hopeless and undying
love.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 24.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 24.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<a href="https://www.facebook.com/author.christycarlyle"><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Christy Carlyle on Facebook</span></a><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<i><span style="background: white; font-size: 13.5pt;">The language of flowers was a means of
communication, particularly popular in the Victorian-era, by which individuals
sent coded messages to share secret feelings or express what could not be
spoken.</span></i><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 24.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt;"><i>By Robin Weaver</i></span></div>
<br />
<div class="Manuscript" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"> “Holy
hell!”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">Baggy
was yelling, but all my neural processing focused on the giant hearse headed
straight at my borrowed import. On the
wrong side of Highway 62. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"> My
brain went into neutral, but my body responded without me. My arms steered frantically, guiding the vehicle
as far right as possible. We avoided
the careening coffin-mobile, but landed with a thud in a ditch.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"> The
big Caddie swerved, ramming into the embankment behind us. I let out a swoosh, feeling the relief one
feels to be still breathing after seeing your life flash before you. We couldn’t afford any delays but I
couldn’t help thinking we’d finally gotten a bit of good luck.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"> Then
I looked in the rearview mirror.
Mistake.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"> Because
of the incline, the back doors of the hearse flew open. I watched the coffin tip and then slide out
of its Father-Death-ship. The big steel
box skipped over the pavement and crashed into our trunk.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaKcnd4AjelrFU8D3X9ZsELxKCEZwwazYU213r0-TFriwuTC5jGhlA5l7U7QCFfjPJdRXH6IgsA17iyCaDdVIZU5HAAOaqVqmn4MJM8qhzqnNkVXm3rLSo9UdNacgzbdsXKjSck8D_maUj/s1600/Hearse.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaKcnd4AjelrFU8D3X9ZsELxKCEZwwazYU213r0-TFriwuTC5jGhlA5l7U7QCFfjPJdRXH6IgsA17iyCaDdVIZU5HAAOaqVqmn4MJM8qhzqnNkVXm3rLSo9UdNacgzbdsXKjSck8D_maUj/s200/Hearse.jpg" height="164" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"> “Crap.”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"> A
Lurch-type character jumped out of the hearse.
“My brakes…” He caught site of
the overturned casket and went totally berserk. A series of “Oh, Gods”
echoed over the countryside.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
Baggy glared at me. I knew what he was thinking. <i>If I'd been driving, we wouldn't be
delayed again</i>.<br />
<br />
“Shut up.” I snapped before he had
a chance to speak. “If you hadn't been
snoring, I might have seen the damn sarcophagus bus sooner.” <br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“Great. Now traffic will be deadlocked.”
Baggy's pun was intentional.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
Since there wasn’t another car in
sight, we cracked up, our cackles a fitting contrast to Lurch’s
caterwauling. We shouldn’t have been
laughing. The cargo in our trunk,
assuming there was anything left, had a time limit. If we missed the delivery time, we didn’t get paid.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
Lurch calmed down and called in the
accident. Valuable time ticked away as
we waited. We’d been behind schedule before the accident and stood to lose
twenty grand. Baggy and I needed that
money.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
A half-hour later, my deodorant
stopped working when the officer came over and told us to get out of the
car. “I ran a check on your plates. This car’s been reported stolen.”</div>
<br />
“My cousin lent me the car.” I pointed to the registration, fighting back
tears. “Look. We have the same last name.
Just call him. Here's his
number.” I quickly scribbled Lenny's
digits.<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“I'm sorry, Miss.” The officer puffed out a loud breath. I think he wanted to believe me. “As soon as
we take care of the, eh, err, the remains,” he looked distastefully at the
coffin, “I have to take you back to the station.” </div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
I remained quiet because I wasn't
entirely sure the item we transported for Duke was legit. We rode in the squad car seats with the
childproof doors while a police wrecker towed our car. At the station, the cop I dubbed Officer
Dibble tried to contact Lenny. Baggy
sat calmly, sipping coffee and inhaling donuts while I paced like an
incarcerated hyena, jealous he could eat at a time like this. </div>
<br />
Two weeks had passed since Duke
first offered us this job. He said all
we had to do was pick up a package in Versailles, Kentucky, and drive 520 miles
to Duke's ranch. Unfortunately, Duke's
man, Lange, didn't provide the goods as planned. For ten days, we waited.<br />
<br />
Every Day, Lange assured us: “I'll
have it tomorrow. For sure.” <br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
Baggy and I hadn't planned on
sleeping in the car that long. Our
grocery fund dwindled until our cupboard was bare. Then suddenly, the waiting ended.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
Lange rushed to the car and shoved
a cooler at us. "Here. Get this to Duke within twenty-four
hours. Got to go.”</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
His urgency spurred us into
action. Convinced the package hadn’t
been acquired by the letter of the law, we fled. </div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
And ended up in a police station. </div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
As I paced, my stomach
growled. “You think it'd be all right
if I took a donut for later?”</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
Baggy laughed. “You want to steal donuts? From cops?”</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
I was <i>not</i> amused. After Dibble confirmed the car wasn't
stolen, we were released.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“Guess mom’s home cooking is out of
the question.”</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
I nodded. Earlier, Baggy suggested we stop at his mother's house for a
meal and a loan. Since the accident had
cost us six hours, we didn't have time for a detour. Instead, Baggy made a call and we stopped at a plasma center.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
Two hours later and a quart short,
we gassed up and Baggy went to see a man about a horse. I’d just finished filling the tank when I
heard the alarm. It took me a moment to
realize the station was being robbed.
The guy with the ski mask and the gun gave it away.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
The robber came straight at
me. “Gimme the keys, bitch!” </div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
Overcome with stupidity, I threw
the keys in the opposite direction and ran.
I peered around the dumpster and saw Baggy crawl into the backseat just
before the masked man grabbed my keys.
The car sped away and I cursed myself for throwing like a girl.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
Twenty minutes later, Officer
Dibble and I became reacquainted. “I
told you the car was stolen,” he joked.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
I wanted to hit him. He promised to let me know as soon as he
heard anything. </div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
Three hours passed before Dibble
returned with news. “The hoods ditched
your car near Radcliff. Your partner got into the driver's seat without knowing
the car’d been reported stolen again.”</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
He laughed. I didn’t.
A local deputy stopped Baggy and was holding him at the sheriff's
office.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“I’m driving over to straighten out
the mess. You want to ride along?”</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
After that, I called Officer Dibble
by his real name. </div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
While he drove, I re-calculated the
time. If we left directly from
Radcliff, we could still make our delivery on schedule. I wasn't sure what the deadline was all
about, but I assumed our cargo had an expiration period. </div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
When we arrived in Radcliff, Baggy
gave me a big hug. I showed my relief
by yelling at him.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“Don't ever pull a stunt like that
again.” Baggy instinctively covered his crotch.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
We left and made good time. Until the car swerved.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
Baggy somehow regained control and
steered into the breakdown lane. “Shit.
The tire's flat.”</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“Well change it. That shouldn't take long.”</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“Did you forget that we took the
tire out to store the cooler?”</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
I had. It was a gi-normous cooler.
“Shit,” I repeated. “We can't
even be late on time.”</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
It took forty-five minutes to hike
to the nearest station only to discover we didn't have enough cash for a new
tire. Baggy threw up his hands but I
had an idea. Old WWII vets like cousin
Lenny always have an auto-service. I
called him and he called roadside assistance.
Two hours later, we were once again in pursuit of the twenty grand.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
After driving most of the night, we
arrived at Uncle Duke's ranch with about twenty minutes to spare. Duke's veterinarian came running toward
us. “Rowena, do you have it?”</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“Nice to see you too, Sam.”</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“The sperm. I need the sperm.”</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“Sperm?”</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
Baggy spewed our last soda all over
his shirt. I made a mental note to buy
him a sippie-cup.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
Feeling woozy, I pointed to the
trunk. Sam grabbed my keys and took the
cooler.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
Baggy mused, “Let's hope Mr. Ed
wasn't shooting blanks.”</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
As we headed for the house, I
wondered if Mr. Ed had been a willing donor.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
Baggy whistled. “Some digs.
You didn't tell me your uncle was rich.”</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“He's actually my great
uncle.” Because I would never take a
handout, he'd always had a job for me.
Back then, he had cattle. I
looked at the pastures surrounding his mansion and saw nothing but horses.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
When the double doors opened, I
barely recognized Duke's granddaughter, Sissy.
She hadn't aged well. Behind her
was a sour-faced man I presumed was her brother, Derek. Except for Cousin Lenny, Duke and his
grandchildren were my only living relatives.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“It's about time you got here. We've been trying to get in touch with you
for two weeks.” Sissy spat as she
spoke. Her spray could have been
intentional. </div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
I frowned at the twosome who had
spent summers in the pool while I wadded knee deep in cow shit. “Why?”</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“It's bad enough you missed the
funeral, but for some ridiculous reason, Spencer won't read the will without
you.”</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“Duke’s dead?”</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
When Sissy made no denials, my
knees buckled. Grief engulfed me.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
My great uncle, the closest thing
I’d ever had to a father, died the day after I talked to him about the
delivery. I was still crying when the
lawyer arrived.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
Baggy tried to protest on my
behalf, but Sissy and Derek insisted Spencer read the will immediately. They probably needed Botox money.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
A half-hour later, I sat
stunned. My cousins fumed. I’d inherited the farm and most of the
money. Me, the great niece. Not the grandchildren.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
They stormed off, threatening to
sue as they climbed into matching BMWs.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyTextIndent" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUWXupfGvjrvYeUuO8dafhFkWbR63ux2NZ27CUN8xffl7MbabMG65XcidSuK-Zc73njYIX1K2pH4C-1olr7bgdUiRQnzzBDQPYdWsJz7OcTMLW40b89wYDZw8BSnDUshtOlNn29BZ_JJro/s1600/Horse+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUWXupfGvjrvYeUuO8dafhFkWbR63ux2NZ27CUN8xffl7MbabMG65XcidSuK-Zc73njYIX1K2pH4C-1olr7bgdUiRQnzzBDQPYdWsJz7OcTMLW40b89wYDZw8BSnDUshtOlNn29BZ_JJro/s1600/Horse+1.jpg" /></a> Six months later, Baggy and I had settled in the old
mansion. You might think our luck had
changed, not so. Sissy and Derek sued,
but that was the least of our problems.
If we were able to sell the new foals, we might be able to pay Uncle
Duke's back taxes. Lenny was still
bitching because I hadn't returned his car and a tornado damaged the barn roof.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoBodyTextIndent" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
I worried constantly, but on the ranch, Friday was a
half-day, so I headed for the pool. I
dove in and joined Baggy. He gave me a
deep kiss. “Love you, hon.” </div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
Well, maybe we did have a little
luck.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“Oh, Rowena. Remember that sperm we delivered? I just heard Lange’s been arrested and—” </div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
Not wanting to hear anymore, I
planted another kiss on his mouth.
Maybe we didn’t have much luck, but we had each other.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivy1yILNVqif5A3RhZybYP-ff_WpJjHIwvmzndPCd_MW8nqTZ-AZniNMXDdBabgKgQLFqJ0Hg2DvTEAXpGKcHmgxmdYhqvdbMJIwzuhtReYXQ_6ErEoYxxqRquoV1Wr_pVg8ysHyAoi7R8/s1600/ForbiddenMagic200x300.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivy1yILNVqif5A3RhZybYP-ff_WpJjHIwvmzndPCd_MW8nqTZ-AZniNMXDdBabgKgQLFqJ0Hg2DvTEAXpGKcHmgxmdYhqvdbMJIwzuhtReYXQ_6ErEoYxxqRquoV1Wr_pVg8ysHyAoi7R8/s1600/ForbiddenMagic200x300.jpg" /></a></div>
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Robin Weaver, Authorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09931275630691025318noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707936029476973010.post-77649050613590010892015-01-09T00:00:00.000-08:002015-01-09T00:00:07.545-08:00An Ill-Advised Experiment by Sarah Raplee<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjkdTLwRHI2bGNLwSgIhodUPU6GOyezZuCXKblplbg8qYG6RYMg_SItgazMGVLOq_fQCYsKWtzPF2P3TV5HE1d0Gcoe8gRxASmRNYu_NF1kckuFsg7xscSmUgiUh9TidHIk77h9GIXGw/s1600/Victorian+woman+clipart.png" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjkdTLwRHI2bGNLwSgIhodUPU6GOyezZuCXKblplbg8qYG6RYMg_SItgazMGVLOq_fQCYsKWtzPF2P3TV5HE1d0Gcoe8gRxASmRNYu_NF1kckuFsg7xscSmUgiUh9TidHIk77h9GIXGw/s200/Victorian+woman+clipart.png" height="200" width="148" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px;">
Dr. Franklin Stein peered over the rim of his spectacles and squinted at the display on his latest invention, a Physio-Energetic Transposer, or PET, device. The numbers and needles on the dial were a blur, as if they were swimming in lard. Frustration expanded his chest as though it were a balloon on the brink of bursting. He slammed a fist on the laboratory bench and let loose a string of expletives not meant for delicate ears.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px;">
He could not work, and it was his own bloody fault! How could he have neglected to order new spectacles? How could he tell President Grant about the delay?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px;">
The President would not be pleased with the man his Cabinet members had nicknamed Pet Scientist in Chief. Franklin hated to disappoint the one man who had staunchly supported his wide-ranging research efforts over the past five years.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px;">
A soft rap on the door made his stomach clench. He’d believed his new bride, Prudence, to be outside in the garden when he had given into his frustration. Had his coarse language offended her? If only his unique intelligence allowed him to navigate the intricacies of human society with a modicum of grace. But he was the metaphorical bull in the China shop of Society.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px;">
Heaving a sigh, he crossed the laboratory in two long strides and flung open the door. The sight of Prue’s beatific smile eased the tension in his shoulders. She seemed unaware of his recent fit of temper. She wrapped her arms around his neck, rose onto her tiptoes and then kissed him with lips as soft as butterfly wings.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px;">
As always, she took his breath away.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px;">
When she pulled back and gazed up at him through her lashes, laughter danced in her lovely violet eyes. “May I be of help, husband?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px;">
She pressed her lips together instead of smiling, which confused him. Sometimes he felt completely at a loss with her, as if they spoke different non-verbal languages.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px;">
Several tendrils of chestnut hair had escaped her chignon to curl alongside the white column of her neck. Franklin found himself imagining what it would feel like to lift them away and kiss her where they had caressed her soft skin. Then he would sweep her off her feet and carry her into the library—</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px;">
Prue tipped up her chin and raised her brows. “What in the world are you thinking, sir?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px;">
He grinned. “Scandalous thoughts, m’dear, scandalous thoughts.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px;">
Color rose in her cheeks. She folded her arms across her breasts and gazed at him askance. “I only wanted to help, not to distract you.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px;">
He pulled her close, inhaling the calming scent of her flowery perfume. <i>Lord, what did I do to deserve such a woman?</i> She was not a typical female, frail of sensibilities and faint of heart. She helped him when his faults were a hindrance. Otherwise, she overlooked them. No longer a girl like the silly chits who’d hoped to wed him, she had come to his bed with an eagerness and generosity that had astounded him. One taste of her and he was lost forever.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px;">
“Well?” Prue said.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px;">
Franklin sighed. “I cannot read the transposer dial. I should have ordered new spectacles before the wedding.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px;">
She smiled. “Then I can be of help. I’ll read the instruments for you so your work will not be affected. You can order the spectacles this afternoon.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px;">
He opened his mouth to protest the need to run the errand today, but Prue’s smile melted his thoughts the way sunlight melts butter. Besides, his bride was not afraid to reveal her iron backbone when his well-being was at stake. There was no point in arguing about the spectacles.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px;">
She looped her arm through his and they walked toward the PET. Prue stopped unexpectedly and cast a puzzled glance up at him. “What happened to your seawater desalinization project? President Grant expects the results in three days.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px;">
Franklin smiled. He enjoyed having someone intelligent with whom to discuss his work. “Not to worry. I perfected the process two days ago. The President already has my report.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px;">
Her expression cleared. “I must visit the laboratory more frequently. What is your latest project, then?” She bent down to peer at the dial and switches on the PET’s central unit. Bundles of insulated electrical cables protruded from either side of the box for more than a yard before ending in shiny silver helmets.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px;">
“I call my new invention a Physio-Energetic Transposer, or PET. The basic idea came to me while I studied at Yale, but my experiments failed repeatedly. I needed a chemical compound with the proper biological and energetic properties for test subject preparation in order to be successful. Unfortunately, I failed to find one at that time.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px;">
“But you’ve discovered one?” Prue said, her eyes shining.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px;">
He nodded. “The recent measles outbreak in Baltimore induced me to investigate Native herbal remedies. While searching for a plant to strengthen a person’s resistance to illness, I stumbled onto an herb known as <i>datura</i>. Priests and priestesses of the Indian tribes who live at the confluence of the Missouri and Mississippi Rivers use datura to allow their spirits to roam free of their bodies. I believe datura weakens what I call the <i>physio-energetic bond</i>. This may be what I need to transpose minds.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px;">
His excitement dimmed in the face of her shocked expression. He replayed their brief conversation in his head, but could recall nothing to explain her apparently negative reaction. His shoulders slumped. “What is it?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px;">
Prue composed her features into a smile and laid her palms against his chest. Her warm brown eyes peered up into his. “I’m sorry; I thought you said you were going to transpose <i>minds</i>.” She laughed as if she had told a joke.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px;">
In response to Prue laying her hands on his chest, he slid his arms around her supple waist. This was a ritual they had developed to ease them through impending disagreements. The close physical contact helped him to remain calm when he felt confused.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px;">
In this case, her reaction to his invention was not at all what he had expected. What the devil did it mean? “That is exactly what I said. The president believes the ability to transpose minds between bodies may serve the country well. That is a direct quote.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px;">
Prue blinked. She studied him for a moment and then shook her head. “Politicians are ambitious men, which sometimes makes them shortsighted.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px;">
Franklin blinked. His fingers tightened on her waist. It had never occurred to him that the President of the United States of America might have faults like any other man. The implications were mind-boggling. His lungs compressed.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px;">
Prue cupped his jaw in her warm, soft hand. “Don’t look so horrified, Franklin. Only God is perfect.” She dropped her gaze to the rise and fall of his chest for a moment. “You must remain calm, my dear. Breathe slowly and deeply.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px;">
He did as she instructed. His chest gradually opened up.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px;">
She grinned, and he knew she had thought of a way to help him understand her concerns about his project. He relaxed a little.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px;">
“Better?” she said, still smiling.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px;">
He hadn’t a clue as to what was coming next, but her smile was reassuring. He smiled back. “Much.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px;">
“Help me to understand why you want to transpose minds, other than that the President is in favor of your research. What specific good do you foresee will come of it?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px;">
Prue would wait patiently for his answer. She understood that these sorts of questions were difficult for him to answer. He thought back to the beginning of his quest, back to his time at Yale. He couldn’t remember ever giving the outcome of his work any thought. Why was that? “Predicting the effects of my work in society is impossible.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px;">
She raised an eyebrow. “I disagree. You may find yourself ill-equipped to do so, but I believe I can safely predict little if any good will come of these experiments.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px;">
Franklin didn’t know how to respond. He lifted his gaze to the blank wall and processed her words. Prue believed his work would cause only harm. It was logical to assume she wanted him to quit the PET experiments—forever. The thought alone made him break into a cold sweat. Once he began a project he was like a dog with a bone until he had his answers. He could not bring himself to give up the quest when he was so close to accomplishing his goals. Could he?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px;">
Franklin searched his wife’s loving eyes for an answer. Prue had never interfered in his work until today. Nor had she given him bad advice or claimed to have skills or knowledge she did not possess. She must feel strongly about this. She loved him, therefore she wanted what was best for him. “What do you suggest?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px;">
“How far along are you in your research?” In a rare indication of nerves, she briefly worried her full lower lip.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px;">
He focused on her mouth while he considered her question. “I have determined the PET is safe to use on guinea pigs. They seem to suffer an hour of confusion before settling into their usual patterns of behavior. But that doesn’t prove their minds were actually transposed. Guinea pigs are very similar in their general behaviors.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px;">
The pink tip of her tongue darted out to lick her lips. He lost his train of thought.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px;">
“I suggest we purchase two dogs of differing breeds with very distinct behaviors, one well-trained to follow commands and one totally undisciplined. After we take time to become familiar with the dogs, you may attempt to transpose their minds. If you are successful, their behaviors will offer proof of success. And I have no doubt you will find my negative prediction has been verified”.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px;">
He frowned. “But you don’t approve of the PET experiments.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px;">
“I want you to trust my judgment in these matters without reservation. Only hard experience will enable you to accept my advice. Besides, once you’ve begun a project, I am convinced you will fall ill from curiosity if not allowed find the answers you seek.” With an affectionate smile, Prue brushed a lock of hair off his forehead. “I have only one request, Franklin.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px;">
“Of course.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px;">
“When you realize the wisdom of my prediction, will you destroy the PET device along with your notes, and then report that the experiment was an utter failure?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px;">
He drew his brows together. “You want me to lie to the President?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px;">
She shook her head. “If transposing minds causes nothing but problems, then the experiment <i>is</i> a failure for all practical purposes, don’t you see? Just because mankind can do something doesn’t mean we should.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px;">
Prue’s explanation left Franklin breathless, as though he were on the brink of an epiphany but couldn’t see the next step. He was certain of only one thing. He could not stand for her to be unhappy.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px;">
“I will do as you ask. You have my word.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px;">
Her eyes shone. “You are the dearest, sweetest man God ever put on this earth.” She pulled his head down for a kiss that burned away all logical thought.</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px; text-align: center;">
#</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px;">
A month later, Franklin waited in the laboratory for Sparky and Bruno, the dogs he and Prue had purchased three weeks before, to awaken from anesthesia. Each dog slept on his own pillow on the laboratory floor. Each wore a collar and chain attached to a ring set in the stone wall. They would be able to see each other, but not reach each other.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px;">
After completing the transposition, he had removed the silver helmets and tried to make the dogs comfortable. His Physio-Electric Transponder readings had indicated the datura loosened the mind-body connection in both dogs enough for the transposition to be successful. Things seemed to have gone smoothly. Only time would tell.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px;">
A soft rap on the door announced Prue’s arrival. Franklin opened the door.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px;">
His lovely wife swept into the room bearing a silver tray holding two cups of fragrant tea and a small plate of cookies. She set the tray on a workbench and then handed him a steaming cup. ““I’m so excited I can hardly breathe. Perhaps the tea will calm my nerves.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px;">
Prue chattered when she was nervous.She had told him so.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px;">
“What about you, Franklin?” she said, smiling at him over the rim of her teacup. “Are you excited to find out if the transposition worked?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px;">
He considered the question. His stomach was queasy. His muscles felt wound up as tightly as clock springs. His gaze dropped to Sparky’s small, inert form. His heart skipped a beat. What would the incorrigible terrier be like when he awakened?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px;">
He had never before owned a dog. The animals' companionship had been enjoyable. He and Prue played fetch with them every morning after breakfast. Bruno was the calmer of the two, obedient and prone to napping. Franklin found stroking the mastiff’s smooth coat quite soothing. Sparky’s antics made him laugh, and the little rascal had turned out to be a champion ratter. Their groom was delighted to have the terrier visit the stables.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px;">
Soft fingers grazed his cheek. He started, then offered his wife a sheepish smile. He had become lost in thought and forgotten to answer her question. “I don’t think I’m excited. I feel—twisted up inside.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px;">
Prue sighed. “You’re worried, Franklin,” she said. “You’ve grown attached to the dogs.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px;">
Before he could formulate a response, Bruno’s paws began to twitch.</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px; text-align: center;">
#</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px;">
Twenty minutes later both dogs were awake and pulling at the ends of their chains. Bruno, no longer obedient, would not stop barking and jumping around. Franklin wished he had used a larger gauge chain to secure the big dog. This one might not hold much longer..</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px;">
Little Sparky had staggered around for a few minutes, stopping periodically to blink at Franklin with what felt like reproach. Then he flopped on his side on his pillow and closed his eyes.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px;">
Prue laid a hand on Franklin’s arm. She had to shout to be heard over Bruno’s barking. “I believe we have enough behavioral evidence to prove the PET device worked. The noise in here is giving me a headache. Let’s go sit in the garden.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px;">
Franklin let her lead him outside. They sat on a warm stone bench. The air was infused with the scent of roses. Bruno’s muffled barks were clearly audible, but at least he could think again. He removed his spectacles and scrubbed his face with one hand.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px;">
Prue’s prediction had been accurate. He would never again doubt her advice. Switching the dogs between bodies was possible, but inadvisable. Dog’s emotions were relatively straightforward and thus easy for him to read. The animals were obviously unhappy. Knowing that made his heart ache. They were also ill-suited for their new bodies. Sparky-the-terrier was an incorrigible mite, while Sparky-the-mastiff was a danger to himself and others. He shuddered to think what might happen if the mastiff got loose.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px;">
Transposing people was no doubt possible, but the end result would at best break their spirits. At worst it would drive them insane. He no longer felt driven to continue with these experiments. He did not want to hurt anyone.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px;">
He donned his spectacles and then turned to his wife. The love that shone in her eyes made him feel that everything would come out alright. “I would appreciate your assistance in choosing future projects,” he said gravely.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px;">
Prue grinned. She began to unpin her hair. To his surprise, he knew exactly what she was thinking. As her hair came down, his blood heated. When the last pin came out, she rose and offered him her hand. “Transposing Sparky and Bruno back into their own bodies can wait until tomorrow. I suspect they need some rest before undergoing a second procedure. Let’s have a lie-down before dinner.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px;">
He kissed the back of her hand, pretending he had misunderstood her intent. “You never take naps.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px;">
She arched her brows at him and slowly unbuttoned the high collar of her white blouse, then the next button, and the next. Franklin swallowed. He could see the shadow of her décolletage and hear his blood rush in his ears.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px;">
“I do not plan to sleep,” she said.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px;">
He surged to his feet. “Neither do I.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px;">
With that, he swept her into his arms. Her smile swelled his heart to bursting with love. As he carried her to the French doors that led to the library, he kissed her nose, her eyelids, her chin. After opening the doors, he carried her inside and deposited her on the brocade-covered settee. The air was heavy with the odors of leather and old books. He closed the doors and the heavy drapes for privacy.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px;">
“Why Dr. Stein,” Prue said from the shadows. “I do believe you have compromised me.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 32px;">
“Not yet,”he said, “but I am about to, Mrs. Stein.”<br />
<b style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 18.399999618530273px;"><br /></b>
<b style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 18.399999618530273px;">© 2013 Sarah Raplee All rights reserved</b></div>
Sarah Rapleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17076583905680420909noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707936029476973010.post-63609676121407993572015-01-02T11:14:00.000-08:002015-01-02T11:14:15.693-08:00We will close Free Reads from the Genre-istas to story posts in February of 2015.<br />
<br />This free original short story blog has had a wonderful run. Thank you, Dear Readers, for reading our stories, and for any feedback you have given us. We hope you've enjoyed them. For many of us, posting a story here was our first opportunity to get our work in front of people not connected to us. Believe me, we were thrilled when you showed up!<br />
<br />
As a farewell we will do Encore Postings of a story each Friday beginning Jan. 9th and continue until we close. Thank you for your interest and support!<br />
<br />
We will leave a page up on the blog with links to our websites. Each of us would love for you to stop by.<br />
<br />
Happy Reading!Sarah Rapleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17076583905680420909noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707936029476973010.post-5195836012960083592014-11-14T10:30:00.000-08:002014-11-14T10:30:02.386-08:00A Queen's Guardian <div align="CENTER" style="widows: 4;">
A QUEENS GUARDIAN</div>
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By</div>
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R.T. Drake</div>
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An hour later Lynette was sitting at the end of a table finishing
her breakfast. Though her irritation at Aidan was still present, what
she saw before her continued to <span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;">ebb
it steadily.</span> Around her was a magnificent dining wall,
something conjured up easily out of any mythical or fantasy setting.<br />
The vaulted ceiling had the same pattern of pink colored quartz
that ran through her chamber<span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;">s
spider-webbing </span>everywhere above. Along the walls were carved
images of other queens. The floor wa<span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;">s
highly polished to a high sh</span>een and even the doors were
beautifully carved with the Celtic Fire symbol running from the
bottom to the top of its over sized height.<br />
The table, easily twenty feet long, matched the high level of
detail that adorned the walls and doors. Inlaid at each place setting
was an intricate symbol representing who sat where. Hers had a crown
with the Celtic symbol of fire passing through it. Though she knew it
represented her office as queen, she had already associated it from
day one as being Aidan’s.<br />
On her right sat Aidan. The same symbol present etched in his
place sitting. For Eurade, who was on her left, the symbol for Wisdom
was where she sat. At the other place settings there were other
symbols, and though she could make out what some said, some confused
her for the translation made no sense.<br />
The hot shower she had enjoyed had also helped to relive some
irritation, even given the fact that he had been present. The water
she had been told was from a natural hot spring set far down into the
heart of Lirald. Piped through all sorts of stone cut conduits and
water ways it ran to every part of the stronghold, literally hundreds
of miles worth Ainsley had explained to her.<br />
Her wash room as it had been referred to was made up of a mixture
of rose quartz and stone, blending a sort of medieval atmosphere to a
luxurious feel. Checkered patterned squares made up the floor, grey
and rose, and everywhere items were either carved out of the quartz,
stone, or wood.<br />
Upon entering her dressing room she had been all but overwhelmed.
The room was easily a hundred feet squared and two stories. All along
the walls of the first floor were gowns and dresses of every shape,
style, size and color set in a progression from the most modern on
her right to the oldest, ones she had seen on museums and pictures,
to her right.<br />
The second floor she had been told was for undergarments,
accessories, shoes, jewelry, anything and everything else. In the
middle of the first floor, set a step up, was an over sized vanity
area complete with a three sided mirror. Beside it were several full
standing mirrors that allowed for viewing from all angles. Everywhere
she looked dark stained wood polished to a high shine stood out. In
short it was every little girls princess fairy tale come true.<br />
She had wanted to put on one of the more modern outfits but Aidan
made it very clear that she was to dress more formerly than modern
times. A queen was expected to not only look her best, but to act her
best as well. Given she was to be coronated in a much more lavish
gown, as well as meet others like her and what she now was, it was
best if she learned to handle herself in one of the older style
dresses.<br />
In the end she had chosen what she thought was a simple green day
dress. But it ended up being an almost monstrosity of a thing which
took entirely too long to put on as far as she was concerned. It was
not only difficult but awkward making her inquire as to whether or
not her coronation dress would be this difficult. Agata had merely
said her coronation dress would be worse.<br />
Right away she had been extremely grateful she had Agata and
Ainsley. With practiced ease they had shown her where and how to
hook, button, or tie what needed to be done. If not for them she
would probably still be figuring it out.<br />
Finishing off her morning drink, a mixture of berries, vegetables,
and Orange Juice, she looked from Eurade, who was looking at her, to
Aidan who was busy playing with something in his hands. The latter’s
food remained untouched.<br />
“When do I get the grand tour?” barely drawing a reaction from
Aidan.<br />
“Immediately following breakfast, My Lady. I will escort you
around until midday. After which I will need to depart for a short
time but I will return after a few hours.”<br />
“But I thought you always needed to be by my side. Isn’t that
what you said earlier?”<br />
Lifting himself up from the device in his hands he looked at her.<br />
“I will be with you almost all of the time. However I may have
over exaggerated slightly when I need to be by your side as I do have
other things to attend to, though almost all still involve you.”<br />
“Like what?”<br />
“Well for one making sure your appointments are properly set and
that all is going as it should in Lirald. I am the main one who
handles your business affairs, along with the help of your Ladies in
waiting.’<br />
‘Then there is the matter seeing to your Guardsmen as I am
their Captain. I am in charge of ensuring to the safety of not just
you but of all Banshee and Celts. Something I have done for a very
long time.”<br />
She could detect a level of sadness n his voice as he said this.<br />
‘The main focus of today will be preparing you for your meeting
with Lord Balor tomorrow. I need merely to double check a few things,
which will not take to long. And then I will be at your disposal in
any way you see fit.”<br />
“Anyway?” she said trying to make a joke.<br />
“Yes anyway you so desire, My Lady. Be it seeing your men, more
of your kingdom, anything.”<br />
She sat there aghast at how oblivious he was as he refocused on
the device in his hand.<br />
“What is that?”<br />
“This?” he gestured with his hand.<br />
“Yes that.”<br />
“A Prism Store.”<br />
“Which is what exactly?”<br />
Holding it up she saw it was composed of two crystals, one blue
and one white stuck together like a sandwich and about the size of a
pack of playing cards.<br />
“Getting back to our earlier conversation of crystals and quartz
storing all manners of energy and frequencies, data is no different.
You just merely link it to a specific frequency which can be than be
stored in the crystal.’<br />
‘Think of this as being a crystal version of a tablet or a smart phone. Save instead of a masses of electronic components and
wires it relies on just the two main crystals, one for power and one
for storage.’<br />
‘Activating the power crystal, the blue one, emits a steady
power supply, like a battery, which travels into the white one and
activates the frequency that is stored there. That frequency then
produces whatever is stored inside of it. In this case it gets
displayed on the white one and allows me to make and save any changes
to the data stored within that frequency. Touching it here,” he
said tapping the top, “allows me to create a virtual display that I
can work with.”<br />
A second later a white screen, the size of a medium television,
appeared in thin air looking like something straight out of a science
fiction movie. From her vantage point she saw notes, times, several
different symbols, as well as a keyboard. Raising his finger he
pointed to today’s date and touched on it in midair.<br />
“Selecting this entry here will bring up whatever it is I have
planned for you or I.’ he said as a second later the white screen
turned to a green one with times written on the one side and events
on the other. Still regarding it she heard him speak again.<br />
“I hope you didn’t think we were still using chisel and stone,
My Lady. We may be from separate worlds but we have achieved the same
level of technology, just in different ways. In many ways Celt
technology is simply older and not as intrusive to the world. I will
not say it is more advanced so much as I will say it is simpler to
use.’<br />
‘For example this,” he said holding up the Prism Store,
“represents one of the few technologies that managed to escape from
Celtius where Crystal and Quartz technology was the very base of
technology, much as your computers are today. It is a shame that a
lot was lost with it.”<br />
Pressing the top of the Prism store, the display went away. Once
it was gone he made sure he had her attention and then continued on.<br />
“On a personnel note, My Lady, I do need to take care of
personnel matters of my own, at least from time to time, like
training and even bathing. That is unless of course you want a smelly
and untrained Guardian around you all the time.’<br />
“In any event I assure you that on those rare occasions I am
gone, there will always be half a dozen of my most trusted Guardsmen
to protect you. I have hand selected them myself and should the need
arise, though it will more than likely not, they will protect you to
the very end, even if it means with their own life. DJ is the Officer
in charge of them, and she is one of my…sorry forgive me, one of
your best Guardsmen, My Lady.’<br />
‘So having said all that and having shown you a small bit of how
Celt Technology works, is there anything else you would like to know,
My Lady?”<br />
“What is Celtius?” she asked catching him slightly off guard.<br />
Looking over to Eurade she merely shrugged as she spoke.<br />
“She will learn eventually, best to tell her now and get it over
with in case Lord Balor broaches it tomorrow.”<br />
“Tell Me what?” she asked, curious.<br />
Placing the Prism Store on the table Aidan sat back and crossed
his arms.<br />
“Celtius was the first great Celtic Stronghold, though in
reality it was more a thriving, living, city. One that I have been
told has yet to see its equal, even in today’s modern world, by the
handful still alive who lived in it and remember it.”<br />
He watched her eyes go up in surprise.<br />
“It was located in the middle of what you know as Pangaea, back
then they did not have a name for the land mass, however your
histories know the city by another name, Atlantis.”<br />
If she was surprised before she was all but astounded now as she
leaned forward intently.<br />
“Atlantis? As in the Atlantis, the one that sank?”<br />
“Yes, My Lady, however it did not sink so much as it exploded,
though the whole sinking is somewhat true given what remains of it
are beneath the sea and sand. The explosion is what triggered the
breakup of Pangaea.’<br />
‘Celtius’s massive caverns of crystal and quartz that for
centuries had stored energy tore through the earth, creating the
great divides which would become the seas and oceans. The effects of
which are still being felt today.”<br />
“How so?” she asked beyond intrigued.<br />
“Your own scientists have said the continent’s keep drifting,
moving, and that one day they will eventually all return together as
one land mass. That is all because of Celtius.”<br />
“Have you been there?”<br />
“I have been to what remains, but I never set foot on the
original Celtius. I was not alive at that time and the Celtic Fire
did not exist.”<br />
He saw the look of pure confusion come over her eyes, eliciting a
smile from him, as she tried to wrap her head around what she was
being told. Eurade, also seeing this, spoke up.<br />
“As I said earlier answers will come, Lady Lynette. There much
you need to learn and precious little time so we do not want to
overburden you with it all at once. For now trust in us and your
Guardian, and be patient. You have the rest of time to learn
everything that is needed or not needed I assure you.”<br />
She was still digesting what she said when a man dressed in ornate
golden and red armor, came walking in, through the large double
doors. The only part visible on him being his face and even that was
halfway covered. Stopping just a few feet shy of Aidan he bowed
deeply before all three of them.<br />
“Guardsman Krie what is it?” asked Aidan.<br />
Standing back up the Guardsman responded.<br />
“Guardian Sioda has arrived, Guardian Aidan. I placed him in Her
Ladyship business room for now.”<br />
Lynette heard Aidan give a sigh of grief.<br />
“Thank You Krie. He is early. I should have guessed he would
be.”<br />
Bowing a second time the man turned and headed out while Aidan
turned towards her, his face showing he was not he was not enthused.<br />
“Is there a problem Aidan?”<br />
“Not exactly My Lady. I was just hoping to have more time to
prepare you for the meeting with him.”<br />
“Why would I need time to prepare to meet with this Sioda, and
who is he?” she asked narrowing here eyes for a second.<br />
Looking from her to Eurade then back Aidan’s smile was
humorless.<br />
“He is like me, My Lady, a Guardian.”<br />
“There are more than two Guardians?”
<br />
“There are many Guardians, My Lady. Though in our world and our
realms there are but four. Sioda is one of them and he is the
Guardian for Lord and Lady Balor.<br />
She swore she felt a head ache starting to come on.<br />
“Why is he the only one, and who are they?”<br />
“Almost all the Lords and Ladies of the different realms have
but one Guardian. You are one of the very few, if not only, that had
two, and that’s because you are mortal. Most other beings that have
the same responsibilities as you are not. As far as who they are,
they are the Rulers of the Underworld.”<br />
Closing her eyes hard for a second she sat there, trying her best
to keep the headache at bay. When she reopened her eyes she looked
directly at him.<br />
“As you said I have a lot to learn. That aside is there
something I need to worry about in regards to this Sioda? Do you not
trust him or something?”<br />
“On the contrary, My Lady, I trust him with my very life, just
not much more than that.”<br />
Her confusion escalated at his words and he did nothing but
compound it with his next question.<br />
“Tell me My Lady, what do you now of demons?”<br />
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<div align="CENTER" style="widows: 4;">
CHAPTER 2</div>
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Sioda stood at the large window looking out, waiting for her
ladyship and her Guardian to arrive. He knew Aidan had to be thrilled
to finally have outwitted his brother, though how he had done so, he
was very curious to find out.<br />
Lasair had proven over the centuries a far greater opponent than
any of them had ever thought possible, troubling even his own Lord.
This in its own right was an incredible accomplishment for the fallen
Guardian considering who his lord was, and what he had seen.<br />
The mortals of this realm had given his lord many names over their
small time in the universe. Lucifer, Satan, the devil, though in
truth none of these bothered his lord. He always accepted that he
would be the less favorable one amongst their lore and he loved them
just the same. His Lord along with Lady Lynette and Lord Cicolluis
were sworn to their protection always and forever. And despite what
the Mortal lore said, his lord would have it no other way.<br />
Seeing the gray sky and green laced mountains before him he
admitted that in some ways he could appreciate the beauty of this
realm. It was in its own sense astonishing even though he would never
want to live here.<br />
It was to clean, too pure, and too fresh for his liking. He much
preferred the sulfur smell upon the air of his own realm, the rolling
mountains of red, and the valleys of purple and brown trees instead
of this green foliage that seemed to spring up anywhere and
everywhere.<br />
It was the same with the temperature of this realm. With the
exception of its desert areas, which represented the temperature of
his homeland the best, this realm was to cold. His realm, the
Underworld, offered higher temperatures and drier air, not at all
like this Oregon weather where it always seemed to either be cold or
raining, or both. Luckily Lirald had responded to him and had raised
the temperature for him a bit. Not a lot, but enough that it provided
some relief.<br />
A sound from behind brought his attention back. Turning he looked
first upon Aidan, who nodded in a behave manor, and then the person
he had been sent to see, Lady Lynette. She was as radiant as it was
rumored. Her fair skin, green eyes, and fiery red hair were a sight
to behold, especially in the green dress she was wearing. The latter
instantly reminding him of his home and at once let him know that
behaving would be difficult.<br />
As the two came in he took a knee before her, lowering his head
down. Tradition and custom only demand he bow, but he and his Masters
felt beyond elated that the middle Realm would once again have a
queen. And as such she should be treated with extra courtesy giving
it had been so long.<br />
“Lady Lynette, I am Sioda, Guardian to Lord and Lady Balor,
protectors of the underworld. I have come at their request to confirm
your council with them tomorrow, and to present to you this token of
friendship.” pausing he produced a baseball sized ruby from a large
pouch at his side. “This gift, called a Blood Tear, comes from my
Lord and Lady in hopes that the bonds between our two worlds can once
again come to pass, thrive, and continue as they once did so long
ago.”<br />
Lynette stood where she was, still coming to accept what it was
she was seeing. Aidan had warned her but even then it paled in
comparison. She was suddenly grateful Sioda’s head was down
otherwise he would have caught her staring quite intently at him.<br />
Even though he was kneeling, had he been looking straight ahead
they would have been eye to eye. He was much not only taller than
Aidan and nearly twice as wide. And though she got over this within
seconds, it was the rest she saw that would take her a few more
visits to do so.<br />
His skin was redder than the worst sunburn she had ever seen, so
red in fact that everything else around him seemed to simply vanish
from eye site. His eyes were a deep screaming yellow when she had
seen them and if that were not enough, he had long black horns that
extended out from the front his head easily a foot. He was the very
epitome what she had always imagined a demon would look like.<br />
Dressed in nothing but a black leather kilt, with a strap going
up and over his right shoulder, his enlarged and bulking torso looked
like something out of a comic book with muscles bulging everywhere.
Most women she knew would be drooling over six pack abs his size, but
for her it was simply too much. She always had preferred natural
strength and definition rather than muscle upon muscle. Instead she
found the contrast of his black horns and kilt against the red of his
skin taking front stage.<br />
“Sioda,” began Aidan interrupting her thoughts. “Her
Ladyship thanks you and your lord and lady for their gracious gift.
She also would like to assure you, and them, that she will meet with
them on the morrow as planned.”<br />
“That is very wonderful to here, my old friend.” Said Sioda as
he stood back up, reaching easily eight feet in height. “Both Lord
and Lady Balor will be extremely pleased.” He said flashing a smile
revealing rows of sharp teeth.<br />
Without realizing it Lynette’s eyes drifted back to his horns,
there black sheen almost mesmerizing, I mean they were horns.<br />
“Do you like them, My Lady?” Sioda asked her, catching her
completely off guard.<br />
Looking downward in shame she realized fully how rude she must
have come off.
<br />
“Please forgive me, Sioda, I was raised better than to stare. I
admit I find them fascinating but that is no excuse for my behavior.”<br />
“No doubt you do My Lady, and I assure you I take no offense.
After all it is not every day a mortal, a Celt, such as you meets one
of my kind.” He paused stepping slightly closer, “Would you like
to touch them, My Lady? I assure you it is a very ….intimate
experience, matched at most by only three other equally satisfying
experiences, I assure you.”<br />
Lynette could not help but notice the emphasis on the words.
Blinking several times she suddenly wondered if she had just been hit
upon by a demon. Before she could answer it for herself Aidan’s
voice once again filled the room.<br />
“I assure you, Sioda, her Ladyship has no desire to touch your
horns.. Save such questions for others.”<br />
Taken back somewhat Sioda bowed slightly as he feigned being hurt.<br />
“You mistake my intentions Aidan. I merely wanted to ….maximize
her ladyship’s first experience with a demon.”<br />
“I’m sure you would like nothing more, however as we are
pressed for time, I will ask is there anything else you needed to
deliver, Sioda?” his tone already implying he knew the answer.<br />
“Not at all, old friend, save I look forward to seeing the two
of you again tomorrow.”<br />
“As do we, allow me to see you out.” said Aidan directing
Sioda towards the door with his hand.<br />
Bowing towards Lynette, Sioda bid farewell before allowing him to
be walked out the door. Once there Aidan told Lynette he would be but
a moment, saying he had to discuss some final plans regarding
tomorrow’s visit with his fellow Guardian.<br />
An understanding nod from her and a door closed later and Aidan
was wheeling on his life time friend. Even though Sioda was the
larger of the two it was Aidan who seemed to suddenly grow in
stature.<br />
“She hasn’t been out of the Binding Ritual for more than a few
hours and already you are trying to woo her?”<br />
“What can I say old friend,” started Sioda shrugging one
shoulder and leaning against the nearest wall. “It’s the devil in
me.”<br />
Letting out a low moan and shaking his head from side to side
Aidan responded.<br />
“That was horribly bad Sioda, even for you.”<br />
“Well what do you expect Aidan. She is a remarkably beautiful
woman. Even Lord Cicolluis, being the prude he is, would have a hard
time not seeing it.”<br />
“I will never understand your kind Sioda. Do you always think
with your lower half?”<br />
“Most of the time, but not always, besides your kind stumps me
just as often. How can you possibly look at her and deny such beauty?
Granted our tastes are as diverse as we are yet it has never once
stopped us from being the greatest of friends and not just comrades
in arms. We accept and look past those differences, Wynne’s
included.”<br />
“I never once denied how beautiful she was.”<br />
Pausing Sioda removed himself from the wall and walked towards his
friend.<br />
“I do wonder though, Aidan, how did you gain the upper hand
against your brother? I have been thinking on it since I heard there
was to be a queen again, yet I cannot figure out for the life of me
how you did it.”<br />
Aidan looked to the side and physically exhaled before speaking.<br />
“I sought her out ten years ago.”<br />
“You?” astonishment came to Sioda’s face and voice. “You
broke the most sacred of the Middle Realm’s Guardian Oath? The same
one you have lived by since the Celtic Fire gave you life?”<br />
“The same.” Aidan said simply, already tired with where this
was going.<br />
“A Guardian does not interfere with a Queens’s choice, she
alone must choose. That is what is written Aidan, yet you broke that?<br />
“So has Lasair hundreds, if not thousand’s of times. Don’t
forget also is it written that a Guardian’s first and last duty is
to the queen, that they must always do whatever it takes to protect
her. And of all people to throw the Guardians code in my face it
should not be you Sioda.”<br />
Raising his hands slightly Sioda became more passive.<br />
“I meant no offense. I just never thought you capable of doing
such a thing. I admit I am proud of you for doing so, especially as I
am inherently the rule breaker between us, have the scars in some
cases to prove it. But for you to do so, that dear friend, is not
like you at all.’<br />
‘Everyone knows that of the two guardians of the Middle Realm
the most resolute about the code, the one who could always be counted
on to not break it was you. Lasair mighty and once honorable as he
may have been did not give two scones about the code as you did. And
yet you broke it of your own free will.”<br />
“I didn’t break it.” interjected Aidan. “I merely bent
it.”<br />
“Bent it? How Exactly does one bend something that is written?”<br />
“I told her that if someone, I didn’t say who, ever asked her
to say there name in exchange for help or aid of any kind, to say
mine instead. I then told her my name. Had I mentioned Lasair’s
name, then yes that would have been breaking it.”<br />
Sioda stood before his old friend, looking at him as if for the
first time.<br />
“Why this one when there has been so many others?” Sioda asked
his eyes narrowing awhile he crossed his arms over his chest while
Aidan all but avoided looking at him. “You could have helped any of
the other would be queen’s this way, yet you did not, why her?”
his tone almost demanding.<br />
“I did not think of it until her, which sits squarely on my
shoulders for failing the ones that fell to Lasair. Additionally as
all of the Etheral’s know my, our, brother has a master plan. It’s
just no one knows what it is. In order for him to reveal his plan, we
needed a queen. Hence I did what I did.”<br />
Sioda’s look said he was not convinced.<br />
“A good excuse. And one I’m sure most would believe. But I
know you and I know there’s something more, something you’re not
saying.”<br />
Aidan rolled his eyes and turned to head back into the room.<br />
“I have to get back to her ladyship….”<br />
“She’s the one Eurade spoke of isn’t she?” Sioda blurted
just above a whisper.<br />
Aidan stopped dead in his tracks, letting Sioda know the answer.<br />
“She did say you would find love again this century. Is that
what this is about? Was that old spinster right? I mean Eurade has
yet to be wrong so is she the one?”<br />
Aidan reached for the door handle while Sioda continued.<br />
“Aidan, you know I love Eurade as if she were my very own
mother. Hell she’s the closest thing any of us Guardians of the
three realms has to one. But please tell me this, would be queen, is
not the one. Please tell me that for once she is wrong.”<br />
Aidan’s head lowered slightly as Sioda’s gut hit the floor.
The air between them changed filling with a sadness neither wanted to
speak of<br />
“Aidan, I am so sorry.”<br />
Without turning Aidan spoke.<br />
“It matters not. Eurade’s vision has come to pass. I found
love again. But I will not be blinded by it like I was last time,
with her. That was a mistake.”<br />
“Her?” Sioda’s tone increasing as he spoke. “Is that what
you call Queen Lirald now, is simply her? How dare you tarnish her
memory, what you two once had. And since when in all the realms is
love a Mistake?”<br />
Turning and looking directly at Sioda, Aidan’s eyes were hard
and set.<br />
“Love is a mistake when it costs you almost everything, when it
almost destroys your realm. When it blinds you to what is happening
right in front of you. But most of all love is a mistake when it
makes you fail to protect the one thing you swore you always would.”
Pausing he looked at Sioda and let out a deep breath. “But as I
said, it does not matter. A Queen is what Lady Lynette will be. And
her Guardian is what I will be, nothing less, and nothing more.”<br />
“Aidan…”
<br />
“Enough Sioda.” said Aidan, silencing Sioda with his tone.
“With what is at stake for all three of our realms she cannot
afford to have a Guardian who is incapable of doing his job, who is
blinded like last time. That’s what almost destroyed the middle
realm and all of us to begin with. I will not let that happen again
and as such she can never know how I feel.”<br />
“And how is that Aidan?”<br />
‘That I have watched her repeatedly since that day ten years ago
bordering that fine line between obsession and madness. That I can
recall every single line and crease of her face, determine her very
mood by the look of her eyes, whenever I see her.’<br />
‘She cannot know that she is in my dreams every night. That to
simply breathe in her scent sends me through the highest of clouds I
ever thought possible, even more than with Queen Lirald. To do so
would be condemning her to certain death. And one queen, let alone
love, lost in even our lifetimes is more than anyone should have to
bear. But to do so twice would kill even me.”<br />
“But it is love, Aidan, one of the two most powerful forces in
the universe. For you to deny yourself is unimaginable. We all strive
for it, even I do. Granted I have felt it many times, usually with
several ladies at once, but I am pretty sure it is love I feel at
those times. Whether for me or them I am unsure, I admit.”<br />
The joke garnered a snicker out of Aidan before he his face got
somber again.<br />
“I have never asked anything of our friendship Sioda, save this.
You will say nothing to anyone.”<br />
Watching as Sioda threw his head to the side he could see his
friend was not happy<br />
“Aidan how could you? As your friend and another older brother
mind you, how can you impose that on me?”<br />
“With a heavy heart. For it is that connection that I am
counting on to ensure you say nothing.”<br />
Sioda regarded his friend, shaking his head sideways in the
process before speaking again.<br />
“Have you told Wynne yet?”<br />
“No. But when I do I will ask the same of him as I do of you.”<br />
Breathing in deeply Sioda looked off to the side before exhaling
heavily. When he faced Aidan again his face was stone.<br />
“A good friend and brother you are Aidan, but a better Guardian
there is not. You would forsake your own happiness for her?”<br />
“That is what a Guardian does. There are more important matters
at stake here than how I feel. More important matters than how an
Oracle, who I love and respect the same as you do, says I should
feel.”<br />
A silence fell between them, one that Sioda had never experienced
before. He had always known that Aidan would do whatever it took to
make right what he blamed himself for. He had just never expected the
cost to be so high.<br />
“I understand. And though I do not wish to, I shall honor your
request… for now. But I reserve the right to not do so later. You
may be inclined to make yourself suffer for all eternity if need be.
However those of us who care for you are not so inclined. Having
spoken my brief peace, I will say I look forward to seeing you and
her ladyship tomorrow.”<br />
After some words of farewell and with a bow Sioda was gone,
leaving Aidan wondering upon the words spoken between them. He had no
doubt that Sioda would keep his word, but he also knew that in the
history of the True Celts no one had ever been able to defy what an
Oracle had prophesied. And of all the Oracles, Eurade had yet to be
proven wrong in her visions, even once. Aidan had a feeling this is
what Sioda was banking on when he said for now.<br />
He would be the first, Aidan thought, turning back to the meeting
room and thinking on who lay within. Other Oracles had been known to
be wrong. Though it was so rare you had a better chance of breathing
water, but still they had been wrong. And surely by now Eurade was
due to be wrong at least once, preferably soon he hoped.<br />
Focusing his thoughts on how he was a Guardian and would never be
anything more to Lady Lynette he reached for the handle and entered
the room. It was difficult to near impossible to keep thinking this
when he saw her warm smile at him.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
maepenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12430992125125553600noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707936029476973010.post-19658013747311461522014-11-07T00:00:00.000-08:002014-11-07T00:00:00.268-08:00Grave Pledge<br />
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<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">The
last thing Dafdd wanted to do was attend Gaelan's funeral services.
The Ettarian had been like a father to him after his own parents were
massacred in a mistaken hunt for vampires. The need for blood to
sustain them may be similar, but the need to kill strictly belonged
to the Vampires. </span></span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Unfortunately, the humans didn’t understand that
difference. They often mistook one of his race for the hated and
feared Vampire. He twisted his neck relieved as some of the pressure
released with the audible pops. He shook his hands out releasing the
bent up energy swirling inside just waiting for a moment to be let
out. Dafdd had never thought this day would come. </span></span>
</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">The
sounds of mourners mixed with the rapid beating of the devices that
kept the Ettarian graveyard above the clouds in the dark midnight
sky. For a split second he thought about the humans below in the city
of London and wondered if any of them had ever glimpsed the floating
City of the Dead. He highly doubted it. His race kept their presence
secret. </span></span>
</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">One
soft voice separated itself from the rest. A female. Human. The words
were indistinct but the husky timbre pierced straight to his stomach.
Daffd frowned. What would a human be doing up here? It wasn't
uncommon for an Ettari to invite humans into their homes, though it
was usually as servants and rarely as friends. To bring one to the
secret of this place was unthinkable. The appearance of a human, any
human, on the City of the Dead had to have all seven Councils
approval and the approval of the Seer. He’d never heard of a human
allowed to attend one of their funeral rituals. </span></span>
</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">He
glided over the mechanical ground covered with grass. Just one of the
many mysteries of the place. The large stone and metal mausoluems
stood guard against any intruders. Gargoyles peeked from the top of
several. A wing tip moved guiding the way to the most current event. </span></span>
</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Daffd
nodded his acceptance. Despite popular human thought Gargoyles were
real beings. They hid in the shadows where they watched and recorded
history. It was unusual to see so many in one place. But then again,
Gaelan had had many connections within the borderworlds. </span></span>
</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">"Daffd.
It is good to see you. Come. We shouldn't keep everyone waiting."
</span></span>
</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Daffd
looked to his left and smiled slightly. The soft gentle voice
belonged to the Seer. She still looked young, well youngish,
considering her great great age. The rumors going around put her at
the scene when the first Ettarian was created by the Gods. Of course
he didn't believe it anymore than the creation myth they were all
taught as children. She slipped her age spotted thin arm around his
and led him deeper into the city. </span></span>
</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">The
hum of the floating disk below them reverberated against his feet.
The white marble statues mixed with the black granite headstones and
the large dark iron crypts. He paused as they approached the crowd of
mourners. </span></span>
</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Gaelan
hadn't skimped on his mausoleum. The gleaming copper edifice stood
taller than a three story house with a crystal dome encased at the
top. The black iron filigree decorations along the edges gave it an
elegant look among the stone statues. A large group of people stood
around the entrance to the mausoleum. Like the red sea the group
parted to let him and the seer pass through. </span></span>
</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Despite
what the humans might think, their bodies did not turn to ash when
they died. If left in the earth, their bodies decayed the same way as
anything else. But up here, in the sky, the bodies remained very
nearly the same as when they had lived. His heart clutched his ribs
when they stopped at the opening. Gaelan lay in all his glory, an
Ettarian Warrior of renown, his claymore clutched in his clasped
hands over his armor clad chest. The grey of his once alive skin and
the stillness of his once vibrant body permeated Daffd's disbelief.</span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">His
knees almost went out from beneath him. Only the hold of the Seer on
his arm kept him upright. The dull gleam of Gaelan's sword bounced
candle light around the room. Daffd's gaze narrowed focusing on the
play of the golden rays. Blackness swallowing one such light drew his
gaze to the huddled form on the floor. Black taffeta day dress with a
tiny black top hat with a veil over her face. The standard funeral
wear. Movement near the sarcophagus drew his attention to the Seer as
she readied to proceed over the ritual. Grief unlike anything he'd
felt before filled him. Tears clouded his eyes. His heart stopped. </span></span>
</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">His
gaze returned to the woman who huddled on the floor. No sound emerged
from her but the agony pouring out of her told him she had meant more
to Gaelan and he to her than anyone else on this moving death disk.
Possibly even more than him and Gaelan had meant to each other. The
woman's head lifted. </span></span>
</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Daffd
froze. The breath caught in his lungs. The air between them charged
with static electricity. Her vibrant turquoise eyes speared straight
through to his very soul. Oh Damn! He shook his head, dragging his
gaze away from hers. There was no way she was his soul companion. Who
the hell was she? Where had she come from?</span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">The
others gathered around anxiously waiting to present their offerings
for Gaelan's journey to the next world. Daffd clutched the small
glass jar of tears he'd bottled upon hearing of his death. He glanced
at the woman to see what she had brought. Her pale hands clenched
tight to her stomach. </span></span>
</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">"As
Gaelan lived so did he die. With honor, integrity and love." The
Seer's voice, though hushed, boomed across the silent tomb. "Who
sacrifices for his journey to the next world?" </span></span>
</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">"I
sacrifice my coin so that he may buy whatever he may need."
Madam Levoy spoke pushing her way to the front. She laid the large
bag of gold coins near the bottom of the sarcophagus. </span></span>
</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;">"I
sacrifice grain from my land so that Gaelan may have plenty to eat."
A sheaf of wheat stalks were laid next.</span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">"I
sacrifice my candle so that he may have light to see." </span></span>
</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Grief
welled up choking her. Was this what the rest of her life would feel
like? A hazy mix of despair and numbness? </span></span>
</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Mallory
crouched on the cold metal floor. Drafts floating around the room
were nothing more than fingers of fog around her already freezing
body. Gaelan stood in the shadows his translucent form barely visible
in the darkness. If only her voice would work. She snorted. Like
anyone would believe her. No one believed she saw and communicated
with spirits, even the people among Gaelan's race didn't believe her.
</span></span>
</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">As
if knowing what was going through her head, Gaelan slid his haunted
blue gaze to the man standing in the shadows of the doorway. Her eyes
followed. The stranger was very handsome in a rugged sort of way. Of
course being an Ettarian his skin was a flawless coppery tan. His
crystal blue eyes held the same sadness that echoed in her chest. A
transparent woman stood just behind him to the left. Her soft brown
eyes never leaving his continence. He must be Daffd. </span></span>
</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Drawing
her gaze away from the man who was destined to be her caretaker,
Mallory tried to concentrate on the ritual before her. Chills chased
across her skin. The sense that someone was watching her threw her
off. She peeked through her lashes running her gaze across the group
of mourners lining up with their sacrifices. Her gaze stopped on
Daffd at the end of the line. Her stomach clenched. Her heart
pounded. Finally, emotion pried its way into her chest. Her breath
puffed an erratic staccato. Her knees trembled, barely holding up her
weight. </span></span>
</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Warm
arms slipped around her corset and taffeta clad waist. Inhailing
deeply, the scent of cinnamon poured into her very soul. The weakness
in her legs grew less and less until she was able to stand on her
own. She turned to whisper a thank you to her rescuer and found
herself face to face with Him. She felt a blush of heat stain her
pallid cheeks and let her lashes drift down. </span></span>
</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">"I
sacrifice my tears so that he may know sorrow, but not feel the loneliness of his passing." Daffd spoke slowly releasing her. </span></span>
</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;">His
words blew heat into her and electricity sparked through her body as
his hand scraped hers. She shivered. He settled a small clear glass
bottle within the other offerings.</span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">She
stared at the long line of offerings ringing the bottom of the crypt.
Hollowly she wondered when she passed if anyone would know or care.
She was human after all, so it wouldn't be long before she moved on
to the next world. She believed there was a next world with every
beat of her heart. She saw it every time she looked outside her
bedroom window. Would Daffd mourn her death as much as he mourned his
mentor and father figure? Would any of his people accept her into
their world as Gaelan had? A slight nudge against her arm turned her
attention back to the Seer. She held her hand out over Gaelan's ashen
body. </span></span>
</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">"I
sacrifice my blood so that milord Gaelan will be nourished in the
next world." She pushed out barely more than a whisper. </span></span>
</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Mallory
drew the little pen knife she always carried across her palm.
Lightening fast pain speared her hand up through her arm. Blood
gushed from the wound covering Gaelan's hands and sword. The room
filled with a collective gasp. Ignoring the whispered words of shock,
she concentrated on the blood sliding down the silvered blade to drip
onto the metal floor. Each drop echoed within her pounding head. </span></span>
</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">"That's
enough little one." The Seer's whispered compassion surrounded
her. </span></span>
</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Mallory
blinked. Gaelan nodded his approval. She clasped her handkerchief
over the wound and stepped back. Daffd and another man she'd only
seen once moved forward. The harsh grinding of stone against stone
rumbled through the mausoleum as they slid the top closed. She
gasped. The room closed in and grew so dark nothing but a tiny
glimmer of blue illuminated the space. She blinked and the room was
once again filled with soft gas light. </span></span>
</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;">"Thank
you Seer for leading this farewell ritual. Gaelan would have liked
it." Daffd's voice broke over the crowd like a wave on the
seashore. Everyone's attention turned to him and the Seer.</span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;">"I
am honored as always to perform such a sacred ritual. I was asked to
perform another ritual as well."</span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">The
room hushed. Mallory kept her head down fearing the repercussions of
the next few minutes. Could she convince Daffd to forgo this decision
for another few years? No. she shook her head. That would be asking
him to give up his livelihood and the respect his fellow Ettarians
had for him. Daffd ran his gaze across the crowd before stopping at
her. She couldn't pull her gaze away from his crystal blues. Would
Daffd treat her as well as Gaelan had? Gaelan had been her whole
world since she was five. Only Gaelan and the Seer had been able to
teach her how to interact with the spirits she saw everywhere. </span></span>
</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i>Be
brave sweet Mallory. And trust me.</i></span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Gaelan's
whispered words breathed cold air across her cheek. She spun around
only to see him standing in the shadows near a bright blue portal of
light. He was waiting to see things through before he crossed. The
Seer grasped her uninjured arm gently pulling her back to what was
about to happen. A piece of her wanted to shout to the world that she
wasn't a piece of jewelry to be handed off, but the anger couldn't
break past the knowledge that it wouldn't matter what she said. It
never did.</span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;">"It
was Gaelan's last wish for his charge, Mallory Iverness, and his long
time friend, Daffd, to bond."</span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">"What!"
Daffd's startled exclamation filled the room. </span></span>
</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="page-break-before: always; page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Daffd
couldn't believe what he was hearing. The Seer must have mistaken
what Gaelan had said. Gaelan knew he'd never again connect with
another woman. He'd lost the only woman he'd ever love many years
ago. He took a step back shaking his head. <i>No. It didn't matter how
much he'd loved and respected Gaelan. He wasn't going to do that
again. He couldn't. </i>The last time had destroyed him. He still wasn't
the same. </span></span>
</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">He
froze when the Seer approached him. He could do nothing against her
hazy white eyes that saw more than anyone cared to admit. Her cold,
thinly skinned hand took his own and led him back to the human. The
Seer motioned for the female's hand. Without hesitation the woman, no
Mallory, put her wounded hand in the old woman's. He stared down at
the bloody cloth dread filling him. He tugged back like a reticent
child. The Seer snapped around to him as Mallory's head dropped. A
crystal stream fell like a waterfall over Mallory's delicate pale
cheeks. </span></span>
</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">His
heart clenched. A piece of the wall he'd built up after Ishma's death
shattered. He grabbed his chest uncertain what was happening here.
What were the odds that her grief would break through the barrier
he'd erected? Daffd shook his head. He wouldn't give in to the need
to comfort her. Even if Gaelan had cared for her, it didn't mean he
had to. </span></span>
</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;">"I
have seen into the soul of each of these young people and have found
a future to be proud of." The Seer looked at Mallory who raised
her gaze slightly. "Do you honor Lord Gaelan's last wishes?"</span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">"I
willing put myself into the custody of Lord Gaelan's most trusted
friend." </span></span>
</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Her
voice was soft, so soft only one of his kind would be able to hear
it. The Seer turned to him but the words were ash in his mouth. He
shook his head. He couldn't. Could he? What did the seer see that he
was oblivious to? He looked down on the small woman. She barely
reached his chest. Her thin bones could snap so easily under his
hands. Her pallid skin told him she didn't get out much. Why? Was she
dying already and Gaelan had only needed someone to care for her in
her last days? Yet, that delicate aura brought out his protective
instincts. She was beautiful in a lost soul type of way. </span></span>
</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Daffd
shifted. The Seer stood next to Mallory compassion on her wizened
face. The Seer knew everything about everyone. She had told him that
Ishma wouldn't be there for him. He hadn't believed her then. If he'd
been able to convince her to transform into Ettari she'd still be
with him. The Seer believed Mallory would fit him. She must believe
Mallory was his soul companion or she wouldn't match them. Had Gaelan
known? </span></span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">No. Only an Ettarian will know the other half of his soul. He
ran his gaze over Mallroy again with a more critical eye. Most of her
body was covered by the black taffeta mourning gown. Her black hair
was pinned tightly to her head allowing the tiny hat to sit like a
crown. It was her turquoise eyes that always drew him back to her
face. </span></span>
</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Her
gaze shifted to look behind him to the right. He turned his head and
though he didn't see anything in the physical space the atmosphere
was different. Colder and more dense than the rest of the building.</span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;">"What
do you see?" Daffd asked.</span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="page-break-before: always; page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Mallory
whipped her head to stare up at Daffd. Could she really tell him?
Expose the secret Gaelan and she had worked so hard to keep? Her body
trembled. Bile pushed its way up her burning throat. He looked so
honest. And scared. About as terrified as she felt. She swept the
room of people lingering. If she told him here, now, would it ruin
his future? Would it ruin his standing in his society? Gaelan had
constantly told her the Ettarian society respected the gifted, but
there had been incidents in the past that threw her into trouble for what she did. His hand on hers sparked energy deep within her. She
turned back to him surprised to find his intense gaze completely
centered on her. </span></span>
</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Gaelan
had told her a little about Daffd's past. She knew he had lost a love
one many years ago. Gaelan had often compared her to Ishma, but
despite what Gaelan had thought she wasn't Ishma reincarnated.
Ishma, as that must be the spirit who stood just behind Daffd, nodded
to Mallory as if to encourage her to confess the sin of her black
soul. </span></span>
</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Chills
raised goosebumps along her exposed skin. She glanced back at Gaelan
to see him nod as well. Mallory had learned that the spirits had the
knowledge of the cosmos within their grasp. She'd learned to trust
the spirit's guidance. </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Taking a deep breath and trusting in their
knowledge, Mallory poured the deep darkness of her soul to the people
standing witness.</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;">"Lord
Gaelan. I see Gaelan waiting to continue on his journey."</span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">The
room gasped and whispers echoed. Each astonished voice going round
and round until the only thing holding her steady was the Seer's
grip. Daffd turned to look at the corner where her gaze kept
straying. His black brows pulled down in a frown creating lines in
his forehead. She had the insane urge to reach up and smooth the
expression away. Her heart thudded against her rib-cage. Was this the
emotion Gaelan had spoken about? Her hands tingled as the whispered
words bouncing around them settled into the pit of her stomach. </span></span>
</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;">"I
don't see anything but shadows."</span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;">"She's
lying."</span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;">"Why
would she lie? She was already given blessing. You can't deny a
deathbed request."</span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;">"She
is human. Humans lie and cheat. It's their very nature."</span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;">"She's
ill. That must explain the visions."</span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;">"Poor
poor thing. She's delusional."</span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Mallory
gulped back the vile unrespectful things she wanted to hurl at the
whispers. The once brave part of her began to crumble. The woman
stepped around Daffd sympathy in her pale brown eyes and soft smile.
Mallory let her hand slip from the Seer's grip. Mallory's stomach
tightened with every second of silence from Daffd. Her world, once
secure and somewhat safe, crashed all around her. Just like the day
her parents had died in the steamship crash. No one wanted her. No
one believed her. More scalding hot tears fell free from her closed
eyes. </span></span>
</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">A
warm hand cupped her chin. Had a plate in the floor malfunctioned?
The power of the touch shot through her. Her body sang like an
electrical wire put directly to her veins. Her chest rose with her
inhailed breath and stopped. It wouldn't release. Oh god, she was
going to die right here. Her chin rose on the calloused hand until
her gaze collided with Daffd's. His face showed just as much shock as
she felt. </span></span>
</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;">"I
do not see him-"</span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;">"No
one ever sees them. Just me."</span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;">"That
must be very terrifying." His soft words held tenderness. Almost
as if he was talking to a child confessing a broken heart.</span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Mallory
shrugged not sure how to voice the bone chilling fear that had crept
into every crevice of her life. At first it had just been the
nightmares. Then the nightmares had morphed into night terrors, and
then sleep walking had taken over. Then they'd started to happen
during the day time when she was awake. This was the most peaceful
she'd felt in ages. The dead here were definitely the dead. It said a
lot about their ritual. </span></span>
</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;">"You're
human." He made it a statement, not the question she knew he was
fishing for.</span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;">"Yes,
milord. Pure human all the way back. No fairy blood or otherwise in
any of my family tree."</span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;">"Hmm...
Are there any other spirits here?"</span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Mallory
looked down. She really didn't want to have this conversation here.
She didn't want to bring up his past, a very personal past, in front
of other people. She would rather bring Ishma up in private. </span></span>
</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;">"Our
people respect those with abilities. Do not be afraid to say what you
see." Daffd's gentle words and the slight squeeze of his fingers
against her chin encouraged her. Taking another deep breath and
clenching her fingers tightly together she nodded.</span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;">"The
City of the Dead is relatively quiet, milord." She squeaked out,
avoiding his gaze.</span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;">"But?"</span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;">She
swallowed the lump rising in her throat. Peeking through her lashes
Mallory tried to hide the shivers coursing through her. The dead
almost always left a visible coldness in her. It was so constant now
that she didn't know how to be warm anymore. Ishma smiled and nodded,
gliding close to her. Mallory felt her heart rate grow rapid.
Darkness tinged the edge of her eyesight. Her gaze locked on to Ishma
and her sultry voice echoed in her mind.</span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i>Tell
him. He is a good man, but there was nothing he could do. I wasn't
his soul companion. I never would have been.</i></span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Sadness
slid over her like an oily substance. Her lips trembled. She shook
her head. He tightened his fingers enough to bring him to her
attention again. His fingers let go on her chin but slid a caress
over her cheek. Mallory didn't think he even knew he was touching her
so lovingly. A little of her anxiety melted with the touch. </span></span>
</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;">"What
is it?"</span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;">"A
woman. She...she...she..."</span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">"Wh</span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><i>o
</i></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">is
she with?"</span></span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Mallory
looked up at him hoping he'd see the honesty in her eyes. "You."</span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;">He
gasped, his hand dropping to his side. He looked around but just as
before he couldn't see her. "What did she say?" He choked.</span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;">"She
said you are a good man. And there was nothing you could do. She says
she wasn't your soul companion."</span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Daffd
shook his head tears sliding freely now. "No, she wasn't. She
always told me that, but I didn't listen. Do you know what a soul
companion is?"</span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Mallory
nodded. "Gaelan explained it to me. A soul companion is the
other half of your soul. You cannot be a complete person without her.
And she can't be whole without you."</span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">"Now
you see what I saw." The Seer spoke taking their hands again. </span></span>
</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Mallory
felt his gaze all the way through her soul. </span></span>
</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;">"Who
witnesses this couple in the bonding ritual?"</span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">One
lone voice sent an "Aye" in the now silent tomb. Daffd
pulled her closer as if wanting to protect her from the prejudice of
his people. Which was ridiculous. He didn't even know her. He only
knew a tiny portion of her secret. Not even Gaelan had been able to
guess how alone she felt. The Seer gripped her hand tenderly. Mallory
looked into the old woman's gaze. The Seer had known. And she was
gifting her with a future. How strange it was to think she could have
a future. Especially a happy one. </span></span>
</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;">"I
willingly put myself into the custody of Lord Gaelan's most trusted
friend, Daffd." Mallory's voice came out stronger though not by
much.</span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The
room went silent anxiously waiting for Daffd's response. "I
willing accept into my care, Gaelan's charge, Mallory."</span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The
room breathed again. The Seer unwrapped her wounded hand. Taking the
pen knife from Mallory, she sliced a line across Daffd's palm. She
set Mallory's still bleeding palm on top of his.</span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;">"I
present our newest bonded couple, Mallory and Daffd."</span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">The
room rumbled beneath their feet. The crowd screamed and scrambled to
the safety of outside leaving them alone. Daffd collected her close
to him trying to protect her. Heat filled her chasing the chills
away. Hot air whipped around them like a hurricane at sea. Her hat
flew off. Her hair thrown out of its many pins cocooned them. Her
heart lurched out of her chest reaching for something only he seemed
able to give. They both clutched at their chests, their eyes large in
their faces. Waves of fire washed over her sliding into all the
crevices that had been cold for so long. </span></span>
</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Just
as sudden, it stopped. The room was just as it had been, yet
everything was different. Mallory looked to the back corner. The
woman now stood with Gaelan. They both looked happy. The blue light
of the portal widened and pierced the darkness of the death chamber.
Daffd covered their eyes. A split second later it was gone. And with
it Gaelan and Ishma.</span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;">"What
was that light? That wasn't part of the bonding ritual."</span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;">"The
portal to the next world. Gaelan and your Ishma just passed through."</span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;">"Is
it always like that?"</span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;">"The
light? I'm usually the only one that sees it."</span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;">"You
are bonded thoroughly and for true. You aren't alone in this anymore
child." The Seer spoke, kindness gleaming from her faded gaze.</span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">"No.
We're not alone. Ever again." Daffd spoke softly looking down at
their still clasped hand. </span></span>
</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Joy
and a hint of sadness poured through him and through her. </span></span>
</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<div style="page-break-inside: avoid;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>
<br />
<br />
maepenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12430992125125553600noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707936029476973010.post-16114071603926681752014-10-03T00:00:00.000-07:002014-10-03T07:03:30.990-07:00Miss Danvers Decidesby <a href="http://www.christycarlyle.com/">Christy Carlyle</a><br />
<br />
<br />
(<i>Miss Danvers Decides</i> is a continuation of an earlier free short read, <i>Lord Pennington's Proposal</i>. If you wish, you can <a href="http://freereadsfromthegenre-istas.blogspot.com/2014/04/lord-penningtons-proposal.html">read that first part of the story here</a>.)<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw-gPTedfnqlWy8byS7P6Wz_rEMICEXSNpbkhgp6fbnTLEv7v5BRlBqqQfrb5SUjWU8q5FU1ITTBsaPbmeS7VmPfz1QSNNq60_juXEBZOkhJ8XWoABTw9CRyNDW_JzUdYcUUKB1QuMLn8/s1600/missdanversdecides.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw-gPTedfnqlWy8byS7P6Wz_rEMICEXSNpbkhgp6fbnTLEv7v5BRlBqqQfrb5SUjWU8q5FU1ITTBsaPbmeS7VmPfz1QSNNq60_juXEBZOkhJ8XWoABTw9CRyNDW_JzUdYcUUKB1QuMLn8/s1600/missdanversdecides.jpg" height="216" width="320" /></a></div>
<i>London, 1867</i><br />
<br />
“Marry me, Bella.”<br />
<br />
Lord Jonathan Pennington’s words, spoken in his smooth baritone, echoed in Isabella Danvers’ mind as she stood in the cozy comfort of his study. Though a fire in the grate still gave off a bit of warmth, Bella pulled her shawl up around her shoulders to stifle the shivers that had begun to rattle her body. <br />
<br />
Jack’s handsome face was as familiar to Bella as her own, but the words coming out of his mouth were strange as a foreign language. The eagerness in his tone and raw excitement in his gaze set her heart racing, while the three words shattered her composure. For a woman with a secret writing life, relying on words to write stories under a <i>nom de plume</i>, Bella could not rally a single phrase in response to Jack’s unimaginable proposal. <br />
<br />
In the tangled jumble of her thoughts, she could only hear an echo of his words. <i>"Marry me, Bella."</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
Marry Jack Pennington. It was a notion—an impossible dream—she had kept hidden within her heart and mind for more years than she could count. Her secret had been kept so close that even Father had been unaware of the feelings she harbored for the aristocrat who had been her childhood friend. When her father named Jack as her guardian in his will, he had bound them together but given the duty of finding a husband to the only man she had ever mused about marrying. <br />
<br />
“Bella?” His tone had lost its exuberance and concern for her etched creases of worry across his forehead, just under the errant lock of black hair that dipped down toward his brow, always refusing to behave. “I’ve shocked you.”<br />
<br />
Shocked, yes. That was it. Shock, fear, and a slice of unreasonable hope were among the riot of emotions making her tremble. Though she had suggested marriage to Jack moments before, she never imagined he might take the tease seriously. <br />
<br />
The whole idea was ridiculous. Impossible. Jack might be the same man who had encouraged her strident opinions as a girl and derided her love of Gothic novels as a young woman, but he was, above all things, the Earl of Pennington. <br />
<br />
He had never wanted the title; he’d made that clear. But she never doubted he would do his duty—to his father and the family name. Marrying the daughter of the Pennington’s longtime butler was out of the question. In fact, it would spark gossip and scandalize the society misses and mothers who would surely consider the Earl of Pennington a prime catch in the coming season. <br />
<br />
From the moment he had inherited his father’s titles and estates, Jack had been the soul of propriety. He had always been a clever man, and as a child Bella adored his sense of adventure. But there had been little adventure since he’d assumed his father’s title, and she sympathized for the rounds of inane social visits and dusty estate ledgers with which he spent his time. Jack needed a bit of adventure, truth be told, but this—marriage to a completely unacceptable young woman—was precisely the kind of adventure he did not need.<br />
<br />
“I am going to take a turn in the park.” <br />
<br />
After finally finding her voice, Bella offered Jack a reassuring grin, but he seemed anything but reassured. When she stood, he shot up too and reached a hand toward her.<br />
<br />
“Let me accompany you.”<br />
<br />
“No.” <br />
<br />
Harsher than she intended, her tone wounded him. She could see it in the flicker of disappointment that shadowed his green eyes. <br />
<br />
“I promise I won’t be long.” She smiled up at him again, but turned toward the door, not waiting to see if he returned her expression. Though she spent a portion of nearly every day in his company, looking at the beautiful planes and angles of his face was suddenly painful. <br />
<br />
“You heard my question, did you not?”<br />
<br />
That tone was familiar and a grin tugged at her mouth at the sound of it. It was Jack’s I-am-six-years-your-senior-and-not-at-all-pleased tone. <br />
<br />
“Was it a question? I thought perhaps you were teasing me, in return for my making such an outrageous suggestion.”<br />
<br />
Bella still couldn’t look him in the eye, but she turned her head in his direction. They might tease each other, but there had never been a moment of rudeness between them.<br />
<br />
He stalked toward her, boot heels clicking on the polished wooden floor. Bella did not move, and she dared not meet his gaze. He came close, just behind her, close enough that she felt the warmth of his breath against her neck. <br />
<br />
When he spoke, his voice was low, quiet, and bone-meltingly tender. <br />
<br />
“It was a question. Perhaps the most important of my life.” <br />
<br />
Bella swayed toward him, and he placed a firm, warm hand on her upper back to steady her. Such sweet pleasure emanated from his touch that she felt the word bubbling up. <i>Yes.</i> The answer she wished she could give him, ached to say again and again.<br />
<br />
“You will give me an answer, won’t you, Bella?”<br />
<br />
A flutter in her chest blossomed into an ache as she walked away from him, still unable to meet his gaze. She stopped at the door of the study and turned back.<br />
<br />
He had honored her with his question and she owed him an answer. But not yet. She could not bring herself to shut out the possibilities just yet. “After my walk, Jack. I promise you an answer after my walk.”<br />
<br />
“Then I hope it’s a pleasant walk.” <br />
<br />
Hearing the humor in his voice, Bella finally turned to look at him. She relished the moment as the tension between them ebbed. The moment made it easier for her to walk away. <br />
<br />
Once she’d wrapped herself in her cloak and faced the chilly October morning, she longed for the comfort of sitting with Jack beside the fireplace. But she couldn’t face Jack without giving him an answer, and before her answer, there was someone she wished to see.<br />
<br />
She met no one as she made her way along Brook Street toward Grosvenor Square. Bella knew it was early for visiting hours, but she hoped Emily would make an exception for her.<br />
<br />
Bella did not mind the brief wait in the Earl and Countess of Wharton’s drawing room. Emily’s Grosvenor Square townhouse was always filled with hothouse flowers and, perhaps because of its lavender wallpaper, the drawing room was usually dotted with bowls overflowing with violets. Their sweet, vibrant scent reminded Bella of Eastleigh, the Pennington estate in Hampshire where she and Jack had grown up.<br />
<br />
“Bella, my dear, I did not expect you today. Have you brought me another?” The countess clasped her hands together like a child eager for her first gift on Christmas morning. “I read the last one in single sitting. I could not put it down. Charles actually scolded me for spending too much time reading.”<br />
<br />
Thrilled to hear her story had so enthralled her friend, Bella giggled. “I am afraid I haven’t brought you another story. I’ve come to ask you a question. And to tell you of a question Jack has put to me.”<br />
<br />
“How intriguing. It sounds as if tea is in order.” <br />
<br />
After ringing for refreshment and settling themselves on the settee, Emily looked at Bella expectantly. Though their stations were as different as Bella’s from Jack, Emily had always treated Bella like a sister, an honorary member of her large, wealthy family. Nothing had changed when she'd married the Earl of Wharton, and Charles and his family had embraced her as readily as Emily had.<br />
<br />
“So tell me of Jack's question.”<br />
<br />
“First tell me what it’s like to be a countess.”<br />
<br />
Emily laughed, a rich, throaty sound that made Bella smile.<br />
<br />
“Are you considering becoming one yourself?”<br />
<br />
Her question, asked with a smile and laughter lingering in her tone confirmed the foolishness of the very notion to Bella. How could she ever be Jack’s countess? <br />
<br />
“Jack has asked me to marry him.”<br />
<br />
For a moment Emily didn’t move, her bow-shaped mouth hanging open in a most unladylike manner, but then Bella's words seemed to ignite her. She shot up from her spot on the settee and clasped her hands to her mouth, stared back at Bella wide eyed, and then sat next to her again. When she reached for her hands, Bella noticed tears in Emily’s eyes. <br />
<br />
“Darling Bella, what happy news. I am bursting with happiness for you.” She did cry then, tears slipping down her cheeks as she clasped Bella in an embrace.<br />
<br />
Bella hugged her friend back, and felt tears well in her own eyes. “I have not given him an answer.” <br />
<br />
“What? Why ever not? My dear, you must. You simply must.”<br />
<br />
Pulling back, Bella swiped at her cheek. “I cannot marry him, Em. It’s impossible.” <br />
<br />
Emily stared at her as if she’d gone mad. “I don’t understand.”<br />
<br />
“I am a butler’s daughter. Butlers’ daughters don’t become countesses.”<br />
<br />
“Apparently they do. You will. Bella, you and Jack… Well, it has always been clear to me. You’re meant for each other.”<br />
<br />
“He does not know about my writing.”<br />
<br />
“Then you must tell him.”<br />
<br />
“He loathes Mrs. Radcliffe and all Gothic novels.”<br />
<br />
Emily shook her head as if Bella spoke nonsense.<br />
<br />
“He’s never read one of yours, Bella dear. You’ve never given him the chance.”<br />
<br />
“What will people say? I couldn’t bear to bring him shame.”<br />
<br />
Bella continued on, voicing her fears and anxiety, her belief that she might tarnish the Pennington name by marrying Jack.<br />
<br />
Emily listened patiently, holding her hand through much of the tirade, offering her a reassuring squeeze now and then.<br />
<br />
“Are you quite finished?”<br />
<br />
Surprised by her friend’s tone, Bella looked up into the young countess’s clear blue eyes. Her face was set in a firm yet benevolent expression.<br />
<br />
“Yes, I’m finished.”<br />
<br />
“I have only one question for you.”<br />
<br />
Bella nodded her head and took a deep breath. No question the countess might ask could be more daunting than Jack’s.<br />
<br />
“Do you love him?”<br />
<br />
The question was ridiculous, perhaps as ridiculous as Jack’s. Of course she loved him. She had always loved him. Bella could barely recall a day of her life before she loved Jack Pennington. <br />
<br />
Though Bella had not said a word, Emily beamed. <br />
<br />
“Well, that’s that.” The countess lifted a gold fob watch pinned to one of the many folds of her elaborate skirt. “You mustn’t keep him waiting. He is an earl, after all. If he’s anything like Charles, he will detest waiting.”<br />
<br />
“But—“<br />
<br />
“Give him the answer of your heart, my dear. Do not allow fears to steal your happiness.” <br />
<br />
Emily led Bella to the foyer, helped settle her cloak around her, and kissed her on the cheek before giving her a gentle nudge out the door. <br />
<br />
As Bella descended the stairs, her friend called to her.<br />
<br />
“Bella?”<br />
<br />
She turned back to Emily.<br />
<br />
“I think you will be a magnificent Lady Pennington.”<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
***</div>
<br />
He rubbed his hands together as he watched her. It was a gesture that indicated Jack was nervous, worried, and Bella instantly felt a pang of guilt for keeping him waiting so long.<br />
<br />
“Come sit by the fire.” He gestured toward her favorite chair and Bella was relieved to sink into it again. <br />
<br />
“Your walk. Was it pleasant?”<br />
<br />
“It was short. I didn’t go to the park as I’d intended. I went to visit Lady Wharton.”<br />
<br />
He edged back, sitting stiffly in his chair, but he rested his hands on the chair's arms. For some reason, hearing of her visit to Emily’s seemed to ease his anxiety.<br />
<br />
“Did you indeed?”<br />
<br />
“Yes. I suspect I will be visiting her quite often. Perhaps she can give me lessons.”<br />
<br />
Jack opened his mouth as if he meant to speak but then closed it again. He eased forward in his chair, leaning toward her.<br />
<br />
“Lessons?”<br />
<br />
She smiled at him, willing him to read her meaning, eager to banish the anxiousness she could still read in his gaze.<br />
<br />
“You see, I know nothing at all about being a countess.”<br />
<br />
He ducked his head, his shoulders sagging as if a great weight had lifted.<br />
<br />
“Bella, I am a simple man. Tell me simply.”<br />
<br />
He was anything but a simple man, and if the moment had not been so full of joyful anticipation she would have told him so. Instead she spoke one simple word as simply as she was able.<br />
<br />
“Yes.”<br />
<br />
“Yes? Is this <i>the </i>yes?"<br />
<br />
Since the word seemed inadequate on its own, she nodded her head before repeating it. “Yes.”<br />
<br />
He reached for her hand as he had a hundred times before, with a warm, easy familiarity. But when he pulled her close and pressed his mouth to hers, everything was new. Heart bursting with bliss and relief, Bella knew theirs would be a wonderful adventure.<span style="font-family: 'Book Antiqua', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;"> </span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08844647108522152502noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707936029476973010.post-11583875370664106562014-09-05T00:30:00.000-07:002014-09-05T00:30:02.442-07:00Maintenance Is an Art
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"> Was she high maintenance?<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Peoria stared at her fingernails,
loving the way the tiny Austrian crystals glittered on the magenta
lacquer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sure, great hands required a
lot of effort, especially when one abhorred press-on nails, but she paid the
manicurists; <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">she </i>grabbed the Emory
board at the first hint of a snag; she was the one that sat ever so still while
the polish dried to a brilliant shine. Brock was wrong—how could she be high
maintenance if she did the maintaining?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Determined to let nothing spoil her
day, she stared into the brilliant fall sky and took a cleansing breath.
Nothing like the scent of freshly mowed grass to restore one’s equilibrium.
Even if that same bit of nature had ruined her new peep-toe pumps. Glancing at
her feet, she wondered how much elbow effort she’d need to apply to remove the
green from the purple suede.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">She hugged her arms around her
designer jacket. Anyone with half a brain could tell the pumps were essential
to pull off the sophisticated look that made her classic Peoria. No matter—they
were just shoes. If her footwear cost more than some people earned in a week,
she could sell her soul if she wanted<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Besides, high style didn’t
necessarily equate to high maintenance. She’d made her blazer with her
manicured fingers—the jacket was part of her very own collection. The garment was
crafted from recycled cloth so the net cost of her couture look had been a
whopping zero dollars. Sure, she could probably auction the jacket and buy a
car, but she already owned a car. When she got tired of the coat, she’d sell it
and donate the proceeds to charity.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Her car might be a different story.
A vintage Camaro required maintenance—a trunkful of T.L.C. So what? <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">She </i>did the maintaining. No one had to
do it for her. Well, no one she didn’t pay. Her monthly checks had probably put
the mechanic’s kid through medical school, but she’d donned those awful plastic
gloves to protect her nails while she applied just the right amount of wax to
the custom paint. Her little fingers clicked the keyboard when she needed to
scan the web for original muscle-car parts. And if she purchased a
diamond-studded gear-shift cover along with the essential fuel pump and a new
set of hub caps, that didn’t give anyone, especially Brock, the right to
criticize.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Probably best to go home and not
think too much. Steer her high-maintenance vehicle back to her place, to the
house requiring even more maintenance than her car. If Brock said her house was
high maintenance, she’d have nodded her head in agreement. And, thanks to her
investment in a top-rated stylist and the routine purchase of expensive
shampoo, her hair would have glimmered while she acquiesced.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Every week
something else in her classic Victorian needed a tweak. Six days earlier, she’d
installed a new furnace. The week before, she’d returned the new mahogany desk
to have a drawer repaired. Not once had Brock—who incidentally wouldn’t know an
Allen wrench from a tavern wench—helped. Darn man hadn’t even offered.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Her yard
required even more blood, sweat, and botched manicures. Even on a good day—maybe
especially on a good day—she didn’t even want to think about the effort required
to keep the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Lawn of the Month</i> sign on
her property. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Still, none of the effort she
expended made her high maintenance. She might be particular, some might say
exceedingly so, but she required little from anyone else. Well, from anyone she
didn’t pay. So how could she be high maintainence when she paid her own bills?
Why would anyone criticize a woman who did the hard stuff herself?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">No, no doubt about it, Brock was
wrong.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Dead wrong.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">She wasn’t high maintenance. Brock
was. Maybe if he’d tried a little harder to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">maintain</i>
their budding relationship, she wouldn’t have to put fresh flowers on his grave
every week.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Robin Weaver, Authorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09931275630691025318noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707936029476973010.post-32851135999202202952014-08-22T00:00:00.000-07:002014-08-22T00:00:01.085-07:00Never Trust a Man with Little Ears (A Bellham Romance) - Part Four of Four<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>by <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Danita-Cahill/e/B009NF74I4/">Danita Cahill</a></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">“Justin, what are you and
your lady friend doing sneaking up on us?” Tanner asked, his voice gravelly
now, accusing.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">He knows Justin, Mia
thought. He’s got to be the cowboy they planned to fix me up with, doesn’t he?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Just seeing how you two are
getting along.” Justin said, tilting his shaggy blond head and shrugging as
though he were filled with innocence. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Ah, I see. This was a set
up then, was it?” Tanner arched a brow and glanced from Justin to Skye to Mia.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Mia’s heart fell and the heat
spread over her ears and traveled down her neck. Didn’t Skye say Tanner/Hunter/Trapper
<i>wanted </i>to meet her, too? Maybe Skye
said he was <i>willing</i> to meet her. Mia
supposed there could be a big difference between the two. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">She was confused again. <i>Was </i>this the right guy? And, if so, <i>had </i>he wanted to meet her? Mia gazed once
more at her new boots, dismayed to notice a thin layer of rodeo dust already
coated the deep-pink leather. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“He treating you okay?”
Justin asked Mia.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Oh. Yes. Of course.” Heated
blood jetted back to Mia’s face to fully concentrate on her cheeks. My face
must be the color of my boots. Maybe it will pass for heat flush. I hope so.
But even with her cheeks flaming, Mia still breathed relief. Justin wouldn’t
ask if Tanner was treating me okay, and he wouldn’t check on how we were getting
along unless Tanner really is the guy I was supposed to meet, right?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Tanner ran a thumb lazily
over the back of Mia’s hand. Tingling goose bumps pebbled up her arm. It felt good,
felt right, her hand in his. A slight breeze swirled by, and Mia caught a whiff
of Tanner’s spicy-citrus aftershave. The scent combined with the dust and horse
sweat in a powerful way. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">A powerfully-good way<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“You let me know if he
doesn’t treat you right, and I’ll take care of him for you,” Justin said, a
teasing tone to his voice, but a stern look in his eyes as he scanned Tanner’s
face. Justin’s gaze traveled lower to settle on Tanner and Mia’s clasped hands.
His eyes brightened. “You two lovebirds want to go to Sticks’ barbeque with us after
the rodeo?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Mia breathed easier. <i>Yes!</i> Justin would not be inviting Tanner
and me to a party unless Tanner was definitely the one he and Skye intended me to
meet. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Come on, Mia,” Skye said,
leaning forward in earnestness, her hair, the same shiny brown-black as Mia’s,
cascading from under her cowboy hat and falling over one shoulder. “Say yes.
You know Sticks throws the best barbeques in Bellham.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Always
go on a first date in a public place. Be sure to take a chaperone.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Yes, Papa Pete.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Tanner aimed those golden-brown
eyes at Mia. “I’m game, if you are.” He gave her hand a slight squeeze.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Sure,” she said, the hand
and arm tingles returning in full force. “Sounds fun.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Skye beamed a smile at Mia
and Tanner, and then turned to plant a noisy kiss full on Justin’s mouth. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Mia glanced away, wishing
those two would refrain from such blatant public displays of affection. It was
embarrassing. Probably one of the reasons they did it. Skye and Justin knew how
easy it was to embarrass her, and seemed to enjoy doing so.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Mia looked down at her hand
enveloped in Tanner’s. Going on a double date to the barbeque did sound fun. It
wouldn’t be dangerous like going off alone into the boonies on a first date –
Skye, Justin, and other friends would be at Sticks’ party, too. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Good, safe fun. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Why don’t we walk you
ladies to your seats?” Justin said. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Yep, it’s about time to get
ready for our rides,” Tanner said. “The performance starts soon. Want to make
sure you get good spots.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Justin and Skye led the way
to the grandstand, their arms slung around each other, their footfalls sending
up puffs of dust, like smoke-signal shorthand. The puffs lifted and dissipated
at intervals as regular as a beating heart. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Tanner and Mia followed,
still holding hands. Again she caught the citrus-spice, horse-sweat fragrance
of him. She closed her eyes and drew it in. Mmmmm. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Tanner angled his head so
his lips were close to Mia’s ear. “I’ll look forward to spending time with you
after my ride.” Quietly he said it, so only she could hear. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Her heart sprouted feathers
and fluttered inside her chest. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">As they strolled past the
bucking chutes and roping chutes, past other cowboys and cowgirls, Mia once
more inspected the plump earlobes protruding from beneath Tanner’s hat. The big
ears and good-guy white hat made her smile. If Papa Pete were still around,
this cowboy would definitely meet with his approval. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>~Author Bio~</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Danita Cahill is an
award-winning freelance writer and photographer. She’s written and published
over 2,100 newspaper articles and columns for 11 different Northwest
newspapers, and dozens of magazine stories and photo layouts for six different
magazines. She has five stories and a photo in two of HCI’s anthologies and has
self-published five books – two non-fiction and three fiction titles. Danita
lives in the Pacific NW on a small Oregon farm with her family and animals,
including a herd of 10 alpacas. Besides running children to and fro and caring
for her gardens, critters and family, Danita stays busy working on magazine
assignments and her next book projects.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Visit Danita’s author page:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Danita-Cahill/e/B009NF74I4/" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">http://www.amazon.com/Danita-Cahill/e/B009NF74I4/</span></a><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Find Danita on Facebook: </span><a href="https://www.facebook.com/DanitaCahill?ref=stream" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">https://www.facebook.com/DanitaCahill?ref=stream</span></a><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Follow Danita on Twitter:
@DanitaCahill<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">If you’d like to subscribe
to Danita Cahill’s newsletter and receive information about book signings,
appearances, and new book releases, please send an email to: </span><a href="mailto:danita@centurylink.net" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">danita@centurylink.net</span></a><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> and
put “newsletter” in the subject line. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08844647108522152502noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707936029476973010.post-24426405070669142752014-08-15T00:00:00.000-07:002014-08-15T00:00:06.034-07:00Never Trust a Man with Little Ears (A Bellham Romance) - Part Three of Four<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">by <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Danita-Cahill/e/B009NF74I4/">Danita Cahill</a></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">“My name’s Tanner. Tanner
Michaels.” He swept off his cowboy hat and held it over his heart, as if paying
her homage. “What’s yours?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">A
gentleman removes his hat when greeting a lady. It shows respect.</span></i><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Not Hunter or Trapper, but <i>Tanner.</i> Close. Similar. Oh, I do hope
this is the right guy. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Mia Young,” she said, glad
to be distracted from the image of him flying off a wild bronc. She was
relieved to note his ears – which she could see clearly now with his hat removed
– were larger than average. “Nice to meet you.” She smiled shyly and stuck out
her hand.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">In quick, fluid motions he dropped
his hat back on his head, and grasped her hand as though to shake it. But
instead of pumping it in greeting he brought the back of it up to his lips. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">When
meeting for the first time, a gentleman always kisses a lady’s hand.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">His lips were moist, warm,
and firmly masculine. A tiny, electrical charge started at the spot his lips
touched and tingled up to her elbow. She’d seen men kiss women’s hands in the old
movies she used to watch with Papa Pete. But she’d never had her hand kissed before.
Not like this. It made her feel silly yet mature all at once. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Tanner’s golden-brown eyes
met hers straight on, peering steadily at her as his face hovered over her
hand. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Trust
only</span></i><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">
<i>a man who looks you square in the eye. </i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Mia silently thanked Papa
Pete – more father than grandfather. Although he was gone, his “wisdoms” would always
live within her and guide her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Mia met Tanner’s frank gaze
before quickly casting her eyes to her rose-colored boots. She’d bought the
boots special for rodeo weekend. Special for this precise moment – to give this
cowboy a good first impression. (She was still holding onto hope that this was
the correct cowboy. And that hope was growing stronger by the minute).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Nice to meet you, Mia.” The
low, rumbling way he said her name – the same way he’d uttered “uh-huh” earlier
– made her suck in a quick breath. Her eyes darted back to his. Her heart beat
quickened. Heat flooded her face.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The sound of throat clearing
and giggling whipped Mia and Tanner’s heads around to check who was behind them.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Her friends Justin and Skye
stood there, holding hands, big grins on their faces. They joined Tanner and
Mia at the rails of the horse corral. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">When Mia realized Tanner was
still holding her hand she felt like a child caught with her fingers in the
candy dish. Embarrassed, she started to yank free. But Tanner tightened his
grip, just enough to let her know she was welcome to keep her hand right where
it was. As soon as she relaxed her fingers, he reciprocated, cupping his big
hand sweetly, protectively around her much smaller one. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>~Author Bio~</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Danita Cahill is an
award-winning freelance writer and photographer. She’s written and published
over 2,100 newspaper articles and columns for 11 different Northwest
newspapers, and dozens of magazine stories and photo layouts for six different
magazines. She has five stories and a photo in two of HCI’s anthologies and has
self-published five books – two non-fiction and three fiction titles. Danita
lives in the Pacific NW on a small Oregon farm with her family and animals, including
a herd of 10 alpacas. Besides running children to and fro and caring for her
gardens, critters and family, Danita stays busy working on magazine assignments
and her next book projects.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Visit Danita’s author page:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Danita-Cahill/e/B009NF74I4/" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">http://www.amazon.com/Danita-Cahill/e/B009NF74I4/</span></a><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Find Danita on Facebook: </span><a href="https://www.facebook.com/DanitaCahill?ref=stream" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">https://www.facebook.com/DanitaCahill?ref=stream</span></a><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Follow Danita on Twitter:
@DanitaCahill<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">If you’d like to subscribe
to Danita Cahill’s newsletter and receive information about book signings,
appearances, and new book releases, please send an email to: </span><a href="mailto:danita@centurylink.net" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">danita@centurylink.net</span></a><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> and
put “newsletter” in the subject line. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08844647108522152502noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707936029476973010.post-36777417317119469032014-08-08T00:00:00.000-07:002014-08-08T00:00:05.588-07:00Never Trust a Man with Little Ears (A Bellham Romance) - Part Two of Four<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>by <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Danita-Cahill/e/B009NF74I4/">Danita Cahill</a></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">So here she was, shy as
ever, but trying to act bold, approaching and standing beside a hot stranger in
a red shirt and snug-fitting jeans. All the while hoping and praying he was the
correct cowboy – the one her best friend had told her about.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Mia snuck a peek at the
cowboy out of the corner of her eye. If this was the right guy – Hunter or
Trapper or whatever the heck his name was, Skye was definitely right about the
hot part. A hard-bodied, good-looking guy from boots to hat – dark hair,
sun-browned skin, big, strong-boned hands, and the casual, confident grace particular
to active, physically-fit young men. Mia, who was nineteen, guessed him to be a
couple years older. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">For several minutes she continued
to stare into the pen of horses. She wanted to bolt in self-conscious panic from
the cowboy’s good looks, confident air, and uncertain identity. But she held
her ground, waiting for him to say something. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Anything. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Moment after long moment
drug by. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Please, say something. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">She’d about given up on him
ever speaking, and was preparing to leave the wafting dust, and the silent
cowboy to seek refuge with Skye and Justin, when suddenly he spoke, startling
her. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“What do you think?” his
voice was pitched in an impossibly low octave.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Oh,” Mia said, turning to
face him. “Were you talking to me?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Uh-huh,” he said, drawing
out the two syllables, making them sound way sexier than necessary – not that
Mia minded. “What do you think of the horses?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">His voice was deep, raw,
amber honey. She could listen to it for hours. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Bet it would sound amazing
with my head pressed against his chest. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">But she couldn’t just stand
there daydreaming. He’d asked her a question – it was her turn to speak. If I
don’t answer he’ll probably think I’m either stuck up, simple minded, or both. Although
her tongue felt tangled and knotted and dry, she needed to form words. She
willed her tongue to move, her lips to function. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Beautiful animals,” she finally
managed. “But some look really wild.” Beautiful. Wild. Like you, maybe. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Yep,” he said with a slow,
sultry grin. “Exactly.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Goose bumps skittered along Mia’s
arms and chest.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“I hope to draw one of the
wild ones,” he said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Why?” A shudder of fear
shot up her back. Whether it was fear <i>of</i>
him, or fear <i>for </i>him, she wasn’t
certain.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Because I’d have a better
chance of scoring a good ride, of course.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Oh.” Mia said, “I see.” But
she didn’t want to see. Didn’t want the black-and-white shuttering image of a
rogue horse launching this beautiful man through the air. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>~Author Bio~</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Danita Cahill is an
award-winning freelance writer and photographer. She’s written and published
over 2,100 newspaper articles and columns for 11 different Northwest
newspapers, and dozens of magazine stories and photo layouts for six different
magazines. She has five stories and a photo in two of HCI’s anthologies and has
self-published five books – two non-fiction and three fiction titles. Danita
lives in the Pacific NW on a small Oregon farm with her family and animals,
including a herd of 10 alpacas. Besides running children to and fro and caring
for her gardens, critters and family, Danita stays busy working on magazine
assignments and her next book projects.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Visit Danita’s author page:</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Danita-Cahill/e/B009NF74I4/">http://www.amazon.com/Danita-Cahill/e/B009NF74I4/</a></span><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Find Danita on Facebook: </span><a href="https://www.facebook.com/DanitaCahill?ref=stream" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">https://www.facebook.com/DanitaCahill</span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Follow Danita on Twitter:
@DanitaCahill<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">If you’d like to subscribe
to Danita Cahill’s newsletter and receive information about book signings,
appearances, and new book releases, please send an email to: </span><a href="mailto:danita@centurylink.net" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">danita@centurylink.net</span></a><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> and
put “newsletter” in the subject line. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08844647108522152502noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707936029476973010.post-64781039641260788712014-08-01T00:01:00.000-07:002014-08-01T00:01:00.201-07:00Never Trust a Man with Little Ears (A Bellham Romance) - Part One of Four<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12pt;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;">by <a href="https://www.facebook.com/DanitaCahill">Danita Cahill</a></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12pt;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;">You can’t trust a man with little ears.</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;">The idiosyncratic bit
of advice was one of many that Mia’s late grandfather had left her with when he
passed away eleven months ago. Like this one, most of Papa Pete’s sayings were
endearing, if somewhat ridiculous. Funny one of his “wisdoms” should pop into Mia’s
head during the Bellham, Oregon, Valley River Rodeo. At this very moment, too –
the exact moment she spotted the cowboy. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;">He was the cowboy her
best friend, Skye had told her about. Wasn’t he? Tall. Muscular. Red shirt. <i>It had to be him!<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;">His forearms were
propped on the metal rail of a horse pen, one boot firmly planted behind him in
the dust, the leg nearest the rail bent and relaxed. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;">Papa Pete’s advice
might seem silly, but as Mia moved closer to the cowboy she couldn’t stop her
gaze from sliding along his firm backside, gliding over the powerful round of his
shoulder, and up his thick neck to land on his lobe – the only part of his ear
she could see. His white straw cowboy hat covered the rest. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12pt;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;">Good guys wear white hats. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;">His earlobe was decidedly
full and thick. Mia let out a small sigh of relief and forced her new boots to
approach the rail and stand nearby. Bright August heat radiated off the metal
stock panels. She leaned her arms on one of the rails anyway and fought the
urge to jerk back from the scorch of hot steel against her bare skin. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;">The dense, sweet
scent of horse sweat permeated the air, blending agreeably with her
pineapple-scented sunscreen. Mia’s arms absorbed, and adjusted, to the heat
from the rail. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12pt;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;">Always let the man speak first.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;">As antiquated as that
piece of Papa-Pete advice was, Mia took it anyway. She remained silent and assessed
the ten broncs mulling about, scuffling and stirring up dust inside the pen.
Some were sleek, regal creatures, with the appearance of tame, honest saddle
horses – like Lady, the gentle palomino from her childhood. Others had scarred,
rough coats, and a rogue glint in their eyes, as though they’d just as soon
throw and stomp a rider as look at him. If the cowboy leaning on the rail
beside her was a horse, Mia wondered which sort he’d be. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;">He was someone
Justin, Skye’s bareback-bronc-riding boyfriend knew. Well, kinda, sorta knew
through a friend of a friend. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;">“He’s a bronc rider,
too, Justin’s met him before. Heard he’s a good guy, he just can’t for sure remember
his name…Trapper…Hunter… something like that,” Skye had told Mia yesterday when
trying, yet again, to talk her into going along to the rodeo today. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;">Mia hadn’t wanted to
come, didn’t want to be a third wheel to Justin and Skye and their perpetual
hand holding, kissing, and pet name calling. She loved Skye like a sister, but
all the lovey-dovey stuff made Mia uncomfortable. And maybe just a teeny bit envious.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;">When Mia mentioned
her reluctance at being a tag along, Skye took it on as a challenge to find Mia
a date. “He’s single. And he’s hot,” Skye had said about the bronc rider, trying
to sway her. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;">So, after much
coaxing and coercing, and with the promise of meeting a decent, attractive guy,
Mia finally relented. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;">Justin and Skye were
on the other side of the rodeo grounds trying to locate Hunter, or Trapper, or
whatever this cowboy’s name happened to be. But it was Mia, by herself, who tracked
him down first. She felt a glow of accomplishment. Although now that she’d
found him standing in the dust-moated sunlight, she wasn’t exactly sure what to
do, or what to say. Especially since she wasn’t one-hundred percent sure this
was even the right cowboy. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;"><i>~Author Bio~</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;">Danita Cahill is an
award-winning freelance writer and photographer. She’s written and published
over 2,100 newspaper articles and columns for 11 different Northwest newspapers,
and dozens of magazine stories and photo layouts for six different magazines. She
has five stories and a photo in two of HCI’s anthologies and has self-published
five books – two non-fiction and three fiction titles. Danita lives in the
Pacific NW on a small Oregon farm with her family and animals, including a herd
of 10 alpacas. Besides running children to and fro and caring for her gardens,
critters and family, Danita stays busy working on magazine assignments and her
next book projects.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;">Visit Danita’s author
page:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Danita-Cahill/e/B009NF74I4/">http://www.amazon.com/Danita-Cahill/e/B009NF74I4/</a></span><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;">Find Danita on
Facebook: </span><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/DanitaCahill">https://www.facebook.com/DanitaCahill</a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;">Follow Danita on
Twitter: @DanitaCahill<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;">If you’d like to
subscribe to Danita Cahill’s newsletter and receive information about book
signings, appearances, and new book releases, please send an email to: </span><a href="mailto:danita@centurylink.net" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;">danita@centurylink.net</span></a><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;"> and put “newsletter”
in the subject line. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08844647108522152502noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707936029476973010.post-61594481947266641992014-07-25T00:00:00.000-07:002014-07-25T10:17:21.567-07:00THE MAN I WILL MARRY by Elaine Charton/Elaine Joyce<div class="gmail_default" style="font-family: comic sans ms,sans-serif;">
Hello Readers-</div>
<div class="gmail_default" style="font-family: comic sans ms,sans-serif;">
This short story is sort of a prequel to my novel, <i>The Pink Lady</i>. It's the story of how Leticia and Reginald, the ghosts who haunt the Pink Lady, first met. I hope you enjoy the story and will read the blurb for <i>The Pink Lady</i> that follows.</div>
<div class="gmail_default" style="font-family: comic sans ms,sans-serif;">
~Elaine Joyce</div>
<div class="gmail_default" style="font-family: comic sans ms,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Leticia
Greenwood looked at herself in the mirror. She had finally cut her blonde hair, worn long for as long as she
could remember. Now it was a stylish bob, set in soft waves that not quite
reached her shoulders. Tonight was her
best friend's twenty first birthday party.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">She
wondered what it would be like to love someone as much as Penny loved her Tommy.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Her escort
for tonight's party Walter Brace was nice but that was it, He took her to all
the right places. Escorted her to parties, dinners, gave her nice presents but
she did not want to spend the rest of her life with him. Her father had him to
dinner one evening and he returned after that.
Her mother encouraged the relationship, wanting to see her daughter
married. If only she could get her mother to realize that she would not marry
Walter Brace.. Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock on her door and her
maid came into the room. “Miss, your
mother sent me to tell you that Mr. Brace was downstairs waiting in the
library.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> “Thank
you, Daisy. Please tell Mama I'll be right down.” She gave herself one last
look in the mirror before grabbing her small purse and wrap.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> Downstairs
her parents were talking with Walter in the library. She ran over and hugged her parents before
twirling around in front of Walter.
“Will I do?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> “You look lovely dear,” her mother
said. Her father came over and kissed
her cheek. “You know you do. Please pass our apologies again to the Weeks.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> “ They understand. Mama didn't expect to break a bone in her
foot. Walter?” She asked, ."You haven't said how you like the dress?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> “You know you look marvelous” He glanced at his watch. “We have to go or we'll be late.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> She grabbed the present she had wrapped
earlier for Penny and a second one from her parents before following him out
the door. They drove down Madison Avenue
and parked in front of the building where Penny and her parents lived. They had
been one of the first families to move into the luxury apartment building.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">As
he helped her out of the car Walter said, “I still do not know why they wanted
to move into one of these apartments. I don't want anyone living above me.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">"Then
it's a good thing you don't,” Leticia
said. He had a large brownstone that she
felt was far to big for one person. He told her that one day he hoped to see it
filled with children. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“When
I have the proper wife," he once explained to her. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">She
hoped that he didn't think she was that wife,
She liked Walter and they had fun at first but he was getting more and
more staid. She couldn't see herself married to him. Maybe before he took her
home tonight she would tell him how she felt.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> The Weeks' apartment took the entire first
floor and their knock on the door was soon answered by the butler. Penny and her parents stood in the foyer
greeting their guests. A few people were gathered in the drawing room. Leticia hurried over to her friend.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Happy
Birthday!” She hugged Penny and handed her the gifts. As they were early there was time to open the
gift. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">She
handed one to her mother and opened the other. “Oh my,” Penny said and took the
hair-combs out of the box. Gold with diamonds around it, they would peek out
of her friends dark hair and look marvelous.
She knew that because they had tried them on one day when she and Leticia
were out shopping. “You remembered.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">"Of
course, silly. Why do you think I talked you out of buying them?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">The
front door opened and more guests entered. “Come Leticia, let Penny greet her
guests.” Walter steered her into the room. “I see the Steeles. Lets go talk to
them. I'm trying to get Patrick to let
me handle his portfolio.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> She stopped and pulled away from him. "Can
we have one night off from business talk? This is a birthday party.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> "Yes it is, my dear, and some of the most
influential men are here. There is not a
better time for business talk. His wife is with him, you can talk with her and
keep her occupied.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> Marion Steele was older than her mother and
she did not come to the party to spend time with her. Leticia looked around the
room and found another of her friends by the punch bowl. “Fine, you talk
business but I'm going to talk to Regina Weatherby.” She strode off before
Walter could protest.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> “Good evening Regina.” She took a cup and
held it out to her friend who promptly filled it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> “I see
Walter is still hanging around.” She wrinkled her nose. “I don't know what you
see in him.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> “Mother
and father like him.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> “That's not enough to marry someone.” Regina led her friend across the room to
chairs by the windows. They sat down and looked around the room.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> “I'm not going to marry him. He hasn't asked
and if he did I’d say no.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> “That's not what he's saying. My brother is a
member of the same club as Walter and he heard Walter say you would soon be
engaged. He said your parents approve."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> “They
may, but I can tell you right now we will never marry. I don't love him.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> “Oh look, there's your brother Malachi.”
Regina began fussing with her hair.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> Leticia smiled. Regina had such a crush on
her brother and he hasn't figured it out yet. He strode across the room toward
them, another man with him. Leticia's
heart stopped, he had to be the most beautiful man she had ever seen. Tall, slim, black hair neatly trimmed. His dinner jacket was obviously made for
him. She thought she knew all of Malachi's
friends. She didn't know this one, but she would.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> “Letty!” Her brother came over and took her hands before kissing her cheek.
“You look lovely, as always." He turned to his friend. "Reginald Fairfax,
may I present my sister Leticia.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> “I am pleased to meet you Miss Greenwood.
Your brother speaks highly of you.” He
took her hand and raised it to his lips. “He neglected to tell me how beautiful
you were.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> Letty blushed. He had a slight British
accent which added to his appeal. “Thank you. May I present my friend, Regina
Weatherby.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> The four of them stood there talking but all
to soon Walter came over. “Malachi, good to see you, Miss Weatherby. And you, sir, are?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> “Sorry Walter, this is my friend, Reginald
Fairfax. Reggie, this is Walter Brace, a friend of the family.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> The two men nodded and Walter once again
steered her away. "Come dear, Penny needs you to help her with something.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> Just before reaching the foyer, she turned
to look back. Regina and her brother
were deep in conversation but Mr. Fairfax watched her intently. She blushed
when he nodded and winked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> “Here she is,” Walter said to Penny's
parents. “I'll see you at dinner, dear.”
He kissed her on the cheek and went back to the drawing room.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> “Come dear, Penny decided she wanted to wear
your gift tonight and would like you to help her with them. She's in her dressing room.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> Letty knew this apartment as well as she
knew her house and hurried down the hall to her friend's room. Penny jumped up
as she came in. “I'm so nervous. Tommy
came in and he and father immediately went into his study.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> “Do you think? What else could they be
talking about?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> “I don't know. I'm almost afraid to hope.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> “What else could it be? Your parents said
you couldn't get engaged until you were twenty one." She reached for her friend's hairbrush. “Lets
fix your hair. Those diamonds will be the perfect thing to match your smile
when your father announces your engagement.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> It did not take her long and soon they were
heading back to the drawing room. Tommy
was waiting in the foyer and Penny ran to him.
Letty slowed down a bit to give them time. When she reached them, the
smile on her friend's face said it all.
“Congratulations!” She hugged the two of them. “You better treat her
right, Tommy, or there will be trouble.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> “No fear there, Leticia.” He put an arm
around his fiancée and hugged her<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> "Let's go in, you two. Father wants to make
the announcement before dinner. He won't let Tommy give me my ring until he
does.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> “Then
let's go.” She followed them in; just inside the drawing room, Walter stood
waiting for her. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> “You two were a long time just fixing hair.”
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> "Shh, " She watched her friend
join her parents with her fiancée by her side. The room exploded in applause
when the engagement was announced. She glanced across the room and saw Reginald
Fairfax. He may have been applauding the
happy couple but he was looking at her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> “I don't like that man, ”Walter whispered in
her ear.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> She groaned. If his breath were any
indication he'd already had more than one glass of whiskey. “Oh please ,
Walter. Mr. Fairfax is a friend of Malachi's.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> “Still.” he took her hand. “Come with me. I
want to talk to you for a minute. Everyone will be busy congratulating the
happy couple.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> She followed him out of the room and into
the salon next door. This was where Mrs. Weeks received her close friends
during the day. It was hot in there and
she opened the French doors to let some air in.. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> “Leticia, come sit down. We need to talk.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> She did, but immediately began chattering.
She thought she knew what Walter wanted.
“I'm so happy for Penny. She
asked me to be her maid of honor if this happened. We're going to have fun
shopping for gowns.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> “Maybe you can do the same for her.””<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> “We always intended to be each others maid
of honor, but I'm not getting married any time soon. I have to love a man
before I marry him.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">"Could
I be that man?" He pulled her closer. “I love you, Leticia. I want to marry
you. I'll be a good husband.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">He
pulled her even closer. Before he kissed her he whispered, “I can make you
love me.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> “Walter, no!” She tried to push him away but
couldn't. His lips were cold and the
smell of whiskey on his breath was making her sick.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> "Come on, Leticia, you know you love
me.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> His hands seemed to be everywhere and she
was about to scream when she heard a welcome voice. “ My sister said no, Brace.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> He let her go and she ran to her brother. He
stood at the French doors with Reginald Fairfax standing behind him. Malachi
put his arms around his sister, “Did he hurt you ?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> She shook her head. “I just want him to
leave.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> Reginald stepped out and stood next to
them. “You best do as the lady
requested, Brace.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> “That lady is my fiancée, I just asked her
to marry me. This has nothing to do with you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> "But she is my sister." Malachi said.
"I believe it has everything to do with me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> Leticia pulled away from her brother and
walked over to Walter. She gave him a
resounding slap across his cheek. “I
will never marry you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> “You heard my sister. You better leave.
I'll be sure she gets home. I'm sure my parents, especially my father, will be
very interested in what happened here
tonight.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> “Fine." He turned on his heels and strode out
the room slamming the door forcefully behind him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> Malachi
held her at arms length and looked her up and down, “Now little sister. He didn't
hurt you?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> Leticia shook her head. “Can you get Penny for me?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> Reginald said, “Allow me, please, Miss
Greenwood. I think you'd feel better if your brother stays with you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> She nodded and reached out to touch his arm. "Thank you, Mr. Fairfax. Just tell her I am unwell. I do not want her party
ruined.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> “Of course.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> Once it was just her and her brother she
started shaking all over. Malachi lead
her over to a chair and pulled his jacket off to wrap around her
before pouring her a glass of
brandy. “Here, little sister. Drink
this.” He sat on the arm of the chair and put an arm around her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> "Thank God, you were here, Malachi. I
don't know what mother and father will say."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> Before he could reply Penny came in followed
by her mother. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> “Letty, are you hurt?” Penny and her mother asked at the same time. "What
happened?" <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> She shook her head. "It was horrible. She told them what had happened. "Luckily,
Malachi and Mr. Fairfax were outside and stopped him." <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> “We were outside having a cigar and we
heard voices here. We came to
investigate and it's a good thing we did."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> “Yes, it is, Thank you.” Mrs. Week smiled at
both the men. “Do you want to go home, Letty? You're welcome to stay in Penny's room. We'll just tell people you were
sick. No one has to know a thing. I am sure that it will be all over town soon
enough. “<br />
“What will people think of
me?” Leticia asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> Reginald said, “If they have any sense
they'll be happy for you to be rid of that idiot.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">"That's
for sure," Penny said. "I heard
father tell someone they only invite him because of you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Mrs.
Weeks rang the bell and a maid soon entered the room. “Kathleen, please bring Miss Greenwood to Miss Penny’s room. She's spending the
night and she's not feeling well.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Yes
Ma'am.” She bobbed a curtsy.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Leticia
stood and hugged her brother. before returning his jacket to him.. “Will you explain to mother and father??”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">He
nodded, "When father finds out, I
pity Walter. I'll have mother send a carriage for you tomorrow with a change of
clothes.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">"Thank
you." She turned to Reginald. “And thank you, Mr. Fairfax. I only wish your
first visit had been a little less eventful.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">He
took her hand in his and raised it to his kips. “Not to worry, Miss Leticia. I
am sure we will meet again. Especially as I will be working with your brother
at the newspaper.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">She
smiled and followed the maid out. Penny promised to join her as soon as she
could.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">In
the bedroom the maid helped Leticia undress and get into one of Penny's night gowns. “It's a good thing you and
Miss Penny are just about the same size.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Katherine
helped her into bed, promising to come back with a cup of tea and some
toast. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">"That
will be lovely. It will help my headache.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">She sat
in bed and replayed the scene in her mind, trying to think if she could have
done anything different. In a way he had
done her a favor. She was glad Mr. Fairfax had been there. If not Malachi and Walter may have gotten
into a fight. Walter was too much of a
stickler to start a fight in someone's house. Malachi had no such qualms. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Her
mind went back to Reginald Fairfax, the way he looked at her, the way he looked
at Walter. Given half a chance she'd bet her would have socked him in the nose. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">She
loved the sound of his voice, especially when he said her name; his lovely
accent and the way he made her skin tingle. No other man had ever done that before, definitely not Walter. She
managed to stay awake until Penny came up. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Good,
you're still awake.” She had a plate with two pieces of birthday cake. She
placed them on the bedside table before sitting next to Leticia.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Is
it over all ready?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“No,
Tommy and my mother both told me to get up here. I was driving them both
crazy.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Leticia
smiled and took a bite of cake. '"Yum. Mrs Johnson's chocolate cake.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Of
course. She wasn't letting any one else make my birthday cake. She also insist
she is making the wedding cake she put her plate down and said, “Now, Leticia,
tell me everything.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">So
she did, and surprised herself by not falling apart. Instead she got angry all
over again and her friend joined her in that anger. “How dare he!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“If it wasn't for Malachi and his friend, who
knows what might have happened.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“That's
for sure, have you met Mr. Fairfax before tonight?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Leticia
shook her head. “I hadn't even heard of
him before tonight. Apparently he is working with Malachi at the newspaper.
They were at Harvard together.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Well,
I heard some gossip downstairs, apparently he's the son of some earl but he was
born on the wrong side of the blanket. He was sent to school and when he
graduated he was given money to emigrate here, and go to Harvard.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> “Really?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> “Yes, apparently he's very smart and
according to my father a good reporter.
Someone said something derogatory about him and your brother defended
him.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> “I would expect nothing else from Malachi.
Mr. Fairfax is handsome, isn't he?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> “Not as handsome as my Tommy. Though he
certainly seemed worried about you.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> "Probably because Malachi is his friend. He
does seem rather nice."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> “Leticia Greenwood, are already interested in
someone else?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> “Come,
Penny. We know I was never really interested in Walter. I only kept company with him to keep my mother from bothering me." “What do you think she'd say about Mr.
Fairfax?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“She better like him, I may end up marrying
him."<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">THE END</span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
© 2014 Elaine Charton ALL RIGHTS RESERVED</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<b>THE PINK LADY Blurb:</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .3in; text-indent: 35.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>“Old Ghosts are good for business but dead bodies are not. “<br />The Pink Lady is a venerable Victorian home located near Cape Cod, in Massachusetts.<br />Anna
Murray inherits the home from her uncle and decides to turn it into a
bed and breakfast with the help of the two resident ghosts, Reggie and
Leticia Farnsworth and BJ Kent, a contractor who specializes in
Victorian restorations.<br />As Anna and BJ peel back the layers of grime,
the layers of time reveal the truth behind the death of the Farnsworths
so many years ago. Their present day situation has parellels to the
Farnsworths, can Anna and BJ solve the mystery before it reaches the
same sinister conclusions?</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
Sarah Rapleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17076583905680420909noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707936029476973010.post-33720279771455977392014-07-18T02:12:00.004-07:002014-07-18T02:19:06.126-07:00Dr. Truth and the Logical Lady by Sarah Raplee<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; text-indent: 0.5in;">Miss Henrietta Lafleur tipped her
pink parasol back to peer up at the airship straining against its tethers under
the hot May sun. Strong hemp ropes as big around as her wrist held the amazing
flying ship captive to the St. Louis Air Dock. A light breeze ruffled the white
lace bow at the front of Henri’s little straw hat. The ship’s lines creaked in
protest.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Several people in line to board
on the crowded wooden dock ducked and cried out when the huge shadow shifted a
bit. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Henri shook her head in disgust. Anyone
with half a brain could see that the tethers were more than adequate to control
Eagle. The ship was only one hundred and fifty feet long. When railroad workers
had announced their anticipated strike a month ago, a wealthy shipbuilder had
been ready with plans to launch a fledgling regional air service. Relatively
small airships like the Eagle would transport a dozen passengers as well as
mail and small amounts of freight between cities in only hours—for an
exorbitant fee, of course.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Her little dog wriggled in the
heavy portmanteau she carried. Her stomach clenched.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">“Scotty, quiet!” she said under
her breath. She did not believe a small black dog, no matter how well-behaved,
would be welcomed on board an airship.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">The wriggling stopped.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">A tall, gray-haired woman wearing
an unfashionably-large hat peered down at her through a smudged pince-nez. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">“Do you need to borrow a
handkerchief to clean your lenses?” Henri asked without thinking. Gazing
through smudged glass made her hair stand on end.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">The woman had opened her mouth to
speak, but she snapped her jaws shut with an audible click, stuck her big nose
in the air and then turned her back on Henri. <i>She is offended</i>. Henri swallowed hard. She had meant the offer as a
kindness. She feared she would never completely blend in, despite Miss Green’s best
efforts to mold her into a lady. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Henri sighed. She would miss her
kind governess. Leaving home was surprisingly heart-wrenching.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">OpenSim Creations.com</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; text-indent: 0.5in;">The ship’s looming presence drew
her gaze upward once more. The shear mechanical genius of the thing made her
heart skip a beat. Her face felt strangely stretched. She must be grinning from
ear to ear—something she hadn’t done since Father had surprised her with a
telescope last Christmas.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">She stiffened, remembering what
had followed. The next day her parents had explained all the logical reasons why
her fascination with science was all well and good as a pass-time, but she must
give up her ambition to be recognized as a real scientist. Instead, Father and
Mama would provide a governess to teach her the finer points of etiquette and how
to run a household. She must apply herself to learning these skills like any
proper lady from a good family—in preparation for a suitable marriage, of
course.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">In that moment she had decided to
wrest control of her destiny from the hands of her hopelessly old-fashioned
parents. Henri agreed one-hundred per cent with the Rationalist movement that
asserted the restrictions Society placed on women in 1860 were not only
illogical, they were harmful. All that potential talent going to waste! Women
like Underground Railroad conductor Harriet Tubman and airship designer Marie
Van Allen were making significant contributions to America and the rest of the
world. Henri would do the same.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">With her parents none the wiser,
she had pretended meek submission to their plans for her. She’d studied the
ways young ladies hid their true feelings behind masks of civility while manipulating
others to get what they wanted. Using her newfound social skills to hide her
plans, she’d managed to secure an in-person job interview at Chicago’s
prestigious University of Science and Industry—which was what had brought her
to the air dock today. She’d pawned her jewelry for funds to procure an airship
ticket.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">The conductor’s whistle blew from
the top of the docking tower. “All aboard!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Henri glanced up with a frown. She
dreaded having to haul her heavy bag up the steps. A mustached man in a gray
uniform frowned down at the elderly gentleman with a cane who was first in line.
The poor man could only climb the thirty-foot stairway at a snail’s pace. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Relieved to have a moment’s rest,
she set her bag down. Scotty should be all right until after their flight left.
If only the day had not been unseasonably warm. As it was, she’d wet his fur to
keep him cool. Even so, she feared he might grow ill from the heat in his
stuffy bag. However she could not bear to leave Scotty behind. If she secured
the position at the university she would not be returning home. Scotty must
remain hidden until they were well underway.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Henri pulled her handkerchief out
of her reticule and dabbed at her sweaty face in what she hoped was a dainty
fashion. Her cheeks burned with the heat and her throat was parched. The effort
of carrying the heavy bag and the abominable parasol had made her bodice cling
unbearably to her warm skin above the accursed corset Society required her to
wear. The damp dress felt like some unnatural second skin. She shuddered and
bit her lip to take her mind off the urge to strip off her clothing as she
would have done in her room at home.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">A giggle bubbled in the back of
her throat, threatening to squeeze off what little breath the corset had not.
Undressing in public would definitely draw attention to herself, something she
could ill afford. Where in heaven’s name had she put her fan?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Bending over to unbutton the side
pocket of her portmanteau, Henri nearly pitched forward onto her face as black
spots appeared at the edges of her vision. A strong hand caught her elbow and
easily righted her. She looked up into a smiling male face sporting a
well-trimmed brown beard. Aunt Eliza’s voice echoed in Henri’s head. <i>A fine physical specimen, that.</i> Aunt
Eliza had held great admiration for the male of the species. The proportions of
this stranger’s features were certainly pleasing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">“Please forgive me, Miss,” the
man said. “I fear the heat may have overcome you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">He scooped up her bag with one long-fingered
hand as if it were as light as a dandelion seed. In his other hand he carried a
large traveling case that no doubt held his own belongings.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Eyes the color of aquamarines
gazed into hers. “Are you feeling lightheaded, Miss?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Henri shook her head in denial.
The breeze had strengthened, cooling her cheeks.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">His gaze raked her from top to
toe and back in a perfunctory manner. “We Americans would do well to dress for
the weather rather than for modesty. It is unfortunate that Society does not
agree with me on this point.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">I
agree with you</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">,
she thought, but she didn’t speak aloud. The less she conversed, the less
chance she would say the wrong thing and draw more unwanted attention.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">In her bag, Scotty growled a
warning.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">The man’s brows drew together
above his blue-green eyes. He leaned in and whispered. “Do you realize there is
an angry animal in your portmanteau?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">His warm, whisky-scented breath
on her cheek made her shiver in spite of the heat.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">How
very strange.</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">As he straightened his eyes
sparkled, however the corners of his mouth did not turn up. Was he alarmed?
Angry? Joking?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Nonverbal communication was not
her strong suit.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">She decided the simple truth
would have to suffice. “Scotty is my dog,” she whispered. What had Miss Green
taught her to do to disarm a gentleman? She stepped closer to him and fluttered
her lashes. “Please do not give us away. I can’t leave him behind.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">The man blinked. His eyes
darkened. “I could never give you away,” he responded softly. “I’m not a fool.
Besides, I’ve always fancied myself capable of smuggling. Now is my chance to
test the idea in the company of a beautiful woman.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Henri did not know what to say.
Why would giving her away make him a fool? Why did he want to try a criminal
activity with a beautiful woman? Why did his words make her feel hot and cold
at the same time? She moistened her dry lips with the tip of her tongue, her
mind uncharacteristically devoid of thought.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">He indicated the base of the
tower with his chin. “After you, Miss. The <i>Eagle</i>
awaits.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Scotty had settled into a
resigned silence, apparently deciding the stranger was no threat. In her
experience the dog was a good judge of character. A young woman in the company
of a gentleman would not stand out among the passengers. She could turn the
man’s attentions to her advantage. However, she must act the proper lady. It
wouldn’t do to give him the wrong idea.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Henri inhaled deeply and lifted
her chin. “We have not been properly introduced, Sir.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">The corners of his wide mouth
turned up. “Under these unusual circumstances, I shall beg you to allow me to introduce
myself. Dr. David Truth, at your service. I promise I won’t let the cat out of
the bag.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">He waited patiently while she
sorted out his meaning. He was joking, of course, because he had already
promised not to let Scotty out of the bag. Henri considered pointing out that
Scotty was not a cat She decided the species of her pet was irrelevant.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Miss Green had instructed her to express
admiration when introduced to a gentleman. Truth was an unusual name. “Truth is
a name to be proud of, for what is more desirable than Truth?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">His smile widened. “I like the
way you think. But what of beauty? Kindness? Skill? Meaning?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Henri tipped her head to the
side, considering. “Are they not all a form of Truth?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">He nodded. “You are intelligent
as well as beautiful, Miss—?” He paused and looked at Henri with expectation in
his eyes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">“Lafleur,” she said, hoping she
was not making a mistake. “Henriette Lafleur, of Lafayette, Louuisiana.” Would
he expect more information? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">“A lovely name for a lovely
lady,” Dr. Truth said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">She dropped her gaze to the
ticket in his pocket. Why did his statement make her cheeks burn and her
breasts ache? Other men had said as much, but as soon as she had opened her
mouth, they had come to realize she was ‘touched’ and the admiration had faded
from their eyes. Yet she had spoken to this man for several moments and he
continued to compliment her. She stole a glance at his face. His eyes shone
with what she believed was intelligence and humor.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">“Miss Lafleur, I assure you I am
quite harmless,” he said. “I’m a physicist on my way to Chicago to interview
for a position at the University of Science and Industry. You are quite safe in
my company.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Henri’s felt as if someone had
just cinched her corset. This stranger must be the other applicant for the
position with Dr. Krieger. They were on their way to apply for the same opening.
He was her competition.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">The conductor’s whistle shrilled
three times in quick succession. Glancing around, she found the line had moved
past them and up the tower to the boarding gangway without her noticing. Dr.
Truth dropped his bag, grabbed his hat and waved it overhead. “Hold!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">The red-bearded conductor
returned his wave. Dr. Truth retrieved his big travel case. “We must hurry.
Miss Lafleur, or we will not make our flight.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">They hurried. Henri worked at
digesting this new revelation. Having knowledge her competition didn’t might
give her an edge. She must keep her true reason for traveling hidden.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Five minutes later a winded Dr.
Truth stood beside her with his back to the Eagle’s railing. About half the
passengers remained on deck to experience the airship’s launch, They had spread
out to give one another privacy. The remainder preferred to sit inside the main
cabin with a cool drink and watch through glass windows.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Henri’s portmanteau sat on the
deck between her and Dr. Truth. She unfastened one end to let Scotty breathe
some fresh air. His black button nose poked through the opening. Straightening,
Henri leaned her arms on the chest-high railing and scanned the crowd behind
the safety barriers for familiar faces. Many had come to the air dock to see a
fabled airship. When a thin, well-dressed mulatto man appeared, Henri feared
for a moment Uncle Claude had come to fetch her home. Then he lit up a pipe. She
was mistaken. Smoke of any kind gave Uncle Claude coughing fits. Her knees
sagged with relief.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">A strong hand on her elbow should
have steadied Henri Instead the doctor’s kind support further weakened her
knees. Her hands tightened on the polished brass rail. What was the matter with
her?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">“Perhaps we should sit down,” Dr.
Truth said. His gentle touch guided her to a wooden bench attached to the
outside of the ship’s main cabin. Strange new sensations coursed through her
body like the effects of a spirituous drink. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">She took her seat and opened her
parasol. At least the ugly pink monstrosity blocked some of the heat of the
sun. And the eject-able knife she’d built into the tip might come in handy if
she encountered ruffians on her journey. She had only to press a small button
in the handle and the knife would appear.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Dr. Truth stowed their bags under
the bench and sat down. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">She sighed. “If only it weren’t
so pink.” Miss Green insisted men preferred a woman with a pale complexion.
Henri’s skin darkened with the slightest kiss of the sun, so she must be extra
careful to be consistent with the use of her parasol.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">“What?” Dr. Truth said, fingering
his aquiline nose. “Am I sunburned?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">She <i>must</i> cease talking to herself in front of others, as Miss Green had
told her a thousand times. People became confused. “No. My parasol is so ugly.
I hate the color pink.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">“I see,” he said, lips twitching
below his thin moustache. “Does it help if I say that I am color blind? To me,
your parasol appears the same color as a field of lush spring grass. I cannot
tell the difference between reds and greens, other than the intensity of the
shade.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">“I only wish it appeared that way
to me.” Color blindness. She’d heard of the condition without giving any
thought to what it would mean to someone afflicted.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">A bell like a train bell rang at
the bow of the airship. Dr. Truth started To Henri’s surprise he proceeded to
reach underneath the bench and unbuckle his travel case.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">“How very odd the world must seem
to you now,” Henri said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Peering between his legs, he
lifted the lid of the case an inch as if verifying the contents, then shut his
bag and sat up without fastening the locks. “I have never seen it any other way,
so the world is as beautiful to me as to you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">She tipped her head, considering.
“Perhaps more so. Bright pink hurts my eyes. I cannot enjoy that color as
others do.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">“Nor can I,” he pointed out.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">“Is this a debate?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">“Why do you ask?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">“Because each time I present a
theory, you counter it. I point out our differences; you insist they are
similarities.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">“We are flirting, Miss Lafleur. It
is a common courtship ritual.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">She frowned. “Forgive me. I did
not intend to flirt.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">“No forgiveness necessary—”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">The deck lurched beneath them.
All the color drained from his face. Henri braced her boots against the boards
and grabbed a handle nailed into the wall beside the bench. She watched the
doctor do the same while her stomach seemed to drop, then rise. The deck
slanted upward toward the bow.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Scotty whimpered.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Henri had never felt so daring. The
changing forces of lift and acceleration were the only thing keeping her from
running to look over the side.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">“We’ve taken off!” she said to
Dr. Truth.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">The man’s face seemed to be
turning green. The expression on his face reminded her of Father when he’d had
too many whiskies.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Then her dog made repeated
hacking noises. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">“Oh dear! I have heard of this,
Dr. Truth. You and Scotty have the air sickness.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Sweat shone on his skin as he
shook his head in denial. A muscle jumped in his jaw. “The dog, yes. My problem
is not the same.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">“Perhaps drinking and flying do
not mix,” she ventured.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">“I believed a few shots of whisky
and a parachute would keep the terror at bay,” he ground out. “I have an
illogical fear of flying. Of <i>not</i>
flying, actually. Of c-crashing.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">The bench pressed against Henri’s
bottom, the deck against the soles of her boots. The Boatswain’s Mate relayed
orders to the crew and the crewmen called them back to him.Tthe great ship
seemed to crest a wave and the pressure fell away until Henri thought she would
float off the bench. The ship leveled and the world seemed to right itself.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Dr. Truth gasped air as though
he’d been holding his breath through the maneuvers. “I apologize…for my
cowardice.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Henri’s father had a similar horror
of birds. So odd that such an unreasonable fear could bring a strong man to his
knees. Birds were mostly small and harmless creatures. Whereas on occasion,
airships did crash. Not often, though.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">“No apology necessary,” she said.
The poor man was trapped in a nightmare.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Once, determined to overcome his
fear, Father had bought Henri a pretty yellow canary in a gilt cage. At the
tender age of five years she had been unable to understand his distress. She’d
simply accepted that, no matter how hard he tried, he could not bear to be in
the same room with the little creature that sang pretty songs. She’d
accompanied her mother give away her pet as a gift to a distant cousin. Her
father had been gone for a week after they’d returned home. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">A small object impacted the hull
with a solid <i>thunk</i>. Eyes closed, Dr.
Truth flinched.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">“Probably an unfortunate bird,”
Henri said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">There was no response.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Unlike her father, the doctor
could not escape the situation until this evening when they landed in Chicago.
Perhaps she could distract him?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">“The odds against the airship
crashing are a hundred to one,” she said, smiling. She laid her hand on his
rigid one that gripped the seat between them. “Personally, I am more concerned
with a fire. The hydrogen gas that gives the ship lift is extremely flammable.
That is why no firearms are allowed onboard.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Dr. Truth’s gazed at Henri
through slit lids. “Are you trying to make me feel better?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">“No. Do you? Feel better, I
mean?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">He gave his head a little shake. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">“I have lavender drops in my
reticule. They calm me when my nerves act up. Would you like one?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">His gaze had fastened on her
mouth as if it were a lifeline. His nod was nearly imperceptible. She located
the small drawstring purse tied to her waist and removed a smaller bag of the
medicinal sweets. When he merely stared, white-knuckled, at the drop she
offered, she reached over and poked it between his lips with her index finger.
The moist heat of his mouth penetrated her</span><br />
<a name='more'></a><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"> thin lace glove. His eyes darkened
and her stomach fluttered.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Multiple hacking noises from her
portmanteau pulled her out of the moment. She jerked back her hand and
studiously avoided looking at the man beside her. Her face heated as though she
faced a roaring fire. Pulling out a second lavender drop, she placed the
medicine into her portmanteau in front of Scotty. The little dog eagerly
crunched and swallowed the sweet.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">She had just tucked the drops
back into her purse when the doctor spoke. “Thank you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Finding it difficult to look him
in the eye, she nodded. Unmarried young ladies did not touch a gentleman’s
mouth, not even with a gloved hand. It just wasn’t done, according to Miss
Green. What must he think of her?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">“If you were trying to distract
me, you succeeded,” he went on.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Whereupon Scotty hacked up the
lavender drop on his blanket in her portmanteau.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Henri peered inside. “I must find
some water to clean this up.” She carried her bag to the cabin door and went inside
without looking back.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">The dark-skinned porter provided
Henri with a glass bottle of water and directed her to the Ladies Resting Room,
a sort of outhouse attached to the rear of the cabin. Inside, Henri set her bag
on the floor, removed a bedraggled Scotty, and gave them both a drink of cool
water. She rolled up the dog’s soiled blanket, lifted the lid, and dropped the
mess into the privy.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">By this time, Scotty had perked
up and was wagging his tail in anticipation of leaving the confines of the
small, warm room. When she shoved him back into the bag, he whined. “You will
only have to stay in the bag for a little while longer. Please be patient.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Henri moved slowly across the
cabin toward the door she had come in. For some reason she couldn’t define,
Henri felt responsible for Dr. Truth. Perhaps it was because he had assisted
her and had smuggled Scotty on board. She felt she owed the man a favor. What
would she do if he used her forward behavior against her in the competition for the University
position?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">In fairness, he had been nothing
but kind to her. A true gentleman. Logic told her she had nothing to worry
about as far as he was concerned. However she was not a good judge of people. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Scotty interrupted her thoughts
by erupting from her bag in a flurry of damp fur and barking. He turned tail
and dashed back in the direction of the Resting Rooms. The Pince-nez lady
screamed and swooned into her companion’s arms. Men shouted and ran after the
little black animal. Henri followed, shouting. “Don’t hurt him! He’s harmless!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">The Men’s Room door opened and a
crewman in uniform stepped out. Scotty darted inside as the red-bearded man shut
the door. His eyes widened at the rush of men toward him. Henri thought she
might have been the only one to observe the Negro porter catch the man’s gaze
and give his head a slight shake. Most people ignored porters unless they needed
a service from them. The porter turned to face the crowd and raised his hands.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, please return to your seats! The animal is only a
passenger’s pet, and it has been caught.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Behind him, the crewman pulled
his cap down and walked away. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">The Pince-nez Lady had recovered
from her faint. She glared at the porter through her smudged lenses. “I was
told pets are not allowed on board.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">The porter’s gaze met Henri’s.
She did not understand the expression in his eyes. Was it fear? Pleading?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">After a moment he spoke, his gaze
still locked with hers. “We have made an exception as an experiment.
Unfortunately air travel seems to be quite upsetting, even for such a
well-behaved little dog. My apologies on behalf of Thibadeaux Air Service. I am
sure the current policy will remain in place for the foreseeable future.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Henri decided the porter did not
want her to contradict him. For some reason he was trying to protect Scotty
from harm rather than condemning Henri for smuggling him on board. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">The click of a latch followed by
a change in the pitch of the wind’s hiss across the hull indicated an outer
door had opened behind her. She glanced over her shoulder. To her amazement,
there stood Dr. Truth—pale and erect, his eyes scanning the room until they
settled on her like a caress. Her breath quickened.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">“I heard a commotion, Miss
Lafleur,” he said. Others crowded in behind him, having no doubt also heard the
uproar. “Are you in need of assistance?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">How had he managed to overcome
his fear enough to leave his perch on the bench? Why had he made that Herculean
effort?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">“Everything is under control,
Sir,” the porter said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">As if to correct him, Scotty
barked inside the Men’s Room.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Dr. Truth glanced at the man, one
brow raised. “There is a dog in the Men’s Resting Room. If I’m not mistaken, he
is small and black and rather wilted-looking. May I take a look?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">The man’s face lost all
expression. “Yes, Sir.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Dr. Truth crossed the small
distance in two strides. Sweat beaded the skin of his face and signaled his
distress to Henri. The doctor acted as if nothing was amiss. He cracked the
door open, blocking Scotty’s escape with his booted foot, and peered inside the
dim space. “There’s the little rascal, up on the seat.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">He stepped inside and the door
swung inward. Scotty barked repeatedly. The doctor spoke to him in a calm, firm
tone. Henri heard the sound of claws scrabbling on wood. A thud was followed by
a muttered oath. There was a pause in the activity, followed by another thirty
seconds of struggle. The door opened and Dr. Truth emerged with Scotty clutched
to his chest. His haggard countenance told Henri his nerves were as taut as
overstretched piano wire.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">“The conquering hero!” the old
man with the cane said. The crowd burst into applause. The good doctor blinked,
then attempted a smile.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Henri stepped forward with her
open valise. Dr. Truth popped the little dog inside. Afterward he relieved her
of the bag.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">“Ladies and gentlemen,” the
porter said, “please be seated in the cabin while tea is served.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Dr. Truth’s grip was firm on her
elbow. “Let us take some air, Miss Lafleur. Fresh air calms the nerves.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">She nodded. She might even dare to
walk Scotty on his lead.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">When they stepped out onto the
deserted deck, she noted Dr. Truth’s grim expression. His lips were pressed together
and he walked stiffly. He must feel more anxiety outside the cabin. Why had he
told her fresh air would calm the nerves?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Hurrying back to the bench, she
took her seat. His complexion when he joined her could only be described as
bilious. It stunned her that, despite being indisposed, he had come to her and
Scotty’s rescue. He was no doubt paying a steep price for his nobility.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">“I cannot tell you how much
gratitude I feel for your efforts on my behalf,” she said. “It amazes me the
strength of will you’ve demonstrated to accomplish Scotty’s rescue. I can never
repay your great kindness.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">He stared at the deck boards
throughout her long thank you. When she had finished, he offered a smile that
did not reach his eyes. “My pleasure. I only hope I have the strength to deal
with what is to come. There’s an evil game afoot, Miss Lafleur.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">“Evil? What evil?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">“Your little dog uncovered a
murder in the Men’s Room<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Henri’s jaw dropped. She could
not have been more surprised if he had told her Scotty could speak English.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">“What?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Had the strain of coming to her
rescue unhinged his mind? Was he teasing her? Carefully, she examined his face.
No sign of humor lightened his expression. He continued to stare at the deck.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">“I assure you, I am perfectly
sane. While trying to apprehend Scotty in the Men’s Room, I hit my head hard
against a coat hook I couldn’t see in the dim light from the ventilation grate.
Naturally, I used my battery-powered torch to search for other obstacles before
continuing the chase.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">“May I see it?” Herni said. “I’ve
never heard of a battery-powered torch.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Dr. Truth’s mouth dropped open
for a moment. He shook his head from side to side the way Mama did when she was
at a loss for words, all the while digging in his pocket with one hand. He
pulled out a metal cylinder as long as Henri’s hand and as big around as a
cigar. When he twisted a ring around one end of the cylinder light shone
through a glass pane set in the tip. He offered the torch to Henri. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">She examined it with delight,
twisting the ring in one direction and then the other to turn the light off and
on again. Reluctantly, she handed the device back to him. “Thank you. You were
telling me about the murder?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">“The murder?” he said. He
pocketed the torch. “Right. Scotty continued to bark and growl at the—at the—I
was worried he might fall into the holding chamber, if you will—The rascal’s head
was hanging over the edge. When I grabbed him by the scruff of the neck my
torchlight revealed a nude man’s body stuffed inside the chamber. Distinctive
wounds around his neck led me to believe he’d been garroted.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">She had not expected this
revelation. As usual her mind followed a logical path. “Did you recognize his
face?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Dr. Truth’s Adam’s apple bobbed
up and down as he swallowed. “It was the Conductor, Mr. Rouge.” He finally met
Henri’s gaze. “I do believe the Eagle has been taken over by air pirates, Miss
Lafleur.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">That would explain why the porter
had not wanted to make an issue of Scotty’s behavior, and the strange signals
between the porter and the man in the conductor’s uniform who exited the Men’s
Room as Scotty slipped inside. Not to mention the little dog’s uncharacteristic
behavior. His canine senses must have detected the body. He had dutifully
attempted to alert her to possible danger.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Henri shivered. Slowly, she nodded.
“I agree with your logic, Sir.” She told him about the silent exchange between
the porter and the man who must have been the murderer.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">“This was carefully planned out,”
the doctor said. “I have a talent for remembering facial details. Most people
would not have noticed the small differences in the two men’s appearances. For
some reason the villains do not wish to alarm the passengers.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">“Most of them are wealthy,” Henri
said. “Perhaps they plan to hold them for ransom and simply don’t want to deal
with a panic aboard ship.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">“Perhaps…” Dr. Truth did not
sound convinced. “It is true that the ship’s crew number less than the
passengers. The captain pilots the ship, the engineer regulates the hydrogen
gas in the bag, the ballastiere controls the ballast and two deckhands handle
the tethers. The conductor and porter see to the needs of the passengers.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">“That’s seven pirates holding
twelve passengers prisoner,” Henri said. “Assuming the entire crew is involved.
That may not be the case. In a pinch, only the pilot, engineer, ballestiere and
a deckhand are needed to operate the airship. It would be relatively easy to
dispose of bodies other than those of the two men working in the main cabin by
simply throwing them overboard. No one would be the wiser.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">“I hadn’t thought of that,” Dr.
Truth said. “My first step will be to ascertain how many pirates are aboard
ship. Secondly, I must determine their motives. First I insist that you avail
yourself of my parachute. You can notify the authorities once you are safely on
the ground.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Henri’s pulse raced with the realization
that he was willing to sacrifice his own chance to escape in order to ensure
her safety. Perhaps he already cared for her as a woman. On the other hand, perhaps
he couldn’t bring himself to jump from the moving airship and didn’t want to
waste the parachute. If she accepted his offer she would most definitely
achieve her goal of securing the position at the University since he would miss
his interview. But she could not bear to think of any harm befalling this man
with the iron will who valued her unique qualities and never made her feel
small. Besides she could not live with herself if she obtained the position by
an act of trickery. She was better than that. All she wanted was an equal
chance. She would be proud to lose the position to a man like Dr. Truth.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">“Thank you, but no,” she said
firmly. “I will be watched less stringently than you because I am a woman. They
will see me as less of a threat. Besides, your fear of flying may hinder your
efforts.” She hated to point that out, however it had to be said. “We have a
better chance of defeating these villains if we work together. I am not going
anywhere, Dr. Truth.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">He smacked his palm with his
fist. “Damn it all, you are right! For all we know this could be part of a
larger plot. Since the Dred Scott Decision, many have come to believe the
nation is on the brink of a civil war. The Republican Party has just nominated
Abe Lincoln for President. Today he’s giving his acceptance speech in
Springfield, Illinois. His abolitionist views make him a target for extremists.
An airship is a mighty weapon in the wrong hands.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">His gaze slid over her from top
to toe and back again. This time there was nothing perfunctory about the way he
looked at her as there had been earlier on the air dock. Her blood hummed in
response to his obvious admiration. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">“Forgive me,” he said. “I have
committed every detail of your person to memory. If one of these pirates so
much as sullies your shoes, he shall answer to me for it.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Henri’s heart skipped a beat at
the heat in his words.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">And please call me David. Under
the circumstances I believe first names are in order.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Henri nodded. “I overheard Father
discussing rumors of a secret group of Southern assassins being trained in
Canada, the Knights of the Golden Circle. They are said to work for those
preparing for the South to secede from the Union. If the rumors are true, they
would be able to implement such a plan.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">He reached out and touched her
cheek. Lightning seemed to spread from his fingers to set every cell in her body
a-tingle. “So you are a beautiful Southern Unionist?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">It occurred to Henri that she
might like him to kiss her. Preferably soon. She licked her lips as Miss Green
had taught her to do. She’d never tried to seduce a man into kissing her
before. “I named my dog after the brave Negro slave, Dred Scott. What do you
think?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">For the first time since they had
taken flight, David laughed aloud. “You are the perfect woman. Promise me when we
have our feet planted on terra firma you’ll allow me to court you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">She eyed him with suspicion. “Are
you serious, David?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">“I’ve never been more serious in
my life.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Her heart seemed to have grown
wings. “Then you may call me Henri. It’s short for Henriette.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">“Henri.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">“I like the way it sounds coming
from you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">“A unique name for a unique
woman.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">She bit her lower lip to keep
from blurting out something ridiculous like <i>kiss
me for luck! </i>She was a scientist. She did not believe in luck. But they
could both die today, and she so wanted to experience a kiss—<i>his</i> kiss.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">“What is it, Henri?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">She could not meet his gaze. The
sting of unshed tears threatened to give her away.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">David lifted her chin and leaned
toward her until she could feel his breath brush her skin. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">“Your color has returned to
normal,” she observed breathlessly.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">The corners of his mouth turned
up. “I’m feeling quite well at the moment.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">His lips were soft and gentle.
They carried a hint of whisky from his earlier attempts to fortify himself. He
lingered over the kiss until her nipples tightened unbearably. She threw her
arms around his neck and pressed them against his chest to ease the ache. He
groaned and deepened the kiss, probing her mouth with his tongue until her toes
curled.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Finally he set her back. “I hope
you don’t mind a brief courtship.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Henri swallowed. “Because we will
most likely die?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">He pulled her back against him
with a groan. “Because I want you in my bed.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">She smiled up at him through her
lashes. “Come along then, David. First, we have some air pirates to dispatch. I
do believe I have just the thing for the job.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">She reached for her ugly pink
parasol.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="background-color: #a9c054; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 23.183998107910156px;"> </span><span style="background-color: #a9c054; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18.399999618530273px;">© 2014 Sarah Raplee All rights reserved</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #a9c054; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18.399999618530273px;">Thank you for reading my story. </span></div>
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Sarah Rapleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17076583905680420909noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707936029476973010.post-20180355005242705102014-07-04T00:00:00.000-07:002014-07-04T00:00:02.014-07:00One Hot Medium by Sarah Raplee<br />
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<b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw7RJVj4PdZsJDOIaLFlDBDfPfuXce1U5Ss-FVhLpjOb6H-6CnX4llEllxrDjek9jyRLf4aeI1U-3xI8iJRnj3_VZrcEUMi58T_d4eYTOdtmczr_8-5MGB6aAk1M26Wv5LI3OsOc4tOg/s1600/blue_eyed_white_long_hair_cat_~AP-0YBZVO-TH.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw7RJVj4PdZsJDOIaLFlDBDfPfuXce1U5Ss-FVhLpjOb6H-6CnX4llEllxrDjek9jyRLf4aeI1U-3xI8iJRnj3_VZrcEUMi58T_d4eYTOdtmczr_8-5MGB6aAk1M26Wv5LI3OsOc4tOg/s200/blue_eyed_white_long_hair_cat_~AP-0YBZVO-TH.jpg" height="200" width="200" /></a></b></div>
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Psychic medium Cora Merryweather popped a couple of antacid tablets to quell the burning in her stomach. <i>Today’s one o’clock appointment will be a doozy for sure.</i></div>
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Limiting readings to locals might weed out the haters, but her bank account couldn’t afford to take that kind of hit. Half of Cora’s clients came from outside Iowa City, some from as far away as Waterloo and Des Moines. Like everyone else, mediums had to eat. And she refused to set her rates so high only the well-off could afford a reading.</div>
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Cora’s sigh was cut short by a string of sneezes. <i>Great, just great.</i> She sounded like Typhoid Mary. How was she supposed to relax into a meditative state with her anxiety level rising like the temperature outside?</div>
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The sneezing fits had started as soon as silver-haired Mrs. Donovan, her morning client, had departed. After grabbing a box of tissues off the table, she’d settled down at her small desk and opened her old laptop. By lunchtime, she’d finished her record-keeping in spite of continued bouts of off-and-on sneezing. The persistent, unusual symptom made her suspect she was having a negative psychic premonition. She was normally an extremely healthy young woman. Besides, her negative premonitions had manifested as physical symptoms a few times in the past. When the chocolate protein shake she called lunch soured as soon as it hit her stomach, her fears had been confirmed.</div>
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The grandfather clock she’d inherited from Aunt Tillie along with the house whirred before emitting a single deep chime to mark the quarter hour. A shiver skittered up her spine. <i>Fifteen minutes to show time. </i>She reached for her blue plastic water bottle to wash down the last of the minty antacids<i>.</i> The burning in her stomach had eased, but now she needed to pee. She plunked the bottle down and drew her brows together in a deep, dark, heartfelt scowl.</div>
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No doubt her next client would turn out to be a hater. Why couldn’t the Doubting Thomases live and let live, the way she and most other mediums did? How would they like it if she barged into their places of business and accused them of being liars and con artists? Tried to ruin them?</div>
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She grabbed her neon orange cell phone off the desktop, paused to sneeze into a tissue and then texted her friend Joan at Discrete Security.</div>
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<i>Is Owl on duty?</i> The message was code asking if the security camera in the stuffed barred owl on her bookshelf was working properly.</div>
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<i>Owl’s awake</i>, Joan replied. <i>Big Sister is watching. Bwa-ha-ha-ha-ha.</i></div>
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<i> </i>Cora’s lips stretched into a grateful smile. It helped to know someone had her back, someone who cared about her and believed in her unusual abilities.</div>
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On a computer monitor in her office across town, Joan had a clear view of Cora’s room through the wide-angle lens in Owl’s left eye. Her friend wouldn’t hesitate to deploy a pair of well-trained security officers if “Barry” flipped to the Dark Side. No cops would be called unless Cora appeared to be in physical danger; Joan’s business wasn’t called <i>Discrete Security</i> for nothing. Plenty of business people whose clients expected privacy preferred to handle unpleasantness without attracting media attention. Lawyers, therapists, talent agents…psychics.</div>
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Knowing Joan had her back gave Cora confidence. She stood and waved at Owl before heading down the short hallway toward the bathroom.</div>
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<i>Bring it on, Barry—or whatever your name really is!</i></div>
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She never asked for more than the client’s first name and phone number. Her job was to channel their loved ones to bring her clients healing and a measure of peace. In order for them to accept that she was the real deal, she had to be careful not to acquire any information about them or their deceased loved ones ahead of time. No last names, no checks, nothing.</div>
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Her lack of information made it relatively easy for the haters to get in to see her. The patient ones, anyway; she was booked up for months ahead because of her spotless reputation. Luckily most doubters weren’t that dedicated.</div>
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Unlike Barry, her one o’clock. She sneezed three times and shut the bathroom door.</div>
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***</div>
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Tom Chase twisted the bell key beside the red front door of Cora Merryweather’s blue Victorian house and schooled his face into a pleasantly neutral expression. The authentic antique bell sounded a lot like an old-fashioned bicycle bell, only louder.<br />
The smell of fresh paint permeated the air. Business must be exceptionally good if she could afford to hire house painters. He squelched a grimace that wanted to curl his upper lip. How many grieving widows did it take to paint a house, metaphorically-speaking?<br />
An indignant-sounding <i>meow </i>sounded at his elbow. He glanced down into the unblinking, deep-blue eyes of an enormous, long-haired white cat laying in the wide porch swing. A sunbeam highlighted the snowy whiteness of his fur against the red-checkered cushion How could the animal stand to lie in a sunbeam when it was so damned hot? Tom’s oxford shirt was already sticking to his back, and he’d only been outside his air-conditioned truck for a few minutes.</div>
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“Hello,” he said. He'd always liked cats. The cat’s tail tip twitched a warning. He turned away.</div>
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A bee buzzed past his head and drew his gaze to baskets overflowing with sweet-scented, multicolored flowers that hung above the porch railing. As he’d gone up the front walk, he’d half-noticed the row of neatly-tended snapdragons that guarded the front of the house and the green, long-leafed hostas that encircled a young sugar maple tree.</div>
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He caught a whiff of the flowers’ perfume and clenched his teeth. This place reeked of hope. He knew from hard experience that hope was a dangerously addictive emotion. He’d spent more than two years trying to break his own habit.</div>
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His eyes narrowed at two weathered wicker armchairs framing an equally dilapidated side table at the far end of the porch. A cluster of white spray paint cans peeked out from behind one of the chairs.</div>
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Tom frowned. Maybe business wasn’t as good as he’d thought.Or she needed to raise her rates.</div>
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On the other side of the red door, a clock chimed the hour. He glanced at his watch and then gave the bell key another impatient twist. The medium was late. He tried the doorknob, but it wouldn’t turn. Maybe she’d stood him up. His gut began to burn. He’d waited six months for this reading. She’d damned well better show up.</div>
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The knob rattled and then turned. The door opened and a pretty, ponytailed blond wearing a short pink sheath that showed off her legs smiled up at him. The smile didn’t quite reach her clear gray eyes.</div>
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“Hello,” he said. “I’m Barry.” If she’d had a tail, he was sure it would have twitched a warning. </div>
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Even so, she nodded, sending her gold beaded earrings swinging in graceful arcs from delicate her delicate earlobes. She opened the door wider. “I’m Cora. Please come in, <i>Barry</i>.” She turned and walked away.</div>
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Eyeing the seductive swing of her hips, he followed.</div>
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They passed through a small, tiled foyer that was empty except for a coat rack and an umbrella stand. The large room they entered ran the width of the house. To his left, a comfortable-looking overstuffed couch and chair were grouped around a brick fireplace. On either side of the fireplace, mullioned windows let in the light.</div>
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Cora moved to the right. “What kind of name is Barry, anyway?” she said.</div>
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“What do you mean?” He turned and watched her retreating ass. She didn’t seem to have heard him.</div>
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“Please, sit down.” She waved a casual hand at the square, polished wooden table, then took a seat. The wall behind her was lined with floor-to-ceiling shelves crammed with books and a few knickknacks. </div>
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Tom chose the seat across from hers. He wanted a clear view of her facial expressions while she “read” him.</div>
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She sat as if a she had a broom handle for a backbone and folded her hands on the tabletop. Her short, neatly-manicured nails were unpainted, probably because she worked in the garden. A thick gold band etched with a raven totem encircled the middle finger of her right hand. Her left hand was bare.</div>
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His shoulders twitched. She made him uncomfortable in his own skin.</div>
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“Is Barry short for—what? Barold? Barney? Barrow?” The frozen smile had been replaced by a look of disdain.</div>
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Why was she fixated on the damned name? “I was named after my father.” That much was true.</div>
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Something flashed in her eyes. “I don’t doubt that for a minute. Your father’s come forward, you see. The problem is his name is Thomas, not Barry.”</div>
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***</div>
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Cora scowled when his earth-brown eyes slid away from hers. The skin under his fashionable dark stubble reddened. A muscle jumped in his jaw. At least he had the decency to be embarrassed at being caught in a lie.</div>
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When he shot to his feet, she realized she was mistaken. His voice dropped to a feral growl. “Where is it?”</div>
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She swallowed. He seemed to occupy a lot more space than he had a minute ago. Her tongue darted out to lick lips that were suddenly parched. </div>
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A jumble of images flashed in her. Too many spirits vied for her attention for her to make sense of the mess in her head. Right now she needed to focus on the crazy guy in her living room, and he was very much alive.</div>
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<i>Not now</i>, she told the spirits. <i>Later, I promise.</i></div>
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They pulled back their energy and left her to deal with Thomas on her own.</div>
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He squatted and ducked his head to look up at the table bottom, then stood once more and glanced wildly around the room.</div>
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Heart chugging like a runaway train, she rose from her chair. She had to tip her head back to catch his troubled gaze. Why had she bothered to bait this tall, dark and handsome nut job? How long would it take Joan’s minions to get here?</div>
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He flattened his hands on the tabletop and leaned in, looming over her with fire scorching the earth of his eyes. Cora felt very small and helpless as he loomed over her like volcano about to erupt.</div>
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Then a gentle child’s spirit touched her mind, leaving a single clear image behind.</div>
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“What’s the significance of the little brown teddy bear with the purple bow?” she asked him.</div>
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He stepped back as if she had shoved him. His face paled and his eyes frosted over. “Where did you find out about the bear?” he said through clenched teeth. “On someone’s Facebook page? Or did you go to the funeral home’s memorial page?”</div>
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She leapt onto her chair seat so they were eye-to-eye, teetered for a moment, and then straightened, fisting hands on hips. “How dare you try to intimidate me, you imposter! Get out before I call the police.”</div>
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His icy gaze slid down her body like a ghostly caress, stopping at her breasts, her hips, and the hem of her short skirt. She suppressed a shiver. His eyes darkened and then he bared his teeth in a caricature of a smile. “How do you plan to call for help? A ghostly messenger?”</div>
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She felt the blood leave her face. Her dress had no pockets. She’d left her cell on the desk. If she made a dash for it, he’d be on her before she could make the call.</div>
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Had he seen her tremble? Climbing to his eye level left her very exposed in a precarious position. She wrapped her arms around herself and tried to think logically. She needed to keep him talking until the security detail arrived. “What do you want from me?”</div>
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“The truth,” he said. But something in his expression told her that, for the briefest moment, he wanted more. He wanted her.</div>
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She lifted her chin. “You can’t handle the truth.”</div>
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If he made a move toward her she’d grab her letter opener off the desk and defend herself. He wouldn’t expect her to stab him. She swallowed against a surge of nausea. There’d be an awful lot of blood. What if she hit a vital organ and he died? Would her Spirit Guides be able to protect her from Thomas? Or would he haunt her for the rest of her life?</div>
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Her vision blurred and her knees seemed to lose their strength. Her body stopped obeying her mind’s orders. She was falling. Then strong arms caught her and cradled her to a muscled chest. What seemed like only a moment passed before she was lowered onto the soft couch.</div>
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She squinted up at the hater’s worried face. He brushed her hair off her forehead with gentle fingers. Her eyelids fluttered shut.</div>
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Coming around to find him fumbling with her ears, she jerked her head back and forth while slapping at his hands. “Stop it! Get away from me, you pervert!”</div>
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He captured her wrists in his hands and sat on her thighs, pinning her legs down. She gasped and bucked, but he didn’t budge. <i>This can’t be happening.</i></div>
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Her eyes burned with unshed tears. “My security guys will be here any minute.” Shouldn’t they have already arrived?</div>
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“Now who’s telling lies?”</div>
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What had been a distant wail grew louder. Joan must have called the police. Hot tears rolled down Cora’s cheeks.</div>
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The fine lines that radiated from the corners of his eyes deepened. He swore under his breath. “I’m not going to rape you. Promise not to attack me and I’ll let you up.”</div>
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She nodded her agreement. He released her, moved off her and sat in the armchair with his head in his hands. “I was sure you were wearing an earpiece to connect you to an accomplice who feeds you information.” He scrubbed his face with both hands and then gazed at her with weary eyes. </div>
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Feeling the atmosphere in the room shift, she pushed herself up to a sitting position.</div>
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His eyes pleaded with her. “I’m begging you. Tell me how you work the con and I’ll go. I won’t give your secret away. I have to know how it’s done. I have to.”</div>
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She stared at him mutely. After all he’d done, he still thought she was a fake. Hardening her heart, she stood up, straightened her dress and gave him the look she reserved for when Sugar Cat crapped in her flower bed. A police car pulled up in front of the house.</div>
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Acting on intuition, she walked over to the hater and slapped his hangdog face. “You’re the only one with secrets, <i>Barry</i>. Consider this your get-out-of-jail free card. You only get one. I won’t press charges. Leave through the kitchen and out the back gate.” She crossed to the foyer. “Don’t ever, ever even think about coming back.”</div>
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***</div>
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The little sugar maple tree had turned bright orange before Tom found the courage to ignore Cora’s warning and return to try to set things right.</div>
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The wind brought the spicy scent of fallen leaves as He parked his car at the curb and studied her house for a moment, noting subtle changes. The snapdragons had been replaced with bold orange and gold chrysanthemums. A large un-carved pumpkin squatted beside the bottom step like a soldier guarding the castle gate.</div>
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The flower baskets were gone. A painted wooden sign hung on short chains from the hooks. A fairytale castle glittered at one end of the sign; a good likeness of the big white cat stared at him from the other. The words <i>Do you believe in magic?</i> <i>If so, welcome. If not, go jump in the moat!</i> filled the space between the artwork<i>.</i></div>
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He smiled. The words were typical of his experience with Cora Merryweather. They gave him courage to climb out of his car and start up the short walk.</div>
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Although there was no excuse for the way he’d frightened and manhandled Cora, he owed her an apology and an explanation. She must have sensed there was more to the situation than she knew. Why else would she have failed to press charges against him? A statement from her would have ruined what was left of his life. He owed her thanks for that, too.</div>
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She believed he considered her to be a fake, a con artist. She damned well deserved to know the truth of the matter. It would take real magic for her to find it in her heart to forgive him, but she’d made him believe in magic.</div>
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Tom took the steps two at a time. A loud <i>meow</i> brought him up short. The big white cat lay on the porch swing cushion as if he hadn’t moved in all this time. Deep blue eyes squeezed shut and a purr rumbled from his chest. Tom stroked the big animal’s head with one cautious finger. The purr grew louder.</div>
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He desperately wanted to start over with Cora. At first he’d told himself she was only important because she was the one he’d been afraid to hope for, a person who could really communicate with the dead. Someone who proved life continued beyond this earthly plane, something he’d never believed until now. Someone who could help him say goodbye to his wife and little girl, tell them how sorry he was that he’d been unable to control the van when their front tire blew on the Cedar River Bridge. Tell them he would have gladly traded his life for theirs.</div>
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All that was true, but he found himself thinking about Cora constantly. The way her hips swayed when she walked. The way she’d climbed on her chair to make herself taller. The way her storm-cloud-colored eyes sparked when she was angry. Her flowery scent.</div>
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Taking the cat’s change of heart as a good sign, he squared his shoulders, faced Cora’s shiny red door and turned the bell key. The hollow sound jangled his nerves.</div>
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The door opened and a disheveled Cora blinked up at him. She wore faded jeans and a dirty pink Iowa Hawkeyes tee-shirt. A dusty rag was clutched in one hand.</div>
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She raised her arm and sneezed twice into her shirtsleeve. “I figured you’d turn up sooner or later. You’re not the type to leave well enough alone.” She looked tired and cranky and sexy as hell.</div>
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He felt his mouth stretch into a grin. “Has anyone ever told you you’re one hot medium?”</div>
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Her eyes widened and her brows lifted in apparent surprise.</div>
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He pressed the advantage. “Everything you told me that day was spot on. There was no way you could have known my real name, or about Gracie’s bear.”</div>
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When her gray eyes turned to velvet, he plunged into the apology he’d prepared, ready to shove his foot in the door if the shock wore off and she moved to shut him out. “I shouldn’t have lied about my name. I shouldn’t have scared you. I definitely shouldn’t have touched you.” He paused to clear his dry throat. “I was in no condition to approach you or any other medium. At the time I didn’t realize how far off the reservation I’d ventured.”</div>
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He plowed a hand through his hair. “I swear I’ve never manhandled a woman before. I can’t believe it happened. But it did, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything.”</div>
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The silence stretched for what seemed like forever. Then she sighed and gestured toward the freshly painted white wicker chairs. “Let’s sit.”</div>
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A surge of elation lightened his footsteps. After they’d taken their seats on either side of the small table, he tried to explain the events that had driven his erratic behavior. “My parents were both scientists. They believed in the here and now, in living the one life that nature evolved for us the best way we can. That’s what I believed, too, until the accident that killed my wife, Evelyn, and our little girl, Grace. At first grief consumed me every moment of every day. Then I found myself talking to them at home. At times I had the overwhelming sense that they were still with me, that they heard me. At those times I found a small measure of peace. I was desperate to believe those feelings were more than just a part of the natural grieving process, more than just coping mechanisms to help me make it through the pain. But I knew reality didn’t work like that.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 3pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
He cleared his throat. “When I couldn’t shut those feelings away, I wondered if I was going crazy. Then a friend’s wife talked me into going to a so-called medium. I found myself hoping for proof, for validation of my experiences. The medium would demonstrate that there is life after death.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 3pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
The thud of the big white cat jumping down from the swing made them both flinch. They watched him pad over to flop at their feet. Cora leaned over to scratch the cat’s cheek for a moment. Then she turned sideways in her chair and met Tom’s gaze. “Please go on.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 3pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“It was ridiculously easy to prove the first medium was a con man.” Tom couldn’t keep the disappointment out of his voice. “I didn’t know then what I know now. Hope is an addictive emotion.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 3pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“Sometimes,” she said softly. Her eyes were full of compassion.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 3pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
He nodded. “I found another medium. And another. And another. Some were smarter than others, but I always found a rational explanation for how they got the information they seemed to pull out of thin air. I went through half a dozen before the hope finally died. I made it my mission in life to discredit every medium I could find, and I was able to do so—until you.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 3pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
He shook his head. His gaze fell to her gold raven ring. He wasn’t proud of the fact that he went a little crazy trying to ruin her life. “While I was on your waiting list, I interviewed as many of your clients as I could find. Every one of them was certain you had a supernatural gift. Not one had a bad thing to say about you. You were warmhearted, kind, patient. Hell, your rates were even reasonable. And you knew things no one else could know, like how Mrs. Donovan had gone to her laundry room the morning of her reading and breathed in her dead husbands scent from his favorite sweatshirt. Crazy obscure knowledge that could only be explained by your incredible psychic gift.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 3pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
His laugh sounded bitter, even to himself. “The more I learned about Cora Merryweather, the more determined I became to prove you were nothing but a crook with a pretty face.” He forced himself to glance at her face to read her reaction.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 3pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
She tucked a strand of hair behind one ear and gave him a tentative smile, a smile that lit up her eyes from within. A smile he didn’t deserve.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 3pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“I became obsessed with you. I spent hours every evening doing online research, sometimes forgetting to eat or sleep. I stopped going out except to work and buy groceries. Just before my appointment date, my boss put me on a leave of absence from work. I didn’t care.” Looking back on that time, he found it hard to remember the details of what he’d done.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 3pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“Grief can do strange things to a person,” Cora said. “It will tear you apart if you let it.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 3pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
His throat tightened. He couldn’t look at her.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 3pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“By the time the day of my reading arrived, I had nothing to work with: no evidence of fraud, no dissatisfied customers, only my crazy convictions.” Tom sighed. “I was terrified to hope again. Another disappointment would have killed me. The moment we met, my instincts told me you were genuine, a good person doing good work. But if I was wrong about that…” He looked away from her stricken expression. “I’m not proud of my cowardice.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 3pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
Cora slipped out of her seat and knelt beside him. He caught a whiff of her flowery scent and his blood heated. She cupped his jaw in her small, strong hand and forced him to meet her gaze.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 3pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“You are not a coward, Tom.” Her voice and eyes held conviction. “You’re here, aren’t you? You’ve faced your demons, admitted your mistakes, asked for forgiveness. You’ve changed your worldview in a way few people are capable of doing.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 3pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
Her faith in him gave him courage to hope. He turned his head and pressed his lips her warm, soft palm. “Can you find it in your heart to forgive me?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 3pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
Her eyes turned to smoldering charcoal. “That depends,” she said. “How hot do you think I am?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 3pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
He spent the rest of the day showing her.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18.399999618530273px;">© 2013 Sarah Raplee All rights reserved</span></div>
Sarah Rapleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17076583905680420909noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707936029476973010.post-61672708924902078382014-05-16T00:30:00.000-07:002014-05-16T00:30:03.530-07:00BIRTHDAY PROMISES - Part 2
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><em>Birthday Promises - Part 2</em><br />By: Deanne Wilsted<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Noah searched Julianna’s face. While she appeared jovial, he
knew she had to be suffering inside. After all, no one wanted to end up
divorced. In truth, when they’d made the promise to get divorced if either of
them were in loveless marriages when they turned thirty-five, neither had
really believed it would end up that way. They’d been at each other’s weddings;
had been best woman and man of honor. He’d seen the love and confidence glowing
from the inside when she’d taken her vows with Mark. And, if he’d had some
doubts about the guy’s character, well he’d also known Julianna would be strong
enough to bring out the best in him.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Yet here they were, seven years later, with Julia standing
in front of him telling him she wanted to keep the promise.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Are you sure, Julianna? I mean, isn’t there anything you
can do?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Julianna sighed and set her champagne glass down. Noah
followed her lead. He really didn’t feel much like toasting anymore either.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Oh Noah. I’ve tried. You have no idea how hard I’ve tried
to let go of Mark’s unfaithfulness. I just, he just, well, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">we</i> just can’t seem to move beyond it.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">To Noah’s way of thinking, moving beyond infidelity seemed
like the wrong approach. It felt like something you would need to tackle
head-on in order to grow and re-establish a bond.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“It probably doesn’t help that I’m pretty sure he’s still
messing around with other women.” She barked out a wry laugh. “Of course he
claims it’s not true. He says it’s my imagination.” She shrugged, deflated.
“Which may be right. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. I can’t live like this
anymore.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Noah watched Julianna square her shoulders then look him in
the eye.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Besides, a promise is a promise, right?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">He reached out and pulled her into another huge hug. More
than anything he wished he could take away some of her hurt. “I wish you’d told
me,” he said.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“I would have. I wanted to. But after everything you’ve been
through these last two years I really didn’t want to add to your troubles.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Noah felt his insides curl, twist, and tighten like a
Cheeto. He glanced at the photo of Mattie that he’d placed on the table. What
was he going to do?<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“When Mattie died….” He swallowed the grief that still
overwhelmed him whenever he spoke of it. “After she was gone, it felt like she
took the very best part of Leslie and me with her.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Oh no, Noah!” Julianna was emphatic. “The two of you have
always been like rays of sunlight shooting from the same sun. Even when you
were young and thought you hated each other.”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Noah remembered those days. It was high school and Leslie,
the cheerleader had seemed like everything wrong with society. Her perfect
little curls always bounced in time with her steps- a walk that was always done
in sparkly, name-brand, sneakers. She smiled and giggled and totally intrigued
him, though he would never have admitted it to anyone. But he didn’t need to
tell Julianna. She saw it in him from the beginning. “You really should get to
know her,” she’d claimed. “She’s really nice. And she likes Tito Puente.” She’d
looked at him slyly. But Noah hadn’t bought it. How could anyone who cared so
much about being popular appreciate music by the King of Salsa?<span style="color: #0070c0;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Noah had watched her enthrall the school for four years. It wasn’t
until their senior year lock-up that he finally too succumbed to her charm. A
bunch of the kids had begun to get out of control and Leslie had stepped in and
described all of the important work around the school that would be destroyed
if they sprayed the classrooms with fire extinguishers as they were planning on.
He’d watched her that night, ponytail whipping around, as she mapped out the
entire school and all of its valuables. He’d suddenly realized that what looked
like superficiality in fact hid an observant, intelligent and caring heart.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Love had grown from there. It had inspired the many novels
he’d written over the years. There was no better story than love found.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">But like a tilt-a-whirl his view had shifted when their five
year old daughter Mattie had died. Astoundingly, Leslie had bounced back, like
the curls which still jumped around on her shoulders. She’d demanded the same
of him. But he couldn’t give it, didn’t know how <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">she</i> could.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">He was beginning to think his original assessment of
Leslie’s character had been correct.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>After all, what sort of person, he wondered could recover so easily from
the death of their child?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">* *<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Late that night Julianna and Noah sat on his balcony looking
up at the night sky. The champagne had kicked in and they were both sleepy and
a bit maudlin.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Do you think we’ll ever find love again?” Julianna asked.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Noah tried to imagine himself with anyone besides Leslie and
came up blank. “Not sure.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Well, I don’t care.” Julianna pounded her fist on the iron
railing and then looked at her hurt hand as if it weren’t attached to her own
body. “Ow?”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">He grabbed her fist and rubbed the spot below her pinkie where
she’d hit. “Silly girl. That’s going to leave a bruise.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">She looked at her hand again curiously and then shrugged. “I
don’t care,” she repeated.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Noah got the impression she was referring to finding love
rather than to her hurt hand.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“I think I do,” he said quietly, almost to himself. But as
always, Julianna knew he was saying something important and pinpointed him with
a laser-like gaze.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“I think you care too,” she said. “But not about finding <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">new</i> love.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Noah huffed. Even though they’d been talking about things
all night it was impossible for her to understand what the last six months had
been like for him. His daughter was gone. His cold wife was constantly either
at work or at the gym. He couldn’t even write. He was lost.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“You’ve always been Leslie’s strongest cheerleader. But try
living with someone who acts like nothing has changed; like the worst thing in
the world hasn’t just happened. You try showering with someone who still sings;
eating with someone who somehow empties their plate; sleeping with someone whose
eyes close as soon as the light goes off.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Um, but Noah, isn’t that just things we all do in life?”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Not after your DAUGHTER<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">
</i>is killed!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Julianna pulled back as if slapped. And Noah’s hands
tightened into fists on the arm of the chair. God damn it! No one, not even
Juliana understood that life- even the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">word</i>
life- didn’t mean anything to him anymore.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">* *<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Noah’s head was pounding the next morning when he awoke,
half-way on, half-way off, the couch. He’d insisted Julianna take the bed. She
didn’t know he never slept in it anymore and there was no way he would have
slept in Mattie’s room.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">An image of Leslie cleaning out Mattie’s closet hit him like
a slap on his whiskered face. He’d yelled at her about it; thrown the coffee
cup he’d held at her to make her to stop. She’d moved out that day four months
ago. Now they only saw each other at the counselor’s office. Their appointments
had become fewer and fewer, so that Noah wasn’t even sure when their next one
was. He shut down the ache inside himself, not noticing how tightly he held the
couch pillow.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">In the other room he heard the shower turn on and knew
Julianna was awake. But Noah could feel the darkness taking hold and couldn’t
find the motivation to move from his prenatal position on the couch. Like a
curtain falling on the final scene, the room went black and silent. He heard
his own breath, but even the sound of the shower was now a distant, indistinct
noise, like the meaningless hum of a refrigerator.<span style="color: #0070c0;"><o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">He wasn’t sure how long he’d been out. The sound of
whispering voices- of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Leslie’s</i>
whispering voice, eventually cut through the heavy lethargy that took hold
after one of his blackouts. Not wanting to move in any case, he simply lay
there listening.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Does this happen often?” Julianna asked.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“I, I’m not sure.” Leslie’s hesitation was in contrast to
her rigidity of late. “He told the counselor and me the blackouts
had stopped. I thought he was getting better.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It was Leslie’s sob that finally snapped his eyelids open.
Across the room the two women he loved most in life sat across from each other
at the dining room table. Julianna held Leslie’s hands, cushioning Leslie’s
forehead which had dropped onto them.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Oh Julianna, I don’t know what to do. I’ve tried so hard to
hold it all together for us- tried to be the strong one. But I just can’t
anymore.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can’t live like this.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Her sobbing grew until it was impossible to ignore. At the
same time, Noah didn’t know what to think of Leslie’s atypical emotions. At least
she was finally showing some. And a part of him wanted to rush over to reassure
her. But another side, the one that was omni-present, wanted to yell and throw
things. All of this time, after all that had gone on, and only <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">now</i> she cried? Could it even be
believed?<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Bravo!” he called across the room, clapping his hands at
her theatrics. “What a performance. I’m sure Julianna is impressed with your
heartfelt emotion.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Noah lay back on the couch and covered his eyes with the
back of his hand. “But if you don’t mind, I’m resting after a champagne fête
last night. Perhaps you could take the theatrics outside.”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The room went silent for a moment and then he heard the
front door slam shut.<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> Good! They’d left. </i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It wasn’t like Julianna could do anything to
help him anyway. He knew from past experience he wouldn’t have the energy to
deal with anyone for at least a few hours. He took a breath and tried to sink
into sleep.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Slap!</i><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The noise reverberated across his cheek and out into the
otherwise quiet room. His eyes flew open and found Julianna standing over him,
fury making her cheeks as red as his now was. Still she remained silent; the
only sound her huffing breath.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">He rubbed his cheek with the palm of his hand and sat up
against the pillow that had cushioned the blow.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Care to tell me what that was about?” His calm tone belied
the anger and hurt beneath the words.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Seriously?” Julianna’s stare turned to one of pity.
“Thirty-five and it’s like I’m dealing with a fourteen year old.” She sat down
next to him on the couch and he shifted ever so slightly away from her, not
allowing her body heat to sooth her blow.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Flashback,” she said, waving her hand in the air in front
of them to paint the picture. “Sophomore year and your art representation of
Nelson Mandela being freed was displayed in the hallways with the question:
What is Freedom? Do you remember?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Noah nodded. People had written things all over the school
walls, and the principal had allowed it.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“It was huge. But instead of seeing freedom in the very act
of writing on the walls, you obsessed on one quote… <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Leslie’s. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Choosing
how to wear my hair</i>, she’d written. You ranted and scoffed and told
everyone who would listen that it was the very definition of blond.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Yeah, right. See, even back then I was a great judge of
character.”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Yes, except you weren’t. Even worse, I can’t believe that
in all these years you never stopped to ask what she’d meant by that quote… <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>or by any of the other myriad of actions you
self-righteously declared superficial back then. You claim that she deserted
you. But I think she just finally lived up the judgment you’ve never really let
go of.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Noah wanted to deny what Julianna was suggesting but memory
after memory of his and Leslie’s fights over the years flew at him and dug at
his conscience. He’d never actually accepted, let alone understood her
differing views, just decided, whenever they’d disagreed, to forgive her
apparent shallowness because of her kind heart. Seen in this light his doubt of
her and even his own self-righteousness was glaring.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Noah let his head fall back on the couch. He expelled the breath
he’d been holding and looked around the room. Every space, every corner, was
Leslie. It was why he’d hated the condo…. Sunny and warm and optimistic, it was
like his grief was being ridiculed in the very cushions he sat on.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Why did she write that?” he asked.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Julianna’s eyes searched his face as if looking for a cure
for cancer. She must have found what she sought because she leaned over and
gave him a hug.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Why don’t you ask her,” she said. She walked toward the
bedroom, but then turned back again. “I’m going to pack and get out of here.
I’ve got to get back so I can hit my divorce deadline. Mark’s divorce papers
will be in his hands by the time you call for my birthday. But what are <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">you</i> going to do about the promise?”<span style="color: #0070c0;"><o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Noah smiled and stood up. He looked at the front door then
back at Julianna.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“I’m not sure I ever met the original criteria,” he claimed.
“The promise was we’d divorce by thirty-five, but only if we were in a loveless
marriage right?”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Yep.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Well then. Leslie and my love might not have been up to the
task of healing after Mattie died, but I can’t believe it’s lost entirely.”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Well then.” Julianna smiled and ran over to him. On tiptoes
she reached up and hugged him with all her might. “Happy birthday, Noah.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Happy birthday, Julianna,”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">THE END<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<pre><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">In the mid-1990 the United Nations recognized the growing awareness of Women’s Rights, Inequality and Empowerment.</span></pre>
<span style="font-size: x-small;">They aggregated the outcome of a number of conferences on this important topic in a paper called, </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Guideline on the Empowerment of Women.</span></i><span style="font-size: x-small;"> Quote: “Clearly, a common thread uniting each of the major international conferences of the 1990's is women's empowerment. Furthermore, the international community is now accountable to the world's women for fulfilling the significant commitments it has made to help make empowerment a reality of women's lives.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span></span><span style="font-size: x-small;">What, then, is women's empowerment?</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span></span><span style="font-size: x-small;">Women's empowerment has five components:</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span></span><span style="font-size: x-small;">women's sense of self-worth; their right to have and to determine choices; their right to have access to opportunities and resources; their right to have the power to control their own lives, both within and outside the home; and their ability to influence the direction of social change to create a more just social and economic order, nationally and internationally.”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 10pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: 45.8pt 91.6pt 137.4pt 183.2pt 229.0pt 274.8pt 320.6pt 366.4pt 412.2pt 458.0pt 503.8pt 549.6pt 595.4pt 641.2pt 687.0pt 732.8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">For more on this original paper refer to: </span><a href="http://www.un.org/popin/unfpa/taskforce/guide/iatfwemp.gdl.html"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: blue;">http://www.un.org/popin/unfpa/taskforce/guide/iatfwemp.gdl.html</span></span></a><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: 45.8pt 91.6pt 137.4pt 183.2pt 229.0pt 274.8pt 320.6pt 366.4pt 412.2pt 458.0pt 503.8pt 549.6pt 595.4pt 641.2pt 687.0pt 732.8pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I
hope you enjoyed, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">THE PROMISE</i>, a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Journey Inspired by Love.</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; tab-stops: 45.8pt 91.6pt 137.4pt 183.2pt 229.0pt 274.8pt 320.6pt 366.4pt 412.2pt 458.0pt 503.8pt 549.6pt 595.4pt 641.2pt 687.0pt 732.8pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Find more from
Deanne Wilsted at: <a href="http://www.deannewilsted.com/">www.deannewilsted.com</a></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09501320307949164078noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707936029476973010.post-56380601169698644622014-05-02T00:00:00.000-07:002014-05-02T09:50:59.683-07:00Birthday Promises<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><strong>BIRTHDAY PROMISES </strong></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><em>By: Deanne Wilsted<o:p></o:p></em></span></div>
<em>
</em><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">An animal-like scream pierced the air and Julia dove for
cover. A bloody hand descended, edging over the desk where she trembled in
fear. It was gnarled with age and lord knew what else. Feet kicking out in
front of her, Julie scrabbled back in the corner, as far as she could get from
the zombie looking appendage. It was no use. The fingers caught the hem of her
apron and began to pull.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Cut. That’s it for today.”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span></i><br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Finally! <o:p></o:p></span></i><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Julia wiped the sweat that had begun to trickle down her forehead
five takes earlier. Someone arrived to disengage the mechanical hand from
Julia’s clothes and she pulled herself out from under the desk, rolling her
shoulders to release their tension.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Thank God you finally got that wretched hand working,
Arnie. I’m not sure my body could have handled another take.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">She smiled to relieve some of the sting from her words, but
she was serious. It had been a long day of throwing herself to the ground over
and over while the technicians tried to fix the hand that kept jerking to a
stop before actually grabbing her.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“You were brilliant as always, Julia.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Julia wanted to roll her eyes at the director’s statement. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Sure</i>. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">It takes all kinds of talent to yell like a banshee and hit the ground
like an anchor.</i> The sensation of tunnel vision was threatening to return,
so Julia shook her head and shrugged.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Thanks Arnie. You know I love working with you.” And it was
true. If she <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">had</i> to do thriller
movies, she was happy to at least be working with the tanned, eighty-six year
old genius. There was something about his direction that made even the most
redundant script come alive.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Julia scrubbed the make-up off her face. And, not caring
that her normally shiny-clean, brown hair still had flecks of fake blood and
dirt in it, twisted it into a ponytail. She grabbed her stuff from her studio
locker and plugged her nose to block out the smoke which permeated the LA air
after a slew of unexpected springtime fires. Back in Oregon she’d be lounging
in the cool sunshine, watching the robins build their nests. Or perhaps she’d
be cuddled up inside listening to the rain. Either way, she wouldn’t be facing
an hour long commute in smog so thick it was like fog. She’d be reading a great
book. Not a thriller, a nice, steamy, rose-colored glasses sort of romance. The
kind of story Noah knew how to tell.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Noah! For the last few months he’d be constantly in her
thoughts. Today though, on his birthday, she knew she would finally need to
make the phone call she’d been avoiding. Her hand dropped from its spot holding
her nose, to the pocket where she kept her cell phone. It had been so long since
she’d last called him that she had to search for his number in her contact
list.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Did she want him to
answer or not? Perhaps he’d forgotten.<o:p></o:p></span></i><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Julianna!” It must have been the artist in him; he was the
only person who used her full name.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Noah. Happy Birthday.”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Since her birthday was a week after his she always got the
first call. It was a tradition. And no matter how infrequently they spoke during
the year, they never missed each other’s birthdays. Perhaps it had something to
do with the promise they’d made so many years ago, back when they were too
young to know better. It seemed unlikely Noah even remembered the clichéd
promise. After all, twenty years old was a long, long way from thirty-five. Julia
was sure they’d both since realized that marriage was to be taken more seriously
than their youthful pledge would have others believe.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“So, what amazing birthday plans do you have?” she asked.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Ahhh, well, as you know, this is a big one.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">So he did remember! Julia’s stomach fluttered and she took a
big breath, then heard Noah laugh on the other end.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Relax! You’re still thirty-four for one precious week.
Enjoy your freedom. In fact, I can picture you now; top down on your Mercedes,
hair gleaming in that LA sun, nails bitten to the quick.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Well, you needn’t point out that <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">last</i> part.” She huffed, curling her fingers under the steering
wheel though there was no one there to see the blunt nails but her. “And for
your information the top is up to keep out the toxic mix of smog and smoke.”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Riiiiight. I heard there was a fire. But you’re okay
right?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Just fine, though I’m missing home right now.”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Home? Aren’t you in LA?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“No, I mean Portland. You know, where <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">you</i> are.” She visualized him in his loft in the Pearl. He’d have
his computer open and be unconsciously tapping his toe along to some jazz
music while staring vacantly off into space.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Well.” Noah’s voice softened and sounded as far away as it
was. “I’m not in Portland much anymore. I’ve been doing a lot of book signings.
It’s just easier to be gone, you know?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“So, still the same then?”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Same, same.” The false cheer in his voice was hollow even
to her ears.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Sounds lonely.” Shoot, she shouldn’t have said that. She
knew exactly where it would lead. Still, they were friends, and she cared for
him… was worried about him.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“No worries Julianna. Just because my life is ready for a
change doesn’t mean I’ll hold <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">you</i> to
the promise.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Julia wanted to cry. If only he knew how much she
desperately needed change. She talked with her counselor about it every single
week. It was the theme of her life. And yet she found she couldn’t quite take
the next step.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“I’m surprised you remembered.” She said quietly.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Like I could forget.” His wry laugh sounded like a cough it
was so abrupt. “It’s all I’ve been thinking about for months now.”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Do you think...? I mean, maybe we should get together. You
know, give each other some courage to decide.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“What!” Noah’s shock was so powerful it had probably shorted
out a cell tower somewhere. “I thought things were going well for you and
Mark.”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Tears came to Julia’s eyes and she bit her lip hard to keep
from really breaking down.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“I didn’t want to say anything when we talked last time. I
thought… I thought we could still fix it. I thought <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I</i> could make it better.”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">But how did one make cheating better? It was like silly
string wrapped around her. Every time she tried to rid herself of the hurt and
distrust, she’d find it attached to some new area of her life. He said she
wasn’t trying, but that just wasn’t true. She’d been fighting like a pit bull
for months now and was beginning to feel like the horrified victim she was
playing in her most recent movie.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“So is it…” Noah didn’t have to finish the question. She
knew what he was asking and why.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Yes. It’s way past time for it to be over.” The freedom of
simply saying those words aloud made her want to put the top down on the car,
as he’d suggested, and drive until she hit the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Made in Portland</i> sign.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Come to Portland,” he said, as if reading her thoughts. “We
need to talk.”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“I’ll be your birthday present,” she said wryly. “Don’t
start celebrating without me.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">* * *<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Arnie was surprisingly flexible when she called to tell him she
was heading out of town till Tuesday. “I knew something was going on. Your
scream had an even more frightening chill in it than usual.”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Free of the smog and smoke that had haunted her in LA she
stopped briefly in Santa Barbara to lower the top before getting on with the
drive. She turned the music up louder to compensate for the wind. She would
never have blasted it in LA. Celine Dion just wasn’t something everyone enjoyed
as much as she did.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Singing along to the music, sun warming her face, the power
of the car responding easily to her slightest move, Julia felt her mind begin
to expand beyond the beautiful views that surrounded her. She and Mark had made
this drive. Or at least this part of the drive. They’d stopped in San Francisco
and they’d acted like kids, going to all of the tourist attractions- even
riding the carousel at Pier 39. They’d talked about kids and travel and work.
The plans they had made on that trip had bound Julia to him even when
everything else had fallen apart.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Julia’s hair, freed of the tight ponytail, flew in the wind
as she shook her head in both disbelief and anguish. Things had seemed so
perfect for a while. It was still almost impossible to believe it could have
unraveled so quickly. Her counselor told her what she felt was grief. But
mostly Julia thought she felt confusion. Well, that and distrust. It was one of
the things that had kept her from calling Noah to vent and seek support. The
ground of all of her relationships felt as shaky as the ground beneath the last
6 point earthquake that had rocked Southern California.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Ahead of her Julia saw a sign for u-pick strawberries. She
turned off highway 101 and wound up a hill, following where the signs pointed
her. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Direction feels good</i>, she
thought, smiling at the simple pleasure of knowing where she was going. She
planned to spend the night in Napa, cutting over to I-5, a less scenic but much
quicker route, to finish her drive to Portland the following day.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">She parked the Mercedes next to a quaint shack which
advertised jams, frozen berries, and early vegetable starts. A few minutes
picking strawberries wouldn’t kill her, she thought, ready to stretch her legs
out after 6 hours in the car. A cute girl wearing overalls and sparkly
high-tops handed her a basket and pointed her to row after row of berry bushes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Kneeling in the soft dirt, Julia lifted the leaves to get at
the juicy red fruit. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">One for me, one for
the basket.</i> She smiled as the juice ran down her chin. Hopefully they
didn’t mind her eating a few since the red stain would be a giveaway that she’d
been sneaking them. She’d only made it down a row when her phone rang. Thinking
it was Noah, trying to hurry her, she answered with a bubbly, “Hiya. I’m almost
halfway.” It was a bit of an exaggeration but close enough that she didn’t feel
too guilty.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Halfway where?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Mark’s questioning tone was like a bucket of ice water over her
sunny mood.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“I’m going home for the weekend,” she said. Julia didn’t
know why she felt defensive. “It’s not like you are even around this weekend.”
He was on another of his many business trips of late that Julia had stopped
believing had anything to do with business.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“I came home.”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Once again the idea of home struck Julia. They might live in
the same house, but it had stopped being <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">home</i>
many long months earlier.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Okay.” She really wasn’t sure what else to say.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“I thought you’d be here. You could have called.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Mark, when exactly was the last time you called to tell me
where you were going to be? I’ve stayed home the last four weekends thinking
you would be around, and never heard a word about your <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">extended</i> trip until Monday morning when you showed up to grab more
clothes.”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“I’ve told you, business is lousy right now. I need to be
there when my customers call.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">He’d completely skipped over the point about a phone call to
apologize, or to even just let her know.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Right. So, now there’s something I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">need</i> to do.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Ahhhh. Now I see. You’re going to visit <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">him</i>, aren’t you?” Mark spit the name out
like it was something disgusting; like <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">she</i>
was the one sneaking around behind <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">his</i>
back rather than the other way around.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Yes. In fact, for the first time in a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">year</i> I’m going to go visit Noah. If you’d been around we could have
gone together. But obviously you had more important, uh, plans.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Julia wiped the dirt off her hands and picked up her rather
small basket of berries. The moment was ruined, like grocery store fruit,
processed to the point where it held no essence of its original beauty.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“There’s that tone I know and love,” Mark said. Julia could
picture the sneer narrowing his otherwise huge blue eyes. “I knew that’s what
this was all about. You’re never going to get over this, are you Julia?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Whereas the thought made Julia sad, Mark’s guilt translated
to anger. Julia pinched the bridge of her nose to ward off the headache she
could feel sitting there.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“No Mark. I don’t
think I am. Maybe you should use the time alone this weekend to pack.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The words hung there. It was obviously not what he had
expected to hear. Maybe he’d grown used to the discussions that always
deteriorated into arguments. But Julia was too tired to do it anymore. Like
she’d told Noah, she was done.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“I’ll call you next week when I return.” She pressed end,
wishing it were that simple to finish things in real life.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">* * * </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span> </div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Too tired to do anything more than fall into bed, Julia
awoke the next morning still dressed in the sweats she had thrown on when she
checked into the hotel the night before. The cool early-morning spring
temperature felt fresh, so she pulled the top back on the convertible and let
the wind draw out any leftover angst from the day before.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Having flown back from wherever he’d been hiding out, Noah
was waiting for her when she got to his place in the early afternoon. He opened
the door before she even knocked and pulled her into a huge hug. His height
encompassed her and she let herself melt into his solid strength.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Dark hair, green eyes, and pale skin… whether
he knew he was gorgeous or not, it really didn’t matter to him. He was a quiet,
earthy sort of guy for whom looks mattered only as a means of describing his
characters.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Noah?” Her voice was muffled in his large Portlandia
sweatshirt which smelled of fabric softener.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“I know,” he said, petting her hair to comfort her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“No… I mean, I can’t breathe.” She laughed.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">He pulled back, laughing too, but still not entirely letting
go. Julia tilted her head up to see his face.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Oh Julianna, I’m so glad to see you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Me too!” She stood on her tiptoes to give him a kiss on the
cheek. “Happy Belated Birthday!”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Come in.” He stood aside and ushered her into the large
open room that was part living, dining, kitchen, and game room all in one. It
was devoid of personal items, except for a photo of Noah with a beautiful girl.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Julia walked over to the photo to study it. “I sometimes
forget how angelic she looked.”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Noah came to stand next to her and picked the framed picture
up off the side table. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Mattie’s smile could light up a room.” His own smile was
sad and Julia wondered, not for the first time, how he stood the grief. She
wished there were someone there to comfort and support him but the accident had
stolen that as well.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“You weren’t kidding when you said it was time for a
change.” Her eyes scanned the nearly empty room searching for any sign that a
happy couple had once lived there.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Yes. Happy Birthday to me,” Noah said ironically, going
over to the dining room table where he’d put a bottle of Champagne into an ice
bucket. He laid down the photo and reached for the Champagne he’d put on ice
earlier. He popped the top and poured them each a glass before raising his in a
toast.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Here’s to birthday promises.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Julia clinked glasses and took a huge swallow looking deep
into Noah’s eyes in order to gauge his seriousness.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Okay, I’m ready to keep the promise if you are.” She held
her glass up again. The bubbles floated from the bottom, freeing themselves
from their liquid prison which bound them. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Freedom.
</i>She took a deep breath.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Here’s to ending loveless marriages by the time we turn
thirty-five. Crazy our insight at age twenty, right?”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span><o:p></o:p></span> </div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC";">Author note: </span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC";"></span></b><em>What . . .<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Divorce?</em><br />
Bet that was a twist. Well, there’s a lot more to the story….
What will Julia do now? Who was the girl in the
photo who died? And who exactly is Noah divorcing and why? If you want to read
more about the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">BIRTHDAY PROMISE</i>
you’ll have to <strong>check back May 19<sup><span style="font-size: x-small;">th</span></sup></strong> when I’ll reveal part two of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Promise</i> that these two intriguing
characters made.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><u>Deanne Wilsted Bio - Journeys Inspired by Love</u></span><br /><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">With an English teacher for a mom, DEANNE
WILSTED grew up reciting conjugations instead of nursery rhymes. Now, forty
years later, she's sharing that special skill through her writing and her
mothering. Her first book, a contemporary romance called <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">BETTING JESSICA,</i> was published October 2011. Her second Novel, <em>UNTANGLING
THE KNOT</em>, was released February 13, 2013 from Soul Mate Publishing. She is
currently marketing her third book for publication and writing her fourth,
fifth, and sixth while blogging about the crazy things she overhears while
writing.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">Find more by Deanne at <a href="http://www.deannewilsted.com/">www.deannewilsted.com</a><br />Tweet with her @dwilsted<br />Follow her at <a href="https://www.facebook.com/DeanneWilstedAuthor">https://www.facebook.com/DeanneWilstedAuthor</a></span></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09501320307949164078noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707936029476973010.post-51998099377167984342014-04-04T00:01:00.000-07:002014-10-01T11:40:17.065-07:00Lord Pennington's Proposal<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="apple-tab-span"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">by <a href="http://www.christycarlyle.com/">Christy Carlyle</a></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span class="apple-tab-span"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdo1jE9z-KYmvmFpP_Rke3xczrseTTs1YGCcK7ijT9K-oRrcO4RVCR7QQ2L-7eRphslsUS9Uqbq5iRQ4yqVqNxgQf8djK30MzTMO93sTBpGZn4pYbLVLJ8YQ4CzVI1hbnrSXIw_XOYKJw/s1600/penningtonproposal.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdo1jE9z-KYmvmFpP_Rke3xczrseTTs1YGCcK7ijT9K-oRrcO4RVCR7QQ2L-7eRphslsUS9Uqbq5iRQ4yqVqNxgQf8djK30MzTMO93sTBpGZn4pYbLVLJ8YQ4CzVI1hbnrSXIw_XOYKJw/s1600/penningtonproposal.jpg" height="188" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
<span class="apple-tab-span"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> </span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="apple-tab-span"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>London, 1867</i></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="apple-tab-span"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="apple-tab-span"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> </span></span></span><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Lord Jonathan Pennington had always considered himself a patient
man, but as he sat listening to the steady drone of Arthur Lanham, he began to
reconsider. Perhaps impatience was the better choice. In this instance at
least, brevity was certainly preferable. He cut the man off just as Lanham took
a breath to begin another sentence.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Yes,
of course, Lanham.” He had no idea what he had agreed to, but it seemed to
satisfy the man and, more importantly, silence him. “Do let us get to the
matter at hand.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> Lanham
smiled at that, and Jack noticed that his lips were inordinately wide. It made
him look hungry. Voracious even. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Isabella,”
Lanham said, still smiling. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> Jack
hated the way Lanham said her name. His tongue stuck on the <i>s</i>, and he hissed a moment before
continuing on to the other syllables. Like a snake—a voracious snake. Jack
leaned forward in his chair, the buttons on his brocade vest clicking against
the edge of his desk, and stared directly into Lanham’s pale blue eyes. “Miss
Danvers, if you please.” <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">The man’s overfamiliar
way of addressing Jack’s ward would most definitely count against him. Jack
dipped his pen into his inkwell and scratched <i>far too familiar</i> onto the piece of paper in front of him. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Lanham
leaned over as if to read Jack’s writing. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">“Are you
compiling notes about me, old man?” <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">It was Jack’s
turn to smile, but it was a gesture that held no warmth, no true mirth. His
every impulse told him to turn the young upstart out on his ear and forbid him
from ever calling on Isabella again. But he had done that with the five other
men who had asked for her hand in marriage over the years, and he could no
longer shirk his responsibility. Though she was beyond the age when any young
woman should require a guardian, her dear, foolish father had insisted Bella’s
guardian remain her caretaker until she wed. The late Harold Danvers could
never have imagined his daughter would remain unmarried at four and twenty. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">“I am a busy
man, Lanham. I take notes on virtually everything. Helps me sort out what’s
what. I have two estates to run and a ward to marry off. Too much for a man to
remember without the aid of paper and ink.” <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">“Well, I am
more than happy to take Isa—, er, Miss Danvers off of your hands.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> The
smile was back on Lanham’s face, broad and gleaming. The very sight of it made
Jack’s stomach churn and he took up his pen again. He wrote <i>Unpleasant smile</i> and underlined the
words before settling back in his well-worn desk chair and giving Lanham his
full attention. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> “You
make her sound like a pony I wish to be shot of. I have known Miss Danvers
since we were children, Mr. Lanham. I will not give my approval lightly, and
she is quite discerning. Tell me, what do you find to admire in my ward?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Pardon?”
The man looked truly befuddled, but not enough for Jack to feel an ounce of
sympathy.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Why
do you want to marry her, man?” Jack knew that Bella’s dowry made her an
appealing catch for most bachelors of her acquaintance, though it was,
thankfully, not great enough to attract fortune hunters. Yet he was determined
to secure her a betrothal based on true admiration. He couldn’t bear the
thought of her wed to a man who did not appreciate her many fine qualities,
especially her sharp mind and even sharper wit.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> Lanham
cleared his throat and sat up straighter in his chair. Jack clasped his hands
in front of him and waited—impatiently.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Well,
she is a very fine-looking lady. Isn’t she, my lord?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Good God,
did the man truly need confirmation of Isabella’s beauty? She was a vision,
truth be told. Jack always found pleasure in looking at her, yet it was only one
of her many fine qualities, and the one she least concerned herself with. Jack
knew Bella wished to be loved for her mind, for her character, not for the
blush of her cheek nor the extraordinary shade of her violet-grey eyes. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Lanham
droned on. “Her hair is a most attractive shade of brown…” <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Chestnut,
actually. Bella’s hair was chestnut, richly burnished with hints of gold and
red. When she wore it in a braided coil and left a few tantalizing curls to
brush her shoulders, those strands shone like gold. The man hadn’t even
bothered to identify the true color of her hair.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">“And her
skin is so very—“<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Yes,
thank you, Lanham. That will be all.” <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> “My
lord?” <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> “The
answer is no, Mr. Lanham. I will not give my approval for you to marry my ward,
and I ask you not to call here again.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> The
young man sat gaping, his mouth open and eyes wide. He did not look like a
snake now. More like a fish that had inadvertently flopped onto the riverbank. When
he made no move to leave, Jack stood and approached the door of his study. He
opened it and turned back to Lanham. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Good
day, Mr. Lanham.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> The
young man stood, straightened his tie, and tipped his chin a notch, recovering
all of the over-confidence with which he’d entered Jack’s house less than an
hour before. He moved toward the door and Jack itched with eagerness to close
it behind him, but Lanham stopped just on the threshold. He did not look at
Jack and spoke in a clipped, tight voice.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> “It
is no wonder Isabella is an old maid at four and twenty. You turn away every
man who wants her. Take care, sir. Soon no one will.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> Wilkins,
Jack’s ever-watchful butler, scuttled down the hall, presented Arthur Lanham
with his coat and hat, and escorted him to the townhouse’s front door. Without
another word, the young man strode out—chin still aloft—into the frosty London
morning. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> Jack
closed the door of his study and sank into his comfortable chair, stretching his
legs until the heels of his boots rested against the grate of the fireplace. The
fire had waned long before, but there was enough heat to provide a measure of
comfort. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> He
had to tell her, had to acknowledge that he had turned away another of her
suitors. Would she understand he had no choice? Would she see that he could not
give her away to any man ignorant of her true worth?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> As
he pondered what to say, how to explain, he heard the study’s door handle turn
and the slight creak of hinges as it swung open. He knew she was there without
turning. Her presence ignited his senses, as if the air around him had changed,
and he could smell the faint scent of rosewater she wore.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> He
heard her footsteps approach and sensed her standing behind his chair. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> “I
take it I have reason to thank you.” <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> Jack
turned to look at her and Bella moved to take the seat next to his, her
favorite chair. As he met her gaze, a burst of relief surged through him. He
read nothing like regret in her expression. If anything, she looked relieved
and slightly bemused.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> “You
did not wish to marry Mr. Lanham?” <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> She
gave him a look—the look she gave him when he said something ridiculous and she
could barely conceal her disdain. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Certainly
not. But I would have done so if you told me to. Papa trusted you to help me choose
a worthy husband, and so do I.” <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> Jack
tried not to stare at her. Bella was highly animated whenever she spoke, and
she said as much with her eyes as she did with her mouth. They had known each
other so long that much of what they said to each other was contained in
gestures and glances; even the silences between them held meaning.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> “What
if I find no man worthy, Bella?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> She
settled back in her chair and stared into the fire, though there were only a
few glowing embers to draw one’s eye. Jack turned his gaze from Bella’s face and
glanced into the fireplace too. One ember glowed particularly bright and suddenly
burst into a tiny dancing flame. He saw Bella grin out of the corner of his eye
and wondered—not for the first time—if she affected everyone and everything as
she did him.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> She
turned her head to gaze at him. “Then I suppose you will have to do the deed
yourself.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> Jack
didn’t move, didn’t speak, but his heart began a frantic tattoo. He could hear
it pounding in his ears and felt certain it would burst from his chest. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> Bella
gave voice to the notion he had kept hidden away in his heart and mind for so
many years. </span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">When he returned from the war, he had been determined to ask her. Then
word had come of his brother’s death. He had never expected to be heir to an
earldom, never anticipated the responsibility. Never wanted it. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> After
a year he had come to London with one thought—to ask Bella to be his wife. But
then her father had died and left a will naming Jack as her guardian, the man
tasked with finding her a husband. Harold Danvers had seen them simply as childhood
friends, or perhaps he thought only of their six year age difference. It was a
difference which had seemed so much greater in their youth than it did now. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Don’t
look so frightened, Jack.” He heard the smile in her voice, though he could not
meet her gaze. “I was only jesting. It’s nearly time for tea. Shall we have walk
in the park after? I won’t mind the cold if you won’t.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> His
heartbeat began to steady as a soothing sense of certainty rushed through him. Marry
Bella. It was there before him all the time. How could he ever approve of any
of her suitors when he wanted her for his own?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> “Jack,
please say something.” <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> He
had lost track of time and was unaware of how long he sat pondering their
future, leaving the woman he loved to mistake his silence. He turned and
reached for her hand. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">She smiled
at him—that warm, open Bella smile—and lifted her hand to meet his.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"> “Marry
me, Bella.”</span><span style="line-height: 115%;"> </span><span style="line-height: 115%;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Will Bella accept Jack's proposal? Check back in October for <i>Miss Danvers Decides</i></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08844647108522152502noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5707936029476973010.post-13222739553182994092014-03-28T00:01:00.000-07:002014-03-28T00:01:00.304-07:00Courting the Outlaw's Wife-Part Four - by Paty Jager<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<b><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Courting the Outlaw's Wife - Part Four</span></b></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"> by </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Paty Jager</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">copyright 2014</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<b><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<b><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Part
Four <o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Sara Lynn knew the town was talking about
her and the sheriff. When she’d walked into town leading his horse with his
unconscious, bleeding body hung over the saddle, the tongues and rumors had
started flying. It wouldn’t be long and they’d figure out who she was. She
wanted to stay in Grass Valley. Wanted to see if the fluttery, warmth she felt
when she looked at and touched Shaw was more than an infatuation like it had
been with Chet. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">If she married again it would be because
she loved and respected the man, not just found him a means to escape a dull
life.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">When she’d expressed the notion of moving
on, Shaw had asked her to stay. She hadn’t missed the flare of desire in his
eyes. A man like him wouldn’t lead a woman on. If he had notions he wanted to
spend time with a woman, he’d tell her straight out.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Sara Lynn nodded to Mr. Franks, her clerk,
as she carried a tray with eggs and toast past the registration desk and down
the hall to her quarters at the back of the hotel. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">The proper thing would have been to put
the sheriff in a room upstairs, however, the first couple of days he’d needed
constant care, and it was easier for her to do with him sleeping in her bed.
She’d had Betsy Watson, the young woman who cleaned the rooms, make a bed for
her on the couch in her sitting room.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Sara Lynn opened the door to her rooms and
entered. Dr. Smith walked out of her
bedroom.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">“Mrs. Star, our patient is healing quite
well. I think he’ll be ready to move back to his residence tomorrow.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">“That’s wonderful news,” she said, with
more enthusiasm than she felt. She’d miss their long conversations. Chet had
never taken the time to listen about her childhood or her likes and dislikes.
The past four days and nights, she and Shaw had learned everything there was to
know about one another as they sat together talking.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">“I’ll let the deputy know that Sheriff DeRai
will be moving back in tomorrow.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">“Thank you. I’m sure he will appreciate
that.” Sara Lynn set the tray down on a side table and walked Dr. Smith to her
door. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">“You should change the bandage on his
shoulder tomorrow before he leaves. I don’t see any reason for me to check on
him for a couple days.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">“Thank you, again. I’ll see to the bandage
change and that he is moved tomorrow.” Her heart pounded in her chest. She
didn’t want him to leave. Even in his incapacitated condition she felt safe
with him sleeping in her bed. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">“Good day.” Dr. Smith walked out.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">She shut the door, leaning her back
against it. If only there was a way to keep Shaw here… <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">“Do I smell breakfast?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Sara Lynn jumped. Shaw stood in the
bedroom doorway. His upper body was bare except for the strip of white sheet wrapped
around his torso to hold the bandages in place. His pants weren’t completely
buttoned and rode low on his hips.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Drool pooled in her mouth as she stared at
the man. The last few days nursing him, he’d been shirtless with a sheet
covering his lower limbs, but him standing and looking handsome with an
unshaven face, had her heart prancing around like a filly in a field of clover.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">“Sara? Sara Lynn? What’s wrong?” He strode
toward her, bringing that tantalizing body closer. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Her gaze traveled up his lean stomach,
over the bandage on his wide chest, and lingered at his mouth. She couldn’t
stop her hands. Her fingers made contact with his bare torso and all good sense
flew out of her head. Taking care of him she’d touched him, let her hands
linger longer than necessary, but having him on his feet and oozing manliness,
she wanted to feel his arms around her and his lips pressed to hers. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Shaw saw the desire in Sara Lynn’s
beautiful blue eyes as her hands caressed his chest. He couldn’t have walked
away if a gun was held to his head. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">He pulled her into his arms and bent his
head, capturing her full, pink mouth with his. The last few days, layin’ in her
bed, catching whiffs of her scent, having her taking care of him, telling him
about her childhood; he wanted her in his life every night and day. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">She pressed against him as if she couldn’t
get close enough. He wanted all she was willing to give. Deepening the kiss, he
opened his mouth, tracing her lips, coaxing for an intimate taste. His hands
roamed over her body, wishing she had as few clothes on as he did. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Her lips parted, and he slipped his tongue
into her mouth, tasting, savoring. She moaned and her hands gripped his
shoulders.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Banging on the door, he pressed her
against, broke through the haze of desire he was wrapped in. Shaw withdrew from
the kiss and rested his forehead against Sara Lynn’s. He wanted her, but not
because they had to marry from his carrying on.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">“Mrs. Star! Mrs. Star,” Betsy’s hysterical
voice called. “There’s a man out here insisting you come out.” She banged on
the door. “Mr. Franks has a gun on him but I don’t like the looks of the man.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Sara Lynn shoved out of his arms. “Quick!
Get dressed and get out the back way. It has to be Boyd,” she hissed in a loud
whisper, pushing him toward the bedroom. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">She turned to the door. “Betsy, tell him
I’ll be right out,” Sara Lynn said loud enough to be heard through the door.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Shaw’s heart stopped at the thought of
Sara Lynn standing up to the outlaw. He caught her wrist, keeping her from
going out the door. “You said you wanted out of that life. That you were scared
of him. Stay here. Let me deal with him.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Her eyes were wide with fright, but the
stubborn set to her jaw and mouth told him she wouldn’t listen to reason.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">“No. He wants me. If I go out there, he
won’t come storming in here and harm you. You’re in no shape to go up against
Boyd and however many men he has with him.” Tears glistened in her eyes. “I’ll
remember the days we’ve spent together with fondness.” She placed a hand on his
cheek.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">He closed his eyes, savoring the feel of
her small hand. The next minute he heard the door shut and the lock click.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"> <i>Damn!</i> He’d let his softness for the
woman drop his guard. If she thought locking him in would keep him from going
after her, she didn’t know him very well. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">He stomped into the bedroom, donned the
rest of his clothing, buckled on his holster, shoved his hat on his head, and
opened the bedroom window. His shoulder twinged at the activity but there was
no way in hell he’d allow the outlaw to ride out of town with the woman he
loved. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: center; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">~*~<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Sara Lynn’s insides were squirming like
she’d eaten a bad meal. She didn’t want to go with Boyd, but she loved Shaw and
refused to have her past bring him harm. The only way she knew to do that was
to go with Boyd and wait for a chance to get away. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">She walked up the hall and saw her
ex-brother-in-law glaring at Mr. Franks. She had to give the older man credit
the rifle wasn’t wavering under the fierce glare of the notorious outlaw Boyd
Star. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">“Boyd, back on out and I’ll come with
you.” She put a hand on Mr. Franks’ shoulder and lowered the rifle with her
other hand. “Mr. Franks why don’t you and Betsy go on into the restaurant and
make sure everyone stays put until we leave town. I don’t want anyone getting
hurt on my account.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Mr. Franks studied her a moment then
nodded and grasped Betsy by the arm, hauling the girl over to the door leading
into the restaurant. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">“You always were soft, Sara Lynn,” Boyd
said, taking a step toward her. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">“No!” She raised her hands. “I told you to
back on out and I’d join you. I want to make sure no one in this hotel is
harmed. This is the closest I’ve come to having friends and a normal life, I
won’t have my past taint any of it.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">The leering smile she loathed, curled
Boyd’s lips and he backed to the door, holding it open for her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Her legs moved like huge tree trunks,
stiff and heavy. She didn’t want to leave her hotel, her life, especially now
knowing what she felt for Sheriff Shaw DeRai was more than infatuation. It was
pure and honest love. She’d realized that before he’d kissed her, but having
tasted his kisses, she knew there would never be another stir her heart and
soul like him. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">“Come on. If you don’t get a move on I’ll
have to haul you over my shoulder to the preacher. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">She squeaked. “Preacher?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">He leered at her and grabbed her arm when
she was within reach. “You and me are going to get married and then you can’t
run away.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<i><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Just
watch me</span></i><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">“Boyd, don’t you think this is a bit
quick.” She scanned the street. As she’d feared, he’d brought the whole gang
with him. That’s why it took him three days to get back here. Seeing the seven
other men, she knew there was no way out of this marriage. Not if she didn’t
want the townsfolk to die.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">“Nope, I’ve wanted you for my wife since
the day I laid eyes on you.” He wrapped his arm around her, digging his fingers
into her waist.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">She squirmed. “Ouch! If you want me to be
a willing bride you shouldn’t hurt me.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">He loosened his grip but not much. She
noted most of the townsfolk were staying inside. She hoped they all stayed
there until the gang rode out of town. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">She and Boyd walked down the street with
the gang on horseback behind them. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">“Where’s that sheriff I hear you been
takin’ care of?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">He asked in a nonchalant way, but she knew
he was fishing for information. “I don’t know. The Doctor moved him this
morning.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">“Billy, go check the hotel for the
sheriff!” Boyd hollered over his shoulder. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">“There’s no need. I said he was gone.”
Sara Lynn dug her heels in and glared at Boyd. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">He laughed. “By your actions I say he’s
there and you’re hiding him.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">They stopped in front of the only church
in town. Reverend Mann stepped out the door. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">“How can I help you, Mrs. Star?” His gaze
drifted over Boyd and the rest of the men. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">“We want to get married,” Boyd said,
drawing her forward. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">“I see. Mrs. Star, is this true?” His
faded blue eyes peered into hers. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">She wanted to say no, but knew to disagree
she’d unleash Boyd’s nastiness. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">“Yes, please, Reverend Mann. The sooner
we’re married the sooner we’ll leave.” She hoped he understood, she was trying
to avoid trouble for the town. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">The reverend nodded. “Very well. But I ask
that all guns remain outside the house of the Lord.” His gaze landed on Boyd’s
holstered gun. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">“Pete, come get my holster.” Boyd
unbuckled his holster. “The rest of you stand guard. Don’t let anyone in, you
hear?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">They nodded and agreed. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">At least he wouldn’t be armed. Maybe she
and the reverend could render him helpless…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Shaw stood just inside the church door.
He’d hustled to the church as soon as he heard Boyd’s marriage idea. He’d had
just enough time to ask the reverend to make sure Boyd was weaponless before he
came in the church before the outlaws arrived. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">The reverend entered followed by Sara
Lynn, looking scared and tense. He wanted to pull her into his arms and tell
her everything would be fine, but first he had to take care of Boyd Star. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">The man hesitated then walked through the
door. Shaw gave him several steps before he walked up behind Boyd and slammed
the butt of his pistol down on the outlaw’s head. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">He dropped like a sack of potatoes. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Sara Lynn whirled around but covered her
mouth, stifling a scream. When she registered who stood in the aisle, she
leaped over the outlaw and landed in Shaw’s arms. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">He hugged her tight. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">“We need to do something with this man and
the men outside waiting,” said the reverend. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Shaw released Sara Lynn. “Sit here while I
tie up Boyd.” He eased her into a pew and followed the reverend to the back of
the church to find rope.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">“Is there a way out of here that his men
won’t be watching?” Boyd asked as they dug a length of rope out of a broom
closet. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">“No.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">“Then I guess I’ll have to take him out
through the front door.” Shaw hurried back to Boyd and Sara Lynn. The man might
be knocked out, but he could wake up at any time. He dropped down beside the
outlaw, tying his hands behind his back good and tight. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">He sat down on the pew next to Sara Lynn.
“I’m going to take him out the front door and hope the gang will not retaliate
worrying they might hit Boyd.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Tears trickled down her cheeks. “I don’t
want you to get hurt.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">“Shh, I’ll be fine. But only if you stay
here with Reverend Mann so I don’t have to worry about you.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">She ducked her head. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">“Look at me.” He tipped her face up with a
finger under her chin. “When I get Boyd locked up, and his gang has either left
or been locked up, I’m coming back here and we’re going to get married.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Her eyes widened, and she sniffed back
tears. “Are you asking me to marry you, Sheriff DeRai?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">The love shining in her eyes told him all
he needed to know. “Yes, I am. Sara Lynn will you make me a happy man and
become my wife?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">She flung her arms around his neck. “Yes!”
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">He kissed her lips and wiped the tears
from her cheeks. Shaw’s chest filled with love and pride that this woman wanted
to be his wife. First he had to deal with the one person who could ruin
everything for them. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Drawing out of the kiss, he eased away
from Sara Lynn. “Stay here. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">She clung to his hand as he stood. Her
fear for him would make his decisions more calculated. He didn’t want to make
her a widow again before they were even married. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">“I’ll be careful.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">He grabbed Boyd by the collar lifting him
to his feet. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">“Reverend, open the door when I tell you.”
Shaw stood the outlaw in front of the door and pressed his pistol to the man’s
side. “Now.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">The door opened and Shaw shoved Boyd’s
body out the door in front of him. He had to look twice. All the outlaws had
their hands in the air. Scanning the rows of horses, he noted his deputy and a
dozen other men had rifles aimed at the outlaws.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">“Good work, Hollister!” Shaw said, shoving
Boyd ahead of him. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">“I see you caught the leader,” Hollister
said, coming forward and taking hold of Boyd. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">“I had some help.” Shaw glanced over his shoulder
and winked at Sara Lynn and Reverend Mann standing in the doorway. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: center; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">~*~<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Sara Lynn couldn’t stop smiling. They’d
waited a day to get married at the request of the town. Everyone wanted to be
at the wedding. And everyone wanted to tell her how they had all rallied around
to make sure she wasn’t taken away by the outlaws. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">“Mrs. DeRai, may I have this dance?” Shaw
stood in front of her looking too handsome for any one man to look. Her heart
spun in her chest. He was her husband. A good, honest man who loved her even
knowing her past. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">“I would love to dance with you Mr. DeRai,
but,” she leaned forward to whisper in his ear, “I’d prefer dancing alone, in
our bedroom.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">His chuckle in her ear and his hand
grasping hers, told her he had the same idea.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">“We are no longer needed here and it is our
wedding night.” Shaw led her out of the hotel restaurant, down the hall, and
into their living quarters. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">The lock clicked, and she drifted into the
arms of the man she loved. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
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