Extreme Fall by Paty Jager

This is the first part of a mystery. The second part can be found on my blog on May 7th. 

Characters:

Brice Montgomery, victim, extreme rock climber, reality TV star and heir to a whiskey distillery

Hans Steiner – Producer of the show Extreme Climbing

Kyle Temple– Rock Climber, Brice’s friend

Sadie Temple- Kyle’s sister, one of Brice’s conquests

Riley Gardner- camera woman

Maxine Montgomery – Brice’s sister

Kyle Temple took a drink of water, wiped the sweat from his face with his t-shirt, and peered up the side of Dihedrals a climbing cliff in Smith Rock State Park. A snap and twang echoed in the canyon as Brice Montgomery plummeted the other eighty feet to the base of the cliff. 

Kyle scrambled over the rocks to his best friend. “Brice! Brice! God no!” He could tell by the vacant stare and blood pooling around the star of the TV reality show Extreme Climbing that there was little to be done.

“Call 911.” He said to the show’s producer.

***

“You can’t tell me this was an accident.” Kyle Temple poked his pointer finger at the State Trooper overseeing the removal of his best friend’s body from the bottom of the Dihedrals. Brice’s muscled body had limbs at odd angles and his bent neck made Kyle’s stomach sour.

“We won’t know anything conclusive until we’ve run tests.” The trooper motioned for the paramedics and stretcher to move into the area.

A crowd had gathered. Kyle peered up the cliff he and Brice were climbing for a segment of Brice’s show Extreme Climbing.  The rope Brice used to rappel down the cliff had snapped like a thin string.  As the moment replayed in Kyle’s mind, he noticed someone on the top of the cliff pulling the rope up.

“Hey!” He grabbed the officer’s shirt sleeve. “Someone’s trying to take the faulty rope.” He pointed up to the cliff top as the person disappeared from sight as well as the end of the rope.  Kyle picked up the other half of the rope still attached to his friend. “Don’t let anyone get this. It’s evidence.”

Kyle peered at the gathering crowd.  Where were Hans and Riley?  They should have both been at the bottom. They’d been here filming as he rappelled down. The only thing he could do for Brice now was find his killer.

The trooper put the rope in a clear bag and wrote on the bag. He nodded to Kyle to follow him.  They stepped away from the crowd.

“Tell me everything that happened.” The trooper pulled out a tablet and pen.

Kyle thought back to this morning. He’d woke first and decided to take a stroll before the other rose. Stepping out of Brice’s fancy motor home, he’d inhaled the pungent scent of juniper and soaked in the heat of the sunshine on his face. How could such a perfect day have gone so wrong?

“We rose at six. Wanted to scale the cliff before it was too hot. Riley Gardner, the photographer, said she wanted the morning light on the cliff as she photographed.”  That flashed a picture of the hurt look on Riley’s face the night before when his sister, Sadie, stepped out of Brice’s car and clung to his arm as the two enter the motor home.  Sadie and Brice had an on-again-off-again relationship for five years. Kyle had stayed out of it. He wanted to remain a loyal friend to Brice and not argue with his sister.

Brice had left Sadie in the bed in the back of the motor home and joined Kyle to check over their climbing equipment.  Where was Sadie right now?  “I need to tell my sister what happened.” 

“Not until you’ve told me everything.” The trooper leveled his gaze on Kyle.

“We, Brice and I, checked the gear. Everything was fine. Hans, the producer and Riley, pulled up on a Gator and we loaded the equipment in the back. We grabbed energy bars and water and hopped in with him. He hauled us down to the base of the Dihedrals and we unloaded the gear. Hans remembered something they needed for filming and left. Riley stayed with us to check the lighting while Hans went back. When we started setting out our gear we noticed some of it was still in the back of the gator.” Kyle stared hard at the trooper. Was the gear still in the gator the rope that snapped?

Kyle backtracked in his mind, but wasn’t certain. He remembered taking tags off new rope, but he wasn’t sure if it was his or the one Brice used.

“Was this Montgomery’s first climb?”

Kyle stared at the trooper as if his head just dropped to the ground. “Don’t you know who Brice Montgomery is? He is the star of the reality show Extreme Climbing. He’s climbed every cliff that he’s come across. There is no way his fall was an accident.”

The trooper scribbled in his pad. “Had the equipment you used been used before?”

“Only our personal harnesses. Brice purchases new rope every climb. That’s how careful he is.” 

“What happened when he fell?”

“We both climbed up the Sunshine. Sat at the top, drank water, and ate an energy bar. Watched a bald eagle and talked for about thirty minutes waiting for Riley and Hans to get set up below for the rappel.”

“What did you talk about?”

Kyle sighed.  “Family, or more precisely the fact his family was pressuring him to give up the rock climbing show and put his interest in the family business.”  Brice had complained his father wanted him to join the board at the family business and his sister wanted to take that position. He wanted to let her have it but his father was of the old school that a male heir should run the business and not a female.

The trooper’s eyebrow rose.  “He didn’t get along with his family? Do they live around here?”

“He got along fine as long as they didn’t talk about the family business. No, they live back east.”

“What happened when you rappelled down?”

“Brice told me to go first, he wanted a few minutes alone to clear his head.” He still wasn’t sure what that was about but he was pretty sure it had to do with his sister’s call yesterday asking Brice to pick her up at the airport. When they’d arrived at the motorhome she was bubbling and Brice had appeared to be brooding.

“Was that the normal procedure?”

He’d been on several shows with Brice and he always had the guest go first. “Yes.”

“Go on.”

“I rappelled down, unhooked, shouted up ‘off rappel’ and asked Hans for a water bottle.” Kyle’s body flinched remembering the next sounds. “I heard a snap and Brice shouted. I looked up.” The same panic and sick feeling in his gut struck remembering the sight. “His body was falling rapidly. There was nothing any of us could do to stop his fall.” The feeling he’d failed his friend lodged in Kyle’s chest digging and prodding like bronc rider’s spurs.

“What was the snap sound?”

“I assume the rope breaking.”

“Does this happen often?”

“No. Especially not with a new rope.”

The trooper stared at him. “Tell me about the snap sound?”

“Kyle! Is it true?” Sadie, Kyle’s sister, ran up to him, flinging her arms around his neck.

“Shh… yes. Brice fell—”

“Will he be…”

He shook his head and Sadie started wailing.

“Miss?” The trooper touched Sadie’s shoulder.

“This is Sadie Temple my sister.  Brice’s friend.”  His friend slept with his sister, but they didn’t introduce themselves as a couple when they met new people. Kyle had picked up on that oddity over the years and did the same.

“Miss Temple, where have you been?” The trooper asked.

“I was back at the motor home waiting for Brice and my brother to finish taping so we could go for a drive.” She wiped at the tears streaming down her cheeks and turned to him. “What happened?”

“The rope broke.”

Her eyes widened, and she shook her head slowly.  “Then he’s…”

“I couldn’t do anything. He just…” Kyle bit the inside of his cheek and wished like hell there had been something he could have done to prevent the fall.

“Where’s Hans and Riley?” Sadie demanded.

“I wish I knew.” Kyle scanned the area. The paramedics were making their way up the other side of the Crooked River Gorge, Brice’s body on a gurney between them. The spectators had left. The only people milling about the spot where Brice landed were police officers taking measurements and bagging the equipment.

“They should know the police would want to talk with them.” Sadie blew her nose in a tissue.

“Yeah.”

The trooper talked into his radio. “Put a road block up at the entrance to the park. We have two missing witnesses.”

Sadie turned to Kyle. “What am I going to do?”

He stared at his sister. “Continue life as you always do when you and Brice were ‘seeing other people’.”

She slugged him in the chest. “That’s not funny.  I’m pregnant.”

That made sense of all Brice’s actions since picking up Sadie. “Sis, I’m… Is it Brice’s?”

“Now you sound just like him and his sister.”

“You’ve talked to Maxine?”

“Yes, she flew out with me yesterday. She stayed in town, something about trying to set up a west coast distillery.”

“Did Brice see her?”

“We had dinner together.”

Why hadn’t Brice told him this bit of information when he was lamenting about the family? Had he decided a family man should take over the family business?

Copyright 2013 Paty Jager

Who do you think killed Brice? Leave your thoughts in the comments section and then hop over to my personal blog on May 7th to read the ending. 

www.patyjager.net

www.patyjager.blogpsot.com

SERUM KILLER By Robin Weaver

SERUM KILLER

By Robin Weaver

 

It was a single bite from one tiny ant, but I began to change in ways I never imagined.  Horrible ways.

I’d been pruning roses when the little bugger bit me on the wrist, near my pulse.  If he’d gnawed any place else, I might have remained unscarred, but fate didn’t favor me.  My arm swelled and I soon resembled Popeye—at least one arm did.  Pain racked my body and I begged Harold for something, for anything.  He grunted and grabbed his coat.

My body was convulsing when my spouse returned.  I snatched the bottle from his hand and swallowed the clear liquid, without looking at the label.  The pain subsided and I slept.

          For three days, I hovered in the realms of sleep, waking only for broth and more serum.  In my few blinks of consciousness, I saw my husband watching me.  Harold seemed concerned, but not about me.  I asked for a doctor—he told me he was a doctor.  How could I have forgotten that?  I wanted to tell him to go away, but I craved the medicine.

On the fourth day, it was over.  The pain disappeared. I felt alive, anxious to embrace the day.  I was me again.  Except for the strange red welts.

Welts?  Something nagged at my brain.  I’d only been bitten once.  Why were there so many welts?

“Anaphylaxis,” my spouse said, although I hadn’t voiced my question.  “An allergic reaction.”

He treated me like an idiot.  I wanted to scream at him, I know what anaphylaxis is!
I didn’t.  Instead, I asked, “The medicine worked?  I’m better, right?”

He shrugged.

          I didn’t let his attitude affect my exuberance.  I wasn’t just better—I was T-friggin’-rrific.  I wanted to bask in the sunshine.  I wanted to build a house.

Build a house?  I pushed my weird thoughts aside and went in search of sweets. 

          Pancakes sounded perfect.  I mixed the batter from scratch and grilled the cakes to perfection.  I cut them into perfect little squares and raised the bottle of syrup.  Instead of dispersing the delicious concoction over the griddled dough, I positioned the plastic container above my mouth, squeezing the brown goop into my throat. I gurgled and squeezed until the bottle was empty. 

With my sugar gluttony sated, I fell into the watchful gaze of my spouse.  He smirked.  I hung my head.

What was wrong with me?  I didn’t even like syrup.

My shame was short lived.  Enthusiasm consumed me, making it impossible to contain the energy pulsating inside.  I washed, I ironed, and I cleaned.  In pursuit of perfection, my feet scurried and my fingers labored until everything sparkled.

My husband came home for lunch and brought his assistant.  I never liked that woman, but being the ideal hostess, I served her lunch.

“Aren’t you the busy bee,” she sniggered.

“Don’t you mean ant, Helen?”  My husband cackled.  “My little wife’s a worker ant.”

          The two of them giggled like teenagers.  They annoyed me.

My mind was still foggy.  I couldn’t remember why my husband had a teaching assistant.

I forced my brain into concentration.  “Oh, yes,” I murmured.  “Harold isn’t a medical doctor, he’s a psychiatrist.”

Something seemed wrong, but I couldn’t think about it.  Too much to do and I needed sugar—I had an insatiable craving.  I slipped into the pantry to grab a bag of sugar.  I ate the white granules straight from the container.

Two days later, the assistant returned.  She and Harold thought I was upstairs, but I hid in the pantry, listening.

Harold whispered, “I’d say the experiment is a success.  There is no trace of the serum in her blood work.  The diagnosis will be an acute reaction to insect bites.  One that affected her brain.”

          “That woman is certifiable,” the assistant purred.  “Darling, you’ll finally be rid of her, once and for all.  Too bad you won’t be able to publish your findings. You’d be famous.”

Even though I had a sucrose fixation, Helen’s sugary voice made me sick.

“Yes, we’re lucky she didn’t go into pulmonary edema when I gave her the serum.  Because of the pre-nup, I would have lost everything if she’d died.  When we commit her, I will still control her assets.”

She was talking again.  “How much longer, Hal?  I’m tired of waiting.”

          My husband’s evil cackle haunted the air.  “Patience, love.  My colleagues will observe her tomorrow.  I suspect we can have her institutionalized the next day.”

          Teenybopper snickering permeated the air, angering me more than their evil words.  I couldn’t let them commit me.

          My still-fuzzy brain latched onto a solution. I would call my new friends.  They would know what to do.

Flinging open the pantry door, I surprised my spouse and his assistant.  Two whacks with a frying pan ended that inane giggling.

A bigger problem loomed large.  Mercy.  What would I do to cover my tracks?

Concentration was vital and I was out of fructose.  I opened every canister in my kitchen but couldn’t pinpoint one granule of sugar.  I scampered to the store in search of sweets and a solution.

          When I returned, my little friends waited, having resolved my little problem.  I stared at my spouse and his girlfriend, their unconscious bodies covered with thousands of ants.  Soon, there would be no bodies.

          I laughed, the sound strange and foreign.  Harold and Helen didn’t get it.  I’m not a worker ant.  I may be human, but the serum altered me and I now command.

          I rule the hive. As queen.

KISMET

by Jenna Bayley-Burke 


Emma Riley hasn't seen Colin Davis since he gave her her first kiss, and walked out of her life. But since they were only fourteen and his family moved across the country, he can't really be blamed. Can fate, first love, and a warm smile convince Emma kismet does exist? 

A warm finger tapped on Emma Riley’s bare shoulder. She straightened her posture and tried to shrug off the touch. Emma didn’t like bars, hated the men who tried to pick up on her even more. But her coworkers insisted on a post-seminar drink.

“My friend says he knows you.” Emma turned at the sound of the deep voice behind her, as did her three coworkers.

“That’s a great line, but I’m not interested.” The man was handsome, looked jovial and safe. But Emma knew men in resort bars were looking for a fling. And she didn’t do flings.

“I agree with you. But he,” the man gestured over his shoulder, “he insists he knows you. I bet him twenty bucks he doesn’t.”

Emma’s gaze was drawn to the back of the bar, where a man with spiky blonde hair sat, shaking his head. When he looked up his eyes locked with hers and her heart stalled. Even the lopsided grin was the same as it had been when she’d last seen him. Over a decade ago, in junior high.

Emma slipped off the barstool, her feet barely touching the ground as she made her way to his table. He stood as she approached, his smile widening until dimples pressed into his cheeks.

“Colin Davis, when did you get so tall?” Emma smiled up at him, unsure if hugging him would be appropriate. It had been so long. They’d known each other most of their lives, up until the day his parents split up and they moved away. When he said goodbye he’d kissed her. Her first kiss.

“I started growing when I was about sixteen.” His eyes sparkled as he stepped closer, but he didn’t make a move, just pulled out a chair and motioned for her to sit.

“It must have been that Texas heat.” She took her seat and watched him take his. The boy she’d known barely visible in the man across from her. Still, he felt exactly as she remembered. Warm, accepting, honest. “Did you like it there?” 

“Texas?” Collin shrugged. “It was all right. Better than Florida, not as good as Colorado.”

“You kept moving?” Emma leaned forward in her chair; thankful for the reprieve from the clucking hens she worked with. At twenty-six she was a decade younger than any of them, which they felt gave them free reign to tell her how to live her life. Colin’s friend kept them occupied by the bar, allowing Emma to get answers to all the questions she’d had over the years.

“Every time Dad got promoted. I hoped we’d make it back to Oregon, but it never happened.”

They caught up on stories of old friends, traded tales of college, and shared about their families and jobs. Talked as comfortably as if not a day had passed.

“Emma, we’ve got a program at eight tomorrow morning.” She blinked to awareness, taking in Meredith, her supervisor, and the clock on the wall alerting her three hours had gone by while she reminisced with Colin. She should go, but her body stayed planted. She didn’t want to leave him again, not yet. She introduced her friend to Colin, explaining the amazing coincidence.

Colin shifted so he could shake Meredith’s hand across the table. His foot slid next to Emma’s, making her gasp as her body vibrated at the connection. Colin grinned as he chatted with Meredith, keeping his foot firmly against Emma’s.

“We’re going to head on up. Are you coming, Emma?” Meredith asked.

Emma’s stomach plummeted. She wanted to stay, but staying would subject her to office speculation for the next year, at least.

“Can you give me a minute?” Meredith made herself scarce and turned back to Colin. “I’d love to stay and catch up more, but we have to present our pitch at the convention tomorrow.”

“I’ll walk you up later.” He reached for her hand across the table, his grasp warm around her fingers, melting her resolve.

“I don’t want them, or you, to misinterpret what’s going on.”

Colin tilted his head to the side. “Please tell me you’re not engaged.”

“No, it’s not that.” Emma knew she was blushing, but continued. “I don’t have men in my room. Even old friends.”

“Wow. I always wondered what kind of woman you would become, Emma Riley.”

Emma chuckled and shook her head. Even in junior high the kids called her old-fashioned. “The same kind I always was, I suppose.”

“Even better than I remember.” Colin wrapped his other hand around hers. “Do you like your job? Not advertising, but the position you have? The firm you work for?”

Emma furrowed her brow and tried to catch his meaning. “I’m good at what I do.”

“But would you do it from Virginia, or do you need to stay in Oregon?”

“Virginia?” He’d said his aeronautics firm was based in Virginia. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“I think there’s a reason we’re both here. It has to be fate, right?” Colin spoke quickly, his voice becoming hypnotic. “I mean, I know you never forget your first love, but it always felt like more than that. As if we really missed out on something. I was a kid then, there wasn’t much I could do about letting you go. But now, I don’t want to.”

“What are you saying?” Emma studied his face for clues, her heart wrapping around his words. First love. He’d been that for her, she’d fixated on him for years after he left. But she never imagined it had been the same for him.

“I don’t think there’s been a day I didn’t love you, Emma. When I moved I tried to convince myself we were fourteen, and that I’d get over it. But I never did. I always wondered where you were, who was holding you, how you felt when I left.”

Colin had been so brutally honest Emma couldn’t help but do the same. “I was heartbroken. No one has ever kissed me like you did.”

“It was my first time. I promise, I’ve gotten better.” The dimples were back, his smile so big it pressed into his eyes. Deep blue, fascinated, clever. She could stare into his eyes forever.

“It was fantastic.”

“You want to try it again?”

“Yes, but –”

“Come back with me to Virginia. I don’t want to be without you for another day. We let too many get away.”

Emma couldn’t deny the feeling of kismet, the power she’d felt when their stares met, the electricity when their bodies touched. It was nothing she’d ever experienced before. A nuance of feeling at once familiar and unknown.

“Emma? Are you ready to go?” Meredith’s voice broke the trance. Emma reigned in her thoughts, but kept her gaze on Colin. Did she dare? Her cheeks heated as a slow smile lifted her lips.

“I’m going to stay with Colin.” Forever.        

© 2007 Jenna Bayley-Burke

 Library Journal has this to say about Jenna Bayley-Burke's 3/26 novel release, Caribbean Casanova.
"An all-around good tale, with lots of spicy sensuality and graphic language. A good read for the beach this summer."
 

The Devil of Dunmoor

by Christy Carlyle

[Due to a family emergency, Christy was unable to write a new Valentine's story for today. We decided to re-post her most popular story to date, The Devil of Dunmoor. Enjoy!]

“You cannae go there, lass! Not on All Hallow’s Eve of all nights.” Adelaide Morton heard the old woman’s voice tremble with fear as she spoke and the meager glow cast by the single candle made her familiar face appear drawn and eerie. Addy ignored the shiver that skittered across her skin and gave Senga a reassuring smile. She reached out to offer some comfort, but the cook grasped her hand with all the force her aged body could muster.

            “They say the devil lives there. The Evil One himself.” Senga’s voice was high and desperate as it echoed off the cold stone walls of the kitchen. Some hidden chink in the stones admitted a breeze to rustle the copper pots hanging from hooks above the oven. One pot scraped a grating path along the stone wall and Addy searched the darkness for the source of the noise. A gust of wind rapped at the window and they both jumped.

            Addy stood and turned toward the still warm oven, chafing her hands above the heat. She couldn’t allow superstitious fears to deter her. “Those are rumors, Senga. Legend. Superstition. I have been up to the stones before. Further than the stones. To the house itself.”

            Senga raised her hands to her mouth. “No, lass. You never.”  

          “How do you think I healed him?” Adelaide had known Senga all of her life and yearned to tell her the truth. But it wasn’t her truth to tell. It was his secret and for what he gave her, she would pay him anything. Silence was the least of what she would give.

          Addy could let Senga think that she met the devil at the ancient stone circle and made a deal for the health of her brother. She could even allow her to believe that Lucifer himself had lured her into his decrepit manor house that lay on the crag beyond. What she could not do was breach his trust.

There was no doubt Senga was trustworthy. The woman had been more than a family cook. Unlike the parade of nannies and governesses, she had been a constant. Whether Addy had needed a late night cup of warm milk to chase away bad dreams or a sympathetic ear to listen to her woes, Senga had been there where her mother could not be. Addy had killed her own mother in childbirth. That was never how her father put it, of course, but his coldness towards her often made her wonder if that is how he felt about the whole dreadful matter.

Addy knew his old grief was compounded when her father had lost his second wife the previous autumn. Caroline had lived long enough to mother her own child, but only for five years. Now William, Addy’s little brother, lay weak and feverish in his bedroom above. He had been sick so many times in his short life that Addy had lost count. But this illness was different. It clung on with vicious tenacity, imprisoning him in a cycle of coughing and fever that racked his small body. He had shown such signs once before and Addy had found the answer. Now she had to seek out that answer again. She would see him again. The thought quickened her breath and stoked a heat in her chest. She grasped her abandoned cup of tepid tea and gulped down the liquid that Senga brewed dark enough to choke a weak man.

      “I must go now. There is no time to dither. With this storm, you know he will worsen. I cannot allow that. I cannot lose him.” The thought of laying that precious little body in the earth next to his mother, next to her mother...no. Addy felt the hot sting of a tear at the corner of her eye and swiped it away before Senga could see.

     “You’re a reckless girl, Adelaide Mary Morton.” Senga stood and crossed her arms across her chest as if she would stand sentry at the kitchen door and deny Addy the right to cross the threshold.    
     
      “I’ll not allow you to go.”

      Addy pulled her father’s tattered old overcoat from a hook near the oven and collected the scarf that she’d perched near the fire to absorb a bit of its warmth. She tied her bonnet quickly and approached Senga. She had intended to give her a peck on the cheek and head off to meet the devil, but the woman’s tired eyes held her fast.

“My dear, I am hardly a child anymore and I know what I am about. I told you, I have been there before and yet stand before you all in one piece. I will be fine, but Willy may die if I do not go.”

“There is evil in those stones. And God only knows what dwells in the house beyond. In the village, they say that bodies go missing from their graves...”

“Nonsense. They buried Mr. Cuthburt in the spring and I am certain he is still in the ground." Addy softened her tone. "You put flowers at his stone just last week.” Senga had been sweet on old man Cuthburt and it was clear the shopkeeper was smitten too, but he had been a quiet, shy sort. And he’d waited too long.

Addy put her hand on the door latch and looked back to give Senga one last smile before heading out into the blustery autumn night.

“Wait!” Senga rushed at her in the gloom and thrust an object into her hand. It appeared to be some kind of root, though dessicated and washed clean. “‘Tis a talisman. Henbane. I pray it will protect you. Now, get on with you, lass. I will wait up for your return.”

There was no use arguing with her. Addy had learned that lesson well. She leaned in to kiss the tissue-soft skin of Senga’s wrinkled cheek and heard her whisper, “God speed, my girl.”        

***       

           Halfway to the stone circle, Addy acknowledged to herself that Senga was right. She was reckless and a fool to boot. Making one’s way across the moor was difficult enough on such a stormy night, but the darkness and rain only added to the trial. She had rushed off without lighting a lantern and though the moon was full, fierce winds chased clouds across the sky, obscuring its glow.

Through the Lens

by Mae Pen

      Cassandra inhaled the warm musky scent of things growing. The roughness of the potting bench beneath her hands centered her in her surroundings. Eleven years. Today marked the eleventh year since the horrible accident that had blinded her. She blinked, hoping by some miracle that she would be able to see again. It was just one of the curses of this day. Sighing she turned back to the delicate task of potting her new orchid. The moss squished between her fingers with the excess of liquid from the transport. Cassandra shook her head. Some people would never learn.

Glass clattered in the hallway inside the house. The gruff grumbling of John's voice rumbled through the closed French doors. For a brief second a smile graced her lips. Just as quickly it vanished leaving behind the emptiness she'd been fighting lately. Though she loved her father dearly, he wasn't enough to bring her out of the blackness that was swallowing her whole. Not even her beloved gardening was doing the trick.

Her eyes burned as she fought not to cry. Her glass encased sanctuary felt more like a glass walled prison. Jackson's voice floated through the glass panes. She frowned. She hadn't expected him today. In fact, she'd expressly forbidden him from visiting. She didn't want to see anyone. She snorted. See. Right.  She moved to the far side of the conservatory hiding behind the large palm fronds. The smoothness of the leaves reminded her of silk against her skin.

The French door opened. The woodsy sandalwood that was purely Jackson drifted to her. She closed her eyes inhailing the treasured essence. She could always tell Jackson was near by his scent alone. The heavy clomp of his boots against the tile floors told her he was moving further in looking for her. She took a tiny step back and winced as her shoulder bumped the glass wall.

"I know you're in here, Cassy."

For a minute she debated if she should say anything. His footsteps stopped in front of her hiding spot. Shoulders slumping she knew she'd been found.

"I told you I didn't want to see anyone today. Including you."

"You know I'm not going to let you brood today."

"Brood? You think I'm brooding? Lose your sight and see how you feel." She pushed past him moving back to the orchid. The light scent of the plant usually brought her a semblance of calm.

Jackson caught her wrist before she went too far past him. His calloused fingers pressed against the pulse beating rapidly beneath her skin.

"You’re brooding. As you do every year on this day. It's time to let it go, Cassy."

"Let it go? I can't just let it go Jackson. I can't see!" She tugged her wrist back but he only tightened his grip. She swallowed the large lump threatening to burst free. This was why she hadn't wanted to be near anyone.

"I know Cassy. Do you think you let anyone forget?"

"You don't understand." She pulled her wrist again. He let go. She stumble back a step before catching herself. She hadn't really expected him to let go. Sometimes he was like a dog with a bone.

"I understand better than you think. You weren't the only one who suffered that day."

"I lost my eyesight. What did you lose?"

He was silent for several minutes. If it hadn't been for the whisper puffs of his breath and the lack of the door opening and closing, Cassy would have thought he had left. She jumped when he spoke just over her shoulder.

***

"I lost my conspirator. The one person that willingly went with me wherever I went and got into the same trouble I did. I lost my best friend." He tried to hide the anguish he felt, but the gruffness of his words seared themselves into his heart. She stood so stiff before him. He desperately wanted to rub her shoulders to get her to relax. His fingers itched reminding him of the wrapped package he still held. Jackson laid his forehead down on her shoulder. She didn't move away, but she didn't relax either.

"We still spend time together Jack."

"It's not the same. You're not the same. Your father's not the same."

"I know that." She took a deep breath then let it out. The tension in her body left.

"I brought you a gift." He spoke lifting his head from her shoulder. He deposited the package on the workbench before her.  

Today's Knight

By Robin Weaver


Please don’t let him see me.

After a full day of mommy duty, Annie Addison couldn’t conjure up enough energy to deal with Lance Walker. She ducked behind her open trunk, praying for a bit of luck. The appearance of a size twelve Nike indicated good fortune would not be forthcoming.

Busted, she lifted her head, whacking her noggin on the raised trunk. “Yeow. Quit stalking me.”

She massaged the top of her head, only slightly mollified when he began to sputter. “I…I’m not stalking you. Just wanted to make sure you got into the building safely.”

“Oh, pleeaaase.” Her southern twang emerged with her temper. “It’s a secure parking lot with a guard less than fifty feet away.”

The parking lot light revealed the pinkish glow creeping over Lance’s face, making Annie regret her verbal attack. The man annoyed her simply by breathing, but he wasn’t that bad. Not if one liked the intelligent, hunky sort.

Delete that thought. Lance purchased his clothes at Nerds ‘R’ Us and refused to open the blinds because the mean ole sun created a glare on his computer screen.

She focused on the negatives, doggedly ignoring his body, ripped from regular workouts, and refused to envision the way his gray-green eyes twinkled when he smiled. If she didn’t concentrate on his pesky nature, she might have to admit he was better than not bad.

No way. Her life precluded having time, or use, for a man, even one that seemed nice. Her efforts centered around two jobs, a degree yet to be earned, and a three-year-old angel who reminded Annie each day that men couldn’t be trusted.

Maybe she should just tell him about Natalie. Even a pursuer as ardent as Lance would run if he discovered her maternal secret.

After grabbing her tote, she scurried toward the building, hoping to escape both Lance and her thoughts. At the gate, she set down her bundle to swipe her badge. A hand grabbed her canvas bag before it touched the ground. “Let me carry that.”

She smirked when Lance stumbled at the unexpected weight. “If you had half a brain, Walker, you’d stay away from me.”

“Brains are overrated.”

So was the cute grin he flashed.

“Let’s grab a coffee during break.”

Annie made a production of her sigh. “Giving you credit for half a brain was fifty percent over-inflated. The answer is no.”

She passed through the revolving bars, leaving Lance to manage her oversized tote. His long legs enabled him to catch her at the elevator, even lugging her bag and his backpack. “Is it my breath?”

“Yeah. That’s it.” She bit her lip to keep from laughing when he ran his tongue over his teeth.

She jerked her bag from his hand. “It isn’t your breath, it’s the body odor.”

He sniffed at his armpits. “Body odor?”

“I’m kidding, Walker.” His downcast face caused her tone to soften. “I can't afford fancy coffee.” The company paid well for her voice-overs, but between tuition, daycare and rent, she still needed to waitress to cover expenses.

“Come on. My treat.”

“I’m not going out with you. Period, the end.”

He raced for the door, grabbing it just in time to smack her shin.

“Ouch!” She pierced him with a nasty look. “You don’t take rejection well, do you?”

“Sorry.”

She ignored the concern etched on his features. Red welt or not, his eyes stared at her calf and partially exposed thigh. She jerked her skirt down. “Don’t.”

Lance blinked. “Annie, I wasn’t…ah, forget it.” He lifted his head, staring at the ceiling, but continued to hold the door open.

She hadn’t been so “anti-men” during her first month at Interactive Action, but as Romeo wannabes grew bolder and pick-up lines grew more ridiculous, she’d wrapped herself in protective iciness. Bob from the accounting department would use the accident as an excuse to stroke her knee and Lance’s buddy, Arnie, would look up her skirt. To be fair, Lance wasn’t like those bozos.

Of course he is. After he got her in the sack, she’d become a statistic. She’d learned that lesson the hard way. Courtesy of Natalie’s dad.

“I’m perfectly capable of opening my own doors.”

His eyes met hers. “Duh. Trying to be chivalrous here. And you couldn’t open anything carrying that bag. I’m surprised you can even walk. What’s in here anyway?”

Her hands clutched the bag protectively. In her haste, she’d grabbed the wrong tote. No way would she tell him the bag held her daughter’s things: roller skates, clothes, and dumbbells, because Natalie wanted to lift weights like mommy.

To distract his attention, she snapped, “Chivalrous? This is your idea of chivalry?” She pointed at her shin, the bump already making the transition from red to blue. “In the Middle Ages, men opened doors for women because the doors were heavy. Chivalry wasn’t just a grand gesture, it had a purpose.”

“Really? Then chivalry is dead because there’s nothing I can do for you that you can’t do for yourself.” A boyish smile erased the dejection on his face. “Except, maybe, buy you a fancy coffee?”

She wanted to kick his shin with her uninjured limb. Men thought spending a little cash solved everything. “Surely your genius brain can come up with something more original than holding a door open, especially if you must break my leg in the process.”

“I could say ‘thank you’ when you let me buy you a fancy coffee.”

“Nice try, but that’s just courtesy.”

“Ah ha! You said courtesy.” He grinned a Cheshire Cat grin. “The dictionary defines chivalry as ‘bravery, courtesy, honor, and gallantry toward women.’”

Her eyes widened. “OMG! You looked the word up? You need to get a life. You're becoming a terminal nerd.”

The pun hadn’t been intentional but they both laughed. The propeller-head probably memorized the definition of chivalry for the game he worked on, Gwain’s Ghost. Not to impress her.

“Courtesy is important, Walker, but chivalry is a combination of all the things in your definition.”

“Tell you what, I’ll come up with an example of modern chivalry if I can explain my idea over dinner. On Tuesday.”

She narrowed her eyes. Tuesday would be her first day off in weeks. And Valentine’s Day. “Why would I do that?”