Tag: love-story

Fury of the Wind

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excerpt

them in soap and water and set the table with them. She had stoked
up the fire in the range to prepare a casserole of scalloped potatoes
and warm up the pork shoulder Mrs. Thompson had cooked during
the week.
Yesterday, with the intention of making a pie, the two women
had gone out to the bushes north of the farm to pick Saskatoon
berries. But when they came to make the pastry they could not find
any lard in the house, so there would be fresh berries with sugar
and thick cream for dessert.
When Ben came in he looked surprised to see no meal laid out
on the kitchen table. But he did not wear his usual scowl when
something upset him. Taking this as a good sign – and in a moment
of coquettishness – Sarah took him by the hand and led him to the
front room. He did not withdraw from this first gesture of intimacy
they had shared. A faint smile crossed his face when he saw what
she had done with the table.
“Long time since we had a tablecloth and nice dishes in this
house,” he said.
She hoped he would change back into the suit he had worn for
the wedding but he sat down at the table in his overalls. Because she
promised herself she would not start off their married life by nagging,
she let it go. But she still wore her white dress. Removing her
apron, she tossed it over a chair and sat down across from him.
He appeared to enjoy the meal but he ate in silence, as usual. Sarah
longed to talk about the wedding ceremony, but fear of invoking
his anger towards the townspeople in general, and Mr. Andrews in
particular, made her hold her tongue. Ben had been less than complimentary
about the station agent as they drove away from the
church, saying in a loud voice, “Interfering old bastard.” Sarah had
quickly rolled up the truck window.
She tried to think of a safe topic of conversation, and finally decided
to ask about his family. “You told me your mother died three
years ago, Ben, but what about your father? When did you lose
him?”
“He died when I was seven years old. Killed in the first war.”
“Oh, how terrible for you.”
“Didn’t bother me none. I hardly knew him. All I remember is
that he was tall and skinny. He left when I was four…

https://www.amazon.com/dp/0981073530

Water in the Wilderness

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“Coffee, soup and ham sandwiches,” she announced as she laid the tray down on the table in front of them. She handed a paper napkin and a bowl of soup to Tyne. “Now eat. I don’t plan to take any of this back to the cafeteria.”
Tyne grinned at her aunt, and told herself she would do her best to comply.
Their lunch finished, they waited for Moe to come from the ward to tell them they could go in again. When Tyne looked at her watch, she realized that little more than an hour had passed. Then suddenly Moe, in her crisp white uniform, appeared at the door.
“Okay kiddo, you can see Bobby again. He’s rousing, and his vital signs are stabilizing.”
Tyne jumped to her feet and turned to her aunt. But Millie shook her head. “You go ahead, Tyne. I’ll see him tomorrow. He doesn’t know me well, and he doesn’t need to see a strange face staring at him when he wakes up. And take your time, dear. I’m fine here.”
Tyne reached down to pat Aunt Millie’s hand before she followed Moe through the door and towards the childrens’ ward.
“How about Ronald? Has he settled? He was upset when I saw him.”
Moe opened the door and motioned Tyne to go ahead of her. “He had a sleep, and he ate something when he woke up. He’s going to be all right … except for the frostbitten parts. Those are still a question mark, I’m afraid.”
Tyne stepped through the door, but stopped when she saw Dr. Bryce Baldwin speaking to a white-clad nun near Bobby’s bed. Moe left her side and walked towards them, and the three of them conversed for several minutes. The sister was making notes on a chart – Bobby’s chart, presumably. Then she turned her head slightly in Tyne’s direction. Dark lively eyes below her wimple highlighted a pretty face as she spoke to the two people with whom she consulted. Moe said something, and nodded in Tyne’s direction. The sister turned towards her, a smile lighting her eyes. She handed the chart to Moe and started towards the door where Tyne stood.

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562884

https://www.amazon.com/dp/192676319X

The Circle

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“Come in, my son, come in. Let me introduce you to the Minister of Finance,
Omar Salem. Here’s one of my sons from the United States, minister. His name
is Talal Ahem.”
Omar Salem looks at Talal and smiles.
“He’s one of the seven?”
“Yes.”
“I’m very pleased to meet you, sir,” Talal says, and shakes the man’s hand.
“You, too, Talal Ahem,” says the minister. “Should we expect you to return
to your country soon?”
Ibrahim smiles with obvious pleasure as he tells the minister, “He’s a
chemical engineer.”
“A chemical engineer, very good; now, this is a man our country needs, don’t
you think, my good friend, Ibrahim?”
“Yes, of course. Yes, our country needs all her talents to help her in our years
of development.”
“Please tell me, Ibrahim, when your dearest son Hakim will visit us?”
“I hope very soon in the new year, minister.”
Talal shakes the hand of the minister once again and leaves him with Ibrahim
in the study. He finds Emily in the garden and they walk together for a while.
She’s curious to know what happened.
“Who’s meeting with Ibrahim, honey?”
“It’s the Minister of Finance for Iraq.”
“Well, it certainly seems Ibrahim is well-connected here.”
“He’s well-connected all over the world, my love. What surprises me,
though, is that there are seven of us in the United States.”
“What do you mean, seven of you?”
“Hakim and I are in the United States thanks to Ibrahim’s money. Now, I
find out there are another five who have gone to the states for studies, just as
Hakim and I did. I only know Ahmed, in Los Angeles whom I see often, but who
are the other four and where are they?”
“Why did Ibrahim send you if you are not a blood relative?”
“My mission is to be with Hakim and make sure he never feels alone, nor gets
into trouble. To make sure nothing bad happens to him.”
They walk hand in hand, silently, while Talal tries to figure out who the rest
of the seven could be and where they may be now. There must be a reason the old
man sent us all to the United States. Talal knows he needs to find that out before
they return home, so he can brief Hakim before he gets involved with Bevan and
his plans.
“Tomorrow we’re going to the gulf. Are you not excited?” he asks Emily.

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562817

https://www.amazon.com/dp/0978186524

Jazz with Ella

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A sad story, Lona thought. She wondered how many other homes had buried treasure—perhaps the owners didn’t even know it. Back in New York the buyers would be interested in stories like this one.
When she got home should she find a buyer for the icon, too? No, she wanted the icon for herself. She would not be turning it over to the businessmen on her return, but somehow, she would have to account for the cash—it had cost $50 U.S. dollars—that she had been given to purchase these items. She would cross that bridge when she came to it. She considered its size, weighing it in her hand like tomatoes at the grocery store. She checked once more that the door was locked, then she carefully unwrapped the distinctive Beryozka wrapping paper from a newly purchased balalaika, a musical instrument with a long narrow neck and a triangular body. There was no mistaking its shape even in wrapping paper. Once the paper was removed from the balalaika she wrapped the icon in her kerchief, then squeezed it into the space between the strings and the body of the instrument. It just fit. She re-wrapped the Beryozka paper around the balalaika, being careful to tape it in exactly the same spots as before, then held it up for inspection. You could hardly tell a thing—just the merest suspicion of something rectangular. She placed the wrapped balalaika into a mesh shopping bag such as the Soviets seemed to carry everywhere. This one she would be taking on the plane with her and stowing in the overhead baggage compartment. That done, she pulled out a kit from her suitcase that contained some acrylic paint such as children use and bottles of powder and Vaseline.
The jewellery, a pendant of solid gold and very old, was easy to doctor up; it was not of religious significance, although Krov had tried to tell her otherwise. It would find a buyer who was simply looking for something pretty and special. She considered if she had time to invent a provenance for it—a story about some czar giving it to his mistress, perhaps? The consortium had rapped her knuckles once before for inventing but she couldn’t resist. Who’s to say that it was not true? What Russian peasant before the revolution would own such a rich thing?
She removed the elaborate gold chain and put it with her own modern jewellery, then re-hung the locket on a leather strip. She put the locket into a tiny, leather, filigreed sack. She would wear it around her neck.
The prayer scrolls were also easy. They would be placed among the pencil sketches of St. Isaac’s Cathedral that she had completed…

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562892

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763246

In Turbulent Times

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‘You’re too smart for them, Joe.’ Michael gulped a mouthful of tea that was still quite warm. ‘Your mother says you’ve been in America.’
‘Yes. I did a bit of travelling there.’
‘Must be a great country.’
‘Yes, it is. I loved what I saw of it. I told Nora that I was going to live in the States when the war was over.’
‘That’ll prepare her,’ Caitlin said in a heavy voice.
‘So you’re going to become a Yank, Joe?’ Michael said.
‘I think so.
‘Good for you. That’s where the future is, I’d say.’
‘Yes,’ Joe agreed. ‘That’s where the future is. In fact I’d say the future was already there.’
‘Grab your share of it, Joe. And good luck to you, son.’
҂
Nora waited anxiously as the days passed. She hoped heart and soul, more fervently than she had ever hoped for anything, that Joe had made her pregnant. She even prayed for it in church, pleading with God, who had robbed her of so much, to grant her this one compensating favour. And then she remembered that God did not reward sin but punished it. Would He punish her? Could He, who had already punished her so cruelly, continue to show only heartless vindictive ness towards her? The time of the month, as Nora reckoned it, had been most propitious for conception. The occasion itself, so beautiful, so transcendental, so highly infused with the passion of pure and overpowering love, could not have been other than providential. If she never had another possession in her life, Nora wanted Joe’s child with a ferocity that almost choked her.
‘If I can’t have him,’ she prayed, ‘allow me to have his son or his daughter, to love and care for as I would have loved and cared for Joe himself. Oh God Almighty, harden not Your heart this time. Wipe from Your mind all memory of the wrong we did to attain this end and give to our undying love, so true that only You could have inspired it, the divine consummation it deserves.’
Nora was tense, anxious, irritable and easily upset. She had a violent row with her mother that began with a purely innocent and casual remark from Caitlin about Owen Joe’s being too warmly dressed.
‘You’re one to be giving advice about looking after babies,’ Nora shouted heartlessly. ‘I’m surprised your incompetence as a mother didn’t kill me.’

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562904

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763270

Jazz with Ella

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But David, there’s another thing and it’s a real mystery.” She described the telegram that had been sent from Kazan. “That was a dreadful day trying to avoid Chopyk’s sheep herding efforts, trying to see the Gorky Museum and not think about Paul, all at the same time. Did you…?” But David was shaking his head.
Jennifer felt a wave of fear again. “You were one of the few who broke away from the group so I thought it must have been you trying to surprise me. Please tell me it’s not someone else trying to pull a fast one. ”
“I didn’t send any telegram. If you think about it, it would have to be someone who knew Volodya’s address—and knew the code words.”
“No, it didn’t have the code words in it. He thought I’d forgotten them and came anyway.”
“Natasha? She would have quick access to telegrams…she knew his address from the telegram he sent you…”
“Natasha—it has to be her.” Jennifer was stunned. “But why? I don’t get it. You know I suspected her back when the other telegram came in. She’s from Leningrad, you know, and they might have known one another while he worked for Intourist.”
“I’ve thought there’s more to her than what we’re seeing. That’s gotta be it, but you won’t get a chance to ask her because we’re trying to avoid her like the plague right now.” David began to sort through the closet for the jacket and shoes. “Do you know if she caught up to us here at the hotel?”
“Oh, for sure, but I don’t think she knows what rooms we’re in. If you hadn’t told me your room number, I’m sure I couldn’t have got it from the desk clerk. They seemed terminally uninterested.”
“Listen, why don’t you ask Volodya if he knows Natasha? Let’s sleep on this matter,” he yawned politely, “and get you-know-who fixed up with clothes in the morning.”
But when she returned to her room, Volodya had fallen into a deep sleep sprawled across the utilitarian single bed. His pack was open, contents spilled onto the floor, with his clothes hanging neatly on the racks. Coaching would have to wait.

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562892

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763246

Arrows

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…didn’t address me. We ate in silence, and I contented myself with
what he offered me. I knew it was pointless to discuss Tamanoa, to
protest.
“Do you know why I have decided you will not die like your
servant?” he finally asked, breaking the silence, scowling at the fish
he was eating.
“I think God must have told you to let me live.”
He snorted.
“I am not to tell you why. It is for a reason for someone else to say.
But I know it took courage for you to come to us. And now I see the
way you have mourned your servant. Pariamanaco has told me. I
had never believed it possible that a white man could cry over an
Indian, as you call us, half-breed or not.”
“Tamanoa was my friend,” I said, feeling sadness and anger
welling within me. I dropped the bite of plantain I had pinched
between myfingers onto the plantain leaf. “Why did you kill him?”
“Half-breeds, they are traitors. They are not white, not one of us.
They learn our ways and betray us.”
“Tamanoa was good,” I said a bit more sharply than I had
intended.
He gave me a derogatory grimace.
“Why did you save her?” he asked, referring to his wife.
“I didn’t, God did.”
He glared at me briefly, but then turned his attention back to the
fish and cassava.
“I want what is good for you,” I continued. “I want you and your
people to see the Creator when you die.”
He gave me a fearsome scowl.
“I’ll see Mareoka. I am shaman, don’t need you for that.”
“Only born-again people can see him,” I paraphrased, for
understandably they did not have a word for baptism. “That is the
message I bring.”
“Born again? How can you be born again? That is crazy.”
“You are born again when I pour water over your head in the
name of the Father, the Son and the . . .”—suddenly it struck me …

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562848

https://www.amazon.com/dp/0981073522

The Circle

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“Come in, my son, come in. Let me introduce you to the Minister of Finance,
Omar Salem. Here’s one of my sons from the United States, minister. His name
is Talal Ahem.”
Omar Salem looks at Talal and smiles.
“He’s one of the seven?”
“Yes.”
“I’m very pleased to meet you, sir,” Talal says, and shakes the man’s hand.
“You, too, Talal Ahem,” says the minister. “Should we expect you to return
to your country soon?”
Ibrahim smiles with obvious pleasure as he tells the minister, “He’s a
chemical engineer.”
“A chemical engineer, very good; now, this is a man our country needs, don’t
you think, my good friend, Ibrahim?”
“Yes, of course. Yes, our country needs all her talents to help her in our years
of development.”
“Please tell me, Ibrahim, when your dearest son Hakim will visit us?”
“I hope very soon in the new year, minister.”
Talal shakes the hand of the minister once again and leaves him with Ibrahim
in the study. He finds Emily in the garden and they walk together for a while.
She’s curious to know what happened.
“Who’s meeting with Ibrahim, honey?”
“It’s the Minister of Finance for Iraq.”
“Well, it certainly seems Ibrahim is well-connected here.”
“He’s well-connected all over the world, my love. What surprises me,
though, is that there are seven of us in the United States.”
“What do you mean, seven of you?”
“Hakim and I are in the United States thanks to Ibrahim’s money. Now, I
find out there are another five who have gone to the states for studies, just as
Hakim and I did. I only know Ahmed, in Los Angeles whom I see often, but who
are the other four and where are they?”
“Why did Ibrahim send you if you are not a blood relative?”
“My mission is to be with Hakim and make sure he never feels alone, nor gets
into trouble. To make sure nothing bad happens to him.”
They walk hand in hand, silently, while Talal tries to figure out who the rest
of the seven could be and where they may be now. There must be a reason the old
man sent us all to the United States. Talal knows he needs to find that out before
they return home, so he can brief Hakim before he gets involved with Bevan and
his plans.
“Tomorrow we’re going to the gulf. Are you not excited?” he asks Emily.

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562817

https://www.amazon.com/dp/0978186524

The Unquiet Land

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…that rumour either—in fact Caitlin thought she would more quickly believe the other—and she was annoyed that Caitlin might be about to ridicule religion as she had ridiculed Padraig.
“No, it doesn’t make me laugh,” Caitlin said earnestly. “It happens to be true. I’m joining the Church.”
Nora turned and looked in disbelief at Caitlin. Her face showed her astonishment, but as the truth of Caitlin’s words became apparent, Nora broke into a radiant smile, and her eyes lit up with a joy such as Caitlin had never seen before.
“Oh Caitlin,” Nora cried, grasping Caitlin by the shoulders and staring into her eyes in rapture. “I can’t believe it has happened. I’ve so much longed and prayed for this day.” She leaned toward Caitlin and hugged her tightly as tears glimmered in her eyes. She straightened up, dropped her hands into the lap of her pink summer dress and asked, “When did you reach this momentous decision?”
“It’s something that developed gradually and not without a lot of heart-searching,” Caitlin said. “I think it was Joe-Joe Carney’s illness that started it.”
Nora looked serious again. “That incident with young Joe-Joe did Padraig a lot of good in the village. He needed that miracle badly. A lot of people were not at all happy about Padraig coming back among them as their priest and confessor. They remembered his background and they didn’t trust him.” Nora paused and glanced awkwardly at her hands. “You won’t be angry if I say something personal?”
“No.”
“These latest rumours of an affair between you and him are destroying all the goodwill Padraig earned from Joe-Joe’s recovery. People are saying unkind things about him again and gaining credence. You have to let it be known what’s happening, Caitlin. For Padraig’s sake.”
“Another miracle for the Father,” Caitlin said with an edge of sarcasm. “Very well, Nora, you have my permission, as not just my twin sister, but as my closest friend in this village of spite and vindictiveness, to broadcast the truth. Caitlin MacLir has accepted the One True Faith.”
“Does Daddy know?”
“I haven’t actually told him in so many words,” Caitlin replied, while a guilty shadow flittered across her face. “But he knows.”
“Or just suspects.”
“No. I believe he knows what’s going on.”

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562888

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763203

Still Waters

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“I don’t feel comfortable talking to Mrs. Shaughnessy. I think she
pushed Curly into doing something she didn’t want to do.”
Nevertheless, the two nurses took the bus to the Shaughnessy
home on Saturday afternoon. Curly’s mother greeted them at the
door and ushered them into the sitting room.
“You both look wonderful,” she said as they made themselves
comfortable on the sofa across from her. “And Maureen, it’s so nice
to see you again. Where have you been hiding?”
Moe cast her eyes down and fidgeted with the crease in her slacks.
“I haven’t been hiding, Mrs. Shaughnessy. I just haven’t felt comfortable
coming around to see you.”
Tyne glanced at their hostess and saw her eyes open wide. “Why
ever not?”
Tyne held her breath as she felt her cheeks grow warm with embarrassment.
What did Moe intend to say next? Maybe they should
not have come. Oh God, don’t let her make a scene.
Moe leaned slightly forward. “I’m sorry to say this, and forgive me
if I’m wrong, but I thought you held it against us for what happened
to Curl … Carol Ann.”
The shock on Mrs. Shaughnessy’s face was evident. For a moment
she stared at Moe, then she seemed to struggle to find her voice. “Oh,
my dear girl, I did not hold anything against you … either one of you.
Why should I? Carol Ann acted on her own, I knew that.”
She looked down, fumbled for a handkerchief from her sleeve and
brought it to her suddenly moist eyes. “I’m sorry if I treated you
badly. I was embarrassed and ashamed. Such a thing had never happened
in our family, and it was so dreadful in the eyes of the church.”
She looked up, and Tyne saw that her lips were trembling. “Please
forgive me for the way I acted. You were always such good friends to
Carol Ann.”
Tyne felt helpless in her compassion for the woman. She wanted
to go to her and hug her, but she didn’t know how the older woman
would react to such a display of emotion. Moe, however, had no
such inhibitions. To Tyne’s surprise, she rose from the sofa and, going
quickly to Curly’s mother, bent down and enveloped her in a full
embrace. They clung together while Tyne watched through her tears.
She dried her eyes and squeezed Moe’s hand as her friend resumed
her seat. She hoped Moe knew how grateful she felt.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763068