Tag: romance

Fury of the Wind

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excerpt

She gripped the covers and stared at the curtains
moving in the breeze from the open window. The wailing, howling
cry continued without letup – Margaret’s laughter from her dream.
But this eerie sound was not laughter, and it was interspersed by
occasional yelps like those of a dog in anguish.
Recognition dawned suddenly. “Coyotes,” Sarah said aloud. The
sound of her own voice calmed her.
She lay back against the pillows and pulled the sheet up to her
chin. When the howling stopped she whispered derisively into the
sudden silence, “Sarah Roberts, coward.” O
Sarah next awakened to the tantalizing aroma of bacon and coffee.
When she opened her eyes she could see light streaming in through
a gap in the curtains. She lay still, wondering how to face Ben with
the news that she wouldn’t marry him. Breaking her promise was
aberrant to her. And she certainly had promised to marry him.
Otherwise, why was she here alone with him in this house, on this
barren prairie a thousand miles from anything familiar?
Finally, hunger pangs overcame the pangs of anxiety. She got up
and quickly dressed in slacks and a light blouse. She felt annoyed
with herself that she hadn’t thought to bring water into the room
the night before so that she could, at the very least, have splashed
her face and washed her hands. In the house in Tillsonburg she
used to rise early enough to bathe before her mother awoke and
required attention.
When she stepped into the kitchen she saw Ben standing at the
stove. Grease sizzled in a frying pan into which he was breaking
eggs. He looked up briefly when she said, “Good morning, Ben,”
and nodded his head in response.
She dipped water from the stove reservoir into a basin and carried
it to a wash stand in the corner of the room.
“Want some bacon and eggs?”
Sarah half turned. “Yes, please, I would. I’m very hungry this
morning.”
“No wonder,” he muttered, “after the amount you ate last night.”
She glanced at him quickly, childishly grateful that he had noticed
even this much about her. But, as she dried her face …

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

Still Waters

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calling from Emblem. So Tyne was surprised and cheered to hear
Cam’s voice.
“I’ve been trying to reach you ever since Moe called this morning,”
he said, sounding relieved. “Why didn’t you call me right away, Tyne?
Dad would have driven you to the Hat.”
“I couldn’t put him out, Cam … well, to be truthful, I never even
thought about it. I’m so used to riding the bus. But it seemed to take
forever to get here.”
“I hate to think of you making that trip alone as worried as you
must have been. How is your dad?”
Tyne repeated what the doctor had told her, her mother and Aunt
Millie only minutes before – that Jeff stood a good chance of surviving,
but that he may have partial paralysis of his right side. “He has
some movement and feeling in his leg, and his speech is slurred, but
Doctor Sanger thinks the speech will come back in time.”
“I’m glad to hear that, honey. When Moe called me, I feared the
worst. How long will you be there … or is it too early to know?”
“It is too early, Cam.”
“Where are you staying? Is there some place I can call without
bothering the hospital?”
“We’ll be with a family friend. Aunt Millie has obtained permission
for us to take it in turns staying with Dad around the clock.” She
pondered a moment. “Tell you what, Cam. I’ll call Moe tonight and
give her the phone number.”
“Good girl. We’ll talk again tomorrow. And Tyne?”
“Yes?”
There was a brief pause. Then he said clearly and firmly, “Remember
I love you.”
Before she could respond, he hung up.
Tyne stayed at her father’s bedside for a week. Because she was
used to working odd shifts, she insisted that her mother and Aunt
Millie get their normal rest at night while she stayed in the hospital
room. At the end of seven days, the doctor assured them that,
although Jeff ’s recovery and rehabilitation would probably be slow
and tedious he was, at least for the present, out of danger. Tyne,
with ambivalent feelings, returned to Calgary under the care of her…

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

Water in the Wilderness

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… than it had been outside with the frigid wind whipping stinging snow into their faces. Her feet still felt wooden, though, and her fingers were stiff and beginning to hurt. She removed her mittens, then reached for Bobby’s hands and pulled his mittens off. If her fingers were freezing, what must his be like? He whimpered a little as she awkwardly tried to rub his icy fingers.
As she pulled his mittens back on his hands, he slumped over at her feet. “Wanna sleep, Rachael, wanna sleep.”
Ronnie stepped out of the darkness and picked the child up. “No, Bobby, you can’t sleep yet. You’ve gotta keep moving around. I know … let’s all play a game.”
“What game?” Rachael said. “W … we can’t even see. How c …can we play a game?”
Ronnie hesitated, murmuring to himself as if thinking hard. “I know, we can play pattycake. It’ll keep us close together, and keep our hands warm.”
Rachael laughed. “Pattycake? That’s a baby’s game.”
“Okay, Miss Smartypants, what do you suggest?”
“Oh, all right. Let’s do it. Here Bobby, pattycake, pattycake, baker’s man ….”
They pattycaked around the small circle until Bobby suddenly sat down on the board floor. Ronnie reached down for him, but Rachael said sharply, “No, let him be. I’m gonna sit down, too. I don’t wanna play anymore.” She flopped down beside her brother, and put her arms around him. “I just wanna to go to sleep, Ronnie. Please let us go to sleep.”
For several seconds he remained quiet, then he said casually, “Okay, you can sleep – if you don’t mind bein’ woke up by that rat when it runs over your face.”
Rachael screamed and bolted upright. “Where? W … where is it?” She peered around, her eyes trying desperately to penetrate the darkness.
“See, over there,” Ronnie said, “can’t you see its eyes?”
Rachael jumped to her feet, pulling a protesting Bobby with her. “No, no, where?”

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562884

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

Jazz with Ella

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“High school days, right? Bunch of guys all pull up at the stop light, jump out of the car, run around, jump back in again in different seats.” Jennifer continued to shake her head. She felt as if it was frozen in the position. Lona stared as if she were seeing Hank for the first time. “We do the same…” finished Hank, as if the point was obvious.
“The same what…?” Maria and Jennifer asked simultaneously.
“Get off the boat, mill around, come back in again, confusing the count. Chinese fire drill. Make crowds of people milling around, so that no one can take roll call.”
The ensuing silence was probably one of Jennifer’s lowest moments. So this was the adolescent prank on which two lives depended. Not only would it have to do the job, but she realized that she was grateful for any plan at all.
MORNING JULY 20, 1974
Sergey Ivanovich, the machinist from Novizavod, had sat in the Kazan airport all morning. You never knew how long you might wait for a flight, or even if there was any point in waiting, he thought. And even after you were allowed on the plane, they might bump you so that your seat could go to some senior bureaucrat who had only just wheeled up in a sleek black car.
He badly wanted to visit his sister in Moscow. That’s all. But they didn’t give much respect to people like him with their simple needs. In fact, he had already been told that the flight was fully booked, but he had not given up because, long ago, he had acquired those most valuable aids to survival in the modern Soviet Union: friends who did favours. This particular friend was part of the airport administration. That the friend had first listened to Sergey’s tale and then had produced an extensive shopping list for the Moscow stores was not unusual. Sergey had simply tucked the list away, along with the five other shopping lists from neighbours and family, and had promised to do his best. The friend had also slipped him some crumpled bills in a foreign currency, acquired from international visitors at Kazan Airport. This was fine, too. Sergey was not even sure what type of currency it was, but he had tucked it away in an inside pocket. If he could locate a buyer—a friendly tourist—to go to the deluxe Beriyozhka, the foreign currency store in Moscow, and purchase some of the rarer commodities, he would be a winner.

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562892

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

The Qliphoth

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the shop poor Willy had replaced the pagan turmoil of Hrothgar’s Feast with
the blissed-out cooing of George Harrison. Larry grimaced at the music, took
a hit off the joint. As minutes passed he grew into an Easter Island statue, a pitted
mask smitten with sinister benevolence, relishing cosmic absurdities . . .
I wasn’t interested in more drugs. I was cultivating a new yearning—for
comforting fetishes like Turkish rugs or French etchings, or at least quality
post-war British stuff, the old Pye Black Box gramophones, Hornby Trains in
the original blue boxes, I was fed up with bankrupt stock and garage-sale
rejects. And I wanted something with class. Something safe, please. Nothing
too radical.
“It’s not weapons, is it, Larry?”
He passed the joint and began prising open the tea chest with a bent fork.
“Just weird shit. Specially for you.”
The chest contained thick folio-sized notebooks, bulging box files, a crumpled
set of plans or blueprints, and half a dozen books in uniform bindings,
ex-lib, half-calf and purple clo, gilt lttr, top edge gilt, gilt device on sp, approx 200 pp,
frnt brds sl warped and stained, torn frontis in Vol I, some neat inscr, otherwise v good,
ideal for a proper bookseller with a catalogue, not my Surprise Book Bins.
“They’ve been in storage for years . . .” Larry sniffed defensively. A yellowed
newspaper cutting fell out. ‘Fears of Red Atom Bombs’.
He told me he’d acquired this heap of forties memorabilia as payment for
some dope. I asked him which clients usually paid in waste paper.
Larry looked uneasy. He liked to keep the different strata of his life separate.
“A photographer that my gorgeous creature did some work for. A young
guy. But ugly, thank God. She says he snuffles while he’s setting up the poses.
Like a great rat . . .” He sucked the joint and giggled. “He’s heavily into cuisine
and wine. I guess he can’t perform vintage sex.”
Despite the dope I was getting impatient. I might raise something on tomes
with fancy bindings, but as for wartime diaries, old blueprints—I inquired as to
where the stuff originated.
“Some old attic, south of the river. Like Norwood, or Streatham Common.
ForGod’s sake, Nick, I only went there once. One of those high old houses with
stained glass in the porch window. A Victorian rose-window with cruciform
panels . . .” He exhaled slowly,seemingly bemused by the sudden emergence of
this elegant adjective.
“I suppose there aren’t any pieces from the windows in that trunk?” I was
seized with entrepreneurial glee at discovering yet another way of repackaging
splinters of the past, little sunset glints of nostalgia for an already uneasy seventies.
“Too late. His gaffer was tearing the place apart, converting it into a shop

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562839

https://www.amazon.com/dp/0978186508

Fury of the Wind

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what she had been through since four o’clock that afternoon the
condition of the interior of the house had afforded the most welcome
relief she could imagine.
Ben did not look up so she spoke above the voice on the radio.
“I hope you won’t think me rude if I retire early, Ben, but I’m extremely
weary.”
He nodded. “Be turning in myself soon.”
“Very well. Good night.”
He looked up then and smiled briefly. “G’night.”
In the bedroom she closed the door firmly behind her. There
was no key in the lock. After a moment’s hesitation she carried the
chair from beside the bed and shoved the high back under the door
handle.
She took a cotton nightgown and a hair brush from her overnight
bag, removed the dress she had worn for three days on the
train and hung it, along with her underwear, on a two-inch spike
in the bedroom door. When she had pulled the nightgown over her
head she went to the window, pushed the lacy white curtains aside
and raised the sash. If the flies wanted to come in, so be it, because
she could not stay in that room without fresh air.
Twilight lingered, streaking the western sky red. There were no
outbuildings on this side of the house. The wind of the daylight
hours had diminished to a light breeze in which a field of wheat
waved gently. The faint sweet scent of goldenrod wafted in through
the window. On a fence post a robin sat to warble its evensong.
To the right of the house stood a clump of poplar trees surrounded
by scrub brush. Through them, Sarah discerned the outline of
a small rooftop. Realizing it must be an outhouse she experienced
a moment of panic when she suddenly felt the call of nature. Why
had she not thought to go out before she readied herself for bed?
She didn’t feel inclined to dress again but she certainly had no intention
of embarrassing herself by running into him as she passed
through the kitchen in her robe and slippers. Besides, who knew
what wild animals or species of snake may lurk in the bushes in the
fading light?
Only one hope remained. Sarah quickly got down on her knees
and lifted a corner of the counterpane to peer under the bed. Yes,
there it was – a white chamber pot. She sat back on her haunches…

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

Water in the Wilderness

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Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, be with us sinners now and the hour of our death. Amen.”
After a moment, she said aloud, “Please keep Morley safe, Lord. Send him to me, I need ….” Her words cut off by another sharp pain, she cried out, “Dr. Rosthern, please hurry.”
Rachael knew she couldn’t go any further. Her feet and hands were blocks of wood. Her whole body felt as though it didn’t belong to her. To make matters worse, she was beginning to see things that weren’t there. Several times she had called out to Ronnie where he walked ahead of her breaking the trail.
“Ronnie, look,” she’d called, “there’s a house up ahead of us.”
But each time he had dashed her hopes. “No, there’s nothin’ … no buildings … nothin’.”
She had felt like crying but was too exhausted to do even that; anyway, her tears were all dried up.
She glanced at Bobby on Ronnie’s shoulders. Her brother had been quiet for a long time. His head had fallen forward, and he looked to be fast asleep.
Sleep – that’s what she needed. She absolutely could not go on another minute without sleep. She stopped walking, sank down on the snow and let her eyes close of their own accord.
“Rachael, get up. Get up.”
She struggled to open her eyes. Her mother was calling her. She must have overslept and she’d be late for school. She tried to sit up, but a heavy weight on her whole body seemed to be holding her down.
“Rachael, Rachael, please get up. You can’t go to sleep. We’ve got to keep moving or we’ll freeze.”
Ronnie stood over her, jolting her back to reality – the reality that seemed more dream that real. He grasped her arm and pulled her to her feet.
“Bobby’s sleeping,” she said tonelessly. Actually, it made no difference to her whether she slept or whether she froze. She teetered on her …

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562884

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

In Turbulent Times

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‘With Liam Dooley?’ Joe’s face took on a puzzled look. ‘You could have had your pick of every young man from here to Kerry. Why Liam Dooley of all people?’
‘Oh Joe, don’t say it like that. It just happened. I don’t know how. Something I said. We were both upset. And then we were consoling each other.’
‘In bed?’
‘Please, Joe. Don’t make it sound worse than it is. God alone knows how much I have paid for that one sin. And I shall go on paying for it till the day I die. God is very severe on sinners sometimes, Joe. His punishment seems out of all proportion to the sin. But He has His reasons, they say. And for some reason He has been severe in his punishment of the Carrick family.’
‘But Nora, going to bed with a man doesn’t mean you have to marry him. Nor does it mean that the one you might eventually want to marry is going to hold it against you if he knew about it.’
‘What if I was pregnant?’ Nora asked. ‘What if I was carrying the first man’s child? Wouldn’t that make a difference? Wouldn’t the man I might eventually want to marry hold that against me?’
Joe looked away and said nothing. A harshness, a bitterness, in Nora’s voice was new and discomfiting. But the more he thought about it the more justified it was. Fate—or God—had treated Nora cruelly.
‘Can you be sure?’ Joe asked. ‘Can you be sure you’re going to have a baby?’
‘I’m not,’ Nora replied.
‘You’re not sure?’ Joe cried. ‘Then why did you …?’
‘Oh Joe, please!’ Nora shouted in exasperation. ‘I didn’t mean I’m not sure. I meant I’m not going to have a baby.’
‘Nora, I’m confused. I’m not thinking too clearly.’
‘After I slept with Liam I was a month overdue with my period.’ Nora gushed out the words. She was embarrassed. It had been easier to put this in a letter. These were matters a woman did not discuss with a man. But Joe had rights to a full explanation. She had to tell him everything, if only to make herself feel less miserable by justifying what she did. ‘That never happened before. I was always regular. I was frightened, Joe. I was sure I was pregnant.’
‘Did you talk to your mother about it?’
‘I couldn’t, Joe. I wanted to. I tried to. But I was so ashamed, so frightened of what she’d think of me. I couldn’t do it. I suppose I kept hoping …’

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562904

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

Jazz with Ella

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Paul shook his head and glanced up at the statue’s grim face. “It’s illegal to use a false passport.”
Jennifer didn’t believe she had heard the words correctly. “You’re talking to me about illegal! You’ve done lots of illegal things lately—jump ship, stay in non-permit areas…you don’t know how many Soviet laws you’re violating.”
“But, Jen, I’m the only one that gets in trouble for my actions—and I’m prepared to take that chance. You’re wanting me—and others—to take part in a conspiracy. Defrauding border guards, smuggling illegal aliens. And if he replaced me for the rest of the trip, then all the students would be involved. Is that fair to them?” He glanced over at Ted and Maria who returned his look anxiously.
“So that makes it worse than what you’re doing?” Jennifer found that her breath was coming in gasps. “You’re putting us all in jeopardy by leaving. They’ll ask us who knew and we’ll have to admit that we could have stopped you…or we have to lie about it.”
“No, you couldn’t have stopped me.”
“Keep your voice down. I understand now that nothing we say can stop you. I’m prepared to take that chance, too. Will you help us? Will you talk to Vera? I couldn’t in all conscience walk off with your passport if I thought it would get you in worse trouble.”
“As crazy as that seems, you may have come up with something. At least I wouldn’t be interrogated. If I can get a Soviet passport no one will ever know.” Jennifer could feel herself relaxing a little; this scheme was so right for everyone.
“I’ll talk to Vera,” he went on. “She’s supposed to meet me here—somewhere. She said she’d find me.” He glanced about nervously.
“Thank you, Paul, thank you. This could change my life.” As Jennifer said it, she knew it was true. She had cast her lot now—with the man who up until two weeks ago was a total stranger. Of course, there was still her marriage to Michael back home in Canada. The divorce would be inevitable. She resolved not to think too much about that until she returned.
“You can’t tell Natasha anything,” she said. “Just come on the tour today. Act normal. And we’ll have to huddle with the others who know you’re leaving. I’ll need their help.”
“Whoa…this is happening way too fast.” Paul staggered a little, then found his footing.

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562892

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

The Circle

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the idea of us going so we can check on how Ibrahim is doing. Hakim is afraid the
old man may get sick and not tell him until too late.”
Emily sits next to him and hugs him. She kisses his lips and feels all warmed up.
“For a while, I thought Hakim makes all your decisions for you. I had it
wrong; I’m sorry.”
He laughs, stretches his arms and hugs her; his hands caress her hot body.
He’s in a great mood.
“It’s exactly the opposite, my love. He’s the one who always asks for my
advice. Don’t forget Uncle Ibrahim relies on me to make sure Hakim is safe and
secure in whatever he does here.”
“You mean you keep an eye on him, like spying?”
“Not spying, sweetheart. I keep an eye on him to make sure he’s alright. There is
a difference between the two,” he answers, as his hand goes deep between her legs.
She turns her head and kisses him again while, at the same time, she makes
herself more available by opening her legs a bit; he takes the opportunity to slide
his fingers over her and feels her hair. She goes wild with his touch; her breathing
becomes faster.
“In other words, you play the role of guardian angel?”
“Yes, sweet Emily.”

Tuesday morning as Peter Bradshaw gets to the office and notices hardly any of
the other staff are in. He turns the coffeemaker on in the lunchroom and as he
waits for the coffee to brew, he hears another person come in. He sees Lorne
walking to his office. A couple of minutes later, Lorne comes into the lunchroom,
looking for fresh coffee.
“Good morning, Peter.”
“Good morning, Lorne.”
“How is it going? I saw you guys yesterday coming back from lunch; do you
go for lunch together often?”
“We go sometimes.”
“Anything I should know, Peter? Something I should be concerned about?”
he asks.
Peter understands that Lorne has his suspicions, but he certainly wouldn’t
know what happened yesterday.
“Nothing to be concerned with Lorne; we talked about everyday things,
nothing important.”
“Okay, then,” says Lorne, and then he adds, “If something I should be
concerned with comes up, will you tell me, Peter?”

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562817

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