Tag: writing

Water in the Wilderness

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Excerpt

them the benefit of the doubt. They’re Ruby’s niece and nephew and her children’s cousins, so maybe she does love them, and wants to give them a home.”
For a few minutes they lay silently in the stillness of the house. A faint breeze riffled the curtains at the window, and Tyne felt its cool fingers on her shoulder. The tensions and sadness of the day had been made more oppressive by the heat, and she welcomed the respite of the night.
“We hardly knew the children until two weeks ago,” Morley mused, “which makes me realize we should be more involved with people in the community.”
“But you have been involved, Morley,” Tyne protested. “Look how much you did to get a new hospital in Emblem. And you’re on the Board of Directors.”
“But that doesn’t mean I know what’s going on in families and what their needs are.” He took a deep breath. “I don’t know the answer, Tyne. I just know that, as good Christians and good citizens, we should be more open to the needs of people around us.”
Tyne snuggled her head against his chest. “You’re a good man, Morley Cresswell.” She smiled into the darkness. “You know what? I’ve come to love those kids. Is it possible to become so fond of them in such a short time, or is it a passing phase, like a person becomes infatuated with a member of the opposite sex?”
Morley chuckled. “Ah no, I know what you mean, hon. It’s nothing like infatuation. I’ve fallen in love with them, too.”
“You know,” Tyne said, “I have to confess I was scared to death of them coming here. I didn’t know how to handle kids, and I wasn’t sure I would even like them very much.”
“You’ve done a good job with them, Tyne.”
“Thanks for saying that, honey. But when Rachael yelled at me the other day, saying I’m not her mommy, it really hurt. I wondered where I’d gone wrong.”
Morley’s arm tightened around her. “She’s hurting, and she’s angry. It wasn’t anything you did or didn’t do.”
“I know,” Tyne whispered. “I’m too sensitive.”

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

Jazz with Ella

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Excerpt

Jennifer had the feeling she’d been checkmated. He had not been concerned at all about her disappearance—he only wanted to ensure she did more than her part.
“Which students?”
“David needs to develop better written skills. This is a credit course for him, and right now I can’t give him a passing grade. And then there’s Lona. Don’t know what to make of her. She wants a grade for the course, too.” His voice descended to a hush. “I really don’t consider her a serious student.” He hesitated and Jennifer remembered that she was supposed to be finding out Lona’s agenda and reporting back to Chopyk. It didn’t seem very important to her.
They had reached her room, but under no circumstances was Jennifer inviting Chopyk in. “I’ll deal with the students, Professor,” she said abruptly. “Goodnight now.”
He harrumphed by way of comment, bowed, and left her. By the time her head hit the pillow she had already forgotten how irritating he was.
She dreamed a familiar dream. She was hovering over a lake or a pond—sometimes she was in the lake—but this time she floated above it. Her fingernails had unaccountably grown extra long like those of a Chinese mandarin, and she clawed the water searching for the face that she knew would be there. The eyes that stared up at her from among the water weeds were usually familiar eyes—her little brother—and she must save him. She alone could save him. But her outsize talons snarled in the weeds and she could not scoop up the boy. Water trickled through her fingers. And when she gazed into his eyes—now she was closer, inches above the water—she saw not her brother at all, only the blue grey eyes of the attractive stranger, sinking fast.

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

Savages and Beasts

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Excerpt

“Hey Dylan, after lunch come for your sweet,” George
addressed the old man.
Dylan agreed with a movement of his head and grabbing
a tray he showed to Anton it was time for them to pick their
serving of food.
“He’s a good man,” Dylan said while they were eating, “A
stroke of fate brought him here, like everyone else, I guess…”
“What brought you here Dylan?” Anton’s voice sounded
full of curiosity.
The old man turned his eyes in various directions, from left
to right, even above towards the ceiling before he decided to say, “I
was a fisherman once, back east, in Halifax, when my craziness told
me to go west, to come to the West Coast and go salmon fishing.”
“What happened? Did you ever do that?” Anton wondered.
“No I never made it to the coast…” his voice was interrupted
by the stern voice of the Sister Helen who was on duty
along with Father Thomas; one of them supervised the boys and
the other supervised the girls while they were eating.
“There are no seconds,” father Thomas said to a boy of
about fourteen years of age who looked very tall and skinny.
“But I’m hungry,” the youth protested.
“Stand up and pick your things,” the priest said to the
boy who got up and taking his tray was ready to start walking
towards the counter when father Thomas gave him a hard hit
with his strap. The leather strap hit the boy on the left shoulder;
he abruptly leaned a little to his left and turning toward the priest
one could see his anger on his clenched teeth and fiery eyes; he
was almost ready to hit the priest when the hand of the priest
swung again and the strap hit the arm of the youth once more.
His tray fell on the floor. Noise was heard by all the children who
turned to see what was going on.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763602

Still Waters

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Excerpt

His face, which a moment before had been bright and expectant,
lost its glow. “Some other night then?”
“No Cam, I’m sorry I can’t.” She hesitated only briefly. “I have a
boyfriend back home. We’re practically engaged. It wouldn’t be right
for me to date anyone else.” Feeling remorseful when she saw his hurt
look, she added quickly, “Please understand, Cam.”
His smile was gentle, if regretful. “I do understand, Tyne. And it’s
all right, really. My loss.” He held out his hand. “I’m glad we met.
Who knows, someday we may find ourselves working in the same
hospital.”
Tyne had smiled and gripped his hand firmly. “You bet, that would
be great. Goodbye, Cam.”
As she opened the door to 215 on Friday afternoon, she prayed he
would not be in the room.
Arthur Tournquist, in his bathrobe, sat in an easy chair near the
window. Tyne saw immediately that he had a visitor, but not Cam.
The man who turned to face her as she walked through the door was
her father.
“Dad,” she gasped, “what are you doing here?”
He got to his feet and crossed the room to embrace her. “Surprised
you, didn’t I, daughter?” With his arm around her, he led her to the
window and sat down again across from Arthur.
“But I don’t understand,” Tyne said, glancing from one to the other.
“It’s simple enough,” Jeffery Milligan said, “I came to see my old
friend, of course.”
“Oh,” she said, still a little bewildered. She had not realized their
friendship merited a hospital visit from a distance of a hundred and
fifty miles. “But how did you know Mr. Tournquist was ill, Dad?”
“I called him, Miss Milligan. Not to inform him I was ill, particularly,
but to tell him I’d met his lovely daughter.”
Tyne looked at her patient and was surprised to see the mischief
glinting from his eyes – eyes so much like Cam’s.
“I had some business to discuss with my old friend here,” Jeff said,
“and I thought it would be a good chance to see you, too, Tyne. Arthur
tells me you have a day off tomorrow, which works out perfectly.”
Alarm bells immediately sounded in Tyne’s head. Business to discuss?
Had her dad seriously considered Mr. Tournquist’s offer of a job
on the Herald? Would he even consider leaving Emblem and the Echo?

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

The Circle

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Silence takes their thoughts and the surrounding area like when you stop before
the blooming hyacinth and your eyes become teary, or when you stare at the
orange sun at dusk before the sea takes him into her watery embrace, like when
the little chick chirps in the nest and its mother tries to teach it how to grasp the
worm from her beak and your eyes become teary, and you don’t know the
reason. It’s like that. The disappointment is obvious in Hakim’s face.
“When did they find my parents and what did they do with them?”
“The next day when I found out about the bombing, I ordered the search.
They found your father and mother in the rubble, and you as well. Your parents
were buried according to tradition, and I took you into my home.”
“What else happened on those days? Please tell me more about my parents,
about their property, what happened to it, how did the Americans manage to
bomb our home instead of someone else’s.”
“War, my dear boy, is a terrible thing. It brings out the worst in people. It’s
incredible to imagine what people do in times of stress, in times of fear, in times of
desperation. That’s what war does: it affects people in the worst possible way. You
see a brother killing a brother, you see friends who suddenly become the worst of
enemies, all for what, you may wonder, and there is no answer. It is unbelievable
what a person can do in the stress of war, when they don’t have means of feeding
their family, or when they are afraid for their lives, when one finds a rifle thrown to
the side of the road and takes it in his arms. At that moment, he becomes an enemy
of someone else, a killer capable of taking a life. This is why you see civil wars
erupting in every country after an event like this. The whole system is gone—the
security, the police, the courts, the justice system, all the apparatus of the country is
gone. In our case, even today after all this time, there are bombings and suicide
bombers killing people in the hotels, the plazas, even in the mosques. This is what
war creates, my dear boy, and you can only hope war won’t come your way ever
again. As far as what happened to your parents’ house, it’s still there, uninhabited,
still standing half-way; one day we have to address the issue of what to do with it.”
Hakim remembers now what he wanted to ask his uncle since yesterday.
“My uncle, how have you come to know these people, the Admiral and
Jennifer’s father, Matthew?”
Ibrahim laughs lightly.
“When you reach my age,my dear boy, you’ll understand I know a lot of people,
because I have met so many over the years; it is as simple as that. To satisfy your
curiosity I met the Admiral in Baghdad when he was a young officer at the American
Embassy before the days of the first Gulf War and Saddam Hussein. Matthew I met
yesterday, but I know he works for Bevan, who is Matthew’s boss.”
“What job do they do?”

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

Arrows

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“My mother always worked in a household.”
“Why is it bad to ask your name?”
“You didn’t ask my name. Say the words again, and I’ll tell you
what they mean.”
The horse had begun to graze, and Tamanoa took hold of the
bridle again.
“Matircom yeunatir ueipano dauquir” I repeated slowly.
“Breasts, nipples, whore . . .” His voice trailed off as he signalled
the meaning of the last word by pointing to his crotch. “And what
was the other thing you said? Ah, yes. Guecenar onque. That means
give me your . . .” Again his voice trailed off, and he turned and
pointed to his rear end.
Heat rushed to my face. I massaged my eyes with the heels of my
hands and heard him giggle.
Torn between anger and laughter, I laughed. Benjamin, Benjamin.
He had taught me words I would never have dreamed of saying,
and I had repeated them like a parrot. No wonder we had gotten so
many looks. I was laughing so hard I removed myself and my horse
from the convoy.
“It was Benjamin,” I said. “So it’s your turn to help me. How do I
ask your name?”
“It depends. There are Indians from far away who have been
brought here to work, and we all speak different languages. But in
mine it would be atiyeseti?”
“What language is yours?”
“Cumanagoto. Carib. It comes from the eastern coast. It’s the
most common. My mother came from the region of Cumaná.”
“Are the families brought here together? As husband and wife?”
He shook his head. I looked at the Indians around me. That could
explain much of their sullenness.
In the year 1511, the Church had proclaimed the equality of men
and denounced the Spanish debauchery in La Española. But in that
same year, King Fernando El Católico had declared the branding of
cannibals. For the Spaniards, natives out of range of missionary
protection were cannibals. They were raided and sold as slaves.

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

Swamped

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A dark windy night. Eteocles is about three years old, Nicolas five,
and their mother as old as the worry about how to feed her children
has made her, as old as any mother who lives in the ruins of war, a
woman whose husband is on the front line. It is a windy night, and
the gaps in the doors and windows make an apocalyptic music, as if
the inhabitants of this hovel are walking through the hallways of hell.
Eteocles remembers the scene well. They are sitting around the metal
bucket their mother has made into a heating element. She burns
wood in it, and the heat reaches out perhaps a meter all around it.
They are sitting warming themselves, listening to the wrath of the
tempest just a few meters away beyond the frames of the single door
and the courageous window to the north.
Suddenly from the deadly war of the elements outside a sudden
wind floods the room as the door opens. A man stands in the frame
gazing inside. It is their father returning from the war. He stands
there for long time, not knowing what to say, how to greet them; he
hasn’t seen them for twenty-seven long months. Their mother lets
out a cry, a cry that sounds like the name of the standing man, her
husband, the man who had gone to war when Eteocles was just a few
months old. Her husband is home at last, and she gets up and calls
him inside and walks up to him and hugs him with a fierceness that
expresses the emotional volcano boiling inside her. She hugs him for
a long time, then she pulls away, and their father kneels and calls his
sons to him. Neither of them dares approach this stranger. Eteocles
doesn’t know this man at all, while Nicolas, who was three years old
when his father left his sons, perhaps has some faint memory of him.
Neither of the two dares move toward the man in soldier’s clothes
who calls them again and again until Eteocles observes his feet making
small steps toward the open arms of their father and Nicolas follows
soon after. The soldier clings tightly to them, saying words the
two brothers only feel, the soothing words of a father who has missed
his sons, a man who had gone to war without knowing if he would
ever see them again. They feel those words, and they cuddle with the
man who has come inside their house and ignore the wind that has
entered with him and turned the room into a frozen habitat in which
the small metal bucket with the burning wood cannot warm more

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08WP3LMPX

Jazz with Ella

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She stopped at the Blue Bridge, paced on past the Marinsky Palace built for the Grand Duchess Marie, and caught a glimpse of what must surely be ballerinas arriving in a chauffeur- driven car at the Kirov Theatre, their graceful arms laden with costumes and carryall bags. She would attend the ballet. It would be glorious—probably Swan Lake or Giselle.
Suddenly she felt a jolt of pain, a sensation that she recognized as missing Michael. Missing him lots. Was it just missing someone to share the experience with her? Well, she would have that experience with David or Paul. That was okay. Heck, Michael didn’t even like the ballet. Yet she couldn’t help but remember one of the last times they had enjoyed each other’s company. Was it last February, March? It seemed like a million years ago. They had walked to a movie together, through an uncharacteristic sprinkle of snow over Vancouver’s Point Grey, each of them preoccupied. The sadness and distance that enveloped them had lasted all the way to the show, but once they entered, bought popcorn and seated themselves in the sticky seats, they both relaxed. It was a funny film, and he held her hand in the dark. Later, they returned to their married students’ apartment talking together with more animation about the movie, about her essay, about his thesis supervisor.
“What went wrong?” she finally asked him, knowing he would understand that she wasn’t talking about his recent lab experiment. Also knowing that he wouldn’t be able to answer. He would only shrug. In fact, it seemed that her life was very full of loved ones who wouldn’t talk to her. Still, those moments of communication: the laughter in the cinema, the caress on her hand, the discussion about her essay—they were all good. They were shared.
Jennifer continued to stride briskly, restlessly, until she had executed a broad loop which eventually brought her back to the River Moika, one of the many canals that fragmented the city into an island network.
Here, the houses hung over the water, their upper windows nearly touching the shade trees. A graceful wrought-iron bridge, the width of a footpath, led across the Moika into a neighbourhood of worn tenements. She approached it confidently.

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

Still Waters

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Excerpt

He made a pretence of covering his face with his hands. “Oh no,
please. Only my parents call me Cameron. Everyone else calls me Cam.”
“Okay, Cam. By the way, your dad said you’re here from Vancouver.
May I ask what you do there?”
“I’m a fourth year medical student at the University of British Columbia.”
Tyne’s eyebrows shot up. “Really?”
“So you see, we have more in common than our fathers being
friends. But I’m surprised Dad didn’t tell you. He usually brags about
me to everyone he meets.”
Tyne smiled. “I’m sure he would have gotten around to it. Right
now I think he’s more concerned about losing his gall bladder than
anything else.” She smiled. “And your mother? I’ll bet she’s really
proud of you, too.”
Cam shrugged. “Well, yes and no. Mom was disappointed I didn’t
go into the priesthood. But I didn’t think I could live the celibate life.”
To Tyne’s relief, the waitress came to take their order. She had no
wish to pursue the topic which his last statement could have introduced.
She had known his father was Catholic. And no doubt Cam
knew the same about her. Well, what of it? What could such knowledge
possibly matter to two virtual strangers having a cup of coffee
for no other reason than that their fathers were friends? 
The night nurse’s report on Wednesday morning at seven o’clock
revealed that Adeline Koffer’s family had not got their miracle. Their
mother died during the night surrounded by their presence and
their love. Tyne hoped they would consider the end of her suffering
the true miracle, and trust in a merciful God.
In Room 221, old Mrs. Forsyth still clung to life while her exhausted
family popped in and out of the room all day long and all
night long. And in 224, Jeannette Aubert still clutched her rosary and
prayed for the survival of her baby.
When the report had been read, Sister Mary Louise looked at Tyne.
“Mrs. Aubert’s physician has asked Dr. Jenkins to see her today. Will
you make sure he’s not disturbed while he talks to her?”
Tyne could not control her gasp. “Dr. Jenkins? The psychiatrist?
But why, Sister?”

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

The Circle

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Excerpt

She cleans up the plates and puts them in the dishwasher to get her mind
away from thoughts that will get her nowhere. Then she gets ready to go to
church for the eleven o’clock service; she hopes Jennifer will come home in the
meantime.

Talal has been up for about an hour. He did his meditating while Helena was still
in bed. He showers, puts the coffeemaker on, and is about to get her up. However,
he finds her awake when he goes into the bedroom.
“Good morning, darling,” she says.
Helena stands five foot ten, a beautiful tall, slender woman with a firm, sexy
body. Talal admires her silhouette as she walks naked to get her robe. He goes
behind her and hugs her, feeling the warmth of her body once more. She rubs
herself against him and laughs.
“Enough of this, mister; it’s time I get ready to go. I have things to do, you
know.”
He lets go of her and pours her coffee black, no sugar. She’s sweet enough. He
smiles at the thought.
They have had a great night of lovemaking; Helena is very devoted to the art
of sex and Talal loved every minute of it. Yet, a number of times during the night,
his mind traveled to an older woman with shoulder-length blonde hair, a firm
body, and a very hungry sexual appetite. He knows her husband is on his way to
work today, and after she goes to church to give the day some holiness, he’s sure
he will be able to see her the same afternoon or, at the latest, tomorrow morning.
He also wants to meet with Hakim some time today after Hakim and Uncle
Ibrahim have had their walk in the park.
Helena hops into the shower when his phone rings. It’s Emily. He doesn’t
remember having given her his phone number.
“Hello, Emily.”
“Hello. I’m sorry I’m calling you at your place.” She sounds apologetic.
“No need to be sorry, are you alright?”
“I’m fine, I’m just fine,” she utters, “I just wanted to hear your voice.” Silence
stops her.
“I’m just fine, and you are fine, so everything is fine. I’ll see you later on,
tomorrow?” he questions her.
“Yes, tomorrow, I guess.” She sounds disappointed.
“I’ll call about ten, okay?”
“Yes, ten sounds okay. Have a good day.”
“You, too.” He puts the phone down.

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