Tag: writing

Still Waters

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Excerpt

Millie grew quiet, apparently deep in thought. Tyne glanced at her
and wondered if, after all, she should enlist her aunt’s help. It was
an accepted fact in the family that Millie was the only one to whom
Jeff Milligan paid any attention. But would he listen, even to Millie,
when it came to his daughter’s friendship with a man of another
faith? “You know, Aunt Millie,” she said suddenly, “Dad would love
to see me dating Larry Warner again.”
“Of course he would, good Catholic boy that Larry is.”
“But he was never too happy when Larry and I were dating.”
“Your father,” Millie said dryly, “would not be happy if you dated
Prince Charming. Even if the prince happened to be of the Roman faith.”
Tyne gave her aunt a curious look. “You’re of the Roman faith,
Aunt Millie. How come you’re not as strict about such things as my
parents are? Is it because Uncle Emory was a Protestant?”
“Your Uncle Emory was neither Protestant nor anything else. That
was the heartache of it for me.”
Tyne nodded. “And yet, you married him.”
“I know, dear, because I loved him. And, I might add, I married
him against your dad’s wishes.”
“But Dad’s younger than you. What right had he to tell you what
to do?”
“When our father died, Jeff as the eldest son, became the head of
the family.”
“Archaic practice,” Tyne muttered.
“Nevertheless, my dear, that’s the truth of it. And I’m not so sure
it was all wrong. It kept some order in families, and provided stability
for women who had no education, and no hope of supporting
themselves adequately.” Millie sighed and took a sip from her glass.
“Our mother, at least, welcomed Jeff ’s guidance and support. Poor
darling Mum was never strong, and knew nothing but housekeeping
and raising children.”
“But you would have been strong enough to take over the family,
Aunt Millie,” Tyne said quietly. “I can’t see you needing guidance
from anyone.”
Millie laughed. “Am I so obviously a Tartar then?”
Tyne blushed and began to protest, but Millie waved her hand.
“No no, I’m joking, child. I know what you say is true.

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

Swamped

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Excerpt

He switched over to the local news: a serious accident on the road
down to the Second Narrows Bridge. He had better take Lions Gate
Bridge this morning. The pileup on the approach to Second Narrows
would make it impossible for traffic to resume for at least two hours,
according to the news anchor.
The phone rang. It was Herb on the other end. After the briefest
of greetings, he brought up today’s buy order. He told him that a man
he knew, someone who seemed to have good connections in Europe
and other places, had assured him this was a good one, Platinum
Properties Inc, to play with for the next few months. Eteo listened to
Herbert Swanson attentively, but when he expressed some skepticism,
Herb said he would pass by the office around ten to talk about
it. He smiled. Herb always had a link to someone with information,
and in the Vancouver Stock Exchange in those days, with its mining
fliers and dubious promoters, information was of great value. Even
if the information was often questionable at best, decisions were
based on it, and today’s bet that Herb had placed on this new company,
Platinum Properties, wasn’t any different from many others. For
years, Herb had worked his way around each and every regulation in
order to survive the debacle called investing in V.S.E. listed companies.
In most cases, they lacked anything of substance, yet they could
fly high for a few days, even a few months, before sinking into nothingness
or simply going out of fashion. Sometimes they were still at
the reorganizing stage, a lengthy process that provided a second
chance for companies that had been unsuccessful in proving the
value of their first mining asset and raising funds on that basis. This
involved a reverse split of their shares, or consolidation, in other
words, issuing new shares to raise new capital. It was usually an opportunity
to turn their focus to a new asset, sometimes even to
change course and concentrate on a new line of business. When a
company was in that reorganizing stage, it wasn’t unusual for it to
take a good twelve months to achieve its goal, and investors who
didn’t like to wait that long rarely invested in such a company.

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

The Circle

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Excerpt

IT’S A CLOUDY TUESDAY morning in Washington D.C. as Matthew Roberts
arrives at his office. The night shift has gone home and he hears the sound of
vacuum cleaners as they do their work. Matthew is early as usual. He had no
reason to remain in bed longer. Where was his Emily to warm him? However, he
likes to be in the office before the others to get organized, which gives him an
advantage for addressing the day’s challenges.
This morning he has to work on the Balkan file, a review he promised Bevan
he’d look into but never found the time for. For a long time now, the attention of
the United States has been focused on that side of the globe, and more so since
the collapse of the Soviet Union, especially since the administration felt they
were losing some of their grip there. After the Bosnia fiasco and the Croatian
genocide they turned their attention to the country of The Former Republic of
Macedonia (FYROM) a small country wanting to call itself Macedonia against
the wishes of Greece and her northern province, Macedonia. FYROM’s
ambitions of joining the European Union, has changed the dynamics by sending
soldiers to Iraq, along with the United States, thus vying for clout when standing
up to Greece. Similarly, Turkey has ambitions of joining the European Union
with the support of the U.S., although the Europeans view the Turks with a
different eye.
Matthew’s attention today is on this file, and he has to come up with
solutions to suit the government’s goals before turning it over to his superior
Bevan Longhorn. A marine and one-star admiral, Bevan oversees the work of
120 people in the office, although Matthew and two mid-level supervisors take
on the majority of his responsibilities. This leaves ‘the old man’, as they call him,
with time on his hands to enjoy the odd game of golf.
Mathew reads his messages from the receptionist’s desk, takes the file from
his briefcase, and spends the next two hours working on it.
At 9:15 the receptionist calls to tell him Bevan Longhorn wants to see him.
“Right now?”
“Yes, right now.”
He wonders to himself, what now?, gets his notepad, and walks into the
boss’s office.

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

Water in the Wilderness

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Excerpt

As she entered, she could see the night staff hurrying along the corridor which stretched out before her. They were in the midst of morning care, preparing the patients for breakfast. She picked up her pace as she headed to an alcove to leave her handbag and retrieve her nurses’ cap.
After pinning the cap in place in front of the one small mirror in the cubbyhole that passed as a staff cloakroom, she returned to the corridor and hurried to the nurses’ station where report would be given to the day staff in less than five minutes. She saw Inge Larson, the matron, walking towards her with a grim look on her usually pleasant features.
“Mrs. Cresswell,” Miss Larson said quietly when she reached Tyne, “I would like to see you in my office. Never mind report. You can catch up later.” She turned and led the way.
Tyne’s heartbeat quickened as she followed. What have I done wrong? Did I do something on my last night shift? Frantically, she tried to recall exactly what she had done that night, and which patients had been ill enough to require extra attention. Had she messed up? She remembered that she had been preoccupied with thoughts of Morley alone with the children, and Bobby’s fretting at bedtime. She also remembered she couldn’t wait to get off duty so that she could go home.
“Please close the door, Tyne, and sit down,” the matron said as she seated herself at her desk.
Tyne found some reassurance in the friendly tone, and the fact that Miss Larson had called her by her first name. She sat in a chair facing the desk, and waited.
Inge Larson placed her arms on the desk top and folded her hands which Tyne could see were not entirely relaxed. “Tyne, I have bad news, shocking news really.” She took a deep breath and let it out on a long sigh. “Lydia Conrad died last night.”
Tyne did not know how long she sat in stunned silence, staring at the woman who seemed to recede into a fog in front of her eyes. Finally, she choked out the words, “Why? How? What happened? Oh, dear God, no.”

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

Jazz with Ella

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Excerpt

Jennifer swallowed her protest and asked instead, “Is it my teaching ability that’s a problem?”
“Honestly speaking, Mrs. White, though you lack the rigor necessary for academic research, your teaching ability is sound. Hoefert said as much to me just today.”
Chopyk fiddled with his glasses for a few seconds. He was a small man, not quite her lanky height and seemed dwarfed behind the antique oak desk. She willed herself to wait patiently.
“How shall I put it? I’m a bachelor, as I think you know, but that doesn’t mean I don’t believe in marriage vows.” Already she had an uneasy feeling where this monologue was heading. “Since the advent of the pill,” he shot her a quick look, “young women, even married women, have so much more freedom.”
“Well, we’re not kept chained in the kitchen,” she responded pertly.
He appeared not to have heard her but went on, eyes on the ceiling. “Just, please—if you’re going to share leadership of this trip—remember you are a mature woman and a professional academic.”
Mature woman? She was about to turn 30. She wasn’t ready for the old folks’ home yet. “I would always act with professionalism, if that’s what you mean…Has there been some suggestion that I haven’t?”
“It pains me to mention this”—though he didn’t look pained—“but word of your marriage break-up and consequent separation has circulated within the department with some vigour.”
“That’s my personal business,” she murmured.
“Not if we’re travelling together with a gaggle of adolescent students. Do you understand? You must be an example to them.”
At least the interview had cleared the air on that score. After that, while trip preparations got under way, there had been an uneasy truce between them, and she found she was looking forward to the opportunity to teach as much as she was looking forward to the Soviet Union.
★
As the plane bucked and rolled, Jennifer’s ears popped, and she recalled reading how dangerous it was for a plane to land during an electrical storm. Where were the emergency exits? One passenger, a sombre man who had embarked at Paris, appeared to be praying. Paul had closed his eyes though she was comforted to see that he was still smiling.

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

Ken Kirkby, A Painter’s Quest for Canada

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Excerpt

Ken put his pencil down and slowly came back to the room. “Come
and take a look,” he said.
She stood beside him and silently gazed at the picture. “I wish I could
do that,” she whispered. Then she placed a hand on his head, “My god,
you’re soaking,” she said. Ken’s hair was as wet as if he had come in from
a spring shower. His shirt clung to his body in damp folds.
Still gloriously naked, Jessica sat beside him on the couch and told him
what it was like to be an Indian. She and her sister had been fortunate.
They had escaped much of the pain that so many of her race had lived
through. The girls had attended a public school but Patrick had been sent
to a residential school and refused to talk about those years.
The Indians had been chased from their land again and again. She expressed
no anger or resentment. Her voice remained gentle and soft –
that gentleness fanned the flames of Ken’s anger. Wars had been fought in
Europe over territory and land. Why had the Indians not fought back?
“It’s not in our nature to lash out and hurt others,” she said. “When we
get hurt, we hurt ourselves. It seems to be something that is rooted deeply
in our cultural background.”
She said that she and Patrick and her sister belonged nowhere. They
were not white and yet by Indian standards, they were not natives either.
They belonged to no tribe and did not live on a reservation. They were
completely free and had no wish to be involved in any part of the political
or racial battle. “We’ve managed to make a very good life for ourselves,”
she said. “We work together, we are partners and we help each other.”
Jessica was describing the life he wished to live. His story was different
but it was also the same. He too had no desire to be categorized or pigeonholed.
He too wanted to unfold and allow life to happen rather than
force any particular direction.
Jessica turned down the lights, leaving one kerosene lamp glowing in
the dark. Then she took Ken’s hand and led him into her bedroom. Like
everything else about her, her room was also unexpected. It was as spare
and sparse as her manner. To still his turmoil, Ken forced all his concentration
on studying his new surroundings. He slipped under the goose
down cover and Jessica lay opposite him, her face cradled in her hand, her
eyes unblinking, gazing deeply into his. “I’ve never slept with a man,” she
said. “I’ll bet you can’t say that.”
“Actually I can,” he said grinning.
“You know what I mean,” she smiled back at him.
“Yes, I do.”
She waited and when he didn’t reach for her, she asked, “Is there something
about me? Maybe, you don’t like me?”

https://www.amazon.com/dp/0981073573

He Rode Tall

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Excerpt

Especially this morning as he stumbled to
the toilet, dropped to his knees, and wretched his guts out. For
maybe ten or twenty minutes Joel, continued to engage in the ritual
of dry heaves. And every time he thought it was over, because
he needed to get to his office, his entire body would be overcome
by yet another compelling desire to puke and he would once
again gag into the toilet. Once the heaves subsided, Joel was
wasted of whatever strength he might have. The coolness of the
porcelain toilet bowl on his forehead was a comforting feeling as
he rested to regain his strength to rise. Eventually, knowing that
he just could not afford to be late again, Joel rose, brushed his
teeth, and shaved. Lately, Joel had taken to simply using the
razor every other day. But looking at himself in the mirror this
morning, Joel realized that it had probably been three and maybe
even four days since his face had been visited by the razor. Knowing
that with his hands shaking as they were and realizing that he
was going to be late again, Joel opted to quickly shave his upper
lip and race to the office. A shower would have been nice. No, a
shower would have been wonderful, but he couldn’t afford many
more reprimands from the office manager, Mr. Lee, for being late.
Even if he was the best damn engineer on the waterfront, Joel was
pushing his luck.
After throwing his old rumpled suit on, Joel rushed down the
stairs to the teeming street below where he quickly hailed a cab and
twenty minutes later rushed into the offices of Empire Engineering
Works. Empire was one of those harbor-based engineering firms
that specialized in all kinds of projects on the Hong Kong waterfront.
Joel had been with Empire for many years now, including
postings at the home office in London and an endless string of
assignments around the globe that usually lasted anywhere from
twelve to twenty-four months. He had actually spent nearly three
years at one posting in Amsterdam, but that was only because of
overlapping projects, and once the first project, a new dry dock facility,
was completed, he was asked to finish up a project with another
team of engineers who were designing a new pier for the ferry fleet.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/0980897955

Savages and Beasts

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Excerpt

Mary Goldberg, just twenty-five years old, who had graduated
from the McGill University of Toronto, daughter of a very
affluent Toronto family with Jewish roots, after a disappointing
erotic relationship with a young man of Jewish roots too, and
against the wishes of her parents, and against the wishes of her
best friend Rosalyn, had decided to travel across the country
and after she spent a few months on the road, and after she lived
temporarily in a few Canadian cities, she ended up in this Indian
Residential School, in Kamloops BC, where she was hired as an
administrator assistant; Mary, who stood almost six feet high
with long black hair that fell on her back almost to her waist,
was a clever eyed young woman with fair attitude; her characteristics
were complimented by her hazel eyes and full lips, an
aesthetically shaped nose and a very shapely body.
This body, hidden under the tight outfits, which Mary
liked to wear was easily discerned by the piercing eyes of Father
Jerome, who never missed noticing such things especially since
he was appointed the head of this facility in Kamloops BC,
here, where no one would ever come to check what was going on
and how the Indian Residential School was run. He knew
of course that he had some guidance from the church and the
Federal Canadian Minister on issues pertaining to education
and curricula, yet the rest of the details were up to him and him
alone, which placed him at the top of a heap he would never ever
step down from. And he made sure all members of the teaching
personnel as well as everybody else, from the British Columbia
Provincial Legislators to the Mayor of Kamloops, to the rest of
the citizens knew who he was and what his goals were; therefore
no one could ever interfere with his decisions regarding the daily
affairs in the running of the school, and the savage kids he was
meant to educate, come hell or high water.
“I wish you peaceful days and nights, Anton,” Mary said,
and her lips showed a faint tremble.

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

Water in the Wilderness

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Excerpt

Rachael giggled. “You’re silly,” she said as she hurried to the chair that Tyne indicated.
Five minutes later, Rachael ran over to where Bobby sat on the floor plowing an imaginary furrow with his new tractor. “Look, Bobby, look at my new shoes. Aren’t they beautiful?”
Bobby glanced up with a puzzled frown. “They’re just shoes.”
Tyne laughed as she lifted the boy to his feet. “Come on, you two, we have to pay for all these things.”
While the clerk, a young married woman whom Tyne knew only as Doreen, sorted out the purchases and rang the prices into the till, Tyne tried to ride herd on Bobby. But Rachael stood at the counter, gazing at the new shoes, making sure that Doreen didn’t overlook them.
From a few feet away Tyne heard the door open, followed by a female voice demanding, “Rachael, what are you doing here?”
Tyne swung around to see Ruby Harrison bearing down on the startled child at the cash register. Then Rachael squealed and launched herself at her aunt. “Auntie Ruby.”
Ruby bent to give Rachael a brief hug, then straightened her back and looked at Tyne who now held the hand of a recalcitrant Bobby.
“Hello, Ruby. How are you?”
Ruby ignored her, focusing instead on the clothes and toys that the clerk was placing in brown paper bags on the counter. Her eyebrows raised, she looked at Tyne. “New clothes?”
Tyne nodded. “Yes, they both need play clothes and Rachael has to have something decent for school.”
“I’m sure my sister had plenty of clothes for them at home, if you’d bothered to look.” She walked to the counter and fingered a pink wool sweater. “These look expensive. Who’s paying for them?”
Two immediate responses sprang to Tyne’s mind. It isn’t any of your business, and I defy you to find anything expensive in this store. But she forced herself to say quietly, “Morley and I are buying them for the children.”
Ruby lifted her chin. “I don’t think that will be necessary. I spoke to Corky, and he’s going to sign over custody to me and Bill.

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

Jazz With Ella

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Excerpt

They sneered like rival dogs and bared their teeth. She could not catch their mumbled conversation. Abruptly the current was broken. Volodya leaned back in his chair, innocent, fresh-faced. The newcomer looked over his shoulder repeatedly as if someone might see him in this den of decadence.
“Dance with him,” Volodya ordered her.
Surprised, she stared. The stranger’s fingers were already on her wrist. He opened his mouth in a grin, revealing several black teeth and a large gap in his smile. His breath smelled like sour milk. Dance. Just a two step. One-two, one-two, and back again. Twirl. He pulled her around the dance floor, breathing heavily, then closer, tighter, until his belt buckle pressed uncomfortably in her abdomen. She pretended not to understand his language when he spoke to her. “Krasavitsa, beautiful woman,” he said.
Just smile and twirl, she thought.
When the music ended, he returned her to the table. Volodya’s eyes were on her. Thank you, they told her. The man sat with them, uninvited. There was more vodka, toasts to Soviet-Canadian friendship—this from Black-Teeth. A toast to Jennifer, the beautiful, amazing woman from Canada! This wish was from Volodya and a slobbering drunk from the next table who smiled an elastic grin. More dancing. This time with Volodya. Black-Teeth left without saying goodbye.
Then someone was suggesting a toast to the cosmonauts, another was toasting his mother, another cheered a black-eyed seductress called Masha, who was not present to hear her toast.
Someone passed a bottle of vodka up to the band. The musicians handed it around, took swigs, became more animated. The ugly bass player took four steps to the front of the stage, four steps back and the piano player flashed spasmodic smiles in between frowns of concentration. The band broke loose on a popular modern song; the crowd roared approval. Only the waiters were unsmiling, weary.
In a brief, lucid moment between drinks, Jennifer looked around her in surprise. She had been in the Soviet Union what?—eight, nine days? “It’s all part of the Russian experience,” she murmured. Then there were more stomach-turning toasts, the pungent sweat of bodies that shared bathrooms, the rigid motions of the jazz band. Volodya and Jennifer laughed, danced. By the time they left, bursting into the street, it was empty of people. His arm rested lightly on the back of her waist. She knew they would make love that night.

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