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Praying For Ansley

2011-01-24T18:28:00.000-08:00

Please go to this blog:

www.prayingforansley.blogspot.com

and pray for Ansley!

Thanks!

The Pilot of Billings' Landing

2010-08-22T18:29:00.000-07:00

The Pilot of Billings' Landing

by Alyson-Louise Belle

To read more stories by Alyson, go to her website :

http://alyson-louisebelle.blogspot.com/

“The death of a loved one can be a strange and healing thing. Healing, because you know that even though you're hurting, your loved one is at peace. That can make your heart whole, as before the loved one died.” I met with an old schoolfriend of mine, by the name of Molly Pierson. I always believed Molly to be more beautiful than her blonde-headed, blue-eyed sisters. You see, they looked down upon Molly when she was a young woman, from the time that she was 8 years old, to when she was 19, when her remarkable story takes place. I say that, reader, but everyone has a remarkable story. Some simply are not aware of their story. Molly told me hers while we sat down for lunch the day I ran into her...

In 1941, many towns were small, and everyone knew everyone. This was the case in Shealeen, Michigan at the time. Socials were held regularly at the small diner downtown, and Molly Pierson's family went to all of them. Molly's three older sisters were always thrilled, but Molly always felt awkward. She knew everyone by name, but she did not make very many friends. Her closest friends were her mother, who was much like Molly, and her best friend, Nadalia Hartford, whom they called Naddie. So, she and her mother sat on the sofa in the parlor, waiting for Mr. Pierson and the three misses Pierson to get ready for the social at Billings' Landing, the diner downtown. They had been ready for forty-five minutes. The three misses Pierson, Ariel, Margaret, and Sarah, all powdered their already-rosy cheeks, and crowded around the mirror, fluffing their hair. Ever since the youngest Miss Pierson, Sarah, had turned fifteen, the rest of the Pierson girls had been in search of beaus. Molly was opposed to this. She didn't think going from beau to beau was proper, but to meet someone special and have him court her. If he was the right man, he would court her and they would fall in love and get married. Molly had had it planned since she was fourteen years old.

As Molly and Mrs. Pierson got out of the car at Billings' Landing, Molly glanced at her mother after seeing familiar faces in the window of the diner.

“I don't like the McCarthy boys,” she said softly. Mrs. Pierson glanced back at Molly.

“Well, darling, you've never even met the eldest. Peter, I believe his name is, Captain McCarthy.” she said. “He just arrived this day from an army camp in Holland.”

“He'll most likely be like the others,” Molly replied after a moment. “They're Irish, and hot-headed and ill-mannered.”

“Molly,”

“Can you deny it, Mother?” Molly looked at her mother. Mrs. Pierson sighed and they went inside. Molly found it awkward immediately. The McCarthy boys had already begun flirting with her sisters, and Molly headed straight for the counter, where she sat at the end of the counter and folded her hands in her lap and crossed her ankles.

“You must be Molly Pierson.” Molly looked up and saw a young man sitting in the bar stool beside her. His hair was dark and combed to the side, and he wore a pin-striped suit with the jacket unbuttoned.

“Yes,” she replied. “And you are...?”

“My name's Grady,” the boy said. He appeared to be about seventeen, but he was about a head taller than Molly, and when he stood up, he towered over her. “Would you like to dance with me, Molly Pierson?”

Molly looked at the other dancers and then back at Grady. She automatically didn't like him. He didn't tell her his last name.

“No, thank you,” she said. Grady leaned down to eye-level with her.

“Aw, c'mon, Miss Pierson,” he said in a whining voice. “Please?” Molly shook her head, but Grady persisted.

“Can I get you something, Miss?” Molly heard an Irish voice and turned to see a waiter leaning on the counter and eying Grady. Grady examined the waiter, then walked away.

“I'd like a chocolate milkshake, please,” she said, grateful. The waiter nodded and turned around, beginning to make the shake. Molly watched him as he did so. He wore a newsboy hat and a white button-down shirt, tucked into a pair of Levi's blue jeans. He was tall and looked strong. His curly, honey-colored hair stuck out from his hat, and his skin was slightly bronzed by the sun. When he turned and gave Molly her shake, he looked into her eyes with dark amber-colored eyes.

“Here you go,” he said. He leaned on the counter briefly as she took the shake, and looked toward Grady.

“That's Grady Johnson,” the waiter said. “He just moved here.” He chuckled. “Well, I know that, and I just got here, too.” Molly nearly choked on her milkshake.

“You're him?” she exclaimed. The young man gave her a napkin for the bit of milkshake she had accidentally spilled on the counter. She wiped it up.

“Ah, Peter McCarthy,” he said. He held out his hand and Molly shook it. “Am I him?”

“I'm sorry,” Molly said, laughing softly. “Yes. I just didn't expect you to be so different from your brothers.”

Peter chuckled.

“I was raised by my father,” he said. “That's the difference. You're Molly Pierson? Looks like you and I have a bit in common.” Molly frowned.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, we're both first-born, and we're both very different from our siblings,” he replied. Molly smiled and nodded, and it was silent for a moment.

“Pete!” Peter looked in the direction of the voice and then back at Molly.

“I gotta go,” he said. He held out his hand and Molly shook it again. “It was nice to meet you, Miss Pierson.”

Molly gave him a smile and watched him as he went to the customer who needed him. Molly sighed and already missed her company.

Later that night, Molly lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. Her mother slept in her bed, because Mr. Pierson often awoke late at night, and he didn't want her to be awoken, also.

“What is it, darling?” Molly glanced at her mother, who was lying on her side, watching Molly.

“How can Peter McCarthy be related to the other McCarthys?” she asked, ready to speak. “He's so genteel, and polite, and – and chivalrous! He's so unlike his brothers.”

“So,” Mrs. Pierson said, propping her head up with her hand.

“So, what?”

“So you like him?”

Molly looked at her mother.

“I don't know,” she said. “I don't really know him well.” Mrs. Pierson nodded slowly.

“You're smitten by him, though,” she implied. Molly blinked and furrowed her brow.

“Smitten, as in captivated by,” she replied. Mrs. Pierson changed positions.

“Molly,” she said. “You're my eldest daughter. You'll soon be twenty years old. You need to start thinking about marriage. You mustn't -”

“Mother, I'll begin thinking about marriage when the man I will someday marry courts me,” Molly said sternly. “Good night.” Mrs. Pierson raised her eyebrows.

“Alright, dear,” she said. “Good night.”

Michigan had always captivated Peter McCarthy. He had grown up there, since he was four years old. He had only enlisted in the army three years ago, when he turned twenty. His father was a pilot, and he would take Peter for rides, giving him lessons as Peter grew older. It was in a plane crash that Mr. McCarthy had died. He was serving in World War I, when airplanes were just beginning to be used. Seamus McCarthy was born in Ireland and raised in Michigan, as Peter was, and he loved America. He swore to fight for the United States whenever a war was declared. When Mr. McCarthy died, Peter vowed to complete his father's vow, and he enlisted in the U.S. Army, as a pilot. So, he was shipped off to Holland, where he spent two years as a pilot, while acting as a sort of spy for the Allies. He would fraternize with the Nazis in secret, and learn information that no one would otherwise know. So, when a Nazi had begun to become suspicious of Peter, his captain requested that he spend the summer in the States.

Now Captain McCarthy sat in his old childhood hideout, a small grotto within a cave on the shore of Lake Michigan. He pondered Miss Molly Pierson. She was very different from her sisters; they were all flirtatious and coquettish, and she was very private and introverted. It was like Molly wasn't even related to the three mischievous girls who flirted with Peter's brothers. Peter could almost hear his father's voice in his head. Attachments and affections are not good for a soldier, Pete. You'll make one, and then you could be torn from it if something happens at war. Mr. McCarthy had told him this when he was sixteen, when Peter's dog had died in a run-in with a coyote. It had been how Peter had lived since his father told him that. Yes, he had had affections before, but they had all thought of him as nothing more than a passing fancy.

The sound of the waves running up the cave's entrance told Peter it was time to go. He had learned the hard way when he was seven to leave the cave before the tide comes in. So Captain McCarthy made his way out of the cave, the moonlight reflecting on the water.

“Mother! Mother!” Molly sat up in bed and saw Sarah run into the bedroom. Mrs. Pierson popped her head up over the blankets.

“What, Sarah?” she asked sleepily. Sarah hopped onto the bed and Molly frowned angrily, diving back under her covers.

“The McCarthys are coming today,” Sarah said. Both Molly and Mrs. Pierson sat up.

“All of them?” Molly asked. Sarah nodded.

“Even your Captain McCarthy,” she said, smiling wryly. Molly furrowed her brow disapprovingly.

“Oh, you,” she said as she got out of bed and went to her dresser, pulling out some clothes. “I only asked because I don't like them.” Molly headed to the powder room to get dressed. When she had her white blouse and floral skirt on, she looked in the mirror at herself. Her dark brown curls were still messy from bed, but she grabbed her brush and made them smooth again. She put a barrette in her hair, pulling it off her face, and put on her mother's red lipstick. She then went back into the bedroom and slipped her feet into a pair of pumps. When she went to the kitchen for breakfast, Margaret stared at Molly.

“Molly, you look beautiful,” she remarked. This was what Molly hoped would not happen. The other girls and Mr. Pierson began questioning Molly. Why are so prettied up? Who are you seeing today? Where did you get that blouse? Molly looked at her mother desperately, and Mrs. Pierson spoke over the questions.

“Breakfast is on the table, my darlings,” she said. Molly gave her mother a grateful smile, then sat at the table to eat.

Peter lie asleep in bed when there was loud knocking on his door. He sat up briefly, startled, then realizing that it was only his brothers, he flopped back down and covered his head with the blanket. Finally, Henry, the second eldest of the McCarthy boys, entered the room and opened the curtains, letting in light that Peter currently thought annoying, because he was still tired.

“What?” Peter asked, irritated.

“Top o' the morning to you!” Henry said, grinning at his brother. “We have some young ladies to call on.” Peter sat up.

“Who?” he asked, getting out of bed and grabbing a shirt from his dresser. He pulled his white t-shirt off and put on the button-down one as Henry spoke.

“The Piersones,” he said. “Ariel, and Margaret, and Sarah.”

“And Molly,” Peter added. “Right?” Henry's grin faded.

“Yeah,” he said. “And Molly.” Peter blinked and realized it was Friday, and he had to work.

“I can't go,” he said, putting his hat on. “I'm one of two working at the diner today.” Henry followed him down the stairs to the front door, trying to convince him to come, but to no avail.

“Why couldn't Captain McCarthy come?” Molly piped in the conversation softly. Her sisters greeted the McCarthy boys and Molly stood a bit back.

“Who, Pete?” Bill, the youngest asked. Molly nodded and Bill said, “Oh, he had to work. We tried to get him to come, but he said there were only two people working at the diner today, and he was one. He mentioned you, you know.”

“Charming,” Molly said, slightly sardonically. She was about to go upstairs, when Naddie burst in the front door.

“Molly, come quick,” she said. “I have something to tell you.” Mrs. Pierson looked at Naddie.

“Is anything wrong, dear?” she asked. Naddie looked at Mrs. Pierson.

“Molly and I can handle it, thank you, Miss Tilly,” Naddie replied. Molly grabbed her sunhat and followed Naddie out the front door. Molly laughed.

“Thank goodness you came!” she exclaimed. “You saved me from a morning of boredom.” They began walking down the street and Naddie didn't reply to Molly.

“Naddie, what is it?” Molly asked, knowing something was wrong. Naddie looked at Molly and her eyes filled with tears.

“Molly, I don't know why I did it,” Naddie started. “I wanted to be like you, but I - ”

“What, Naddie?” Molly asked, taking her friend's hand. Naddie's voice was choked with tears.

“I'm gonna have a baby,” she said finally. “In October.” Molly's heart melted for Naddie, and she took her in her arms, holding her close.

“Oh, Naddie,” she said. Naddie sobbed into Molly's shirt, and after a moment, she pulled away.

“I have to go,” she said. “I have to help my mother with the store. Please don't tell anyone.” Molly chuckled and stroked Naddie's ash blonde hair.

“Someone will find out, eventually, darling,” she said. Naddie nodded and wiped her eyes.

“Still,” she said. Molly nodded and Naddie hurried off. Molly had nowhere to go, now. If she went home, she would have to endure the McCarthy boys. The diner was only a few blocks away. She decided to go there.

When Molly entered the diner, it didn't occur to her that Captain McCarthy would be working there, at the counter. She looked around for somewhere to sit, and her eyes met Peter's, and she blinked in surprise. She looked away quickly and went to sit at a table by the wall. A waitress came out and asked for Molly's order, and she ordered a cup of tea. As she sat, waiting, she knew Captain McCarthy was watching her. She swallowed and forced herself not to turn around. The bell above the door chimed, and in walked Grady Johnson, and two other young men his age. Molly closed her eyes and sighed, hoping they wouldn't notice her.

“Well, well, well,” Grady's voice rang out, drawing attention to himself. “If it isn't Miss Molly Pierson.” This brought attention to Molly. She gave Grady a small smile.

“How are you, Mr. Johnson?” she asked softly when he went to her table and leaned his hands on it.

“I'm just fine, and you are too,” he said in a sing-song voice. His companions laughed and Molly bit her lip. The waitress came out with Molly's tea and Grady and his friends moved out of the way briefly. When the waitress was gone, Grady sat in the chair beside Molly and put his arm on the back of her chair. She stood up abruptly, and to her surprise, Captain McCarthy was standing near her table with a towel, drying his hands.

“Grady Johnson,” Peter said, looking Grady in the eye when he stood. “I'm going to have to ask you to leave if you keep causing trouble.”

“What trouble am I causing?” Grady asked defensively. “I'm just over here talking to a young lady.”

“You're a nuisance to Miss Pierson,” replied Peter. Grady glanced at Molly, then looked back at Peter.

“You better watch your back, army boy,” Grady said as he left the diner. Molly swallowed and sat back down, looking at Peter. He gave her a slight nod and then walked away. She blinked, then turned around

“Captain,” she said. Peter turned to look at her. “Would you like to sit with me for a moment?” Peter looked at his wristwatch.

“I'll be off in fifteen minutes,” he said. “I'll take you somewhere.” Molly hesitated for a moment, then nodded.

Molly drank her tea slowly, so she would be finished when Captain McCarthy finished work. Soon, he came over to her and she stood up. Peter opened the door for Molly, which was something that stood out to her. They walked down the street, speaking to one another about this and that, and then they came to the lake. Molly laughed as Peter made his way over the rocks, helping her as he went. Finally, they came to a cave, and Peter went inside. Molly looked around and followed Peter into the grotto.

“I used to come here when I was upset,” Peter said. “Besides yesterday, I hadn't been here in years.”

“Were you upset often, Captain McCarthy?” Molly asked. Peter shrugged.

“Call me Peter. And, mostly about something small,” he said. “Last time I came, I was seventeen, and my da had just spoken to me about being a soldier and leaving your heart at home. I thought I didn't agree, but now I do.”

“You think you shouldn't become attached to someone just because you're a soldier?” Molly asked, slightly shocked. Peter looked at her.

“Well, I certainly wouldn't want to break a lass's heart because I died overseas,” he said. “She couldn't live without wondering if our last goodbye would be the next day.”

“I think,” Molly started carefully, “having an attachment would make you fight all the more willingly, because you would be ready to come home to your love. You don't agree with that?” Peter blinked.

“I think the opinion of one is less convincing than the opinion of many,” he said. Molly spoke quickly.

“So, your family agrees.”

“Yes.”

“I think they're holding you back, Captain.” Molly spoke without thinking and it was silent for a moment. Molly felt her cheeks grow warm. “Am I turning red?”

Peter laughed and looked away briefly, fingering the sand.

“No, you're fine,” he said. “How can you know so much about such things? I thought you were against it.”

“My sisters have had plenty of heart-breaks,” Molly said. “And I'm not against true love, by any means. I simply believe that if you have found the one you will someday marry, God will bring your paths together . . . and you'll fall in love, and live happily ever after.” Peter blinked again.

“I don't believe in happily ever after,” he said.

“Why not?” Molly asked.

“Because I'm a soldier,” Peter snapped back. “One of my best friends formed a strong attachment to some girl he barely knew, and now he's sick in London and she's pregnant here.” Molly swallowed and picked up her hat from the ground, ready to leave. Peter stood as Molly did. “Miss Pierson, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bark at you like that.” Molly looked at him for a moment, put her hat on her head, and made her way to the cave's entrance. Her pumps were not made for walking in the sand, and she struggled, so, finally, she removed her shoes and walked barefoot the rest of the way home. The wind and ocean spray had made Molly look a bit disheveled, so when she walked into her house, her sisters and parents looked at her in shock.

“Where have you been, Molly?” asked Mrs. Pierson, standing from the sofa.

“I'd rather not talk about it,” Molly replied, not looking back as she went up the stairs. She hoped no one would follow. She went to her bedroom and slammed the door behind her, throwing her shoes in a corner and wiping her lipstick on her blanket as she threw herself onto the bed. After a moment of pouting, the door opened and Mrs. Pierson walked in.

“Darling, what happened?” she asked, sitting on the bed beside Molly. Molly didn't look at her mother, and she kept her face nearly buried in her pillow.

“Captain McCarthy is not as agreeable as I thought him to be,” she muttered. “In fact, he's very un-agreeable.”

“Un-agreeable, Molly?”

Molly sat up and looked out the window, her bangs falling into her eyes.

“But see?” she said. “He makes it to where I can't speak intelligently.”

“What happened?” Mrs. Pierson asked softly, patting her daughter's shoulder. Molly told her mother about the diner, and the grotto, and her conversation with Peter.

“And, to top off my worries,” Molly said, “I think the girl he talked about is Naddie.” Mrs. Pierson closed her eyes and brought a hand to her breast.

“Oh my,” she said. “The poor girl. How long has she been pregnant?”

“She's due in October,” Molly said. “Her parents will find out and likely disinherit her or worse.” Mrs. Pierson shook her head slowly.

“What a situation to be in,” she said. “And at her age? Why, she's only a year younger than you are.”

“Let's not talk about it any longer, Mother,” Molly pleaded. “I need a nap.” Mrs. Pierson nodded and stood to leave. Just as she was about to close the door behind her, Mrs. Pierson glanced over her shoulder at Molly.

“Darling, you're in love,” she said. Molly flopped her head into her pillow and called, her voice muffled, “No, I'm not!”

The wind whistled by Peter's ears. For a summer evening, it was slightly chilly. The whistling grew louder, and suddenly, a plane swooped down from above. Peter had to duck so it wouldn't hit him. In the distance, he saw another plane, sitting on the beach with no pilot. So he hurried over and climbed inside, starting the plane and taking off. He looked up from the controls and saw the other plane coming toward him. Peter tried to turn his plane, but the controls were jammed. He looked up again and saw the pilot's bloodthirsty face just before the collision.

Peter bolted awake in bed, beads of sweat on his forehead and chest. He had had a nightmare. A very real nightmare. He took a deep breath and stood, walking to the dresser and turning a lamp on. He looked at his bedraggled hair and ran his fingers through it. He looked out the window and saw the entrance to the cave, now filling with water, and he couldn't help pondering what Molly Pierson had said. “...having an attachment would make you fight all the more willingly, because you would be ready to come home to your love.” Peter shook his head slightly. He was willing enough to fight for his country. A family would be too much to worry about. Still, he thought, he was nearly twenty four years old, and many young men his age were already married with a young child or two. Peter swallowed and got back into bed, closing his eyes, but not sleeping.

Molly awoke late the next morning. Her family had gone to town for breakfast, said a note left by her mother. Molly was at home alone, and it was relieving to be in a quiet house. She made a cup of tea and went to sit on the back porch, where she could see the lake. Breathing in, she closed her eyes, and she opened them as she exhaled. Captain McCarthy was very firm in his opinions. Her thoughts drifted to the captain, but she tried not to think about him. She was trying to keep herself peaceful, and she knew that she would only fret over unnecessary things if she thought about the captain. She thought about what her mother had said the previous night. You're nearly twenty years old. You should start thinking about marriage. It pained Molly to think about it. What if she wasn't a good wife? Or, if she had children, what if she wasn't a good mother? And what if the man she married wasn't a good husband or father? These thoughts had never occurred to Molly, and they frightened her. She tried to be calmed by the sound of the waves against the rocks, but she had a sudden headache. The sky was cloudy, and it looked as if it were going to rain. Molly thought a walk would do her good, and she went directly to the beach, without changing from her pajamas. The beach had always made Molly feel better, and it worked now. She wrapped her shawl tighter around her shoulders as a breeze blew past her. She stood still for a moment, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath.

“Do you always come out here in your nightclothes?” Molly opened her eyes and turned around. Peter stood there, with his hands in his pockets, and he wasn't wearing his hat, so his curly honey-colored hair blew in the wind.

“What are you doing here?” Molly asked. Peter looked at her as if she had asked if the sky was blue.

“Same thing you're doing,” he said. “I live just down the street, you know.” Molly furrowed her brow.

“No. I didn't know,” she said. “If you don't mind, I came out here to be away from the chaos of the world.” Peter reached out and touched Molly's shoulder as she turned to keep walking.

“Miss Pierson, I'm sorry if I upset you yesterday,” he said. “I don't want you to dislike me.” Molly sighed and told him the truth.

“Captain, it's not that I dislike you,” she said. “We just don't have the same opinions on some things. I do suppose I shouldn't have walked away like I did. It was rude. I'm the one who should be sorry.”

Peter held out his hand to shake. “Truce, then?”

Molly laughed and shook his hand. “Truce,” she said, smiling. It seemed that both Peter and Molly were reluctant to let go of their hands. Molly felt her heart beat quicker, and her legs grew weak. She put her hand by her side and smiled at Peter.

“So,” she said. “Regarding your first question, no, I do not often come here in my nightclothes.” They both laughed and began walking down the beach.

“Were you very upset with me?” Peter asked after a moment's silence. “After you left, I mean.” Molly sighed and shrugged.

“I admit, I was pretty upset,” she said. “To put it simply, I stomped up the stairs when I got home, which is something I haven't done since my temper tantrums when I was young.” She laughed and looked at Peter. He wasn't smiling.

“It does grieve me to know you were upset because of me,” he said. Molly blinked and he continued. “You're a very sweet woman. I am sorry, and I hope you'll forgive me.”

Molly felt for Peter, and she touched his hand briefly, before pulling hers away from nervousness.

“I forgave you when I walked out of the cave, Captain,” she said, looking into his eyes respectfully. “And I do like you, very much. You're very enjoyable to be around.” Peter smiled, to Molly's relief.

“Thank you,” he said. Molly nodded, smiling. It was silent for a moment as they walked and then, simultaneously, they said, “I've been thinking about what you – ”

They laughed and Molly let Peter speak.

“I've been thinking about what you said yesterday,” he said. “And, much to my dismay, I'm beginning to agree with you.” Molly began to cut in, but he kept speaking. “My father was killed fighting for not only his country, but his family also. He and his brother, both, side by side. I'm nearly twenty-four years old. My father was married when he was twenty-one.”

“Oh, Captain McCarthy,” Molly said, chuckling. “I've been thinking about what you said. If I were married to a soldier, or in love with one, for that matter, I would rather not be married or in love with him while he's away, because I wouldn't want anything to happen to him.” Without realizing it, they stopped, and looked at one another. “And,” Molly continued, “like you said, I couldn't live without knowing if tonight would be the last time I was with him. I couldn't live like that.”

“Don't you think,” Peter said, “that to be in love is to live like every moment is your last goodbye?” Molly swallowed and looked away briefly before looking back at Peter and nodding.

“I suppose so,” she said. They looked into the eyes of one another for what seemed like forever. Peter started to lean down, and Molly lifted her face slightly, but just as their noses touched, Molly backed away abruptly. Peter sighed softly and a few raindrops began to fall. Peter and Molly didn't look at each other for a minute, and suddenly yelling came from behind.

“Molly!” The shrieks of Margaret could be heard easily as the rain poured out of the sky. It wasn't long before they were soaked. Molly glanced at Peter as she turned to look at her sister. Molly ran to meet her. Margaret was sobbing, and her screams were heart-breaking.

“Molly, something happened to Mother,” Margaret managed. Molly grabbed her sister's shoulders.

“What? What happened to her? Where's Father?” she said, speaking firmly.

“I don't know!” Margaret shrieked. “She just collapsed on the stairs, and Father left early this morning for some business trip. He didn't tell us where he was going, just that he would be back next Saturday.” Despite the weakness of Molly's legs and the sinking in her heart, she ran as fast as her legs would carry her, back to the house and inside, where Ariel and Sarah had moved their mother to the sofa. Molly rushed over to her mother and grabbed her wrist, checking her pulse. A very slight throbbing came from Mrs. Pierson's wrist, but it was slowing.

“Ariel, call the doctor and tell him to come right away,” Molly said, trying to keep her voice steady.

“But – ” Ariel started through choked sobs.

“Now!” Molly shouted. Molly kept a hold of her mother's hand and rubbed it. Suddenly, Peter was by Molly's side, with his hand on her shoulder. They were both praying at the same time, but in their heads, not knowing they were both pleading for Mrs. Pierson's health.

Tilly Pierson's funeral was the following Sunday. Molly wore a black dress with a veil on her hat, and Peter was by her side as she knelt by her mother's casket when the ceremony was over. She covered her mouth with one hand, trying to hold in her sobs, and with the other, she put it on Peter's hand, which was comfortingly on her shoulder.

Later that day, Molly couldn't contain herself, and she ran all the way from her house to Peter's grotto a few blocks down the beach. There, she wept heavily, until she was lying on the sand, and nearly screaming. Finally, she took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She sat up and leaned on the wall of the grotto. When she opened her eyes, Peter was standing at the entrance of the grotto.

“I'm fine,” Molly said, turning away from him and trying to hide that she had been crying. Peter took that as a “welcome, come in,” and he sat beside Molly.

“I thought you would be here,” he said. Molly wiped her eyes and looked at him.

“You don't mind, do you?” she asked. Peter chuckled.

“It's not my cave,” he said. It was silent for a moment, and then Molly broke down again. She leaned on Peter's shoulder, and he stroked her hair softly.

“I'm not fine,” Molly said as she cried. “My mother was my best friend. We talked about anything together. We talked about you, once. How can I live without her? She was my comfort, and my support. We were like one soul in two bodies.” She paused and sat up, wiping her eyes. “And now I'm being a baby and sobbing like a child.” Peter frowned.

“Crying doesn't make you weak,” he said. “I've found that some of my weakest points were when I didn't cry. Crying doesn't make you a child.” Molly sighed and leaned her head on Peter's shoulder again.

“How can you know me so well?” she asked. “You seem to know all the right things to say to me to make me feel a certain way.” Peter laughed.

“And what do you mean by that?” he asked. Molly chuckled, and Peter was proud that he had made her smile.

“Well, I mean, you know what makes me happy, and what makes me sad, and what makes me angry,” she said. Peter looked at her as she spoke. “You know what to say to make me feel . . . treasured.”

“I'm glad I do,” he said. Molly gave him a small smile and he used the sleeve of his shirt to wipe the tears from Molly's cheeks. She rested her head on his tear-stained shoulder, closing her eyes and taking in the smell of his shirt. Before she could help it, she fell asleep, and it was a peaceful sleep.

Peter sat on the sofa in his house, reading a novel. He was the only one home, but Molly was asleep in his bed. However, he heard footsteps coming down the stairs and he watched Molly come to the living room.

“What will the neighbors think of us?” Peter said teasingly. “The tide was coming in, and you stayed asleep the entire time I carried you here.” Molly laughed and got her shawl from the coat rack by the door.

“Thank you,” she said softly. Peter looked at her and gave her a smile, and she left. It was almost dark, and the streetlights came on. Molly walked down the street and just as she was about to turn into her driveway, she heard a loud talking. She turned and across the street, she saw a young woman, surrounded by men. In the dim light of the streetlights, Molly could see Naddie's little bump of a stomach, and her light blonde hair. Molly could also see that Grady Johnson was one of the men. Molly started across the street.

“Hey!” she yelled. Naddie looked at her, and so did the men. There were four in all. Molly found herself face-to-face with Grady.

“What do you want?” he said, pushing Molly by the shoulder. Molly looked Grady in the eye.

“What do you think you're doing with her?” Molly asked sternly.

“Girls like her don't deserve to live,” Grady replied. “I can only assume you know about her situation.” Molly looked at Naddie.

“Yes, I do,” she said. “What, do you plan to beat her to death? That would be murder, and that's just as corrupt as immorality. Both sins deserve death, Mr. Johnson, but you are not the one to deal out the fates of others.” Grady lifted his fist and was about to bring it down onto Molly, but Naddie pushed past the other men and jumped onto Grady's back, grabbing his fist. Naddie screamed as Grady threw her into the street, and she lie still there on the concrete. Molly looked at Grady.

“You monster!” she shouted. “How could you?” Grady was about to hit Molly, but suddenly a gunshot rung out from behind. Grady looked, and Molly ran to Naddie. An old man stood on his porch, holding a gun.

“This gun is loaded,” the man said to Grady. A bird fell from the sky, having been shot by the man, and he continued. “If I can shoot one bird in the dark without looking, I can shoot all four of you, young men. So, I suggest you run along. My wife just called the police.” Grady glared at the old man for a moment, then began walking down the street, his companions following. When they were gone, the old man hurried down to Molly and Naddie. He lifted Naddie from the ground as if she were a feather, and Molly followed him inside.

“She's only unconscious, but the baby could be hurt,” the old man said. He lay her gently on the sofa, and the man's wife came in.

“I called the doctor, and he's coming to get her, to take her to the hospital. She and the baby can be monitored there,” the woman said. Molly closed her eyes and sat by Naddie's side.

“Oh, God, keep the baby safe,” Molly whispered, pinching the bridge of her nose. She took Naddie's hand in her own and prayed for the forgiveness of Grady Johnson. He was still a creation of God, after all. Molly brought Naddie's hand to her mouth and kissed it gently. The old man and woman knelt beside Molly and prayed with her for Naddie. Molly couldn't bear losing her best friend and her mother in the same week.

Molly did not sleep well that night. Naddie was fine, and so far, the baby was, as well. They had been taken to the hospital in Detroit, and they were to stay there until the doctors were sure the baby was all right. Molly had told the doctor Naddie was widowed, not wishing to ruin any chance of them helping her. She lay in bed, wondering why God had blessed her with Peter. He had been there in her trouble, every time. He drove her to the doctor's office where Naddie was taken, and he sat with her while they waited. It was now nearly one in the morning, and Molly couldn't sleep. She decided it then. Peter was the one. He was so perfectly imperfect in every way. He understood Molly better than she understood herself. He felt her sorrow and her joy, and her anger. They were like one soul in two bodies, Molly told herself.

The next morning, Molly immediately got dressed and went to Peter's home. She knocked on the door, and Mrs. McCarthy answered.

“Why, Peter left just a half an hour ago,” the woman said when Molly asked for Peter. Molly furrowed her brow.

“Where could he have gone?” she asked. Mrs. McCarthy frowned.

“He didn't tell you? He got a call yesterday morning. He has to go back to the Netherlands this very morning,” she said. “He should still be waiting for the bus at the diner. He's not scheduled to leave till...” Mrs. McCarthy checked her watch “...well, ten minutes.” That was all Molly needed to hear. She turned and climbed into her car, driving in the direction of Billings' Landing. When she got there, she parked and got out, walking briskly inside. She went to the counter and looked at the man at the register.

“I'm looking for Captain Peter McCarthy,” she said, speaking quickly. The man pointed out the window. Molly turned and saw Peter about to get on the bus. She put her handbag on the counter and ran out the front door.

“Captain!” she called. Peter turned and looked just as he put his foot up to get in the bus. He looked at Molly.

“Miss Pierson, I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner,” he said. “It wasn't certain that I had to go till this morning. They need me back in the air sooner than they thought.” Molly was breathing heavily from running.

“Peter, I don't care. I have something to tell you,” she said. Peter looked at her and the bus driver yelled down at them, “You two have three minutes.”

“Speak quickly, Miss Pierson,” Peter said. Molly swallowed.

“Captain, I don't know how to say it,” she said. She laughed in ridicule at herself. Peter looked into her eyes and put his hands on her shoulders.

“What, Molly?” he said. Molly swallowed again and laughed.

“Peter, I love you,” she said, spitting it out. “I've loved you since the day you arrived here, and I hope you love me back.” Peter laughed.

“Yes,” he said calmly. Molly blinked in surprise.

“What?”

“I love you, Molly,” he said. “I want to marry you. But right now isn't the time for that. I'll be back soon, and then we can discuss it further.” Molly couldn't help laughing, and Peter took her hands and kissed her on the mouth.

“Good bye, Molly,” he said. Then he turned and boarded the bus, and it drove away. Molly stood there, her mouth open slightly, her hands still in the air where Peter had held them. She brought her hand to her mouth and touched where Peter had kissed her. Had she really just told him she loved him? Just like that? She had, and she was surprised, and relieved. It felt like a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She knew she wouldn't be able to convince anyone but Naddie that all this had happened, so she decided to keep it a secret.

Molly and Peter sent letters back and forth to one another for the next few months. The last one received said this:

Dear Molly,

I'm doing fine. However, I have a job in which I won't be able to write for a while. I will write letters, but they won't be able to be sent until I'm back on Ally territory.

The letter went on to tell what Peter had been doing, and it was signed, “Love, Peter”.

Molly moved out and got her own house, and Naddie moved in with her after her father kicked her out. Naddie was fine, but the baby was said to likely be deformed in some way. The days began growing chilly, and Naddie's time grew closer and closer. Molly noticed Naddie had frequent pains, and one night, Molly awoke to her friend's screaming. She hurried to Naddie's room and prepared for the delivery. She called Mrs. McCarthy and Ariel, who had already agreed to assist the birth.

The birth of a child is a miracle. That has already been said. But the birth of a healthy child who was not expected to be healthy is an even greater miracle. Naddie named the boy David, and he kept Naddie's surname. Naddie was weakened by the birth, as the doctor said she would probably be. She couldn't nurse the child, and Molly stayed up feeding him from a bottle while Naddie slept. She had begun to have fevers frequently, and Mrs. McCarthy stayed at Molly's house and treated Naddie as a daughter.

One night, while the baby was sleeping, Molly went into Naddie's room and found her friend wheezing. Molly was about to turn to call the doctor, but Naddie called after her.

“Molly, dear,” she said. “There's nothing more anyone can do for me.” Molly frowned and her eyes were blurred with tears.

“No, don't say things like that,” she said, blinking. “I'll call the doctor and he'll come and take care of you.” Naddie shook her head, and Molly accepted it. She sat by her friend's side and held her hand. Nadalia Hartford's last breath was peaceful.

Molly Pierson lay on the sofa, wearing her house robe, just having got out of the bath. Baby David was asleep, and it was the first time Molly had had peace in a long time. There was a knock at the door. Molly stood and went to open it. A woman stood there, holding a parcel and a letter.

“Are you Molly McCarthy?” the woman asked. Molly chuckled and knew it was from Peter.

“Not yet,” she said, taking the things. “Thank you.” She gave the woman a dollar and went to the table. She opened the parcel first, and found several letters, seemingly worn, all addressed to her. She set them aside to read later, and then she looked in the bottom of the package and found Peter's newsboy hat. She furrowed her brow and held it for a moment, then set it down and hesitated to read the letter, which was not Peter's handwriting. But she ripped open the envelope and took the letter out.

Dear Miss Pierson, it read, I was told that this letter should be sent to you, as you were soon to be married to Captain Peter McCarthy. I'm sorry to be the one to write this, and it hurts me to know there's a young lady waiting for her soldier to come home. But, Captain McCarthy went missing two weeks prior to this letter, on November 12. We were co-pilots, and our plane lost control. I escaped and jumped out, using my parachute. We were flying above the ocean, you see, the English Channel. The water was freezing, and one of our naval ships soon found me. But no one found Captain McCarthy. We don't know whether he's alive or not, but don't count on it. Peter was my best friend, and he stayed with me till the end. I'm sorry.

Sincerely,

Lieutenant Jacob Finch

Molly's hands were shaking, and she closed her eyes, her heart sinking. She reached out and touched Peter's hat, squeezing it. She was about to break down, but there was a knock on the door again. Molly took a deep breath and wiped her eyes, then went to open it. Mrs. McCarthy stood there, holding a letter and staring at Molly. They both felt the same loss. They embraced one another and sobbed, right there on the porch.

Molly hired a nanny to take care of David, because she was going to try to find work, but the morning of her first day at Billings' Landing, she couldn't get out of bed. How could she work where she had met Peter? She lay there, staring out the window at the gray sky, not crying or speaking.

Those were several hard weeks for Molly, and she never got over the pain. But she lived on, taking care of David as her own son, and she began to wear her bangs to the side, which was something she had never done. She grew into a beautiful woman, more mature and wise than ever. She made new friends among the people of Shealeen, Michigan, and soon she attended the socials as her family did. David learned to walk quickly, and to speak even quicker. You think our story is through? You think, “What?! How could Peter be dead? Molly can't live without Peter!” And you're right, Readers. Every day was torture for Molly, because she had to hide the pain of remembering her and Peter's last goodbye at Billings' Landing. She remembered the day her mother died, and she went to Peter's grotto, where he comforted her, and she realized that she loved him. She spent her nights crying herself to sleep, wishing Peter were by her side when she awoke the next morning. She was tormented by the loss. But our story is not finished. Molly's story is not yet finished.

1945

World War II is over.

Molly Pierson was now twenty five years of age. David was four years old, and he went to a daycare center each day where he made new friends. Molly had not forgotten Captain Peter McCarthy. Every morning, she would look out the front window, just to be disappointed that no car pulled into the driveway. She kept Peter's hat by her pillow each night as she slept.

One morning, the sun came up and it was a warm day. David went to daycare, and Molly sat on the sofa, knitting. She heard a car engine and went to look out the window. Mrs. McCarthy, who had stayed a faithful friend to Molly, got out of her car, and Molly met her on the porch. They hugged one another, and Molly smiled.

“Why are you so happy?” she asked, noticing Mrs. McCarthy's grin. Mrs. McCarthy's eyes filled with tears and Molly took her hand.

“Oh, Molly, you won't believe it,” the woman said. She glanced at the car, and as she did, a foot stepped out. Then a body. Then a head of curly, honey-colored hair. Molly met his eyes, and she let go of Mrs. McCarthy's hands, moving past her and going down the front porch steps. She couldn't feel her legs, and she felt like she was gliding. She and Peter looked at one another for a moment, then Molly slowly wrapped her arms around him and rested her head on his chest, closing her eyes and breathing him in. Peter returned Molly's hug, and he kissed the top of her head. Mrs. McCarthy went inside the house.
“They told me you were dead,” Molly said softly into Peter's shirt.
“I was a prisoner for four years,” he replied. “An old woman came to my cell and told me you were here waiting for me. She was strange, with long white hair and a silver gown. She told me you have been waiting for me, and then she opened the door to my cell and I escaped. I'm sorry you had to go through so much.” And those were the only words spoken.

Molly and Peter were married the following Sunday. Molly nearly gushed every time someone called her “Mrs. McCarthy.” They adopted David, and after he was seven years old, Molly and Peter had three children of their own, Nadalia – Naddie, Tilly, and Seamus. You see, Reader, Molly Pierson – excuse me, Molly McCarthy – told me her story, not because she thought it was significant, but because she loved to tell it. She knew it made others feel good. There are a few lessons in this story. The first, I mentioned earlier. “The death of a loved one can be a strange and healing thing. Healing, because you know that even though you're hurting, your loved one is at peace. That can make your heart whole, as before the loved one died.” Molly McCarthy herself said that. Another was said by Captain Peter McCarthy: To be in love is to live like every moment is your last goodbye. Captain McCarthy worked at Billings' Landing until they made him retire. Molly was a housekeeper after the children grew up and moved away. Among their four children, the McCarthys had six grandchildren. Naddie moved to Key West, Florida, where she met a young man who believed in non-violence and peace, and her remarkable story took place. But, that's a different story altogether. Thus, the story of the pilot of Billings' Landing is ended.

http://alyson-louisebelle.blogspot.com/

Home

2010-06-21T13:25:00.001-07:00

Home

By Amy Hollis Taylor, as seen on her blog, ~Amy~

The tree felt a snag. He heard a plunk. Another apple, fallen. The tree heaved and bellowed his daily grief, "Will no one pick my apples?" It was high time to be harvested, but, as it had been with the last twenty years, he and his fellow trees had been neglected. The tree sighed and settled in for another day of painfully watching his babies fall, smash, and bruise.

Far away in New York City, a man longed for his apple orchard. Twenty years ago, what was called the Great Depression had started, and now the world was at war for the second time in the century. Twenty years ago, the man had been a boy. His family had been forced to leave their orchard after a fire had ruined the year's harvest. Now the boy was grown and knew that he could leave for his one true home...except, he had a job. What with his bad eyesight, he had been unable to join the army, couldn't stand to work in a factory. So, he ran the mercantile. People conveyed all kinds of gossip through his store. He hated it. He longed for the quiet and the trees. The answer to his predicament came in the form of a young man, looking for work. After a thorough interview, the man, Mr. Hompkins, had the job of owner and manager of the new Hompkins Mercantile. Within a week the man was ready to leave New York forever. He packed up his truck and set off for his trees.

The tree felt something, not a snag, for sure, something as gentle as a breeze. The Boy was coming home.

Twenty years later, the man and his son were climbing the ladders and picking the apples for the annual harvest. The man approached the tree. With a contented sigh, the tree relaxed and enjoyed the rhythmical pull of the man's hands.

The man sighed also sighed as he taught his son to twist the apples. He walked toward his favorite tree and climbed up the ladder. He was home.

Stories

2010-06-11T17:00:00.000-07:00

Stories4Gals® is running low on stories! If your stories meet the requirements below, please send them in!

1. It must have nothing inappropriate and must show what Christians do and enjoy.

2. It must be no more than 15,000 words.

3. It must be approved by Stories4Gals®.

Please email your stories (as many as you have!) to:

stories4gals@gmail.com

Thank you,
Stories4Gals®

The Knight of Nottingshire

2010-06-11T16:49:00.000-07:00

The Knight of Nottingshire

By Alyson-Louise Belle

"Come on, then, Maggie. You had better be glad we let you come, since you're a lady. You could at least keep up." Magdalena frowned at Edric, and Will laughed at her. The girl, seven years old and small, struggled to stay on the big horse her wealthy father had bought her. She had named him Cherry because of his reddish-tinted coat. The young boys, brothers, nine and ten, were already exceptional on horseback, because they were both pages, training to be knights. Finally, Maggie caught up with Will, who waited for her while Edric continued on through a wood in Nottinghamshire.

"I wish I were a lad," Maggie pouted. Will, the younger of the boys, laughed.

"Why?" he asked. Maggie adjusted the skirt of her one piece dress.

"I hate wearing dresses," she started, "as much as I hate not being able to ride with you." Will's smile softened and they began to trot.

"I think you'll make a great and beautiful lady one day," he said. Maggie looked at him for a moment, then they both began to laugh. They both caught up to Edric and the three continued on. Finally, they reached their destination. Will and Edric looked up into the oak tree and Maggie gasped. The boys had built a house in the tree. A tree house, Maggie thought. The boys immediately dismounted their horses and tied them to one of the smaller trees, and Maggie tried to follow. Her dress got caught on a thornbush, however, and it ripped. She frowned, frustrated, and she simply tore the dress up to her knee. Will and Edric laughed at her as she began to climb up the tree in her bloomers.

Nineteen year old Maggie came out of her recollection. She was in the north tower, as she often was. She heard her name being called, otherwise she wouldn't have come out of her memory. It had been four years since she had seen either Will or Edric. They were men now, her mother had told Maggie before the woman died. They had men's duties to complete in the war. Maggie had heard people speak of the Holy Wars, but she never liked to think of Will and Edric in the Holy Lands where they could be killed by the Islamic soldiers. Maggie finally sighed and left the tower. She had always lived in this citadel, as her father was Lord Porfirio du Pree, who was a French duke. Maggie inherited her dark blue eyes from her father, as well as her tall and limber body. Maggie's mother, the Baroness Gwendolyn of Lancashire, died when Maggie was thirteen, shortly after Will and Edric went to the Holy Lands. Maggie inherited her beautiful long blond waves from her mother. Maggie had, in fact, become the great and beautiful lady Will predicted she would become, although she was humble and caring, looking after small orphans who lived in the village just south of the citadel. She also payed the servants secretly, although she knew if her father found out, he would not be pleased. Maggie stepped into the darknessof the night. The moon light was the only light she walked by, and as she turned a corner, ready to walk into the courtyard, she stopped and dashed around the corner. There were two men silhouetted against the wall, and she heard them say her name. She listened intently and heard her father's voice.

"What does he plan to be the bride price?" Lord Porfirio said.

"He says forty ducats," the other man replied in Italian inflection. Lord Porfirio appeared to be dissatisfied.

"She's my eldest daughter, my lord," he said wearily. "I need more. Forty ducats will not be enough to keep the citadel going." Maggie gasped. Her father was planning to marry her off to some stranger! Maggie had hoped this day would never come, yet, here it was. She dreaded who it might be. Recently, her father found out of an inherited debt his father had left. If he could not pay this debt, he would be stripped of his title and his citadel. Maggie knew a bride price could save the citadel. However, Maggie would rather die than marry a cruel wealthy man.

The next day, Maggie's suspicions were confirmed when she found a letter from some Roman emperor's nephew mentioning a bride price that would save the citadel and more. She sat in the kitchen on the summer day, with her youngest sister, Etheldreda, and her father.

"So," she said. "Who is he?" Maggie looked at her father while she braided Etheldreda's curly, thin blond hair.

"Who is who?" Lord Porfirio echoed, though Maggie knew he knew of what she spoke. She blinked and he continued. "He's a general in the Holy Land. He is a relative of the Roman emperor's son. He's been here lately, and he's seen you playing with the children and feeding the fatherless children in the village." Maggie tried to ignore the cold lump in her throat. How could her father simply give her away like this? She wished Will or Edric would come and whisk her away, to their tree fort, where they could travel to the Far East, and meet a band of Gypsies. She knew all of this would be make-believe, but when she was younger, it was all truth to her. She finished braiding Etheldreda's hair and sent her outside to play with the other children. When the child was out of earshot, Maggie stood and went to kneel beside her father's chair, at which he was sitting. She took his hand gently and looked him lovingly in the eye.

"Papa," she began. "I would rather marry for love and be a pauper than marry an evil man and be wealthy. Can you not see? I love Will and Edric." Lord Porfirio looked away, frustrated.

"But apparently neither of them wish to ask for you, my daughter," he said. Maggie frowned and stood. She turned and walked briskly outside, her hair blowing gently across her face in the breeze. She headed in the direction of the stables, to realize she was being followed by her younger siblings. She had four of them altogether, the youngest being Etheldreda, who was six years old and who looked the most like their mother. Maggie heard them walking behind her, their little legs moving quickly to keep up with her. Finally, Maggie hid a smile, and without looking at them, she asked, "Who wants to see something special?" She turned around and walked backwards to look at them, all short and blond-haired. Everyone of them raised their hands and clapped merrily. Maggie laughed. "To the buggy, then!" she said, turning back around. The children, all but one, ran ahead of her. Only Theodoric, Teddy, as he was known, stayed with Maggie. Maggie knew, of course, why this was. Teddy was crippled, and his left leg did not work correctly. He had used a crutch for all the ten years that he could walk. Maggie looked at him.

"I need some company, Teddy," she said, patting his shoulder. He looked up at her.

"I heard you and Papa," he said in his frail voice. "Are you going to go away?" Maggie gave him a small smile, then looked away.

"Perhaps," she replied. "But I do not intend to. I will find a way to get out of it." Teddy looked at her.

"I will help you find a way," he said. Maggie smiled at him and they reached the stable, where a buggy was waiting. The younger children had already hitched a pony to the two-wheeled wagon, and they were already in the wagon, waiting for Maggie and Teddy. Maggie helped Teddy in and Maggie walked beside as they started toward the oak tree. As the pony, Phil, pulled the wagon full of children, Maggie drifted off into another flashback.

" Magdalena du Pree, since when do you go swimming?" Maggie looked at Will as she stripped down to her underdress.

"Since it was so hot out," she said. "Now let's get to the waterfall spring before the water evaporates." The tomboyish eleven year old ran ahead of Will and Edric. They raced through the woods and finally came to the small waterfall which flowed into a cool, deep spring. Maggie lept into the pool, followed by Will. When they were both in, they saw that Edric was hesitating.

"Come on, Ed," Will encouraged. Edric sighed.

"I think I'll just sit out on this one," he said. "I'm not that hot anyway." But Will and Maggie could see the sweat on Edric's forehead. He quickly wiped it away and Will walked out of the water to Edric. He motioned for Maggie to splash the older boy. Maggie smiled while Edric wasn't looking, then prepared to splash. When he looked at her, she sent a spray of water rushing at Edric. He looked irritated for a moment, but began to laugh. Will climbed a tree which hung over the spring, and he jumped from the tree into the spring. Edric and Maggie laughed and finally, Edric was persuaded to enter the water. Just as he jumped in another time, Will let out a cry of pain. Maggie and Edric stopped laughing and turned to Will. He started toward the bank and Edric and Maggie followed. When he sat on the bank, they saw that Will had stepped on a clay shard. His foot was bleeding heavily. Maggie bravely pulled the shard from his foot and Edric lifted Will into his arms. Will frowned and protested, "I can walk," but Maggie looked at him.

"Shut-up, Will," she said. "You cannot walk, otherwise you'll be putting unnecessary pain on yourself. You don't have to show off to me." Edric laughed, but Will continued to frown. They carried him back to the citadel, where Maggie's mother, the Baroness, mended Will's wound.

"No more swimming in that spring," the Baroness warned. Edric nodded, but Will and Maggie just looked at one another, knowing that neither of them would obey.

"When will we get - " Etheldreda started. But, they were there. Maggie smiled as all the children piled out of the wagon and scrambled up to the tree fort in the oak tree.

"Why did you bring me?" Teddy asked, looking at Maggie. She smiled.

"You can do it," she said. "I'll help you." Teddy frowned, but followed Maggie to the foot of the tree. She took his crutch from him and he leaned on the tree for support. Maggie handed the crutch up to the other children, and they took it and laid it on the floor. Then Maggie lifted Teddy up to the tree fort. The other children reached down and grabbed onto his hands.

"Pull him up," Maggie encouraged. They did, and soon, Teddy was in the tree fort. Everyone clapped and Maggie smiled at Teddy's overjoyed look. She sat at the foot of the tree for a moment, but was soon pulled into the Battle of Jericho. Half the children pretended to be Joshua's army, marching around the city of Jericho, while the other half were the guards in the city.

Later that night, after the younger children were asleep, Maggie sat with her father and the dressmaker in the dining room. While eating a late supper, the three - not so much Maggie as Lord Porfirio and Billings, the dressmaker - were discussing Maggie's wedding gown. Maggie poked at her food silently and when neither of the men were looking, she gave bits of food to the two dogs sitting under the table. The conversation, which was becoming boring to Maggie, was interrupted by a young page who came into the dining room. He gave a little bow, and Maggie smiled at him.

"I've come with a letter from Sir William Caradoc," he said. No sooner than the words left his mouth had Maggie went to the boy. She gave him a penny and sent him on his way.

"Magdalena," Lord Porfirio warned, with a glance at the dressmaker.

"Excuse me, please," Maggie said, although she knew her father didn't want her even reading the letter while they had a guest. Maggie took the letter to her bedchamber and sat on her four-poster bed. The bed had thick, red velvet curtains, and a red satin bedspread with gold threads. Maggie unfolded the letter and saw that it had been sent five months before. Her hands shook slightly as she held the letter, for she hadn't heard from neither Will nor Edric in a year and a half. She was afraid to read the letter, for fear of reading something she didn't want to read.

Dear Maggie,

I deduce that you're afraid something might be wrong, but that's not true, so rest assured that we're both fine. I should tell you I was wounded mildly - a little cut on the underside of my forearm - but other than that no major damage. The general says we should be able to come home soon. How soon, I don't know, but we - Edric and I - presume within the next year. We miss you, and anxiously await our return home. I'm afraid we only have ten minutes to write a letter, and mine are nearly up. Both Edric and I wish you our best and we both miss you. Don't do anything impulsive. I know you might. Love, Will

Maggie sighed in relief at the fact that they were both alive. Setting the letter on her bed, she went to the window and pushed the organdy curtains back. She let the breeze blow her hair and she folded her arms across her chest. As she looked up at the moon, she thought about what Will had told her when he left.

"Why do you have to go? You're only fourteen." Maggie pushed her wet hair off her face and looked at Will. They sat in the tree hanging over the spring - the spring the Baroness had told them not to swim in - both dripping wet from just getting out of the water. Will had a slight limp from the shard that cut his foot. The moonlight shone and made an enchanting reflection on the water. Will looked away briefly, up into the sky, and back at Maggie.

"I can fight," he said simply, but quietly. "Every able bodied man who can fight has to. The Moors are taking over Jerusalem, where the Jews are supposed to live in peace. Someone has to fight with them." Maggie got angry for a moment and slammed her fist on the tree bark.

"Why you?" she said, her voice getting louder. "Why not the older men? The men who don't have families to look after and friends to be with." Will raised his voice.

"That's how war is, Maggie. If they need you, you go. It's my duty as a man - "

"You're not a man!" Maggie interrupted. Then she softened her tone. "You're only fourteen. You're not even a knight, yet. I don't want you to go." Will blinked and looked up at the sky again.

"See the moon?" he said. Maggie nodded. "It's the same moon I'm going to be looking at in the Holy Lands. I think if you remember that, you'll remember we're not that far apart." Maggie swallowed and nodded, but she looked at her lap, not convinced.

Maggie was convinced, now that they had been apart for five years. She wondered if Will could see the moon in Jerusalem. She turned and sat on her bed again with a piece of parchment and a pen and ink. When the letter was finished, she ran down the stone staircase to the entrance hall, and then to the courtyard. She was looking for the page who had delivered Will's letter, and after a few minutes of running, she found him in the village. She grabbed his shoulder and looked at him, handing him the letter.

"What is your name, boy?" she asked.

"Christian, my lady," he replied quickly. Maggie looked into his big green eyes.

"Listen, master Christian," she said. "I want you to get this to the harbour and make sure it gets to Sir William Caradoc in less than two months." She gave him a heavy purse full of pennies. "Give this to the messenger and tell him what I said. Tell him I said it, and if I find out you took some of this money, I'll have you locked in the dungeon." Of course, Maggie knew the boy wouldn't take the money, and she would never lock a child in the dungeon. She gave him a little push and he ran as quickly as his long, slender legs would carry him. Maggie watched him run and sighed. Then she started toward the stable. She went to the stall where she kept her horse, Cherry. She gently stroked the horse's nose and looked into his big black eyes.

"Do you remember Edric and Will, Cherry?" she said softly. "Do you remember Edric riding you through the woods? He was always so kind to you. Of course, you must remember him. Any horse whose master was good to him would remember that master." Maggie entered the stall and mounted the horse after draping a dark green saddle blanket over the horse's back. "Let's go for a ride," Maggie said. She gently squeezed the horse with her legs and Cherry started at a trot out of the stable. When they were in the woods, Maggie said, "Run. Ride with the wind." The horse, obedient to his master, took off at a full gallop. Maggie's hair flew behind her as she seemed to glide through the trees; dogwoods, cherry trees, rowans, chestnuts, and willows, among others. The bright moonlight peeked through the trees every now and again, and it shone on Maggie's hair and sparkled in her eyes. Soon, she came to the spring. She dismounted Cherry and undressed as she walked down the bank. She entered the water and it was cool and sparkling. She felt refreshed, and she backfloated across the water. She stopped in the middle of the pool and dipped her head back, getting the hair out of her eyes. She went under briefly, and when she came up, she looked toward Cherry to see that her dress and shoes were gone. She looked around frantically, staying in the water up to her neck.

"Who's there?" she called to the darkness. Suddenly she heard laughing from the tree overhanging the spring. She spun around in the water and looked up in the tree. Someone was sitting on the thickest branch, holding her dress in his lap. "Who are you?" Maggie repeated. "Show yourself or I'll scream." The person climbed down the tree and stood on the bank, and Maggie saw his face in the moonlight.

"Will!" she exclaimed, her voice ecstatic and irritated at the same time. Will smiled and Maggie frowned at him, refusing to show joy until he gave her clothes back. He lay them on the bank near the water, then turned around, so that his back was to her.

"I won't look," he said. "Go ahead." Maggie couldn't help but smile, and she kept the water to her neck as she went to her clothes. She quickly got out of the water and quickly slipped her dress over her head. When she had done so, she tapped Will's shoulder, grinning. He turned around and she threw her arms around his neck. He returned the tight hug, and they hugged for several seconds.

"Your personality has not changed at all," Maggie said into Will's shoulder. He laughed and held her at arm's length. Maggie smiled and shook her head. "But you've grown so," she said. "Look at you. I just sent a letter to you this night. I received your letter, as well." Will's auburn hair was wavy and hung down his forehead, and his eyes, which Maggie had always considered "neither blue nor green, yet, both blue and green" were still as mischievous as they always had been. He was taller than Maggie by a head and she looked up at him, while when she was thirteen and he was fourteen, they were the exact same height. His limp was completely gone, as well.

"What?" Maggie asked when Will was staring at her.

"I was exactly right," he said, looking her from head to toe. "Remember when you were seven and I said - " Maggie nodded and laughed.

"What are you doing here? Let me see your arm. Where is Edric?" Maggie flung the questions at him as they went to Cherry.

"First, I said in my letter that we were expected to return within the next year, and that was nine months ago," Will started. "Second, my arm." Will rolled his sleeve up to reveal a severe scar that went from the middle of his upper arm to the middle of his forearm. Maggie looked at it in horror and she put her hand on his arm.

"Will, that isn't little! What are you - " she began. Will put his finger on her lips and she looked at him, brow furrowed.

"And third, Edric is at an inn in town," he said, looking into her eyes. "Shall we go see him?" Maggie nodded and Will took his finger off her lips. Maggie walked Cherry and Will walked beside her. She put her arm around his shoulder and he put his around her waist.

"I am glad you're back," she said. "But..." She thumped his arm hard.

"Ow!" Will exclaimed. "What was that for?" Maggie looked satisfied.

"That was for taking my dress," she said. Will laughed and they continued toward the village.

When they arrived at the inn, Will and Maggie tied Cherry up and went to Edric's room. He was staring silently out the window, but when he saw Maggie, they embraced one another. Edric, now twenty-one, was tall, strong, and his dark hair reached his shoulders. His eyes were brown and he wore a little stubble.

"Ed, you look so grown up," Maggie remarked. She looked contentedly at Will and Edric. "My father will be so pleased to see you both." Maggie suddenly remembered her father. He would not only be upset that Maggie was out this late, but he would also be upset because they had had a guest concerning her wedding and it was disrespectful for the women not to see guests off. This made Maggie think of her wedding. She took Will's hand in one of hers and Edric's in the other.

"Let us go to the citadel," she said. "You think you have come home from the battlefield and you do not get to sleep in the bed of your neighbor's house?" Edric and Will followed Maggie out of the inn and into the darkness.

Edric and Will went to two of the extra bedchambers when they got to the ciatdel, and she went to bed, because it was late at night - or early in the morning - and her father had already retired. Lying in bed, Maggie wished she could be with Edric and Will instead of sleep. She battled herself over whether she should tell the boys - men - about her marriage. Maybe if she told them, she would not have to marry the general. Although, if she did tell them, and they wanted to marry her, which she deemed impossible at this moment, she would not know which brother to marry and everything would be a mess. She finally decided she would tell them when the new day came, and soon, she was asleep.

Maggie awoke to the sun shining on her face and Will standing over her.

"Wakey, wakey," he said. Maggie frowned and sat up to see a wooden tray of breakfast at her feet. "I let the cook have a break this morning and made you breakfast." Maggie's frown turned into a smile and she rubbed her eyes sleepily.

"William Caradoc, since when do you make breakfast for a lady?" she asked playfully. Will sat on the edge of her bed as Maggie put the tray in her lap.

"Since I was in the presence of one," Will said. Maggie thought he was joking, but she looked at him and saw he wasn't smiling. He just looked at her, and suddenly, Maggie found herself leaning toward him. Just as their lips were going to touch, Will backed away and took a breath.

"I got you this," he said. He handed Maggie a burlap satchel and she took it from him. Looking inside, she pulled out a gold chain with a charm of garnet embedded in gold. She smiled and looked at Will.

"Thank you," she said. "I love it. I'll wear it today." She laughed. "Just get out of my room and I'll get dressed." Will chuckled and gave her a mischievous smile. Then he left her room and closed the door behind him. Maggie held the necklace in her palm and looked at it. Then after eating her breakfast, which was excellent for a knight who had just returned from the battlefront, she changed into a gown that matched the necklace and she brushed her hair. When she was finished getting ready, she went to Edric's bedchamber, but neither of the brothers were there. She went back to her room and looked out the window. To her surprise, she saw Will on the ground below her window on horseback. He looked up at her.

"Come down, Maggie," he said, waving for her. Maggie hurried down the staircase, through the entrance hall, past the courtyard, and around the corner to where Will was waiting. Cherry was tied to a nearby dogwood tree and Will was riding his own beloved Spanish mustang, Diablo. Maggie frowned slightly, not sure what mood Will was in. But then he smiled at her.

"Ride with me," he said. He did not have to say anymore, and he and Maggie were quickly engaged in a race through the trees. Having lived in Nottinghamshire longer than Will, Maggie knew her way around the forest better, and soon she had lost Will. She turned her horse around and decided he might be at the spring. When she arrived at the waterfall, she had decided correctly, and Will was sitting on the bank.

"Did I not tell you, my lady?" Will said mockingly. "We were racing to the spring." He laughed and Maggie dismounted her horse, smiling ironically. She sat beside him and they quietly listened to the chirping of the birds and the breeze blowing through the tree branches. Maggie looked at Will and he looked back at her.

"I did not stop thinking of you the entire time I was in the Holy Lands," Will said softly. Maggie blinked, unsure of what Will was getting to. He continued. "I would wake up before dawn each morning and reflect on the dreams I had about you the night before. Then as I sharpened my sword at the smithy I would look out into the yellow desert and wish you were there to fight along side me, because I knew you could."

"Will..." Maggie started, looking away from him.

"And then at night, if a battle was over and we could sleep, I would lie there looking at the moon and wonder if you could see the moon here in Nottinghamshire," Will said. "Did you not as well?" Maggie swallowed and did not know how to cope with Will's sudden amorousness. She had always known him to be a playful and mischievous boy, always looking for someone on whom to play a prank. Finally, the butterflies in Maggie's stomach went away and she looked at Will.

"You have become a man, Sir William Caradoc, Knight of Nottinghamshire," she said with a small smile. Will returned her smile.

"And you have become a woman, Lady Magdalena du Pree, Daughter of the Wood," he replied. Maggie gave a little laugh.

"Daughter of the Wood?" she repeated. Will laughed and again, Maggie found herself being drawn closer to him. Their lips barely touched when Edric came galloping up on a horse.

"Maggie," he said, breathing hard. "It's your father. Something has happened to his heart." Maggie and Will stood and mounted their horses and sped away, although Maggie was in the lead, as usual. She hurried to the citadel and to the hall, where her father had been holding a banquet. Maggie was supposed to have attended, because the emperor's relative was there. She ignored the other guests and ran to her father's chair at the head of the table.

"Papa," she said, out of breath. Will and Edric entered the hall and stood in the enormous doorway. "Papa," Maggie said again. He had fallen out of his chair. Lord Porfirio clutched at his chest and looked his daughter in the eyes.

"Maggie," he wheezed. "Forgive me, my daughter." Maggie's eyes were blurred with tears as she held her father's head in her lap.

"There is nothing to forgive, Papa," she said, smiling softly. "What would you have me do?" Lord Porfirio gasped, as if the pain in his heart was too much to bear.

"Take care of the children," he said, his voice growing weak. "Do not grieve for me. I go..." he wheezed "...to my fathers. Forgive me." With one last gasp, Lord Porfirio was gone. Maggie held her father close and began to sob into his shoulder. A tall, dark man stood up and went to Maggie's side.

"Magdalena," he said in a strong Italian accent. "Why do - " Maggie felt Edric's hands on her shoulders and she stood, backing slowly away from her father. The Italian man stood to his feet and showed himself to be as tall as Edric, although his eyes shone eerily, and it made him seem bigger.

"Who are you?" Edric demanded as Will took Maggie's hand.

"I am Maurice Castilettio. I have come to meet my bride," the man said. Maggie's chin continued to quiver and she gave Castilettio a face of disgust. As if he had a suspicion, Will let go of Maggie's hand and went to Lord Porfirio's cup, which he had dropped. Will touched the spilt wine and smelled it.

"Poison," he said, mostly to himself, but Maggie heard it over Castilettio's voice.

After Lord Porfirio's funeral pyre was built, and his body cremated, Maggie spoke to no one. Her younger siblings went to stay with Maggie's aunt in Derry, in Ireland (it's called Londonderry, now) for while. Maggie woke up a few gray mornings later expecting to see Will or Edric at the foot of her bed, as they had since her father's death. Instead, Castilettio stood by the window. Maggie frowned and lay back down, pulling her sheet to her chin.

"Why do you lack vitality?" the man said from the window, without looking at Maggie. He turned and Maggie felt his eyes on her back. "Can you not see who Sir Caradoc really is?"

Maggie spoke without looking at Castilettio. "Where are they? Where are Will and Edric?" she demanded. She heard his footsteps coming around the bed.

"They have gone. They went back to the Holy Lands. Were you so naive to think they would stay and save you from me? They have deserted you, love," Castilettio said. Maggie threw the covers back and got out of bed.

"Do not call me that," she said as she walked briskly out of the room. She slammed the door behind her and went to her mother's old room. There, she dressed in one of the baroness' gowns and she brushed her hair with her mother's brush. She looked in the mirror at her necklace. She never took it off, even when she went to bed or swam in the spring. Maggie hurried out of the citadel and walked around the perimeter in the light rain once. Then she put her plan into action. She walked nonchalantly to the stables, as if nothing were wrong, and she went to Cherry's stall. Just as she had thrown the saddle blanket over the horse's back, someone grasped her wrist firmly.

"Trying to run away, are we, my lady?" an Italian soldier stood beside Maggie and she swallowed.

"She was planning an escape, my liege." Maggie stood in the hall before Castilettio. He sat in her father's chair as if he were the duke. Castilettio looked at Maggie, although she kept her eyes averted from his.

"Is this true, love?" he asked. Maggie didn't answer. She felt disgust in the presence of this man. Castilettio stood from his chair and sauntered toward Maggie and began to circle her.

"Why do you despise me, daughter of the wood?" he asked, stopping in front of Maggie. He took her chin in his hand and she jerked it away.

"Where did you hear that name?" she asked, her voice relatively quiet. Castilettio continued walking.

"I have many more . . . resources than you know," he said with a glance at Maggie. "You still have not answered my question." Maggie watched him as he circled her.

"You murdered my father," she began. "You say Will and Edric have deserted me, but I know them better. I know you were involved in their sudden dissapearance, but how, I have yet to figure out. You are a greedy man with a lust for naught but riches and power. You have a rank and fetid smell, as well." Castilettio grabbed her arm and dug his foul, long fingernails into her skin.

"I will have enough of your insults and sass," he said. "You will grow to love me or I will slit your throat." He kept a firm hold on her arm and dragged her to her bedchamber. Throwing her in violently, she landed on the floor.

"The wedding is in three days," he said. "Let me tell you, I have no desire to marry you except for your castle and your beauty. I had no castle in Italy. And no beauty, either. Your dress is being made, and when it is, I expect you to wear it with radiance, for you know what I will do to you if you do not. Understand?" Maggie, whose body ached from being thrown so hard, winced and nodded, her eyes welling up in tears. Castilettio shut the door and Maggie heard it lock. She lay helplessly on the floor, curled up and gently touching her necklace.

"Will?" Edric sat up and nearly gagged at the foul smell of the darkness. When his eyes were accustomed to the light, he saw Will lying on the floor at his feet, unconscious. Will's forehead and nose were bleeding, and his arms and legs were bruised. He had been stripped of his armor and his shirt was ripped. Edric was, in fact, in much better condition than his younger brother. He had only a minor bleeding scratch on his hand and a few bruises, but he could stand. He realized they were in the cesspit, underneath the streets of the village. Edric remembered what had happened.

"Will, would you hand me my sword?" Edric asked as he sat at the smithy. Will did so as he took a bite of his apple.

"What should we do for Maggie?" Will asked. "She has hardly spoken to anyone since her father died." Edric glanced at him as he sharpened his sword.

"You know he was poisoned," he assumed. Will nodded silently.

"Maggie knows, as well," he said. "I - "

Suddenly, Will was interrupted by the sound of galloping.

"You're under arrest in the name of Lord Maurice Castilettio," a man in armor said, riding up to Will and Edric. Will drew his sword and Edric raised his, but before either of them could even speak, they were knocked over the heads with the hilts of two of the Italians' swords.

"Will?" Edric said again. He knelt beside his brother and gently touched his arm. It must have hurt Will, because he winced and his eyes opened.

"Where's Maggie?" were his first words. "Where are we?" Edric helped his brother sit up. Will flinched and gasped at the pain in his body.

"Castilettio has us in the cesspit," Edric said. Will frowned.

"Where is Maggie?" he repeated. Edric began to rip the bottom of his shirt off and tie it around Will's arm, where the bleeding and bruising were worst.

"I know not. She can take care of herself."

"Not in the presence of that brutal swine," Will protested, trying to stand. He nearly fell back over, and Edric steadied him and supported him.

"I will get out," he said. "Then I'll save you and we'll rescue Maggie together. You cannot move in this state." Will frowned, but knew Edric was right. Edric helped Will sit back down. He then began to follow the dark tunnel.

The next morning, Maggie heard her door unlock and Castilettio entered, closing the door behind himself. She sat on her windowsill and she looked at him. He held a white linen gown up. It was trimmed at the sleeves and the waist in gold, and Castilettio held it out to Maggie.

"Try it on, love," he said with a wicked smile and shining eyes. Maggie snatched the dress from his hands and went behind her changing screen. As she changed, she heard Castilettio walking around her room.

"Who is this, the drawing on your desk?" he asked, and Maggie heard the paper crinkle.

"My mother," she replied shortly. Maggie put the gown over her head and stepped out, wearing an expression like that of a tomboy wearing a pink and frilly dress.

"Ah," Castilettio said, putting the drawing back on the desk. Maggie looked out the window as Castilettio circled her once, then stopped to face her. "Beautiful. You know," Castilettio said, bringing his long fingernail to Maggie's cheek. She clenched her jaw as he ran his fingernail down her neck. He continued. "You know, you should think yourself lucky. Your father was clever to betroth you to me, considering he was going to lose this place anyway. As soon as we're married, you and I are going to go to Rome, where we shall do what we please. I hear tell of a manor bigger than this citadel there, and I mean to dwell there to the end of my days."

"I will never leave Nottinghamshire, nor will I ever marry you, you brutal pig!" Maggie replied coldly through gritted teeth. Castilettio drew his sword swiftly and pointed it at Maggie's throat.

"I believe I told you I will have enough of your sass," he said, his voice raising. Maggie swallowed.

"If you kill me now, you will gain neither my beauty nor my wealth," she warned. Castilettio did not lower the sword, but he looked at Maggie's necklace.

"What's this?" he asked. Maggie did not reply, and Castilettio ripped the necklace off her with his sword. Maggie squeezed her eyes shut and swallowed again. Castilettio leaned down and picked up the necklace.

"One of the Caradocs gave this to you," he speculated. Maggie opened her eyes and watched Castilettio put the necklace in his pocket. With a slight nod, Castilettio left Maggie in her room, locking the door as he went. Maggie sank onto her bed and lay there, crying quietly.

Edric found his way to the entrance of the tunnel and looked frantically for a way to get out. He saw through the bars of the drain a girl, about twelve or thirteen years old. Knowing he would scare the daylight out of her if he touched her foot, he called out to her softly. She looked around for a moment. "Down here," Edric said. The girl looked down and gasped quietly.

"What are you doing in there, sir knight?" she asked, setting down the basket of laundry she carried.

"My business is mine own," he replied. "I need you to help me get out of here."

"How do I know you are not a villain locked in there for some vile crime?" the girl asked.

"What is your name, lass?" Edric asked.

"Philomena, sir, but everyone calls me Mena."

"Mena, I need to get out of here because my brother's true love is about to be forced to marry a corrupt villain, who put me in here in the first place. Will you not aid true love?" Edric said exasperatedly. Mena frowned.

"Why did you not tell me so?" she asked, leaning down. She unlatched the door and Edric climbed out.

"Mena," he said, putting his hands on the girl's shoulders. "My brother is still down there, injured badly and unable to move. If you get him out of there some how, I'll pay you in pennies."

"No need for pay, sir knight," she said. "Go save the lady and I'll get my brothers to help." Edric nodded and was about to be on his way, but the lass touched his arm. He looked at her. "You may want to wash before you go. No offense intended, sir, but you smell unimaginably. My father owns a washtub. Tell him I sent you and he shall let you use it. He shall give you clean clothes, as well." Edric nodded and thanked her and hurried away.

Before dawn the next morning, Maggie awoke and sat on her windowsill, watching the moon slowly wane. She swallowed and went to her bed, where she got down on the floor. Reaching under the bed, she pulled a box out and set it on her desk. She ran her fingers over the Germanic runes and said them to herself.

"To Magdalena with love. May you use this in your most dire need. Father." She opened the box slowly and removed the silver dagger, which had a Bible verse from Jeremiah written on it in the same runes. Then she went to her window again and gazed outside, letting the cool breeze blow her hair. Gradually raising the knife, she aimed it downward at the middle of her collarbone. Just as she was about to plunge the dagger into her neck, a strong hand gripped her wrist.

"There shall be no need for that," a voice said. Maggie swallowed and her hand let go of the dagger. It fell to the floor with a clang.

Shortly prior to this, Edric found his way into the citadel. Sneaking about, trying to get to Maggie's room, but having to avoid being seen by Castilettio or any of his men, Edric had found his way to Castilettio's chambers. He stayed out of the bedchamber, but heard voices inside.

"I need a new sword forged in two days," Castilettio was saying in Italian. (Edric had learned Italian when he was in the Holy Lands.)

"What is your plan, my lord?" another voice said.

"I certainly cannot have the girl with me while I make my living in Rome. I mean to kill her the night of our wedding." That was all Edric needed to hear before running to Maggie's room.

Maggie looked behind her to see Edric. She embraced him and kissed the corner of his mouth, then looked at him.

"Where were you? Have you any idea what I have been through?" she asked. "How did you get in? The door was locked." Edric held his index finger to her lips.

"We're getting out," he said. "Follow me." He took hold of her hand and she followed him out of her room. She glanced back as they hurried quietly down the corridor and saw an unconscious guard. There's how he got in. Edric led her out to the courtyard and to the stables. They both mounted Cherry and rode out of the stable into the waxing sunlight. They had not ridden to the village walls before they were suddenly surrounded by Castilettio's soldiers, who all aimed arrows at Edric and Maggie. Castilettio himself rode up on horseback.

"I should kill you both now," he said, drawing his sword and pointing it at Maggie.

"What stays your blade?" Edric asked defiantly. Castilettio moved the sword to Edric's throat and put slight pressure on his skin. Maggie saw a drop of blood trickle down Edric's neck.

"Only the humor you bring me in trying to rescue the girl," Castilettio replied. Edric chuckled and Castilettio sheathed his sword.

"Take them both to the dungeon," he ordered the other men. Maggie saw Edric wink at the bushes near the gate. At first, she thought he must not have been in his right mind, but then she realized it was a signal. She gasped as arrows flew from all directions, all at the soldiers. Amidst the chaos, Edric whispered to Maggie.

"Go back to the citadel," he said. "This is plan 'B', and I'm afraid we have to use it." Maggie nodded, although she was not completely sure about it. Edric dissapeared amongst the falling soldiers and Castilettio's yelling became louder when he saw Maggie going back to the citadel. She galloped down the road and to the stables, then after dismounting Cherry, she ran as quickly as her legs would carry her back into her bedchamber. There, she hurriedly put away her dagger and placed the box in its safe place under the bed. It was not long before Castilettio stormed in and drew his blade.

"I suppose you thought that was incredibly cunning," he said, cornering Maggie and placing the sword at the side of her neck. She felt the cold steel ready to cut her throat at any moment.

"Am I really worth the trouble?" she asked, trying to remain calm and nonchalant. Castilettio took a step closer and Maggie felt his foul, hot breath on her face.

"I'm beginning to wonder," he replied through gritted teeth. "I will kill those brothers myself, if it's the last thing I do!" Maggie swallowed and Castilettio sheathed his sword and left the room in a fume. Maggie let out a sigh of relief that he did not harm her, although she was terribly worried for Edric and Will.

Edric stood in the only room of Philomena (whose surname was Gamdred), pacing while Mena's brothers looked on. There were four brothers, and all of them were very fond of Edric, thus they had become good friends with him. Will was hiding at Mena's grandmother's cottage, about six leagues south of Mena's home. Finally Edric stopped when there was noise from outside. He and the others ran to the window and saw that three of the six houses on the road had been set on fire. Mothers frantically ran away with their children, and they were all screaming.

"They're looking for me," Edric said grimly. He looked at the boys, all of whom ranged from fifteen to nineteen. "Go help the women and children." They obeyed and Edric ran outside to face the men on horseback. Altogether, there were sixteen of them. Edric mounted his loyal horse and drew his sword, along with a torch in his left hand. He rode toward Castilettio's assembly without flinching, prepared to take on all sixteen.

Will's eyes opened and he saw that he was in a small cottage. He sat up and touched his aching head. It had healed completely, and his bruises were gone.

"Where am I?" he said, more to himself. A beautiful old woman emerged from the kitchen. Her hair was silvery and flowed about her and onto the floor. She wore a long white gown and she had scarcely any wrinkles, like any old woman might. Her blue eyes and smile were what made Will like her immediately.

"You are in the house of Eriel, White Lady of the Wood," the woman replied in a deep, mellifluous voice. Will looked at her and she continued. "I am the grandmother of Philomena Gamdred, daughter of Hameth Gamdred, and you are in my house. You were badly wounded, sir knight. I have healed you." Will frowned slightly.

"White lady of the wood?" he repeated. He thought for a moment, thinking he had before heard the name. He looked at her again. "You're the sorceress, the enchantress, of Sherwood Forest," he said finally. The woman gracefully poured a cup of ale without looking, and her eyes caught Will's.

"They call me an enchantress?" she asked. Will nodded and she laughed melodiously. "I am no enchantress."

"What are you, then?" Will asked as she brought him the ale. He took it and drank it thankfully, although he thought it tasted strange.

"I am . . . My family calls me a white witch," she said after a moment. She noticed Will's thoughts of the ale and said, "It has aniseed in it." Will furrowed his brow, although he did like the ale.

"You, sir knight," Eriel said, "have a lady to save. There is a horse waiting for you just outside, and there will be a muster of my companions waiting for you at the castle gate. They will not fail you." Will nodded and set the ale down. When he pulled the covers off himself, he saw that his tattered and dirty clothes were gone and he wore clean, white, linen garments. He went toward the door and Eriel said his name. He looked at her.

"You are forgetting your armor," she said with a smile. Will looked back toward the door and saw a pile of armor. He looked at Eriel with a content, but slightly confused, smile.

The morning Maggie awoke with Castilettio standing over her would later be called the worst day of her life. It is hard for someone like Maggie to exaggerate.

"Get up," Castilettio commanded. Maggie obeyed and stood still as he threw her wedding gown at her. "Today's the big day," he said. "Not the best weather for a wedding, but we'll make it." Maggie swallowed and held the dress as Castilettio left the room. She changed quickly and brushed her hair, while occasionally glancing out the window, looking for Edric. When she was dressed, she went down to the courtyard, where a gathering of young women of the village, who had likely been paid by Castilettio to attend the wedding as Maggie's bridesmaids. The maypole was set up, and the pretty pink, white, and green ribbons hung down, ready to be twirled around the pole. White tents were scattered about the courtyard, and a jester juggled clumsily near the gate. Maggie swallowed as all of the attendants stopped what they were doing to watch her. Soon, the priest came and Maggie was led to the altar to stand beside Castilettio. She wondered frantically where Edric was. The priest began his long ceremony.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God to join this man and this woman in holy matrimony..."

Will rode with great haste toward the citadel. The armor fit perfectly, and the great white steed Eriel had given him was loyal and obedient. He was given a new sword, which was long and sharp, and had Germanic runes engraved into it. Will rode through the forest with the wind.

"...which is an honourable estate, instituted of God in Paradise..."

Edric rode with Mena's brothers and her brother's friends north to Maggie's citadel. The sky overhead was cloudy and the air humid. Edric knew rain would come. He drew his sword as they neared the citadel.

"...and into which holy estate these two persons present come now to be joined..."

Will approached the citadel. He saw coming from the east Edric and eight men. Waiting for him at the gate, as Eriel had said, there was a large assembly of armed men on horseback. Will gave Edric a wry smile and Edric looked proudly toward the gate. Thunder boomed and a flash of lightning filled the sky.

"Therefore, if any man can shew any just cause, why they may not be lawfully joined together, let him now speak, or else hereafter hold his peace forever." Maggie swallowed and gritted her teeth as the priest waited and the sky poured the rain like a gardener watering his garden.

Will gave his men a signal, and they charged through the citadel's gate. When they were inside, and everyone stared, Will said, "I have a cause." Maggie looked at him in surprise and relief, but Castilettio realized who had arrived. He drew his sword and held Maggie in a headlock, with the sword pressed against her stomach.

"Take a step closer, and I will kill her," Castilettio said. Will blinked and the attendants of the wedding gasped. Suddenly, the feeble old priest took a step and knocked Castilettio over the head with the big Bible. Of course, it did not injure Castilettio, but it did startle him, and he let go of Maggie. She ran to Edric and grabbed a sword from one of the attendees. Edric swept her onto the back of his horse and she rode with him through the courtyard, in a battle with Castilettio's many men. Maggie looked toward Will and saw that he was in a one-on-one swordfight with Castilettio.

"Edric," she said as she defeated yet another of Castilettio's men. The commoners had fled the courtyard and Castilettio's men kept coming out of the castle. Edric looked in the direction of where Maggie was pointing. Castilettio was moving in on Will, and if Will took only a few more steps, he would fall off the drawbridge and into the moat. Edric tried to ride to Will's aid, but there were too many soldiers in the way. Maggie dismounted and made her way to where Castilettio and Will fought. Finding herself engaged in defending herself from three Italians, she tried to see Will. Finally she yelled.

"Will!" she warned. Will looked over the soldiers' heads and saw Maggie. For a moment, there eyes were interlocked and Maggie saw an unfamiliar look of fear and defeat. She swallowed and brought her attention to the Italian trying to get to her. She fought persistently, trying to make her way to Will.

"Maggie!" Maggie turned and saw Edric looking for her. During the one moment she looked away from Will, something horrific must have happened. When she looked back, Castilettio's sword plunged into the right side of Will's stomach. Castilettio removed the sword and stabbed at Will again, this time in the left side. Everything moved in slow motion for Maggie, and she cried out, both in terror and in pain from the sword that sliced at her right arm. She put her sword in her left hand and fought past all the men who were trying to get to her. Finally, she charged at Castilettio herself. Just as she was about to stab him, he turned and raised his sword. But an arrow shot through the air and pierced Castilettio's heart. He gasped, and fell to the ground. Maggie ran to Will and caught him as he was about to fall off the drawbridge. She helped him stagger to his feet and they moved to the wall, where Maggie sat with Will's upper half in her lap. He was gasping instead of breathing, and as if all things were about to end, the courtyard was quiet with the death of many.

"Will," Maggie said, her voice feeble. Her hand shook as she gently stroked his cheek. He looked at her and blood began to trickle out of the corner of his mouth.

"I failed," he said, breathing heavily. "I failed you, Maggie, forgive me." Maggie shook her head as her eyes were blurred with tears.

"You fought valiantly," she insisted. "There is nothing to forgive."

"I could've triumphed," Will said, his breaths becoming shorter. "I paid no attention, and I failed -"

Maggie continued to shake her head and stroke Will's pale cheek and his hair.

"You are a true knight of Nottinghamshire," she said, looking him in the eyes. Maggie heard Edric approaching, but she did not take her eyes off of Will.

"And you a daughter," he said after a few gasps. "I would have loved you to the end . . . My Magdalena." Will's breathing came to a stop and he spoke no more. Maggie leaned down and gently kissed Will's mouth, then she held him to her chest and began to sob quietly.

Will's funeral was that of royalty. Maggie and Edric were at the head of the funeral procession as they journeyed to the eastern shore of England. Maggie wore a black dress with a veil, and she hardly spoke to anyone. When they were about sixty leagues from the Wash, Edric looked at Maggie.

"I found this in Castilettio's pocket," he said softly. Maggie looked at him and he held his hand out to her. In his palm, completely unharmed, was the garnet necklace Will had given Maggie. She swallowed and touched it while it was still in Edric's palm, and then after gently taking it in her own hand, she rested her head on Edric's shoulder.

"I thank you," she said. Edric stroked her hair soothingly and their journey continued.

Epilogue

Will's body was lain in a punt, with his hands folded across his chest and his sword under his hands. Maggie and Edric were the ones to push the punt into the water, and it floated away, into the North Sea. Maggie and Edric were married after Maggie's mourning period of sixty days. Maggie always wore the necklace Will gave her, but that does not mean she was not in love with Edric. This is inaccurate beyond all means. They loved each other deeply and eventually went on to have three children, the oldest being a boy named after Will. Maggie and Edric raised Maggie's younger brothers and sisters, and they paid off the debts of the citadel and lived there happily till the end of their long days.

Thus, we reach the end of the story of the Knight of Nottinghamshire.

To Read More Stories by Alyson-Louise Belle, go to

www.alyson-louisebelle.blogspot.com

2010-06-09T07:03:00.000-07:00

Here is your word of the week:

noctivagant- pertaining to going about in the night; night-wandering

My mother redirected my noctivagant father to his bedroom after stealing a box of cookies from the pantry at 2:00 a.m.

Here is your verse of the week:

"A gentle answer turns away wrath, but a harsh word stirs up anger. Proverbs 15:1"

❀Happy Summer❀

Poll Conclusion

2010-06-04T18:13:00.000-07:00

Our poll for the beginning of the summer was a success. Here is what our viewers thought.

Question: What is your favorite way to pass the time?

1. Read a book 62%

2. Listen to music 50%

3. Work a puzzle 25%

4. Draw &/or color 25%

Thank you for voting and please vote again on our upcoming poll!

-Stories4Gals™

2010-05-28T10:13:00.000-07:00

It has been two weeks since I put up a verse and word of the week and I want to apologies for that. Well, here they are:

egoism- Conceit; valuing everything according to one's personal interest; excessive confidence in the righteousness of one's own opinion.

This girl's egoism was clearly shown when her phone bill was over $300.00 after only one month.

The verse of the week tells us how not to have egoism:

"Little Children, you are from God and have overcome them, for He who is in you is greater that He who is in the world." I John 4:4

Verse and Word of the Week

2010-05-10T11:29:00.000-07:00

Your verse of the week is such a valuable verse, I think everyone should memorize it. It is very simple.

"For the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life through Christ Jesus our Lord." Romans 6:23

I took this picture of a deer on a trip to Mount Rainier. This innocent dear, like all of us, deserves death because it, like us, was born into a sinful world. Christ Jesus came a saved us from bondage. He loves us so much that he did this for us.

Your word of the week is a word from my vocabulary book:

xenophobia:

n. Fear or hatred of what is strange or foreign, or of foreigners.

Adrian Monk is a xenophobic and he proved it when he went to Mexico and would not touch any of the people there and drank only the water that he brought from home.

Verse and Word of the Week

2010-04-21T13:07:00.000-07:00

Hello again! It seems like just yesterday I posted the verse and word, but it was really a week ago today!

"Praise the Lord, I will extol the Lord with all my heart in the council of the upright in the assembly. Great are the works of the Lord; they are pondered by all who delight in them." Psalm 11:1-2

Here is your word of the week:

zeal |zēl|noungreat energy or enthusiasm in pursuit of a cause or an objective

Apartment 401

2010-04-19T17:53:00.001-07:00

Apartment 401

By Alyson-Louise Belle

As in any good story, before things get better, things get much worse. I might call this a story, but it is not a work of fiction. This is a story of a young girl, only sixteen years of age. She is quite pretty to most, with long blond hair that waves and curls about like silk ribbons. Her eyes are big and ultramarine coloured, and she has a slightly petite figure. Her fingers are long and graceful and she always wears a ring on her wedding finger, though she is not married. She has had her heart scarred once, and does not intend for it to be scarred again. As only a young girl, she was constantly abused physically and verbally by her own father. Her mother died when the girl was young. Finally, the man was arrested, leaving his eleven year old daughter to never love again. She vowed to herself that she would never get married, for fear of marrying a man like her father. Who is this poor, pretty young wretch? Why, her name is Natalie. Natalie Wilhelmina Boyd, to be precise. She was born in Seattle, and moved to New York by the Child Protective Services, where she was placed in a foster home. When she was thirteen, she was adopted by a kind old woman who went by the name of Arabella Mortensen. Moving back to the story, we meet Natalie as she walks down the streets of New York City. She carries two paper bags full of groceries and the late March snow blows mercilessly in her face. Natalie wears only a jacket made for chilly nights in spring and a pair of torn Jordaches. Her black All Star sneakers are wet with dirty snow and her feet feel like they’re about to fall off. Suddenly, a car swerves towards her and splashes polluted mush (which used to be snow) all over Natalie. She drops her groceries and the sports car parks on the curb, running over Natalie’s bread. She takes a deep breath and tries not to start crying as five young men pile out of the car. Four of them laugh at Natalie and call her names. The fifth, however, goes to Natalie and starts to help her pick up her things. He has blond highlighted, brown hair, and it curls out a little at the ends and in the back, and brushes his eyebrows. His eyes are a blue-gray colour and he’s tall and slender. Natalie tries to stop him from helping her.

“I have it, thanks,” Natalie says as she leans over to pick up the ripped bags. The boy looks at her.

“Are you kidding?” he asks. “Look at yourself. You need a ride home?”

Natalie takes this the wrong way and frowns as she gathers up the rest of her groceries.

“Good bye,” she says, and begins to walk away. The boy stands and touches her arm. Natalie jerks it away and he holds his hands in the air.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “Here.” To Natalie’s surprise, he takes his coat off and puts it around her shoulders. Her expression softens toward him and she even smiles a little.

“Thank you,” she says. The boy nods and heads back toward his companions. As Natalie turns a corner, the boy calls, “Wait!” Natalie looks at him. “I’m Mike.” Natalie nods and keeps walking. She gets to Arabella’s apartment and heads up the stairs with one bag, half full of dented cans of Spaghetti O’s and a loaf of nearly smashed bread.

“Oh, my dear, you’re home,” Arabella says as Natalie enters the two bedroom apartment. The place has a combined kitchen and living room as well as a bathroom with a small shower. Arabella has her crystal ball set up on the table and she’s looking into it with her sparkling grey eyes. Sometimes, it seemed to Natalie that Arabella is a little loose upstairs, if you catch my meaning. Arabella thought she could talk to the dead, and often at night, Natalie would hear her cursing the girl’s father.

Natalie sets the bag on the small table and goes in her bedroom to change into dry clothes. When she comes out, Arabella stares sadly into the bag of groceries. Natalie wraps her arm around Arabella’s shoulders.

“I’m sorry, Arabella,” Natalie says kindly. “This car full of idiots made me drop the rest.” Arabella’s lips curl up into a smile.

“One of them wasn’t an idiot, love,” she says, looking into Natalie’s eyes. Natalie waits for her to finish, but Arabella just looks at the fleece jacket on the sofa which anyone could tell is too big for Natalie even if she wasn’t wearing it. Natalie shrugs.

“He just helped me get some of this,” she says, looking at the groceries. “I didn’t want him to.”

“What’s his name?” Arabella asks. Natalie starts putting the Spaghetti O’s away.

“Ah,” she says, trying to make it look like she doesn’t remember. “Ike? Tyke?” Arabella looks at Natalie.

“Mike?” she asks. Natalie looks at her and nods after a minute. “Oh,” Arabella says. “He’s probably that singer in the band at our club.”

“O’Reilly’s?” Natalie asks. Arabella nods, but Natalie shakes her head. “I don’t think so. Of course, you could be right. I’ll bring him his jacket tomorrow night.” Arabella nods approvingly and Natalie laughs. Since Arabella had adopted Natalie, she had taken the girl to a small nightclub where the employees and the owner, an old Irish man, had become great friends with Arabella and Natalie, because they go to the club every Friday night.

“Natalie, darling, will you grab my mac, please?” Arabella asks as she and Natalie head out the door the next night. “It’ll be rainy out,” Arabella says. Natalie smiles in amusement at the fact that Arabella still called raincoats ‘macs’ which are what they used to be called in the United Kingdom.

“His coat,” Natalie mutters to herself. She grabs the North Face jacket from the sofa and follows Arabella out the door. The club is simply below their apartment, and they walk down the stairs to O’Reilly’s and sit at their usual booth by the window.

“Hello, girls,” the Irish owner, says. “How are we tonight?”

“Pretty good, Charlie,” Natalie responds. “We’ll have our usual, please.” Charlie smiles and nods. (Their usual is a BLT, which is huge, an iced tea for Arabella, and a Dr. Pepper for Natalie.) Natalie sees the band come in, and they are, in fact, the guys who had made her drop the groceries. The drummer, Marshall, comes in last and sits quietly at his drum set. Without realizing it, Natalie catches the eye of Marshall. Their eyes are locked in one another’s for a moment, then the band starts to play and Natalie looks away.

After they eat, Arabella goes back to the apartment and Natalie goes to the roof. She’s not cold, and she finds it strange because it’s ten o’ clock at night in New York City in March. Even so, she isn’t cold and she’s even slightly warm. She hears someone coming up the steps to the roof. Natalie turns and sees Mike. Natalie stands and is about to leave. Mike looks at her and touches her hand. To her surprise, Natalie gets goose bumps and something in her stomach does a somersault. It goes away quickly, though, and she looks at Mike.

“Stay,” he says softly. “Please.” Something about his eyes combined with the dimples as he smiles softly makes Natalie nod after a minute. They lean on the parapet and look down at the city.

“You live with your grandma?” Mike asks. Natalie doesn’t understand at first.

“Oh, Arabella,” she says. “She adopted me when I was twelve.” Mike is silent for a moment.

“You’ve had a hard life,” he muses. Natalie looks at him.

“How did you know?” she asks. Mike looks into her eyes.

“Your eyes are sad,” he said. “You have a scar on your wrist. Where’d you get it?” Natalie pulls her sleeves down to her knuckles.

“My father,” she said finally. “He used to hurt me and burn me with cigarettes. My mother died when I was eight. Then one night at three in the morning when I was eleven, the police came to my door and told me my father had been put in jail. He killed a person while he was drunk. After that, I was moved around a lot, and finally moved here to New York and adopted by Arabella, who is originally from England.” Natalie sighs and Mike slowly moves his hand over and lays it on Natalie’s. She looks at it and blinks nervously. She lets it go, though.

“You know,” she says after a minute. “You’re the only person besides Arabella I’ve ever told.” Mike looks out at the city.

“You know why that is?” he asks. Natalie looks at him.

“Why?”

“It’s because you’re afraid to love,” he says. Natalie looks away and blinks. She gently pulls her hand away from Mike’s and rests her head in her hands.--

“Was that your chat-up line?” she asks. Mike looks slightly offended.

“Of course not,” he says. He laughs. “My chat-up line was ‘Since when do angels take on the form of a teenage girl?’ ” This makes Natalie laugh, and Mike chuckles with her.

“What’s your family story?” Natalie asks. “Certainly not as depressing as mine, I’m sure.” Mike shrugs.

“My family’s pretty high-ranking,” he says, “they just don’t like me talking about it.” Natalie looks at him. “Let’s just say I’m slightly jealous of my older brother,” he says finally. “He’s got a wife, who used to be my best friend I might add, and six children, and a nice job. Here I am a singer-songwriter in a rock band in New York City.” Natalie blinks.

“Were you a trouble-maker?” Natalie asks. Mike laughs.

“Heck yeah,” he says. “I was the second oldest of six kids. It was me and my brother, then four girls, and I bothered them as much as I possibly could. I stole my dad’s motorcycle when I was fourteen once. I got suspended from school when I was sixteen. I got left at Disney World when I was five. For an hour. But it’s cool.” Natalie laughs.

“That life doesn’t sound too bad,” she murmurs. Mike shrugs again.

After a while, Natalie realizes how long she’s been with Mike. Her wrist-watch says half past midnight.

“I had better go now,” she says. Mike nods and smiles softly.

When Natalie gets to her apartment, Arabella is asleep and there’s a new bag of groceries on the table. Natalie looks inside and sees the things she dropped in the road (they were fresh). There’s a little card inside. It says Sorry about your food. I hope you forgive us. –Mike. Natalie runs back to the hallway to try and catch Mike as he leaves, but when she reaches the hallway, he’s already gone. Natalie goes to bed, exhausted.

The next morning is Saturday, and Natalie is puzzled to find she doesn’t smell bacon when she wakes up. Arabella always makes bacon for breakfast on Saturday mornings. Natalie hears something fall and she gets out of bed and goes to the kitchen. Arabella is falling over and Natalie runs to the woman and tries to catch her.

“Arabella?” she says, sounding like a little child. “Arabella, wake up. Please, don’t leave me now. I need you, Arabella!” Natalie found tears rolling down her cheeks as she realized Arabella Mortensen was gone. There’s a broken teacup on the floor, and Natalie sinks to the floor with Arabella in her lap. She breaks down and begins to sob for her Arabella.

Only a few close family members come to Arabella’s funeral. Natalie tries to keep her spirits up, even though she knows she’ll be on her own after her seventeenth birthday, which is only in a couple of weeks. As the last words are said, Natalie takes a deep breath and heads to the back door of the enormous Episcopal Church. She wanders around the cemetery in the churchyard and looks at the dates, trying to figure out how long they lived. One, she saw, lived from 1643 to 1749. 106 years, she calculates. She turns to go back inside, and as she does so, she runs right into a person. He grabs her by the shoulders so she doesn’t fall, and Natalie sees it is Mike.

“Well,” she says, “you just keep popping up out of nowhere, don’t you.” Mike gives her a small smile.

“I’m sorry about Arabella,” he says, a little bit more sadly than Natalie expected. “She was a good woman. A little bit far out, but good.” Natalie frowns and looks at the ground.

“How would you know?” she asks. Mike looks away as well.

“She was my great aunt,” he says. Natalie looks at him in shock. She opens and closes her mouth, and she’s as still as though she has been shot with a stun gun.

“Well…I…” she stammers. “Mike, I’m sorry. Why didn’t...?”

“I thought it best not to tell you,” he says. “I thought if she knew that you knew that I was related to her, she would try to get us together or something.” Natalie can’t help but get slightly irritated.

“Isn’t that what you’re trying to do?” she mutters. Mike furrows his brow.

“Of course not,” he says. “I just want to be your friend.” It is silent as they walk back toward the church.

“You know,” Mike says as they come to the door. Natalie looks at him. “You could stay with me and the band for a while.” Natalie tries to refuse.

“Mike, I don’t-” she attempts. Mike looks into her face.

“It’s not like you have anywhere to go,” he says. “And it’ll only be for a while. We have an empty room in the apartment.” Natalie pauses and looks at Mike. Something about his eyes makes her want to go to the moon for him if he wants.

“Fine,” she says finally, without smiling. “But only until I get a job and find a home.” Mike gives her a small smile.

“I’ll come get you tomorrow,” he says, then he leaves. Natalie shakes her head, chiding herself for falling for him like this. She goes inside the church and with a glance at Arabella’s coffin, she turns and continues out the door. Natalie heads to Arabella’s old-fashioned VW Beetle. It’s a chrome-orange colour and Arabella was always saying if she died, Natalie could have the car. So she gets in and drives to the apartment to pack what little things she has. She can’t believe she’s falling for Mike, but she’s grateful she’s found a friend.

The next morning, Natalie is in bed asleep. Mike is outside the door in the hallway. He knocks, but no one answers, so he opens the door and peeks inside. He assumes Natalie isn’t awake, so he goes inside the apartment and looks around. He sees a few tattered boxes and a suitcase, so he goes ahead and takes them to his car, which is a simple BMW, and puts them in his trunk. When he goes back upstairs, Natalie still isn’t awake, so he goes to her room and stands over her bed. He crosses his arms over his chest and waits for a few minutes. Then he saunters to the window and looks out at the view of a brick building. He shakes his head slowly and says quietly, “You, Natalie Boyd, are going to have a much better life at the brownstone.” Natalie hears someone in her room and bolts up in bed. She sees Mike, shrieks, and holds the blankets up to her neck.

“What are you doing here?” she says. Mike turns around and Natalie remembers. “You’re taking me to your house. That’s what you’re doing here,” she says, pinching the bridge of her nose. She looks at Mike and they both sigh at the same time. Then Natalie gets out of bed and goes into the bathroom. (Mike goes outside and waits in the car.) When Natalie comes out, she gets dressed and takes her purse and goes to Mike’s car. It’s silent for a moment before Mike starts to drive, and Natalie looks at him.

“How old are you?” she asks finally, frowning at Mike. He yawns as he tells her, “Almost thirty-one,” and Natalie’s eyes widen slightly. She looks out the window and Mike laughs.

“I’m kidding, Nat,” he says as he starts to drive. “I’m nineteen.” Natalie frowns at Mike and runs her fingers through her hair.

A half an hour later, Natalie and Mike arrive at the band’s apartment. Natalie has to look up to see the roof. It’s a brownstone apartment building that stretches up to the sky. She and Mike get out and grab the boxes. When they get inside, the other four band members are asleep on various places. The drummer, Marshall is on the couch, the bassist, Jimmy is on the floor in front of the TV, the electric guitar player, Lewis is on the coffee table, and the piano player, Joshua is at the kitchen table. Natalie raises her eyebrows and sighs, “This should be interesting.” Mike looks at her and she follows him through the apartment. Apparently, her room is all the way at the back. However, she gasps when she reaches the window. There is a beautiful view of the New York Bay, and the water sparkles from the reflection of the sun. The snow has stopped falling and the sun has melted most of the snow on the ground.

“Well,” Mike says, putting the boxes he carried on the full sized bed. “Hope you enjoy your stay.” Then he leaves and Natalie lies on the bed and closes her eyes. She sighs softly and swallows.

A few days later, Natalie is on her way to the Laundromat with not only her laundry, but also Joshua’s, Jimmy’s, and Lewis’. It seemed as though their laundry hadn’t been done in a while. She walks down the street and around the corner, and she runs into Charlie, from O’ Reilly’s. Natalie puts her hand on the old man’s shoulder and she smiles at him.

“Hello, Charlie,” she says, and she squints in the sun. Charlie gives her a smile.

“Well, it’s been a while, Natalie Boyd,” he says. “How’re you doin’ Natalie?” Natalie smiles and Charlie walks with her to the Laundromat.

“Okay,” she says. Charlie looks at her.

“Where are you staying, lass?” he asks after a moment. Natalie scratches her head.

“With a friend,” she says, and she pauses. “Actually, I’m staying at the band’s house, the band from your restaurant.” Charlie nudges her playfully.

“Have you gotten to know Mike?” he says with a grin.

“Mike?” she says, a little shocked. Charlie nods. Natalie looks away from him.

“Charlie, you know I don’t get into that stuff,” she says. Charlie laughs.

“He’s a charmer,” he says with a wink. He gives a wave and turns a corner as Natalie walks into the Laundromat. She shakes her head slowly and goes to do her laundry.

As she waits by the washing machine with a magazine, Natalie feels a tap on her shoulder. She turns and sees Marshall, the drum player from Mike’s band.

“Hey, Natalie,” he says, and Natalie notices he’s Irish. She smiles.

“Hi,” she says. Marshall gives her a handful of quarters.

“Ah, we thought we should give you money for the dryer,” he says. Natalie gives him a small smile and takes the quarters.

“We?”

“The rest of the band and me,” he says. Natalie nods gratefully and glances at Marshall as she switches the laundry over.

“Do you guys even have a name?” she asks. Marshall shrugs.

“We’ve been fighting about it,” he says. Natalie laughs.

“What choices are there?” she asks. “Maybe I could help.” Marshall sighs and leans against the washing machine.

“Well, we have ‘O’ Reilly’, you know, like the restaurant,” he starts. “And… we have ‘Under One’, and ‘Apartment 401’.” Natalie looks at him.

“That last one’s original,” she says sarcastically (Apartment 401 is where they live.) “I personally like it best.” Marshall raises his eyebrows.

“So does Mike,” he says. “He’s the one who picked it out, actually.” Natalie doesn’t know what to say, so she turns back to the laundry and begins folding it.

“Thank you for paying for the dryer,” she says finally, and she leaves.

Getting Attached to Apartment 401

Several days pass and one Friday afternoon, Natalie comes home from eating at McDonald’s. As she walks into the apartment, the lights are out. She flicks the lightswitch on and the boys emerge from various hiding places. Natalie laughs as Mike begins to rap a “Happy Birthday” song he wrote himself. The rest of the band is making the voice box noises and such, and Natalie puts the McDonald’s bag on the counter.

“You guys,” she says. Mike spreads his arms out and the rest of the guys stand beside him. His voice changes to a Frank Sinatra impersonation.

“Happy birthday…” he sings, “To you-ou-ou.” Natalie laughs as he approaches her. She shakes her head slowly and sighs, looking Mike up and down. He’s dressed like a mixture of a gangster and a businessman and his cap is turned to the side.

“Mike,” Natalie says with a small laugh. Mike shakes his head.

“It’s Mikey Mike, yo,” he says. “Wuddup? You gotta see the crib, yo. J-Dawg here-” (he gestures to Joshua with his head) “-decked the place out for your big one seven, girl. One seven, seventeen, dawg!” Mike holds his fist out to Natalie and she bops it with her own fist, trying not to fall from laughter. He takes her hand and tells her to close her eyes. She shuts them tight and he and the band lead Natalie through the apartment. When they stop, Natalie feels a soft breeze blow her hair across her face.

“Open your eyes, Nat,” Mike says, speaking in his normal voice. Natalie opens her eyes and covers her mouth with her hand to keep a squeal in. She blinks back tears and lets out a small, high pitched laugh. Apartment 401 — the band — has decorated the balcony for Natalie’s birthday. There are little paper Chinese lanterns with tea light candles in them, and they’re strung on the clothesline. Everything is altogether beautiful, and Natalie takes a deep breath and hugs everyone.

“It’s beautiful,” she says. Mike puts his arm around her shoulders and looks at her.

“Don’t you wanna see the rest?” he asks. Natalie looks at him.

“You’re kidding,” she says breathlessly. Mike takes her to the picnic table and she sees a big cake decorated with a big ‘17’. Natalie laughs again and wraps Mike in a hug. He puts her at arm’s length and laughs.

“Don’t hug me,” he says with a laugh. “I’m just Mikey Mike, dawg. Marshall’s the one who made the cake.” Natalie looks at Marshall and gives him a hug. It last longer than she expected it would. When she backs away and Jimmy plays the music, the party starts.

It’s past midnight and Natalie is still on the balcony, sitting on the picnic table and fingering a piece of one of the streamers. Mike appears by her side and she sighs.

“Did you have a good party, lass?” he asks in a Scottish accent, then his voice changes to a Sméagol voice. “We did, my precious.” Natalie laughs and looks at him.

“You’re incredible,” she says. “I didn’t know you could do so many voices.” Mike stands in front of Natalie and begins to do some of his voices.

“I can do English,” he says in an English accent. (He goes on like that.) “And Hello. My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die.” Natalie laughs and Mike chuckles.

“That’s from The Princess Bride, the uh, the best love story ever told.” he says. Natalie laughs and nods. “I can also do Frodo-” he clears his throat, “No, Sam. I can’t recall the taste of strawberries, nor the sound of water, nor the touch of grass. I can also do Sean Connery and Bob Marley.” He impersonates the two, sounding exactly like each of them. Natalie is laughing and Mike gives her a deep bow and he hops back up onto the picnic table. He and Natalie are swinging their legs back and forth like little kids. It’s silent for a moment, and Mike looks out at the lights of the city across the Bay.

“Have you found a job?” he asks quietly. Natalie shakes her head silently. Mike nods.

“You know,” Natalie says, and Mike looks at her. “You haven’t given me a birthday present.” Mike laughs and scratches his head. It’s quiet again, and Mike looks at Natalie. Their eyes linger on one another for a minute, then Mike reaches up slowly and begins stroking Natalie’s hair. Then he scoots closer to her and leans toward her.

“Are you gonna kiss me?” Natalie asks softly as Mike nuzzles her neck.

“Not on your life,” he says with a short laugh. Natalie laughs quietly and Mike touches her cheek softly and fondles her hair. After a minute, Natalie blinks and hops off the picnic table, leaving Mike sitting there. Before she goes inside, she turns and looks at him.

“Thank you for the party,” she says. She goes to her bathroom (she has one and the guys have one) and shuts and locks the door behind her. She looks in the mirror for a minute at her hands, which are fiddling with her ring. Finally she takes the ring off and sets it on the counter. She sighs and turns the bath on, filling it with bubbles and hot water. After putting her clothes in a corner, she steps into the bathtub and sinks in until her chin touches the water.

Early the next morning, there’s a knock on the apartment door. Mike gets staggers out of bed, nearly tripping over Lewis, who slept on the living room floor, on his way to the door. He opens the door and runs his fingers through his hair, yawning. There’s a man, about in his forties or fifties, standing at the door. His dark hair is messy and his eyes are bright, almost frighteningly.

“Hi,” Mike says, furrowing his brow slightly. The man pushes his way past Mike and into the entryway.

“I was told this is where Natalie Boyd lives,” the man says in an accent that reminds Mike of Hugh Grant. Mike frowns now.

“She’s staying here until she finds a job, yeah,” he says, becoming more alert. “Who are you? What do you want with Natalie?” The man starts to the back of the apartment.

“I’m her father,” he says. “I suppose she’s told you some things about me.”

“A few,” Mike says, running to stand in front of the man.

“They’re lies,” Mr. Boyd says. By this time, the rest of the band is awake and they’re standing around the man, ready to defend Mike and Natalie. While Mike, Jimmy, Joshua, and Lewis stall Boyd, Marshall sneaks into Natalie’s room and wakes her up. She gets out of bed.

“What’s wrong?” she whispers. Marshall opens the window.

“Your da is here,” he says quickly. Natalie frowns.

“I thought he was in prison,” she says. Marshall looks at her and raises his eyebrows.

“Apparently not,” he says. He takes Natalie by the arm and helps her out the window onto the fire escape ladder.

“Go to O’Reilly’s,” he tells her. “We’ll come get you when he’s gone.” Natalie nods and Marshall closes the window, heading back to the hallway. Boyd is standing in the middle of the hallway.

“Where is she?” he asks, almost menacingly. Mike steps in front of her door, just to be shoved out of the way by Boyd. Boyd goes in Natalie’s room and looks around. When he sees the room is empty, he turns back around and knocks Mike out. He then defeats the rest of the band and leaves the apartment. Insignificantly hurt, Jimmy and Lewis help Mike to his feet as he regains consciousness. His lip is bleeding and his hair is tousled, but he’s determined. He runs out to the hallway outside the apartment and sees Boyd going down the stairs. Mike, hoping to disable the man temporarily, grabs a football from inside the apartment door and throws it down at Boyd. The man falls down the stairs and Mike and the rest of the band go down to him. Mike shudders. The man is dead. Mike blinks a few times and looks at Jimmy, Lewis, and Joshua.

“Take him out to the alley,” he says quietly. “Nothing concerning us happened.” They nodded and Mike and Marshall continued on to O’Reilly’s.

Natalie waited anxiously in the back office with Charlie at the club. She stands by the window with her chin in her hands. Charlie sighs.

“They’ll take care of him, lassie,” he says. Natalie nods slowly and suddenly the door opens and Marshall and Mike come in. Natalie gasps softly at their injuries; Mike’s bruised head and bloody lip, and Marshall’s black eye. Charlie shakes his head slowly and goes to the kitchen.

“Guys, I’m sorry,” Natalie says, going to Mike and Marshall. “If I knew he would get out of jail-”

“He won’t bother you again,” Mike interrupts, holding his hand up. Natalie frowns and Mike takes her face in his hands. “I promise. He won’t bother you again.” Natalie swallows and Charlie comes back with two ice packs for Mike and Marshall. Marshall takes his, but Mike refuses, saying it won’t make a difference; he’ll still have a swollen lip. Natalie can’t help but laugh softly and Charlie and Marshall shake their heads in amusement.

Later that night, Natalie is sitting on her bed, staring out the window. Mike comes in and sits beside her.

“You killed him, didn’t you?” Natalie says without looking at Mike. He frowns.

“I hit him with a football and he fell down the stairs,” he says in a low voice. “The football only knocked him out. The stairs are cement.” Natalie nods slowly. She looks at her lap.

“I found a job,” she says. Mike looks at her and tries to look disappointed.

“What is it?” he asks.

“Staging apartments,” she says. “I get my own little apartment for doing the job.” Mike looks at her.

“When will you be leaving?” he asks. Natalie blinks.

“Monday,” she says. (It’s Saturday.) It’s quiet for moment, except for the soft breeze that’s blowing in the open window. Natalie rests her head on Mike’s shoulder and he rests his cheek on her head.



Monday, Natalie has packed her things and Lewis and Joshua are helping her unload her things at her new apartment. Mike doesn’t come to say good-bye, but Marshall and Jimmy meet Natalie and the other two at O’Reilly’s. Natalie knows this will be her last time in O’Reilly’s. Charlie has to close the place down for financial reasons. Natalie also knows that even though she has a good job and her own apartment, she won’t be happy living alone.

Four (and a half) Years Later

Late summer

Twenty-one year old Natalie sits in her Accord in traffic. She rests her head in one hand and taps the steering wheel with the other. She notices she’s right outside the building that used to be O’Reilly’s. The windows are boarded up and the walls are covered in graffiti. She sighs and can’t help but think of Apartment 401. She hasn’t seen Mike in four and a half years, and she wonders how he is. She wonders about the rest of the band, too, but Mike more so. The traffic finally clears up. Or so Natalie thinks. The car in front of her slams on the brakes. Natalie tries to stop, but fails, and her car crashes into the bumper of the minivan in front of her. The pick-up truck behind her slams into her car, and Natalie screams. She gets out of her car and as she sees her car, she tries not to yell or curse.

“Mamma mia,” is all she could manage without offending someone. The other two drivers get out, both of them being old women. One is a nice grandma type, and one is a motorcycle type. Natalie personally enjoys the “grandma’s” reaction better than the tougher looking one.

Natalie sits in a car shop, waiting for the report on her car. As she watches the news on the little TV, one of the repairmen comes out holding an oily rag. Natalie gasps. The repairman is Marshall. He’s aged slightly, it seems, but Natalie realizes it’s because he’s a little bit unshaven and his hair’s a little longer.

“Marshall,” she says, smiling. Marshall realizes it’s Natalie and they hug one another.

“Hey,” Marshall says, laughing. “Um, your car. We’re gonna need it for a couple weeks. We can get you a rental.” Natalie nods and holds Marshall at arm’s length.

“How are you?” she asks. Marshall raises his eyebrows.

“You’re pretty much looking at it,” he says. “What about you? You look older. Twenty-one, right?”

Natalie nods.

“I’m okay,” she says. “You’re twenty-five. Geez, Marshall, has it really been that long?” Marshall laughs and nods.

“My break is in an hour,” he says. “You wanna come over for dinner tonight? The missus is cooking homemade pizza. Yum.” Natalie laughs and playfully hits his arm.

“The missus?” she says. Marshall shows her his wedding ring and she laughs and shakes her head slowly. Marshall pulls out his wallet and shows Natalie a picture of two little girls.

“My angels,” he says. “Lilly and Naomi. Twins, two and a half years old, and beautiful.” Natalie smiles.

“They are,” she says. She shakes her head again.

“I can’t believe how long it’s been,” she says. Marshall gives her a pat on the back and goes back to work.

Natalie approaches the door to Marshall’s house. He lives in a suburb, in a nice house. She rings the doorbell and a pretty young woman opens the door. She has brown hair with a touch of red and green eyes. She’s taller than Natalie, and slender.

“Hi,” she says with a smile. “Are you Natalie?”

“That’s me,” Natalie replies.

“I’m Katie,” she says, “Marshall’s wife. Come in.” Natalie does so and Katie takes Natalie’s jacket and hangs it on a coat hanger.

“Marshall’s told me a lot about you,” Katie says, still smiling. Natalie smiles and Lilly and Naomi run to their mother and wrap their arms around her legs. Natalie laughs.

“He’s told me about you, too,” she says. Katie leads Natalie to the dining room, where the table is set beautifully.

“How’s Apartment 401?” Natalie asks during dinner. Marshall looks at her and smiles sadly.

“We all went our separate ways shortly after you left,” he says. “Jimmy and Lewis moved to Nashville to try and become a famous duo. Joshua’s an artist now. He paints murals on walls and stuff. And here I am living the life.” Natalie laughs softly and Naomi starts to fight with Lilly.

“Girls,” Katie says. They don’t stop and Lilly pinches Naomi and makes her cry. Katie smiles quickly at Marshall and Natalie and she takes the girls away.

“How’s Mike?” Natalie asks after a minute. Marshall looks at her sadly, and almost nostalgically, as if he hadn’t heard the name in years.

“Not good,” he says. Natalie looks at him. “He was married last year and he just got a divorce. Been trying to find a job since he was kicked out.”

“What happened?” Natalie asks, trying not to sound too concerned. Marshall shrugs one shoulder and takes a bite of pizza.

“She cheated on him,” he says. “She’s pregnant with the other guy’s baby. She broke Mike’s heart and he’s gone downhill since. I don’t think he’s ever even had a good cry about it. Thinks he’s too tough to cry.”

“Where is he living now?” Natalie asks. Marshall blinks.

“Apartment 401,” he says. “He decided to stay there until they kick him out. Poor guy. I’ve tried to help him, but he doesn’t want anything. Personally, I think he’s stubborn-”

Natalie gets up before he finishes. Marshall follows her to the door and she walks briskly to her rental car.

“Where’re you going, Nat?” he calls. Natalie answers without looking back.

“To give Mike a pep talk,” she replies. Marshall throws his hands in the air.

“Let the sleeping dogs lie, Natalie,” he says. Natalie shakes her head and drives away.

Natalie drives to the brownstone apartment building and tries to keep herself from crying from a simple fit of nostalgia. She runs up the stairs to the apartment door two at a time. When she comes to the door, she goes in without knocking. Nobody is in the living room or the kitchen. As Natalie walks through the apartment, she looks at the pictures hanging on the wall of Apartment 401, doing all their crazy stuff. There’s one of Mike doing his “crazy safari guy” impersonation, with his hair messed up and sticking up in the air and his face eccentric looking, and there’s one from before Natalie was around when the band went camping and Mike didn’t shave for the trip. One picture catches her eye. It’s of the guys from Apartment 401 and herself, gathered around her seventeenth birthday cake. Natalie stands there staring at it for a minute. Suddenly, she hears footsteps. She turns and sees Mike come out of his room. His hair isn’t high-lighted anymore; it’s just brown and straight and in his eyes a little. He’s wearing a wrinkled white undershirt and a pair of flannel pajama pants. His eyes are tired and his face is stubbly.

“Natalie,” he says. She looks at him, thinking, You look terrible, but of course she doesn’t say that.

“I saw Marshall,” she says. “He told me about Apartment 401. It kind of ticks me off that after I left, all of you deteriorated. Apartment 401 was like a brotherhood, with one sister-” Natalie laughs “-and after the sister left, the fellowship was broken. Like Lord of the Rings.” Natalie laughs again. “I think Marshall is the only one with a little bit of sense. He’s doing good, with a wife and two beautiful girls. Here you are, waiting to be kicked out of your own home. What kind of a life is that?” Mike’s nostrils are flaring and his chin is quivering. Natalie knows he’s holding back tears, and she completely understands why. She wraps him in a hug and he cries softly into her shoulder.

“Mike, things have to get worse before they get better,” she says. “It’s how life works. I know.”

She rubs his back gently like a mother would do for her son. She shushes him gently and runs her fingers through his hair. He backs away from her after a minute and takes a deep breath. Natalie looks at the pictures on the wall.

“Look at these photographs,” she says. “Don’t they make you regret the breaking of the brotherhood? Look at you with your shambolic hair and crazy smile.” Mike chuckles and squeezes the bridge of his nose, wiping any leftover tears away. Then he looks at Natalie.

“They make me regret something,” he says. Natalie wraps her arm around his shoulders and they look at the rest of the pictures.

Conclusion

Mike didn’t get evicted, and in fact, after he got a job, he kept the apartment. Apartment 401, the band, got back together. Marshall, however, stayed with his family, leaving the band without a drum player. That changed when Marshall taught Natalie and she became part of Apartment 401. Natalie and Mike dated for a few more years, then ended up getting married, of course. Apartment 401 ended up famous, and they toured America in their little passenger van (which they called Forum) with a storage trailer behind. The fellowship was reunited and prospered for the rest of its life.

THE END

The Weekly Verse and Word

2010-04-14T13:03:00.000-07:00

Hello my good and faithful readers! Here is your verse and word of the week!

"Blessed are those who put their trust in Him." Psalm 2:12 NKJV

melliferous |məˈlifərəs|adjectiveyielding or producing honey.ORIGIN mid 17th cent.: from Latin mellifer(from mel ‘honey’ + -fer ‘bearing’ ) + -ous .Have a great week!

The Lizzy Cormen Series

2010-04-06T14:58:00.000-07:00

Chapter 2

There was a high shriek, a playful bark, and a loud BANG!

“Ouch! My arm!” Ems shouted. Lizzy knew that Sadie’s introduction to the family had not been a success. As Collin ran upstairs to see what was happening, Mom came inside and was as confused as Lizzy.

“We got a dog?” Collin asked. “Cool! What’s his name?”

“By the way, it is a her not a him. And her name is Sadie,” Lizzy answered.

“Lizzy, what in the world is going on here?” Mom asked while biting her lip. When she was biting her lip, it meant to things: either she was trying not to laugh, or she was really mad. Lizzy was guessing it was the second reason. Lizzy’s mom, Megan Cormen, was a reasonably attractive woman. She was tall, and had blonde hair that fell above her shoulders. Lizzy also got her popping green eyes from her mother.

“She’s a rescued dog from the shelter down the street,” Lizzy replied, “I played with her and the owner, Jacqueline, told me I was god with animals and offered me a job. Then, she let Sadie come home with me for a night to see if we wanted to adopt.” Actually, she was asked to be a foster family, but Lizzy thought it best to try adopt and then compromise for foster,

“Adopt! You must have had a very busy afternoon,” Mom stated.

“Well,” Lizzy started to say as Ems interrupted her.

“Hello-o? Girl with a throbbing black and blue arm here. Anyone wanna help?” Ems said with a slight attitude.

“Oh Sweetie!” Mom said, “Let me see that arm. What happened?” Mom sympathetically said.

“Well, that devil-dog barged into my room and jumped on me!”

“It wasn’t her fault,” Lizzy said defensively, “She was just a little excited.”

“Well, thats an understatement,” Ems mumbled.

“Okay, Ems. I’ll see if we can find a doctor,” Mom said, “And Lizzy, watch the dog and we’ll talk when we get back.”

“Can I take the dog outside to play?” Collin asked. Lizzy had forgotten that he was even standing there (which, by the way, did not happen very often.)

“No!” Lizzy and Mom said in unison.

“Okay, okay! It was just a question.” Mom left to call a doctor to set up an appointment and she and Ems left for the doctor.

When they got back, Lizzy found out that Ems did break her left arm. Luckily, she was right-handed. She kept complaining on how her pink cast would clash with her red and white back pack. Lizzy felt like telling her to shut up but she didn’t out of a hint of sympathy. Then, he herd some one enter in the garage door.

She heard her dad say, “Megan, what happened? Why is there a cast on Emily and, wait, is that a dog?” As mom patiently explained everything to her dad, Lizzy and Collin quietly played with Sadie in the living room. Oh, I hope they will let me keep Sadie.

“Lizzy!” Mom called, “Come here please.”

Here it comes. Lizzy thought. Building up her confidence, she walked into the kitchen. Her Mom and Dad stood there with an unreadable expression on their faces.

“Honey,” Dad said, “We’ve come to a decision.” He waited a moment before he continued. Lizzy thought he was trying to torture her. “You can keep Sadie. The last four words of that sentence made Lizzy happier than ever.

“Thank you, Thank you, Thank you! I love you guys. You are the best…” Lizzy exclaimed right as she was interrupted by her mother.”

“Woah girl! Hold it! You didn’t let us finish,” Mom said, “You have full responsibility of Sadie. You do everything except pay for food, the vet, and other things like that.

“I can live with that,” Lizzy answered, trying not to sound too excited.

“Oh, your sister is still pretty upset. You need to apologize and replace anything Sadie broke,” Dad said.

“Yes sir,” Lizzy said. Great, this is worse than having poop scooper job for Sadie. As she walked up to her sisters room, Collin approached her with Sadie on a leash by him.

“What did they say? Can you keep her? Did you get in trouble?” Collin asked.

“Yes, I can keep her and no, I didn’t get in trouble,” Lizzy replied.

“Awesome! Can I pay fetch with her or teach her how to barf on command?”

“No! You are SO gross!” Lizzy exclaimed. “And I don’t want you to play fetch with her right now. I don’t want any more trouble.

“Fine,” Collin said. He went outside anyway. Well, at least I got him out of my hair. When she reached her sister’s room she heard nothing. No phone. No obnoxious music. No anything. This is not good.

The Lizzy Cormen Series

2010-03-06T14:42:00.000-08:00

The Lizzy Cormen Series

by Abigail Elisabeth Larke

Chapter 1

“Its not fair!” Lizzy screamed. She ran down the hallway, slammed her bedroom door and cried on her bed. She HATED her new “home” (if you could even call it that). Her family had just moved to a little town in Southern California call Kneadsbury. Her Dad, Mark, lost his job and Kneadsbury was the only place he could find good work. Her eight-year-old brother, Collin, had easily made friends and joined the Kneadsbury Elementary soccer league. Soccer was his thing. Lizzy also had a fifteen-year-old sister named Ems. Well, her real name was Emily but when Lizzy was young she couldn’t pronounce “Emily” so she called her “Ems” instead. The name just stuck. Her attractive sister quickly became popular at the Kneadsbury high school, Galesen High. Lizzie, who was thirteen, was in the eighth grade and couldn’t seem to make any friends. She was average height, straight brown hair and popping green eyes.

Their family attended North Heights Baptist Church(NHBC). She enjoyed the middle school program there. Dave, the middle school pastor/leader, was great. Lizzy just felt like the 8th grade girls already had their cliques from elementary school. They weren’t mean or anything, just a little too exclusive. Lizzy felt like the misfit from Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. School wasn’t any better. At her old school in Dallas, she had lots of great friends and was almost popular. Here, she was invisible. It really wasn’t fair.

    After Lizzy had cooled down from her argument with her parents, when she unsuccessfully begged them to move back to Dallas, she decided to go on a walk. Although she told her mom she was going to explore the neighborhood, she was really going to get things off her mind. And maybe explore just a tad. Before she left, she paused to look at their house. Their house was two stories and a light, soft green. It had a porch that covered the entire front of the house. It had new windows and the stained, wooden door wasn’t bad either. Now the yard. It was fairly big yard with a driveway and a two car garage. They had Crape Myrtle lining the side of their house opposite to the driveway and also the front of the house. They had a few flower beds here and there, mostly in front of the house. “I guess it is a nice house," Lizzy murmured. Finally, she started her walk. The neighborhood was decent. It all had sidewalks, mostly two-story houses, and pastel-colored houses. Her favorite houses were the ones that were blue, green, or purple. The white and tan were too plain for her taste. Just down a few blocks was a SPCA, veterinarian office, and a house next door. Being an animal lover, Lizzy had to check this out. After talking to a sweet receptionist, Lizzy found out that it was owned by a couple who were both vets and took in abandoned animals. They lived in the house next door. The large two story building was filled with offices, cages, equipment, and animals. Lizzy was surprised that the building didn’t stink. She walked into a noisy room with non-stop barking, chirping, meowing, and everything else. As she was walking down a row of cages, a cute dog caught her eye. Its big, brown eyes locked hers and Lizzy immediately loved the dog.
    “That’s Sadie.”
    “Oh!” Lizzy exclaimed as she jumped. “You scared me.”
    “Oh, I’m sorry,” said the woman. “I’m Jacqueline Portez.” She was a fairly petite, blonde woman and very friendly. She was dressed in a doctors coat with her hair pulled into a perfect ponytail.
    “Let me introduce myself. I’m Lizzy Cormen,” Lizzy said, “My family just moved here from Dallas. We live in the green house down the street.”
    “Oo-oh. You’re the new family who moved here. I think I saw you at church the other day,” Jacqueline said.
    “You go to NHBC?”
    “Yes, I do. We me and my husband have been attending that church ever since we were Christians.” That eased Lizzy’s mind to know that she was talking to a Christian, not a stranger.
    “Cool!” Lizzy said.
    “I see you were looking at Sadie.”
    “Yeah, she is so cute! How old is she Mrs. Portez?”
    “Oh, please call me Jackie.”
    “Okay, Jackie, how old is she?” Lizzy repeated.
    “We think she is one year old. She is only a mutt and we found her on the side of a highway in a box when she was a puppy. Our guess is that the owners didn’t want her or they couldn’t afford her,” Jackie answered.
    “How sad! Can I pet her?”
    “Sure, let me get her out of this cage for you,” Jackie replied. She opened Sadie’s cage and brought Lizzy and her in a separate room where it was quieter. The room looked like it was for dog training. It had an agility set, different toys on the ground, and a counter with some treats on it. Lizzy and Sadie played for while with Jackie supervising. At first, Sadie was a little skeptical, but with some encouragement from Jackie she and Lizzy played nicely.
    “You handle dogs very well,” Jackie stated, with a hint of impressment in her voice.
    “I should. We used to have three dogs back in Dallas, “Lizzy replied, “We had to leave them their with my cousins permanently when we moved, though. I miss them a lot.”
    “Oh, I’m sorry,” Jacqueline replied. After a pause she continued, “How would you like to work here at the SPCA. We have lots of students your age come and volunteer with us after school. I couldn’t pay you very much but it would be a great experience for you.”
    “I’d have to ask my parents but I would love to work here. Do you think I could come back tomorrow with an answer?” Lizzy asked
    “Of course! You and Sadie seem to get along well. Do you think you would like to take care of her like a foster parent until I can find her a home? Normally, I would go through further testing to see if you two are get along well. But, I can see you love her and vice versa.”
    “Yeah! I would love to do that!” Lizzy said, “But maybe I should just take her in for the night and talk to my parents before I make any decisions.”
    “Sounds good to me,” Jackie said. “I’ll give you everything Sadie will need for a night.” She left for a moment and returned with a box of things. It included a collar, crate, food, blanket, leash, food, and some other things. “See you tomorrow!”
    “Bye,” Lizzy said as she and Sadie walked out the door with the big box.

After a long walk home, Lizzy finally reached her house. As they walked through the front door, Sadie heard something upstairs. She pulled the leash away from Lizzy, bolted up the stairs, and right into Ems’ room!

The Dragon Prince Trilogy I

2010-02-16T12:41:00.000-08:00

THE DRAGON PRINCE TRILOGY

By Savanna

Tristan looked nervously behind him as he galloped through the Dark Woods of Sondo, in the world of Dra’Ca. There were no more soldiers following; they had all fallen into the Great Chasm a few kilometers back. Eighteen-year-old Tristan slowed his horse to a trot and Tristan swallowed. The fact that he suddenly turned into a dragon in the moonlight the night before, and that the king saw meant Tristan had to flee Sondo. Tristan himself was confused and mortified. He had simply gotten irritated with his supposed younger sister, and the next thing he knew, he was perched on the edge of the bluff, with his reddish-yellow wings spread, ready to fly. It wasn’t until the sun came up that Tristan turned back into a human. Since the evil King Silenus saw him, Tristan was chased out of Sondo by the king’s soldiers. Tristan knew he was not related to the man his mother was married to. He knew his mother was sick and ready to die, and he knew he had to find his grandfather, who might be able to help him.

Soon enough, Tristan came to the little cottage where his grandfather lived. As he walked to the door, Tristan paused and looked at his reflection in the window. He didn’t look any different than he always had; dark brown, tousled hair, dark brown eyes, and a clear, sun-tanned complexion and a wiry figure. He tried to stand straighter and taller, even though he was taller than his older brother. Finally, Tristan went inside his grandfather’s house. He was shocked to see what he did see. Lying on the cot on the floor was his grandfather — dead. Tristan frowned, still very confused. He went to the bookcase, hoping to look for some clue to why all this was happening. He found what he was looking for. On the very top shelf was a thick, big book with no title. Tristan opened it and found that some pages in the middle were cut out, leaving a small box which held a piece of folded paper. Tristan took the paper out and set the book on the table. After a glance at his dead grandfather, whom he had never been close to, he unfolded the paper and read it to himself.
Dear Tristan, it read, I write this as I take my final breaths, as there is something you must know. I knew your mother would never tell you, because she regretted what she did after she did it, as many wrongdoers do. When your mother was just fourteen, she began to wander off into the Valley of Wind, in the Eastern region. Of course, your grandmother and I began to worry about her, and one day, she didn’t come home from the Valley. I went to look for her, and when I found her, she was in a sort of grotto with a few dragons. You were always taught that dragons were dangerous, of course, because your mother didn’t want you to know the truth. Anyway, against your grandmother and my wishes, your mother continued to visit the dragons in the Valley of Wind. When she was sixteen, we found out she was pregnant. Naturally, your grandmother and I knew that we would have to keep your mother from going to the Valley again, even though we knew that now that she was pregnant, there was nothing we could do. We moved to Sondo, then. It wasn’t until you were born that we found out who your father was. We always thought it must be the unicorn breeder, Karr, because he and your mother were always good friends. But it wasn’t the unicorn breeder. It was the dragon king. Unfortunately, his name slips my mind, but that doesn’t matter. What I’m trying to tell you is — you know your mother is dying quickly. In order to bring her health back, you must find the dragon king — your father. He will tell you what to do. Take my sword, my bow and arrows, and my armor in the back of the wardrobe in my bedroom. It is what I wore on my mission to slay the dragon (no offense) who once terrorized Sondo. With all due respect, Gregor, aka Grandfather. Tristan couldn’t believe what he was reading. He turned to look at his dead grandfather.
“With all due respect?!” he cried to no one in particular. “My father is a dragon, and I apparently begin turning into a dragon during full moons, and no one ever told me? Now I have to go find my dragon father to help save my mother. Dragons are hostile! There is no due respect with that.” Tristan swallowed and fought back tears, ready to break. Even though you probably have never been in this situation, I’m sure you know how confused and frightened Tristan must have been. He ran his fingers through his hair and went to his grandfather’s bedroom. He got the armor out of the wardrobe and laid it out on the small table. The armor looked as though it was made of some sort of reptile skin–Tristan thought maybe it was gorgon skin. It had unicorn horns on the shoulders and it was decorated with ornate designs of Minotaurs and human skulls. Tristan sighed and slipped the armor over his tunic. He put the intrinsic, armored boots on and headed back to the centre room, where his grandfather lay. Tristan went out into the night and built a funeral pyre. When the fire was going, Tristan went back inside and lifted his grandfather into his arms. As his grandfather burned, Tristan mounted his horse and rode away, on his quest to find his father and save his mother. He had gathered a few books on dragons and magic and some food from his grandfather’s pantry and put them in a leather pack around his shoulder. Tristan looked up at his star sign, Sagittarius, and sighed, thinking of his grandfather. He wanted to ask so many questions, but instead, they were answered before they could be asked in the letter. Still, Tristan wished he could’ve talked to his grandfather. He kept riding until he could no longer keep his eyes open, then he stopped to rest.

The next morning, Tristan awoke to his mare, Fagon, nuzzling him with her nose. Tristan sat up and stroked Fagon’s neck.
“You hungry?” he asked with a chuckle. The horse whinnied in reply and Tristan fed her an apple from a nearby tree. He looked around and sighed. He had come a long way the night before. He was now days away from Sondo, and he had gotten there in one night’s time. He went to his pack and pulled out the book about dragons. He opened right to a page that explained where the Eastern dragons dwelt. It told of valleys, gorges, and mountains in the East, where the “friendly” dragons resided, safe away from the torture of humans who didn’t enjoy the dragons’ company. Like me, Tristan thought with a shudder at the second thought that he was the offspring of a dragon. The book also said that in order to get to the hospitable dragons, you had to pass through the Great Lake of Remorse, which was where all your sadness and regret came to you at once. Tristan had heard of great warriors, even, who had tried to cross this lake and not survived. After the Great Lake of Remorse, you had to get by the Valley of Fire, ruled by the hostile dragons and their humanoid warrior queen. Tristan raised his eyebrows and looked at Fagon.
“Well, this should be fun,” he said grimly. He gathered his things and mounted Fagon. As he rode along, an arrow whooshed by his ear. He swiftly dismounted Fagon and readied his bow and arrow.
“Who’s there?” he called. Another arrow flew by, nearly hitting Tristan. Tristan shot his arrow in the direction the opposing arrow had come in, and he heard a small squeal of, “Oh!”
“I said who’s there?” Tristan called again, getting another arrow and pointing it in the same direction. “Show yourself or I’ll shoot again.”
There was a rustling in the bushes and a girl stepped out. She was about Tristan’s age, and she was wearing the armor and clothing of a knight. She had long, flowing blond hair that reached her knees, and eyes as green as the trees and vines of the forest.
“Who are you?” she asked Tristan. Tristan raised one eyebrow.
“That’s what I was wondering about you,” he said. The girl put one hand on her hip.
“I’m Hanna, if you must know,” she said, holding her hand out to shake. Tristan didn’t move, and he looked the girl from head to toe.
“Tristan,” he said. “What are you doing out here, in the middle of the woods, dressed like a boy, shooting innocent passers-by?” Hanna looked at Tristan as if he had asked her if pigs could fly.
“I,” she started, “am simply... practicing my aim.”
“You’re not doing a very good job at it.”
“Well, what are you doing out here in the middle of the woods, Mr. You’re-not-doing-a-very-good-job-at-it?”
Tristan frowned and mounted Fagon.
“I’m out here for two reasons,” he said. “One, I have to find something to cure my mother’s illness. Two, I have to find my father to do that.” Hanna’s face lit up.
“I could help,” she said eagerly. Tristan automatically shook his head.
“I don’t need help,” he said. “Especially not from you.” Hanna looked offended, and of course, because she was a young lady, and Tristan knew he couldn’t leave her behind in the woods, he said, “Fine, get on.” Hanna mounted behind Tristan on Fagon and they rode off.
“I think you’re running away,” Hanna said after a few hours of silence. Tristan frowned, but didn’t look at her.
“What makes you think that?” he asked. Hanna raised her eyebrows.
“Well, for one thing, you asked me what makes me think that,” she said. “That means you must be hiding something. And, you’re not talking. My deductions tell me that’s because you’re stressed and confused.” Tristan sighed.
“Unfortunately for me, you’re pretty much correct,” he said. “My king wants to kill me because I, um, frightened a few people of his court. And, of course, my mother is slowly dying, and I know that the only way I can save her is to go to my father.”
Hanna Hmm-ed and Tristan swallowed, hoping she wouldn’t ask any more questions.

The next afternoon, Tristan, Hanna, and Fagon arrived at the shore of the Great Lake of Remorse. It was foggy and humid, and only slightly windy. Tristan saw an abandoned vessel big enough for himself, Hanna, Fagon, and probably another horse. They all climbed aboard and Hanna and Tristan began to row. As soon as they were in the water, Tristan began to feel his sadness and confusion. Hanna remembered things she had done in the past which she regretted, and even Fagon recalled her previous, abusive owners. Hanna and Tristan tried to push their emotions away, but they kept coming, and Tristan suddenly got an image in his head of his dying, coughing, and wheezing mother. Hanna had a vivid flashback of her past, and Fagon couldn’t fight the pain of past whippings. She began to get fidgety and Tristan frowned at her.
“What’s the matter, old girl?” he asked, stroking the horse’s mane. Suddenly, Fagon began to take backward steps toward the edge of the ship. Tristan grabbed onto her bridle and let go of his oar. When Hanna saw that he was struggling with Fagon, she put her oar down and helped him try and pull Fagon back.
“Come on, Fagon,” Tristan said, his voice shaking as he knew what would happen. “Come on, girl, you have to fight. We’ve been through some tough times, but we can always get through. Fight, Fagon, please!” Tristan was fighting vigorously to hold back his tears. Fagon pulled herself out of Tristan’s strong grip, and the next thing Tristan knew, there was a splash and his beloved horse was gone; drowned in her past. Hanna put a gentle hand on Tristan’s shoulder and he broke down into her shoulder as she wrapped her arms around him.
“Tristan, we have to fight,” she said. “If we go on like this, we’ll end up like Fagon. Let’s go.” She went back to her oar and Tristan followed, his chin quivering. They kept rowing and as Tristan looked back at where they had just been stopped, he saw Fagon’s bridle float to the surface of the water. He blinked and turned away.
“We’re alright,” Hanna said reassuringly when they were on the other side of the lake. Tristan nodded silently without looking at Hanna and she walked by his side. After another few moments of silence, Hanna stood on her tiptoes and pecked Tristan on the cheek, and then she walked on ahead. Tristan didn’t mind of course, and he gave a small, amused smile.

A couple of days later, Hanna was walking at a small distance, and Tristan heard her let out a loud gasp.
“Tristan,” she called. Tristan ran to her, and she was standing in a canyon. That’s not what was remarkable, though. On the top of the bluff on the other side of the canyon, eerily depicted against the orange colored, dusky sky, there was a massive dragon skeleton. Scattered about the canyon floor around Tristan and Hanna’s feet were bones of the skeleton’s meals.
“Apparently they weren’t enough to feed him,” Tristan muttered. Something sparkled by Hanna’s foot, and Tristan leaned down and picked it up. It was a dragon’s foot, cleanly severed from the body and bloodless. It was a sparkling green with opal colored markings, and Tristan frowned in melancholy.
“How do you think he died up there in that position?” Hanna asked, looking at the skeleton. Tristan glanced at it and wet his lips, shaking his head.
“Well, it couldn’t have fallen, because it would have fallen head-first,” she continued. Tristan looked at her.
“I don’t know, alright?” he snapped. Hanna shut her mouth and Tristan shook his head. He put his hand on Hanna’s shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” he said briefly, and then he started climbing up the side of the canyon. As he found his footing, he heard a shriek from Hanna. When he looked down at her, she was pointing toward the skeleton. Tristan looked and gasped. The skeleton was rising from the ground and getting ready to fly.
“Tristan, get down from there!” Hanna called. Tristan looked down at Hanna as he started to climb down.
“Get in that gorge!” he said. The un-dead dragon made an ear-piercing screech and Hanna frowned.
“Why –”
“Get in there!” Tristan yelled. Hanna immediately ran into a little five-foot-wide gorge, where Tristan knew the dragon couldn’t get her. Tristan finally reached the ground and scrambled to get the book of spells from his pack. As he walked backward, watching the dragon, and holding his sword ready and the book open in the other hand, he searched for a spell to at least appease a dragon.
“Forcus jakade ylone!” he shouted. Nothing happened, and the dragon started to fly down toward Tristan. He stumbled a little and turned to run into the gorge with Hanna. The dragon tried following, but he didn’t fit in the narrow gorge. Tristan flipped through the pages of the spell book for a different spell.
“Galapa hydros kallima,” Tristan started, but Hanna snatched the book away.
“You’re reading a spell to change water to blood,” she said. “That’s not what we need.” She turned through the book and found the correct spell, which put the living dead back to sleep. She pointed at the dragon and took a deep breath.
“Darina draco slumbros,” she said, almost in a whisper. The dragon, surprisingly to Tristan, screeched once more, and then began falling from the sky. When he hit the ground, the dragon seemingly biodegraded into the earth. Hanna released the breath she had been holding.
“You,” Tristan started, looking at her with a shocked expression. “The way you pointed your finger like that....Are you a wizard?” Hanna started out of the gorge, and without looking at Tristan, said, “I used to be a sorceress’ apprentice. She thought I was too independent, that I didn’t rely on the elements for help. She dismissed me, and I haven’t uttered a spell since. Well, aside from the one I just said.” Tristan raised his eyebrows.
“A sorceress’ apprentice,” he muttered to himself. “Cool.” Tristan looked at the dragon foot once more before they left.
“Relic of the Dragon,” Hanna said. Tristan nodded slowly and hoped to death that none of the dragon remains were his father. He found himself actually wanting to see his father, the “friendly” dragon king of the East.
“Tristan,” Hanna said when they were back on track. He looked at her. “Where are we going, anyway?”
“We are going to, uh,” he started, and he ran his fingers through his hair. “We’re going to the Valley of Wind in the East. To find my father.” Hanna looked at him, knowing there was more.
“The Valley of Wind,” she said. “Also known as Dragons’ Fortress, right? What’s your father doing at Dragons’ Fortress?”
“Uh,” he started. “He lives there with the dragons.” Why didn’t you just tell her? Tristan chided himself. Hanna raised one eyebrow and laughed.
“I know you’re hiding something big, but I don’t know what it is, and I’m not going to ask,” she said. Tristan shrugged, and they walked on in the direction of The Valley of Fire.

That night, Tristan and Hanna were resting, and Tristan built a fire. Tristan lay on his back beside Hanna with his hands behind his head. She was already asleep. Tristan looked up at Sagittarius. He didn’t know what Hanna’s sign was, but he guessed she was a Leo, which would mean both their signs were fire. Tristan knew that it wasn’t a good thing to be in love with a person of the same constellation, but he admitted to himself that he was. Although, it was just a guess. He sighed, and soon he was asleep and dreaming.
Tristan, save me. Save me, please. Tristan looked around frantically for his mother, who was calling him. He heard another female’s voice. Tristan, help! He turned and saw Hanna, being led away by a tall, shadowy figure wearing a hooded cloak and holding a scythe. He turned back to his mother. Tristan, save me, she said. Tristan looked back to see Hanna disappear into the darkness with the Grim Reaper. Her screams were now muffled and fading. He looked at his mother, and suddenly, the poor, sick woman began to transform into an ugly, horrifying hag. The hag leapt at Tristan and he covered his head with his arm, and suddenly he transformed into a dragon. He tried blowing a breath of fire at the hag who used to be his mother, but nothing came out except a wheeze. The hag leapt at Tristan again, this time with an extremely long sword. Tristan covered himself with one of his massive wings, but the hag kept coming.
“Tristan,” Hanna gently shook Tristan awake, and he bolted up, sweating and breathing hard. “Tristan, you were having a nightmare.” Tristan looked at Hanna and furrowed his brow worriedly. If it was a nightmare, it was the most vivid nightmare he had ever had.
“Are you alright?” Hanna asked, stroking Tristan’s hair gently and motherly. “What happened?” Tristan swallowed and continued to frown, as if he were still dreaming.
“My mother,” he said. “She died, and transformed into this...this monster and you...” Hanna shook her head and took his hand. She looked him lovingly in the eyes.
“It’s over, alright?” she said. Tristan nodded and the sun began to come up. He stood and put his armor on, and kicked out the fire. Then he and Hanna began walking.
“This is where it’s supposed to be,” Tristan said a few hours later, when they came to an open, barren dust bowl.
“I see no fire,” Hanna said. Tristan shrugged and looked in the back of the dragon book, where it had a map to get to the Valley of Wind. He took a step forward, and suddenly the ground gave in. Tristan threw his arms in the air and Hanna grabbed onto his hands, although that just pulled her down with him. They landed in the middle of what looked like a throne room, only the walls were made out of what looked like lava rock.
“The Valley of Fire,” Hanna uttered. Tristan swallowed.
“That is correct,” a suave voice said from behind them. They turned around and gasped at what they saw. There was a young woman, probably a few years older than Tristan, and she had snake-like — not real snakes, mind you — long, whitish hair, Elf-like ears, and her clear skin had a greenish-bluish-silver tint to it. Behind her, however, was the thing that Tristan and Hanna gasp. There was an enormous, bluish-green dragon with two horns, and her head resembled that of a horned lizard.
“What brings you to my domain?” the woman said.
“Who are you?” Tristan asked. The woman looked at her dragon, whispered something to the creature, and looked back at Tristan.
“I am Jade, the Dragon Mage of the West,” she said. “And who are you two?”
“I’m –” Hanna started, but Tristan elbowed her in the ribs.
“Who do you think we are?” he asked. “Your highness.” This seemed to ease the mage, and she stood up straight.
“I expect you are Vaegra, the wizard’s apprentice, and her master, Graeme, come to learn about dragon sorcery. Am I correct?” Tristan looked at Hanna and they nodded.
“Graeme,” Tristan said, bowing slightly. “At your service. Vaegra, pay your respects to this great sorceress.” Hanna bowed and Jade’s dragon flew away.
“That was Kili,” Jade said, referring to the dragon. “She is my assistant. Don’t get near her, though. She bites.” Jade smiled mysteriously and Tristan looked at Hanna uneasily.
“Well,” Jade said. “Let’s get you situated.”

Once Hanna and Tristan had a room, which roughly resembled the inside of a volcano, and had a similar climate, they discussed the matter of Vaegra and Master Graeme.
“Vaegra was my master,” Hanna said from behind the changing screen. “Graeme was her master, and she murdered him in his sleep one night, because he cheated her and taught her the wrong spell purposely. She wanted to know how to bend fire, but the spell Graeme taught her set forests of abroad on fire, destructively.” Tristan looked toward the changing screen as he pulled his armor and his shirt off.
“Why did she want to be a fire-bender?” he asked Hanna. She sighed and came out wearing a nightgown.
“I don’t know,” she said as she climbed into her bed. Tristan frowned and looked at her, but she wasn’t facing him.
“Good night,” Hanna said when Tristan was in bed.
“Night,” he muttered, and Hanna blew the candle out.
“I don’t like Jade,” Tristan said suddenly. Hanna looked at him.
“Why don’t you like her? I think she seems composed.”
Tristan looked at Hanna and put his hands behind his head.
“I think she knows who we really are,” he said. “You saw how she was looking at me at dinner.”
“She was looking at you like that because she probably knows you’re not a wizard,” Hanna said, chuckling. “You’re not very sorcerer-like.”
“Well, gee, thanks,” Tristan said. Hanna laughed and propped herself up on one elbow.
“You seem like a Sagittarius,” she said, her voice lowering to a whisper after hearing someone in the hallway outside.
“What makes you say that?” Tristan asked, looking at the ceiling. Hanna shrugged one shoulder.
“You have a fiery, but assertive and purposeful, personality,” she said. “Like my father.” Tristan raised his eyebrows.
“Probably like my father, as well,” he said. He looked at Hanna. “What are you?”
“Scorpio,” she said. “I’m a water sign, like my mother.” Tristan nodded.
“The yin and the yang,” he said, meaning to say it to himself. Hanna frowned. “You know, like I’m a fire sign, and you’re a water sign. They’re opposites. All opposites form a balance.”
“I think you would make a good sorcerer,” Hanna said after a moment. Tristan sighed, and Hanna turned to where her back was facing Tristan. He closed his eyes and fell asleep. At around four in the morning, Tristan woke up of a bad dream again. Hanna was still asleep, he saw, and he quietly got out of bed and went to the window. He looked out at the fiery lake of lava and island-like rocks, and he wondered if this was similar to where his father lived. Tristan stayed in front of the window until morning, meditating. Hanna appeared by his side when morning came.
“You had another bad dream,” she said, gently putting her hand in his shoulder. Tristan shook his head, but Hanna knew better. “I heard you.”
“It was the same dream,” he said. “I keep having it over and over again.” Hanna looked at Tristan.
“What is it about?” she asked softly. Tristan shook his head and sighed.
“I was just in this...this black hole,” he started. “And I heard my mother calling to me for help. I saw her. She was in her death bed, wheezing and coughing. Then I heard you, and you were telling me to save you. I turned around and you were being pulled away into the darkness by a personification of death. When I turned back to my mother, she transformed into a hag, and she leapt at me, maliciously....” Tristan trailed off and realized his hands were shaking. Hanna took one tenderly and avoided eye-contact.
“It was just a dream,” she said, trying not to sound unsure. Tristan swallowed and shook his head slightly.
“I have to save her,” he said. Hanna put her arm around Tristan’s shoulders lovingly and said softly, “We’ll find your father.”
“It’s been nearly a month since I ran away,” he said. “Why does it have to take so long? It was going perfectly until I lost Fagon. She was my... my friend. We did so much together, and then she remembered her owners before me. She was my best friend, and I was hers.” Hanna gently comforted Tristan, and she looked at him.
“Well, we found the Valley of Fire,” she said. “Now we just have to get out of it, and find the Valley of Wind, right?” Tristan looked into Hanna’s eyes.
“Today,” he said. “Did you hear that?” Hanna frowned and listened. There were voices coming from the island rocks down below the window.
“They’re not who I thought they were,” Jade was saying to her dragon. “Terminate them.”
“Master,” the dragon, Kili, said. Her voice was smooth and mellifluous. “They’re humans, not rats. Can’t we help them?”
“Kili, if you help those humans,” Jade said, “not only will I cut you off from the valley, where you go to for comfort, but I will also personally slay you. Understand?” The dragon closed her mouth, but said no more. Tristan quickly put his shirt and his armor back on, and Hanna threw on a dress over her nightgown, and they started out into the wide, tall-ceilinged hallway.
“How are we gonna get out?” Hanna asked. “Do you have a plan?” Tristan winced and he pulled Hanna into a dark corner when someone passed.
“I’m working on it,” he whispered. Hanna shook her head in ridicule.
“Well, why don’t –” she started. Tristan put his hand over her mouth as Jade came down the hallway and went into Tristan and Hanna’s room.
“Where are the humans?” she shouted. Tristan and Hanna began running down the hallway away from Jade.
“Get rid of her!” Tristan said to Hanna. Hanna swallowed and sighed.
“Colompos rattus!” she said without looking at Jade. Tristan looked behind them and his eyes widened.
“She’s a –” he started. Hanna pulled him by the hand around a corner.
“A rat, I know,” she said. “But she won’t be one for long. She’s a sorceress. Spells only work for three hours on wizards, et cetera.”
“Great,” Tristan said.
“Yeah,” Hanna agreed. They found themselves on an island of rock in the lava sea. There was a screech, and Tristan and Hanna looked up. Kili was flying above them.
“I’ll help you!” she said. “When I get there, climb on my back!” Hanna looked at Tristan unsurely.
“Trust her,” he said, and Kili swooped down and Tristan and Hanna scrambled onto her back.
“Cover your heads!” Kili said. “We’re going up above.” Hanna frowned, and Tristan covered her head with his arm. They broke through the sand and found themselves in the middle of a sandstorm. Kili flew above the clouds, however, and they were out of the sand.
“Oh no,” Tristan said. Hanna looked at him. “Tonight is a full moon.”
“Are you afraid of the moon, human?” Kili asked. Hanna looked at Tristan again.
“No,” she said. “He’s not. He just keeps track of the lunar paths.” Tristan looked at Hanna gratefully, but slightly confusedly. Hanna didn’t know he was a dragon. How did she know to cover for him?
“Thank you, Kili,” Hanna said to the dragon. “We owe you one.”
“My name isn’t Kili,” the dragon said. “That’s just what Jade called me. My real name is Rani. And I owe you one. I’ve been looking for an excuse to get out from under that witch’s clutches, and saving you was that escape.”
“Well,” Tristan said. “You could take us to the Valley of Wind. I have to find my father.”
“What’s your father doing at the Dragons’ Fortress? That’s where my father was born,” Rani said.
“That’s my question,” Hanna said, looking at Tristan. He frowned slightly.
“I said he lives there,” he said. “I suppose that’s not enough for you, hmm?” Both Hanna and Rani shook their heads. “Well, that’s all you’re getting.”

“Rani, can you stop down here?” Tristan asked at around five o’ clock, when the sun just started going down. “I want to go to sleep, and I’m not going to be able to up here.” Rani agreed, and they flew down into a thick wood. Tristan built a fire—with the help of Rani, of course—and then started to wander off.
“Where are you going?” Hanna asked.
“Just for a walk,” he said.
“Would you like me to come with you?” she asked. Tristan shook his head and continued into the woods. He tried not to look like he was in a hurry, although he had to beat the moon to a cave or some other hiding place. When he found a grotto on the bank of a lake, he went inside and the moon came up. It was bright and full, and as the moon shone upon him, Tristan transformed into a great, red dragon with gold markings, two ram-like horns, sharp teeth, a snake-like tongue, and enormous, soaring wings. He tried not to make any noise, but he couldn’t help his whimpering. Suddenly, however, as he paused the whimpering, he heard another, similar sound. It sounded like an eagle’s call, only it came from a dragon, Tristan knew. He wanted to fly around to try to find the other dragon, hoping to make a companion, but he didn’t want to frighten Hanna or Rani if they though he was a Western dragon. Just as he was about to drift off to sleep, he heard the cry again, and he looked out into the moonlit night-time sky. Silhouetted against the moon was the figure of a dragon. She was a purple, shimmery color, and she had turquoise colored markings and a turquoise colored tongue. Her head was plainer in horns and such, but she had one, short horn on her nose. Strangely, her green eyes looked familiar to Tristan. He called the dragon, and she flew to the entrance of the cave.
“What’s your name?” the female dragon said, her voice reminding Tristan of the clearness of an amethyst. Tristan stepped out into the moonlight.
“Hanna?” he said softly. The dragon’s brow furrowed.
“Yes?” she said.
“It’s me,” Tristan said, almost in a whisper. “Tristan.” Hanna took a step backward, and she tried covering her face with one of her wings.
“Hanna, it’s alright,” Tristan said. “My father is the dragon king. When I turned eighteen, I began changing into a dragon every full moon. That’s why we have to go to the Valley of Wind to find my father—because he is a dragon.” Hanna looked sadly at him.
“That’s how it goes, then,” she said. “Every full moon. I’d noticed that.” She stepped closer to Tristan and sighed.
“What do you mean?” he asked. Hanna avoided eye-contact.
“When I was fourteen,” she said. “I stole a gold necklace from the market in my home country. When my brother found out, I was drunk and I told him not to tell. He refused and I went crazy. I strangled and killed him. The next day, I ran away from home, horrified and mortified. I found my first master, a wizard called Morglum. When he found out what I did to my brother, he put a curse on me, so that every full moon, I turned into...into this. A dragon.” Tristan was filled with regret over every unkind word he had ever said to Hanna.
“Hanna, I’m sorry. I didn’t know—” he started.
“I know you didn’t,” she interrupted. “After he put the curse on me, I ran away from him and found Vaegra, who welcomed me even for my curse and my past. She always told me to forget the past, but I never could.” Tristan tried to find words, but he couldn’t. He moved toward Hanna and he nuzzled her neck with his nose, as a sort of gesture of affection. It wasn’t long before the sun came up, and both Hanna and Tristan began turning back into humans. When they were back to normal, Tristan embraced Hanna. She seemed to melt into him and let out the emotions she had always held in. She didn’t cry, mind you. Hanna tried to never cry.
“Let’s go,” Tristan said, taking Hanna’s hand and starting toward the campfire where Rani was still asleep.
“Tristan, wait,” Hanna said. Tristan looked at her. “Only true love’s first kiss will break the curse.”
“If I kissed you, it wouldn’t be my first kiss,” Tristan said with a wince. Hanna looked utterly devastated, and Tristan wished he could find words to tell Hanna he loved her, but he couldn’t seem to. They walked to Rani, and when she awoke, they started to finish their journey to the Valley of Wind.

“Well, whoever named this place definitely named it out of experience,” Tristan said when they were in the Valley of Wind. He stood beside Hanna and Rani at the entrance to the valley. In front of them was a small stream, and on the sides of them were great, grassy green hills dotted with caves.
“Where do we find your father?” Hanna asked. Tristan shrugged and did what any eighteen-year-old boy might do.
“Hello!” he shouted after he cupped his hands around his mouth. His voice echoed off the walls. Suddenly, something Tristan had not expected or anticipated happened. Dozens upon dozens of dragons flew out from their caves. Hanna looked at Tristan and elbowed his arm.
“Who is it you seek?” a great, blue dragon with brown patches and slightly tattered wings said. He stepped in front of the other dragons, and Tristan instinctively and gently pushed Hanna behind him.
“The Dragon King of the East,” Tristan said. “He is my father. My name is Tristan. My mother’s name is Lyla.” There were murmurs from the other dragons of such things as “Could it be?” and “Is it him?” and “Where has he been all this time?” Tristan looked at Hanna and she shrugged slightly.
“Check for the mark!” a skeptical dragon shouted. Tristan looked at Hanna again, and she pushed him forward.
“Only the son of the great Dragon King would have the same marking of Sagittarius, the archer, on the bottom of his right foot,” the blue and brown dragon said. Tristan looked at his feet and the blue and brown dragon looked at Tristan, waiting.
“Take your right shoe off,” Hanna whispered to Tristan. He nodded and took off his shoe. On the bottom of his foot was, in fact, a birthmark vaguely resembled the archer of Sagittarius. The dragons gasped and the blue and brown dragon flew into the air, and up into a huge cave at the top of the valley. Hanna took Tristan’s hand and he squeezed it in return. Another dragon flew down in front of Tristan and Hanna. Tristan lost his breath, knowing that this majestic, golden dragon was his father. He knelt on one knee and the Dragon King smiled very softly.
“My prince,” he said. Tristan raised his head and looked at his father. “Arise, my son. They are the ones who should be bowing to you.” The king waved his five-fingered, clawed hand over the crowd of dragons and they immediately bowed low to the ground when Tristan stood. He looked around and saw even Hanna and Rani bowing.
“We have awaited your arrival, my son,” the Dragon King said. Tristan looked at his father, soaking in the feeling of being recognized as the Dragon Prince, and then he remembered why he made the journey in the first place.
“Your majesty,” Tristan said. The King looked at him. “I have come here to request something of you. My mother is dying—” gasps from the other dragons “—and I was told that you could help me find something to cure her illness.” The Dragon King looked at Tristan.
“Let us go, then,” he said. Tristan frowned and the Dragon King led Tristan and Hanna to a cave low to the ground.
“When I met your mother,” the King said. “The first meal we ate together was of pomegranates from the tree of eternal life, which is in a garden, the Garden of Zallia, about three days north of here. The fruit on that tree is golden, and the tree itself has leaves made of gold. It is, however, guarded by a witch named Nambroth. She dwells at the gate of the garden, and has been known to bring your regrets upon you, and defeat you by using your own weakness of remorse.” Tristan wet his lips.
“How do you get passed her?” he asked. The Dragon King pulled a book off a shelf built into the wall.
“A sorcerer or sorceress must study the spell on page four hundred one of this book, very carefully,” the King said. “If not performed correctly, the spell could be your downfall.” Tristan nodded and took the book. He handed it to Hanna.
“Will you come with me, and help me?” he asked, taking her hand. Hanna looked at him.
“Of course,” she said after a moment. The Dragon King looked at Hanna.
“You are a brave young woman,” he said. “I can tell you will be a successful sorceress one day.” Hanna bowed and smiled softly.
“Thank you, your majesty,” she said, only Tristan could hear the fear and lack of confidence in her voice.
“If you don’t mind, milady,” the Dragon King said to Hanna, “I would like a moment with my prince.” Hanna nodded and left the cage.
“Something is bothering you, my son,” the King said. Tristan swallowed.
“A few things,” he replied. The Dragon King looked kindly into Tristan’s eyes.
“A very wise woman once said that talking not only helps express your feelings, but it renews your soul,” he said. “You know who that woman was?” Tristan shook his head. “Your mother.”
“It’s just that Hanna turns into a dragon every full moon, like I do,” Tristan said. “She wants to be a normal girl, but the only way for her to break the spell is her true love’s first kiss. If I kiss her, it’ll be her first kiss and not mine. I love her, but she’ll stay like she is for the rest of her life.” The Dragon King nodded slowly.
“Long ago in our community, when I was just a prince,” he said. “There was a human girl who turned into an ogre every night at midnight. The only way to break the spell was true love’s first kiss. Now, she knew that even if the young man she loved kissed her, nothing would change, because he had kissed someone before. Well, she came to my father, and he told her something I will never forget. It’s not your first kiss that matters. It’s the first kiss you give to your true love.” Tristan furrowed his brow, deep in thought.
“Sleep on it, my prince,” the Dragon King said after a minute. Tristan nodded and they went out into the daylight.
“Our prince has come!” the King proclaimed to the other dragons. There was loud cheering, but Tristan tried not to look upset. He still had one other problem. He turned into a dragon every full moon, and he wanted to return to Sondo in peace. He looked at Hanna, who was grinning at him from Rani’s back. To Tristan, it seemed like everyone was acting as if he had completed his mission of saving his mother, but he was only beginning.

The Story of Love I

2010-02-02T16:29:00.000-08:00

THE STORY OF LOVE

BY Florence Irene Tompkins

I

Book One

“She’s dead? Oh no, this can’t be true,” exclaimed Tanya with a shiver. “Oh how will I live any longer without her? She was the only one I could work for!”
“I’m terribly sorry for your lose. However, there is some good news. Amanda Lawrence has left you a great sum of money. Apparently, she had only one daughter and a good deal to much money to give to her. I will meet with you tomorrow at 11:00 Is that fine?”
“Well-”
“Good. See you then.” Nancy hung up the phone.
Tanya sank down into the overstuffed easy chair and looked around the large room. She picked up her duster and turned it over in her hands. It had her name engraved on it in gold lettering. “Oh what will I do?” she said and tears began again.

***

The next day, Tanya walked up the steps to an office of law. She anxiously pulled out the name card that read, “Nancy Huff” and walked inside the office. At the desk, a small lady with glasses peered up at her.
“What can I do for you?” she asked and pushed her glasses up her nose.
“Um, well, I am looking to see, um, Nancy-”
“Huff. Nancy Huff is expecting you. first door on the left.” She pointed to a glass door and motioned for Tanya to go inside.
Tanya slowly pushed the door open and saw a short hallway with 2 doors. She went inside the first one and stopped. “Mrs. Huff? I’m-”
“Tanya Bards. Yes I’ve been expecting you.”
Tanya, now used to being cut off in the middle of saying something, continued, “I’m sorry I’m late.”
“Well, as much as I despise tardiness, I have some good news. You have been left a total of $50 million and her house. Or should I say mansion? Now, before you go spend all the money, you might want to hear me out. She wants you to tithe 10% to the church, invest some, and then you may do as you like. Of course, she’s dead and you don’t have to follow her requests although I would encourage it.”
Tanya sat down. She knew Mrs. Lawrence was rich, but she did not know how rich she was. “And you say she also gave some to her daughter?”
“Yes. $40 million.”
“Wow. Where is it? In a bank?”
“Not quite. Some of it is currently in First Federal, but she also has a lot in her house-safe.”
“And I get that too?”
“Yes. Now I need you to sign here, here, here, here and Oh yes, here,” said Nancy as she pulled out a stack of papers. She held out a pen to Tanya.
Tanya slowly signed each paper using her best handwriting. She handed the pen back to Nancy and stood up.
“Here is Mrs. Lawrence’s wallet which should have all of the numbers and everything you need to know. Now I have taken the liberty to change the names on all of the account information and anything else that was in her name.” said Nancy.
“Thank you. Is there anything else I need or that I need to know?”
“Well, that’s everything, but can I give you a tip?”
“Sure.”
“Use this money wisely. Invest it and be very careful how you use it. It is easy to take advantage of the numbers on a sheet of paper, without checking up on the status of your account. Does that make sense?”
“Yes. Thank you very much. I will be seeing you again soon I guess.”
“I guess so. Goodbye Mrs. Bards and congratulations,” said Nancy as she shook hands with Tanya.

***

The next day, Tanya woke up in a 5 feet tall king size bed. She rolled over and put her feet in some slippers. She walked down the hall to the elevator. She pushed the kitchen button and watched the doors close. When they re-opened, she found herself in a very clean kitchen, which made her happy to see. She made herself breakfast, got dressed, and went shopping.
“The first thing I need is a car. I can’t ride around Charleston in a limo all the time. I can’t stand having someone drive me around!” Carl, the driver, quickly came around to the other side of the limo to open the door.
“Your door,” he said to Tanya.
“Um thank you,” said Tanya as she scooted into the huge limo.
“You look very nice today,” said Carl.
Is a driver required to be nice to his passengers? I mean, seriously, I am wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt. Plus, I’m not wearing any makeup. Wow.
“Where to, Miss Tanya?”
“Um, where’s the best car dealership?”
“What kind of car? I mean are we looking for a new limo?”
“No. We are not looking for anything. I am looking for an everyday car to use for myself.” How am I going to fire him? Maybe I can still use him, just not as often.
“I see,” said Carl with a hint of sadness. “The best car-dealership is Car-Max©.”
“Then to Car-max© we shall go!” said Tanya.
They drove on for a bit in an awkward silence. Am I supposed to make conversation with him? I’m not sure. Yikes! thought Tanya to herself. When they arrived, Tanya got out as Carl parked the Limo. She walked inside the car dealership and immediately ran to a 2009 Honda Accord. “This is the car! I have to have this car! It is small, red, and perfect for me!”
“Well, I think that we should sit down here and I can pull up the price. What is your price-range?” Said the man whose name-tag on his shirt said his name was “Dale.”
“Oh it doesn’t matter what the price is! Whatever it is, I will pay it!”
“Are you sure? I mean-”
“Oh I’m sure, but I am in a little bit of a hurry. How fast can I buy this car and get out of here with it?” said Tanya as she tapped the car with her hand.
“Ok. Please take a seat here and I’ll have you outa here in no time!”

***

Not an hour later, Dale and Tanya were in the parking lot of Car-max©. Dale handed her the keys to the red Honda and Tanya nearly screamed, “Thank you! I can’t wait!”
“It’s a pleasure doing business with you.”
“You to,” said Tanya as she hoped in the car. SHe drove around the block to were Carl was still sitting in the limousine. That Carl! I can’t believe that he he still sitting in the car waiting for me! I’m starting to like him a little more. She got out of the car and knocked on the window.
“How did it go- Oh wow I see you got a red car, “ said Carl with a hint of sadness in his voice.
“Oh yes, but I will still need you to drive me around sometimes. Would it be okay if you work only part time?”
“You mean you aren’t gonna fire me? I thought I might never get to see you again!”
“Never see me again?”
“I mean, I would hate to lose my job,” said Carl as he quickly changed the subject, “I guess I will drop off the limo at your house then?”
“Yes that would be fine,” said Tanya as she got into her car and turned on the radio. I feel really weird right now. I wonder why? I guess that all of this money is going to my head. I hope this music will help.

***

That afternoon, Tanya cleaned up the kitchen and sat down in the big comfy chair. Wow. I have never sat in Mrs. Lawrence’s special chair before! She opened the newspaper and looked in the job area. “Hmm... Let’s see here. What jobs are available? I mean, I have to have a job because I don’t want to sit around in this chair all day long. I really can’t picture me, a millionaire, working as a house maid for someone I don’t even know. I mean, it’s so much better being a millionaire and a Christian, but I’ve gotta find a job! God has been so good to me! I guess I will take a break from finding a job and write a little more on my computer.”
She went to the office and started typing. Her story was about the families of Charleston and how they lived during World War II. She didn’t even think of what she was typing, yet she had typed up nearly 50 pages in one hour! She walked downstairs to the kitchen to get another cup of coffee. She had just poured milk into the cup when the doorbell rang. She hurried to the door and opened it up.
On the doorstep, sat an oddly-shaped package with her name on it. That’s odd, I have only lived in this house for about one day and I am already getting a package? I wonder what it is? She opened grabbed the package and took it to the kitchen where she grabbed a knife to open it up. Something smells funny. I think this package is ticking or something. Oh my gosh I remember this from a movie. I think it’s a bomb!
She quickly grabbed the package and threw it out of the window.
“KABOOOOMMM!!!!”
There was a moment where all she could here was her steady breathing. She blinked and sat up. Her heart was racing and smoke was coming up from a window.
“Gotta call the police, gotta call the police,” she said as she ran to the hallway to get her cellphone. She dialed 911.
“911, what is your emergency?”
“There was a package and it-it exploded and I almost died!”
“Mam, you’re gonna need to slow down. Do you need medical care?”
“No. I’m alright, but I think the police and maybe the fire department need to come,”
“Okay what is your address?”
She gave her address, hung up the phone, a began to cry. She did not know why she was crying, but she did know that the Lord had been there the whole time, protecting her. She stood up as the police and fire department came into her house.
“O-over there,” she said and pointed to the window by her kitchen.
One of the police officers came over to her, “I am gonna need to ask you a few questions. Tell me everything that happened,”
“Ok. I was making coffee and I heard the doorbell ring. I went to the door and picked up the package. It was about this big and was wrapped in brown wrapping paper. I took it to my kitchen and grabbed a knife to open it up. That’s when I smelled something funny and heard ticking. I threw the package out the window and well, that’s pretty much it,” said Tanya, who was wrapped in a scratchy grey blanket and sitting on the edge of an ambulance. She sighed as she saw Carl running up.
“Are you okay Miss Tanya?”
“Tanya, not Miss Tanya, and yes I am fine. How did you hear about this?”
“I didn’t. I saw because I was driving by on my way to the grocery store,” said Carl.
“So, what is the police doing?”
“They are trying to find any fingerprint samples and any others clues. Is there anything else you can tell me?” asked the police officer.
“Carl, can you um pray with me?”
“I would love to.”
“Dear Jesus, Thank you for sparing my life. I know that you are with me all the time. Please help me not to forget that. Show me your motive for the situation. Help the police officers to find what they are looking for. Thank you for all that you do for me everyday. I love you Lord Jesus. Amen.”
“Amen.”

***

TO BE CONTINUED...