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• A Night to Remember
• Eternally yours

I don’t want to say I had a moment of clarity, but I suppose if it happened, then this was the day. Or at least that’s what I tell people who ask me about my decision to give up medicine. The thing is, I knew I wanted to write before then; that wasn’t a sudden revelation, but something more gradual and organic.

It came with age in part—not in a “get over it” sense but as I gained a little distance from my experiences on the wards and became more reflective. As I grew, so did my awareness of things other than medicine.

When you’ve lived with death every single day for five years—even after that length of time, it still feels like an ongoing reality rather than some abstract concept—it has a way of seeping into your everyday existence.

It’s easy to be drawn in by the romantic notions of writing, or medicine for that matter. But if you spend too much time around those things, you start to see them less in their proper place and more as some kind of holy grail you must attain, and then they lose much of their appeal.

They can be hard work. Medicine can be draining and frustrating at times, but it always felt like a worthy challenge—not because I needed to prove myself to others but because I genuinely enjoyed the process. It was rewarding.

Writing? Sometimes, yes, but not always, and I started to feel more and more like a fraud when I wrote and nothing happened—a charlatan whose fancy words hid nothing beyond her own insecurities.

In the end, it was my love of writing that saved me. If I hadn’t been such an obsessive reader and had a burning need to be part of that world, then maybe I wouldn’t have given up. I think the reason I was able to do so and still write is that my mind wasn’t completely closed off to medicine anymore; I had no choice but to be open-minded when I returned to the wards as a student.

As I’ve gotten older, I realize how precious those moments were that allowed me to see both sides of life, the dark, and the light. When I’m reading now, I try to appreciate all the details—the tiny nuances, the emotions on the page. I think that’s helped me grow as a writer.

I may not be in my twenties anymore, but I am grateful to be living life again rather than being caught in an endless cycle of medical school—which was what I feared would happen if I didn’t give up.

When I first moved to New York after leaving medical school, I thought I’d find inspiration for my writing somewhere in that urban jungle. But I realized it was just too noisy and crowded. It was too easy to lose focus. I needed the tranquility that came with the suburbs.

There’s something about growing up in the countryside that helps you to develop a different perspective on things.

And while I don’t think there are any answers for why I felt the way I did or what compelled me to make a decision I’d never considered before, I’m sure that coming from a place where life felt slow and gentle gave me a better foundation for my thoughts than someone who grew up in a big city.

I was twenty-five when I quit medicine, which seems like a pretty late age to do so, even though I had no real desire to be a doctor for at least five years before that. I’m almost thirty now. That sounds strange to say when I look back at my old life as a physician; I don’t know how it feels to be twenty-five anymore, or what it’s like to be anywhere near my twenties now.

I was in my early twenties when I first started medical school and then worked in hospitals for another two years—so it’s been nearly nine years since then.

It doesn’t feel strange to be this age. I don’t feel old or anything close to it. It’s only recently that people have stopped asking if I’m twenty-eight—it’s as if I’m still trying to convince them I’m older than I really am. I used to think that was silly. Why would they want me to be younger?

And yet it’s hard to explain how much of my identity comes from the experiences I’ve had—whether they happened yesterday or years ago. When you reach a certain age, the time has a way of catching up with you.

I guess the idea is that I’m still young enough to write stories that appeal to people in their twenties but not too old to be writing those same stories again. It’s an odd sensation, this thing we call growing old.

My family was a little skeptical about my decision. Some relatives asked what I was doing with my life—not because they wanted an answer or anything; it’s just that they didn’t want to seem unsupportive. Other people told me it was a bad idea—that it was too soon to be done with medicine and that I should keep on studying instead, especially after I’d gone through so much.

But I knew what I wanted, and while my family worried for me, they also understood that this wasn’t some impulsive move; it was something that I needed. So they didn’t press me too hard about it, and my father helped me by giving me time off work for a year. I spent it writing—which, if you think about it, is kind of weird when you think about it, right?

But that was exactly what I wanted. I didn’t want to waste a single day away from my computer, not one moment more than I absolutely had to. That was when I found that being an author is the only thing I’ve ever wanted to do. It felt as though it were my fate. And maybe it is.

I’ll never know whether there are other options out there that I might have been meant to explore. Maybe medicine would have turned out to be exactly what I thought it was—and yet I don’t regret the fact that I made the choice that led me here.

After a few months, I decided to come back home and take some time off—not to start working on new books but just to spend some time at the bookstore. My mother wasn’t thrilled about that, and my brother was pretty upset, but he was supportive once he learned where I planned on going.

The bookstore felt like my home now. That place has seen a lot of change in my life. It was always there during the times when I needed something stable and dependable in my life, and yet it’s also changed along with me over the years. When I moved to New York for medical school, it was a place I looked forward to coming back to.

Even when I lived in the city, I came here to relax whenever I could. There are all these new customers who come into the store every day. They’re young people—college students mostly—who are excited to buy books for the first time and to read them while they go back to their campuses, or people who work nearby who can’t wait to spend a few hours reading something in English.

There are all these kinds of people who come and look through the shelves at the new releases, the classics, the bestsellers. And there are still people like me—people who know exactly what they want and how to find it without needing anything explained to them. But most importantly, I feel at home there.

There are some people who think my life would have been better if I’d kept on practicing medicine—if I had tried again if I had given it one last shot after I quit. It seems like such an odd thing to ask someone who’s gone through all that I have: why would you give up so quickly?

I guess some people are always waiting for me to tell them more about this whole quitting-medicine thing—they’re eager to hear how and why I decided to become a writer. I’m not sure whether my reasons matter or not. It’s like asking me what my favorite color is or which book I think is the best one I’ve ever written.

The answer’s never going to change. I might say that the newest book I read last month was my favorite of all time, but that doesn’t mean I’ll suddenly hate all other books now that I’ve experienced something different.

And just as the books I like will stay with me forever, so will all the memories associated with my time at the bookstore. This store feels like part of my life. Maybe it’s strange, but it really has.

When I look back at that first day, I can see how things were destined to happen. When I think about how I was working on a manuscript then, I wonder if it could be possible to have felt more certain than I did about something else in my life.

It sounds crazy—but when you’ve lived your life feeling unsure of everything, maybe it’s only natural that you’d finally feel as though you know exactly where you need to be and what you need to do. I don’t really care what people think, but at the same time, I can understand the question, so I guess it makes sense to me why they ask about it.

But no, I don’t regret what I’ve done. I’m happy. I think my family worries because it seems like every time I go somewhere, something bad happens. I don’t want that to be true. They know it wasn’t their fault, and so does my brother, but I think they still feel like something was bound to happen like I was asking for it somehow.

That’s how it seems. Maybe I really was, in some way. I’m sure everyone thinks that at times, but who knows?

I was in here a couple of months ago, reading The Book Thief and eating a cookie, when a guy came into the store looking for a copy of a book written by someone called Eileen Myles. I told him we had none on the shelves, and that the author was dead.

“That’s not right,” he said to me. “I’ve got a signed copy here.” He put his hand into his coat pocket and showed me the proof of purchase he had inside, along with his driver’s license. It looked genuine enough; the book was a collector’s item anyway, and there were only two copies left in existence.

So I rang up his purchase, wrote the date on the receipt, and gave him the change—a twenty-dollar bill. And he took the book out of the bag and handed it to me: the first one he’d read since high school. His fingers were trembling as he held onto the book, and the look in his eyes said he’d never expected anything like this to happen to him.

When I asked him what it was about, he told me he didn’t know and didn’t want to ruin the experience for himself, that it was better for him if he couldn’t find out until the end.

“That’s fair enough,” I said. I put the book back in his hands. “Enjoy it.”

He thanked me before leaving the store, and he walked off in a daze like he couldn’t quite believe the words coming out of his mouth. I thought about asking him where he lived so that I could send him a signed copy of my next novel once I published it, but I figured he wouldn’t really want something like that from me.

So instead, I put the receipt in an envelope along with the change, along with a note saying thank you and hoping that he would enjoy the rest of his day, and then I sent them to him through the post office. Maybe he found the book, or maybe it turned out that he’d never bought it at all.

I’ll probably never know. I guess that’s the risk that comes with reading books and talking to people—it’s not always clear if they’re true or fake or somewhere in between. I just hope he liked the story, though. He seemed like he really needed some happy endings right then.

I’m thinking now that if there’s someone who could possibly be able to answer the question my family asks, it might be her. It’s hard for me to think she has no idea what my life is like because it feels like I’d be telling a lie if I tried to deny it.

The person I care most about in the world knows more about what I do than anyone else in my life, and yet at the same time, I’ve spent a lot of years feeling as though she doesn’t understand how much I’m capable of caring for her, either.

Sometimes I wonder if it’s just that she thinks I’m lying about everything or if maybe it’s that I haven’t explained myself very well to her. If only I knew how to do that, I could make her understand why my life seems so important.

Maybe one day I’ll get another call from my mother. Maybe it’ll come on a day when I feel like talking.

The End

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• An autumn romance
• Touch of romance

I was on the run.

And I knew it—even if I didn’t admit that out loud to myself very often. But I couldn’t be there anymore. There was no place for me, not now. Not when everyone else around me needed me more than ever. And I just… well, I was scared, but that wasn’t even it.

I wanted my mother and father and sister to be safe more than anything. I wanted them to have a better life after I was gone. After I left, I had a feeling that wouldn’t happen. Not if they stayed here. They’d always be in danger, especially with me going.

And I would always have regrets about that. I would regret that I didn’t do something sooner, or better, to keep them safer, or happier. It’s why I felt so guilty. But what else could I do?

The only way I could help them was by being gone—by getting rid of the risk they were all in simply because I hadn’t been strong enough to save my family. And so I fled because that’s what I had to do. So I wouldn’t feel so horrible every day, and I would never feel like I didn’t deserve it again.

Because I didn’t.

And yet, I had this dream—a nightmare, really. It was always the same thing.

I’d wake up, sweating and my heart racing, and then it would happen again and again like I was doomed to repeat the scene over and over until someone finally stopped it. Until I did something. I didn’t know what, exactly, it was I could possibly do, or who I could ask, but I would find out.

Somehow. Because it kept happening—it happened whenever I let down my guard and slept at night. And the last time, I woke up to see the man standing in my bedroom window, the same man that was supposed to be dead. And he was looking at me…

“I’m not a ghost,” I said aloud, shaking my head, but he continued to stare at me with a sad expression on his face as he stared at my chest, and then looked away quickly. I sighed heavily and stood up, pulling my comforter tightly around me as I went over to my dresser mirror, turning so that I could look at myself.

“Not a ghost.” The man that had been staring at me from behind my closed curtains didn’t want anything to do with ghosts any more than I wanted him there.

So why couldn’t I stop seeing him? How had he managed to keep finding me? Had he followed me here somehow, when I’d escaped the mansion? Or did he follow me to Chicago once I’d moved away? Why had he decided to return so soon after I’d left?

What did he want now, other than to make sure I knew he still wasn’t gone? And what was going on inside his head that made him act like that—like he thought he was cursed, or haunted, or trapped like he was trapped in some terrible nightmare instead of free now…

I rubbed my forehead before walking out of the bedroom, pausing for a moment in my walk-in closet to pull out a black silk shirt, pulling it over my head as I headed into the kitchen. The sun was rising outside, just another beautiful day in paradise as far as I was concerned, and I had plans for it. Plans to make money, find a job, and try to help my family. All while getting out of this town.

“I’ll start small,” I said to myself. “Small businesses that I can afford. Then I’ll work my way up.”

That’s what my father told me to do when I started thinking about leaving. He said the best way to make money was through investments and stocks and bonds—which, as he had pointed out to me, meant more taxes to pay off, but I had no intention of trying to avoid paying them. Not after everything they had done for me.

My father had always wanted the best for me, even if the best had come at such a great cost.

But the best was worth it, and so were the sacrifices I had made. It was all a small price to pay for my life and my happiness. And so, I headed into the living room to grab my laptop, headed back toward the balcony, and opened my computer screen before sitting down on one of the chairs there. A smile appeared on my face as I started to type in a search for businesses for sale.

There was a small cafe just around the corner that had caught my eye earlier, but I knew from talking with a few people already that most of the small shops around here didn’t pay their employees much and often kept them in the dark about certain things, especially how the business had really been doing.

And while that was fine for me now, as I could get the same jobs and know how much they would pay me, once I’d saved enough money and got established I wanted to be sure that it was only through reputable companies and businesses so I never found myself stuck with a shady company ever again.

I didn’t want to feel like I owed anyone anything or that I needed to do something else simply because I had taken on another job, but I was grateful that I would have a good source of income and maybe I would even be able to help out my family in some way. It seemed like the right time for that to happen.

“You’re going to make this work,” I told myself with a determined look as I opened up the browser to type in the cafe’s address and then looked at the map to see where it was located. “No matter what.” Because even if I couldn’t stop the nightmares that haunted my dreams, I would find a way to control my own life, instead of being at someone else’s mercy again. Even if that meant taking on a few extra jobs along the way.

A knock came at the door and I paused in my typing as I glanced at the time on my computer, knowing I should probably start heading over to that cafe before it closed in an hour or two and wondering who could possibly be stopping by unannounced today, considering no one else knew I lived here yet, not even my own sister.

Then I remembered that I had given the name of my old address when I had applied for the job at the diner. My mother’s house. The one that my aunt and uncle owned. And I felt my lips curl up into a smile as I realized that I hadn’t mentioned my aunt and uncle living with us either.

I’d just made up a different set of names and addresses so that no one could find me here, as I had wanted to keep my own secret safe until I could come back and help out and maybe get some answers as to what really happened the night of the fire, as well as why my parents’ lives had been cut short, too.

Maybe it wouldn’t be long before I could go home for good.

I glanced outside as a small figure walked past my balcony and stopped next to the pool, looking toward the ocean and letting out a small sigh before turning back to the building again. He was tall and slender, with dark hair and light brown eyes and he appeared to be wearing a suit as he held something in his hands.

I frowned as he turned again, walking toward the pool and pausing for a moment on the other side of the fence, then heading down the walkway toward where I sat, his steps slow as if he were unsure about what he was doing.

But he was here, at least, which meant there was some kind of communication happening between me and my sister and maybe I would be able to help her somehow as well. Even if it wouldn’t be through our own conversation—not this time at least. Instead, it would likely be through her talking with another person.

A third party. One who could offer her a way to help herself, but still not allow her to have control over the situation, as she’d told me once before that she never wanted anyone else making decisions for her life or being the one in control.

But as someone else already seemed to be trying to do that for her now, maybe I could give her an option where she wouldn’t feel like she had no power at all.

And then, when things got really bad and she started to lose hope again, maybe I could be there for her in some way. To remind her that she didn’t have to do this alone and she didn’t have to suffer through everything alone anymore, especially as someone else who would never judge her for her secrets or for the choices she’d made so far.

And she could be strong. And independent. And free from any of the darkness that seemed to have consumed us for too many years.

A knock sounded on the door and I frowned again as I stood up and moved to the side of my desk before reaching out and pushing open the door just enough to see who it was.

When I realized who it was, my smile grew wider and I waved him inside as I closed the door behind him and then glanced around for someplace to sit before glancing back at the man who had stepped closer to me.

He hadn’t said a word, but his eyes were curious as they moved from my face down to my bare feet, where he paused and took in a deep breath as he let it out slowly, before moving toward the chair that faced the bed, which was currently pushed against one wall, leaving more space between us than we usually did during our conversations.

I knew this wasn’t something that he normally did and yet here I was, inviting him inside again, even after what had happened last time. I had thought I would be able to keep myself safe if I kept him at arm’s length and only let him in on a need-to-know basis, but I’d been wrong about that.

Because I still needed help and he was the one who was always willing to offer it. No questions asked.

My fingers lingered over the edge of the bed, almost like I wanted to pull it away from the wall and push it into the middle of the room, to be closer to him, even though that was dangerous now. If I did that, there would be nothing to stop me from taking the chance of kissing him.

From going further than we’d gone before. And yet, that wasn’t something I wanted to do. Not when things were so confusing already with this whole situation—with him and everything else. So, I forced my fingers down and let my hand drop as I took in a slow breath and reminded myself why we couldn’t be together anymore.

Because I didn’t have the right to want that kind of connection or the freedom to choose how to live my own life. I’d hurt him before. And I might end up hurting him again. But if I didn’t take chances now, then when would I?

I glanced back at him again, my smile growing wider as I moved away from the door and headed toward where he stood. “Come on,” I said as I opened the top drawer of my desk and pulled out one of the blankets I had stored there. “Let’s go outside.”

The End

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• Believe In The Magic Of Christmas

• Christmas In Heaven

The last of the guests left hours ago. The kitchen is finally clean and tidy.

I’m tired, but I can’t sleep yet. There are a few things I need to do before I go to bed. First, check on my daughter before she goes to sleep, then make sure everyone has been put to bed where they belong. If not, it’ll be an early morning tomorrow when everyone realizes they’re too wired for rest.

My husband’s snoring keeps me company as I go through my nightly routine—the one that includes making certain the kids get tucked in with their stuffed animals before turning out the lights and crawling into bed beside him.

When I look down at his sleeping face, something about the way he looks reminds me of another man who was once mine, a man that died two years ago in Afghanistan.

There is only one person in this world whose image comes to mind now, someone I thought would always be there for me, but isn’t.

My thoughts are interrupted by a sound from outside, a car honking its horn, which alerts me to the fact that I have guests again tonight. This time, it’s a group of young men dressed up like Santa Claus handing out bags of candy and wishing children a merry Christmas.

As they walk around the yard greeting people, I realize they’re here because we’ve been so kind over the past couple of nights, opening our home every evening to feed those in need. The boys don’t want any money, just to spread good cheer and give back.

It’s sweet and touching, but it also makes me feel guilty all over again. It’s as if our house has become a church. We open our doors to anyone who needs a hot meal or a place to rest for a while.

The door opens behind me, and the boys come inside without being asked. They all smile, joking with each other, laughing as they take off their coats. One of them sees me standing in the foyer and waves. “Merry Christmas,” he says as he comes toward me.

“Hello, guys.” I smile and step aside to let them pass. They follow my lead as they move deeper into the house.

One of them stops and looks at the Christmas tree in the corner of the living room. Then he turns to me. “We saw you decorating earlier, so we wanted to help.”

I laugh a little and shake my head. “I wish I could say I had the energy to do it myself, but I didn’t get started until today.”

He grins. “That’s okay. We did most of it. We brought the decorations for the outside, too. Do you mind if we hang up a few?” He holds out a bag full of ornaments, including a couple that isn’t even made anymore. I see my mother’s face smiling back at me.

She gave one to me right after I graduated from college—a red-and-white ball with a snowman painted on it. It’s the only ornament I have from her, but it holds a special memory.

“Go ahead,” I reply, taking the bag from him. “Anything to keep you busy during the night is fine with me.”

They move quickly through the house, hanging ornaments on the tree, then moving onto the banister leading to the second floor. One of them notices the angel on top of the fireplace mantel as they reach the stairs. They gather around the angel and start talking about how beautiful it is. “Can we fix it up so it looks better? Maybe add some glitter to her wings.”

When I laugh at the idea, the one named Matt takes hold of my hand and pulls me toward him. “Don’t worry, Mrs. Claus.” His eyes are warm and inviting when he meets mine. “We’ll make sure you don’t lose your shine when we’re done.”

It doesn’t escape my attention that they call me Mrs. Claus.

I nod, wondering why he feels comfortable enough with me to tease me like that. And what exactly are they going to do with that angel? I hope they don’t decide to put her under a bunch of tinsel and turn her into something tacky. If they do, I’ll have to tell them she doesn’t deserve it. That would be cruel and heartless, wouldn’t it? I smile and laugh quietly as I watch them begin to work.

It isn’t long before I hear the sounds of laughter coming from upstairs and know that they’ve been working together for hours to make our house beautiful for the holiday season. It warms my heart to see them having fun as they take on the task at hand.

“We should probably get back outside,” Matt suggests after a moment.

I nod and release his hand. He moves away from me and walks out the front door before turning back to face me. Before he goes any further, though, he places his hand on my shoulder. He gives me a gentle squeeze before saying, “Thank you for letting us help, Mrs. Claus.”

“You’re welcome,” I reply, unsure whether I’m thanking him or telling him no thank you.

His smile grows as he nods once more and turns toward the door. “Have a very Merry Christmas, Mrs. Claus.”

The other two boys join him and walk toward the front door, but not before stopping by the Christmas tree and grabbing an extra ornament. It’s obvious they planned to add it to the angel, but now that they think of it, maybe they can add it to another part of the tree instead.

They stand there for a moment, looking over the Christmas tree one last time before leaving my house. I wonder what they will do this evening. Will they stay here for dinner?

When the door closes behind them, I turn to look at my angel. As always, I’m struck by how beautiful she is, but it’s also strange to see her standing on my fireplace mantel without a single light shining from her wings. The way her head is cocked reminds me of the way my mother looked when she’d smile. My chest swells when I realize that she reminds me of her.

But that’s impossible.

No way can an angel remind me of my mom. They don’t exist in real life. There’s no such thing as guardian angels who watch over people and protect them like they’re supposed to do.

That’s silly.

Right?

I sigh heavily before making my way to the kitchen. I need a drink before I can go back to bed and try to fall asleep. The thought makes me chuckle as I open the refrigerator. It’s funny; I feel like my whole day has been a dream that I can’t seem to remember. But then again, maybe it was just a figment of my imagination.

I grab some leftover wine from our wedding anniversary and pop the cork before filling a glass almost half-full. Then I place the bottle down on the counter, turn on the radio, and lean against the island while sipping slowly. I close my eyes when the music begins playing, but I don’t listen to it.

Instead, I stare at the Christmas lights around the windowsill. They dance in time with the beat of the song, reminding me how beautiful things are when you slow them down enough.

I don’t know how long I’m there listening to the music, but soon, I find myself swaying back and forth, humming softly. When it stops, so do I, only to realize that I’ve fallen asleep sitting in front of the sink. I didn’t even notice that I was sleeping.

I must have been tired from everything going on earlier today. I rub the sleep out of my eyes before realizing I haven’t taken a sip of the wine. So, I lift the glass to my lips and finish it off before placing it on the counter beside me.

Then I stand up slowly and turn away from the sink before heading upstairs. I climb into bed and pull the covers over my body, but it takes me several minutes to finally drift off to sleep.

***

“Mommy! Look!”

I groan loudly as I roll over in my bed. I hate being woken up so early on Christmas morning, especially by my own children, but I suppose I should be happy they’re excited about the gifts Santa brought for them last night.

“What is it?” I ask groggily as I sit up and rub my eyes.

“Look, Mommy!” Matt shouts excitedly as he crawls under the tree in search of something hidden beneath the branches.

I shake my head at his behavior and chuckle lightly before sitting up straighter and peering around the tree to get a better look. What I see makes me smile big time. He found a pair of skis and ski poles in their original boxes under the tree. He had placed them right next to the tree after he put out his cookies and milk.

“Oh my gosh,” I gasp softly as I reach for a tissue to wipe my eyes. “How did you know? That’s amazing.”

He looks so proud and excited when I say that. His cheeks grow redder by the second as he runs over to hug me tight around the waist. He smells like snowflakes and vanilla, and when I hug him back, he laughs softly in my ear.

“Thank you, Mommy,” he whispers as he pulls away and looks into my eyes.

I nod my head quickly as tears fill my eyes. “It’s okay. You deserve these. And so do your brother and sister.”

Then I turn away, grab the box, and place it on the table where I can open it easily.

I lift the wrapping paper from its top and peer inside to see that the skis and poles were wrapped up tightly along with some new gloves. Then I pull out the note from Santa Claus and read aloud, “Matt – you can use these this year when we go skiing in Aspen with Daddy’s family.

I wish I could take you this year, but it just didn’t work out that way this time around. Be safe and enjoy every minute of it. Love, Santa Claus.”

When I finish reading, I glance back down at the box before turning my attention back to Matt who’s staring at me wide-eyed and excited. Then I hand him the note and a pen to write his response back.

After a few moments, he hands me the note with two hearts drawn next to the words, “Merry Christmas!” before running out of the room.

“Hey!” I call after him before standing up and following him down the stairs. “Where are you going?”

“To the living room,” he answers without looking back at me. “You want to watch a movie?”

“Sure,” I respond with a shrug of my shoulders before taking the note to add my own message for Santa. I fold it nicely before tucking it under a carrot that’s been hidden on the mantle and place another one there for Maxie and Lily. Then I take them both downstairs to see what they got from Santa too.

Lily has received a baby doll stroller, a high chair, and a diaper bag. It all comes with her favorite princesses’ clothes inside. She’s going to love it all.

Maxie gets a set of drums which she immediately goes over to play with. I smile at how happy she appears when playing the drum set. It’s almost like she’s practicing in the kitchen while she sings her little songs to herself.

“Mommy! Look!” she shrieks suddenly and points at her brother. “Daddy made it look like he went to the moon and came back home again!”

She runs over to show me the rocket ship model he made with a piece of cardboard and some tape. When I see it, I’m surprised at how realistic it is and wonder if I should be jealous because it seems like he took more time making it than he did the present he got me.

“Well done, Mr. Armstrong,” I tease lightly as I step closer to admire his workmanship.

Then I bend down and pick up Lily to carry her over to give Maxie her attention.

“Thank you, Mommy,” Maxie says shyly as she takes the baby from me carefully so as not to drop her. Then she sets her on the ground next to the box of gifts. “Here you go.”

She lifts off the lid and lets it fall back down to reveal a brand-new guitar and amp set along with a music stand. Her face lights up at the sight of all the things that Santa left for her, and then she rushes over and sits down on the floor beside the table so as to start opening the rest of them.

My eyes land back on Matt’s present once more, but I decide to wait until later tonight before I open mine. There’s no sense in ruining his gift by tearing into it now.

“Can I help you open them?” I ask Maxie as she holds the guitar case open with shaking hands while she stares at it with awe.

“No, please don’t,” she says in an eager voice and shakes her head rapidly. “Please let me open them all by myself. I need to do it.”

With a sigh, I sit down next to her and hold out my arm so that she can wrap hers around it for comfort.

“It’s okay,” I whisper against her soft hair. “Go ahead. Open everything slowly and carefully so you’ll get to play with each thing before you put it away or pack it up again.”

She nods quickly and then glances back at Matt who’s watching us closely. So she takes the time to unwrap each item and place it on the table next to us before opening the last box that’s still waiting underneath the pile of presents.

It contains a book, and she smiles up at me and grins happily when she sees that it’s one of the books from A Series of Unfortunate Events. “This is the last one. Thank goodness.”

I chuckle softly before glancing back to Matt. He’s grinning from ear to ear at the sight of her excitement and her happy voice as she reads through the book. Then he looks over at me and mouths, “You’ve gotta read it too. I love it.”

“What’s it about?” I ask curiously.

“Oh, my gosh,” she squeals as she stands up and spins around excitedly. “Do you know it? It’s a mystery adventure with lots of twists and turns and secrets! You won’t be able to stop reading it!”

“Really?” I laugh and shake my head. “That sounds amazing. What else is it about?”

“It’s about three orphans who find themselves in terrible trouble and then have to work together to figure out who killed their parents while they’re trying to avoid being sent to an orphanage.”

“An orphanage,” I repeat dumbfounded because it sounds like a horrible idea.

“It really is,” she assures me and scoots back over to sit with me again. “And it’s so cool. They go on adventures while figuring out why their parents were murdered.”

“I love mysteries like that,” I tell her with a big grin as I lean back and close my eyes. “I think this will be our next bedtime story to read together.”

“Yay!” she exclaims eagerly and beams at me. “It was worth waking up early for.”

“You bet,” I agree with a nod and give her a small smile.

Matt chuckles behind me, and I glance over at him as he gives me another quick wink before returning his gaze back to the kids. Then I look down at my watch to check the time before looking up to catch Matt’s eye again.

“Okay,” I say and stand up slowly. “We better head inside soon or we’ll miss our movie.”

He nods and starts gathering the wrapping paper off the floor and stacking it neatly next to him. We finish collecting the rest of the presents and carry them inside, and Maxie immediately goes to the table to play with all the new musical instruments that Santa gave her.

“Hey, Daddy?” She asks as she holds a drumstick between both her hands. “Will you teach me how to play drums someday?”

“Of course,” he replies happily as he picks her up and carries her toward the living room where there are plenty of open spaces and places to put the gifts. Then he settles her down on the sofa next to her and sets her down next to her little brother.

“But first you’ll have to learn how to use a guitar. Then you’ll have to learn how to sing and play both of your songs. Then you’ll get to learn drums.”

She giggles and looks over at me. “Will you play something for us, too?”

“Sure,” I answer with a bright smile.

Then I turn to Matt and smile as I point over at the table.

“I guess it’s our job to play Christmas music now,” I tease lightly as I step forward and take one of the guitar necks from him. “We better get started or people might leave.”

“You’re right,” he agrees and smiles at me as he takes the other end of the instrument and begins strumming it slowly.

I begin singing, “Jingle bells rock around the Christmas tree…” And Maxie joins me and begins singing along with us. Soon, we’re both playing and singing along with the song, and Matt starts picking up speed and moving his fingers faster across the strings. Soon, he’s playing the tune perfectly, and I can feel everyone in the room listening intently to the sound.

“Oh, wow!” Matt laughs softly next to me. “This is so much fun!”

“Are you ready to go?” I ask him with a bright smile.

He grins at me and shakes his head quickly. “No way. No freaking way. This is so much better than movies and popcorn!”

“So, what do you think?” I ask and turn to look at him as I hold up my guitar neck. “Should we play some more?”

He laughs loudly as he glances over at me. “Hell yes!”

“Well, let’s get started then,” I reply with a wide grin and pick up the rhythm again.

Soon, we’re all laughing and dancing and having the best time in the world. We spend hours doing this, even though I’m pretty sure most of it isn’t anything anyone has ever heard before.

We just keep jamming and playing Christmas carols until we run out of songs. When that happens, the kids are both passed out on the sofa. Matt takes care of putting them into their beds and tucking them in, and I go outside to check on Maxie.

When I come back inside, the adults have already started cleaning up everything except for the food. Matt is still outside with the kids, so I go back outside to help him clean up after the mess we made earlier.

I laugh when he tells me that we didn’t make a mess at all compared to what happened last year and that’s because no one got sick.

By the time we’re finished, everyone is gone and the house feels very lonely. I know that’s going to change once Christmas morning rolls around, but for now it feels really quiet without any kids running through the halls.

The only thing left to do is wrap presents and put them under the tree. So, we all start taking care of those tasks while waiting for Santa to arrive.

Once Matt is finally done helping Maxie unwrap and place the new toys into her toy box, he comes inside and heads over toward the tree where he grabs an ornament and hangs it from the branches. Then he turns around and walks past me toward the kitchen and stops next to the tree where he picks up an ornament and does the same thing again.

I stop what I’m doing and turn to face him as he looks down at his hand holding one of my favorite ornaments.

“Do you remember this?” He asks me quietly and smiles as he glances up at me.

I nod quickly and smile at him. “I remember you giving it to me.”

He grins brightly and reaches his arm around my back.

“I remember that too,” he murmurs softly against my ear before bending down to kiss it. “It was a really big deal at the time since it was the first present you ever gave me.”

My cheeks grow warm as I feel a rush of excitement sweeps through my body. The memory of how I felt that day makes my stomach flutter, and I know I’m not going to be able to hold back my laughter as I watch Matt continue to decorate the tree with my favorite ornament.

“Hey, what are you guys doing?” Alex asks as she steps out of the bathroom. “I thought we were going to wrap presents.”

“We’re almost done,” Maxie answers for both of us. “Matt and I just finished hanging all the new ones.”

Alex turns around and smiles widely at us. “Wow! That looks amazing!”

“Thanks,” I tell her as I glance over at Matt who’s standing beside me and holding two more ornaments in his hand. “You’re welcome for the help with your decorations.”

“I wouldn’t do it if you hadn’t helped me with the decorations last year,” she replies with a small smile. “But thank you for helping me again this year.”

“Of course, I’ll help out anytime you need it,” Matt says with a wink.

She chuckles softly and nods quickly. “You’re such a good guy, Matt!”

He chuckles as he looks away from her and then back toward me. “Well, thank you, Maxie, but you’re a great girl too.”

“Thank you, Matt!” She replies excitedly and then rushes back into the hallway.

When Alex disappears into the hallway, Matt moves closer to me and places the ornaments into my hands. When he starts to bend down to kiss me, I move quickly forward and press my lips against his instead.

After I feel his arms wrap tightly around me and hear his low groan, I break the kiss and look down at him. “You okay with doing this again?”

“Are you kidding me?” He laughs. “It’s not every day we get to hang out alone like this without having to worry about anyone interrupting us.”

I nod quickly as I reach up to rest my hand against the side of his face. “Yeah, I understand that, but you’re really lucky you can do whatever you want with Alex being here, especially during the holidays.”

His eyes soften when he looks over at me, and I see a rush of guilt sweep through him.

“No need to feel guilty,” I murmur and place my other hand on top of his. “I know this isn’t easy for you and I’m sorry for that.”

He frowns deeply, but then he slowly shakes his head as he looks me straight in the eyes. “It’s not easy for me either, but I’m doing it because it would kill me if something ever happened to you.”

The words he utters make my heart skip a beat, so I lean down and press my lips against his once again.

When my tongue slides against his bottom lip, he takes my mouth with his own, and I moan loudly into his mouth when his hands wrap around my back and pull me even closer to him.

“God, you drive me crazy sometimes,” he mumbles against my mouth as our tongues slide against each other.

I giggle lightly and shake my head. “That’s a good thing, right?”

He pulls away from me after a few seconds and grins wickedly down at me. “Most definitely.”

I chuckle as I lift myself up onto the tips of my toes and kiss his cheek. Then I step back quickly, so I don’t fall back to the floor and take a couple steps back.

“So, let’s start wrapping presents then,” I tell him as I glance back over my shoulder at the tree. “Then we can relax for a while and eat some of the leftovers that Maxie packed us before bed.”

“Sounds like a plan to me.” He smiles brightly down at me, and then he takes my hand and leads me over to the tree.

As we finish unwrapping all the presents, I feel an immense feeling of happiness as I watch everyone open their gifts. When everyone has opened theirs, they sit on the floor together, laughing, talking, and eating the food that Maxie packed for them.

“What did you guys think of everything?” I ask them happily as I glance between them. “Were there any surprises you liked?”

Both Maxie and Josh laugh, and Josh winks at me. “Surprises? No, not really.”

“There was one though,” he continues as he glances down toward the end of the room.

“Oh?” I turn and follow his gaze, and then my jaw drops when I see who’s standing there. My parents and brothers stand by the door looking around the living room before turning back to me with wide smiles on their faces.

My mother and father both walk over to me and hug me tightly, and I squeeze back. They look happy and relieved, and I can see that they’re smiling so much that their cheeks hurt.

“We didn’t want to surprise you and your family this year,” my mom murmurs softly in my ear.

I nod quickly. “I understand. You should have come sooner if you wanted to see us.”

She smiles warmly down at me as she kisses my forehead. “We knew it would be better to wait until now because you’re here, and then we can all celebrate Christmas together.”

“It means a lot that you waited to tell us,” I continue quietly.

My dad places his arm around my shoulders and gives me another tight hug. “I know how important family is to you, Maxie, and we were never going to miss out on seeing you for this reason. And we can’t wait to spend time with everyone.”

I look over toward Matt and Alex who are watching my family with wide smiles on their faces, and they both look so happy to see them.

“Well, let’s go sit down,” I suggest to my family, so we can talk more about the rest of the week.

Once everyone starts sitting down on the floor, I glance over at Matt and Alex, and I can see that they’re smiling widely as well.

“Okay, now for the main event,” Josh announces as he stands up first. “Let’s all join together in prayer for a safe trip home.”

Everyone gets quiet as soon as he says the last word, and when we all hold hands together, I’m filled with love for my new extended family as I watch each person pray.

“Amen,” Josh finally utters once he stops praying. “Now let’s eat.”

My stomach growls loudly, so loud that I know every single person in the room hears it. Even though I just ate a huge plate of food, my appetite is bigger than ever thanks to all the excitement, and I’m sure everyone else is starting to get hungry again too.

Josh laughs and claps his hands together excitedly as he glances around the room. “I guess there’s nothing left to do but dig in again!”

Everyone laughs excitedly, and we all begin to eat our leftovers for lunch. After a few minutes, I glance across the room and smile happily when I notice Maxie walking back toward us. Her eyes light up immediately when she sees me, and her expression grows bright with joy as she sits next to me on the floor.

“So, what did you think?” I ask Maxie excitedly as soon as Josh sits down with his plate of food.

Maxie chuckles happily. “You had a pretty good turnout for your first party.”

I shake my head. “No, really,” I insist. “This was amazing.”

She grins back at me. “Thank you.”

“I still can’t believe I have an older sister now,” Josh comments as he takes a drink of his water. “And not only that, she’s beautiful too.”

“Well, we’re related,” I say with a grin as I glance between him and Alex.

He laughs and shakes his head. “You guys look like twins.”

I chuckle and shrug. “I guess we do kind of look alike.”

Alex reaches over and wraps his arm around my shoulder and pulls me closer to him as he nuzzles his nose against my cheek.

“I love my new sister,” Alex whispers softly into my ear. “So much.”

I smile happily and hug Alex tighter to me as I lean back toward Matt. “Me too,” I murmur to him with a big smile. “I already love both of my brothers, so much.”

After I finish eating, I start to clean up the plates, but my family helps me with the small task quickly since they’ve finished eating by then. Soon enough, we’re all cleaning up and chatting again as we put away everything that needs putting away.

The End

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“I’m fine, Mr. Fletcher.” She took another long pull of her coffee to cover the fact that she’d been in such pain that she could barely sleep.

He studied her as if he were looking for something. “You’ve changed since you first arrived at Fletcher’s Folly.” His eyes narrowed and his expression darkened. He didn’t speak but she knew what he was thinking.

That they were going through with their arrangement no matter what happened between them or how much she hated him. It was obvious from her expression that she wasn’t happy about it either. And then there was the problem of keeping her secret safe from him. The thought made her cringe.

“What do you think?” she asked finally. It came out too quickly after having to come up with a question on the spur of the moment. But she needed him to understand why this was important to her. Not because she felt any obligation toward him. She did not. “I want my past gone forever—and I don’t mean that literally, Mr. Fletcher.” Her gaze darted away from his and focused on the tablecloth again.

A muscle worked in his jaw as his face turned grim. His hand tightened over hers so hard she thought she might feel bones breaking beneath her fingers. When she looked back into his eyes he had tears welling up in the corners of his own.

“Mr. Fletcher,” she whispered, reaching across the table to touch his cheek. She tried to tell herself that the gesture meant nothing more than that. That she wanted him to know that he wasn’t alone, even though he was the one who’d left town. “Don’t cry,” she added when his voice broke. “It will be okay.” But it won’t be okay if we get caught.

His eyes were locked onto the table top as his throat worked on every word. “You’re right.” A single tear slid down his cheek to land on her palm where she could see it shimmer in the candlelight. “We’ll make it work.” He pulled her hand to his lips and kissed the spot where the tear had fallen.

She didn’t say anything else. Instead, she stood and went to the bar to pour herself another cup of coffee while he poured himself another shot of whiskey. As soon as they were alone together in the dining room, she would have to ask him about that. Why hadn’t he told anyone that he was an undercover agent?

She wouldn’t be surprised if he refused to answer her. She just hoped he knew enough about men to realize that it would cause a major breach of trust for her if he didn’t.

As they walked into the dining room, the other guests stared at her with varying degrees of curiosity, suspicion, and disapproval. Some even looked away. They were used to seeing her dressed for business meetings but here she was dressed like a schoolgirl. The women wore dresses but not tight ones that exposed their legs.

No, their skirts reached down to the ankles, and they also wore high heels. Their hair was pinned up under their hats and some wore gloves. The men all wore suits with long coats. There were no ties worn by the younger generation, and only a few had hats hanging from their necks. Only the older gentlemen had hats and they all wore them indoors, which struck her as odd.

The meal began with a toast to friendship and then the main course was served. The fried chicken was served with mashed potatoes, turnips, string beans, and biscuits. Afterward, there was pie for dessert—apple and cherry.

She wasn’t expecting such a fancy meal, and she’d expected a formal occasion. Maybe it was because of the people attending or maybe it was the way the food was being prepared and served. She couldn’t put her finger on it but this dinner seemed somehow different.

When they finished eating and the ladies cleared off the tables, a young man brought two chairs around for them and the conversation resumed. By now she was starting to relax and feel comfortable. She didn’t have to worry about being found out anymore—at least she didn’t think so. So far it had been easy to blend in with everyone else.

After they’d eaten, she excused herself to go to the bathroom and take a quick look at herself in the mirror. She frowned slightly and smoothed her skirt over her knees before returning to join him.

While waiting for the rest of the group to file out of the dining room, they sat in the parlor and continued talking. He explained that most of the Fletcher family died of cholera within months of each other in 1849. He said there was never a record of any of them dying of consumption.

And that was probably because no one cared for the old woman who lived in the cellar, let alone treated her symptoms. She’d died alone, forgotten and neglected in her bed upstairs. At first, he’d thought that she must have been one of the women who’d been buried in the cemetery but she was nowhere to be seen among the other markers.

Now he wondered if that was where they’d buried her body and then covered it up with dirt from outside.

They moved to the front room where she could sit near him. “Do you want to hear a story?” she asked.

He hesitated. Then his gaze shifted to the piano player as he started playing a tune she recognized. “No,” he replied after a moment’s hesitation. He nodded toward the piano. “I do.”

He followed her out to the piano where the piano player played for them and she took his hands in hers and started singing. It was a song she loved, written by a man named Cole Porter. “You’d better watch yourself, you can get hurt,” she sang.

“You should know what it is you’re dealing with before you decide to fall in love.” Her voice carried through the house and made her feel alive. It was a song filled with passion, and her heart thudded against her ribs.

“What do you mean?” His gaze held hers and he leaned closer, so close that her lips almost brushed his ear.

With the music playing, she turned the volume down to something more intimate. “That’s exactly what I’m doing now.” She smiled at him and waited for him to catch on.

***

The song ended and when she’d sung the last note, she felt like she had to catch her breath. When she finally caught her breath, she saw a puzzled expression on his face. That’s funny, she thought, she hadn’t noticed the same thing with him. Was he really thinking about something else instead of listening to her? She decided to test him. “I wonder if you remember me?”

His gaze met hers, and he looked away. “I’ve heard stories about you.”

“Really?” She tilted her head to indicate interest and watched as his eyes focused on her mouth. She wanted to kiss him again. But he pulled his hand free from her grip.

“Why didn’t you sing one of your own songs?” he asked quietly.

She shrugged. “My repertoire was limited back then.”

He shook his head and stood up from his chair. She glanced up and saw a muscle flex in his jaw but then he turned and went back inside, leaving her behind.

She waited a moment longer and then got up too. He might be embarrassed by her singing, but she knew he’d enjoy hearing some of her other work. As she walked into the foyer, she caught sight of him leaning against the door leading to the stairs. His gaze fell to the floor when she stopped beside him.

“It’s all right if you don’t want to hear my music,” she whispered in a soft tone. The only sounds were the piano player filling the air with another melody. There was no reason for her to explain herself to him, and there was still time left until the end of the performance. “Or if you’re not interested in me.”

She tried to sound indifferent while wondering how many other men were here tonight, or if he was just testing her, seeing if she’d be able to stand being ignored.

Instead of replying, he stepped away from the door and walked down the hall toward the staircase. She hurried to follow and then paused when he turned to face her. She could see that his eyes were dark, and he was breathing hard. What did that mean? She was trying to figure it out when he started walking again and quickly closed the distance between them.

When their gazes locked, he grabbed her hand, pulled her into the hall with him, and headed toward the front doors. She followed him out onto the porch and found him sitting on a swing.

“Where are we going?” she asked when he stopped swinging and turned to look at her.

He shrugged and pointed across the street. “Over there,” he said with a crooked smile. He reached inside his suit coat pocket and withdrew his key.

She looked out over the river and saw that he meant to take her somewhere outside the hotel where he could talk privately. He must be mad at her because of the way he’d treated her earlier. She’d been so sure that he’d come to her to help him.

She wondered where they were going until she heard the sound of the river lapping at the bank. They were at a small dock that jutted out of the water just below the hotel. She saw several boats tied to the pier and a few people fishing nearby. A breeze ruffled the ends of her hair and lifted her dress. It felt good, and she liked being outdoors, even though it was chilly.

A large white boat was docked near them, and she saw that it belonged to one of the guests. She’d seen it during dinner. It was big enough to hold three adults plus luggage and horses. If there was any chance of her getting a ride back to Chicago after this job was over, she needed to know if she was welcome aboard that vessel. So she asked, “Is anyone on that boat yours?”

He gave her a strange look. “Are you asking if I have an affair with that woman?”

“No.” She shook her head. “Of course not.” And he didn’t seem like that kind of man. No offense, she thought and smiled. “What I meant is that she could be your wife, girlfriend, fiancée — or maybe it belongs to someone else who might find it inconvenient to let you borrow it for such a short period of time.”

He laughed, which eased some of her tension and made him less intimidating. “We aren’t married.”

The fact that he owned a boat didn’t mean anything. Men who worked for him had probably bought a couple of yachts as their personal pleasure vessels and used them for business trips. That’s what she would have done if she’d owned one, and she wasn’t ashamed to admit it.

But before she could ask more questions, she noticed that a light mist was falling over the water, creating a fog. Her hair began to curl against her neck and arms.

“This isn’t going to work,” she said and tried to step away from the dock.

His hand shot out and blocked her way. “You can’t leave now,” he whispered softly.

As she gazed down into his eyes, she saw something else flash through them: desire. He stared at her for a moment, then leaned forward until his forehead touched hers, and she could feel the heat radiating off his body. It was a little unnerving because he was still holding her hand, and she couldn’t think straight while he was so close.

But she knew better than to touch him, knowing full well that it would make things worse. Instead of kissing her again, he pulled his face away from her and released her hand. When he stood up, the breeze brought goosebumps to her bare legs, making her shiver.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “Let me go back inside where it’s warm.”

“No.” He held out his hand and helped her up. Then he took her by the elbow and led her around the side of the pier and to the stairs leading down into the river. He put her down on the deck, and then sat next to her. She tried to ignore how good it felt to be sitting beside him. He seemed comfortable in this cold air and on this wet wood floor.

Her heart raced faster when he placed his hand over his chest right above his heart. Was it possible that he was feeling her warmth too? Maybe, but she doubted it. She hadn’t been so affected by the weather until now because she’d worn her woolen undergarments, stockings, shoes, and hat when she came out here.

She wore nothing beneath her dress tonight except for a pair of underwear. She should have changed clothes before she went out on this assignment, but it was too late to go back inside the hotel for that now. She was afraid that if she did, she’d never come back out again.

When she didn’t speak, he moved closer and lowered his voice. “Why do you think I wanted to meet outside instead of inside the hotel?”

Her eyes searched his face. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking and hoped it wouldn’t be about sex.

“It was my idea to bring you out here.” His tone sounded a bit strained, but she didn’t mind. She liked talking with him. “I don’t want anybody overhearing us.”

“So I’ll keep quiet,” she promised. She glanced over his shoulder at the moonlit water beyond the edge of the pier. “How did you find me?”

“That’s what I wanted to talk about. We’re looking for the same person.”

“And that’s why you need help?”

She was hoping it wasn’t so. The only reason she’d agreed to meet him was for her own safety. If she were caught doing his dirty work, he would lose her protection for good, which might mean a return trip to prison. She had no desire to be locked up again.

But he didn’t seem worried about that now. He nodded. “That’s part of it. But it’s also personal.”

His admission startled her. What was so personal between him and this person that they needed each other? Why couldn’t he have just come out and said so from the beginning instead of playing this silly guessing game? It gave her hope that there might still be an innocent explanation, but it also added to her suspicion that there wasn’t one.

If he was telling the truth and his intentions weren’t evil, she might be able to get him to help her, and she’d have one less problem on her hands. So far, all he’d done was complicate matters.

“What exactly is it that we are looking for?” she asked. “Doesn’t the man in question look like anyone you know?”

He shook his head. “I’ve been searching for two days. I can’t even say whether he has brown hair or blond hair. That’s why you’re needed. You know him.”

She hesitated to answer.

“Just give me an honest answer.”

“Yes, he does,” she said. “I know that face!”

His eyebrows rose slightly.

“He’s a friend of mine. I met him when I worked as a housekeeper at a ranch up near Wyoming. He had just gotten out of prison after serving a term for stealing cattle. And I’m not sure, but maybe he got out of jail a couple of months ago.”

“Then your friend must be the same person.”

“Are you sure?” she asked. “Because he doesn’t look anything like me.” In fact, she was the exact opposite of what he described. She was tall, blonde, blue-eyed and very fair-skinned. The only thing similar about them was their height. But the rest of their features were vastly different.

He smiled. “You don’t remember him?”

“I do,” she lied. She had no desire to discuss his appearance. She knew that he was handsome, but she was too angry with him to let herself feel any attraction toward him.

She stood up to go inside, but he put his hand on her arm to stop her. “Let me show you something.”

He walked over to the railing and turned around slowly. Then he took off his hat and ran his hand through his black curls. She stared at his bare head in awe for a moment. No wonder he could run so fast! Her hair, on the other hand, grew in thin, wiry strands no matter how much she trimmed it. A lot of times she wished it would grow longer, but it remained short no matter what she did.

As his gaze fell upon her, she felt uncomfortable under his stare. It was hard to explain why, but she didn’t like being watched by people. She looked down at her hands, then back up at him again, but he hadn’t taken his eyes off her yet.

He smiled faintly. “I’m not sure if this will jog your memory, but I’ll try anyway.” He turned away from her, reached into his pocket, and pulled out a small envelope.

He handed it to her and waited for her to take it before moving farther along the rail and taking one last glance over his shoulder at her. When she didn’t reach out to accept it, he stepped away from the pier again and returned to the hotel entrance. She heard him walk inside and close the door behind him.

After waiting until she saw the shadow of his horse disappear, she tucked the letter into her pocket and walked up the stairs alone. She went directly to her room without stopping at the bar where she usually hung out, and changed out of her traveling dress, leaving it folded on top of her trunk.

After hanging up her blouse, she grabbed her gun belt and pistol, stuffed them in a satchel, and left the room. She made certain to lock the door behind her.

Outside, she hurried to the stables and saddled a horse while she waited for her escort to arrive. By the time he arrived, she already had the reins in her hand.

She waited outside for him to join her before she rode off. They headed north on foot until they reached the ranch house in question. This late in the evening, it was dark enough for her to see well enough, but she wanted his assistance once the sun came up tomorrow so that she wouldn’t be walking blindfolded through a pitch-black forest.

“There are three cabins up here,” he said when he joined her. “Each cabin looks the same, but there are slight differences between each of them. I marked all the cabins’ doors on my map, but I think I missed one. I’m sorry.”

She nodded her agreement. “That makes sense. We’re lucky because we have a clear description. If we can’t find him in the morning, we’ll return to town and start searching for him in the afternoon.”

“What happens next?” he asked.

She shrugged. “I guess we wait until nightfall and search again.”

They both glanced at each other briefly before looking back out over the trees. She wasn’t sure how many more nights she could stand to spend out here waiting for him to get back. There was no telling when it might rain, but she prayed it wouldn’t.

The ground was soaked enough with all the recent storms. If it rained again, it would ruin their chances of finding him and possibly even cause her to slip and fall among the treacherous rocks and mud.

The End

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• Romance without love

The next day, I was surprised to find that we had gotten an answer from the headmaster before my first class. He called us into his office in a hurry after our morning lesson ended and gave us a long speech about how he knew this wouldn’t be easy for any of us but it was important.

After all, if one girl couldn’t handle the school life or the lessons, then everyone else would suffer for it. But at least we’d still have each other. So, when the time came that we might need someone, anyone, to talk to, someone who understood just what being a wizard’s apprentice entailed, they were there for us.

The headmaster told us he was proud of the way we worked together so far, and that we had nothing to worry about.

I felt relieved by his words. Maybe we could do this after all.

When lunch rolled around, I headed back over to the dining hall with the others. We sat down at our usual table and waited as our food was brought out for us by our maids. They placed plates full of roast beef, chicken, green beans, potatoes, peas, and carrots on the table before going about their duties elsewhere.

When they were gone, Alice turned her attention to me. “So,” she asked. “Do you think your new teacher will be any better than Mr. Bannister?”

“Probably not.” I shrugged. “But at least there are six of us instead of two. If anyone gives me trouble, maybe we can help each other out. That should make things easier.”

Alice nodded her approval. She reached for the chicken leg closest to her and took a bite, then wiped some chicken grease off her mouth before continuing to eat.

“And what did he say about the spell?” she asked me again as she cut another piece of meat for herself.

“He said it wasn’t ready yet,” I replied. “But at least he seemed nice enough during his short conversation with me last night. So, I’m hoping it’ll go well this afternoon.”

We spent the rest of our meal in silence, each of us too busy eating to really focus on anything else. It made me feel like a child again, having my food prepared for me by people I didn’t know. And it felt strange to be served like that after spending most of my life preparing and serving my own meals.

As I looked around the dining hall for something to do while the girls ate, I noticed the other students eyeing us. A few stared openly—and some even pointed at us—while others tried hard to ignore us altogether. There was definitely tension among the older students today; the way they looked at us told me they didn’t trust us.

That only added to my anxiety about seeing Professor Fletcher. Would he be nice? Or would he be strict? And what would I wear for him anyway? I hadn’t packed very many clothes at all, so I figured I’d have to borrow whatever I needed from one of the other girls.

That thought only caused me more stress though. What if they wanted to charge me for borrowing their clothes? Wasn’t that stealing? I didn’t want to be seen as a thief here.

My shoulders sagged with worry at that thought, and I leaned back against the chair behind me.

“Here you are.” A familiar voice spoke up beside me, making me jump in surprise before turning around to see Lacey smiling at me. “Sorry if you were worried about being forgotten or something. I got your note, so I decided to come and get you.”

She held out her arm, pointing at a small wooden box sitting on the table before us. It was shaped like a jewelry chest with a latch and hinges on top of it, and there was a key hanging from a silver chain next to it.

“What’s this?” I asked, feeling a wave of relief wash over me as I realized I’d been worrying about all the wrong things. I smiled back at her and grabbed the box, holding it up close to my face. Sure enough, there was a large ruby resting on top of the lid.

“It’s yours, dearie,” she told me. “Now, don’t you fret anymore. You’ll have everything you need right here with you.”

I nodded, still too overwhelmed by the sudden gift to speak. I couldn’t believe someone was actually thinking about me when I never even talked to them much before.

Lacey pulled the lid open, revealing a long red dress inside.

“I found the measurements for this dress in your letter, dearie,” she explained further. “It looks good on you, doesn’t it?”

“You’re not kidding.” I nodded, looking into the box for a moment longer before letting out an excited sigh and grabbing the dress to pull it free. “Is this real silk? This is amazing!”

I lifted the gown out of its box and ran my fingers along the smooth fabric, staring down at myself in awe as the soft material slid across my skin. The color looked perfect on me. It reminded me of a sunset, and the light caught on it just right every time I moved.

My heart started beating faster the longer I stared at it, and I couldn’t help but smile as I turned around in front of the mirror next to us.

This was so much nicer than what I was wearing now. Even the dress I wore under my coat felt thin compared to this stuff. I could hardly breathe beneath my heavy cloak, and the fabric felt uncomfortable on my body. But now, this felt like a dream. All my worries melted away as soon as I put the dress on, replaced with excitement about the upcoming ceremony.

“Well, look who finally has a gown that fits!” Lacey chuckled as she joined me next to the mirror and peered over my shoulder. “Isn’t that better than those rags you usually wear?”

“Much.” I smiled back at her before turning to face the room again and taking a deep breath. “This feels… so different than what I expected. I mean, this is what you guys wear here, right?”

“That’s right.” She nodded. “They say our gowns are like no other, so we try to keep it that way. Now, you better hurry up and finish getting ready. We only have an hour until the ceremony starts.”

I nodded in agreement and quickly took off my outer clothing, leaving me standing in just my undergarments as I slipped the gown on instead. It fit perfectly, hugging my curves tightly without clinging awkwardly or causing me any discomfort. As I walked over to the mirror and studied my reflection, I had to agree with Lacey. I did look very pretty in this dress.

“Do you think Professor Fletcher will like it?” I asked her, glancing back toward her. “He hasn’t said anything yet about me coming to the ceremony or what I should wear.”

She pursed her lips and shook her head, looking me up and down before responding.

“I doubt he’ll notice you much after last night’s events. If he does, though, I’m sure he won’t be happy. You’ll have to watch yourself around him, I guess.”

I frowned at that comment, unable to respond as the realization hit home. I’d already seen what happened to those who didn’t play by his rules. They were either punished or exiled from campus before they even graduated. And while I wanted to go to the ceremony today because of my own selfish reasons, I knew that wasn’t why I’d agreed to do so.

“You’re right,” I murmured sadly.

“I am?” Lacey tilted her head curiously at me as she reached into her pocket and pulled out a pair of matching shoes. “What is it?”

I shrugged. “Nothing.” I shook my head. “Just wondering if I’ll see anyone from my old life here.”

I paused and bit my lip at that thought, but then I forced myself to push the idea away. No. That wasn’t happening. I would not think like that. I needed to focus on my new life here and leave all that behind.

I stood there for a few seconds more before reaching over and taking the shoes from her.

“Thanks.” I smiled at her gratefully. “So, where do I get my hair done? I don’t want anything fancy or overdone. Just something nice enough to look decent, you know?”

“There should be a place not far from here,” she replied. “We can walk over there together, and you’ll see what I mean.”

“Good.” I nodded, smiling at her. “That sounds great.”

I turned and headed for the door, feeling better about everything after hearing her words. Things were going to change once I got through graduation. This was just another step in that direction. Everything would be fine.

“Let me go get dressed first,” Lacey told me as I opened the bedroom door and stepped into the hallway. “I’ve still got some things left to finish up, so give me a minute or two.”

I nodded in agreement and watched her as she disappeared into her own room next to mine. Once the sound of her footsteps faded away, I let out a sigh and glanced down the hall, searching for the bathroom that I was supposed to use for the rest of the day.

After finding it, I slipped inside and shut the door behind me. I didn’t need to lock it since no one else would be using the facilities at this point, but I still held my breath as I turned around and leaned against the wall, staring blankly at nothing in particular for several minutes before letting out another sigh.

I really hated this. I hated how I felt, especially when it came to all these thoughts about home, but I knew it wouldn’t last long. I could only imagine how hard it had been for Lacey to deal with her feelings too. And now, even though we were both here at the academy, I knew neither of us really wanted to be. Not if we could help it, anyway.

But then again, maybe that was what kept us strong.

The thought reminded me of the reason why I’d come here in the first place, which made me think about my own parents once more. Had they known about what their daughter was becoming? Or had they just assumed things would work themselves out? What about the other professors? Were any of them aware of this?

Maybe I’d find out soon enough.

***

It hadn’t taken long for me to realize that Professor Fletcher had expected me to attend the ceremony. He seemed almost eager to see me walk across the stage, even if he hadn’t given me any instructions about what to wear.

I wondered if it was because of my previous attendance and his expectations of me being there as an upperclassman now or because I was the same person as the girl who had graduated years ago. Maybe that was the reason why he was so excited, regardless.

Or maybe, if he was as cruel as I suspected he might be, it was because I knew what happened to those who didn’t attend the ceremony—the students who weren’t invited to return for their final year of classes after their first one ended.

Whatever the case, it wasn’t long before I found myself in front of the school’s gym, standing in the center of the large floor where everyone stood.

I stared up at the rows upon rows of seats and then glanced back toward the entrance, noting that most of the people sitting in them belonged to the faculty members and staff. The only exception was the small group of five or six kids who were also dressed in formal attire, including a few guys and girls whom I recognized.

They all looked older than me, probably in their early twenties or maybe even mid-twenties by now, which made sense. It was likely they had graduated before me. I was sure most of them already had jobs waiting for them after graduation while I was stuck here, unsure of what to expect once I left this place behind.

It wasn’t long before I spotted Professor Fletcher near the entrance. He stood off to the side, talking to someone who appeared to be an adult or at least much taller than he was. After watching him for a few moments, I figured out it must have been Mrs. Collins, the woman who ran the academy’s front office.

I watched as he led her away from the building and into the trees behind it before pausing and turning to glance over at me. His eyes scanned over my outfit, taking it all in. Then, without saying a word, he turned back around and walked back toward the building.

A few seconds later, the music began playing, and soon after, everyone was on their feet. I glanced down at my watch and realized that graduation was supposed to start in less than ten minutes, so I started walking toward the stage, hoping to grab a seat close to the front row before everyone else did.

But as soon as I reached the edge of the area set aside for those who would be graduating, I stopped short when I spotted something else: another boy.

I studied him carefully while he took his place at the end of the line. There was something familiar about him, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on what it was exactly. Maybe it was his height? Or maybe it was his build?

Whatever it was, I decided it didn’t matter because he seemed to be alone, which meant it wouldn’t take long for him to get up there and join me. That much was obvious from where he was standing.

When he finally caught sight of me and started moving, he stepped forward slowly and made his way toward me. A few people moved out of his way as he passed by them, some of them staring curiously as he went. Others smiled and waved at him in greeting as they did. When they saw me notice it, they quickly returned to their conversations or whatever activities they were involved in.

I waited patiently as the boy continued making his way up the stairs, but when he finally approached the edge of the stage, he paused for a moment before he glanced over at me and then down at the floor. I felt a strange sensation travel through my gut, almost like something inside me was trying to warn me of what was about to happen, although I wasn’t entirely sure what.

I tried not to pay attention to it. Instead, I focused on watching the boy make his way down the steps until he finally stopped beside me. We both looked at each other for a brief second before he stepped onto the stage.

“Congratulations,” he said, glancing down at my diploma as he held it out toward me.

He seemed nice, but his expression wasn’t very welcoming as he spoke. I nodded at him and accepted my diploma without saying anything back, wondering if he was going to continue speaking.

Before he could, however, another voice filled the room. One that I recognized immediately.

“Ladies and gentlemen.” Principal Fletcher raised his hands toward the crowd and smiled. “It is a pleasure to welcome you to the 2018 Winter Graduation ceremony, a time when we celebrate our seniors’ accomplishments and send them out into the world ready to become the best people they can possibly be.”

His smile faded as he continued speaking, becoming more serious as he glanced up at me before glancing over at the boy beside me. “The graduates before us will forever represent our legacy and the hard work that has gone into this academy since its beginning.

They have spent their years here learning, growing, and discovering what it means to become adults in a society that continues to change with every passing day—a society that is far different than the one our parents grew up in.”

He paused to allow himself another breath, then lowered his head as he continued speaking. “But today, our focus will be on these graduates who are leaving behind a life in this place and heading out into the real world. While they will no longer be living in such a sheltered environment, they will still need to continue to grow as individuals as they venture forth.

And they’ll have to do so without the support system that has surrounded them for the better part of their young lives. So, as they move on, I want to remind them that even though we’re not here with them anymore, we will always be here to provide any assistance they may ever need.”

As he finished, Fletcher turned around and started making his way back across the stage toward the podium. The moment he stood at the top of it and faced the crowd again, he let out an audible sigh before looking down at his watch.

“We only have a few more moments before the ceremony begins, so I’m going to keep this speech short. However, before I finish, I just wanted to mention two of our graduates whose achievements are truly worthy of our attention. Two students who have shown the entire school how far they’ve come over the last four years and what they have accomplished.”

Fletcher’s eyes scanned across the room. It took a while, but eventually, his gaze landed on the boy sitting beside me. He stared at him for a brief second before lifting his head up and speaking. “I want to start by congratulating our valedictorian, Mr. Jameson.

Not only has Jameson managed to achieve a perfect GPA throughout his time here, but he also completed all of his classes with distinction! As such, he is the first person to ever receive a 4.0 GPA from the Academy of Mages! Well done, Mr. Jameson!”

A moment later, Fletcher looked toward me before letting out another breath and lowering his head slightly.

“And finally, I’d like to congratulate our salutatorian, Ms. Elizabeth Williams. Although her final grade point average was a bit lower than Mr. Jameson’s, she did manage to earn the highest score of anyone in the class on this year’s final exam. She has proven herself to be incredibly dedicated and hard-working throughout the course of her studies here. Congratulations, Ms. Williams!”

The crowd applauded loudly after hearing Fletcher’s words. Some cheered excitedly, while others simply clapped enthusiastically as they waited for the event to begin. Fletcher didn’t seem to care either way as he watched the students and then began speaking again.

“Now, let’s take a look at our graduates. I want to recognize each of these fine young people individually, so please give them your attention for the next few seconds. When I finish, they’ll be walking down the aisle to get their diplomas.”

After a minute, Fletcher lifted his head again.

“First, we have Miss Emily Jameson. A graduate with a 4.0 GPA, Emily will be attending Harvard University this fall where she will major in computer science.”

Emily let out a small cheer, which caused some of the other students to do the same. Fletcher continued talking once Emily had finished celebrating.

“Next up is Mr. Jameson. Another graduate with a 4.0 GPA and distinctions for all of his courses, Jameson will be attending Yale University this fall. There he hopes to study international relations with the eventual goal of becoming a diplomat.”

Again, the cheers were loud for Jameson as he made his way down the aisle, receiving his diploma and shaking the principal’s hand as he passed him by.

“Finally,” Fletcher said as he continued moving slowly along the stage, “we have Ms. Elizabeth Williams.”

The crowd let out another round of enthusiastic applause as Fletcher’s eyes moved toward me. He smiled before turning back around and continuing his speech.

“Ms. Williams also achieved a perfect GPA during her time here and has been awarded a full academic scholarship to Harvard Law School starting this fall. In addition to her work in the classroom, Ms. Williams has also been a member of the swim team and a member of the debate society here at the academy.

As one of the most active students at this institution, we are proud to call her one of ours and wish her all the best for the future. Congratulations, Ms. Williams!”

After saying the names of the other students who had received their diplomas, Fletcher turned around yet again to face the audience. He spoke for another few minutes about the various events that would be taking place over the next couple of weeks, followed by a short list of things that students would need to do in order to finish up the last of their assignments before summer vacation began.

Once he had finished speaking, the ceremony ended and the crowd started to break into smaller groups, discussing the day’s events among themselves or talking excitedly to their friends.

The End

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• Scary Ocean Monsters

• Monster Adventurer

The small town of Millfield had always been known for its peacefulness and tranquility. That was until the strange occurrences began. People started disappearing in the middle of the night, leaving behind no trace. At first, the townspeople thought it was just a coincidence, but as the number of missing people increased, fear and paranoia spread through the community like a disease.

The town council held meetings to discuss the problem, but no one had any answers. That was until a young boy named Timmy came forward with a terrifying tale. He claimed to have seen a monster lurking in the woods behind his house. The creature, he said, was unlike anything he had ever seen before. It was big and hairy, with glowing red eyes and razor-sharp claws.

The townspeople were skeptical at first, but as more and more children came forward with similar stories, they knew they had to take action. A group of brave men set out into the woods, armed with rifles and determination. But they never returned.

As the townspeople’s fear reached a fever pitch, a stranger came to Millfield. He was a tall, thin man with a long, white beard and a sharp, calculating gaze. He introduced himself as Dr. John, a monster hunter. He had been tracking the creature for years, he said and had finally caught its scent.

The townspeople were desperate for help, and they welcomed Dr. John with open arms. He set up camp in the woods, and for days, the townspeople waited anxiously for news. But as the days turned into weeks, and the weeks turned into months, hope began to fade.

Just when all seemed lost, Dr. John emerged from the woods, victorious. He had captured the creature, he said and had finally put an end to the terror that had plagued Millfield. The townspeople were overjoyed, and they threw a parade in Dr. John’s honor.

But as the years passed, the townspeople began to realize that the true monster was not the creature in the woods, but the stranger who had come to their town. Dr. John had used their fear and desperation to manipulate them, and in the end, he had been the one to cause all the disappearances. The true mystery of Millfield was not the monster in the woods, but the monster in their midst.

The true horror of the situation slowly came to light as the townspeople started to investigate the stranger, Dr. John. They discovered that he had a long history of using small towns as hunting grounds for the creatures he claimed to be hunting. He would come in as a savior, gain the trust of the townspeople and then use them as bait to lure the creatures out.

The townsfolk soon realized that Dr. John had not only captured the creature in the woods but also several other innocent people in the town who were never seen again. He had used them as sacrifices to lure the creature out. The townspeople were outraged and they demanded justice.

Dr. John knew that his game was up, and he quickly packed up his things and left the town. But the townspeople were determined not to let him get away with what he had done. They formed a posse and set out after him.

For weeks, the posse tracked Dr. John through the wilderness, following the trail of destruction he had left in his wake. Finally, they caught up with him in a remote cabin deep in the woods.

The final confrontation was brutal, and many of the posse members were injured, but in the end, they were able to subdue Dr. John and bring him back to Millfield to face justice. He was put on trial and found guilty of multiple counts of murder and deception. He was sentenced to life in prison, and the townspeople finally found some closure for the loss of their loved ones.

But the memory of the monster in their midst would haunt the townspeople for years to come. They had thought they were safe in their small town, but they had been wrong. They had learned the hard way that evil can come from anywhere, even from within their own community.

And so, the true mystery of Millfield was not the monster in the woods, but the monster in their midst. The creature that Dr. John had captured was just a distraction, a scapegoat for his true evil nature.

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One evening, as she was wandering the streets of the city, she happened upon a small, unassuming shop tucked away in a quiet alley. The sign above the door read “Midnight Romance Perfume.” Clara couldn’t resist her curiosity and decided to step inside.

The shop was dimly lit, and the air was thick with the heady scents of jasmine, patchouli, and vanilla. Clara was immediately drawn in and began to explore the different bottles and jars that lined the shelves. As she was trying to decide which scent to try first, the shopkeeper, a mysterious and alluring woman, appeared from the back room.

“Welcome to Midnight Romance Perfume,” the woman said, with a hint of a smile. “I’m the creator of these fragrances. They are all inspired by the magic and mystery of love at midnight.”

Clara was intrigued and asked the woman to tell her more about the perfumes. As the shopkeeper spoke, Clara felt her heart flutter. These fragrances were exactly what she had been searching for. They were a perfect blend of sensuality and elegance, and they evoked a sense of longing and desire.

Clara knew that she had to have one of these perfumes for herself. She asked the shopkeeper which one she would recommend, and the woman handed her a small bottle of a scent called “Midnight Romance.” Clara sprayed a little on her wrist and immediately fell in love with the rich, warm aroma.

As she was about to purchase the perfume, the shopkeeper handed her a small card. “Here is my contact information,” she said. “I would love to work with you to create a custom fragrance that is uniquely you.”

Clara was thrilled, and she knew that this was the opportunity she had been waiting for. She thanked the shopkeeper and promised to be in touch soon.

Over the next few weeks, Clara worked closely with the shopkeeper to develop her own signature scent. They experimented with different combinations of ingredients and finally settled on a blend of rose, sandalwood, and musk. Clara named it “Clara’s Midnight Romance” and it became an instant hit among her friends and colleagues.

But Clara’s success was not limited to her new fragrance. She also fell in love with the shopkeeper, whose name was Ava. They started dating and the two of them opened a perfumery together, creating new scents and memories.

Clara’s Midnight Romance became one of the most sought-after perfumes in the city, and Clara’s business flourished. But more importantly, she had found her true love in Ava, and their love story was as beautiful and captivating as the fragrances they created.

Years went by, and the couple’s love never faded. They continued to create new and beautiful fragrances together. And as they grew old, they knew that their love was eternal, just like the scents they created at Midnight Romance Perfume.

Clara’s Midnight Romance became a sensation, not just in the city, but also in the entire country. The unique blend of rose, sandalwood, and musk was unlike anything else on the market, and it quickly gained a loyal following. People loved the way it made them feel – confident, alluring, and irresistible.

As the business grew, Clara and Ava decided to expand their range of perfumes. They introduced new scents like “Midnight Garden,” a delicate blend of lavender and rosemary, and “Midnight Desire,” a more intense and sensual fragrance. Each scent had its own unique story and personality, and people loved discovering the different emotions and memories that they evoked.

The Midnight Romance Perfume store became a destination for people looking for something special and unique. The store was always bustling with customers, and Clara and Ava were happy to take the time to talk to each person, to help them find the perfect scent for them.

As the years passed, the couple’s love never faded. They were partners in love and in business, and they continued to create new and beautiful fragrances together. They both knew that their love was eternal, just like the scents they created at Midnight Romance Perfume.

One day, Ava came up with an idea to create a unique and limited edition of Midnight Romance, where they would only sell 100 bottles of the scent. The bottles would be handcrafted and each one would have a different design. This special edition became a hit and it was sold out in a matter of days.

As they entered their golden years, Clara and Ava decided to pass on the business to their children and their children’s children. They knew that their legacy would live on through the perfumes they had created and the love story that inspired them. The Midnight Romance Perfume store still stands to this day, and it continues to be a destination for people looking for something special and unique.

And every now and then, on a quiet night in the city, you can still smell the intoxicating aroma of Midnight Romance, a reminder of the eternal love story of Clara and Ava.

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“I’ll be back in a few minutes,” Morgan said, turning toward the door. He didn’t want to leave his daughter alone with her grandfather and uncle for too long. The last thing he needed was some nosy old codger asking her about the man she’d met. “I’m going out on another ride.”

Ruthie’s hand shot up as if she were a student eager to answer. “Please stay home tonight.” Her voice sounded weak and uncertain but still strong enough for her father to hear it. She didn’t need to worry. He’d never abandon his family or put them in danger. But her words gave him an idea.

He smiled at her. “All right, I’ll stay home this one night, but only if you promise that tomorrow morning before school starts you will go over to the saloon and introduce yourself to Mr. Brownstone.”

Ruthie nodded reluctantly, then turned to her grandfather. “You promised me we’d go fishing tomorrow!”

Mr. Brownstone laughed. It wasn’t a pleasant laugh, and he looked much older than Ruthie thought possible given how young his granddaughter looked. “It’s too late now,” he said as he started toward the door.

Morgan took Ruthie by her elbow and pulled her after her grandfather.

“Come along, Miss Ruthie,” Mr. Brownstone said. “Your uncle and I have things to discuss.” He walked into the foyer, not bothering to close the front door behind him.

When they reached the living room, Ruthie ran over to the mantelpiece and stared down at the photograph of her mother. She touched its surface as if she could bring her mother back just by touching the picture again. “Did you know my mom?” she asked softly.

“I did.” Her grandfather answered in a gruff tone. He didn’t take his eyes off the picture as he spoke.

Ruthie didn’t move away from the mantel as her grandfather continued speaking. “But don’t let that bother you,” he added, “because she loved your uncle more than anything else in this world. More than even she loved you.”

He turned and handed her a framed photo of himself taken around the same time as Ruthie’s mother had been photographed. Both men wore matching white suits and looked like brothers. They also both sported matching smiles. A smile that seemed somehow forced and insincere.

The picture showed two handsome, rugged men with dark hair and deep, penetrating eyes who would have made any woman fall madly in love with them. Not that Ruthie saw her father that way. She remembered the day he came into their house wearing a black hat and a dark suit, his clothes stained with red blood, and his shoes covered in dust.

And how she couldn’t stop staring at him as if something bad might happen. As if he might hurt her or steal all the things that mattered most to her. But he hadn’t. He never once broke his word—not even when there was no one left to witness the act. His word was worth gold, and he wouldn’t break it unless it was absolutely necessary.

He leaned against the mantel and studied his daughter. He appeared tired and drawn but otherwise healthy enough. “You’re getting too old to play in the barn,” he said, taking her arm and pulling her closer to him. Then he pointed toward the front door.

“Now you better get used to going into town with your mother’s friends and acquaintances.” He paused before adding, “Because that is what life here will be like.”

He released her arm and stepped away from the mantel. Ruthie watched him for a moment, trying to figure out why he was so distant. Why he refused to show her any affection or tell her a single nice thing. When he finally looked at her, his expression told her nothing. So she turned to the window, wanting to escape the heavy feeling in the air.

It was obvious that the reason she felt this way was that she’d been raised to hate the very place where she lived. And if she wanted to be happy, she would need to change her attitude quickly or learn to live with this terrible, suffocating atmosphere. “Why do we always have to live here? Why can’t we ever go anywhere else?”

Her question caught Mr. Brownstone by surprise and brought a quick frown to his face. “That’s enough questions for today,” he snapped as if he knew exactly how dangerous they were.

She looked up at him in confusion. She’d never heard her father speak to anyone else that way, except perhaps when he was angry. She looked toward the kitchen where Ruthie’s mother was working on dinner. “Why can’t we leave?”

Mr. Brownstone sighed, then slowly turned to face her. “If we were to try to live somewhere else, there would be no one to protect you.”

Ruthie swallowed hard and stared at him without saying anything.

“Don’t look at me like that!” he exclaimed, waving his hand in front of him as if to ward away something.

His sudden outburst startled her; it wasn’t something her father would have done. “I’m sorry—” Ruthie began, but he didn’t wait long enough to hear what else she had to say before walking over to the piano and plucking out a quick jazzy tune on the ivory keys.

When his mother entered the room, he turned to her with an exaggerated bow. “Mother.” He turned back toward Ruthie and smiled. “You remember Ruthie, don’t you?”

A few seconds later, Ruthie went outside and climbed onto the haystack beside the barn, looking for a place to hide. The sky looked threatening, promising rain and thunderstorms. The clouds gathered together in a menacing shape that resembled a giant’s shadow.

As soon as she reached the top, Ruthie sat down and pulled her knees up, hugging them tightly against her body. She closed her eyes as a wave of fear swept through her mind, bringing visions of her father standing behind her in the shadows. His presence still lingered inside the barn even though he wasn’t actually there.

Ruthie opened her eyes and stared at the clouds again. She tried to imagine what it might be like not having her father’s presence in her life anymore. She wondered what it would feel like to live in a house without him, where people didn’t treat her like the enemy. How strange it must be to live in a place where no one cared about anyone else.

How lonely.

She thought about the time after her father was murdered. When he died, she had no idea what to do with herself. Her mother was too distraught to pay much attention to Ruthie. In fact, she did little more than sit around the house day after day, moping and crying, until she became so despondent that it took all the strength left in Ruthie to keep her alive.

Then one morning when Ruthie was six years old, her mother decided to get up and cook breakfast. But when she returned from the stove with a bowl full of batter, she stopped in midstride and stared down at it. “Oh no,” she murmured, turning around slowly. “What have I done?”

Then she rushed over to Ruthie. “You’ve ruined my recipe.” She shook her head sadly. “It’s not supposed to be runny like that. I forgot to add the salt.”

The next day, Ruthie awoke early. The sun was just rising over the horizon when she heard her mother call from her bedroom upstairs that Ruthie should hurry and get ready for school. She jumped into her clothes and ran downstairs only to find her mother gone, along with every other trace of her existence.

In the end, Ruthie’s aunt had taken her in, but it wasn’t easy living with such a cold woman. It seemed as if Aunt Louise always expected Ruthie to act a certain way, and she hated every minute she spent in her presence. At the same time, Ruthie had been grateful to have someone to talk to, even if she didn’t understand her feelings about everything.

Now her aunt had passed on. She’d lived alone in a small, isolated home for many years. Her death had been quite peaceful. There hadn’t been any pain or suffering. Ruthie found this comforting since she couldn’t remember ever being touched by kindness before.

After Aunt Louise died, Ruthie came back to visit her family, but now she felt guilty because she knew they wouldn’t take her in again. If they saw how much she’d changed since she first moved here, they probably would never forgive her for abandoning them when their father died.

But she couldn’t live with her aunt’s ghost hanging over her. She also needed to know how Mr. Brownstone was going to dispose of her mother, and why he wanted her to marry the man who killed her husband. She could only assume he was trying to use them both against each other.

Ruthie waited a while longer for Mr. Brownstone to return from his trip. He was supposed to come back tomorrow night, but she had the feeling he would show up sooner. The storm clouds were getting thicker and darker overhead. It appeared that God had sent a warning message to Mr. Brownstone to leave town immediately or risk losing his life.

“Where are you, Mr. Brownstone?” she muttered, staring up at the darkening sky.

***

When Ruthie went into her room, she noticed several letters on her bedside table. One looked familiar; it belonged to a friend back in Chicago who kept asking her to write him. Ruthie hadn’t written him in a long time, but she had promised to do so. After reading the letter, she tore it into pieces and threw it out.

Another envelope contained a note that was from another man. This one was more personal, almost affectionate. It reminded her of the times she shared with her father, but now she tossed it aside as well.

She picked up a third letter and read it carefully before opening it. “I hope to see you soon,” was all it said.

This surprised her. Ruthie had been told there were no letters from her mother because Mrs. Brownstone hadn’t learned how to use a pen or typewriter. Instead, she dictated notes and handed them off to someone else. She then wrote out a few words and signed them with an X so she wouldn’t have to put her name on them.

So far, nothing suspicious.

The last letter Ruthie opened was addressed to her father. It had been written months ago, which meant her mother must have known about it beforehand. Ruthie had no idea what was in the letter, but something bothered her about it.

She couldn’t put her finger on exactly what was bothering her until she glanced over at the clock and saw that it was past midnight. “What am I doing?” she whispered to herself.

Why was she wasting precious sleep? It would be best if she just stayed awake tonight and made sure Brownstone was really gone. But she couldn’t stop herself. She was too curious about what she might find. So after tucking the letter away, she lay down on her bed, closed her eyes, and tried to fall asleep. As if it knew her intention, the storm began to pick up speed.

Ruthie’s mind raced as the rain poured down outside, soaking everything it touched. What was Mr. Brownstone’s plan? Was it possible for a dead man to still kill people? Did he want her to marry the murderer or did he simply think she deserved to die for her part in his brother’s murder?

As the night progressed, the thunder rumbled louder and closer, growing nearer with each passing second. Then, without warning, lightning flashed and the house shook under the weight of the violent clap of thunder.

Raindrops pounded the roof and walls, drowning out everything but her own heartbeat. The wind whistled loudly through the chimney, filling the room with a deafening scream. It sounded as if someone was screaming inside her head. A shiver shot up Ruthie’s spine. It had happened again—the same nightmare she’d suffered every night since she was a child.

She was standing at the window staring down at a street that seemed unfamiliar. It wasn’t raining or cold, but there were dark figures moving quickly along the sidewalk. They were walking fast toward the house she was living in with her family.

When they reached the porch, the door slammed open, and two men stepped out. Both wore long coats and hats pulled low over their faces. It was difficult to tell who was behind the black hoods because their heads were bent down, keeping their faces hidden.

Ruthie’s heart beat faster when she heard the footsteps approaching, but it wasn’t the sound of her pounding pulse that startled her. It was the fact that the men were headed straight for her mother, her sisters, and her brothers. Her mother and father stood together holding hands, but the men walked right between them and took them by the arms.

Her father was crying out to his family, but the two men ignored him. Ruthie screamed and ran to grab hold of her mother. But the two men pushed her aside. As if that weren’t enough to frighten the wits out of anyone, one of the men held his hand up, signaling her to stay where she was.

The other one came closer and lifted the hat from his head to reveal an ugly scarred face. His hair was a tangled mess of brown curls that stuck to his forehead like wet weeds in late summer. Ruthie felt faint as she stared at the hideous man who could have been no one else but her father’s murderer.

She wanted to cover her ears and shut her eyes so she wouldn’t have to watch. But there was nothing she could do except stand there while the man approached her. He grabbed her by the shoulders and forced her to look up into his bloodshot eyes.

“You killed my son,” he said, his voice harsh, cold, and deadly. “Now, you’re going to pay.”

He drew back his fist and smashed it across Ruthie’s face. Pain seared through her cheek, and the room started to spin around her. She dropped to the floor, but before she could crawl away, he kicked her in the stomach.

Ruthie curled up on the wooden floor and sobbed as another wave of pain coursed through her body. “No!” she yelled as he kicked her once more. “Stop! Don’t hurt me anymore. I didn’t do anything wrong. Please don’t…don’t…”

Suddenly, something hard struck her on the side of the head and she slumped onto the floor. Her eyes fluttered open but everything was blurry and she could barely see. The only thing that made sense was the smell of fresh pine boughs and the sound of a woman’s soft voice saying, “Please, help her.”

***

After she finished washing dishes at the kitchen sink, Ruthie returned upstairs to get dressed. She opened the closet door and found Mr. Brownstone waiting for her inside. He wore a pair of gray trousers and a blue shirt, which he buttoned all the way up to his neck. He looked as if he meant business.

“Where are we going?” Ruthie asked.

“We’re traveling north,” he replied. “But before we leave, there’s one more thing we need to do.”

His eyes were cold, calculating, and ruthless as he stared at her. “I’m going to take some pictures and write down a few facts about your family.”

“What kind of facts?” she asked, feeling uncomfortable.

“Information that might be useful later. You understand? Your family isn’t safe until this matter is resolved.” He paused briefly, looking her over carefully before continuing, “It shouldn’t take us very long, so please try not to worry. There’ll be plenty of time for you to talk and explain things during the trip. We should reach our destination by morning.”

As soon as he stepped outside the bedroom, Ruthie hurried downstairs and out the front door. She stopped short when she saw the horse waiting patiently by the gate. “Why did you bring a horse?” she asked.

Mr. Brownstone chuckled and patted the reins against the beast’s neck. “Because it’s time to ride,” he answered. “And you know how much I hate to walk.”

“That’s not why I brought the horse,” she replied as she slid onto its back.

He turned away, pretending to be busy adjusting his own gear, but she knew better. This wasn’t going to be a casual trip to the country store or a picnic outing for the family. They had no choice but to go because Mr. Brownstone would never let them refuse.

And there’d be nothing either Ruthie or her family could do about it. Not even when they reached their destination. That was unless someone came to their aid.

The trip to town and back was a blur of motion with little time for conversation. Each step felt like a mile as Ruthie tried to think of what to say to her family, but the words wouldn’t come to mind. All she could remember was her father’s pleading cries as he shouted from the porch to save them.

By nightfall, they reached a small settlement called New Hope where a group of men had gathered to talk around a campfire. Most seemed pleased to see the Brownstones, though others gave them a wide berth and pretended to ignore them.

When they finally arrived at the hotel, the place seemed deserted and eerie in the moonlight. It sat next to a large pond where fish splashed about in the black water, oblivious to the presence of strangers.

Mrs. White greeted them at the door. Her eyes widened upon seeing Ruthie and Mr. Brownstone together, but it wasn’t enough to stop her from inviting them inside.

A fire burned brightly in the parlor fireplace, warming the room. Mrs. White poured hot chocolate into the mugs as she explained, “I thought you might prefer to spend the night here rather than at the boarding house. The other guests are gone for the evening except for a few stragglers. I can have rooms prepared for you, so please feel free to unpack.”

She handed Ruthie a steaming mug of coffee and a plate of brown sugar cookies before adding, “If you need anything, just let me know. I’ll leave you to your work, sir. Good night.”

“Thank you for everything,” Ruthie said.

The old woman smiled, then went out to shut off the lights and lock up. A faint sound of laughter floated from the hallway.

“How many people stay here?” Ruthie asked.

“Not too many these days,” he replied. “Just a handful of ranchers.”

She glanced nervously around the dark, empty lobby and took a sip of coffee before asking, “Do you know who owns this place?”

“No idea. But it doesn’t belong to anyone. It’s simply abandoned.”

Ruthie looked around again as she waited for him to continue, wondering if she should warn her family of the dangers lurking there. “What else does this hotel serve?” she asked.

“Meals, of course, along with bed and board. In fact, I’ve arranged for you to share my suite so we can spend more time alone.”

Ruthie shook her head in disbelief. “Why?” she asked. “Don’t tell me you enjoy sharing a room with another man!”

He shrugged. “Who knows? Perhaps I just like sleeping with you,” he teased. “Maybe I want a closer look at your lovely body while we’re traveling through the wilds.”

Ruthie rolled her eyes as she sipped her coffee. “You’ll have plenty of time to do that on our journey,” she said sarcastically.

His lips curved into a smile as he took her hand. “Now I’m really looking forward to getting started tomorrow morning.” He led her down the hall toward the stairway and added, “It’s almost two o’clock now. You should go upstairs and get some rest.”

“But—”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, and she realized his tone had been mocking. Then he walked away.

“Stop calling me ‘ma’am,'” she muttered after him. “I’m not a schoolmarm.”

When she returned to the main floor, the hallway was dark except for a flickering lamp burning in one of the bedrooms. She paused outside a closed door and listened, hoping to hear voices coming from inside. Nothing stirred.

It wasn’t until she reached the second-floor landing that she saw the faint outline of a person sitting on a wooden bench beneath an arching window. His profile was shadowed by darkness, but she couldn’t mistake his distinctive profile.

Mr. Brownstone leaned against a post with his hands behind his head, watching her with undisguised curiosity. The light from the streetlamp across the road glinted in the lenses of his glasses and made a halo around his hairless scalp. “Come join me,” he invited.

With every nerve tingling, Ruthie stepped past him and stopped at the window. He stood close beside her, but instead of taking her hand or even saying goodnight, he simply turned and left.

Ruthie watched him walk away in stunned silence. Why hadn’t he kissed her like he usually did? She’d been expecting that kind of gesture, but she didn’t understand why he would leave without saying anything. What if someone found her there on the bench staring at him? That wouldn’t be very convincing if she were accused of spying on him and then caught kissing someone else.

She sighed as she hurried back downstairs. When she reached the lobby, she saw Mr. White peering curiously from under his brows.

“Everything all right?” he whispered. “Did something happen?”

“Oh—no,” she answered quickly, then hurried up the stairs.

The End

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• Blue Mystery Snail

• Smile God Loves You

“The hell you say!”

I blinked, and then I realized I’d been so deep in thought about the new story idea that I didn’t even hear them.

“What?” My eyes flew open. “Sorry, I was lost in my thoughts,” I lied. It had nothing to do with the new story idea. Nothing at all! And it sure as shit wasn’t because my brain was so busy trying to come up with ideas on how I could get myself out of this mess I’d gotten into, that I completely blanked hearing a conversation.

“You were thinking again. What is this about a book?”

Oh God!

Shit!

Why did she have to ask? Why couldn’t she just keep her damn mouth shut!

“It’s just something that came to me.” I sighed.

“Well, we’re going to talk about that later. We’ll need to get started packing for our trip today.” She turned and headed toward the door. “I’m tired from all this moving stuff.”

Yeah, yeah… pack away your worries, honey… just don’t think too much—that’s the best advice anyone ever got. I rolled my eyes. “Sure thing.” I tried to sound casual.

She didn’t look back at me or anything, but she walked out of the room and down the hall, not saying another word. At least now I knew for certain there was no way I could go after her and make any kind of attempt at getting some answers.

She had to know by now that I would have done just that if I could have, and she probably knew that, too. So… why bother trying when she knew exactly what kind of monster I was before I’d even met her.

I shook my head and leaned forward on the table. My fingers gripped tightly around the edge.

“Hey, you okay?”

I looked up and saw her standing in the doorway. The light from outside was streaming in through the glass door behind her, making her skin gleam. For some reason, I felt like she needed to be protected. Like maybe I could keep her safe if I stood right here next to her, and I could somehow shield her from everything bad that might happen.

Maybe… I’m just being stupid, I told myself. Maybe it was only the heat. This was Texas for God’s sake. Hot as hell most days, but that shouldn’t affect me in a way where I felt like I had to protect her, should it?

“What? Oh yeah,” I answered casually.

“So what did you want to talk about?”

“Oh, uh…” I cleared my throat and sat straight up. “Nothing really. Just work things and such.”

Her brows furrowed a little bit. “Okay.”

That was good enough for now; she didn’t push for more information, and at least I didn’t feel like I had to give it to her. At least I wasn’t the asshole who was always prying into other people’s business anymore. I wouldn’t put her through that kind of crap, not after what had happened the last time.

I stood up and walked over to the door. “Well, let’s get a move on.”

“Yeah… I guess we should.” She followed me slowly as we walked out the front door. “It’s pretty warm outside already,” she said when we stepped outside.

“Yeah, it is,” I agreed. “Let’s take the air-conditioning inside for now.”

She nodded and followed me into the house. We made our way upstairs and went our separate ways to get ready for our trip. When I heard her bathroom door close, I quickly stripped off my shirt and jeans and grabbed a pair of shorts before walking out and heading for the shower.

Once under the water, I let my head fall back against the tile wall and closed my eyes. I tried to clear my mind of everything else except the hot stream coming down on me. I wanted to try to focus on the new story ideas and get my thoughts organized, so I could write down whatever ideas I might have.

But instead, my mind kept drifting toward my mother and father. It wasn’t fair to wonder if they were okay, or even still alive.

I knew they hadn’t gone anywhere, because if they had, then I would have gotten an email from one of their accounts telling me so. They wouldn’t have stopped communicating with me just because they were dead.

But that also meant that they weren’t okay either. Because they didn’t know what was happening. They didn’t know that I existed or even about all this. How did I explain that? Was it even worth trying? I mean, it would never work.

If I told them, they would probably try to find me and bring me home, which obviously wouldn’t end well for anybody involved. That was assuming that they hadn’t killed themselves already. And who knows—maybe that was exactly what they’d done. Who knew what had happened between then and now.

It hurt knowing they were gone. It hurt not knowing where they were. But it also brought me relief… at least a little bit. Because now I wouldn’t have to worry about what to tell them about any of this.

And now… I wouldn’t have to worry about anyone else finding out about me either, not unless I told them, of course. But that meant letting someone else into my life again… trusting another human being once more. That was something I wasn’t sure I would ever be able to do again after what had happened with my parents.

Not only that but what if that person turned out to be as much of a piece of shit as they were in the beginning? What if I got close to them only to discover that they’d been hiding secrets too?

I let the water run cold and then stepped out of the shower. I dried myself off, then pulled on a clean pair of boxers, and slipped back into my clothes from earlier. As I walked back through the bedroom, I paused when I reached the window.

The sun was starting to set, casting the room a pink glow. I stared out at the night sky for a few seconds before pulling myself away from the window. There was no point in thinking about anything else right now other than getting ready for tomorrow’s trip to Houston.

Once I finished dressing, I checked on Kelsi once more before leaving the room and heading downstairs. By then she was dressed and waiting for me at the bottom of the steps. Her hair looked wet, and there was steam curling around her shoulders as she smiled brightly at me.

“Hey!” she greeted me excitedly as she stepped towards me.

“Hey,” I replied with a smile as I took her hand in mine. “You ready?”

“Yeah! I’ve been ready since last night,” she teased.

“Yeah… that’s how I felt too.”

We both laughed, and for a moment I forgot about everything else. I focused solely on the girl I loved, who seemed to want nothing more than to make my day better. And I wasn’t going to stop her from doing that any time soon.

***

The drive to Houston was easy but long. Thankfully we got to take Highway 75 to get to the city rather than Interstate 10. It was a long drive, but at least it was scenic and gave us a chance to talk while we drove. It was nice to get some small talk in and learn about her.

She told me that she’d grown up in the same area and gone to high school here, though I couldn’t remember ever seeing her in class before. Apparently, she’d dropped out her junior year and had spent the rest of the time working part-time jobs. It wasn’t until she’d started college that she met her boyfriend and got serious.

Apparently, she’d had quite the reputation in high school, mostly because her boyfriend cheated on her. After that she’d sworn off relationships, focusing solely on finishing school. She talked about him like he was already gone as if he’d died years ago instead of months prior.

I listened intently as she explained how much they’d loved each other growing up, and how happy they were to finally have found one another in adulthood.

They dated for three years and then decided it was time to move in together. When they first started dating, her boyfriend had lived across town with his best friend, but eventually, he bought a condo near campus and moved in with her. They’d stayed together for five years before things started to go south.

“He started getting really secretive,” Kelsi said with a shrug. “At first I thought maybe it had something to do with him and his roommate getting into trouble again, but then he started acting strange, too, and it didn’t matter.”

She sighed as she shook her head. “I should have seen it coming, honestly, but I was so blinded by how happy we were and how in love I was with him that I just ignored all the signs. He’d spend days at work without calling or texting me to see where I was. He wouldn’t come over anymore unless I called him, even though he used to call every weekend before that.”

“Did you ever think it was cheating?”

She nodded, a look of regret crossing her face. “At first I did, but then when he denied it, I convinced myself it must have been stress from school that made him pull away from me.”

I frowned as I tried to wrap my head around what she was telling me, wondering how such a thing could happen to two people who were supposedly so in love. I didn’t want to press her about it too much, not wanting to upset her even more. But there was still so much I wanted to know and so much I needed to find out.

“And then? How long did this go on before…”

Kelsi shrugged uncomfortably as she glanced out the windshield. “Well, the last time we went out together was for our six-month anniversary. We were supposed to spend the day together, but he showed up drunk and barely able to walk straight.

He was supposed to be meeting his best friend for drinks after their basketball game that afternoon, but he couldn’t get himself out of bed and said his stomach hurt.”

Kelsi looked over at me and gave a soft smile. “That’s when I knew something was wrong.”

The next few hours consisted of her talking about him like he was already dead. The way he always kept secrets, the way he avoided her calls, the lies that came so naturally to him and the way he treated her whenever she caught him in them. It wasn’t until late in the day that she began to relax and lighten up as we pulled into a hotel parking lot in downtown Houston.

“So are we staying here tonight?” she asked as we stepped inside the lobby and made our way to the front desk.

“Nah, we’re heading down to San Antonio tomorrow morning,” I responded. “There are a couple hotels along the riverwalk that we can stay at for a few nights.”

“Oh,” she replied with a sigh. “Do you want me to go home first or stay with you tonight?”

I chuckled and shook my head. “It’ll be fine. You need a shower more than anything right now anyway, so why don’t we just hang out in the room, order a pizza and watch some movies?”

She grinned back at me and nodded, looking happier than I’d ever seen her. We checked in with the clerk behind the counter, leaving everything but the room key on our credit card, and made our way up to our room on the fifth floor. As soon as we got inside, Kelsi turned to look at me, an eager expression in her eyes.

“You’ve gotta give me a massage,” she demanded as she reached forward and wrapped both arms around my neck.

I laughed and leaned down to kiss her as I slipped my hands into her hair to pull her close to me. “How does this sound?” I teased as I pressed my lips against hers softly.

“Sounds good to me,” she whispered against my mouth as I let my hand fall down the nape of her neck to squeeze her shoulders lightly. “I’m tired, sore, and in desperate need of a relaxing evening.”

“I agree completely,” I muttered as I pulled away from her long enough to grab the remote control. Then I returned her lips to mine, slipping my tongue between her warm, moist lips as I felt the tip of hers brush against mine.

When our lips parted, I took advantage of her pouty expression, leaning forward and kissing her cheek before sliding my tongue across her earlobe. Her whole body tensed beneath my touch as I moved my lips slowly down her jawline, pausing to suck on her lower lip and gently lick at the sensitive flesh surrounding her teeth before moving down even further.

I paused for only a moment to take in the view before me, drinking in the sight of the beautiful blonde goddess standing in front of me. She was wearing a pair of black leggings and a matching tank top, both of which hugged her curves tightly while exposing her flat tummy and small breasts to my gaze.

And despite the fact that she had been crying all day, she still looked absolutely stunning.

Her long, thick legs were exposed by the way her shirt sat low on her hips, and I found myself staring longingly at the large scar on her left thigh just above where her skirt met her pants, unable to resist the urge to trace its length with my fingertip.

“What’s gotten into you?” she whispered quietly against my mouth as she pushed her chest up against mine, letting her hands slide down and wrap around my waist.

“Not a damn thing,” I growled back as she tugged my shirt off, causing me to laugh and push her back slightly before taking another deep breath in and releasing it. “But there’s nothing wrong with getting what I want whenever possible.”

We shared a brief kiss before I turned and led her into the bathroom, quickly pulling open the shower door and turning on the water so we could strip each other bare. As I stepped into the shower, I pulled the curtain closed behind us as she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around me, pressing her body up against mine as she kissed me passionately.

After a few moments, Kelsi pulled herself away from my mouth and leaned up to stare into my eyes. “Are we really gonna do this?”

“What is ‘this’ exactly?” I teased, wrapping my arms around her tiny waist and feeling her hardening nipples poke against my chest as we stood there under the warm spray of the shower.

She smiled and slid her arms around my neck before leaning forward to capture my lips with hers again. “I want you to make love to me.”

“Is that a bad thing?” I murmured through our kisses as my hands slid down to cup her ass, squeezing it and making her gasp slightly. “Because I definitely don’t think it’s a bad idea…”

She giggled and pushed herself back, reaching around me and grabbing hold of the showerhead before turning it on full blast and sending streams of hot water cascading over us both. She then grabbed my hand and brought it up to her breast, giving my fingers a soft squeeze before letting go and turning the temperature dial all the way down to cold.

The End

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• A Night to Remember

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“The world is wide, but my heart has its boundaries. I will not leave this house to go on pilgrimage until there comes a time when all of the people are dead or all of the men in my life have gone,” she said.

I looked at her and smiled because she was right: The world is wide, but it’s not that wide! I’m going to take this chance, even if only for one night!” she cried as she stood up. “And you must promise me something else.”

My eyes widened with excitement. I didn’t know what she meant, though; so I took hold of her hand, and we both walked into the room together. She went straight to the wardrobe where I kept my sewing machine. She pulled out her little sewing kit and began taking pins from its box.

She put them back after she finished. Then she sat down on the floor to prepare herself. When she had finished putting all the pins back inside her pocketbook, she got off the chair, closed the door behind us, then lay down flat on the bed with her legs folded underneath her body like a mat.

We were alone now. There was no one but her and me, but we weren’t in any danger of being discovered; for our parents never left us home alone, and I had a key to open every lock in the house. I couldn’t get up, though, until I found a way to let myself out of this house… But how could I escape?

What would I do once I reached the street? And if anyone did see me, they would just think me mad and leave me be. No one cared about me except my mother, who would come for me in the morning and bring me back here.

It seemed impossible to believe I’d escaped from my home by magic. I tried to imagine myself outside the door, running away into the streets of the city. It didn’t seem possible, either. How much time had passed since then? Had I been asleep the whole time?

Or did she really save me—me, a girl who had never seen the city before—from being caught in such a terrible storm? All that happened was that she had taken my hand when I was ready to flee, and together we escaped through the window.

But now she wasn’t there anymore.

“Oh, please don’t look so scared!” My mother laughed. “You’re making such a fool of yourself.”

She was right: I had been terrified. That’s why I turned pale and ran toward the mirror hanging on the wall. I wanted to see her—to make sure she was there.

“What are you doing?” she asked. Her hair was loose over her shoulders; her face shone with sweat from the summer heat.

Her appearance reminded me of some story or other. She wore a long, simple white dress, which made her seem more beautiful than ever. And I realized I hadn’t stopped to think, and that I should have been surprised, but instead I felt a warm sensation in my stomach.

I could not help thinking of her: My mother, the girl who had saved me from being caught by my father… My mother! A stranger had entered the room, but she was really my mother!

As if she knew what I was thinking, she laughed again. Her smile made everything seem so natural; it was as if we had been waiting for each other all our lives.

A strange light filled my eyes, but I was too happy to mind. I was still holding onto her hand and staring at her face when she spoke: “Are you ready, my dear?”

“Yes,” I said, trying to answer her question.

But then I remembered.

That day was a long time ago, and it’s not likely that I will see her again. And yet this is the first time I’ve thought about how I might see her again.

When I opened my eyes, I saw someone standing next to me.

“You’ll see your mother soon,” my mother whispered. “Just close your eyes.”

I closed my eyes.

“Do you know who you want to see most?”

“I want to see my mother,” I replied.

So, for all these months since then, I have waited for her. In the dark, I had been waiting for my mother; waiting for her touch; waiting for her kiss; waiting to be held in her arms and told, “Welcome home.”

***

“How is the weather outside?” I asked. I knew the answer already, but I still wanted to hear her say it.

My mother laughed softly. “Not good.”

It was snowing hard. The sky was clear enough in the day’s morning twilight to tell me it had just rained, and when I looked out at the streets from my bedroom window, I saw that there were puddles everywhere, and there were also piles of wet clothes left out to dry on the balcony.

It was cold today; the wind was blowing hard and made the trees shake. We had been talking about the weather. I heard her laugh again.

“The rain has cleared the air a little bit, but now it’s raining again.”

“Oh,” I sighed.

“Don’t worry about it,” she said. “Your father is going to pick you up tonight—we’re both meeting him.”

“Yes…”

There was something wrong with what she said. It didn’t sound like an answer to my question.

But I could only say one thing, even while I smiled—and that was, “I’m hungry.”

And that’s all there was to my reply. But I couldn’t sleep. I lay in bed and thought about what she had said. It seemed to me that there was an implication in her words, but I couldn’t quite make sense of it. What was she laughing about? I felt a sudden chill and looked out the window.

I could barely see the ground through the misty air. Even the moonlight seemed dimmer than usual; the snow glimmered silver in the shadows. The streets were covered with water.

My mother had been smiling at me as she answered me. “Yes—but you can eat first.”

She looked so young. How much time must have passed since I saw her last? I stared at my sister and couldn’t stop thinking of her as my mother. Her beauty was so radiant that it brought tears to my eyes. I tried to imagine what kind of life she led. Did she work somewhere?

Did she live in town or in the country? And where did my father go every night? When I thought about it, I was afraid to close my eyes. My heart beat faster, and my palms grew damp. There was no doubt about it: I would never see her again.

My mother’s face was so soft and gentle. As I listened, I could hear the same sweet melody in my head. Her voice sounded like music. I wanted to ask her to sing me to sleep. So, I nodded.

“All right, Mama,” I whispered, but she only smiled, shaking her head slightly.

The moment she said it, though, she let go of my hand and stood up.

“We must go now,” she said, taking my arm and pulling me to stand beside her. Her eyes were shining brightly, but I could still feel something sad and distant in them.

“Mama—”

But before I could finish speaking, she took my hand and kissed me on the forehead. Then she turned away and walked to the door, her back straight and her arms crossed tightly over her chest.

“Let’s go!” she called out to us as she opened the front door. The cold wind blew into the house and made her shiver. She went to the kitchen and poured herself some tea. I followed behind her, holding tight to my blanket. We sat down in two chairs set by the window.

My mother’s hair hung down across her face like a veil. She sipped her tea and waited until we had finished our meal before she spoke again. Then she gave me a hug and said, “Come on,” and led us into the hall.

“Are you warm enough?” I asked my mother.

Her eyes were bright, though a slight tremble betrayed her.

“Yes, yes…” she assured me. “Go get dressed,” she said to me in reply. “We’re leaving. You will come with us.”

I was frozen to the marrow as she looked at me; her gaze was so intense. Then she took my hands in hers and held them gently as if she were caressing me. It was then I realized I hadn’t spoken to her yet.

“You’ll be fine,” she said. Her tone was reassuring. “It will soon be spring. I will always be with you.”

She looked straight at me with her eyes full of warmth, and as I stood looking up at her, unable to move, she squeezed my fingers tighter. For just a second, she hesitated before opening the door and stepping out into the night.

“Come along now,” she told me. “We’ll meet your father outside.”

“Where are we going?”

“I’m taking you home.”

My mind was reeling.

“Home…?” I repeated stupidly.

I couldn’t understand what she meant when she said “home.”

But I had no choice but to do as she said.

***

After walking for ten minutes, we turned off the street and walked into the woods. The snow had stopped falling, and the moonlight shone through the branches. I could hear the sound of running water and the rustling of the trees in the wind. I could smell the fragrance of pine needles and wildflowers from somewhere nearby.

There was a small stone bridge near the entrance where the path branched off into two directions. As we approached, I saw a light burning inside—it was coming from an iron lantern hanging from a tree branch. A few feet farther on was another lamp, hanging from its own tree. I knew this place very well. It was a secret place between our house and my school.

My mother’s car was parked by one of the lamps. She drove past a few other cars and turned onto the road that would take us back toward the house. I watched my mother drive. Her hair fluttered lightly, and she wore her usual blue jacket with a white fur collar.

Her hair had gotten longer since the last time I saw her. But even more beautiful than ever, she sat hunched over the steering wheel.

As we passed the house, my mother got out of the car. I followed her lead and got out too. I tried not to stare at my mother, but I didn’t think about anything else either. I could see the same house standing there just as I remembered. We reached the front door and my mother rang the bell. She knocked three times, and then the door opened a crack.

“What is it?” Mrs. Mittermeier asked suspiciously. She peered into the hallway before opening the door wide, but her eyes grew wider when she saw the two of us standing there. “Who’s this?”

“I want you to take care of the young lady, please,” my mother said to her.

“Oh…” Mrs. Mittermeier frowned when she heard my name. “But who are you? How did you know that Miss Kostan has returned?”

“You’ll see. Take good care of her.”

“Of course, I will,” she responded, but her eyes were wary.

“Goodnight, Mama!” I cried and ran up to her. When I hugged her, she put her arms around me tightly. I couldn’t help noticing how she felt. This time, she was wearing gloves, and it was harder to tell if it was really my mother or not. My mother let go of me after a moment and looked at me with concern.

“Don’t worry. I’m sure she can get back in touch with you once she gets used to her new life here.”

My mother’s face twitched.

“She is home now. Let’s hurry back and talk,” my mother said. And when she said that, I finally understood what she meant by “home.” She was going to take me away from the Mittermeiers. I knew this was true because she had been talking about it all along, but for some reason, I’d never thought much about it until today.

“I’ll stay with you,” I whispered to her.

My mother shook her head slowly, and I knew that even if I wanted to stay with her, she wouldn’t have allowed it. She was leaving for the airport right away, and I had no choice but to go along. I couldn’t say goodbye to my father; he would miss us if he came home late.

She was about to open the door and leave when she suddenly turned to me and said: “You will make friends easily, won’t you? And you will find someone who likes you.”

My mother smiled gently, and I stared up at her as I nodded. My mother pulled me close and gave me another hug.

I was left alone with Mr. Mittermeier and my sister in the hall while my mother drove off in the car. We went into the room, where a warm fire burned in the fireplace. He looked at me, confused. My mother was already in bed waiting for us. We exchanged greetings and then sat down by the fire to wait until my mother came back.

The clock struck midnight when she arrived back home, and I was so tired that I fell asleep.

The End