I kept the blindfold on and enjoyed the comfort of his presence. He touched my hair and chin.
A smile started in my soul and climbed its way to my face. “I love you,” I said to him, so naturally, then slipped the blindfold over my head.
But he was gone. Not a person in sight. Not even a squirrel. Only a slight breeze rustling the treetops and a cloud-hugged sun coloring the world pink.
Thirthy Six
So often it’s the man. Rushing back to the woman to proclaim his love. Prince Charming searches endlessly for the delicate foot that will fit the glass slipper. Forrest stands from the bus stop and runs to Jenny. In Notting Hill, William races through the city to find Anna Scott. Jack dies for Rose as the Titantic finds a new home at the bottom of the sea.
Not for me.
I couldn’t wait for Hollywood to paint my life with its typical hues. I couldn’t wait to gather the pieces of my heart, toss them over my shoulder, and swim upstream. I needed to do it now.
Out of breath, I bursted through Ella’s kitchen and tossed my hands in the air. “I’m alive! I’m finally alive!” I yelled, then kissed Ella, Gavin, and Adelaide on the cheek before running out the front door.
Tell me why the longest car rides are the ones you want to jump out of and when you really want to get somewhere, bouncing in your seat and wiping your sweaty hands on your clothes, you hit every red light known to man?
Then, red light of all red lights, I stood on his doorstep, panting and knocking and dreaming of our first kiss, only to see Natalie open the door and shove a detour sign in my face. “He’s not here.” She wiped her eyes. “I’m glad to see you. I’m sorry for what I did.”
“What do you mean?”
“Can you come inside?”
I shook my head. “What’s going on?”
“I want him back, Sarah. I made a mistake. I ended things with Vasili for another guy, but I found him in bed with another girl yesterday.”
I rubbed my temple.
“Can you help me get him back?”
I covered my mouth with my hand, then covered my eyes. When I looked back to Natalie, she was crying again, but it seemed fake. Or forced.
“No,” I said. “I won’t help you get him back, because I love him. I love him so much that I could never let him go, not for any reason or any man. He’s my home. And there’s no place like home.”
I turned and jogged to my car, not looking back.
No problem, I told myself, feeling enlivened. Prince Charming had his own detours. I’d find him. Even if it took all night.
After an hour of driving I began to lose my momentum, so I called him.
My phone shook in my hand as it rang.
“Hey,” he said.
I hesitated, suddenly speechless.
Then I heard a dial tone.
I called back, but it went straight to voicemail. His phone died. Great. Perfect timing.
Although … there was one place I didn’t check.
I parked on the street instead of inside the cemetery, hoping to creep up on him if I found him by her grave.
I passed Sarah Williams who died in 1876. And Lillian Edwards, born 1877 and buried beside Jonathan Edwards. Both died in 1902. So young. I wondered how and why and if I’d die in the arms of my love.
Then I saw him. Lying on the ground in front of her grave. His knees up, highlighted by the bright light from the moon. I thought of our little play. When he pretended to be George and offered to lasso the moon.
I stood about twenty feet away, peering at him from behind a tree. He was blindfolded.
I slipped off my shoes and took one step at a time until I hovered above him. He scratched his neck and put his hand behind his head again. I knelt down as quietly as possible.
He moved his face toward me and I placed my hand on his forehead. “Don’t take the blindfold off,” I said. “I have something to say first.”
A gentle smile toyed with his lips as I asked him to lay his head in my lap.
Minutes passed. I swept my fingers across his face and through his hair. He draped one arm over my knees and held my hand with the other. Although we didn’t speak, so much was said. Minutes turned into an hour as I silently told him everything I wanted to say for the last year. No need for words. He understood. I understood.
The summer breeze lifted the hair from my face as a single tear made its way to my neck and soaked into the collar of my shirt. I moved my hand from his hair, over the blindfold, down his nose, then stopped and gently pressed my fingers into the lips I’d been wanting to kiss forever.
“Do you understand what I said?” I brushed my hair behind my ear and leaned toward him. “Did you hear?”
“Actually, I didn’t.” He took the blindfold off and brought the back of his hand to my cheek. “When someone loves you, there are times when the best way to show them that you feel the same is to just let yourself be loved.”
With one hand linked with his and the other over his heart, I leaned closer until our lips barely touched. I prayed God would let me live long enough to die in this man’s arms, then closed my eyes and let the world disappear.
As his heart beat under my palm, I smiled, still hovering centimeters from his lips. I tried to remember the exact moment I fell in love with him, but it was impossible. It was as though our love had no beginning or end.
It simply ... was.
Epliogue
Vasili and I waved goodbye to everyone as they disappeared down the street. All moved in to my new apartment and only one thing left to do. I linked my arm with Vasili’s and led him to the backyard.
“Hopefully this is okay in a city yard,” I said, standing in front of the boxes on the patio. “Ready?”
“You sure you’re okay with this?” He pulled me into his chest and kissed the top of my head.
We stared at the boxes for a few seconds, until I finally nodded and walked toward the fire pit.
Vasili carried the boxes one at a time, then sat beside me. His eyes asked me if I wanted to stand back while he lit the fire, but I shook my head. I wanted to face my fears. Every last one of them.
He looked at me again before lighting the gasoline covered wood.
I nodded. “One time when I was a kid, I fell off a horse as I was going over a jump. Never happened before. I jammed my finger and the horse almost stepped on my head. My teacher made me get right back on that horse. I was scared out of my mind, but she kept telling me to go over the jump again. Everything inside of me wanted to run and never come back. I was hurt, humiliated, and scared.” I tapped the fire wood. “My burns made me feel the same way. I don’t want to live in fear. Not about fire or death or getting hurt. I want to live and be honest. I want to be free.”
He smiled and motioned for me to sit back. I leaned into my chair and held my necklace in my hands. So fitting. The bird leaving its cage. Finally free.
Vasili struck the match. I flinched, then leaned back a little more as the flames crackled and grew, spreading across the wood and reaching toward the tree branches above us. I stared into the orange and yellow bands of light and nodded my head, remembering the weight of accepting James when he proposed. Feeling guilty for not having butterflies in my stomach and fearing what our marriage would bring. But I suppressed those fears and woke up alone, heat against every part of my body, those flames melting my life away.
Vasili scooted a box toward me. I pulled out my old journals. One at a time, I set them into the flames, careful not to get too close. Then, I rummaged through the other box. Vasili helped. Together, we burned my old clothes, photographs, and dreams.
The smoke curled up and around us. The smoke of yesterday, of my past. Vasili placed his hand on my knee and squeezed. I held his hand to my lips and smiled as my past disappeared in the heat, making way for m
y new life.
“Do you wish it would’ve never happened?” Vasili said. “The fire, the pain. Would you take it back if you could?”
“No, I’m thankful.” I kissed his hand. “Without the fire, I would’ve never met you.”
He smiled, then pulled me into him. We held each other until the fire began to fade. Then, as the flames finally lost their zeal, Vasili ran his fingers down my cheek, along my jaw, and rested them on my chin.
“I’d die for you, Sarah.” He tilted my chin and pulled my lips toward his. “I mean it.”
I closed my eyes as he did. Our lips touched. The crickets serenaded us as we kissed, then pulled back, looked at each other, and kissed again. A rush of future dreams scattered across my mind. This was it. Simple, sweet, and free. This was life.
Everything around me vanished and the world went beautiful.
Life, I love you.
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[Fluffer Nutter]
Life is what happens while you are busy making other plans.
John Lennon
With a passion for hockey, but disdain for media attention, Sawyer Reed tries to rebuild his life after fame by reconnecting with his estranged brother in NYC. While there, he meets an odd girl who won’t take no for an answer.
Nora Maddison is doing her best to maintain some level of normalcy while rising to fame quicker than she anticipated. As she disguises herself and meanders about the city, she finds a mysterious man who refuses to give her the time of day.
Eventually, the two find solace in their late night conversations, but when their true identities are revealed they must decide if their hidden romance is worth more than their dreams.
Coming August 2014
When the City Sleeps - Sawyer
Every Wednesday I requested a table for two, but so far I always sat alone, handing the waiter both menus with an expected sigh. Today I overhead them whispering, wondering if I was being stood up by the same girl every time. I never told them who I was actually waiting for. Figured it would be less interesting that way. But today the young girl took my menu’s and said, “The girl over there.” She pointed behind her. “She asked if she could sit with you.”
I shook my head. “No, thanks.”
I didn’t look at her. Didn’t need to. I saw her come in right after me. Probably wouldn’t had noticed her, but she kept smiling at me during lunch. She looked a bit like a freak or a homeless person, but underneath the Yankees hat, frizzy hair, and strange clothing she seemed too pretty to be either.
I looked up and made eye contact with her, then looked down when she stood. Oh great, I thought. Last thing I needed was a whacked out woman in my life.
She sat down in the booth across from me. “Hello.”
I nodded and waved to the waitress. When I caught her attention, I mouthed, “Check, please.”
“I don’t bite,” the girl said. “I noticed you wait here for someone every Wednesday, but they never come. Either that’s the case or you’re too embarrassed to sit here alone, so you pretend like you’re waiting for someone.”
I took the check from the waitress and shrugged. “Pegged me.”
She narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms. “Hm. Good answer.”
“Glad I aced your test.” I stood and took my copy of the receipt.
“Before you go,” she said, standing beside me. “You got change for a hundred? I need four twenties and two tens.”
I pulled out my wallet and handed her the cash. She started to hand me the hundred dollar bill, but I saw her name and number inked in red along the edge. Nora.
“Keep it,” I said, then walked away, half-regretting the loss of what could’ve been a friend during one of the loneliest and most confusing times of my life.
The city air hit me like a cloud of second-hand smoke. I couldn’t stand New York and if it weren’t for my brother I’d stop traveling here altogether. I’m not a city guy, especially this city. Too many memories. Not all bad, but not all good either.
I walked down the street toward my brother’s apartment building and saw the strange girl skipping through a crowd on the other side of the street. She turned and waved to me as she rounded the corner. Hands in my pockets, I looked down and reminded myself to pick a different restaurant next week. As much as I didn’t want to, I’d be back. Unless he answered the door this time.
I knocked on the door that led to his living room. “Quin, I know you’re in there. Come on, Quin. I see your car out front.”
I pulled the small mallet from my pocket and banged a tune on the door. He’d recognize it. “Quinton Marshall Reed Junior. Open the door.”
I slipped my hands in my pockets and exhaled, wondering why I even bothered. Quin hadn’t spoken to me in seven years, but where he lacked loyalty I didn’t. I’d come back every Wednesday for the rest of my life, looking like the fool who got stood up every week by some girl when really it was just my brother. Thankfully we fell out of the spotlight years ago, like a one-hit wonder people occasionally surface and say, “What ever happened to...?”
Otherwise I may not had been so keen on The Big Apple. As kids we called it The Big Lemon because we couldn’t stand it. Now Quin lived right smack in the middle of it.
Not me.
I hailed a taxi and climbed inside. “Airport, please.”
The driver nodded and edged back into the traffic. I stared out the window as people passed in other cars, thinking of the times Quin and I would drive to games and make up stories about people in the cars around us. I watched the people, but they no longer seemed interesting to me. Not without Quin to laugh at the scenarios I’d come up with.
He’d always slap the steering wheel, laughing so hard the car would jerk at red lights, then gather enough air to say, “Where do you come up with these things?”
The taxi pulled into the airport. I handed him double what he asked for and winked. He nodded and thanked me as I turned and looked at the doors to the airport that would take me back to Maryland. I hated flying. Loathed it. Imagined my death every time I boarded a plane. The guys used to call me a pansy. Not sure if I qualify as a pansy or not considering the fact that I played one of the most violent sports in the world--at least you begin to think so after playing it professionally--but pansy or not, I wasn’t interested in dying. Which is why Quin had a Stanley Cup and I didn’t.
And never would.
The game was his life. For me, it’s always been the biggest part of my life, maybe even the deepest, but never the air I breathed. Every hit I took, every slam against those boards, and I’d immediately think of Mom and Dad’s grave stones and how I wasn’t ready to join them.
Something scratched my back when I walked to the doors. I reached behind my neck to fix my tag, but found a paper instead.
Call me ... if you want. Nora. 555-7859.
She had to know who I was. Probably just wanted an autograph or a few thousand dollars. I crumpled the paper and tossed it in the trash can right outside the door. Another reason I hated playing for The Flyers. Ten times harder to find the right woman when you make millions. And I wasn’t interested in the wrong ones. Too shy for that anyway. I left the bedroom to my brother. Yet another area he excelled.
I paid for my ticket and found a seat. Only an hour wait today. I plugged my ears with headphones and watched videos on my phone. Videos of new players. New faces. I studied their every move. And I loved every single second of it.
Out August 2014 - Pre-Order Now
Your Questions Answered
Q. Of all the books in The Unspoken Series, which one do you like the most?
A. That’s really hard. I love them all for different reasons. I connect with Heart on a Shoestring the most, but I’d have to say that Bloom has been my favorite to wri
te so far. I don’t know. Honestly, I feel like I say that about each new book as it releases. I have a feeling my favorite is going to be A Starless Midnight (Mwenye’s story) by the time I’m finished this series.
Q. What kind of music do you listen to as you write?
A. Depends. If you see a song mentioned in the book, chances are I was listening to it while writing. I listen to classical music and nature sounds when I write. My favorite is a nice thunderstorm sound. Is that a boring answer? Haha...
Q. What’s the last book you read that you loved?
A. Fiction? Loved? I don’t know about loved, but I liked The Longest Ride by Nicholas Sparks. Right now I’m reading a bunch of hockey books while I prepare to write book six, When the City Sleeps. And believe it or not, I’m really enjoying them.
Q. What’s your writing schedule like?
A. I don’t have one. I write at least 2,000 words a day. When that happens, who knows. To make time for it I write from my iPhone. Literally. The entire book is written on my phone in between a million other things. So if there are ever weird typos, blame autocorrect. :)
Q. Who is your favorite character in The Unspoken Series?
A. Very hard! Well, in future books I love Asylia (Mwenye’s daughter). In the books currently released, that’s so hard. I love Vasili in this current book. Miranda is also a lot of fun. Ella will always have a special place in my heart. Can’t forget Sarah. I don’t know. This is like sticking me in front of all my best friends and asking me to choose only one. I love them all for different reasons. They become real to me.
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