He pulls her into his lap, smelling her hair. Anna wraps her arms around her husband and lays her head on his shoulder. She’ll never get over his shoulders.
"Motherfucker Anna," he says with nothing but love.
-THE END-
Sunshine and Moonlight continues with Book Two
Forever Falling
August 2015
He’s not sure what pisses him off more, the fire searing his flesh yet again or the fact that his dick got him thrown out of his own restaurant. He flips the sea bass ignoring the burn and wonders who would order this shit. Who is paying forty seven dollars for a decent piece of fish crapped up with a fucking basil infused beurre blanc? It’s a shit dish. Damn her for adding it to the menu anyway. The line cooks are doing a lot of whispering tonight. Cunts, he thinks through his hate. He tries to breathe through it, to control his reaction, his impulse. He is successful for a count of fourteen seconds, and then he is done.
He throws the sauté pan, with the fish and shit sauce, into the sink. Metal hits metal loud enough to silence everyone in the kitchen. Why wait until dinner service is over? They can all go straight to hell. He might as well make a decent exit. With two hands and a big shove, he flips a silver prep cart covered in oysters. They scatter across the kitchen floor, between black rubber soled shoes of stunned, but blessedly silent, line cooks. He reaches behind the bar and grabs a bottle of McClelland’s single malt scotch on his way out the front door. The London air is cold and wet and grey, at the same time a relief and oppressive. Goodbye England, you bitch, he thinks taking the first slug from the bottle. I’m going to America. He calls to book a flight on his mobile before the McClelland’s takes hold.
Callum Townsend’s plane lands in Columbia, South Carolina, before he thinks to call his sister to tell her he is coming. As the jet taxis toward the airport, he sends her a text. Guess who’s coming to dinner? If that’s ok. His sister, Anna Halloway replies in all caps. ARE YOU JOKING? ARE YOU HERE? Callum stands, or tries to. His nearly six foot, three inch frame isn’t going vertical anywhere near his window seat. When his head clears the overhead bin, he still stoops, but reaches for his bag and shoulders the slight collection of possessions he has brought to America. A little ginger haired boy, no more than five, leans over from the seat in front of Callum’s and sticks his tongue out. Callum mouths Fuck you silently. The little bastard was screaming and whining half the flight and Callum wants to punch him in the face. Callum isn’t as patient as he might be with poorly behaved children. His mother is a fat-faced ogre. She would probably to dump the little fucker on the runway, for a shot at ten minutes in the rest room alone with Callum.
Callum replies to Anna’s text. Just landed in Columbia. Spontaneous trip. Ok if I come to Osprey Island for a few days? She replies immediately. YES!!!YES!!!YES!!! Well it’s nice to be welcome somewhere.
Callum just met his half-sister, Anna the previous winter. As a teenager, Callum’s father got his girlfriend pregnant. Anna’s mother was young and her parents coerced her to give her baby up for adoption. Callum’s father never even knew he had a daughter. Finding a sister at the age of thirty was unbelievable for Callum. When he met Anna in January, she was just married and pregnant. Callum is ready to meet his niece. Actually there are two nieces. Anna is in the process of adopting her stepdaughter Clara.
Callum knows he shouldn’t want to, but he is considering kicking Anna’s husband’s ass. Anna and John were separated when Anna came to London last winter. Even though Anna and
John are together now and Anna says they are happier than ever, Callum thinks John needs a good old kick in the teeth for deserting his pregnant wife. Who does that? Callum rubs both hands through his short blonde hair, trying to decide who he wants to beat on more, the little ginger fuck or John. Having a sister is new to Callum and it’s making him feel protective. He rubs his head harder, creating spiky points of hair. His head hurts, his hair hurts, his entire fucking being hurts. He needs a drink or a pill or something.
Callum walks while he texts and declines Anna’s offer for a ride. He picks up the black Jeep Wrangler he arranged for yesterday. It feels very American. He easily navigates the Jeep toward the coastline of South Carolina. Within thirty minutes, he is speeding down an arrow straight, quiet, two lane road, lined with tall trees. He stops at a gas station with a mini-mart, grabs a jacket from his bag and pulls the fabric shell top off the Jeep. He syncs his mobile to play through the car’s Bluetooth. He picks up a six pack inside, cracks the top off a Becks and speeds along in the open air.
After years cooped up sixteen hours a day, sometimes more, six or seven days a week, in hot cramped kitchens, screaming at line cooks, and taking orders, literally and figuratively, the air feels really good. Smooth music from The Black Keys fills the Jeep. Callum immediately likes South Carolina. The December air is cool and crisp, but well warmed by the setting sun. It is a hell of a lot nicer then the dreary shit he left behind in London. He breathes in deep, tasting the sweet American air and pops open another Becks.
Ninety minutes later, Callum pulls onto a two lane bridge for Osprey Island. Salty ocean air fills his soul. The bridge separates the mainland from a small barrier island about twenty miles north of Charleston. John and Anna live in a southern vacation paradise year round. When Callum pulls under the large ocean front house, he thinks this looks like a hell of a nice way to live. The house is large, with dark rustic wood. Tall trees sway in the breeze. Callum admires hearty winter flowers still in bloom. Before he can get out of the Wrangler, Anna is in his arms.
“Callum, my darling brother. What the hell are you doing here?” Anna left England nearly twenty years ago to attend college in Maryland and she never returned. Her accent is much more prevalent when she is with her brothers. “This is the best surprise ever!”
He is happy to see her and picks her up, giving her a spin for good measure, but he doesn’t have anything to say just yet. Seeing Anna is making him feel it all over again — the happiness of finding a sister, combined with the fury of knowing she grew up ten minutes away and he never knew.
After Anna came to visit, Callum tried to find her adoptive parents, who were actually Anna’s biological aunt and uncle. When Callum and his brother Eric learned of Anna’s unhappy childhood, they wanted answers. More likely they wanted a confrontation to defend the sister they never had an opportunity to defend. Her parents had died years before. Lucky bastards. Callum and Eric might have killed them. Callum realizes his brother Eric doesn’t know he has left London. He should call later.
“Anna,” Callum finally says, putting his sister down. They stare at each other, still learning the face of their new sibling. Their hair is nearly the same light shade of blonde and their sky blue eyes are the identical color. Both are slender, but Callum lifts a lot of weights and played nearly every sport England school’s had to offer. He liked the contact of rugby, but he can play anything with a ball. “I’m not entirely sure what I’m doing here. I needed to get away,” Callum says honestly. Anna accepts his indefinite answer.
“Okay then,” she says and smooths his windblown hair into place. “Well come one in. There’s a houseful who want to meet you and John’s getting ready to cook out back.” With a look of disapproval, Anna collects his six empty Becks bottles and tosses them into the recycling bin.
“Really? You’re drinking and driving during your first two hours in America? Can you imagine what prison is like down here in the south?” Anna says searching his eyes for answers that don’t come out of his mouth. He just shrugs.
“Deliverance meets Midnight Express I’d imagine. You’ll be getting an ass fucking in a Charleston prison, Turkish style. Behave your damn self, Callum,” she scolds him and he lets her. Having someone give a shit is actually nice. He puts his arm around her shoulders, mumbles some apologies and they walk up the dark wooden stairs into the house.
John has him in a bear hug before he can get in the front door. Callum floats his hands in the air,
not quite accepting John’s warm embrace. “Callum, my new brother! I am so happy to know you.”
John’s Austin drawl makes his enthusiasm damn near contagious. Near, but not quite infecting Callum. John wears his dark hair long, in waves below his collar, with a neatly trimmed beard. He is just an inch or two shorter than Callum, but much broader. John is all shoulder. John’s smiling green eyes welcome Callum into his home and before Callum’s bag is down, he has a McLellands in his hand. Callum is impressed, but he doesn’t want to be.
“We’ll move you over to bourbon, before too long. But for your first night, I wanted you to feel at home,” John says rubbing Callum’s shoulder. These Americans are very handsy.
Callum thanks John halfheartedly before setting down the scotch and dropping to his knees to greet Clara, John’s three and a half year old daughter. Callum smiles at this long haired beauty, through dark ringlets falling over her face. He holds her curls back to get a better look and is rewarded with a smile.
Anna introduces them. “Clara luv, this is your Uncle Callum.”
Callum takes Clara’s hand in his for a shake. He could fit her entire arm into his hand. He might have liked to have a little girl like this one day, before he decided he is never having another relationship with a woman and therefore no children. Clara smiles tiny white teeth at him and sways side to side, but doesn’t say much. Callum smooths his thumb along her silken cheek before rising to meet Lynn. Lynn sits against her mother’s hip. She is just eight months old and her blue eyes are all Anna. She has John’s dark hair, and Clara’s smile. Her lashes are a mile long. Lynn’s lashes make Callum’s heart break a little. She is so tiny and so perfect. He tosses back his scotch and toasts the baby Elizabeth and Jeremy will be expecting soon back in London. They got the restaurant, a revived marriage and a new baby in the making.
“They are both beautiful,” Callum tells Anna with a sullen smile. Callum glances at John lighting the grill on the deck. He feels less like kicking John’s ass now that he’s got the McClellands in him, and he’s met John’s two cute kids. Anna looks much happier than when he saw her in London. Despite the pregnancy, her face was too thin. She looked tired and drained. He thought it was exhaustion and travel, especially being pregnant. Now he can see how beautiful Anna really is. Her face is full of happiness and her smile is whole. Funny, when he saw her last winter, his smile was whole. Now his is hallow.
“Is everything all right Callum? You seem a bit sad. Is it just the travel or is something happening?” Anna asks, looking worried.
Callum shrugs and offers Anna a half smile. He shrugs a lot. Since he obviously is not interested in talking, Anna shows him to a large guest room at the end of the hall. “You’ll have your privacy down here,” she says. “No middle of the night baby nonsense for you.”
He really is grateful. Having someplace to land is a great relief. “Thanks Anna, for letting me come. I am so happy to meet your family. The girls are a dream come true.” He sets his bag down on the bed.
“Callum, you are my family too. Don’t forget that. Absolutely anything you need, any time. That’s what big sisters are for, right?” Anna asks with a worried smile.
He nods and takes another offered hug from his sister. He can’t remember the last time he hugged so much.
“Just settle in then. John and I will get the girls to bed and we can have a nice quiet dinner. You have everything you need?”
“I do. Thanks Anna. I have everything I could ever want.”
Lies and more lies, he thinks. I don’t have what I want at all.
Acknowledgements
On February 7th, 2014, I had coffee with a good friend. I think what she said was, “Will you write the fucking book already?” That was the day I started Circling The Shadows. Good girlfriends, ready to call you on your bullshit, are priceless. I am forever in your debt Marci.
To Isabelle Richards, author of the When Fates Collide series. Isabelle reminded me why I love story telling. She let me have an editorial pass at her first novel, When Fates Collide. And I was hooked. The countless hours debating characters, motivation, authenticity, sexuality, accents, dialog and on and on. It was absolutely magnificent.
To my Writer’s Workshop group. I walked in the door with 40,000 words of a very rough first draft. I have never been so completely mutilated by a roomful of strangers and it was the best thing that ever happened to my writing.
To Radiohead, Mumford and Sons, Civil Twilight, The Black Keys, Rush, Led Zeppelin, Pink Floyd, and many many more. You all are my inspiration, my peace, my ups and downs… my life.
To this strange world of social media – imaginary friends who becomes real supports and lifelines in this isolating world of make believe. To the 140 characters of inspiration, laughter, sensuality, truth and hyperbole. And to those very few who have become real friends. You know who you are and what you all mean to me.
To W & G. You taught me everything I ever needed to know about love and friendship. Evan you feel close all the time. Debbie and the Cool Kids made my day job bearable during a time when all I wanted to do was hide and write. Thanks to work friends, who keep my secrets and encourage me on. Thanks to Anna and Norma, who carried me over the finish line with your editorial expertise.
To my sibs. I am one of four “kids” and three have English degrees. The black sheep has a communications degree. We all have great appreciation for a well told story. We are bourbon drinkers, good cooks, music lovers, movie fanatics and we laugh a lot. I actually really like all my siblings, their spouses and kids, and I think that is a bit of a miracle. Love is required with family. Like is optional and a true gift. Sis – you are a champion among women. Your love and support are unsurpassable. Big bro – you keep the bar high for all of us and you are a world class brother and uncle. Little bro – Thank you for the covers! You are a true artist. I love you all.
To my Momma. My mom is like no other mom, of this I am absolutely certain. She raises tough, brave (except when we are neurotic), confident kids, who aren’t willing to take too much shit, but we will drive cross country to help a friend fix a flat tire. (ß pure fiction right there). My mom is my go-to editor. She will edit a sex scene without batting an eyelash. She reads my book to her therapist during sessions, not to throw me under the crazy bus, but to brag on me. I’m pretty sure she is going to sell my book door-to-door in her building. I wish Dad was here so I could place my book into his hands. He’d love that so much! But I think he knows. Love you Ma!!
And most of all, to my own little family. The support that you all have shown me over this last year, has been truly remarkable. No writer in the history of words, could ever claim to feel so very supported by her family. Thank you for the character names and the book title, D. Thank you all for not being too horrified by my intense, over commitment to this process. I know I am pain in the ass. I really do. But still you all brought me through to this point – helped me become a writer. I could never have done this without you. I love you all.
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