“Are you all right? I didn’t see what happened.”
He buried his face in her hair. “I’m good now.” He tipped her chin up and leaned down.
“Oops!” Shelly laughed and pulled away. “Your makeup. Glenda will kill me.”
“Later?”
“Definitely.” Shelly took a deep breath. “Don’t believe anything he said. Please.”
“I didn’t. Yesterday or today.”
She blinked and looked at the floor. “I apologize. I didn’t even let you talk this morning. I let my pride get in the way.” With a garbled laugh she added, “You’d think a marketing maven would have better communication skills.”
“I’m sorry, too. Stubborn. I should have told you right off that I knew he was lying. I wasn’t certain what you’d heard, and honestly, I wasn’t a hundred percent sure what you had in mind about the future.”
Shelly took his hand. “I don’t think I’m a hundred percent sure about anything. How can you be?”
“I’ll tell you something you can be sure of.” He tightened his hold around her hands, and looked up, beyond her shoulder and nodded. “After I do this rehearsal thing, okay? You’ll have time for me then?”
“Promise.” She walked with him toward the set. “What happened between you and Tommy?”
“That is one rude fella.” Danny’s throat went pink, all Shelly could see under the makeup which was lighter there. “I’d rather think on it some before I say anything.” He shivered.
“You’re all right?”
“Just nerves.” His eyes were huge and glistening behind the mascara. “There’s so much at stake here in the next coupla hours. I don’t mind telling you I’m afraid of disappointing you more than anything else.”
Shelly squeezed his hands one last time and stepped back. “Break a leg, Winston.”
THE LAST DAY
Late February - Interior - Morning
“Four. Three. Two…” Fred counted backward. “Go,” he mouthed to Shelly.
“So, here I am, sadder and much wiser, waiting for the final national interview promoting the last movie I was in charge of publicizing for Jovian Productions.”
In the green room of the Trending Movies news and talk show in Los Angeles, she picked up a heavy ceramic mug and studied it. She turned it around to face the camera. Fred focused on the logo, a large open icthus in a sea of aqua with the letters CWPR inside. In a circle ringing the symbol were the words “Dream Big, Love Well, Live Large, Have Faith. Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.” As he panned out, Shelly let her smile shine. “Because March first, I will officially open the doors to my new agency, Colter Winston Public Relations, catering not only to the film industry, but also providing fine home-grown fish to local restaurants.”
Danny moved into the shot from behind Shelly, set a matching mug in front of her, and then gripped her shoulders. “Sad, huh? I thought all your dreams came true.” He reached over her shoulder to turn her wedding and engagement ring’s diamonds to glitter for the viewing audience.
She trapped his hand between hers. “I’m sadder because I liked working for Jovian, even though it was only a short time. Mr. Pettibone is such a fine person, so alive with his faith and sure of dealing with people in an industry that’s known for being unkind. He taught me so much, and I’ll miss him.”
“I have to say that I might be wiser for the experience,” Danny said, “but I’m not sad to be moving on. I’m excited about the new venture and so proud of you.” He leaned over and kissed her temple. “But I’m on in five minutes!”
Shelly laughed and waved him away. “I’ve created a monster. Not really.” She looked after him fondly as he was led away by the assistant producer to wait for his cue. “He’s gotten good at these interviews. We’ll be heading to the hotel after this to get ready for award show tonight. Danny did a fantastic job in his role, and is well-deserving of the academy nomination. He says it’s his last acting gig, but I don’t know.” She winked. “I told him he shouldn’t let his pride be the deciding factor in his career choice. He’s a man of many gifts.”
*
Late February - Exterior - Evening
Bulbs flashed like lightning beetles on the farm. Danny squeezed the arms of his two beautiful escorts, excited and nervous, happy to be here on the red carpet on their way into the theater, and wishing he was home. He’d never seen so many celebrities in one place. His shoes were tight, and he was sweating bullets. Where was Glenda and her powder brush when he really needed her?
“How excited are you tonight, Winston?” a faceless reporter called.
“Oh, very!” he replied with his winsome Winston smile. “Deeply honored to be nominated.”
“Jen! Over here! Who are you wearing?”
Danny let his sister move off to her own circle of fame to gush over the dress designed to flatter her second pregnancy.
“Winston, introduce us to your lady friend! Who is she?”
A slightly more astute reporter simpered, “Mrs. Daniels! You must be thrilled.”
Danny choked a laugh and turned his face away as much as he could from the cameras. “All part of the game,” he whispered.
“Talk about pride going before a fall,” she whispered back and faced the paparazzi with her own electric smile. Danny looked forward to the future filled with Shelly’s love as he watched his wife charm everyone around them. She even managed to get in a plug for the farm.
He patted his pocket holding his treasured gold pen and rocked on his heels, blessed and content.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Lisa J. Lickel is a Wisconsin writer who lives with her husband in a hundred and sixty-year-old house built by a Great Lakes ship captain. Surrounded by books and dragons, she writes inspiring fiction, and is the author of “Three Rings for Alice” in the anthology Brave New Century and several other novels including The Last Detail. She is a freelance feature writer for local news, writes short stories, magazine articles and radio theater. She loves to encourage new authors. Lisa also is an avid book reviewer, a freelance editor, a writing mentor, a hostess at Clash of the Titles.com, and enjoys blogging at theBarnDoor.net and AuthurCulture.blogspot.com. Find her at LisaLickel.com.
Please enjoy this excerpt from The Crux of Honor, the next book in Prism’s Love Is series.
Chelsea Wilson stared at Samuel’s face as he repeated his apology. The small town campus bustled in the background.
“Chelsea, I’m sorry. I’m ready to go back and join the Amish church and be baptized.”
She nodded as tears slid down her cheeks. Her pulse strummed in her ears.
He grasped her hand and leaned closer. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t be together. Come back with me. It’s not unheard of…”
“No.” Her voice was low, almost a whisper. She studied his plain clothes. “Samuel, I think down deep we both knew this day would come. You never fit here, and I would never fit there.”
“You will hate me, ja?” His Amish accent crooned.
“No. I respect your heart-felt decision. I can see it in your eyes. It’s what’s right for you.”
“And you? What is right for you?” Honesty poured from his big brown eyes.
“I’m not sure.”
“You will find your way. Trust God.” He pulled her head to his chest and wrapped his arms around her back.
She leaned into his embrace for a moment and then backed away. He replaced his black felt hat atop his head, nodded, and marched toward the junior college parking lot. A stream of tears blurred his silhouette. Chelsea planted her face in her hands, thankful for the concrete bench under her to keep her from sinking to the ground.
How could she be so stupid? Her mother had warned her to stop fraternizing with a young man on Rumpspringa. When she refused, her mother had kicked her out of the family home. Chelsea couldn’t help chuckling at her mother’s rich vocabulary. Fraternizing and banished.
Why did her mother have to
be right? As small as the town of Integrity, Tennessee, was, Mother would discover the news of her break-up by nightfall.
She wrapped her arms around her waist. I can’t sit here feeling sorry for myself.
She swiped her cheeks with the backs of her hands and rose to her feet. Draping her book bag over her shoulder, she shuffled toward the library. She would focus on studying for her final exam. There was plenty of time to cry her eyes out later, alone, in her tiny rented room.
*
Dr. Kevin Alley massaged his throbbing temples and glanced at his alarm clock. Even though the hour was early, he wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep. Three weeks had passed since his last nightmare. Would the bad dreams ever fade and disappear? The mangled patient from the car accident during last night’s Emergency Room shift must have stirred his memory.
He slipped from his bed, trudged to the small den, and plunked into his oversized recliner. Silence should have been welcome after the chaos of the emergency room here and his stint in Iraq. Now it pressed down, suffocating him.
Had he made the right choice to leave the military and return home to Integrity? The old homeplace was all he had to come home to since Mom and Dad were gone and his sister had her own life in Oregon.
The perfect scenario in Kevin’s mind included a reunion with Chelsea, but he lacked the courage to contact her. She had probably moved away and was happily married.
Kevin rubbed his hands down his face. You promised to let God do the leading, Kevin. But God knew his heart had always been set on Chelsea Wilson.
*
Chelsea sprinted to her car after getting sick in the toilet three times. She couldn’t afford a missed day of pay from her teacher assistant job at Integrity Elementary School. The clear carbonated drink she sipped wasn’t doing the trick. She slid into her parking space and used her key to enter the second grade classroom.
Mrs. Tarwater glanced up from her desk. “Morning.” Her eyes narrowed, studying Chelsea’s face. “Miss Wilson, are you okay?”
Chelsea nodded but her stomach roiled again and she fled to the small bathroom at the back of the room. She pushed the door shut behind her. This time she gained control by breathing deeply and exhaling slowly. She dampened a paper towel and pressed it to her throat and neck. When her insides calmed, she opened the door.
The sweet elderly teacher stood just outside the threshold, in her blue day dress and black sensible shoes. “That certainly answers my question.” She touched the back of her hand to Chelsea’s forehead. “Maybe a little warm.” Mrs. Tarwater pulled Chelsea’s arm, leading her to a chair and motioned for her to sit. “Why are you here?” She crossed her arms over her ample chest.
“If I’m not here, I don’t get paid. I need the money.” Her scratchy throat added a raspy quality to her voice.
Mrs. Tarwater’s face softened. She held up one finger and shuffled to her desk, grabbing the phone receiver from the wall unit. Punching in a set of numbers, she paused. “Yes, Miss Ogle? Could you come in early and cover for Miss Wilson? She is quite ill. She can pay back the time to you. Splendid. See you soon.” Mrs. Tarwater replaced the receiver and whirled around. “That settles that. Now, go on and get yourself checked out. Can’t have either of my prized assistants down.”
Chelsea’s chest tightened. “Thank you.” She cleared her throat. “I’ll be sure to work over for Miss Ogle. Tell her for me?”
“Of course. Now, go ahead.” The older woman shoved her with a wave of her hands. “Rest and fluids, friend.”
Chelsea nodded and eased out the door and into her car. She would stop by the Prompt Clinic to assure she could return to work by Monday. Maybe they would have some medication or shot to hurry whatever bug she had picked up to be gone faster.
By the time she pulled into the clinic parking lot, her insides had ceased their turbulence. Should she still go in? The visit would only cost ten dollars with her school insurance.
Convinced it was better to get checked out, she entered the lobby and signed in. She plunked into a padded chair. Strange how sick she was earlier but now seemed normal.
“Ms. Wilson?” A woman in pink scrubs stood, holding a folder.
“Yes, here.” Chelsea jumped up and followed the woman to a small exam room.
“Hi, I’m Melissa Hall, the nurse practitioner here. What seems to be the trouble?”
Chelsea explained about her stomach upset and vomiting from earlier.
Ms. Hall took her temperature, listened to her heart, looked in her throat and ears then stepped back. “You say the symptoms are gone now?”
“Yeah, like I never even had them.” Chelsea shrugged. “I work with children at the elementary school so I thought I would still come in. Lots of strange viruses and stuff go around there.”
“Well, you have no fever. Something you ate?”
“I suppose, but I haven’t had much to eat.”
“Could you be pregnant?”
The question hit Chelsea like a crashing car. A tremor quaked through her body.
“Ms. Wilson?”
She met the woman’s gaze and shook her head slightly.
“Just a minute.” Ms. Hall turned around and rummaged through a large drawer. “Here. Let’s make for sure.” She extended a small narrow box.
Chelsea took it, reading the words across the side, Pregnancy Test.
“You can step right in here and just follow the directions on the box.” The nurse practitioner waved Chelsea into a small bathroom on the other side of the exam room.
Chelsea wanted to be able to say there was no need for the test, but the possibility stared her in the face. She slipped into the restroom and followed the directions. She studied her watch for the allotted five minutes then swallowed hard. As if in slow motion, her hand reached for the plastic stick and leaned it on its side.
Positive pink lines glared from the white background. She gasped and her stomach knotted. Tears burned her eyes and she mashed her lips together to squelch a sob. Oh Lord, what have I done?
Chelsea dabbed her eyes with some toilet tissue then pulled the door open.
Ms. Hall motioned for her to sit down. “Positive?”
Chelsea nodded.
The nurse practitioner wheeled a low stool in front of Chelsea and plopped down. “Saltine crackers by your bed. Eat a couple before you get up. That will often do the trick until you can get a little more on your stomach.”
“Thank you.” Chelsea lowered her head and her gaze.
Ms. Hall patted Chelsea’s hand. “I’m guessing this was unexpected.”
Chelsea could only nod for fear of breaking down again.
“Honey, my church has a pregnancy center.” She slid her hand into her white coat pocket and pulled out a small card. She pressed it into Chelsea’s palm. “Here.” Her tone and her expression held no judgment.
Chelsea bit her bottom lip.
Ms. Hall gripped one of her shoulders and squeezed. “It’s okay. You’ll make it.”
Chelsea’s chin quivered out of control. “Thank you again.”
How she made it to her rented room, Chelsea wasn’t sure. She threw herself across the bed and cried her eyes out for the second day in a row.
The Crux of Honor will release April 2016.
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