Stranded but not Alone (Midnight Moanings Collection)

by Cora Blu

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Stranded but not Alone

  By Cora Blu

  Copyright 2012 © Cora Blu

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  ACKNOWLEGMENTS

  This book I dedicate to the women on the night shift that informed me that,

  “Seth wasn’t sex on the beach” he is “Foreplay in the Forest.”

  My editors: Wendy Ely and Amy Eye, my fantasy editor and formatter. Thank you both so much for your patience and guidance and friendship.

  ~Cora Blu~

  Prologue

  Michigan winters were a contrast in beauty. Sunny and hopeful, but cold and suspicious—much like the couple inside the immaculate bungalow on 3212 Lawrence street. Everything appeared perfect on the outside. To the untrained eye, they were a beautiful, loving, and affectionate couple, but that would change with one unasked question. The question that could end it all. Sometimes, step back and listen. Mother Nature may be talking to you.

  ~~~

  Over a simmering pan of chicken cacciatore, Simone Daniels stood thinking of all the ways she would spoil Butterfly, her baby. It was silly to call her baby that when it could be a little boy; she would stop once they knew the sex. With a hand on her stomach as if protecting her tiny bundle from hot tomato sauce splatter, she rubbed and swayed as she monitored dinner and hummed along with the radio.

  A baby. Surprised? Yes. However, she loved her baby and the thought of being a mother thrilled her. With her professional life stable and her finances secure, a baby felt nice.

  Ronald, her boyfriend and father of her baby, sat mere feet away and watched T.V. in the living room. A liquor salesman for Bacardi, he was the picture of professionalism. He could sell a tree to the forest with markup. Salesman he was, but father he never wanted to be.

  Turning down the flame under the skillet, she padded across the kitchen to the living room, certain she heard Ronald saying something over the music and the T.V. With a hip on the back edge of the sofa, she sat, her white house shoes bright against the mahogany floors.

  “Sorry, honey, I let Bandit in so I didn’t hear you.” She waited with a loving smile. Only a month pregnant and she felt as if she glowed.

  That joy faded when Ronald dragged a hand down his face. That sexy steely gray gaze he taunted her with at night reshaped itself into a harsh gray thunderstorm of clouds. She tensed for whatever bad news he would tell her. “How do I know that’s my child?” He swung a glance at her flat stomach, then back up at her.

  She reeled back in response to that verbal slap, almost fell off the back of the couch. Her breath came in slugs as her stomach churned in agitation. “What?”

  “Are you sure that’s my child?”

  “You’re serious? Whose child would it be if it isn’t yours, Ronald?” Disbelief played across her face. She loved this man. How could he think such a thing? Why? She closed her eyes as small fireworks flashed behind her lids. Not a migraine, please, anything but a migraine.

  “I’m not with you every day, Simone. How do I know that’s my child?” Ronald glanced at her before he returned his attention to his movie. “What about that chef you had dinner with last week?” His tone was unmistakable. He didn’t believe her. He turned from the movie again, tilting his head up to watch her.

  “Chef?” Tucking the dishtowel she held into the waistband of her apron, and folding her arms under her chest, she grimaced with discomfort at the tenderness of her breasts so soon in her pregnancy. “I photograph restaurant food. Who should I be talking to? The cable guy? I have dinner with chefs all the time.”

  She stood taking slow steps to get around the sofa to stand before him. Pain rocked through her skull. She squinted under the light pouring through the window and planted herself between his legs. He swirled the Bacardi Sangria before taking a deep swallow.

  “Was this an accident or did you do this on purpose?” Those same gray eyes that filled with desire and passion when he made love to her now held distrust and suspicion.

  “On purpose? Do you hear yourself?” Stunned, she leaned against the chair. “You think I tried to trap you? Is this a joke? Where is this coming from? Did I do something that has you upset?”

  Leaning back against the sofa, he rubbed his closed eyes, his suit jacket bunched up over his shoulders with the movement. His gold watch gleamed in the afternoon sunlight that forced its way in through the silk curtains.

  His suspicion left an odor in the air like fried catfish. She could not get away from it. It clawed at her heart like a feral cat, poisoning every sweet memory they shared together. This smelled of another woman—had to be—this was out of character for him.

  She watched and waited. Stepping back to ease down on the sofa, she lowered herself to the seat and waited with her hands clasped in her lap. She thought of all the women he worked with. No one fit. He focused so hard on getting the Regional Sales Manager promotion… maybe he didn’t get it and was taking it out on her.

  Her patience hit the end of its rope. Grabbing a pillow from the couch, she flung it at his head.

  “Simone!” Holding his drink out away from his suit, Ronald swore out. “Baby, stop.”

  “Now I’m baby.” A second pillow flew through the air, hitting the curtains, the tieback slipping off to the floor.

  He set the glass on the coffee table. “Look, I’ve been thinking about this all week and…” He looked past her. “Simone, something’s burning.” They both bolted for the kitchen.

  Damnit, her chicken had scorched. Grabbing a towel, she threw the pan in the sink and spun around. Ronald backed up after she shrugged his hands off her shoulder.

  “Don’t touch me.”

  This was not the same man she made love to last night.

  “Simone, we talked about kids. I was upfront with you. I didn’t want any.”

  That dark skin, those deep-set eyes, and thick lashes had captured her initially. Now he just looked arrogant and mean. Like the tycoon he’s trying so hard to become. The gold and platinum watches, only flying first-class, and buying the condo in Florida for golf outings. Why hadn’t she seen they were on two different roads?

  “I’ve been thinking,” he said, eyeing his watch and leaning over the kitchen table. “I think we should cool it for a while.” With the sun shining at his back from the kitchen patio door, his big body threw a shadow across Simone. She watched him leave the room.

  “Ronald? What’s this about?” The wood floor announced each step he took on the way toward the bedroom. He reappeared with his coat and keys. He didn’t look at her, shrugging his wide shoulders into the leather trench.

  Simone stood with her jaw slack. First he denied his child and now this? This baby was his responsibility as well. Didn’t matter that they w
eren’t married or didn’t live together. They spent every day together and shared each other’s lives.

  He stood in front of her and attempted to hold her. “Baby girl, we talked about kids,” he said, reaching out to touch her arm. “Not looking to be a father.”

  She jerked away from his hands. “Don’t touch me if you’re that serious about not having a child. You should’ve been more careful to not make any.”

  “Simone, you’re on the pill.” He wound a Burberry scarf around his throat.

  “I’m not the one that doesn’t want this child,” she bit out. “Go under the knife. You’ve made this all about me. I didn’t get myself pregnant,” she said, twisting the kitchen towel between her fingers.

  Something about the way his jaw tightened reminded her of his mother and it dawned on her—his father never stayed with his mother. Said he left for another woman.

  “I have to go.” He didn’t move but just watched her with a pitying glance. “I need to think. I’ll stay at my place this week.”

  She found her hand still twisting the towel tucked in her waistband into a knot. Twisting his head off might feel better—off both of them. “Who is she, Ronald? Who could make you deny your child? A client? Someone from the office?” She regarded his cool stance and another thought clouded her mind. “I have never cheated on you, so why would you accuse me of it? Are you hiding another woman, Ronald, and pinning your guilt on me?” She accused. Nauseated and winded, she propped a hip along the counter and slid the sleeve of saltines from the canister. Bad for her migraine, great for her stomach. She broke off a corner popped it in her mouth.

  “There is no other woman.” He crowded her at the counter, standing a breath apart. “I have never cheated on you, on us, but this.” He glanced down at her stomach. “I can’t do this—not a child.”

  “My baby is not a ‘this.’” She groaned and shoved at his chest. She’d had enough of his mess. It only moved him a fraction, but his eyes widened as if she had smacked him. “You know what? Just forget it. I don’t care.” She braced her hands up to stall any comments when his lips started to move and focused on the wall above his head to calm herself.

  Ronald raised his hand in the air and took another step back, running the hand over his jaw. He didn’t blink or acknowledge her question. “Simone, you don’t have to keep it. You can…”

  “Get out! Get the hell out of my house.” She pointed to the door. “Now!”

  Bile crept up from the acid bath her stomach morphed into. She bit down on her inner lip. He didn’t get to see how much it hurt for him to deny a child with her. Make her question his sincerity all those nights when he lay between her legs, calling her name. Telling her she was his world. Had she made him her Mr. Right knowing he didn’t want children because they were so good together in everything else? She policed her emotions, she would not be his victim. After a couple of deep breaths. She found her control.

  He stepped toward her and stopped. She stood tall, knowing he would never hit her, but sympathy would hurt the same right then. He backed away out into the living room, opening the storm door with one hand and jangling the keys in his pocket with the other.

  “I’ll call you in a couple days when you’ve cooled down and realize what I’ve said is for the best. I love you, Simone. You may not believe it, but I do. I made it clear, no kids.” He paused by the door, glanced down her body, and held a cold stare to her midsection for much too long.

  “Get out, Ronald.” She glanced at the door behind him.

  He opened the screen door and stepped outside. “When I said I didn’t want any kids, I meant it. Always believe a man when he says that.”

  “Always believe… wait a minute, you coward.” She planted her hands on her hips and anger burned through her as the real picture became clear. “You know I never cheated on you and it’s not that you don’t want kids. You’re punking out because that’s what Jackson did to you. You’re afraid to be a father, just like your father.”

  “Call me if you need anything.”

  She watched him get in his car and drive out of her life just as his father had done to his mother. It didn’t matter. She had family, friends and now her baby. If he didn’t want their child then that’s his choice, but she was going to be somebody’s mother and that’s what mattered now.

  First, she needed a good cry… time for some emotional back up. She picked up the house phone and dialed.

  “Kim…”

  One

  Simone took a deep breath and blew it out. She wouldn’t spend these two weeks in Austria berating herself for going down those stairs that day. Or tripping over Bandit on the stairs. There was no way of knowing that was the day she would lose her baby. She shut down those dark memories as Kim began shaking her shoulders.

  “Simone, don’t do that. The doctor said by reliving that day you kill the good feelings from the other days. Now nobody wants you to forget Butterfly, but you can’t stay in that place. We took this trip so you could rejuvenate and recharge.”

  Simone pulled her camera from her duffle. “Four months isn’t long enough to dull the pain, Kim. However, I know I have to come out of this funk. So for sanity sake and the love of my Butterfly’s memory, I promise to enjoy myself and relax here in beautiful Austria. It cost too much to have a crappy time.”

  “I think this first tour will help you. The fresh air and pine trees and all that other nature stuff you like.” Kim tapped Simone’s bag. “I doubt you’ll need this much stuff for two days in the mountains, girl.”

  “I need to be prepared for whatever the weather does up there. And I can’t believe you’re not going on this tour with me.” Simone stuffed a couple brochures in her bag next to her trail mix.

  Kim held both hands out like scales one higher than the other. “Hike the mountains or tour a beer plant—sorry the mountains lose.” Kim nodded out across the hotel lobby. “Besides, get a look at the men in your group.”

  The lobby was full of guys. How could she not? “Yeah, they’re at the most, what, twenty-five? Straight tenderonies, just what I don’t need.” Holding her camera up, she snapped pictures of the mountains beyond the big picture window. The Danube River sparkled under the lights bouncing off the other buildings surrounding its edge outside.

  “That might be just what you need, some hot, young, strong toy to get you back on track.”

  “No thank you. I’ll just look and stay mature, if you don’t mind.”

  “Suit yourself, but when’ll we get to Austria again? If Stella can get her groove back in Jamaica, how come Simone can’t find some thunder down under?”

  “Kim, those are male dancers from Australia, not Austria. I’ve had enough thunder in my life. I don’t mind a little rain, but please no more thunder. I don’t care if it’s down under, to the left, or overhead… I don’t want it.” She capped her camera’s lens, then checked her battery pack for her laptop. Vacation or not, she wanted to download any good pictures she took.

  “Alright I won’t push, but you need someone to get you back in the saddle. I think that hunk of Austrian certified beef will do just fine.” She pointed toward a tall, dark-haired Adonis.

  “I’m not even interested, Kim. Go, I’ll see you in two days.”

  “Hopefully the next morning, if I meet Mr. Right.” They hugged and went their separate ways. Looking at the people lining up for her tour van, Simone prayed whoever her partner was spoke English.

  Two

  The lens cap dangled from the camera as Simone, now up a snow-dusted tree, wedged her shoulders between two branches. How often would she get the opportunity to photograph a wild horse in a full winter coat drinking from a thawing stream in Austria at the break of winter? Never. Wiggling her hips, she stretched out over the thick branch to lie flat over the snow-covered bark, and prayed it held her.

  Frame after frame she captured nature in the raw. Smoky puffs of cold air blew from the horse’s nostrils as he drank from the melting stream. The seasons were f
ighting to transition with winter, leaving and spring struggling to arrive.

  A groan echoed from below caught her attention. She jerked her head around and lost grip on the camera, letting it fall to the ground as she clung to the branch. Crawling totally out on the branch, she watched as a tall figure emerged from the wooded area. The morning’s soft glow peeking through the trees appeared to part around his large form moving in closer to her. His gait smooth through the downed branches and rocks. She stilled herself, hoping he hadn’t seen her. As he approached and came to a stop beneath the branch, she slowly exhaled the breath she hadn’t realized she held. The man was from the tour group, her Austrian Adonis.

  He stopped under the tree and peered up at her, studying her body laying the length of the branch.

  “Are you comfortable up there, miss?”

  “I dropped my camera.” She extended her hand out. “Can you hand it to me please? It’s over there.”

  His bright white jacket made crinkling noses as he crouched down, plucking the camera from the ground. He brushed the dead leaves and snow off before handing it to her. Accepting it, she hung it around her neck. “Thank you.” Had he been watching her? How did he know she dropped her camera?

  “You’re welcome,” he said, his voice a warm caress. Swallowing the delicious scent coming off this man, she followed his attention captured through the trees in the clearing.

  “Beautiful animal.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “The horse. He’s beautiful.”

  “The horse…” Craning her neck around the trees before catching the chestnut colored horse off in the distance nosing the ground, she said, “Uhm…Yes, he is beautiful and hungry from the looks of it.” She stuck out a gloved hand. “Simone Daniels and you are?”