The Kiss: An Anthology About Love and Other Close Encounters

by C. A. Newsome

  “So are you two betrothed or not?” Stefan handed her a tart and took a bite of his own.

  “My father said that if he earned enough coin to buy a house and land that he would allow us to be married. Until then, I am free. Father doesn't want to tie me to a betrothal in case I change my mind.”

  Stefan nodded, his mouth full of tart.

  “Why aren't you in the tournament? Swordplay is your best event.” Isabelle daintily took a bite of the blackberry tart and watched Luke step into the ring.

  “I'm a better swordsman than Luke. He's been talking since yesterday about buying land, and every coin counts. Told him I pulled my shoulder. He'll be taking this tournament's purse at the least.” Stefan's eyes laughed with true joy while he stretched his perfectly fine shoulder muscles.

  Isabelle thought of the adventures a man might seek when scratching for coin. She cheered for Luke when he won the round and smiled at Stefan, “You're a good man. Watch after him, will you?”

  Stefan tilted his head, “Funny. Your father stopped in the stables this morning and asked the very same.”

  “What?”

  “I'm to make sure Luke stays safe while at the same time keeping an eye out when you visit. Your father must know you well. He’s afraid you'll fall under a paladin's sway.” Stefan teased, finishing up his tart and wiping his hands on a kerchief. “I guess that mean's I'm to make sure you don't kiss. A hug or two would no doubt be appropriate.”

  Covered in dirt and grass stains and sweat, Luke strode triumphantly from the field. Lifting her skirt, Isabelle shoved her half-eaten tart into Stefan’s hand.“Close your eyes.”

  She ran to the field and was swept into Luke's arms for a paladin's kiss.

  * * *

  Stefan’s story can be found in Dark Visions: First Love. Luke and Isabelle also appear in the Dark Visions Series.

  *

  Jeanette Raleigh has been spending much of her time writing. This year Book 2 in the series, Dark Visions: Lost Love will be published. when not busy at work, she loves painting, hiking and reading.

  *

  Friday Afternoon

  Elizabeth Jasper

  George the barman, with nothing much to do, walked round to the customer side that opened out onto the garden and leaned against his bar, contemplating the river. Another Friday afternoon. Actually, it wasn’t that bad. There were only two regulars sitting nearby putting the world to rights. Their voices rose and fell on the light breeze that ruffled the surface of the water, scattering sharp points of light over the riverbank and against the outside wall of the bar.

  Summer afternoons at the bar were OK and George enjoyed working his shift - so much he’d been doing it for several years now. He liked to keep his evenings free and was a bit of a telly-addict, if truth be known, but not always and he liked to go out on Friday nights.

  The customers weren’t too bad either; most of them, anyway. They certainly got a mixed bunch in there and on early summer afternoons such as this he liked to be able to work in the fresh air and sunshine. When the weather was bad the atmosphere indoors became thick and uncomfortable; particularly when the workers from the nearby car factory came in. They brought the smell of the place with them and if there were a lot of them and they stayed for a long time he felt a bit queasy.

  He’d been leaning there for a while almost dozing in the warm air, when the side gate creaked open. There were voices, sharp and grating. He straightened up and walked round to his own side to wait for the newcomers. Once the factory closed, always an hour earlier on a Friday afternoon, some of the workers called in for a few drinks to set themselves up for the weekend.

  Eventually they came into view and, with many false starts, decided on the table in the far corner nearest the river. There were two couples and the females sat opposite their partners, settling themselves down with a lot of fidgeting and rattling of bright, expensive accessories. There was no sign of anyone getting up to order so George took his pad and pencil and wove his way between the empty tables until he stood beside them.

  He waited. it must have been a long, hard week in that factory. The foursome looked a little worn around the edges and there was a metallic tang in the air surrounding them in spite of the breeze. Too much time cooped up on the assembly line, thought George, as he continued to wait. Finally, they decided on their drinks and he went back to the bar to set them up.

  With a full tray, George started once more on his journey through the maze of tables. The two regulars, who had fallen silent, watched as he set out four cans of the very best on offer. There were two glasses for the females and they waited while he poured the golden liquid. The regulars stared. How could that lot from the factory afford to drink the best while they had to do with the regular stuff out of the tap, which looked pale and weak compared to the golden richness of the stuff the newcomers were drinking? Nevertheless, they ordered two more of the same as George made his return journey.

  The drinks went down very quickly and the two couples re-ordered. Another journey through the tables and back. And then again. By the time the third lot had gone down the four of them had mellowed somewhat. Not surprising, considering the strength of what they were drinking, thought George. Their voices had slowed and they were leaning towards each other speaking in confidential tones. Their skin gleamed in the afternoon sun and their movements were becoming smooth and languid as the golden liquid continued to disappear at an alarmingly fast rate.

  As George cleared the pile of cans from the table, they ordered more. He began to wonder how long they would be able to keep up such a pace. And the bill was mounting up. The regulars, still at their table, were fascinated by the quartet in the corner. They ordered more drinks, too, determined to sit the newcomers out.

  By this time the bar was filling up and George was kept busy. He rushed from bar to tables and back trying to serve everyone as quickly as possible, It was turning out to be one of his better days and he knew his boss would be pleased if the takings were up. He kept an eye on the four in the corner and each time they reordered he scrutinised them, looking for signs they’d had enough. They seemed fine, so he got on with his job, fetching and carrying, wiping and clearing, until eventually he was able to pause for a short break.

  The sun had passed over and the shadows of the weeping willows on the riverbank were lengthening before he had a chance to assess them again. He checked the tally and realised they had spent an awful lot of money over the pasts few hours. He hoped they were good for it but when he finished his break and went to clear the table they ordered more and he decided to let them get on with it.

  They were slumped across their table in a very relaxed fashion. One of the females was having difficulty speaking and the other kept interrupting, trying to anticipate what the first one wanted to say. The males started to laugh at her and she became angry and turned away, refusing to respond to their placatory words. Then the conversation turned to other matters and she was soon taking part again, the imagined insult forgotten.

  The two regulars, who had been drinking longer than anyone, were becoming troublesome. They started arguing with one another then butted into a conversation the people at the next table were having. George was obliged to tell them to pipe down or he would have to ask them to leave. They turned their attention on him and made a few weak jokes at his expense. He ignored it. He was used to being insulted by customers on a regular basis and it was all part of the job. After a short but heated discussion, he agreed they could have a final drink each, so long as they didn’t disturb the other customers.

  So welcome earlier in the afternoon, the breeze was growing chilly. Tables began to empty and it wasn’t too long before there were only the four in the corner and the two regulars still there. All six had slowed down and the levels of liquid in glasses remained steady. George totted up the takings for the afternoon and realised that it was the best session he’d ever had. He was well up on his previous best and knew he would be getting a bonus for his effor
ts. Happiness flowed through him as he anticipated the evening ahead. With a bonus he would be able to stay out longer than he normally did and maybe even treat himself to a woman. He grew warm in anticipation of this rare treat.

  In the corner, the female who had been angry earlier looked ready to slide under the table so the other three finished their drinks and waved to George for the bill. He printed it off from the computer and took it over on a small saucer. He was mightily relieved when they paid up without fuss and started to gather themselves together to leave. Eventually, they were all on their feet and, if a little unsteadily, they managed to leave without knocking over any tables or chairs. George took the signed tab back to the bar and got a tray to clear the table.

  The regulars stared, glassy-eyed, as he gathered up the remaining cans and glasses. As he headed back to the bar, one of them called him over.

  ‘They got well-oiled, didn’t they?’ he said.

  His companion, pretty well gone by then, nodded in agreement. They then got up from the table with much groaning and stretching of stiff limbs, shoved a card at George to pay for their drinks and eventually shambled off.

  George sighed, his mind on the evening ahead as he took a cloth to the table in the corner. He was just about to wipe it down when he noticed a small, wet spot exactly where the drunken female had been sitting. Glancing around to make sure there was no one to see him, he dipped his forefinger into the wetness and rubbed it against his thumb, noticing the oily smoothness. He looked around again before holding his fingers to his face. He kissed them then inhaled deeply, before wiping them on his waiter’s apron in a gesture of disgust.

  ‘Bloody robots,’ he said, rubbing hard at the oily stain on the seat.

  * * *

  UK native Elizabeth Jasper spends much of the year in a remote mountain village in Granada Province, Andalucia, Spain with her husband. She has penned several novels, including Bed of Knives, Lying in Wait and the YA Meggie series.

  https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5085622.Elizabeth_Jasper

  *

  Just One Kiss

  Suzie O’Connell

  Tears prickled Alicia’s eyes as she stared at the image in the picture frame. In it, a young couple stood at the end of an old ferry dock with a blustery wind whipping at their hair and clothing and the lights of Seattle twinkling dimly in the distance. They stood with bodies locked together, lips curved in anticipation of the kiss to come, and eyes only for each other. The man was tall and fit with sandy blond hair, warm blue eyes, and a sexy dusting of stubble. The woman, shorter by several inches with long, dark chestnut hair and laughing green eyes, was beautiful, but it wasn’t either’s physical attributes that made the photo so gorgeous. It was the love radiating from them both.

  How can a love like that fade so quickly? she wondered, hastily wiping away the single tear that slipped down her cheek.

  Sighing, she tucked the photograph in the box alongside the dozen others that chronicled her six-year marriage, folded the flaps down, taped them closed, and labeled the box, “Memories.” She stood and carried it out to her car. With each step, it felt heavier in her arms, like it didn’t want this to be the end of her life with Tucker. Squaring her shoulders, she lengthened her stride and tucked the box safely in her trunk before returning to the house. There was little left to do now but shampoo the carpets and vacuum one last time.

  The house, a rental sitting atop the bluff and overlooking the Indianola dock, Bainbridge Island, Agate Pass, and Seattle, was small but cozy and had been her home since Tucker had proposed seven years ago. It had been his for longer, but they had decided they’d both give it up because there were just too many memories here. All the furniture had been moved out, and all the pictures had been taken down and boxed up, and even though the house looked like an empty shell, it still felt like home.

  The walls were a pale blue-gray adorned with pristine white trim and accented by the dark-stained, rough-hewn ceiling beams. The color scheme should have made the place feel cold and uninviting but the beige carpets and golden oak floors added plenty of warmth, as had the laughter that had once danced through the rooms. Her cheeks warmed as she recalled other, hotter encounters with her husband that had been sparked by something as simple as a wink.

  Folding her arms tightly across her chest, she wandered from the entryway through the living room and peeked into the office beyond. After visiting the dining room, she stepped into the kitchen and smiled sadly, recalling how they’d flirted and talked about their day while they cooked together. Finally, she went upstairs to their empty bedroom, the guest room, and the room that might have been their child’s if they hadn’t grown apart.

  With nothing left to do until Tucker returned with the shampooer, she sat on the bottom step with her knees drawn up to her chest and her arms folded around them, staring out the picture window. The weather system that had brought a week of nonstop rain had finally poured itself out. Tattered clouds, tinted with subtle gold by the early afternoon sun, scuttled eastward out of the Puget Sound area. The tide flowed out, leaving pools of reflected sky all across the broad sand spit below the decommissioned ferry dock. She missed her evening walks on the beach with Tucker. Rain or shine, they had taken a stroll after dinner along the rocky shore or the sandy spit if the tide was low or out to the end of the dock if it was high. But it had been a long time since they had maintained that ritual with any regularity.

  Abruptly, the front door opened, startling Alicia out of her reveries. She hadn’t heard him pull up.

  “Hi, babe,” he greeted as he set the shampooer beside the door. Though he smiled and kissed her cheek, his voice was sad.

  “We agreed, remember? No more caresses and no more pet names,” she replied, wishing she could say how much it hurt that she might never hear him call her that again. “It’ll only make this harder than it is.”

  “I guess it’s going to take some getting used to.” He glanced around the empty house. “Old habits die hard.”

  Together, they walked through the house to make sure they’d left the place as spotless and empty as it had been before Tucker moved in.

  “This is wrong,” he said.

  Frowning, Alicia turned to him. “What’s wrong?”

  He gestured around the vacant living room. “Everything about this.”

  “I know it’s not easy,” she said, “but it’s over. Somewhere between you travelling so much for your job and me working so many hours at home for mine, we just… fell out of love.”

  He shook his head. “Maybe we didn’t try hard enough.”

  “Tucker, we’ve tried. We’ve searched and we’ve fought, but whatever used to be there to fight for is gone.”

  For a moment, she thought he was going to argue the point, but instead, he nodded and murmured, “I guess you’re right.”

  Disappointment seeped through her, chilled by the finality of his surrender. He turned away and headed back out to his car to grab the box fans, and she shrugged off the regret as she prepared the shampooer. They’d begun the process of filing for divorce, found new places to live, and almost completely moved out of the house they’d shared. What was the point now of holding on to something that was gone?

  By the time they’d shampooed the carpets, the sun was setting, and the world outside was awash in crystalline pastels of lavender, peach, and rose. The undulating waves sparkled with the dying light of the sun, and Alicia nearly broke down in tears at the beauty of it.

  “Take a walk with me,” Tucker said, joining her on the front steps. “One last stroll for old time’s sake.”

  “Sure,” she replied.

  The dock was three long blocks from their house, and they walked the distance in silence, not holding hands like they once did. Not touching at all. They paused at the top of the stairs, hesitant and unsure. Should they descend to the beach or race to the end of the dock? How many times had they sprinted down its length, feet pounding on the boards, and found themselves breathlessly caught u
p in each other’s arms at the end?

  Alicia moved toward the stairs but Tucker took a step toward the dock, and they collided, no longer in sync. She turned to him, gazing at a face that had been more familiar than her own reflection for so long, and saw things she hadn’t taken the time to notice. The smile lines around his eyes were deeper than she remembered and there was a regret in his gaze she hadn’t ever seen before. Where was her Tucker who was always laughing, always smiling? When had he become so serious?

  “Race me?” he asked, and a flicker of that old humor returned to his face.

  Without waiting for her response, he trotted down the dock. Ten yards away, he glanced back over his shoulder at her and winked, challenging her. Shaking her head but grinning, Alicia took off after him, lengthening her stride to catch up. When she finally caught up to him, he was already waiting for her at the end, resting with his hands braced behind him on the railing and his legs crossed at the ankles. Alicia grabbed the railing beside him and leaned out over the water for a few minutes to catch her breath. It felt good, and when she turned around to face the bluff, she was grinning.

  “That was fun. Not fair,” she said, “but fun.”

  “Yeah, it was. Almost like it used to be before life got in the way.”

  Something in his voice made her glance sharply at him. He studied her with a quizzical frown, and she shifted her weight, unsettled by the intensity in his eyes.

  “What?” she finally asked.

  “I haven’t seen that smile in a long time. I didn’t realize how much I missed it.”

  She dropped her gaze, and her smile shifted into something more poignant.

  “I guess I missed it, too,” she murmured.

  They stood quietly for a long while, staring up at the houses sitting atop the bluff. They looked like a crown of sunset-hued gems, their windows reflecting the fiery sun. She couldn’t remember it ever looking so stunning, and added this moment to her list of things she was going to miss. Time slipped away as the sun disappeared and the colors of sunset darkened into early twilight. Beside her, Tucker pushed off the railing and moved to stand in front of her.