by Terry Odell
"Well, I was looking at the pages. You know how, afterward, we're hanging on the couch eating pizza. I'm watching a basketball game and Sarah's just sitting there trying not to be bored. I thought maybe you'd let me play piano for her."
I feel my jaw drop. I search my memory for his initial interview. "Piano? You play the piano?"
He ducks his head and nods. "Yeah. I haven't played in awhile—long story, old memories. But after working with Sarah on this book thing, well…she's made me a lot more comfortable with my past and I'd like to get back into it. I thought it might work for the plot."
"You can really play the piano?" I ask, sounding too much like a babbling idiot instead of a writer in control of the manuscript.
"Yes. Would you like to hear?" he asks. "I'd be happy to play something for you—an audition, if you want."
"No, that won't be necessary. I believe you. What's your preference?"
He shrugs. "Doesn't matter. I play it all. Classical, rock, jazz. I worked my way through college playing in lounges."
Okay, so now I'm scribbling notes like mad. "You can do Simon and Garfunkel?"
He grins. "Piece of cake."
"What about something melancholy? One of those melodies that make the world stop?"
"I think I can handle that. Beethoven's "Pathetique" should work."
I stand and walk around the desk. He remains seated, not because he's rude but because he knows our eyes will be level. I shake his hand. "Take a couple of hours off while I rewrite. See you at three."
"Will do. I'll go home and practice." He stands, towering above me. I study his hands and now understand why I described them the way I did on page twenty-six.
I watch him leave, wondering if he'll like the scene coalescing in my head. It'll mean a bit of a rewrite. Will he be able to handle an on-the-page emotional breakdown, or will I have to write it in Sarah's point of view? I turn back to my computer and open a new document. I hear him whistling "Bridge over Troubled Water" as he walks away.
*****
And, as a bonus, I had the chance to eavesdrop on my characters when they thought I wasn't around. This interchange happened during the writing of the climactic scenes of Finding Sarah.
Three
"You know, I'm getting sick of just sitting around here at the mercy of my writer," Sarah complained. She squirmed, trying to get comfortable on a fallen log. "Look at me. Stuck out here in the woods in the middle of the night, freezing my ass off in a wedding dress while she tries to figure out how to have Randy find me and save me from that creep."
"Hey, who are you calling a creep?" Chris popped out from behind a nearby tree and sat on the ground next to Sarah. "It's not like any of this was my idea. And all that perverted sex stuff. What baloney. Hey, I like women. Women like me. I had no problems with women until she decided she needed a nastier villain."
"Oh, be quiet you two." Maggie appeared in the clearing, bundled in a heavy parka. "I've got some hot tea in this thermos and cookies in my backpack. And a blanket for you, Sarah, since she's managed to have you lose yours. Maybe she won't notice."
"Thanks, Maggie," Sarah said. She pulled the blanket around her shoulders, wrapped her hands around the cup of tea Maggie had poured for her and tried to keep her teeth from chattering so she could take a sip. "Mmm. What kind of tea is this?"
"How the hell should I know? I just bought some cheap tea bags and added boiling water. All those fancy teas Terry keeps writing for me—what a crock. I would have brought some booze but I was afraid you-know-who," she glanced skyward, "might notice if you got drunk."
"Shhh!" Chris said. "I think I hear the keyboard clattering again. God knows what she'll have us do next."
"I'm out of here then," Maggie said. "I'm not in this scene and I don't want to be, thank you very much. Finish that tea, Sarah, and hide the thermos. If she finds it, you're in big trouble." As quickly as she had arrived, Maggie scurried away.
Sarah gulped the rest of the tea and tossed the cup behind a tree trunk. "Get out of here too, Chris. You're not supposed to find me yet, although I must say, I wish you would. I saw her looking up hypothermia on the Internet and I'm afraid I'm going to be in bad shape."
"Sorry about that. But at least you're the heroine. She can't really harm you. I hope she doesn't have a shootout planned for me. I don't think she has a clue that I'm a crack shot and she'll have my brains blown out instead."
Sarah jerked upright. "What's that? Did you hear something? An animal? You don't think there are bears out here, do you?"
"Bears?" He shook his head. "No. Maybe an owl. She's not going to put anything out here that will hurt you. Hang in there—I'm sure she'll bring me back before that beanpole cop finds you. She's got him stuck in Pine Hills all exhausted and frustrated."
Sarah wrapped herself in the blanket and watched Chris disappear into the darkness. This character business wasn't all it was cracked up to be. When she'd answered the ad, she thought it would be fun—be the heroine of a romance novel. Ha! Aside from one really great night with Randy, it had been one disaster after another. Now here she was, stuck in the woods, waiting around to see what her writer could possibly come up with next.
At least it ought to start happening soon. Chris had been right—the keyboard was clattering at a rapid pace.
Without warning, a calico kitten appeared from underneath a nearby log and climbed into Sarah's lap.
"What the—?"
A voice from above echoed through the trees. "Hey, I can't help it. This week's writing class assignment is a killer. I have to use specific phrases in a story, and they're all unrelated. They gave us six to choose from. I have to use three of them."
"Let me guess," Sarah said. "One choice was 'calico kitten', right?"
"Right. Now I need two more. Hmm. Untied sneakers won't work—Chris already took yours away. Same goes for wool socks. Mouthwash? No, that won't fit. I don't suppose you'd be willing to dream about herb-roasted potatoes or feta cheese before you pass out from the cold, would you?"
Sarah sighed. "I'm at your mercy, Terry." She closed her eyes and conjured up a vision of a five-course dinner including the requisite foodstuffs. "But how hard would it have been to use the wool socks instead of the damn cat?"
Ah, but where's the challenge in that!
*****
A year later…
Although I'd written other books, there was something special about Randy and Sarah. Many times I found myself wondering how they were doing. Were they still in Pine Hills, Oregon? Was Randy still a cop? Had Sarah's shop, That Special Something, survived, or had she been forced to sell? Had Randy and Sarah remained friends after I typed The End?
Ridiculous. Nobody writes romance sequels with the same hero and heroine. They've already met, had the relationship. The Happily Ever After, or at least the promise of one. Of course, spin-offs are common enough, but there aren't many writers who can keep the tension of a relationship going for more than one book.
Still, the idea wouldn't leave me alone. Dozens of "what ifs" played through my head until there was no ignoring them. Besides, I never was very good at following the rules of the romance sub-genres. If a mystery series can feature the same protagonist, why not a romance?
I picked up the phone.
Four
"Jess," I said to my assistant. "Can you set up an appointment with Sarah Tucker and Randy Detweiler?"
"Together?" she asks.
"Please. At their earliest convenience."
"What should I tell them?"
"It's a business proposition. I think they'll be interested."
Fifteen minutes later, she buzzes me. "Wednesday at two. They'll be here."
*****
"Come in, Sarah," I say, covering the mouthpiece of the phone with my hand. I motion her to the chairs opposite my desk. "I'll be with you in a jiffy."
She smiles and I detect a hint of nervousness. She takes a seat in the chair closer to the wall, adjusts the collar of her pale blue blous
e, then twists the strap of her shoulder bag.
I cut my call short, hang up and stack the array of papers on my desk into a semblance of order, finding a fresh notepad and pen. "Sorry about that. Can I get you something while we wait for Randy? Coffee? Chamomile tea?"
She shakes her head and does some more strap twisting. "I'm fine. I hope this won't take too long, though. Jennifer has to leave the shop by four today." She checks her watch.
"Randy should be here soon. He's on duty today, right? I understand it can be hard for him to get away sometimes."
Sarah lowers her gaze. "Yes." Her voice is barely a whisper but I hear a touch of resentment. Maybe more than a touch. I jot "Conflict" on my notepad, and underneath I write, "Job issues."
Moments later, Sarah checks her watch again. She frowns. Before the silence becomes uncomfortable there's a knock on the door, which opens immediately. Randy Detweiler ambles in, all six-feet-six of him. Unlike Sarah, there's nothing hesitant about the way he extends his hand to me, then nods to Sarah. He lowers himself into the empty chair. I take him in, once again glad I didn't go with the stereotype drop-dead-gorgeous hero. Tall, lanky, with his hawk-beak nose and the scar through his eyebrow, he's comfortable with himself as a man, not as a sex object. All cop, all business.
Sarah's nervousness hasn't abated. She's on the pale side, her freckles standing out across her nose and cheeks. I wonder if it's too soon after the ordeal I put her through to hit her with my new proposal. Too late for that. And she did agree to the meeting, so there's still hope. However, she's leaning back in her chair, away from both me and Randy. This might be a harder sell than I'd thought.
The initial pleasantries dispensed with, I bend forward, resting my hands on my desk. "No point in beating around the bush," I say. "How do you two feel about a sequel to Finding Sarah?"
"Sounds good to me," Randy says. He glances in Sarah's direction. She avoids his eyes. He shoves a lock of hair away from his face. "She won't be kidnapped in this book, will she? I can understand her reluctance to participate if she's going to have to go through so much trauma again."
It's a book. Only trouble is interesting. I don't voice my thoughts, however. "Of course not. Besides, readers wouldn't tolerate using the same device in two books."
"It's not that." Sarah twists her purse strap some more. I wonder if I noticed the habit in her earlier interviews or if it's something she's picked up from me. "I mean, the first book was a romance, so we've already covered the basics. First meet, first kiss, the sex…that awful black moment and we get together at the end. I thought romance sequels were more like spin-offs, with secondary characters taking center stage. Wouldn't another book featuring me and Randy break the rules?"
I try not to grimace. "First of all, they're not rules. Think of them as reader expectations. And I've figured a way around it. That's what I wanted to talk to you about."
"You're not going to give me amnesia or anything, are you?" Sarah asks. "Too cliché, I think."
I chuckle. "No, nothing like that. But what do you think about a little separation?"
"How long?" Randy says immediately. His brown eyes, with those enticing hazel flecks, narrow.
"Not long. Six weeks." I fix my gaze on Randy. "I thought you might like some Violent Crimes Task Force training. But it means you'll have to go to San Francisco."
Sarah chews her lip and twirls a strand of her hair. She's let it grow out some. It seems brighter, more chestnut. Business must be picking up for her boutique. After a moment, she says, "That's a distinct possibility."
Randy doesn't look as positive. "Six weeks? All in San Francisco?"
"Afraid so," I say. "But think of the reunion scene. Could be intense. I thought we'd open the book with it."
He nods, obviously suppressing a smile. "I could deal with that." His cell rings and he gives me an apologetic glance before he checks the display. "Sorry, I'll have to take this call. It's my chief."
"Not a problem," I say. "I think we've covered the important points. I'll be in touch when it's time for our next interview."
"It's a plan." He lifts the phone to his ear. "Detweiler." He exits, still talking on the phone, every inch the cop.
Sarah's lips compress to a thin line.
This could be perfect.
Sarah doesn't get up. "This might be a bad idea," she says. "Did you see what just happened?"
"What do you mean?"
"He's in the middle of a meeting. He gets a call and disappears. It's like I'm not even in the room. Not like we might have dinner plans. Not like I'm taking off from my job too. And I can guarantee that when we see each other again, he won't mention the call. If I ask, he'll say it was nothing."
"Maybe I can fix that," I say.
Her eyes light up, glistening with their stone-blue color, the color that Randy had found so compelling when he met her. "You can?" She sits up straighter, her hands free of the purse strap at last. "But nothing obvious, right? He'll know if he's being manipulated."
"Don't worry about a thing. Of course, because your relationship was established in the previous book, there will be more emphasis on the mystery this time."
"That would be great. I've always thought that I could be helpful, if only Randy would see me as a partner. Not a cop but an equal. He still has that white-knight thing you gave him in Finding Sarah."
I jot more notes. "Point taken. But you have to agree that your character has to develop slowly. It's commercial fiction. I'm going to have to throw stuff at the two of you." Little does she know what.
"Can I take care of myself? Not get stuck somewhere waiting for Randy to come to the rescue?"
"No trouble at all, but I can't make you a kick-ass heroine right off the bat. Readers won't buy it."
"I have no desire to be kick-ass. I'm no wimp, but I'm happy being Sarah, boutique owner."
"You proved that before. You know my style. Things start out with seemingly routine problems, but the trouble keeps escalating. And since it's categorized as a romance, you know you'll both be alive and together at the end." I wink. "But I have a few surprises for Randy."
We exchange conspiratorial smiles. Sarah rises. "Thanks, Terry. I'll look forward to the first draft."
I don't tell her the book's already written.
*****
About the Author
Terry Odell began writing by mistake, when her son mentioned a television show and she thought she'd be a good mom and watch it so they'd have common ground for discussions.
Little did she know she would enter the world of writing, first via fanfiction, then through Internet groups, and finally with groups with real, live partners. Her first publications were short stories, but she found more freedom in longer works and began what she thought was a mystery. Her daughters told her it was a romance so she began learning more about the genre and craft. She belongs to both the Romance Writers of America and Mystery Writers of America.
Now a multi-published, award winning author, Terry resides with her husband in the mountains of Colorado. You can find her online at:
Her website - http://www.terryodell.com
Her blog - http://terryodell.blogspot.com
Facebook -http://www.facebook.com/terry.odell
Twitter - http://twitter.com/authorterryo
Discover other titles by Terry Odell at her Smashwords page.