Wind Goddess
Page 16
“And then?”
Eden looked at Kendra first. And then Tempest and Wilda. “The mortals gathered around her. They knew it to be a horrible accident. Her right leg.” Eden took a breath. “It had been crushed. The girl was riding a horse when it occurred. The horse fell and rolled onto her. Her head hit the ground so hard that her brain bled. She would die. And I couldn’t let her.”
“Why this girl?” Wilda demanded. “Why did you jeopardize who you were for her?”
“She’s a part of me.”
Her sisters gasped. It was no less than what Eden expected. As many mortals as they had helped through the centuries, not one had mattered enough to break the rules for.
“Explain,” Tempest demanded.
“I looked at her. Through her,” Eden explained. “There was a connection between us. A mortal girl who knows nothing of goddesses. And the Earth Goddess who knew nothing of mortal girls.”
“What did you do?” Kendra asked softly.
Eden smiled at Kendra. Of the sisters, she knew Kendra had the softest heart and would understand the best. “I mended her brain tissue. I couldn’t wholly fix her leg because the mortals would have been suspicious. But I healed the leg as best I could. There were so many bones broken.” She dabbed at her eyes. “And I talked to her.”
“I am so disavowing knowledge of this conversation when Dad finds out,” Tempest muttered.
“She needed me.” Eden smiled softly. So I sat by her bed when she fell asleep and talked of nonsense.” Eden frowned. “Her parents ignored her, for the most part. They only came when the reporters did.”
“Reporters?” Wilda frowned. “You took a lot of risks.”
“I did.” Eden acknowledged. “And as I previously stated, I would again.”
“What happened to her?” Kendra asked.
“I’m glad you asked.” Eden stepped to the edge of the clouds and waved them away. Her sisters stepped forward to peer down at the mortal world. And then the woman appeared.
The mortal knelt on a mat in front of her garden with a handful of bulbs and a trowel. Her short brown hair twisted and clipped in the back to keep it from her face. An old pair of blue jeans and a faded blue T-shirt clung to her curvy frame. She wore gardening gloves and swiped at the sweat on her brow periodically.
The mortal dug with a single-minded purpose. Her dark brown eyes intense on pulling weeds and placing bulbs in the rich dirt. A pitcher of lemonade and a single glass waited for her in the shade.
The garden a beautiful maze of landscaping. A wooden gazebo sat dead center in the middle of the lawn with an amazing handmade picnic table and benches.
“How old is she now?” Tempest asked.
Eden smiled. “She turned forty over the winter. A woman who has lived a full life. A strong spirit that has conquered many fears and believes that all the hopes she had that never came true did so for a reason. She thinks she’s in the twilight of her life.”
Wilda frowned. “That’s nice. But why tell us this now?”
Eden smiled a secret smile. “Her name is May. And I choose her.”
Author's Note To Readers
Dear Readers,
A woman’s worth isn’t measured in numbers. It isn’t the size of her waist, her bank account, or her shoe size that’s important. A woman’s worth is measured in her deeds, her heart, and her legacy.
Don’t be blinded by how others measure you. Don’t let them take pieces of you for themselves and leave you feeling diminished.
Make your life memorable. Embrace who you are with all your quirks and whims.
Sing in the rain. Make snow angels. Play in the mud.
I dare ya.
Crystal Inman
About the Author
Crystal Inman is a prolific author who likes to push the boundaries of writing. She writes Contemporary, Paranormal, Time Travel, Erotic, and Fantasy Romance. Many of her novels are bestsellers and continue to enchant readers. She’s written about love in the world of Virtual Reality. Love that won’t be denied even through the decades. Love that conquers the harshest of curses. And love that sees through the façade to the heart of the matter. Crystal lives with her three teenage daughters in the middle of nowhere with a messy desk, pieces of her sanity, and a manic mind.
The writing always calls to her, persistently, and she loves every minute of it.
You can contact her at: chryswriter@aol.com
Visit her website at: http://chryswriter.tripod.com/
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