by Marion Myles
The first tear spilled over and rolled down her cheek, and he gently wiped it away. “Like I said before, you’re the reason I’m standing here right now,” he said. “I never knew I could be this kind of man.”
“And I never knew I could be this kind of woman. Before, I was a shell of a human being walking around in an empty life, afraid of opening myself to anyone. Because of you and all the work we’ve done together this past year, I’m now fully whole and so excited about our future together. I love you, Liam. Everything I am today and everything I hope to become, I happily give to you. And I want to be your wife more than anything in the world. So my answer is absolutely, one hundred percent yes.”
He took her hand and slipped the diamond on her finger. Then she lifted her other hand, opening it flat so he could see the gold medallion.
“One year strong.” He read the inscription on the front then turned it over. “Forever strong. It’s beautiful.” His voice broke with emotion. “Thank you. I’ll wear it always.”
He slipped the chain over his head and held the medallion next to his heart. With eyes damp, he gathered her up in his arms and kissed her tenderly.
“I’ve never been this happy,” he whispered.
“Me either,” she said.
She smiled and stroked his face. Way out on the edge of the water where the sea met the sky, the sun slipped below the horizon, and the water glowed like a bonfire while the clouds lent hues of saffron and violet.
The End
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An excerpt from: No Time for Goodbye
By Marion Myles
Roman didn’t go home. Instead, he got in his car and drove out to old man Jasper’s house. Weird that Mia would buy a place this remote and isolated. Hardly ideal for her fortune telling and incense and crystal crap. Didn’t her kind of people usually set up shop on the main drag of the town and put out one of those signs on the sidewalk to snag any potentially weak-minded passerby into coming in and plunking down their cash?
As soon as he turned onto her driveway, he jammed the car into park and let it idle. He wanted to hurt her so badly the blood pounded in his ears like a drum beat, urging him to give life to his fantasy. But he was a cop, dammit. And more, he liked to think he was a decent human being. Decent people didn’t show up at people’s houses and mess them up.
He drummed fingers on the steering wheel. It didn’t hurt to talk to her again, did it? A follow-up conversation to see if she’d thought of anything else. Cops did that all the time. It was part of the job. Besides, it wasn’t likely she’d report him. Not with the threat of misdemeanor charges hanging over her head.
He was about to continue on up the driveway when the door to the house opened, and the woman herself stepped out. She was surrounded by dogs. A literal frickin’ pack of them. Who owns four dogs and why, he wondered? He watched while she and the dogs walked toward the back of the house and disappeared from view. Perfect. He’d cruise up closer and poke around before she came back.
Driving so slowly up the driveway he barely raised any dust, he parked by the front door. He noted the lawns were well tended, and all the shutters had a fresh coat of paint. A deep, forest green. He thought the color suited the house. There were even window boxes, for Christ’s sake, with bunches of pink and purple blooms spilling out.
The front sun porch was no longer shabby but sported new looking windows, and the screens were free of tears and gaping holes. It would be a nice spot to sit on a warm summer day, sipping a cool beer with the dogs stretched out at her feet.
Impatiently, he shook off the cozy image and stomped around the side of the house, stopping short when he caught sight of the gardens. They were extensive. Beds of shrubs and flowers had been planted close to the house. What Roman assumed must be vegetables occupied the two large plots near the end of the yard.
There was even a greenhouse, he noted, though on closer inspection, it didn’t seem to be in use. Still, it was neat as a pin inside. The floor swept, a tidy stack of clay pots organized in the corner, and the glass panels, catching the light of the low evening sun, shone like mirrors.
“What are you doing?”
Roman spun around, furious at being caught flatfooted. “Looking for you,” he said smoothly.
“Well, I’m not in the greenhouse,” she said, eyes hard on his face. “Though how could you possibly know. It’s not like the walls are made of glass or anything.”
He stepped back out through the door she held open. The dogs rushed him, and when he saw that one of them was a massive Doberman, he froze, keeping his eyes on Mia. “You want to call them off?”
“It’s not nice, is it?” she said. “It’s an awful feeling to be surrounded and ganged up on by hostile creatures. Sort of reminds me of the interrogation room in the police station and a couple of dickhead detectives.”
The Doberman pinned him with eyes as cold and dead as a shark’s. “Call them off. Now,” he said, keeping his tone firm but entirely pleasant.
“Yeah, I could do that,” she mused. “Or me and Mac here could escort you to your car, nice and slow. That way nobody gets hurt.”
He could see she was amused, and he held her gaze for several beats. “Sure. Or we could have a nice friendly chat. I guess it’s your call,” he said, slowly raising his hands into the air like a perp caught by the police.
Her eyes flicked down to the dog’s. “Mac, it’s okay. Friend.” Reaching up, she touched Roman’s chest. “Friend,” she repeated.
Although the dog didn’t actually move away, the quality of focused stillness in the Doberman changed subtly, and Roman knew he was safe to resume normal movement. “Should we take this inside?”
She shook her head. “Nope. We talk out here. What do you want, Detective Mancini?”
“I want to know what happened to my sister.”
“So do I, but like I told you, I don’t know.”
“Look, this is two people talking off the record. You can drop the I-had-a-vision charade and tell me the truth. Did you know Anita somehow? Or Luke? Is that it, you met Luke at college maybe? What is your connection to all this?”
She sighed and dropping her gaze, rested her hand on Mac’s head. The large dog watched her like an overbearing parent. “I never met any of them. The first I knew of Anita’s existence was when that echo came out and grabbed me Sunday night after the fair.”
“What do you mean echo?”
“The vision. That’s what I call the ones I get from physical places. It’s as if the event leaves an echo and sometimes it hits my frequency. I see things from people and objects, too, but they’re all a little different. It’s hard to explain.”
He stared at her. “You really believe your own bullshit, don’t you? Okay, I came here in peace because I hoped you’d show some compassion. If not for me, think of my family. We all miss her. Our lives have never been the same since she disappeared. Finding her might help a little.”
She reached out and placed her hand on his arm. Roman felt a jolt when her warm fingers curled around his elbow. For a split second, her eyes widened in shock, and then she hastily withdrew her hand. “I want to help. I do. Hopefully, more of it will come to me. It sometimes works that way. I promise you’ll be the first to know.”
The detective stepped back, eyes hardening. “Right after we lost Anita, there was a woman like you. She came to my mama and told her a bunch of crap about how Anita was fine, in Florida, on a beach. Said she could see a sign with pink flamingos in the background. On and on that woman went, but she could never actually tell us where my sister was. She just kept insisting she was alive.”
Roman turned away from the gardens and the greenhouse and looked out over the field toward th
e far tree line. “My mama clung to her like a drowning woman grabs onto a life raft. My dad, too. They couldn’t let go because the woman kept coming up with more crap. I found out later they’d paid her.” His voice hitched, and he cleared his throat. “My parents paid that gypsy scam artist thousands of dollars. The whole time she never knew a single thing about what happened to my sister. When I became a police officer, the first thing I did was run a trace on her. Unfortunately, the evil witch was dead. Cancer. But I found out she’d run dozens of grifts. Her specialty target was families of missing kids.”
“I don’t want money,” Mia said fiercely. “I don’t want anything.”
“That’s fine. Good for you. Just make sure you stay the hell away from my family.” He turned back to her, staring into her furious face. Her eyes were huge and greenish-gold against skin leached of all color. “Because let me assure you…every single move you make, every breath you take…I’ll be right there watching you.”
Get your copy of No Time for Goodbye
Other Books By This Author
Valentine’s Heart: Heart Series Prequel Novella – Available Now
What the Heart Wants: Heart Series Book One – Available Now
Drawing from the Heart: Heart Series Book Two – Available Now
Feeding the Heart: Heart Series Book Three – Available Now
No Time for Goodbye – Available Now
About the Author
Hello there. My name is Marion Myles. I haven’t always been a writer. I spent the first few decades of my life as a professional equestrian and travelled across North America training horses and competing at horse shows.
Aside from horses, I’ve had an enduring love affair with the written word. My reading interests run the gamut from mystery to fantasy to general fiction and even young adult. But when it comes right down to it, my heart definitely lies in the romance section.
When not riding or writing, I devote any spare moments to battling a debilitating addiction to Smarties and stalking my favourite authors on the internet. I’m proud to say there are currently no restraining orders filed against me.
I live in Southern Ontario with my beloved dachshund and my husband (also very much beloved!)
You can find me at my Website or follow me on Facebook and Bookbub and Amazon
I’d love to hear from you so please drop me a line by email: [email protected]