“Hi, Leslie,” I replied, with a lump in my throat.  Leslie Morgan’s necklace sparkled, and I gazed in awe at her attractive bracelet as her cell phone ringtone wafted my way.  My pulse raced, and my body froze when I saw her.  Here it is, the 11th of June, and I still haven’t asked Leslie out.  I’m crazy about her, and school will be out in less than two weeks.  We friended each other on Facebook in April, but people friend each other at the drop of a hat. Time is moving, and I’ve got to act fast.

That night I tossed and turned, wondering how I’d get the nerve to ask her out on a date.  Should I call her, leave a note, or send her a rose?  Leslie has wavy auburn hair, the kind that turns bronze in the sunlight.  I longed to hold her hand, gaze into her eyes, and watch the sunset at Pinehenge Park with her.  I was truly smitten.

The next morning I saw her in the hall as she was leaving History class.

“Leslie, how are you doing,” I asked haltingly.  My tongue was in a knot.

“Pretty well, Tim,” Leslie replied with a fragile smile.

“Leslie, what are you doing this summer?” I asked, straining for something to say.

“I’ll be working at Camp Laurel for the Handicapped.  Since I’ll be majoring in Special Education in college, I thought I’d get some experience in the field.  What are your plans for the summer?”

“I’m going to apply at the radio station, since I’m such a music buff.  Maybe I’ll get a deejay job.  By the way, Leslie, when’s your birthday?  Isn’t it in July?

“It’s July 14th.  I’ll be at camp then.  It’ll be fun.  Tim, I’ve got to get to Trig class.  See you on Monday,” she said, as she slipped away–again.

All weekend I thought about Leslie Morgan.  Leslie’s a genuine and down-to-earth girl, unlike a lot of girls at school.  The problem is she’s dating Dave Donahue from the baseball team.  He’s always dumping her, only to make up again.  Leslie’s blind to Dave, always giving him one more chance.  She deserves better, and I’m it.  Now, if I could only ask her out!

The following Tuesday I ran into my friend Perez Garcia.  “Perez, how did you hook up with Pat Caffrey last year?  I have this huge crush on Leslie Morgan from History class, but every time I see her, I get tongue-tied.”

“I was helping Pat study for an English exam last June.  She got a 93, and she couldn’t have been happier.  We started dating right after that.”

“But Leslie doesn’t need any help with History.  She always aces the tests, getting 95’s or 100’s.  I just don’t know what to say to her.  What if Dave finds out?”

“Ask her to the movies.  Joan of Arc is opening this weekend, and it’s going to be a blockbuster, like Cars last year. Good luck, and I’ll catch ya later.”

I kept putting off asking Leslie out.  What if she said no?  That thought unnerved me.  I rehearsed lines in my mind, making sure I didn’t trip on my words.  The lines went like this:

“Leslie, how would you like to go to see Joan of Arc Saturday night?

“Leslie, do you want to go out for an ice cream Friday night?”

“Hi, Leslie, would you like to meet over at Pinehenge Park?”  The lines came out so effortlessly, but of course, Leslie wasn’t around.

Two days later Perez cornered me in the hall.  “So Tim, did you ask Leslie out?”

“No, not yet,” I replied.

“Time is ticking.  Tomorrow is the last day of classes.”

The sands were slipping through the hourglass in my mind, and I felt more helpless with each grain that passed through.

The next day at lunch I overheard Leslie and Dave talking.  They said something about Pinehenge Park and 6 o’clock.  So I decided to take a stroll down to the park to do a little innocent spying.

A lot of the gang goes down to the park to hang out, and it’s always fun shooting the breeze with friends.  The oaks and maples were in full bloom, it was 75 degrees, and I needed a study break.  As I was walking down a tree-flanked path, I began to hear two familiar voices over a din of rock music.  The voices belonged to Leslie and Dave.  I decided to hide behind an oak tree across the way and eavesdrop.  I’d seen them together before but usually in a group.  I’d never seen them alone at Pinehenge Park.

“Leslie, be there at 9.”

“I’ve got to study, Dave.  Exams are next week.”

“Study, study, study!  That’s all you ever do!  I was hoping we’d hang out with the guys after the game, then we could get it going later on. You’d better produce for me tonight–I’ve waited long enough.  What’ll I tell the guys if you don’t show? “

Why does Leslie put up with his nonsense? I thought.

“Dave, your friends are superficial creeps.  I’m not a piece of meat for you to devour.”

“Don’t give me that baloney.  It’s a man’s world–women were made for men, and girls were made for boys.  It’s biological manifest destiny.  Give me some tonight, or it’ll be over!”

I was seething inside.  The girl of my dreams was right in front of me, and she was with a louse.  Meanwhile, the argument was escalating. If only I had Leslie’s cell number, I could go behind a tree nearby, and that’d distract Dave.

“Don’t bother, Dave.  I’ve finally seen you for what you are.  I was naive for a long time.  You seemed all right at first–you’re handsome and athletic, but you’re pushy and I don’t like that.  I’m saving my first time for someone I really like.”

I respected Leslie for standing up to Dave.  I too am a virgin, and I plan to wait until I’m married, regardless of what the guys say.  Meanwhile, the quarrel raged on:

“I’ll find another girl before you find another guy.  Julie Jensen is willing, and so is Kelly White.”

“Then go ahead and see Julie,” Leslie said sharply.  “She’s more your speed anyway.  And one more thing, Tim–get a life!

“Don’t talk to me like that.  I’m Dave Donahue,” he snarled, as he grabbed Leslie’s knapsack and unzipped it.  Her books and papers tumbled out.  He then shoved her to the ground.  Leslie’s face turned white, and tears began to stream down her cheeks.  Adrenaline shot through my body.

“Let her be, you lowlife,” I shouted, as I emerged from my hiding place, 50 feet away.

“Just who are you, nerdface?” Dave sneered.

“I hate to see a girl treated like that,” I said firmly.

Leslie was still crying but managed to smile weakly at me.

“One way or another, you’re going to give it to me.  Hopefully, we can get it over with tonight, because I want it,” Dave said, menacingly.  “Anyway, I’ve got to cruise.  The game starts at 7.  You know where to be tonight.  I’ll be waiting,” Dave said with a sly grin.  Leslie gave Dave an icy stare as he walked toward his car.

I was finally alone with Leslie.  I picked up her books and papers, which were strewn all over the grass.  I noticed her skin was still pale.  “Leslie, are you all right,” I asked quietly.

“O.K., just a little dizzy,” she said, as she slowly regained her composure.

“Has he tried to come on to you before tonight,” I asked.

“A few times, but he’s all talk.  He did scare me this time; he’d never done anything like this.  He’s probably stressed out because of the big game.  It’s over between us anyhow, and summer’s coming.  I’ll be glad to get to camp.”

“Leslie, I was wondering if we could go to the ice cream parlor,” I said quickly.

“My treat!  I owe you one,” Leslie said emphatically.  I don’t know what he would have done if you hadn’t shown up.   He’s got a temper, and he’s getting more controlling.”

We talked for an hour at Marty’s Ice Cream Parlor nearby.

“Leslie, do you know about the Teens Against Violence Coalition?  Students started to meet a month after the Columbine shooting in 1999.  We talk about combating all sorts of violence, from shootings to bullying to date rape,” I said.  “Olinda Jackson is the one to speak to about violent boyfriends.”

“Maybe I’ll call her this weekend,” Leslie replied.

I walked Leslie home, and I encouraged her to call or e-mail me.   The next few days passed quickly, and I took my exams.  After five days, I decided to give Leslie a call to see how she was doing.  For 30 minutes I stalled, as I approached the phone, then shied away.  I wish I had Leslie’s e-mail, because e-mail is a godsend for shy people.  As it stood, I was a shy person with only a phone number.  Sure, I could send Leslie a letter, but she’ll be leaving for camp any day.  Finally, I dialed the number.

“Leslie, this is Tim McDonald.  I was wondering how you’ve been doing since last Friday.”

“Pretty well–very busy getting ready for camp.  Sorry I haven’t gotten back to you-I’ve been so busy!  I’ll be back from camp in two months.  I’ll be in touch in late August!”

Late August was two long months away.  I had to see her before then.

Meanwhile, I had gotten a job cleaning at the local top-40 station.  It wasn’t a deejay job, but it was a start.

The next two weeks went by slowly.  There was a hit song out, “Yours for Life,” by Sara Stanley, which reminded me of Leslie.  Sara sounds like a cross between Mariah Carey and a female John Mayer.  Since the song knocked me out, I requested it every night, hoping she’d hear it and call me.  I wasn’t sure if Leslie would be listening to the radio at camp, as it was hard to pick up a local station so far away.  I kept requesting the song, though.

I made up my mind that I had to see Leslie on her birthday.  I decided I would surprise her at camp that day.  By the time the 14th of July rolled around, I was wired.  I was even losing weight.  The night before Leslie’s birthday I tossed and turned.  How would the next day turn out?

Saturday the 14th arrived, at last.  Luckily, I had the day off from work.  I was planning to leave for Camp Laurel at noon with Mike O’Connor.

“Tim, where are you going today,” my mom asked, shortly after I’d gotten up and showered.

“I’m going to visit a friend at Camp Laurel.  I’m going up with Mike, and he’s driving, so I won’t need the car today.  I’m paying Mike 7 bucks for gas.

“Be sure to get some breakfast.  It’s going to be a hot one today,” my mom reminded me.

“I’ll grab some toast and juice,” I said quickly.

While slipping the bread slices into the toaster, I thought about that Sara Stanley tune again.  It was just the kind of song Leslie would like: folk-tinged pop.  It was our song, though she didn’t know it yet.

Mike and I left at noon sharp.  We arrived at the camp at one.

“They’ve got to be swimming now,” I said, perspiring.

“They usually go in around 1:30,” Mike replied, clutching his towel and preparing to make a mad dash for the lake.  “Everybody will be in today–that sun’s a razor, and it’s 90 degrees.”

We headed for the lobby.

“I’m looking for a Leslie Morgan who works here,” I asked the receptionist, a dark-skinned Puerto Rican girl named Maria Rodriguez.  “She’s a counselor, and today’s her birthday.”

“You’re out of luck.  Leslie went to the shore with some of her friends.  It was her day off.”

My face fell when I heard that.

“As long as you guys are here, you might as well go for a swim.  Salvage something,” Maria offered.

“Yes, yes,” Mike said merrily, eyeing Maria.  I was in the dumps because I was going to miss out on Leslie-and the Jersey shore was 200 miles away!

“Come on, Tim, let’s go for a swim.  Just leave a note for Les after we’re done,” Mike said.

I reluctantly walked to the dressing room.  After suiting up, however, we were in the water in ten seconds flat.  While we were swimming, I was thinking about what I’d write to Leslie in that note.  Mike couldn’t stop talking about Maria the receptionist-love at first sight?!

After we were done and dressed, we went back to the lobby.  I borrowed a pen and a piece of paper, and wrote:

Dear Leslie,

I know you will be surprised to hear from me.  I wanted to visit you on your birthday, but you had gone for the weekend.  I hope you had a good day.  Please drop me a line.

Sincerely, Tim McDonald

“That note’s too generic,” Mike chided.

“But it’s sincere-and that’s what she likes,” I retorted.

After waiting for Mike to finish chatting with Maria, we decided to head back, stopping by Perez Garcia’s on the way back.  After hanging out and eating pizza with Perez and Pat, Mike dropped me off at my house.

A few days passed.  I buried myself in my work.  I wasn’t sure if Leslie would write back.  I lost another two pounds.

“Tim, I’ve set up an appointment with Dr. French.  He’s awfully good to talk to,” Mom said.

“I’m fine.  I have a crush on some girl, that’s all,” I said impatiently.

“But all you do is work and think about that girl.  She’s not the only fish.”

“That’s such a cliché,” I replied.  “Besides, Leslie’s unique.  She’s an amazing writer and artist-not your average fish in the sea.”

“There’ll be others,” Mom said, brushing it off.

There was no one like Leslie.

My sister Joanne went to get the mail.  When she came back, I asked her if I’d gotten anything.

“Let’s see: the phone bill, a Wendy’s ad, a Justin Timberlake Fan Club newsletter for me, Baseball Digest for Dad, Better Homes and Gardens for Mom, and a letter for you from a Morgan with a Laurel, Pennsylvania postmark.

“Morgan?!  Laurel?!  That’s Leslie’s last name, and that’s where she works,” I gasped.

I ran to my room.  My pulse raced, and my legs trembled as I tore open the envelope.  I then read:

Dear Tim,

Thanks for remembering my birthday-what a great surprise!  It was so good to hear from you.  It gets lonely up here, even though we’re busy all the time.  I’d like you to come up for a visit sometime next month.  And maybe we can catch the sunset at Pinehenge.

Sincerely, Leslie

“Mom?”

“Yes, Tim.”

“Cancel that appointment with Dr. French.  And Mom?  May I have the car next Saturday?

The End

Contributed by aspiring romance writer Sid Tierney.

We were laughing and joking in Scott’s car.  Most of the jokes centered on Scott being a geek.  I remember him saying “You’re just lucky this geek has a car.”  Scott wore glasses and was an Engineering major, but other than that he seemed like a regular guy.  He laughed with us easily and seemed not the least bit uncomfortable having three girls in his car.  He wasn’t skinny, but actually fit.  He wasn’t strikingly handsome, but more the kind of guy with average looks that could grow on you.  His sandy brown hair was cut short and he was clean shaven and had clear skin.  He was more nondescript than anything.  Then Heather got a text on her phone from Mel in the car in front that said some folks in her car wanted to stop at the Renaissance Fair for which we had just seen signs.

Scott’s face lit up. “Cool!  I love Renaissance Fairs.  That would be awesome.”

“That’s because you’re a geek,” said his sister Renee.

“If you mean because of the sci-fi fantasy books I read, then yeah, you’re right,” he shot back with a sheepish grin.

“What is it like at a Renaissance Fair?”  I asked, because as an English/Journalism major I had had my share of Renaissance literature classes, and actually thought I might like to go.

“It’s awesome.” answered Scott immediately.  “It’s like going back in time.  People walk around dressed in period costumes.  They put on jousting shows and demonstrate industries like blacksmithing.  There are also tons of booths where you can buy clothes, pottery, weapons; all sorts of stuff.”

“Sounds like a blast,” returned Renee as she rolled her eyes.

“No, really, it is,” said Scott.  And then just to me he said, “You should go, really.”

I was silent after that.  Did he think I should go because I was interested or because he wanted me to go with him?  Did he like me?  How would I feel about it if he did?  Was I attracted to him?  Well, I wasn’t not attracted to him.  I decided it was best to assume he meant nothing by it.

When we stopped a few miles later for gas, it turned out most people wanted to go to the Fair.  With a little rearranging, Renee and Heather got a ride back with some folks continuing on home.  Scott and I got back in his car and followed the others towards the fair.  It was not awkward at all and the laughing and joking continued even though it was just the two of us.  Scott, it turned out, was just an incredibly funny and easy-going guy.

When we got to the Fair, we all started out as one big group but it soon broke into a boy’s group and a girl’s group, as the guys got hung up in the weapons tent and the girls gravitated over to the jewelry.

After an hour or so, I let myself get separated from the group and started wandering around on my own.  I was browsing through a period clothing tent, eyeing the bustiers for some reason and sizing up if they had ones large enough to fit me.  They did.  As I turned to leave, there was Scott at the entrance to the tent peeking in.  We noticed each other at the same time.  His face broke into a grin.  Had he been looking for me?  Had I been looking for him?  I couldn’t really say, even to myself.

“So, see anything interesting?” he said.

“I’m trying to decide what would suit me.  Shall I dress like a tavern wench or a royal lady?”

“The wenches had more fun.  But I think your teeth are too straight.”

We both laughed.

It was then, standing just inside the entrance to the clothing tent that my cell phone rang.  It was Mara, my best friend from high school.  She attended State college, closer to our hometown so we didn’t see each other as much.

“Lacey, what are you doing?  Can you meet me for dinner?  There is someone I want you to meet!”

“Dinner?  Maybe.  Where are you?”  I looked at my watch.  It was almost 3:30.

“I’m actually just south of the U.  I didn’t think I’d be nearby, but Dave surprised me and took me to Engleton’s.  I told him I wish I’d known because I would have invited you.  But he said to just call you up.  We’ll hang out nearby at the dam until you can get here.”

“Who’s this Dave?” I asked, laughing.

“That’s why I’m so desperate for you to come.  We’ve been seeing each other for about a month now, and I’m dying for you to meet him.”

“Sounds like fun.  I’d love to meet Dave.”

“So can you come?”  I had turned away from Scott to take Mara’s call and was staring blankly at a clothes rack, but I could sense that he was still right there.  I was starting to feel a connection, like maybe he had come to find me.  Did he like me?  Did I want to just leave before finding out?  Did I want him to like me?  I still had no idea.

“Well, listen, I’m not home.  I’m actually at a Renaissance Fair in South Orange with a bunch of people from my dorm.  I’m not that far from Engleton’s, but I didn’t drive myself.  Let me see what I can do and I’ll call you right back.”

“Okay.”

“Bye.”

“Bye.”

I turned to face Scott and was startled slightly to find him right there.  I mean right there.  Close.  Looking at me.  Leaning in.  And then he was gently kissing me.  I responded, kissing him back.  So he kissed me harder.  His mouth was cool and fresh and as our tongues touched I felt a thrill of electricity shoot through me.  Then we had our arms around each other.  Now there was definitely attraction.  I felt tingly all over.  Actually there were waves of tingly rippling through me.  He was a fantastic kisser.  I had been kissed before but not like this.  This was not dutiful prom date kissing.  This was not I’m young and bored and want to explore kissing.  This was kissing that said I want you and only you.

I realized that I had been looking for him after all, hoping this would happen.  And I realized he had been looking for me.  Only me.  Because he liked—me.  After a few minutes we stopped kissing, but just pulled back a little with our arms around each other.  He was smiling.  His eyes were twinkling like he’d just told a great joke.  Mine probably looked the same.

It was me who spoke first.  “I really do want to leave and go meet Mara.” I said.  “Would you like to come with me?”

“I was hoping you would ask.” he said.

“Did you think kissing me would up your chances?”

“Something like that, yeah” he said.

I reluctantly let go of him and pulled out my phone.

“Mara.”  I said, after she answered.  “It turns out I have someone for you to meet, too.  His name is Scott.  I just met him yesterday and it turns out he’s a great kisser.”

I held the phone out from my head so Scott could hear Mara’s laughter.

“About five then?” I said, back into the phone.

“Okay, then, bye.”

I put the phone away and said, “Let’s get out of here.”

Scott took my hand and kept it all the way back to his car.

“Did you want to tell anyone we’re leaving?” he asked.

“Nah, they’ll figure it out when we are both missing!”

The End

Contributed by aspiring romance writer Tess Earnshaw.

A shudder raced through her as she turned from the window and surveyed the cardboard boxes lined along the brick wall. Considering her neighbor’s horrific fate two nights before, her unemployment and move to a smaller place paled in comparison. What weighed most on her mind was doing something for the old woman’s family, even if it was just to sit and comfort them. Maybe she could purchase something from the bakery and take it to the family this afternoon. Yes, that’s what she would do.

“Excuse me, Julia. Do you have a moment?”

The baritone voice brought her out of her reverie. Julia looked up to see the detective assigned to Mrs. Monroe’s case in the doorway. “Sure, come in.” When his dark gaze moved down her chiffon, silk gown, her stomach fluttered, as it did whenever he was near. Instinctively, she drew the satin sash tighter.

He cleared his throat. “Your sister let me in, but I can always come back later.”

Julia’s warm cheeks matched her tinted hair. “No, please make yourself comfortable while I change.” She hurried from the room. Her sister had stayed over to help with her move, and she planned to strangle her as soon as he left. How dare she allow him to come back while she was indecent? Having met the detective on two previous occasions, she couldn’t deny her attraction to him. His jet black hair and inquisitive eyes left her nearly breathless. Fanning herself, she browsed through her closet several minutes before deciding on a soft, blue cotton dress. She changed and returned to the sunroom.

“Can I get you coffee or tea, detective?” Julie asked, not missing his appreciative glimpse at her dress.

“No, I’m good. Please call me Will.”

She sat in a chair across from him, noticing for the first time the dry rose which fell from her fireplace mantel, now lay in the center of the table. It was a gift she’d bought herself last Valentine’s Day. She chose to ignore it. “Okay, Will, how can I help you?”

With pen and pad before him, his expression turned serious. “I wanted to go over this again. You said you heard a scream at two o’clock, Tuesday morning. Is that correct?”

“Yes, that’s correct.” With his head inclined, he scribbled notes. Her gaze followed the movement of his strong hand.

“How can you be sure of the time?”

“My favorite television show came on when the scream rang out.”

He cast a curious glance in her direction. “And what show is this?”

How embarrassing. At twenty-five, she not only bought herself roses but carried on a romance with the television. “The Dating Game.”

His full lips tilted at the corners. After a few unspoken moments, he continued. “I know you called the police. What did you do after that?”

“Just as I’ve told you on two other occasions, I ran to the window, and that’s when I saw the guy on the fire escape.”

“You were adamant about him being a black male. How can you be sure when it’s night?”

She wrapped her slender fingers around the teacup she’d left on the table earlier. Lifting it to her lips, she sipped the lukewarm liquid and set the cup back on the saucer. “The area was well-lit, and he wasn’t wearing a face mask. You’ve asked me most of these questions before. Are you hoping I’ll change my story?”

He closed the notepad and folded his hands on the table, drawing her attention to his well-defined forearms.

“You’re the only witness who has come forward, so I’m trying to get as much information as possible.” He smiled, showing even, white teeth.

Warmth swept through her lower abdomen. What was it about him that affected her this way? Looking away, she sipped her tea.

“Julia.”

The sound slid over her skin like oil. She looked up into his midnight eyes. “Yes?”

A sigh resonated throughout the room as he leaned back against the chair. “I have to be honest about why I’m really here. I remembered that your movers were coming today, and I wanted to see you before you left. I would like to stay in touch.”

Trying to steady her hands so he wouldn’t hear the cup clinking against the saucer, she let him continue.

“I would like to take you out. Is that possible?”

“Won’t this compromise the case?”

“Absolutely not. You’re not a suspect.” His gaze still held hers. “Maybe I’m moving too fast, but I’m totally taken by you.”

Since fainting was not an option, Julia took a much needed breath. “I would like very much to see you again.”

“Is the offer still good for a cup of coffee?” Will asked.

“Yes, I’ll be right back.” She stood and turned to leave.

“Before you go. Is there a story behind this rose?” He twirled it between his fingers.

“Not one you’re going to hear from me, detective.”

Julia could hear his laughter behind her as she went into the kitchen. Closing her eyes, she wrapped her arms around her waist. Although she’d lost her sweet neighbor and job, better days were ahead. From now on, she would focus on the positive and look for the silver lining.

The End

Learn more about Cassandra Roberts-Jones at her SHOWCASE PAGE.

After a two hour plane ride, the last thing I wanted to do was stand in line waiting for a rental car. I tapped my foot and peered around the man in front of me. How long could it take one person to rent a car?

I adjusted my super size sunglasses and tried to determine if I should just take them off. It didn’t seem as if anyone was going to go berserk trying to get my autograph. I reached up to fold them off my face, and noticed a couple standing beside the counter staring at me, and doing a bad job of trying to pretend they weren’t.

“Why would Casey Brand be renting a car here?” the man whispered loudly enough for everyone to hear.

I heard his companion’s muffled reply, but I ignored both of them.

The glasses stayed on. Not only did I not want to confirm their suspicion about who I am, but my upper cheek and eye were a rainbow of yellow, green and purple. It wasn’t pretty.

I play police Detective Casey Brand on the popular Hard Streets TV show, filmed in New York City. I’m not a lead character, but I had enough speaking parts to be recognized quite often. Last week, on the way to work, I was mugged, requiring stitches and the assistance of a real police detective, who bore an uncanny resemblance to my ex-husband. I asked for some time off, and was headed home to regroup.

I loved acting, but at thirty-five I wasn’t a rousing success, and at this stage probably never would be. I missed the quiet of my home town. I was entering the “what if” stage of life.

I finally got my turn at the rental counter, and took the keys from the rental agent, who luckily didn’t recognize me. I drove the hour home to Fairmount, where I wouldn’t be treated with any special attention. They expected success from their natives. Like the legendary movie star, James Dean, and Garfield cartoonist Jim Davis, to name a couple.

I pulled into my parents’ driveway. They were away, so I would have the place to myself. I took my suitcase into my childhood bedroom, which still looked like a shrine to Barbie and friends. Grabbing a Coke from the kitchen, I settled into my father’s favorite chair, and picked up the News-Sun. “Police Looking For Suspect In Missing James Dean Headstone” screamed the headline.

I thought of my great-aunt Felicity, still living in the house she grew up in. She had gone to high school with James Dean, and for most of high school they had dated. He took her to the prom, so Aunt Felicity is sort of a celebrity-by-association. She still has his high school ring and sweater with his letter for basketball on it.

She claims she gave birth to his child back in 1948, when she was seventeen. But even James Dean’s cousin, who still lives nearby, can’t back her story up. Since no one has ever seen this child, or heard from it, the family takes it with a grain of salt.

Every September 30th, the anniversary of his death, Aunt Felicity goes to Jimmy’s grave and places flowers on it.

I put the paper down, took the last swallow of Coke, and walked the few blocks to her house.

She was sitting on her porch, gently rocking in her swing, a pitcher of lemonade beside her. “Jane! You’re home. Good Lord child, what happened to your face? Part of it’s blue and yellow. Or is that green?” She patted the space beside her. “Tell me.”

“What you need is a good self-defense class,” she commented, when I told her about being mugged. “You should take lessons from your Kevin Brogan. He teaches women how to defend themselves. I took his class myself.”

Kevin Brogan, my ex-husband. We had gotten married right after we turned eighteen. It had lasted until I graduated with a bachelor’s degree in English and Drama, and then left him on his own to fight crime in Fairmount, while I fled to the Big Apple in search of fame and fortune. Back then it seemed like the right decision. Did I want to see him again? No. I’d managed to avoid him every time I visited. Well, maybe just saying hi wouldn’t be so bad.

“Is he married?” I asked, realizing I wasn’t sure I wanted to know

“Jimmy? No, he never got married.” My aunt dabbed at her eyes.

“No, I mean Kevin.”

“You still have a thing for him, don’t you?” My aunt’s blue eyes twinkled. “No, he isn’t married. I think he still has a thing for you, too. Like me and James Byron Dean.  I could never marry anyone but him. Remember him in Giant?”  Her eyes grew dreamy.

“I remember, Aunt Felicity,” I answered.  Thanks to her, I knew the entire dialogue from Giant and  East of Eden. Maybe that’s why I was bitten by the acting bug.

“I see Jimmy’s headstone is missing. Are you okay? The whole town must be upset.”

She waved a hand at me. “Oh, it’ll show up. It’s been taken before. Kevin’s at the Y.  You should look into his class.  A woman can’t be too careful. He’s good. The women love him. He’s got more of them than he can handle.”

I bet he does, I thought. I kissed my aunt goodbye, promising to come back later to make dinner for both of us, and left her with her memories of James Dean.

I planned to drive home, take a bath, put on some of my father’s Dean Martin records, and relax before I had to do shopping. The car I was driving had other ideas. Five minutes later, I found myself in the YMCA parking lot. My legs trembled as I walked up to the front desk.

“I’m looking for Kevin Brogan,” I told the receptionist.

“You’re lucky. He’s in the middle of a class now in the gym annex. I’m the only one here and I can’t leave the desk. Can you find it yourself?”

I assured her I could.

Kevin was in front of a room of about thirty women. They were so focused on him, they didn’t even notice me until Kevin did, about thirty seconds later.

“Take a five-minute break, ladies.” He trotted over to me, and the women started whispering. A couple of them waved to me. I waved back.

“Jane. My God, I thought I was seeing things. How are you? What on earth happened?” He gently touched the side of my cheek, and I leaned into his hand. The whispering behind him increased.

His voice hadn’t changed. Neither had the shiny dark brown hair—all of which he still had—and almost black eyes with their impossibly long lashes. His body was even more buff than it had been when we were together. I guess police work agreed with him.

I swallowed. “Hi, Kevin. I was mugged. Aunt Felicity suggested I look into self-defense.”

“The class has been going on for about three weeks already, but I can fit you in. It would have to be privately, though. As you can see, I can’t squeeze another body in here.”

“That would be okay. I’m only going to be here for a week or so.  Can I just take a couple of lessons?”  I couldn’t look away from the way his black t-shirt molded to his chest. I had the urge to lay my head against it.  I could see why women flocked to him.

“Sure. I’ll call you tonight. Where are you staying?”

“At my parents’. 674-”

“-1811,” Kevin finished for me. “I used to call you every night in our junior and senior year in high school. Remember?” His hand was caressing my cheek.

I did. I couldn’t believe he still remembered the number. I smiled all the way back to my car, clutching the piece of paper on which he had written his number as if it were the Holy Grail, or some such thing.  I stopped at Joe’s IGA, the only grocery store in town, and picked up items for dinner.

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“Tracy, this is absolutely beautiful,” Dawn said, caressing the large agate stone with her fingertip. The vintage sterling silver bangle surrounded her wrist with elegance and class. “You’re too good to me.”

“I’m glad you like it. There were so many to choose from. They make them right there on the island.”

Dawn stood and leaned over the cafe table to give her best friend a hug. “I more than like it. I love it.” She returned to her seat.

“You have to plan to accompany me next year, Dawn. You’re a workaholic. So far you’ve missed Jamaica, Costa Rica, and now Mexico. You’re in the prime of your life. Enjoy it while you can.”

“I know, I know. You’re right on all points, but I want to hear about your trip. Were there any good-looking guys in Baja?”

Tracy picked up a napkin and fanned herself. “Honey, my eyeballs are sore from ogling. I feel like Stella. I’m ready to get my groove back.”

Dawn admired her friend’s crazy sense of humor, but her heavy-laden heart wouldn’t allow her the luxury of laughing. If Tracy ever found out who she was getting her groove on with, things could get ugly. Giving Tracy a weak smile, Dawn took a sip of cranberry iced tea.

“Next month, I’m going to have a pool party. I want to meet this mystery friend of yours,” Tracy said, eyeing her intently.  ”He sounds interesting.”

“I…I wouldn’t exactly call him a mystery. We both have busy schedules.”

Tracy took her wallet from her purse. “Well, mark your calendar. No excuses. I want to meet him.”

“Put that away. I’ll take care of the tab.” Thankful for the distraction, Dawn placed several bills on the table. She had to find a way to tell Tracy the truth. The dishonesty tore her apart, and Tracy didn’t deserve it.

Tracy leaned forward, her hazel eyes full of mischief. “I’m not letting you off the hook. Are you going to bring this mysterious David to the party?”

“Maybe, but don’t expect me to wear a bathing suit. I have to lose a few pounds.”

“Dawn, please. Men are all over you everywhere we go.  Your beautiful face and voluptuous body are to die for.  Besides, wearing a size fourteen is average these days.”

“Humph, if you say so. Why are you a size six, if fourteen is so popular?”

Tracy laughed. “Talk to God about that. I wish I had a bigger rear to strut. Seriously, I think you’re gorgeous. I also think you need to take more time out to enjoy yourself.”

If she only knew how much fun I’ve had lately. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

“Good, I’d better get going. I’m picking Ashley up early from the sitter. I promised to take her for ice cream. Would you like to join us? She hasn’t seen her godmother in almost two weeks.”

“No, I can’t.  I have to finish up at the office.  Would it be okay if I picked her up on Saturday for a couple of hours?”

Tracy stood, smoothing her tight black dress over her soft curves. “Of course, that’ll give me time to run a few errands.”

Dawn’s insides flip-flopped.  She couldn’t let this go any farther. “Um, Tracy, can we talk a few minutes before you leave?”

Tracy slid back into her chair. “Sure. What’s up?”

A hush fell over the small cafe, as if anticipating her words.  Dawn played with the edges of a napkin before lifting her gaze to Tracy’s.  She took a trembling breath.  ”The mystery guy I’m seeing isn’t someone I just met. I’ve known him for years.  We work together, and I introduced the two of you ten years ago.”

The light in Tracy’s eyes dimmed to a haunted, fearful look. “Wha…what?” She shook her head. “Please, Dawn, don’t say what I think you’re about to say. Please don’t.”

“We both fought it as long as we could because of the love we have for you.”

“Are you telling me you’re messing around with my Kevin? With Ashley’s father?”

“I didn’t know you still referred to him as your Kevin. You’ve been divorced eighteen months. We started dating six months ago.”

A lone tear slid down Tracy’s cheek. She laughed harshly. “Six months, and you never said a word. Not one word.”

“I wanted to, but I didn’t know how you’d react.”

“How did you think I would react? I loved Kevin. Although we grew apart during our marriage, I still loved him. We have a daughter. You know how painful the divorce was for me.  Even now, I still care deeply for him. How could you do this?”
“I’m sorry, Tracy. I wish it was anyone but Kevin. Although he and I have been good friends for many years, we never expected to fall in love.”

“In … love? You’re in love?” Tracy stumbled to her feet. “You were my best friend.  I trusted you with my life.  I’ve told you precious secrets.  We’ve cried together and what did it all mean?  I would have given you the shirt off my back.”  Crying, she snatched the tablecloth from the table and all the dishes along with it.  ”The two of you deserve each other. You’re nothing but a fat, trifling hussy.”  She ran from the restaurant.

The restaurant manager rushed to the table, stepping over the broken dishes. “Ma’am, someone is going to have to pay for this.”

Through blinding tears, Dawn handed him a wad of bills and her business card before making her way to the parking lot.  She slumped over the steering wheel and cried until her eyes were dry.

*****

Dawn tightened the belt on her robe as she sprinted across the room to answer the door. Please let it be Tracy. She’d tried calling earlier but Tracy had already activated the call block service. Breathless from emotions and the short run, she pulled the door open. Her heart split down the middle.  Kevin stood on the other side.  His dark good looks held her captivated, and all he’d become in her life enveloped her. She wanted to throw herself in his strong arms, while also wishing he would disappear.

He smiled.  ”Are you going to invite me in?”

“Yes.”

As soon as the door closed, he drew her into his arms.  ”I thought you were coming back to the office.”

“Something came up.”  She gently pushed away from the comfort of his arms and walked into the living room.

“I hope nothing serious.”

“Serious enough.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Kevin, listen, this isn’t going to work. I think we need to cool it for awhile.”

He frowned. “What do you mean cool it?”

“I mean we shouldn’t see each other right now. I need to sort a few things in my mind.”  She turned her back to him. Her mouth and heart were going in different directions. No man had ever made her feel as special as he did. She had fallen hard and needed him just to breathe, but she also wanted her friendship with Tracy.

Kevin circled and stood in front her.  He took her hands in his. “A few hours ago you were fine. What is this really about?”

“It’s just best for all concerned.”

He released her hands.  ”For all concerned? You’ve given me the best six months of my life. I can’t imagine living without you. And this is all you have to say?”

She pressed her fingers against her swollen eyes. “Tracy knows.”

Her eyes flew open when he let out a loud expulsion of breath. She watched as he ran his hand over his head and walked to the window overlooking the courtyard. Silence vibrated through the room. Finally, he turned and strode back to where she stood.

“Is this the reason you don’t want to see me?”

“Yes, for the most part.”

“Dawn, I love you. You’re the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with. I want us to marry as soon as possible.”  His lips tilted in a smile. “I want you to have my babies.”

Butterflies swarmed her stomach. The thought of being his wife left her dizzy and elated, but the ugly reality wouldn’t allow it to sink in.  “It won’t work. Think about the effect this will have on Ashley.  Although she’s only seven, she’s much smarter than you think. Her mom now hates me.  I can never forgive myself for hurting Tracy.”

His brows drew together. “We’re not doing anything wrong. Tracy and I fell out of love, and we’re entitled to find happiness and love again. I’ve found that happiness with you. Surely she can’t hold that against us.” He reached out and held Dawn’s shoulders. “Please, don’t give up what we have.”

Dawn pursed her lips. “I’m sorry, but we can’t be more than friends. It’s best that you leave.”

Kevin’s hands dropped to his sides, emotions stirring in the depths of his eyes. He turned and walked out.

Dawn held the wall for support as her world turned upside down.

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It was their usual Sunday night routine. Saying goodbye.

Their youngest, baby Ella, bounced in her mother’s arms until her dad leaned over and planted a raspberry on her cheek eliciting squeals of delight.

Jessica’s lips curled despite the heaviness in her heart.

As a pharmaceutical sales person, travel was a part of Jack’s job description that she’d grown to accept. But it didn’t make saying goodbye any easier.

After smothering their other two kids in hugs and kisses, Jack hopped into the waiting hired car with a wave and a smile. Jessica’s stomach clenched as she thought about how exciting his life on the road must be—business meetings with doctors, dinner at new restaurants every evening, nights spent in luxurious hotels.

After their oldest, Connor, was born, Jessica made the decision to quit her job as a nurse and stay home full time. Now with three kids under five, she still loved every moment of her time at home. But that was her. Whenever she said goodbye to Jack she couldn’t help wondering if he found their home life dull compared to his travels.

Did he look forward to getting back on the road?

Jessica felt a tug on her pant leg pulling her back from her worries.

“Can I have a drink?” asked three year old Zoë.

“Of course, Sweetie,” Jessica replied as she patted the girl’s curly blonde head. She grabbed three plastic cups from the cupboard, and as she poured a round of apple juice for the masses her concerns about Jack were quickly forgotten.

On Monday night, the phone rang at precisely six o’clock. Jessica’s heart pounded with anticipation. Whenever he traveled, Jack always managed to sneak away and call home at the same time. No matter what.

When she picked up the phone, Jessica could barely hear him over the raised voices and clinking of silverware on dishes. He was at dinner with clients.

The kids jumped at her legs anxious to talk to Daddy. After each had their turn, Connor passed her the phone. “It’s your turn, Mommy.”

But as soon as she raised it to her ear, she heard Jack say, “Sorry, hun. Gotta go.”  He was practically shouting to be heard. “Dr. Watts is about to leave, and I haven’t gotten a commitment from him yet. I’ll call you tomorrow. Love you.”

She let out a heavy breath but told herself she could wait until tomorrow to tell him about Zoe’s attempt to dress the cat in a princess gown and tiara.

But on Tuesday evening, Jessica returned home at six-ten following what was supposed to be a quick stop at the grocery store—an impossibility with three kids in tow—to find a message from Jack.

“I won’t be able to call back tonight,” his voice rang out. “The only time Dr. Bryson can meet with me is this evening. Kisses and hugs to everyone.” He sounded distracted, as though he was in a hurry to get off the phone.

Her heart sunk.

The tiara story really isn’t that exciting anyway.

On Wednesday evening, six o’clock came and went with no phone call. Even though she knew he was due home the next night, disappointment weighed heavy in her chest. Her first instinct was to worry. He’d never missed a call before. Had something happened?

Calm down. He’s probably busy with a client, her common sense told her.

But then that meant he’d gotten too busy or just forgot to call.

Either option caused her heart to tighten uncomfortably. But she tried to ignore the sensation as she joined in the kids’ lively dinnertime conversation.

A few hours after the kids were asleep Jessica heard a noise at the front door. Her heart thudded in her chest. Who could it be? She wasn’t expecting anyone.

Wiping her dish soapy hands on a towel, she walked cautiously to the front window to check it out.

But before she reached the foyer, the door swung open and Jack walked into the house. Jessica’s breath caught in her throat, and she rushed to her husband throwing her arms around his neck.

“You’re early!” she mumbled into his shoulder. Her heart sped like crazy—partly from surprise but mostly due to the thrill of seeing Jack.

“I couldn’t stand the thought of being away for another night, so I squeezed all of my appointments into three days. That’s why I’ve been so busy.”

And he couldn’t call tonight because he’d been on a plane, she realized. A pang of guilt gripped her stomach. How could she have doubted him?

He dropped his small suitcase and returned her embrace with both arms. “I’ve had enough stuffy business dinners and lonely hotel stays to last a life time.”

“I thought you liked traveling,” she said tentatively.

Jack pulled back and looked into her eyes. “The only part I like about being away is coming home to you and the kids.”

A wave of relief washed over her leaving a warm glow in its wake. Feeling closer to Jack than ever before, Jessica leaned in and pressed her lips to his.

When she pulled away, she couldn’t help smiling. “Do you want to hear what Zoë did to the cat on Monday?” she asked.

And as they cuddled up on the couch together, the sparkle she saw in Jack’s blue eyes as she talked about their life, their children left no doubt in her mind.

Home really is where his heart is.

The End

Learn more about Marcy Bassett-Kennedy at her SHOWCASE PAGE.

Christine Sullivan heaved a sigh.  Thanks to a sinus infection, instead of lying on a beach in the Caribbean sucking back rum drinks with her friends, she was still in Ontario.  Spending her vacation camping in Algonquin Park.  Alone.

Get over it.  You’re a big girl and you don’t need your crew around to have fun.

Besides, there may be some merit to vacationing alone.  She could be selfish and do what she wanted the whole time.

Like hiking.

Grinning, she finished lacing her boots.  Her friends hated hiking.

Christine jumped in her car and began the winding drive out of her campground.  Too bad she hadn’t picked up a trail guide on the way in yesterday.  At just under three thousand square miles of lakes, rivers and forests, Algonquin Provincial Park had a trail to suit everyone. She shrugged her shoulders.  Oh, well.  She’d pick something out at random.

Forsaking the car’s air conditioner, Christine rolled down the windows.  Ah, fresh air.  No stinking Toronto pollution or oppressive humidity.

It’s all good.  This is way better than frying myself on a beach.

As she drove along Highway 60, the main corridor through the Park, she watched for the signs marking the trails and lookouts.   Finally spotting a trailhead marker that didn’t have a ton of cars parked beside it, she pulled over.

After parking and getting out of her car, Christine decided to do some warm-up exercises.  May as well do this right, she thought.

As she stretched, the tension of the last week began to seep away. Maybe the sinus infection wasn’t such a bad thing after all.  When was the last time she’d just stood and enjoyed the majesty of nature?

Crossing a transition zone between northern coniferous and southern deciduous forests, the Park offered something for everyone.  Maybe she’d get lucky and find one of the rare species of orchids that grew here.  Maybe she’d come eyeball to eyeball with a moose or some other wildlife.  Okay, not that close, but close enough to get a picture.

Finally, car locked, fanny pack and camera in place, she headed for the trail.  As she drew even with the marker sign, the word “strenuous” jumped out at her.

Nibbling on a thumb nail, she stopped and looked back at the parking lot.  No other cars.  Suddenly, this didn’t seem like such a good idea.  Maybe being alone wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.

Sucking in a deep breath, she planted her fists on her hips.  “Come on, Sullivan.  Stop being such a wuss.  It says strenuous, not deadly.”

She nodded, deciding to heed herself.  It wasn’t like she wasn’t in good shape, she was.  And for crying out loud, this was Algonquin Park, not the Himalayas.

Turning back to the trail, she forged ahead.  The trees closed in around her, welcoming her into another world.

This was what she loved about hiking.  The way the silence of the forest heightened her senses.

Slowing her pace, she pulled in a cleansing breath, awed at how everything took on a vividness not there moments ago.  The tickle of a pine needle on her arm, the vibrant yellow of a bird further ahead in a maple tree, the call of a loon in the distance, and the aroma of a campfire drifting by on a breeze.  All of it presented with a clarity usually lacking.

She’d made the right decision.

After hiking some distance, Christine came upon a ridge that offered an awesome view.  Standing at the edge of a cliff, she took in the panorama before her.  She could see for miles-

north, west and south.  To the south, the bluest of lakes glistened like a jewel in the early morning sun.  She had to have a picture of this.  But if she could just get a little higher, the awesome view would be stupendous.

Well, hey, there were lots of trees around, right?

Patting her camera, safely tucked into her fanny pack, she picked a tree and started climbing.

And now here she stood.

What was it she’d said to herself this morning?  Oh, yeah.  I’m going to have fun if it kills me.  Good news, she’d been having fun.  Bad news, it was about to kill her.

Why, why, why had she climbed this tree?

She should have known better.  If there was some screwball situation most people would avoid, she walked into it with her eyes wide open and oblivious to the probable consequences.

More than an hour had passed since she found herself marooned.  And another hour since she’d parked her car.  Not a soul had crossed her path since.

She could hear the headlines now.  “And in local news, a hiker in advanced stages of rigor mortis was found in a tree.  It appears she climbed up and couldn’t get back down.”

“Hey.  Are you okay?”

The unexpected-but oh, so welcome- voice overpowered the one in her head, and she screeched.  Heart thumping, she slammed her back against the tree trunk.  Taking a header from here wasn’t a favourable option!  Yeah, it would get her out of her predicament-the tree-but likely bust her skull open.

Christine looked down-and oh my.  This time is wasn’t the elevation making her head swim.  Would you look at him?  And didn’t if just figure?  She couldn’t meet up with a hot guy while on her feet, in control, and at her best.  Nope, she had to be stuck up a tree and looking like an idiot.

Hmm, should she play it cool?  Tell him to move on, she was just up here enjoying the view?

No way!  First, she needed help and second-well, really who cared what he looked like? She needed help!

“Uh, yeah.  I’m sorta stuck up here.”

“Can’t you get down the way you went up?”

“Um, no.  I…well, I didn’t check the strength of the branches before I stood on them.  Some of them snapped on the way up.”  And instead of acting like a sane person and aborting when the first branch snapped, she’d kept climbing.  Well, she had a fabulous shot to show for her efforts, didn’t she?  She might crack a few bones or the camera trying to make it back to terra firma, but details, details.  Christine was a big picture sort of girl.  She didn’t get bogged down in the minutia.

Maybe-given her current predicament-it was time to reassess her stance on that.

“If this were a movie I’d tell you to jump, and I’d catch you. But that’s not going to happen in real life.  You’d crush me.”

What?  Jerk! Was he saying she was fat?  She knew she shouldn’t have eaten that huge desert last night.

She lifted her chin a bit and looked down her nose at him-pretty easy from up here-and in the haughtiest voice she could summon said, “Excuse me?”

He laughed and put his palms out.  “Whoa.  I didn’t mean it like that.  It’s just that you’re high enough to pick up speed and force on the way down.  How long have you been up there?”

Oh.  She supposed his answer made sense.  She looked at her watch.  “About an hour and a half.  You’re the first person to come by.”

“Not surprising.  This isn’t one of the more popular trails.  I rarely see anyone when I hike here.”

Okay then.  Be nice to him.  He may well be her only chance for salvation.  But didn’t it just figure?  She had herself stuck in a tree on a trail hardly anyone used.  She really could have died up here.

Christine watched as he pulled off his backpack and swung it to the ground.  He was obviously a serious hiker-not just a wannabe like her.

First, he untied the sleeping bag strapped to the bottom of his pack and let it drop to the ground.  Then from his pack, he removed a fair size coil of rope and a pair of gloves.

He looked up at her.  “Were you any good in gym class?”

Gazing down at him suspiciously, she asked, “Why?  What do you have in mind?”

“Since I can’t get up there-if the tree wouldn’t hold you it won’t hold me-you need to get yourself down here.  With a little help.”

“Uh-huh.  And just what kind of help did you have in mind?”

He grinned at her.  “Well, since I don’t think you want to jump-you’d have done it by now if you did-I’m suggesting you use the rope.  How sturdy is that branch you’re standing on?”

Heat crept into her cheeks.  “Good.”  No way would she tell him she’d made that discovery by crashing down onto it from above.

“Okay, here’s what we’re going to do.  I’ll throw the rope up to you.  When you catch it, I’ll tell you how to tie it.  Then I’ll throw the gloves, and you get to lower yourself down with the rope.  Simple.”

Simple?  Easy for him to say.  “Ah…you sure there isn’t another way?”

“You prefer to wait for the next person to come along with a better suggestion?”

Heaving a sigh and accepting the inevitable, Christine said, “Throw me the rope.”

“Hold on.  Just in case you fall…”

Great.  Thanks for reintroducing that image to my brain.

He began creating a giant mound of leaves and finally spread his sleeping bag over them.

Huh.  A thorough, thoughtful man.    And just my luck, I have to meet him when I’m at my worst.

He stood back a bit, put his hands on his hips, and looked up at her.  “You ready for this?”

“Unless you have some nifty superhero skills-like the ability to teleport me-I guess I have no choice.  Let’s get this over with.”

“What’s your name?”

“Christine.”

“Okay, Christine.  I’m going to throw the rope.  Watch what you’re doing and try not to fall while reaching for it.  Here we go.”

Ya think?  Okay, positive thoughts.  Positive thoughts.

Clenching her lower lip between her teeth, she watched the rope sail toward her.  And sail right past.

It snagged on a branch two feet beyond her reach, and then fell to the ground.

Watching its descent, she asked, “What happens if it gets stuck somewhere and I can’t reach it?”

“You get to stay up there.”

Gulp.  “Okay.  Try again.”

This time, she caught it.  “I did it!  I caught it!”

Grinning, he said, “Good.  I’ll tell how to tie it, then I’ll throw you the gloves.”

A few minutes later she pulled the gloves on.  Made for man hands, they were far too large, but she curled her fingers, grateful she wouldn’t lose a few layers of skin.

While fiddling with her fanny pack, trying to make her camera as safe as possible, Christine took a deep breath and released it along with a quiet prayer.  “Please help me do this.”

Now or never.

Grasping the intricately tied rope in both hands, she began a cautious journey downward.  He talked her through every step, but that didn’t make the situation any less terrifying.

After what seemed an eternity, he said, “Okay, now jump.”

“Jump?”

“Yeah.  You’re almost out of rope.  Don’t worry.  It’s not too far, and I’m right here.”

Nooo!  Why, why, why didn’t I check the length of the rope?

Christine looked up-no way was she looking down-and again asked for a safe return to the ground.

She let go.

Note to self.  Freefalling isn’t something I ever want to do again.

A cry of relief escaped her lips when she felt strong arms grab her around the waist.  Then they were tumbling to the ground, with him manoeuvring so she landed on top.

His grinning face appeared inches from her nose when she finally opened her eyes.  “Hi.  I’m Greg. You owe me a rope, or at the very least, dinner.”

Huh.  I am going to have fun this week!

The End

Aspiring author Sherrie Kingston doesn’t have a website, but she’s willing to share her love of short romantic stories with us.

It was so unfair.  Greg, who since a teenager, had sworn he’d never marry, had just exchanged vows a few hours ago.  Abby, who had been dreaming of her wedding for most of her life, sat at his reception single and dateless.

Can you say loser?

Of course, if she hadn’t given her heart to her brother’s best friend, who’d also sworn off matrimony as a teen, she might not be in this predicament.  Opportunities for love long lasting had come and gone, due to her tunnel vision on the subject.  At twelve years of age she’d decided that Nikolas Janiszewski was the one.  And that childish certainly had rooted deep and flourished with time.

For the last few years she’d done her best to stay away from him.  Being in his sphere filled her heart with an unbearable ache.  Because she knew – she knew – her dreams were hopeless.  As a single, successful, and let’s not forget good looking guy, he generally had some wannabe on his arm.  Didn’t they know they were wasting their time?  Didn’t they care?   Didn’t they have any self respect?

Didn’t she?  Maybe she wasn’t physically clinging to him, but from an emotional standpoint, she’d been hanging off him for years.  Perhaps it was time to try to surgically remove him from her heart.  Instead of sitting here with her back to the dance floor – the maid of honour had wrapped herself around him a while back and Abby couldn’t bear to watch – she should be out there having some fun.  Fun that didn’t include him!

“Hey, Abby Normal.  How come you’re not dancing?”

How wrong was that?  She loved a guy who looked at her and thought of a character from Young Frankenstein.  How much more proof did she need that it was time to move on and forget him? She’d never be anything more to him than his best friend’s kid sister.

“Abby?

Now or never.  The time had come to exorcise him.

She slid around in her chair and looked at him.  Arched a brow.  “What? No cling on in tow?”

“Klingon?”

“Not K.  C.  Cling… on.  The maid of honour has been your own personal barnacle since the dancing began.”

He shrugged his shoulders.  “Hey, what’s a guy to do?  Besides, the best man has a duty to make the single ladies here happy, doesn’t he?”

Oh, great.  He’d sought her out because of a sense of duty.  “Thanks, but no thanks.”

A pained expression crossed his face.  “No.  I wasn’t including you in that.  You could never be a duty.  You’re… you’re…”

“I’m Abby Normal.  Your best friend’s interfering kid sister.  Yeah, I know.  And you want to know something?  I get that.”  She ducked her head and continued under her breath.  “Finally.  Maybe.”

When she didn’t look back up, he squatted down in front of her.  Poor guy wasn’t used to being ignored by anything female.  Well, it was time she grew a backbone and started a new trend.  Of course, she doubted it would ever become a popular trend, because chances were no one without a Y chromosome would jump on the let’s pretend Nik Janiszewski doesn’t exist train with her.

His hands took hers, and no matter how hard she tried to loose herself from his grip, he wasn’t letting go.  “What’s with you?  Let me go.  I told you, you don’t need to waste your time keeping this “single lady” happy.”

With a sigh, he swung himself up onto the empty chair beside her, but kept control of the hand closest to it.  “Abs, give it up.  I wasn’t insulting you, okay?  And why are you here alone, anyway?  I haven’t seen you without someone in tow in ages.  Not that I’ve seen you in ages.”

Yeah, because up until the time she’d decided she couldn’t deal with being in his presence, she’d tried to deal by making sure he thought she was seeing someone.  Juvenile, but it had been effective for a time.  She hadn’t felt like such a silly loser.  Sometimes.

“My date couldn’t make it.  His mom has been battling cancer and had a turn for the worse.  He had to fly out so he could spend some time with her.”

“Oh.”

Abby tried to pull her hand away again.  She couldn’t stand it!  Bad enough he was touching her like this in the first place – when she was trying to convince herself the time had come to forgot about childish dreams – but he’d started to stroke the back of her hand with his thumb.  She doubted he was even aware of his actions.  Lady’s man Nik likely knew all the right moves and carried them out unconsciously.

Meanwhile, Abby was very conscious and could barely draw a breath without gasping.

“So, is he the reason I never see you around anymore?  Are you two… serious?”

Abby jumped up, effectively breaking his hold on her.  Because despite all else, she knew he’d never cause her any physical harm.  So it was either let her go or pull her arm out of its socket.

“Again, what’s with you today?  What do you care?  Or are you just fishing for information for my brother?  Why can’t the two of you realize that I’m all grown up and don’t need you getting into my business?”

Suddenly he was looming over her.  “This has nothing to do with Greg.  Just answer the question.  Are you two serious?  Is that why you never return my calls?”

Planting her palms against his chest, Abby tried to push him out of her personal space, but couldn’t budge him an inch.  So instead, she went on the defensive, stood up on her toes, and got right in his face.  “I told you!  I don’t need another big brother.  So back off!”

Um.  Oh-oh.  Maybe going on the defensive had been the wrong tactic, because instead of backing off, he stepped in, grabbed her by the waist, and swung her around.  And now he was all the way into her personal space with her.  Her back against the wall – literally – and Nik using his body to press her into it.  “I am not your brother!  Now answer me!  Are you serious about this guy?”

Abby blinked.  Suddenly her place in the universe seemed to have slipped, because she felt like she was free falling.  Holy cow!  Was he jealous?

“Ah, why do you care?  You’ve got some honey on your arm every time I see you.  So is it really your business?”

Nik looked like he was loosing control of his battle for – control.  Still pinning her to the wall with his body, he grabbed her hands and pinned them against the wall by her head.  And while battling with him might have been reminiscent of childhood wrestling matches with him and Greg, this felt entirely different!

“Look who’s talking.  Like I said before, I haven’t seen you on your own in ages.  And I’m making it my business.  Maybe if you’d ever return a phone call, or answer the door when I know you’re home, we wouldn’t be here at your brother’s wedding making a scene.”

He was jealous!  Nik was not the type to make a scene.  He had a powerful grip on his emotions at all times.

At least until now.

And she’d been the one to make him loose control.  How cool was that?

“Nik…”

“Just answer the question, Abby.  How involved are you with this guy you’re seeing?”

Abby took a deep breath and let the tension flow out with it.  “We’re involved as friends.  Good friends, but still just friends.  Now you need to tell me why the answer was so important that you had to use brute force to get it out of me.”

He sucked in a breath.  “Brute force? I would never…”  As a look of horror crossed his face, he quickly let go of her hands and started to step back, opening the cage he’d created around her.  “Abby, I’m sorry!  I didn’t mean… Did I hurt you?”

She grabbed him by the hips and pulled him back in.  “Forget it, buddy.  You’re not going anywhere.  Now answer the question.  Why was my answer so important to you?”

With a sigh, he settled back against her, but this time he used his hands to gently cup her head.  “Because you are important, Abby.  Only I didn’t realize how much until you were never around.   By the time I figured out that you were supposed to be in my life, you’d turned dodging me into your life’s mission.  But you couldn’t stay out of my way today, so you gave me no choice but to have this out here.  At your brother’s wedding.”

Abby couldn’t believe it.  All this time she’d been hiding from him and he’d been looking for a chance to tell her how he felt?  Tears dripping from the corners of her eyes, she wrapped her arms around his neck.  “Oh, Nik.  You’re what’s important for me too.  You always were.  I can’t…”  She hiccupped over a sob.  “I can’t believe I’ve wasted all this time.”

Nik dropped a kiss on her forehead and pushed away.  “Then let’s not waste anymore.”   He put a hand out to her.  “Abby Sixsmith, may I have this dance?”

The End

Aspiring romance writer Nan Donahue is web shy, so we don’t have a site to lead you to. Nan has been writing short stories for Woman’s World magazine, and hopes to be published by them in the near future.

Okay, everything ached, but this trip didn’t come complete with a steaming hot tub.  They were roughing it, after all.

Man, she was so out of shape.

She toed off her hiking boots-which she’d likely never get back on again-peeled off her sport socks, and stuck her feet in the sluggish stream they’d been following. 

Wriggling her toes, she lay back and let the heat from the stone ease into her sore muscles.  

Ahh, nature’s own spa.

“Hey, Mellie Mel.  Move over.  That looks like a great idea.”

One of Belinda’s considerable hips slammed into her and nearly jettisoned her off the rock. 

“Ow!  Bee!  Watch out.  I’m in enough pain.”

“Waa, waa, whine.  I’m here to protect your virtue and stave off a war.  But don’t thank me or anything.”

Raising herself on one elbow, Mel looked down at Belinda.  “What’re you jabbering about?  You know I love you, but sometimes your nonsense gives me a headache.  You’re not making any sense.”

Bee smirked at her, than gestured behind her with a tilt of her head.   “Sure I am.  Our Mr. Darcy, ever so dark and brooding, was staring at you like you were some sort of concubine laying in wait for him. Your son noticed, and it’s plain as day he’s seriously considering trying to take out either Mr. Darcy or his son.  Since James isn’t suicidal, my guess is he goes for Cameron.”

Flopping back down on the rock, Mel said, “You’re making that up.  And stop calling him Mr. Darcy.  His name is Steven Bishop.   I’ve talked to him, and he is nothing like a figment of Jane Austen’s imagination. 

Bee whooped and sat up.  She leaned over Mel, blocking out the sun.  Entirely.  “You’ve talked to him?  When?  Where?  How could I have missed that?  Come on, spill.  Tell Auntie Bee all about it.  All about it, you hear?  No detail is to be considered irrelevant.”

Tenacious as a terrier, Bee hovered right in Mel’s face, and Mel knew trying to skirt the issue would be a pointless exercise.  Bee would get it out of her somehow.  

The sound of tumbling water and the rock’s penetrating heat offered peace, but the thoughts Bee stirred stole it from her.  “We talked last night.  When you and Caleb went for a swim.  The boys got into a bit of a scuffle and we had to pull them apart.  They got sent to their tents, and Steven and I chatted for a bit.  That’s all.”

“That’s all, eh?  Then why has he been looking at you like that all day?  Like he hasn’t eaten in a week and you’re a prime cut of filet mignon wrapped in bacon?  There’s got to be more to it then that.  What did you talk about?”

A loud voice spared her from answering.  “All right, troop.  It’s time to get moving!  Let’s get ready to move out.”

Mel sprang up and searched for her socks and boots, trying to ignore the finger Bee waved at her.  “Don’t think I’m letting this go.  You will answer me later!”

“Yeah, Bee.  Later.  I need to go find James.  I don’t see him anywhere.”

She found him a moment later.  Just inside the tree line, nose to nose with Cameron Bishop.  James, big for his age, and Cameron, small for his age, yet both of them holding an aggressive stance.

Fists on her hips and about to give her son a piece of her mind, Melanie found herself interrupted by a voice over her shoulder.

“Knock it off, you two.  You’ve been at each other since we got here, and I think it’s time you learned to work with each other instead of against each other.  Isn’t that what the point of this whole trip has been, anyway?”

Both boys, and Mel, whipped around to look at him. 

“Forget it!”

“No way!”

“What do you have in mind?”

As soon as the question passed her lips, Mel gulped and wished she’d kept her mouth shut.  Having that intense, brooding, and yeah, okay, Mr. Darcy like gaze pinning her was more than a little alarming. 

“The next leg of this hike requires some teamwork.  I’m suggesting the boys work together.  Which will mean you and I will have to… hook up.  Are you okay with that?”

“Hook up?” Mel squeaked.  “Ah… you mean… um, we’ll just team up like the boys, right?”

Steven raised a brow but didn’t deign to answer. 

“No way.  I’m not doing anything with the King Nerd of Dorkdom!”

Melanie whirled to face her son.   “James Clarence Anderson!”

“Clarence!  Haha!  And you call me a nerd!”

Steven barked, “Cameron!” and both boys fell silent.

“James, I agree with Mr. Bishop.  The two of you are going to have to work together.  The group is moving out, so get a move on.”

“Mo-om!”

“Don’t bother trying to change my mind.  Off you go.  And James, think about Gary while you’re at it.”

James narrowed his eyes at her, but did as she said.  Apparently Cameron knew when he was wasting his time and didn’t try to get around his dad’s orders.

Unfortunately.  Because Mel suddenly found herself alone with the man.  And since he made her feel jumpy and unsure of herself, she’d been trying to steer clear of him since the trip had begun.  However, between being the only two single parents on the excursion, and Belinda constantly trying to push them together, that had turned into something of a challenge.

Oh well.  It looked liked she’d finally have to relax and deal with the fact that he made her jumpy because she found him attractive.  And if he watched half as much as Bee said, maybe he felt the same way about her.

Only one way to find out. 

She fell into step with him.  “How do you know what’s up ahead?” 

He grinned down at her, as if he knew she’d deliberately struck up a benign conversation.  “I thought this trip was a good idea.  Why should these team building and problem solving exercises just be for the corporate world?  Cameron wanted to give it a try, and I agreed, but thought I should get the lay of the land first.  That’s how I know what’s up ahead.  And believe me, not too far ahead, those two are going to have to put aside their jock, geek differences and rely on each others strengths.  Who’s Gary?”

The question threw her.  Likely because she hadn’t really been listening to him.  She’d been cataloguing all she’d learned about him in the last few days, and concluding that it all equaled up to a really great guy.  Even if he did seem kind of brooding sometimes. 

“What?  Oh.  Gary.  He’s a kid that used to live a few houses down from us.  He was born without hair-I forget the name of the disease-and the kids would make fun of him because he was bald.  James always defended him.  Said you shouldn’t pick on other people just because they were different than you.  They ended up being great friends.”

“Your son sounds like a good kid.”

“He is.  Tell me about… oh, no.  Are they going to get hurt?”

They’d come to a part in the stream where the water ran much faster.  And their guide was leading everyone across it!  On a series of rocks. 

“No.  This is the one of the points in the trip where they start honing those team work and problem solving skills.  They’re both smart kids, and they each bring something different to the table.  If they work together, decide to trust each other, they’ll make it across just fine.”

Mel watched the boys, her mind full of the fact that soon it would be her turn to make the trip.  Chewing her lip, she looked up at Steven.

And found his intent gaze trained on her. 

He put his hand out to her.  “Will you trust me?”

She looked at his hand, then turned back to check on the boys.  They were about half way across the oddly placed stepping stones made by the rocks.  Yelling at each other of course, but she caught the undertone of laughter in their voices.  As if a grudging degree of camaraderie had sprung up between them.

Putting her hand in his, she said, “I’ll trust you to help get us across to the other side.”  Then she grinned, letting go of the insecurities that had plagued her since meeting him.  “After that, we’ll see.  You may need to convince me every step of the way.”

Tugging on her hand, he pulled her in close, then whispered in her ear.  “I fairly sure you’re worth the effort.”

“Then let’s get this team building started.”

The End

Learn more about Elle Fredrix at her SHOWCASE page!

Today, however, was worse than normal.  Blizzard like conditions had descended on the city the night before and showed no signs of letting up.  Still tense from this morning’s treacherous drive, she wasn’t looking forward to the repeat performance in the opposite direction.

Why did she have to be such a do-gooder?  The sparse traffic coming in this morning proved that most people had been smart enough-or something-to stay home. 

But not her.  Oh, no.   Saint Kelly-as her ex mockingly referred to her-didn’t shirk her responsibilities. 

Her team had a project due today, so she’d had no choice but to make it into work, no matter how death defying the trip.  Of course, everyone else, including her boss-who’d called around ten and said she’d managed a day’s grace on the deadline-had stayed home.   

Yet here she stood, at ten to five, just getting ready to leave.

She was such a sap.

After bundling up in her bulky parka and clunky winter boots-fashion had not been an option this morning-she headed out into a freezing February evening. 

She didn’t mind winter.  Really.

There were only a handful of cars in the lot. When she’d arrived this morning, she’d been smart enough to park with another clump of cars.  A few others hadn’t thought ahead and were boxed in by a mountain of snow, thanks to the snowplow.

At least she didn’t have to brush her car off and dig it out.

So intent on her task of clearing off her running vehicle, it took a while before she became conscious of a revving engine.  Someone was stuck.

Everyone should spend a few winters farther north.  They’d learn winter driving skills then.  Where she’d grown up, this much snow, and more, was the norm.

Then she realized who the driver was and immediately regretted her thoughts.  Raji was an immigrant.  She hadn’t even seen snow until moving here last fall. 

Kelly looked at her now warm car with longing.  It was every man for himself, right?

Wrong.  Not in her world.  She couldn’t just leave. 

Saint Kelly to the rescue.

It took her about ten minutes of pushing and shovelling, but Raji was finally able to pull forward.

She drove about ten feet, then stopped. 

What now?

Kelly walked up to the window again.  “Are you okay?”

Raji sat rigid, with hands clutched at ten and two.  Tears streamed down her face.  She began to shake her head.

In the perfect diction of one that had worked hard to learn a new language, she said, “No no no.  I cannot do this again.  I am too afraid.  This is…this is too much.  Too much snow.  It is dark.  I will have an accident.”

Kelly sighed. Why fight it? 

“Listen, I pass your turnoff on the way to my place.  Would you like me to drive you home?”

Tear filled eyes widened as they stared up at her.  “Yes!  You would do that?”

Yeah, she would do that. 

Since she’d chatted with Raji a few times, she knew where she lived.  Driving her home on a good day would add ten minutes to her commute.  Today?  Who knew?

“Come on, park your car, and let’s go.”

Moments later, they were buckled in and on their way.

More than forty-five minutes later, she pulled into the lot of Raji’s building.  Every five minutes or so Raji had thanked her for being such a nice person, but other than that, the drive had been a silent one.

Now she could head to her own home. 

And wouldn’t you know it?  Just before merging back onto her usual route, some idiot driving too fast in the other direction hit a patch of ice and nearly creamed her.  She instinctively swerved to avoid a collision and ended up straddling a small bank of icy snow.  There was no way she could extricate herself.  Not without help. 

Of course, other than her, the only people left on the road were bad drivers and people that had no inclination to lend a hand. 

Every man for himself.

Her ex’s voice droned in her head.  “See what happens when you get involved?”

As she sat there wondering who to call for help, someone knocked on her window. 

Startled, she looked over and saw a man standing there.  A quick glance in her rear view mirror revealed a car parked behind her.

He’d stopped to help!

Grateful, Kelly rolled down her window.  “Thank you so much for stopping.  I can’t get out of this one on my own.”

“I saw what happened.  Excellent reflexes.  It could’ve been a lot worse.  I’ll give you a push.” He smiled-and what a nice smile!-and said, “I take it you know what to do?”

She smiled back and nodded.

“Okay.  Let’s get you on your way.”

He had to try a few times, but finally her tires found traction.  Even though she’d only been gently pressing the gas pedal, her car shot forward. 

Once in control, she looked in her mirror.

He’d disappeared!  How could that be? 

She slowed to a crawl.

There he was.  Oh no, what had happened?  He was laying face down in the snow!

She stopped the car, jumped out, and ran back to him.

As she approached, he rolled over.

He shook his head.  “Shouldn’t good things happen when you help someone out?”

Grinning down at him, she said, “Oh, I think they do.  There’s a Starbucks a few blocks ahead.  If you’re not in a rush to meet up with someone, I’d like to buy you a coffee.  To show my appreciation.  Not too many people are willing to stop and lend a hand these days.”

Standing, he took off his gloves and whacked them together a few times to shake of the snow.  Then he stuck a hand out to her.  “There is no one, and I’d love to stop for a coffee.  I’m Derek.”

“Hi Derek.  I’m Kelly.”

The End

Aspiring author Sherrie Kingston doesn’t have a website, but she’s willing to share her love of short romantic stories with us.