It's been a couple weeks since I touched base here, since it's NANOWRIMO and I'm working like crazy to finish the first draft of my newest Novel, Spark of a Hero.
I'm excited about this novel because in it I'm doing something I've never done before: I'm taking characters from previous novels and putting them in a whole new story. In this case, I'm taking Collier James, who was my "best friend" from Fresh Ice and putting him into Rock Harbor, the world I created in Lies In Chance. It's been fun going back and giving my old characters new life and creating new characters along the way.
So tonight, since it's my birthday, I thought I'd share something with you all: A chapter from the new novel. This is an early scene where Collier, our hero, has his first real contact with Mel, our heroine. The scene, for those of you familiar with "Lies in Chance" takes place in the loft Bryan built for Shara.
Enjoy!
Collier
followed Molly’s car closely on the shiny, rain slick roads. They drove through what felt like endless
miles of dark farmland until Molly turned up a narrow drive. Collier pulled the Mercedes into the round
yard next to her car. On one side of him
was a small cabin. In front of him was a
garage and to his left was a small barn where, he surmised, would be the
loft. He got out of his car and tried to
avoid the muddy puddles as he followed Molly to the barn.
She
slid open the barn door. The soft
whicker of horses greeted them. “Shhh,
Pepper, Shhh girls.” Molly patted the horses
in each of the four stalls. “You’ll be
up those stairs in the loft. It’s really
more of a small apartment. There’s a
bathroom. It’s not glamorous, but it’ll
suit I’m sure. Light switch for the barn
is at the top of the stairs. I’ll close
this door.”
“Thank
you, Miz Hunter.”
Molly
waved a dismissive hand. “I know you’re
southern, but plain old Molly is good enough for me. “
“Okay,
Molly it is. So when will the Jacobs’ be
home?”
“Oh
they’ll be back later tonight. They’re
just over at the Shepaski house for dinner. I think Shara said something about
a Scrabble game .”
Collier
raised an eyebrow. “Not exactly big
recording mogul stuff.”
“No,
But Shara isn’t a typical big recording mogul.
She and Bryan could have both been big shots with huge fortunes. They both turned it down, and it’s a good
thing, too.”
“How
would turning down a fortune be a good thing?”
Molly
smiled and leaned against a stall door.
“They would never have met each other if either of them had stayed in
their family’s business.”
“My
uncle said they had a romance for the ages.”
“He
wasn’t wrong. And they have two precious
children to show for it. You’ll meet
them soon enough”
“I’m
not sure I’m up for a happy romantic couple,” Collier kicked a bit of
sawdust.
“Sounds
like you’ve got secrets of your own.”
“Not
secrets. Just stuff I don’t want to talk
about.”
“Well good luck trying to keep anything
quiet around here,” Molly stepped out of the barn and pushed the rolling door
halfway. “You’ll find most folks have
some sort of secret they want to keep hidden, but everyone knows it because,”
she smiled, “you can’t keep a secret in a town this small. The winters are long
and cable TV service is uneven at best.
We’ve got nothing else to do.”
She
closed the rolling barn door and Collier headed up the stairs. He snapped
off the barn light and turned on the loft light. The room was small, yet about as cozy as any
he’d ever seen. He set his duffle bag
next to the bentwood rocker and flopped onto the firm mattress that took up
most of the floor space. He opened the
double hung window and gazed down at the cabin.
In the distance he made out the shape of another building, a
farmhouse. Recalling the conversation
with Uncle Archibald, Collier surmised that was the recording studio, formerly
a burned out shell of a farmhouse Bryan had converted to a studio as a wedding
gift.
Another perfect romance, another perfect
hero for his woman, and I’m stuck in the middle of it all again.
Collier closed his eyes and tried
not to picture Izzy.
What
woke him, Collier didn’t know, but even still in the haze of deep sleep, he
knew he wasn’t alone in the loft.
Someone latched the door quietly and stepped closer to the bed before
turning on the overhead light.
“Who’s
there?” he called out as the light flashed on, momentarily blinding him. A woman’s scream pierced through the shock of
light and he squinted in her general direction.
He recognized her instantly. “What
are you doing here?”
“I
could ask you the same thing.” She held
her bulky shoulder bag in front of her. “Who are you ?”
Collier
shifted to sit up. She froze. “Don’t move, I’ve got mace in here.”
“I’m
not going to move, since I’m pretty much naked here.” Collier grinned at
her. “But you don’t have mace in there.”
“How
would you know what I have in my bag?”
“Well,
because if you had mace in there, you would have started spraying it the minute
you realized there was a man in the room.
That, at least, is what I hear from most women.”
“Oh,
and you know most women, do you?”
“No,
but I’m pretty sure most women wouldn’t ask any questions before mentioning
they have mace. So relax, put the bag
down and tell me what you’re doing here.”
“Shara
lets me stay here sometimes, when I need to.”
“Sound
mysterious…and shady.”
“Yeah,
well, you’re a stranger around here, and that’s enough mysterious for me to
call the cops. Give me one reason why I
shouldn’t.”
“My
uncle said I could stay here and Molly Hunter brought me here.”
This
visibly calmed the woman, although her countenance remained stoney. “Who’s your uncle?”
“Archibald
James.”
“The
lawyer?”
“The
same.”
She
relaxed further. “Fine. “ She sat in the rocker. “But still, you can’t stay here.”
“Why
not?”
“Because
I’m staying here.”
Collier
chuckled. “I was here first. And, I’m not wearing pants.”
“I’ll
close my eyes, you get dressed, and get out.”
“Why
should I get out? I got here first. I was sound asleep, and you woke me up.”
She
shrugged. “Not my problem. You can’t
stay here.”
“It
is your problem, I’m not leaving.” He
grinned. “We could both stay here. It’s a big enough bed.” He patted the spot next to him.
She
tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
“Typical man. Look. I need to stay here. Alone.”
“Well,
I’m from out of town and have no place else to go. From what I hear, Pamela Prier, you live in
Rock Harbor which means you have a perfectly good someplace else to go.”
“Call me Mel.” A
shadow crossed her face. “I can’t go
there tonight. You can’t make me. And
how do you know my name…oh, wait…”
“Molly
Hunter.”
“Of
course.” Mel nodded. “She knows everyone
and everything thing in this town. Steer
clear of her if you want to keep anything private.”
“You
don’t like Molly?”
“Everyone
likes Molly, and Molly likes everyone.”
“And
that’s a problem?”
Pamela
shrugged. “Obviously not for her.”
“We’re
not talking about her.”
She
shrugged. “I really don’t care. I try not to make attachments. It’s easier to leave if there aren’t any
attachments.”
“And
you want to leave Rock Harbor?”
“I
want to leave Wisconsin. Every single
day of my life.”
It
was probably the one completely truthful thing she’d said. Collier studied her, trying to assess her
age. “You’re what, thirty? You’re old enough to go out on your own. What’s stopping you?”
“I’m
twenty-seven thank you.”
Collier
nearly laughed out loud at the wounded expression on Mel’s face.
“And
I can’t leave because it’s complicated.
But I can’t go home tonight.”
There
was a glimmer of true fear in her soft green eyes. Collier relented. “Fine.
Just go…go in the bathroom for a minute, let me get my crap together and
I’ll go sleep on the hay downstairs.”
“You
sure you’re okay?”
“Oh
now that you’ve won the bed, you want to know what my opinion is?”
The
softness melted from her face and her jaw line hardened. “Not really.
I couldn’t care less where you sleep tonight, so long as it’s not in
here.”
“Suits
me fine. I’d rather sleep with horses
than up here with you. Less shit to deal
with.”
“Oh
very nice. They teach you that language
in the south where men are supposed to be so mannerly?” She glared at him as she stomped into the
small bathroom and slammed the door.
“No!” Collier yelled as he pulled on his
jeans. “I learned manners just fine,
because where I come from the women aren’t complete bitches!” He stuffed a few things into his duffle bag
and slammed the door behind him, startling the horses in the stalls below.
There
was a blanket hanging from a hook near a stack of hay bales. Collier spread the blanket over the bales and
stretched out, thankful his years on the road in the Renaissance faire circuit
had toughened him. Staring at the
ceiling, he watched the light that glowed from between small cracks in the loft
floor. When the light switched off, he
closed his eyes. Still, she is pretty…pretty bitchy.
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