Maternal Journeys

I tried my hand at fiction, and I’d love to know what you think. Perhaps you’ll see it in a magazine soon . . .

She sat mesmerized by the story unfolding on the pages, unaware that her hair was blowing in circles around her. The clouds were ready to spill, and someone was admiring her stature. Huge drops of rain distorted the final paragraphs of the novel, and she cursed at the interruption. Her body uncurled from its nest in the sand as she struggled to pull herself back into the reality she so wanted to flee. The corners of the worn cotton blanket gathered swiftly in her fingers. Its contents tumbled into the center as the raindrops became sheets and her swirling skirt seemed to carry her to the nearest gazebo, attached to someone’s home. The blanket and all its contents tumbled along the floor, as a quiet voice smiled, “Been watching that storm build for almost half an hour, must be a pretty good book.”

Rae suddenly realized she had no idea where she was, having walked a good ways before finding a spot she could read alone. She whirled around, ready to grab her pile from the floor and run, rain and all. She decided immediately not to.

The voice had come from a stunning man in one of the worn Adirondack chairs near the house, well under the blue and white awning that strained to keep hold of the porch. Still oblivious to the severity of the storm beginning to rage, she enjoyed a bold stare at the length of the figure that lounged and smiled. There was a little salt in his pepper hair, but what caught her off guard were those beautiful hazel eyes, almost green, definitely not simply brown. She watched his hands with interest as he folded his newspaper, and set it aside.

“You could have told me it was coming before I got soaked!” She tried to wipe away the water that dripped from her hair and dress, and finally gave up. He dropped his gaze for a moment, “I could have, but that would have been much less interesting to watch.”

“May I?” she asked, as she motioned to the second chair. “Of course, can’t really send you out in this. I might even have a towel.” He disappeared into the house without waiting for a response. She sank into the chair, surprised at how comfortable a wooden chair could be. Closing her eyes, Rae replayed the picture of his eyes as he mocked her. Damn he was pretty. She guessed him to be around 50. A bit older than she, but that shouldn’t matter. The wind picked up, and for reasons she could not fathom, she relaxed into the chair and propped up her feet.

Perhaps she was still partially in her novel, pretending to be the heroine who knew exactly what she wanted, and how to get it. What if she lived like that? Even for the next few minutes. . .

The walk was supposed to have been a distraction. She had forced herself to leave work for vacation days she would loose in a few weeks, when the new year started. It wasn’t that she was in love with her work, but work was always easier than figuring out the rest of her life. The fund raising and grant writing she did for the local theater company was enough social interaction to quell her mother’s worries, and still allowed her to enjoy time alone. Ever since Paul had left, she contented herself with reading about other people’s adventures. Being bold had never gotten her very far, at least not anywhere she wanted to go. So she rented a little cottage on a warm beach off the beaten path and surrounded herself with plenty of novels. Her mother’s phone call had interrupted a beautiful story, and she realized she had all but run away from home as soon as she could get off the phone. A chunk of sourdough and a wedge of pecorino cheese had been thrown in a bag, along with the latest novel and a blanket. At least out on the beach no one could interrupt her. She hadn’t considered the weather.

He returned a few minutes later with a towel, a sweater, a bottle of Shiraz and two glasses. This was much more interesting than the end of her novel. What if, just for the afternoon, she allowed herself to simply enjoy the adventure, without trying to see into the future?

“I’m Alex.” His handshake was firm, and she noted the warmth in his hand, as well as his gaze.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Rae. Thanks for the hospitality.” She stood and dried off, snuggling into the sweater that smelled faintly of aftershave. The Shiraz went well with the sourdough and cheese, and thunder continued to rumble as sparks flew in the gazebo.

I tried my hand at romantic fiction, I’d love to know what you think.  Perhaps you’ll see it in a magazine soon!

She sat mesmerized by the story unfolding on the pages, unaware that her hair was blowing in circles around her. The clouds were ready to spill, and someone was admiring her stature. Huge drops of rain distorted the final paragraphs of the novel, and she cursed at the interruption. Her body uncurled from its nest in the sand as she struggled to pull herself back into the reality she so wanted to flee. The corners of the worn cotton blanket gathered swiftly in her fingers. Its contents tumbled into the center as the raindrops became sheets and her swirling skirt seemed to carry her to the nearest gazebo, attached to someone’s home. The blanket and all its contents tumbled along the floor, as a quiet voice smiled, “Been watching that storm build for almost half an hour, must be a pretty good book.”

Rae suddenly realized she had no idea where she was, having walked a good ways before finding a spot she could read alone. She whirled around, ready to grab her pile from the floor and run, rain and all. She decided immediately not to.

The voice had come from a stunning man in one of the worn Adirondack chairs near the house, well under the blue and white awning that strained to keep hold of the porch. Still oblivious to the severity of the storm beginning to rage, she enjoyed a bold stare at the length of the figure that lounged and smiled. There was a little salt in his pepper hair, but what caught her off guard were those beautiful hazel eyes, almost green, definitely not simply brown. She watched his hands with interest as he folded his newspaper, and set it aside.

“You could have told me it was coming before I got soaked!” She tried to wipe away the water that dripped from her hair and dress, and finally gave up. He dropped his gaze for a moment, “I could have, but that would have been much less interesting to watch.”

“May I?” she asked, as she motioned to the second chair. “Of course, can’t really send you out in this. I might even have a towel.” He disappeared into the house without waiting for a response. She sank into the chair, surprised at how comfortable a wooden chair could be. Closing her eyes, Rae replayed the picture of his eyes as he mocked her. Damn he was pretty. She guessed him to be around 50. A bit older than she, but that shouldn’t matter. The wind picked up, and for reasons she could not fathom, she relaxed into the chair and propped up her feet.

Perhaps she was still partially in her novel, pretending to be the heroine who knew exactly what she wanted, and how to get it. What if she lived like that? Even for the next few minutes. . .

The walk was supposed to have been a distraction. She had forced herself to leave work for vacation days she would loose in a few weeks, when the new year started. It wasn’t that she was in love with her work, but work was always easier than figuring out the rest of her life. The fund raising and grant writing she did for the local theater company was enough social interaction to quell her mother’s worries, and still allowed her to enjoy time alone. Ever since Paul had left, she contented herself with reading about other people’s adventures. Being bold had never gotten her very far, at least not anywhere she wanted to go. So she rented a little cottage on a warm beach off the beaten path and surrounded herself with plenty of novels. Her mother’s phone call had interrupted a beautiful story, and she realized she had all but run away from home as soon as she could get off the phone. A chunk of sourdough and a wedge of pecorino cheese had been thrown in a bag, along with the latest novel and a blanket. At least out on the beach no one could interrupt her. She hadn’t considered the weather.

He returned a few minutes later with a towel, a sweater, a bottle of Shiraz and two glasses. This was much more interesting than the end of her novel. What if, just for the afternoon, she allowed herself to simply enjoy the adventure, without trying to see into the future?

“I’m Alex.” His handshake was firm, and she noted the warmth in his hand, as well as his gaze.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Rae. Thanks for the hospitality.” She stood and dried off, snuggling into the sweater that smelled faintly of aftershave. The Shiraz went well with the sourdough and cheese, and thunder continued to rumble as sparks flew in the gazebo.

I recently got the chance to sneak out to a coffee shop and write.  So much was going on in my head about the selling of our house, moving, etc. that I wanted an escape.  This picture popped in my head and I started writing.  It was almost like taking a day trip, or going to a movie.  I just typed, and the story unfolded.  Let me know what you think, it might be the beginning of something new!

The snow crunched under his boots as he watched the small puffs that rhythmically hovered above his dog’s head, he looked like a little train chugging through the drifts. Snow lay thick on the dog’s back, his legs the only part that showed his golden red tones.

“We’re almost there, buddy, and there will be a warm fire to help melt those drifts on your back.” It had been another long day in the cold, but it was worth it. Thomas was stronger now than he had ever been, crash or not. He could feel his muscles quiver every now and then, but mostly he was filled with a feeling of confidence, as he pushed his body a little further every day.

And Boxer had been there every step, shuffle, and roll of the way. Whether learning to maneuver a wheel chair without breaking things, or living through the torture of relearning to use his own body, the strange mix of retriever and chow had stood faithfully by Thomas. Often at a safe distance, just until he trusted the driver of the wheelchair, but close nonetheless.

They reached the front door of the lodge and he grabbed the towel just inside the door, uncovering the happy smile and wagging tail that had been hiding under all that moving snow. Boxer scurried in, no doubt heading to the fireplace. Thomas unwound the layers that were crusty with snow and laid them over the old wooden laundry dryer he had snuck out of his mother’s laundry room, years before.

As he searched for slippers, Boxer trotted in with a pair of socks in his mouth. “With a dog like that, you’ll never need a wife!” A tall redhead appeared behind Boxer. Marge was heading out and bundling up. “Need anything at the market while I’m out, or has Boxer already done that, too?” Marge’s easy smile and endless sarcasm had made them immediate friends when classes had started. Ever since, their relationship had been hard to explain at times, but the bond was strong to be sure. The dog sat down between the two, as always, looking back and forth as if he might add to the conversation.

“Actually, there’s no milk, but lots of cereal, and we could use some more popcorn and coffee.” He pulled out his wallet and handed over some cash for the items. “Thanks, I’ll save a game of Rummy for you.” The students had gathered for the long weekend before the last week of class, to study and enjoy the snowy weather. “I’ve seen your grades, better review for anatomy and I’ll quiz you later!” She dodged his friendly punch and headed out in the snow. Eager to warm up, Thomas followed Boxer into the warm circle of friends around the fire.

Boxer had no actual boxer blood in him. But as a puppy, he would run up to Thomas and sit up on his haunches, starting their game of boxing with his front paws. The name had been inevitable. Whoever turned him into the humane society had been an angel; that dog had been all that had gotten Thomas through the previous months.

The puppy had been a gift from a girlfriend. The girlfriend didn’t stay long after the crash, but thankfully Boxer had. Although he had never been trained as a service dog, he had picked up lots of little ‘tricks’ to help out as he grew up watching Thomas work his way back to health. Sometimes it was as if the dog could read his mind, offering to help retrieving things that Thomas struggled to get.

If he had it to do over again, he would have chosen to remain the aimless twenty-something with lots of options and no clue what he wanted. But the crash that lazy rainy night had shifted lots of things, hips, vertebrae, priorities, and he had left his physical therapy with a sense of calling to train as a paramedic. It seemed so stereotypical, wanting to give back. But there had been such a sense of calm that had settled over him in the moment, as he systematically did what came next to get out of the car, and even drag the other driver away from the burning wreckage. He lay in the hospital for days after, replaying the events and marveling at how he had responded. It was the first time he had ever been in an emergency situation, and he was frankly quite impressed with himself, even after the morphine wore off. That kind of calm in the face of an emergency got him thinking, I could DO this, and get paid for it.

Luckily, blood had never bothered him. As a child, he had needed to give blood for a battery of allergy tests. Two nurses came in, and asked his mom to hold his arms down while they drew the blood. One nurse had tried to distract him with a puppet, but even at three he had responded, “I don’t want to play right now, I need to watch what she’s doing.” He had watched silently as the nurse prepared the area, set up the needle and drew the blood. His gaze never wavered, and he didn’t make a sound until after she put the Curious George band-aid on. “I didn’t like it when that lady pricked me,” was all that he said as he left the lab. Years later, he still didn’t understand people being squeamish about how their own body worked. It was fascinating. He had never had the drive to go into medicine, nothing was worth that many papers and years of school. But training to be a paramedic was worth it, and a lot less time! He had started classes while still using crutches, which offered endless jokes at his expense as he began to make friends in class.