A Scandalous Deed

 by Christy Carlyle

“I haven’t the time for loneliness.” Lucien lied easily, ignoring the look Marcus shot him in that moment. He loathed the pity he would find there.  

A fracas near the gallery’s entry hall was a welcome distraction. He craned his neck to spot the cause as shouts mingled with cries of outrage.

A woman. A bluestocking, more like, wearing a prim black skirt, plain white shirtwaist and spectacles perched on her nose, was pushing her way through the crowd of women in evening gowns and men in black tails. She looked like a magpie wreaking havoc amongst the canaries, though her hair was as striking in color as any of the finery around her. A rich shade of chestnut, it was arranged in a severe style atop her head. Mercifully, several rebellious strands had escaped and hung down around her shoulders. Lucien couldn’t help but notice how the strands shone like burnished gold in the gaslight.

As he watched the woman’s progress, a gentleman grabbed at her roughly and an uncommon surge of chivalry made Lucien consider interceding. But in the next moment, the woman proved she needed no rescuer. Stomping on the man’s foot with her booted heel, she moved easily out of his grasp and continued on her path. A path that seemed to lead directly to him.

 ***

For the hundredth time within the hour, Jessamine Wright called herself a fool for agreeing to Kitty Adderly’s ridiculous plan for revenge against Viscount Grimsby. It will just cause him a spot of bother, Kitty had promised. A bit of tittle tattle. A minor scandal. According to Kitty, it was a comeuppance the arrogant lord richly deserved. Jessamine could not consider whether it was right or wrong. She simply needed the money Kitty offered.

Initially, she made her way into the gallery without notice, but within moments a lady had questioned her. Then the woman’s fat husband had stepped in and it all turned into a ruckus before she had even done what she’d come to do. The deed itself shouldn’t take long, she thought. A quick peck on the mouth - Kitty had insisted that she kiss the man on the lips - and it would all be over.  

He was there at the end of the gallery, as far from the entrance as he could possibly be.  Mina continued through the gamut and a man snatched at her arm. Unthinking, she stepped on his foot and he spluttered and cursed but released her.  

Lord Grimsby saw her now. She was certain of it. His dark head was turned her way. Tall and broad shouldered, he towered over the man and woman beside him. And he did look grim, as cold and uncongenial as Kitty had described.

Jessamine moved quickly through the crowd, eyes down, avoiding his gaze. Then she was before him.  Only inches separated them. She met his eyes and found them glaring down at her. Glaring and blue. Shockingly clear blue eyes. His brows formed a vee as he frowned at her as he might a fly that had just spoiled his soup. She opened her mouth to speak, but said nothing. What explanation could she offer? 

Her thoughts scattered as she studied her objective. His lips. They were wide, well shaped but firmly set. Not as firm as stone, as Kitty would have her believe, but unyielding. Unwelcoming. She reached up to remove her spectacles and noticed that her hands were shaking. She hooked them inside the high neckline of her shirt. His eyes followed the movement of her hands, the vee burrowing deeper between his brows.

Behind her, a man shouted. “How dare you!” She felt a hand grasp at her elbow. Jessamine was pulled backwards, nearly off her feet. Then a deep, raspy male voice rang out and stopped all movement.  

“Unhand the woman. Now.” He had spoken. The stone giant. Lord Grim. He glared past her, over her head. The hand released her and his eyes found hers again. They were discerning eyes, not cold and lifeless as she’d expected.  

“Are we acquainted, madam?” The deep timbre of his voice rumbled through her, sending a shiver down her spine.  

Jessmine took a deep breath and moved closer. Lord Grimsby’s eyebrows shot up.  She had crossed the line now. Bursting uninvited into a room filled with the wealthy and titled was one thing. Pressing one’s bosom into the chest of a man with whom one was not acquainted was something else entirely.

He didn’t move away.  She had to lift onto her toes if this kiss was to be accomplished. She took a step toward him, closer, and her body swayed into his. He reached an arm out to steady her.   

A woman said his name, her voice laced with chastisement.  “Lucien.”

Placing one hand on his chest to balance herself, she stretched up on the tips of her toes and touched her lips to his.  

A shock of sensation snaked through her. His lips were not made of stone. They were warm, smooth flesh. His breathing hitched, a small gasp and then his mouth opened, responding to her. His hand slid to the small of her back and tightened there, inching her towards him. The palm of his hand was hot and firm through the layers of of her clothing. She let him take her weight. He smelled delicious. Like fresh air and a subtle, spicy cologne. There was liquor on his breath and she tasted it when she felt his tongue slide between her lips. She felt drunk, but knew the brief taste of spirits wasn’t the cause. His free hand grasped her arm. He enveloped her now, his mouth moving over hers, his arms and scent surrounding her. She felt protected and, for a moment, no longer alone.

Then the spell was broken. A woman shrieked. The sound was high, ear piercing and blessedly brief. Yet it was long enough for Mina to snap back to the moment, the scene she had created.  She pulled away from Lord Grimsby and he loosened his hold, though one hand still lay lightly on her arm. To steady her or himself? His eyes looked dazed, though his expression remained as firm and humorless as before she had kissed him. Only his eyes told her how she had affected him.  A heat there singed her skin as much as the warmth of his still rapid breath against her face. 

She was breathing hard too. They stood staring at each other while those around them clucked and fussed. Mina heard them as if from a distance. She was only aware of the man whose flavor was still on her lips. An arrogant viscount. The man she had just scandalized in public.

That Explains the Zombie

by Sarah Raplee

 “This time Mother has gone too bloody far!” Sojie Headley slammed the cellar door behind her so hard that windowpanes rattled throughout the first floor of Headley House. A hairpin slipped from her upswept curls and plinked onto the floorboards, a victim of her uncharacteristic violence.

Warmth and the heavenly aroma of breakfast cooking in the Headley kitchen enfolded her. Her stomach growled. Cookie finished spooning golden pancake batter next to hissing bacon on the wood-fired range’s hot griddle before casting a reproving glance her way.

“I’ll thank you to watch your language in my kitchen, Miss Sojie,” the tall, dark-skinned woman said. Lowering her brows with mock ferocity, she lifted her batter-covered wooden spoon and pointed it at Sojie. “Get ahold of yourself, now. What’s the missus done to rile you up?”

Heat rose in Sojie’s face at the gentle rebuke. Dredging up a modicum of common sense, she refrained from elaborating on the reason for her temper. Cookie had no idea that Mother was experimenting with a time machine in their basement.

She blew out a frustrated sigh. Why did she let Mother’s ill-conceived actions provoke her as if she were an ignorant eight-year-old instead of a young woman of eighteen?

“Please accept my apology for using inappropriate language,” she said with a rueful smile.

The older woman nodded. “Jus’ remember that buttin’ heads with your mother is no excuse to disrespect her.”

The wind’s howl had them both looking out at the storm that had raged in Portland since yesterday afternoon. The streets had no doubt turned to rivers of mud by now, making even local travel nigh unto impossible. Sojie was glad they were well-stocked with supplies.

“March sho’ came in like a lion this year,” Cookie said, shaking her head. She reached for her spatula.

Still seething, Sojie strode across the oil-clothed floor through the scullery and then lifted her long skirts to climb the servants’ stairs. Despite her promise to care for Mother until Father returned, she wanted nothing more than to be done with the woman. If she didn’t speak to Mrs. Bell immediately, surely she’d boil her top and end up on the front lawn, screeching like a deranged teakettle. Her mother’s assistant’s calm demeanor and wise counsel had soothed Sojie’s inner turmoil more than once over the years.

Mrs. Bell opened the door to her small apartment on the first knock. The clockwork privacy lock must not have been set. Whilst amazingly secure, the newfangled devices took time to undo.

The petite blond woman was dressed for the day in a serviceable brown muslin frock, but she hadn’t yet donned her laboratory coat. She looked up into Sojie’s face and her welcoming smile faded. Taking Sojie’s arm, she pulled her into the tiny, lavender-scented sitting room. A silver tea tray sat on a polished cherry table between two chairs facing the cheery fire. “Please sit down, dear. I’ll pour the tea.”

Sojie suspected she would need something stronger than tea to calm her, but she chose her usual worn blue velvet chair with Egyptian hieroglyphics carved into the wooden arms. Tracing the indentations in the wood with her fingers, she waited for Mrs. Bell to pour the steaming brew into flowered china cups. Then she picked up the nearest cup and saucer and sipped carefully before launching into a description of her scientist mother’s latest escapade.

“A poor, half-grown kitten, Mrs. Bell. How could Mother justify experimenting on such a helpless creature?

Mrs. Bell pressed her pretty lips into a disapproving line, but her green eyes crinkled slightly at the corners. “It’s not as if she dissected the little animal,” Mrs. Bell said. “The kitten is fine. I examined him myself. And I wouldn’t characterize him as helpless. He’s quite energetic, in fact.” She turned her head to one side to reveal an angry red scratch marring the milky white skin of her throat.

Sojie’s stomach tightened. She set down her beverage with a clink. “Your injury only proves Mouser is not fine at all. I’ve tamed him and his brother. They’re as gentle as—as kittens, for heaven’s sake. Cookie invites them into the kitchen for a few hours a day to catch vermin. Now Mouser’s wild again. I swear he doesn’t even remember me, but Hunter is fine.”

Sojie swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat. “When I confronted Mother about Mouser’s change in behavior, she admitted she'd sent him forward a day in that infernal time machine, the one she was ordered to scrap. She’s secretly pursuing an illegal project, putting us all at risk. I fear this goes beyond eccentricity into the realm of madness. Her behavior has grown significantly more erratic of late, wouldn’t you agree?”

She’d a good mind to contact General Morgan herself. The general had oversight of Mother’s government-funded research. Sojie knew for a fact that the time machine project was forbidden after the accident that tore her family apart. The general had assured the family that given time, Dr. Headley and her brother, Lincoln, would reappear. Unfortunately, not even Mother could predict the date with any real accuracy. Five to eight years in the future, give or take was as close as she could come. Only more than ten years had passed since the accident with no trace of them.

Mrs. Bell gave her a considering look. Then she set down her teacup and stared into Sojie’s eyes as if searching for the answer to an unvoiced question. Goosebumps pricked Sojie’s skin.

At last, seemingly satisfied, Mrs. Bell spoke. “I’m going to tell you something that no one knows outside this house, not even the United States Government. Repeating the information outside these walls could get you or someone you love killed. Do you understand?”

Sojie blinked at the unexpected turn the conversation had taken. Then she sighed. She shouldn’t be surprised, considering this had always been a house of intrigue. “I’m sworn to secrecy. I understand.”

“You may find what I have to say disturbing, but it’s vital that you understand your mother’s motivations in attempting what we must over the next months. These experiments have far-reaching moral as well as practical implications. Things will become even more strange than usual at Headley House, and more dangerous.”

Sojie shivered at the prospect, then nodded. She needed to know what was going on.

A tap on the door made them jump. “Mum?” said a deep male voice Sojie hadn’t heard in nearly a year. Her breath quickened and her hands fisted at her sides. Jett Bell was the last person she wanted see, especially when she was already upset, but his presence offered some small comfort. He had the most analytical mind of anyone she’d ever met besides her mother. If there was to be more than the usual trouble at Headley House, they could use his help.

Mrs. Bell smiled and rose to answer the door. “Jett arrived home from University late last night. I’d hoped he would join us.”

Sojie smiled. Mrs. Bell had an uncanny ability to attract the visitors she needed whenever she wanted them. That explained Jett’s unscheduled arrival.

“Good morning, son.”

An olive-skinned young man so tall he had to duck under the lintel bent to kiss Mrs. Bell’s cheek. His physique had transformed from a boy’s into a man’s, with broad shoulders and a deep chest. Before Sojie had time to adjust to the change in his appearance, he turned his mother’s chin to examine the long, deep scratch on her neck. His black brows drew together slightly over wide-set blue eyes that flicked first to Sojie, then back to his mother.

Sojie’s ears burned. She feigned interest in the flames dancing in the fireplace. After growing up in this household, one would think Jett would look to her mother for an explanation whenever someone got hurt. Ever since the accident, he always seemed to blame her.

“It’s nothing,” Mrs. Bell said. “Come sit with us.” She returned to her seat across the small table from Sojie.

Jett folded his lanky frame into the large oak rocker by the hearth. A lock of straight raven hair fell onto his forehead. His gaze settled on Sojie’s heated face. The corners of his wide mouth lifted and he dipped his rather pointed chin. “It’s good to see you again, Miss Sojie. You are looking—” His startlingly-blue eyes moved to her hair, her lips, back to her eyes.  “—well, if a little perturbed. I hope my arrival isn’t interrupting anything?”

Startled by his sudden interest in her appearance, she searched his familiar, exotic features for clues to his wordiness. His normal greeting had always been a nod followed by her name, nothing more. Had his time at University changed his character as much as it had his appearance? It was an unsettling thought.

“I prefer to speak with both of you,” Mrs. Bell said. “What I have to tell you is information best not repeated.”

Her focus shifted to Mrs. Bell’s grave demeanor. “Rumor has it that the Prussians have developed a long-distance listening device. The less said about these matters, the better. These are dangerous times. You must both be cognizant of the risks Mrs. Headley and I are taking in attempting to find Dr. Headley and Lincoln.”

Sojie choked on her tea. Jett materialized at her side and relieved her of her cup and saucer while she continued to cough and splutter. Being Jett, he handed her his handkerchief and returned to the rocking chair as soon as he’d ascertained she would recover.

Her breathing eased and she dabbed her eyes. Had they developed a theory about what might have gone wrong in the accident? From what Mrs. Bell had said, they must have a plan of action. Dare she hope there was a possibility of finding Father and Link?

She blew her nose and balled the soiled linen in her hands.

Mrs. Bell caught her gaze and continued. “We’re all at risk. Many would kill for the plans for a working temporal vehicle, even an imperfect and dangerous prototype.”

“How can sending poor helpless creatures into the future help us find Father and Link?” Sojie said.

“You spoke of strangeness, Mum,” Jett said, locking his gaze to his mother’s. He placed his elbows on the arms of his chair and steepled his fingers. “Please elaborate.”

Sojie glared at him for interrupting. He gave no indication of having noticed.

“The strangeness and the temporal travel are interrelated,” Mrs. Bell said. Her gaze dropped and for a brief moment rested on the hands she’d folded in her lap. Then she drew a deep breath and stared into the flames. “Ten years ago we found evidence that temporal travel into the future heals, and in effect re-animates newly-deceased organisms. We theorize a similar rejuvenating effect on the living, which might lead to disorientation and  quite possibly memory loss upon arrival in the future. We are continuing the line of experimentation we were pursuing when the project was canceled after the unfortunate accident.”

“That explains the kitten,” Sojie said. No wonder Mouser hadn’t recognized her. Traveling forward in time had scrambled his memory. He’d been confused and frightened and—

Sojie gasped. If Father and Link had arrived in the future as upset and bewildered as Mouser, there was no telling what they might have done or where they would have gone. But they might still be alive somewhere. Now, in the present day.

Alive! She must be grinning like a fool.

“Well,” Jett said, gripping the wooden arms of his chair and rocking forward.

She beamed at him, sure that his first-ever utterance of a meaningless word indicated he was as overjoyed as she at the prospect of finding Link and Father.

Jett glanced at her and frowned, then settled back in his chair and shook his head. “That explains the zombie.”

Charity's Desire

By Paty Jager
copyright 2012

Charity looked up as Miss Vonnie ambled over to the wash tub. She’d finished the six sets of sheets and was working on the personal clothes of each girl. Her back and shoulders ached, but for the week the group camped here, Sammy and Sadie would eat more than beans and biscuits, and she would have money for more supplies to move on to the next town hiring a teacher.  Ray and Jane might not like she and the children had taken up with a group of prostitutes, but they'd run out of options. Doing laundry was better than starving.

“Charity?” Miss Vonnie’s voice startled her from her reveries.

She dried her hands on her apron and shifted away from the washboard. “Yes?”

“Mr. Jamison would like to meet you.”

Jamison.  Could the woman who turned the school board against her have changed her mind? Hope swelled in her chest. The woman’s cold eyes and even colder heart asking for proof Sadie and Sammy were her niece and nephew and not her children had speared her with mortification. She would have had to have been pregnant at fourteen to be their mother.

“Did he say why?” She tucked loose strands of hair behind her ears and wiped a hand across her perspiring brow.

The older woman held up a coin.  “He gave me this to talk to you.” She grasped Charity’s hand and placed the coin in it.

“He paid to talk to me?” Anger swirled in her stomach and infused her neck and ears with heat. She peered past Miss Vonnie and nearly choked. It was the handsome man who held the door for her when she left the school after the interview. His smiling brown eyes had given her a measure of comfort after having her character attacked. Did he believe as his mother? That she was of low moral conscience.

She held the coin between her fingers, grasped her skirt in the other hand, and marched over to the man. Stopping far enough back she didn’t have to tip her head too much to look into his face, she held out the coin. “I don’t know you and you sure don’t know me if you think you have to buy my time to talk with me.”

“Charity, it was—” Miss Vonnie started, but Charity cut her off by slicing her hand through the air.

“I take it Mrs. Jamison of the Clancy school board is a relation? Did she send you here to gloat?” Charity fisted her hand on her hips and glared at Mr. Jamison. It wasn’t a hardship to keep her eyes feasting on his curly blond hair, brown eyes, and square chin.  The hard part was remaining mad while staring into his perplexed eyes.

“She’s my mother. And I didn’t come here to verify her accusations.”

She tilted her head and gave him an “I don’t believe you” snort.

“I came at my father’s request to make sure Miss Vonnie is treating our hands fairly. But I recognized you from the school and wanted to see how you’re doing.”

The honesty in his deep voice chipped away at her huff. “Why do you care?”

He smiled and her knees lost all the starch she’d shorn them up with in anger.

“Let’s just say, I like to prove my mother wrong. But…” He looked around at the scantily clad women, then cast his gaze to her wagon set off from the rest where Sammy and Sadie were playing.  “I’m thinking my mother may have been right this time.”

“How dare you!” She threw the coin at his chest and spun, stomping toward the creek. If she stood near that man any longer she was sure she’d have said something that would have confirmed his assumptions. Her mother, and later her brother-in-law, were continually cautioning her on the colorful language she’d picked up from the local boys while growing up.

Her anger took her all the way to the creek. She paced up and down the bank hidden from view of the camp. The secluded spot was where the women came to bathe and cool off in the hot August afternoons.

She sat down on a rock. Her thoughts immediately went to Mr. Jamison. Any woman with a breath of life in her would find the man easy to look at. She sighed. Don’t go thinking anything other than he’s an enemy. He as much as said he believed his mother by offering money to talk to me. Her anger sparked again at the affront. How dare he… Why hadn’t Miss Vonnie rejected the money? 

“Can we start over?” The deep voice shot her to her feet. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” He grasped her arm, steadying her swaying body.

Her head whooshed, and her heart slammed into her ribs at his gentle grip on her arm. Her gaze locked on his face. Concern and sincerity flashed in his eyes and reflected in the self-conscience smile on his lips. To break the hold he had on her senses, she glanced at his hand still on her arm. He let go and extended his hand.

“I’m Duke Jamison. My family owns the land Miss Vonnie and her girls are camped on.”

Reluctant to touch him again, she slowly extended her hand. He grasped her fingers and drew her knuckles to his lips. The softness of his lips and warmth of his breath, stole her air. She stared into his eyes which lit with amusement.

“And you are?”

She tugged her hand from his, tucking it against her quivering stomach. Why was this man triggering a plethora of reactions? She stared into his waiting face. A simple patient smile curved his lips. What had he asked? Racing through the last few minutes, she captured his question.

“Charity Bowen.”  She scowled. “But you know that. I’m sure your mother would have mentioned my name since you seem to know everything else she thought about me.” Anger. Yes, much better than the other emotions he tangled in her.

“My mother merely mentioned they’d turned down an applicant. When I first saw you I didn’t realize you were the teacher they were interviewing.” He waved an arm back toward the camp. “And finding you here, I wasn’t sure you were the same person.”

She walked away from him, before her temper took over.

“Did I say something that upset you?” His voice came from only a step behind her.

“Stop following me.” She spun around and nearly banged her nose on his chest. Her neck hurt tipping her head back to peer into his face. Charity took two steps back. “Why don’t you just ride back to your ranch and tell your mother ‘guess who I found working for Miss Vonnie’.”

“It’s not my habit to prove my mother correct. In fact, I enjoy proving her wrong.” 



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My Reluctant Valentine

By Judith Ashley

Jackson Montgomery strode into his office, slammed the door, and stalked to his desk. “She won’t get away with this,” he muttered throwing his jacket at the back of a chair. “Hell and damnation,” he cursed stomping over to grab the erstwhile garment now on the floor. “Why can’t she be normal like other women?”

          A bark of a laugh escaped. “If she was like other women, I wouldn’t be trying to win her over.” He wandered to the window. Looking out at the rain muting the cityscape, he sighed, “Ah, Lily. You drive me to distraction.”

          Lost in thought, he drifted back to his desk. He sank into the chair, his brow furrowed in thought. Templed fingers tapped his chin. He bolted upright. “I’ll make a list,” he said grabbing a sheet of paper and pen. 

Ideas for Lily for Valentine’s Day

1.     Flowers

2.     Jewelry

3.     Candy

4.     Dinner out

5.     Clothing

6.     Movie

7.     Card

      One-by-one he assessed the items. “Even sending a card is a challenge because she’ll toss it out unless it’s sent from ‘anonymous’,” he grumbled. “There has to be a way,” he groused, “to show her how I feel without scaring her off. But what?” he asked himself as a sense of failure loomed. “Brooding about this isn’t getting me closer to finding the answer,” he griped. “One thing is clear – whatever I decide to do, it has to be subtle, under her radar, sneaky.”

Valentine’s Day loomed a week away. Jackson’s brooding had not produced a viable idea. He’d hoped Valentine’s Day would be an opportunity to nudge their slowly growing friendship towards romance. When it dawned on him he might fail, it took all his self-control to resist the urge to lay his head on his desk in defeat.

         

Jackson whistled a jaunty tune as he drove into his garage. Upstairs the unsuspecting Lily would be finishing her daily physical therapy routine. While he would never wish her illness or injury, the reality of the injuries she sustained in the traffic accident served his purpose of winning her over. She’d been unable to refuse the offer of staying with his mother and him when the alternative was a rehabilitation facility.

          He opened the trunk retrieving a grocery bag and an unmarked sack. Making his way to the kitchen, he set them on the counter.

First things first: he flicked on a linen tablecloth and set the table with his best silver, crystal, and dishes. Next, he busied himself preparing a tossed salad and his famous (if he did say so himself) homemade dressing. When steaks were marinating in another one of his special recipes and a loaf of bread warmed in the oven, he crossed the room.

“Dinner’s almost ready, Lily,” he called from the bottom of the stairs.

“Mother?” he said through the open French doors leading into her apartment.

          “I’m coming,” was her reply.

          “Lily?”

          “I’m coming,” she said from the top of the stairs.

          He watched her descend, her steps slow and cautious. She was able to have the immobilizers off for short periods of time but her shoulders were still healing and a fall would be disastrous. Independent as she was, he knew better than to charge up the stairs and offer his help.

          Once the two women were seated, he brought salads and chatted with them while he cooked the steaks on the indoor grill. As he’d hoped, dinner was a convivial time with conversation sprinkled with compliments to the cook and laughter.

          “Dessert,” he announced, returning to the kitchen and retrieving a container of his homemade vanilla ice cream from the freezer,” is ‘make-your-own’ sundaes.”

While his mother and Lily created their masterpieces from the variety of toppings including cherries and whipped cream, he plucked the unmarked bag out from behind his mixer and tucked it behind his back. Sidling past the two women, he surreptitiously took two boxes from the bag and placed them in the middle of their place settings before joining them.

“What is this?” his mother asked holding up her box.

Studiously ignoring the question, Jackson built his own simple sundae of ice cream, chocolate sauce, nuts, whipped cream and topped with three cherries. Before resuming his seat, he put the most perishable items away. Out of the corner of his eye he watched his mother inspect the box as if by doing so she could discern what was inside. Lily, he noted, had moved the box aside and was disregarding it as best she could with his mother rattling on next to her.

“Jackson,” his mother said, “what is this? It has to be from you as Lily and I were together in the kitchen and these boxes weren’t here when we got up from the table.”

“I guess you’ll have to open it and find out,” he said looking down at his sundae a secret smile playing on his lips.

Lily opened her mouth to protest but closed it with a snap.

“Oh, my dear, this is lovely,” his mother said, holding up a silver tree of life pendant its five colored stones sparkling from different branches. “Lily, you must open your box and see what’s inside,” his mother coaxed.

Jackson stifled a smile as Lily, with obvious reluctance, picked up the box and opened it. Inside was another silver tree of life pendant with eight colored stones on different branches.

“I really can’t accept this, Jackson,” Lily started, shoving the box towards him.

He boldly interrupted. “I couldn’t get something for mother and leave you out. That wouldn’t be polite and I do try to be polite.”

He hopped up and circled behind his mother. “Here, let me put this on for you.” As he fastened the necklace, he added, “Mother’s has her birth stone and one for each of her children, and my father.”

Picking up Lily’s box, he opened it, and pulled out a similar pendant. Dangling the dazzling piece in front of her, he said, “You’re tree has your birth stone, one for your son, and each of your circle sisters.” He shifted to stand behind her. Purposefully he swept her hair from her neck, his fingers grazing against the nape as he carefully secured the necklace.

The slight shudder, a shiver actually, told him what he wanted to know. He was on the right path.

© 2012 Judith Ashley

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