Tag: family

This Far Away

~ Meg ~ 60 Comments

Since I’m reimmersing myself in my novel series universe for NaNoWriMo, I thought I’d share one of my favorite short stories with you. These are characters from that world and I feel a particular affinity for them. And… I fantasize regularly about running away, so this story, although somewhat humorous in nature, is close to my heart. Enjoy…

It had taken Kerry Donovan 18 hours to reach St. Martha’s Cove, Florida. His parents had moved to the tiny Gulf Coast town after retiring a few years back. Since then, Kerry and his brother Leo had taken over their father’s construction business. The sun was just lightening the sky as Kerry pulled into his parents’ driveway. They weren’t expecting him. He had thrown some clothes in a duffel bag and taken off without telling anyone where he was going. Leo was going to be pissed.

Ryan Donovan was sitting on the front porch with his coffee and the newspaper. He tossed it aside and stood when he heard the crunch of gravel. Kerry saw him open the front door and yell inside. No doubt announcing to his wife, Sophie, their son’s unplanned arrival. Kerry cut the engine and got out.

“Kerry,” his father said, striding over and pulling him in for a hug. “What the hell’s going on, son? You ok? Is it Leo?” He gripped Kerry by the shoulders and stared at him hard. “Brianna.” He muttered a curse. “What happened?”

Kerry gave him a shaky smile. “I took her over to show her the house.”

“What? She didn’t like it?” Ryan asked. “You’ve got to be kidding me!”

Sophie Donovan ran outside, still in her pajamas and bare feet. “Sweetheart! What on earth…?” she began. “Come inside, you look exhausted. We can talk over coffee.” She held Kerry’s arm and led him to the house, peppering him with questions the whole way. Ryan got Kerry’s bag from the truck and followed them inside.

Sophie directed her son to the kitchen table and set a cup of coffee in front of him. “Now, tell us what’s going on,” she ordered.

Kerry covered his face with his hands, resting his elbows on the table before speaking. “She called off the wedding.”

“What?!?” Sophie cried. “With only three weeks to go? Oh, sweetie, why?”

Kerry rubbed his eyes. They felt like sandpaper. “She’s decided she can’t spend the rest of her life with me.”

“Why the hell did she say yes in the first place?” Ryan growled. “It’s not like this was a whirlwind romance. You guys have been dating for almost two years.”

“I don’t know, Dad,” Kerry sighed. “I’ve been asking myself that question for the past 18 hours.” He gave them the whole story, detail by sordid detail. “That’s it. We’re finished.”

“Did you tell your brother?” Ryan asked.

Kerry shook his head. “No.” He paused and blew out a breath. “Not ready for the pity party.”

“Well, you can stay here for as long as you like, dear,” Sophie said patting his hand. “But you have to call Leo and tell him. He’ll be worried.”

“Yeah. Not right now, ok?” He drained his coffee cup and stood. “So can I bunk over the garage or do I have to squeeze into that closet you call a spare room?”

“The rooms over the garage are all yours, sweetie. Let me go get you some towels and sheets,” his mother said, rising. “Then I’ll fix you breakfast.”

“Sounds good, Mom.”

***

The setting sun shining through the west-facing window finally roused Kerry from his slumber. He trudged into the bathroom and splashed cold water on his face. His dark stubble was past the five o’clock shadow stage but he couldn’t have cared less. On returning to the bedroom, he checked his phone. There were three missed calls, all from Leo, and one voicemail. Maybe he’d try and sweet talk his mom into calling Leo back for him.

He pulled a pair of cargo shorts out of his duffel bag and tucked the phone in one of the pockets. His parents’ bungalow was quiet when he entered through the lanai in the back of the house. “Mom? Dad?” he called out. No response. He found a note in the kitchen, ‘Kerry, we ran out for some extra supplies. Shouldn’t be gone too long. Help yourself to whatever you find in the fridge. Love, Mom.’

He opened the fridge, didn’t see anything that caught his fancy. He felt like a big greasy burger and about a gallon of beer. He ran back upstairs for his wallet, left a note for his parents and walked toward the town, looking for a bar.

He found a place facing the beach, right on the edge of town, called Martha’s Tavern. At first, he thought it was named for St. Martha’s Cove but as he got closer, he saw in smaller letters beneath the sign: ‘And this Martha ain’t no saint’. He chuckled. This was just what he was looking for. He poked his head in the door and saw a few customers sitting at the bar, a few more playing pool in a small room off to the side. It looked like a mix of locals and a couple of stray tourists. He found an open seat at the bar and sat down.

A mountain of a woman came over to take his order. She was at least six feet tall and built like a line backer. She had a mass of black hair pulled back in a braid and the tattoo of a snake coiling from her thick wrist to her impressive bicep. She smirked at Kerry’s shocked expression. “Somethin’ a matter, sugar?” she drawled.

Kerry blinked and mentally smacked himself. “Uh, no, no. Nothing’s the matter.”

“Aw, a Yankee boy. You down a visit, honey?”

“Uh, yeah, my folks live here,” he replied.

She cocked her head to the side, swinging her long dark braid behind her. “You sure they ain’t nothin’ wrong, darlin’?” she asked. “Lemme getcha a drink and you can tell me ’bout it. Whatcha havin’?”

Three shots and three beers later, Kerry’s head was spinning. He hadn’t eaten anything since his mother had forced breakfast on him that morning. Martha had matched him shot for shot and didn’t seem fazed in the least. Before she set his fourth beer in front of him, she went back to the kitchen and returned with a big burger on a kaiser roll, a pile of fries and a pickle. “Chow down, honey. Else I’ll have to call you daddy to come getcha.”

Kerry shook his head to clear it. “How’d you know…?”

She laughed and patted his hand. Kerry dug into the food while Martha moved down the length of the bar to take care of her other customers. He groaned with pleasure – this might be the best burger he’d ever had. Getting a little food in his belly helped to clear his head somewhat, too. When Martha had refilled everyone’s drinks she came back to Kerry and leaned in close. “You wanna talk about it?” she asked gently. “Might help.”

Kerry found himself pouring out the whole story. How he’d bought an old run-down house and remodeled it for his new bride. The time and attention he’d put into restoring every detail in the beautiful Craftsman style bungalow. Hardwood floors, wood trim, tile in the kitchens and bathrooms. Stained glass in the window of the front door. It was his wedding present to her and she’d dumped him on the front porch.

“That girl be crazy, let a handsome young fella like you get away.” Martha patted his cheek. “She don’t deserve ya. That’s what. You better off without her.”

The phone in Kerry’s pocket vibrated. It was probably his mom worrying that he wasn’t home yet. He answered without looking at the caller ID. “Hello.”

“Kerry, it’s me,” Brianna said quietly. “Can we talk?”

Kerry’s stomach knotted and the shock must’ve shown on his face because Martha frowned. “What do you want Bri?”

“Kerry, I’ve been thinking… Maybe… maybe you were right, I was just getting cold feet. I’m sorry. I’ve made a huge mistake. Can you forgive me? Will you please let me come over so we can talk?”

“Forgive you? Come over?” Kerry repeated into the phone. “Just like that?” He swallowed hard. “Bri, I’m in Florida at my parents’ house.”

Across the bar from him, Martha mouthed “That her?” and Kerry nodded. Martha snatched the phone away from him and hung it up. “Hey!” Kerry protested.

“No good a come from that, sugar. She just sweet talk ya into takin’ her sorry ass back.” She pushed a fresh beer in front of him. “You will find the right girl, doncha worry none. In the meantime, set a spell and keep ole Martha company.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “Who knows, maybe you’ll meet somebody here.”

Kerry drank deeply from his pint glass and shook his head. Then for the first time in the last 36 hours, he smiled. Yeah, he would be all right. He could stay here, fish in the gulf, get himself a tan and help his Dad fix up that old boat he’d bought. Leo could manage without him for a while. Winter was coming and business would slow down anyway. Besides, the weather here was beautiful. And even better, Brianna was 1100 miles away.

Kerry was concentrating on his burger when someone slid onto the stool next to his. He turned his head, intending to be polite and found himself face to face with a stunning brunette. He managed a smile and forced himself to keep his eyes from drifting south to her sinful curves. With thick black hair, huge dark eyes and full kissable lips, she was breathtaking. She smiled and Kerry went weak in the knees. Martha cleared her throat, “Sugar? Lemme introduce you to my baby sister.”

Small Cuts (3)-Oliver

~ Meg ~ 34 Comments

Find part one here, and part two here.

I had gone too far. I saw the look of pity in Elaine’s eyes and I knew. She knew. To this point, she had probably thought it was harmless flirting. But the truth was, I was in love with my best friend’s wife. And now with a few softly spoken words, I’d let her see the depth of my feelings for her. Maybe I could get out of this. I was a bullshit artist, after all. As a salesman, I dealt in bullshit every day of my life. I grinned.

“You know I can’t stand not to be the center of attention, Lainey,” I said, with a wink.

She let out the breath she had been holding. “Oh, Oliver,” she said, giving my hand a playful smack. “Go on. What were you saying?”

I picked up the story from where I’d left off. Elaine’s husband James, had reached across the table to squeeze my wife’s hand and it hadn’t gone unnoticed by either myself or Elaine. But I was past giving a shit what Gen did.

Cold hearted, self centered bitch. I don’t know what the hell I was thinking getting myself tangled up with the ice queen, but here I was. In the beginning I was smitten. She was everything I admired– smart, beautiful, artistic, cultured, and socially conscious. We’d met at one of the gala functions my company sponsored for its clients. Genevieve had been pressed into attending to win additional funding for the liberal think tank she worked for. As the top salesman for financial products, it was a given that I would attend.

When Genevieve entered the room, all eyes turned. She was tall, a natural blonde, with blue eyes the color of arctic ice. When I introduced myself, she was polite but didn’t smile. That should’ve been my first clue. Nevertheless, I pursued her with the same dogged determination I would have used on a million dollar investor.

When I finally won her over, I had felt like I’d won the lottery. I had a beautiful wife with an important job. She was a brilliant conversationalist with opinions on all the current issues. We’d stay up late debating politics, social issues, philosophy. She, of course, being better informed on all those topics always won the argument. But at the time I had enjoyed the banter.

We’d been married for three years when I raised the subject of children. She had off-handedly remarked while we were dating that she didn’t want any children. I didn’t take her seriously. And, I had thought, if she was serious, she would change her mind. So on our third anniversary, when we had come home from our favorite restaurant, I had taken her to bed, made love to her and afterwards, as she lay in my arms, said maybe it was time we thought about having a baby. She looked at me like I had just asked her to cut off a limb.

“A baby?” she asked with a snort. “You’re funny, Ollie.”

I had pulled her close and kissed her. “No. I mean it. I want us to have a baby.”

She pushed away, holding me at a distance. “You’re serious.”

I nodded.

She slid from beneath the sheets and grabbed for her robe. “Oliver, I told you long ago I didn’t want to have children. Nothing’s changed.”

“Why?” I had asked, propping myself up on one arm.

“Oliver, do you know what I deal with every day when I go to work?” It was a rhetorical question. I wasn’t meant to respond. “Suffering.” She began pacing. “Suffering, poverty, disease, famine, the effects of war on ravaged populations. I read reports of men raping and killing young women in the name of their cause. I see the same young women who have been raped being put to death because they ‘dishonored’ their families. I see pre-pubescent girls having their genitals mutilated in the name of religious tradition. I see young boys being sent to fight in militias before they even reach their tenth birthdays. I see the disobedient being beheaded. I see the faithful strapping suicide bombs to their bodies and walking into crowded marketplaces. That’s the world you want to bring another child into?”

“Gen,” I said softly. “Children are the future. Our future.”

“Not my future.” She turned her back on me.

“Can we at least think about it? It doesn’t have to be now. We have plenty of time. Maybe in a few years….”

She was shaking her head. “Absolutely not. I will never, ever change my mind, Oliver.”

I dropped the subject. I hadn’t meant to ruin our evening, but I had. “Gen, come back to bed.”

An entire year passed before I tried again. We had visited her family for the holidays. Her brother had sired two children, her sister had borne three more and her parents hinted with hopeful expectation, that their youngest child would soon follow suit. Gen had joked with them light-heartedly and laughed it off. With just that tiny sliver of encouragement, I foolishly raised the subject in the car on the way home. It had once again led to an argument, with Gen giving all the same reasons she had before. Suffering. Violence. Poverty. War. Disease. Every word was another small cut in my heart. I loved kids. I wanted to be a father. I never imagined that I wouldn’t have that chance.

It became a wedge between us. A wedge so divisive that even images of happy families on television or in the movies would have Gen stiffen and brace for an argument. Not talking about having a family devolved into not talking at all. Gen lost weight as if to emphasize her already boyish figure. It was like she was saying, “See, Ollie? I’m not made for making babies.” And I began to suspect the real reason she didn’t want a baby was vanity. God forbid, she added a little flesh to those bones.

And that’s when James introduced us to Elaine.

I looked across the table at her now. She was everything Genevieve was not. Her dark eyes shone with warmth and humor. She smiled wide and often. She was animated, outgoing, and effortlessly sexy. Luscious. Curvy. I couldn’t help but touch her. I’d even kissed her once, when the four of us were saying goodnight after another dinner together. It had been dark so I was sure James hadn’t seen. I tried to make it appear playful but I had needed to taste her sweet lips. She hadn’t seemed to mind. Or at least she hadn’t objected. Not having her was an agony.

“Ollie?” Elaine said, breaking my reverie. “Now who’s ignoring who?” She smiled and her adorable dimples appeared. “You’re a million miles away.”

I took her hand and played with the ring on her finger. “Maybe you should join me.”

Continue reading here.

Here Lies a Soldier – the story thus far…

~ Meg ~ 15 Comments

Last year I began writing a serial fiction piece with The Great War as the backdrop for this story that crosses the generations. Set primarily in the modern day, two cousins research their family history and discover a discrepancy in the records. With an incomplete picture, the pair tries to piece together what really happened 100 years in the past.

After setting the story aside to collaborate with Kevin on Double Seduction, I am ready to pick up the tale where I left off. If you’d like to catch up, the first seven installments may be found here. However, if you just want a quick refresher, here’s a synopsis of the story so far.

Chapter one: Meredith Miles visits Bedford House Cemetery every year to lay flowers at the gravesite of her great-grandfather, Frederick Jennings.  For many years, she brought her grandmother Anne, to the site to “visit” the father she never knew. Freddie had been killed in the First Battle of Ypres in April 1914, leaving his young wife at home, widowed and pregnant.

While laying flowers on the grave, Meredith is joined by a man about her age with a sheet of paper in his hands. David Jennings is there to visit, too. In his search to compile his family’s ancestry, he discovers that his great-grandfather, William, had a younger brother. William was also killed in The Great War and his body never recovered. Realizing she has a cousin she never knew about, Meredith offers to spend the afternoon with David, filling in the gaps where she can and showing him the Flanders region where both their ancestors lost their lives.

Chapter two: Meredith receives long delayed mail from David. He had written to attempt a visit and to pass on a family heirloom – a locket with the photographs of their great grandfathers inside. The mail misses her because she has moved from her London apartment to take a teaching position at St. Eanswith College in a small town on England’s Southeast coast. She has left the stress of the city and the university to get a fresh start after a painful breakup. Rob Powell has kept Meredith’s heart on a string. He won’t commit to her, yet he expects her to be there for him. She has finally decided to end it rather than to be constantly disappointed.

Chapter three: David makes plans to spend the Christmas holiday with Meredith in England.

Chapter four: David arrives in England.  Meredith picks him up at the airport. She takes him for lunch and a drive along the coast. Then, after an enjoyable day in each other’s company, David and Meredith are surprised when Rob shows up at the house unexpectedly.

Chapter five:  Rob is Meredith’s weakness. She allows him into her home and into her bed only to find him gone again before she rises. She tries to hide her sadness and shame from David but eventually she breaks down and he comforts her. David begins to feel very protective of his cousin.

Chapter six: The research begins.  David has brought along a binder full of memorabilia passed down to him from his father and grandfather.  Meredith has her gran’s scrapbook and photo albums. While poring over all the material, Meredith tells David the whole story about Rob and their breakup. We learn that David has been divorced for seven years. At the end of the chapter, Meredith finds a bit of information that changes everything and starts them on their journey of discovery.

Chapter seven: Meredith has discovered Ada Henry Jennings’ obituary. Ada was William’s wife, David’s great-grandmother, who died in 1918 – a victim of the Spanish flu epidemic. The obituary lists Ada as survived by a daughter, Gladys, as well as a son, Hayden. David has a great aunt – Gladys – and possibly second cousins he never knew about. Meredith and David decide to do further research. We find out that Hayden Jennings was a difficult man and didn’t get along well with his son Thomas, David’s father. We also learn that David’s parents –Thomas and Ellen– were killed in a car accident a few years ago.

So there you have it – the story so far.  The new installment will be posted next Friday, May 20. I hope you all enjoy the story as it unfolds. And so you know, Jennings is my family name and Frederick  Jennings is the name of my grandfather. The rest of the tale, however, is fiction. Thanks for reading!