Breathe Out

“Breathe out, so I can breathe you in.” Dave Grohl – Everlong

I see him across the room, talking to his friends. I can’t help but stare, he’s breathtakingly handsome. He must feel my eyes on him because he turns, flashes me a wicked grin and says something to the man standing next to him. I close my eyes and take a gulp of my drink, forgetting that I’ve ordered a straight whiskey. I cough from the burn when I swallow too fast. Breathe out.

Suddenly he’s next to me, still smiling. Now I’m embarrassed. He asks me to dance and before I can reply, he takes the tumbler and sets it on a nearby table. His arm goes to the center of my back, to the spot where my evening gown reveals bare flesh. His fingers are warm as they rest softly against my skin. Breathe in. He smells divine. It’s a subtle scent, clean and manly. I rest one hand on his shoulder as he grasps the other one in his and pulls me to the center of the dance floor.  

The lights are low and the other couples around us sway to the romantic ballad. I look into his eyes and see the heat in them. Thank God for the low lighting because I feel myself flush. As the song plays on, he holds me tighter. Our faces nearly touch. His breath is warm against my mouth, his lips close to mine. The fingers on my bare back slowly caress. My heart is hammering in my chest and I’m sure he must know how he’s affecting me. Breathe out.

He moves us to the perimeter of the crowd of swaying bodies as the song ends. Without a word, he draws me out onto the veranda and circles me in his arms. We are alone in the cool, night air and I shiver involuntarily. He gently frames my face with his hands and searches my eyes. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs as he lowers his lips to mine. His thumbs caress my jawline as he nibbles and sips. He teases with his tongue, tasting like red wine and I moan softly as he deepens the kiss. When we break apart breathless, I say, “If everything could ever feel this real forever…”

Breathe in. I open my eyes and stare across the room again. He’s still standing there with his friends, laughing at something one of them said. I throw back the rest of my whiskey and fan myself. If anything could ever be that good again…

Worth More To Me…

A glaze of ice on the water of the lake
The whip of the cold north wind in my hair
The gunmetal sky spilling fat snowflakes
Hurry home to wife and hearth and fire

Up ahead the chimney smoke is but a wisp
I urge the horse on, as apprehension grows
The house is dark, no lanterns light the way
As steed and I struggle in the deepening snow

I leap from my mount upon entering the yard
Tie him quickly to the post and hasten cross threshold
Inside I find only cold and empty rooms
And note upon mantle above fire banked to coals

‘Dearest husband, I’ve given you a way
Find another woman to keep you warm
One who will not disappoint, fail to give you sons
Fill her belly, find comfort in her arms

I beg your leave and your wish for well
I return to my own father’s home in shame
I relinquish my privileged place
It was my honor to take your name

But now I give it back so you may take another
Take a lively, fertile girl with hips for giving birth
Who’ll keep your house and hearth
Bring the sound of children’s laughter and mirth

Farewell my love, I’ve taken only my clothes
I’m riding the old mare for she’s no good to you
Do not try to stop me, it’s my heart’s desire
Your happiness is worth more than mine times two’

I sank to my knees in anguish and deep distress
For even familiar roads in snow would be precarious
Yet she couldn’t have made it too far along
I returned to the horse and set off in chase

The snow had all but obscured their tracks
And yet I soon picked up their trail into the forest
Thank God, old Molly was surefooted, true, but plodding
For in the woods, were dangers more treacherous

Wolves and bears and highwaymen, even in the storm
Would prey upon a vulnerable woman and her mare
I pushed my horse recklessly along the blanketed road
Trying to keep my wits and not give in to despair

Up ahead amidst the trees, barely visible through the snow
A tiny rider cloaked in grey, upon a dappled mount
Standing in the stirrups, bow drawn, arrow aimed
At circling wolf, alone and foaming at the mouth

I hurried on, drawing my sword from its sheath
But watched as she dispatched the wolf with arrow’s tip
Then with tears of joy I pulled my love from saddle
And with loving kisses warmed her lips

‘My sweet you cannot leave me, I need you more than air
I want you more than food or water, I love you more than life
You are worth more to me than a dozen sons
I live for your laughter and companionship, my beloved wife’

Her eyes bright and shining, pools of pain and sorrow
‘I am sorry love, I thought I should set you free’
I kissed her cool mouth softly and cut off her words
‘Come home darling, your place will always be with me’

This Far Away

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.”