My 2012 To-do List

So here is my to-do list for last year. I wanted to see how I did before moving forward.

1.) Publish the first book in my urban scifi/fantasy Blue Manuever

check. This year I plan to expand on the story with one new addition

2.) Finish the Valentine’s Day sequel to Some Enchanted Autumn and the Christmas Village by the Ides of March and submit it Zumaya Publications for publication in 2013

Oh yeah, got this one done too and it should be out in a few weeks. It’s title: That’s Amores.

3.) Finish writing the sequel to Redaction and try not to actually kill real, live human beings while plunging to the horrible depths I now that story is going to take me. Oh, and, keep the book under 200K works while finishing it before September.

Yep, got this one done (no one was killed in the sequel) Bonus, I actually finished the third book too. Go me!

4.) Complete the publishing process for my scifi novels with romantic elements–the Syn-En Solution and the Syn-En: Culture Clash before April.

Yep and yep.

5.) Finish scrapbooking the year 2010 (don’t judge me)

Oh yeah. I finished in October.

6.) Finish those quilts I started in 2010 (I said don’t judge me)

Hmmm. Okay, they’re not quilted but the tops are pieced. My daughter’s is nearly halfway done so that should count as something.

7.) Write the second book in the Urban fantasy/scifi Blue series.

Whoops! I didn’t know this was on the list.

8.) Schedule a blog tour to support my new Urban scifi/fantasy series

Did this. And it was fun too.

9) Make the retro dresses my daughters want me to sew for them.

Made one. She complained it was a bag. Uh, okay. She’s now come up with new patterns. By default I think I get out of this one.

10) Help the with end of the world-not! anthology my publisher wants to put out next year as well as write a short story for it.

Didn’t go, not enough authors interested.

11) Begin work on the New Years themed sequel to the Christmas, Halloween and Valentine’s Day book (potentially writing a short story tie in)

This isn’t due until December 2013 so I have another year but I did write a short story tie in to the Valentine’s Day book.

12.) Start my new organic garden

Yep, got this done!

So like most to-do lists, I didn’t get everything done. But that’s okay. I worked toward most of my goals and that’s what counts. Right?

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The Wasting of the Mind

Short work week, even shorter memory. I sat down to write a quick post so as not to take up too much time before we all gear up for Ametuer night aka New Year’s Eve and promptly forgot what the heck I was supposed to write about.

It took me a moment and then it came to me: remembering stuff.

Don’t worry, I’m not giving anyone hints. I’m not sure I’m qualified as I don’t remember where I put those external memory units  called sticky notes.

Today I’m specifically talking about remembering passwords. You know what I’m talking about. Everything you do on a computer requires a password. And while there are some that I don’t care if the computer remembers it for me; there are others I prefer to keep top secret (so my kids don’t go nuts on ebay and order stuff from far, far away).

Then there are the others where you don’t have a choice. Take work for example. There you don’t have a choice. Your password cannot be stored but must be entered every time the thing locks you out. And forgetting you password involves the call of shame to the IT department where you know they’re keeping a tally or possibly a spreadsheet complete with 8×10 color graph printouts and a paragraph on the back (Tribute to Alice’s Restaurant).

So during the two days I have to work this week, smooshed in between two five day vacation/holiday breaks, I got the news I had been chosen to create a new password. Maybe it was the eggnog or the sugar cookie high but I kinda stared at the screen hoping it would go away. Then I made my first attempt to enter a new password.

Yep, the things didn’t match.

So I got to try again. I went simpler this time but the requirements hinder putting in 123456. I had to think of something clever that involved a capital letter, a lowercase letter, a number and a symbol. Okay, I have a college degree and a gilt thingie on it saying I graduated Magna Cum Laude, I should be able to master it.

And I did. The second time, then I wrote it down on an external memory unit that was neatly tucked into a safe spot. Hopefully after tomorrow I will have remembered what it was, if not where I put it. Then on my first full week back to work, I will eat the sticky note and make security happy:-). I’m pretty sure egg nog will make it go down smoothly.

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Dom-duh-dom-dom

Ahem. My name is Linda Andrews and I’m am addicted to Fishdom. Worse, I introduced my husband to the game and now he’s playing it too. And the fathead is farther along than I am.

I mean, his addiction is worse than mine.

And I’m not jealous.

It started with just a game. Then well I wanted a feeder for my tank. Then a certain fish.

Now, it’s not just one game or two. I have to have a hundred percent in comfort. I always was a bit of an overachiever.

Next thing you know I’m this close to finishing the level and earning that bronze, silver and gold cup.

Really, we can eat… tomorrow, right?

My kids are old enough to fend for themselves.

Now, I just have to remove my husband from the computer. Oh, look, honey, I think I see the mailman.

Now back to the game:-)

 

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Singing all the way

Christmas Carols! I really love them. I stop listening around August (because that would be so rude to Halloween, which has few enough songs to honor it) and start up again the week of Thanksgiving. I love them. I’m proud to love them. And I thank God for the folks who wrote them.

So naturally while in line at someplace or other this last week when someone popped up and said, “I love this song. Isn’t it from Meet Me in St. Louis?” The question stuck in my head and has been gnawing at my brain ever since. And as Christmas is drawing neigh, I thought I’d devote this post to some of my favorite songs and waste a little time to see if I can find out where they came from.

Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas by Judy Garland was in fact introduced in 1944 in the movie, Meet Me in St. Louis.

Here Comes Santa Claus was written and performed by Gene Autry. It’s first movie debut was in his 1949 movie The Cowboy and the Indians. I remember it best from The Year Without a Santa Claus and National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation.

Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer was adopted into song form in the 1940s by the brother  of the man who wrote about Santa’s glowing 9th reindeer. Gene Autry took it to number one in 1949, and it remained the 2nd best-selling song until the 1980s.

White Christmas sung, of course, by Bing Crosby (and written by Iriving Berlin) is from the movie called Holiday Inn. It is the best selling (world-wide) record of all time.

Blue Christmas was originally a hit in 1948 but it is Elvis’s version that speaks to me the most. I love that it was used in the movie The Year Without a Santa Claus.

Jingle Bells is one of my all-time favorites, mostly because everyone can sing it loud and proud. Originally known as One Horse Open Sleigh, it was meant to honor Thanksgiving not Christmas. Ha! Now I can sing it after veteran’s Day and my oldest can’t say a word. It’s one of the oldest non-overtly religious songs on the list having been written in 1857 by James Lord Pierpont. And that’s Bob’s tail as in the horse’s name is Bob, although I suppose it could be a person.

Sleigh Ride can only be sung by the Johnny Mathis. Aside from my Sam Cooke album, I bought my record player so I could listen to Johnny and Percy Faith’s Christmas album that I kept from my childhood. The song was first written as an instrumental piece and appeared in 1949. Lyrics were added a year later. Although most consider it a Christmas song, the original lyrics don’t really mention the holiday. Apparently the horse whinnying at the end is actually a trumpet.

Of these songs I only have Sleigh Ride and Blue Christmas on my MP3 player. What are some of favorites? Rockin’ around the Christmas Tree by Brenda Lee, Mary’s Boy Child by Boney M, Last Christmas by Wham, Marshmallow World by Johnny Mathis, Do You Hear what I Hear by Whitney Houston, Santa Baby by Madonna, I want a Hippopotamus for Christmas, All I Want for Christmas is You by Vince Vance and the Valiants, Baby It’s Cold Outside by Martina McBride and Dean Martin, Where are you Christmas by Faith Hill, Better Days by the Goo Goo Dolls, A New York City Christmas by Rob Thomas, The Santa Claus Boogie by the Tractors, Merry Christmas, Darling by the Carpenters and Louisiana Christmas Day by Aaron Neville.

There are others. Lots of them and I might just add a few more this year.

Merry Christmas Everyone!

 

 

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It’s Alive! (sort of)

Okay. I messed up yesterday and didn’t get to upload the files until after work (the right files I should say). So I’ll post the links when they go live and I’m awake. But it is up at Smashwords. Use coupon  UG82Y until the 1st of January 2013 to bring it down to 99 cents.

DarkHopeCoverThey have survived an extinction level event and the meltdown. Now the remnants of the human race face their toughest enemy: Each other. Sealed under mountains of rock, the emerging civilization is beginning to fracture. Can the cracks be patched or will mankind’s last refuge become its tomb.

Redaction: Will this be mankind’s last chapter in the Book of Life?

Smashwords

amazon

Barnes and Noble

And finally available in really big trade paperback:

Redaction-WEb

amazon

Barnes and noble

Redacton: The Meltdown (Part II)

amazon

Barnes and Noble

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The Christmas Village, Chapter 3

Alrighty folks. I’m busy prepping for Dark Hope’s release and planning for my daughter’s college graduation so here’s the last sneak peak of my Christmas book.

The Christmas VillageEgypt, thank God I didn’t miss you.” Helen Weaver, nee O’Connell, stood on Egypt’s apartment stoop. Her very swollen belly pointed directly at Egypt, blocking the route to the almost-forgotten wedding dress.
“Hello, Helen.” Egypt’s sneakers squealed to a halt. Jingling keys dangled from her fingertips. Her heart slowed to a normal beat. “What brings you here?”
“This. It’s a wedding scrapbook.” She giggled and shoved the gaily wrapped box off her belly and towards Egypt. “I’ve made thirteen of them so far. Well, fourteen, if you count my own. Your sister admired mine so much I made her one.”
Blue ribbon crawled over the silver wrapping paper. A bell tinkled. Egypt balanced the gift on her fingertips. “I’m certain she’ll love it.”
“You are planning on attending the wedding, aren’t you?” Helen waddled closer; her gaze swept up Egypt’s blue jeans and stopped on the embroidered sweater.
She resisted the urge to squirm. Helen had always been the fashion plate. Even now, every hair lay neatly against her head and her clothes emphasized her trim legs while hugging her ripe belly. Egypt swallowed her inadequacies, tucked the gift under her arm and rammed her key into her lock. “Of course, I’m going to the wedding. Paris is my sister.”
“And Darrell is your ex-boyfriend, just like Adam.”
Disappointment gripped Egypt’s lungs. She forced air in and out despite the constriction. Today’s reminders were the humidity before the thunderstorm. Once she was in Dragoon’s Springs, they would be faster than water in a cloudburst. “I attended your wedding to Adam and then Brad’s to Marie and Zach’s to—”
“My, you’ve certainly introduced many of us girls to our husbands.” Helen giggled, backing up a step. Her gaze fell on the steps before she looked back at Egypt.
Fourteen girls, to be exact. And her heart had broken every time.
“Maybe you should start your own matchmaking service.” Helen’s laugh was forced, the notes dropping like stones on asphalt.
Egypt strode across her apartment, shoved up the sleeves of her sweater. A studio. One room. Large enough for one person. A hovel compared to Helen’s four-bedroom Arts and Crafts home in Dragoon’s Springs.
Plastic crinkled as she tossed the wedding dress over her shoulder. “I really need to get on the road.”
“Oh, is someone waiting for you?” Hope flashed on Helen’s round face before fear drew the shutters on her expression. “My sister Karen asked if you were bringing a boyfriend. She just graduated from high school, you know.”
Egypt shooed her old friend outside and faced the door. Karen had been a skinny, scraped-kneed teenager when Egypt left Dragoon’s Springs for college. Now the brat was a young woman prowling for a husband.
“No, I didn’t know.” She hadn’t wanted to put names and relationships to those females awaiting her return. No, not her return home but the arrival of an escort, ripe for the picking. “And no, no one’s waiting for me. I’m fresh out of broken-in boyfriends who make perfect husbands for someone else.”
She turned around in time to see the tears well up in Helen’s eyes. A dainty handkerchief dabbed at her pink nose. Guilt lashed Egypt. Great, now she’d made a pregnant woman cry. Where were the puppies she was supposed to kick? “Helen, I’m sorry. I—”
“Don’t worry about it.” She sniffed, waving the white cloth. “Stupid hormones. Adam comes home and finds me bawling over Hallmark commercials.”
“Still, even an idiot like me could see you two belong together.”
She nodded. “Adam would not have made you a good husband, Egypt. He’s so practical and you’re…” She cleared her throat and tucked her sodden handkerchief in her purse. “You’re so…”
“Flighty.”
“Whimsical.” Helen’s perfectly manicured hand slipped around Egypt’s and squeezed gently. “You always used to create the most elaborate fairy tales for our Barbies. I guess you were pairing up people even then.”
Egypt fidgeted in her skin. Fairy tales. Those words had crept up once too often today. “I’ll give Paris your present.”
“I know you will but that’s not really why I’m here.”
“It’s not?”
Helen took a deep breath and caressed her belly. “We were going to name the baby after you but then Adam noticed there are already five girls in Dragoon’s Springs with your name and so we were hoping you’d be her godmother instead.” She released her belly to grab Egypt’s hand. “Will you? I mean, she wouldn’t even be here if you hadn’t brought Adam home that Fourth of July.”
That Fourth of July. Egypt’s first summer after college. She couldn’t wait to show off her cosmopolitan air, not to mention her handsome new boyfriend. She literally ran into Helen at the grocery store, and Adam had ignored his stumbling girlfriend in favor of his future wife. It had taken Egypt twenty minutes to realize she was the third wheel at the fireworks display and not her grade-school friend. Loneliness threatened to drown her. She missed her friend.
“I’d be honored to be her godmother.”
“Thanks. Egypt. You’re such a sweet person. Be sure to stop by my mom’s house before you leave Dragoon’s Springs—I have something for you.”
“You don’t have to give me anything.”
“It’s just Auntie Jane’s old mirror. We converted the guest bedroom into a nursery and were going to get rid of it when I remembered that summer when we were five and you pretended to be Alice and that mirror was our entrance into Wonderland. Do you remember?”
“Yes. You always wanted to be the Cheshire Cat instead of the White Rabbit.”
“I like cats.” Helen frowned at Egypt. “You’re not taking that jacket, are you? Really, Egypt, you’ve lived in the desert too long. The mountains get cold, even in Arizona.”
She shrugged. The weatherman had predicted clear skies and above-normal temperatures for the next week. If it got too cold she would borrow something from her mother or sister. “It’s the only one I have.”
“What about the blue one from our senior trip? You loved that jacket. The whole class was taking bets whether or not you’d sleep in it.”
Egypt strolled to her car and balanced the gift on the pile in the backseat. “That’s about how long it’s been since I last wore it.”
“You should find it. Honestly, Egypt, you’re going to need something warmer.”
“I’ll be fine. Really.”
Helen squeezed between Egypt and the door and tapped her foot against the pavement.
“Look, the jacket’s probably still at my mother’s.”
“Nope. I checked. She said she gave it to you when you were up there last Christmas.”
Last Christmas. The day she’d introduced Paris to Darrell. A pinpoint of clarity amidst the haze of memory. Egypt shook off the thoughts. “You checked?”
“I needed an excuse to see you, all right? I know you haven’t quite forgiven me for stealing Adam. I haven’t forgiven myself for hurting you and…”
“That’s why you haven’t talked to me?” Egypt’s spirits lifted. “I thought you weren’t speaking to me because of what we did to your car?”
“My car? What did you do to my car?” Helen searched the parking lot before her gaze rested on a tan Volvo.
“Uh, I think my jacket is still in the trunk.” Egypt quickly shut the door and walked to the front of the Volkswagen. Either Helen had forgotten about the flat tires on the car or she never found out Egypt had been responsible. Who was she to enlighten her?
With a twist of her wrist, the trunk sprang open. The turquoise jacket lay folded across two smashed boxes. Her mother would kill her if she found out Egypt had been carting around boxes for a whole year.
“It even has the lift ticket.” Helen tugged out a purple scarf from the inside and looped it around Egypt’s shoulders. “Now you’re ready for cold weather.”
Egypt ripped off the ticket and shoved it in the pocket. “I better be off. I’ve deviated thirty-three minutes from The Plan.”
“Oh, no! The dreaded Plan. I swear that was the first four-letter word I learned. Plan.” Helen shuddered.
Egypt felt herself smile. “You have no idea how many times they’ve had to revise it.” She tossed her jacket onto the passenger seat. Her cat rose from his perch and sauntered over.
“Hey, is that Nutz?”
“Yep.” Nutz sniffed the air before strolling closer.
“Hey, Nutz. Do you remember me? I can’t believe you’re taking him. He absolutely hates the snow.” Helen stroked the cat once before he walked away to lie on the coat. “Wouldn’t go outside for anything. And he couldn’t stay inside because of Adam’s allergies. He looks good.”
Nutz preened under the attention.
“I’m taking good care of him.”
“That’s why I agreed to give him to you. Take care, Egypt.” After a brief, awkward hug Helen walked toward her Volvo. “I’ll see you at your parents’ New Year’s Eve party if this baby ever decides to come.”
“Take care, Helen.” The VW rocked as Egypt shut the door. That hadn’t been too bad. Perhaps her luck had finally changed.
* * *
Cade slammed the deadbolt home and rested his head against the door. Safe. At last. His heart slowed to a normal rhythm. Two of the Blue Coats had almost caught him behind the King house. Almost but not quite. Only longtime residents knew about the break in the hedges. The break that opened onto the alley that cut behind his house.
He shifted his weight to his right leg. Cold metal stung his finger as he separated a few slats of the blinds. They were still there, circling his house like buzzards over a lost desert wanderer. A third joined the set. Damn women. He’d have to run the gauntlet to get his dog. He ripped off his baseball cap and raked his fingers through his hair. He would have to call his mother, make sure Pete could stay the night.
The hair on the back of his neck stood up. Awareness pricked along his skin just as perfume teased his nose.
Someone was in his house.
“Alone at last.”
He spun on his heel and stepped back. His head collided with the door; stars exploded inside his skull. Good God. They were invading his house.
“You are a hard man to get alone, Cade Dugan.”
“I–I am.” She stalked towards him. Her hips undulated suggestively. Cade blinked. There was something wrong with her clothes.
“Yes, indeed.” Long crimson nails raked the back of his sofa as her green-eyed gaze traveled up and down his body. “But definitely worth waiting for.”
“I feel at a disadvantage.” The doorknob ground into his back. He never should have left Pete at his parents. No one would have broken into his house with a wolf-dog hybrid on duty.
“I’m Maybelle, Maybelle Collins.” She extended her hand. Blue and purple paint stained her palm.
Cade’s heart raced. She wouldn’t. He scrutinized her clothes. Good Lord, the woman had painted on her clothes. If anyone ever found out he had entertained a naked woman in his house…
A shudder scrambled his thoughts. “What brings you here, Maybelle?” More importantly, how can I get you to leave?
“I thought playing hard-to-get was a woman’s prerogative.”
“That’s okay. I thought choosing whom to court was a man’s.” Cade sidled away from her. Ridding himself of Blue Coats was becoming trickier. He couldn’t toss her naked butt out his front door. This would require more finesse.
“I was tired of waiting at the hotel.” She pouted. “And I missed you at the bakery.”
“I doubt many men missed you looking like that.” Cade reached the kitchen, turned and faced her. She was still there, following him in a stable orbit. Maybe he could shove her out the back door. First, he’d have to find her clothes.
“Do you like it?” Her hands slipped over her blue hips.
A groan slipped past his lips. He had a pulse, didn’t he? Cade shook the insanity from his skull. He couldn’t encourage her. She wasn’t who she wanted to be, even if her curves got him hotter than a NASCAR driver the second before the flag dropped.
“It shows a definite artistic bent.” The uniqueness of the canvas was definitely bent. God save him. Where were her clothes? His gaze swept the living room. Nothing. “Did you use my paint?”
She nodded, trailing her hand along the countertop. “I thought this might help me stand out, make you notice who I am.”
Great, the nuts grew nuttier just to be noticed. And they were touching his stuff. Even his mother knew better than to touch his stuff. Everything was where it was supposed to be, and she had to go and touch it. No one went into his studio unless he was with them, and she had just sashayed into his house. He tramped down the rising anger.
She had to go.
“It worked,” he stated, although not in the way she had wanted.
“You don’t think I’m her, do you?” Her gaze flew around the room, alighted briefly on each breakable item before coming to rest on the glass near her hand.
Great. She was a smasher. His house wouldn’t be able to withstand her wrath. He had to get her out before she inflicted too much damage. “I’d say you were the closest one yet.”
“Do you mean it?”
“I—” Blue flashed in the foliage outside his dining room window. God save him. More were arriving. Arriving. An idea sparked in his head. He had to try, although it might not be effective on a woman who strolled around a complete stranger’s house in nothing but paint and skin. Still, he hadn’t come up with anything else. “Good grief, my parents.”
“Your parents?” she squeaked. Her hands and arms shifted to cover strategic parts of her anatomy.
“Yes.” Relief. He should have known such a crazy idea would work. “They’re here. You have to get dressed.” He inched towards her. No touching, absolutely no touching. He swept the air in front of him, shooing her backwards.
“Dressed?” Her eyes widened in her chalky face.
“You certainly don’t want to meet my folks dressed like that, do you?”
“No. No, I don’t.” She snatched a towel off the counter and held it in front of her.
“Quickly. Where are your clothes?”
“I–I–They’re in there.” She pointed to the bathroom then glanced at her blue-and-purple palms. “Perhaps I should take a shower.”
“Shower.” Cade exaggerated his grimace and added a shudder for good measure. “No. Definitely not. My parents are very old-fashioned. They once thought my high school sweetheart was fast because we kissed after a month of dating.”
“A month?” She streaked across the room, slipped into the bathroom. Fabric rustled. Grunting drifted out.
Cade fixed his gaze on the landscape above the fireplace. “Thirty-six days, to be exact.”
“Yes, but we’re meant to be together. I’m sure— ”
“To this day they cross the street when they see her walking towards them.”
“Oh, dear. I can’t find my shoes.” Flesh slapped tile.
Cade shook his head. No excuses. Shoes or no, she had to go. He wouldn’t mind cleaning up after her. With a smile, he pressed his point. “I could probably explain why you are here without a chaperone. I mean, I know first impressions are so important. I even think Mom’ll forgive you in a couple years.”
The activity picked up. Her panic was palpable. Now all he had to do is spur her to dress more quickly, or she’d grow suspicious when his parents failed to materialize. “Of course, that might make those first years of living with them a bit awkward.”
She poked her head out the door. The rest of her followed.
“We’re going to live with your parents?”
“Oh, yes. We can’t leave Mom to push Dad’s wheelchair about in the snow. You’re young and healthy. I don’t want you to worry, I’m certain you can learn how to place the leeches just so. I mean, no one wants Dad’s leg to putrefy again. The bathrooms still smells…”
“You know, maybe I should wait on the porch.” She stuffed her feet into her shoes and scooted across the carpet.
“Really?”
“Yes, yes.” Her laces slapped the wood floor. Her hands jammed into her jacket. “I wouldn’t want to get off on the wrong foot.”
“No need to worry about that—Dad only has the one.” Her jaw hung open. Cade smacked his forehead. “Oh, you mean figuratively.” He moved toward her. She held up her hand.
“Yes.”
“Perhaps you’re right. Mom always said women know best. And Mom is never wrong. I’m sure she’ll like you,” He frowned at her. “Given time.”
“I–I’ll be outside.” Metal rattled as she tried to open the door with the deadbolt in place. “Just give me a few minutes then I’ll knock.”
“You’ll knock?”
“Yes, I’ll knock.” She sobbed, twisted the knob and retracted the bolt. “Don’t come looking for me, okay? That way, your mother won’t suspect I’ve been here.”
“Oh, you’re smart. Mom said I should marry a smart one. She’ll be so glad when we walk down the aisle. She has the wedding all planned—she even decorated our new room. I don’t get to live there until after the wedding. Mom insisted.”
“Okay.” She wrenched open the door
“You like blue, don’t you?” Cade stepped after her. She was so frantic to leave she might leave the door open for other Blue Coats. “Of course, you do, you painted yourself with that very color.”
“I’m going to leave now.”
“Leave?”
“Yes, like we planned. I’ll go and…” She stepped onto the porch, pivoted about and faced him. “And this is very important. You stay here until I come back.”
“Right. I forgot.” Cade leaned against the doorjamb. His hand rested on the knob, in case anyone else thought to enter his house. “I’ll be sure to act surprised when you come back.”
“Bye, Cade.”
“Bye, Maybelle.” He waited until she had cleared his driveway before he shut the door. Laughter bounced off the rafters, buoyed his spirit. Who knew revenge could be this satisfying?

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Redaction: Part III, Chapter 9 (Unedited)

Chapter Nine

DarkHopeCover“You can’t go in there.” Manny pulled the storage door shut behind him. The latch clicked in place. He leaned against the door. No one was getting inside. He had to protect them and the Sergeant-Major.

Chef Bonnie’s lips quirked up. “Emmanuel, you mustn’t think to hog all the pomme du terre.

“The what?” His heart rate kept time with the Geiger counter ticking in his hand. Radiation spilled out here. Here! He scanned the empty tables of the canteen. Thank God no one was about.

Nearly no one. He and Chef where both getting a lifetime’s dose. They had to leave.

“Potatoes, dear boy.” She shook her head and her chef’s hat tilted over her left brown eye. “Gracious, I knew the state of education was bad, but surely everyone knows a soupcon of French.”

With his free hand, he fumbled with the latch, hooked the lock through and pinched it closed. There. Safe and secure. He turned to double-check and tugged on the lock. Closed.

But that hadn’t stopped the bad guys the last time.

His tongue swelled in his dry mouth. Whoever came in must have a key to the door. He’d have to talk with the Sergeant-Major about changing the lock when he came back.

“Emmanuel, what are you doing?” Chef Bonnie’s voice rose on the last word. “Everyone is expecting potatoes. Locking them up will only upset those people.”

Potatoes.

He took a shaky breath. Today was supposed to be a day of celebration. The second crop coming in. And now… They might not even be able to eat in here. They might not be able to eat the tomatoes he’d prepped. “There’s a leak. Radiation. Everywhere.”

Raising his hand, he flashed her the Geiger counter’s readout.

Bonnie paled and raised her hand to her throat. “Oh! Oh my! Is that real?”

Real? Manny shook his head. Maybe it was the language barrier.

“Of course it’s real.” Why would anyone make it up? How would anyone make it up? He pushed away from the door and strode toward his boss. “We have to tell them. They need to know.”

“Them? Who is they?” The skin puckered between her pencil thin eyebrows.

“The military, er, security.” Hooking his arm through hers, Manny tugged her toward the kitchen. The counts slowed to intermittent beeps. Maybe things weren’t so bad in here. “They have to be notified that there’s been a breach.”

Skipping at his side to keep up, Bonnie glanced over her shoulder. Her eyes widened as she stared at the metal storeroom. “Oh my!”

He steered her around the serving counter and released her. The ticking stopped. Could the radiation have died away. Glancing down. Three red zeros preceded the seventy-eight. His knees wobbled. Oh God! Had it spun more than a hundred thousand and started again?

That was lethal wasn’t it? He was going to die.

“Emmanuel. Emmanuel!” She snapped her fingers in front of his nose.

He jerked back.

Bonnie wrapped her hand around his wrist and gripped the Geiger counter with the other. With a twist, she pulled it free. “Get to the infirmary.”

He stared at his palms before sweeping his thumb over his fingers. Nothing. He felt nothing. Was this the beginning of the end? “The infirmary.”

“Yes.” She set the instrument on the serving area.

“Don’t!” He lunged for it, scooped it up and held it to his chest. “You’ll get everyone else sick.”

Radiation was contagious. That’s why those who had a nuclear tan had to be separated from the rest and buried far away.

“Emmanuel.” She breathed slowly. “I need you to hand me the machine.”

He held it tighter. “It’s contaminated. Like me.”

Her eyes narrowed and her lips thinned. “Then you’re getting sicker by holding it.”

It slipped through his fingers and crashed to the floor. The battery cover popped off and skidded across the stone to stop near the stove.

“NO!” He slammed his fist into his forehead. How could he be so stupid? Now he just contaminated the kitchen.

“Emmanuel.” Bonnie latched onto his neck, her fingers dug into his flesh.

Pain skittered down his spine. He raised his shoulders, but the ache pulsed through him. Maybe he could drop free. He bent his knees. She held on like a starving leech. “Ow!”

“I know it hurts, Emmanuel. But you’re beginning to panic and I can’t have that in my kitchen.” With her Vulcan death grip, she steered him along the back of the serving counter toward the exit.

He stumbled along on feet like wooden blocks. Tears burned his eyes. “I won’t panic. I won’t.”

“That’s good.” With a sigh, she released him.

He danced out of reach and rubbed her gouge marks from his shoulders. Damn, she was stronger than she looked.

“I do so abhor violence. It is the refuge of the crudest orders, don’t you think?”

“Sure.” He’d agree to anything so long as she didn’t unleash those pinchers again. Skirting a row of tables and chairs, he reached the archway dividing the dining room from hallway.

She grinned. “Now please visit the infirmary. I’m just getting you trained the way I like and can’t have my prep assistant falling ill.”

He tucked his hands into his army pants pockets. “But what about the counter?”

“I’ll take care of everything.” She reached out to him.

He ducked her touch and stumbled into the hallway. No way would she touch him again. He’d seen the movies where people had been paralyzed with just a touch. “I’ll tell security.”

The Sergeant-Major was outside. He might need backup. Manny couldn’t let him down. The guy had saved him and his new family.

“Don’t be silly.” Bonnie wagged her finger at him. “You will march to the hospital and concentrate on staying healthy. I will not have you undergoing some rubber-hosed interrogation while you are sick.”

Rubber-hosed interrogation? The Sergeant-Major and his men had given him food, looked out for him and buried his friends and family. He owed them. Everyone in these caves owed the soldiers. “Things aren’t like that here. The soldiers–”

“Do not argue with me, young man.” Red spots floated on her cheeks and she planted her fists on her hips. “You will rest and recover, or you will not work for me again.”

“You can’t mean that!” All he’d ever wanted to be was a chef–to serve great food to those he loved.

“Then you will cease this…” she waved her hands between them. “…insubordination. Once, you are declared fit, the powers that be can talk to you, but not before.”

He swallowed his reply. The wad nearly choked him.

“Many people depend upon you, no?”

“Yes.” He had lots of family counting on him. Including a few who tried to boss him around for his own good. Including a few he tried to boss around to keep them safe. Guess he wasn’t the only one suffering from the Bubble Wrap and feather pillow syndrome. He sighed. Tension released him so quickly, he propped himself up against the stone wall. Cold leached into his skin.

“Good. Now shoo.”

“I’ll come back and help with the tomatoes after my checkup.”

“If you feel up to it.”

He would. Something would be checked off his bucket list before the radiation ate him. Turning right, he headed toward the elevator that would take him to the infirmary a couple levels above. Of course, he’d have to write a bucket list first.

He gasped for breath and fell to his knees. Plowing his fingers through his hair, he squeezed his scalp.

Oh God. He was dying. Really dying. The doctors and nurses couldn’t fix him. He’d served enough MREs to the patients to know…to know his future.

The cracked blackened skin.

The corpse breath.

The organ slushie oozing from his body.

Well, if he had to die, he’d take those idiots that exposed him with him. Manny pushed to his feet. And he’d keep his job for as long as he could, too. He’d get help from someone who needed to find his place now that his grandfather had died.

By-passing the elevator, he turned down the ramp leading toward the living areas. If it was the last thing he did, he’d help Justin Quartermain find his purpose.

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The Christmas Village, Chapter Two

The Christmas Village“The lights are out?” Cade Dugan squinted at the silhouette moving through the brightness of the afternoon sun.
“Just a few bulbs.” Metal rattled. The shadow shifted. Paul

Browning, the Mayor of Holly, climbed down the ladder. Colored- glass bulbs dribbled from his fingertips into the garbage can. “Were you expecting something different?”

“Not at all,” Cade answered, rocking back on his heels. He hadn’t paid the lights of Holly much attention lately. Other things had occupied his thoughts.

Blue flashed in the corner of his eye. Pine needles scratched his leather jacket and glass tinkled as he pressed further between the decorated trees lining the town square.

“Season’s almost over.” A horse-drawn omnibus swayed down Main Street. Happy tourists laughed and chattered into the steam rising from the mugs gripped in their mittens. “I’ll be glad not to have to worry about the lights going out.”

Cade peered around the edge of his sanctuary. That obnoxious shade of blue was nowhere in sight. Snow crunched as he stepped forward, tension draining off his shoulders. “No need to worry about that now.”

“Is that why you cringe every time you see the color blue?”
“The cold has affected your brain.”
“You should have stopped using the townsfolk as inspiration for

your figurines when the city council asked.”
Cade snorted. “Two councilmen volunteered to model for me if I agreed to create a companion piece according to their specifications.”

“Life does imitate art.”

“That’s a cliché, not the moral of the story.”
“Even the outsiders have commented on the resemblance between

the locals and the featured artwork.” The mayor moved the ladder down the red brick walk and fished fresh bulbs out of the paper bag by his feet. “They don’t realize half the people in the sets didn’t meet until after you created them.”

“The Blue Coats know,” Cade spat.

“Babbette, Sherry and Emma are more than happy to keep the legend alive. Heck, they even leave the pieces up all year round and point them out to everyone.”

“They’re stupid figurines.”

“That you created.” Paul glanced at the string of lights above his head then at Cade. Humor lifted his lips. “If you didn’t want the legend to continue why did you produce another couple? Face it, you want to meet your own soul mate.”

Unease disturbed Cade’s equilibrium. The set had been crafted to destroy the rumors of his artistic matchmaking. If he really were a twisted incarnation of Cupid, a woman would appear wearing a purple scarf and a blue coat. None had; they’d all aped the figurines available to the public—blue scarf and blue coat.

“Wearing a blue coat doesn’t mean a woman is destined to be my lifelong companion.”

“Then, why are you hiding?”

Irritation flayed Cade. His shoulders squared. “I am not hiding.” He had paused between the trees to catch his breath, not to hide. He scanned the town square. Hiding from the Blue Coats required more finesse than simply stepping between a few scrawny trees.

“I suppose your work has kept you locked in your house.”

“I work in my house. It’s where my studio is.” Cade shoved his fists into his pockets. A man understood a harmless bet; being transformed into a walking human punchline was too much. “You do remember my studio—it’s that big addition you labored all summer to build.”

“I thought artists like light. You cower behind drawn curtains and locked doors.”

“I’m not cowering.”

“Cade Dugan, Holly High football captain and debate champ.” Paul carved a marquee in the air. “Afraid of a teeny, tiny woman.”

“Women, not woman. There’s more than one of them.” Cade scanned the square. Length and width. Width and length. Superman had it easy. Every man should have x-ray vision. “They pop up everywhere, like toadstools after the rain.”

“Careful where you step, Cade. You might crush that egg under your tail feathers.”

Cade fisted his hands in his pockets. His gaze landed on the mayor. “I might crush something but it won’t be an egg.”

“Ohhh, I’m so scared.”

Cade stepped forward. A tiny fist thudded against his chest, laughter gurgled in his ears. Irritation dissolved in his growing confusion. He glanced down.

Brown eyes peered at him from under a mop of curly brown hair. A smile forced the concern from Emma Browning’s elfin features. The scent of rosewater mingled with that of baby powder wafting from the infant wiggling in her arms.

“Don’t mind him, Cade.” The mayor’s wife hitched her son higher on her hip, winced as a hank of hair was captured in a chubby fist. “He checks the lights every time someone new arrives in town.” She kissed her son’s hair while extricating her own. “It’s the price we pay for living in a magical town.”

“Enchanted town, dear.” Mayor Browning lifted his son from her arms. “Like the sign says.” Husband and wife glanced towards the crowd huddled in the town square’s gazebo.

Outsiders. The town was flooded with them. They visited Holly from Thanksgiving till New Year’s, wallowed in the charm and quaintness of an old-fashioned Christmas. Applause filled the square, as much for the trio of Victorian carolers as to beat the feeling back into their frozen hands. Hums of appreciation greeted the town’s baker, Babbette, when she arrived with her tray of roasted chestnuts and tiny mince pies.

Pride swelled Cade’s chest. He loved his hometown. He just wished there were a few less people in it today. Not the harried outsiders. They could stay. But the Blue Coats…

Fleece brushed his ears. The Blue Coats had to go. Especially since their numbers continued to swell.

“Someone new arrived in town?”
Paul Browning grinned. “I thought you weren’t concerned about

the lights.”
Cade winced. He should never have stopped to talk with the

mayor. The slimy politician was bound to mention his interest in the lights. And if he snitched about Cade’s question regarding the newest Blue Coat…

A shudder rippled up his spine. Damn. It’s a good thing he was headed home. This little conversation was going to require major damage control.

“Don’t tease Cade,” Emma chided, picking up the bag of lights from the path and setting it next to the strings of lights on the green park bench. “You were just as nervous when I arrived in town.”

Browning took his son’s fist out of his mouth and glared at his wife. “I was stunned by your beauty, not scared that the love of my life had arrived.”

“You hid in your house for two days.” Emma winked at Cade and maneuvered the ladder under the next dark bulb. “Straight.”

Cade held the ladder as she climbed up the rungs. Finally, he had an ally. One person sympathetic to his plight. Things were looking up. “I had the flu. Geez, a guy does his civic duty by staying home when he’s sick and you turn it into a conspiracy.” Browning pinned Cade with a glare. “And we’re not talking about my behavior. We’re

talking about the poultry essence wafting off Cade.”
“Poultry essence?” Color left his knuckles as he tightened his grip

on the ladder. Browning danced beyond Cade’s reach. Damn manners. He couldn’t allow Emma to fall, even if he intended to make her a widow. Browning’s son grinned up at him. He re-evaluated his plan. Okay, not a widow, just a hospital visitor for the next several weeks.

“If it runs like a chicken…” Browning shrugged.

“Boys, boys.” Emma hopped off the last step of the ladder and stepped between her husband and Cade. “This isn’t helping.

Obviously, the newest Blue Coat isn’t Cade’s match. The lights haven’t gone out.” She shoved the ladder a few feet down the path then rummaged through the bag for a red bulb.

Coward, Cade mouthed as the mayor kept his wife and son between them.

Jealous, Browning mouthed back before turning his attention to his wife. “It doesn’t work that way, love.”

Emma Browning spun on her heel. “You said that when the lights in Holly fall dark someone has met their match. Did you lie to me?” she asked, poking her husband with the bulb.

“No. No, I would never lie to you.”

Cade grinned. Misery was better shared. Especially when someone else got the bigger share. Especially when that someone had been enjoying Cade’s suffering for the last two months. Yes, sir. This almost made up for those insufferable city council meetings. Almost, but not quite. There was still the matter of the bet.

“You know that, don’t you?” Wheedling infused the Mayor’s question.

Cade cleared his throat. Now, if he could get the rest of the gambling populace in trouble with their spouses…

“I thought I did. I thought that’s why we were checking the lights every day.” Emma cocked an eyebrow at Cade. He blinked then held the ladder steady. “I thought we were checking to see if Cade’s match has arrived. It has to be soon, or they’ll be forced to accept dates in January.”

Another month of betting. Another month of Blue Coats. Bile soured Cade’s tongue. Better to endure another month of Blue Coats than to marry one. A thought popped inside his skull. He glared at Emma’s back. “Are you part of the betting pool out of Babbette’s?”

“You asked for it.” Browning smirked.

“Don’t mind him.” Emma chucked the burnt-out bulb into the trashcan then snapped her fingers. “Give me a green one. This one is flickering.”

Cade reached in the bag. Glass slid over his fingers. He plucked out two bulbs. Both blue. He was beginning to hate that color. Another dip in the bag; he caught a yellow and a green. He offered page23image59464Emma her choice. “I never pay your husband any mind.”

“Paul’s just cranky because he picked the eighteenth.”
“The eighteenth.” Five days ago. Five more losers. Cade smiled.

Maybe he’d mention the town’s wagering epidemic to Father Bridges. Surely, the priest would come up with a suitable sermon. After all, gambling was one of the seven deadly sins, wasn’t it?

“Hey, I figured you’d have wised up after a month and a half.” Browning dangled his son above his head. Drool dripped from the giggling infant. “Didn’t figure you for a runner.”

“I’m not a runner,” Cade snapped. He was a survivor. A survivor knew when to retreat.

“You’re avoiding them.” Browning tucked his son next to his chest and swiped at the moisture on his cheek.

“What does it matter?” Emma jumped off the last step and glared at her husband. “The lights haven’t gone out.”

“The lights go out when someone meets their match. Cade hasn’t met half of them. He’s been holed up in his house.”

Cade folded his arms over his chest. Holed up. He wasn’t hiding. He was biding his time. Waiting. “I fixed Babbette’s oven yesterday.” And was grilled while doing it. He hadn’t enjoyed his cinnamon roll, thanks to those Blue Coats. “There were four of them in the bakery.” Four blue-coated women touring Babbette’s small kitchen. How convenient for her oven to malfunction on the very day she selected.

“Four out of what?” Paul shuffled down the path next to his wife. “How many did Charity say are staying at the hotel?”

“Fifteen.”

“Sixteen.” Metal complained as Cade folded the ladder. That made eighteen altogether. Two had given up and gone home. “I took one over this morning.” He resisted the urge to stick out his tongue. It was enough to win and foolish to gloat. Fate always smote those who gloated, and Charity’s Bed and Breakfast only had one unoccupied room.

Emma twirled a lock of hair around her finger. “I hadn’t realized Babbette was so clever. Imagine needing a repair…” Her brown eyes fixed on Cade. “Are you attending the city council meeting tonight?”

“No.” Cade shuddered as rows of Blue Coats filled his mind’s town hall. One-by-one, they would take the microphone and ask him questions. One kid or two? Long honeymoon or short? Boxers or briefs? He’d be dissected in front of his family and friends. Except, he wouldn’t. “The meeting was cancelled on account of the holidays.”

“Did you pick today, wife?” Browning peered at her over their son’s head.

“I most certainly did not.” Emma tugged her jacket over her belly. “I ran into Charity while picking up groceries. She said they’re guzzling cocoa faster than Santa in a blizzard and needed to know if she could bring tea to tonight’s meeting instead of hot chocolate.”

“So, what day did you pick?”

Cade swallowed his groan. The whole town was against him. He wouldn’t be surprised if the damn newspaper started printing the odds.

“I wasn’t going to. But then Marlene added a free highlighting kit to the pot and Janelle added three hours of babysitting.”

“Ha! I knew it.” Browning tossed the baby in the air. “Mommy bet. You know what that means, don’t you? No more preaching and lots of crow eating.” He set the laughing baby on his hip and regarded his wife. “So, if you didn’t pick today, what day did you chose?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Browning smacked his forehead. “Tomorrow’s Christmas Eve. Who’s going to be traveling on Christmas Eve? You should have picked the day after Christmas when people are returning home.”

“There weren’t that many choices left,” Emma sniffed.

Cade’s jaw clicked shut. The sound echoed in his skull. The world had gone mad. And these two were leading the loonies. “I can’t believe you two.”

“Why not?” Browning placed his arm around his wife’s shoulders. “You helped bring us together.”

Cade raked his hand through his hair. What did it take to get through to people? “Fate brought you together. God brought you together.” The same lines, a touch more anger. He should have the message recorded for posterity. Hell, he should have it broadcastedpage25image5996824/7 on the radio. “If you two had just kept your mouths shut…” “Babbette talks, and so does Sherry. Between them, they’ve talked to everyone in Holly at least once. And almost everyone in Holly has friends and family in other towns.” Emma crossed her arms and glared at him. “There are three couples as living proof of fate and destiny.”

“Face it, you were doomed when the die was cast.” Browning

elbowed his wife. “Get it? Dye cast?”
“Doomed?” Emma shrugged off her husband’s embrace. She

snatched her son from his arms. A muscle twitched in her jaw. “He is destined to meet the future Mrs. Dugan, and you say he’s doomed.” Her voice climbed an octave on the last syllable.

“Now, honey, you know I didn’t mean it that way.” Browning flashed his palms at his wife.

“Really?” She raised her chin and marched down the path. “Cade’s suit has certainly put our courtship in a whole new perspective.”

“Thanks a lot, Cade.” Browning tossed a glare over his shoulder as he loped after his wife. “You better meet Miss Right tomorrow, or my wife will never talk to me.”

“Hey, you cast your own dye.”

Browning made an obscene gesture than skidded to a halt. He turned left, cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, “Oh, ladies! If you’re looking for the artist formerly known as Cade Dugan, he’s over here!”

“Son of a— ” Cade pivoted about. Bones shuddered under flesh as he aborted his flight.

“Wouldn’t waste your time swearing, boy.” The town’s oldest resident planted himself on the path, as insubstantial as a blade of grass and as firmly rooted as a centuries-old oak. His cane thumped Cade’s boot.

Pain rattled up his shin. Great! Now he’d have a limp. “Mr. Henderson, I didn’t see you there.” Cade glanced through the tufts of hair on the old man’s pink pate. He could still make it to the corner, but he’d have to hurry.

“Wasn’t here a moment ago. Just came to see who won.”

“Won?” Cade stepped left. The wizened man shadowed his movements.

“Your mama’s family is known for their wit, boy. Guess you take after your pa’s side.”

This time the older man thumped his cane on Cade’s chest. Excited chatter disturbed the air behind him. Damn, the Blue Coats were gaining, and Old Man Henderson was settling in for a chat. “I– I— ”

“You resemble a fish with your jaw flapping like that.” The old man rubbed his hands together. “I’m talking about the bet, boy. The bet. Today’s my day, came to see if I could give the odds a little nudge in my favor.”

Cade smoothed his furrowed brow. He should have stayed home. He was safe at home. He placed his hands on the human blockade’s shoulders. Either the man stayed put, or he’d find himself on the bottom of a game of leapfrog. “I have to go now.”

“I understand.” Mischief twinkled in Mr. Henderson’s rheumy blue eyes. A gnarled hand rested on Cade’s forearm. “Just want ya ta know one thing.”

“What.” The jabber increased in volume. They were closer now. Cade’s muscles locked. He refused to look. The hunted always tripped if they looked over their shoulder.

“I’m real sorry.”

“Sorry?” Cade snapped his attention back to Mr. Henderson. Was someone actually apologizing for trying to profit from his misery?

“Yep.” Gnarled hands gripped the cane.
“For what?”
“This.” The cane moved with the fluid grace of a striking cobra. Its brass

knob plunged into Cade’s gut, prodded the air out of his lungs. Muscles contracted, folding him over at the waist. Blue filled in his peripheral vision. The lead Blue Coat tackled him, knocking him to the ground, rattling the teeth in his head. Arms and legs tangled around his. Something hard banged into his ankle, added to the cacophony jangling along his nerves. The cool pavement leached his body heat, numbed some of the pain.

A fluffy white cloud scuttled across the blue sky. White. Surrender. Cade shook his head. He might not be able to escape at the moment, but he would never surrender.

He sipped air into his lungs. The pain receded to distant thunder. When he got out of this mess he would need a peek at that betting book. It was the only thing that could tell him who to avoid on what day.

A shadow blocked out the sky. Gradually, his eyes adjusted and a face appeared. A female face.

“Oh.” Hands pressed into his chest, pinning him to the ground. “Oh, it’s you.”

Cade spit the blue scarf out of his mouth then gazed at the string of lights twinkling overhead. She wasn’t his mate. Not that he’d actually believed differently. The pairings of local townsfolk had been a coincidence, nothing more.

“Darn.” A cane tapped the ground beside Cade’s head. “I thought she’d be the one.”

Cade shoved the Blue Coat off his lap and sat up. Pain stitched up his side. Great, now he’d have to deal with one of them plus some bruised ribs. He glared at Mr. Henderson. Meddlesome old coot. It was past time someone locked up the old fart. He gingerly rose to his feet.

“This is so perfect.” A well-manicured hand latched on his forearm. “Look, I’m even wearing pink skates like the figurine. I bet none of the others wore skates. That just proves I’m your true love.”

Cade plucked at the fingers. They wouldn’t budge. Damn, now he knew why trapped animals gnawed off their legs to escape. Too bad he needed both of his hands in his line of work. “I see, Miss— ”

“Petrie. Deborah Petrie. I hope you don’t mind, but I plan to keep my name after we’re married.”

“Damn Blue Coats.”

“Blue Coat? Is that what you call them?” She flashed her straight teeth at him. “No wonder they’re cooped up in the hotel drowning their sorrows with Christmas cookies and hot chocolate. Blue.” She shook her head woefully. “The coat is distinctly turquoise, not blue. I took the figurine to the milliners. We matched it perfectly.”

“You did?” Colored glass winked at Cade from the bench. Someone had forgotten to put away the extra strings of lights.

“Of course. It will make lovely bridesmaids’ dresses, too. We are planning to marry in the spring, aren’t we?”

An idea grew in his skull. It might work. He wouldn’t know until he tried. He smiled at her. “I think you should sit down.”

He gestured to the bench and gallantly scooped the string of lights out of her way. To his surprise, she released her grip and complied. Laughter buoyed his spirits. This was almost too easy.

“Oh, yes. Yes, of course.” She hand-pressed her wool coat. “I knew it would be like this.”

“You did?” The bulbs clunked together as he looped one end.

“Everyone knows the man proposes on bended knee. It’s very romantic.”

Cade’s thoughts skipped two steps ahead. He’d loop the strand of lights around the back of the bench and tie it off around the opposite end. A small delay that would allow him to escape. But how to draw them across her without giving away his plan?

“You will propose on bended knee?”
He returned to the moment. “Uh, I hadn’t— ”
“Don’t be silly.” She jerked on his coat. “Just bend down.

Everyone is expecting it.” A storm brewed in her eyes. She didn’t like being thwarted.

Good thing he wasn’t planning on being caught. “I’ll get on my knees if you close your eyes, Deborah.”

“Close my eyes?”

“Just for a moment.” Just long enough for him to lash her to the bench. “I want to compose my thoughts. It wouldn’t do to mess this up. It’s too important.” His freedom hung in the balance.

“All right.” Her eyes flickered closed.

Cade waited a few seconds then looped one end of the string of lights around the bench. He winced as the bulbs clacked together. His soon-to-be-captive audience didn’t seem to notice. Guilt nudged his determination. He wasn’t her soul mate. The lights proved it. The scarf proved it. She would be better with someone else. This would simply help her see that.page29image59976

He threaded the string around the bench seat and tied the ends together. Besides, it wasn’t as if she would be stuck here all night. Someone would rescue her in a few minutes.

“You don’t have to think of anything fancy, Cade. Just ask.”

Cade straightened and backed away. Not one word. His tone could give away his intentions. Another step. Five more and he should be able to break into a run.

“Cade?” Irritation honed her notes. She shifted on the bench.

Two more steps. He pivoted on his heel. Old Man Henderson shook his head then stepped aside. “I’ll see she gets to Charity’s.”

“Really, Cade, I—” The shrill notes cut through the air as he rounded the corner. “Where did he go?”

“Home would be my guess.” Mr. Henderson answered.
“Home?” Confusion and doubt rippled through the trees.
Cade stopped at the corner as a horse and carriage jingled past.

His leg jumped. Two Blue Coats stood on the opposite side of the street. Damn. He couldn’t tie those two up. A sleigh and another omnibus clattered by, and judging by the sound of voices, the latest Blue Coat was free and on the move. He’d have to cut across the park, take the alley behind the courthouse and slip through the Arts and Crafts neighborhood.

“But he can’t. I’m the one he’s waiting for.”
“The lights told him otherwise.”
“Lights?”
“They always go dark when someone’s match arrives.”
“Oh, drat. I should have known Holly would have something like

that. So, now what am I supposed to do?” Blue flashed. He plunged through the trees where the pine needles scratched his cheek. Snow crunched under his feet. He would make it home and not come out until after New Year’s Day.

“Don’t worry. I believe Charity has just made a fresh batch of sugar cookies.”

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Can You Handle It?

Aside from Christmas, it is another season. Of course, this one comes several times a year–usually four times to be exact. What season is it?

Hallmark movie season.

Sure, Hallmark has it’s own channel on cable now. And for them and the Lemon Channel, I really miss my cable but I digress. This is the time when the card company makes a special just for TV Christmas movie.

This year’s special was A Christmas with Holly based on a novel of a different name. The story: When his sister dies, a man finds himself guardian of a little girl who refuses to speak. He decides to return to his hometown, a small island off Seattle (thankfully not the one with the Wickerman). There he meets the brand new owner of a toy story who was jilted just 6 months prior. Through the magic of an amazing fairy house (Which I’m not ashamed to say that I covet), the three people form a family.

Awww.

Yes, I do watch Hallmark movies for their ‘feel good’ moments.

But I also watch them for the commercials.

Every single sappy one of them. Hallmark movies are the only times that I don’t use the commercials for breaks. I’d rather miss a minute of the show than miss a commercial. This year, unlike the previous ones, my children didn’t join me on the couch. They saw the tissue box and ran for their rooms to crank up the radio. I was sad that this year they didn’t have the vintage commercials they’ve been running, but they did have one of my favorites which is the one where the two daughters are helping their parents move and they find a stash in their father’s drawer of every card they ever gave him.

My parents kept the cards they exchanged or where given over the years so I can relate.

Especially as today is my father’s birthday. Happy Birthday Dad!

And yes, I did give him a Hallmark Card.

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Redaction Part III: Dark Hope (unedited)

Chapter Eight

The rungs turned in David’s grip. He slipped and bumped his jaw, nicking his tongue. A metallic taste turned his stomach. Just a little farther in the snake’s belly. A couple more feet and he’d been in the light.

Biceps trembled as he pulled. He couldn’t feel his toes where he pushed. It didn’t matter; he was almost there. The sill passed under his chin. Slowly, stainless-steel rollers came into view.  Then stone. Blessed stone. A tear distorted his vision. He’d made it to the caves. When he fell out of the chute, he’d kiss the floor.

Then he wouldn’t move for an hour or so.

Or a year.

Whichever came first.

Okay, maybe not that long. The bastards threatening Mavis were still out there. He twisted; his shoulders cleared the window frame on a diagonal. Another push and he heaved his chest on the assembly line rollers.

“Who are you?” The male voice cracked at the end.

He paused and glanced to his right. The damn helmet of his biohazard suit shifted, blocking his view. He shoved it off his head, listened to it bang to the ground. Much better. A young man clawed up the door and a strange purring noise filled the odd-shaped room.

A man he recognized.

“Manny?” Just where the hell had the chute dumped him out? He glanced around the room. Metal studs followed the curving stone to give the room a kidney shape. Empty MRE boxes stood sentinel at the foot of the rack. David slid to a stop inches before he head-butted them. “Where am I?”

“The storeroom.” Manny’s eyes bulged as he climbed the wall. “Near the cafeteria.”

The purring changed to a fast tick. David’s balls drew up tight. He knew that sound…

“You have to get out! You’re radioactive!”  The young man slapped at the metal door. The echo rolled around the room.

Damn! The pieces clicked into place in David’s head. The ticking was a Geiger counter. Scanning the room again, he noticed the cream colored rectangle on the floor. Maybe it was a good thing the readout was face down. He levered onto his elbow.

“If I’m radioactive, then so are the vegetables that have been coming up that chute.” He jerked his head toward the dark rectangle near his feet. “I cleaned off before entering the greenhouse and came directly from there to here.”

But there was no denying the ticking noise.

Something was glowing.

Swinging his legs down, he sat up on the rack. Rollers mashed his ass. The things he did for justice.

“I have to get out of here.” Manny spun around and plastered himself to the door. Latching onto the door handle, he pushed down.

Thankfully up released the lock. The kid wasn’t going anywhere until he calmed down. David had two or three minutes to salvage his mission.

“Stay Manny.” David crossed the room and set his hand on the other man’s shoulder.

Manny ducked and leapt aside. He backpedaled right into the wall and raked the sheet metal. “Don’t touch me.”

“I’m not contaminated.”  Keeping the kid in his sight, David stooped and picked up the counter. The ticking slowed. Turning it over in his hand, he checked the readout. Ninety-five hundred and climbing. He thumped it with his gloved hand. Was the dang thing broken? “How often do you take a reading in here?”

Manny sidled along the wall, away from the exit.

“Manny!”

The kid blinked. “What?”

“How often do you take a reading?” He spoke slowly, hoping to penetrate the fear and panic.

“Tw-twice a day.”

“And the highest it’s been is…” Fill in the blank kid.  You can do it. 

“A–a couple hundred.” Manny raised his hand and pointed to a black screen on the wall. “It’s recorded there.”

David nodded. Of course. Every entry point was monitored. So why was the radiation spiking? He climbed the tube. There’d been no cracks of light in the dark snake’s belly. No indication of leaks. He stilled.

But he had heard voices. He’d assumed they’d come from the other end. This end. He scanned the small room. Not exactly a hotbed of social interaction.

“Who else was in here with you, today?”

Manny stiffened. “I’m not radioactive! You are!”

David sighed. Let’s try this again. “Bear with me, Mr. Saldana. I need to know who’s been in this room recently. I distinctly heard voices come from up here, so someone was talking.”

“Chef Jardin and I chatted while I prepped the tomatoes.”

“Where is he now?”

“He?” Frown lines wrinkled Manny’s forehead. “Chef is a woman.”

A woman. David shook his head. He could have sworn, those were men’s voices he’d heard. His heart picked up speed. Men like the ones in the greenhouses. Men who had a secret entrance. Could it really be that simple?

Yes, it could.

Especially given the radiation bump. Well, shit, he’d just won the lottery. Now, he just had to prove he had the winning ticket. Crouching on the floor, he swept the Geiger counter in small arcs. It started purring again at two o’clock. He tapped his gloves on the floor. Liquid dripped from his fingertips. Melted snow, no doubt. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

The bastards had come in this way.

“What is it?” Manny leaned closer. “What did you find?”

David squat walked from small puddle to small puddle. A brown line bisected the fourth spot. He pinched it between his fingers and held it up to the light. “A pine needle.”

He had his proof.

“How’d that get in here?” Manny looked around the room as if expecting to see a pine tree nearby.

“Someone brought it in when they by-passed the safety protocols.”

Manny blinked.

Too bad, the evidence was deadly. No way would he show Mavis or Lister. Hell, he might be getting finger cancer just holding it. He motioned Manny to stand farther away. He’d dump the radioactive waste outside after he figured out how the bad guys were infiltrating the conveyor. “You got a rag?”

“Why?”

David shook his head. At least, the kid was no longer trying to claw his way through the walls. “I need to mop up the water and take it back outside.”

Manny patted down his chest and thighs. Finally, he reached around and plucked a cloth from his back pocket. “Here.” He tossed the towel toward David. “It’s a little dirty.”

“It’s okay.” Ignoring the red stains on the cloth, David swiped the cloth over the floor. “I’m not going to give it back.”

“You said someone brought it in here. Where did they go?”

“I imagine they went out the door.” He jerked his head to the exit behind him. It seemed to be the only way inside or out. But then, he’d thought the mine complex was secure until just a few minutes ago. He spun on the balls of his feet. Fuck! They could be dripping puddles of radiation wherever they walked.

Manny shook his head. “But it’s locked.”

Having cleaned up the water leading to the conveyor belt, David scanned the floor near the door. There didn’t seem to be any puddles nearby. But what about on the other side? Manny’s words registered. “What do you mean it’s locked?”

“We padlock it because of the risk of radiation.”

Interesting. David reached up to scratch his jaw then paused. Not a good idea unless he wanted glow in the dark stubble. “Who has the key?”

“Me and Chef Jardin. The military folks do to, and some German guy. He’s an engineer, I think.”

Great. Now his suspect pool was growing again. Of course, there was still the mysterious Bossman. But David had a time frame when the radioactive bastards must have come through here. “Did you see any of them within the last hour?”

“No.”

“You saw absolutely no one?”

Manny shook his head. “Just Chef.”

David squeezed the rag in his hand. Maybe there was a second way out of here.

“But you can’t see the door from the kitchens and the lock wasn’t locked.” He made a c-shape with his fingers and set them over his right palm. “I looked like it from a distance, but up close you could see the curvy-thingy wasn’t in place.”

He raised his fingers half an inch above his palm.

Well, hell, anyone could have done it then. David picked his helmet off the floor. “I don’t suppose you have a flashlight?”

“Yep.” Manny reached behind the tablet computer and pulled a yellow tube out. He set it on the floor and rolled it toward David. It rolled in an arc until it hit stone. “I was just beginning to think maybe I should give some of them back, but the power went out again today.”

Today? The bastards had talked about events that would distract Mavis in the coming week. Was this one? “What happened?”

“Don’t know for sure, but it was probably the oxygen makers. They’re always going out.”

Which made them the perfect target. No one would suspect sabotage and they were vital to life underground. He couldn’t think of a better way to throw doubt on Mavis’s abilities. David picked up the light and flicked the switch. A bright beam shot out of the top. Thank God it worked.  He sat on the conveyor belt and gave himself a roller wedgie.

Sometimes he hated his job.

“Hey!” Manny raised his hand.  “You can’t go back that way. They’re going to start sending the potatoes.”

David swung his feet up and scooted toward the chute. “Not today. The bastards that pissed radiation in here, pulled a full-on Grinch and stole all the potatoes.”

“But…but… Why?”

“Because they want Mavis out of power.” And their Bossman in power. Too bad, he didn’t know the rest of their agenda. But he would, then he’d bring them down. Could he convince Mavis to reinstate spearing heads on pikes? That should keep the rest of the troublemakers in line.

“But that food was for everyone.” Tears glinted in Manny’s eyes. “We were going to make French fries.”

Damn, he hadn’t thought there was any innocence left to destroy. David slipped his legs into the covered conveyor. “I’m gonna find them, Manny. Find ’em and stop ’em. You have my word on it.”

No matter what it took.

Manny nodded. Biting his lip, he scooped up David’s hood and handed it to him. “It’s not just your fight, Sergeant-Major. It’s all of ours. Now that I know what going on, I’ll keep an eye out.”

David swallowed the denial. The kid was right. “Don’t take chances and check in with me daily.”

“Yes, Sir. I–”

“Emmanuel?”

Manny’s eyes widened. “Chef! She’ll be wondering where the food is.”

“Stall her. Actually, get out of here for a bit and let the counts die down.” If they did. He cleared the readout, switched the Geiger counter off and balanced it on the rollers.

“I’ll turn out the lights when I go.”

He slammed on his helmet and angled his body the rest of the way into the conveyor. He had to get far enough down the belly of the snake to be invisible. Mindful of the metal walls he crawled down and down. He glanced up every few feet. Was Chef inside yet?

A shadow blotted out the light above.

Muffled voices drifted inside. He stopped. Had she seen him? He waited for the shout of discovery. The end of his mission. He licked his dry lips.

The shadow withdrew. Two heartbeats later, the lights went out.

Holy shit. He’d done it. No, he and Manny had done it. He switched on his flashlight, illuminating the two-by-two foot conveyor. Now to find the bastards. But how? Should he climb back up and start from the top? Water dripped from the rag. God, he could be such an idiot. The vegetable thieving bastards would have melting snow on their boots.

Sweeping the light back and forth, he spied the first wet boot print on the side of the conveyor belt. He wiped the liquid as he descended. Surely the secret entrance couldn’t be too far down. He would have been upon them. Another two feet and he noticed a black rubber gasket running up the side of the wall.

“Gotcha.”  He traced the square before hooking his finger through the latch. A low humming vibrated around him, and then he was moving forward. Fuck! They’d started the conveyor. He popped the latch and rammed a shoulder against the panel.

The door swung open.

Then he was falling.

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