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Bonded Souls -final version12

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Despite all the touring and travelling, Jake lay wide awake in the strange bed in his sister’s guest room. A glance at his phone informed him it was after midnight; his internal body clock had long since surrendered and given up trying to determine the time of day. He could hear one of his nephew’s snoring in the room next door. Reaching for his phone, Jake re-read his last message from Lori. “Sweet dreams, rock star. Love you L x”

With a smile, he laid the phone back down on the night stand. Only a few short hours until he would be reunited with her.

 

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From Pin Tuck Pleats to Nurse’s Uniforms…

vintage ironing housewife tired

Ironing gets done religiously in this house on a Sunday morning.

General household rule is that if it doesn’t get ironed on Sunday then it needs to wait a week.

I’m fastidious about emptying that ironing basket on a Sunday. (OK a bit OCD about it)

It doesn’t seem so long ago that I would spend ages trying to use the point of the iron to flatten out tiny pin tuck pleats on Girl Child’s baby dresses and running the iron over the knickers that went with the dress.

Then it was school uniforms. Wee tiny white cotton shirts and grey or then black skirts that grew bigger year after year.

There were countless tops, skirts, jeans and dresses over the years in various shapes, colours and lengths.

There were hems that were fixed and buttons sewn back on. The occasional tear stitched on a favourite item of clothing.

I patiently taught her to iron t-shirts as a starting point, praying that she wouldn’t burn her fingers or my clothes.

School uniforms were replaced with various work uniforms – fast food outlet uniforms, high street shop uniforms, pizza delivery uniforms.

Those in turn were replaced with student nurse uniforms.

Twenty years of spending hours on a Sunday ironing clothes.

Last Sunday marked the end of an era.

My baby girl has long since grown out of those M&S pin tick pleat dresses and flown the nest.

And among her parting gifts – a brand new iron all of her own.

Don’t burn your fingers or the clothes, Baby Girl!

Have you met Jake Power and Lori Hyde?

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With a long sigh of complete contentment, she felt the tension melt from her shoulders. Her first tentative steps onto the beach since last summer. It felt good to be home. It was late afternoon and she could feel the last of the spring sun’s warmth on her skin. She was also acutely aware of Mary’s eyes on her, as she watched from the sun deck. No going back now. After all, she had made it this far and it felt good to be outdoors. She adjusted the grip on her crutches, making sure the broad base plates didn’t sink into the soft sand and slowly headed across the beach towards the ocean. Once on the hard packed surface, she felt more stable and her confidence began to grow. The waves rolled in gently beside her, but she was careful to stay beyond their reach. Tasting the salt on her lips, she smiled and headed along the shoreline towards the boardwalk.

The beach was quiet, with only a few families packing up after an afternoon at the shore. It had been unseasonably warm all week and everyone was making the most of the bonus sunshine. Small seabirds were playing in the shallows, rushing backwards and forwards twittering merrily. After about a hundred yards, she stopped to watch the waves, listening to their rhythmic flow. Hopefully by summer, when the water would be warmer, she would be able to enjoy swimming in the ocean again. Hopefully…

Oh, it was good to be home; good to be back by the ocean.

Step by carefully placed step, she kept wandering along the sand towards town. She drank in all of her surroundings; the birds, the shells, and an occasional abandoned sand castle. Lost in her own thoughts, she immersed herself in her private beach world.

It was the throbbing pain from her leg that brought her back to the real world. She had been stupid. She had walked too far. With panic and fear rising in her chest, she headed up the beach towards the boardwalk that ran parallel to the shore. If she could get onto firm ground and rest for a while, maybe she could recover enough strength to get back to the house. Mary had warned her to be careful, had warned her not to try to go too far on her first day out. The boardwalk seemed to be a mile away, even though it was, in reality, only a few short yards away. As the sand got softer her crutches dug further in, despite their broad base plates. The left one sank into a particularly soft patch. Suddenly her leg gave way and she crashed onto the beach.

For a few moments she lay there, tears welling up in her eyes, terrified that she was hurt. Gingerly, she manoeuvred herself into a sitting position.

“Shit!” she yelled out to the world. “Shit!”

Her crutches lay just within arm’s reach and she dragged them over towards her. Getting back to her feet was going to be a challenge. One that looked impossible in the current situation. There was no one in sight and Lori felt a sharp stab of fear in her chest. As she sat figuring out how she was going to get up without falling again, she was unaware that she was being watched from the shadows of boardwalk.

 

Jake watched her from the distant vantage point of the boardwalk. He had headed for the beach after the end of his shift at the pizza parlour. It had been a rough day and he had decided to walk off his black mood before heading to meet the guys. The last thing they needed was him turning up in a foul mood, stinking of tomato sauce and cheese. He had walked to the south end of the promenade and had just turned back when he saw the girl walking down on the sand. It was the sun catching the golden highlights in her hair that had attracted his attention. He never noticed her crutches at first. Watching from a distance, he had kept pace with her, then stopped to watch as she turned towards the boardwalk. When he saw her stumble, he regretted not following his instincts and going down to walk on the sand with her.

“Shit,” he muttered. “Shit.”

There were no breaks in the fence nearby, so he jumped over the wooden palings into the dune grass and ran towards her, sand immediately filling his shoes. By the time he was close enough to call out to her, she was sitting up and looked to be unhurt. He almost turned away, but decided against it and continued to walk down the beach.

“Hi,” he called out. “Are you ok?”

She was sitting rubbing her thigh and there were tears on her cheeks. Her pale complexion suggested she hadn’t been outdoors much recently.

“Hi,” she replied with a weak smile. “I could do with some help.”

“Figured,” he said, sitting down on the sand beside her. “Are you hurt?”

“No, not really. It was my own stupid fault. I came too far and wasn’t paying attention. I lost my footing.”

“Can’t be easy walking the beach with crutches,” he observed. “How far have you walked?”

“Less than a quarter of a mile. I was fine when I was down on the wet sand, but I began to get tired. I was trying to get up to the boardwalk. I figured if I got onto solid ground, it would be easier to walk back.”

“Let me guess,” observed Jake. “You’ve not been out much with those sticks?”

“No,” she confessed. “I haven’t.”

A single tear ran down her pale cheek. She reached up to roughly brush it away, embarrassed by her show of emotion, but only succeeded in leaving a smear of sand in its place. That was the final straw. Burying her face in her hands, she sat and sobbed. Months of pent up frustration flowed down her cheeks in a river of tears. Hesitantly, Jake put a comforting arm around her shoulders and held her as she wept.

“Hey,” he whispered softly. “It’ll be ok. I’ll get you home safely.”

“I’m sorry,” she sniffed. “I don’t usually sob all over complete strangers.”

“Well, I don’t usually go around picking up fallen angels on the beach either.”

She smiled at his weak attempt at humour.

“I’m Jake by the way.”

“Lori,” she replied.

“Well, Lori, let’s get you up on your feet and up onto the boardwalk.”

“Thank you.”

Gauging that she didn’t weigh much, Jake handed her the crutches, told her to hold onto them then lifted her up into his arms. She was even lighter than he had guessed, so carrying her up the beach to the nearest pathway was no challenge. Once back up on the boardwalk, he sat her down on the first bench they came to.

“You sure you’re ok?” he asked, as he sat beside her.

“Yes, thank you. I honestly don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t come along.”

“You’d have figured it out eventually.”

“I guess. Either that or Mary would’ve come looking for me,” admitted Lori, brushing sand off her jeans.

“Mary?”

“Yeah, she’s my housekeeper. It was her idea that I take a walk. I’ve been sitting on the deck all afternoon gazing out at the ocean. She told me I needed to venture off the deck sometime and that today was as good a day as any. She’ll feel so bad when she hears I fell,” she explained.

“Who’s going to tell her?” Jake said with a wink. “I’ll walk you back. You don’t need to tell her that you fell.”

“Thanks.”

Stiffly and with more than a hint of nerves, Lori got to her feet and repositioned her crutches. Her leg was screaming at her and she knew it would be hard to keep news of her fall from the ever watchful Mary. As they began to walk along the sandy boards Jake observed how carefully Lori walked – watched the determination in each step and sensed the pain that was etched into her pale face. She had the bluest eyes, he had ever seen, but there was a deep sadness cast through them.

“Pardon my asking but what happened to you? I’m thinking the crutches are a very recent addition to your wardrobe.”

“And you’d be right,” she confessed, pausing to look up at him. “I had an accident just before Christmas. I broke my leg quite badly. I came down here about six weeks ago. This is the first time I’ve been out on my own since the accident.”

“And you thought a walk on the sand was the smartest place to start?”

Lori laughed. Jake thought it the most beautiful musical laugh and joined in.

“I guess not, “she giggled. “So what brought you out this far?”

“A shit shift at work. A foul mood.”

“And scraping a dumb blonde off the sand wasn’t in the plan?”

“No, but I‘m glad I was there to rescue you,” he admitted. That wonderful laugh and those sad blue eyes were having a strange effect on his heart. A weird but wonderful effect. It had been a long time since he had felt that way. “Where exactly am I taking you when we run out of boardwalk?”

“Fourth house past the end. If that’s ok?”

“Not a problem, li’l lady.”

They walked on in silence for a few minutes, the end of the boardwalk drawing closer and neither of them really wanting to reach it. Surreptitiously, Jake watched her steely concentration, drank in her fragile beauty and breathed in her light, floral perfume. It had been a very long time since someone had had such an impact on him. A long time since he had bothered to look, if he was honest with himself. Between each painful step, Lori subtly surveyed her rescuer. He would make a fantastic model for a life drawing. His long sun bleached blonde hair fell carelessly down over his shoulders, almost reaching the middle of his back. She guessed from the tiny lines around his twinkling hazel eyes that he was a little older than her and his height dwarfed her small frame. There was something genuine about him. A rough diamond found in the sand? A friend? Lord, she could use one!

Deciding to take a risk, Lori said, “When we reach the house, will you come in for a coffee or a beer? It’s the least I can offer.”

“I’m not sure,” began Jake glancing at his watch. “Oh, what the hell! The guys can wait. Beer sounds good.”

It may have only been a hundred yards, but by the time they reached the end of the boardwalk, Lori was drained and exhausted. Her arms were trembling; her palms sweaty. The thought of the final walk along the soft sand filled her with dread.

“Hey, Lori,” began Jake softly. “If you don’t mind me saying, you look wiped out. Would it be too presumptuous of me to offer to carry you the rest of the way?”

“A bit, but I’m not in a position to decline,” she admitted, her eyes filling with fresh tears of frustration at her own admission of weakness.

With ease, he scooped her up into his arms and headed across the soft sand.

The fourth house on the right stood out from its neighbours with its low white picket fence and generous sun deck. Its enclosed garden had been recently landscaped and a large cushioned sun lounger sat centre stage on the deck. Perched on the edge of it was a small, motherly dark haired woman. As they came to the open gate Jake set Lori down on her feet and guided her into the safety of the garden. She breathed a sigh of relief – home at last!

“Where in Lord’s name have you been?” cried the older woman, leaping to her feet. “You’ve been gone for over an hour!”

“Jake meet Mary,” introduced Lori. “My housekeeper and surrogate mother.”

“Pleased to meet you,” snapped Mary sharply. Her concern for Lori was written all over her face. “I’ve been worried sick, Lori.”

“I’m sorry, Mary,” apologised Lori, as she eased herself down onto the sun lounger. “I walked further than I meant to. Jake kindly offered to see me safely home.”

“You fell didn’t you?”

“I told you she would know,” said Lori, glancing up at Jake. “Yes, I stumbled, but Jake arrived to rescue me. I promised him a beer for his efforts. Would you be so kind as to fetch us both one?”

Muttering under her breath, Mary stomped back into the house through the patio doors. Lori laughed that wonderful laugh again and gestured to Jake to pull over a chair from the table. Gingerly she slid herself back and lifted her throbbing leg onto the lounger. The relief at being off her feet was written all over her face.

“I recognise this house now,” mused Jake looking round about. “I worked on it when it was remodelled about four years ago.”

“Three”, corrected Lori. “Are you a builder?”

“No,” declared Jake, shaking his head. “I was the manual labour for the summer. I loved that sun room when it was finished. If I ever hit the big time, this is the kind of house I want to own.”

“Thanks. My parents bought the original house when I was a little girl. When I inherited it, after my dad passed away, I had it extended. I’ve always felt this was home, but could never spend enough time here. Work always kept me away.”

She paused to reflect for a few moments, lost in a memory of a previous life. With a wistful smile she added, “Now it looks as though I’m home to stay.”

“So what line of work kept you away from the beach?” asked Jake, stretching his long denim clad legs out in front of him.

“I was an art buyer until last year. I travelled a lot. What do you do when you’re not rescuing people?”

“I’m a frustrated rock star,” he confessed with a smile. “I work here and there to pay the bills. Just now it’s a few shifts a week at the pizza place on the boardwalk. Really rock ‘n’ roll!”

Both of them were laughing when Mary returned with their beers. She slipped two painkillers to Lori then left them to chat. There was plenty of time left to chastise her charge once her new friend had left. Deep down, she was just relieved to see the girl home in one piece and even happier to hear her laughing. There had been precious little of that in Lori’s life recently and it was good medicine. The housekeeper retired to the kitchen to prepare dinner and to keep a watchful eye on them from the safety of the house.

As the sun set behind them, the sun deck lights came on and dusk settled over them. Draining his beer Jake glanced at his watch. “Damn, I’m late.”

“Sorry,” said Lori. “I didn’t mean to keep you late.”

“It’s alright,” he replied, getting to his feet. “I need to run. I’m late for rehearsal. Sorry to leave in such a hurry.”

“No, it’s me who should be apologising,” said Lori, starting to get to her feet.

“Stay where you are,” said Jake warmly. “I’m just glad you’re not hurt. Glad we met. Maybe, when you feel up to it, you can come and see the band? We have a regular slot on a Friday night twice a month at one of the bars in town.”

“I’d like that,” said Lori softly. “And thank you again for rescuing me.”

“My pleasure li’l lady,” he said with a smile. “And thanks for the beer.”

With a wave, he was gone in a few short strides down the path and onto the sand.

 

It took longer than he had anticipated to get back along the boardwalk and into town. By the time Jake reached the band’s rehearsal room, he was almost an hour late. Band rules about timekeeping meant a twenty dollar fine. Rules were rules and he would pay up without complaint. After all, it was the first time he had been late for about six weeks. A record for him.

“Nice of you to join us,” called Paul, the band’s drummer.

“Sorry, something came up,” apologised Jake, lifting his guitar. As he plugged it into his amp, he added, “Where are we at?”

“Full set run through for Friday night,” answered Grey firmly. “I spoke to Joe at the bar and he’s promised us two one hour sets. He’s got a beer promo night on so we get a half hour extra.”

“And beer?” asked Jake hopefully

“Only if we buy it ourselves,” said Grey. “I tried. If Jeannie is behind the bar, she might sneak us a couple. No promises.”

With the rehearsal schedule set, the band settled down to their full run through. They had been playing together for almost five years and had a small, but dedicated local fan base. All of them had hopes of hitting the big time; of getting a support slot on a big tour. None of them were full-time musicians. Rich, the other guitarist, came closest. He was a music teacher at the local high school.

It was after ten thirty before they called it a night. Once outside, they agreed to meet up again on Thursday for another run-through, then went their separate ways into the night. Jake wandered slowly back to his apartment, his head full of ideas for his own songs and more than a few thoughts of the beach. Once home, he settled down with his acoustic guitar and began work on his own compositions, playing into the small hours.

 

Back at the beach house, Mary had insisted on helping Lori to bed immediately after dinner. Throughout the meal, she had scolded her charge on her foolhardiness and elicited a promise that she would be more careful the next time she ventured out. Lori listened patiently to the motherly lecture, allowing her thoughts to wander back to Jake. All of a sudden she felt like a love-struck teenager. Yes, he was attractive in a haunted kind of way, but she was too old to confuse gratitude at his rescue with feelings of attraction. Or was she? Shortly before nine, Mary ran out of lectures and headed home, leaving Lori alone with her teenage thoughts. The day’s excitement had taken its toll on her. She was completely exhausted and every inch of her ached. Her leg had eased to a dull throb after a further dose of pain relief. Was this the way her life was going to be from now on? Ruled by pain relief schedules and controlling well-meaning housekeepers? Eventually, she drifted off to sleep. Her first nightmare-free sleep since her accident. She was still sound asleep when Mary returned at breakfast time the next day.

 

“Hey!” called a voice from the beach.

The interruption broke her concentration and she laid down her sketch pad and pencil. It was a voice that had filled her head for two days. “Still thinking like that love-struck teen,” she muttered to herself.

“Hey!” she called back. “Come on in.”

A few seconds later, Jake appeared up the path looking every inch the rock star. The wind off the ocean had tousled his long blonde hair and his tight black t-shirt and slim fitting jeans set off the look. He sat down on the empty chair beside her at the table and glanced at her discarded half-completed sketch.

“That’s good. Very good,” he commented.

“Thanks,” she blushed. “I’m just doodling.”

“Well, it looks like good doodling to me,” stated Jake matter-of-factly. “I just wanted to see if you were ok. I hope you don’t mind. I came along the beach just to be sure you weren’t face down in the sand.”

She laughed. There was that sound that had filled his head since their first meeting. He smiled.

“I’ve been a good girl,” she said coyly. “Mary has seen to that.”

“Ruling you with a rod of iron?”

“Something like that,” admitted Lori with a giggle. “She’s gone to the food store so I escaped out here.”

“So, are you ok after the other day?” asked Jake, concern written all over his face.

“I’m fine. I was sore yesterday, but I’m ok today. I might think twice about walking the beach for a while though,” she said. “I was just thinking about fetching a coffee. Would you like one?”

“If it’s not too much trouble,” he replied.

“You can help,” said Lori, picking up her crutches and getting to her feet. “Come on.”

He followed her into the house and through the sun room towards the kitchen. It felt strange being back in the house he’d left as a newly-finished undecorated shell. The coffee pot was ready and the aroma filled the kitchen.

“The mugs are in the cupboard over there,” said Lori, nodding towards the stove. “Do you take cream?”

“Yeah and two sugars,” said Jake, opening the cupboard.

A few minutes later, they were both back outside on the desk with their coffee and some cookies that Lori found in the pantry. They sat in silence for a few minutes, listening to the waves crashing in on the beach. It felt as though there was a storm approaching.

“I was wondering,” began Jake, sounding almost nervous. “If you would like to venture into town with me sometime. We could go for a beer or something.”

His words blurted out all wrong and he suddenly felt like an awkward sixteen-year-old asking a girl out on a date.

“I’d like that,” she answered with a smile. “I haven’t been into town since I got back. It would be good to get out of here for a while.”

“Great. When?” asking Jake, sounding more like his adult self-assured self. “I don’t want you getting in trouble over this.”

Lori laughed again, “I’m a big girl. I can decide if I’m going out or not. How about Saturday afternoon?”

“I’m working till three,” said Jake. “But I could pick you up after my shift?”

“Stupid question,” began Lori, seeing a potential flaw in the plan. “Do you have a car? I don’t think I could walk that far yet.”

“A truck,” replied Jake. “Will we need to clear this with Mary?”

Lori shook her head. “No. She’s not my mother. Beside she finishes at two on a Saturday. I can be trusted to behave for a few hours now. What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”

“You’re scared of her,” accused Jake jokingly.

“Just a bit,” confessed Lori. “But don’t tell her.”

“My lips are sealed,” he said, as he took another sip of coffee. “So what do you do stuck out here all day?”

“Not a lot. My physical therapist comes out once or twice a week. Mary helps me with the exercises the other days. I read. I listen to music. I sketch a bit. Daydream a lot.” She paused, then added, “It was easier in a way when I was really sick. Now I feel stronger, I’ll admit I’m finding that I get bored quite quickly. It’s so frustrating not being able to do the things I would usually do.”

“I don’t think I’d cope like this,” confessed Jake. Immediately the words were out, he regretted them. It had sounded insensitive. If his comments stung, Lori never let it show.

“Before,” she began. “I’d have agreed with you.” Then changing the subject asked, “How did rehearsal go the other night? Were you in trouble for being late?”

Jake shook his head. “The guys were fine. They are kind of used to me being a bit late. Time keeping isn’t one of my strong points. Another slot tonight, then the gig’s tomorrow. Should be a good night.”

“Where are you playing?”

“Bar in town. There’s a beer promo night so we get to play longer. Not quite Madison Square Garden but it’s a start.”

“Don’t tell me,” she mused. “Vocals and guitar?”

“Got it in one, li’l lady,” he laughed, with a mock bow. “There’s four of us. We’ve been together for a few years. You never know there might be a scout in the crowd.”

“Do you write your own stuff?”

“Sometimes. Not often enough,” he muttered.

“Oh, sore spot,” commented Lori. “Sorry.”

Jake shrugged, “Someday…. yeah… someday.”

From the front of the house they heard the sound of tyres scrunching on the gravel. Mary was back.

“I’m out of here,” said Jake, getting to his feet. “I don’t want her growling at me.”

Lori laughed, “Mary’s fine. Chill.”

“No way!” he stated, draining his coffee cup. “Three thirty on Saturday. Be ready.”

With a brief smile and a mischievous wink, he was gone and, by the time Mary came through the sun room to say she was home, there was no sign of him other than the empty mug on the table.

 

(opening chapter of Stronger Within, book 1 in the Silver Lake series)

 

 

Want to read more? Then check out the Silver Lake series today on Amazon

 

 

Amazon.com links –

Stronger Within – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B00VXDSC1M

Impossible Depths – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01C0GS30K

Bonded Souls – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B06XSQHG71

Shattered Hearts – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07ZY8ZSDM

 

 

Amazon.co.uk links –

Stronger Within – https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00VXDSC1M

Impossible Depths – https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B01C0GS30K

Bonded Souls – https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B06XSQHG71

Shattered Hearts – https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B07ZY8ZSDM

Let me introduce you to Wilson

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Once upon a time Boy Child and I found a lonely turnip on the local beach. We named him Wilson.
This was way back at the start of Lockdown (around a week in maybe). When I started working from home, Boy Child and I started taking our authorised daily exercise together in the late afternoon and, more often than not, we would walk to the local beach and back.
And that’s where this story began ….one day we met Wilson.

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We moved him up to the back of the beach, safely nestled him among the rocks and grass out of the reaches of the tide.
Each day we would pause to check if he was still there. In the early days, Boy Child attempted to play football with him but without much success. Wilson wasn’t much of a team player.
A few weeks after I’d met Wilson, I was out for a walk with the Big Green Gummi Bear and made the mistake of introducing them. Big mistake! The Big Green Gummi Bear drop kicked him down the beach and into the river.
I was distraught!
Next day, even though the weather was pretty miserable, I hurried back to the beach after work on my own in search of Wilson.
I scoured the tide line and, eventually, in among a tangle of seaweed, a little wet and wrinkled, I found Wilson. Carefully I carried him back up the beach and returned him to the safety of his rocky hideout.

 

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Over the weeks that  slipped into months, Boy Child and I continued to check on him, daily at first but over the last week  or so our visits have been less frequent. However, every time we visited the beach, we checked up on him.
Lockdown hasn’t been kind to poor Wilson. It’s taken it toll on his wellbeing and he’s now a shrivelled-up shadow of his former self.
He has survived his ten weeks of Lockdown but only just….

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So, why am I talking about a turnip as if he were a person?

Over these past few challenging weeks, I’ve done a lot of thinking about what has been happening and about what the future may hold.
One of my fears for folk as result of the weeks and weeks of Lockdown restrictions is- will we ever be the same again?
The weeks of isolation. The weeks of only being allowed out once a day for exercise or for essential shopping. The weeks and weeks of practically non-existent social contact. The lack of conversation. The lack of company. The lack of physical contact and hugs!
I wonder, sadly, in the months to come, once the world begins to reawaken how many human “Wilson’s” will be found.
I worry about how many individuals around the globe entered Lockdown in their hometowns as healthy human beings only to slowly emerge weeks and months later as withered shrivelled up versions of their former vibrant selves.
I wonder how many people started out with good intentions to keep in touch with elderly or lonely friends and neighbours but as the weeks wore on, checked less and less often on their wellbeing.
I wonder how many of life’s loners perhaps fell ill or for other darker reasons have passed away alone and may lie forgotten in their homes for weeks or months?
It’s a truly tragic thing to contemplate but equally tragically it will most likely happen….

I sincerely hope that we all get our “and they all lived happily ever after moment” but for Wilson, Mother Nature is slowly reaching out and taking him back into her care.

 

Ellen – have you been introduced?

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“If you don’t feel I’ll fit in then I’ll go now,” said Ellen, trying hard to hide the emotion in her voice. “I’d prefer though if you gave me a chance. Let’s rehearse. Jam a few numbers. If you don’t like what you hear then I’ll go.”

“Can’t say fairer than that, Luke,” challenged Cal, also keen to defend her.

“Luke,” stated Rocky coldly. “Let me put it to you this way. Ellen here passed the audition. The band unanimously voted to give her a shot. I don’t believe you cast your vote. Right now, I don’t believe you even opened the damn email I sent you. If anyone’s position in After Life is in jeopardy right now, it’s yours. You’re out of line, son. Take this as a final warning.”

“My uncle won’t….” began Luke, looking flustered behind his dark glasses.

“Don’t try to play the Garrett card with me. We all know he doesn’t fund the band. He’s already cast you adrift on your own there. Why he still lets you live in his house I’ll never fathom.”

“Fine. One rehearsal!” snapped Luke, getting to his feet, almost toppling the chair in the process. “Tomorrow. If she’s shit, she goes.”

As he marched out of the kitchen, Luke slammed the door behind him, rattling the display plates on the wall.

“I’m sorry,” whispered Ellen quietly.

 

 

 

Want to know more? Check out Ellen on Amazon today.

 

Amazon.com link     https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07FYHKR44

 

Amazon.co.uk link   https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B07FYHKR44

May’s Author Newsletter ….I seem to have skipped a few months.. ..oops

Hi folks

I’ve just realised that I haven’t written an Author’s Newsletter since January….oops. Apologies.

Well, who would have thought back in January that the world would grind to a halt a few weeks later thanks to a worldwide pandemic. Stephen King himself couldn’t have written it…. oh, wait a minute, he did! ( Yes, I am currently re-reading The Stand)

I sincerely hope you’ve all been staying safe and staying sane. Week after week of restricted living is beginning to take it’s toll….and then there’s all the political wrangling…. Sigh…

I don’t do politics so there will be no debate nor opinions offered here…ever!

On the creative front, I have been making steady progress with Book Baby 6 and am aiming for a publication date in early 2021. (Sorry, you’re going to have to be patient, folks)I have a title in mind but I’ll keep that under wraps until the first draft is written. Best guess is that I’m currently about 60% of the way there so still on track….so far.

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Shattered Hearts, book baby 5, has been well received and has earned itself thirteen ( lucky for some) 5* reviews on Amazon.co.uk. Huge thanks to everyone who spares the time to leave a review for an author. Those twinkling stars and kind honest words really do mean the world, especially if you are having a day where adding to the word count is proving to be a challenge.

 

Before the world went into hibernation, I heard about a fantastic scheme run by The Gingerbread Tea House in Widnes, Cheshire.

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They offer a book exchange to their customers and also showcase indie authors who wish to donate a book to the scheme. Here have a look at the resulting blog post to learn more about this. I truly wish, once cafes open up again that more would adopt this idea.

https://coralmccallum.wordpress.com/2020/03/16/fancy-a-good-book-with-that-coffee-and-cake/

I’ve also been experimenting with acrostic poetry on occasion. I used to write more poetry and in fact was published as a poet long before I published my first novel. It was writing poetry while sitting in the café of my local theatre waiting for my daughter to finish her dance class that started me on this creative road. Seems a life time ago….

Missed the poems though? Not to worry, here’s an example

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https://coralmccallum.wordpress.com/2020/03/30/daisy-an-acrostic-poem/

 

Inspiration can be found all around you. You just have to keep your eyes and your mind open.

Lockdown has seen me, like everyone else, staying close to home. I’m extremely fortunate in that there is a beautiful small stretch of beach within easy walking distance of the house.

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Combining my love of photography along with the idea of a scavenger hunt resulted in this blog post –

https://coralmccallum.wordpress.com/2020/04/13/socially-distanced-scavenger-hunt/

Sometimes you need to look for alternative ways to inspire yourself. I did this in mid-April. I stumbled across a free online course linked to MoMA in New York called Seeing Through Photography. The title alone intrigued me and so began a six week course tracing what I think can be best described as the social history and importance of photography through the ages. From the first daguerreotype overly-posed family portraits to the photographic records of The Depression, the lunar landings and the Vietnam War, it was an interesting course. One of the photographs from The Depression by a photographer called Dorothea Lange inspired my final written assignment. This photograph:-

Dorothea Lange - Destitute pea pickers in California. Mother of seven children, age thirty-two, Nipomo, California, 1936

(credits to the owner Dorothea Lange- sourced via Google)

There is so much written into the face of this mother.

I was delighted to pass the course, over two weeks before the final deadline date and to earn my certificate.

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There hasn’t been much of an opportunity to escape out to play this year. Most of the gigs I have tickets for have been rescheduled until either the end of this year or early next year. My bank balance is loving this. I am not. I did however manage one outing in February….wonder if it will be the only one of 2020?

NYD 8

https://the525toglasgow.wordpress.com/2020/02/24/new-years-day-the-garage-glasgow-23-february-2020/

 

To keep my music blog alive I’ve been adding “non-gig” reviews to correspond with the original dates of my re-scheduled shows. The next non-gig is on the 28th May 😊

And that’s pretty much been it.

I promise to try not to leave it so long before the next newsletter. Until then, whenever it may bed, book baby 6 will be my primary creative focus. Who knows I may even give a sneak preview of some of it on my blog…..

In the meantime, thank you so much for your continued support and ongoing love. It really is appreciated.

Stay safe, folks

Love n hugs

Coral xx

PS – don’t forget to check out the Silver Lake series and Ellen. If you’ve read them and loved them, tell your friends 🙂

 

Book links:

 

Silver Lake series

 

Amazon.com links –

Stronger Within – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B00VXDSC1M

Impossible Depths – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01C0GS30K

Bonded Souls – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B06XSQHG71

Shattered Hearts – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07ZY8ZSDM

 

 

Amazon.co.uk links –

Stronger Within – https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00VXDSC1M

Impossible Depths – https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B01C0GS30K

Bonded Souls – https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B06XSQHG71

Shattered Hearts – https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B07ZY8ZSDM

 

Ellen

 

Amazon.com link     https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07FYHKR44

 

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Want to meet a rock star for free?…

Actual cover pic

Looking for a hot rock star to brighten up your Monday?

Want to meet him for free?

Impossible Depths, book 2 in the Silver Lake series, is FREE to download to Kindle today.

See links below to get your FREE copy.

Amazon.com links –

Impossible Depths – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01C0GS30K

Amazon.co.uk links –

Impossible Depths – https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B01C0GS30K

 

Happy Reading 😊

IMAG3111

 

 

 

Room 19 (an erotic short story)

Room19 image

The only sounds in Room 19 were the steady bleep of the monitors and the slow breathing of the patient in the bed. Until a few days before, he had been in ICU on life support following surgery. Since his transfer into Room 19, the doctors had kept him heavily sedated and under half-hourly observation.

 

The nurse had transferred to the department the same day the day the patient in Room 19 arrived on the ward and been assigned to care for him with strict instruction to report any changes in his condition to the charge nurse immediately.

For four days she had divided her time evenly among the four patients assigned to her. The other three were conscious and healing well so took less of her time as they focussed on recovering sufficiently well to leave as soon as the doctor signed their discharge papers. All three of them were elderly; the patient in Room 19 was young, well considerably younger than them.

For four days she checked on him every thirty minutes of her twelve-hour shift and noted no changes, no signs of improvement. He just lay there pale and still, the leads on his chest bare for all to see, the oxygen tube hooked into the nostrils of his fine straight nose, the IV linked to a canula in his right arm.

Occasionally, she noticed the smallest of flickers at his eyelids but nothing else. She wondered if he was dreaming. She wondered what colour those eyes were under the lids.

 

In his isolated dream state existence, nothing was making any sense. There were gaping black holes in his memory. Instinctively he knew something had happened to him and it hadn’t been something good. There was no pain to help identify what that “something” was. He couldn’t muster the energy to open his eyes. His world wasn’t all dark though. There were hints of colours. There were differences between light and dark. Day and night, he deduced. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t make his limbs move. They felt unnaturally heavy, almost as if they were glued to the bed he lay in. He could hear the sounds of machines in the room, the noises from outside the room. Visitors…. he had no memory of anyone visiting him. Was he somewhere far away from home? Were visitors not allowed into the room? If only he could remember……

There was one voice he was aware of. He presumed it was his nurse. She was there every once in a while. Once in a day? Once in an hour? He had no idea but when she came into the room, she spoke to him as though he were fully awake and conversant. Hearing her voice warmed his heart. Human contact. Sometimes she spoke about the folk in the other rooms; sometimes she spoke about things that had happened out with the hospital. Once she had come in complaining her car had broken down and that she’d got drenched walking the last mile to work. He could almost smell the rain off her…. summer rain. He could just about make out her shadowy silhouette as she went about her duties. She wore an unusual perfume. It reminded him of summer and suntan cream mixed with the scent of clean pure soapy shower gel. She reminded him of sunshine.

 

Then she was gone for what felt like a long time.

 

The patient in Room 19 had been on her mind while she was off duty for three whole days. Part of her felt relieved to hear that he was still there when she returned to the ward; part of her felt sad that there had been no noticeable improvement in his condition.

She visited his room first, breezing in wishing him “good morning” and muttering about the traffic on the journey into work. Methodically, she completed all her checks, updating his notes as she went. Just as she was about to leave, there was a minor disturbance in the steady bleep from the monitor. She stepped closer to check everything was ok. As she was about to turn to leave, satisfied that everything was alright, she felt a movement to her right. His hand reached out to her.

“Hey, it’s ok,” she said softly, taking his hand in hers. “You’re going to be just fine.”

She felt the gentle squeeze of his fingers against her small hand.

“Can you hear me?”

Another squeeze.

“I’ll be right back.”

 

At the nurse’s station, she reported into the charge nurse that the man in Room 19 had moved and held her hand. Her report was dismissed as “highly unlikely it was cognitive. More likely a reflex reaction. Have you seen the drugs he’s on?” The nurse nodded and returned to her duties, although in her heart she was convinced the charge nurse was wrong.

 

In his hazy world, he smiled. He’d communicated with her! She’d understood his hand movement. He’d held her hand. It was warm and smooth, not much bigger than a child’s. A stray thought meandered through as he wondered if she was any good at massage. Despite the black holes in his memory, he felt pretty sure that he enjoyed a good massage and a little “personal” attention. The dark haze closed in on him, swallowing up that delicious thought.

 

“OK, mister,” he heard her say some time later. “Bath time.”

 

Ordinarily, she didn’t enjoy bathing patients. All that old, wrinkly, smelly flesh but the patient in Room 19 was different. For a start he was far from old! Carefully, she tied the plastic apron round her waist. She had set the basin of hot water on the trolley beside the bottle of shower gel that she had begged from one of the male nurses. Slowly, she peeled back the sheet and blue waffle blanket that covered the patient. Much to her surprise, she discovered he was naked. With a smile, she lifted the warm wet flannel from the basin, added a squirt of shower gel, lathered it up then began to wash him gently. Taking care not to hurt him, she started with his neck and shoulders, smoothing the washcloth over his lightly tanned skin. As she washed his arms, she traced her finger over the outline a Celtic tattoo on his shoulder. As she rinsed out the cloth and added more shower gel, she wondered why he’d chosen that design.

Taking care not to get the leads on his chest wet, she slowly washed his torso. Noting the yellow fading bruises on his ribs, she was extra gentle as she bathed that area. She felt him quiver. Ticklish, she thought with a mischievous giggle.

 

In his hazy dream-like state, he suddenly felt warm and mellow. He was wholly aware of the nurse washing his upper body with a soapy cloth. The scent of the soap was familiar. His mind began to wander……

 

As she washed each of his feet in turn, she gently massaged them. Starting with his toes, she massaged each one firmly then, using both hands, manipulated the balls of his feet before working her thumbs in circles over the arches of his feet and round to his Achilles tendon. The feeling was exquisite, leaving him totally relaxed, putty in her hands. With more soap on the cloth, she washed his legs, running her hand wrapped the cloth up the front of his shins over his knees then over the sensitive skin of his inner thighs. With an awkward smile, she noted his physical reaction to her touch.

“Hmm, perhaps not as out of it as the doctor thinks, mister,” she observed with a giggle.

 

The touch of her hands in his inner thighs sent bolts of electricity sparking through him. Muzzy as his mind was, he was instinctively aware that he was hard. Under any other circumstances he might have felt embarrassed; in the current circumstances he prayed that she wouldn’t stop. As she lavished more attention on him, he wondered, not for the first time, what she looked like. He allowed his imagination to stray as he felt her lay the warm damp flannel over his balls.

 

As she cleaned his most intimate areas, the nurse noted the small smile forming on the man’s lips.

 

He could picture her clearly in his mind’s eye. Her white uniform low cut, showing off the curve of her breasts. As she bent forward over him, he could see she was wearing a white satin plunge bra. Oh, what he wouldn’t give to nestle his dick between those beauties. He could easily imagine gliding up and down as those full breasts caressed his cock.

 

The washcloth appeared to have been discarded. He felt soapy hands fondling his tight full balls. If this is heaven then I’ve died and gone to the right place, he thought to himself. He could feel his blood pulsing through him. As her small hand clasped his erect manhood, he let out a long low moan of ecstasy. It had been a long time….too long….

She stroked his length slowly sensually, the scented bubbles adding to the smoothness of her ministrations…

He was eager to indulge in his release; he wanted this moment of intimacy to last for eternity.

He felt her playfully add some stray soapy bubbles to his sensitive exposed tip then was blissfully aware of a soft gentle cool breath wafting over him as she blew the bubbles away. Release was imminent. If only she would lean over further, lose the tunic and the bra and allow him to feel her breasts brush against his skin.

 

In his own inner fantasy, the uniform had long since been discarded and his mystery nurse was wearing only her white satin bra and matching skimpy panties. Would it be wrong to ask her to remove those and massage his erection with them? This was his fantasy. He could visualise whatever he desired….

 

Alone in the private room, she paused. It was obvious what her patient wanted/needed. Should she? His eyelids were flickering, and she was sure he was fantasising about the same thing she was thinking. Should she? It could… no would…cost her her job if she got caught or if he filed a complaint…. The door was closed. The blinds were closed. It was tempting….

 

He felt her hand adjust its hold on him then felt her slowly work him. Up and down with a gradually increasing rhythm. The scented soapy lubricant was enhancing the moment. He was close…so close. He couldn’t hold back much longer. Inwardly he groaned as her left hand traced a line across his hip bone from his groin to his waist then slid under his butt cheek. Her right hand had increased its tempo. He could almost feel those breasts touching his skin…. almost…

 

His orgasm came hard and fast, cum spurting over her hand and his own dark pubic hair. Seventh heaven didn’t come close. If only those breasts had been bare and wrapped around him……

 

Her cheeks flushed, the nurse gently wiped down his stomach then tossed the cloth into the basin.

Carefully, she drew the sheet and blanket across him, worried that he would feel cold despite the heat in the small room.

Again, his hand moved to take hers.

The patient held her hand for a few moments.

“I know what you’re thinking, mister. Not a word,” she said as she removed her hand from his grasp. “Not a word.”

 

Tossing the discarded plastic apron into the bin, the nurse prayed that the damp stains on the front of her tunic would dry before her charge nurse commented. Picking up the basin, she turned and left the room.

 

The only sounds in Room 19 were the steady bleep of the monitors and the slow breathing of the patient in the bed, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

 

(image sourced via Google – credits to the owner)

 

 

 

Looking for something to read?…..

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Sunday…the perfect day to sit back and relax with a good book. Pour that coffee, curl up and meet Jake Power…. I think you’ll like him.

Amazon.com links –

Stronger Within – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B00VXDSC1M

Impossible Depths – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01C0GS30K

Bonded Souls – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B06XSQHG71

Shattered Hearts – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07ZY8ZSDM

 

 

Amazon.co.uk links –

Stronger Within – https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00VXDSC1M

Impossible Depths – https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B01C0GS30K

Bonded Souls – https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B06XSQHG71

Shattered Hearts – https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B07ZY8ZSDM

Silently Watching On A Mother’s Moon….one week later

dark-angel

Faced with no alternative, he took a seat at the table. His glass was already filled with Stefan’s favourite wine and the runner drank deeply to fortify himself for supper with his mother. Like himself, she hadn’t aged and still looked like the same mother he remembered, occasionally with fondness, from his childhood. It also struck him that he couldn’t see any sign of wings….

“Well, this is the last place I thought I’d be sharing a meal with my son,” she commented brusquely. “All those years trying to protect you, shelter you from this life and you are stupid enough to end up in this mess.”

“As loving and caring as ever, Mother,” he replied, staring her straight in the eye.

“You have no idea, child!”

“Well, how about you explain it to me?” he suggested, his tone acid filled.

“I was born to this life,” she revealed calmly. “When you were born, I went to great lengths to hide you from this existence. I sacrificed my wings for you among other things. There’s too much of your father in you. You’re too gentle in nature to survive successfully as a vampire. Too easily led.”

“Bit late for that lecture,” he commented. “About thirty years too late, Mother.”

“And don’t I know it,” she said with a sigh. “And I blame myself. Your father wanted a son. I’d have done anything for him then. I risked everything giving birth to you and when you arrived, you were perfect and human. All the pain I put myself through to ensure of that had worked. NO blood for over seven months. Can you imagine how much of a challenge that was?”

“I explained my absences to you as business trips,” she continued, her food growing cold on the plate in front of her. “I tried to be gone no more than a week or two at a time as you grew up. Once you were older and I’d divorced your father, life became easier. You could stay with him while I attended to things. Allowed me to earn back my place at court.”

“Do you expect me to thank you?”

“No!” she snapped. “I expect you to listen. Listen well and understand. You’re set to appear before the Court of Elders in the morning. Do not play games with them. No bargains. No deals. Just do as they ask, and you’ll be able to live out your days in that beach hut of yours if that’s what you desire.”

“But I’ve already made the deal, Mother.”

“Fool! You made your bargain void when you agreed to learn our ways from Stefan. He has played you. Played to your youth and your weaknesses and he’ll do it again tomorrow. No more games.”

“So, what would you have me do, Mother darling?” he spat, his blood rage simmering inside him.

“Just agree to kill the bitch for them then agree to return here when summoned.”

“And if I still want Stefan to keep his end of the bargain?”

“If you expect that to happen then you’re a bigger fool than I thought you were,” she hissed as she got to her feet. “For once in your life, listen to me and do as I ask, son!”

Without a further word, she swept out of the room.

 

Next morning, her words were echoing in his mind as he stood outside the Court of Elders beside Trine waiting to be summoned inside. With a smile, she took his hand and said, “Be sensible in your choice of words in there, Son of Perran.”

Rolling his dark brown eyes, he said with a smile, “You sound like my mother.”

Before either of them could continue the conversation, the large oak door swung open, inviting him to step inside.

As before, the room was lit by flaming sconces and candelabra and was dominated by the large intricately carved table. For the first time, he noticed the pattern on the floor – runes- and took note that the table was in a different position in the large circular room.

“Welcome, Son of Perran,” greeted Stefan warmly. “Step closer, please.”

Instead of four seats, there were now seven seats behind the table. As before, Stefan, Michael and Alessandro were seated but to either side of them were two more seats. Three of those were occupied by women, one of whom was his mother. The last seat was occupied by a child of no more than ten or twelve.

“We’ve called the full court together,” explained Stefan as if reading his mind. “Last time we only afforded you a partial hearing, so all agreements struck on that date are void now that you have voluntarily appeared before a full court. Do you understand me?”

“Perfectly,” replied the runner, realising his mother had been correct and that Stefan had been humouring him.

“We’ve invited you back to discuss our request that you kill the dark angel who broke our code when she created you. Over the years, she has repeatedly broken the golden rules of our code of conduct but so far, we have been unable to catch her. Will you do as we ask, Son of Perran?”

“I will,” replied the runner, hoping he sounded calmer than he felt.

“No conditions this time?” quizzed Stefan raising one eyebrow.

“Only that I be allowed to return home.”

“That we can agree to on one condition,” replied Stefan. “My daughter accompanies you to continue your education. Is that agreeable to you?”

The runner nodded.

“Then we have reached an accord, Son of Perran. You may leave.”

With a last glance across at his mother, the runner turned and left the room.