Thursday's Heroine - Jenessa from The Aries - Libra Connection by Janet Lane Walters #MFRWauthor #BooksWeLove

With a flourish, Jenessa signed her name to the nurses’ notes on a fourth chart. She picked up a stack of papers and the brown bag containing the lunch she hadn’t had time to eat. All day, the pace in the Intensive Care unit had been hectic. Two Codes. Three admissions in five minutes, all of them critical. Instead of twenty-seven, she felt more like seventy.

She waved at the night nurse. “See you tomorrow.”

“That’s two extras in a row,” one of the women called. “Are you some kind of glutton?”

Am I?   One more thing  and I’m out of here. She straight-armed the door and headed for the stairs. After stopping on two other units to collect protest forms, she entered the stairwell.

Voices, eerie and distorted, drifted from below. The echo-effect made her wonder if the speakers were male or female. “Don’t worry, if we just push them a little harder, they’ll walk.”

“You’re right. Who could resist…”

Who were they talking about?   She leaned over the railing, but shadows hid the speakers. The voices faded. A door slammed. She frowned and headed to the fifth floor where she entered the Nursing Office.

Lorraine Rodgers, one of the evening supervisors, looked up. “Again?  Don’t you get tired of making waves?”

“Is that what I do?  I thought I was fulfilling my role as a good union member and a conscientious nurse. The contract gives us the right to protest unsafe working conditions. I just make sure they’re collected.”

The middle-aged woman shook her head. “We all know this is your personal crusade. Can’t you put the past to rest?”

Jenessa’s hands clenched and she felt the muscles in her shoulders tighten. “Could you?”  She fought a barrage of memories. “See that Ms. Wallace gets these. Not that she cares.”

“You could give them to her. She’s in the house. The Board’s meeting to select the new Director and we all know who that will be.”

“Maybe they’ll choose someone else.”

Mrs. Rodgers laughed. “Do you really believe that?  She’s been angling for the job since she arrived. We’ll have to learn to live with her.”

“Maybe.”

“Another petition asking for Sandra’s removal?”

Jenessa shrugged. “See you tomorrow.”

“You’re on again?  Do you work all these extra shifts just to log complaints?”

“If I don’t, who’d be here for the patients?”  Jenessa strode away.

Fifteen minutes later, in her apartment across the street, she stood in the shower. Hot water uncoiled her tight muscles, but not her thoughts. Would the hospital Board really name Sandra Wallace, a woman disliked by most of the nurses, as the new director?  With Jim Bishop as Board president, the choice seemed likely.

After pulling on an over-sized blue tee shirt, she headed to the kitchen and zapped the spicy chicken dish she should have eaten for lunch. Though  she considered working on her Master’s thesis, she felt too tired to read the stack of articles on the desk.

The apartment door slammed. She looked up and saw her roommate. Megan kicked off her shoes. “Are you ready for a bomb?  Guess what the Board has done.”

“Sandra.”

“Is out.” Megan grinned. “Josh and I were at the Cove for dinner. Sam introduced Eric Bradshaw. Would you believe he’s the new Director of Nursing?  And what a hunk he is.”

Jenessa pushed back long strands of dark brown hair that had come loose from her braid. “You’re kidding.”

“Not one bit.”

“It’s a ploy. Can’t  you hear Mr. Bishop’s laughter?  We’ll give the girls a man to drool over. That’ll shut them up.”

“Come on, Jen. At least they didn’t name Her.” Megan headed across the living room, discarding pieces of clothes as she walked. “He’s every woman’s dream. Tall, blond, broad shoulders. I positively drooled. He’s got the greatest dimples. That’s because he’s a Libra.”

Trust Megan to ask his sun sign, Jenessa thought. Her roommate’s description confirmed her suspicions of the Board’s motives. “Sounds like you’re adding him to your string.”

“Wrong. A Libra and a Pisces. Odd couple material.” Megan’s blonde curls bounced with the force of her denial. “He’s for you, my Aries friend. Remember what I always say. An opposition can be exciting.”

Not again, Jenessa thought. For the past year, Megan’s attempts at matchmaking seemed designed to drive her crazy. “Megan, no.”

“You can’t be alone forever.”

“You’re surviving.”

“Alone I’m not. My problem is too many and being unable to hurt anyone.” She shrugged. “Give it a shot.”

Jenessa frowned. Megan and she had been friends since they were five, but there were things she couldn’t tell her…Things about Chuck and the marriage.

“I’m union. He’s management. Can you see me falling for someone from the opposition?”

“And what will you be when you finish your Master’s?”

“Not here. I’ll work for a doctor. Head to the city. Become a consultant.” She followed the trail of clothes and gathered them as she walked. “With my reputation here, they won’t promote me.”

“Your reputation is undeserved. Just because you organized the union, sent a petition to recall Sandra, started the protest forms, negotiated the contract --”  The click of the bathroom door cut off Megan’s words.

Jenessa dropped the clothes beside the door. She entered the bedroom and stared at the red brick building across the street where she worked in ICU. She liked Eastlake Community. For nearly three years, the hospital had been her refuge. She didn’t want to leave.

She returned to the hall just as Megan emerged. wrapped in a blue bath sheet that nearly reached her toes.

“...use someone who plunges to the center of a problem and won’t give up until the next one appears. You are kind of blunt though. He’ll weigh his decisions. Libras do. What’s on the agenda now?”  She stumbled over the heap of clothes. “I know. In the hamper.”

“The contract. Monday, I’ll demand a meeting.”

“Why not give Eric Bradshaw a chance to settle in?”

“Why?  They said they’d talk once they hired a new director and they have.” Jenessa headed to the kitchen.

“Let him size things first.”

“Do you really think a new D.O.N. will help us?”  Jenessa paused at the end of the hall. “Do you know how many extras I’ve worked this summer?”

“That’s your punishment for demanding thirteen hour shifts. They can’t ask me to work seven days a week.”

“How many doubles have you pulled since Sandra took over staffing?  Sometimes I think she wants to drive nurses away.”

“Why would she do that?”  Megan followed Jenessa into the kitchen. Her knee length yellow tee shirt was the same bright color as the walls.

“Who knows?”

“Jen, give the guy a chance. How would you like to be in his shoes?”

She laughed. “I’d love it. You know, if I could transfer my credits, I’d be out of here.”

“It’s the same everywhere. Don’t you pay attention to the letters from the gang?”

“There are hospitals where the problems are addressed.” Jenessa picked up a fork. “Around here no one admits there are any.”

“I’m not sure there are answers. The health care system is in flux.”

“If the Board would sit down with us, we could try.”

Megan grinned. “Do I see you, sword in hand, leading the charge?”

“Don’t make fun. This is serious.”

“I’m sorry. I know how important adequate staffing is to you.”

“I’ll do whatever it takes to get a decent contract.” Jenessa bit her lower lip and fought a storm of memories and guilt.

Megan opened the refrigerator and poured a glass of juice. “Letters from the gang are in. Did you do yours?”

“What do you think?”  The idea for a monthly exchange of letters between the members of their clinical group from the nursing program at Grantley was Megan’s project.

“When are you going to write it?”

“How about after the softball game Saturday?”

“I’m mailing copies tomorrow.” Megan raised her hand in a gesture of surrender. “I’ll write yours...About the game. Will we win?”

“We’d better. Softball is the one place where Nursing stands a chance against the other departments who, with one whimper, get everything they want.”

“He’ll be there.”

“Who?”

“Eric Bradshaw.” Megan left the kitchen. “Night.”

As Jenessa loaded the dishwasher, a slow grin built from deep inside. He’d be there. So would Jim Bishop and Sandra Wallace. The annual hospital picnic might be an interesting event.

Thursday's Heroine is Carrie from A Marriage Takes Two #MFRWauthor #BooksWeLove

Two hours of pep talks, a dozen whispered mantras, and five sets of calming breaths, failed to settle Carrie Graham’s acute case of nerves. Get a grip, she told herself. She was going to see Tony, childhood defender, teenage ego booster, and the one person who’d always listened. Besides, she’d already eliminated every other candidate for the position.

Who are you kidding?

Myself?

From the moment she’d been presented with her current dilemma, he was the only possibility. All she had to do was convince him… But could she?  Sure Tony listened, but he didn’t talk about his problems, or his feelings.

The fading light of dusk made her slow the car in order to read the street signs. She’d planned to leave the apartment at noon, but the short nap after her night shift stretched until late afternoon.

She made the final turn into Fourth Street in a small West Virginia town established in the days when coal mining dominated the area. She shook her head. Rundown houses and boarded storefronts were the norm along the town’s main street. Why was Tony practicing medicine in this end-of-the-road place?

She hadn’t seen him for years, not since several months after his marriage, an event that had shaken her life. His wife hadn’t understood the friendship, or Tony and Carrie’s mutual interest in medical mysteries. With a flash of anger, Carrie recalled the night that woman stormed into the hospital cafeteria and spewed jealous accusations.

Carrie’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. She’d been embarrassed, hurt, and angry enough that she’d walked away from her best friend.

She’d heard rumors Tony’s wife had taken off for greener pastures. At least that’s what the hometown gossips said. Not that Carrie believed in gossip, especially after the news of her inheritance brought the tongue-waggers out in force.

She slowed the car to a crawl. Waves of panic lashed against her momentary calm. The place in her head where she’d filed his address was empty. She braked. The paper with the directions fluttered from the dashboard. She bent and grabbed them.

One glance was enough to retrieve the forgotten data. She eased off the brake and cruised the street. Half the houses were missing numbers. What now? Then at the foot of the dead end street, she saw the ones she’d memorized displayed in shiny brass on a massive gray house that looked like the setting for a Gothic novel.

A broad lawn fronted the house. The tailored grass stood in contrast to the tangles on either side.

“This is the place.” She gulped a breath.

After parking at the curb, she slowly released a held breath. She strode up the walk and onto the wide porch. Muffled shouts and noises came from inside. She rang the bell. What sounded like a slammed door nearly sent her back to the car. Who was staging a major temper tantrum?  She thought Tony lived alone.

She rang the bell again, this time holding it for several peals. The door opened and she forgot why she’d come. She forgot to breathe. Her eyes widened and her heart pounded in a staccato rhythm until she thought her ribs would crack.

He was more than she remembered.

Are you sure you want to be here?

“Tony.” His name escaped on a sigh. She felt like a teenager come face to face with the latest movie hero. This was the man she planned to ask…She changed her mind. Time to retreat. The plan wouldn’t work, not with the things he made her feel, and what he made her want.

“Carrie...Oh lord, it’s been ages. What are you doing here?  You look terrific.”

She did?  He must be blind. Even her coworkers had made comments about the deep smudges beneath her eyes. Most days, she felt as though she was suffering from terminal exhaustion.

“Come in.” He took her hand.

Exhaustion vanished. He’d always made her feet great, but this instant tonic-effect startled her. Coming to see him had grown corners she couldn’t see around.

“I can’t believe you’re here.” He drew her inside. “What brings you to town?”

She wanted to tell him, but the words caught in her throat. “Would you believe I was in the neighborhood?

Tony laughed. “No.”

She inhaled and the spicy scent of him invaded her space. “I came...” She couldn’t finish the sentence. He’d been her hero, her prince, her fantasy lover. In the flesh, he relegated those images to black and white.

“I bet you came to apply for the nursing position at the clinic.” He steered her down a hall that needed paint into a large living room. “Did you get lost on the way there?  Unfortunately, I’m not the one you need to see.”

She shook her head. “Another job is the last thing I need. I already have two.”

“Why?”

She shrugged. “Necessity.”

“I don’t understand.”

“It’s a long story.” She sighed. “I shouldn’t have come.”

“What’s wrong? Sounds like you need a shoulder.”

The entire body, she thought. “You could say...It’s like this...I have a problem that needs a solution...It’s sort of...” Her throat closed. Maybe she should leave. Go home. Forget the plan. Find a new one. Except, he was her first, last, and only choice.

“Be glad to listen.” He patted her hand. “Are you saying in all these years, you haven’t found anyone else to listen?

I haven’t looked, she thought. There couldn’t be a replacement for Tony. She couldn’t tell him that. “I thought...Maybe you can help.”

“Be glad to try. Go ahead.”

A crash resounded. Carrie jumped. “I think you’re the one with the problem.”

“You could say that.” Tony rolled his eyes upward. “My son’s protesting his punishment for his latest series of pranks. He’s grounded with no TV and no phone.”

“What did he do?” She sat on one end of a shabby brown couch.

“Do you really want to know?”

She nodded. Hearing about Tony’s problems could give her time to gather her courage.

He slumped beside her. “He glued the sitter’s clothes together. She left in a huff.”

“Don’t blame her.” Carrie frowned. “I thought your son lived with his mother.”

“He did until July. She’s remarried…to one of the Brinkers. She and her new husband are on a world cruise honeymoon. They didn’t take Chad.”

His blue eyes were bleak. Was his pain for his son or himself? How badly had his failed marriage hurt him?  “Are you all right with the idea?”

He shrugged. “I’ve mixed feelings.”

His expression showed hurt and anger, not ones she’d consider mixed. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s great having Chad here, but he’s angry about the divorce, about living here, about his mother’s new husband. Wasn’t a great summer. Even with him in school, there are problems.”

“Maybe I can help.”

“Don’t know how.” He winked. “I’m not without experience in dealing with angry kids.

“Remember…”

“Yes, and don’t even mention the first time we met.”

“Or my black eye? Lord, it’s great to see you again. Why don’t you tell me why you came all this way?”

She ran her tongue over dry lips. She searched for an answer and couldn’t find one he would believe. If she asked him, he would think she was crazy.

Good grief, my thoughts are scrambled. He is too…too… male.

And your feelings for him haven’t changed.

“Carrie.”

The demand in his voice made her feel like a child facing an adult. “It’s...” What sounded like glass shattering brought her to her feet.

“Chad!”

Saved, she thought. “Don’t you think you’d better see what he’s doing before he trashes the house?”

He raked his ebony curls with his fingers. “You’re right.” He headed to the door. “Promise you’ll stay ‘til I settle him. Then we’ll talk.”

“I’ll be here.”

She sank against the cushions. Maybe he would need the entire evening to deal with his son. This visit was an act of desperation. After all, it had been years. Maybe he’d changed.

She looked around the sparsely furnished living room. Most of the pieces looked like refugees from second-hand stores. What had gone wrong for him? He’d been on the fast track. He’d entered practice with one of the largest medical groups in Pittsburgh. From some of her classmates, she’d heard how wonderful he was, what a caring doctor he’d become, and how loyal he’d been to his wife and child. Had the end of his marriage caused him to turn his back on success? She hadn’t heard, and she hadn’t asked until two months ago. Her jobs had been in hospitals where he hadn’t been on staff.

The sound of a throat being cleared made her jump. A woman with streaks of gray in her brown hair stood in the doorway. Who? Carrie wondered. Hadn’t Tony said the sitter had quit?

“Dr. Flynn wondered if you would like something to drink?”

Carrie covered a yawn with her hand. “Coffee if you have some made. I’m Carrie Graham, an old friend of Tony’s.”

“Hazel Smithton, housekeeper, and reluctant sitter for a spell. Be right back.”

A short time later, Carrie sipped the strongest coffee she’d ever tasted. Two iced cinnamon rolls helped her swallow the bitter brew.

The hollow feeling in her stomach vanished, but the matching sensation in her chest expanded. She closed her eyes and planned explanations for the question she’d come to ask. No matter how she phrased her reasons, the words sounded like a desperate plea. Over the years, she’d learned begging never worked. Would this time be any different?

Thursday's Heroine is Deborah from Sanctuary's Ending by Janet Lane Walters #MFRWauthor #BooksWeLove

On the late afternoon of the day of the spring equinox celebration, Deborah sat on the women’s side of the meeting house with the Healers. The hardness of the stone bench made her wish for a cushion. She shifted so she could see the open wooden doors. Would her twin arrive in time? Would he join those who had been his childhood friends?

Ruth sat with the Sensitives. Deborah saw her friend’s ashen skin and the way she bit her lower lip. Deborah wished they sat together for courage and reassurance. The roiling meotions in of the gathered people must responsible for Ruth’s tensions. 

She turned from the door and glanced at the platform where the Singers and Elders sat. She spotted Gabriel with the Singers and Paul on a chair beside the eleven older men. In the center of the stage the Seat of Judgment stood beneath the round glass window.

Where was her brother? He had to arrive. There were few reasons any man, woman or child could be absent from one of the four ceremonies. Punishments were always meted out. A night in the stocks could be ordered or banishment with a stoning was also possible.

Paul had vowed they would leave the community without her twin. Could they survive without someone used to living away from the village and their sheltered houses? Her fingers tightened into fists as a frission of fear walked her spine. What if Paul had been mistaken? What if an accident had prevented David’s arrival?

Deborah turned her head toward the door. Her gaze met the icy blue stare of Paul’s older brother. In that instant she saw lust and anger. Her gut lurched. He would be glad if her brother failed to arrive. Elder Jeremiah’s older son had hated David and would have used his position as Teacher to somehow undermine the testing process.

The first peal of the summoning bell rang loud. David, where are you? She tried to  reach him on the long unused connection of their childhood. She failed.

Thursday's Heroine - Arana from Dragons of Fyre #MFRWauthor #BooksWeLove

Arana shielded her eyes against the glare of the sun. Four blue dragons circled a single combatant. She stared at the changing pattern of the battle. There could be but one ending. How could the lone dragon from High Peaks Tower survive when he fought with no speaker? She closed her mind to the multiple voices she heard.

One of the creatures dove. The embattled one turned and raked his claws along his opponent’s side. A second blue attempted to swoop from above. The besieged whirled and caught the edge of the attacker’s wing with his foreclaws and pulled free. The injured dragon joined the first in retreat.

Arana began to hope. She knew nothing of battle strategy. Though she could have spoken to the High Peaks blue she couldn’t distract him for she had no advice to give.

Her hopes plummeted. The remaining opposing pair dove toward the High Peaks blue. Though her favorite twisted, he was too slow to prevent the largest of the others from clamping teeth-filled jaws on his neck. Arana’s scream was echoed by a piercing roar from the pens. She watched as the embattled dragon tumbled to the rocks. She ran to the far side of the landing field. The blue’s broken body lay on the rocks where Arana had witnessed the death of her foster mother.

Gone, she thought. Now all that remained of High Peaks’ lineage was one red and one green dragon. And her, but she was only a foster child.

Arana leaned against the wall and fought to stem her tears. The cool autumn breeze carried the briny scent of the sea. In the distance she saw the sails of an approaching ship. Did it carry traders or wizards? If the ship belonged to either group, Lagon would leave the tower to bargain with them. The wizards welcomed any chance to obtain the hide of a dragon.

She rubbed her arms. Since the battle had ended, her services would be needed by the dragons and the speakers. She was the only one of the slaves who had no fear of the huge beasts. Her ability to hear and speak to the creatures allowed her to move freely in the pens.

She was also one of the few slaves who knew the ingredients of the antidote for the tea made from fyrethorn berries. Most of the men suffered from headaches after a speaking session. None of the four who had controlled the battle were like her for she spoke to the dragons without drinking the tea.

One after another the blues landed. Hisses and pain-filled cries filled the air. Arana was torn between going to the beasts or the men. A keening cry rose to a piercing shriek and vibrated through Arana’s bones. A red dragon emerged from the doorway to the pens. Arana ran across the landing field dodging the hissing beasts to reach the surviving red of High Peaks Tower.

A smaller green dragon scurried after the red. *Soothe her. She will not heed me.*

Arana blocked the other voices and send words of comfort to the red. As the beast’s cries softened, Arana stroked the leathery hide. Her mouth flew open. She sensed the presence of eggs. When had the pair mated? Somehow they had managed to slip free from the pens for a mating flight.

*I hid them.* Verde’s voice held laughter. *I am of their lineage and do not want to be the last of the High Peaks dragons.*

Arana stood on tip-toe and stroked his neck. *When will she lay the eggs?* She couldn’t hide the fear rippling through her thoughts. Lagon, lord of Sea Cliff Tower would surely destroy the eggs before they hatched.

*Soon.*

*How can we keep Lagon from learning?*

*I will mask her so the evil one will not know.*

Though Arana had no idea how she could hide two dragonets or care for them, the news brought hips. *Return to your pen. The blues are settling. I must deliver the potion to the men and tend to the wounds of the dragons.*

Arana crossed the landing field and strode past the entrance to the tower. She opened the door of the stillroom. Unlike High Peaks, the tower here was surrounded by a wall. Halls connected the various buildings that abutted the walls.

She filled a basket with linen, needles and ointments needed to care for the dragons. She took a flask of water and added herbs for the antidote. Arana carried both through the halls to the room where the speakers lay on padded lounges.

Arana poured the contents of the flask into a pot of hot tea. One of the slaves filled cups and gave the liquid to the men. One by one they roused. Arana turned toward the door.

“Dragon slave.”

She stiffened but turned to face the lord of Sea Cliff Tower. The man had taken away the freedom she had earned at High Peaks for her ability to speak to the dragons. When he had killed the lord and his sons, Lagon had made the women of that tower into slaves. She bowed her head to hide the hatred in her eyes. “What is your command, my lord?”

He lifted her chin. His ice blue eyes glittered with remnants of pain. “After you treat the beasts, you will seek me.” A cruel smile curled his thin lips.

She nodded. “I hear and will obey, my lord.”

He grasped her arm. “Soon you will do more.”

“As you command.” The words nearly choked her. She pushed the door open and entered the central hall. From there she left the tower and crossed the landing field to the massive stone building that housed the dragons. The hisses and growls of the four blues reached her. Where should she begin?

*I will tell you,* Verde said.

He directed her to the dragon with a long row of talon slashes along one flank. She cleaned the ichor away and slathered a numbing ointment around the edge of the wound. When she finished the creature’s roars ceased. She daubed healing salve on the open areas and spread strips of linen over the anointed places.

She left the first pen and entered a second and set about mending the tear on the dragon’s wing. A finely woven cloth was placed beneath the tatters. By the time the wing healed, the stitches would disintegrate and the cloth would drop away.

Once the minor injuries of the other dragons had been treated, Arana left the pens. *Verde, thank you.*

*When they are hurt they listen to me.* Verde sighed. *Maybe that’s why I was born green.*

*Could be. As you mature you will learn more.* Arana repacked the basket. She wished Verde could persuade the blues to defy their speakers.

*Arana, no. The evil one would kill the speakers and find new ones. Or he could destroy the dragons and sell their pelts to the wizards. As long as he lives I will not do this.*

*I know but I wish we could free them.* As she crossed the landing field and walked toward the still room, a prickling moved along her spine. Her hands formed fists. She steeled herself to face Lagon.

“Arana.” His hand clamped on her arm.

The basket thudded on the ground. “My lord.”

“How fare the beasts?” He turned her to face him.

“The wounds will heal. Two will need several weeks of rest before they can fly.”

“The High Peaks blue was a mighty fighter. Does the red of that lineage grieve?”

Arana nodded. “In the confusion after the flight she would have flown away but I calmed her.”

“Don’t dampen her spirits too greatly. I want her to rise to mate.” His gaze drilled her. “When she does my blue will follow. With eggs of her get my dragon stock will improve.” He shoved Arana against the wall. “On that day you will drink the tea and fly with her.”

Arana bit her lower lip. She couldn’t let him see how her fear verged on the edge of terror. “What if she won’t rise?” She couldn’t let Lagon know the red was with egg.

His thin lips curved into a smile that held no hint of humor. “When you speak to her she will have no choice.” He scraped a fingernail along her cheek. “You are as ripe as the dragon. You will bear my son.” He clamped his teeth on her lower lip.

She winced. A sullen anger built inside. She sought to hide her repugnance toward him. He liked his women to cower and obey his commands. In the ten years and one of her captivity here, she’d seen ten women ordered to his bed. She’d seen the bruises and witnessed the lashings as each one failed to produce the son he desperately wanted.

He caught a lock of her hair and wound it around his finger. “Hair the color of flames. Fire is what I demand from you.” He pressed his mouth over hers. His body touched hers and his phala remained flaccid. Once again she was spared a mauling.

Lagon laughed. “Soon.” He held one hand against her throat. “Let your fears grow so I can feast on them when the dragons rise.” He released her.

Though relief threatened to bring her to her knees, she pressed against the wall for support. She thought of her fellow slaves. Most feared him, but one or two lusted to be in his bed. She didn’t understand their fascination. Though handsome, his icy blue eyes and thin lips spoke of his cruel nature.

The blue gem in his ear was said to be a payment for the youth he’d sold to the slavers. The boy had been from High Peaks Tower. Had he been the youngest son of the lord, the boy who had been her friend? Lagon had announced Drakon’s death when the women from High Peaks had reached Sea Cliff.

Her eyes closed. Though she tried to form a picture of her friend, she failed. For several years after her captivity had begun, she had dreamed of the young man and of being rescued.

The sound of boots against the stone floor announced Lagon’s departure. Arana released her held breath. She returned the basket to the still room, and then ran down the inner hall to the bathing room. There she scrubbed away the odors of her labor and the stench of fear. She dressed. Instead of going to the rooms where the slaves were housed she walked to the landing court. At the edge she stared at the sea. Waves crashed against the rocks. Far below servants removed the dragon’s hide.

The ship she’d seen earlier had docked at the wharf in the nearby village. She noted the green flag and knew the ship belonged to the wizards. She breathed a sigh of relief. Their arrival meant Lagon would leave the tower once the hide had been scraped and the curing begun. He would eagerly negotiate a sale.

Thursday's Heroine - Maria from Melodic Dreams #MFRWauthor #BooksWeLove #Romance

To the sounds of her nephew banging notes on a xylophone, Maria emptied the last box of kitchenware she’d found at the thrift shop less than a block from the apartment complex. She paused and laughed. She knew that song, the theme from Jeopardy, her mother’s favorite program.

She drew a deep breath. So much to do to make this one bedroom apartment into a home for her four year old nephew. Beds to make, clothes to unpack. She needed to buy curtains to cover the blinds and add color to the ecru walls. She’d been fortunate. The woman from the Human Resources Department at Fern Lake General had found this place.

Last night, she and Jamie had slept on the green carpet in the living room pretending to be camping. This morning the furniture and other purchases from the thrift shop had been delivered.

Jamie finished his rendition with a sweep of the hammer over the keys. She leaned against the counter and loaded their bowls from lunch into the dishwasher.

Maria drew a deep breath. Inside, she quivered with tension she refused to allow to show. She must succeed.

Enough dawdling. There was a man she needed to see. Her gut clenched.

“Jamie, put your toys away. We’re going to see your father.” And pray the man agrees to pay for Jamie’s pre-school while she worked. Two weeks from today, she started at the local hospital as an occupational therapist.

“Will he like me?” Jamie asked.

She hated the worry in the boy’s voice and in his brilliant green eyes. She ruffled his dark curls. “What’s not to like?”

“He never came to see me.”

Maria sucked in a breath. She could have tried to locate the man years ago, but her mother had been adamantly opposed. “He didn’t know about you. Nana didn’t know his last name.” Maria brushed hair from her face. They could have learned. She couldn’t tell Jamie about his grandmother’s anger. Guilt curled in her thoughts.

Jamie looked up. “How did you know?”

“When we were packing to sell Nana’s house, I found some papers in a suitcase your mama left. I saw his name and looked for him.”

Jamie nodded. “Uncle Carlo said my mama runned away ‘cause my dad was mean.” His eyes widened.

She put her fingers on his lips. “What does Uncle Carlo know?”

“Just TV and beer.”

Maria popped toys in her huge bag and walked to the door. They rode the elevator to the semi-enclosed parking area and her battered ten year old blue sedan. She fastened Jamie into his booster seat.

Twenty minutes later with only one wrong turn, she pulled into the U-shaped driveway leading to a huge house at the top of the rise. She rehearsed what she planned to say when she saw Jamie’s father. She swallowed against a lump in her throat. How would he react when she handed him the folder with her reasons for being in Fern Lake?

“Is that the house?” Jamie pointed up the hill. “Looks like a castle.”

She agreed. The gray stone building rose three stories above the ground. Shrubbery lined both sides of the driveway. She turned in her seat and winked at her nephew. “Maybe we’ll meet a prince.” Or an ogre, she added silently.

“Don’t want to stay here. Want to live with you.”

His shrill voice fear that she needed to change. She touched his hand. “You will. I’m your guardian.” Except for the widened emerald green eyes, he looked like his mother without her selfish nature. “We need your dad’s help to pay for your pre-school while I work.”

Maria hoped for more than financial aid but she couldn’t tell Jamie she wanted his father in his life. Jamie needed a man, someone more honorable than her brother. She wanted Jay Lockley to spend time with his son. She’d always thought not looking for him had been unfair but she’d been unable to fight her mother and start a search in the days after the accident. Then, college had absorbed her time. Would the man understand?

Maria sighed. If Jay Lockley spent time with Jamie, she could focus on her new career. Was she selfish to want time for herself? Since her sister’s death, Jamie had been her responsibility. And her joy. Though her mother had watched her grandson while Maria attended college and worked, most of her spare time had been spent with the child.

Drawing a deep breath filled with hope and determination, she put the sedan in gear and followed the driveway to the circle at the top where she parked. Would the man living here spend time with Jamie? Sometimes, the burden felt as heavy as holding the world on her shoulders.

Anger at herself bubbled like mud in a hot spring. Don’t think that way. Jamie was her delight. Bright, curious and in need of more than she could provide.

Thoughts of her brother’s greed and habit of taking more than his share arose. Her hands curled into fists. Carlo had claimed two thirds of the money from the sale of the house.

“She owed me. Borrowed money a dozen times to provide for you and the brat.”

Without proof, she’d been unable to show his assertions were false.

Her share of the money had kept her and Jamie solvent while she finished her degree. There’d been enough money left to last until her first paycheck from the hospital arrived. While calculating she’d forgotten the need for child care. Thus this visit.

Move, she ordered. Her gut churned. What if Jay Lockley refused to acknowledge his son? What if he was the selfish driven man Delores had cursed? Six months in hell, her sister had said. Six months when her career had floundered. Sure her husband had written the music for a hit Broadway show but little had come her way.

Lies or truth? Maria’s hands tightened. If he wouldn’t help her, she would find a way to make the venture work. She always had. She’d spent hours in the library searching for Jay Lockley. After learning he lived in Fern Lake, she’d decided to find a job nearby. The staffing agency found the opening in her specialty with a chance the position would become permanent.

Maria opened the car door and freed Jamie. He wrapped his arms around her neck. “I’m scared.”

So was she but she couldn’t let him know. She lowered him to the ground. “You’re too heavy to carry.” She pulled her bag and the folder from the passenger’s seat.

Jamie yanked on her hand. “This is a big house.”

“Sure is.”

Up close the gray stone building made her feel small. The place was so different from the three bedroom house where she’d grown up.

Jamie darted away. “Look. There’s a garden with flowers and a kitty.” He paused at the gate.

Maria chased him. A trellis just beyond the gate would soon be filled with blooming roses. She caught his hand. “Maybe we can look at the garden later.”

“Listen.” Wonder filled his eyes.

Music flowed from the open French Doors across the garden. The melody, though unfamiliar, had a rich and sensuous line making her sigh. Without a warning the song ended in a series of crashing notes. Maria’s grasp on Jamie’s hand tightened. What did the stormy cacophony mean? Anger? Frustration?

When she tugged him from the gate, Jamie looked up. “Could we wait to see if there’s more music? I like the sounds.”

“I know you do. When we return to the apartment I’ll put your keyboard together.”

He frowned. “Don’t have enough keys to make music like that.” His grin warmed her. Music had always fascinated him. Even as an infant his hands or feet had beat in time to the music he heard. What had given him the talent? Not from Delores. He’d never been interested in singing only in making musical sounds.

Ten years ago, Delores had left home and headed to New York City. She’d believed she would make a splash in the music world, especially on Broadway. She’d written about her nightclub act. Then, an angry and pregnant woman had returned. Her nasty remarks about the man she’d married had made the Russo family angry. Even Maria had believed until her discovery in the attic.

Maria walked up the steps and faced a massive wooden door. She rang the bell. Jamie danced from foot to foot. When no one answered she rang a second time. Her foot beat an impatient rhythm against the stone landing. Why was there no answer? Did Jamie’s father live alone in this imposing place? Where was the butler…or a maid? Her shoulders tensed. Other than the nasty things her sister had said and the information she’d read on the internet, what did she know about him?

As she reached to ring the bell a third time, the door opened. Maria stared at the man framed in the doorway. He was more handsome than the pictures she’d seen. Broad shoulders. Glowering. His shaggy blond hair added to his dangerous look. The rumpled shirt and slacks added to her impression. Brilliant green eyes held anger.

“What do you want?” he snapped.

Jamie squeezed her hand. “Don’t like him. He’s sour.”

She nearly laughed. Her mother had said that when Jamie had a tantrum. Though Maria’s body hummed with a desire to smooth the scowling mouth, she couldn’t. Touching him would be the wrong approach. She’d come for his help, nothing more.

Thursday's Heroine - Manon from Shattered Dreams #MFRWauthor #BooksWeLove

Manon Lockley parked in the driveway of the small yellow brick ranch house she’d converted into an office for her medical practice. She slid from the driver’s seat and paused to inhale the fragrance of the June roses.

At the moment she felt like the White Rabbit. She was very late for office hours. Mrs. Patton, director of nursing at Fern Lake General had been admitted to the hospital this morning with chest pain. As her primary physician, Manon had remained to monitor the older woman’s condition and to work with the cardiologist to stabilize the hospital’s most admired employee.

Manon glanced at her watch. Well past three. How long would she need to stay? Her stomach grumbled reminding her she hadn’t eating lunch. Exhaustion caused by the emergency made her shoulders slump under the weight of the event.

She opened the door leading to the reception area. Hopefully her nurse/secretary had been able to reschedule the patients for another day.

The rumble of a motorcycle sounded in the distance. Her muscles tightened. Her fists clenched. Her heart pounded in an erratic rhythm. The roar of a bike never failed to flood her with memories she didn’t want. Those memories had been shattered years ago and still filled her with anger and grief.

Do not go there.

After sucking in a series of cleansing breaths, she entered and paused at the reception desk. The cheerful yellow walls brightened her mood. She glanced into the waiting room and saw just two people seated on the brown leather chairs. Manon smiled. Two to four patients was better than the dozen plus who had been scheduled.

Emma hung up the phone. “Finally.”

Manon nodded. “It’s been quite a day. Things here.”

“Relatively quiet. Managed to reschedule all but five of today’s appointments. Schedule will be tight for the rest of the week. How’s Mrs. Patton?”

“Stable. Angina. No cause yet. Tests to run before we know her course of treatment."

Emma smiled. “That’s great. Will be hard to think of the hospital without her at the helm. I wouldn’t be in school for my nurse practitioner’s degree if she hadn’t pushed me to try.”

Manon half-sat on a corner of the desk. “Did you know she plans to retire?”

“I’ve heard the rumors. They say she waited until she found the right replacement. I heard she made a recommendation to the Board. Someone from the city.”

Manon frowned. “How do you think the supervisors will feel about that?”

“None are qualified. Ruth has a doctorate. None of the others in upper management does. What have you heard? Any names?”

Manon rose. “No rumors but I’m not on the Board. Hope they bring the person on staff early.”

“Is she that ill?” Emma asked.

“She’s almost seventy. Time for her to relax. She needs less stress.” Manon moved toward the hall. “I’d better start. What do we have?”

“You’ve time to settle in. There’s a protein bar and pomegranate juice on your desk. I imagine you skipped lunch.”

Manon laughed. “Does four cups of coffee count?”

“No calories.”

“Actually two sugars and milk.”

Unhealthy. Eat the snack.” Emma raised her fist in a mock gesture of threat.

Manon giggled. “Yes, Mother. Thanks.” She dashed down the hall to her office. Light from the windows revealed a neat oak desk with a computer on one segment of  the L-shaped piece of furniture. She locked her purse in the bottom drawer. After settling on the chair, she sipped juice and ate the bar. The snack should hold her for an hour or so. She used a wipe on her hands, donned a white lab coat and stood at the window to admire the red, pink and white roses in the side yard.

Emma tapped on the door. “Prelims done. One of the patients who refused to reschedule is, guess who?”

“Sands,” Manon said. “Why me?”

“You’re too nice to the jerk.” Emma fisted her hands on her hips. “Don’t you feel weird examining a man who has the hots for you?”

“Emma!” Manon shook her head. “There’s nothing personal on my part.”

“You need to dismiss him as a patient. He’s a stalker and if this visit is like the others, we can’t bill his insurance.”

Manon groaned. Tom Sands was a persistent pest from her past who wanted a role in her present and future. They’d gone to the same private high school. When she’d entered med school, he’d been studying law at the same university.

Manon released a long sigh. Why today? Twelve years ago on this date in June, she had experienced the worst day of her life. Had he purposely chosen this day for a visit?

She stepped into the hall. “What’s his problem? I wonder why a lawyer doesn’t understand how close to trouble he ventures.”

“He knows you’re a softie.” Emma scowled. “Do you think he’s trying to push you into committing fraud so he has a hold over you? Doesn’t he understand you can’t bill his insurance company for every silly complaint?”

Though Manon hadn’t wanted to believe her friend. She knew Emma was right. Tom’s frequent visits for non-existent illnesses needed to end. “I don’t think he cares. What’s his current complaint?”

“Fever. Was ninety-eight point nine. Since that’s above the average normal temp, I guess he’s right.”

“Barely.”

“Want me to come in with you?”

Since she seldom needed a nurse for a routine exam, Manon shook her head. “If I’m not out in ten minutes think of an excuse to barge in. Anything else I need to know?”

“Tried to reach patient number five. The new one. The message went straight to his voice mail.” She turned. “He’s a hospital hire.”

Manon frowned. “Why come here? I could have seen him tomorrow at Employee Health.”

“Never thought to ask. Want me to try again?”

Manon nodded. “Refer him to the hospital.” She’d taken the position there when she’d arrived in town. The extra money had helped until her practice had built. Did any of the new doctors in town wanted to take her place? She would ask.

“Then we’re set.”

Manon moved into the hall. “If this hire arrives before I’m through I’ll do a physical. Where’s Sands?”

“Room one.”

Manon crossed the hall and pulled the chart from the rack on the wall beside the door. She glanced at the number of unwarranted visits. Her determination to see him gone grew.

Carrying this thought, she entered the examining room and halted. Tom had failed to don the patient goes. Clad only in bright blue boxers and blue socks he sat on the edge of the examining table. His physique lacked the ability to attract her. Flabby chest, narrow shoulders, pale skin covered with dark hair. Her jaw clenched.

Tom grinned. “I’ve been waiting.”

I haven’t. She remained in the doorway. “What do you want?”

“I have a fever.”

She released an exasperated sigh. “Ninety-eight point nine isn’t indicative of an illness. Why are you wasting my time?”

“If you would take my calls and accept my invitations to dinner, I wouldn’t have to play sick.”

Her hands coiled into fists. “You’ve put me in a difficult situation. If I bill your insurance company, I’m guilty of fraud. Was that your purpose? Want me to lose my license to practice medicine?”

“If course not.” He set his feet on the footstool. “I’m frustrated. Come to dinner with me.” He lunged for her hand and nearly fell.

Manon reached behind for the doorknob. “The answer is no. I don’t want to go anywhere with you. In high school, after that first dreadful date, I turned down your invitations. I said no when I was in grad school. That remains my answer.”

“How long will you cling to the memory of a dead man? He deserted you.” Tom reached for his trousers.

Manon’s bond tensed. Did he remember the date? Had he come to the office to say those words? “That is my affair.”

He pulled on his trousers and donned his shirt. “There’s no reason for you to be so cold. A bit of a social life might thaw your icy core.”

Manon jerked the door open. The aloofness had developed during the three years of touring Europe with her father. Iciness had kept her sane. Thoughts of grief and anger oozed beneath the barrier she’d built over her emotions. Though she had tried to forget her first love, he’d claimed part of her heart and the emptiness remained.

“Just go away,” she said.

“Come on. Give me a chance. Your father favored me.”

A peal of laughter she couldn’t contain escaped. Did Tom think mentioning her father would influence her decision? “You have no idea what my father thought about you. He believed you wouldn’t interfere with his plans for me.”

“I told him. I would be proud to manage your career.”

Her lip curled. “One I never wanted.”

“What was wrong with pursuing a career as a concert pianist? Think of the fame and fortune.”

She turned away. “And dreary hotels, fawning people and having your strings pulled by an egotist. Becoming a doctor had always been my dream. Get dressed and leave. Find another doctor.”

She closed the door with a firm click. When she reached her office, she slumped on the chair. She needed to calm her anger before seeing her next patient. Tom’s persistence began to frighten her. She wasn’t sure what she could do.

After she regained her calm center, she left the office. Relief washed through her. The door to the first examining room stood open. Emma stood with another patient.

Manon entered the second treatment room where she checked a hypertensive woman’s blood pressure and handed her several diets. She returned to the first room to study a diabetic’s blood sugar results. She congratulated him on how well he controlled his condition without medication. On her return to the second room, she listened to the lungs of a recovering pneumonia patient and cleared the woman to return to work.

She dropped the charts in her office and walked to the reception area. “Has the last patient arrived?”

“He’s changing. I’ll do the prelim.” Emma grinned. “He’s hot. Big guy with well defined muscles. Blue eyes surrounded by dark lashes. Lord, I’d love to have them. Oh, a killer smile.”

Manon laughed. “Have plans for him?”

Emma turned away. “I can only look and dream. He says he’s taken.”

“Maybe the next one will be yours.”

Emma hurried down the hall. Manon studied the next day’s schedule and discovered she’d be involved in a marathon of patient visits.

She rested her elbow on the desk. She had to do something about Tom. His weekly visits for vague complaints had to stop. Several times she’d referred him to specialists. The lack of calls from these doctors meant he hadn’t made any of the calls. Why didn’t he hear her message? She had no intention of dating him again. His awkward attempt at seduction when they’d been in high school had made her vow never again. She hadn’t changed her mind.

A painful memory surfaced. Her hands fisted.

Not going there either. Not today. Not ever.

Emma paused at the desk. “New patient is set.” She dropped a thick packet on the desk. “Copy of his medical record.”

Manon stared at the manila folder. With a health history with that many pages, she wondered why the hospital had hired him. She rose.

“Anything I should know?” Emma asked.

“There is. Once I document Mr. Sands’ last visit, make a copy of his records for him. If he calls for an appointment remind him he’s no longer my patient. I’m not willing to commit insurance fraud or have him continue to take time when I could see someone who needs me.”

“About time,” Emma said. “What if he persists?”

“I’ll ask for a restraining order and mention the office visits and my fears of being involved in fraud.”

Emma laughed. “Good for you. Bet that stops him.” She leaned against the wall. “Do you mind if I head out? If I rush, I can have dinner before class.”

“Go ahead. “Which class?”

“Statistics. Love that class.”

“You’re crazy.”

Emma slung her bag over her shoulder. “See you.”

Manon watched her friend hurry away. At the door, Emma waved and grinned.

Why the sly smile? Manon walked to the examining room and pulled a folder from the holder. She glanced inside. No name. Emma had been in a hurry.

As she opened the door, the scent of an aftershave sent her hurtling toward the past. For the second time that afternoon, memories of the boy she’d loved surfaced. She drew a deep breath.

Get a grip.

Without a glance at the waiting patient, she strode to the counter. The aroma strengthened. Hadn’t been her imagination. She turned her head and stared at the man wearing the green cotton examining gown. She gripped the edge of the counter. Blood rushed from her head.

“You’re dead.” The words slashed the silence. This couldn’t be happening.

“Hardly.”

The voice sounded like the one from her dreams. She opened her mouth to ask where he’d been and what he’d been doing for the past twelve years. She sucked in a shallow breath. Asking that question would only stir the emotions she had frozen.

“Don’t bail on me. Sit down.”

Her fingers had no feeling. Waves of darkness dimmed her vision. The edge of the counter disappeared. Her knees buckled. Blackness engulfed her.

Thursday's Heroine - Dian from Moon Summoned #BooksWeLove #MFRWauthor

Shadows gathered in the corners of the room. Dian rolled to her side and tried to sit.

“Good. You are awake. I must prepare you for the Prince’s visit, but first you can eat.” The woman’s pale eyes shone with sympathy and concern.

“Who are you?”

“Binet, once of a house of healing. Now I am but a slave. ‘Twas an evil day when the gray priests followed the invaders to this nome.”

Her words touched a flood of memories. Dian recalled the day the enemy had swept into the village where she lived with her mother, a skilled weaver. The soldiers had taken the cloth and one of the under-officers had moved into her mother’s house and claimed her as his woman.

A year ago, he’d refused to pay Dian’s tax for she had no skills at the loom. She’d been slated for the pens, but her mother had sent her into the forest. For weeks, she’d wandered until she encountered a band of those who honored the Mistress as warriors.

Tears trickled from her eyes. “Why did this happen?” she cried.

Binet walked to the door. “’Tis bad to remember what was. You must learn to endure.”

How, Dian wondered. I must escape.

Seek the Place of Choosing.

She looked around to see who had spoken. Binet had left and there was no other in the room. What and where was this choosing place?

A short time later Binet returned with a tray. Dian ate the stew, bread and fruit. The food filled the hollow in her stomach, but added nothing to her confused thoughts.

As she drank a cup of tea, Quanta arrived. She motioned to Binet. “Remove the tray. Genrai comes.”

Sammi entered and crossed to the cot. “Did you eat?”

Before Dian could answer, a tall man with the broad shoulders of a swordsman strode into the room. Russet hair framed his face and touched his shoulders. He pulled the sheet away.

Dian tried to grab the covering. Quanta grasped Dian’s arm. “Do not fight. He is your owner.”

Dian closed her eyes to hide her anger. She wasn’t a slave. She was a warrior in training. If she had a sword, she would challenge this man. She flinched away from his touch.

“He won’t hurt you,” Sammi said. “Father, are you pleased?”

“Very much so. You’ve accomplished what your uncle, the great physician, deemed impossible. 

You’ll be rewarded. I’ve plans for this one.”

Dian opened her eyes. “I can’t stay here.”

He laughed. “A slave does as she’s bid.”

“Can I have her as my attendant?” Sammi asked.

“No.”

Quanta glared. “Will you take her to your bed?”

He chuckled. “She’s for Kobe. My son returns home with the thought of becoming a champion. Sargon lures Kobe with tales of a talent. One such as this slave could make him wish to break the vows he unwisely took.”

Quanta bowed her head. “You are wise, my prince.”

Sammi clapped her hands. “Dian, how wonderful is your lot. You will be my brother’s first woman. Though you can never be first woman in his inner court, you’ll have a special place with him.”

Dian shook her head. “You cannot keep me here.”

Prince Genrai snorted. “Do you expect that ragtag band of women to invade and extract you from my stronghold. Very unlikely. You will do as I order and be thankful.”

Once they left, Dian pulled the sheet around her. “I must escape.”

Binet bowed her head. “There is no way.”

“I need to be away from here. There is a place I must reach.”

“Did the blow to your head and the wound fever destroy your memories of what has happened? The Three are dead. The Mistress was defeated.”

“As long as we believe in Her, the Mistress lives.”

Binet stared at the floor. “I am shamed. Blessed be.”

Dian lay back. “What do you know about this Kobe?”

The older woman frowned. “Since I was brought from the pens, he hasn’t been home. He’s been with the priests studying their ways of war.”

“I pray he refuses me.”

Binet shuddered. “If he won’t take you, the prince will give you to his soldiers or send you to the pens of the Gladius. ‘Tis not a good place to be.”

Dian slid to the edge of the cot. “Hear me. I must escape.” She traced the symbol and watched 

Binet’s eyes widen at the red glow. “Where is the Place of Choosing?”

“North and west in the Shanara Mountains. You do not have the strength to leave this room let alone travel that far.”

“Then help me exercise.”

Binet helped Dian from the cot. For a moment, she felt dizzy. The furniture seemed to tilt. She sucked in a breath and waited for her vision to clear. Then holding Binet’s arm, she took a step. “Tell me how I can leave this place.”

“There is no way. ‘Tis a prison,” Binet said. “The door into the hall leads past the bathing room and into the common room of the inner court. The only way to escape is to be summoned to a man’s bed.”

There must be a way, Dian thought. I won’t remain a prisoner. I won’t fail the Mistress.

For the rest of the day and at regular intervals during the night, she walked about the room and performed exercises to strengthen the muscles grown flaccid from inactivity. Soon after sunrise she wrapped a sheet around herself and ventured from the room. The dimly lit corridor led in but one direction. She passed the arched doorway into the bathing room. As she strode across the stone floor, she heard children’s laughter. The aromas of food made her stomach rumble.

She entered the large room at the end of the hall. Low tables were scattered around the area. Heaps of pillows in many colors brightened the dull brown walls. The stones of the floor were warm and she wondered how they were heated. Children pelted each other with pillows. Their laughter made her smile. Quanta appeared from behind a beaded curtain and clapped her hands. The children dropped to the pillows and bowed their heads. Other women arrived with platters of food and pitchers of fragrant liquid.

The early morning sunlight streamed through narrow windows on one of the side walls. On the other, glass blocks formed a wall and a door opened into a small garden. Though she wore no shoes and the hand of winter chilled the air, Dian stepped outside.

High stone walls enclosed the area. She ran her fingers over the rough surface. If she found no other way, she could climb the wall and creep across the room. First, she’d have to find clothes and boots.

* * * *