Where are we today, on today's offering? Well...for 1) Thursday Taster... 2) Work-in-Progress... 3) A too long excerpt. I shall keep my intro short since I ran way over, but where to cut?
Lots of wonderful writers are offering up a sample from a current WIP. Please go read and comment or their work. A little encouragement goes a long way. The links are all over and they are also listed like painful tears, one by one below.
Enjoy ~ ☼ღஜ ﾚo√乇 ¸.☆¨¯`*.✿.*˜"*°
Read Previous Installments here:
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| Moonbeams of Unintended Consequences |
“Finally, I am to
gain her love. Not that I would not want more love in my life, however, why is
that necessary, Aynne?”
“Because if she does not love you, Simon, she will never
allow you to help her. She is hard to explain, but she does not want pity or
handouts. She cannot be manipulated, even at ten. I have raised her to be too strong,
I’m afraid, and prepare for a world in which she will have to take care of
herself, to be anything she wants to become. It seems I didn’t teach her how to
be graceful yet, in the face of her special needs. Ever since she was diagnosed
with SCA, she has been involved in her recovery, long-term management and
control of her anemia. The control gave her strength and a sense of
responsibility in partnering with her medical team managing her healthcare. The
authority, however veiled, seemed wise at the time since my parents were gone
and she didn’t have any other family but me. What would she do if something
happened to me? We – I – had to think in those terms early on. Oh, God
Simon….what if…if…”
“One-step-at-a-time, Aynne. If I’ve learned anything at
all in the last six years of my wife’s battle with cancer, and her subsequent
treatment, it was to take everything ‘one-step-and-one-day-at-a-time’.”
“Of course, you are quite right. I have been. It was the
only way I could make it through the long days of treatment and diagnosis. My
resolve, however, seems to have weakened, not strengthened, in your presence. I
have no doubts about your charm. I think you accomplished all three of those tasks
with me before we had even spoken a single word. Certainly, after we did speak
I trusted, respected and loved you almost immediately – even if it was only for
one night.”
“Obviously, it wasn’t for just one night since we are
sitting here, together ten years later, right now.”
Aynne blushed at the assumption that there was more to
their relationship than that one spectacular night together lost in each
other’s dreams of passion. “If you get that far with Lily, Simon, that is really
only the beginning. You’ll have to be tested to see if you are a match and if
you are then you will need to be prepped for organ extraction and live donor
surgery.”
“I hadn’t thought that far ahead. Aynne, I…I…”
“I know, Simon. I know.”
“I have a family…”
“I know.”
“…children of my own and a dying wife that needs me now
more than ever. My children know their mother is dying, that it is just a
matter of time before they lose her forever. They need me now. Doing this will
cause them to think that they may lose me too."
“I know.”
“I can’t think of jeopardizing their security, their
courage, their happiness all of that and more for …”
“I know.”
“I, I’ll have to think about it.”
“I know, Simon. I understand; I really do.”
Aynne began to weep silently. Finally, unable to hold the
tears back against the strain, the pressure, the singular responsibility of
Lily’s life that she held in her hands, she was overwhelmed. It was too much
for some couples, let alone one woman. She felt the weight. She felt the burden.
She felt the pain of it all, the decade of doctors, medical clinics, and
specialists – lonely tears. She felt the unfettered voluntary yoke of love.
“Aynne, please do not cry, not now – please. We’ll feel
like we are doing something if I get
tested. I can do that here in Chicago, first. That is one step, let it be the
first step, in the right direction. If I am not a match, everything else is
moot and Lily won’t have her hopes built up
only to dash them. We will have to figure something else out. Let me do
some research. Please, please…stop crying. And let your doctors know to release
any necessary information about Lily to my physicians and we’ll take it from
there. Okay? Please, please don’t cry. We’ll figure this out, we will; I
promise. And we’ll do it together. Lily is, after all, my daughter, too.”
His confident reassurance unlocked the remains of her
resistance. Aynne dropped the cup and saucer on the Oriental carpet and she felt
even more hopeless, more helpless. Simon rose and in one swift moment, he was
at her side. He gathered her in his arms and she allowed him to collect all of
her fears and emotions in a single commanding embrace. Everything raced back to
her in strobe-like speed and flashes from the one night they spent together in
the candle lit, flickering shadows of an old historic hotel. She crumbled to
his will in his firm and reassuring grip. The burden under the weight of the
unintended consequences of their shared passion at last shared.
“Yes, Simon. Lily is your daughter, too,” and Aynne wept,
helplessly.
He let her weep as he supported her weight and she restored
some strength. He cooed softly into her hair as he stroked her, inhaled her
essence, and comforted her as she regained her composure. The distance, the
years, the separate lives vanished and they were swept back, back into their
suite at the Hotel Whitcomb, Room 457, riding the glittering stars and the
glistening moonbeams as they swirled and rose around them with the ebbing flow
of their love. She was lost in her love for him, again and still, as she knew
she would be if she ever saw him again let alone share a single breath and
heartbeat.
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