Part 8 - Can't You See - Written Fireside

Here is my part of the Written Fireside round robin story that started with Lori Connelly eight weeks ago on Tuesday, June 23rd . The list where you can go to read each part of the story is listed below my part. The parts will be edited and put into a short story that will be sold with all proceeds going to Pets for Vets.

This is the Blurb:

Noah Hale is an author suffering from PTSD related insomnia, needing peace and sleep. All he wants is to be left alone. A certain little dog has other ideas.

Amanda Bell, a teacher, is grieving the loss of her sister, Rachel. Caring for her sister’s dog is comforting until a new neighbor moves in the other half of her duplex. Suddenly, the dog starts escaping her yard, running off to the man on the other side of the fence.

And here is Part 8 of Can't You See
Part 8
Paty Jager

Amanda busied herself in the kitchen. Why did telling Noah about Rachel’s accident lift her spirits rather than bring on the anxiety and fears it normally did? Could it be because he understood and didn’t stare at her like she was crazy? Which made her feel normal rather than a freak. She'd only received sympathetic looks at the meetings.

Noah and Gertie returned.

Amanda placed the two full coffee cups, creamer, and sugar on the table and took the seat across the table from Noah.

Gertie stood to the side of the table her head moving back and forth as if Amanda and Noah were volleying at a tennis match.

Noah lifted the cup to his lips, watching her over the rim.

He’s waiting for me to ask questions. Amanda didn’t want to push too hard and have Noah shut her out. His eyes met hers and didn’t waver. He was ready to open up. To share.

“What happened in Afghanistan?” she asked, stirring sugar into her coffee and keeping eye contact.

Noah set his cup down. His fingers remained on the cup, sliding up and down the handle. “It was night. We’d been sent out on a patrol. Two Humvees and an MRAP, armored vehicle. I was driving the MRAP. My buddy, Mark, was driving the Humvee in the front.” His fingers slid from the cup and his hand balled into a fist. His facial features tightened, hardened, as he fought the emotions bottled inside.

Emotions Amanda knew all too well. She reached across the table, placing her hand on top of his fist. There was no need for words when his gaze locked onto hers.

“About three hours out I had a feeling, or premonition, something wasn’t right.” His gaze didn’t waver. His hand tensed under her palm.

He swallowed. “The air changed—tightened. An explosion ripped the vehicle open even though it was supposed to be impenetrable, and I flew through the air. I didn’t hear anything for several minutes. The concussion of the explosion perhaps, my disorientation of landing on the ground and having my breath knocked out of me, I’m not sure. But then…” He drew in a long, deep breath and slowly released it. “I heard screaming. It was unlike anything I’d heard before. I sat up.” He swallowed again. “The body parts scattered among the shredded metal and vehicle parts. Soldiers screaming in agony with limbs missing, insides…” He swallowed again. “I crawled to Mark’s Humvee.”

Noah’s clenched fist opened and closed as if grasping for answers or a safe place. Amanda slid her palm along his when his hand opened. She clung to his hand, keeping him grounded to her and the tiny kitchen. She knew what it was like to fall into the rabbit hole of believing you could have saved someone.

“Mark wasn’t moving. He…All I could think of was how are they going to make him presentable for his family.” Noah’s eyes held the pain and recrimination she’d witnessed in her own eyes for months.

“It wasn’t your fault. Too many lives have been lost in wars. Don’t blame yourself for something that was caused by the enemy.” She grasped his hand with both of hers. “Don’t let the self-blame eat you up.”

Gertie hopped onto Noah’s lap. She whined and licked his chin.

Amanda smiled. “Gertie is giving you permission to not blame yourself.”

Noah glanced down at Amanda’s small hands clutching his. She didn’t run or look at him like he was crazy. She clung to him, offering support. He pet Gertie with his free hand and peered into Amanda’s eyes. She truly understood.

The black cloud that had shrouded his life became a shade lighter. He loved his family, but they didn’t understand. This woman and spirited dog did.

“I’ve been going to a therapy group for PTSD,” Amanda said. “Want to go with me this week and see if you have something in common with more people than me?”

Gertie yipped enthusiastically and danced on his lap.

“Shhh, okay girl, I get the message.” He put a hand on the dog’s head, stalling her antics and peered across the table at Amanda.

You can find the previous parts at these blogs:

Part 1  by Lori Connelly

Part 2  by Elsa Winckler   

Part 3  by Angela Campbell

Part 4  by Jane Hunt    

Part 5  by Charlotte Phillips    

Part 6  by Mandy Baggot

Part 7  by Susan Horsnell

Part 8  by Paty Jager

Part 9  by Zara Stoneley

Part 10 by Summerita Rhayne

Be Mine, Marshal Part Two by Paty Jager

This is part two of a round robin western historical romance Free Read. To read part one go to: Written Fireside and read Part One by Lori Connelly.

Written Fireside: Be Mine, Marshal

(A Cold Spring Valentine Short Story)

Part Two

Near the Canadian/US border

East of Cold Spring, Idaho

The Broken C Ranch

February 1871

Fannie stared at the blood on her hand and Sophie. The dog had escaped the burning barn, but what happened to her after that?

“Let me take a look.” Marshal Reid crouched beside her and Sophie, gently parting the hair on the dog’s neck. “Looks like someone either took a shot at her or sliced her with a knife.” He leaned closer, spreading the hair even more.

Sophie yelped.

Fannie swung her arm. “Don’t hurt her!” She connected with the marshal’s jaw.

“Ow!” He grasped Fannie’s arm, holding it still. “There’s no need to hit me. I’m only trying to decide if she needs stitches.”

Her stomach churned. “Stitches? Will she bleed to death?’ Sophie had been her companion since her parents’ death. All she had for family was Grandfather and Sophie. Her gaze took in the puppies; Sassy, Ringo, Mopsie, Gracie, Buster and Meisha.

“No, but it wouldn’t hurt to get her to town and let the barber take a look at her.” The marshal stood and peered around him.

“What are you looking for and why should the barber take a look at her?” Fannie remained on the floor petting her dog. Staring up at the lawman, she took her time to really look at him. She generally preferred dark-haired men, but there was something about the marshal’s caramel colored curls, pale-green eyes, and the dimple in his chin that caught her attention. 

“I’m looking for a something to load them pups in for the trip to town.”

Roger, who she’d completely forgot about, stepped forward. “There’s a crate behind the house that Mrs. Layton dropped off some preserves in.”

“Get it,” Marshal Reid said, removing the dark-green scarf tied around his neck.

“What is that for?” she asked.

Marshal Reid crouched beside her again and wrapped the scarf around Sophie’s neck. “To stop some of the bleeding.”

“Why do you think this was caused by a bullet or knife? She’s had cuts before from running through the bushes and farm equipment.”

“This cut goes across her neck, not the length of her neck, like she’d get crawling through something. And it’s too deep to be caused by accident.” He stood again. “Do you have a buggy or wagon you can haul her to town in?”

Fannie stood. “Yes.”

“Show me which horse to hitch to it.” Marshal Reid used his long legs to carry him toward the barn.

Fannie hitched up her skirts and trotted behind him. “Why did you ask about a barber?” His hair did curl over the collar of his coat, but it seemed an odd question at the moment.

“To stitch up Sophie.”

She grabbed the back of his shearling coat. “Why would a barber stitch up Sophie? We have a doctor in Cold Spring.”

He stopped and pivoted toward her. “You do? I was told Cold Spring needed cleaned up and assumed it was no more than a shanty town.”

“That’s what you get for assuming. Miss Laurel-Anne Hartworth is the doctor.” She wasn’t going to tell him that Miss Laurel-Anne was taught by her daddy and had brought Fannie into the world twenty-two years ago.

“There aren’t any women doctors.” He stared at her like she’d just smeared a cow pie on her face.

“Well don’t tell that to Miss Laurel-Anne.” Fannie hurried ahead of the marshal and straight to the corral where Georgia stood with one hind hoof cocked, her eyes half closed.

Marshal Reid caught up to her. “Buggy or wagon?”

“Georgia pulls the buggy Grandfather purchased years ago for my grandmother. She didn’t like to ride horses.” Fannie moved aside as Marshal Reid caught Georgia.

Fannie walked to the barn and threw the double doors open. She loved driving the buggy. Grandfather insisted on going to church in the buggy once a month when his health allowed. They hadn’t made that trip since the winter weather hit and Grandfather’s breathing worsened.

The marshal led Georgia over to the harness hanging on the wall. “Tell me about the people you believe set fire to the building over the hill.” 

You can find Part Three next Tuesday, February 17th at Julie Cerniglia Lence

Other writers adding to the story are:

Written Fireside: Schedule:

Tuesday Feb.   3rd - Lori Connelly

Tuesday Feb.  10th - Paty Jager  

Tuesday Feb.  17th - Julie Cerniglia Lence

Tuesday Feb.  24th - Susan Horsnell

Tuesday March  3rd - Aileen Harkwood

Tuesday March 10th - AJ Nuest

Tuesday March 17th - Mandy Baggot

Tuesday March 24th - Kathleen Rice Adams     

Tuesday March 31st - Kari Lemor

Written Fireside: Of The Storm - Part Four

When I was approached to be part of Written Fireside for a round robin story writing event next February that will be a western, I jumped into the fray by offering to be part of the Halloween Written Fireside story. And so, Of The Storm started Sept. 2nd at Lori Connelly's blog and has been expanding each Tuesday on participating author's blogs. Today, I have part four of this paranormal story set on Halloween night. The last installment of the story will be Oct. 28th. You can find all the blogs and authors who are participating here: http://writtenfireside.blogspot.com/

You can find the previously posted parts at these author's blogs:

Part 1 by Lori Connelly

Part 2 by Aileen Harkwood

Part 3 by Elise Forier Edie

And here is Of The Storm Part 4

Amaya stared into Bri’s eyes. Her body shivered. Usually she took his threats of the world coming to an end lightly. But there was as much fear as anger in his gaze. Compassion, an emotion she only doled out to her patients and never to this fae, her nemesis for as long as she’d been on this earth, surfaced.

She placed a palm on Bri’s angled jaw.  “If you promise to help me save Makani, we can stop the war and save both the fae as well as the humans.”  She’d brought up an alliance between them before her mind fully realized she’d just asked an enemy to be an ally.

His eyes narrowed a moment before he covered her hand with his long, slender fingers. “What do you know?”

Bri’s quick acceptance of her touch and the energy emitting from his body into her hand forced her to jerk her hand away and rethink having him help her. The connection between them was more than two beings fighting for a common cause. She couldn’t have that. Couldn’t feel anything for a male that wasn’t human.

“I know the chant and the location that will make the torc open the portal. All Makani knew was the torc had powers.” Amaya spun from Bri’s watchful gaze and headed into her bedroom. There was a certain item she wanted to take with her. An amulet her mother said must be worn to keep her safe from demons. Hopefully, she could use the necklace to free Makani from Blaike’s hold over her.

“What are you doing? I thought we were going to find your sister and the torc.” Bri’s words whispered hot across the back of her neck like a caress, lingering and tugging her toward him.

She fought the urge, concentrating on slipping the amulet under her nurse’s tunic and swept by Bri, making sure they didn’t touch in any way. “I’m ready now.”

She’d get Makani out of the Demon King’s clutches for good and retrieve the torc. Then she’d deal with the magnetic force luring her toward Bri.

###

To be continued next Tuesday, September 30th at Ciara Gold's blog: http://ciaragold.blogspot.com/