As promised, here is the first scene of my new novelette, Holding On To Yesterday, part one in the Wishes In Time series. If you like what you read here, and would like the rest of the story before it’s published in book form, all you have to do is sign up for the newsletter by clicking on this link. There will be at least two more novelettes for this particular story, and possibly four. With each new one, I will only post the first scene on this blog, as well as my other one, with the rest to follow for subscribers only.
Because of the timing, installments will be emailed on 1/14, 1/28, 2/11 and 2/25, with publication scheduled for March 4. Hope you enjoy the story.
The raindrops pelting his face felt like the stings from a thousand ravenous fire ants as Kyle clawed his way across the spongy, water-soaked ground. A gale force wind pushed against him almost as though it were a living thing, determined to keep them apart, and yet he pressed on, inch by hard won inch.
Still, he couldn’t get close enough to save her. He never got close enough. All he could do was watch, helpless, as she lay there dying, impaled by an impossibly huge tree limb. Its branches and leaves covered her like a shroud, leaving only her face, and one lifeless hand exposed.
“You killed us.” Rather than being drowned out by the hellacious storm, Maggie’s soft accusation drifted across the distance, echoing in his head, cutting his heart in two. Blue eyes, filled with sadness, locked with his as she watched him fighting against the elements, determined to change the outcome this time.
“No! I didn’t mean to,” Kyle cried, his hands fisting in the grass. Tears streamed down his face as he tried to explain, to make her understand. “I couldn’t get there in time, Mags. I was too late. I’m sorry! I’m so sorry.”
“If you had ever wanted us, we’d have been home where we belonged. We’d be there with you now. Our daughter would be two years old.”
Kyle had never understood why she always talked about a baby, but this was the first time she’d identified it as a girl. Why did she think they had a daughter? Because she’d desperately wanted to start a family? Because he hadn’t been ready, and he’d robbed her of the one thing she’d desired most? The pain that squeezed his chest felt like it might crush him. Thinking of a child in generic terms had somehow made it not as bad as it could have been. But – a daughter?
Would she have had Maggie’s silky straight chestnut hair? Or would it be more like his, sandy blond with a tendency to curl? Her blue eyes, or his brown? If they’d had a daughter, she would be walking by now, maybe even talking so he could understand her.
If he hadn’t killed Maggie. Killed her dream.
The vision before him changed slightly. Instead of just Maggie lying there, he could see a pair of tiny legs sticking out, the head and torso hidden beneath a canopy of leaves. In a sick way it reminded him of the witch killed by a house in the movie about little people and a dancing scarecrow.
Only it was his family who had been crushed by a falling limb during the storm. The family he could have had, only he’d hurt and chased them away because he hadn’t cared enough to make them his own. Freedom had mattered more to him in that one crucial moment than anything else. Even though he’d realized less than a day later that he’d been wrong, it had been too late. Before he could get to her, to tell her that she was his everything, to beg her to forgive him, she was gone.
“Think about us,” Maggie whispered, as the vision wavered and began to fade.
“No! Don’t leave,” he begged, reaching out to try and stop her. “Maggie, stay with me.”