Awaken, Shadows of a Forgotten Past

by Marcia Maidana

  “You will never cease to surprise me.”

  “I realized then that I was indeed not crazy. I loved you, and even though I couldn’t explain it, you were my lady. But I couldn’t bring myself to the point of telling you the truth. I was too afraid to lose you if I did. My voyage back to America was an eternity. I couldn’t wait to see you, to be with you. Yet at times it was too difficult to believe.”

  “I can imagine, especially when you were sick. Alex, I never ever want to be apart from you again.”

  “We won’t. We will grow old together.”

  “I believe that we will see those we lost again someday.” I held his gaze, and I knew that just like me, he was thinking about our baby.

  “I love you, my lady.”

  “I love you more, general.”

  Forty-eight hours later found Alex well on his way to recovery. The results from the hospital came back positive; they were still determining what the poison had been.

  Under suspicion of being an accomplice to Mrs. White, Dr. Petersen was in custody. The search for Mrs. White and Mr. Vines intensified; there were no traces of them.

  “Where do you think you are going, general?” I asked, meeting Alex halfway across his room.

  “I was going to look for you. I have a question,” he said, brushing the hair out of my face.

  “It must be urgent for you to disobey the doctor’s orders.” I raised an eyebrow—he was more than ready to escape the seclusion of his room.

  “Does America feel like home to you?”

  His question took me by surprise, but the answer came out naturally. “No, not after remembering it all.”

  “Would my lady like to return to Forte Radici?”

  “I’d like that very much.” I smiled.

  “Florence, stay tonight, stay with me.” His palms curved around my hips, pulling me into him. Before I could respond, he was kissing me with the same ardent passion he had twenty years ago.

  “I see you are indeed feeling better.” I finally managed to pull away from his addicting lips. He buried his face in my neck; I couldn’t resist his love much longer. “I’m sorry, general, but I must leave.” My words demanded all the willpower I could muster to see them through.

  “You can’t be serious.”

  “I am in earnest. I speak nothing but the truth.”

  He laughed. “I love listening to you speak like you used to.”

  “Wonderful, we’ll continue our conversation tomorrow.”

  “Florence, seriously—stay.”

  “Seriously, Alex, I can’t. You are much better indeed. There is no reason for me to stay overnight.”

  “You are joking.” His eyes shone in amusement.

  “No, I’m not. It’s not like I can just tell Granny and Zaira the truth. So, it’s not proper for me to stay.” I started for the door. He reached for my hand. I evaded him.

  “Florence, stay, you’re my wife.”

  “No, general, in this life, I am not your wife. If you want me to stay, you’ll have to marry me again.”

  “I’ll bring the priest to the monastery first thing in the morning.” He had a frown on his face, and I laughed wholeheartedly.

  “I’ll be waiting.” The door slowly parted. I stepped into the corridor. “Good night, Mr. Sterling.”

  He shook his head in dismay, but a smile crossed his face. “Good night, Miss Contini.”

  The story continues in

  Alive, Shadows of a Living Past

  Available Fall 2018

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  About the Author

  I was born and raised in Argentina during the military regime which ended with the loss of many young lives in the invasion of the Falkland Islands. Amidst the devastating effects of military government and war, reading and writing became a passion which expanded and transported my imagination with the possibility of a brighter future.

  At the age of eighteen, I moved to the United States, where I studied English and started my own family. I soon discovered that the love I have for my husband and children would naturally unfold towards my European roots, leading me to become a genealogist and family historian. A decade of searching, compiling, and learning the stories of thousands of people has instilled in me a profound gratitude for the strong ties that can be achieved in families through personal sacrifice.

  So it is that through fiction, Awaken explores and exposes the characteristics of true love and loyalty in times of fear, war, and finally, death. But perhaps the most captivating element in the story is the battle within the souls of the main characters as they search to know who they really are and how they are connected.

  marciamaidana.awaken@gmail.com

  Also by Marcia Maidana

  Shadows of Time

  Awaken, Shadows of a Forgotten Past

  Alive, Shadows of a Living Past (Fall 2018)

  Also Available

  From Satin Romance

  * * *

  New Penny

  by C. E. Sawyer

  When their passions and goals collide, the crash will be volatile.

  What happens when the ties that bind lives together start to unravel, threatening to tear down everything Penelope once knew and loved? Can a passion stronger than Penelope ever felt before be enough to help her let go of her past, and believe once again in the power of love?

  Dealing with the pressures from a divorce and a pushy mother, Penelope crosses the country in search of a happier place. What she didn’t expect to find between the open roads and desert hills, is a path to rediscovery...and two men that are completely different, but equally complicated. She wanted a summer to escape from her past, but what she didn’t expect is that her past would find her — challenging everything she believes, everyone she cares for, and everything she wants. Forcing her to face the toughest question of all — what is she willing to risk to take a chance on love?

  Easton and Ford were not looking for anything more, cowboy hats and motorcycles always felt like freedom for the two brothers, until a new girl came into town. What are they willing to lose to fight for a girl who won’t stay out of trouble, with a vulnerability to her smile that they can’t seem to ignore? With more than her safety at stake, Penelope will have to learn to trust, but will one of the brothers be able to tame her wild heart in time?

  Chapter One

  “Yippee, solid is my color, boys,” I said as I felt the menacing glare of the group of leather clad bikers standing around the pool table. I drew out the words, a smirk turning up the corners of my mouth before I remembered to put my poker face back on. I slowly and methodically started sinking balls on the table. The only noise was a slow hum of bar music in the background, while puffs of smoke evaporated under the dangling bar lights. As I reached across the table to sink another shot, excited murmurs erupted behind me. The room was filled with burly men with every square inch of their exposed skin covered in tattoos. They were clothed in black gear that proudly proclaimed they were hog men, and observed the game with beady-eyed interest as I fastidiously weaved my way through each shot. I was on a high run when I played a jump ball, expertly shooting my solid over
his stripes, causing another ball to swoosh into the corner pocket. I was cleaning up against the toughest guy in the joint, who towered over me with his straggly Handlebar mustache, while his buddies looked on uneasily as I hustled him at his own game.

  He couldn’t have known by looking at me that I grew up near a bar in a small, no-name town in the Midwest, where entertainment included chasing fireflies or playing billiards. I could play pool in the dark, I could play pool hammered, and I sure as hell could play pool in Arizona. Handlebars was fuming, licking his lips and cracking his knuckles, as if with each lick and crack he thought he would be closer to some sort of conclusion regarding how he should deal with me.

  “Black ball, corner pocket.” I pointed with my cue, and the table went silent. As the ball sank in, I heard a loud snap. Handlebars broke his cue over his knee, which left him holding two splintered ends in each hand while he stared down at me.

  “You played me,” he roared as I grabbed the wads of cash and shoved them in my bra. I couldn’t waste the few extra seconds needed to shove the bills into my too tight, practically painted on jeans, so the bra worked in a pinch.

  “What? You agreed to a game, so we played. Thanks for the fun, boys, but I think it is time I called it quits.” I started to back away, eyeing the weathered faces around the table. None of them seemed to appreciate my little joke, each with a unique grimace on their face, and their jaws set in a jagged hard line as they inched toward me.

  “Oh no, toots. We’re not done with you, yet.” Handlebars sneered as his boots edged toward me, a half-crazed look in his eye.

  I bumped into another pool table and was about ready to turn and run when I noticed the clean cut, gorgeous guy who was observing me earlier, jump up from his black leather bar stool. He put a strong hand on Handlebars’ leather-vested chest. A cigarette dangled from the side of his mouth. He peered up at Handlebars over the top of his dark sunglasses.

  “I think the lady said she was done playing, man,” he said in a cool and even tone.

  My breath caught. Did he really just jump in to defend me, and possibly save my ass from the trouble I just got myself into? Why would he do that for me?

  “Oh yeah? Well I’m not done playing yet. I want to have some fun with the little lady, since she just had some fun with me. You going to try to stop me?” He arched a menacing brow, and I saw my chivalrous hero take a big breath as he puffed out his chest.

  “Look, I don’t want any trouble. The lady said she is done playing, so let’s just call it a day. Just walk away, man.”

  I was amazed at his calm and confident demeanor, especially since Handlebars was twice his size. He spoke with a confidence that would only come from being the leader of the biker gang, which was not the case since he wore a simple cotton t-shirt, had ruffled blond hair, and relaxed jeans that hung just right off his climber’s build. He was a regular guy in the presence of giants. He took a long drag of his cigarette and waited to see what Handlebars would do next.

  I inched my way along one of the sides of the pool tables, trying to figure out if there was a back exit. Handlebars shoved the stranger out of his way, hard, which left no barrier between me and Handlebars’ angry glare. He eyed me, and a slow grin crept across his dark features.

  “You and I are going to dance, Toots, because I need to get my money out of you somehow, and I am willing to trade other services for repayment.”

  I could feel the chunks starting to rise in my throat. I was in big trouble with a man as big as a gorilla who didn’t like to lose. I didn’t know why trouble followed me like a shadow. In Arizona, it was no different. Hurricane Penelope strikes again.

  Looking around, I tried to strategize a logical plan based on the closest path to an exit. Unfortunately, the most convenient route was blocked by the wall of leather-clad men, and I would still have to weave my way through the tables to get to the back door. If I ran past him to the door, he could easily grab me, or one of his buddies could step in. I had to think of another plan, and quick.

  Recovering from the hard shove over the pool table, I noticed the chivalrous bystander regained his footing. He stepped behind Handlebars and tapped him on his shoulder. The sweaty grin disappeared from Handlebars’ face as he sighed and slowly turned around to deal with the unwanted distraction. As he turned, the stranger pulled his other fist back and rammed it square into Handlebars’ jaw. He went flying backwards onto the pool table as the force of the upward right fist took him off his feet.

  I stood, paralyzed and wide eyed at the spectacle with the rest of the crowd. The stranger ran past me, grabbed my hand, and dragged me outside the bar.

  “Come on, we got to get out of here,” he said in a low growl, his southern drawl coming out through the words. He yanked me forward with his hand until we were running out the door and down the wooden steps at the entrance of Tumblers bar. Pulling me around the side of the bar to the back, he jumped on the fastest looking motorcycle I had ever laid eyes on.

  The curves of the bike screamed speed. We had run past a bunch of typical hogs, black and steel with no pizazz, but this one looked futuristic. I almost swallowed my tongue at the prospect of jumping onto such a machine.

  “What are you waiting for? Hop on.”

  “I can’t get on this thing. Are you crazy? How fast does it go anyway?”

  “It runs a hundred and eighty-six miles per hour if I need it to, but you’re telling me you would rather wait for your friend with the mustache to find you instead? Let’s go, pool shark.”

  I let my instincts take over and forced my body to sit on the fancy pile of metal behind a guy I didn’t know from anybody, even though my brain was screaming at me to stop. I knew he made a good point. I certainly didn’t make any friends inside, and he didn’t make any friends sticking up for me. I had a better chance jumping on a two-wheel vehicle of death than relying on the good nature of a biker gang. Especially with their money stuffed in my bra.

  We peeled out of the parking lot and away from Tumblers bar down a dirt path, weaving in and out of trails. My arms hurt from gripping his waist like a spider monkey. He yelled back to me to lean into him with the movement of the bike. He made it sound so easy. The thought of leaning into him on a bike moving faster than I ever drive, with no helmet, and taking low turns as if the goal was to pick up stones on the side of the road made my stomach do backflips.

  I closed my eyes as we zipped through the open spaces heading toward the mountains. I could hear the roar of angry motorcycles behind us, the loud rumbling and revving chasing us as we sped along the highway. I worried the road was too exposed to effectively lose anyone.

  I looked back, and the biker’s faces confirmed what I feared most. They were not interested in solving our differences over polite conversation, they were out for blood... my blood. Their lips twitched with anticipation like hounds released for the hunt. The men sat with their shoulders curled forward on their roaring bikes like they were ready to yank me from my seat by my hair. I swallowed hard, trying to not think about getting dragged behind their bikes through the swirling tire dust if they caught me. They wanted to make me pay, and they knew they could. They wanted to teach me a lesson I would never forget, and they were closing in on us, fast.

  * * *

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