by Amelia Star
I pause and step back, looking at the autumn painting of the bridge on my canvas. “I guess you’re right, Hailey. Like my paintings of the bridge, it looks like a different place from spring to summer to autumn. And come winter, it will be transformed again.”
“That’s exactly it, Alicia. Sometimes you just need to give people time.”
“Well, for now, I will just paint,” I say.
It’s mid-afternoon when Hailey helps me pack up my supplies and load them in the car. In the parking lot, we give each other a big hug.
“If you need me to help out again for the winter painting, just let me know—I want to see the whole series,” Alicia lets me know as she gets in her car to head off for the restaurant where Ted is already busy managing the evening shift. She still has a full night ahead of her—she always amazes me with her endless energy.
After a quick trip to the grocery store, I head on home. To my surprise, there is a line of cars around the block when I arrive in my neighborhood on the edge of town. “Someone must be having a party tonight,” I think.
I arrive at my house and pull into the driveway between cars parked on the street. Something looks different about the place, but I can’t put my finger on what it is. I get out of my car and haul the first load of supplies from my trunk.
When I open the door to the shed, quite a surprise is waiting for me. What is usually like a junkyard has been completely cleaned up—my paintings are in neat arrays of vertical shelving units along the walls, and the paints are lined up like a rainbow above a long workbench. The mess of old scrap metal and trinkets that were in boxes when I moved in here last summer are all gone. It looks like a small heating unit is in the corner waiting to be installed. Even the windows of the shed have been cleaned, and rays of late afternoon sunlight are shining through at brilliant, inspiring angles.
I have a proper studio to work in, with everything including easels set up and ready for use. On one of the easels there is the caricature of Micah and me done by the artist in the park—where we both look stiff and rather bland. On the other easel is a new caricature drawing of Micah and me dressed up like Homecoming King and Queen riding in a convertible.
In the middle of the newly-arranged studio, Micah stands holding a whistle.
“What on earth is going on here?” I ask.
Micah smiles and says, “Transformation, my love.” And he blows the whistle. The shrill sound reverberates outward, then he gives a call, “Ready!”
A response comes from behind the shed, “Okay!” And the sound of a snare drum and trumpet follows.
Soon, I am being lifted onto the shoulders of a couple of big burley football players and carried into my backyard garden, with the rest of the football team hustling them on. The cheerleaders are shaking their pompons while cheering—“Alicia and Micah, the Best of the Best!” The team and cheerleaders move fast, arranging me under the rose trellis, where the last of the roses are still in bloom for the season. I’m enthroned on a chair, and a crown like the Homecoming Queen would wear is placed on my head. Then Micah comes around and kneels before me.
There’s a drum roll, and the trumpet gives a salute.
Then Micah takes my hand and says, “My Alicia, I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me for leaving this morning. I hurried back as soon as I could—after rounding up my kids. We worked hard this afternoon, all so I can show you how much I want to be in your life.”
Tears are welling up in my eyes. No one has ever gone out of their way to do something like this for me in my entire life. I don’t know what Micah is going to say next, but I am listening.
“I want to make you the center of my universe. I want to be here when you need me. Your art is as important as my teaching, so I’ve talked to my kids and there are several who are hoping you’ll give them art lessons—Theresa from the barbeque Friday is one of them. She did the Homecoming King and Queen caricature of us on the easel in the shed.”
Looking around, I see Theresa in her uniform, smiling hopefully.
“Alicia,” Micah turns to me with a serious expression on his face. “From now on, every other Friday instead of having barbeques, let’s do something that focuses on your art—whether it’s going to a museum, or having an art class with the students…”
“Oh, Micah, that sounds like a beautiful idea.” By now, tears are rolling down my face, and Theresa steps forward to hand me a tissue.
“I want to make you the center of my life, Alicia,” Micah asserts.
Then a few of the football players, with Jim as their leader, step forward and Jim adds, “Mr. Ford has done so much for us, and we really want to see him happy. You can bet that we’re going to do everything we can to cheer him on. And now we’ll let you two have some time to yourselves.”
With that the trumpet player starts a jazzy sort of selection, and the students, the cheerleaders, and football players march away, leaving Micah and me alone in the garden.
Micah holds my hand while tears roll down my face. I hear the voices of the teenagers fading into the distance, their car doors opening and closing, and then peace fills the night.
“You’re my queen,” Micah says. “I want to treat you like royalty, my love. Will you let me be the king of your heart?”
“Oh, Micah, you have won my heart with what you’ve done. I feel like a queen because of you.”
He takes me in his arms, and we press close to each other in a kiss that warms every inch of my body as the autumn breeze blows in spirals around us, sending leaves and rose petals everywhere.
EPILOGUE – MICAH – Three Years Later
After fixing up the shed with the team and other students, it was loads of fun to spend weekends with Alicia. I have learned a great deal about art since then. I had no idea how much science and chemistry are actually involved in the mixing of paints, and the way they adhere to the canvas. So using my expertise as a chemistry teacher, I’ve been able to help Alicia improve the quality of her paintings.
People started purchasing her work, and eventually she was able to quit painting houses. After she opened her own gallery, she moved over to St. Louis with me. But Alicia still has her house and studio across the river where she can go to work in her favorite remodeled shed.
My house has become a sort of gallery on its own. Alicia painted murals—wooded scenes, mountains, ocean shorelines, and nature images everywhere on the walls. I feel as if I’m entering her creative world every time I walk in the door, and it’s a beautiful and imaginative place to be.
It is a perfect October afternoon when we drive north to visit the Chicago Art Institute for the third time since we met. After strolling through an exhibit on Women Painters of the Early 20th Century, we leave the Art Institute and walk hand and hand down Columbus Drive about ten minutes to Grant Park. With the Chicago skyline behind us, we walk around Buckingham Fountain.
“I know we’ve seen this before. Still, every time I stand before it, I’m so impressed by how huge it is! It’s amazing!” Alicia exclaims.
“You are the amazing one, my love. If you built a fountain, it would be even more extravagantly impressive, I am sure.” I take her in my arms and hug her tightly. She smells like the apple cider we had before going to the museum this morning.
“That’s what I should build next! A fountain in our backyard!” Alicia suggests with such delight in her voice.
“Well, I’m sure that you will come up with something incredible.” I kiss her, and power surges throughout every limb of my body. I know I can do anything with her around. I’m still extremely devoted to my students and teaching. But I’ve found out that I’m an even better teacher, coach, and father to my sweet daughter Leslie now that I have more balance in my life.
“And I can’t wait to see you figuring out the mechanics of our backyard fountain.” Alicia laughs and unwraps herself from my grasp so that she can get her phone out and take a selfie of us together.
After she’s got just the shot she wants, we walk
away from the fountain along one of the paths that branches out from the open space around it. Once we find a bench under a big maple tree, I let my love have a seat before I kneel before her.
“Oh, Micah!” she gasps as I take a scrolled piece of paper out of my backpack.
I unscroll the paper and hold it up for Alicia to see. “Remember this?” I ask. “It’s the caricature of us as homecoming king and queen that Theresa the cheerleader drew the day I vowed to make you my queen.”
“Of course, I remember—how could I ever forget. Everything changed after that day.” Tears are welling up in her eyes at the memory, or at the thought of what she senses I’m about to do.
In the scroll is a piece of velvet wrapped softly around something. I take the velvet bundle and undo it carefully. “Alicia, you are the light of my life. Everything that you touch becomes full of color and joy. But most of all, when you touch me, you bring me the feeling I can do anything—for you, my queen.”
With those words, I hold up a diamond ring with small ruby stones around it. “It would make me the happiest man in the world if you would marry me, Alicia.” I slip the ring on her finger as she nods enthusiastically yes.
Then we fall into each other’s arms. I lift her up from the bench, and kiss her as if for the first time—though not for the last. This is only the beginning. We have so much to create together, and the world is our canvas on which we will paint all the love we feel together.
Thank You
Dear Reader,
Thank you for choosing to read my first series of books The Rosewood Romance Series – I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! It’s been a remarkable journey to get here, and I’m so happy the day has come when I can share stories of love and passion with you!
I especially want to thank Ella Barnard for the guidance she gave me on this fascinating journey. I’m so glad I met her and had the opportunity to work with her – from her insightful critiques of my work to her encouragement along the way – I wouldn’t be doing this now without her.
If you enjoyed reading my book, please go ahead and leave a review. Nothing elaborate is necessary – just a quick line about what you liked will go a long way in helping a budding writer.
Let me know what you enjoy in a good sweet and steamy romance – come join my Facebook group. There will be giveaways, contests, and excerpts from upcoming books – I can’t wait to see you there!
Interested in more of my stories? Keep reading for the first chapter of the first book in the Seven Loves for Seven Cowboys Series, Bluebirds in the Bluebonnets.
Love and hugs,
Amelia
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Also by Amelia Star
The Rosewood Series
Stormy Love
Blossoming Love
Summertime Love
Harvest Love
***
Coming Soon!
The Seven Loves for Seven Cowboys Series
Bluebirds in the Bluebonnets
The Spring That Lasts
The Gal for This Cowboy
Vowing to Be True
Bless Your Beautiful Heart
A Real Bed of Roses
Hear My Tune
***
Don’t miss out on Lisa and Hudson’s story in Bluebirds in the Bluebonnets!
Turn the page for the first chapter.
Excerpt from Bluebirds in the Bluebonnets
ONE – LISA
The sun is already shining something fierce early this April morning. But I’m a Texas gal, born and bred, and I couldn’t be happier, riding my Milly across the land and up the canyon slope on my daddy’s ranch. There’s a whole world out there waiting for me, and I’ll get there someday. But it’s always nice to come home to the ranch.
My college girlfriends Penny and Willa came home with me for the spring holiday. They may be city gals, but they both spent their summers growing up at ranches in different parts of the country. So they can ride like the dickens when we’re out in the open. With their long hair pulled back in pony-tails, wearing Stetsons and jeans, they look like Texas cowgirls just like me.
For the moment, we’re heading up the slope of the canyon that’s far from my daddy’s house. If he knew I’d taken my friends down the steep slopes to the edge of the Fuentes River below, he’d be fiery hot mad at me. But we’re just fine following the rocky red trail between mesquite trees and prickly pears.
“What a view!” Willa looks out across the expanse of red earth below us and the Fuentes River flowing across the wide basin at the foot of the canyon.
It’s just a flash of a moment I’m looking away, distracted. But that’s all it takes. A rattler or something in the brush spooks Milly. Before I can get control of her, she’s rearing up and there I go onto the rocky path. Milly bolts away, and I land hard on my ankle, letting out a few unlady-like hollers in the process.
“Lisa!” My friends dismount quick, and Willa holds the reins of their horses while Penny, who is studying pre-med at college, comes to check on me. Her parents are both doctors, so even though she isn’t even in med school yet, it seems like she knows all the basics already.
Gently examining my ankle, she announces. “Well, sweetie, you’re going to be off this for a while.”
“And how long’s a while?” I ask. Already, I feel my ankle throbbing, and I’m wondering how to stand up. “I’ve got to get back on the horse so we can get home.”
“Well, we just might have to call your daddy and have him send someone to help you out.” Penny shakes her head. “You’re going to need to ice this ankle, and get it elevated, if you want it to heal fast.”
We debate a course of action for about five minutes. Then we hear a voice calling from above and look up. Silhouetted by the bright light behind him, a man is leaning over the edge of the canyon. “Hello, ladies! Give us a minute and we’ll be down!”
Penny, Willa, and I give each other sidelong looks.
“Wonder who that could be.” Willa’s light blue eyes squint in the sun. She pats the horses, trying to keep them calm.
“Surely my daddy didn’t send the ranch hands to follow us out here,” I sigh. That’s not something I would put past him. I have always been pretty adventurous, heading places he doesn’t think I’m ready to go. It’s my junior year in college, and I’m studying hotel management so that I can work in the travel industry someday—someday, I’m going to see the rest of the world, though my parents want me to stay home on the ranch. So he’s always been over-protective of me, but this would be going a bit far, even for him.
“Well, as long as they have a way to help you out of this canyon and to a doctor’s office, that’s all that matters right now,” Penny says, the practical one here.
We look up again, and here comes a couple of cowboys. They make their way on foot down the path in a flash. All the way as they’re trotting along, I am lost under a spell, gazing happily at one of them in particular—the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen in my life. Maybe the pain of my ankle is making me a little delirious, but by the time these cowboys get to us, I’m not feeling too much pain any more.
“Well, what have we got here?” my mysterious stranger asks upon coming close enough for us to hear without shouting. There’s something about him that makes me feel like I’ve been transported to the distant lands I long to travel to, even when he’s right here in front of me.
I look up at him, smile, and say, “You got yourself a damsel in distress, cowboy. Now
what are you going to do about it?”
He eyes me a moment, the sweat trickling down over his brow. His black hair and black goatee go with his black Stetson, and his jeans fit oh just so perfect in all the right spots. He’s broad across the chest, and his skin is naturally of a dark shade and further tanned by being in the sun. He doesn’t look much older than I am, maybe 25 or so. “Well, let’s see here. First of all, let me introduce myself and my boys. I’m Hudson, from the Matterhorn Ranch.”
“Is that right?” I ask, and my heart skips a beat. This could be a problem. “And how did you make it onto my daddy’s land? There’d be hell to pay if he knew you were here.”
“Well, first of all, I know this land like the back of my very own two hands—even if it means how to get from the Matterhorn to the Crowne Ranch in a split-second. Some of my hands were on the other side of the canyon and saw you were in trouble. They called me since I was closer. And I thought maybe it would be more important to help you out than to honor some feud our families started before we were born.”
While he speaks, he’s looking around him, eyeing the canyon interior until, whatever it is he’s looking for appears. “Okay, Roger, do you see her?”
The other cowboy nods.
“Shussshhh,” Hudson says nice and low, taking the rope from his waist and stepping forward.
My friends and I give each other a look, wondering what’s up. Then we follow the gaze of the men and see what we’re being quiet for.
There’s Milly, standing off to the side of the path, skittish as a teenage girl in a haunted house. But Hudson is working some magic on her. Moving slowly, gaining her trust with each step across the rocky terrain, between the cacti, he moves. The rope is ready, in case he needs to lasso her in. He’s about seven feet from her when she gets frisky again.
“Whoa, girl, whoa,” Hudson coos.
