“No, Mina, it’s too dangerous. People, they don’t like it. They act so funny afterwards.” Her father objected.
Mina clenched her hands into fists. “Do you think I care what people say or think? I love Bern, and if you can bring him back to me, then I too beg you to do this – if not for this woman, “she inclined her head toward the older woman. “Do it for me.”
Her father sighed deeply. “We can try. Have your men bring the body inside, and do whatever you have to do in order to buy their silence. This cannot get out. As far as anyone knows, he was wounded and asked that he be brought here to see my daughter.”
The Baroness nodded her agreement and swept out of the room.
It took nearly three days, with Mina working non-stop, following her father’s directions, allowing him to rest when she’d learned a procedure and could do it by herself.
When she finally finished, she sat next to Bern’s bed, made the final connection, and waited. Within a few minutes, he opened his eyes, which she’d been careful to duplicate perfectly. He gazed at her and recognition slowly flooded his face.
“Mina? Where am I?” He glanced down at the sheet covering him. “I remember the battle and being shot. Why did they bring me here?”
She took one of his hands gently in hers. “You were gravely injured, so your mother brought you to us. “
“Not injured, I died. I remember dying. But then how could I be here with you now?” His face crumpled into a mask of sadness. “Am I dreaming in death?”
There was no easy way to tell him the truth. “You did die, and my father and I worked to bring you back – but a different you, not human, but part machine and part human.” She paused to let him absorb the information. “You’re like me now.”
He blinked at her. “Like you?”
She explained what she’d written in her last letter to him, and his hands clenched at the edge of the sheet by the time she’d finished. Mina didn’t know if he would hate her, but she had to let him know her true feelings, even if it meant he rejected her now that he knew the truth.
Mina pulled out the delicate lace heart and showed it to him. “This is the last thing you sent to me and here are the last words you wrote.”
He read the lettering before handing the heart back to her.
“I remember.” He gave her a sad smile. “I wanted to tell you in person, but I thought sending you a valentine might be a way of letting you know how I feel. Or how I felt. Do we still have feelings?” His blue eyes were clouded with confusion.
Mina leaned forward and touched her lips to his. When she lifted her head, she whispered, “You tell me. Did you feel that?”
Bern wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. “Yes, my darling. I feel my heart bursting with love, but -- I don’t really have a heart anymore, do I?”
“We have feelings; we can love, so even if we don’t have a human heart, we are capable of human emotions.” Mina kissed him again.
When Mina finally settled onto the bed next to him, he traced a finger down her cheek. “Does this mean we can be together from now on?” Bern asked.
She grinned back at him. “Today is Valentine’s Day, and a new beginning for us. We can be together for as long as you wish.”
“I wish it to be forever after,” he said.
Mina stretched out next to him, put her head on his chest, and listened to the gentle clockwork ticking of their hearts beating together in unison.
“I think we shall live happily,” Mina said.
And so they did.
The End
About Deborah Schneider
A lifelong love of American history led Deborah Schneider from teaching high school to writing novels. She won the Molly award for “Most Unsinkable Heroine” for her first book, Beneath a Silver Moon and was a finalist in the New Historical Voice Contest which landed her a publishing contract. Her newest book, Promise Me, won an Eppie for Best Western Romance . Deborah is employed by the busiest library system in the U.S. and was named Librarian of the Year by Romance Writers of America. She lives in the shadow of the Cascade Mountains in the beautiful Pacific Northwest. Find out more about her books and writing at www.debschneider.com
Books to Go Now at www.bookstogonow.com prides ourselve with representing great stories at low prices.
We want to take you into the digital age offering a market that will allow you to grow along with us in our journey through the new frontier of digital publishing.
Some of our favorite award-winning authors have now joined us. We welcome readers and writers into our community.
We want to make sure that as a reader you are supplied with never-ending great stories. Books to Go Now wants to make sure its readers and writers are supplied with positive experiences so they will return again and again.
Our prices are low - starting at .99!
We want to hear from you. Our readers and writers are the cornerstone of our company. If there is something you would like to say or a genre that you would like to see, please email us at bookstogonow @ gmail.com
If you enjoyed No Ordinary Love please check out the opening page of :
Antique Charming
She heard it again.
The same time as last Friday night.
Three taps at her front door.
Lizzie muted the television, tossed the blanket off of her body and scurried out of bed. She slipped her robe over her shoulders and tied it securely, determined to find out who in the world would knock at her door at three in the morning. By the time she had reached the door the week previous, no one was there. The street had been dark and still.
It had to be a mistake. She had only recently closed sale on the long abandoned funeral home, determined to restore it to its once former glory. She had only been living in the upstairs flat for a few weeks.
As she hurried down the staircase, each step beneath her feet creaked in protest. There was no one visible through the peephole. She unchained the door and opened it just enough to peek around it.
No one was there, just like the previous week.
The street was dark and quiet. Not even the whisper of a wind could be detected. Only the cold dampness of the October night raised a chill on her skin.
Who was playing this weekly joke on her? Could it be the ghosts of some departed soul who had passed through the halls of Nichols Funeral Home sometime during the past century? A small smile crossed her lips as she prepared to close and lock the door. She was a third generation Funeral Director. Did she now believe in ghosts?
No Ordinary Love Page 2
