Being in Seattle for what would’ve been Layne’s forty-sixth birthday, and coincidentally (or not) exactly twenty years after I first saw Alice in Chains perform at Lollapalooza in 1993, I joined strangers at sunset, in a circle around lit candles, and together we belted the lyrics of Alice in Chains and Mad Season to the strumming of acoustic guitars. I attended alone—knew no one from previous encounters, but it made no matter. We were unified, raising our voices in memory of Layne, with vain hopes that somehow, somewhere, he could hear. This, all while his mom looked on with melancholy pride, as only a mother who’s lost her only son can—in tribute to her talented, beautiful son.
In those few stolen moments, we were united through music, and it filled my heart with such poignant love, such poetic depth. There was nowhere else on Earth I’d have rather been.
And so this book is my tribute to music, and those unparalleled talents who left us too soon, like Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, Jim Morrison, John Lennon, Marvin Gaye, Kurt Cobain, Whitney Houston, Michael Hutchence, Tupac Shakur, Freddie Mercury, Andrew Wood, Shannon Hoon, Mike Starr, John “Baker” Saunders, among so many others.
In a more formal dedication, I take honor and pleasure in offering homage to that dearly departed artist who jolts me into the past every time I hear his voice; who prods me to energetic freedom again in the present; and who, in his absence, reminds me how fortunate I am to have a future.
Here’s to you, Layne, wherever you are. A part of you will always remain. You’ll never wash away with the rain.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
First and foremost, I’d like to acknowledge you, the reader, for taking a chance on an unknown author, and embarking on Bianca’s and Tristan’s journey. Thank you.
My agent, Jordy Albert, for your support and belief in my work, as well as your keen eye for story. My long-time trusty critique partner, Kathryn Rose, for your superb skills and endearing friendship, and for never complaining about my messy first drafts. My early readers and critique comrades: Tammy Thierault, Sydney Aaliyah, Carol Riggs—you’ve all been outstanding! To the IWSG crew, for all your support and generosity throughout this journey—I share this accomplishment with you. Susan Kaye Quinn, for your indie expertise and generosity of sharing it. Anne Victory, for your editing and attention to detail. For my cover artist, Jaycee DeLorenzo, you rock, and I love how you always seem to be in tune with my vision.
Nancy Layne McCallum, for your blessing and kindness regarding my dedication. Thank you for sharing your son with the world, and for the work you do to help those suffering from addiction.
I’d also like to acknowledge and recognize the other talents of Alice in Chains and Mad Season: Jerry Cantrell, Mike Starr (RIP), Sean Kinney, Mike Inez, Mike McCready, John “Baker” Saunders(RIP), Barrett Martin. Thank you for rockin’ my new adult years.
Michael Wadleigh, for his brilliant film documentary, Woodstock. It was my go-to reference in creating my story’s scenes. Jimihendrix.com for the wealth of information on the superstar Hendrix was.
Nate, for your unyielding support. I couldn’t do any of it without you. It must be difficult being married to someone who always has her head in the clouds, but I’m all yours, baby! Sammy and Abby, my life is better, sweeter because you’re in it. And hopefully you won’t read this til you’re at least sixteen. My parents, for all the stories, books, music, and films you enriched my life with. It does matter!
Heartfelt gratitude to my Father in Heaven, from whom I am richly blessed.
On a separate note, I’d like to add that addiction in and of itself is ugly, but those who suffer from it are anything but. Recovery tips and a wealth of resources are available online for those struggling with substance abuse. And for those who aren’t, consider donating to one of the many non-profit organizations dedicated to assisting those who want to get better.
PK Hrezo is a native Floridian rarely found without her flip flops on. She shares her home with her firefighter husband, two children, and big dog named Ripley. When not creating characters and their worlds, PK can be found at her other job of rearranging passenger’s itineraries for a major international airline. She lives for traveling, reading, writing, and music, and when the four are combined she exists in total bliss.
Join her email list today for exclusive sneak peeks and special announcements: http://eepurl.com/O0s5b
Noelle in His Heart
Celestial Seasons (#1)
By C.E. Kilgore
Copyright 2013
Tracing The Stars
All Rights Reserved
http://www.CEKilgore.com
For all those still seeking that place to call home.
1: The First Noel
The first Noel, that the angels did say, was to certain poor shepherds in fields where they lay…
Steve cringed as he walked through the door, his ears assaulted by Christmas music. It wasn’t that he disliked Christmas music, or even minded the religious tunes that this particular store was playing. It was just that for the past seven weeks straight, it was all he had heard from sun up to sun down. When you work for a company that specialized in holiday displays, Christmas comes early and then lingers as an earworm. You’d think after six years of the same thing, a guy would develop a thick skin to the effects of Christmas music.
“Hey, Earth to Steve!” Mike called across the store. “I’d like my coffee before it gets cold!”
“Sorry,” Steve replied and continued walking through the store, doing his best to block out the tune merrily playing on the speakers. Setting the tray of coffees and box of bagels onto the counter, he began buttering his own honey wheat bagel.
“I’d like to get this last display change done today,” Mike mused after swallowing a bite of French-onion bagel, his eyes surveying the front window display where the last bit of work was needed. “I see you stayed late and finished stringing those ornaments up front.”
“Yeah,” Steve nodded. “I figured we’d try and push the wrap-up this morning since the store is having that last minute sale starting today.”
“Thanks. It’d be nice to be able to give the crew two extra days off this year, too, after the ice-sculpture fiasco last year,” Mike shuddered inwardly. “Never will I let Anna talk me into something like that again.”
Steve snorted into his coffee, knowing full well that Mike melted like snow anytime Anna, their former captain turned CEO, opened her mouth. “Isn’t that what you said the year before about the giant dancing Santa outside Biggly’s Toys?”
“And the fireworks display last July,” Garry added, appearing as the food arrived and reaching over Steve’s shoulder to yank a bagel from the box.
“And there was that incident with the escaped Easter bunnies,” Amber was next to comment as she passed by carrying a can of paint.
“You know,” Garry glanced upwards in thought, “I don’t think we ever found all those rabbits.”
“Ha-ha,” Mike laughed in monotone. “I’m not paying you guys for comedy, which is good, because none of you are funny.”
“Steve’s funny,” Amber passed by again, this time with a paint roller and a snowflake stencil.
“Looking,” Mike grumbled into his bagel, followed by something about withholding Christmas bonuses.
“Grinch,” Steve swallowed his last bite.
Mike acted momentarily offended. “I prefer Scrooge, thank you. I’m Vragan, not Vraxan. Green isn’t my color.”
A blast of cold air snatched the stencil out of Amber’s hand as the front door opened and two women walked in. The tall one in front, with styled blonde hair, stopped short on noticing the work crew. The shorter, brown-haired woman ran into the blonde’s back as Amber chased after the stencil. The shorter woman peeked around the taller one’s arm and blinked a pair of big green eyes that were bright enough to be easily discernible from the counter in the middle of the store.
“I take it back,” Mike drew in a breath. “I think green is my color.”
“I saw her fir
st,” Garry argued. “You always take the blondes, anyway.”
Steve just rolled his eyes and stepped in between the women and the plaid-clad embarrassments behind him. “I’m sorry, but the store doesn’t open for another two hours.”
“We have an appointment with Mr. Jackson,” the blonde woman answered. “Is he… ah!”
“Veronica! Darling!” Mr. Jackson, the department store’s owner, rushed from the back room. “So good to see you!”
“Henry, and you,” Veronica responded before the two exchanged air-kisses that left Garry and Mike snickering behind Steve. Veronica stepped aside and Henry repeated the gesture with the other woman, though she seemed awkwardly unprepared for it.
“Miss Smith?” Henry asked.
“Noelle, please,” Noelle pushed her bright red earmuffs down to sit against the candy-cane scarf around her neck. “Thank you for getting the order together so quickly, Mr. Jackson.”
Henry scoffed with a wave of his hand. “Henry, and it’s my pleasure. Why, when Veronica told me what this was all for, well! I had no problem getting those suppliers in order, and each threw in something extra for the kids.”
“Really?” Noelle’s eyes went big as saucers, and Steve took a large step back. “Oh, thank you!”
“Come, come, my dear,” Henry started ushering the women towards the back. “I have everything wrapped and ready to go!”
“You wrapped it, too?!” Noelle gasped and actually bounced on the tips of her toes with a giddy bubble of laughter.
Mike cursed as Steve took another step back into him, causing him to splash hot coffee onto his sleeve. “Geeze, Steve,” Mike whispered, “what’s your deal?”
“Oh, uhm…” Steve double-blinked out of his stupor and stepped away. “Sorry.”
“Uh-oh. I know that look,” Garry grinned through a half-finished bite of bagel. “Someone just got bit by the love bug.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Steve became immediately defensive. “One does not simply see a girl and get bit by anything.”
Mike stood up straight and did a Steve impression, causing Garry to choke on his bagel. “One does not simply…”
Amber squeezed in to grab a roll of tape from the counter. “That’s what my brother said after he met Isa. Had that same ‘hit upside the head with a photon charger’ look you have. They were bonded two weeks later.”
“It’s also how Mike looks every time he comes out of Anna’s office,” Garry chuckled until Mike’s big hand wacked him from behind.
“No bonus for you!” Mike did another accented impression.
“You watch too much TV,” Amber shook her head at the boys’ common antics. “Can’t imagine why Anna isn’t falling all over you. Now, if you’re done stuffing your faces, I could use some help in the window.”
“Still eating,” Garry stuffed another overly cream-cheesed bite into his mouth before grinning at Amber to give her a full view. She huffed and walked back to the window with a few uttered words.
“Yeah, I certainly can’t imagine why you’re still single, Garry,” Steve smirked and followed Amber. “I’ll give you a hand.”
“Thanks,” she smiled. “So, that girl was totally cute.”
“Oh, don’t you start, too,” Steve grimaced, holding the ladder as Amber climbed.
Amber snickered and peered down at him. “C’mon, Steve, you haven’t been on a date in… Have you ever been on a date?”
“You know it’s not as easy for me,” Steve sighed, down-casting his eyes. “Not as easy as it is for the lumberjacks, at least.”
“Lumberjacks,” Amber chuckled and nearly dropped the stencil. “Kind of funny that they’re both wearing plaid again for the fifth day in a row.”
“Indeed,” Steve grinned, happy for a change in topic.
“Really though,” Amber wasn’t about to let him off the hook that easily. “You have to at least try to assimilate a bit more. You need a social life outside the team. We’re stuck here for the foreseeable future, so you might as well make the most of it.”
“You make it sound so easy,” Steve argued. “Or do you forget that the rest of you don’t have the same anatomical hang-ups I do?”
“We all have our hang-ups, Stevverax,” Amber used his true name for the first time in over a year. “At least you don’t turn blue when you reach climax.”
Steve blinked, one set of eyelids then the other. “Have you… with Earthers?”
“I’ve been on some dates, sure,” she shrugged as her brush began edging the stencil with white paint. “I’m not just going to sit on my butt, waiting for a rescue that may never come. I’m not looking for a husband or anything, but I’m curious about them. Besides, what if Mr. Right does happen to be an Earther? It’s certainly not the Vragan brothers over there, and Anna isn’t my gender preference.”
“Yeah, but what are you going to do?” Steve questioned. “Just ask the Earther to turn the lights off every time you want to get intimate? And what about children? I think he’d notice when your kid comes out after only five months and pinker than a flamingo.”
Amber sighed, setting her stencil brush down. “I don’t know. I haven’t thought that far ahead yet, but I’d hope I could find a guy who’d be okay with me turning blue on occasion and with our kid being pink for a few months… then green for a year…” she finished with a frown.
Steve felt a sudden sense of deja vu, certain they’d had this conversation last Christmas, too. There was just something about this time of year that made the feeling of loneliness that much more oppressive and hard to stomach. They may be Earther holidays, but after six years, he was having a hard time remembering what going to the Turnax festival felt like.
Living among the Earthers, who seemed to take their holidays very seriously, it was hard not to get wrapped up in the sentimentality of it all. Captain Annadri loved the holidays, and it was why she set up the company. She hoped it would help them blend in while letting them learn more about Earther culture. Sure, they could have easily made millions with just one piece of their technology, but that was also a one way ticket to some government lab. Just ask the Bruskian who decided sharing Velcro was a good idea. Oh, right, you can’t, because he was never heard from again.
“It’s dangerous,” Steve continued the argument to keep his loneliness from overriding his sense of preservation.
“Not if you use the neuronites,” Amber shrugged again. “We’re all lonely. I miss my brother and Isa. I’m sure you miss your family, too. Having you guys to lean on is great, but even that has its limits. Really, quit making excuses and talk to her. You know you want to.”
Steve sighed, giving up. Yes, he was lonely and missed his parents and siblings. Yes, he was thankful he wasn’t stuck on Earth alone, but yes – the crew’s companionship had its limitations. And yes, the neuronites were a good argument. They would intoxicate an Earther and change recent memories to dreams, but that wasn’t the real problem.
Not with him. There wasn’t just a chance an Earther might figure out he wasn’t human – it was a given. He couldn’t hide everything under darkness like Amber and the others. His parts were simply different and impossible to explain should a date ever get to that stage. Oh, stars, how he missed that stage.
He just missed companionship, period. Especially around Christmas. Something about the cold winter, the sparkling lights, people being more friendly than normal – it was all the perfect mix to hit home that they may never actually get to go home. When it was put into that context, Ambrisa’s encouragement to seek more social connections made an odd kind of sense. Six years was becoming a long sentence of solitude where romance was concerned. Maybe the risk was worth the possible reward of having someone to hold in his arms again.
“Thank you, again, Mr. Jackson,” Noelle’s smile beamed from across the store and Steve jostled the ladder.
“Hey, careful,” Amber called down.
“Sorry,” Steve mumbled, cursing himself.
“Henry,” Henr
y corrected with an emphasis, “and my pleasure.”
Steve watched as Henry and the two women began making several trips from the store room to a minivan parked out front, stuffing the van full of brightly wrapped Christmas presents. The small woman, Noelle, appeared to get very winded on the third trip and Veronica ordered her to stay by the van. Steve watched with curiosity as Noelle’s own curious gaze drew her towards the display window of the store. Her big green eyes stared at all the decorations before she realized Amber and Steve were staring back.
Noelle jumped back a bit then waved before coming back in the store as Henry and Veronica passed her with another load. Noelle approached the ladder and watched Amber with the stencil. “Did you do all these decorations?”
“We did,” Amber nodded, but kept her focus on painting the window with fake, sparkly snow. “Our company does decorations for stores and events, from New Years to Christmas and every holiday in between.”
“Oh, neat!” Noelle turned her eyes to the silent Steve. “I always wondered who did this kind of thing. They look great!”
“Uh,” Steve floundered under her gaze. “Thanks…”
“That’s the last of it, sweetie,” Veronica touched Noelle’s shoulder then eyed Steve and Amber. “Nice work on the store. Do you have a business card?”
“Oh, uhm…” Steve continued to fight for words .
“Here,” Garry appeared out of nowhere, wiping his hands on his jeans before producing a business card from his over-stuffed wallet. “You’ll have to forgive Steve,” Garry lowered his voice and leaned in to Veronica, noticeably taking an inhale of her perfume. “He seems to lose his wits under the gaze of a pretty girl.”
Steve ground his teeth and began planning payback. Noelle, however, ignored the comment, smiled and tugged on his sleeve. With a raised eyebrow, he looked down, her tiny frame barely coming up to his shoulder. She held out a flyer to him and then handed one to Gary and Amber.
Nebula Nights: Love Among The Stars Page 68
