by Bird, Peggy
“You know,” Annie continued. “I never really thought this would work. How could singing three times a week change my life? But I realize that it was simply a catalyst for other changes. Once I opened myself up to let the music back in my life, I became less rigid. It was as if I could see in color after living in a black and white movie all my life. I still don’t totally understand it, but I’m grateful. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Are we done?” Annie asked.
“I think we are.”
• • •
The sunny warm days continued through Friday. Annie packed up David, his gear, and plenty of food supplies, and drove down to the high school football and soccer stadium. He had to be at the field an hour before the game, so she brought a book to read until John showed up.
Annie’s heart lifted when she saw John climbing the stadium steps to her perch. Her smile was reflected in his face, and she knew they could only see each other. She stood when he reached her and leaned into his embrace.
“I’ve missed you,” he said, settling his lips on hers for a lingering kiss.
“Me, too,” she replied when he finally released her.
He looked around. “You’ve got enough food here to feed a small army.”
“David is a small army after a soccer game.” Annie felt someone’s gaze on her. She looked down the stairs and saw Fred staring up at them. He didn’t look happy.
“There’s Fred,” she said to John, nodding at her ex-husband as he stood at the bottom of the stairs. “I need to talk to him. I’ll be right back.”
“Annie.” John put his hand on her arm. “Take all the time you need. I know you’ll be back.” He lightly kissed her on the cheek.
She trotted down the stairs to where Fred waited.
“Hi,” she said.
“Who’s that?” Fred gestured up the stairs.
“His name’s John. He owns Ocean Reads.”
“He’s obviously more than that to you.”
“Yes,” Annie said. “He is.”
Fred looked at her, his face drooping. “I guess I had a fantasy.”
“What was that?” Annie asked gently.
“That if I got sober, you’d come back to me.”
“Oh, Fred,” Annie said, giving him a hug. “I’m sorry. But it’s been over for a long time. We can’t go back.”
“I feel like a total fool.”
“It took two of us. We each had issues we needed to work out. We couldn’t work them out together. But we produced a beautiful son.”
The corners of Fred’s mouth lifted. “So we did.” He gestured at John again. “So is it serious?”
“It might be.”
“Well, good for you. You deserve some happiness. David said you quit JCN. How’s the job search going?”
“I’ve got an interview next week.”
“That’s great! David’s really happy that you’re staying. All the chaos was tough on him.”
The teams began running out on the field.
“It’s starting,” Fred said. “I’m going to sit here. See you later.”
“Later.”
Annie climbed back up the stairs and sat next to John. She looked at Fred, alone on the bottom steps, bent over, his head on his hands.
“How’d it go?” John asked.
“As well as it could. I feel so sorry for him.”
“I know you do. And while he made your life miserable for a while, you loved him.”
“Yes.”
“Annie, I have to ask,” John took her hand. “Do you still love him?”
She shook her head. “No, I haven’t loved him for a very long time.”
John put his arm around her and pulled her close to him. “That means there’s space in your heart for me.”
“That’s what it means,” she said and tilted her face up for his kiss.
About the Author
Casey Dawes has lived a varied life from Equity stagehand to junior high teacher to technical maven, from Massachusetts to California, all of which gives her fodder for many novels to come. She has a master’s degree in theater, spent thirty-plus years in the technical industry and is a CoachU certified coach. Currently, she lives and writes on the bank of the Clark Fork in Montana. She’s accompanied through life by her husband and two cats who think they own the joint. To learn more about Casey, visit her website: www.stories-about-love.com.
Author’s Note
In California Sunset, Annie is stuck in the present because of things that happened in the past. She can’t find her way through her life alone. It’s only when she reaches out to a coach that things begin to shift for her. She needs another person’s perspective.
If you find you’re extremely unhappy and can’t figure out what to do, reaching out to someone else who is trained to help you examine your perspective, can change your life. Consider clergy, a therapist or a coach (begin your search with the International Coach Federation). While these solutions may seem expensive in the short term, they can accelerate change.
Annie also faces severely traumatic events. If you are living with someone whose drinking is affecting your life, consider a group like Al-Anon. If you were the victim of incest, consider Survivors of Incest Anonymous. While there isn’t a national group for parents of juvenile offenders, many communities have local groups of support.
Just remember — you don’t have to do it alone.
Out of Character
Terry Newman
Avon, Massachusetts
This edition published by
Crimson Romance
an imprint of F+W Media, Inc.
10151 Carver Road, Suite 200
Blue Ash, Ohio 45242
www.crimsonromance.com
Copyright © 2012 by Theresa Newman
ISBN 10: 1-4405-5169-3
ISBN 13: 978-1-4405-5169-7
eISBN 10: 1-4405-5149-9
eISBN 13: 978-1-4405-5149-9
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, corporations, institutions, organizations, events, or locales in this novel are either the product of the author’s imagination or, if real, used fictitiously. The resemblance of any character to actual persons (living or dead) is entirely coincidental.
Cover art © 123rf.com
To my daughter, Marie,
Who believed in me from the first word of this book to its final period. I love you. Always.
Contents
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Acknowledgments
This book would never have been created without the help of my family and closest friends. The spirit of my late husband, Clay Newman, is visible on every page as is the spirit of the late Dr. Andrew F. Clark. His personality and charm inspired the creation of one of the main characters.
I thank everyone who allowed me to think, plot, and shape characters out loud, especially Karen Spensley, May Jane Gould, Kathi G
leason, the Rev. Ric Schumaker, Roger Juntunen, and Pat Williams-Jones.
Thanks to everyone at the Downtown Hubbard Café, who tolerated my presence just about every single day of the week while I wrote this.
I wish to acknowledge my editor Jennifer Lawler and the staff at Crimson Romance for allowing me this opportunity.
Finally, I owe a very special debt of gratitude to my oncologist, Dr. George C. Garrow, and the entire staff of the Cancer Care Center in Hermitage, Pennsylvania. Without you I never would have been able to finish this book. I love you all so much.
Chapter 1
“Good morning, Sunshine.”
That voice, even muffled, indistinct and distant, sounded eerily familiar. Yet, JJ couldn’t quite place it. Had she imagined it? She held still a moment, deciding. Silence. Shifting her weight, she snuggled her head deeper into the pillow of her crossed arms on the desk, rolled her chair about a bit, finding the perfect position and posture. Then sighing deeply and contently, she prepared for the return of sleep.
As she floated in the dream-like world between sleep and awake, she sensed she must have dozed off while working on her novel. Perhaps my sister is right, she thought, maybe I am working too hard. This seemed to be getting to be a habit.
Nobody was calling her; nobody needed her. She wrapped herself in the comfort of peaceful slumber. The manuscript could wait a little longer. All she needed was a few more minutes of glorious rest … and then …
“No use ignoring us.”
The voice cracked the silence like a hammer hitting a slab of ice. The words jolted her awake; she sprang up into a full sitting position. It was the same voice again. JJ was sure of it. Only now it sounded closer than before, sharper, more commanding.
Another moment of silence — this time not so peaceful. She felt goose bumps run up her arms at the thought someone might actually be talking to her. She lived alone. How could anyone be calling her? Tension and fear paralyzed her. She tried to move an arm, but couldn’t.
“We’re not going anywhere.”
She tried to blink away the blurred surroundings, to focus her eyes on her home office. She could feel the rhythm of her heart increase. The echoing of it in her chest vibrated with panic and pulsed through her body.
Could it possibly be she wasn’t alone?
She blinked several times more. It was difficult to focus; last night’s long hours still fogged her thoughts, the scenes and the characters of her novel still dancing, center stage, through her mind.
Her sense of reality languidly returned. Cobwebs stubbornly clung to the innermost recesses of her mind. She sat completely still for a moment longer, unnerved by the very possibility that someone was watching her.
Then slowly, eyes finally adjusting, she scrutinized her surroundings. She carefully surveyed the eclectic mix of elements that made this office a welcoming work room for her. The tall, mahogany bookcase against the far wall, filled with college history texts and romance novels, photos of her late husband and herself mounted above the credenza, a man and a woman sitting on the love seat staring blithely at her, a large pile of papers on her desk to her left, her coffee mug on her desk from the night before …
A couple sitting on her loveseat? Was that right? Her eyes immediately shot back to the pair. JJ gazed at them for what seemed like an eternity, but was merely a few seconds.
“It’s about time you acknowledge our presence,” the man said.
Groggily, she looked around her. “Yeee-Owwww!” She shot up out of the chair like a rocket, the full impact of what she saw finally penetrating her. The stack of papers scattered throughout the room like huge dandelion seeds on a windy day. The chair clunked down, falling to one side.
She couldn’t get out from behind the desk quickly enough. “W-w-who are you? How did you get in here?” She also wanted to know why they were drinking from her favorite cups, but that seemed far less the issue at this point.
The man spoke first. “Why, you were right, love,” he said, directing his remarks to the woman sitting to his left. “She doesn’t recognize us.” The young woman just smiled and sipped her beverage. Swallowing slowly, her gaze caught JJ’s. Then she looked at her companion. “Well, Blake, it’s not every day characters like us drop in out of the blue.”
She crossed her legs, lightly tugged at her red dress and glanced back at JJ with a smile that so disarmed the writer she almost smiled back.
“It really is a shame, though, she doesn’t recognize us.”
“Indeed, Alex, you would think that she would know us instantly, now wouldn’t you?” They continued to talk between themselves, purposefully and calmly, ignoring her presence.
“No,” JJ said. “I don’t recognize you two because I don’t know who the hell you are or how the hell you got in my house.”
“But we know you,” the gentleman said, bringing the cup to his lips but pausing before sipping, “You’re JJ Sprightly, romance author.”
Hearing her pen name used with such familiarity unnerved her. “H-h-how do you know me?”
Fearful of making any sudden moves, she slowly inched herself toward the telephone sitting on the desk, ensuring she was within a hand’s reach of it. Instead of reaching for the receiver, she reached down, toward her foot. Struggling to gain composure, she tried to direct her mind to work. She felt as if her brain were scattered along the better part of two states. She pushed everything but the present moment out of her mind. She prayed she was wearing heels so she could use them as a possible weapon should the need arise. She touched her foot.
Damn! She was wearing her Peter Rabbit slippers. She couldn’t hurt anyone in those things. When was the last time anyone had been “fluffied” to death? Still, she was hesitant to make any quick moves, not knowing what these two characters wanted.
“I’m Blake,” the man said flatly, as if that name should mean something to her. “Blake Teasdale.”
“And I’m Alex. Alex Zurich. Remember me?”
JJ leaned her head forward, scrutinizing the pair. “Oh … my … God … you’re not … you couldn’t be.”
Then she fainted.
“Didn’t see that one coming, did you, Alex?”
Chapter 2
JJ woke nearly eyeball to eyeball with the self-proclaimed fictional heroine of her novel. The author squealed, startling the other female, who let out a squeal of her own.
Note to self: Don’t squeal. Head pounds worse. She felt as if someone had pumped her head full of helium to the point where it would stretch past its limit and burst at any minute.
Nervously, she squirmed backwards trying to put as much distance as possible between the alleged heroine of her book and herself. But she couldn’t go far. It was at that point she realized she was lying on a loveseat. Oh, it’s all coming back to me now. She glanced around. Yep! She was still in her office. The man who claimed to be the hero from her book had been pacing directly behind his partner. With arms extended behind his back, head down, staring at the carpet, he determinedly walked back and forth … back and forth while the female had been standing guard over her. The squeals jolted him out of his reverie and he strode over.
“I’m sorry,” the dark-haired beauty said, now kneeling in front of the sofa. “We never intended to scare you like that.”
The man voiced an apology as well. Gingerly, he sat on the arm of the couch, taking her hand. “Never expected you to keel over like that, love.”
“We didn’t think you’d mind if we just popped in on you while you dozed a bit,” he said. “We knew you were working on our love story just about nonstop and you know we adore your devotion to us and all but you really need to kick back some and take care — ”
“Blake!” Alex reached up and lightly slapped him on the shoulder. She looked him squarely in the eyes. Even in her befuddled state, it was obvious to the romance writer the love and dedication this woman had for her hero by the way she gazed into his large, chocolate brown eyes. “Oh, I’m sorry. But we really did want
to be there when you woke up,” Blake said.
The heroine shook her head vigorously. “You see, you’ve taken such good care of us the last couple of months,” she added, continuing her partner’s train of thought, running her hand through her thick, dark brown hair, as if she were searching for the right words. The long hair fell to one side. JJ swore she heard Blake whimper.
“You’ve spent so much time and effort developing our characters, making sure our lives were on the right track, keeping us from taking the wrong turn in the road, so to speak, that we wanted to return the favor to you.”
“Some favor, huh? Making you fall over in a dead faint? Just what kind of grateful characters are we, anyway?” Blake looked sincerely apologetic — and handsome. No wonder Alex fell in love with him so hard, JJ thought. That is if these two were really from her novel. Which seemed totally impossible. But who were they?
The beleaguered writer took a deep breath, and then exhaled. She thought that maybe she was experiencing some existential meltdown. But since she didn’t quite know what existentialism was, she couldn’t be sure.
On the surface, it appeared the main characters from her current work in progress were standing in her den. For apparently no good reason. Not that if they had an obviously good reason for being there it would make it easier to understand.
JJ felt the two staring down at her. A bit unnerving to say the least. She slowly sat up.
“Be careful,” the female cautioned. “You were out for a while.” Attempting to stand, JJ quickly determined it was beyond her capabilities, at least for the moment. Sitting back down, she closed her eyes and sighed deeply.
