Brief Interludes

by Susan Griscom

  A collection of short stories with a twist

  by

  Susan Griscom

  Amber Glow Books

  This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters and incidents contained in this work are the creation of the author and are meant in no way to represent any persons living or deceased. This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Copyright © 2012 by Susan Griscom

  Excerpt from Whisper Cape by Regan Walsh copyright © 2011 by Susan Griscom

  Excerpt from Reflections by Regan Walsh, copyright © 2012 by Susan Griscom

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any electronic or printed form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials.

  Published in the United States of American by Amber Glow Books

  amberglowbooks@gmail.com

  http://amberglowbooks.com

  Edited by Michelle T. Green

  Cover design by Susan Griscom

  ~~ Dedication ~~

  To all those who have ever been loved, have loved, lost love, and are currently in love.

  ~~ Acknowledgement ~~

  A special thank you to my husband; without you, I would never write anything. You are my rock, my lover, my best friend, and my lifeline. I am only half a person without you.

  Thank you, Pam Ripling and Michelle Green for your helpful suggestions and edits. You’ve both done an outstanding job of boosting me up whenever I needed it.

  Brief INTERLUDES

  Lover’s Leap

  Everlasting Love

  The Water of Leith

  Unbridled Love

  Stuck!

  Sweet Innocence

  Excerpt from Whisper Cape

  Excerpt from Reflections

  Lover’s Leap

  The sweet scent of spice and the melody of our song playing caught my attention. Maybe it was the power of his soul. Maybe. Now that I look back, I realize it was all three.

  Go to our spot, Sweetness.

  “What?” Startled out of my skin, I turned toward the familiar voice, dropping the cigarette on the flawless turquoise leather seat next to me.

  “Damn.”

  With a shaky hand, I reached for the brown-filtered tip, but missed and brushed the smoldering thing onto the floor. A brief glance in the rearview mirror and I eased onto the soft dirt shoulder and stopped. I threw the gearshift into neutral and frantically reached down to grab my ciggy before it burned a hole in the matching plush carpet.

  Grandad had kept this car immaculate and would have a coronary if he ever spotted a burn anywhere in the car. Cigarette retrieved, leaving only a small hint of a light brown blemish on the carpet, I turned to examine the backseat.

  Too spooked to say anything above a whisper, my lips formed his name. “Patrick?”

  Of course, no one answered.

  Patrick, the love of my life, was dead.

  Facing forward, I stubbed the cigarette out in the ashtray, placed both hands on the steering wheel and studied the empty backseat through the rearview mirror.

  I clutched the gold heart pendant hanging from the chain around my neck, a gift from Patrick last Valentine's Day. I sighed, remembering his presentation. He had wrapped it in a hastily written note, promising to have the heart engraved soon. He never got the chance.

  “Patrick, why did you leave me? I begged you not to go, but no, you had to “prove yourself.” The guys said you only missed Devil's Curve by a fraction of an inch.”

  With a strong urge to hold back the tears threatening to spill over my cheeks, I sucked back a sob. Our lives destroyed by a fraction of an inch. “God, Patrick, I hate you for leaving me.”

  The old familiar Chicago tune, “If You Leave Me Now” ended. The devastating words no longer suffused through the car speakers and the radio fell silent for a few beats.

  Don't hate me, Katie. I didn't want to leave you. Go to our spot. I'll be waiting for you. It was official. I was losing my mind.

  This can't be real. “You're only in my head.” With my fingertip, I swiped at the one escaping tear settling on my cheek. “This is crazy.”

  It's okay. I promise.

  I put the car into first and eased my way back onto Ventura Boulevard, turning right on Coy Drive. I headed south toward Mulholland; my friends at the beach would have to wait.

  A few minutes later, I pulled into the turnout and shut off the engine. This was our spot, Lover's Peak, along the high cliffs of Mulholland Drive. Of course, it was also known as Lover's Leap because of rumors of scorned lovers jumping to their deaths.

  We spent most Saturday nights up here, sitting in Patrick's 1957 Thunderbird with the top down, taking in the stars and the city lights twinkling throughout the valley below. Simply gazing and dreaming, along with a few unmentionable other things. I opened the car door, stepped onto the gravel and walked toward the edge of the cliff. Birds chirped while I took in the view of the valley with, of course, no sign of Patrick. Score one for my imagination. I should have gone to the beach.

  “Damn you, Patrick. I miss you so much.”

  I wrapped my arms around my shoulders and took a deep breath.

  “God, Patrick. Sometimes I can still smell your spicy cologne. How am I supposed to move on? How will I ever stop loving you?”

  I sighed and I walked back to my car. On the seat lay the gold heart pendant necklace. I fingered my bare neck - the clasp must have broken. Then a chill ran down my spine and I glanced around the area, half expecting to see Patrick. Trees swayed lazily in the gentle Santa Ana breeze and a few leaves scurried over the gravel parking area. Two doves cooed back and forth in a delicate melodic rhythm, competing with the pulse of my heart. I reached in the car, picked up the necklace, and turned the heart over in the palm of my hand. Newly inscribed words graced the back:

  “To Katie, Forever my Love, Patrick.”

  Everlasting Love

  I couldn't tell you if it was the sweet smell of honey, or the sight of her shadow that caught my attention. The light from the street lamp above surrounded her as if her soul was aglow. She was the most angelic creature I’d ever seen.

  I looked down at the ten Zyprexa in my hand, fully intending to down the lot. As she approached, I stuck them in my pocket. My other hand stayed fisted around a paper bag holding the bottle of Jack I was planning to use as a chaser. I stared at her. I couldn't help it. She was lovely. The most beautiful creature I'd ever seen.

  I swallowed the saliva that hung on my tongue. “Can I help you?”

  “Yes, I ... I'm lost. I thought there was a phone booth somewhere along this embankment. I must have walked too far in the wrong direction. I was wondering if you know where one is and if it’s very far away.”

  “I do, and you're not far off. You're actually almost there. I'm going that way if you'd like to walk with me,” I lied. Anything to stay in her company because I was suddenly dumbstruck—like a schoolboy with his first crush.

  “Ah ... by the way, my name's Cole Murphy.”

  “Hello, Cole, I'm Carena.”

  “So, Carena, what are you doing out here on a chilly night like this?” Remembering, I quickly added, “Besides looking for a phone booth.”

  She smiled and my heart sang.

  “I just left the antique shop down the road, and needed to call a cab. I didn't realize it was so far away. It's nice of you to walk with me. I hope I'm not keeping you from anything.”

  I chuckled and held the brown paper bag to my side so sh
e wouldn’t see it. “No, nothing that can't wait.”

  I needed to do something fast to get to know this woman. There was something about her, I couldn’t pinpoint what it was, but I couldn't just let her walk away. She was too beautiful.

  She wasn’t wearing much of a coat and she did look rather chilly.

  “Listen, it's very cold out here, especially this close to the water. Can I buy you a cup of coffee?”

  “I don't know. I really should call for a cab. I hear the cabs around here can take forever after you request a pick-up.”

  “Well, how about we go make that call. Then, while you're waiting...” I saw the hesitation on her face. “One quick cup. Just to warm up. It’s a little colder out here than I thought it would be.”

  “Okay, just to warm up. But I don't have much time.”

  I wondered where she needed to be by a certain time, but I didn’t want to pry and scare her off, so I nodded and led her to the phone booth that just happened to be right next door to a small café. She made the call while I waited outside the booth.

  “They said it would be thirty minutes,” she said and smiled.

  It must be my lucky day after all. The pills in my pocket weren’t going anywhere soon. I had thirty minutes to win her heart. Could I do it? I had to. Now I had a reason to live.

  We sat at the corner table in the cafe, overlooking the river, sipping our coffee. We had plain black coffee, the only kind I drink and I was glad she didn’t go in for that fancy schmancy cappuccino stuff. She looked a little confused, actually, when she read the menu. When I suggested two black coffees, she smiled and nodded. I found myself telling her all about my family, my likes and my dislikes, all the things I've never cared to share with a woman before. Completely immersed and enjoying my unnatural knack for dominating a conversation, I forgot we were strangers.

  “You have beautiful eyes. The way the golden specks sparkle against the brown is fascinating.”

  I stared into those eyes. Lost in their rich honey swirl, and without thinking first, I said, “I love you, Carena.” I found myself saying this without a care in the world. It didn't bother me that I just met her, that she might consider me insane. After all, how many men blurt that out in the first fifteen minutes after meeting a woman?

  “I know, Cole. I love you too,” she said to my amazement.

  “This is crazy,” I said, smiling. I was ecstatic, almost unable to sit still in my chair.

  She placed her hand on top of mine. “Cole, I don't have much time. Please promise me you'll go straight home from here. Please ... don't go back down the embankment.”

  Now I saw dread in those brown eyes, the golden speckles so full of doom. “Why? Is something wrong?” She couldn’t possibly know I had a pocket full of drugs—enough that, if I took them all like I’d planned, would send me off to the afterlife I felt I so sorely deserved. Then something she’d just said registered in my brain.

  “What did you mean when you said you didn't have much time?” I searched her eyes for some hint, some measure of reassurance, willing those flecks of gold to sparkle again.

  “My cab is here.”

  “Forget the cab.”

  “Cole, I will love you forever. You are a kind, and gentle man, very capable of giving love and being loved. Don't fool yourself into thinking you aren't.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You will love many, just as I've loved you.”

  “Loved? What do you mean loved?”

  “I wish I could tell you more, but I can’t. If I do, then this will be for nothing.”

  The cab arrived; she kissed me lightly on the cheek, and got in without another word.

  All what, “be for nothing?”

  I was a fool to think I could win her affections in only thirty minutes. She was gone.

  I walked, my head hung low as I fingered the pills in my pocket. I stopped in front of the antique shop Carena mentioned and decided to go in, maybe ask the storeowner who she was or where she lived and I could have another shot. The store was empty.

  “Hello?”

  No one answered. I looked around and an old portrait in an antique gold frame caught my eye. I picked it up. Carena? I turned it over. There was an inscription on the back.

  Carena Murphy, age twenty-eight, 1878.

  That was the day my great-great-grandmother saved my life.

  The Water of Leith

  Without question, she would die. If not by the hand of her master, then surely by her own. One more day of squatting by that stream with her hands in that frigid water and Naomi thought she would go mad.

  How had this happened? How had fate taken such a turn? It was stupid really. Plain stupid. Barbus was a wretched man, full of promises and lies, filling her head with hope, making commitments he had no intention of fulfilling. He was to marry Naomi and share his dreams with her. Instead, Barbus only wanted to possess her, never caring what Naomi wanted, or how she felt.

  At first, she’d tried to please Barbus, but that got her nowhere fast. She feared all the beauty she once possessed was now hidden behind rags and buckets full of dirty wash water, and a worthy suitor would never admire her again. She would forever be Barbus’ slave. Someone he could intimidate with brute strength. Someone he could belittle with criticism. Someone he could gain pleasure from only to give back nothing in return but pain.

  Naomi knew in her heart that this was not her destiny. This was not who she was meant to be. How had she allowed herself to be kept captive for so long? She had knelt by that stream everyday now for the past three weeks, scrubbing and scrubbing that old brown fleece trying to make it turn white until her knuckles—raw, red, and chafed with cuts—no longer resembled any part of her hands.

  Like every other day for the past three weeks, Naomi sat on the hard cold rock, dipping the wool in the flowing stream, pulling it out and rubbing it against the ragged stone, mumbling to herself, “Please turn white today. Please turn white.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw something shimmer from under the water. She stopped scrubbing for a second and blinked, shook her head and dipped the fleece into the stream once more. When she saw the glint in the stream again, she stopped and pulled the cloth out of the water and stared at the water, waiting for the little flash of light again but nothing happened.

  “How long are you going to keep trying to change that rag into something it isn’t?” a rich, sultry voice whispered from behind her. Naomi leaped up turning to see a strange man dressed in black leather pants and an equally black leather jacket. His wheat-colored curls hung down over his forehead and glistened against the sun as though they were wet.

  “Who are you?”

  “I am Leith, at your service.”

  “Leith? My service? Where did you come from?”

  “The water, of course. You’ve been dipping that old brown rag in me for three weeks now. I don’t think it’s going to change.”

  “Dipping it in you? What are you talking about?”

  “I am Leith. You come to me every day with that same old brown cloth mumbling to yourself, wishing it would turn white. Why do you think you can make something dark become light just by sticking it in my graceful waves?”

  “Your graceful waves?” Naomi asked, befuddled.

  “Why do you keep repeating what I say?”

  “Why do I keep repeat …?” Naomi shook her head. This was crazy. She stared into the stranger’s brilliant blue eyes searching for some hint of a joke, something that would tell her this was all just one of Barbus’ horrible pranks to taunt her. But all she saw was tenderness and honesty. “Wait, you said your name is Leith?”

  “Yes, Leith. I come from the water. Surely, you’ve heard of the magical Water of Leith. I am here for you. You’ve been coming every day trying to change that brown rag to white, but you can no more change the color of that fleece than he can change you.”

  “He?”

  Leith tilted his head and scratched his scruffy chin. �
��Barbus, of course. He has tried to change you for months. But you are still beautiful and still a princess no matter what torn and ragged clothing he makes you wear. And just like you can’t change that brown rag into a white one, he can’t change the fact that you are a beautiful princess no matter what he does or says to you.”

  Naomi laughed. He’s surely daft ... Gorgeous, but nuttier than a sack of walnuts.

  “You think I am crazy? You’re the one sticking that ugly brown fleece in my cool white froth thinking it will change color.”

  “You read my mind?”

  Leith held out his hand. “Give me your hand, Naomi. I am here for you. Come and let me show you how you were meant to be treated.”

  For some reason, Naomi couldn’t resist reaching out to this strange but beautiful and dazzling man. “Where will you take me?”

  “To my home. I have watched you all this time and I cannot stand it any longer. You deserve to be adored and treated with respect. You deserve to be loved. Hop on.”

  Naomi frowned when he pointed to a purple Harley Davidson motorcycle. “You’re going to take me away on that?”

  “You could stay here and spend the rest of your life trying to change that rag into something it’ll never be or you can hop on here and be with me. I promise, she is the smoothest ride you’ve ever had … until later.”

  Naomi looked at the brown fleece in her hand and then looked up the hill at the old dilapidated castle. She didn’t hesitate. She threw the rag down, yanked up her skirt and straddled the seat behind him, wrapping her arms around Leith’s waist.

  “Hang on tight,” Leith said.

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  One hour later Leith stroked his hands over Naomi’s slick wet skin, spreading bubbles over her nipples. She closed her eyes and smiled. I am a princess.