We planned to be gone for no more than six days. Kelly and Lindsey assured me that at least one of them would pay a daily visit to Luna. And Luna, poor Luna, I was taking her new best friend away. She seemed to know we—or I should say Hunter—would be gone for a week. She didn’t take it well. She cried, whined, and sulked.
The truck was loaded with our combined gear and we hit the open road at the break of dawn. Nearly eight hours of driving proved that Hunter was a great traveling partner. He didn’t mind stopping now and then to stretch, switch drivers, grab a drink, and best of all talk. Still, I didn’t seem to have a good sense of what his family was really like. I assumed that they would all be level headed, intelligent, good looking people to have raised a boy like Hunter. Well, you know what they say about assumptions.
We had driven until we saw the towering metropolis of Minneapolis. My heart sank with disappointment as it later faded away in the rear view mirrors. We were in the country. I know, most of the United States is in fact “rural” but to a big city girl like me, to actually live in the country is hard to imagine. And this area, somewhere between Minneapolis and Duluth is about as rural as one can find. The roads became smaller, narrower, going from blacktop to an eventual long gravel drive that went into the woods. Parked near where the gravel driveway turned off the main road, was a vintage VW minibus. The kind my dad called a “hippie-hauler.”
Hunter parked his truck next to the minibus. “Here we are! Finally. Are you ready to do a little walking?”
“Sure, it would be great to stretch my legs. Is this the road your sister lives on?”
“Actually, this is the driveway. We have to walk because the driveway is pretty impassable most of the time. See?” He pointed to the VW. “My parents are parked here too.”
My first little surprise, Hunter’s parents drove a hippie-hauler. “Why can’t we drive up this road?”
“Every time I’ve been up here, this road has been washed out, or flooded up ahead. It goes through a swampy area. I don’t know why they haven’t put in a bridge or a culvert. But they’re kind of—” Hunter’s voice trailed while he thought of what word he should choose. “Well, they like to leave nature alone as much as possible.”
“Oh, okay. I suppose that’s always good.” I really didn’t know what to say.
We walked along and the woods became a dark, low area of brushy trees with a thick, thorny undergrowth. Hunter took my hand and led me onto some wide boards that had been strategically placed to get over the water that flowed across the gravel drive. Mosquitoes and biting flies swarmed us, every damn one of them stopped to take a bite of me. I felt just like a piece of fresh chicken meat that had been tossed into a pen full of hungry alligators. It was absolutely horrendous the way the bugs attacked us. If nothing else, it motivated us to get out of the swamp hole in the drive way at an Olympic record speed.
The path rose up and took us out of the woods and into a pleasant green park-like area. There was a large round tent-like structure in the center of this meadow. It was a strange thing to see. It had a very ornate sliding wooden door. The roof peaked up slightly in the middle. There was a metal pipe that protruded through the top and I understood it to be a chimney pipe. I knew I had seen pictures of this type of structure, but I didn’t know where.
“Hunter, What is—”
“It’s a yurt. A Mongolian yurt. My sister, Moon, and her husband Burt started a yurt company. They had big plans to build a yurt village up here. Looks like they are still the only residents in Frank-yurt.”
“Frankyurt?”
“Like Frankfurt but with a yurt instead of a furt.”
“Okay, gotcha. I’ve never seen a yurt up close. Haven’t even seen a furt, for that matter.” I started having a conversation in my head. Wait. Why didn’t I know his sister’s name was Moon? Moon? Who names their kid Moon? Hippies, that’s who. “Hey, why did they name it Frankyurt? Why not Burtyurt? And who’s Frank?”
“I don’t know. It’s weird, but you might be surprised. They’re pretty cool.”
“You mean the yurt? The furt? Or the hippies inside? I feel like I’m lost in a Dr. Seuss story.”
Suddenly the door slid open and out ran a little boy no more than five years old. Then another boy, maybe a year older, and then a girl about three, and finally an older girl about eight. I was happily surprised to see that they all looked clean, and clothed. I know I was guilty of stereotyping but when I saw that Moon lived in a yurt, in the woods, I expected a whole pack of unclothed children would have come swinging out of the trees covered in a variety of dirt. Still, I was wondering how a big family lived in a tent, even if it was a jumbo sized yurt. Hunter and I were swarmed by his shouting nieces and nephews.
A woman of about thirty came out of the door. She wasn’t quite the hippie one would expect, given the situation. She wore jeans and a pink t-shirt, no tie-dyed ankle length dress. Her hair was the same blond color as Hunter’s. We met in front of the yurt and she gave Hunter a big hug.
Before Hunter had a chance to introduce me, Moon gave me a hug. “You must be Leigh. I’ve heard a lot about you! And I’ve never heard Hunter tell me about a girl before. That’s saying something.”
“Where’s Mom and Dad?”
“Somewhere out back on a trail. They should be back soon. Burt’s in the city. He had to take care of some things in the office.”
I was surprised. Her husband was at the office in the city. That didn’t fit in. My surprise must have showed, because Moon picked up on it immediately.
“Oh, I hope Hunter didn’t lead you to believe we actually live out here, year round.” I nodded, and she laughed. “No way. This is just a place to hang out on summer weekends. Burt and I started a business, almost five years ago now. We call it, It’s All Yurts. They’re really great for people that want a vacation place, but don’t want to invest in a cabin or a camper. You can set them up, leave them there all summer. There is a good market for them in the upper Midwest where many people have cottages and cabins up North. Come inside and check it out.”
I was really shocked by how much room there was. The walls had an expandable wooden frame that supported the canvas. I wasn’t sure how a wall made out of a giant baby gate covered in canvas would hold up in a good storm. Moon had the place decked out in Persian rugs, pillows and loads of colorful décor that would make Gertie and Randy flip with excitement.
“So, Moon, you’re not really hippies?”
“No, I suppose not. But, if you are hoping to meet some honest to God, dyed in the wool, card-carrying hippies, then you are in for a treat. Wait until you get a load of our parents. They’re up here for the week.”
“That’s what Hunter said.” I looked at Hunter and he was busy playing with the kids. “I was hoping that they would have been at his graduation from the Police Academy.”
“Yeah, well. I know they are awful proud of Hunter. But, they see themselves as the last of a dying breed. The last of the true anti-establishment, anti-everything hippies. They still live in Chicago, so I’m sure you’ll be seeing more of them. Despite their best efforts, Hunter and I turned out to be a couple of squares.” Moon laughed. “Maybe they are a little bit disappointed in that, but otherwise they are awesome people.”
The unexpected and sudden screaming that we heard next caused us to rush out the door to see what was happening. It was their parents bursting out of the woods and crossing the open field at a full sprint. Behind them, a giant sized black bear chased them. A shepherd dog, that I hadn’t yet met, rushed out from behind the yurt. It took a courageous, snarling stand and confronted the bear which turned back to the woods, likely saving us from witnessing two horrible deaths. I learned that the dog was named Frank, answering my question from earlier.
They were doubled over, laughing and panting. The sounds created by hundreds of hippie beads jingling against each other reminded me of hail being showered down on a roof. Max’s tall, thin frame contrasted with Millie’s Lilliputian stature. Their
equally long ponytails flung around like a pair of dogs wagging their tails. Max adjusted the red bandana wrapped on his head and then spoke through a remarkably long beard. “Hey there, my children!” His voice seemed a little foggy, as if he’d spent so much time stoned out of his mind that he couldn’t talk any other way. Millie had little round rose colored glasses set in a wire frame. They both dressed in a combination of blue denim and tie-dyed cotton.
Hunter introduced us. “Leigh, these are my parents, Max and Millie.”
This resulted in an all-out hippie hug assault on me. “Leigh! Leigh! Finally.” They both squeezed me for an uncomfortably long time. They droned “Om” repeatedly. Each “om” drawn out as long humming sounds. “Ommmm—Ommmm—Ommmm—Ommmm—Ommmm.”
I made desperate eye contact with Hunter. “Hunter? What are they doing?” I was getting a little freaked out by the whole thing.
“We’re just filling you with our love.” Max quickly tried to reassure me.
“Oh, well thank you, but Hunter has been doing fine putting his love in me.” I didn’t mean for it to come out sounding the way it did. I just wanted all the squeezing and omming to stop.
“Oh good!” Millie said as she backed away and smiled. She looked me over. “I can tell he has been doing a very good job of it.”
No! Just no! I am not having this conversation with Hunter’s mother. It was just a slip of the tongue. Then my inner comedian threw out a one-liner. That’s what she said.
I made an uneasy chuckle at the joke in my head. “I meant, Hunter has been a very caring and loving person.”
Max smacked Millie right across the ass. “Hey Mama, I’m carin’ for some lovin’. How about you? Want to go back to the woods?”
“Again? You’re insatiable. No, I think we better wait for the bear to move on.”
Max turned to us. “Whew! I told Millie it wasn’t a good idea to pick up that little cub she found. Mama Bear wasn’t too happy.” Max said.
“I just don’t understand it. We were sending out such strong love and peace vibes to her.” Millie said in a sad voice.
“Millie, next time use the Tibetan singing bowls. I think that would have reached her heart.” Max suggested.
Hunter interrupted his parents new age bear taming conversation. “Next time? I think you overestimate the bear’s capacity for peace and understanding. Plus, you’d probably have to speak bearish.”
We retreated into the yurt and all found a seat. It turned out to be a great visit. Hunter’s family was a real trip. It turns out that Max and Millie own a small store filled with crystals, magic herbs, tarot cards and candles. Millie also offers her services as a psychic healer, spirit cleanser and medium. She was the last person that I wanted to find out about my own witchy powers. I’m pretty sure she’d be trying to talk me into joining her business. It was good to see Hunter with the kids. He’s a natural father.
We bid our farewells and headed off to a state forest to set up camp. Surprisingly, it was uneventful, relaxing and beautiful to cuddle Hunter by the campfire that night. I wasn’t afraid at all. We only camped for one more day, when it happened. Disaster struck. Rather, a beaver decided it wanted to run us out of the neighborhood. It chewed on a large tree that came crashing down on our tent and completely destroyed it. Thankfully, we weren’t inside at the time. That was it, we headed home.
Here is the strange part. Once we got back, I saw that Luna had carefully shredded some of my magazines. She had removed letters and words and arranged them on the magic desk. It reminded me of one of those ransom notes you see in the movies, made of cutout letters glued to a sheet of paper. In this case, it wasn’t a ransom note at all, just a request. BRING HUNTER BACK. Again, what am I to this cat? Chopped liver?
A magic desk, a hexed broom, a bewitched boyfriend a spell-casting cat, and batty friends. What more could a girl ask for? Hopefully, just one more very sparkly, shiny little thing.
About the Author
Bestselling author, Melanie James spent 14 years as an IT systems administrator before tiring of the hustle and bustle of the technology world. She's doing what she loves by writing steamy paranormal, contemporary and romantic comedy books. Melanie has a Bachelor's Degree from the University of Wisconsin-Oshkosh in Leadership and Development, with a minor in Women's Studies. She is currently working on her Master's Degree in Adult Education at the University of Wisconsin-Stout. She will graduate in the fall of 2014.
She is married to a wonderful man, who supports her dreams and goals. She has two children, three step-children, a beautiful daughter-in-law, and an adorable grand-baby.
You can find the latest information about her books and fan giveaways at: www.authormelaniejames.com
https://www.facebook.com/pages/Author-Melanie-James/1408513832726084?ref=br_tf
Twitter @autmelaniejames.com
Éveiller Drive
Laura & Alan
On a sleepy little street, in a quiet little sub-division, hearts were silently breaking. Marriages were crumbling. Couples became victims of the all too common, scheduled-to-the max, stressed out beyond belief, norm of daily living. It seemed as if there simply were not enough hours in the day to set aside time for the closeness that couples needed. Intimacy, the essential ingredient required to have a happy and satisfying marriage was severely lacking.
Each couple entered into marriage thinking life would be easier, with a loving partner at their side. All had believed that love was enough to keep you happy, satisfied, and content. Little did they know, that a good marriage required a lot of hard work and loads of compromise. A happy marriage requires that couples be more than just lovers or bed partners. Both husbands and wives are expected to be a friend, lover, supporter, and confidant. And that, is only the start.
Just when the couples thought they had the hang of it, children came along. Everything changed from that moment on. They loved their children with every breath in their body, like any good parent would. However, they never stopped to consider, how much their lives had changed when kids entered the picture. Their lives no longer revolved around one another. The marriages and the households were no longer about two people. They said goodbye to making love all night and Saturday morning sexcapades, without even realizing it. It just slipped away.
Choices were no longer black and white. Decisions were no longer simple yes or no answers. There were many shades and variations of the gray areas. Choices were made, and plans for the future revolved around what was best for the growing family. Passion and romance fell to the bottom of the ever-growing list of priorities, and eventually dropped off to the wayside.
The women felt neglected, as did the men. They wondered where they had gone wrong with their spouses, never connecting the events that lead to their dismal states. After all, they worked hard. They were successful. They loved their kids and always put them first. The couples used to be close. Sex consisted of the four fs—fantastic, fun, frequent, and fucking mind boggling. Now, it was nothing more than a frequently overlooked urge. Intimacy had become another chore that needed to be done, or an itch that needed to be scratched. Nothing more—nothing less.
Each couple wishing desperately to go back to the happy, fulfilling marriages they once had, but not knowing how to get there. How could they rekindle the spark that had been lost? Was the spark still there? Wasn’t it normal to lose the passion and heat after years of exclusivity?
Sadly, several of the couples believed that it was far too late to save their marriages. They were one screaming match away from losing their partners forever. None of them wanted to rock the proverbial boat, and pretended all was calm and normal. When in fact, if you peeked behind the closed doors, it was anything but calm and normal. Anger stewed as problems escalated. Words blazed from unchecked tongues and burned deeply. Verbalized anger caused hurt that could not be easily healed. Jealously acted as an accelerator of the suspicion that easily grew in the hearts of weary, exhausted spouses. What had been a fire of love, lust, and passion,
turned into a cold, lonely, and dark place.
Welcome to Éveiller Drive.
A Summer Love
A summer love isn’t always blue skies and sunny days…
Chapter One
Jenny couldn't believe the nerve of that man. “Have lunch on me,” he says—did he really think she was that credulous and destitute? Sure, she'd like to have lunch on him. She'd like to throw her lunch on him! She should have kicked him in the balls, before fleeing from Adam's hospital room. That’s what she should have done.
Jake could piss her off quicker than anyone else in the world, and he did it with amazing speed and efficiency. He drove her absolutely insane. The pain probably wouldn't have been so bad, but with unconditional love came the risk of heartbreak. Jenny had it bad for Jake. She always had. It was a problem she wanted desperately to remedy. She needed to find a way to move on and never look back.
For as long as Jenny could remember, Jake had always been there. He was Adam's best friend and partner on the police force. When they were on patrol, it doubled her anxiety. Not only did she have to worry about Adam getting hurt at work, she had to worry about Jake’s safety as well. After all, Jenny couldn't remember a time when she didn't love Jake.
Hopeful Leigh (Literal Leigh Romance Diaries Book 3) Page 14
