Clean Romance: Loves of Tomorrow (Contemporary New Adult and College Amish Western Culture Romance) (Urban Power of Love Billionaire Western Collection Time Travel Short Stories)

by Unknown

  “What else is new mom?” Lizbeth asked with a little sting in her voice.

  “What is it this time?”

  “Did the car break down and cause another unexpected expense, or did you and dad blow the rent money at an Atlantic City casino again, and why are you talking to me as if I had something to do with you being short on your bills?”

  “Oh Jesus Lizzy, stop being so dramatic, I’m just talkin’ over here, for Christ sake. You always gotta take everything so personal!

  Me and your father are just….”

  Lizbeth interrupts abruptly, “Save it, mom, how much do you need this time?

  “Oh God’ll bless you Lizbeth for helpin’ out your old ma like this. I just need a couple thousand to get me through the end of the month, that’s all.” Replies Ellen, as if holding back the excitement that would have resulted in a loud, and high-pitched voice, in a way that sounds of begging and gratitude.

  “Mom, a couple thousand? I gave you a couple thousand last month, and a thousand the month before. Why don’t I just set up an automatic draft to you for $1,000 a month?” Lizbeth asks.

  “Really Lizbeth, would you do that for me, ‘cause it would really help me out a lot?”

  “No mom, I’m not serious. I was trying to get you to see how ridiculous it is that you have to call your children every month to help you pay your bills. This is the last time mom, I mean it!” Lizbeth shouts into the phone.

  “Lizbeth Collins do not yell at your mother! Who are you to tell me how to run my house? I gave birth to you so show some respect!” Ellen spat back in a shout.

  Softly, Lizbeth said, “Respect is earned mom, not given just because you’re biologically related. You need to start respecting yourself. It’s time to get clean mom and rebuild your life. You’re still young, it’s not too late. I’ll pay for it, for you and dad both. I’m sorry for yelling, but it’s hard to respect the woman that was so drunk that I had to be raised by a sister who’s only two years older than me. It’s hard to respect a woman that has to rely on her kids to pay her bills each month. It’s hard to respect you, mom, when you don’t respect the one life you’ve been given. I’ll put the money in your PayPal account right now mom, but it’s time for you to get clean.” Lizbeth said as she clicked the hang-up icon on her mobile phone.

  Lizbeth stood in place, completing the transaction to send her mother $2,000 for God knows what, then knelt down and sobbed into Lady’s coat. Lady licked her face dry, eliciting little girl-like giggles from Lizbeth before they resumed their walk home.

  *****

  Upon arriving home, Lizbeth washed the sweat from her face and hands, chugged a glass of water and knelt before her home alter to pray.

  “Come on Lady, it’s time for Daimoku”, Lizbeth said as she lit smokeless incents and candles while Lady padded to her position, seated on Lizbeth’s right side.

  Lizbeth picked up her Juzu beads and began to breathe in deeply through her nose in a long slow inhalation. Then she exhaled slowly through her mouth as she chanted, “Nam-Myoho-Renge-Kyo, Nam-Myoho-Renge-Kyo, Nam-Myoho…”

  Buzz, buzz, buzz went the sound of Lizbeth’s mobile again. Normally she would ignore it during prayer, but since she had only just begun she decided to answer the call, rather than to be distracted and wondering who it was while she chanted and prayed.

  “Hello,” Lizbeth said, as she waited for the caller to respond.

  “Lizbeth, it’s Clay. How are you?”

  “Hi Clay,” Lizbeth said with a smile, “I was wondering when you might call. I’m good, how are you?”

  “Are you all packed for your trip to Texas”?

  “Yeah, as a matter of fact. We’ll be leaving to go to the airport in about three hours,” Lizbeth said, still smiling into the telephone.

  “Good, I’m glad that I caught you before you left. The editor loves this piece you’re working on, this 21st Century cowboys of North America article is turning out to be fantastic. That segment that you wrote about the Vaqueros of Mexico is just phenomenal, and they are really looking forward to how it ties into the history of how the Mexican cowboys taught the newly settled Texans how to operate a cattle ranch. I know that you haven’t found the right cowboy to write about in Texas so I just want you to take all of the time that you need down there. The magazine wants your Texas segment to really be spectacular.”

  “Thanks for working that out Clay, I really appreciate how you’ve gone to bat for me with Travel + Leisure magazine to get me more time. I can’t believe they’ve decided to turn each segment into its own article, 12-months of articles in Travel + Leisure? This is insane, I’m super excited. Thank you again,” the beaming Lizbeth said.

  “Ha, ha, I wish I could take credit for making it happen, but it was all you Lizbeth. Your excellent writing meant that I only needed to ask and the answer was yes, without hesitation. So, enjoy your trip, take your time, find the perfect cowboy to wrap of this piece, and in the meantime, I’ll be looking for your next assignment.”

  “With dude ranches all over the country buying up advertising space in the magazine because of your upcoming articles, you’re making my job almost too easy. Keep up the great job, and safe travels,” Clay said.

  “Thanks, Clay, take care. Bye.” Lizbeth, who was positively giddy, grabbed the sleeping Lady and kissed her wildly until Lady had had enough and wriggled out of Lizbeth’s grip. Lizbeth was ecstatic, about how happy the magazine is with her writing, but she’s giddy for another reason.

  Since becoming his client after leaving rehab, Lizbeth has wanted her handsome new publicist to notice her as more than just another person that he represents. Hearing his praise and the excitement in his voice has Lizbeth thinking maybe there is a chance that Clay will see her as an eligible bachelorette, and not just some formerly strung out, new client that he’s taking a huge risk on.

  “This is our chance, Lady. When the first article’s released surely Clay will want to take me to dinner to celebrate. I’ll look stunning and he’ll really see me. Oh Lady,” Lizbeth says as she buries her right cheek in Lady’s rabbit soft Coates and nuzzles Lady’s neck, “I wish you could talk back.”

  “What am I doing? I’m wishing that my dog could talk to me now? I really need to make more friends.” Lizbeth says aloud as she laughs to herself, picking up her prayer beads to resume Daimoku. “Nam-Myoho-Renge-Kyo”.

  *****

  The trip to her hometown airport, as well as the flight to the Reagan County Airport in Big Lake, Texas was uneventful. The temperature on this August day is 92°F.

  Lizbeth has just started her rental car’s ignition. “What will it be Lady, windows up or down?” Lady looked away from Lizbeth and poked her nose against the rear, passenger side window and gave one sad whine. “Down it is, little girl.”

  Lizbeth rolled down the window as the car began to roll out of the rental car parking lot. The Garmin GPS gave infrequent directions in a voice, devoid of affect, much like Thomas Morgan of Viceland, no matter what Thomas is saying, his affect, tone facial expression, etc., is the same. Somehow, Lizbeth needed more communication and with greater emotional engagement than she was receiving from Andy, the voice on her GPS. Lizbeth was feeling emotionally needy and Andy was not filling that void. Instinctively, Lady withdrew her head from the car window. Her previously flapping ears had now come to rest, she leaned forward and began licking Lizbeth’s right cheek.

  “Thank you for the kisses Lady, I love you too,” Lizbeth said as she leaned into Lady for a quick nuzzle. “Am I so in need of a friend that my dog can sense it? Well, that’s attractive!” Lizbeth said out loud, her voice full of irony and disdain for her emotional state.

  Since getting sober, Lizbeth has become a different person. No longer the overly energized, loud-mouth, party girl from Brooklyn, who just so happens to be a Harvard Graduate School of Journalism alumna. Now she’s a grounded, compassionate, and a more—humanistic version of her old self. The change is great for her soul and her sobriety, but n
ot for her social life. After Lizbeth got sober, all of her so called friends stopped calling her because she’s “no fun anymore” as her ex-friends say. Hesitant to admit it, Lizbeth is lonely and these long and silent Texas roads are not helping.

  This is Lizbeth’s third trip to Texas to find the perfect modern-day cowboy to interview, observe and immortalize in her series on the dying trade of the working, North American Cowboy. She found plenty of cowboys who were serious professionals, but they all had one thing in common. The minute that she began taking notes and recording them, they cease being authentic people and became a cowboy caricature, playing the exaggerated cowboy personality for her. Lizbeth wanted to interview a cowboy who would be his own authentic self.

  The hunger pains of travel finally hit Lizbeth. So she stopped to have a late lunch at a rest stop diner, just off the Interstate. The Snake Eyes drive-thru reminded her of her father, with its gambling reference, but she could little afford to be picky out in the middle of nowhere.

  Lizbeth and Lady enter the restaurant and take a seat at a booth. Lady makes herself comfortable on the floor under the table and catches up on her sleep.

  “What can I do you for?” says the waitress as she pops her gum.

  Lizbeth looked up and her eyes went immediately to the buxom waitress’s nametag. Surprised, and feeling a bit like she just landed on the set of a sitcom, Lizbeth said, “Hi Alice, I’ll have the spinach salad and grilled salmon please.”

  “Of course, you will hon, skinny girls like you always order a salad. And your drink?” Alice asked with attitude, as she gave Lizbeth the once over, chewing her gum the way that a cow chews its cud, grinning at a joke only she’s been privileged to hear.

  “Iced tea please,” Lizbeth said in a cheerful voice, now with a smirk of her own. Lizbeth was proud of how she allowed her higher-self to shine through when in the past, her response to Alice’s snippy remark would have been an in your face, “do you have a problem with me, Flo?

  Calling the server by an alternate, stereotypical diner waitress name to impress upon her that she is so unimportant that Lizbeth cannot be bothered to remember her name. The old Lizbeth would have gone on to say, “it’s not my fault that you peaked in high school and spent the last 20-years working in a diner.”

  The new Lizbeth compassionately accepts that Alice chose to work in a diner for any of a number of reasons. One of which could be that it’s a family business, where role playing a stereotypical waitress is part of the diner’s ambiance, and it gains her higher tips from patrons who enjoy the entertaining experience.

  Whatever the reason, Lizbeth no longer feels the need to belittle people because they rub her the wrong way, or because she feels superior to them. As a new Buddhist, Lizbeth believes that everyone is the same, although she admittedly still resorts to old habits on occasion.

  While waiting for her meal, Lizbeth took the opportunity to review her pre-interview notes. She had other ranchers who were more than happy to be interviewed for a travel magazine article, but not Steven Coates.

  She called, wrote, and emailed him several times with no response, but decided to make the trip and talk her way onto the ranch. It had worked many times in the past and Lizbeth hoped her luck had not run out yet because she had her heart set on featuring the beautiful Coates ranch in her article.

  Lizbeth chose the Coates Ranch, and its owner and head cowboy, Steven Wayne Coates because of its rich history and the type of cattle it raises—Hereford, Irish beef.

  Lizbeth stared out of the window at the ominous dark clouds rolling across the sky off in the distance. The contrast of roiling, black clouds side-by-side with clear blue sky and summer sunshine mesmerized her to the point that she did not notice that Alice had returned with her salad and tea.

  “Here you go sugar”, Alice said as she placed Lizbeth’s meal on the table while reading the upside letters on Lizbeth's notebook. “You a guest at the Coates ranch Shug?” Alice asked.

  Lizbeth smiled pleasantly at Alice saying, “no, I’m a journalist writing a story on West Texas cowboys. I hope to interview Mr. Coates for an article.”

  “Good luck with that one. That crusty old fart ain’t really a people person if you know what I mean. He does much better with them that’s got four legs than the ones with two. He’s especially bad with women, they don’t hang around too long. Ha, ha, the last time he gave a woman the time of day was probably his mama; ha, ha, ha, good luck with Coates sweetie,” Alice said as she sauntered back into the kitchen.

  Lizbeth ate her salad in silence, preoccupied with thoughts of how to get an interview with Steven Coates, and the distant brewing storm.

  Lizbeth finished her meal and handed Lady a bone-shaped biscuit under the table for being a good girl. As they exited the diner, she heard a man’s voice saying, “I didn’t know there was a dog in here!” Lady enjoyed the continuing ride with nose lifted skyward as the scent of the storm tickled her nostrils.

  *****

  The thick, turbulent clouds seemed to grow darker and darker as they rolled closer and closer to Lizbeth’s speeding Jeep. The photographer in Lizbeth couldn’t resist stopping to take a photo, estimating that the storm was still several miles away. Lizbeth opened the back door and allowed Lady to roam the area, only Lady wouldn’t move. Instead, Lady went sniff, sniff, snort at Lizbeth’s mouth and nose. Then instinctively Lady began to nudge Lizbeth’s shoulder, staring at her, waiting for a response. Lizbeth reached into her pocket and pulling out a special treat for Lady, a hunk of deer jerky for alerting Lizbeth to changes in her chemistry that signaled an impending medical crisis.

  Lady took the treat and ate it slowly, savoring the flavor. Then she bounds out of the car for a look around. “Stay close, Lady,” Lizbeth warned. Lady looks up in acknowledgment of the command and wanders only a few feet away. After downing a pill, Lizbeth uses her best lens to get close-up photos of the distant darkened skies, juxtaposed against a baby-blue vista.

  Lizbeth, clicking away at her digital camera, immersed in the sites she was capturing, suddenly, dropped her camera, her entire body began to spasm and writhe under an invisible assault from within. Lizbeth fell to the ground, her head crashing into a rock.

  Lady stopped investigating the interesting pile on the ground and trotted over to Lizbeth, smelling her head and face before racing into action. Lady ran off in search of the nearest human to get help for her handler, in the way that she was trained to do in service dog school.

  The only problem is that Lady and Lizbeth were in the middle of nowhere on a West Texas highway and the diner is, at least, 10-miles away.

  Lady runs, stops and “sniffs, sniffs, and snorts” at the air. No smell of human in any direction. She turns her head left then right and repeats the process—nothing. Lady bounds off at a racer’s pace, stops and “sniff, sniff, snorts” at the air. She turns her head left then right, then her body completely around, then back one hundred eighty degrees. Lady finally catches the scent of something and decides to chase it down.

  “This smell is interesting,” Lady thinks, “I’ve never been up close to one of these before. I’ve smelled it in the distance but never this close. I want to know what it is. It has a powerful odor. I have to see it, inhale it, store it in my memory of creatures I’ve smelled. Where is it? It’s moving away from me, fast, I’m going to lose it. There it is, there it is! Lady thought. Woof-woof! Woof-woof! It has a human on top of it!” Lady thought, with shock and surprise.

  *****

  Lady stops ten feet in front of a beautiful white stallion with a six-foot six-inch cowboy, wearing a white Resistol cowboy hat reminiscent of President LBJ, but with the modern look of Resistol’s Tarrant line of hats. The cowboy’s Silverbelly Tarrant cowboy hat with its four-inch brim, and on the hat’s crown, a one-inch leather hat band, with a silver three-piece-buckle.

  The cowboy’s handsomely rugged face resembled a forty-five-year-old version of the actor, Taylor Kitsch, his intense green eyes peering down scrutini
zingly from his horse.

  “Woof-woof, woof-woof!” Lady said. She was curious about the animal that she has finally gotten close enough to investigate, but her mission was to find a human, and she had.

  “Now who do we have here? Where did you come from pretty girl?” The cowboy asked Lady as he slowly climbed down from his horse. He walked over to Lady, baby-talking her into tranquility. Looking at her pink bandana and pink identification tags, the cowboy saw that her name was Lady and that she was not local because she had a 704 telephone area code on her tag. He also found a medical alert tag on Lady’s collar that read Lizbeth Collins - Epilepsy on the back of the tag.

  The cowboy’s heart skipped a beat before he asked Lady, “is your mama in trouble girl?” Lady began to back away from him. The cowboy took a few steps towards her and watched as her tail gave him a happy wag. The cowboy eased closer and Lady spun around and took a chase me stance. “Do you want me to follow you, girl?” Lady began to trot off, the cowboy walked back to his horse and mounted the majestic stallion. Hearing the sound of hooves behind her, Lady began to sprint back toward Lizbeth.

  The cowboy kept a watchful eye on the storm clouds as he followed Lady back to her owner. He did not know the woman, but he feared for her safety on two accounts. He assumed since Lady was on her own, a long way from home and out on the range, but too clean to have been abandoned, her owner must be in some kind of trouble, most likely of a medical nature.

  The other reason the cowboy was concerned for a woman he has never met was because a funnel cloud was forming and heading towards the woman’s general direction. By his estimation he may have less than one hour to get her, Lady and himself to safety.

  Lady bounds as fast as she can back to Lizbeth. Arriving at the site, she licks at Lizbeth’s face, attempting to wake her. She sniffs the blood running down Lizbeth’s temple and began to whine as the cowboy kneeled down to give Lizbeth aid.