Jack had no idea what he was looking at.
“It’s a deed,” Megan said, shaking the paper, as if that would help him read it. “I bought Springy Mountain. But the deed’s in both of our names, and we can build a little cabin up there.”
Jack knit his brows, still not getting it.
Megan shoved the deed back in the envelope. “It’s the mountain where we spent the night,” she explained in soft exasperation. “Including the land where you saw the cougar markings. So now we never have to worry about that area being developed.”
That said, she folded her hands over her belly under her lovely full breasts, and looked up at him expectantly.
Jack glanced at their equally expectant audience. “Um…my wedding gift for Megan…” He shot her a warm smile. “I couldn’t exactly bring it here tonight, because it’s…You see…”
The lightbulb finally came on, and his smile widened. “I bought you a really fast boat, so we can shoot up the lake to the cabin we’re going to build. Isn’t that great, sweetheart!”
Letter from LakeWatch
Dear Reader,
Every day I am privileged to witness an abundance of animals going about their daily business in my little corner of this mysteriously interconnected world. And whether their creatural antics move me to laughter or tears, I am forever in awe of their powerful sense of survival, innate curiosity, and playfulness.
At any given moment, I can look out a window here at LakeWatch and see something happening. My short list of visitors consists of common birds, squirrels, loons, osprey, eagles, fox, raccoon, deer, moose, and the occasional coyote. My husband, Robbie, and I have watched rutting bucks battle it out in our woods, os-preys plunge into the lake for their dinner, and chickadees land on unsuspecting visitors in search of a treat. We have stifled giggles as we watched baby raccoons swat at the wind chimes outside our bedroom window at one in the morning, and we’ve sucked in horrified breaths as a really brave or really dumb squirrel challenged a skunk under our bird feeder.
All of which makes me wonder if some animals might possess a sense of humor, or if I’m merely projecting an endearingly human trait upon them. For that matter, do creatures mourn? Can they feel pride? Regret? Hate? Compassion? Love?
I do know it never fails to surprise me how they interact not only with people but with each other. Crows are the town criers of the animal kingdom; toss out some food, and the black-feathered busybodies broadcast the news to every scavenger within earshot. In minutes, our front lawn can look like the local landfill as seagulls come swooping in from every direction. (This doesn’t exactly endear me to the neighbors, but since my sons have returned and are now my nearest neighbors, there’s not much they can do about their mother’s penchant for feeding the crows, is there?)
We used to have chickens here at LakeWatch, and one afternoon I remember looking out my front window to see a crow and one of my hens engaged in a tug-of-war. Each had an end of some poor worm in its beak, and each refused to give up its prize. It was a comical sight, as my fluffy blond hen went eyeball-to-eyeball with that equally determined crow. Needless to say, the worm was the ultimate loser when it finally snapped in half. Both birds quickly swallowed their treats, then immediately began hunting for their next victims—acting as if the wild-domestic interaction was a common occurrence.
Another time, I was sitting on my back porch when it suddenly dawned on me that my crows were being unusually raucous. I scanned the field to discover a fox standing on its hind legs, stretched full length up against our small shed near the woods. I then noticed a cat (not one of mine) lying on the roof of the shed, calmly staring down at the outfoxed vixen. The crows were perched in the surrounding trees, cawing their little heads off as if shouting, “Fight! Fight!”
So what does any of this have to do with my writing? Well…if you’ve learned anything about me these past few years, it’s that I have a powerful appreciation for animals. I can’t help but draw parallels between my feathered and four-legged friends and people—especially the characters in my stories. From observing Mother Nature, I have come to expect the unexpected. It no longer confounds me to be writing happily along, blithely headed down my intended literary path, and have one of my characters suddenly do or say something I hadn’t anticipated. Sometimes I don’t even realize what’s happened until after it’s happened!
Jack Stone caught me completely off guard when he first stepped onto the page. The guy was pointing a high-powered rifle at Megan and Kenzie, for crying out loud. I don’t care that it wasn’t loaded; that was not a nice thing for my hero to be doing.
At this point—which was quite early in the story—I wondered if I was even going to like Jack. Would he be one of those characters who caused me all sorts of trouble, or would I fall head over heels in love with him myself? Honestly, I am very open-minded when it comes to my stories; I’m just as curious to see what’s going to happen next, when I’m writing, as you are when you’re reading. After all, if I already know how things are going to turn out, why spend months locked in my studio merely toying with the details?
I don’t meticulously plot out my books, or use a storyboard or scene cards. Heck, I don’t even know my full cast of characters when I type “Chapter One” on that first page. (Please don’t mention this to my editor, as she’ll likely have a heart attack!) For me, telling a story is as unpredictable as life itself; I have no way of knowing what’s going to happen tomorrow or next week or next year, much less in the next chapter.
We can certainly try to plan our future, but how often does it unfold exactly as we envisioned? And if we could know the future, would we really want to? If a caterpillar knew it was going to be some bird’s dinner within hours of becoming a butterfly, would it even bother to emerge from its cocoon? Could you fall madly in love with someone if you knew you were going to fall out of love with him in a few years?
When we open our eyes each morning, we understand that the decisions we make today will shape our tomorrows. And so it is with my characters. They are just as hopeful as we are that the choices they make will be the right ones. Should they go next door and ask that cute guy if they can borrow a cup of sugar? Should they finally hand in their resignation at work? Should they sign up for that business class they’ve always wanted to take?
My characters might think they’ve got their lives all planned out when we first meet them, and they might even think they know exactly how they’ll react in any given situation. But guess what? They are often as surprised as I am by how they do react. Just as when my hen grabbed that worm and looked up to find a crow on the other end, my characters must ultimately decide for themselves if the prize they’re after is worth fighting for.
I so fell in love with Jack Stone.
Did you?
Until later, from LakeWatch,
We hope you enjoyed reading this Simon & Schuster eBook.
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Secrets of the Highlander Page 27
