Dear Diary …. by Kellianne Sweeney

Chapter 9 “The One That Got Away”

Dear Diary,

Oops! I somehow forgot that yesterday was Monday, so chapter 9 from my novel is a day late.  Please excuse me!

Previous chapters and the amazon link to my novel follow the excerpt.

In other news, I will be having a reading and book signing for “The One That Got Away” on September 30th at 12:30 in the Starbucks located at 457 Avalon Park N. Orlando FL 32828. If you are in the Orlando area, please stop by!

Chapter 9

         When I awoke from the Alice Dream, I awoke with a mission. I knew what I had to do. The anxious confusion and disbelief didn’t seem to be the point anymore. Immediately upon awakening I began rummaging through the half packed boxes in my bedroom until I found a partially used spiral notebook. Anna was all up into what I was doing.

“Mama, wadar you looking for?”

“Well, right now, a pen,” I answered absently.

“Why?”

I didn’t answer. I was embroiled in my search for a writing utensil. There must be an obscure place somewhere that everyone’s lost pens congregate. Along with the missing sock mates.

“Mama!” Anna was insistent.

“Calm down, Missy,” I retorted. “I am going to write a letter.”

“To who?”

I was seated on the floor at this point pulling office type objects from a box. I paused for a moment and looked at my child. “Well, Anna, that’s a good question. I’m not actually sure yet, but I need to get started anyway.”

“I will get my color books and crayons,” Anna stated matter-of-factly. She propelled herself out of the room using a skip-hop combination step.

I could feel a headache creeping in from the back of my brain as I finally put my fingers around a pen. I was never much interested in writing but it seemed to make sense to me to at least jot down notes about my dreams until I figured out who they were for. Perhaps a letter would be best since I really was not much of a talker. It seemed weird that I actually felt the need to act upon this urge. But then again, why not? I decided that I would feel less stressed about it if I wrote it all down instead of having it float around in my head. For better or for worse my reality seemed to be changing.

I became quite dedicated to jotting as many details as I could remember concerning the dreams of Roese and Alice. I would often go back to record pieces that I had forgotten previously. It seemed that my memory was not what it used to be. I used to have an excellent memory. It was very linear and I had been able to access extreme detail with only a quick and pointed backward thought. Now there were gaps as if there were broken bridges in my mind between thoughts. I would be traveling along a memory and be missing parts of the scenery. Even worse, I would suddenly come to a place where I was grasping blindly to find the next connection on the memory path. I would need to retrace my steps and concentrate on what I did remember in an effort to reattach the missing parts. Normally, this technique was not successful. More often, the errant memory piece would pop into my mind at a completely unrelated moment. Some of the memory pieces never reappeared and seem to be lost in the recesses of my mind, unable to come forward.

For the next couple of weeks my dreams were mostly deep and dreamless or they were about you. The dreams of you depicted situations that were either extremely joyous or extremely harrowing, nothing in between. I would awake exhausted and more than a little wistful and anxious. I almost tried to call you twice but my fragile resolve crumpled imagining the cold rejection in your voice. So much to be said between us that nothing could be said at all. I had to steel myself, mop up the mess and put it all back in the box and securely latch the lid. Then I stopped dreaming of you and started dreaming of Alice again.

My second dream of Alice began with me being tucked apprehensively in a new bed with a new quilt that had been embroidered by my aunt. There were fresh new pillows and I was wearing a starchy white nightdress sewn by my mother. The lace collar was itchy on my neck. I had been married that day and was waiting for Joshua. I supposed that he was in the outhouse, although he had only told me that he needed to attend to some business and would be along presently. It crossed my mind at that moment that there would not be outhouses where we would be going. I wondered how we would manage that sort of thing with all of those people on the wagon train. My mind wandered to the prospect of sleeping in the same bed with Joshua as my husband. I was used to sleeping with Polly. The thought of sleeping with a man was more than a little uncomfortable to me. It seemed unfathomable that it would be so from this point forward. How long would it take for me to be at ease with him in my bed? For me to sleep well without worry of accidentally touching him in the night? And then there was that other thing. A few days ago Mama had taken me aside and told me that there was something very important that she needed to speak with me about. Polly had been very put out that she was not allowed to be included in the conversation. Mama had told her that it was not appropriate for her tender ears. This comment made her all the more determined to glean this information and made me wonder anxiously what it could possibly be that only I was able to hear. Mama grew quite cross at Polly and sent her to help Mrs. Lewis in the kitchen. Polly protested and pouted, but in the end she stomped off to the kitchen knowing that she had no other choice. Mama told me to sit on the sofa and to my surprise she latched the parlor door. When she seated herself next to me her expression looked as though she had eaten a bushel of lemons. I waited apprehensively as she calmly and slowly poured tea for us. The only other time that I remembered her seating me thus to speak to me was when I had first begun my menstruation and was convinced that I was near death. She had explained to me that I was not in fact near death, but that it was merely a natural process that God had cursed women with. Immediately afterwards I had confided this secret to Polly so that she would not be taken by fear and surprise as I had. I clenched my fingers as unobtrusively as possible as Mama prepared herself to speak. She was a woman of few words and this clearly was a subject that she was not comfortable with.

“Alice, there is a certain duty that a woman must allow her husband that will seem unnatural and shocking to you…as it does to all women of proper background. It is the necessary act that is needed to create children.” She paused to gather additional words. I saw that a blush was creeping into her cheeks. Now I was quite curious. I had asked her about this process years ago but had been thoroughly rebuffed from ever asking again.

“You know I don’t care to share these sorts of things,” she continued, “However, as a young, newly married maid I was quite distraught when your father…” she cleared her throat and began again. “My mother did not warn me of the nature of this act. She merely told me that as a wife I was to do whatever my husband asked of me. Of course that made sense to me, but when confronted with this act I was certain that this could not be included. I was quite appalled and out of my head about the whole business. I do not want this for you.”

I could not imagine my mother out of her head about anything. Now I was burning with curiosity and anxiety. What could it be? I forced my hands to be still and my features to appear patient as she took a moment to sip her tea. She held her cup for what seemed like an eternity before setting it almost silently on the table.

“A man and a woman’s private areas must be joined to make a child. You must allow him to do this. He will know what to do. There will be pain the first time. And bleeding. The times thereafter will not be painful, but must be tolerated.” She patted my hand briefly and gazed at me almost sadly. The gaunt, weary woman retrieved her tea cup and rose steadily. “I will ask you not to share these cares with your sister.” She turned and walked slowly to the door. After unlatching it, she gave me a small, half smile before leaving me to contemplate this new information.

I stared unseeing at the closed door trying to imagine how two people would perform this act.  And to allow a man…Joshua to see my private areas? And for me to see his? How odd for God to have it so! Of course Polly had insisted that I share every detail of our mother’s conversation. But I actually didn’t. I felt that I didn’t have enough information about the topic to impart it properly. This explanation did not go over well with Polly. She wheedled, insisted, and finally threw a tantrum complete with tears and then wouldn’t speak to me for a day. Polly. How I would miss Polly. I stroked the locket that she had given me as a wedding gift. Inside was a tiny picture that our mutual friend Andrew Huff had painted. It depicted Polly and I sitting under our tree in the meadow. In a little over a week’s time Joshua and I would be departing to a town in Northern Virginia to meet up with some other families that would be traveling with us to Sioux Falls. We would be adding additional families along the way. They said it would be much safer to travel in large numbers because of the Indians. My stomach turned wretchedly. I had eaten more than my fill at the wedding. The combination of the food, the coming departure, staying with Joshua’s parents and my imminent new bedroom experience combined to make me queasy. I heard Joshua speaking softly outside the door to his mother. Try as I may, I was not able to ascertain the content of their conversation. Joshua opened the door quietly and peeked in.

“Alice, are you awake?” The candlelight stirred and flickered as he pushed the creaking door wider. I tensed slightly and wanted to scratch frantically at the beautiful lace edging of my nightdress.

“Yes.”

As he walked into the room I noticed that he was wearing night clothes.  He stood by the side of the bed for a moment looking at me like I was some sort of delectable dessert. I almost giggled at the silly thought in my head, but I didn’t. I nervously twisted the end of my long braid with my thumb and finger. He pulled the quilt back and his eyes lingered on my bare leg. Somehow my nightdress had hiked up to show one of my calves and the edge of my pantalets. I hastily pushed my nightdress back into its’ proper place. Without looking at my face he spoke huskily.

“You will need to remove those…your pantalets.

Chapter 1 https://blogkelliannesweeneydeardiary.wordpress.com/2012/08/06/chapter-1-this-week-chapter-2-next-week/

Chapter 2 https://blogkelliannesweeneydeardiary.wordpress.com/2012/08/13/chapter-two-of-the-one-that-got-away/

Chapter 3  https://blogkelliannesweeneydeardiary.wordpress.com/2012/08/20/chapter-3-the-one-that-got-away/

Chapter 4 https://blogkelliannesweeneydeardiary.wordpress.com/2012/08/27/chapter-4-the-one-that-got-away/

Chapter 5 & 6 https://blogkelliannesweeneydeardiary.wordpress.com/2012/09/03/chapter-5-6-the-one-that-got-away/

Chapter 7 https://blogkelliannesweeneydeardiary.wordpress.com/2012/09/10/chapter-7-the-one-that-got-away/

Chapter 8 https://blogkelliannesweeneydeardiary.wordpress.com/2012/09/17/chapter-8-the-one-that-got-away/

“The One That Got Away” on amazon http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_ss_i_0_9?url=search-alias%3Dstripbooks&field-keywords=kellianne+sweeney&sprefix=kellianne%2Cstripbooks%2C225

Chapter 8 “The One That Got Away”

Dear Diary,

I am continuing my Monday chapter postings from my novel “The One That Got Away”. Previous chapters and the amazon link to my novel follow the excerpt.

Chapter 8

         I actually did make an appointment to see a doctor after the dumpster incident. I did not share my parking lot adventure with anyone. I described the headaches and the first fainting spell to the random doctor. He prescribed some super strong headache medicine and gave me all of the necessary paperwork to do lab work and x-rays. I filled the prescription, which cost way too much without medical insurance, and tucked the lab and x-ray referrals into the staggering pile of important papers to think about later. I was feeling rather detached. I was beginning to question my sanity because I was beginning to believe that the dreams and the woman were real in some way. I knew I would have more dreams. I wondered when. I was certain that they would not be about Roese anymore. I wondered who. I wondered how it was all connected. I wondered what the woman meant about limited time. I felt apprehensive about how I would tell this someone about all of this. I couldn’t see myself sharing this even if I did end up believing it. I am not one to share my regular thoughts, let alone thoughts as bizarre as all of this. I found a mental box for these crazy thoughts and stuffed them all inside. However, the lid would not quite close. Pieces were dangling over the edge into my daily life. It disturbed me that I seemed unable to tuck this successfully away like so many other disturbing thoughts that I had banished into my mental box gallery. I was desperate to focus on the mundane. And to focus on my Anna. My darling Anna. The sparkle of my life. She blossomed under the additional attention that I was giving her. She was no longer pouting and demanding. I pulled from the joy she so willingly exuded to bolster my sagging countenance. And kept going. Working and waiting.

The first dream about Alice began in the kaleidoscope fashion while I was sleeping. I was grabbing a much needed nap with Anna on an unusually lazy Sunday afternoon. A young woman with a thin face, sea green eyes and a mouth that was slightly quirked on one side. Her body was slender, but strong. She was attractive, but not in a classic sort of way. Hers was a simple, wholesome pretty. Her sandy hair was long and straight and almost always tied back. As a child she carefully braided it, as an adult it was always in a proper bun. The only exception was when she was in the meadow outside of town with her younger sister Polly. Polly’s name was officially Elizabeth, but she was never really called that. At these times it seemed necessary to have one’s hair flowing freely to fully experience the breeze, the sun, and nature’s simple pleasures. The girls would spend any snatches of free time under their favorite tree weaving, drawing, reading, talking and dreaming. This was their private spot away from their parents’ busy inn and Alice’s newly acquired position as the town’s school teacher. Alice was particularly fond of catching grasshoppers and toads. This pastime came to a halt when she became a teacher because Alice felt that it did not become her position. Instead, she was quite apt to provide excellent instruction to enable her students to do so and was quite bursting with scientific information concerning the small beasts. Alice also felt drawn to the families of mourning doves that would nest in the girls’ tree. Their song pulled at her heart. It sounded both sad and hopeful simultaneously. Perhaps it was like an endured sadness that knows that hope is still eternal.

The stray thoughts and images began to slow and solidify. I found myself once again studying the reflection in the silver framed mirror and firmly tucking errant strands of hair back into their proper place. I tried to make my mouth a completely straight line. It didn’t work. One corner was always slightly quirked upwards as if ready to blossom into a full smile at any moment, or as if it was waiting for a small kiss to be planted there. I pushed my mouth into a dramatic frown and the quirk disappeared.

Polly suddenly clasped my waist from behind in an excited embrace. I dropped the mirror.

“Polly!”

Polly was undeterred. “Mama said I could bring in the lemonade,” she quipped cheerily.

“Maybe he doesn’t like lemonade.” I feigned annoyance and stooped to retrieve our grandmother’s mirror. It was hard to be cross with Polly. Her exuberance was so catchy and heartfelt. I felt a small quiver of excitement. I smoothed my hair one last time.

“Of course he’ll like Mama’s lemonade. Everyone does, Alice!” Polly exclaimed. She flitted over to the window and craned her neck to peer down the cobblestone street. “I don’t see him yet.” She turned to face me and braced her arms to lean against the window frame. “Alice,” she began in her most serious voice that was quite ruined by her twinkling eyes, “do you love Joshua?”

I honestly didn’t know how to answer this question. He was a good, upstanding man. He was hard working and kind. He wasn’t exactly handsome, but he was easy on the eyes and well groomed. But I think most importantly, he was intelligent and I sensed that he had vision. I believed that as a total package, he was a satisfactory prospect.

“Love takes time, Polly,” I answered sagely.

“Oh pshaw! Alice! You can be such a biddy!” She flopped herself dramatically on our bed and stared up at the beamed ceiling twisting her strawberry blond hair absently. “I won’t marry anyone unless I am madly in love.” She sighed dreamily.

“And you are such a silly school girl!” I grabbed my shawl and threw it squarely in her face. “Who said I was getting married anyway?” I continued coyly.

“Alice!” Polly extracted herself from my shawl and sat bolt upright on the bed. “You know he’s going to ask you. I have it on good authority from his sisters and Penny Morris.”

“Penny Morris always has her pretty little nose far too much in other people’s business,” I teased as I turned to set the mirror in its’ proper place.

“Alice, don’t tell me that you don’t notice Mama acting all funny and nervous and Papa being so serious and all,” Polly wheedled.

“I guess we’ll see,” I answered. “Look. I think I see him down the street.”

Polly jumped up and bolted to the window.“Yes!” she squealed. “It’s him! I’ll go help Mama with the lemonade and cookies.” She rushed out of the room in a burst of bustling calico.

Did I really want to marry Joshua Davenport? I think it made sense. I did believe that he was going to ask me to marry him today. I twisted my hands twice and smoothed my gray charcoal print dress. I smoothed my mind and took a deep breath before following Polly out of our bedroom. I paused in the doorway trying to decide what I should pretend to be doing when he arrived. I stepped into the parlor and scanned the book shelf for appropriate reading material. I slid my fingers around a book by Benjamin Franklin and extracted it from its neighbors. I positioned myself on the window seat and arranged my skirts in a neat, yet casual fashion. I opened the book and browsed to find a passage that might spark an interesting discussion with Joshua if I needed such a distraction. It was always prudent to have an extra conversation handy to fill an awkward pause. I felt the sun shining on my back through the window. It felt warm and encouraging. I closed my eyes and let it seep inside of me. I heard Joshua’s measured voice intermingled with the inn guests and the town’s people that were gathered in the tavern section of the house. I could hear Polly’s breathless chatter and my mother’s infrequent interjections. I listened to the familiar and comforting sounds of dishes and silverware being dragged across them and to the constant song of moving feet and creaking chairs. I accidentally left my eyes closed too long and when I opened them, Mama, Polly and Joshua were standing in the parlor doorway looking at me. I had dozed off.

I cleared my throat lightly and tried to push the cobwebs and embarrassment out of my mind. Joshua gazed at me with deference, Mama with impatience and Polly looked as if she was about to burst out laughing. Mama sensed Polly’s imminent outburst and motioned sternly for her to exit. Polly clamped her hand over her mouth and hurried in the direction of the kitchen.

“Uh,…ah, Mr. Davenport.” I grasped at my composure and stood steadily to greet him. The forgotten book slid out of my nonexistent lap to the floor with a resounding thud. I could feel a blush creep into my cheeks. I bent to retrieve it, but Joshua rushed forward to assist.

“Please allow me, Miss Chester.” We found ourselves caught in an awkward position of both having a hand on the book, and our faces almost touching. I hastily straightened and allowed him to retrieve the book. I knew my face was scarlet.

“Thank you ever so much,” I murmured and scanned my hair with my hand for any escaping strands. Joshua’s face was flushed too as he handed me the book. I found my mind devoid of any helpful passage that Mr. Franklin might offer. And then I giggled. I couldn’t help it. Joshua chuckled softly in return and the moment was broken. Mama excused herself and we were left alone. We then found ourselves enveloped in that awkward pause that I had anticipated. “ I am truly sorry for you to find me sleeping…” I started.

“No, please don’t apologize.” Joshua interjected. “I am certain that had I your position as school mistress it would cause me to sleep every moment that I was not in the schoolhouse.”

“I know you to work hard on your father’s lands, Mr. Davenport,” I answered with a smile.

“Alice,…uh, Miss Chester, may I call you Alice? I must insist that you call me merely Joshua.”

“Well, if you insist, I will.” It was obvious that Joshua was becoming flustered. I smiled inwardly and vowed to make it easy on him. “And, yes of course you may call me Alice.”

“Alice, I am a straightforward man and do not like to trifle with walking around the point of a conversation. May I be frank with you?” Joshua’s face continued to be rosy and a thin veil of perspiration appeared on his brow.

“Yes, of course, Mr….Joshua,” I soothed. “Would you like to be seated on the sofa to continue this conversation in comfort?”

“No. I would prefer to stand.” Suddenly, he clasped my hands within his own. “Alice, would you do me the honor of being my wife?”

I was taken aback at the suddenness of his proposal. I struggled to remove the surprise from my features and to form an intelligent response. His hands were warm and insistent upon my own. I resisted the urge to pull them away. He seemed to read my thoughts and quickly released them.

“Forgive me for my forwardness, Miss Chester…Alice. I can be rather inspired by my ideas. I have approached this incorrectly and with haste. I have no experience in such matters.” He smiled wryly. “Perhaps we should seat ourselves on the sofa and begin again.” He positioned himself into a far corner of the pale blue sofa. I noticed absently that his eyes were the same shade of blue. I nodded slightly and perched primly in the opposite corner. I experienced a pressing urge to find something for my hands to do. Instead, I folded them properly in my lap.

“I should have begun this conversation in a different manner.” Joshua cleared his throat and continued earnestly. “I have the utmost respect for you. You are well educated, gracious and skilled in the domestic arts. I find your manner and face quite pleasing to me.” He paused to take a short breath. “I have recently been offered the opportunity to join a wagon train to settle in Sioux Falls, North Dakota. I would be honored if you would join me as my wife.”

My mouth went dry. Leave everything? I wasn’t expecting this part. Time seemed to stretch in front of me. I held my face blank while my mind raced. My stomach lurched with both excitement and dismay. My inner spirit yearned for the adventure and opportunity of venturing out on a pioneer train to North Dakota. But leave my family and my life in Virginia with a man that I hardly knew? I studied the man in front of me. The hope and fervor in his eyes nearly broke my heart. His commitment to this cause was magnetizing.  I broke his gaze and looked down at my tightly clasped hands. They would become quite rough and calloused. But this thought was merely vanity. I longed to prove that I was made of tougher material. But Polly. My dear Polly. A lump formed in my throat thinking of her reaction. She would encourage me to pursue this adventure, but the ever present sparkle in her eyes would not be there. She would remind me that opportunities like this come only once and when we are presented with them it is our duty and destiny to accept them. At fourteen, Polly was an incongruent combination of silliness and wisdom. I knew in my heart that despite my natural reservations that this was my intended path. I lifted my head and observed that Joshua’s expression was somewhat crestfallen in anticipation of a refusal from me. I straightened my back slightly.

“I accept your proposal.” The words slid simply out of my mouth.

Joshua’s face rushed red with relief and excitement. “I assure you that I will care for you with my life and my soul, Alice. You have truly blessed me.”

Chapter 1 https://blogkelliannesweeneydeardiary.wordpress.com/2012/08/06/chapter-1-this-week-chapter-2-next-week/

Chapter 2 https://blogkelliannesweeneydeardiary.wordpress.com/2012/08/13/chapter-two-of-the-one-that-got-away/

Chapter 3  https://blogkelliannesweeneydeardiary.wordpress.com/2012/08/20/chapter-3-the-one-that-got-away/

Chapter 4 https://blogkelliannesweeneydeardiary.wordpress.com/2012/08/27/chapter-4-the-one-that-got-away/

Chapter 5 & 6 https://blogkelliannesweeneydeardiary.wordpress.com/2012/09/03/chapter-5-6-the-one-that-got-away/

Chapter 7 https://blogkelliannesweeneydeardiary.wordpress.com/2012/09/10/chapter-7-the-one-that-got-away/

“The One That Got Away” on amazon http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_ss_i_0_9?url=search-alias%3Dstripbooks&field-keywords=kellianne+sweeney&sprefix=kellianne%2Cstripbooks%2C225

Chapter 7 “The One That Got Away”

Dear Diary,

Here is chapter 7 of the “One That Got Away”. I hope you are getting at least a little bit hooked on the story…

Previous chapters and the amazon link to the novel follow the excerpt.

Chapter 7

         For a few weeks I had no dreams about Roese and friends. I was crazy busy. I was picking up additional shifts at the steak house. I was working long hours almost every day. This was helping my bill situation, but my energy was quite definitely waning. It was a tough job to do day in and day out and I was no spring chicken anymore. The headaches were almost constantly hanging on me now in varying degrees of ferocity. Of course I did not go to the doctor about my previous fainting spell. After a couple of weeks Leigh gave up pestering me on the subject. I didn’t tell her that I was still having headaches. I was also missing my Anna. She enjoyed spending time at Leigh’s house with her cousins, but with me she was becoming more clingy and ornery as my hours at work increased. Sometimes I would have an irrational flutter of panic that I would lose her too. Of course I would quickly dismiss the thought. I would insist to myself that I would never let that happen. At work, I found myself watching for that unusual woman with violet eyes to show up again. But she didn’t. I spent way too much time dwelling over the possibilities of what I could say to her. I had so many questions about the dreams and such. She seemed to know about it. I wanted answers and meaning. I was becoming annoyed at myself for what I viewed as obsessive thinking. This was not typical of my nature and certainly not conducive to anything productive. The shifts and the hungry people and the food and the dirty dishes and the side work and the cleaning all blended together into one seemingly continuous day. Anna and I spent most of my down time lounging in my bed watching cartoons and noshing on popcorn and gummy bears. Sleeping in crumbs and with an occasional stray gummy bear was not my normal forte. One day I actually went to work with a green gummy bear lodged securely in my hair. This was not an easy extraction. The mind numbing routine continued on. My brain became too sluggish to wrap around much else until I had another fainting episode.

I had been schlepping a couple of enormous bags of foul smelling restaurant trash to the dumpster in the rear parking lot. This wasn’t normally one of my assigned duties, but the dishwasher guy was new and was taking forever to finish his responsibilities. I was particularly tired and cranky because my headache was quite fierce on this night. I was in the middle of a mental tirade about how clueless that new kid was when I literally stopped in my tracks. I could have sworn that I saw the violet eyed woman leaning against the fence around the dumpster smoking one of those fancy tipped cigarettes. I almost called out to her, but then I realized how ridiculous it would be that she was there in the first place. As I peered closer, I didn’t see her anymore. Only what appeared to be the remnants of cigarette smoke wafting towards me.  I blinked my eyes rapidly and tried to refocus. Was there fog? My vision became blurry and I felt the sensation of falling. I couldn’t feel my hands to put them out to catch my fall. I braced myself inwardly for the impending impact with the pavement. But I felt nothing. From far away kaleidoscope pictures whirled and tumbled into my mind’s eye again. Roese and Ralf, so poignantly happy in each other’s presence. Enchanting sexual scenes flitted before me. Passionate and purposeful discussions between them. Well received performances in a different theatre. From what I could piece together it appeared that Ralf had separated from Robert’s company and had gathered funding from other sources to establish his own playhouse. The shows were very popular and Roese was now playing lead roles. Life seemed happy and fulfilling for the couple until Roese turned up pregnant. Roese became prone to childish fits of anger and jealousy as her condition forced her to the sidelines. Ralf insisted that she rest and that performances needed to continue without her. Roese would not be reasonable. She continually lashed out at her lover and turned to alcohol for solace. She became quite a heavy drinker. Ralf was patient with her tantrums but firmly insisted that the show must go on. The images wound down slowly to a halt and I became engulfed once again in the dim bedroom filled with the death of my stillborn child. I was breathing shallowly. I was infernally hot, but trembling with cold. The blood felt so thick and sticky. I could feel that it was a leak that would not be abated. I was trying to awaken. Forcing my eyes open was almost more than I could bear. I needed to speak. To Ralf. The shame pierced me even in my half conscious state. The room was dark and blurry. The light from the candles seemed to stretch out in beams from their source but didn’t offer any real sight for me. Was it night or day? I thought perhaps I could see a bit of light between the window dressings, but I could not be sure. I struggled to turn my head. It felt heavy as lead. I could vaguely make out Ralf’s shape in a chair, slumped in sleep. My heart ached to see him. I tried to call his name, but only a hoarse croak erupted from my throat. He stirred and adjusted position. Then, suddenly he jolted awake.

“Roese!” He stumbled so quickly out of the chair that it toppled behind him as he knelt at the bedside. He gently cupped my face in his palms.

“Thank the Lord that you have awakened! I was afraid that you would not. They said….”his voice trailed off and he visibly tried to adjust his demeanor. His beautiful eyes were red rimmed from lack of sleep and weeping. His hair was filthy and hung in damp clumps at odd angles. He kissed my forehead and lingered there as if trying to breathe strength into my failing body. It took every ounce of my will power to force my hand to rise up to his cheek. At this, he dropped his head to my breast and sobbed jaggedly.

“Roese, do not leave me. I cannot be without you.” I held my hand upon his cheek as long as I could. Feeling the spark of his being. To keep it for always. My hand dropped suddenly. Ralf lifted his head in alarm and gathered me in his arms.

“Roese, please don’t….you have to…..” I could not hear him anymore. I wanted to tell him again how I loved him, but my lips were silent. I could only gaze at him with luminous blue eyes that were fading. The candlelight seemed to gather around his head and envelope him in a yellow haze. I watched him until he became the light itself.

Then there was blackness. I felt suspended and form free. Endless and timeless. I vaguely wondered if I was dead too. But who was I exactly anyway? These questions somehow did not seem important. After an unspecified amount of time I could see a pinhole size light that grew brighter and larger as I rushed towards it. Swift and windless. With a jolt I realized that I was now looking closely and critically at a set of pale green eyes flecked with brown. The lashes were long and the bridge of the nose was narrow. A strand of straw colored hair wafted into view. I was, in fact, studying a reflection in a silver framed, hand held mirror.

My mouth tasted gravel and blood. Scattered pieces of lettuce and a crushed milk carton stared back at me on the pavement.  There was pain in my face and shoulder. I was face down in Jake’s Steaks rear parking lot surrounded by what seemed like a sea of garbage. I lay there for a few moments listening to the silence that was occasionally punctuated by a passing car. A breeze stirred the air and coaxed the milk carton only inches from my nose. Time to get up. I gingerly moved my hands into push up position and winced as I put weight on them. A pair of petite pointy toed boots with a long black skirt hovering over them came into my line of view. I looked up in surprise and confusion to see the violet eyed woman. She was extending her hand to me for assistance. I clasped it gratefully and wobbled to my feet. She placed a diminutive hand on each of my arms to steady me and looked up into my face quite seriously.

“These things that you are being shown are to be shared with another. It has been attempted before, long ago. You will know the other when it is right. But be aware that your time is limited.”

I held her eyes silently. All questions and comments that had been stewing in my mind evaporated. I became sure that I had seen this woman before in a different setting. I soaked in her presence and words. She tilted her head slightly toward the kitchen door.

“The boy is coming,” she said. “He is quite grateful for how you have helped him. He will help you now and will not share this with the others.”

I looked in the direction that she had indicated and saw the dishwasher ambling through the doorway. The street lamp illuminated his curly red hair and gaunt frame. He was absently inserting a cigarette between his thin lips but promptly dropped it upon viewing the spewed garbage and my disheveled state.

“Wow! Wendy. What happened? You okay?”

I glanced back at the woman, but I knew that she would be gone.

“Yeah,” I answered. “Can you give me a hand? And keep it to yourself, okay?”

Chapter 5 & 6 “The One That Got Away”

Dear Diary,

Two chapters this time because chapter 5 is so short. Just to warn you, chapter 6 is rather intense! Links to the previous chapters and the amazon link to the novel follow the excerpt.

Chapter 5

         All was dark at Leigh’s house when I arrived. I slid the key into the front door lock and turned it as quietly as possible. I saw Leigh slumped and asleep on the living room couch from the faint light emanating from the kitchen stove. I moved to the back of the house, treading carefully so as not to step on the particularly creaky spots on the wood floor. Leigh’s house was built over a hundred years before and had all of the charms and groanings typical of such a house. The girls’ bedroom door was ajar and I pushed it gently open. Anna was snuggled between her cousins in the queen size bed. Franny and Kate both slept facing their small cousin, arms placed protectively. Moonlight seeped between the blind’s slits creating a striped pattern on the slumbering figures. A pretty picture for sure.  Tranquil and timeless. I barely breathed as I watched them, wishing the peaceful moment would not pass to be interrupted by the worries of my regular life. Abruptly, I dismissed such whiny, wistful thoughts. I deftly scooped up Anna and walked briskly into the front room. I tapped Leigh on the shoulder. She stirred and squinted up at me sleepily pushing her blonde hair out of her eyes.

“Thank you, Leigh,” I whispered. Anna shifted and pulled me closer.

“Uh, okay…call me…K?” Leigh murmured and adjusted her position on the couch. She seemed uncertain whether to make the couch her bed for the night or to get up and go to the bedroom.

I covered the last few steps to the door, opened it quietly and turned the lock back into place before I closed it again.

Chapter 6

         In my bed at home I willed the dreams to come. I wanted to see more. In the beginning, my dreams that night were in fact like dreams. Fragments of events tumbling together in no particular sequence. But still, the dreams centered on Roese and her youthful debut into the world of eighteenth century theatre. She played only small roles, but with such poignant enthusiasm and zest. Her style bore the mark of an innocent girl trying to impersonate the true passion born only of experience. But that in itself had its own captivating charm. The audience seemed to embrace her. Flashes of jealous friction erupted from Mary in some segments. However, Roese would not retaliate. She would merely demure. This seemed only to incense Mary all the more. Advances from Robert were becoming increasingly prevalent and it was apparent that he was becoming frustrated and a bit angry with Roese’s polite rebuffs. Interspersed were many episodes of drunken revelry and sexual promiscuity among members of the troupe. Roese began experimenting with drink but shied away quite adamantly from the prolific sexual encounters going on around her. And Ralf. He was laced within it all. Stolen glances between the two of them. Accidental touches. Casual words spoken with deep underlying meaning hidden under the most skillful of facades. They seemed to burn in each other’s presence. Yet no word or action indicated as such.

Then the dreams began to take on a different feel. The kaleidoscope style shifted and became more clarified. Edges became sharper; sound became clearer and more sensible. I was no longer a spectator. I was Roese. I was in the prop room rummaging through a chest of costume pieces. Hadn’t I seen white gloves with an ermine cuff? I impatiently knotted my hair into a makeshift bun as it was impeding the progress of my search. Everyone else it seemed was in the dressing room partaking in spirits and becoming rather loud and rowdy. I was a bit tipsy myself. I was suddenly aware that someone was in the room with me. I paused and turned to see Robert holding the tawdry curtain aside with one hand, a goblet in the other. He looked very drunk.

“Oh! Hullo Robert. You startled me.” I smiled uncertainly. I felt very uneasy. There was something… I didn’t like the look in his eye. It reminded me of the way Jared the field hand at my Papa’s farm had looked at me before he…A flutter of panic rippled through my chest. I suddenly felt like a cornered rabbit. How would I get past him through the doorway? Could I talk my way out of this? Or should I surprise him with a hard shove and run down the corridor? And then what? Have no employment? I had to handle this delicately and with skill. I fought the fear that was seeping into my pores and clenched my fingers quickly before I forced a casual smile.

“Ah, so delectable you are, Roese. Like the sweetest of crumpets,” Robert drawled as his eyes seemed to probe every part of my body. “How I’d love a taste.”

I emitted a silvery laugh. “Ah, Robert, what a charmer you are! You must use that line in your next play. Let us go join the others. Me-thinks your goblet is empty.” I assertively twisted the cup from his grasp with the intention of breezing through the doorway, but he swiftly snatched my other hand in a vice like grip and forced me to step backwards into the small room. He pressed his mouth to my ear and I could smell the stale wine on his breath.

“Let us not go join the others. It is time that you joined with me,” he slurred huskily and slid his tongue sloppily into my ear.

“Robert, stop!” I gasped and struggled vainly to extract myself from his tight grip. The goblet slipped from my fingers and struck the floor with a resounding clang as he used both of his hands to maneuver me a few more steps backward.

“Robert, please…” I begged. He was so strong. I knew I could not wriggle free. And oh dear Lord! Not again! Jared’s filthy, toothless face floated before my eyes for a moment. I shuddered at the memory and the panic became pure. “Robert! No!” I squealed desperately as he attempted to push me down onto a heaping pile of costumes. I struggled frantically and began to scream. He clamped his hand so hard over my mouth that I could not even bite, or barely breathe. This action caused the costumes to topple and I ended up hard on the splintering floor with one arm lodged under my body. My other hand was useless against his strong frame. His free hand rummaged under my skirts and tugged forcibly at my undergarments. I squeezed my eyes closed and tears ran down the side of my face and into my ears. My arm throbbed, splinters pushed into my skin and I felt dizzy from the wine and lack of air. He ripped at my linens and I felt his fingers fondle me roughly.

“Ah, there you are. That’s what I’m looking for.” I jerked at his touch. “There, there, Roese. Why do you struggle so?  Open your eyes and gaze upon the man that will have you.”

Then I heard laughter. I squinted my eyes open and looked past Robert’s head to see Mary and Mabel laughing hysterically at the sight before them. Mabel was so intoxicated that she could barely stand. Mary was not. Her laughter was harsh and deep felt. Her eyes glinted maliciously.

“Go on, Robert, ride that horse,” she jeered.

“Yes, I will,” Robert answered and began fumbling with his trousers. I used this distraction to attempt to free myself, but this merely angered him. He slapped my face hard which also had the additional effect of slamming my head to the floor. The edges of my sight became fuzzy and dark. I felt myself go limp. Robert removed his hand from my mouth and attended to his trousers. I felt cool air rush into my lungs as I gulped it in, unable to do anything else but breathe hungrily.

Somehow, suddenly, Ralf’s face appeared to hover over Robert’s head. His features were twisted in rage and his eyes sparked gray fire. I believed that I was having a vision, but then Robert’s body was yanked off of mine.

I cried out in relief and forced myself to scramble to a sitting position. I scooted the few inches to the back wall and curled myself tightly, face into my knees, arms laced securely around my legs. He would have to break my arms and legs to get through. These fiercely determined thoughts were interrupted by the commotion going on around me in the small room. I peeked warily around my knees and saw Ralf land a fist squarely on Robert’s jaw. Robert staggered, cursing vehemently and lunged unsteadily at Ralf. The two scuffled while Mary and Mabel yelled at them to stop. Robert emitted a long colorful string of obscenities as three actors raced in and struggled to break them apart. Katherine, another actress, tottered over and tried to squat on the floor next to me. Drink had robbed her of her balance and she almost fell. She steadied herself on a nearby chair and reached to put a hand on my shoulder.

“Don’t touch me!” I hissed as I buried my face back into my knees.

“Aw, Roese, I know it’s a fright, but these things happen. It’ll be alright, dear.” In my mind’s eye I could still see her rheumy, watery eyes filled with pity and her thin crooked mouth stained with endless applications of lipstick. She patted my shoulder anyway. I flinched and was about to push her away, but realized that she was taking her leave. Unsteadily, she maneuvered herself to a standing position and wandered after the men who were forcing Robert into the hallway. Mary and Mabel followed, chattering excitedly. Only Ralf and another actor named Harold stayed behind. My eyes were pressed so tightly into my knees that they ached. Ralf and Harold spoke quietly for a few minutes and then Harold left, leaving only Ralf. I could hear him panting slightly from exertion. He took a steadying breath and squatted beside me. I would not look up.

“Leave me alone,” I told him firmly. He did not leave. Silence hung between us. After several long moments he cleared his throat.

“Roese,” he said softly, “how do you fare?”

A million angry or pitiful replies rushed through my mind at once, but I said nothing. I became aware that my head was throbbing and that my arm was probably bleeding. I didn’t care to check for bumps or scrapes. I remained tight and still.

“Roese,” he repeated. This time his voice caught a little. A sliver of surprise slipped into my misery at the depth of feeling he had injected into my name. His fingers lightly touched my arm. The contact was electric, but still I tensed and repelled.

“Don’t touch me.” My voice was muffled and not quite as forceful as my last statement.

He pulled his hand away immediately. “Shall I have Katherine tend to you?” he asked doubtfully. “I will not leave you here alone.”

“No,” I answered realizing that I didn’t actually want to be alone either. What if Robert came back? I forced myself to peer over my knees at Ralf. “I…I am ashamed for you to find me in this state.” I spoke hoarsely.”But, please, I mean, thank you ever so much for coming to my assistance.” I swiped at the tear streaks on my face impatiently and glanced around for something to use as a handkerchief. Ralf offered his own.

“I could not let this pass,” he replied simply. But his eyes said much more. In the past I had been afraid to look in his eyes too closely. Afraid for what mine would say to him. Afraid that I might not find the same feelings that I held for him there.  Or afraid that I might find the shadowy sexual beast lurking there. He was too perfect.  I wanted him to stay that way. Unsullied by my expectations or false hopes. But this time, I looked. I saw tenderness. And uncertainty. And hope. He peered closely at me with those beautiful wolf-like eyes and then seemed to readjust his gaze to look even closer. Almost unconsciously my fingers rose to touch his cheek gently, hesitantly. He moved his face into my palm and pressed my hand closer with his own. He closed his eyes briefly as if to relish the moment. When he opened them again they were piercing and smoky.

“Roese, I do believe that I have fallen in love with you.”

My heart stood still. I could not say a word. I only stared in surprise. He moved to sit beside me. In an absent like manner he delicately guided tangled strands of hair from my face with one hand. His fingers found the nape of my neck and stayed there. He brought his face close to mine and his lips brushed my cheek as he spoke.

“I want to kiss you, Roese…May I kiss you?”

I only hesitated for the merest fraction of a moment. “Yes,” I breathed. And then he kissed me. Deeply, earnestly. He entwined his fingers in my hair and pulled me closer. My hands slid up around the back of his neck and he sighed with pleasure. The kiss was long and it was sweet and it demanded more. But Ralf stopped. He cupped my face in his warm hands and said, “Your arm is bleeding and I do believe you will have a bruised eye, little girl. We must tend to these needs and to other more serious consequences.”

I woke up abruptly. It was still dark. Anna must have crawled into bed with me, because there she was beside me. A fading white glow seemed to linger around her small body. At first I thought it was moonlight, but then it dissipated as I watched. It was then that I realized that I was actually able to see auras. I had heard about auras, but had never paid it much mind. I am the type that I need to see to believe. It seemed that I was seeing. But did I believe? I thought back to the other instances when I had seen what appeared to be auras. The multicolored hospital staff when I gave birth to you. Gladys was downright red after I had fainted. And Anna…well, again she was white. My gaze washed over my sleeping child and I wanted to touch her. But I didn’t. She was an extremely light sleeper and I was not about to be serving “brefast” at four am this morning. Instead, I carefully pulled the comforter over her bare legs. Unexpectedly, thoughts of you came flooding in. The pain of missing you and the mistakes I have made can be overpowering. It creeps up on me when my guard is down. I cannot have it in the front of my mind or I cannot function properly. So you have your own little box there in the back of my mind. However, the ache is always present. Most of the time it is like a dull itch unless it gets pulled to the front somehow. Dear Lord, how I miss you. But it cannot be, so back in your box you go. I slid out of my bed as unobtrusively as possible. I needed a cigarette.

Chapter 1 https://blogkelliannesweeneydeardiary.wordpress.com/2012/08/06/chapter-1-this-week-chapter-2-next-week/

Chapter 2 https://blogkelliannesweeneydeardiary.wordpress.com/2012/08/13/chapter-two-of-the-one-that-got-away/

Chapter 3  https://blogkelliannesweeneydeardiary.wordpress.com/2012/08/20/chapter-3-the-one-that-got-away/

Chapter 4 https://blogkelliannesweeneydeardiary.wordpress.com/2012/08/27/chapter-4-the-one-that-got-away/

“The One That Got Away” on amazon http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_ss_i_0_9?url=search-alias%3Dstripbooks&field-keywords=kellianne+sweeney&sprefix=kellianne%2Cstripbooks%2C225