Holiday Stories: CASSIE'S CHRISTMAS WISH

I've had so many lovely stories contributed this holiday season. I hope you've enjoyed them all. At the end of this story I will give you the links to each story again. In the hustle and bustle of getting prepared for the holidays and family, not many had time to really do much but extra reading.

This Holiday Short story is written by Anna Small. Anna writes historical romance and shares a story about two of her characters, Cassie and Jed Hazard.

If you enjoy the story, do share it on the networks.

            Cassie Hazard looked out her bedroom window and blinked rapidly to clear her vision. Surely, she was dreaming, for there could not be snowflakes on the ground. Wrapping a quilt around her shoulders, she hastily left the bedroom and rushed outdoors. She gasped in delight. Speckled on the ground like shimmering dust was the first snowfall she had ever seen since arriving in the New Mexico Territory.

            “I’ll bet you never expected to see snow in the desert, city gal.”

            She turned around and smiled at her husband. Jed looked like a snowman himself, bundled up in a heavy coat and a muffler wound around his neck. She was grateful when he stood behind her, wrapped his arms securely around her waist, and hugged the quilt to help keep her warm.

            “I didn’t know it would snow. How beautiful everything looks.” Tiny flurries of snow whipped around the horse paddock. The ground sparkled, reflecting the sunlight so she had to squint from the glare.

            “It always snowed at Christmas back home. Ty and I would have snowball fights until our pa caught us avoiding our chores.” He laughed at the memory, and she turned around in his arms to face him.

            “Boston will be beautiful this time of year. They have sleigh rides on the Common, and Uncle Abe always took me to the Parker House for dinner on Christmas Eve.”

            “Sounds like a nice time. I hope you don’t mind cornbread for this Christmas Eve.” His head lowered and he was just about to kiss her, when someone called to them from the road. Jed glanced up. “Looks like old Busybody Ames is bringing someone out here. Maybe it’s that cattle buyer I met at the House of Diamonds a few weeks back.”

            “I’ll go inside and dress,” she said, reluctantly pulling away and walking toward the door. She watched from the step for a few moments as Jed walked to the gate to let the driver in. Jed was right. The driver was Mr. Ames, the schoolteacher, and his sole passenger looked familiar. He was out of place in his black stovepipe hat and fur trimmed coat. His full white beard made her almost think of Santa Claus, except she only knew one man who wore a red silk scarf over his top coat.

            Her breath caught in her throat as she tried to call Jed, to warn him, but it was too late. He’d already reached the gate, and the wagon was pulling up. Jed was talking to the two men, and he glanced a few times back at her, as did the others. She gulped, then held her head high. She had nothing to fear from anyone, and certainly not this man. She was a married woman now, for goodness’ sake, and could make her own decisions.

            Jed swung the gate open and the wagon came through. She stood on the porch, her shoulders back and her chin stuck out, waiting.

            The wagon stopped at the house, and Ames gave her a smug smile. He touched the brim of his hat with a slender finger. “Good morning, Mrs. Hazard.”

            “Mrs. Hazard?” The old gentleman beside Ames scowled so deeply she thought his thick, bushy eyebrows would knit themselves together. He climbed off the wagon with some difficulty, and walked slowly to where she stood on the porch. “Well?” he demanded, and she felt her knees wobble, “are you not going to say hello to your own uncle, missy?”

            “Hello, Uncle Abe,” she said, cursing herself inwardly for sounding like a little girl. Suddenly, she was no longer the capable rancher-woman Jed always called her, but the naughty little girl who’d painted all over her uncle’s desk and had gotten caught. “What are you doing here?”
            He puffed out his chest, and cast a sardonic glance around the ranch. “I wanted to make sure you were still alive. Mr. Ames has been good enough to inform me of what shenanigans you’ve been about, young lady.”
            “That’s my wife, sir. I’ll expect you to be polite in my presence,” Jed said, his voice firm but pleasant. He climbed the stairs to the porch and grasped her shoulder. “Sweetheart, let’s all go inside and have some coffee. I’m sure your uncle doesn’t want to stand outside in the cold all day.”

            Grateful for Jed’s steady, practical nature, Cassie led the way into the small house, instinctively wishing she’d cleaned better the night before. But they’d had an early supper, and Jed had smiled at her in that special way that she’d foregone housekeeping in favor of their big, soft bed.

            “Is this all there is?” Uncle Abe said gruffly, surveying the small house and cramped kitchen.

            Jed pulled out their best chair and smiled pleasantly. “Won’t you sit, sir?”

            Uncle Abe hesitated a moment, then sat down carefully, as if he were afraid the chair would break. He glowered at Cassie, but she kept up her air of strength, even though she was afraid she would settle back into the role of obedient child again.

            “I came to make sure you were still alive, Cassandra,” he said, removing his hat and placing it on his knee.

            “As you can see, Uncle, I am.”

            Jed brought three mugs of coffee to the table and set one before Uncle Abe, then took the chair opposite him. “How was your journey, sir?”

            “Long. What are your prospects with my niece? She’s my only family, and I want to make certain you are not toying with her.”
            Cassie’s cheeks burned with the heat of her blush, but she bit her tongue to keep from speaking her mind. Jed’s jaw tightened, but he was polite.

            “As I said before, she’s my wife. It was all done up nice and legal. Charles Ames married us a few months ago.”

            One white eyebrow rose up into his forehead. “I have not heard a word about love, Mr. Hazard. Did you marry her for love, or was it a business proposition? Mr. Ames seems convinced of the latter.”

            “He’s both a liar and a fool,” Jed said, pushing out of his chair and rising abruptly. He stood beside Cassie and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “I love this woman with all my heart. Yes, I wouldn’t have the ranch if she hadn’t married me, but that’s not why I did it.” He faced her now, and it was as if they were alone. She stared up into his sky blue eyes, so earnest and filled with all the hopes and dreams they both shared. “I’ve loved you from that first day, Cassie, when you walked down that dusty road and demanded I leave your ranch.” His eyes twinkled with amusement at the memory. “I wanted you then as much as I want you now. The o-nly reason I suggested we marry was that I couldn’t imagine a life without you. You’re my partner and my friend. My best and truest love.”

            Her eyes filled with tears, and she placed her hand on his chest, over his beating heart. “I love you, too, Jed. I always have.”

            Uncle Abe cleared his throat, then reached into his coat pocket. Cassie almost feared he was going to take out a pistol and challenge Jed to a duel, but he withdrew a fat leather pouch, which he handed to her. “In that case, you may have this.”

            She hastily brushed the tears from her cheek. “What is that?”

            He heaved a sigh. “My dear sister was not destitute when she ran away from home with your reprobate father. She had some money put away, and I wish you now to have it.”

            “If you think you can pay me to change my mind, you’re wrong,” she said fiercely. “I don’t care if it’s a million dollars. I’m staying here. My home is with my husband.” Her limbs trembled as if she were feverish, but she kept her gaze focused on him, so he would know she spoke the truth.

            “My dear child, this is not a bribe to take you out of this place, although,” and he glanced meaningfully around the room, “it could use some sprucing up. It is your inheritance. You may give it to your husband, keep it for yourself, or throw it to the wind – I don’t care what you do with it.” He rose from the table and put his hat on. “Now, if Mr. Hazard will be so kind, I require a ride back into town.”
            “What for?” Jed asked.

            Uncle Abe frowned slightly. “I am not welcome here, that is evident. Cassandra and I have rarely seen eye to eye. She is happy and well; that is all I wanted to see. I’m going back to Boston at week’s end.”

            He started for the door, but Cassie was quicker. She gripped his arm. “Wait.”

            “Yes, my dear?” His eyes swam with tears, and she had to fight to keep her own emotions in check.

            “That is why you came all the way out to New Mexico Territory? Not to persuade me to come back to Boston with you or to take the ranch from Jed or…or any of those things?”

            He shook his head. “Is it so impossible that I would want your happiness, Cassandra? I am the only family you have left.”

            “That’s not true,” she said softly. “I have Jed, and I have a brother, Tyler. I have Laughing Crow and Two Rivers, and Marianna and Miss Lavinia.”

            He covered her hand that remained on his arm. “You are the only family I have left, Cassandra. Please, forgive an old man’s foolishness. I have always wanted your happiness. If this is what it takes, then….” He sighed, and smiled through his thick beard. “I can ask for nothing more.” He kissed her forehead, then looked at Jed. “And now, sir, if you please….”

            “You’re not going anywhere,” Cassie said suddenly. “You’ll spend Christmas with us, Uncle Abe.”

            “We insist,” Jed said, standing beside her.

Uncle Abe shook his hand, then embraced Cassie warmly, the long beard tickling her cheek as it always used to on the rare occasions he did show affection. She realized now that he had been too worried about keeping her safe all those years that he’d forgotten to enjoy the time they’d had.

“Well,” he said gruffly, pulling away and straightening out his coat, “if I’m to stay here, we must have a proper Christmas dinner.”
            “We’re having beans, cornbread, and rabbit,” Cassie said.

Jed grinned. “And maybe some venison. Our friends, Laughing Crow and his family, will bring a deer, and our sheriff, Wade, makes the best apple pie you’ve ever tasted.”

“As I said,” Uncle Abe replied, “a proper Christmas dinner.” He removed his coat and hat and rolled up his shirtsleeves. “Get me an apron, missy. I’m going to tidy up around here so you may get ready for your friends.”

She tied her apron around his waist, her throat full of unshed, joyful tears. When she was done, he cupped her cheek in his warm hand and gave it a little pinch.

“How I’ve missed these freckles. You must come out and visit me in Boston.” He nodded at Jed. “Both of you.”

“We will.” Jed winked at Cassie as he headed for the door. “I’m going to chop some more wood and see to the livestock. I’ll come in when Laughing Crow arrives.” He paused and looked at Uncle Abe. “Merry Christmas, sir.”

“I find sir a little stuffy. Call me Uncle Abe.”

“Merry Christmas, Uncle Abe.” Jed grinned at both of them and went outside.

Cassie embraced her uncle. “Merry Christmas, dear Uncle Abe.” She kissed him on the cheek.

“Merry Christmas, Cassandra.” He indicated the table. “Are you not going to open that pouch and see how much is in there?”

She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. I have everything I want right here.”

 You can find Anna:

Website

Facebook

Story links:

Christmas Joy, Beth Hill, Secrets Of Christmas, Carol Kilgore,

Husband For Miss Trent, Anne Gallagher, On The Outside Looking In, Yvonne Lewis

UPCOMING GUESTS:

WEDNESDAY(4th): Mia Marlowe And Connie Mason

FRIDAY(6th): Tawny Weber

ON THE OUTSIDE LOOKING IN

Where ever you are and however you celebrate, May this Holiday Season bring you, laughter, joy, and many good memories! Thank you all for all the support, encouragement, and friendship.

A lovely English rose, Yvonne Lewis, shared evocative holiday piece for today's viewing. I admit, I've spent some time her site reading various pieces she has posted. She's an amazing writer.

If you like her piece she shared with us, do bestow a gift to her by sharing it.

ON THE OUTSIDE LOOKING IN:

Outside of a shop window,

A boy, clothes all tattered and torn.

His hair a complete mess,

His shoes all dirty and worn.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

He peered into the toyshop window.

His sad eyes were transfixed.

He looked in awesome wonder.

Holding a bundle of sticks.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

It was just coming up for Christmas,

Would he get anything at all?

He nearly jumped out of his skin,

As he heard his mother call.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

"I'm only on the outside looking in" he said.

As he noticed her anxious look.

For they were as poor as church mice,

She couldn't even afford a book.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Christmas Day dawned like any other day.

Cupboard, hardly any food.

Realization showed on his face,

That today was not going to be good.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

During the day a knock on the door,

Santa stood there looking merry.

With food for the two and toys for the boy,

For the mother a bottle of sherry.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

"I was on the outside looking in" Santa said.

As astonishment showed on their faces.

With tears in their eyes, Santa said his goodbyes,

And was whisked off to faraway places.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Copyright . All rights reserved

You can find Yvonne: Welcome to My World of Poetry

On Christmas Day, there won't be a post but stories will resume next week, so be sure to look for them.

HOLIDAY STORIES: A HUSBAND FOR MISS TRENT

Here's a lovely historical piece by Anne Gallagher. I love the easy flow of her story and her ability to convey so much about Ophelia in such a short piece. I wanted to continue reading--what do you mean that was the end?


Do enjoy the Caymore's Holiday Ball with Miss Trent.


If you enjoy the story please share it on the networks which would be a lovely gift for the hardworking author.

            

            Miss Ophelia Trent stood breathless at the top of the stairs. She clutched her reticule, still unbelieving the Duke and Duchess of Caymore had invited her to their Holiday Ball. Ophelia gazed down at her mother’s old gown and wondered what people would think. There had been neither time, nor money for anything new, and now, standing here in the grand ballroom, Ophelia knew she should not have accepted. She would be a laughingstock. A penniless baronet’s daughter trying to pose as a member of the aristocracy? What balderdash!

            “Miss Trent,” Lady Penelope said, startling Ophelia.  “I’m so glad you could come. Your dress is quite lovely.”

            “Thank you for the invitation, your ladyship,” Ophelia said and bobbed a short curtsy for the second time that night. “I must confess I am very surprised you thought to include me, as our previous meeting was rather brief.” Ophelia remembered that day at the Bainbridge Hotel and winced with embarrassment.

            Lady Penelope took her arm and propelled her through the massive throng. “I have longed to further our acquaintance, and perhaps introduce you to some of my friends. As for a confession,” Lady Penelope leaned closer, “I understand how very hard it must be for you to meet people and I thought perhaps your mother would approve.  I’m so glad she allowed you to attend.”

            “Yes, Mother was quite in rapture,” Ophelia said. Her mother had nearly had an apoplexy when Ophelia showed her the invitation.

            Lady Penelope moved through the crowd like a double-masted schooner with full sail, smiling and waving as she went along, not stopping until she reached a small group of people standing near the terrace doors. Lady Penelope introduced her to all of her friends, and Ophelia blushed to her toes when introduced to Mr. Jonathon Garrick. Taller than she and exceedingly handsome, Ophelia was at a loss to remember when last her heart had hammered so.

            Upon hearing the musicians, the Duke of Caymore, Lady Penelope’s husband, said, “Come Pen, we must dance the first.”

            Ophelia watched enviously as all her new acquaintance moved to the dance floor. As she stood there feeling foolish, wishing she were home in bed, Mr. Garrick stood before her.

            “Miss Trent, do allow me the honor of your hand for this dance.”

            Ophelia flustered. “Mr. Garrick, that would be lovely, thank you.”

            Mr. Garrick proved to be a delightful dancer. He did not step on her toes, and moved with a grace that belied his imposing height.

            When he brought her back to the corner of the terrace, Ophelia thanked him again for the dance. As she stood there uncertain of what she should do, several gentlemen asked for introductions and as her dance card filled, Ophelia wanted to cry from happiness. She had never in her whole life met with such agreeable and amiable companionship. The affinity she felt meeting Lady Penelope’s friends gave her a new outlook, at least for the night. Her troubles melted away along with the concerns about her old-fashioned gown.  She had received numerous compliments on it from men as well as women.

            Mr. Garrick danced with Ophelia several times. Surely, it was not like a man to be so singular in his attentions, but Ophelia didn’t examine it too closely. This was a once in a lifetime prospect, for she knew she would never be given another invitation to a ball.  Her life revolved around her family, but just for tonight, she would heed her mother’s advice and take every opportunity to enjoy herself. 

            When Mr. Garrick asked her for the supper waltz, Ophelia could barely keep the smile from her face. Her first waltz, and in the arms of this handsome gentleman, was enough to make her swoon.

            As the music ended, and they stood on the edge of the parquet, Mr. Garrick leaned down and asked, “Have you an escort for supper?”

            “Why, no,” Ophelia said.  She hadn’t even thought of that.

            “Allow me.” He proffered his arm. “Although, shall we wait until this mass has thinned?” Mr. Garrick asked as they neared the overcrowded dining room. His warm hand rested over hers on his arm.

            “Oh, yes, let’s do,” Ophelia said. “Perhaps we could find a quiet corner for the nonce.”

            “As you wish.” Mr. Garrick led her to a small table and chairs on the opposite side of the great room.

            When Ophelia settled her skirts, she looked at Mr. Garrick expectantly. He merely stared at her with large grey eyes that crinkled in the corners. Perhaps she should be the one to speak first.

             “Mr. Garrick, I want to thank you so very much for your kindness this evening. It has been most welcome. I know not a soul here, and thought I would be sitting with the dowagers.”

            “I must confess, Miss Trent, and forgive me for being so forward, but, you have quite bewitched me.”

            “Mr. Garrick,” Ophelia whispered. “Surely, you jest.” The idea of bewitching him seemed impossible. Here she sat, a simple baronet’s daughter too long on the shelf, in a borrowed antique gown.  She had learned earlier in the evening he had resigned his commission in the Navy after Trafalgar. Perhaps he had suffered a head injury.

             “No,” he said. “I do not.” He looked deep into her eyes. “When Lady Penelope told me about you, she never shared with me your exquisite beauty, or your humble character.”

            Ophelia blanched. “Pray what else did she tell you?” She hoped not the scandalous tale of how she and Lady Penelope actually met.

            “Only that you are the sweetest, gentlest, creature I could ever hope to meet, and if I were a man with any sense, I would declare my affections immediately.”

            “Mr. Garrick, I know not what to say.”

            “Say, I may court you. Say I may call upon your family. I know this is rather sudden, but say you will be my wife.”

            “Mr. Garrick!” Ophelia could not be hearing him correctly. Surely, he did not just say he wanted her for his wife.

            “Miss Trent,” he said solemnly. “I know this seems a bit of a shock, to myself as well, but I have been searching for a woman of your caliber for a very long time, and have never found her. Until now.  I vowed when such a time came, I would not waste another moment vacillating between my head and my heart.” He got down on one knee and took up her hand. “Miss Trent, I am entirely in your hands.”

            Of all the things Ophelia had previously thought about this night, garnering a marriage proposal had never been one of them.

            “Mr. Garrick,” Ophelia said, gathering her wits. “Having only just met, I am a bit overwhelmed by your passion.  However, I will confess, I do like you, very much it seems, so I will say yes to a courtship.  As for marriage, I am hardly in a position to accept at this moment, so we shall see what the future brings. That being said, I believe I would like you to escort me into supper now.”

            Mr. Garrick kissed her hand and helped her up, his smile outshining the candles in the chandelier.  “Your wish is my command, my dear.”

            Ophelia thought she had never had a lovelier Christmas wish come true.

You can find Anne and more about her writing: 

Blog

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HOLIDAY STORIES: SECRETS OF CHRISTMAS

Wednesday:  I will be interviewing JESSICA BELL. Interesting interview from an interesting woman. Be sure to stop by what she has to say about growing up as a daughter of Rock musicians, her furry baby, Holly, and what she's working on next.


TODAY:  I have another holiday story for you to enjoy. Crime doesn't take a holiday and neither does tragedy but the moments of joy still prevails in this world and that's a good thing.


Carol Kilgore contributed this Christmas suspense story. Carol hails from San Antonio, Texas and writes a fun blog, Under The Tiki Hut. She writes mysteries and suspense novels with a nice dollop of romance.


Enjoy the story, I sure did! 

The occupants of the dark house had gone out for an evening of fun at Syntagma Square--the place to be in Athens the week before Christmas. Greek Christmases were nothing like what Katia Marengo had grown up with on the South Texas coast, and she loved the excitement. The air frosted her breath. Her coat and cloche hat offered a little disguise, and the chill allowed her to wear close-fitting leather gloves. All were perfect for breaking and entering.

The small house was home to a minor Turkish diplomat and his family. Kat had become friends with the diplomat's wife, the chatty and careless Yagmur. The test came now. Kat inserted the key she'd made from an impression. She'd aced that class during training, but each time she used an impressioned key in the field, she experienced a moment of panic. The key turned. Yes!

The aroma of mint greeted her. She pressed on the tiny LED lights fitted into the brim of her hat. As long as no one had changed the alarm code she was home free--7, 6--crap. The edge of her glove hit the 3. Clear. Once again, this time more controlled--7,6,9,1. Green light. Thank you, Yagmur.

Yagmur had said Ediz had two safes. He thought the first was too obvious. She didn't say where they were located. Kat would search first in the master and second in the kitchen, the two most likely locations.

She found one safe set into the master bedroom wall behind a painting. Obvious. Where would she install a second? She'd want easy access without a hint of anything different from the surroundings. The tiled floor. On her hands and knees she explored each exposed tile and all the grout, then the ones under the bed, chest, and chair. Nothing.

"Oh!" In the chair or chest. By having the safe in his personal belongings, Ediz would need to install it only once as it would travel with him from posting to posting. She found the second safe, with a keycard lock, in the bottom drawer of the chest. The CIA prepared its officers well--she came ready for any type of device and withdrew a plain black card from her messenger bag.

She inserted the card into the slot. "Do your magic, Houdini. Spring that lock."

While the software on the card worked to unlock the newer safe, she exposed the older safe behind the painting. That one looked as ancient as the house. For grins she tried the old lever handle. It didn't budge.

Kat studied the single old-fashioned combination dial, memorizing the setting. No smudges, threads, or other alerts. She pulled a stethoscope from her bag. It trailed a USB plug that she plugged into a handheld computer.

She spun the dial a few times to the left and twice to the right. Then she placed the stethoscope monitor to the metal near the lock and turned the knob one number at a time. Her fingers felt the first tumbler fall. The computer beeped and recorded the number. She turned the knob to the left and concentrated. The computer beeped again and recorded the second number.

Her shoulders ached. She stretched and relaxed her fingers before going for the third number. Houdini emitted a soft trill. She checked the safe in the drawer. Empty.

"Ediz, you are a clever fox. But I'm going to find your secrets."

Kat returned Houdini to her bag and went back to the old safe. "Okay, baby, Mama's back. Show me your stuff." She turned the dial and hoped the old safe wasn't booby-trapped. Maybe Ediz had a third safe.

An eternity passed. Inside her gloves, sweat formed on her palms. Her mouth grew dry, and she tried to swallow. Beep. No boom. Kat breathed again.

"Ediz, you better not have booby-trapped the handle."

She pushed down. The door opened to Ediz's secret stash. Papers typed in Turkish. Four Greek passports with photos of Ediz, Yagmur, their children--his safety net. Yagmur's jewelry. A man's Rolex. She removed the watch with her left hand and pulled its twin from her bag with her right. She studied them under the light.

Ediz's timepiece was more worn than the replacement, but not by much. Nothing her little hammer and pick couldn't replicate with a few minutes work. The same number of links filled each band. The back of Ediz's watch bore no engraving for her to match. She breathed a sigh of relief.

Kat placed Ediz's watch in her bag and its replacement in the safe, closed the door, reset the dial. Her return visit on New Year's Eve would take less than five minutes.

Outside, she walked to the nearest thoroughfare with a confident stride, her head held high. She hailed a taxi. "Syntagma Square."

The driver nodded, and started the meter. She would arrive early for her meeting with Dave Krizak in front of the carousel. Amid the noise and bustle, she would pass Dave the Rolex.

Dave would be the case officer to take the watch into the Embassy for the installation of the stealth transmitter. Ediz was to be part of a delegation to Tehran in January. The transmitter would give the U.S. ears without outside embellishment.

The taxi screeched to a stop. Kat paid the fare and stepped out. Ahead she saw Dave paying his driver.

The world exploded in a fireball.

Kat hit the sidewalk.

When she came to and sat up, chaos reigned. People shouted and screamed. Sirens wailed. Her bag still hung around her neck. Houdini, the tiny computer, and the Rolex still rested inside. Dave. Where was Dave?

The stench of burnt rubber and flesh hung in the air. Several bodies lay motionless on the blackened street and sidewalk, curled in the fetal position, charred. Kat threw up in the gutter.

Worst case, she was a target. But the explosion had made it her responsibility to get the watch to the Embassy. The Hard Rock Café was a few blocks away, and she would find taxis there.

- - -

The next day, Kat arrived at Langley. In the two years since the bombing, she'd been back to the Agency once--on this date last year--to touch Dave's star on the Memorial Wall. To tell him goodbye.

Technically she was on long-term leave, still paid but not yet working. As she'd fought her way back to the living, she'd leaned on Remy Sonnier, the instructor who had taught her--as he said--stealing for fun and profit.

He'd called her one day, said he was moving to Corpus Christi, and would like her to help him find a place. Not for one minute did she think his presence was coincidence. The Agency was keeping an eye on her. She'd gone from Remy's star student to his current assignment.

She pulled into his driveway and got out. Along the South Texas coast, the balmy mid-December weather was nothing like Athens. It matched her happy mood. She was getting better. It felt good to smile, to laugh. Kat pushed the front door open and stuck her head in. "Remy! Are you home?"

"In the kitchen, cher."

She passed a Christmas tree decorated with Mardi Gras beads and ornaments shaped like shrimp, crab, and alligator and giggled. Her Cajun friend brought the bayou to Texas with everything he did.

"What smells fabulous?" She entered the large square room centered with a wooden table and benches.

"Gumbo. It's not ready." Remy returned the lid to the pot and wiped his hands on his apron. "How you holding up?"

"I'm good. Really good."

"I knew you would be, cher. I have something for you. I'll be right back."

Kat walked to the window. Sun diamonds danced on the green water. Kat's stomach growled at the pungent aroma of the gumbo. "Remy, you want me to stir the pot?"

"Don't touch it."

A minute passed, and she heard footsteps behind her.

"Merry Christmas, Kat."

She spun around. "Dave?"

He nodded. "It's me."

She touched his face, the scar that traveled from his hairline, in front of his left ear, and down his neck beneath his collar. "I can't believe you're alive. I was there, I--"

"Sshh." His finger touched her lips. "I read the debriefing. I know."

"But your star--" Burn scars mottled Dave's hands.

"Belongs to another officer."

Another family, other friends saddened by death. Life wasn't fair, but in the last two years, Kat had learned to accept and-- "Remy?"

"He didn't know until last week. He said he's going fishing for a little bit so we can catch up and I can tell you what's new."

The old excitement returned. "We're working again?"

Dave smiled. "You and me, babe. Remy also said for you to keep your hands off his gumbo."

Kat laughed. "Merry Christmas, Dave."

~*~*~*~

If you enjoyed the story, do give a gift to the author by sharing it.

WHERE THE WILDLIFE CAN EAT YOU!

I'm happy to welcome back, paranormal romance author, Terry Spear, to Over Coffee. I have to admit, I love her books and I've been waiting for Jake's story and Dreaming The Wolf, forever. Or so it seems and not just because I have a tag line on the book (Squeee!) but because I loved the premise of this story.


For those of you who don't know it, Terry creates some amazing teddy bears as well as her fabulous stories. I'm planning on having a piper bear in MacKay colors, later next spring. I'll be sure to be squeeing then and will have pictures.

I write about werewolves, and my wolves would never think of attacking humans. Not unless the humans attacked first. And truly most wolves don’t. If there are any attacks, it’s more likely from cougars. Or bears even.

Although I still love bears and love to create them! I make award-winning teddy bears that have been featured in magazines and newspapers, that have won best in show, first place for most unique bears, and first place for best-dressed bears. Many have found homes not only in the US and Canada, but as far away as Australia, Russia, China, Kazakhstan, Belgium, and France!

But back to where the wildlife can eat you! What I wanted to talk about is taking a trip to Pensacola, FL and seeing my son graduate from USAF navigator training, and all week long watching Shark Week on PBS, BEFORE we went to the beach.

Oh sure, there are not THAT many shark attacks. And yeah, yeah, so the shark psychologists say that the sharks mistook humans for food. The sharks thought maybe the humans were seals. Or walruses. Or whales. Right. Yeah, yeah, the water was murky. (Or sometimes it wasn’t.) Yeah, yeah, they were out during the feeding hours at night. (Or sometimes they weren’t.) And sure, they were splashing around like nearly dead fish. (Or no, they really didn’t.)

I write fantasy. So I try to make the unbelievable believable. So to my way of thinking, shark gurus do, too.

In Australia, there were three great white shark attacks resulting in three deaths. Either that’s a really confused shark, if it’s the same one, or hmmm, maybe he DOES think human meat is rather tasty? Or maybe he’s not even thinking anything but it’s big, swimming near me and could possibly make a meal. They eat anything, you know.

These all occurred around the same time as I was in Florida and another when I returned home.

We used to live in Florida, and swam all the time at the beach, but on the ocean side. Not half as pretty as Pensacola Beach on the Gulf side. So one day I was swimming out into the ocean, way, way out. The water was black, choppy, I was on my back, half swimming, half floating. Way, way off to the left of me was a rock jetty where fishermen pulled in sharks along with their other catches. And on the shore, my father was yelling for me to turn around and return at once.

He was not a very good swimmer, and had actually had a boat sink on him in the shark-infested Sea of Japan. Another boat full of AF service members had “picked” up my dad and the others, but they couldn't climb into the boat, already full, without capsizing it. So instead, they swam alongside and held on when they couldn’t swim any longer. They were about a mile and half out. He said they barely made it.

So now years later, his thirteen-year-old daughter is out in the middle of the ocean, and Dad didn’t want to get out as far as I was. He couldn’t have helped me swim in if I’d needed his help.

When you float on your back, your ears are under water. So I didn’t hear him shouting for some time.

When I finally realized it, I was terrified. I was so far out; all that was around me was gallons of ocean water. Who knew what was lurking all around me in that really dark, choppy water. I had to force myself not to panic, and to begin the long swim to shore. Dad couldn’t have saved me. No one could have if I’d been attacked. Lifeguards did patrol in jeeps along the beach and put up a flag warning swimmers to get out of the water when sharks were sighted. But there were no lifeguards about that day.

But maybe all the sharks out there knew I was a human, and they just left me alone. I had no life vest, no surfboard, just me in all that water. Boy did I get a lecture from my dad when I got to shore. But only because he was sure he was going to lose me. Believe me, I didn’t need a lecture. I never went far from the shore again. After that, we watched Jaws. I REALLY didn’t get far from the shore then, even though I knew it was just a fantasized story. Sharks don’t really go after people and eat them. Not really.

It was quite chilly when I went with my son and his wife to Pensacola Beach and walked along the white sand, dodging the tons of jellyfish deposited there. We didn’t go swimming. But that night we watched shark attacks at guess where? Pensacola Beach. Two resulted in deaths. Several others were bitten during a surfing contest. My son told me how they could see schools of bull sharks while they were flying over the Gulf also.

I know that sharks don’t mean to eat us, but you know what? I’d take a chance with a wolf. Especially if he was a werewolf.

The thing about werewolves is they’re hot and sexy and protective and loving—for life—and family oriented and hot and sexy and…well, you get the picture! They’re yummy. No one would mess with you if you took your wolf for a walk. In an upcoming release, the heroine actually suggests that while she and Duncan MacNeill are dealing with the bad guys in the Grand Cayman Islands, in the Highland sequel to Heart of the Highland Wolf.

Oh, and yes, there is a mention of sharks. A couple of mentions, truly. J  I actually did everything that they did—walked the plank from a pirate ship, took the submarine out (they wouldn’t), enjoyed a dinner cruise, swam with the rays…only I didn’t run like a wolf… ate at the restaurant where there’s a bit of a confrontation, walked the beaches, swam…but not at night…like they did. That’s when the sharks come out to feed, you know. And I did witness the man with the chain to his wrist locked onto a briefcase, wearing a dark suit while the rest of us were in beach attire. And did see tons of strange banks on the island. More about that in the story.

But before that, comes Dreaming of the Wolf, A SEAL in Wolf’s Clothing, and the first of the jaguar stories. They’re working on a book cover as we speak. Or…as I write.

In Dreaming of the Wolf, we finally get Jake’s story, and I’m working on Tom’s story right now.

Jake has already been in two stories, Destiny of the Wolf and Wolf Fever. He’s the triplet brother of the pack leader and he serves as sub leader, along with Tom. Jake’s the second oldest brother, doesn’t believe in dream mating, although both Tom and Darien do so he seemed perfect to carry on the family history of dreaming of the wolf who should be his mate—with a caveat. She’s human, and werewolves don’t dream mate about humans. So something’s not right with that scenario. Figures. Since Jake doesn’t believe in it anyway. But he fears for her life, so he’s hopeful that the dream mating means she’s still alive. And he’s determined to find her. And learn why he’s dreaming about her when he shouldn’t be. But it’s more than. They have a drive to be together that can’t be denied.

• What would you do if Jake was reaching out for you, even though you knew it was too dangerous for him to get to know you better? And you didn't know just how capable the hunk of a wolf was at protecting you?

Thanks so much to Sia for having me here today! I hope your readers enjoy hooking up with Jake and his wolf pack again. And never swim too far out into the ocean without a plan…

DREAMING OF THE WOLF Available now in stores and online

Jake Silver doesn't believe in fate or dream mating, despite the fact his brother and other family members have been afflicted with this strange notion. But when dreams begin to plague him about a woman so seductive, he wakes up in a sweat and he's losing way too much sleep over it, he seeks to learn the truth. Can dream mating be a reality? Is the woman real? 

Alicia Greiston doesn't dream. Not ever. So when a man visits her in the first dream she's ever had, she's startled, pleased, then alarmed. He's not going away, and the dreams take a sinister turn. He's in trouble, and if the dreams are a foreshadowing of the future, she has to save him. EXCERPT

BUY: AMAZON, BARNES AND NOBLE, CHAPTERS INDIGO 

TERRY SPEAR: Award-winning author of urban fantasy and medieval historical romantic suspense, Heart of the Wolf named in Publishers Weekly's BEST BOOKS OF THE YEAR, NOR Reader Choice for BEST PARANORMAL ROMANCE.

She’s a retired lieutenant colonel in the U.S. Army Reserves and has an MBA from Monmouth University  and a Bachelors in Business and Distinguished Military Graduate of West Texas A & M. She also creates award-winning teddy bears, Wilde & Woolly Bears, to include personalized bears designed to commemorate authors’ books. When she’s not writing or making bears, she’s teaching online writing courses. Terry on Facebook, Twitter, Website