My memory extends five hundred and eight days. I woke on a riverbank with blood streaming into my eyes. I was freezing and had a broken arm, a dislocated shoulder and four cracked ribs. I remember every day since then–the hospitalization, the psychiatry, the search for a missing man or a wrecked car. But there was nothing. For months, there was nothing. And I couldn’t take it any more, so I ran. I took to the streets because I couldn’t stand the constant feeling that I’d lost something so dear to me that I didn’t want to live without it.
Only I have no idea what–or who–that might’ve been. It’s enough to drive a man crazy, though, so I left. I abandoned polite society to hide. Here. Where I can see that brownstone.
Today, the sun is streaming through the single tree that dots the landscape out in front of it. It dapples the front door and the walk with moving drops of black and white, a kaleidoscope in constant motion. The wind carries the scent of fresh cut grass from yesterday, along with something else.
It’s baby powder and the soft perfume of the woman from my dreams. The woman across the street. Or at least how I imagine she might smell.
I dream of them almost every night–the woman and her daughter. I know now that they can’t mean anything to me, or I to them. Eden and Emmy aren’t even their names. I heard the man who lives there, the husband most likely, call them Jovie and Serah. I wish they were mine, but they’re not. I wish they had answers, but they don’t. I know that now. But still I come. Because the dreams of them, the near-memories of them give me comfort in a comfortless world.
As the sun creeps higher in the sky, it begins to shine on the side of my face, a welcome heat to what skin isn’t covered with hair and scar tissue. I know I have to leave. Before they make me leave and I can never come back. I don’t know much, but I know that I have to come here. I have to come back here to watch them. And dream about them. If not, I’ll go crazy. I don’t know how I know that; I only know that I do.
I watch the man leave, another face familiar to me only through my dreams. He leans back in and kisses the woman, drawing her into his arms. I can see his passion for her. What I don’t see is her passion for him. Or is it only that I wish there was no passion for him? I can’t be sure, but it hits me in the chest like a metal slug when he leans away and she smiles at him. That smile is meant for me. I can feel it.
And yet it’s not. It’s very obviously not.
She closes the door as he jogs lightly down the steps. He’s all but whistling, he’s so happy. Actually, the closer he gets, the more clearly I can see his face. His lips are pursed. He actually is whistling. I just can’t hear the sound. I don’t hear all that well anymore, truth be told.
When he’s out of sight, I drag my eyes back to the house, hoping for one more glimpse of the woman before I retreat into the shadows of a nearby bridge. That’s when I hear an explosion. It shakes the ground under my feet.
Then I see the smoke. And I hear the scream. And the brownstone bursts into flame.
TO BE CONTINUED
Note from the author
Have you ever awakened from a dream and been able to trace many of the various elements to something you heard or read or saw in real life? I have. Many times. And so has Cole. Everything in his dream points to something based in reality. He’s not as far from Eden as it seems. He just has to find his way back to her.
Join me in Handful of Tears as Cole traces his dream back to his soulmate. Reality can only keep them apart until destiny brings them back together again.
I would LOVE and APPRECIATE if you would leave a review, but please omit any spoilers about what each ending holds so that every reader can enjoy the choice and the surprise for themselves. And if you loved it, please tell your friends. Your words, your recommendations are more powerful than you knowJ Thank you so very much in advance!
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READ ON
For an extended excerpt from Strong Enough
book one in the Tall, Dark and Dangerous trilogy
coming August 4, 2015 from Berkley
A FINAL WORD
If you enjoyed this book, please consider leaving a review and recommending it to a friend. You are more powerful than you know. YOU–the words from your mouth, the thoughts from your heart, shared with others, can move mountains. You make a huge difference in the life of an author. You have in mine. You do every day, which brings me to my gratitude, my overwhelming, heartfelt gratitude.
A few times in life, I’ve found myself in a position of such love and appreciation that saying THANK YOU seems trite, like it’s just not enough. That is the position that I find myself in now when it comes to you, my readers. You are the sole reason that my dream of being a writer has come true and your encouragement keeps me going. It brings me unimaginable pleasure to hear that you love my work, that it has touched you in some way, that it has made life seem a little bit better for having read it. So it is from the depths of my soul, from the very bottom of my heart that I say I simply cannot THANK YOU enough, which I say a lot of in this post.
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