Writing isn't a stagnant calling. As a writer, you work constantly to improve your craft. Perfecting a story again and again. Sometimes you revisit an older story you love and re-polish it, using what you have learned since you wrote it. That's what this is.
Mac Caldwell and Callie Richards have been favorite characters of mine since I wrote their first book. They appear in all the books in the Now and Forever series --probably because I loved hearing from them. When I finished the final book in the series, I cried, because that was the last I'd hear from them.
I became inspired to use what I've learned to improve their stories. I'm in the process of re-editing Now and Forever 1, a Love Story. Then I will do The Book of Danny.
There are five books in the series and two prequels. Can you tell how much I loved the people at Kensington University in Willow Falls?
As I fix the language, I'm heartened by the fact that they still live as well -rounded characters in a compelling story. The re-editied book will come out in a week or two. In the meantime, I'd like to share the beginning if their story, polished up to shine anew. I hope you enjoy it.
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Callie put the check for $15,000, half of all the money she
had in the world, on the counter of the bursar’s office. Kyle, her fiancé who
had been killed in Iraq, had left her the money. Her palms sweated, her
eyebrows knitted in a frown. She hoped to do well enough to remain in the Masters
of Education program at Kensington State University through the first year and
earn a scholarship to pay for the second. She needed to win this gamble to get
her life back on track.
The pretty brunette ambled out the door of the square, brick
administration building. Nestled in the heart of the sleepy little town of
Willow Falls in upstate New York, Kensington State prided itself on first-rate education
amidst a friendly atmosphere. Callie turned the corner and plopped down on the thick
grass. Sitting cross-legged, she leaned back against a tree and thought about
her last day with Kyle.
Thanksgiving. He and Callie had been invited to celebrate
with his friend, John Weston, and his family. While the turkey cooked, some of
the men played touch football. Callie had slipped away to the guest room for a
nap. Kyle had joined her. It had been their last day together before he’d been
deployed for the last time.
Callie had undressed quietly and gotten under the covers
while had he stripped down to his boxers and T-shirt. Kyle pulled the covers
down slowly.
“Kitten, don’t be shy. I want to remember every inch of you,”
he said, first placing his hand gently her cheek then leaning over and kissing
her softly.
The air around Kyle had crackled with his energy. He had moved
his hands slowly over her body, caressing every hill and valley with his
fingertips. She had moaned when he kissed her breasts. He touched her inner
thigh and moved his hand up, to stroke her core, as her growing need took over.
“Kyle…” she breathed while his lips and hands had ramped her
up to a fever pitch. Finally, he had pushed up on his knees, entered her and
brought them to completion. Afterward, they had snuggled in each other’s arms.
Callie had rested her head on his shoulder, drinking in his masculine scent and
the smooth feel of his skin. She had slipped her arm across his chest,
tightening it, as if a firm grip could keep him there with her forever.
With great hope and expectation, she gazed at the modest
engagement ring still resting on her finger. She smiled at the memory of the
night he proposed. A man of action, Kyle had been tongue-tied at the time, awkward
and shy with words of love. Stumbling around, unable to express his feelings, he
had simply grabbed her hand and jammed the ring on her finger.
His fingers had tangled in her long hair as he pulled her
closer.
“Remember, you promised to come back,” she said.
“I’ll love you forever, Callie. I’ll be back to make you my
wife and then we can do this every night,” he said, kissing her.
After this last dangerous tour of duty, they had planned to marry,
settle safely on a base somewhere and begin her dream –living with him as husband
and wife. Though he had promised her he would come back, it was a promise he
couldn’t keep.
Callie recalled the Weston’s guest room, the last place she
and Kyle had made love and spent the night together. The memory of the small
lily flower pattern of the wallpaper and the scent of pot pourri in a dish on
the old-fashioned oak dresser tumbled through her brain, mixing with the feel
of Kyle’s skin, his cheek needing a shave, his soft lips tempting her, coaxing
her to give herself to him passionately again.
During their last night, Callie had awakened at four. Kyle had
been scheduled to leave at eight. She had put her shyness aside and turned to
him, waking him with a passionate kiss. He had rubbed sleep out of his eyes, turned
to her and raised his eyebrows.
“Now?”
She had nodded, running her hand down his strong chest,
gazing at his body.
The look of surprise when she had touched him followed by his
wicked grin had indicated his delight at her uncharacteristic boldness. He had
stared at her with a look of true love shining through his eyes, before he had turned
toward her and ignited her fire.
After her release, Callie had buried her face in his neck and
cried softly. Kyle stroked her hair, and teared up, too. Though they had never spoken
about the possibility that he wouldn’t return, it hung in the air between them
like a gray mist, a shadow.
“Kitten, no matter what happens, I’ll love you to eternity.”
“Don’t say that! Don’t say that. Say you’ll be home. Be with
me. I need you so much.”
“You know I will. We’ll be together forever.”
At the end of his tour, he had been killed. His death had devastated
Callie. Days had blended together going on endlessly with no meaning. Getting
out of bed had challenged her strength every
day. She had mourned him for two years, never forgetting their nirvana both in
and out of the bedroom. At twenty-six, Kyle no longer existed and despite the
ache in her heart, she had tried to move on, alone, but determined.
Pushing to her feet, Callie strolled through the campus, ending
up on a bench under a Linden tree. She watched small groups of students buzz
about, rushing around to get their schedules, settle into dorms and make new
friends.
She hoped to find peace in the beauty of Willow Falls a
whistle stop town of 5,000, and the campus with its stately trees, well-kept
buildings, and manicured lawns. She counted on jumpstarting her life with the
new surroundings and a new goal. She slipped the ring off her finger and tucked
it safely in her purse. Time to move on.
* * * *
From his office window, Mac Caldwell looked down on the main
quad and the growing activity. He brushed his dark hair out of his eyes. He was
tall and lean, built more for sports than academia.
Mac evaluated his life. With another school year beginning,
what was he beginning? The students Mac saw from his window looked hopeful,
anxious and single-minded. But what about him? Mac had made some poor choices
in the past. He had married the pretty but vacant woman he accidentally impregnated
and was now divorced. He had fathered a beautiful toddler, Jason, he adored but
only saw on weekends. Loneliness ate away at Mac. He wanted a family, not this
disjointed arrangement. After his divorce, Mac had buried his pain and focused
on getting ahead. It had paid off when he was made an undergraduate dean.
Two years later, success wasn’t enough. At thirty-four years
old, he wanted a woman in his life, but the right woman, someone he not only
wanted to sleep with, but wanted to wake up with, too. He had stayed away from
co-eds. Tempting as they could be, they were big trouble for an administrator. He
paced in front of the window, then perched one hip on the sill and stared out
at the new crop of students milling about.
He spied Callie sitting by herself on a bench in the quad. He
admired her shoulder length chestnut hair blowing in the breeze and her blue
sundress revealing an alluring figure. Mac got closer to the glass. He couldn’t
see her perfectly, but enough to know she wasn’t familiar. The other students
rushing around were in groups, or at least pairs. This young woman sat alone.
He watched as she walked toward the administration building, his gaze drawn to the
graceful motion of her body, the gentle sway of her hips.
He checked his watch. Another two hours before the end of the
workday. He sighed and returned to his desk. A pile of papers on the right,
indicating problems that needed his attention, called to him. So did the memory
of that brown-haired girl. He picked up a memo from the president, forcing his
mind to get back to work.
Unable to concentrate, his mind wandered. Even if he’d made
up his mind to find someone, where would he go? The strip club was out. Did he
expect her to pop out of a vase, like a genie? A smile tugged at his lips. If
that was going to happen, could he make a request? That got him thinking. If he
could put in an order for a woman, like he did for a burger – medium well, no
onions, cheddar cheese – what would he ask for?
Of course, intelligence would be number one, but what would
this dream girl look like? He leaned back in his chair and propped his feet up
on the wastepaper basket. He pushed to his feet and ambled over to the window
again, but the pretty girl on the bench was gone.
“Her,” he said aloud to no one. The sound of his voice
startled him. Yes, she might look like the girl on the bench. Hell, he could do
worse, a lot worse. His mind shifted gears from his imaginary perfect woman to
the mystery girl from the bench. Questions arose. Who was she? His intercom
interrupted his reverie.
“Mac, I’ve got some schedule changes for next month,” Jonesy,
his secretary said.
“Fine. Put them on the calendar and send me an email.”
“Don’t you want to know?”
“Not now. I’m, uh, working on a problem and I need to
concentrate.”
“Oh, of course. Sorry to bother you. I’ll get them off first
thing tomorrow.”
“Fine. Thanks, Jonesy.”
He chuckled at his innocent lie. No, he didn’t want to think
about schedule changes, he wanted to think about her, let his mind wander in a
fantasy land for a few minutes. His phone rang, it was Eliza, the other
undergrad dean and a long-time friend of his.
“Can I schedule an interview with you tomorrow for a
student?”
“Sure. What’s the deal?”
“I’ve got to run. Can we talk tomorrow? I’ll ask Jonesy to squeeze
him in.”
“Of course,” he said, glancing at his watch. “Good night.”
“You, too,” she said before hanging up.
It was five thirty. He put on his suit jacket, straightened
his tie and opened the door. Another night of nowhere to go, nothing in the house
to eat. He shrugged. Eating out wasted money, but he hated eating alone.
“Doc’s Diner it is,” he said to aloud to himself as he
descended the stairs to the street. The diner had become his home. A
comfortable place just clean enough to pass inspection, but not fancy enough to
need a necktie for, the joint appealed to the restless dean. He turned to the
left and headed into town.
Coming soon...
