Writing for Love

Writing For Love

Dawnette Blackwood-Rhoomes

© 2014 Writing for Love

by Dawnette Blackwood-Rhoomes A DB-R Designs publication Binghamton, NY dbrdesigns1@gmail.com Printed by CreateSpace, An Amazon.com Company CreateSpace, Charleston SC All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means – electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise – without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

Writing for Love / Dawnette Blackwood-Rhoomes ISBN-13: 978-1505397567 ISBN-10: 1505397561 Unless otherwise identified, Scripture quotations are from the NIV Bible.

Cover art: depositphotos.com Cover design: Jimmy Gibbs

DEDICATION There is a Prince Charming in every woman’s dream. In mine, there is Karl.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS “For it is God who works in you to will and to act according to his good purpose” Philippians 2:13.

PROLOGUE Willow Pichard sauntered down the aisle between the row of books at the bookstore on the corner of 15th Street and 5th Avenue. It was her afternoon off and she had plenty of time to look for the perfect birthday gift for her best friend’s daughter, Julia. She reached for the illustrated children’s book Practice Makes Perfect, bumping into the person next to her. The collision sent the handful of books and her handbag crashing to the floor. Willow groaned.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, kneeling to retrieve her belongings. He knelt too, facing her.

“No, I’m sorry. It’s my fault. I should have paid more attention to what I was doing,” he insisted as he collected some of her books.

He glanced at her briefly, contemplating for a second, before turning away. She looked at him too.

She had seen the lean strong jaw which framed the handsome face somewhere before. His face was 2

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relaxed and the corners of his mouth twitched, smothering a smile. His lips were nicely shaped, almost as if someone took the time to carefully and lovingly sculpt them for his face. The phrase “fearfully and wonderfully made” sprang to mind, and she found herself staring at them. They were perfect, more like beautiful, actually. Then they parted in a smile and became even more gorgeous.

“I believe these belong to you,” they were saying.

It took Willow a second to realize the handsome stranger was talking to her. And here she was staring at his lips! Startled to find him watching her, she quickly took the books he had retrieved for her.

Glancing briefly at the bundle in her arms she noted her journal was opened, revealing her one and only journal entry: BUCKET LIST (1) Meet my own Prince Charming (enough with my lonely life already)!

She stared at the page. Her cheeks burned in embarrassment. If the floor could simply open up and swallow her, she’d appreciate it! She quickly snapped the book shut and stuffed it, along with the rest of her belongings, into the handbag. Daring not to look at him, she said: “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” The voice was silky and smooth, willing her to look at its owner.

Did he see her journal entry? Why do these embarrassing things keep happening to her?

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Already standing, he extended a helping hand with long, lean fingers. But before she could grasp it, a wilting voice rose from behind them.

“What’s this?” It asked.

Tastefully applied makeup, expensive clothing, and long lean legs like stilts, emerging from the short, dark grey tweed skirt were all Willow saw from her stooped position. A leather handbag dangled in a chic manner from the diamond studded wrist. The woman towering above, about thirty-five, grabbed the man’s outstretched hand which was still extended toward Willow.

“Let’s go Chad!” she ordered Instantly, he extricated his fingers from the woman’s grasp and offered his hand again to Willow, who by now had managed to slowly stand to her feet. As if on cue, an explosion of pins and needles coursed through Willow’s legs. She teetered forward and fell against his chest! Strong arms reached out and held the small of her back. Despite the pain and the rubbery feeling in her legs, Willow felt comfortable using him as support until the pain in her legs subsided. However, Willow winced when steely dark brown eyes alighted on her, the woman watching her intently.

Quickly she pulled away, but his hand remained and kept her in position.

“Thank you,” she muttered.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes. My feet just went to sleep for a little, but they are okay now,” she answered as she pried herself from his grasp.

“Chad, we have to go!” The woman’s tone was 4

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clipped with anger.

Chad ignored her. His brown eyes fixed on Willow’s pleading ones.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” asked Chad.

“Yes, yes. I’m fine,” Willow said, wanting to be away from him and his obviously jealous wife or girlfriend.

Chad released her slowly, and Willow took a step backwards, purposely distancing herself from his warm embrace and inviting smile.

“Thanks again,” she said and with that she turned and walked away, willing her tingling legs to make one sure step after another.

She didn’t dare look back. She didn’t want to see the woman’s penetratingly angry glare; but most of all she didn’t want to be caught in Chad’s enchanting gaze.

5

CHAPTER 1 Willow screamed.

There it is again! She wasn’t mistaken. She had definitely felt it the first time!

Her fishing line jerked again, and this time she jumped to her feet.

“I’ve got it!” she bellowed.

“Stop screaming,” her best friend Jenna called from a yard away. “You’ll scare away the fish!”

“Scare away what fish?” Willow shrieked. “I’ve already caught him! Help me reel him in!”

They were in Brooklyn at Prospect Park with Jenna’s six year old daughter Julia for a fun day of fishing. The Annual Prospect Park Fishing Contest was an event they planned for each year.

She stood on the edge of the pond, straining to see the fish she had caught beneath the murky waters. The pond was covered with green moss and it was hard to see any form of life below. Whatever she caught, must be pretty big because it tugged hard on the line.

“There it goes again! Help me Jenna!”

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Julia squealed, “Get it Aunt Willow! Get the fish!”

Willow tugged and spun the handle of the reel.

The fish tugged. She pulled. Her toes were now at the water’s edge and it seeped into her sneakers.

Ignoring the wet shoes, Willow concentrated her efforts on reeling in the stubborn fish while wondering why Jenna was ignoring her call for help.

Suddenly, large hands covered hers and strong fingers moved with hers to wind the reel steadily, winding and releasing almost simultaneously.

With arms around her, he was close enough for Willow to feel his muscular chest against her back.

The strong scent of his cologne tickled her nose.

“You have to reel him in slowly, then release the line a little. That way he’ll fight less,” a husky voice whispered in her ear.

His breath touched the edge of her ear and traveled down the side of her neck, losing itself in the collar of her jacket. She shuddered as goose pimples marched up her arm and toward her hairline.

“T-t-thank you,” she stuttered.

“No problem. Glad to help,” he said, his cheek almost touching hers. “Now let’s reel this baby in.”

They worked together, and the fish came in obediently, wriggling happily on the line. Willow held up her prize, which was no more than 12 inches long.

“A yellow perch,” her helper said.

“Yes. Today is my lucky day.” She turned to face him, and stopped. His face was familiar.

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“Yes it is! I hear not many people catch yellow perch in these ponds.” He extended his hand. “Great to meet you again.”

Willow took his hand and shook it briefly, trying to remember where she had seen him before.

“The bookstore on 15th and 5th,” he reminded her. “We reached for the same book and your books fell...”

He allowed his voice to trail off as he gave her time to remember.

“Aunt Willow you caught the fish!” Julia bounded forward. “Can I see it? Can I see it?”

Willow turned to fulfill Julia’s request while still looking at the stranger’s face.

“Hi there,” said Jenna. She had finally managed to join them. Jenna looked from Willow to the stranger and back again.

“Hi,” he responded, taking Jenna’s hand in a brief handshake. “My name is Chad.”

Chad! That’s it! Chad from the bookstore! She blushed and her heart skipped a beat momentarily.

So, he remembered her! This world is way too small! Willow thought. What are the odds?

“Oh yes,” she said, extending her hand again. “I remember you from the bookstore. My name is Willow.”

“Oh! The bookstore guy!” Jenna piped up.

Willow cringed. Leave it to Jenna to embarrass her!

He grasped Willow’s hand a second time and this time he smiled down at her like someone with a secret. Blushing, Willow recalled her journal which had unceremoniously opened that day to her one item on her bucket list. As she pulled her hand 8

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away, Willow wondered if that’s why he was grinning so much.

“Well Chad,” she said. “Thanks so much for your help in reeling in this fish.”

“No problem at all.” His brown eyes bored through her.

“I’ll remember what you said about reeling in and releasing the next time I cast my line,” she rambled on. She felt Julia tugging on her sleeve.

“Yes sweetie.” Willow turned her attention to the little girl.

“I want to take a picture with the fish,” she said, eagerly coming in between Willow and Chad.

“Hey, that’s a good idea,” he said. “I’ll take the picture of you ladies and your prize. Just stand over there, by the tree.”

With Chad’s instructions they posed with their catch and he clicked away with Jenna’s iPhone and Willow’s tablet. Willow noticed he took a photo with his phone too, and to her dismay Jenna suggested Chad take a picture with Willow and the fish.

Although she protested, neither Chad nor Jenna were listening, and they switched places leaving Willow with the fish in one hand and the other on Julia’s shoulder. Chad took his place beside her, beaming. With one arm around her waist, he placed the other on Julia’s shoulder.

“Smile,” he told her, and then he gave her the most dazzling smile, even his eyes twinkled.

At that moment she thought “I like him”, and then was shocked she even had such a thought that she looked up in dismay and horror just when Jenna 9

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said “Ok. Cheese!”

She heard the click, and the photo was taken.

“Smile for goodness sake Willow!” Jenna chided, and Willow blushed the same time Jenna said “Cheese” again. Her photo was again taken, this time on Chad’s phone!

Her skin tingled beneath his touch and Willow wriggled to free herself of his grasp, but wind up unbalanced just when Julia broke free and ran to Jenna. Chad put his hand out to right her, and she ended up in his arms, fish and all! He held her in the traditional ‘dip kiss’ position and passers-by whistled at them. Once again she heard the click of a camera, and then another one, and Jenna’s and Julia’s giggles.

“Um....sorry,” she uttered as he helped her regain her footing. “So sorry.”

“That’s okay,” he said. Grinning, he slowly released her.

Blushing profusely, Willow hobbled her way over to Jenna. Through gritted teeth, she demanded: “Why did you take the photo?”

Grinning, Jenna retorted, “And why not?”

“Whose phone did you take the last photo on?”

“On Chad’s.”

Willow’s heart raced suddenly. “Are you crazy?”

Chad gave a throaty laugh from behind her.

“Thanks Jenna,” he said. “Those photos will surely remind me of the great people I met today.”

“But...but..” Willow began.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, turning to her.

“It’s all in good fun.”

Jenna gave him the phone and he slipped it in his 10

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pocket, away from Willow who was hoping to persuade him to delete the images. She remembered the foxy vixen he had on his arm that day in the bookstore. She surely didn’t want to contend with that woman again! Well, it’s just as well since they weren’t going to see each other again. Thank God! “Well. It was great meeting all of you,” Chad’s voice broke through her reverie. He shook Jenna’s hand, then Willow’s, and tousled Julia’s hair.

“Enjoy your fish Willow,” he said.

“Do you want to share our lunch?” Julia piped up.

Willow cringed and held her breath.

“Thanks, but no thanks,” he said to the little girl.

“I have to meet someone.”

The foxy vixen, no doubt, Willow thought.

“Oh...” a sigh of disappointment escaped Julia’s lips. Willow exhaled too, hers a sigh of relief.

He tousled Julia’s hair again and walked away, turning once to wave goodbye.

Willow watched his back for a moment or two, the sunshine playing happily on his light autumn jacket highlighting his muscular form beneath it, and the jeans hugging his slim hips.

“Great specimen of a man,” Jenna said.

“Jenna,” Willow turned her attention to her friend. “I didn’t like what you did.”

“What?”

“Don’t play innocent. Do you remember the bookstore incident?” Jenna nodded. “You remember I told you about the woman hanging onto his arm?

What if she sees the photos?”

“So?” 11

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“How would you like it if your boyfriend or husband took a photo like that with another woman?”

Ignoring her question, Jenna said: “You’re not some other woman Willow. You’re the person he helped fishing. Plus, he wouldn’t have taken photos with his phone if he didn’t want to.”

Willow snorted. “You put me in a weird position Jenna, that’s all I’m saying.”

“What position?” Jenna asked. “You plan on seeing him again? He doesn’t even have your number.”

Willow was silent for a moment. Jenna did have a point. She wasn’t going to see him again, so what was she worrying about. Plus he looked like an intelligent man who knew how to avoid trouble; he probably deleted the photos already!

Reiterating her thoughts, Jenna stated: “You realized, he probably deleted those photos already right? Who’d keep photos of strangers in their phone?”

Willow playfully pushed her friend, and Jenna pushed her back, smiling. For once, Willow hoped Jenna was right.

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CHAPTER 2 Fear.

There was no more room left in her life for fear.

She’ll have it no more.

Faith.

There was only a small amount of faith left.

She’ll have more of that!

Conquering fear and standing up to see her glass half-full is something Willow Pichard vowed to put into practice. But her circumstances seemed bent on reminding her that it is easier said than done.

Take this morning for example. It’s November 1, the first day of NYC Novelist of the Year Contest for New Authors, and her computer refused to cooperate.

Frustrated Willow banged on the keys.

A slow computer, a sleep deprived brain, and a hungry stomach were certainly not the right components needed to create the ideal formula to begin what is supposed to be the most productive 13

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morning of her life!

Today begins a new era in her life; she would enter the local Novelist of the Year Contest for New Authors. At least that’s what she decided at her early morning pep talk in front of the bathroom mirror. Well, more like she talked herself into it, and she wasn’t about to let the chance slip away because her wayward computer refused to cooperate!

Willow looked at the screen, and silently willed the cursor to cease from chasing itself. When she couldn’t endure it any longer, she groaned and got up in a sudden burst of energy. Overwhelmed by the sudden onslaught of hunger pangs, she headed for the kitchen, retrieving the tablet from the dining table on her way there. Jenna had sent her an email.

She gasped when she opened it.

There she was, perched in Chad’s arms clutching the fish while he leaned over her as if he was about to kiss her. Anyone looking at the picture, without knowing the details of the events, would think they were more than just strangers! Well, at least she wouldn’t have to see him again, and by now she hoped Chad had deleted them. What had come over her yesterday? Somehow, she had fallen captive to his smile.

Willow shook her head. No time for daydreaming! There was work to be done!

She had been up for ages, and wanted to get the first wave of early morning inspirations and fresh ideas down before she forgot details. She should have gone with her gut feeling, and write her ideas in her journal instead of on her laptop. Now she had 14

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only some words down, and the rest she had already forgotten in her frustration!

Writing for the NYC’s Annual Local Novelist of the Year Writing Contest for New Authors hosted

by Wickham Publishing, was an honor and something she had always wanted to do, but never had the courage to even attempt it. Although the contest is local, there are thousands of authors in NYC with which she’ll have to compete. With only 30 days and 60,000 or more words to write, Willow could feel her anticipation mounting. A week ago she had given herself a ‘pep-talk’ to be bold and step out the box. Her writing was in a box too, and she wanted to break that mundane writing stint she was in.

Willow put the kettle on and turned the front right burner to high. A nauseating wave of putrid gas odor wafted to her nose. She quickly turned the dial off and opened the kitchen window. She had forgotten it was broken. It was just another thing in her life that didn’t work.

Nothing seemed to work in her house, and there was no money to fix anything. Her weekly pay at The Hollow, the restaurant attached to the Wickhollow Hotel on 75th and 2nd, was just enough for food and her living expenses. Her extra money came from tips, and freelance writing. She wrote short stories and articles for magazines and ezines. But, she hadn’t written in months, and the stack of bills were piling high on her kitchen counter with broken things urgently in need of repair. Her prayers seem to go unanswered too. It was as if God forgot she existed. But deep down she 15

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knew it was her lack of faith that stood in the way.

Sighing, Willow quickly lit the back burner and moved the kettle there. Her pathetic life was enough to make her depressed, but she refused to look at the glass half-empty. Something has got to give, she knew that. There were so many things to be repaired and amended in her life, she had no idea where to start.

Broken! That’s how she felt. Ever since her parents passed away two years ago in a boating accident, her life was never the same. However, after being dragged by Jenna to the Real Faith seminar six months ago, she felt her attitude was beginning to change. Her parents would have been proud to know she was about to take the biggest step in realizing her dream as a writer; especially her mother, who had always encouraged her to write.

“I’m going to make you proud Mom,” she said, determinedly.

The sudden high-pitched shrieking of the kettle broke Willow out of her reverie. She turned the burner off and poured the hot water into the waiting mug. Then she returned to the den with her tea. Her computer screen was still frozen, but now she only smiled at it and reached into her father’s desk drawer and pulled out her journal. Curling up on the sofa by the window with the steaming mug of tea beside her on the coffee table, she began to write.

A wave of relief came over her when her ideas and inspirations came flooding back in one swift memory. She only had 30 days to write this novel, and by God she was going to do it!

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With her ideas penned to paper, she read them over. They were great ideas but they were scattered ones; nothing was cohesive due to the lack of a story plot. On a blank page, she wrote the date November 1st, and then stared at it. She had no plot.

All she knew was that she wanted to write a romance drama about Queen Esther of the Bible.

But how to start? She could just write in her journal what comes to mind; surely that’s one way to approach the task at hand. She had nothing to lose plus when she was in college, didn’t the professors give exercises like that anyway - impromptu writing they called it.

Her tea was gone now and the morning sun was streaming through the window of the den. Even impromptu writing wasn’t easy. How should she begin? What sentence should she belt out first onto her blank page?

She stared outside. Even though it was sunny, it was windy and cold. The early morning frost was condensing on the window pane. Hey! Why didn’t she start with that?

“When in doubt, set your scene,” her creative writing professor used to say.

Well, why not? Scenery could be placed anywhere that’s appropriate in the story. Willow smiled. Her tension eased.

PROLOGUE, she wrote.

The wind howled eerily outside. Early morning frost was beginning to condense on the window panes of the palace, she wrote.

The palace? Was this the direction her story was heading? Well, she’d just have to keep going to see 17

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where it would end up!

Princess Leah stared out the window; a single tear rolled down her cheek and fell noiselessly to the floor. Her determination to wed the king was getting her nowhere, and her well-laid plans were finally taking a toll on her. Servants scurried out of her way when she approached. She knew she had been barking orders and screaming at everyone, except the king of course, but she didn’t care. She had lost. All her shenanigans and plans to betroth King Xerxes were going up in smoke with the announcement of the Fair Maiden Contest.

Willow smiled. She liked it already, a Fair Maiden Contest! She continued.

Two months ago, King Xerxes held a party at court and invited all his princes and nobles of his provinces, and counselors of his kingdom. For seven days the king and the men of his court drank wine; and in a drunken stupor, he sent for Queen Vashti to present her at court for his lords to look upon her pulchritude. But Queen Vashti sent word with her attendants of her refusal to honor the drunken king’s request.

Of course, at the time Princess Leah and all the other women of the court were in attendance at the queen’s banquet. But later, she heard from her cousin Prince Jehudi that the king’s court was in an uproar at Queen Vashti’s refusal. Immediately the court was calling for Queen Vashti’s removal from the royal palace. And so, in one quick drunken decision, King Xerxes announced Queen Vashti was no longer his wife and ordered her banished from the palace!

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Princess Leah smiled at the memory as she ran her fingers over the frosted window pane. She could still hear her cousin’s words: “Can you imagine!” he had said. “She refused the king, and before his royal court at that!”

Princess Leah wondered if she would have done differently. She shook her head. This was certainly not the time to ponder such things. Queen Vashti and her entourage have long left the palace! She must seize this opportunity to become Queen of the citadel at Suza and all of Persia! With the help of her parents, she was invited into the King’s presence to visit for a month, so he may court her.

But now, Willow’s pen paused momentarily, and she clicked it against her teeth. But now what? She pondered for a moment, and then continued... yesterday the King announced a Fair Maiden Contest to choose his bride!

And he was audacious enough to send written word to inform her of his plans. She can still remember the letter word for word.

“My Dear Princess Leah,” it said. “Upon the advice of the counselors of my kingdom, I have agreed to hold a Fair Maiden Contest, of which I am requesting your participation. What better way to get to know you, than by a Fair Maiden Contest.

It will begin in two weeks. My advisor Haman will give your attendants all the necessary details.

Faithfully, King Xerxes of Persia and one hundred and twenty-seven provinces.”

“Confound the contest!” Princess Leah had snorted then, not caring who heard her. She had crumpled the letter and stomped on it in rage, and 19

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when her attendant Mika gasped at her audacious trampling of the King’s seal underfoot, she stopped and mindlessly threw herself on the bed in tears.

Now she must come up with a plan. This was King Xerxes’ way of refusing her! He hid behind the tradition of holding a Fair Maiden Contest. If he wanted to marry her he could have! There was no need for a contest. And to add insult to injury, she could enter the contest, if she so desired! Unheard of! A princess competing with common girls to wed a king? Princess Leah had her pride, and her pride dictated that no commoner would usurp her intended betrothed and throne! Well, it won’t end like this and may the gods help the maiden who stands in her way and dares to win this contest!

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Willow stopped and read what she wrote.

Laughing, she said aloud to the empty room “Interesting where a cold and windy day could lead you!”

She had no plans of stopping. Fear, she would conquer with action! Willow forged ahead.

CHAPTER ONE, she wrote.

Twenty year old Esther stood transfixed as King Xerxes’ nobleman, Haman, announced the Fair Maiden Contest to determine the future wife of the King. As a matter of fact, the entire town stood transfixed in the town’s square, some with their mouths agape. The last Fair Maiden Contest was held about 100 years ago! Fair Maiden Contests are only held at the request of the Crown Prince or the present King.

Now here was Haman, standing in front of them, announcing King Xerxes intentions to take a bride from amongst one of them! Esther looked down at her plain, well-worn clothes and at the other young women around her, and thought: 21

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“Absurd! What would he want with one of us?”

“What about Princess Leah?” Her eighteen year old friend Rebecca, whispered.

Esther shrugged. Everyone expected Princess Leah to be the next queen. She was beautiful, sophisticated, a childhood companion and friend of the king, and more suited for him. As if reading her thoughts, Haman said loudly over the din of questioning voices: “Princess Leah will also enter the contest, and the fairest maiden who shows exceptional skills will be chosen.”

Absurd! The King has lost his mind!

“He has lost his mind!” Rebecca echoed aloud.

“How does he expect us to compete with Princess Leah?”

“The contest rules and its events will be posted on the town-square board. All maidens ages 18 to 20 must enter, there will be no exceptions,” Haman said, curtly. He gazed on each maiden as if to note their faces. Esther shuddered. Something about his gaze made her uneasy, and she rubbed her arms to get rid of the goose pimples as his eyes met hers and lingered on her. Esther quickly looked away.

In the midst of hundreds of questions being tossed about, Haman and his royal party exited the town’s square. No one wanted to go back to work; everyone stood around talking and asking questions which no one had answers to. Esther and Rebecca walked away from the scene, back to their vegetable and fruit stalls in the market. Both went silently, still in shock from the announcement. Esther had heard of stories of long ago about common girls 22

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who had been selected to become queens, but never in her wildest dreams did she think that she’d be able to enter such a contest in her lifetime! Her mother and grandmother used to tell her stories of maidens being chosen, not for their looks but for their talents. What was her talent? Her cousin Mordecai have always commended her cooking and once in a while she sold her baked goods at the market. They went fast! Everyone liked her baked goods. She could cook for the King.

Esther shook her head to clear the absurd images of King Xerxes finding delight in her baked cornmeal, a food for poor people made from cornmeal, milk, meat, and herbs. Or would he find delight in her baked scones? What was she thinking; no one could and would dare to compete with Princess Leah!

“Fresh vegetables! Fresh fruits and baked goods!” Esther shouted. “Come this way!”

“Do we really have to enter the contest?” Esther asked Rebecca as they served customers who were returning to the marketplace. “What is the purpose of this contest? None of our maidens will be chosen anyway!”

“Maybe King Xerxes does not desire to wed Princess Leah,” Rebecca said.

“Are you thinking straight? Have you seen Princess Leah?” Esther asked.

Turning to a customer with a tattered, torn hood pulled almost halfway over his face, she asked “What can I help you with sir?”

Was he a thief? Why was his face half-shrouded as if he were hiding from someone? Esther 23

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wondered. Brown eyes watched her from under the dirty hood. They were kind ones. Thieves don’t have kind eyes, she thought and smiled at him.

“What are these?” he asked, pointing to her scones.

“You must be new around these parts if you don’t recognize Esther’s famous scones!” Rebecca piped up. Esther nudged Rebecca in the rib.

“Ouch!” Rebecca cried.

“Would you like to try one?” Esther asked the stranger, ignoring Rebecca.

He nodded and she handed him a scone. He bit into to it and his eyes lit up. “This is good!” he remarked.

“What did I tell you?” yelled Rebecca. “No one can resist Esther’s scones! Even the king himself wouldn’t be able to resist it if he were to try one!”

Esther scoffed at the remark. “The King wouldn’t know what to do with my scone even if it hit him upside the head!” Everyone laughed. “I mean, who banishes his wife forever because she refuses to come to him? He doesn’t seem to know when he has a good thing!”

“Maybe he did it so he could marry Princess Leah,” someone said.

“Then why have the contest?” asked Rebecca.

She placed her fruits and vegetables in a customer’s basket. Then she took the money and counted it.

The man shrouded in the tattered hood said, “Did you not hear? Queen Vashti wronged him.”

Esther bristled. “What? She hurt his pride?”

“Esther,” Rebecca warned.

“Bah! Men and their pride,” she said.

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“Surely you know that no one refuses audience with the King,” the shrouded man said. The crowd nodded in agreement.

“He was drunk, for goodness sake!” Esther said.

“What was his reason for summoning her to the court? To parade her in front of the men of the court?”

“Esther.” Rebecca tugged at her arm.

The shrouded man spoke again. “Maybe he was proud of his queen and wanted to show off her beauty.”

Esther looked at him in exasperation. “Isn’t it so typical of men to want to do that? Is the queen an object to be put on a pedestal and be adored and ogled by men? Isn’t she human with feelings like the rest of us?”

The crowd went quiet, but the women nodded in agreement. The man in the shroud went quiet too.

He had finished the scone and was watching her closely. For the second time for the day, she shuddered at a man’s gaze. However, unlike Haman’s, this man’s gaze didn’t repulse her.

“Now our maidens must pose for the King too?” she continued. “Not that we want to either! I certainly don’t want to entertain a spoiled king! I’m sorry for the poor girl he chooses; she’ll feel so out of place,” Esther asserted.

“Esther!” Rebecca shouted.

“What?” She turned to her friend who was now beside herself with worry.

“The Palace has spies,” Rebecca whispered through gritted teeth.

For a moment Esther’s heart gave a sudden jolt 25

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with fear. Maybe she had said too much. Rebecca always warned her that one day her mouth would get her into trouble. She hoped today was not the day!

Several customers had received their produce and were wandering off to the next stall, some still in conversation. While the crowd slowly dispersed, the man in the torn hood stood his ground.

“I’d like to buy some scones please,” he said finally, handing her coins.

“Sure,” she said and served him a dozen wrapped in cheesecloth. Then she placed an extra one in the package. “That’s for safe travel.” She smiled at him, and wondered where he came from.

His fingers touched hers as he took the scones from her, and the goose pimples crept along Esther’s arm. Something about his eyes appealed to her; they were a bit haunted like a man waiting for something. She could tell he was older than her, maybe about thirty; and though his gaze pierced through hers, he seemed friendly. She was about to ask him his name when Hanna-belle approached them.

“Hello girls, with my beautiful face and my enchanting singing voice, I will captivate the heart of the King in no time, and I will be your next Queen.” Hannah-belle’s nauseating sing-song voice chimed in above the din of voices in the marketplace as she sauntered up to their stalls.

“You’ll have to get past Princess Leah first,” Rebecca mimicked.

Hannah-belle was the daughter of the local tax collector, Ruele. No one liked her, to say the least, 26

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and her continuous dribble about herself and her ‘marvelous’ singing voice has been the annoying factor that kept Esther and Rebecca from befriending her.

“I can stand up any day to Princess Leah and be an equal match. I may not be royalty but my family is of noble standing,” she scoffed.

“A tax collector is not nobility Hannah-belle.

There is nothing noble about the profession.”

Esther said in an exasperated voice, because at least ten times per month Esther had to remind Hanna-belle of her standing in society.

“Oh, you’ll see,” she said before she was called away to rejoin her family.

“Tiresome,” Rebecca muttered. “Imagine thinking she’s of noble birth!”

Esther turned to ask the stranger his name but he was gone. She looked around but couldn’t see above the heads of the people swarming into the marketplace. She returned her attention to new customers. As she served them, Esther wondered about Hannah-belle’s words - she might not be nobility but the fact that her family belonged to a different social class is a truth they cannot deny.

What good can come from such a contest for poor girls like her? The sooner it was over the better, and then they could move on with their lives. Poor girls like her don’t marry kings and become royalty overnight. She chided herself for being hopeful in the impossible. It may have happened hundreds of years ago, but these days the rich doesn’t even want to be seen in the company of the poor. Yes, the sooner this contest was done, the better. Then she 27

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could get on with her life.

That night Cousin Mordecai and Aunt Merta said their goodbyes, because the next morning the palace caravans would come to take the maidens to the palace. Aunt Merta was distressed; the most melancholy Esther had ever seen her. Losing her parents at a young age, Esther lived with Cousin Mordecai and Aunt Merta. Like many of the exiles around them, Aunt Merta was usually downcast because she “didn’t want to be happy in a land where she did not belong.” Exiled from their beloved homeland, they were displaced by the ancient King of Babylon, King Nebuchadnezzar.

The people went about downcast, to show God that their spirits mourned their exile and the destruction of their homeland, in the hope that God will show mercy and return them to their beloved country, Israel.

But tonight, Aunt Merta was wringing her hands in despair.

She turned to Esther. “God is not smiling down on us Esther. Now a pagan king wants to marry our girls! This is not a good sign! I would never think a day like this day would come!”

“Aunt, please! It’s only a formality,” Esther tried to reassure her. “There’s no way King Xerxes would choose a common girl over Princess Leah.”

“No. This day came for a reason,” remarked Cousin Mordecai. He had been silent and deep in thought all evening; his face carried a faraway, distant look. Reaching over to take hold of her hands between his, he continued: “Now our people have a chance, through you Esther. Who knows the 28

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mind of God, you may come to royal position for such a time as this, to free our people! Make us proud Esther!”

Aunt Merta huffed at the remark but remained silent.

“His many wonders we will never understand.”

He released her and picked up his bread once again.

They ate the rest of their dinner in a pensive mood, and later that night Esther thought about Cousin Mordecai’s words and wondered if what he said was true and even possible; after all, she was only a speck in the grand scheme of things.

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CHAPTER 4

The young maidens between 18 and 20 gathered in the town’s square the next morning with their families. While they waited for the caravans to arrive, a lively chatter ensued. Many of the girls were excited at the chance of becoming Queen.

Mothers fussed over their daughters, straightening their dresses, tucking in stray wisps of hair under freshly pressed head shawls. On the outskirts of the group were the older single women; eyes ablaze, they eyed the younger women with contempt.

Hannah-belle’s voice could be heard over the noise as she chatted away with others standing by her.

Esther and Rebecca rolled their eyes - Hannahbelle was at it again!

The caravans arrived and the girls were ushered into them. Esther and Rebecca said their goodbyes to their families. It was only after the caravans pulled away from the town’s square did Esther allowed her heart to flutter in excitement, because when she thought of it, this was really a chance of a 30

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lifetime!

There was hushed activity in the courtyard of the palace when several caravans pulled in through the tall wrought-iron gates, with the girls from Susa and its surrounding areas. The eunuchs stood to attention at the entrance to the palace, and there were guards situated almost anywhere there was an opening. What? Were they anticipating the girls to change their minds and to run away? To be honest Esther felt like doing just that and she suspected Rebecca was probably thinking the same way too.

As the girls alighted from the caravan, Esther looked around the courtyard. Breathtaking!

Someone had taken the time to create a magnificent entrance way with beautifully sculpted gardens. Flowers of several variety and in full bloom, lined the palace windows in troughs. Those on the ground were in colorful circular clusters.

The grass on either side of the walkway was closely cropped and everything seemed to be in its place.

The only thing seemed out of place were the girls in their poor rags, some dressed in their finest but still not adequate for a palace! Esther looked around her, everyone seemed so happy. The girls were giggling, some wide-eyed surveying the scene, others quietly talking. There was an obvious glow of happiness and excitement on their faces. Even Rebecca looked as if she could not contain herself, and was about to burst at the seams.

Enshrouded in an air of importance, a large man in silk robes headed their way. Quietly, everyone 31

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immediately complied when he spoke, commanding the girls to stand in a straight line behind one another. Esther fell in line behind Rebecca. Big iron doors yawned open before them to reveal long winding corridors that were lined with swirling purple and red fabrics and gold ornaments. In open archways along the winding corridors were statues of gold and marble overlooking wide open lush gardens. Esther had never seen such opulence in her life and she wondered if maybe she was dreaming. She reached under her sleeve and pinched her arm, wincing loudly as she did so.

“Are you okay?” Rebecca asked, half-turning to look at her.

“I’m fine,” Esther whispered.

They entered a room with carpets and rugs, and tapestries on the wall. Esther stared at the tapestries and wondered if one day she’d be able to create such delicate work with silken threads.

The large man turned to face them.

“I am Hegai, King Xerxes’ head eunuch in charge of the king’s harem. You are about to enter into the King’s presence,” he said. “There should be no talking, whispering, or laughing in His Majesty’s presence. You must bow and pay obeisance to him. You may not stand in his presence unless he invites you to do so. When he does, you state your name and your village. Do you understand?”

Everyone answered yes, now less excited than they were before. There were stories of people losing their lives because they entered into the king’s presence without being invited to do so.

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“Keep your eyes downcast and your heads slightly bowed when you speak to your king,” Hegai continued. “Your demeanor must be subservient and respectful, you are still poor maidens, don’t forget that!”

Hegai moved on and the procession with him. He stopped at another set of big iron doors, three times his height, at the end of the long corridor. The guards standing on each side both gave the doors a hefty tug. The big doors creaked open and the girls craned their necks to see inside.

“Keep your heads down!” Hegai boomed, and they complied.

The eunuch on the inside of the heavy doors announced: “Eunuch Hegai, keeper of the harem and the maidens Your Majesty, requesting entrance.”

Esther’s heart fluttered for a moment. Was she really going to meet the King? Her palms were like clay and her mouth went so dry it was as if someone had sewn her lips shut. One by one they filed into the inner court, afraid to look up. There were several large rugs underfoot, but Esther barely saw anything else.

They stopped in a straight line in front of King Xerxes, and on command from Hegai, they bowed down and paid obeisance to the King, all one hundred and forty-nine of them. Remaining in position, they awaited further orders. The King who was standing on a platform, descended to meet them. Esther was confused. Weren’t they supposed to present themselves on the platform before him instead? Why would he come down from his seat to 33

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meet lowly maidens?

One by one the maidens were commanded to stand and state their names and villages as the King passed before each of them. Esther’s heart galloped, threatening to either break free or for sure, cause her to pass out dead on the floor before the King. Faintly she heard Rebecca’s voice and wondered if she had to listen out for the command to get to her feet or should she just stand as soon as Rebecca was done speaking? She strained to hear.

What was wrong with her ears all of a sudden? Why did everything sound far away? When would it be her turn already? Why was it so hot in this palace?

With all the opulence and vast wealth, couldn’t the king build a window for his throne room? Whoever hears of a room this big without windows?

Did someone kick her? There it was again! She turned. Rebecca was nudging her with her foot in a very annoying manner.

“What?” she practically shouted, then realized she was kneeling before King Xerxes and it was her time to deliver her name and village.

Quickly she got to her feet, and immediately felt dizzy. She tried to steady herself against Rebecca as she said: “Esther. Esther of Suza.”

She had forgotten to keep her eyes downcast and her head bowed. She stared at the King. He stared back. She couldn’t take her eyes off the handsome face and kind brown eyes that studied her. Why does his face seem so familiar? He smiled and the upturn of his lips reminded her of the man she met in the marketplace under the tattered hood. She 34

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blinked several times, the King’s face was a bit blurry and he was saying something to her.

“We meet again,” he said, smiling at her.

Esther struggled to focus. She blushed. It was him! Embarrassment washed over her like the warm ocean waves, causing a cold sweat to break out under her armpits and tiny beads to perforate her forehead. Before Esther passed out, the last thing she remembered were the not-so-nice things she had said about the King to the man wearing the tattered hood in the marketplace.

It was indeed embarrassing! Esther could hear them talking around her, but she didn’t want to open her eyes. Why did she have to faint? Now everyone will think she fainted because she was nervous about meeting the King. But that was far from it. The room was just really hot, and in truth she was dizzy earlier when they had entered the room but she had ignored it, thinking it was nerves.

She must look pathetic to the King lying there on her back but she just couldn’t open her eyes and face him. Not yet.

He had said, just before she passed out: “We meet again.” Obviously, he recognized her from the marketplace! But why was he dressed in rags? Was he there to spy on the villagers about what they had to say about the contest? Oh goodness! He had caught her berating him! There was no way she was going to open her eyes now!

Esther heard the King orders for her to be taken to the harem and she felt her body lift in a pair of 35

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strong arms. Esther allowed her body to go limp.

She might as well look the part! There was silence as her escort carried her out the door and down the long open corridors. Once in the corridors, Esther could feel a cool breeze on her face as a gentle wind blew in from the gardens outside.

The strong arms placed Esther gently on soft bedding, and she lay still for a while before opening her eyes. Kind brown eyes met hers and she smiled.

It was one of the eunuchs from the courtyard.

“I am Mennah,” he said, pointing to himself. “I will send a maid for you.” And with that he was gone.

Esther looked around her. The large room was like a pavilion with several arched exits leading to other rooms. Toward the center of the pavilion was a large oval shaped pool and several luxury bedding made of thick bulky wool, covered with exotic silk fabrics were around the pool. Mennah had placed her on one of the beddings. It was cushiony and soft, and so was the small feathered pillow under her head. Esther had never seen a feathered pillow before, much less to rest her head upon one. The pillows the villagers used were stuffed with hay, or old clothing.

The pavilion was decorated with blue and white thin wispy fabrics elegantly draped around the four large marble pillars toward its center. Red silk with gold and silver embroidery scalloped between each pillar, were attached to the blue and white fabrics with silver rings. The floor around the pool was a mosaic pavement and further out where the beddings were, the floor was made of small marble 36

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tiles.

A maid came bearing a large bowl of cool water and a washcloth which she placed on Esther’s head.

Another maid, laden with fruits and meats and bread, helped Esther sit up to eat. Although she was feeling weak, Esther’s stomach growled ferociously.

“Eat up,” they encouraged her. The older maid called Zara fussed and clucked over her, saying Esther was too skinny and needed to be fattened up.

She sent the younger maid Seneca off and soon she returned with a small pitcher of milk. Esther tried to tell them she was fine now but they wouldn’t hear it and continued to ply her with food. Soon she gave up and allowed herself to be fed.

The village girls came into the harem one by one with Hegai at the lead. His voice seemed to fill every nook of the room.

“It’s good to see you looking better Esther of Suza,” he said, and she blushed.

“Well,” he clapped his hands and continued.

“This will be your home for the next twelve months.

The contest has three sections. After the first three months the first section will take place, in which each of you will be required to make a handmade gift for the King. After another three months, in the second section, each of you must entertain the King.

After the last six months, in the final section of the contest your beauty will be assessed by His Majesty the King. In those last six months your bodies will be prepared with perfumes and oils and fragrances from faraway lands, so you can be presented as beauties before your King.”

There was a flurry of chatter all at once. Hegai 37

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held up his hand. The room became quiet.

“The maids are here to serve you now,” he added.

He made a sweeping gesture with his hands and several maids came into the room with trays of food and fruits, pitchers of wine and milk, and the eunuchs placed several jars of water around the room. The girls too their seats on the mats and beddings provided. Rebecca ran over to Esther and flopped down beside her.

“Are you okay?” Rebecca asked.

“Yes,” she answered. Esther leaned over to whisper in her ear. “Guess what! The man we saw in the tattered hood in the marketplace is actually King Xerxes!”

Rebecca pulled back and snickered. She touched Esther’s forehead and said: “Now you have a fever too?”

“It’s true,” Esther insisted but Rebecca had begun to eat and was ignoring her.

“Rebecca! It’s true! Didn’t you hear him say to me ‘We meet again’” Esther remarked.

Rebecca gasped and almost choked on a mouthful of grapes. Esther knocked her back several times before Rebecca answered her.

“No way!”

“See! I told you!”

“And he recognized you too! You think you’ll be punished? Oh Esther, this isn’t good,” Rebecca said worriedly.

“I know.”

“Is that why you fainted?”

“Of course not! It was hot!”

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“Or was it because you were embarrassed,” Rebecca teased.

“No. It was hot in the room,” Esther insisted.

“So what are you going to do?”

“There’s nothing I can do, but just wait and see,” she muttered, hoping that the King will not make a big fuss about it.

Anything could happen. This is the same king who banished his queen forever from his courts because she refused to come into his presence when he called for her. Esther shuddered at the thought.

Will this be the end for her? But what about Uncle Mordecai’s words? He said that God’s thoughts and plans are way above the understanding of man.

If God’s will is truly to be fulfilled through her, then why should she fear? Shouldn’t she exercise some faith, at least?

Willow was satisfied with the direction her story was heading. Not a bad start for a story with no plot! She loved the story of Esther because it resonate tenacity and bravery, but most important, it’s a magical love story.

A regular girl gets her own Prince Charming; you can’t get more fairy tale romance than that!

Granted yes, King Xerxes didn’t look at all charming when in a drunken stupor he banished his queen forever, and for a very petty reason.

Nevertheless, this is an opportunity to write her version of her own love story! At least how she envisioned being swept off her feet by her very own 39

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Prince Charming! Hey, can’t a girl dream?

She could certainly fantasize a little and hope God would be paying close attention to her hints, and it wouldn’t hurt if her Prince Charming looked anything like Chad! Willow giggled. It’s funny; she was trying to lay out a roadmap for God! It reminded her of Christmas time or her birthday when she left clues lying around the house with hints of her desired gifts. It was short of leaving big flashing neon arrows pointing to a big picture of the gift and a sign that say “Buy this!”

Although she may joke around about leaving road signs for God, in reality she knew deep down that anything to be accomplished in her life was not by her might but by God’s. Didn’t God say it was “not by might nor by power, but by [His] Spirit” can all things be accomplished? Not in her strength but by His will and power.

God is more than capable in fixing her problems.

Should she then, for once, go out on a limb and exercise some faith? What did she have to lose to just believe that God majors in the impossible?

Putting the journal aside, Willow uncurled herself from the couch. In hope, she prayed, asking God to accomplish His will in her life and through His might and power. With the promise to exercise her ‘mustard seed of faith’, she got up, already feeling as if a load had been lifted off her shoulders.

Needing some good hearty breakfast, for all the brain power she had used, Willow headed for the kitchen. This time smiling as she viewed the repairs in her kitchen, no longer as her problem but instead as potential projects for God to work on!

40

CHAPTER 5

Willow opened her eyes slowly against the early morning light streaming through her window, and groaned when the light painfully hit them.

Tired from staying out late with Jenna the night before, she curled up in a ball and willed the morning to go back where it came from. She just needed five more minutes of blissful sleep.

Suddenly, Willow bolted out of bed.

How could she have forgotten how God had honored her prayer and ounce of faith with a 9:00am job interview with Chad Wickham of Wickham Publishing!

Yesterday, Wickham Publishing’s secretary had called, inviting her to interview with CEO Chad Wickham who had seen her work in several magazines. The phone almost fell from her hand in disbelief. God had listened! And to think she hadn’t even asked for a job! When she told Jenna, she shrieked so hard, the kitchen staff at the restaurant came running.

Willow buzzed from room to room, squirming 41

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into the suit Jenna had bought for her. They had stayed out late, shopping for the perfect ‘interview outfit’. She switched on the living room TV as she passed it en route to the kitchen where she left her shoes the night before. The news was on and Willow half-listened to it as she slid her shoes on and hopped over to the refrigerator to get milk for her cereal. The newscaster announced breaking news, and Willow rolled her eyes in disgust; all news these days seemed to be ‘Breaking News!”

By the time she poured her milk and cereal in the bowl and sliced the ripe banana on top, and rushed to sit before the TV, she only caught the last part of the news where the two newscasters were commenting: “CEO Chad Wickham, announces his broken engagement to Wickham Publishing’s Director, Blake Dodswell, but he did not comment further on the reason for it. The son Chad Wickham had taken over from his father, Jack Wickham. The affluent chairman of Wickham Enterprises, stepped down temporarily because of sudden illness. Well there you have it folks, your guess is as good as ours.

They seemed the ideal couple, and everyone was expecting wedding bells soon, but it seems like it was not meant to be. What a pity!”

They switched to other news, and Willow turned off the TV in disgust. She had rushed over to watch that bit of news because she wanted to see what Chad Wickham looked like; after all she’s supposed to meet him in an hour or so.

In the silence of her living room, Willow thanked God for listening to her prayer and she 42

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asked that His will be done in the interview. Then Willow wolfed down the rest of her breakfast, grabbed her handbag, checked her reflection in the hallway mirror, and headed out the door.

“Mr. Wickham, this is Willow Pichard. She is one of the writers in the Novelist of the Year competition,” the secretary was saying to the handsome guy sitting in the large leather chair.

But Willow wasn’t listening. She was staring at the man around the wide expansive desk. Chad!

The same Chad whom Willow had bumped into at the bookstore on 15th and 5th, earlier last month.

The same Chad whose ex-fiancé was furious at their chance meeting at the bookstore. The same Chad who read her single entry Bucket List in her journal! The same Chad at Prospect Park! He is to be her boss!

Then she realized he was already her boss, since the restaurant The Hollow and the adjoining hotel, The Wickhollow, were part of the conglomerate of Wickham Enterprises. He looked familiar because he was a regular at The Hollow!

She shook his hand with trepidation. Did he recognize her?

“Willow Pichard,” she heard herself saying.

“Pleasure to meet you again Ms. Pichard.” He smiled at her. “Great to see you.”

She blushed and her heart skipped a beat momentarily. He remembered!

“Please have a seat.” He gestured to the inviting ochre colored winged chair opposite his desk.

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She obeyed, glad for the cushiony plumpness of the chair and hoped it would calm her nerves a bit.

As he sat back down and the secretary exited, Willow glanced around the office. She felt quite shabby and out-of-place among the rich artifacts and expensive fabric and furniture.

“How was the fish? Good I hope.”

“Good,” she said.

Remembering his arms around her when he helped reel in her fish, made her shudder the way she had that day at the park. She looked around the room; anything other than looking at Chad, would settle her nerves. Willow wanted to ask if her photo was still in his phone, but she shoved the thought aside. How absurd would that be! Why would he keep it? He was probably just being polite to her and Jenna that day in the park.

But Willow’s twisted fate would not let her go so easy, and she grimaced when Chad fished his phone from his pocket and said: “I still have the photos!”

Her eyes grew large. Leaned forward, he swiped his phone a couple of times. “Take a look,” he said.

He placed the phone almost at the edge of his desk and there she was, her head thrown back with fish in hand as he dipped her! They looked like they were about to kiss. Willow wanted to sink into the chair. There were about eight photos in the slide show, even one of her and Julia and Chad, resembling a family!

“They are nice,” she said weakly, and wondered in despair if his ex-girlfriend had seen the photos.

He reached for his phone and swiped again.

Willow, still using the chair as a distraction, 44

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fussed with situating her handbag comfortably in it.

She needed more than a moment to regain her composure; not that she had much to begin with.

“Well, let’s get to why you’re here today,” he said, his voice suddenly taking on a business-like tone. “Recently I’ve come across your articles in several magazines, and find them to be exceptional.

I like your writing style and voice.”

Willow straightened. Such a compliment coming from the CEO of one of the most recognized publishing houses in New York City struck her with awe. She accepted the compliment graciously.

“Thank you,” she said, unable to stop grinning.

“With that said, I would like to offer you a parttime job here at Wickham Publishing. Well, it’s more like an intern position, with the possibility of full time hire, in our Editing Department. We’re just establishing an extension of our printing services called The Book Magazine, and we haven’t fully set up the department as yet. The position is for about 2 to 3 hours per day...”

Willow gazed at his lips in disbelief. He continued to talk more about the company and its mission regarding the magazine, and the importance of meeting printing deadlines. Bemusedly Willow noted he wasn’t actually interviewing her, but more was telling her that she was hired. He had already scouted her. He already knew what he wanted. It was obviously he was the kind who knew what he wanted, and pursued it. Suddenly, his presence filled the room and her nervousness returned.

“I see you are currently working at The Hollow," he was saying, his voice cutting through her 45

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thoughts.

“Yes,” she sheepishly replied.

“Which shift are you on?”

“I’m on the evening shift.”

“Good! Then can you stay on today just for couple hours for orientation?” She nodded. He continued. “Good. Grace Ludwigham, our Editor, will work more with you on that.” He then held his hand up, signaling he would be a moment, and picked up the phone on his desk. He pressed a button and Willow heard a faint “Hello?”.

“Grace,” he said. “I have Willow in my office.

Yes. Yes. Ok.” He hung up the phone.

Chad Wickham led Willow to Grace Ludwigham’s office who sternly observed her before offering a small smile and a command to sit.

Chad left them to it.

“Nothing much to the job really,” the woman began. “Your responsibilities are as follows: One, review children’s and YA fiction books for new releases. Two, review 4 to 6 books per month and submit on time for editing and printing…”

She paused and tapped the pen against her palm.

“Three, assist in editing, and do some light internal messenger service for me.”

She was shown her work area; an L-shaped wooden desk which filled the cubicle in which it was standing. Never having a desk before on a job, Willow felt the heavens opened up and smiled down on her! All this because she had exercised some faith? She embraced the good feeling.

Alone in her cubicle, she texted Jenna: Got the job!

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Way to go Willow! Jenna replied.

Willow: Guess what...the CEO is the same guy in the park; you know, the one I bumped into at the bookstore, the one with the girlfriend who had an attitude! Talk about coincidence!

Jenna: No way! Not coincidence, fate!

Willow: Well fate surely has a twisted sense of humor! He still has the photos!

Jenna: No way! For real?

Willow: Yup. Talk to you later.

Jenna: K

Willow did some light reviewing while Grace met with a client. There were four books; two of which were YA fiction novels, and the remaining two were children’s books for ages 6 to 8. On reading the first book, a feeling of idleness came over her, but that was her job! And it wasn’t until Grace’s secretary took her on a tour of the various departments which would later become her internal messenger route, did she really feel she was finally at work.

That good feeling of God smiling in her favor stayed with her for the rest of the day, and when Willow left the office at one, she was suddenly in need of someone’s company to share in her glad tidings. She thought of Jenna, but Jenna was on the evening shift. Chad had called ahead and spoke to Charles, her supervisor at The Hollow. She was given the rest of the day off, and with nothing else to do, Willow headed for the deli shop in the lobby.

The flashing neon sign bearing the words “Cafe Hollow” confirmed the deli as part of Wickham Enterprises.

She walked in, smiling at some of the people she 47

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had met earlier at the publishing house. The array of food at the self-serve buffet and lively chatter, gave the café a comfortable atmosphere. Willow got in the line behind an old man and waited patiently until it was her turn to spoon the smooth lentil soup into her bowl. An empty table to the far corner of the large dining room beckoned to her, and immediately she dug into her lunch. That’s how Chad Wickham found her, munching heartily on a mouthful of bread and soup.

“Hi again,” he said, sitting across from her.

Willow’s eyes grew wide, and she almost choked as she hurriedly tried to swallow.

“Hi, Mr.Wickham.”

“Call me Chad. So how was it?” he asked, sipping his medium sized tea.

“It was great.” Aware that he was just staring at her waiting for more than it-was-great, she said: “I learned where the departments were today, and I learned the names of several people.”

Feeling stupid, she looked down into her soup. Is that all she did in the half day she spent at the office?

“I did some editing too, and I’ve already received four books to review for the magazine,” she added.

“Very good. What time does Grace need you to come in each day?”

Were CEO’s interested in these minor details too or was he just making polite conversation?

“From 2 to 5,” she answered.

“Good,” he said again. He took another sip of his tea. The café buzzed around them.

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“So how’s the writing for the contest coming along?” he asked. “Not that I can discuss it with you, contest rules, but how is it going?”

She looked up again. “It’s going great. I write each free time I get.”

“Great,” he paused. His eyes never left hers and Willow wondered if his gaze was always so intense.

“So how did you get into writing?”

“Funny story really, my mother gave me her old typewriter when I was 10 and I never looked back since.”

“Well then, she must be really proud of you writing for this competition,” he said, smiling at her.

Willow took in a deep breath. How did she broach this touchy subject without melting into tears like she always do?

“It’s two years since my parents passed away,” she said. His exuberant expression quickly faded.

“The boating incident happened on their 50th anniversary when I sponsored them for a cruise.

Two days before they were scheduled to return, the ship docked in Bermuda, and I was told that my parents took a yacht, with some other passengers, and went ashore.”

She hesitated. This was always the hardest part, and Willow wondered if time really heals all pain.

They said so, but she really doubted it.

“Later when they were returning to the ship, the yacht collided with a fishing boat.” She paused. “No one survived.”

Willow swallowed the lump in her throat.

“Sorry to hear that Willow,” Chad said. He had 49

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moved closer to her while she was talking; his hands were on hers in empathy. The tender motion moved her heart.

“How did you manage? Do you have siblings?

It’s always the hardest to deal with the death of a loved one on your own.”

“No, I’m an only child,” she said; her voice suddenly hoarse. Clearing her throat, she continued.

“In the days that followed, I was in a daze but thank God for Uncle Carlo, my Mom’s brother. He took charge of everything and arranged the funeral.”

Uncle Carlo had also helped her with the finances too. Naturally, being the only child, she had inherited her family home and everything else her parents possessed. What a relief it was to find the mortgage recently paid off! Unfortunately, her parents’ accounts were virtually empty, and so the rest of her savings, which was not much, went to their funeral expenses. Money had been tight but with the help of Uncle Carlo, Willow was able to decently bury her parents.

“I know it sounds pretty clichéd, but really, God doesn’t give us more than we can bear,” Chad offered. His fingers were stroking hers in a rather comforting motion; but it was far more surprising to hear him openly speak of God. She liked that.

“I know. Jenna says the same thing and I know it’s true but then of course, at the time it was hard to believe,” Willow said, her eyes misting over.

For months after her parents’ death, Willow was numb. She ate, slept, and worked at The Hollow in a very distracted, mundane routine that had become what was left of her life. She had a hollowed void in 50

Writing for Love

her heart and nothing could fill it. Back then the promises of God filling the void and ‘giving beauty for ashes’, didn’t seem to ring true to her anymore.

She found beauty in nothing; everything was bland.

Jenna and her uncle Carlo were the only two constant in her life, and they tried hard to get Willow back on her feet again. Then finally one morning, several months later, Willow decided that her parents would have wanted her to move on with her life. It was hard.

“Well,” Willow straightened. “Picking up the pieces was difficult but I know it’s what my parents would have wanted. I was able to get things moving again with prayer and Jenna’s help.”

“And here you are,” he said.

“Yes and here I am.”

“Well, writing is a good way to get moving again,” he said.

She nodded, appreciating that he didn’t pry further.

“Your short stories for the magazines are sensational. In such a short space you’ve managed to add depth and have well-rounded characters,” he complimented her.

“Thank you. I love writing. I write about everything. I like to watch people in a park or on the subway, and then write about them. I imagine what their lives would be like. I even keep a journal...”

At the mention of her journal, she blushed and took a hearty bite of her garlic bread to shut.

Chad smiled knowingly. “Have you met that great guy yet from the Bucket List?”

Willow flashed him a look of surprise. It seemed 51

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the deli got quiet all of a sudden, and only the sound of her bleating heart could be heard pounding in her ears. So, he did see it!

How unsettling. His question left Willow wondering what to say next. Unable to think of anything, she smiled at him and immediately blushed and looked away, hoping he didn’t think she was flirting with him!

But Chad only chuckled, his dark brown eyes fixed on her. Suddenly self-confident, she took a mouthful of hot soup, and then gulped when the liquid burned her throat. Her eyes watered and she looked down to hide the tears which she quickly blinked away. What was wrong with her? The chances of Chad Wickham giving her a second glance was slim. She didn’t have the Gucci bag and diamond bracelets hanging off her wrists, and surely she didn’t have a loaded trust fund like the one Blake Dodswell was rumored to have!

He was once again observing her, his eyes smiling, enjoying her moment of fluster, when they were suddenly interrupted by a sharp “Chad!” to which his eyes narrowed and he turned in his seat.

“Yes.” It was the same woman from the bookstore where she had first met Chad! Her eyes blazing, she surveyed Willow with disdain, then Chad, then Willow again.

“I’m here for the meeting,” the woman said, curtly.

Then in the next instance, her body relaxed and she gently touched the top of Chad’s shoulders with pink nail polished fingers.

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Writing for Love

Chad got to his feet politely.

“Willow Pichard I want you to meet Blake Dodswell. She’s our Publishing Director at Wickham Publishing,” he introduced.

Willow stood up and extended her hand. Blake grasped it lightly.

“Pleased to meet you,” Willow said.

“Willow will be working with Grace on the magazine,” Chad informed Blake.

“Oh yes. Welcome aboard,” Blake said and withdrew her hand, smiling faintly. She turned her attention to Chad.

“I want to speak with you for a bit before the meeting,” she said.

Chad nodded. He extended his hand to Willow for a handshake. The familiar gesture warmed Willow unexpectedly.

“It was great meeting with you Willow. If you have any questions, feel free to come by my office.”

“Ok, Mr. Wickham… Chad,” she amended, and shook his hand.

Blake linked her arm in his, a frown furrowed her brow as she glanced at Willow. They turned to leave.

Confused, Willow sat down again, staring after them as they made their way through several groups of people. Didn’t Chad announce earlier that they were no longer engaged? So why was Blake holding his arm so possessively?

And why was she scowling at me? Willow thought. Willow wondered if Blake thought she was flirting with Chad! After all, she did surprise them suddenly!

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Willow groaned. She was off on a bad start with Blake! Obviously, it would worth her while to tread softly where Chad is concerned.

But later when she met Jenna on her break and Willow told her about Chad and Blake, Jenna had a different thing to say.

“What are the chances you meet him again like this? It’s fate!” Jenna declared.

“Don’t be silly,” Willow said. Jenna was a firm believer of ‘nothing happens by chance’. She always believed God’s purpose was in everything, and everything happens for a reason.

“But why was Blake scowling at you?” Jenna asked.

“She caught me blushing. Mr. Wickham asked if I found my Bucket List prince.” The memory of the twinkle in his eyes caused Willow to blush profusely.

Jenna squealed with delight. “No wonder she was scowling! Don’t you see? He announced their break-up this morning and by lunch he was on a date with the woman he had met before in the bookstore!”

“It wasn’t a date! I was eating lunch and he stopped by with his tea,” Willow declared hotly.

“Yes,” answered Jenna. “I know that, you know that, and Chad knows that. But what about Blake?

She doesn’t know that! As far as she’s concerned, by lunch time you were flirting with her ex-fiancé who just gave you a job this morning after meeting you in the bookstore last month!”

Willow stared at Jenna in surprise. Goodness!

Willow hoped Blake didn’t think she was the reason 54

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for their break up!

“Oh dear,” was all she could say.

“Oh yeah, it’s definitely God at work!” Jenna said happily.

Willow was not too sure about that. Was God into match-making too?

_____________________________ END OF PREVIEW

Continue reading Writing for Love by Dawnette Blackwood-Rhoomes on Amazon or Barnes and Noble

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Dawnette Blackwood-Rhoomes is the Creative Editor for the following magazine publications: DB-R Designs Textile and Paper Catalog The Books Magazine She lives with her husband Karl, and their two sons in New York.

OTHER BOOKS BY THE AUTHOR (Now available on Amazon and Barnes & Noble)

The Women of Jesus The Secrets of Aunt Norah’s House Love Unhinged Why Should I Believe You? Christian Romance: Writing for Love The Cannon & Durnam Textile Legacy - The Virtuous Husband (Book One) - The Love Inheritance (Book Two) - The Hopeful Promise (Book Three)

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