I spent some time hanging out over at Coffee Time Romance today for the December Book Brew talking about my stories and giving away books. I posted an excerpt from my novella Heavensent.com in the Holiday Brides anthology that's actually one of my favorite scenes in the story.
If you've never felt the way Brenna and Evan feel in this slice of life, can I say you're missing out? lol Of course, you're free to disagree. Either way, enjoy.
Stefanie
www.stefanieworth.com
***
Christmas
scene from Heavensent.com
Sorority
sisters made great surrogate families – until they all wanted to play the
mother. Holidays especially seemed to inspire gushing bouts of maternal
instinct among Brenna’s peers and most of it revolved around her Quest for a Man.
Did
it matter that she’d maintained her weight, gotten promoted at work, or had
money in the bank (unlike the shop-happy contingent)? Not much.
“A
little more meat on your bones and maybe you could get somebody’s attention.”
“Come
out of that office once in a while and you could get somebody’s attention.”
“Hit
a couple of these sales with us and you could find clothes that look like you
want to get somebody’s attention.”
The
well-meaning critiques sounded so similar that the women’s voices blended to
monotone inside Brenna’s skull. Right now, they hit her head and her heart in
time to a driving beat thudding from one “mother’s” living room stereo. They
were all seated in the kitchen, gathered around the table finishing up
Christmas dinner preparations.
In
the absence of male affection, sister love was cool. It kept craziness at bay
that would surely develop after too much tell-all reality TV. It prevented
occasions for gathering from becoming I’m-all-alone-eating-ice-cream pity
fests. And today its collective spirit distracted Brenna from tallying all the
more moments she hadn’t heard from Evan.
The
room fell quiet as a slow song entered the musical mix. The women sprinkled
cinnamon, buttered rolls, passed out plates in silence broken only by
occasional humming or the clattering of forks.
“Don’t
you all get dry on me,” the hostess admonished her guests.
“Where’s
that wine?” the stuffing-spooner asked. “Bet Brenna needs a glass.”
“Just
one,” she replied, knowing a single round would calm her nerves, but two would
put her to sleep.
“Who
is it this time?” The sister stirring gravy asked what they all assumed.
“Nobody.”
Brenna hoped her answer would catch them off guard and convince them to leave
her alone.
“Quit
lying.”
Brenna
huffed and spilled the truth. “I lost my job Tuesday.”
Her
Mother Hen hostess abandoned the ham she was carving and scurried to Brenna’s
side. “Girl, how come you didn’t tell anybody?”
“Shocked.
Embarrassed. Pissed the heck off.” Brenna laughed. “What am I going to do
without a job to wake up for?”
One
by one, the other sorority sisters came to comfort Brenna, surrounding her in a
circle of sympathy and hugs, offering ideas – serious and not – for ways to
spend her time.
“Sleep
in.”
“Shop.”
“Try
relaxing for a change.”
“What’s
that?” Brenna pretended to tremble uncontrollably. “Must have work.”
“Get
a life.” Her sorority sister mocked her motions, hurting Brenna with her words.
I used to say that to Evan all the time. Wonder if I offended him,
too.
Not
wanting to be caught brooding, she quipped with a smile, “You’re right. I can
do much better than hanging out with the likes of you all.”
Laughter
exploded throughout the spacious kitchen, bouncing from face to face, ricocheting
off the copper pots and pans strung from a ceiling rack, until the joy settled
around Brenna’s spirit with soft giggles and shaking heads. It elicited her
gratitude for good friends and lured her girlfriend’s husband out of his
upstairs confinement.
“Oh,
goodness!” He rolled his eyes and circled the table with his eyes. “You all are
drinking before dinner? We’re never gonna eat, are we? I might as well go get a
burger before I starve.”
Joining
in the fading laughter with a gentle snicker of his own, he stretched his neck
around the table tops and counters, examining the imminent feast. “You all did
good! Let me get a little piece of that ham.”
He
followed his wife to the kitchen’s center island. She carved him a thin slice,
stood on her tiptoes and placed the ham on his tongue as if it were a gourmet
delicacy.
“Um,”
he murmured, licking his lips and winking an eye.
Um.
Brenna remembered having the same reaction to Evan when he kissed her. Um. She
fanned a hand in front of her face as if waving away the heat. “Hey, you two. Put
your fast behinds on pause for another four or five hours. We don’t want to see
all that.”
“Hater,”
he teased, patting his wife on the bottom and backing out of the kitchen.
“Ten
minutes,” she told him. “Tell your boy, too. I know he’s coming.”
She
turned her head from her husband to Brenna. “Got you a little company.”
The
doorbell rang like it was cued. To Brenna’s shock, dismay, and hidden relief, Evan
stepped through the back door wowing the women with his charm and cologne.
She
felt both perturbed and possessive; wishing she could punish him with silence
for ignoring her all week, yet wanting to claim him as her own to keep her
single sorority sisters off him. He slipped off his leather jacket and handed
it to “his boy,” revealing a pair of relaxed fit designer jeans – loose in the
thigh, tighter in the butt – a dark plaid button front shirt open at the neck,
and those doggone Timberland boots, this pair in black.
Bet he tastes better than the food,
thought Brenna, biting back a grin.
“You
look familiar. Do I know you?
Brenna
shook her head. “I have one of those faces, the kind that makes you think you
know somebody, but you don’t.”
“My
mistake.” Evan stared into her eyes, speaking words no one in the room could
hear but her.
“Happens,”
Brenna answered with a shrug. “You’re forgiven.”
The
hostess eyed them suspiciously. “What’s going on here? Did you all go to prom together?
Date in college? Or did you meet in a bar and have a one night stand? It’s
something like that, isn’t it?” she joked. “Well. It’s time to wipe the slate
and get to the table before the food gets cold. Let’s eat. You can pretend like
you don’t know each other later.”
They
continued the charade through the entire meal. Seated next to each other, they made
sure to bump elbows when passing dishes from one side of the table to the other
and their feet rested beside each other’s beneath the table, barely touching.
The
proximity kept Brenna preoccupied with adult-themed thoughts of Evan all
evening. She couldn’t brush his hand without wishing it was holding her. If it
wasn’t for the fact that he’d disappeared on her for three days, she’d invite
him back to her house for an encore. But hormones won out the first time (and
got her into this tangle). Tonight she’d use her head.
Dinner
and dessert finished, the group moved from the dining table to the lower level
recreation area. Laughter and loud conversation flowed with the drinks. New
guests, unknown to Brenna, began to arrive. Some making the stop their second
or third holiday visit, others coming just for the good times they knew were waiting.
Brenna was glad for the growing crowd; it helped shield her and Evan from her
many mothers in the room. She smiled at their protectiveness.
“Is
that for me?” Evan leaned and whispered in her ear.
She
tingled, but told the truth. “Not hardly.”
“I
deserve that. Surprised you’re talking to me at all.”
“Surprise
is the key. If I knew you’d be here, I probably wouldn’t have come.”
“If
I’d known we were going to wind up having sex the other day, I wouldn’t have
taken you home.” He smiled as if the statement was funny.
Sex? That’s all? No wonder he hasn’t called since.
“Well,
I know not to let you in my house anymore, don’t I?”
“Not
if you can’t control yourself.” He laughed a little louder.
People
probably thought they were really connecting in that dark corner of the room.
But Brenna was beginning to feel that the tryst had changed the way Evan looked
at her as a person. Maybe that’s why he hadn’t called – or apologized. He
didn’t think she deserved any better treatment.
This
man had witnessed her overwrought, out-of-character behavior and replaced her
sensible side with that perception. Brenna searched for her most controlled
tone.
“I
thought you could handle me waiving my ninety-day rule.” She shook her head.
“You weren’t ready though.”
“Please,
girl.” He furrowed his brow and studied her face. “What do you mean I wasn’t
ready?”
He’s thinking performance issues. She
giggled. That was hardly the problem.
“All
I'm saying is that I’m still Brenna. Treat me the way you have for the past three
years.”
“Really?”
He raised his eyebrows. “Hm. Okay. If you say so.”
So what did I just say? Brenna worried.
Evan
looked totally perplexed. “Most girls want more after you sleep with them – not
the same--”
“Well,
you can call --”
“Hey,
no problem.” Evan shrugged, totally misinterpreting her point. “If you’re
saying we’re still cool, same as before, that’s alright with me.”
Did
she just give him permission to do something she didn’t want him to do? Had she
managed to chase off the polite, thoughtful Evan who always listened to her
work rants, took her to lunch, and escorted her home on the worst day of her
professional life?
One
thing felt certain: She’d probably ensured she wouldn’t be getting that “sorry
I didn’t call” apology she wanted so badly. That would mean he cared, and she
just convinced him he didn’t need to.
She
checked her watch. “Wow, it’s almost eleven.”
“You
ready to go?”
Her
hopes brightened. Maybe she hadn’t totally botched a start with Evan. “Yeah.
I’ve been here all day.”
Evan
walked to the bar and set his glass down. “I’m going to hang out for a while
longer, but go ahead and grab your coat. I’ll walk you to your car.”
“Oh,
sure. Thanks,” Brenna said, feeling incredibly silly. She began weaving through
the crowd toward the stairs, her sedan, and the safety of misunderstanding. After
all, nothing had changed and that was cool, right?
She
gathered her winter wear from the hall closet and wished her hostess and
sorority sisters Merry Christmas while Evan went outside to start her car. When
they returned to the party downstairs, Brenna stood in the doorway peering
through the steamed glass of the storm door, watching Evan clear a dusting of
snow from her windshield and headlights.
So, if he could be yours, would you want him that way?
He
ran up the walk. She stepped outside as he shook flakes from his coat and
stomped his feet. “All set.”
“Thanks,
Evan.”
They
stood staring at each other like awkward teenagers. Falling snow swirled in the
glow of the porch lights. Their shine gave Evan a godlike quality against the
royal blue night. Her insides twisted and tingled. She shifted from one foot to
the other.
“Cold?”
he asked.
Very, very hot. She just smiled.
“The
car should be warm by now.” He hesitated. “Drive safe.”
“I
will. You, too.” Her feet were freezing. She turned toward her car, then looked
back at Evan. “Call me?”
Brenna sped up her walk.
He
took too long to answer. “Based on what we said and
everything, I just don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“Well,
you take care then, Evan Shephard,” she snapped, stepping into the car and
slamming the door. “I don’t know what got into me anyway; making love to you,
waiting for you to call, letting my mind wander to ‘us.’ What in the world got
into me?”
Every life milestone affects us differently. For some authors, writing is cathartic. I find that as well, but I took solace in writing about Joe and for him for awhile rather than drumming up imaginary scenarios for my WIP. His situation was far too real to spend time dabbling in fantasy. I thought. So returning to the work I love isn't cathartic, but it is a necessary and integral part of who I am. I guess I needed some time to be okay with that.
