I don't remember the first Homework Suggestion to which I responded. All I remember is that I was as nervous as a whore in church, since it was the first time EVER that I'd shown any of my writing to anyone. I do remember that it was too short, but I've made up for it since then by going over the word-count with consistency. The warm, enthusiastic reception I received to that first posting, though, I remember very well. I felt, and still feel, like I'd come home to a place filled with friends I could trust. Man, I'm so glad the Lit Forum exists!
Part of this may be the first homework I posted, because it came from "Line, Please!" It's a homework post, in any case, and one of my early ones. It's been polished a bit since then, but the line, "Sometimes a little stuffiness is good for the soul" remains. I can't remember which of you wonderful ladies said it, but one of you told me that I incorporated the line into the excerpt effortlessly, and that it was brilliantly done. I've never forgotten those words of encouragement, and that's what makes this one special to me:
Full of pent up nervous energy, Jay paced the entrance hall, waiting for Katie to come downstairs. He tugged for the hundredth time on his jacket, disliking the way it constricted his shoulders, and wondered if it looked as bad as it felt. Stopping in front of the ornate mirror on the wall, he glanced at his reflection, and felt a smile tug his lips. Anything was bound to look good reflected in that. It was the first thing of value Jay had bought after receiving a royalty check from Wonderkind’s initial album. Something about its lines and grace had made him fall in love with it at once, and he still felt a surge of pride that he had been able to afford such a beautiful piece. The beveled mirror was a French antique in the style of Louis XV with a goldleaf frame rich with carvings of laurel leaves, medallions and intricate scrollwork. He had been pleased when Katie had admired it. Though she did a good job of hiding it, he knew that she mentally clutched her head and moaned at some of the decorations and furnishings in the house, but she seemed to love the mirror as much as he did. She had told him the mirror was just like him; beautiful, elegant, rare – and hung.
Jay’s reflection in the mirror grinned back at him, remembering Katie’s description. The expression was short-lived, however, since he couldn’t recall a time when he less felt like smiling. He studied his appearance with dissatisfaction. He’d heard that Americans referred to tuxedos as “monkey suits” and he was in full agreement. His mother had bought the tuxedo for him several years before and he only wore it once a year. It hung neglected in the back of his closet except for the night of his parents’ annual formal dinner party. Jay had a sneaking suspicion his mother only gave this dinner for the sole purpose of getting him into this suit, but he’d managed to avoid attending the past two years since he’d been on tour out of the country with Wonderkind. This year, however, she’d gotten clever, and had checked Shadowed Knight’s touring schedule before setting the date. So here he stood, looking like the emcee at a charity function.
He eyed the ruffled shirt with disfavor. Ruffled shirts usually didn't bother him; on the contrary, he rather liked the way he looked in them. But he always made sure they were unbuttoned halfway to show the light covering of hair on his chest, and he paired them with either a suede leather vest with fringe or a velvet coat of some kind. Never this starched, black, rather shiny tuxedo coat. And never, ever a bowtie. Ever.
He exhaled heavily as his eyes rose to his hair. He had to admit it was great hair. It just didn’t work with a tuxedo. He shook his head and watched the light shine off the thick, black mass of it. The soft, large, unrestrained curls reached the bottom of his shoulder blades and hugged the lines of his face. He narrowed his eyes. It was beginning to get a little fuzzy round the edges, though. Katie had a nifty little gadget she called a styling wand. She’d plug it in and wait until it grew hot before using it to do amazing things to her hair. He entertained the notion of going upstairs and seeing if it might tame his own hair into some kind of submission, but dismissed the thought as quickly as it came. Katie would never question him about it, but he didn’t want to betray his nervousness about this evening in any way.
He gathered his hair with both hands and pulled it back, holding it at the nape of his neck. Good God, no! The combination of the restrained hair and the bowtie made him look like an accountant down on his luck. Releasing his hair, he used his fingers to fluff it back into its usual disarray.
The sound of the bedroom door opening upstairs was followed by Katie’s footsteps on the stairs just as he realized his bowtie was crooked. He straightened it with a quick movement only to have it pop up on one side again the moment he released it. He felt rather than saw Katie come up beside him as he savagely grabbed the offending neckwear and gave it a wrench.
“Oh for God’s sake, Jay.” Katie's voice bubbled with amusement. “Here, let me.”
He turned toward her as her fingers deftly undid the bow and began to retie it. He looked at her for the first time and felt his eyes widen. “You look amazing,” he told her. The gown she was wearing was a soft lilac, sleeveless, with a scooped neckline and a plain lilac band just below the breast. The front of her long dark brown hair was smoothed back from her face and fastened behind her head. She was wearing a necklace, earrings and bracelet dripping with what Jay could only surmise were diamonds and emeralds. “In fact, you look perfect.”
“You sound surprised. I grew up peeking through the stair banisters at my parents' dinner parties, so I have a pretty good idea of how to dress for one. Will you hold still?” She gave his tie a warning jerk. “I don’t want to have to start over. Anyway, what did you think I'd show up in?”
“I don't know. I've seen you in all kinds of clothes, but I've never seen you look like this.” He gave her an appraising look. “They're going to love you.”
Katie grinned. “Good to know. ” She gave the now-perfect bowtie a pat. “There you go.”
The light flashed on the gems in her earrings, and Jay reached out a finger to touch one. “Where in the hell did these come from?”
“My mother wore them when she got married.” Katie shrugged. “I think they belonged to one of her grandmothers, or something. Think I'll fit in?”
Jay smiled and kissed her forehead. “No. I think you'll stand out like a diamond in a room full of pastes.” He offered her his arm. “Ready to go?”
Jay’s mother had insisted on hiring a car to drive them to the dinner party. Probably, Jay thought sourly, to make sure he actually showed up. A bottle of champagne on ice was chilling in the back, and Jay opened it at once upon entering the car. He poured the bubbling gold liquid into a flute and held it out to Katie.
“No, thanks.” She pushed the glass back toward him. “I can’t drink champagne.”
“Why ever not?” He settled the bottle back into the ice with a crunch.
“I can’t handle it. It goes straight to my head and I’ve been told I lose all my inhibitions.”
Jay paused in the act of raising the glass to his lips. “I didn’t know you had any.” This was an interesting development.
Katie grinned at him. “From what I’ve been told, you’d be surprised.”
Jay gave her a confused look. “What do you mean, ‘from what you’ve been told?’”
“I can’t remember anything when I drink champagne.”
“What, you just wake up with a screaming headache and no recollection of the night before?” he inquired.
“No, no headache.” She shook her head. “I don’t get hung over. I just…black out.”
Jay felt a thoroughly evil smile spreading across his face. He’d forgotten all about the fact that he was dressed in a tuxedo. “So you lose all your inhibitions, hm? I think that’s something I’d like to see.”
“You said I don’t have any inhibitions,” she said with studied nonchalance. She appeared to be interested in the passing scenery out the car window.
“Now, don’t put words in my mouth. I said I didn’t think you had any.” He lounged back in his seat and drained the champagne flute. “You know, I have a very vivid imagination…”
“I know.”
“A very vivid imagination,” he repeated, ignoring the interruption, “and even I can’t come up with an instance in which you’ve acted the least bit inhibited. I think you need to drink some champagne.”
Katie turned and looked at him. “Stop it.” Her voice was stern but there was a smile hovering around the corners of her mouth.
Jay leaned sideways toward her with a charming smile. “You know, you really should tell me about some of these things you’ve been told you do when you lose your inhibitions. I do think I should know everything about you, don’t you?”
Katie answered his smile with one of her own. “I don't think I really lose my inhibitions. From what I hear, I just say whatever comes into my head, that's all.” Her eyes shifted to the front of the car. “I think we’re here.”
Jay straightened in his seat and looked out the window. “Damn it. It’s supposed to take longer than this to get to Mayfair.” He addressed the driver. “You’re entirely too efficient, mate.”
“Behave.” Katie jabbed him with her elbow.
Jay watched the imposing fronts of the brick row houses grow closer through the car’s windscreen. It hadn’t changed a bit since he was a child. Still the same staid red brick façade, five stories high, with large, many-paned bay windows that seemed to glare at him in disapproval. He sighed and vowed to remember that he was twenty-five years old, not five. He always felt inadequate in some way when visiting this house. The car stopped at the curb next to one of the arched doorways. As the driver exited the car and came around to open the door, Jay lifted the champagne bottle from the ice by its neck and took a healthy chug. Replacing it in the bucket, he gave Katie a rueful look. “Unfortunately, I remember everything when I drink this stuff.” He climbed out of the car and held out his hand. “Come along, lamb. It’s time for the slaughter.”
Katie stepped onto the sidewalk and shook the wrinkles and folds from her dress. “Calm down, Jay. We’ll go in, do some boring chit-chat, eat, and then we can leave. Okay?”
Jay felt contrite. He’d not meant for his bad mood to wash over onto Katie. “I’m sorry.” He put his arm around her waist and drawing her close. “I just hate these kinds of things.” He drew a deep breath. “How’s my bowtie?”
The comment had the desired effect of making her laugh. She smoothed the lapels of his jacket. “You look very….straight.”
He gave her a narrow look. “Oh yeah? Well, you look like a nice girl.”
Katie’s mouth popped open. “Jay! Take that back!”
Jay grinned and twisted the bell on the door. After a very brief pause the door swung open and a uniformed butler bowed slightly. “Sir. Madam.”
Jay led Katie past him and indicated the staircase looming in front of them. “The drawing room’s upstairs.”
“Of course it would be,” he heard Katie mutter as she lifted the hem of her dress to facilitate the climb up the stairs. Just before they reached the top, she turned to him with a naughty grin. “Oh, yeah, I thought you should know I'm not wearing any underwear.”
Jay gaped at her. “Excuse me?”
“So much for the whole nice girl thing, huh?” Katie looked at the group of people gathered near a set of pocket doors at the end of the hall. “I thought it might help take your mind off things tonight.”
Jay's imagination went into overdrive, and he felt a pleasurable tightening in his groin. He almost didn't notice when an older woman in a subdued navy blue gown detached herself from the group in front of them and hurried toward them. “Jay! Darling!” She stretched out her hands toward him, beaming, her silver hair gleaming in the light.
Jay made haste to wipe what he was sure was an expression of lust from his face, and smiled at his mother. He leaned down and kissed her on the cheek. “Good evening, Mum. You’re looking beautiful, as always.”
Jane Carey waved a hand in dismissal. “Go on with you.” She smoothed his hair back over his shoulder. “But you look wonderful, dear.”
Jay’s smile widened. “Lay off the hair, Mum.”
“Did I say a thing?” she asked. “I think it’s perfectly lovely. And do stop jerking at your suit.”
Jay stopped tugging at the coat and felt himself trying to regress to the age of five. He fought it off with grim determination. “Sorry. But you know I hate this stuffy thing.” He waved a disgusted hand at his tuxedo.
Jane smoothed the fabric over his shoulders. “Really, Jay. Sometimes a little stuffiness is good for the soul.”
“My soul is fine as it is,” he stated flatly.
“I daresay,” Jane murmured. Jay saw her eyes shift to where Katie stood, then look back at him in expectation. He held out his hand to Katie and drew her forward.
“Mother, this is Katie Scott. And Katie, this is my mother.”
To Jay’s complete amazement, Katie transformed before his eyes. In the blink of an eye she became the perfect socialite. Her smile was warm without being too aboveboard, her handshake gracious and feminine, and her voice, when she spoke, was smooth and well-modulated, and would have fit into any drawing room in Mayfair. “Mrs. Carey. What a pleasure to meet you at last.”
Jane appeared delighted. “Katie, dear, welcome to our home. Please do call me Jane. I'm so pleased you could come tonight.” She took Katie's arm and drew her toward the drawing room. “Your accent is lovely. Where are you from?”
Jay followed in their wake, his head spinning. Where had this incarnation of Katie been hiding? He repressed a grin when he thought of how his mother would react knowing of Katie's lack of undergarments. His amusement disappeared, however, upon catching sight of his father standing next to the fireplace. He heaved a deep sigh and pasted what he hoped was a pleasant expression on his face.
Michael Carey looked up when Jane touched his arm. He nodded briefly at his son. “Jay.”
Jay swallowed the heated words that always rose to his lips when he was forced to be in the same room with his father, and inclined his head. “Father.” He reached out and snagged a glass of champagne from a tray carried by a passing waiter.
Jane took charge of the conversation. “Michael, dear, this is Jay’s young lady, Miss Scott.”
Jay stifled a grin as Katie smiled up at Michael. He knew she was standing closer to his father than the older man wanted and found himself quite enjoying Michael’s discomfiture.
“Mr. Carey.” Katie all but purred. “I’ve so looked forward to meeting you. My employees have been singing your praises, and I'm thrilled we finally get to meet face to face.”
Micheal took the hand Katie thrust in his direction, looking lost at sea. “Your employees?”
“The employees of my company, Mackenzie-Scott.” Katie's voice was smooth as honey, and Jay couldn't help but notice his father seemed rather infatuated with her.
Comprehension dawned on Michael's face. “Mackenzie-Scott? Why, you must be Mac's daughter. I had no idea you were in London. Quite good to meet you. We were dreadfully sorry to hear about your father's passing.”
“Thank you.” Katie smiled. “Jay didn't tell me you knew Dad.”
Michael cleared his throat. “Yes, well, I wasn't aware you were acquainted with Jay.”
“Oh, yes. I've known Jay for some time. Quite well, actually.” Katie's face was as innocent as a baby's, and Jay raised his glass to his face before he could burst out laughing.
Michael glanced over at his son with the first look of approval Jay could remember in a long time. Jay resisted the urge to squirm, and raised his champagne glass in a small salute.
Appearing startled by this, Michael turned back to Katie, and threaded her arm through his. “There are some people here who knew your father, as well, and I'm sure they'd be delighted to make your acquaintance.” He drew Katie toward a knot of people near the windows, leaving Jay standing with his mother.
Jane gazed after them. “She’s absolutely delightful, Jay. How long is she visiting London?”
“She lives in London, Mum. With me.” Jay watched his mother’s face for her reaction.
“Oh. Jane's eyes grew wide. “Oh!” she repeated in a completely different tone.
Jay sighed and jerked at his coat again. He should have expected this. “I know what you’re thinking.”
“You don’t know any such thing,” Jane contradicted, looking toward Katie again.
“Oh, yes, I do. You’re thinking about flowers and gowns and veils and cathedrals. I can read you like a book.”
“Well, why ever not?” Jane fixed him with a penetrating stare. “You’re almost twenty-six years old, Jay; it’s time you settled down. She’s a lovely girl and since you’re already living together…”
“Mum.” Jay struggled to find the words, not wanting to hurt her. “It’s my life – our life – and we’ll live it the way we see fit. Alright? None of that’s in the cards and I don’t want you to get your hopes up.” He certainly didn’t want his mother mentioning anything like that to Katie, either. He was afraid she’d be on the first plane back to the States if she knew Jane was already planning their wedding in her head.
Jane lowered her eyes and fussed with the lapels of his suit coat. “My hopes are always the highest where you’re concerned, dear. I just want you to be happy.”
Jay put a finger under his mother’s chin and raised her gaze to his. “I am happy, Mum. Believe me.”
“I do.” Jane smiled. “I just hope you know what you’re doing.”
Jay watched Katie charming the friends of his parents. He heard her low, amused laughter drift across the room and his mouth quirked up at one corner in a half smile. Underwear notwithstanding, he found it hard to reconcile this poised, bejeweled creature with the wild, uninhibited girl who had scratched her nails down his back just this morning in bed. Uninhibited. That reminded him….
“Mum, changing the subject…This champagne is excellent.”
“Do you like it?” Jane held up her own glass to the light. “It is rather good. Your father managed to procure a case of it last month in Paris.”
“Would you happen to have extra? I wouldn’t mind a bottle, if you do.”
“Of course,” Jane said. “I’ll have one sent down to your car and you can take it with you tonight.”
“Thank you.” Jay looked toward Katie again. “I think I’ll enjoy it very much.”
I love the excerpts so far, both of them being new to me. I was here for a time some years back, then wandered away, as I am wont to do sometimes. I don't really recall what my very first homework was, myself, but I'm almost positive it was part of Rayne's story. I got so much positive feedback and great suggestions that I felt immediatly welcome here, like coming home.
This was a homework that was fun because it challenged me to write the same scene twice, each time from a different character's POV. They became merged into this one, with the POV being Rayne's alone, but it has become one of my favorites. Nothing like having something to hold over a sibling's head.
Excerpt from Windhorses, by Debi Matlack, copyright 2009; all rights reserved.
Rayne hummed to herself as she climbed the loft ladder to drag down some bedding for Cassie’s stall. The mare was due to foal any time and Rayne wanted everything perfect. It was Cassie’s first time and she already paced the large loose-box, her wide belly swaying, wanting to be in the fields with the rest of the mares. So Rayne found the fork hanging on the nail near the ladder and began to slide the tines along the floor, to scoop up some of the loose tufts of straw and neaten things before she speared a large bundle to toss into the aisle below.
A stifled giggle caught her ear; she paused. Aside from herself and Fiona, there were no resident females, unless you counted the mares, the barn cat and the dog. Another giggle sounded and it was answered by a deeper chuckle.
Rayne nodded, biting her lips to keep from chuckling herself. Back to work, she began to sing out loud, a silly Gypsy song about a young man caught trysting with a girl. The fork swept along the floor rhythmically, punctuating the cadence of the song and making steady progress toward the large pile of straw against the back wall. She listened as she worked; the voices had gone silent. She ended the one song, paused to listen and continued with a loud rendition of another song she had learned from the Traveling People. This one went much the same as the previous one, but was much more explicit in describing the young man’s fate at the hands of his lady love’s father. Caught by the girl’s father behind an apple tree, the affronted parent and the various tasks he made the young suitor perform as chastisement, each of them more degrading and disgusting than the last. As she worked, she moved closer to the pile, closing in; as she reached the final chorus of the song, where the young suitor had to muck the stables with his bare hands, she raised the fork high as if to plunge it into the pile of straw.
“All right Raynie-May, you’ve made your point!!” The straw erupted to reveal her brother Brion standing protectively over Mekinda Baker. Their clothes were decently fastened but both had tousled, straw-festooned hair, beyond what the stems would have done on their own. Rayne grinned at him and said nothing, only looking past him once to nod politely to Mekinda, who was quivering with laughter.
“What?!” Brion demanded, picking straw from his jerkin and stooping to pull on his boots.
“What do you mean, ‘what’?” Rayne replied innocently. “Aren’t you going to help your guest up?” She nodded toward Mekinda, who was recovered from her fit of the giggles, and was now picking the straw from her hair and bodice. Brion turned in exasperation, almost yanked the pretty blonde to her feet and turned back to Rayne. “What do you want then?”
Rayne chuckled and shrugged. “You to wash up in the kitchen all week long.”
“No!” he protested as both Rayne and Mekinda laughed. Mekinda shook her head. “It’s very nearly like him wearing a sign, don’t you think? ‘My little sister has dirt on me.’ “
“Something wrong with that?” Rayne asked.
“Yes!” cried Brion. “Angus and Da at least would want to know what I’d done for you to get me to do that.”
Rayne nodded. “He has a point,” she said to Mekinda. “Of course, I do have dirt on both of you, but it’d be an awful lot of work to go into the village, interrupt your Mam and Da in their work to tell on you. They’d never believe me, because they think you hung the moon, being their only child and all. Besides, it’s more fun to tease him.”
“I understand,” replied Mekinda. She moved closer to Rayne, ignoring the pitchfork the girl still held. “What else could he do that might be less, noticeable?”
Rayne glanced around in speculation. “He could muck the stalls, both barns.” Her gaze turned to Brion, who stood, mouth agape as the two females discussed his fate. Rayne enjoyed the expression. Even if she never got him to do a second of her chores, it was worth it to have him at her mercy right this second. The only thing that would make the situation sweeter would be if she’d caught Seamus in a compromising position instead. He teased her so much more than Brion. But he wasn’t really much interested in girls yet that Rayne could tell.
Mekinda nodded in speculation. “That’s good. Anything else?”
Rayne looked at Mekinda in surprise. For a girl that looked like she was made of rose petals and cornsilk, she had a devious mind. Rayne’s estimation of Mekinda’s character rose several notches. “As a matter of fact, there is a tackroom full of harness that needs cleaning before haying, cobwebs that need sweeping out, and a big rat that keeps chewing through the side of the feedbin. Either the bin needs improvement or the rat has to go.” Rayne turned to face her brother fully, looking him up and down. “Are you quick enough to catch a rat?”
Brion’s breath exploded from him, making Rayne laugh out loud. “I’m not a barn cat! I’ll not be your slave over a perfectly innocent—“ Mekinda cleared her throat loudly, and Rayne was amazed at the speed with which her brother altered his speech. “Well, it was fine until you showed up.”
Rayne turned to Mekinda and said. “All right, he cleans the harness,” she turned to speak directly to Brion, “cleans it well, and does something about the rat. Do we have a bargain?”
Mekinda spat into her hand and extended it toward Rayne.
This gesture too surprised her, more accustomed to seeing it in the context of horse-trading, but she quickly did the same. They shook on it and Mekinda, after wiping her hand on her skirt, extended that hand toward Brion and said, “Come along, love. You were going to show me the grove, weren’t you?”
Brion shook his head and went along with her, to leave Rayne behind, about to burst with laughter. The pair went down the ladder and Rayne could hear them walking out of the barn, Brion’s voice low and urgent. Then Mekinda’s voice drifted back up to her, “It’s been a pleasure doing business with you, Rayne.”
That was it. Rayne collapsed in the straw, hooting with laughter. By the time she caught her breath, the young couple were out of sight.
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