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Date Posted: 12:58:12 01/19/06 Thu
Author: Feathers
Subject: "Gaze" Prologue and Chapter 1
In reply to: Feathers 's message, "Gaze Chapter 2" on 12:55:31 01/19/06 Thu

"Gaze"
by Feathers
+++++

PROLOGUE...

The night air crept into her room like a gray fox, slow and cool with a hint of pine and wood smoke. She loved this time of year – the days crisp as fresh apples, and the nights perfect for snuggling. Soon the leaves would turn and the countryside would glow as if covered in live coals. But for now, it was still September – that wonderful time of expectancy and change. No longer really summer, not quite yet fall, it was an “in-between” time when one was likely to pass from one stage of life into another, possibly without even knowing it. If you thought about it, looked for it , you’d miss it. Much better to occupy oneself with other activities, and then one day look back and mark the passage with wonder and sentiment.

While each season had it’s own special mix of wonder and fury, Fall was her favorite. Even Spring, with all it’s symbolism of growth and renewal, came in second in her mind. The things she liked about Spring were the things that reminded her what she loved about fall: the warm, dry days; the cool, clear, star-filled nights; throwing open the windows after months of indoor climate control; and the subtle transition to a landscape laden with color. Then again, maybe her autumnal affinity was due to the fact that she was an October baby, and an earthy and passionate Scorpio at that.

She sat in her bed and listened to the crickets warding of the coming chill with every stroke of their tiny legs. Something was coming, she could feel it. There was a change approaching and she tingled with excitement and anticipation, trying not to wonder what it might be.

She’d had this feeling several times before - the feeling that change was imminent - but she had learned early that to hope for something specific would disappoint every time. Instead, she tried not to think about it, went about her business each day, and spent each night looking back in quiet reflection to see if she could find any clues to point toward the change. She had decided long ago that to look forward was too risky, too dangerous, and too full of unmet expectations.
++++++++++

Chapter 1 ...

It wasn't necessarily a hot day, but it felt like a thousand degrees as I walked along that country road, dusted dry as talcum powder after a rainless month, the sun at my back and miles to go. I must have looked a fright with my shirt sleeve torn, my jeans muddy and that infernal dust adhering to every inch of exposed sweaty skin. I won't even think about my hair, which had actually started out in fairly decent shape this morning. Until Bobby lost his head. Damn him. So now I was walking.

I saw the dust trail rising over the far hill before I heard the engine. A low and rumbling V8. As the vehicle crested the hill about a mile away, I saw it was a car - one I didn't recognize, and I knew everyone in these parts, and their cars. I suddenly became nervous and felt as if I had no escape, as if something I didn’t want to face was bearing down on me. I wondered if I should turn and try to run for the tree-line behind me and hide near the creek I had just waded through. Or maybe I should hop that fence to my right in unladylike fashion and run for the farmhouse, but the people there hated Bobby and so they hated me. They would not help me. I barely had time to decide before the car was very close, driving much faster than I had realized at first.

I stood frozen on the spot as the car approached, hoping and praying that it wouldn't stop but just keep going and forget about me, sweaty, dirty and tattered by the side of a long and dusty country road. No such luck. With twenty yards to go before passing me, the driver hit the brakes, sending gravel flying and more dust billowing around me. Great. Just what I needed. But as he slowed past me, I saw a flash of blue so incredible my heart skipped a beat.

I turned to look at him and he leaned out the window to look back at me. Concern and curiosity was etched on his face. He put it in reverse and backed up through the settling dust until he was right next to me.

"You okay?" he asked. His voice was soft and gentle, with a lilt that I'd never heard before. I tried to place his face, tried to sort through my mental files to see if I knew him, and something told me I should know him, but I was suddenly mesmerized by his eyes. It was the flash of blue I had seen just seconds ago. Clearer and brighter than the crystal sky above, yet kinder and gentler than the sun that caked the dust and singed my nose.

"Yeah," I said after a moment's hesitation. "Yeah, I'll be fine, thanks."

"Need a ride?" There it was again, that strange lilt that turned "ride" into "royde". Who was he?

"I wouldn't want to keep you, and I'm filthy." I hesitated again. I didn't know him at all, and he wasn't from around here. Although, I reasoned wryly, Bobby was from around here and he'd done me no favors this morning.

"Are you sure? You look like you could use some help."

"I could use a shotgun, if you've got one." I didn't want a stranger's help at the moment, it was far too embarrassing after what happened with Bobby.

He laughed at my sarcasm, and it floated toward me like a song. In that instant, I was drawn to him, and for some crazy reason wondered if he could sing as beautifully as he laughed, and would it sound as wonderful as those blue eyes looked.

"C'mon, hop in," he said. "I'll take you wherever you're going."

It was then I noticed his car. It was long and low and black, old enough to be an antique, but not old enough to look like one. I could tell it was well cared for.

"I'm sure this mud and gunk would ruin your car," I hedged.

He laughed again. "She's not mine. I'm just joyriding. Let me give you a lift."

I couldn't stop looking in those calm, thoughtful, intensely blue eyes. I knew it could be dangerous to take a ride with a stranger, but after Bobby's rough-housing this morning, I was ashamed to admit that I was desperate. "Okay," I said, and began to head for the passenger door. He gave me a quick smile then leaned across the seat to unlock the other door. I watched him warily as I slowly made my way around the long hood of the car. I don’t know why I expected something else, but he was just sitting there, waiting for me to get in.

>>His pose was that of a man who was expecting something – or someone. Though he was the proverbial “stranger in the black sedan,” the piercing look in his eyes was not one of menace, but danger of another sort. As I walked along the front of the car, his eyes seemed to follow me with intent. His elbow resting on the back of the long bench seat with his forearm hanging down at a lazy angle seemed to beckon me to his side, but in no obvious way. He was too cool for that. And yet, he was holding the spot and holding his gaze directly on me. <<

I slid carefully onto the seat, kicking my boots on the running board before placing them gingerly on the floor mat.

"Really, you don't have to worry about the dirt," he said as he shifted the car into drive. "I have to clean her up before I return her in the morning anyway."

"I'm sorry to make your task more difficult."

He glanced toward me, that look of concern crossing his face again, but he didn't say anything for a long moment. Finally he asked, "Where to?"

"Just back to town, to Darryl's General Store. I can get a ride home from there."

He made a sweeping u-turn on the dusty road, kicking up more dust that wafted through the windows. He seemed totally unfazed by the dry and choking silt, and almost seemed to enjoy it as if he'd never experienced it before. Again I wondered who and what he was.

"I can take you home if you like." His offer was calm and reasonable, without a hint of suggestion or innuendo, but there was no way I could accept. Not after Bobby's antics. I didn't need to hear Randi and Loni’s tut-tutting, or Mama’s lecture. Much better to hide out at Darryl's until suppertime. Darryl was the only one who understood about me and Bobby, because he was the one that had matched me up with that hard-headed mustang in the first place.

"No," I said. "Just take me to Darryl's. It’s closer."

"Okay." He accelerated to highway speed again now that he had his mission.

Without looking at me he asked in that calm, lilting voice of his, "Who are you so angry at?"

"Bobby," I spat.

"What did he do to you? Is he the reason you're . . . in this predicament?"

"Yes. He's an ass. A total ass."

"Should I call the police? I've got a cell in my pocket."

"Ha!" I snorted. "Animal control might be more appropriate for him."

"Bobby sounds like a pretty rotten guy. You’re not married to him, are you?”

I laughed out loud and it felt really good.

“No, I’m not married to Bobby. He’s my horse. I was showing off for some skeptical friends in my ring this morning and he bolted, jumped the fence, galloped a few miles, dashed through the woods, bucked me into a bush and ran off.”

The startled expression on his face was priceless, and I laughed again. Then he started laughing, too.

“Well, then, I suppose Bobby and I have something in common.” The impish smile was irresistible.

“How so,” I asked.

“I was showing off for some nosy reporters this morning and they asked me a question I didn’t want to answer, so cussed them out, I bolted out of the hotel, and went galloping off in my friend’s car without asking.”

I laughed again. “Yep, you and Bobby are kindred spirits.”

“But did Bobby stop to pick you up when you needed a lift?”

I grinned at him, and he smiled back. It was the smile of someone who really enjoyed life and who he was. I was no longer anxious about accepting a ride from this stranger – if he could still be called a stranger.

I grabbed his arm. “Stop the car and turn around.” I didn’t mean for it to sound like a command, but it did.

“What?” His foot slammed the brake, the dust flew again, and he stared at me, incredulous. I couldn’t help noticing the muscles clenching under his jeans as he held the pedal to the floor, or in his arm where I was still grasping it.

“Why don’t you take me home after all,” I said, softening my sudden change of course and reluctantly removing my hand from his arm. I didn’t want to scare him or he might leave me on the side of the road again, and there was no way I was going to let this azure-eyed creature out of my sight until I learned more about him.

“Mama’ll have lunch ready by now,” I added. “And even rebels need to eat.”

“What about your skeptical friends?”

“Oh, they’ll be gone by now, laughing their heads off all the way. But it might distract Mama from her lecture if I show back up with a handsome stranger.”

“Sounds like a plan.” He didn’t disagree with my conclusion about his looks, and in fact his smile became sly and seductive. I felt the warmth rising in my cheeks and was thankful for the protective layer of dust.

“I’ll bet you can’t wait to get into the shower,” he commented as he returned his gaze to the road ahead. It was just a conversation starter, but it also seemed intended to let me know he was thinking about me in a way that did not include layers of Tennessee sediment, and maybe included only soap bubbles.

“Oh, yeah,” I said, trying to stay calm. “That’s the first order of business when I get back.”

“What about Bobby?”

“He’ll be back already by now, the jackass,” I griped. “Munching innocently on his hay bale and acting like nothing happened.”

He laughed again. “Sounds like you and your horse have a special bond.” His dry humor laced with that delightful accent, was perfect and reminded me of the British comedies I’d watched on PBS. I wondered what a Brit was doing running away from the press in central Tennessee.

“Bobby and I are soul-mates, actually.” I decided to match him wit for wit. “Yes, I’ve decided that we were married in a former life, but he came back as a horse with a stupid streak so I guess he messed up his Karma somehow back then.”

He laughed again. If I could keep his soul-filling laughter coming, I think I’d be in heaven forever. If that laughter ever turned into song, I might just die on the spot. Should I try to keep this “stranger in the black sedan”? Would Mama believe me if I said he’d just followed me home? Or would I try to follow him back to where he came from – wherever that was?

We rode in silence for a few miles, except for when I had to tell him where to turn. As we neared my house, I remembered my manners.

“I’m sorry, kind sir,” I intoned in my most genteel southern voice, “I’ve forgotten to introduce myself. Mama would never forgive me for not knowing your name before bringing you into her kitchen.” I gave him my full name and extended my hand, and he reached over to shake it politely.

He gave me only his first name, saying he’d rather not have too many people know about his bad behavior at the press conference that morning. “I’ll be out of your hair after lunch anyway,” he added with a shrug.

“Hmmm, I think the only think about this morning that I want out of my hair is this collection of kindling and fill dirt that I picked up on my wild ride with Bobby.”

He didn’t say anything, but there was a sly and thoughtful curl to the corner of his mouth, and a fresh sparkle in his eye. As we pulled to a stop on the gravel, I watched him casually turn off the car and climb out with a smooth and easy motion. He turned and leaned his arms on the roof of the car and smiled across at me.

“What?” I asked impatiently, wondering why he was grinning like a Cheshire cat.

“Oh, I just wanted to tell you, you look good in that dirt.”

It wasn’t the words that dropped my jaw, but the way he said it, almost sang it, with a certain rhythm that tickled the edges of my memory before crashing into my full consciousness. His grin never left as he turned to walk toward the house, then turned back to me, walking backward as he spoke.

“Are you going to introduce me to your mum, or do I have to introduce myself while you stand there catching flies?”

I couldn’t move, so he stopped and walked toward me around the front of the car and took my hand. Dirt and all, he brought my hand up to his lips and kissed the back of it like a perfect gentleman. Then he reached up with his other hand and touched his index finger to my chin to shut my gaping trap. I gulped, surprised by the warmth of his touch, the supple strength of his fingers, the soft smile that radiated from his eyes, now so close to mine.

“Um, yeah,” I managed. “Let’s go inside.”

He didn’t let go of my hand as we walked toward the house, and while I was still star-struck, his touch comforted and emboldened me. Grand but discarded goals and dreams rose to the surface of my mind like savory steam rising from a freshly baked pie. As tempting as they were to consider, I dismissed them for now, deciding to just enjoy each moment as it came. Maybe later I’d dust off my old plan to move to Nashville, but for now, his blue eyes gazing at me over a plate of Mama’s chicken salad would be heaven enough.

++++

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[> [> chicken salad -- kennedypratt, 19:44:24 01/19/06 Thu [1]

Got to get that recipe!


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