Shay, fourteen and queer, just got placed with her fifth foster family in three years. Of course, she’s always angry or about to be, who wouldn’t be? This latest foster family, a rabbi, an accountant, eight-year-old twins, and a big black cat offer Shay another chance at being part of a family.
Shay is the new kid at school for the third time in one year, which is bad enough, but being in eighth grade just complicates things, especially when Shay develops a crush on the cute girl who runs the art club. As much as she tries to stay above the school drama, Shay is sucked into it after she makes yet another anger-fueled bad decision that gets caught on video and goes viral. One bad decision essentially ruins her school life and a budding relationship. It jeopardizes Shay’s placement with the Morgensterns just when they’re finally getting closer.
When Shay gets an apology letter from her estranged father, recently released from prison, she realizes she needs to make a choice. Should she stay with the Morgensterns, or should she give her father another chance? Will her anger issues continue to sabotage any chance at stability?
Things that suck about being a foster kid (incomplete)
Changing schools
Being perpetually behind in school (see #1)
Not knowing the rules and breaking them anyway
Being the “outsider-est” outsider everywhere, even at home
Having to pretend to like everyone in the new family
All of the above happened to me this past year. Three times. There was more that happened to me this year. I was placed with three different foster families, went to three new schools, ran away from one super shitty caseworker (twice), met some stereotypical mean girls, and had a starring role in one viral video that ruined my life.
Things didn’t completely suck 100 percent for once in my shitty life, when, by good luck, which I never had, I met the Morgensterns. (You should know that I don’t believe in luck. I don’t know how else to explain that my placements usually suck, but this one doesn’t. I’m partially at fault for my bad placements—I have “anger issues,” according to my social worker, Rhonda the Craptastic, and I make pretty bad choices, if I’m being completely honest.)
One more thing. I almost died from the smell of bacon drifting into my room. Absolutely starving, I started down the stairs to find the bacon in my brand-new placement and tripped over a big black cat on the landing. Grabbing the railing to prevent plunging to my death, I stopped and sat with this huge cat next to me, staring at me. I tried to remember when I had eaten last—I guessed Thursday. And today was Saturday? Maybe?
I couldn’t stop thinking about the peanut butter sandwich I’d eaten under the train tracks. This was how much of an idiot I was. I could have taken the whole loaf of bread and a jar of peanut butter, but no, I packed one whole sandwich to sneak out of my last foster house. Not even an apple or anything. Idiot. (You should know that I’m not an idiot when it comes to school. I’m okay at school, when I go to school. I just “lack common sense,” according to Rhonda the Craptastic, who can rot in hell.)
Happy family sounds rose up from downstairs. That made me so angry I forgot about being hungry for, like, a minute. I wasn’t angry at the family sounds or the family. It wasn’t their fault my shitty social worker called them at midnight last night to come pick me up. I was just angry in general. I didn’t even know why. (You should also know I’m usually angry.) Sometimes, it got my attention, like now—it was there, right below my skin. Just as quickly, I only felt hungry again; the anger had slipped back beneath the surface. I heard a door open behind me.
“I hope you’re hungry. Mrs. Morgenstern always makes a nice breakfast on weekends. I hope Spock didn’t bother you. He doesn’t usually like people. He’s not as hefty as he seems. He’s under tall.” Mr. Morgenstern laughed at his own corny joke as he made his way down the stairs, stepping carefully around Spock, the huge black cat.
I remembered Mr. Morgenstern driving home. He could barely see over the steering wheel. Sitting on the stairs, I thought, He’s under tall too.
He stopped at the bottom of the stairs. Here comes the pep talk. But he simply said, “Come on in when you’re ready. I’ll save you some bacon.”
I was so hungry. So hungry. But I was sitting on the stairs in another new house. With a new family. And new rules. And eventually, new drama. Then a new new family. A burst of laughter came from the kitchen. Suddenly, I was more tired than hungry. So tired. Too tired to even be angry. I went back upstairs to the room on the third floor and crawled back into bed.
Jessie has been performing comedy in her spare time for over twenty-five years, which definitely comes in handy during the day in her job as a high school teacher. She grew up in the Poconos, in a house in the woods on a lake, with very little parental oversight. It was even more dangerous than it sounds, but it was the ’70s. Jessie is a lifelong writer, and with her first novel, she is eager to contribute to the queer YA subgenre. Jessie lives outside Philadelphia with her wife, two cats, and fantasies of days spent volunteering at goat rescues after she retires.
Giveaway
One lucky winner will receive a $50.00 NineStar Press Gift Code!
Lyric Morrison is looking to get away. After the Phoenix Coup, she wants to forget all about vampires. She decides to move to New Orleans, the perfect place for a fresh start. However, upon moving into her new apartment, Lyric meets a woman named Heather Campbell. She’s bright, she’s cheerful, and she’s dead. Heather is a ghost, and she wants Lyric to solve her murder.
Suddenly, Lyric finds herself pulled back into the world of vampires and magic by a power she didn’t know she possessed. Lyric is a medium, with the ability to communicate with the dead. As she’s drawn further into the investigation, she meets Elias—the vampire who saved her life in Phoenix, who is also the number one suspect in Heather’s untimely death.
Along the way, Lyric befriends another vampire named Lionel and Verity, a clairvoyant, both of whom have a dark secret tied to Lyric’s own past. Torn between her feelings for Elias and her promise to help Heather, Lyric is caught in a tangled web of mystery that may be her undoing.
Sweat poured down my back. My glasses fogged up from the exertion. My muscles ached, and I grunted as I pushed against the heavy box. I panted as I shoved the box up the steps, until finally it was in the apartment. I wiped my brow and exhaled, exhaustion creeping over me. “That’s the last one,” I said. No one was around to hear me. It was the last week of August, and the heat and humidity were getting to me.
I sighed, went inside, and closed and locked the door behind me. Thankfully, I’d already assembled the furniture. I stepped around the last box and collapsed, boneless, onto the bed. I winced as I was a sweaty, smelly mess and these were clean sheets.
“Good thing I got the washer,” I said. I’d technically moved in a week ago. But there was a delay in getting my boxes from Miss Sophie’s in the Bywater to my new place in the Lower Garden District. Not an easy task without a truck. Or help.
The elation I’d felt with a job well done slowly ebbed away. As I stared at the high ceiling of my new studio apartment, I reflected on how I’d ended up there. My original plan to move involved about two years of working and scrimping and saving but two things happened.
Firstly, everyone who’d been in Phoenix during the coup was given a check for damages from the government. Mine wasn’t huge, since it was just me and no one in my family died. As though a check could make up for what happened. A city taken hostage by the undead, people terrorized and killed, and the government just says, “Here, have money to help you forget about it.” Still, I wouldn’t turn down free money. And it was enough that I was able to pay down some debt. I used the rest to book a stay at a long-term rental in New Orleans and mail most of my belongings there.
The second was my job. In an effort to save money (and because the coup had been hard on everyone) we went fully remote. I was given a company laptop, headphones, and microphone and told not to come into the office anymore. When I asked if I could move and still keep my job, my supervisor discussed it with the company president. They got back to me a few days later and said it was fine.
My therapist agreed a change of scenery would be good for me, though I wouldn’t be able to see her anymore. Fifteen hundred miles was a bit far to travel for an appointment.
On our last visit, she’d asked, “Are you still having nightmares?”
I shrugged. “Sometimes.”
“And will you still go to therapy once you relocate?”
“I don’t know yet. I still have my job, and I can work from home. But my benefits may change.”
“I would recommend you look into it as soon as possible.”
“Otherwise, I might go crazier? Great.”
She gave me a sympathetic look. “Lyric, you’re not crazy. You’ve had a traumatic experience, preceded by a traumatic childhood. Trauma exacerbated by an undiagnosed neurodivergent disorder. You may be fragile, but you’re not crazy.”
“Same thing, different name.”
I was flippant because I was terrible at goodbyes. I knew despite requests to keep in touch, I wouldn’t. It always played out the same in the past. I’d call and email and make a nuisance of myself. Then I’d come to my senses and stop pestering people who wouldn’t write or call me back.
It was nice to finally have a name for my “genius syndrome” as my father called it. Autism, I was autistic. Dr. Cade said if it were still in the DSM I would have been diagnosed with Asperger’s Syndrome—as though it lightened the stigma surrounding my diagnosis. Though I’m glad I didn’t get saddled with that. After reading online that Asperger’s was a term coined by a Nazi, I was happy to leave it behind.
Dr. Cade encouraged me to alert my employers, but I chose to keep my diagnosis to myself, and I was glad I did. Otherwise, when those vampires took over Phoenix, they may have dragged me away, never to be seen again.
A constant point of contention between myself and Dr. Cade: She insisted they weren’t real vampires but “troubled people who believed they were,” I argued they were and showed her footage I found displaying their fangs and their super strength. She dismissed it as trickery. I stopped short of telling her what I’d seen with my own two eyes. I didn’t want to end up like my former boss.
“Stop,” I said aloud. I knew where my thoughts were going, and it would only upset me. I needed to focus on the joy of the situation. I was hundreds of miles away, in my new home in New Orleans.
Before the coup, I’d gone to New Orleans on vacation with a friend. I fell in love with the city straight away. I had the strangest sensation I’d been there before. The day I had to return to Phoenix was the day I decided I would go back to New Orleans in the fall. I was originally going to visit on another vacation. I ended up relocating instead.
I reached into my pocket and took out my phone. I opened Eris, my favorite chat app. I saw a message from Psyche. She wanted to know how I was.
EratoONine: Finally done.
Psychepomp: About time!
EratoONine: Yeah, sorry for the delay. The boxes were heavy, and I didn’t have any help.
Psychepomp: I thought you were going to hire movers.
EratoONine: This was cheaper.
Psychepomp: But not easier.
EratoONine: You got me.
Psychepomp: You’re going to hurt yourself.
EratoONine: I’m fine.
Psychepomp: Liar. So, what are you doing tonight?
EratoONine: I’m going to take a shower and head downtown.
Psychepomp: Ooo! Anything fun planned?
EratoONine: Not really. Walk the Quarter, get some dinner.
Psychepomp: You should go to Port of Call! They have awesome burgers, and they serve them with baked potatoes.
EratoONine: I’ll put a pin in that for another time. I’m not in the mood for beef today.
Psychepomp: Suit yourself. Take lots of pictures! I gotta go; the kids are home.
EratoONine: Give them my love. See you later.
She sent me a kiss emoji and went offline. I put the phone away and groaned as I got to my feet. I had overdone it because I just had to do everything myself. I admit it, I have difficulty asking for help. And yeah, I still managed to pull it off on my own, but at the cost of aching muscles and smelling like a dead water buffalo.
Alice was born in California in the 80s, which explains so much, really. Before becoming a writer they were in a punk band and also worked as a nurse. In their spare time they enjoy television shows about ghosts and baking as well as a wide spectrum of music. They currently live in Arizona with their collection of Funko Pops and comic book figurines. Find Alice on Facebook.
Giveaway
One lucky winner will receive a $50.00 NineStar Press Gift Code!
“Why do I get the feeling that Christopher is the type of man that would make the perfect husband for any woman and, at the same time, the perfect wife for any man?” Laura says shortly after Christopher begins his new job at the TV station. Laura’s statement would turn out to hold more truth than she could imagine. No one who meets Christopher, especially not Laura, as well as David, a gay man he meets at a party, understands what it is about him that draws them to him. They also don’t realize that Christopher is searching for something, a search complicated by their desires for him.
Excerpt
I began to question accepting Laura’s invitation when I heard the noise coming from the backyard as we approached the house. I disliked crowds, and it sounded like an immense crowd was on the other side of the gate.
People were everywhere—seated on lounge chairs scattered around the patio or at the rectangular dining table or milling about in various groups—talking loudly over the blaring music. Laura’s voice broke through the noise.
“I don’t see Peter anywhere. He might be inside. Shall we find him?”
“By all means. I would feel uncomfortable attending his party without meeting him.”
I followed Laura into the house. As we passed through the living room, my eyes fell on a few framed photos of a handsome couple on the wall.
In the kitchen, a solitary male figure was removing a tray of croissants from the oven.
“Hello, Peter.”
As he turned around, I recognized Peter as one of the men in the photos. Tall and slender, with dark hair and a mustache waxed into handlebars, there was a dapperness to him that I found pleasing.
“Hey, Laura. Lovely to see you!”
After setting the hot tray down, Peter hugged her.
“Peter, I want you to meet Christopher. He just moved here from Seattle and works with me at the station.”
“How do you do, Peter?“
Having grown used to the reaction my presence caused, I smiled patiently as Peter, unable to speak right away, shook my offered hand.
“I hope you do not mind my crashing your party. Laura assured me that you would not object to her bringing me.”
“No, of course, I don’t mind.”
The words tumbled out one on top of the other.
“Is there anything we can do to assist you?”
“No, I have it all under control, thanks. Please help yourself to the food and drinks out on the patio.”
“We will. Thanks,” Laura said, taking my arm and steering me back through the living room.
“Peter is very nice,” I commented as we stepped through the doors and headed towards the drinks table. “Can I make you something?”
“A mimosa, thanks. Yes, Peter’s a sweetie.”
We stood sipping our drinks as I scanned the crowd of mostly men, a mix of young and old, before Laura took me around, introducing me to the people she knew.
I instinctively searched their eyes for the essence of another while ignoring Laura’s scrutinizing gaze.
Laura needed to use the bathroom, so she left me standing under the large Ficus tree where we had sought shade from the sun. Within minutes of her departure, I was surrounded by a large group of people vying for my attention. Carrying on multiple conversations was challenging, but I did my best to make each person feel they had my full attention.
He caught my attention on the periphery of my vision: tall and well-built, resembling the small statue of the god Mars that sat on the table in Joseph’s shop. Our eyes met, and I felt my heart skip a beat, seeing something flash in his eyes. Smiling hopefully, I extended my hand to him.
“Hello, my name is Christopher Dunn.”
As he shook my hand, I took the opportunity to search his golden-brown eyes. My initial hope turned to disappointment, for while something was there, it was not another’s essence. Though disappointed, I was intrigued.
“Davidmartelli.”
He slurred the two names into one in his haste to get the words out.
As I gazed into his eyes, the feeling of a purpose to our meeting appeared—first Laura and now David.
“It is a pleasure to meet you, David Martelli,” I said, saying his name distinctly.
David blushed attractively, causing a twinge in my heart.
“Can I get you a drink?”
He looked so crestfallen when I held up my cup that I was tempted to down my drink and ask him for another.
“Oh, you have one.”
“I do, but I appreciate you asking.”
I gave him a smile to back up my words. It was apparent that David was struggling to find something to say, the frustration evident in his handsome features. I wanted to get him away from the people surrounding us and talk to him alone, but I did not see how I could do so without offending everyone else.
Conscious of the eyes watching us, David blushed again and backed away.
For some reason, I knew that this behavior was out of character for him. Watching him walk away, I hoped we would meet again as I wanted to discover what I saw in his eyes.
About the Author
Stephen Hardy was born in the San Francisco Bay Area but grew up in the Pacific Northwest. His career as a fashion designer took him back to San Francisco before he headed to New York City, where he met his husband of twenty years. Tiring of the hectic pace of the fashion industry, Stephen gave up his career to become a stay-at-home dad for his and his husband’s two adopted sons and a quiet life in Connecticut. Now residing in Phoenix, Arizona, and with the kids grown, Stephen returned to university, where he rediscovered his love for writing. His focus is on contemporary fiction, examining social issues regarding gender, sexuality, and relationships. Search for Complete is his first novel, and a sequel is expected in early 2024.
Originally
from the Pacific Northwest, I currently live in Phoenix, AZ with my
husband of 20 years. We met in New York City and then moved to
Connecticut where we adopted our two sons. The boys were 6 & 7
when we adopted them from the foster system and are now 20 & 22.
I began my writing career 4 years ago and Search for Complete is my
debut novel. I did try the traditional route of publishing, but my
novel is a difficult one to categorize and I decided to self-publish.
The first of a planned three book series, I have book two written
with plans to publish at the end of the year and book three is about
halfway written with plans for a summer 2024 release.
How
long have you been an author?
4
years. I began work on my first novel in the summer of 2019
What/who
inspired you to start writing?
I
was inspired to begin writing Search for Complete after a
conversation I had with some friends. A statement was made which got
me thinking and the story just flowed out of me.
Tell
us about your new release. What inspired you to write it?
As
I mention above, the inspiration came from a conversation. My husband
and I were having brunch with another couple, who are straight, and
the husband made the comment on how similar his wife and I were to
the point that he would hear me say something and think it was his
wife saying those words. Out of this came my protagonist,
Christopher, a young man in possession of both a male and female
essence. He is asexual but attracted to both men and women. Because
of who he is, Laura, the other main character says, “Why do I get
the feeling that Christopher would make the perfect husband for any
woman, and the perfect wife for any man?” And that is Christopher,
if sexual intimacy were taken out of the equation.
How
did you decide on the title?
The
title came from one of the main themes of the novel. Christopher,
though complete in essence, is searching for something that will make
his female essence have a physical presence, thereby making him
physically whole again, as his earliest ancestor, a creation of the
moon had been.
What
are you working on at present? Would you like to share a snippet?
I
am beta-reading book two in the series, entitled The Price of
Happiness, and writing book three, When the Sun and Moon Meet. Book
two continues the story of Christopher and Laura, picking up a few
months after the birth of their twins. The twins bring so much joy to
Christopher, but not to Laura, who begins to feel resentment towards
Christopher. He got everything he wanted, but she feels like she
didn’t. The story follows their journey as a couple co-parenting
twins, but more importantly, Laura’s journey of self-discovery. In
addition, I have another novel about an eighteen-year-old gay man who
is on the autism spectrum, looking for love during his first year at
college. I was inspired to write this story after watching the
Australian docu-series Love on the Spectrum.
What
is the hardest part of writing any book?
The
hardest part for me is editing out scenes I may love but which don’t
move the story along.
Are
there any genres you prefer to write, and if so, why?
I
feel it is important to write what you know. As a gay man, I write
stories that are inspired by my experiences and observations of being
gay. As such, while not all of my characters are in the LGBTQ+
community, I prefer to write in this genre. Ideally, though, I would
like to think that my writing crosses genres and would appeal to a
wider audience.
What
novels do you adore/re-read?
My
favorite novel of all time is Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice. I
love her character development and insightfulness into human
behaviors. I have been working on and off on a prequel to this novel,
told from Mr Darcy’s point of view. It is a slow process as I am
attempting to write in Austen’s vernacular.
Which
other writers do you follow?
Kyle
Scafide, who wrote Angel on My Corner.
Are
any of your characters based on you or people you know?
There
is a lot of me in Christopher, and I based the minor character of
Peter on my husband. But the others are an amalgamation of random
people I have known in the past.
Do
characters and stories just pop into your head, or do you take your
time thinking about and planning them?
I
experience both methods when writing. Search for Complete just popped
into my head and I began writing without an outline or a preconceived
outcome. The story evolved as I wrote. With the sequels, I did take
some time thinking and planning the story lines, as I had to figure
out the principal character’s journeys based on where they had been
at the conclusion of the first book.
How
often do you write? Do you have a schedule?
I
try writing every day during the week for a few hours. Weekends I
tend not to write so I can spend time with my husband. Occasionally,
I plan writing weekends where I rent an Airbnb in Flagstaff or Sedona
and get away with no distractions. I usually do this when I am
editing a first draft or struggling with the initial draft.
What
are your writing and personal goals for 2023 and beyond?
My
writing goals for the rest of this year and beyond is to publish the
second book in the series by the end of this year, publish the third
book in mid-2024 and then finish the novel about a gay teenager on
the autism spectrum looking for love during his first year of
college.
Are
you a cat person or a dog person? Tell us about your pets.
Definitely
a cat person. I grew up with them and my husband and I have three,
all siblings, two girls and a boy. They each have very different
personalities and quirks. Zen, the boy is like a dog in that he likes
to follow us around the house and greets us when we come home. Abby
is the loving one, likes to sit right next to us and cuddle. Zoe is
a bit more independent, but lets us know when she wants attention,
Her preferred spot in hanging over our shoulder and being carried
around.
If
you had access to a time machine just once, is there anything you'd
go back and change? Either on a personal level or an historical
event?
I
like my life now and am afraid of going back in time and changing
anything personally for fear of altering my life now. However, if I
could go back further in time, I would like to be part of the
Versailles Treaty committee and convince the allied forces not to
seek retribution from Germany after WWI. Had they not crippled
Germany’s economy, WWII might never have happened.
If
you could go anywhere in the world, all expenses paid, where would
you go, who would you take with you, if anyone, and why?
I
would take my husband on a round the world cruise, stopping off at
many ports to see as much of the world as possible.
Enpirion, a gifted soldier of his ancient, energy-wielding race, awakens,
alone and friendless, in a new home after a terrible ordeal that has left
him with both physical and mental scars. Placed back into active service, he
finds himself struggling to overcome what he's been through and the problems
it has left him with. Even while desperately trying to cope with his own
deep-seated issues, Piri is drawn into a far-reaching dilemma that, while on
the surface seems to be merely a fanatical human sector targeting his race,
has much further reaching consequences.
With a threat arising from a vastly different domain governed by a unique,
chaotic and conflicting energy source, the situation begins to quickly
spiral out of control and Piri finds himself having to confront issues with
his culture and loyalties, as well as fighting an internal battle with a
newly arising realization of who and what he is as he struggles to save
everything that he knows from destruction.
Book Themes:
♥
LGBT+
° Mental Health
° Depression
° Anxiety
° Self-confidence
° Interpersonal Relationships
° Contains mild sexual content
About the Author
I was formerly a fashion designer and graphic designer, creating everything
from footwear and apparel to tradeshow booths and marketing materials. From
the time I've been young, I've held an intimate love for both art and
writing. I've spent years working on The Enpirion Project, a fully
illustrated fantasy trilogy that has allowed me to merge those together and
create something special. There are currently over 700 art pieces and
counting with The Piri Project, including everything from concept work and
storyboards to illustrations and full digital paintings.
While I work in pencils, acrylics and oils, my true love and the medium I
most commonly work with is digital. I spend most of my time in Photoshop CS6
on my trusty 13" Cintiq.
I have 10 years of experience in the fashion industry and over 15 in art
and graphic design. Trained for the game industry at DigiPen Institute of
Technology, I currently freelance to the industry as well as doing private
commissions and contract graphic design work.
In
Asia, the lines blur: between body and spirit, fantasy and reality, male and
female, lust and love. Explore the erotic frontiers of the Orient in these
arousing and moving tales from an author who has made the East her home.
Citadel
of Women
When
her
lover
dumps her, just
before
a
long-planned
trip
to
Angkor
Wat,
Doa
stubbornly
decides
to
travel
alone.
The
marvelous
sights
of
the
ancient
Khmer
empire
do
little
to
heal
the
rift
in
her
heart.
Che,
the
mercurial
young
tour
guide,
senses
her
loneliness. But
how
can
two
people
from
such
different
worlds
share
a
future?
Singapore
Fling
Jason Chow is a brilliant engineer, a successful businessman and
a
bit
of
a
rebel.
He’s attracted
to
Ploy
from
the
moment
he
sets
eyes
on
her, but
he
doesn’t dare
respond
to
her
advances,
for
fear
she’ll
discover
his
secret
vice.
Ploy figuresshe’llhavetocontentherselfwiththecoldcomfortofasignedcontract—unlessthestrengthofJason’sdesireoverwhelmshisshame.
Lust in Dalat
The woman in the window seat to
my right had more flesh than I’d usually find attractive, and most of it was on
display. But she wasn’t trying to tease. She was simply at home in her own
skin.
And me? Traveling outside of the U.S. for the first time in my life, I was
nervous, inexperienced, awkward and excited. Especially excited. With Helen
next to me, who wouldn’t be?
Vows
Travel
brings
out
a
strange
recklessness
in
my
wife,
a
hunger
for
extremes
that
I
don’t see
when
we’re
in
New
York.
Now,
she
wants
us
to
seduce
the
achingly
beautiful
Buddhist
monk
we’ve
met
in
Luang
Prabang.
I
try
to
reject
her
suggestions,
to
resist
temptation.
But
I
yearn
for
his
body—and
his
serenity.
Dragon
Boat Blues
I
booked the dragon boat cruise on Ha Long Bay
figuring my disability wouldn’t be a problem on the luxurious junk. I wasn’t looking for companionship, just a bit of peace. But when Stan and Phil welcomed
me into their circle of love,
I discovered how much healing
I still needed.
Butterfly
When Lek stepped onto the stage at the Butterfly Bar and began to dance, I fell for her hard. The weekend we spent together in Bangkok was pure heaven. How could I know our love would drag me through hell?
Excerpt from Dragon Boat Blues
I
didn’t have much difficulty getting into the dinghy—just handed my cane to the
guide, sat on the pier, and eased myself down to sit with the rest of the
tourists. Boarding the wooden junk anchored out in deeper water was another
story. A ladder of planks and rope led from the open rowboat to the deck above.
To climb, I would have to put all my weight on my bad leg. I knew that wouldn’t
work.
I
balanced precariously in the dinghy, surveying the situation. Maybe this was a
bad idea after all.
“Up you come, love.” The speaker leaned over the rail of the
junk, offering a ham-sized paw. “Give us your hand.” He had a ruddy complexion
and a curly russet mop threaded with gray.
“Are you sure? I’m not exactly light.” I’d never been
petite, and since the accident, I’d put on quite a few pounds.
“No problem,” said his younger, sandy-haired companion.
“We’re used to tossing hay bales.” He shot me a friendly grin and extended his
arm in parallel with his friend’s. “Just hold on tight. That’s the way.”
I
gripped their wrists. They did the same to me. As they began to haul me upward,
the dinghy captain clamped me around the waist and lifted me off my feet. My good leg flailed, trying for a foothold on
the rungs of the ladder. It was all very awkward and embarrassing, but in a few
moments I was standing safe on the deck.
The
guide passed me my cane, then scrambled up the ladder like a monkey.
“You alright?” The burly older man shot a wry look at the
tangled rope contraption the guide was pulling over the gunwale. “Not exactly
accessible, that.”
“Thanks for your help.” My long shirt had bunched up below
my breasts. I smoothed it down over my leggings, feeling flustered and sweaty.
“Probably I should have thought about that before I booked the cruise.”
“C’mon! And miss this?” My other rescuer made a sweeping
gesture, indicating the lavishly appointed ship. “All this carved teak and
polished brass?” The crimson sails over our heads snapped in the wind as the
junk began to move. “Ha Long Bay’s supposed to be one of the wonders of the
world. We’ve been saving to take this trip for three years.”
His
enthusiasm made me feel so old. “I’m in Hanoi on business. One of my meetings
got canceled, so I had a few free days. My hotel suggested this would be a good
way to spend them.”
“You’ve got to take your chances as they come.” The stocky
fellow smiled down at me and took my elbow in a gentlemanly fashion. “Why don’t
we go up front, so we can see where we’re headed? I’m Stanley, by the way.
Stan, folks call me. And this is Phil.”
I
nodded, warmed by their friendliness despite my sour mood. “A pleasure. Lydia
Sutton. You’re from England, I gather?”
Phil
gave an energetic nod. “Dorset. Stan and me run a dairy farm now. Before,
though, I worked as an insurance clerk in London. Before we met.”
He
flashed a look of pure adoration at his companion.
Oh. I
hadn’t pegged them as gay.
Stan
saw the light dawn in my face. “We’re on our honeymoon. We always dreamed of
traveling in Asia.” He paused, peering at me with a puzzled expression. “You
look so familiar. Lydia, you say? Any chance we’ve met? Ever spend any time in
London? Or done a Brighton weekend?”
I
fought my sudden panic. No one was about to recognize me. I’d changed too much.
