Happy Wednesday, everyone! Last week found me freaking the heck out over a hellacious car repair bill and other personal drama and I was a bit of a basket case. I didn’t even answer comments to my post – my apologies! This week has been much better, though. I’m a freelance writer of various educational projects but I’ve been getting burned out on that front lately. I’ve done a few children’s nonfiction books work for hire (my name wasn’t on them) and I so enjoyed them that I’ve really been wanting to do more – and Tuesday I was offered that chance for a new client. YAY! And this book will actually have my name on it! Amazing!! I’m jazzed.
Wednesday is the day I join K. L. Schwengel‘s band of merry writers in doling out a date-related snippet of my work in progress. Today I have 18 paragraphs from my story Whiter Pastures. Don’t worry – they’re mostly short. Florance is struggling with a load of coal when …
She had gone no more than a dozen yards when suddenly the weight in her right hand vanished.
“Let me help you with that, miss,” said a warm, strong male voice.
“Oh!” Florance squeaked in surprise. “Why thank you, sir.”
A flash of white teeth and a cheerful grin. Lively brown eyes met hers.
“My pleasure, you can be sure.”
She glanced at him as they walked. Younger than her, most probably. A foot taller at least. Thick dark hair neatly combed back around a zigzagging side part. And a face that she found utterly, completely, transformatively gorgeous in all ways. She tried to control her burgeoning excitement. He must have arrived on this morning’s ship. She would certainly have recognized him otherwise.
On the steps of the administration building he paused, looking out at the post as people scurried about hatless and in shirtsleeves. At 35° she was practically sweating herself.
He looked vaguely troubled. “I was sure it would be different here.”
“In what way, sir?”
His eyes flickered to hers, and he gave a rueful smile. “Greener.”
She didn’t understand for a moment. Out here, green was for tinned vegetables and putrefying wounds, nothing else. Then she realized what he meant.
“Glory be, not another one! No one told you that you are headed to Mason’s Point and not Mason’s Mill?”
He shook his head mournfully.
“And that Mason’s Point lay in Antarctica?”
“Australia… Antarctica. They sound a bit alike.”
No, love, she thought. They really don’t.
“If it’s any consolation, you’re not the first to have made that same mistake.”
“I’m afraid I need a bit more than consolation right now,” he said, looking rather crestfallen about the whole situation.
That’s it for this week. Join in if you like: