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Boosting the Signal

Boosting the Signal

Boosting the Signal: Purveyors and Acquirers, by James D. Macon

Kinda awesome how, if I put out a reminder call for Boosting the Signal posts, I can get some! Today I have a post to share with you from a fellow NIWA member who hasn’t been here before: James D. Macon. James released Purveyors and Acqurirers, Book 1 of his Phosphire Journeys fantasy YA series, in November of last year. His piece today gives a glimpse of the mysterious organization known as The Trade. What are their goals? And do their stated goals align with how they truly function? That’s the ticket, as the Interested Party investigating them discovers in this scene.

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Purveyors and Acquirers

Purveyors and Acquirers

Interested Party, (IP), paced in the well-appointed room waiting for his guest to arrive. A dampened fire burned in the hearth and provided an unneeded warmth. The open window allowed a view of the rising moon. The door to the chamber opened and he saw a gentleman stylishly dressed in sky blue from head to toe, and wearing a wide brimmed hat sporting a blue feather from a bird IP did not recognize, walk in. The fellow smiled broadly and closed the door behind him.

“Hello, my name is Qwen. I am a Practitioner of the Arts and member of the Trade. I assume that you are Interested Party?” Qwen gestured with the fingers of his left hand and spoke softly, Aspscon Diatail Soni Visu.

IP stepped back. “Yes, I am. Welcome Master Qwen. I appreciate your agreeing to this interview. I am curious, did you conjure just now?”

“Only a small warding to keep our visit private.” Qwen answered pleasantly. His eyes darted about the chamber before settling on IP. Qwen said to no one in particular, “Please keep a look out for me.”

IP momentarily wondered who Qwen was talking to. IP gestured toward two chairs and eased into the one nearest him. “I hope you don’t mind me asking, but tell me what you know about the Trade?”

“Well, if I go into too much detail, then I would have to kill you. Don’t worry, it would only be business.” Qwen’s smile broadened as he sat.

Startled, IP stammered, “Ah, ah, I’m sorry. I was under the impression that this would be a candid discussion.”

Qwen assumed a listening posture with his head tilted to toward his shoulder. “Oh, that’s right, he’s supposedly safe from retribution. What was the Trade Master thinking arranging this interview?”

“Perhaps we should start with you telling me more about yourself.” IP decided a subject change was in order. He could push for more information on the Trade once his subject was no longer distracted.

Qwen leaned back and crossed his legs. “Earlier I stated that I was a Practitioner. What I didn’t say is that I am also a Tzefire, a person with an affinity to the element of air.” He glanced upward. “Yes, I was about to tell him about you.” He turned back to IP. “I have been privileged to be able to associate with beings from the Terrene of Air.”

IP was starting think Qwen was a bit eccentric, or worse. “No offence, but you seem to be conversing with the space above your shoulder. It is rather distracting.”

“Lean forward please.” Qwen conjured, Praesen Adspectis. He touched IP on the forehead.

IP looked with wonder at the four creatures he saw undulating in the air above Qwen. Serpentine in shape, their supple bodies were without appendages. Heads had large oval eyes and a maw that appeared and disappeared from view. IP thought it was nice to know that Qwen wasn’t touched in the head after all. “What marvelous entities.”

“They are known in our sphere as Zephyrs, although that is not what they call themselves.” Qwen informed IP.

This is fantastic, IP thought. What a story this may turn out to be. “What is most important to you, Master Qwen?”

Qwen sat thinking for a long moment before saying, “There are a lot of wrongs being done. Some by people with good intentions. If one could right just one of them, then change for the better can happen.”

“I see.” Now was the moment to get back to the purpose of this visit, IP thought to himself. “A source told me that the Trade has begun to have dealings with children. Is this true, Master Qwen?”

“It is not what you think. There is no nefarious plot for you to dig up. The children are orphans who have been offered apprenticeships. We are only doing our part to help the underserved of Arlanda.”

“Placed in that light, you make it seem as if there is nothing needing investigation.” IP intended to look into Qwen’s claim.

Qwen leaned forward. “How would you like to interview one or more of the children? I could broach the topic with the Trade Master if you wish. Better still I suggest you discuss your concern with Matriarch Izlan at the Temple of the Ladies of Life where the children live. You could even make a donation toward the children’s education. Any amount would be appreciated.”

“I’ll get back to you on that.” IP hadn’t planned on parting with his coin and didn’t want to admit to Qwen that he wasn’t comfortable around children.

A fifth Zephyr entered the room through the open window. It flew around Qwen’s head. Qwen stood. “My apologies Master Party, but my associate has brought an important matter to my attention. We will have to reschedule. By the way, nothing we discussed leaves this chamber.” Qwen didn’t conjure. He assumed the form of a Zephyr and sped out the window accompanied by his companions.

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Boosting the Signal

Boosting the Signal: Happily Ever After, by Ruth A. Casie

It’s been a while since the last Boosting the Signal post, but one of the authors I’ve featured before reached out to me about her new release–and so I’m pleased to present to you another piece featuring romance author Ruth A. Casie. Her new book Happily Ever After dropped last week, and she’s sent me a character interview to give you all a taste of it! The character’s goal, I feel, probably dovetails rather well with Casie’s own–finding meaning as a writer. Though in Beth’s case, that meaning comes with a heaping side helping of meeting the love of her life bringing a spark to her work! Check out the interview below.

Special side note: I’m running this today rather than on Friday, as I’d asked Ruth for a revision to the piece which she kindly provided. So I’m going ahead and running this post today, in the interests of time and to still be as close to her release date as possible.

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Happily Ever After

Happily Ever After

Character Interview Questions
Beth Alexander in Ruth A. Casie’s Happily Ever After

Hi, I’m Beth Alexander, a New York Times, USA Today best-selling author. I want to thank you for inviting me to speak to you today.

How did you first meet your writer?

I met Ruth A. Casie at a book signing in a Bergen County New Jersey bookstore. We were both signing our new releases. We had a great time discussing the industry and finding out about each other. I look back on that discussion often. I knew she wrote historical fantasy, but had no idea she had branched out into contemporary romance. She was telling me about some of her concerns about changing genres. That turned out to be exactly what I did by the end of Part One of Happily Ever After.

Did you ever think that your life would end up being in a book?

Actually, no. I write books. I’m not in them. I will say that this story shows you who I am, warts and all. But I learned a lot along this journey. (A chuckle) I thought it was all about getting back on lists, but it wasn’t that at all. It was finding a writer and, more importantly a better me. It wasn’t until then that I found my true writing voice and the love of my life.

What are your favorite scenes in your book: the action, the dialog or the romance?

Oh, the dialog. The repartee between me and Jarred is priceless, especially in the library scene. We were talking about the different way men and women react to stress and sex. That’s when my goal took a turn. We spoke so openly. I realized what I lacked and how it came across in my stories. I still can’t believe how open and frank I was with Jarred, nor the low timber of his voice and his eyes. Do you mind if I have a drink of water. It’s hot in here.

What do you like to do when you are not being actively read somewhere?

I love to brainstorm new stories and think of ways to put my hero and heroine in danger. Sometime I have no idea how I’m going to get them out on the other side. That’s when they take the pen out of my hand and I’m simply their scribe. They never disappoint me.

Do you like the way the book ended?

I’m humbled by learning to love and trust myself and others. That enabled me to find my true love. Resurrecting my career was a nice secondary benefit. I wouldn’t have Ruth change a word.

What is your least favorite characteristic your writer has attributed to you?

I had been snarky on a social media chat that went viral. My fan base abandoned me. Let’s just say my reaction wasn’t pretty, nor something I want to remember.

What do you wear when you go to sleep?

Hmmm, nothing.

What is your most prized possession?

My Jimmy Choos!

What do you like most about where you live?

I live in Havenport, Rhode Island, a small town on the coast. It’s very similar to Newport. I’ve lived here all my life. My parents have retired to Florida and gave the house to me, my two brothers and my sister as a vacation home. Vacations became only Christmas. So I bought my brothers and sister out and now live there year round. They still invade for Christmas which suites me just fine.

What’s your favorite thing to do on a rainy fall Sunday?

If Jarred is home and not giving lectures in New York City, he’s glued to the television watching a game and I’m right there next to him. When he’s away is like to catch up on my reading.

Thank you so much for having me today. I had a great time speaking with you. I hope your readers enjoy Ruth A. Casie’s Happily Ever After.

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Boosting the Signal

Boosting the Signal: Heating It Up, by Elizabeth Harmon

I owe Elizabeth Harmon a big ol’ public apology–because I had her booked on Boosting the Signal LAST WEEK, not THIS WEEK, and I completely flipped her date with Ruth Casie. So I missed the window to tell you all about the giveaway Elizabeth was running for her latest novella release! AUGH! Sorry Elizabeth! Also apologies to Ruth, since I posted her too early as well.

BUT ANYWAY. Elizabeth has been here before, with Turning It On and Getting It Back. Her latest release is in this same series: the novella Heating It Up.

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Heating It Up

Heating It Up

From Elizabeth:

It’s great to be back on Boosting The Signal, to talk about Heating It Up: A Red Hot Russians Novella, the newest release in my Red Hot Russians series.

Heating It Up began with its setting, Amity Bay, a soon to be shuttered research station in Antarctica. I’ve always found the icy continent fascinating, but I’d never read a romance set there. I wanted to contrast the harsh, isolated surroundings, with the cozy warmth of a small town romance, and also add an off-beat vibe, similar to one of my favorite 1990s TV series, Northern Exposure.

Heating It Up’s Red Hot Russian hero is rugged Alexei Zaikov, Amity Bay’s station manager. Heroine Nora Bradford is a sophisticated American fish out of water who wants to spend the long dark Antarctic winter alone and grieve the devastating losses of her fiance, and career.

But Nora has a secret, one that could devastate Alexei and doom their romance. Read on, as Nora tells her story.

Everyone has that little thing that makes them crazy. For my mother, it was swearing. All I had to do to set her off was drop the f-word into a conversation. Not that went looking for ways to antagonize her. I’ve always been a peaceful person. Miss Go Along to Get Along, who rarely make waves.

Except for that once time when I did. But more about that later.

My name is Nora Bradford and I’m 26. Most people would consider that young, but not me. The last two years have felt like ten. That’s what happens when you have a perfect, beautiful life all planned out, and then one day, everything changes.

That one day was a Friday, and I was at work, at the San Francisco offices of Quinn & Associates, one of the worlds’ top firms specializing in sustainable architecture. After finishing my master’s in architecture at Stanford, I was an associate working on a plum project. I was engaged to Blake, the love of my life, who’d gone down to Belize with friends for a weekend diving trip. Life was perfect until that phone call, telling me Blake had drowned.

Just like that, my perfect, beautiful life was gone.

All that was left was my work, designing a sustainable luxury guesthouse to replace an obsolete Antarctic research station. Blake had been especially excited about this project and pouring everything I had into Glacier Ridge Lodge was a way to hold onto him. My boss Herbert Quinn, raved about my work, and told me that when the project was finished, he’d promote me to partner.

Near the end of construction, our firm traveled down to Antarctica. The beautiful building was everything I’d imagined. Antarctica, utterly breathtaking. There was even a hunky, rugged station manager, who asked me out. And though I still couldn’t picture myself with anyone besides Blake, there was something about Alexei Zaikov that drew me.

But I kept my distance. After all, I was the lead designer on the building that was going to put him, and everyone else living at the broken-down Amity Bay station, out of work. Not a good foundation for a relationship.

And within my firm, I had a growing sense something wasn’t right. My colleague Mark Jenkins, whose contributions to the project had been minimal, suddenly became the go-to guy, while I was relegated to making coffee. I’d also become too emotionally attached to the lodge, which had become my memorial for Blake and the beautiful life we would have shared. But no matter how much you want to hang onto the past, it’s gone.

Which brings me back to that thing which sets me off everytime, and any woman working in a male-dominated field knows exactly what I mean: mansplaining.

Three nights before we were to leave Antarctica, Herbert announced that Quinn & Associates’ newest partner was Mark Jenkins, not me. When I confronted Herbert, he told me that because I was young and lacked “professional authority,” it was somehow okay to take what he’d promised me, and give it to someone else who’d done less, but deserved it more, thanks to his all-important “professional authority.”

Profound grief and too much New Zealand Shiraz can really mess with your judgement. Herbert’s mansplain triggered an ugly tirade that would have horrified my poor mother. He survived it, but my career didn’t. Unemployed and alone, there was only one place I wanted to be. It took some devious finagling, but I found a way to stay behind at the now-deserted Glacier Ridge Lodge, the only place where life still makes sense.

Spending the winter alone in Antarctica…what could possibly go wrong?

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Boosting the Signal

Boosting the Signal: The Highlander’s English Woman, by Ruth A. Casie

It’s been a while since I had a Boosting the Signal post to share with y’all! But my Here Be Magic compatriot Ruth A. Casie approached me about sending me a piece, and my door’s always open for my HBM crowd. Ruth’s been here before, y’all may recall, with The Guardian’s Witch. Now she’s back with another historical romance in the same series, and another character interview! And I’ll say about this one what I did about the previous: I do rather like that cover! Also, I do really rather like the NPR-ish flavor of this piece. Check it out.

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The Highlander's English Woman

The Highlander’s English Woman

The Inside Scoop
Interview with Lord Bryce Mitchell

Welcome to The Inside Scoop, Radio Transcripts of Guest Interviews. My name is Justin Case, host and executive producer of The Inside Scoop, where we interview the characters in the stories created by author Ruth A. Casie.

This was the fourth interview of characters in The Stelton Legacy series and took place in front of a live audience. I ask everyone to sit back and imagine sitting in a comfortable chair and talking with my guests. I hope my interview is informative and thought provoking and that you enjoy reading them as much as I had conducting them.

If these interviews spur questions of your own, contact me via Ms. Casie at Ruth@RuthACasie.com. She and I will work together to get you answers.

Previously Recorded

Justin Case: Thank you for joining me today at The Inside Scoop. I’m your host and moderator, Justin Case. We’re about to interview Lord Bryce Mitchell of Ravencroft, the neighboring estate to the Reynolds family of Glen Kirk Castle. To clarify, both domains are on the English side of the Scottish border. Through Lord Bryce’s service to the king, he is also a close friend of Lord Alex Stelton, the guardian of Glen Kirk Castle.

Lord Bryce makes appearances in The Guardian’s Witch, The Maxwell Ghost and The Highlander’s English Woman. You can see he’s an integral part of the Stelton Legacy story. Ah, I see him approaching now.

You can’t miss the man, always dressed in black, holding his signature black leather gloves. He has a shot of black hair and a well-trimmed beard. He walks with a commanding air that I suspect has served him well in court. He certainly looks the part of the black knight. Intimidation has served him well. He’s been battled trained through his youth alongside his neighbor and close friend, Richard Reynolds and cheered on by Richard’s sister, Laura.

(Sound of footsteps approaching)

Justin Case: Good afternoon, my Lord. I’m so glad you could join us today.

Lord Bryce: Case. (A slight nod of acceptance as he sits) Many thanks for the invitation. (He looks at the tankard by his chair)

Justin Case: I secured it from Glen Kirk Castle. (He motions toward the tankard) I understand it’s your favorite brew.

Lord Bryce: (A smile breaks his set expression) Glen Kirk is renowned for its fine ale. It’s even prized by the king.

Justin Case: I understand the Mitchell and Reynolds families have been neighbors for quite some time.

Lord Bryce: My family has held Ravencroft and the Reynolds have held Glen Kirk Castle for centuries.

Justin Case: (Flipping through notes) My sources tell me you have been fond of Lady Laura Reynolds for some time.

Lord Bryce: (His steely eyes take on a dangerous glint. Justin Case mops his brow.) It was a political strategy, I assure you. It’s the thirteenth century. Combining our houses would have ensured the safety and longevity of the castle, besides I’m sure it would please the king to have an Englishman hold the castle and not a Scottish sympathizer.

Justin Case: I understand Laura was called away to Scotland before her parents discussed your proposal with her.

Lord Bryce: Laura went with the Scottish bastard Jamie Maxwell Collins to Caerlaverock Castle to visit with her distant relations. Lord Maxwell saw an opportunity to secure Glen Kirk Castle for his family. If his nephew Jamie married Laura it would further tighten the Maxwell stronghold on both sides of the border.

Justin Case: You grew up and trained with Jamie. He was fostered to the Lord at Glen Kirk. He was—

Lord Bryce: (Bending menacingly forward toward Justin Case) I wouldn’t go there if I were you. Jamie was a filthy Scot who didn’t deserve the air he breathed.

Justin Case: I understand m’lord. That doesn’t change the fact that he married Lady Laura and that their marriage was sanctioned by the King of England himself. Not an easy thing for a Scot in the thirteenth century.

Lord Bryce: Not marrying into the family was a relief. You know the women are all witches—every last one of them. (Bryce glares at Justin Case) And you know what they do to witches.

Justin Case: Lord Bryce, surely you don’t mean—

Lord Bryce: I certainly do. As well as everyone who harbors and supports them no matter who they are or what position they hold. Do you support the arcane arts? (Bryce rhythmically slaps his gloves against his thigh)

Justin Case: I mean no disrespect, m’lord. But the healing arts which the Reynolds’ women are known for is not witchcraft.

Lord Bryce: (Stands up) You think that’s all they do? You have a lot to learn. Read the stories. It is all there, and then you tell me they’re not witches.

Justin Case: (Stands up) I will read the stories, sir. And we will meet again to discuss them. Thank you for your time.

(Retreating footsteps are heard as Lord Bryce leaves the studio)

Justin Case: (Turning toward the audience) Thank you for joining me today. I hope you enjoyed learning about Lord Bryce Mitchell and the part he plays in The Stelton Legacy.

Before you leave, I’d like to acknowledge our station and staff at WRAC for their commitment and fortitude to see this project to fruition. Many technologies had to be developed to make this happen and credit must be given where credit is deserved.

General Manager — Norma Leigh Lucid
Studio Manager — Helen Back
Maintenance Supervisors — Earl E. Bird and Ella Vada
Musical Supervisor — Kerry Oki
Electrical Engineers — Flint Sparks and Les Volt
Sound Crew — Mike Rafone and Constance Hum
Traffic Manager — Joy Rider
Legal Advisor — Sara Bellum
Researchers — Paige Turner and Rita Booke
Commissary Director — Jasmine Rice
Security Directors — Barry Cade and Anna Conda
Funded by donors Hy Price and his wonderful wife Lois Price

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Boosting the Signal

Effective immediately: Boosting the Signal coming out of hiatus

Given the political events of this week, I find myself moved to pull Boosting the Signal back out of hiatus. So, effective immediately, I am now open for submissions as outlined on the Boosting the Signal page.

I will continue to accept submissions from channels I have had open before: Carina Press authors, NIWA, the Here Be Magic crowd, authors I personally know, etc.

But moving forward, I am especially interested in submissions for progressive fiction of any stripe. If you’re a QUILTBAG author and you have some work to share, I want to hear from you.

As always, Boosting the Signal is a promotional column, not a review column. It is an opportunity for authors to get creative with putting out some hooks to interest potential readers. As such, you are not obligated to send me a copy of your work, but I will certainly not turn down free ebooks if they are offered. (I encourage you to keep print copies for reviewers, though!)

Any questions, talk to me.

Boosting the Signal

Boosting the Signal: Timeless Tales, by Various Authors

One last post to clear my Boosting the Signal queue, finally! This one comes to me from fellow Here Be Magic author Ruth A. Casie, and even though it’s May, what the hey, I’m still going to run this piece about the holiday anthology she participated in. It’s called Timeless Tales, and Ruth’s piece, “I’ll Be Home for Christmas”, features a heroine whose goal is going to be familiar to all my fellow writers: trying to resurrect her stalled-out muse. If you feel the need for a bit of wintry holiday goodness while the weather’s heating up outside, this might be just what you’re looking for.

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Timeless Moments

Timeless Moments

Roberta’s review was on my e-reader and I couldn’t believe my eyes. It was as if she’d plunged a knife in my heart then slowly twisted it throughout her review until the end when she gave the final flourish and dug in even deeper. I must have misread her comments. How could she compare my work with this JD Watson? I crushed the paper and aimed for the basket, but missed. Was her review her revenge for that shit storm on the open chat? It couldn’t be. That was three months ago.

I know. I should’ve kept my mouth shut. But no. Not me. Like so many faceless social media participants I spewed my vitriol. Except… I’m not faceless. I’m Beth Alexander, an international best-selling romance writer. People listen when I speak. My eyes slid close. I knew better.

To distance myself from the desk I gravitated to the window and pulled back the curtain. It would be a white Christmas, but the clean snow outside Havenport Inn didn’t cover anything up. Roberta’s review of SPENT ADRIFT, the latest book in my Jo Dee series was the icing on the cake.

The notebook for my next book was blank. I hadn’t been able to write a word since September. I was back here in my home town where I fell in love with writing for a family Christmas and a book sign for said rotten book at The Final Chapter Bookstore. Final Chapter. How prophetic. I slammed the curtain shut. It would have splintered into a million pieces if it had been a shutter. Tears dripped down my cheeks. Was it over? Was that funny little muse gone… forever?

The steam quickly out of me I looked into the dresser mirror. I forced a smile and blotted the tears from my cheeks. “You write romantic comedy about women, like your Jo Dee, who are strong, smart and empowered and the men, like Jo’s Detective Ryan, who deserve them. Ten books is not a fluke. Now put on those new Jimmy Choo boots and get over the bookstore and get things set up for tomorrow.”

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Boosting the Signal

Boosting the Signal: Through the Hourglass, by Various Authors

I’m continuing my series of catchup posts for Boosting the Signal, to clear my queue so that I can put the feature on soft hiatus while I THEN get caught up on my own work. Since I did three posts yesterday, I’m doing a couple more today to clear the queue, and the first of these is for the anthology Through the Hourglass. Editor Sacchi Green talked to me about how to do a post for this anthology–and the theme, lesbian historical romance, definitely fits in with my interests around here. If the words “lesbian historical romance” sound like reading catnip to you, check this excerpt from Connie Wilkins’ story “The Bridge”, won’t you?

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Through the Hourglass

Through the Hourglass

Blurb from the Editor:

Women loving women have been a fact of life for as long as love and women have existed. Who’s to say some of those sculptors of full-bodied stone or ivory goddesses weren’t women? We have always been here, in every era and every area of society, even though our stories have so seldom been told.

Fiction has its own power to deepen and intensify our perceptions and beliefs. Stories that show lesbians in well-researched historical settings, with passions fully recognizable today, rescue our past from invisibility and affirm our place through all time, past, present and future.
The stories here, set from Iceland in the 10th century to New York in the mid 20th, have been written by Ann Bannon, Jean Copeland, R.G. Emanuelle, Allison Fradkin, Patty G. Henderson, Heather Rose Jones, Lee Lynch, Megan McFerren, Cara Patterson, Aliisa Percival, Doreen Perrine, Priscilla Scott Rhoades, Susan Smith, Lexy Wealleans, Connie Wilkins, and MJ Williamz.

A portion of the proceeds for Through the Hourglass will go to these charities that directly serve LGBT senior citizens: Services & Advocacy for GLBT Elders (SAGE) and The Gay & Lesbian Association of Retiring Persons, Inc. (GLARP).

Edited by Sacchi Green and Patty G. Henderson
Published by The Liz McMullen Show Publications
November 2015

——

Upstream the river riffled over stony outcroppings, but under the bridge it ran deep and clear. Reggie leaned over the wooden railing and stared down into those amber-green depths, willing herself to see only a great speckled trout balanced in perfect stillness against the current. An ordinary Midlands English stream, all green shadow and shimmering sunlight and blue reflected sky. An ordinary fish. Yet she could not block out visions of bodies submerged in other streams throughout the ravaged countryside of France, flowing ever redder with blood until they reached the Somme. Even the songs of birds in flight, spilling over with rapture, warped in her mind into cries for help, help that could never be enough.

“Shell-shock,” the doctors might say, but it scarcely mattered what one called it. Pure, searing grief, not war itself—though war would have been enough—had breached her defenses. Grief for Vic. For herself without Vic.

By what right did England bask in such a May morning, calm and lovely, while over there artillery’s thunder still shook the fields, and men rotted in muddy trenches? How could she bear to stand idle in the midst of such peace when her place was over there, even…even with Vic gone? All the more with Vic gone.

But she must adjust, must let the peace of home heal her—not that anywhere felt like home now. Or ever could again, without Vic. If Reggie could prove herself recovered, not only from her physical injuries but those of the spirit—capable once more, clear-minded—they just might send her back to the war. An experienced ambulance driver, strong as most men, skilled at repairing motorcars and field-dressing wounded soldiers; here in pastoral England she was of no use, but over there she was desperately needed.

Reggie straightened abruptly, trying to focus on the tender green of new leaves, the glint of sunlight on the flitting gold and peacock blue of dragonflies. She shook herself like a retriever emerging from deep water.

“Don’t move!” 
The low, terse command froze her in mid shake. “There’s a nest…” The voice came from below, less peremptory now, but Reggie’s mind raced. A machine gun nest? She fought the impulse to drop to the wooden planks of the bridge. Surely not gunners, not here! A nest of wasps?

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” The speaker was almost whispering. “It’s just that swallows are nesting below you on the supports of the bridge, and I’ve been sketching them, but they get uneasy when you move so suddenly and might leave the eggs.”

A flush of fury heated Reggie’s face. Forced to the verge of panic by some silly schoolgirl! She bent over the wooden railing, an angry shout surging into her throat, and saw, first, a head of tousled light brown hair cut short about the ears. A schoolboy, then! All the worse! “WHAT do you bloody mean by—”

The artist looked up. The remainder of Reggie’s words, stifled, burned like mustard gas in her mouth.

Not a boy. Not a child at all, though she might have been taken for one if it weren’t for tiny lines at the corners of mouth and eyes, and a certain look in those eyes that spoke of a share of pain in her life; rather like what Reggie saw in her own when she was careless enough to look in a mirror. Her hair was really no shorter than Vic’s pale curls had been in France, and Reggie’s own dark thatch had been cropped a good deal shorter back then, a necessity in the filth and chaos of battlefields. She realized uneasily that it was about time she cut it again. Eight months in hospital had left it just long enough to tie back in a straggly knot, which she would have hated if she had cared in the least about appearance these days.

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