E-Mag Shortie: *Easter Parade* by Sherry (Shara) Jones

Easter Parade by Sherry Jones

“Hello, there. A mayor’s work is never done?”

Cade Benson squinted against the noonday sun and took in Laurel Kingston's long length. The Creative Director of WonderMart, herself.

Cade knew her type. Breeze into the small town, make a dazzling display and we’re here for you speeches before the corporate juggernaut rolled on towards the next small town that struggled to maintain a sense of community in the face of inevitable progress.

He had nothing against progress and the town could do a lot worse than WonderMart. It would serve to revitalize a stagnant economy for the area and provide jobs for many. No, he objected to the knowledge that WonderMart, for all its discount prices, would never really be part of the community.

Any more than the woman who grabbed his feelings from deep inside and made him want to settle down and raise a family would ever be part of the community, either. Women like her rarely stayed in such a small town by choice.

“Hello, Laurel. Sadie here has an issue that needs fixing.” He refocused his attention on the soapbox derby car. “These nuts need tightened because you don’t want to lose a wheel when you come screaming down Widowmaker Hill toward the finish line,” he explained to the little girl who stared in awe at him with a dirty, upturned face.

“I wouldn’t wanna to crash,” Sadie agreed solemnly. “This lady here said that we would get our pictures in the newspaper.”

“Well, I’ll bring the City Hall camera to take your picture, because I’m sure Ms. Kinston will be too busy ushering the corporate bigwigs around.”

“Why do your friends wear big wigs? Is it for Easter? Cuz my mama said that Brookdale used to have an Easter Parade and everybody would wear big hats and stuff. We don’t do that anymore.”

“Would you like to have the Easter Parade again? It sounds like fun.” Laurel knelt down to the little girl’s eye level. It also put her on Cade’s level as well. He could see the natural honey-gold streaks in her hair and just catch a whiff of her delicate perfume.

“I would wear a big hat with big paper flowers on it.” Sadie stretched out her arms to illustrate, which caused Laurel to overbalance.

“I think I'd like that, too,” Laurel told Sadie and favored Cade with a smile as he helped her upright.

“Maybe WonderMart would like to lead the parade,” Cade said in derision.

Laurel waved to Sadie’s mother who followed behind as the little girl navigated down the street towards home. “What a cynical attitude you have.” She tilted her head as looked at him.

Cade stood slowly, wiped his hands on the bandana that hung like a flag from the back pocket of his jeans. “I had no idea that WonderMart was the corporation with a heart. Does the WonderMart CEO plan to man a scooper at our next ice cream social?”

“Well, not the CEO of WonderMart, Mr. Mayor, but others will certainly participate.” Laurel looked away to return a greeting from the local realtor.

“You’d come from the city to scoop ice cream,” he snorted in disbelief. “Did Bob McCann just ask you to sign some lease papers?”

Laurel’s smile slid beautifully over her face. “I have to go. I have a proposition to discuss with you, if you can schedule me some time,” she called over her shoulder as she hurried towards the realty office.

Cade made up his mind in an instant. “Meet me at five o’clock in the town square by the flower garden.” He watched as she gave a flutter of her long, slender fingers in reply.
* * * *

Laurel hung up the phone and pumped her fist in silent exultation. “It’s perfect, if I do say so myself,” she crowed as she did a little victory dance. “Now to meet Cade and convince him.”

During the walk from her room at the local bed & breakfast, to her destination at the town center garden, she'd stop, stare and just breathe. Everything in the little town of Brookdale exuded Norman Rockwell type nostalgia. She certainly didn’t want to diminish that aspect.

She’d dealt with her share of objectors who balked at having a WonderMart settle into their town. It was never a good thing if the mayor led the opposition. She hoped that her proposition might curb his reticence.

Laurel reached the gardens, eager to meet Cade. Such a cruel irony that he who also happened to be the one man that made her heart thrum like a host of hummingbirds with beating wings. He never needed to know that sensation had figured into her recent life changes.

“I brought dinner.” Cade waved a white paper sack from a local meat market that specialized in slow cooked barbeque. “You can tell me about your proposal while we eat.” Cade placed a protective hand against her lower back as they navigated over an uneven place in the aged sidewalk towards a quaint gazebo.

“WonderMart has agreed to sponsor the Easter Parade as an annual event. I think its good business to revive a favored tradition. This will be my last official act for WonderMart.”

“The town will love the idea of reviving the parade. It’s gotten too expensive for City Hall’s coffers these past few years. You’re really quitting WonderMart?” Cade gave her a narrow-eyed stare.

“I resigned my position last week when I leased on that empty storefront on Main. I belong here. I can feel it. I’m putting down roots, so deal with it, Mr. Mayor.”
Hours passed as they enjoyed the sunshine that faded into a starlit evening while they shared their dreams.

“Well, Madame Shopkeeper, might I offer my escort for the upcoming Easter Parade?”
“I would be delighted to accept, Mr. Mayor. Do you favor Easter bonnets with large paper flowers?”

“Not for myself, especially, but I’d favor a certain lady under such a bonnet. Shall we seal the deal with a kiss?”

Two silhouettes blended in lengthened shadows across the sidewalk under a glowing moon.

The town would later declare the Mayor’s engagement had made it their best Easter Parade ever.

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UE E-Mag Free Short Online Read: *Heart to Heart* by Judy Jarvie

Heart To Heart
by Judy Jarvie

“MISTAKE!”

I’m screaming in my head. Because being here is one.

“Is everything acceptable for Madam?” Sergio enquires.

He’s the waiter. He’s just led me over to a table with the biggest foil, heart-shaped helium balloon this side of Las Vegas. And my heart has dived like an Olympic swimmer in the front crawl of despair.

I look at Sergio. It’s Valentine's night and this is the best Spanish restaurant in town. What else did I expect? Understated seclusion?

“Senora?” he repeats, his face mirroring my confusion. “A drink while you are waiting?”

Right now I’d be happy if he brought me several cases of anything. Then I rethink and make it a mineral water. I need all my brain cells intact tonight.

Little does Sergio realise the raging mess I am inside, covered up by the cream suit. The suit, like the idea of coming here on Valentine's night, was not my finest hour.

Sergio wields the ‘Tapas Fiesta’ menus. “Perhaps Madam wishes for a different table?” He must have seen my face fall at the awfulness of his table décor. Even the napkins are foil and heart embellished.

I’m about to have our biggest heart-to-heart in years but I’ve picked the most ludicrous setting possible. Sweetheart hell.

“It’s fine.”

Moments later I’m by the window, watching the milling traffic as thoughts crowd in.
Why have I been burying my head in the sand?

Then a strange tinkling sound draws my attention. It’s my mobile phone’s muffled tune inside my bag.

“Hello?”

“Where’s my velvet top. You ironed it didn’t you, Mum?” It’s my daughter, Becky, clearly involved in affairs of high fashion pre-date.

I sigh at the familiarity of the scene. Same old Mum duties. I often wonder if I should be buried with my turbo steam jet iron beside me. A token of my long-service to neat laundry.

“When did I ever not conquer the towering Kilimanjaro of the Hamilton family ironing? Have crumpled clothes ever messed with your social life before?”

“So it’s ironed?”

“In the drawer. Have you checked?”

“Why do you think I’m calling?” Her snort of disdain could not be more derisory if it had just sat a derision Masters course.

We often talk to each other in questions. It’s a long established Mother-Daughter communication ritual. It minimises superfluous exchanges on the route to motherly bestowed enlightenment.

“I just can’t find it, Mum!” I can hear from the tremor in her voice that this is a catastrophe of world-congress proportions. Heaven help us if I hadn’t ironed her purple top at all!

I know how she feels. The panic is zooming around inside me too. At least I can sort out Becky’s problems with just a burst of steam.

“Check Ryan’s closet just in case.”

Sometimes being a Mum is like being a natural CEO without the salary or plaudits. “Thanks, Mum”

“Bye, Becky. Have a nice night love.” She rings off with haste.

Just then Joe comes through the door and his face says it all. Why the dickens are we here?

That’s the great thing about twenty years of marriage; expressions become transparent. He regroups before kissing me on the cheek.

“What’s an amazing woman like you doing here?” he asks. “Isn’t this all a bit neon?”

“I needed to talk. In private.”

****

“For a minute I thought you’d booked here because you’d picked a timeshare apartment.” Joe says.

I look at him blankly.

“It’s a Spanish restaurant, Jen. The brochures I got you were for Spain. So did you take a look?”

“Not exactly.”

Somehow, I’d hoped we were gaining neutral territory as opposed to clearing the way to discuss his ‘toy project’.

“I’ve had other things on my mind.”

Since Monday. Since lunchtime at work when I picked up a test. Of course, I never imagined it could be positive. Ever. I’d thought we’d jumped off the procreational merry-go-round long ago – fifteen years ago to be exact. But since then, my mind never deviated from the topic.

How could this be? How have we gone and done this all over again without trying?

“Shame. There’s some fantastic places. I fancy mainland Spain. Alan, at work, has a villa in Barcelona.”

“I really don’t care.” I say more loudly than I intended. The couples at the next three adjoining tables look up.

“Jen?” Joe whispers.

Sergio is watching us now. His Happy Valentine's heart badge is flashing as wildly as my pulse. But he doesn’t’ realise this isn’t just ‘a cosy Valentine's meal for two’. It’s a meal for three. With a third member neither of us saw coming.
Joe is staring at me hard now.

Will I even be able to cut it as a Mum twenty years on? The sleepless nights…the nappies/feeding/weaning/teething? We were supposed to be reaping the rewards of our younger days of sufferance – getting a place in Spain. Enjoying life…

“What’s eating you, Jen?”

I hold onto the edge of the tablecloth. “I did a test. We’re pregnant. And I know we did all that – having family years ago. But it’s happening.”

Joe sits back. No doubt reeling from the personal realisation that time-share won’t be a future option ever. It’ll be story-time and nursery days.

“A little kid – after so many years of trying and nothing? When we’d given up?”

I feel the moisture on my cheek, but I just can’t help it. “Ten years trying…crazy huh? You don’t mind?”

I touch my slightly swollen tummy, signalling my gratitude to the tiny new life there. Our miracle.

Joe takes my other hand. “It’s amazing news – unexpected – but wonderful. You’re a phenomenal mum. At twenty you were great. At forty you’ll be fantastic.”

And that’s why I love him. He’s my amazing man. The one I’ve underestimated because of crazy self-doubting misgivings.

“I’m overjoyed, Jen. We’re having our baby!” He passes me the ‘Hug Me Slowly’ balloon with a smile. “Who needs timeshare anyway?”

***
Judy Jarvie writes for Moonlit Romance. You can find her novel, Taking the Leap, in the 2007 catalog at the Moonlit Romance website.

UE E-Mag Free Short Online Read: *New Years' Resolutions* by Laura Hamby

~*~*~
New Years' Resolutions
by Laura Hamby

Elayna Rudyard stretched, rubbed her eyes and opened them slowly. The warmth of the sun beat in through the window. Oh, she loved winter in Southern California. Sure beat the frozen far north of Minnesota where nothing thawed until summer. Nothing could entice her to return to Norway, Minnesota.

She didn’t even own a coat any more.

She intended to keep it that way.

The phone rang. "‘Lo?"

"Lanie? You answered! Mom’s in the hospital." A sob punctuated the sentence, followed by a deep breath. Elayna’s sister continued. "Gary phoned the airline. There’s a ticket waiting for you at the counter. Keith Garrett offered to meet your plane and drive you to the hospital."

Elayna waited a moment, uncertain if Kellie had more to say. There were more important things to worry about right now than her ride. Trust her sister to send the man responsible for Elayna’s flight from Norway in the first place.

"Send him with a coat. What’s the prognosis?"

Kellie drew another shaky breath. "The doctors are still conferring. I’ll call you as soon as I know. Are you leaving right now?"

"Right after I pack, shower and dress. Half an hour."

Guilt ate at Elayna as she tossed necessities into a carry-on bag. Would it really have hurt her to have gone home for Christmas? What a way to ring in the New Year, racing home to be at her ailing mother’s bedside.

An hour later, she walked barefooted through the metal detector, after the indignity of a troll-like security guard pawing through her bag. She called her sister from the gate, and left a message.
~~~
Keith Garrett stuck out in the crowd. Blond, blue-eyed, standing at six feet, six inches, his Nordic heritage couldn’t be denied. Just as she couldn’t deny from the way her heart lurched that he still had the same effect on her. Instead of feeling like the confident, successful woman she knew herself to be, Elayna flashed back to being a gauche, insecure high school girl.

She rushed to his side. "How’s Mom?"

"She broke her leg."

"And?"

"And what?"

"I flew across the width of the country, thinking my mother hung onto life by a thread, and it’s a broken leg? Did Kellie know this when she called?"

Keith’s eyes twinkled at her. "I’d imagine so. You know Kellie’s a drama queen. Puts all others to shame."

"I’m going to kill her with my cold, bare hands," Elayna vowed. "I should turn around and get back on the next plane flying to L.A."

"If you leave now, you won’t get to strangle Kellie. Plus, your mother would love to see you. I bet she’d stop pestering you to visit if you stayed for the New Year."

"It’s New Year’s Eve today."

"Short visit. You won’t turn completely back into an icicle. Speaking of which, Kellie sent this along. Why didn’t you bring a coat?"

"Don’t have much need for this kind of Eskimo wear in sunny California."

"No, guess not. Might help thaw that inner Ice Princess of yours." Keith took her carry-on and headed for the parking garage, leaving Elayna to follow or lose him in the crowd. After that last comment she was tempted, if not for one thing. He had her bag.

"Ice Princess? That’s rich. You should hire yourself out as an automatic ice cube maker."

"May be, darlin’, but I recall a time when you possessed enough heat to thaw me into a puddle at your feet if you’d wanted to. Get in the truck."
~~~
"It’s snowing." She glared out the window, still angry at having been tricked home. Annoyed at Keith’s high-handedness.

"Does that frequently during winter."

"I’ve only been gone for two years. I know a blizzard when I see one. We’ll never make it home."

"You’re right. Good thing I got the last motel room off the interstate on my way to the airport."

"One room?"

"One. Lucky to get it, too."

"Hope you won’t freeze in your truck."

Keith laughed. "Darlin’, I have no intention of spending the blizzard in my truck while you’re toasty warm in my room. Be nice and I’ll let you inside."

Elayna snorted. "Good ol’ status quo Keith."

"Look who’s talking, girl. Still got ice around your heart."

Ouch. Direct hit. She blinked tears back, averting her face lest Keith noticed he’d hit his target. Sure, they’d ignited the sheets together. But that hadn’t stopped him from reminding her how cold-hearted he found her. The reason she’d fled. Her heart couldn’t take any more of his bitterness. She’d been unable to soothe the scars his mother had inflicted.

"Maybe the heat in L.A. thawed you a bit. Those real or crocodile tears?" Keith pulled his truck into a parking space, leaving the engine idling while he tugged Elayna around. "I’ll be."

"We’d better go inside while we can still see the motel." She pulled away from him. The lobby would be warm. They wouldn’t begrudge her space in the storm. She grabbed her bag from under the seat and jumped out, not waiting to see if Keith followed.

It wouldn’t matter to him where she spent the storm. The couch facing the TV would do very well. Ice cubes, after all, didn’t have feelings. Or hearts. Or the ability to love.

"What do you think you’re doing?" Keith stopped before her, glaring down at her as she settled herself for a long stay.

"You said the room is yours. As you can see, I’m not the only one camping—"

"Darlin’, it’s a wonder to me you’ve managed to get this far in life unscathed for all the use your brain gets."

Elayna gasped when Keith tossed her bag over his shoulder and grabbed her by the hand, yanking her to her feet. "You can’t do that."

"I just did. Hush now, girl. You’re making a scene when there are much better things you could be doing with your time."

"Such as?"

Keith’s expression changed from irritated to mischievously sensual. "Like remembering what fun being snowed in can be, with the right person."

"I don’t see any such critter here." Elayna glanced around, exaggerating her efforts. Keith’s low laugh informed her he wasn’t falling for her shenanigans. She made the mistake of looking at him. Bad Elayna. She’d seen that look in his eyes two years ago— like he loved her.

Then he’d broken her heart.

"Don’t run away from me again, Elayna. I can’t take another rejection. There are worse ways to bring in the New Year." His voice cracked emotionally.

Heaven above knew that something was missing from her new life in L.A. He stood beside her now, watching her with an intensity that should’ve scared her—had scared her in the past—but didn’t now.

"Let’s ring in 2008, shall we?"

Keith answered her with a toe-curling kiss.

~The End~
Copyright 2008 by Laura Hamby

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