Carved in Stone
Carved In Stone
Book One of the
Art of Love
Serie
s
by
Donna McDonald
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Copyright 2011 by Donna McDonald
Cover by LFD Design for Authors
Edited by Toby Minton
Edition License Notice
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is coincidental.
This book contains content that may not be suitable for young readers 17 and under.
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Acknowledgements
Many thanks to my editors T Minton and K Lawson for their continued support. I appreciate your work and you.
Thanks to all teachers, principals, and other educators for what they give to our children and society in general. My daughter was a teacher before she died. My nephew is a teacher. My son-in-law is a teacher. Both my editor were teachers. I too have been a teacher. I hope this book makes you laugh because I wanted to show how human teachers are as well as being extraordinary people. Please consider this book a tiny tribute to your dedication and love.
Thanks to my nephew Derrick for calling me out on my word choices. The anatomically correct words in this novel are for you, honey. They aren’t exactly what you meant, but hey—I’m getting closer. I love that you are sharing my writing journey with me.
Thanks to all the artists and dreamers in the world. Please don’t stop. This world would be a much sadder place without you.
Chapter 1
Will Larson watched the batter bubbles burst before he flipped the current batch of pancakes. When he heard the motorcycle roar up outside, he knew Shane had finally arrived for breakfast.
“Good morning,” Will said, smiling as his youngest son came through the door sniffing the air like a hungry dog.
“Banana walnut pancakes,” Shane said on sigh, walking into the kitchen of his brother Michael’s house. “Those are still my favorite.”
Will tossed a grin in the direction of his son and then smiled when Shane walked over and dropped an affectionate kiss on his unshaven cheek. Shane looked like his blond-haired, Nordic-looking mother, but had definitely inherited his father’s size, exceeding Will’s height by several inches and the width of his shoulders even more. Will knew it would take the same quantity of pancakes he and Michael ate together just to fill the twenty-seven-year-old up, so he poured out batter to make another six.
“So how’s the graphic novel business? Has the
Winged Protector
solved any more crimes or saved any more damsels in distress lately?” Will asked companionably.
“Nah. His alter ego, Eric Benton, is mostly a monogamist. He’s still enjoying the last damsel. I did get offered a deal for action figures last week,” Shane said, going to the coffee pot and pouring himself a cup.
“Action figures? That’s cool. Was it a good deal?” Will asked, impressed that his son’s creative work was gaining popularity. He was doubly glad now that he hadn’t let Ellen discourage the boy’s comic book drawing too much.
Shane shrugged. “It’s a toy company working with my publisher. My agent said they’re offering enough to buy a small house, plus a percentage of sales over time. I guess that’s pretty good.”
Will stopped and stared. “Pretty good? That’s great, Shane.” He went back to flipping pancakes, smiling and proud.
“I like the idea of getting a house,” Shane said. “I’m tired of condo living.”
“When you get your house, maybe I can come live with you for a while. I think your brother is tired of me already,” Will said, wanting to laugh at the pained expression on Shane’s face. It would be hard for his youngest to bring home his one-nighters with his father in residence. Will was seriously tempted to do it for a while just to disrupt Shane’s habitual womanizing.
“Yeah, I am tired of you,” Michael confirmed, walking into the kitchen, stretching and scratching the six-pack abdominal muscles he worked hard to maintain. It had been harder since his father had been in his house and doing most of the cooking.
Will laughed at his oldest son’s comment about being tired of him because it was half teasing and half truth. The month he’d been living with Michael had been an interesting social adjustment for both of them, but Will had been relieved to have some company for a while, even if it was reluctant. The last year had been a lonely one for him.
When he looked at Michael now and smiled, Will had the same thought he always had that it was like looking in a mirror showing him a picture of his past. Michael had inherited Will’s muscular build but not his height, which he complained about still at thirty-four.
At five-ten, Michael was average in stature, but his wide shoulders, broad chest, and muscled arms only emphasized the passionate nature promised by his dark brown eyes and equally dark hair that hung nearly to his waist. Will’s Celtic heritage had branded his eldest hard.
“Why are you tired of me?” Will asked, grinning.
“You’ve been moping around my house, not dating, and barely working on your art. I’m sick and tired of being greeted by a giant marble penis every time I go out to the courtyard to work. Carve a damn leg or something, Dad. No matter how artistically impressive, a giant marble penis by itself is still creepy as hell,” Michael complained, making his father blush.
To soften his words, Michael laughed and patted his father on a shoulder, sniffing the pancakes with appreciation. He loved to tease him but would never really criticize his father’s art. His mother had done enough of that when she and his Dad were married.
Shane was laughing so hard at his brother’s comments that coffee was threatening to come out his nose.
“So how long has the marble penis been leading its solitary existence?” he asked, pulling a coffee cup out of a cabinet to pour Michael a cup.
“Practically since Dad sold the house and moved in here,” Michael said.
Shane laughed harder as he handed his brother the coffee.
“Thanks,” Michael said, savoring that first bracing sip. “I think Dad’s depressed, Shane.”
Though Michael was joking with his brother, there was a serious element in his tone as well. Despite his father’s amazing financial success as a sculptor, his mother had never thought his father’s art was as important as his other work. As the oldest child, Michael clearly remembered all the fights his parents had had about the time his father had spent carving. Selling the house, which was also the place his father was used to working, had been as bad as the divorce itself.
“Stop talking about me in the third person. I am in the room, not deaf, and not depressed,” Will denied, sighing over their concerns, which were way too close to his for comfort. “I just haven’t felt like carving. Throw a cover over it if it bothers you so much, Michael.”
“Maybe the state of the statue is trying to tell you something, Dad,” Shane suggested, his amused but serious gaze on his father’s face. “Maybe the marble penis isn’t the only penis leading a solitary existence. The divorce was over a year ago. Mom and Luke married a few months after it was final. You’re not even dating yet.”
Will turned off the griddle and set the mountain of pancakes in the middle of the table he’d already set for three.
“Listen, Mr. all-but-dissertation in Psychology, when you actually finish that million-dollar doctorate at Johns Hopkins, then you can analyze me and my man parts. Until then you’re just my smart-ass son. Sit and eat—both of you laughing hyenas,” Will ordered, only partially minding their amusement at his expense.
“Dad, you know Michael and I love you. At least let me give you my best dating advice,” Shane said, sliding into the nearest chair.
He heaped six pancakes on his plate and covered them with a lake of syrup before he paused and schooled his voice into the businesslike tone he had learned from the man he addressed.
“Shave your head, get an earring, and ride your bike around town. Your body is great for a man over fifty. You could be picking up the kind of women I do. Look, I got a tongue stud. You need to get one of these. Women love this kind of stuff.”
Shane stuck out his tongue to show his father, who only rolled his eyes. He heard his brother snickering around a mouthful of pancakes, but merely ignored his jealous sibling.
Will studied the tongue stud with a mixture of horror and shock.
