Our Hearts Entwined
Our Hearts Entwined
Lilliana Anderson
Dedication
To Logan, who wants the world for all of us.
“God hath given you one face, and you make yourself another.”
-
William Shakespeare, Hamlet.
I was taking my self-imposed week off, after writing A Beautiful Forever’s first draft and my husband asked me what I was planning on writing next. I told him about a story idea I had and that in turn sparked his mind. He said – ‘How about you write something like…’ and from the point the ideas flowed and we have spent a wonderful couple of months talking to each other over
Alter
’s plot points.
I have had a wonderful team of helpers this time around and I really feel like this book has the strongest storyline out of anything I’ve written so far.
Hopefully, my readers will agree on this one too. I have to admit I’m really nervous about releasing this one, it’s a little different to my normal stuff. It could be an absolute flop, or it could be really well received. Only time will tell, but until those first reviews start coming in, I’m going to be existing with butterflies in my stomach!
First and foremost I must thank all of the Beta and
Advanced
reviewers who agreed to look over this book.
Marion Archer of
www.makingmanuscripts.com
– you were amazing. Your ability to ask questions and force me to see what my manuscript needed was second to none. I think you should call yourself a ‘muse for hire’!
Mary – who was my constant sounding board during my re-writes. I harass the crap out of you every time I write a book, but you are so patient and so honest with me, that I can’t help but love you – even when you say you don’t like it at first. I’m glad that in the end you were happy!
Celsey, Betchy, Anna, Candice, Devon, Joy and Retha – Thank you so much for your opinions, your corrections and your encouragements. It amazed me that we all picked up different errors to each other in the final read through. I feel confident that together – we found most of them! Without all of you behind me, letting me know how much you enjoyed the story – I would be a nervous wreck right now. Thank you, thank you! I hope you’ll all be happy to sign on for the beta reading experience next time around too!
To my early reviewers – Isabel, Rachel, April, Jodi, Loren, Morganalisis, Morexette, Jessica, Robyn, Alyssa, Crystal and Nancy – Thank you so much for agreeing to read and review!
Whether, you loved it, hated it, or just couldn’t find the time to read it – I still greatly appreciate the support you gave me, no matter how small.
I also want to thank my family, especially my husband for supporting me while I write. My husband listened to my ideas and gave me great story suggestions, and held my hand while I bit my fingernails nervously while I waited for beta responses and reviews to come back.
The very last thank you is to you, the person reading right now – you are the whole entire reason that I have worked so hard to create this book. Enjoy.
Please Note: Written in Australian English - The book you are about to read features the use of sign language at times. When the characters are conversing only in sign the speech is in italics and when they are using their voice as well as signing, the speech is in italics marked with speech marks.
“What time is it?” Eric Dundas asked his long-time girlfriend, Mia Smyth as he stretched his arms above his head on a lazy Sunday afternoon.
Gently closing the book over a finger to mark her place, Mia leaned over to the side table and pressed the home button on her phone. “Almost four,” she replied, as she picked up the metal butterfly bookmark Eric had given her for her last birthday and hooked it over the spine of the book. Eric stood and stretched. She watched him, placing her book on the couch beside her. “You heading home?” she asked.
“Yep,” Eric said with a slight yawn as he switched off the television he’d been watching a football game on, and placed the remote on the side table. “Oh, before I go, you’ll have your period next weekend won’t you?” he asked, moving to collect his things after spending the weekend at her flat.
“I find it very disturbing that you know my menstrual cycle so well,” Mia replied with a laugh, standing and stretching herself so she could walk him out.
“I plan my social calendar around it,” he told her, the corner of one side of his mouth quirking up and causing his cheek to crease in an almost dimple, his golden stubble shining in the light that streamed through the window as it touched his tan skin.
“You’re funny, and to answer your question, yes. I will have my period next weekend – but I still expect to see you at least once. Preferably Saturday before your football game so you won’t be drunk or hung over,” she insisted.
“Done,” he said smiling and leaning down to kiss her on the cheek before stepping outside.
Smiling, Mia leaned against the door to close it, sighing happily as she wandered over to her small kitchen where she flicked the kettle on to make a cup of coffee in preparation for the work she had ahead of her.
As much as Mia loved Eric, she was always happy when he went home on Sunday afternoons so she could work on her lesson plans for the week ahead in peace. They had been together for a little more than five years, and the routine they had going worked well for both of them.
They had spoken of one day moving in together and perhaps marrying before they started a family, but while they were still in their early 20s, neither felt entirely ready to settle down.
Flicking on the radio, Mia smiled as she heard Florence and the Machine’s
Only if for a Night
, she had a deep-seated love for Indie rock and hummed along as she carried her freshly made coffee to the table where her work was waiting for her.
Mia taught a small group of deaf teens at a special needs school in Melbourne’s Eastern suburbs, becoming fluent in Australian sign language when she was a teen after her best friend, Louise, had developed a severe case of chicken pox that resulted in her losing the vast majority of her hearing.
Mia adored her work and genuinely enjoyed watching the camaraderie between her students as they immersed themselves in the one place where they were fully accepted. Their class mates were just like them and could understand their language. Lip reading was hard, so being able to sign freely
and
be understood was a blessing for all of them.
She carried her coffee over to her round 70s styled dining table. It was the dining table she had sat at as a child, with its white and black flecked laminate top, and its aluminium legs and edging. She also still had the same orange-brown faux leather chairs that stuck to the backs of her legs in summer and let out a whoosh of air every time someone sat on them. The setting had seen better days, but she loved it as it reminded her of simpler times.
Taking her first blissful sip of the bittersweet liquid, she started to arrange her paperwork around her, opening her laptop and waiting for it to power up as she checked her diary for the schedule she was to follow that week.
First thing Monday morning, she had a meeting between the principal and a fairly new family at the school who were bringing their son’s psychiatrist with them as well. He was only seventeen and had lost most of his hearing in a car accident six months before. He was being very resistant to learning Auslan well enough to fully participate in the deaf community – preferring to rely on the tiny bit of hearing he had left or not listen at all.
Mia sighed as she looked over the notes she'd been making about her observations of the boy, Corey Blackburn. While dealing with his frustration, he had been very disruptive in class and other times, he spent the lesson looking out the window, not participating at all. Although, she did see more involvement from him when he was in her art class - he seemed to enjoy working with charcoal and oil pastels. She was hoping that they could somehow use art as a way to reach him. She anticipated that they would come up with some sort of plan at their meeting. She hated seeing one of her students so miserable.
***
As Mia walked up the path towards the school early the next morning, she was surprised when she saw one of her students arriving at the same time as her.
Waving first, she signed a greeting to her student, Callie, a sixteen year old girl who had been deaf since birth and was one of Mia’s more enthusiastic pupils.
Why are you here so early?
Mia asked in sign.
My mum had the early shift today, so I’m going to work on my homework in the library until class starts,
she said, falling into step next to Mia as they entered the school’s front gates.
Standing just outside the administration building were Corey, his parents and a striking man, with neatly styled jet-black hair, wearing a charcoal suit and a pale blue shirt, who, Mia assumed, was the psychiatrist.
Mia greeted them all warmly, shaking their hands in turn. When the psychiatrist took her hand, her breath caught, the simple touch sending a warmth up her arm that both confused and elated her.
“Cayd Donnelly,” he stated, his voice a soft rumble that seemed to curl through her body via her ears. He smiled at her, their hands staying connected for longer than was normal in a professional setting as his thumb moved over the back of her hand in an absent-minded caress.
As if suddenly realising what he was doing, Dr. Donnelly gave Mia a short nod before he released her hand and stepped back. The swift movement managed to dislodge his dark hair so it fell forward slightly and caught the corner of his hazel eyes, causing him to reach a graceful hand up to brush it into its rightful place.
