Tap Dance (34 page)

He was quiet.  When his girl got on a roll, it was better to just shut up and listen.

"I'd love to move in with you and, depending on what the doctor says on Monday, I may have to quit my job.  But that's not something we know right now."

She raised her eyes to his as she reached for his hand. 

"I love you, Ram," she said, her voice breaking.

He waited a few moments, waiting for her to calm a bit before he began to speak.

"Marianne, I already love and care for you.  I know you love and care for me.  And, I know that I cannot imagine a life without you in it."

Ram reached into his pocket and brought out an old, dusty velvet covered box.

"
Pyari
, I've been carrying this thing around since right before the situation with the CDs happened."

He opened the box and showed her a thin gold band encrusted with round rubies and baguette diamonds.

"It was my grandmother's ring on my mother's side.  She and my grandfather were married for more than sixty years," he murmured, his eyes on the ring.  "I like that, the longevity of their love and connection. It's what I want for us."

He stood up and moved to the head of her bed.

"Marianne Louise Gibson, would you consent to be my wife. Not because we will be tied together as parents to our child, but because we love and care for each other and can't imagine a life without each other in it?"

He watched her eyes as he spoke, her beautiful blue eyes taking in his words.

"Absolutely, Ramjet Harold Patel.  I would love to be your wife," she murmured before promptly bursting into tears.  Ram put his arms around her and held her close.

It was going to be a long eight or so months until he got his girl back. 

But, he could wait. 

She was worth waiting for.

#.#.#.#.#

Thank you so much for reading Tap Dance, the second book in the Dance Trilogy.  I hope you had as much fun reading it as I did writing it.

I loved discovering Marianne and Ram's story and wasn't always sure exactly where it was going to go--sometimes the direction changed daily which I've heard is not unusual for new authors.  Nice to know that I'm in good company, then, since all authors have had to start out new.

Although, in this book, my third attempt at writing fiction, I was very fortunate to have a team of girls that stepped forward to help.  While we were all strangers, it soon became clear that each of them had a special area that they were really good at--whether it was Rita with the timelines, Jenny with the macro-view questions, Gemma with getting the dialogue streamlined or more exact, Reese showing me the use of 'that' is used waaayy too many times in my writing and Melissa that took it all on, up to and including the music a savvy girl with a 2010 Charger would listen to! 

Loved working with them.  Loved having them there to listen to me gripe.  And to challenge me on the characterizations and anything else they thought was rubbish! They kept me on track, reminded me of crap I'd forget (…Floyd gave me fits!), and pointed out my myriad of typing errors.  And so motivated me with their words of encouragement and sense of humor.

Lots of hugs from the heart, ladies.

I'm just starting on Human Hieroglyphix II - Crys and Gabe's story and I am very excited.  Crys has always been a lot of fun to write and I can't wait to see how this story unfolds.  After that, I'm hoping to start on Bewitchments - Book I/Trevor & Zoe. 

But, as a lot of you know, my Muse has been known to break out a new story without any foreknowledge (i.e., Human Hieroglyphix I - Dex and Leila).

I've learned that, with writing, very little is written in stone.

One last thing. I have received quite a few emails from people that have read my books.  Your words of encouragement have gone straight to my heart.  Maybe some authors can write in the middle of Starbucks or can break away to do dinner with friends.  Unfortunately, at this point in my learning curve, I can't.  Sometimes those emails would be the only 'human' contact I'd have in a day.  They seemed to find me on the mornings where I was pulling my hair out over a scene or trying to find yet another euphemism for a body part and those words would keep me going.  Thank you so much for those emails. 

Please know that they are read and are cherished.

~J. A.  (Phoenix 2/17/13)

Please feel free to connect with me at www. jahornbuckle.com

Or you can email me at [email protected]

Excerpt from
Human Hieroglyphix II - Crys and Gabe
(approx publication date 4/01/13):

"Gay-Abe, wait up!"

He stopped and turned watching as Crys ran to him, her little legs, in her favorite overalls with the duck on the bib, pumping.  When she made it to him, she stopped and looked up at him, moving her bright blonde hair out of her eyes, her deep blue eyes.

"You run too fast, Gabe," she admonished in her alto voice, a voice she'd had since he first remember her making noise.

"Sorry, Crys," he said.

"You mad, Gabe?"

"No."  But Gabe knew that he lied, was lying to his very best friend.  "She's not worth being mad about."

"But," he heard her beautiful voice say on a whisper. "She's your
mom
, Gabe.  She's your
mom
."

He got it. 

He knew what she was saying. 

From her vantage point having a Mom, any Mom was a bonus.  But she was only six.  And she was a girl.  And her mom took off two years ago without a word to anyone.

His mom was dying.

And his eight year old brain couldn't grasp it, couldn't wrap his head around how his beautiful, laughing mother could be fine one day and then the next be dying. 

Dying from something he didn't understand, didn't make sense. 

That what was killing her wasn't something his father could fix. 

And his dad could fix
anything
, everyone knew Benny could fix it all.

So, if his dad couldn't fix it then it was something
she
could've done to fix it. 

But she didn't. 

She couldn't.

In fact, now she was so weak she couldn't do much but shuffle from the screened in porch, where Dad had set up her bed, to the kitchen chair.

And if Dad couldn't fix it, and she couldn't fix it, then it meant Gabe couldn't fix it. 

And if something couldn't be fixed, then you had no choice but to be
mad
at it.

Gabe looked away from Crys, trying to find the creek in the shadows of the trees which populated their tiny corner of Colorado.  At least it was how he was playing it off, giving him time to wipe his eyes.

He wouldn't cry.

But, when he glanced at Crys' up turned face, a face he knew as well as his own, he saw the tears he tried hide, echoed in hers. 

Streaming down her downy cheeks to catch at her jaw.

"She's your
mom
, Gabe," she whispered again, catching his hand and burying her face in the front of his Turtle Ninja t-shirt.

"Yeah, Crys," he sighed.  He ran his hand up her back and pressed her little white-blond head close.  "She is."

And they stood there, the two of them, in the shadow of each other.

Holding tight, since their connection gave each of them strength.

Just as it had from the first moment the white-blonde headed Crys had grabbed hold of his pant leg to pull herself up and given him that sideways grin of hers.

A grin that spoke to his heart as much then as now.

He swallowed thickly.

His dad said he needed to tell his mom goodbye while she was still awake and in their house in the deep Colorado woods. 

But he couldn't do it. 

He couldn't face it. 

And because he couldn't, he ran. 

Kept running  until Crys asked him to wait up.

But he still couldn't do it.

Still couldn't tell his mom, goodbye.