M.O. Kenyan's Blog, page 38
September 4, 2012
September 3, 2012
READ THE FIRST CHAPTER OF SHADES OF SPRING
Maxine tries to deal with her mother’s death in her own way. But when she finds old letters revealing her family’s past she finds herself creating a bond with someone else, not knowing how far their history goes. Taylor is amused and infuriated with Marine, and no matter how hard he tries he can’t stay away from her. Now he finds himself being her main supporter, the only one she can lean on as she travels back to the past. And when the past is resolved they now have to think of their futures, while they concentrate on their present.
Chapter 1 “Yes, Maxine.” Maxine didn’t miss the hint of exasperation in the professor’s voice. When she had raised her hand in class, she had seen the professor roll his eyes before he forced a smile and called on her. “I think we should do African literature,” she began, almost bouncing off her seat. She saw the relieved expression on the professor’s face. It always bothered her when, each time she wanted to make a contribution, there was a look of dread on his face. Maxine looked around the room taking in her classmate’s expressions and, despite the frustration and anger she saw from most of them, she went on. “Especially books by authors who wrote during or about colonization in Africa.” She didn’t care what the professor or the rest of the class thought. She thought it was a brilliant idea. The resistance from the class didn’t take long. “Why?” her classmate Taylor yelled out from the back of the room. Maxine always felt like his voice was constantly at the back of her mind, always disapproving of her ideas or suggestions. There were times she thought Taylor’s voice was part of her subconscious. “What do you mean by why?” Maxine slightly turned her head towards the back. She took in quick, short breaths as she prepared to defend her suggestion. “Why should we?” Taylor went on, addressing the professor. “The books for this unit have already been chosen. I don’t think we should add another book just because she said so.” “She has a name.” Maxine turned her body to face Taylor. Her eyes narrowed as she burned holes in his pale forehead with her acid gaze. “We can find the time,” she said through clenched teeth. Maxine turned back to face her professor. “As a student, I have the right to ask for more knowledge.” There was no way the professor could deny her the opportunity to learn. “Get a private tutor. Some of us don’t have time to squeeze in more reading,” Taylor hissed out. Maxine could see the frustration on his face. He had reached his boiling point, but she kept on pushing. “As an African American–” Taylor cut in. “Oh please,” he scoffed. “No one focuses on that stuff anymore.” “That’s why I suggested it. I think we should all remember that time.” Maxine’s voice was like that of a little girl trying to wheedle her father into a new pony, charming but unwavering because she wanted something and she wanted it badly. “We, as Literature students and as people of this world, should care. It is where our history begins.” “Exactly! History!” Taylor made his way to the front of the class and stood beside the professor. Maxine held on to the edge of her desk, her nails digging into the wood, and called on every single patient cell in her body. She wasn’t going to let Taylor beat her, not a chance. She needed to make an argument and a good one. With a smile on her face, she also made her way to the front of the class. “As Literature students, we also have to learn the African Literature way of writing.” “I think we have learned enough about other types of writing,” Taylor smirked. “I think the fact that you said that proves what an air-head you really are.” Taylor turned to face Maxine. The anger in his glare displaced the warm humor in his usually kind, brown eyes. She could feel his gaze burn into her, but she refused to look away. She wasn’t going to be moved. “I have made my decision.” The professor stepped in between them, blocking any path they would have to each other. “Everyone pair up and find a short story by an African writer during the time period of colonization. Write a five-thousand word essay on the author and his style of writing. It is due after spring break. That way we can all get what we want in the shortest time period.” Maxine cheered, sticking her tongue out at a very irritated Taylor. The professor turned to her and Taylor, a smug smile crossing his lips. “The both of you will partner up.” “No!” they shouted in unison. “I can’t stand her,” Taylor bluntly said. “He’s an idiot,” she spat back. The professor crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t care. You don’t submit the report, you both fail. And let me warn you, I will be able to tell if it’s individual work.” He turned back to the class. “Everyone is dismissed.” Taylor and Maxine got caught up in the rush as everyone made their way out of class. The other students shot murderous glares at them and muttered under their breaths. “If looks could kill,” Taylor laughed, “you would be dead a hundred times by now.” Maxine gathered her books to her chest. She looked at Taylor or, rather, at his shirt. He was a little over 6’3”, which made it feel as if he towered over her. She slowly scanned up the red-checked shirt he wore over a white-t shirt until her eyes met his. “My neck is getting tired. What’s the plan?” “I think it would be better if we both just did our own thing.” He leaned down and whispered in her ear, his warm breath brushing her neck. “I’m too pretty to go to prison.” “So, what you are saying is that I would live longer if we did this assignment separately.” She nodded, acknowledging that he certainly had the strength to follow through on his threat. She wasn’t completely sure he was kidding. Taylor gave her a slow nod. “Fine,” she barked. Maxine let her eyes drop slowly back to the front of his shirt. “I wouldn’t want to work with someone who dresses like a Back Street Boy with Mr. T hair.” “It’s a Mohawk,” he said through clenched teeth. “Then I suggest that you go get your money back.” She tugged at the bottom corner of his shirt, pushed back her shoulders and walked away. “You can’t deny it,” he called after her and she glanced at him. “I look good.” The smug look on his face told her he actually believed that. Maxine stomped her feet hard on the marble floor. A temper tantrum is what her mother used to call it, but, to Maxine, it was her way of letting out the frustration. “I can’t stand that guy!” she muttered to herself as she headed home. Maxine always battled with having to go back home. At the beginning of each morning, she had the energy to stand in front of the mirror and engineer the best cheerful face she could, but at the end of the day, she struggled with leaving school. Maxine arrived at the only un-weeded garden and overgrown lawn in the whole neighborhood. Their little house didn’t always look that way, but ever since her mother got sick, there was no one to weed the rose garden and no one to nag her father about painting the white picket fence. Things had changed and they were slowly getting worse. She stood before the front door, knowing very well that the white door held a different significance to her than to other daughters coming home from school. She looked over at the withered garden and decided that the flowers seemed to be adopting the same condition as her mother — death. She wrapped her fingers around the door knob, took a deep breath, and then opened it. Before she stepped in, Maxine whispered a silent prayer for strength to the universe and the big guy above. One step at a time, a smile, a laugh, a prayer, and somehow she would be able to get through this day. Maxine looked down the long hallway. In reality, it was not more than ten meters long, but every time she had to go to the guest room, which had been changed into the hospice, she felt like she was walking the yellow brick road. However, rather than leading to the Land of Oz, this one led her to the only feeling of love she knew. Another step, a deep breath, and she opened the bedroom door. Maxine’s nostrils were attacked by the pungent smell of medication. The rhythmic beeping sound of the heart monitor connected to her mother reminded Maxine that she needed to put on a brave face. “Hey, beautiful.” Maxine forced a smile as she noticed the exhausted expression on her mother’s face. Lynne’s hair was shaggy, her toffee skin pale, and her lips cracked. Maxine saw the exhaustion on her mother’s ravaged face. Maxine’s father, Daniel, was cemented in the same spot he was always in, seated next to her mother’s death bed. Daniel had the same exhausted expression on his face, but on him the expression was permanently engraved in the creases around his eyes and mouth. Maxine always led with the games before she got down to the real issue. Maxine’s eyes quickly looked around her mother’s body and bed. There seemed to be more tubes and machines than there had been when she left in the morning. Her father gave Maxine a quick glance and then his eyes returned to his wife. Daniel’s eyes seemed to hang out of their sockets. His wrinkled hand held onto his wife’s, securely but gently, as if the only way to keep her by his side was to never let go of her hand. Maxine looked at the simplest form of love they had, and her heart broke. What would her father do when Lynne died? Daniel had tied his life to her mother’s in every single way humanly possible, and here was something that he couldn’t protect her from. Maxine’s mother had been diagnosed with cancer two years ago. They thought that they had beaten it, but it had come back just before Christmas with the vengeance of a rabid demon, and it had its claws in her. No matter what they tried or how hard her father fought for every treatment known to man, it wasn’t letting go. Her mother had been discharged from the hospital two weeks prior and had been sent home to die in her own bed surrounded by her family. Now Maxine was standing there witnessing the greatest love ever shared, knowing that it would soon come to a heart-wrenching end. She had prepared herself, she thought, for her mother’s death. She had also come to terms with the fact that her father would die soon after her mother. There was no way one could live without the other. Although her father called her ‘the greatest love of his life’, she knew that her mother was his only reason for living. Once Lynne died, he wouldn’t have any other reason to stick around. Maxine sat at her mother’s feet. Lynne cupped Maxine’s cheek with her hand and smiled as much as her strength allowed. “You are the most beautiful girl ever,” she strained to say, and the words rattled like a stone in a tin can. Hearing her mother sound so weak broke Maxine’s heart, but she hid her pain behind her smile. Maxine thought of asking her mother how she was feeling, but it didn’t seem that important. Asking only frustrated Lynne because she was always economical with the truth for the sake of the withering man at her side. Listening to her mother put up a brave front, and her father whimper every time she did, cut through Maxine. Daniel smoothed his fingers over the thin hand stuck with needles; it was a gesture that had become habitual. Maxine didn’t think her mother felt the discomfort of the IVs anymore, and let her father do it because it was the only way he felt useful. “I have a boatload of assignments to do; I’ll come and sit with you in a couple of hours.” Maxine walked out of the room and a thought crossed her mind. Would this be the last time? She made her way to her room and got on the Internet. She needed to figure out which book she and Taylor had to write their essays about. The sooner she did, the sooner they could split the responsibility and be done with the assignment, and each other, all together.
August 31, 2012
NICKY CHARLES
Nicky Charles is a Canadian author who writes as a hobby and offers her books for free. Each and every book she writes is done with passion and dedication.Nicky Charles is an indie writer/publisher who creates stories in her spare time as a hobby and means of relaxation.
Forever in Time. Stephanie Fields was asked to describe herself, she’d say she was ordinary, calm and cautious. Her quiet life was exactly as she wanted it to be, or so she thought, until a mysterious stranger entered her shop. He had a knack for drawing her out of herself, for pushing her buttons, for making her feel… But now, just when life was getting interesting, someone was stalking her.
She has written three books in her Law of the Lycans series:
The Mating, Elise had no idea when she came home that day that she’d end up mated to a complete stranger. A new Alpha and the need for an alliance between packs have made her a pawn.
The Keeping, Ryne Taylor was a sexy bad-ass Alpha set on establishing a new pack. Melody Greene was a journalism student researching his work as a photographer or so she said. But could Mel really be trusted or had she stumbled upon his secret? And if she knew, could Ryne save himself and the pack he d left behind without enacting a deadly ancient law known as The Keeping? Sequel to The Mating
The Finding, She discovered a dark secret, witnessed a murder and fled into the night fearing for her life. Three years later, Cassie is still hiding from her past, haunted by a dream lover and fighting to control a terrifying beast that seems to grow stronger each day. When Bryan, pack Beta, appears to claim her, Cassie is forced to face the truth of her existence. Innocence, betrayal, greed and love collide with ancient werewolf laws in… The Finding.
Bonded, Reno’s a tough Enforcer for Lycan Link who finds himself drawn to Brandi but duty rules his life. Brandi, just on the edge of starting her career as a Disaster Control officer, falls for Reno at first sight, but are they really meant to be? Is it love or lust and does it really even matter? Enforcers and DCs don’t get along…unless fate forces them to. Bonded precedes The Mating in the Law of the Lycans timeline.
Nicky Charles
WHY ARE MY BOOKS FREE?
I’m asked this alot. People tell me they’d willingly pay for my stories and I thank them for that. I’ve also been approached by e-book publishers, but at the time that’s not the road I want to travel. Perhaps when I retire, or if I had an absolutely amazing offer … ?
At the present time writing is my hobby, my enjoyment. I work on it when I want. If I had someone breathing down my neck, asking when I would be done, demanding this or that, it wouldn’t be fun anymore!
My ‘payment’ is the lovely reviews and letters I get from my readers. When I check my inbox and see a message or go to smashwords or feedbooks and see a nice review, it really makes my day.
If you feel a great need to spend your money on my books, please make a donation to your local animal shelter or foodbank. Tell them I sent you and maybe I’ll get some more readers – lol!
HOW DID I GET STARTED IN WRITING?
In January of 2009 on a Saturday afternoon, I quickly penned a fanfiction story between loads of laundry. It was something I wrote on a whim, based on a random thought. The story was for a TV show called Scarecrow and Mrs. King. It was well received and I ended up joining a wonderful fan-based group for Bruce Boxleitner who starred in the show. The ladies there – affectionately known as the ‘Gutter Girls’ – supported my writing and soon I was spending almost every spare moment creating tales for the show.
In August of 2009 a casual comment from a fellow author, Jan Gordon, inspired me to write my first original novel, Forever In Time. Soon after that I wrote The Mating as a one chapter short story. Readers asked for more so I began to spin the tale of Elise and Kane, with no real idea of where it was going. To my surprise it became my second novel.
Near the end of the Mating, a character walked into the tale named Ryne. Throughout most of the book, he was (in my mind) a ’minor character’ but Ryne was an independent sort and had other ideas! I soon found myself writing his story, The Keeping.
The third book in my werewolf series, The Finding, proved more challenging. I decided to explore writing in mulitple POV’s, showing new sides to my old characters and weaving several story lines into one. In some ways it was less of a romance and more of an adventure and a study of personalities.
When I write, I see the story unfold as a movie in my head. I like to include as much description as possible and tend to actually ‘live’ my characters and stories. In fact, I’m often found scowling at the computer, muscles tensed during a fight and jaw jutted out or perhaps crying during a sad chapter. It can be rather exhausting at times!
Near the middle of writing a story I start to get impatient. By then I know how the story will end and hate having to wait to get to the final big scenes. It’s also when I start to become filled with self-doubt, thinking the story is terrible and no one will want to read it. That’s when my oh-so-patient friend and editor, Jan Gordon, has to start cajoling, hand-holding and berating me. You have to thank her for the fact that my books ever get finished!
August 28, 2012
Book Tour: Crimson Darkness By Amos Cassidy (Sneak Peek)
Reblogged from ReadingDiva's Blog:
If you haven’t read Crimson Midnight book #1 of the series you are missing out. The story brings us a great plot with fantastic characters, action and drama that will keep you on the edge of your seat. Crimson Darkness Book #2 of the Crimson Series promises just the same if not more. Check the sneak peek of The Crimson Darkness…
I love that cover, I bet the story is even better. To-read pile.
Nerding Out with Matthew's Dad, Granny, and Terry Brooks
Reblogged from BookPeople's Blog:
~post by Matthew
Knowing that Terry Brooks is a favorite of my father’s, I used an advanced copy of his new book Wards of Faerie (out now) as leverage to persuade him to buy Kate and I dinner recently. The food was great, but he maintains I got the short end of the deal. After reading the book in one sitting, he passed it on to my Grandmother who, being an expert in the whole of Terry Brooks bibliography, also read it in one sitting.
August 26, 2012
BRENDA K.DAVIES’ VAMPIRES
I think Brenda K Davies is the most mysterious woman (might be a pen name so i have to include man) in the world. I can’t find any information on the author but can only get a feel of who and how she might be like through her books. Her vampires are a life of their own. Hostile, possessive, loving, angry, dangerous e.t.c. There are no characters in this world that deserve and e.t.c more than Brenda Davies’ vampires. If Brenda had a say in the creation of man I would love to date someone that she thought of. her characters are ‘alive’ and her stories just pull you in and leave you wanting for more. They cry, they have babies, they are a family, they love and from their point of view soul mates really do exist.
What I wish to say to Brenda K. Davies is thank you for creating such beautiful stories.
DESTINED;Terrified of becoming mated like her parents, Isabelle has locked herself away in order to avoid their fate. Despite her determination to remain alone, her world is rocked when a person from her parent’s past arrives at their door, bringing with them the powerful, Stefan. Just as she begins to let her guard down, Stefan’s dark and deadly past catches up to him and threatens to destroy them both.
get a copy of these books from;
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/brend...
http://www.smashwords.com/profile/vie...
August 24, 2012
HISTORICAL ROMANCE
[image error]I used to read just fantasy books or just romance books. Something in my time that I could absolutely relate to. But one day I decided why not do some wide reading, and I discovered Historical Romance books. These days they are all I can read. The language that they use to right is so romantic. And what makes them more exciting is that the Hero and Heroine are supposed to folow these prime and proper rules, some of them do and some of them don’t. But I think the one thing that makes them so pure is that ‘idea’ of ‘true love’
I love them they warm my heart.
Some of the books I have read are
Loves Portrait by Monica Burns
Intentions of the Earl by Rose Gordon
A Scandalous Charade by Ava Stone
Love Me Always by Marie Higgins
Lord Fool to The Rescue by L.L Muir.
Her Wicked Ways and His Wicked Heart by Darcy Burke
Oh Cherry Ripe by Claudy Conn
The Garden of Temptation by Cynthis Wicklund
Lady Deception by Rizzo Rosko
The Fairy Tale Bride by Kelly McClymer
Seductive Secrets by Colleen Connally
The Wary Widow and the Bedeviled Bride by Jerrica Knight Catania
The Wild One by Dannelle Harmon
HISTORICAL ROMANCE
[image error]I used to read just fantasy books or just romance books. Something in my time that I could absolutely relate to. But one day I decided why not do some wide reading, and I discovered Historical Romance books. These days they are all I can read. The language that they use to right is so romantic. And what makes them more exciting is that the Hero and Heroine are supposed to folow these prime and proper rules, some of them do and some of them don’t. But I think the one thing that makes them so pure is that ‘idea’ of ‘true love’
I love them they warm my heart.
Some of the books I have read are
Loves Portrait by Monica Burns
Intentions of the Earl by Rose Gordon
A Scandalous Charade by Ava Stone
Love Me Always by Marie Higgins
Lord Fool to The Rescue by L.L Muir.
Her Wicked Ways and Her Wicked Heart by Darcy Burke
Oh Cherry Ripe by Claudy Conn
The Garden of Temptation by Cynthis Wicklund
Lady Deception by Rizzo Rosko
The Fairy Tale Bride by Kelly McClymer
Seductive Secrets by Colleen Connally
The Wary Widow and the Bedeviled Bride by Jerrica Knight Catania
The Wild One by Danelle Harmon
READ THE FIRST CHAPTER OF SHADES OF SPRING 1964; LETTERS TO MY DAUGHTER
Maxine tries to deal with her mother’s death in her own way. But when she finds old letters revealing her family’s past she finds herself creating a bond with someone else, not knowing how far their history goes. Taylor is amused and infuriated with Marine, and no matter how hard he tries he can’t stay away from her. Now he finds himself being her main supporter, the only one she can lean on as she travels back to the past. And when the past is resolved they now have to think of their futures, while they concentrate on their present.
Chapter 1 “Yes, Maxine.” Maxine didn’t miss the hint of exasperation in the professor’s voice. When she had raised her hand in class, she had seen the professor roll his eyes before he forced a smile and called on her. “I think we should do African literature,” she began, almost bouncing off her seat. She saw the relieved expression on the professor’s face. It always bothered her when, each time she wanted to make a contribution, there was a look of dread on his face. Maxine looked around the room taking in her classmate’s expressions and, despite the frustration and anger she saw from most of them, she went on. “Especially books by authors who wrote during or about colonization in Africa.” She didn’t care what the professor or the rest of the class thought. She thought it was a brilliant idea. The resistance from the class didn’t take long. “Why?” her classmate Taylor yelled out from the back of the room. Maxine always felt like his voice was constantly at the back of her mind, always disapproving of her ideas or suggestions. There were times she thought Taylor’s voice was part of her subconscious. “What do you mean by why?” Maxine slightly turned her head towards the back. She took in quick, short breaths as she prepared to defend her suggestion. “Why should we?” Taylor went on, addressing the professor. “The books for this unit have already been chosen. I don’t think we should add another book just because she said so.” “She has a name.” Maxine turned her body to face Taylor. Her eyes narrowed as she burned holes in his pale forehead with her acid gaze. “We can find the time,” she said through clenched teeth. Maxine turned back to face her professor. “As a student, I have the right to ask for more knowledge.” There was no way the professor could deny her the opportunity to learn. “Get a private tutor. Some of us don’t have time to squeeze in more reading,” Taylor hissed out. Maxine could see the frustration on his face. He had reached his boiling point, but she kept on pushing. “As an African American–” Taylor cut in. “Oh please,” he scoffed. “No one focuses on that stuff anymore.” “That’s why I suggested it. I think we should all remember that time.” Maxine’s voice was like that of a little girl trying to wheedle her father into a new pony, charming but unwavering because she wanted something and she wanted it badly. “We, as Literature students and as people of this world, should care. It is where our history begins.” “Exactly! History!” Taylor made his way to the front of the class and stood beside the professor. Maxine held on to the edge of her desk, her nails digging into the wood, and called on every single patient cell in her body. She wasn’t going to let Taylor beat her, not a chance. She needed to make an argument and a good one. With a smile on her face, she also made her way to the front of the class. “As Literature students, we also have to learn the African Literature way of writing.” “I think we have learned enough about other types of writing,” Taylor smirked. “I think the fact that you said that proves what an air-head you really are.” Taylor turned to face Maxine. The anger in his glare displaced the warm humor in his usually kind, brown eyes. She could feel his gaze burn into her, but she refused to look away. She wasn’t going to be moved. “I have made my decision.” The professor stepped in between them, blocking any path they would have to each other. “Everyone pair up and find a short story by an African writer during the time period of colonization. Write a five-thousand word essay on the author and his style of writing. It is due after spring break. That way we can all get what we want in the shortest time period.” Maxine cheered, sticking her tongue out at a very irritated Taylor. The professor turned to her and Taylor, a smug smile crossing his lips. “The both of you will partner up.” “No!” they shouted in unison. “I can’t stand her,” Taylor bluntly said. “He’s an idiot,” she spat back. The professor crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t care. You don’t submit the report, you both fail. And let me warn you, I will be able to tell if it’s individual work.” He turned back to the class. “Everyone is dismissed.” Taylor and Maxine got caught up in the rush as everyone made their way out of class. The other students shot murderous glares at them and muttered under their breaths. “If looks could kill,” Taylor laughed, “you would be dead a hundred times by now.” Maxine gathered her books to her chest. She looked at Taylor or, rather, at his shirt. He was a little over 6’3”, which made it feel as if he towered over her. She slowly scanned up the red-checked shirt he wore over a white-t shirt until her eyes met his. “My neck is getting tired. What’s the plan?” “I think it would be better if we both just did our own thing.” He leaned down and whispered in her ear, his warm breath brushing her neck. “I’m too pretty to go to prison.” “So, what you are saying is that I would live longer if we did this assignment separately.” She nodded, acknowledging that he certainly had the strength to follow through on his threat. She wasn’t completely sure he was kidding. Taylor gave her a slow nod. “Fine,” she barked. Maxine let her eyes drop slowly back to the front of his shirt. “I wouldn’t want to work with someone who dresses like a Back Street Boy with Mr. T hair.” “It’s a Mohawk,” he said through clenched teeth. “Then I suggest that you go get your money back.” She tugged at the bottom corner of his shirt, pushed back her shoulders and walked away. “You can’t deny it,” he called after her and she glanced at him. “I look good.” The smug look on his face told her he actually believed that. Maxine stomped her feet hard on the marble floor. A temper tantrum is what her mother used to call it, but, to Maxine, it was her way of letting out the frustration. “I can’t stand that guy!” she muttered to herself as she headed home. Maxine always battled with having to go back home. At the beginning of each morning, she had the energy to stand in front of the mirror and engineer the best cheerful face she could, but at the end of the day, she struggled with leaving school. Maxine arrived at the only unweeded garden and overgrown lawn in the whole neighborhood. Their little house didn’t always look that way, but ever since her mother got sick, there was no one to weed the rose garden and no one to nag her father about painting the white picket fence. Things had changed and they were slowly getting worse. She stood before the front door, knowing very well that the white door held a different significance to her than to other daughters coming home from school. She looked over at the withered garden and decided that the flowers seemed to be adopting the same condition as her mother — death. She wrapped her fingers around the door knob, took a deep breath, and then opened it. Before she stepped in, Maxine whispered a silent prayer for strength to the universe and the big guy above. One step at a time, a smile, a laugh, a prayer, and somehow she would be able to get through this day. Maxine looked down the long hallway. In reality, it was not more than ten meters long, but every time she had to go to the guest room, which had been changed into the hospice, she felt like she was walking the yellow brick road. However, rather than leading to the Land of Oz, this one led her to the only feeling of love she knew. Another step, a deep breath, and she opened the bedroom door. Maxine’s nostrils were attacked by the pungent smell of medication. The rhythmic beeping sound of the heart monitor connected to her mother reminded Maxine that she needed to put on a brave face. “Hey, beautiful.” Maxine forced a smile as she noticed the exhausted expression on her mother’s face. Lynne’s hair was shaggy, her toffee skin pale, and her lips cracked. Maxine saw the exhaustion on her mother’s ravaged face. Maxine’s father, Daniel, was cemented in the same spot he was always in, seated next to her mother’s death bed. Daniel had the same exhausted expression on his face, but on him the expression was permanently engraved in the creases around his eyes and mouth. Maxine always led with the games before she got down to the real issue. Maxine’s eyes quickly looked around her mother’s body and bed. There seemed to be more tubes and machines than there had been when she left in the morning. Her father gave Maxine a quick glance and then his eyes returned to his wife. Daniel’s eyes seemed to hang out of their sockets. His wrinkled hand held onto his wife’s, securely but gently, as if the only way to keep her by his side was to never let go of her hand. Maxine looked at the simplest form of love they had, and her heart broke. What would her father do when Lynne died? Daniel had tied his life to her mother’s in every single way humanly possible, and here was something that he couldn’t protect her from. Maxine’s mother had been diagnosed with cancer two years ago. They thought that they had beaten it, but it had come back just before Christmas with the vengeance of a rabid demon, and it had its claws in her. No matter what they tried or how hard her father fought for every treatment known to man, it wasn’t letting go. Her mother had been discharged from the hospital two weeks prior and had been sent home to die in her own bed surrounded by her family. Now Maxine was standing there witnessing the greatest love ever shared, knowing that it would soon come to a heart-wrenching end. She had prepared herself, she thought, for her mother’s death. She had also come to terms with the fact that her father would die soon after her mother. There was no way one could live without the other. Although her father called her ‘the greatest love of his life’, she knew that her mother was his only reason for living. Once Lynne died, he wouldn’t have any other reason to stick around. Maxine sat at her mother’s feet. Lynne cupped Maxine’s cheek with her hand and smiled as much as her strength allowed. “You are the most beautiful girl ever,” she strained to say, and the words rattled like a stone in a tin can. Hearing her mother sound so weak broke Maxine’s heart, but she hid her pain behind her smile. Maxine thought of asking her mother how she was feeling, but it didn’t seem that important. Asking only frustrated Lynne because she was always economical with the truth for the sake of the withering man at her side. Listening to her mother put up a brave front, and her father whimper every time she did, cut through Maxine. Daniel smoothed his fingers over the thin hand stuck with needles; it was a gesture that had become habitual. Maxine didn’t think her mother felt the discomfort of the IVs anymore, and let her father do it because it was the only way he felt useful. “I have a boatload of assignments to do; I’ll come and sit with you in a couple of hours.” Maxine walked out of the room and a thought crossed her mind. Would this be the last time? She made her way to her room and got on the Internet. She needed to figure out which book she and Taylor had to write their essays about. The sooner she did, the sooner they could split the responsibility and be done with the assignment, and each other, all together.
