Good morning. This will be my last Tuesday Tale for the next two weeks. as I head to warmer climate for a winter vacation with my spouse. I’m sure I’ll come back rejuvenated and full of wonderful ideas to carry me through the rest of the year.
If this is your first visit, Tuesday Tales is a closed weekly blog in which a small group of authors share a scene from a work in progress based on a word or picture prompt. These blogged scenes form the first draft of novels. This time around the prompt is a photograph. I’m continuing with Same Time Next Year, my first attempt at Women’s Fiction. For those of you who’ve been following the post, you know that it is a book within a book. The inside book is about a past love affair that ended badly, while the bulk of the book is present day and the author’s quest for answers to what went wrong. The hero’s point of view only occurs in the main book, and he tells his side of what happened fifty years ago through flashbacks. Our tragic couple is within a few posts of reuniting and trying to unscramble the miscommunication that has kept them apart all this time. This book is allowing me to look back on my own teenage years and remember the good times and the music I loved. As always, picture prompt posts are limited to 300 words.
I chose the following image. Enjoy.
Twyla pulled up her music files, choosing, “Somethin’ Stupid” and letting the soft melody envelope her. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PNMLe3o4F-Y
It was hard to believe a father and daughter could’ve sung such a powerful love song. Sighing deeply, she opened the document she’d left during the night and began to type.
I’d only been at The Captain’s Inn for a week, but my world had shrunk to this place and Michael. From the time I got up in the morning, the idea of being with him consumed me. The world seemed more alive. Even the colorful flowers delivered to the inn every morning had a fresher scent, no longer reminding me of funeral parlors and over-perfumed replacement teachers.
For the first time, the controversial novel of my teens made sense. I understood how Connie must’ve felt about seeing Oliver, pining for him when he wasn’t around. I wasn’t Lady Chatterley, but I felt her ache and pain. I didn’t have a wheelchair-bound husband who was impotent, but Michael and I had our own differences, issues that in retrospect were insurmountable.
During the day, while Michael worked, I ran errands for my mother and her friends, sometimes babysitting younger children, but most often, I simply sat on one of the picnic tables biding my time. If there were no boats waiting to move through the lock, he sat with me. Occasionally, Mavis would show up, give me the evil eye, and leave again, but generally, he was my idol, and I was his groupie. Some of the other summer students cracked jokes about his shadow, but I didn’t care. As long as Michael wanted me there, nothing else mattered.
That’s it for this week! Don’t forget to check out all the other posts on Tuesday Tales.
Wedding Bell Blues is now available for purchase! Read the edited, finished product now.