Rhae Peters is
happily married to her best friend, Ryan, who loves her more than anything in
this world. Her life comes crashing down when the worst thing imaginable happens
-- Ryan is killed in an accident. Rhae is faced with figuring out how to
continue living without him. He is all she has ever known. Adding insult to
injury, she learns that Ryan was keeping secrets. The revelation causes her to
question everything about their marriage.
With her life in
turmoil, Rhae wants to start over and forget everything about Ryan, and the
life she thought they had. She builds a coping mechanism out of her friends and
family, including her neighbor Cade. Chivalrous and overwhelmingly handsome,
Rhae feels the hand of propriety holding her back from pursuing more with him,
despite all the clues that let her know he's
willing.
Rhae and Cade are
broken in their own ways, and must help each other overcome the pasts and
secrets that haunt them.
I
heave a sigh and eventually convince myself to go take care of business. I slip
my wallet in my back pocket and leave my purse in the room. Reluctantly, I tie
my sneakers and head out.
Music is spilling
out from the clubs and restaurants I pass on the way back to my car; mostly
jazz, zydeco, and country. There are even musicians in the street. They are
extremely talented. Something about the vibe of the street party makes me
forget about being tired and about going to get my car moved. It’s
hard to walk through these streets without feeling a desire to shake my booty.
Street vendors are telling fortunes and others are selling miscellaneous
souvenirs. My imagination, being on overdrive, makes me wonder if they are
voodoo-related items or perhaps the key ingredients to a spell you could cast
on someone. Perhaps they could give me a spell to help me forget the pain and
misery my life has been recently. The reality is they are likely selling
knock-off tourist items. They probably source them overseas and sell them as
“authentic”.
There
are hawkers trying to draw people into their clubs. One interesting fellow is
dressed in a an old black suit with his face painted like a Dia De Los Muertos
skull. He isn’t yelling to get the attention of people walking by. He
isn’t flattering ugly women to gain their attentions. No he is quiet.
He is dancing to the music coming from the club. I watch him for what seems
like an eternity. He never tires or seems exhausted by his dance. Peeking in
the doors of the club I see the sway of the crowd inside. Their movement is
curious. Like a single consciousness moving through all of them. The music they
are dancing to is hypnotic. Without a thought or even a decision crossing my
mind, I start moving towards the entrance. It’s as if my body has no
power to walk away. It pulls at me from the center of my being and I need to be
a part of it.
I immediately blend
in with the crowd and find myself surrounded with people I’ve never
seen. Yet, somehow we are sharing this moment together. We sway and I sometimes
spin. Hands grab for me and either supports me from spinning out of control, or
just steady me in the sway. When the song changes, everyone makes their way to
the tables and bars lining the edges of the dance floor. I feel cold and
abandoned without the others. Swallowing my disappointment that this curious
moment is over, I make my way to the bar, order a beer, and settle into a table
to watch the crowd. It is sweaty for November, but I suspect that has more to
do with the dancing and alcohol than the
weather.
The
server is a kind, young man. I make quick friends and ask him to keep the beers
coming. He nods and does a great job keeping me with a new one as needed. Men
and women both smile or nod as they walk by my table to the dance floor. After
several beers, I swallow my regret and apprehension, and join the new flow of
people to the dance floor. The music has slowed and is even more hypnotic than
before. I close my eyes and give myself over to the music.
A pair of strong
arms slides around my waist from behind and a body begins to sway with me. At
first, panic wells up in my throat but I quickly push it down. This is what the
fresh start is about. Exploration. We continue dancing, never changing
positions. I sink into the body behind me and it is a firm, strong place to
rest. I reach up my right arm up and place my hand on the back of a sweaty
neck. A mouth comes near to my ear as I pull on my dance partner. “I
love the way you move,” he whispers in my ear. He. For a moment it
occurs to me that his voice is familiar. Before I focus in on the familiarity
too much, I take a hug gulp of my beer and set the bottle on a nearby
table.
Turning around, I
chance a look at my mystery dance partner and I’m floored. I start
blinking rapidly as if something is wrong with my vision. I'm
hallucinating. I have had way too much to drink. It can’t be. He
can’t be here. Not now. No. I shake my head and back away from him,
bumping into tables and knocking over drinks. I push through the crowd to get to
the door. I burst onto the street and breathe in a huge rush of cold air. It is
so cold I get chills.
“This is
NOT happening,” I scream into the
night.
I'm from
North Mississippi, US. I'm a busy wife and mother, but decided to
follow my dream of writing a novel. I completed the first draft of A Place to
Stand during NaNoWriMo 2013 fulfilling a lifelong dream of becoming a writer.
My motivation to finish the dream, by publishing my book, was found
among the most amazing group of people at a conference in Nashville, TN called
UtopYA. My husband, Jason, and I have 3 children, 2 old dogs, and 2 surly cats.
I am a huge fan of all things Supernatural (show and otherwise). I love
fiction, young adult, dystopian, and ALL
romances.
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