New business card and a preview of A Time to Mourn

Library background photo courtesy of Susan Yin on Unsplash

A Time to Mourn and A Time to Dance

June – Taming of a Shrew – Auditions

“Marry you?” she screeched. “Are you crazy?”

Peter gazed at the shapely woman standing before him. Blue fire burned deep in her wide-set eyes. “I assure you, Kit, I am quite sane. I want you to be my wife.”

“No!”

“No? NO?” he barked.

Her voice shifted from alto to a high soprano as she spoke. “Heck, no! Heavens, no! Absolutely, positively, unequivocally no!”

Dark brows arched over his chocolate-brown eyes and a smirk curved his mouth. “Unequivocally?”

“NO, by any other name is still NO!”

Peter shook his head as if each 'No' she'd spat at him was an adamant declaration of her love and everlasting devotion. He stepped closer.

She jumped back. “I refuse to spend my life chained to a domineering male.”

“But Kit, I've already spoken to your father. It's all arranged.”

She slammed her fists on her hips, bent forward and hissed. “Talked with Daddy Dear, have you? And just how much did my sweet old man offer to pay you to take his eldest daughter off his hands?”

Peter laughed. “Are you saying a man must be paid to marry you? You do yourself an injustice.”

“Ha. It's not I who commit injustice, but men like you. And my father.” She pointed one, long, slender digit to the nether regions. “Go! Get out and leave me alone.”

“Well, Kit, it's like this. Your father and I have come to an agreement. We've made a deal – signed and sealed. My plans are made and set in place.”

“Erase the sign, unseal the deal and unmake your plans, or find some rich, witless wimp of a woman to marry you. That's what you want anyway.”

Peter daringly ran a finger down her soft, pink cheek.

Kit batted his hand away and glared fiercely at him.

He ground his molars – the woman was a termagant. Remember her Daddy's money. Forcing his mouth into an adoring smile, he gazed at her as if he'd found treasure beyond measure. “No, my Kit, I want you – beautiful, sweet spoken, gentle. And...submissive,” he growled.

Kit threw back her head and laughed, unaware of how tempting she looked with her long hair flowing to her waist and the white column of her throat glistening like polished marble. “Well, I don't want you, regardless of how tall and handsome you are.”

A full-bodied laugh erupted from deep inside his broad chest. “So, you find me handsome, do you?”

“Looks are totally irrelevant. Hunk or not, I don't need a man.”

Peter heaved a frustrated breath. He wanted to shake her until she acquiesced, but had a feeling such actions would be a huge mistake. Showing anger and impatience would probably spur on her resistance. With incredible control, he gently wrapped his big hands around her upper arms. Surprised at the lean muscles flexing under baby-soft skin, he turned her to face him.

She fought to pull away.

“You need ME, Kit. You require a strong man, one that won't let you lead him around like a pet poodle. You need a man who will make you feel like a...woman.”

“Peter, take your hands off of me this instant, or you will find I am woman enough to make you regret it.”

Relaxing his grip, Peter let his fingers trail sensuously down her smooth arms. “I think not, my sweet.”

SMACK

Peter jerked back. His cheek stung and all signs of patience fled. Taken totally off guard, he hadn't seen the blow coming. He glowered at the dainty warrior who'd had the gall to physically attack him. He held onto the last vestiges of his control by a Herculean effort. “I can't believe you did that.”

Kit's chin lifted in rebellion. “Believe it! I don't spout idle threats.”

Peter leaned down and growled through gritted teeth.“Woman, if you slap me again, I shall return it in kind. And you can believe me...I, too, issue no idle threats.” He delighted in the battle he could see raging in the beautiful blue eyes of the woman he fully intended to marry. The feminine mind was a scary thing, but sensing his ultimate victory, he allowed a smile to curve his mouth. Victory was sweet.

SMACK

Shock triggered his response and he automatically raised his hand.

“That's right, big strong man. Go ahead. Hit the little woman, the weaker vessel. Let the whole world know that you're no gentleman.”

Peter reared back at the taunting voice. Then like the strike of a snake, he cupped Kit's face between his hands and lowered his lips to hers. There was more than one way to tame a shrew.

Silence was quickly followed by clapping.

“Bravo! Bravo. I believe we have found our Katharina and Petruchio,” shouted Janice, the theatrical director.

Applause broke through Gabriel Winston Churchill's focus and he suddenly realized he still held a struggling woman in his arms, his lips devouring hers. Hmmm. This might turn out to be his favorite play.

A dainty foot housed in camo boots suddenly slammed into his shin.

He flinched. “Ouch!”

“The audition is over, P.E.T.E.R. Can the he-man stuff.”

Oops! He might be dazzled by enormous blue eyes, but evidently the lady wasn't as enamored of his dirt-brown orbs. She too closely resembled Shakespeare's Kate – bossy and definitely not interested.

“Okay, people. Please take a seat in the first two rows,” yelled Janice.

Gabe started to exit the stage when Janice Coggins, the blond-haired, forty-something director, grabbed his arm.

“Wait, Gabe. I'd like you and Lori to stay here for a minute, please.”

At six feet four inches, Gabe Churchill towered over the diminutive director, giving him a clear view of the tall, slender beauty on Janice's other side. A view he could get used to all too easily. Suddenly realizing he was missing half of what Janice was saying, he dragged his attention back to her words.

“As you all know, we are writing our own modern-day version of The Taming of the Shrew. Instead of the customary auditions, we've tried a new approach to casting our play. Each of you committed to familiarizing yourself with Shakespeare's play, then you selected a part you liked and ad-libbed the lines.”

Laughter rumbled around the theater.

“Yes, auditions have been unique and very entertaining. I'll now let you in on a little secret – my sweet husband got every laugh, grimace, flubbed word, smack and kisssss on video.”

Gabe groaned along with the rest of the company. “How much for the original, Jerry?” he yelled.

A voice from the back called out. “More than you make, professor.”

Cat-calls and teasing quips filled the air.

Janice turned to the newcomer at her side and nodded. A whistle, more piercing than a smoke alarm, cut through the noise, bringing immediate silence.

Janice laughed. “Thanks, Lori. You've got to teach me how to whistle like that. I've struggled for years to find a way to quiet this rowdy bunch.”

Gabe's breath caught in his throat as a smile of earthshaking impact curved Lori's soft lips – lips he had recently kissed. He wouldn't mind running through that scene again...though his cheek did sting a bit.

Janice raised her hand. “Now, let me introduce to you the main characters of our production. You all know Gabriel Churchill, my assistant director and the favorite history professor of every student at NASU. Gabe will be playing the part of Petruchio or Peter.”

Gabe bowed and generally hammed it up for the cast, then spoke in a voice that carried across the hundreds of seats and rebounded to the stage. “And, what is The Taming of the Shrew without – a shrew?”

Gabe stepped to Lori's side. Then he and Janice dramatically swung their arms out to bracket the young woman in the middle.

Gabe smiled and his baritone pealed as a clarion across a mountain valley. “I'd like to introduce you to Shakespeare's Kate, Lorilee Talbot. Lori is new to our fair city and will be teaching some of your kindergärtners this fall. Be careful what you say and do at home, friends, or those little five-year-old thespians will share all with Lori at Show and Tell. Now, let's make her feel welcome.”

The rest of the cast and crew swarmed the stage, laughing, teasing and pulling Lori into their tight-knit group. Gabe noticed no residual signs of her “shrew” persona. It had totally faded away. She bubbled with friendliness and joy, her pretty face never losing its smile. She would have no trouble fitting in at FLiT...Flagstaff Little Theatre.

Janice slipped backstage then reappeared pulling a rolling cart loaded with snacks, soft drinks and bottles of water. “Party time. Come help yourselves.”

Gabe grabbed a bottled water and began making the rounds, congratulating each person on his or her performance and encouraging them to keep working on bringing their parts into the present time period.

This play would present some very unique challenges, but it should be great fun. It would be a perfect vehicle to stimulate individual creativity.

Listening in on a discussion about set designs, Gabe spied his roommate across the stage. He excused himself and stepped back, intending to circle around the group and go catch up with his friend. A muffled yelp brought him up short. He turned just in time to see Lori stumble backward. Her wind-milling arms corrected her balance but the bottle of water, loosely clasped in one hand, went flying over her shoulder and off toward the wings.

“Oh, man, Lori! I'm sorry. Are you okay?”

She looked up at him and Gabe saw her smile falter.

“Didn't mean to tromp all over you. I didn't see you.” He rolled his eyes. “Of course I didn't see you – you were behind me. And though my students claim I have eyes in the back of my head, that phenomenon only works in the classroom.”

Her smile returned, accompanied by a soft chuckle. “I, too, have been accused of having the power to see anything happening in a 360° circle.”

“God must have gifted teachers with that special talent.” Gabe decided he could stand and soak in Lori's smile for hours on end. Then he noticed her massaging her elbow. “Say, I didn't hurt you, did I?”

He sent a glance from the top of her glossy, auburn head to the toes of her trendy combat boots and didn't see any obvious damage. At the sight of her footwear, his shin throbbed with remembered pain. That pain reminded him of his stinging cheek. He grinned down at her and rubbed his jaw. “You pack quite a wallop.”

“You're no slouch, yourself,” she said, putting her fingers to her lips.

Gabe saw the pink stain of embarrassment paint her creamy complexion the instant she realized the inference of her statement.

Satisfaction puffed up his male ego like hearty breaths filling a birthday balloon. “'We are masters of the unsaid words, but slaves of those we let slip out.'”

“What?”

Gabe couldn't stop his grin. She was so cute, even with embarrassment and confusion dancing across her pretty face. “Churchill.”

“Churchill? You're Churchill, but what does your name have to do with anything.”

Gabe dramatically grabbed his chest and groaned. “Woman, you wound me. After the Bible, Winston Churchill is the greatest purveyor of wisdom and truth.”

A big hand slammed onto Gabe's shoulder as a blond, bearded face peered around him. “Don't worry, Lori, he's crazy but not certifiably so. Harmless, really. You must remember the name says it all – Gabriel Winston Churchill.”

Understanding slowly crept across her face and her smooth soprano slipped up an octave. “Ohhhhh.”

Mark continued his commentary on Gabe's quirky character. “Gabriel, the angel, is a trumpet blower. Our Gabriel blows the trumpet for Winston Churchill.”

Gabe planted a mock punch on his friend's bulging bicep. “Lori, meet Mark Worth. His only claim to fame is he's one of my housemates. He's lesser known for owning and operating For All You're Worth.”

A smile lit Lori's face. “The health club?”

Mark elbowed Gabe in the ribs and puffed out his chest. “That's me. Owner and number one trainer. Come in sometime and I'll give you a free tour and assessment.”

A pretty blond slipped in front of Mark and slapped both hands against his chest. “Down, boy. Down!”

Gabe burst out laughing then leaned over to buzz the cheek of the new arrival. “Keep him on a tight rein, Brittany.”

“Don't egg her on, buddy. She's got me wrapped around her little finger as it is.” Mark bent down to slide a quick kiss onto Brittany's smiling mouth. “I'm just trying to drum up business, honey.”

“Keep it that way, schweethawt, or you'll be swimming in concrete galoshes.” Brittany's feminine version of Humphrey Bogart sent them into gales of laughter.

Gabe loved the musical sound of Lori's laugh and enjoyed watching her expressive face as she took in the interaction between Brittany and Mark. He sympathized with any confusion she might feel. He was accustomed to the wild bantering of his two friends, yet at times, it was a struggle to discern the difference between their fussing and their teasing. Both were excellent actors and horseplay was part and parcel of their relationship.

“Lori, this is Brittany George, Mark's fiancée. She's also going to play Bianca to his Lucentio.” Turning to the couple at his side, Gabe asked, “What names have you picked for the play?”

“Bea.”

“Luke.”

“Very original.” Sarcasm oozed from his words even as a smile curved his mouth. “I'm really looking forward to this production. However, I already foresee a problem.”

“What's that?”

“Staying in sync with modern-day times. I don't know about you, but I find my mind reverting to Shakespearean words and style of speech.”

“Yeah, that will be a problem,” said Mark.

Gabe shook his head. “You'd think it would be easier to speak the way we do every day, but for some reason, it's not.”

Lori nodded in agreement. “The fact that the play is so well known to us in its original form, will be both a help and a hindrance.”

Brittany looped her arm through Mark's. “I agree. It has always been more difficult for me to learn a new arrangement of an old song than to learn a piece I've never heard before.”

“That's for sure. I have the same problem.”

Brittany waved a hand in the air. “But, don't worry, guys, we girls will keep you in character; won't we Lori?”

Gabe's breath stalled in his chest as a mischievous smile suddenly lit Lori's face and her blue eyes sparkled like sapphires. Whoa! Help me, Lord.

Lori spoke in a solemn voice. “'Difficulties mastered are opportunities won.'”

A huge smile split Gabe's face, slicing from ear to ear. “Well said, Lori. Well said.” Lord, she must be meant for me. She quotes Churchill.

*****

Lori Talbot looked at the faces grinning at her in amazement. Oops! Why had she done that? Why had she thrown out the ONLY Churchill quote she knew? Now they'd expect her to do it again, when, in actuality, she was more likely to spout Dr. Seuss, Winnie the Pooh or any number of animated movie characters. Famous historical world leaders didn't figure into her kindergarten lesson plans all that often.

Maybe she should look up a few Churchill quotes and memorize them. She could save them in hopes an appropriate opportunity would come along when she could nonchalantly pitch them into a conversation. Kind of like picking a word from the dictionary and using it in five sentences on any given day – then claiming it as your own.

At five feet eight inches tall she was hardly petite, but she still had to tip her gaze up to meet Gabe's. He was sporting a somewhat stupefied expression, while grinning at her as if he'd discovered the eighth wonder of the world. She had to confess...and now. This scenario reminded her too much of her graduation trip to Italy. She'd confidently rattled off one of a half-dozen Italian phrases she'd practiced, then ended up trying to explain to the carabinieri, the Italian police, that she wasn't really planning to rob the bank. She'd simply mutilated the Italian language and misspoken a few words. Innocent mistake. Yeah, but, it had led to trouble...big, embarrassing trouble.

It was time to own up to her limitations. The people around her weren't the police, but they would be – she hoped – friends, good friends.

Why be worried? She was comfortable in her skin. She liked how God had wired her and was usually quite confident. However, being the “newbie” resurrected a certain amount of earlier insecurities.

She had no reason to think this group of thespians would find her lacking. They seemed friendly and welcoming. Now it was her turn to be up front and honest. Give them a chance to like her as she was – as God had designed her.

“True confession time.” Lori sent a pleading grin at Brittany, then Mark and finally to Gabe. “I confess, you just heard my one and only Churchill quote.”

Indrawn breaths preceded a long silence. Had she blown it? Had she totally misread these new acquaintances?

“Praise the Lord!” Mark suddenly chuckled and slapped Gabe on the back. “There is room in this town for only one Churchill-quoting fanatic.” He tucked Brittany under his arm.

“We're convinced that Gabe was born with a thorough knowledge of the famous statesman's words. He's probably a long lost relative, many times removed.”

The engaged couple smiled at Lori, then gazed at one another with adoration.

A tiny green spear of jealousy poked Lori. Lord, someday, please. How she'd love to have a man look at her the way Mark gazed at Brittany. Send me a special man. Your pick, not mine.

Mark and Brittany soon strolled off to join another noisy group, leaving Lori with Gabe.

Alone.

She heaved a resigned sigh and lifted her gaze from the floor way up to his dark-chocolate-brown eyes. For some reason, the guy short-circuited her brain which in turn misfired every synapse in her body.

Since first laying eyes on the man, she had been acting crazy. She felt like a badly illustrated cartoon or a cheap carnival toy – stumbling and bumbling and fumbling. Tonight she'd stumbled over her own feet as she'd approached center-stage to begin her audition. Then she'd bumbled her one prop. And, she'd fumbled her lines. Thank goodness everyone had been ad-libbing so dropping or adding a line wasn't an issue.

Looking back, she was amazed that she'd managed to carry off the audition at all. Snagging the part of Katarina was an added bonus, and playing opposite Gabe? Well, that sent tingling vibes zipping along every nerve in her body. A grin she couldn't hold back blossomed on her face.

“So, you're not a fan of Churchill?” Gabe sounded like a little boy whose best friend had just said his new puppy was “dumb and ugly.”

“Gabe, to be perfectly honest, my knowledge of the great statesman is extremely limited. I'm more familiar with kiddy-characters. If I quote someone it will most likely be a character from Land Before Time or Mulan, Little Mermaid, Toy Story, Enchanted, Frozen. Understand?”

“No. I can't say I do, but hey, you're forgiven if I am. We all have our niches, our areas of expertise. God didn't make carbon-copies.”

“You're right. Thanks for being so gracious.”

“I'm all for furthering education. I'd be happy to exchange some tutorial time with you. I'll teach you about Churchill and you teach me...what? Fairy-tales?”

Excitement zipped along Lori's nerves. Gabe was flirting with her and she loved it. “Not simply fairy-tales. As a child, you probably read all the same stories I did. As an adult and in my line of work as a kindergarten teacher, I've developed a taste for animated movies. The new ones are so well scripted that they appeal on multiple levels. Both young and old and in-between find them entertaining, and the music is extraordinary.”

“I believe the last animated movie I saw was Cinderella. Is that what you mean?”

“Not exactly. That's just the beginning. I think you have a long way to go in your education, Mr. Churchill.”

With a cheesy grin, Gabe stuck out his hand. “I'm ready to sign up for tutorials, Miss Talbot. Lead on. I must warn you, however, it will probably take a long time to bring me up to scratch.”

Lori shook Gabe's hand, her whole body tingling at his touch. “Then fasten your seat belt; you're in for an exciting journey. I'll take you 'to infinity and beyond'.” Now who's flirting – and enjoying it?

“Whoa! I can hardly wait. This sounds like a real trip.”

“We'll need to watch a lot of movies,” said Lori with a hint of question in her voice.

Gabe arched both brows and twirled an imaginary mustache in a perfect Snidely Whiplash impersonation. “We shall snuggle many hours in the dark theater. Wonderful.”

Lori couldn't help but laugh. “Good try, but a change in venue is mandatory. How about you provide the drinks and I'll provide the couch, popcorn and the DVD?”

“Lovely lady, I am yours. Take me to...where is it you offered to take me?” Gabe held up his hand. “Wait, wait, don't tell me.” He rolled his eyes as if in ecstasy. “To infinity and beyond! Yes?”

Their laughter joined in harmony.

“Say, do you know how to paint and roller-blade?” asked Gabe.

“Paint and roller-blade?” Talk about a fast conversational switch. How had they segued from ignorance to tutoring to painting and skating?

“Next week, Saturday morning, a group of us are going to paint a house for Habitat For Humanity. Then we'll grab lunch and go roller-blading. Game?”

“Game?”

Gabe chuckled and shook his head. “I'm a little rusty in the dating arena. Sorry. Let me start again. Will you go with me Saturday on a work-n-play-date?”

Lori grinned and her heartbeat quickened. Gabe had asked her on a date – a group date – which she preferred when meeting a new guy. “Now, play-date is a word I understand; it's a regular in my vocabulary. My kindergärtners have lots of play-dates.”

“Wonderful. So...will you go? With me?”

Shyness suddenly overwhelmed her and she ducked her head. “That would be great.” She hoped she didn't sound like a giggly freshman conversing with the senior captain of the football team. Grow up, girl. Act your age.

“I have your address from the paperwork you filled out for the theater group and I can swing by and pick you up. Will 8:30 in the morning be too early?”

Cutting another quick glance at Gabe, Lori wondered at his appeal. What was the attraction? Sure, he was good looking, very handsome, in fact, but in the past she'd taught and acted with some gorgeous guys.

No, it wasn't simply appearance.

She looked at his close-cropped dark hair and the five-o'clock shadow enhancing his square jaw. One dimple winked in his chin when he laughed, and he seemed to laugh a lot. Each time that deep rumble raised goosebumps on her arms. But, there was something more. Something she couldn't quite put her finger on – a hidden element, not yet revealed.

He drew her.

She'd felt an instant connection when they'd met – like God had tied a string from Gabe's heart to hers. Strange.

Lord, guide me. Protect my heart and don't let me run ahead of you.

Buy Now