Vision (20 page)

When it was time for her to board, she
stopped and turned to me, her face softening for a brief instant.
“Layla, being independent is different than needing people.”

Her words made tears form in my eyes.

I know that now, Mom.

Before boarding I made one last attempt to
glean information. “Can you at least give me a Readers Digest
version of what’s going on? I mean, the worst is over. You guys
ended the stand-off, rescued me, drove Jasper and his cronies
away…”

She interrupted. “Over?” She lowered her
voice and leaned in to me. “Are you shitting me?”

I chuckled, taken slightly aback by her
relaxed, more sailor toned dialect.

She finally spoke again leaving me with a
chill that filled my entire being. “Oh dear, girl.” She shook her
head solemnly. “Now it begins.”

She showed her ticket to the attendant before
turning to kiss my cheek.

Now it begins.

*****

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

My husband and children are the reason I
exist in this form. There is a quote by Friedrich Nietzsche that
says, “You must become who you are,” and they have helped me do
just that.

To my beautiful, smart, awesome beta readers
who not only cheered me on but provided the best feedback: Lisa
Acuna, Lauren Bagby, Kristin Harris, T. Blossom Romel, and Corey
White.

Author photo credit goes to Bryson Kim, who
spent a few fun hours with me shooting all angles on the beach at
sunset with our respective spouses.

To the readers – I am deeply indebted for
your support, early stellar reviews and purchases. You are the
reason I write stories.

To my fellow authors – Every day we tread in
the trenches, connecting with each other and our readers, fighting
side by side, promoting together, overcoming obstacles. There are
days you carry me forward, and days you help me soar.

To my publisher, eInteractive Media, who
spent countless hours designing, formatting, critiquing, editing,
and talked me of the ledge a time or two…ok, maybe at least a
dozen!

Dad, I’m so happy I’ve made you proud. You
inspire us all to keep moving forward. Phyllis, my sister, my
heart, always there for me.

Will and Kristin, it’s really difficult for a
mom to express the love she has for her children in words. You fill
in the places of my heart that were unoccupied before I had you,
and stay with me daily regardless of what I do.

Chuck – I’ve tried writing the perfect line
over and over and all I can say is, thank you for seeing through my
protective layer, and choosing to love me unconditionally. We are
partners in live, love and other misdemeanors always and
forever.

*****

Excerpt from

Soul Herder

(Second sequel in VISION series)

*****

PROLOGUE

Paris, France

April 1902

The long graceful fingers of Pierre Rathbone
seduced the piano keys with precision accuracy as he replicated
Mozart’s Symphony Number 25 in G Minor, while his wife peeked
around the deep rose velvet curtain, saturated with love for her
husband.

Melanie carried their first child, to be born
sometime in September when the leaves change color and the weather
cools. It was all so perfect, she thought. Married to the most
brilliant, handsome man who was a famous concert pianist and love
of her life, a glamorous townhouse in the city, and a new baby on
the way. She smiled at him, but his eyes were closed. He was
temporarily living in his world, exclusive, impervious to outside
elements, people. It was only his, this secret existence, and he
shared it with no one.

Perhaps after the birth he would change. This
mental seclusion was likely temporary, she assured herself, the
result of nerves about being a new father. Surely his love for her
was real. It had to be. Without it, Melanie knew of no
alternative.

Pierre, on the other hand, was barely
content. Melanie was pleasing, sweet and attractive, but she was
only a blip on the radar. Eternity was a long time, and he was
partially ashamed for biding his time with a wife and family who
would grow old and die before him while he stayed looking no older
than eighteen or twenty. He didn’t yet have a plan for explaining
that small detail.

Instead he waited for the century to pass,
filling the hours with music to drown out the grief and passion
contained within. For there was only one love in his life lost so
long ago.

His hands barely grazed the piano keys in
contrast to the building crescendo he played.

Now he knew she would return, thanks to a
mystic friend from his country of rebirth, Morocco.

Nineteen hundred and ninety five, plus
sixteen years until they would meet again.

She wouldn’t be Sarah anymore, but would
contain her essence. No matter. He never stopped loving her, not
for one minute of his endless life.

And now he only had to wait a mere century to
see her again.