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💕A Very Special Valentine's Story.💕
“I don’t think we should have said yes.” Shay McDowell rolled her bag of chef’s knives and shoved it into the duffle bag. “This is a bad idea. What if he hates my cooking?
Also, it was Valentine’s day and a Monday, which meant both Jazz and Rock House were closed. It would be the first time she and Aden were able to spend the holiday alone. She’d planned to make a special dinner. Now, instead of a romantic dinner with the man she adored—work.
When she’d told him, he was disappointed but understood. A lot could be riding on this meal for a rich food critic and his soon-to-be fiancé. Ah, at least someone would have a romantic night.
Olivia House leaned against the swinging door leading to Jazz House’s dining room. “Of course you can do this. This restaurant critic is important to us. Think of the great publicity. The past year has been hard on the restaurant and service industry.”
“I know. But Olivia, it’s out of my sphere. I’m not a personal chef.” Shay scrubbed her face with both hands.
Olivia pushed away from the door and stepped toward her. She gathered Shay into her arms. “It’s going to be all right. I thought you were past all this doubt with regards to your talent.”
She relaxed into her friend’s embrace. In the two years since Shay had met her boss and best friend, Olivia rarely asked for anything. “I’m sorry. It’s just—what if I screw up? What if I need some ingredient?”
“They promised the private rail car is fully stocked with everything you requested,” Olivia assured her.
Shay nodded as she zipped her jacket over the scrubs she usually wore to prep. A classed-up chef uniform hung on the hook by the door in plastic. Once dinner was ready, she’d change for service. Giving the clock a glance, she said, “I’ve got to go. Can’t be late to the station.”
“Here.” Olivia handed her the duffle. “You are going to knock it out of the park.”
“Thanks.” After putting the strap over her shoulder, she grabbed the plastic garment bag. “I just hope I don’t de-rail.”
The train station was well lit when Shay pulled her black sedan into the parking lot. Her breath floated into the chilly February night air when she got out of the car. Up ahead, she could see couples laughing and even a few PDAs while they waited to board the special event cars.
Once she grabbed the bags, she popped the locks down and made her way to the platform. A man wearing a navy-blue suit with gold buttons stood, directing everyone where to go. She anxiously awaited her turn.
Steam came out of the trains. Some above them and a low fog seemed to hug the ground. Visions of 1940s film noirs came to mind. She wondered if Rick and Ilsa would pop up. Oops, it was her turn.
The train conductor looked up from a clipboard in his hand. “How may I help you?”
“My name is Shay McDowell, and I’m here for a private party.” She held out the paper with the train car information.
“Ms. McDowell, I’ve been expecting you.” The man’s name tag said Levi Jameson, Railway Conductor. “It’s not often we have a privately owned railcar, especially such an opulent one attached to our tours. Please follow me.”
Shay’s nerves rose to DEFCON 3. Adrenalin flooded her system, and despite the cold, began to sweat. “Really, it’s that unusual?”
“I hear it’s a special night for someone.” He glanced at her, and his smile faded. “Don’t worry. I don’t think someone would go through all this trouble for a lavish experience like this unless you were well-vetted.”
Air hissed through Shay’s clenched jaw. “From your lips to God’s ears.”
A bark of laughter escaped him. “My grandmother used to say the same thing.”
They neared the back of the train, and Shay’s breath caught once more. A highly polished black with shimmery silver railcar glistened at the rear. Light gleamed like beacons through arched windows.
“Wow.” She stopped in her tracks. “Just wow.”
“I concur.” Levi paused next to her. “I’ve been in this business for eighteen years. That is the prettiest car I’ve ever seen.”
Shay brushed a stray hair from her forehead. “How much does something like that cost?”
“Well, they can vary in cost in the six-figure range, but this one? This one much higher.”
“Again? Wow.”
“Come on. This way.” The conductor led her toward the front.
“Hm, I would have thought the kitchen would be in the back.”
“This particular car has a canopied rear observation balcony.” He unlocked the door. “Since another car is in front of us, the view would be blocked. Anyway better to tease them with the scent of your cooking to whet the appetite. Up you go, and good luck.”
“Thank you, Mr. Jameson.”
He touched the brim of his hat in reply, and light reflected off the pocket-watch he pulled out, checking the time as he sauntered away.
Good grief, it did feel like she’d traveled back in time. The sound of pots clanking tore her attention from the scene. She was supposed to be a solo act tonight. Who was in the kitchen?
She grasped the knob, cracked open the door, peered in, then flung it the rest of the way. “What are you two doing here?”
Eli turned and put one hand on his hip while continuing to stir a pot. “Get in here. You are almost late.”
Margaret bustled around the tiny cooking space, smacked Eli’s arm, and hurried to Shay. “Where’s the bag?”
“Can either of you please tell me what’s happening?” Shay handed the other woman her duffle. Though Rock House Grill was closed too, she would have expected Eli, the executive chef, and pastry chef Margaret, to be cooking up some romance for themselves.
“Tsk, not that one.” Margaret set the black carrier on the counter and grabbed the garment bag.
They had a little tug of war before Shay released it. “This is supposed to be a one-woman show. There’s not enough room here for the three of us,” she thumbed toward Eli— “especially him.”
Margaret’s red-tipped dreads bobbed as she laughed. “It is close quarters, but we like that, don’t we ginger-man.”
The huge redhead winked. “Get Shay sorted, and you get your lovely bum back to work, woman. Tick-Tock, Tick Tock.”
Margaret grabbed her hand and towed her to the opposite door.
“Sorted? What the—” All words cut off when she went through the door into the living area where soft music played in the background. Norah invited her to come away.
A perfectly restored early twentieth-century luxury car glimmered. It was breathtaking, from rich and shiny mahogany paneling to the arts and crafts style chandeliers. Brown leather sofas, with Emerald green pillows, looked comfortable and inviting. Even the matching green ceiling gave a feeling of warmth and luxury.
One round table in front of the seating area was set for two with crystal goblets and wine glasses. Champagne chilled in a leather embossed chiller. Fine China, with different hues of green-blocks edged with gold, was an elegant yet simple design.
“Margaret, what’s happening.” Shay’s voice quivered, and her knees felt weak.
“It’s going to be okay, baby.” Warm brown eyes with shallow laugh lines peered into hers. “Trust me.”
Margaret led her to another door where a small but well-appointed bathroom was. She hung the garment bag from a hook and pulled the zipper down.
Shay gasped. It wasn’t her chef’s uniform. Inside the bag was a black dress. Margaret pulled it from the plastic and shook it out. It was a dress she’d admired with Olivia a few weeks ago. Off the shoulder yet with short sleeves, the dress had a fitted waist and a high-low hem. It was simple, elegant, and sexy.
“It’s a gift from Olivia.” Margaret reached back into the bag. “These are from Eli and me.”
Shay reached for the silver filigree belt and black heels with what looked like crystal hearts. Tears whelmed her eyes. “Why?”
“You’ll see. Now, wipe the tears, get dressed, and I’ll see you soon.” Margaret kissed her forehead and left.
Shay stood for a moment, overwhelmed, staring at the dress and shoes. Apprehension morphed into excitement, creating a fluttery feeling in her stomach. There was more in the garment bag. She reached in with shaky fingers and found her makeup kit and a jewelry box. Inside the box were silver stud earrings with a diamond and a matching thin silver necklace. The note with them read.
Icing for the cake. Hugs. Olivia.
Makeup done and dressed, she swept her long chestnut hair up into a simple loose bun to show the earrings and necklace off.
Shay peered at her reflection. An elegant woman with hazel eyes looked back. She cleaned up well. After taking a deep breath, she reapplied the tinted lip gloss and left the room. As she closed the door behind her, the rear door of the railcar opened. She froze.
I must be in the matrix!
Only Neo didn’t have anything on Aden. It must have started to flurry because he dusted flakes from his light brown hair and a long black trench coat that hung open in the front. Setting his cane against the wall, he pulled the coat off in an elegant sweep. Underneath, Aden wore a fitted midnight turtleneck and ebony slacks.
Oops, there went the lip gloss again.
He glanced up, and their eyes locked. “You are so gorgeous.”
“Thank—” She cleared her throat. “Thank you. So are you. And this is amazing.” She spun in place with hands upheld, then peeked at him over her bare shoulder. “How did you pull it off.”
“I’ve got a guy.” He scanned her from the tip of her head to the tip of her toes. His smile scorched her. “One who owed me.”
“Wow, that must have been some favor.” She bit her lip, tasting the cherry gloss.
Aden picked the cane back up and walked over to her. He slid his free hand around her waist and hauled her up to his chest. “I’m glad you approve.”
He bent over and pressed his lips to hers. But before the kiss could deepen, the train whistle blew. “We better sit while it pulls out of the station.”
“All aboard,” Levi’s voice rang out from somewhere ahead as they settled on the cozy leather couch.
Woo, woo.
The whistle blew, and Shay pressed her face to the window. Snowflakes danced in the glow of the old-fashioned lanterns lighting the platform. Several people stood waving at the departing train with huge smiles lighting up their faces. She couldn’t help but wave back.
Exiting the station, the train picked up speed and Woo, woo’d again.
“This is so romantic. Thank you.” She reached for Aden’s hand. “Believe it or not, even though I’ve lived in Pennsylvania most of my life, I never took one of the train tours. I never even thought about one like this.”
“I wanted tonight to be special.” Aden’s dark-blond tousled hair glimmered from the remains of the snowflakes, and warm brown eyes twinkled. She loved his perfectly trimmed goatee. The man could have been a romance cover with his rakish appearance.
Shay’s heart leaped, and she was glad she was sitting. Even after nearly two years, he could still make her weak in the knees. “You have succeeded, sir.”
He leaned toward her again, smelling all manly with a hint of mint on his breath.
Her tummy fluttered, and she prepared to have the stuffing kissed out of her. He could kiss like a romance hero, too.
“Ahem.”
Shay’s eyes flew open.
Margaret stood a few feet away, tray in hand, grinning from ear to ear. “Sorry, but the hors d’oeuvres were ready.”
Her tummy went from fluttering to grumbling.
Aden chuckled. “Guess you’re hungry.”
“What? I was too nervous to eat earlier.” She raised up in her seat a bit to see what was being offered on the tray. “Whatever you have smells delicious.”
Gougères, here.” Margaret pointed to the Gruyere cheese puffs first. “And these are pear and prosciutto with bleu cheese and basil.”
Shay took the napkin from Margaret while Aden popped the champagne from the ice bucket on the small round table in front of them. He poured two glasses and handed her one.
Margaret set the tray on the table, smiled, and left.
“To us.” Aden lifted his glass of light-gold bubbles.
“To us.” She clinked his flute. “And to these hors d’oeuvres and the friends who made them,” she said and popped one in her mouth. The gruyere cheese in the crusty pastry was to die for. “Mhh.”
Aden wiped his mouth after sampling the prosciutto. “To our friends. They were amazing in helping me set this up.” He fiddled with his napkin. Twisting it. “I wanted this to be perfect.”
Taking a sip, she peered at him over the rim of the glass. “It is.”
A beautiful world sung in Louis’ raspy voice came through the speakers as if in a musical reply.
“Not yet.”
“How could it be better?”
He turned to her and took both hands in his. “I’d hope by now my leg would have healed.”
“Aden”–she squeezed his hands–“you’ve made amazing progress since the accident. Give yourself credit for that.”
“I get it.” He lifted her knuckles to his lips, then flipped them over and ran his nose along her wrist before peppering them with kisses too. “But I would have preferred to get on one knee.”
“Whhat?” She stammered, and her eyes began to blink rapidly.
“Since the day of the accident, when you literally held my life in your hands, I’ve been yours. I told you once before that every day I watch and listen to you. Your gentleness and kindness to everyone make me want to be a better man. Shay, you’re still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met.”
“Oh, Aden.” Tears ran down her cheeks.
“Sweetheart, will you hold me in your hand for the rest of my life? Will you marry me?”
“You make me a better woman too.” She sniffled. “You’ve given me confidence and a new future. You’ve shared your family and friends and made them mine too. Of course, I’ll marry you.”
He pulled her into his lap and rained kisses on her face before landing on her lips.
Shay pulled her hands free and slid them around Aden’s neck, tangling them in his hair.
Arms wrapped around her. One hand cradled her head, the other pressed low on her back. “I love you so much,” He murmured against her lips.
Overwhelmed, Shay drew away from his kiss and buried her face in his neck. “I love you too.”
From the doorway to the kitchen came the clapping of hands. Eli pushed a serving cart up to the dining table, followed by Margaret and Olivia.
“I didn’t think you would mind sharing our celebration with them.” Aden shrugged, and red tinged the tips of his ears.
“Not a bit.” Shay bussed his lips. “This is what family is for.” 💖💖💖
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This article appeared earlier this year in Blue Magazine www.thebluemagazine.com/
One Thing in Common: Standing in the Gap SPOTLIGHT
By Donna V. Stone
Several years ago, I took the NaNoWriMo challenge. November is National Novel Writing Month. Thirty days, 50,000 words. Long story short, I accomplished the task only because of writing what I knew. What did I know? For 40 years, I’ve been surrounded by blue uniforms, OK, sometimes black. Some with stripes, some without. Some have helmets, some don’t. But all have one thing in common. They willingly give of themselves 24 hours a day, 365 days a year. Leave the family gatherings on holidays. Snow, ice, temperatures either too hot or too cold. They protect, rescue, and often pick up the pieces of someone’s life.
It was early in the 1980s when I began my First Responder life as a professional and volunteer Emergency Medical Technician. One of my strongest memories is responding to a call in my coverage area. My partner and I were the only all-female crew at the time. The tones went off, and so did we. A short while later, a simple unconscious male became a potentially violent situation. The man woke, and people from all the housing around us came out and egged him on in striking out at us. My partner got rolled by him, but I was able to radio for help. Let me tell you, I was never so happy to see red lights and blue uniforms. First responders from EMTs to firefighters and law enforcement have a special bond. When things go south, as they often do, we count on each other to protect, minister to each other, and save each other from tricky situations.
One of my long-term positions was as an EMT in an NJ State Prison. In 1994, I married a correction officer and volunteer firefighter. Now we’re both retired. My first book, “Rock House Grill,” was the 50,000-word novel I alluded to above. It’s considered romantic suspense and has, you guessed it, EMTs, paramedics and police. The second book, now under contract, is titled “Jazz House.” Police Officer Michael Machau is the main character. Michael is a composite of so many officers in my life. He’s honorable, compassionate and kind. He loves friends and family. He goes above and beyond to help his community.
In today’s climate, so many believe the opposite. One evening, in a chat with other authors, another writer stated she was researching in a county jail. She said she was more afraid of the cops than the inmates. I called her out on it. But if we don’t as a society hold people accountable for their reckless vernacular, they can influence others. You know, not every cop is great. Neither is any EMT, firefighter, or citizen. The fractions of a percent who aren’t, unfortunately, are the ones we hear about. That’s what makes the news, news. Because the other ninety-nine percent are a Michael Machau. Honorable, compassionate, and kind. Shh, I’m going to tell a secret. I know you. Most of you anyway. You love, care, and run to danger every day despite the ugliness of the world. You make a difference even when others don’t or refuse to see it. Through my writing, sorry but I’m going to out you, tell the world you all are big teddy bears. Many are grizzlies on the outside, but inside, where it counts? Koala bears.
Though I no longer respond to calls (I gave it up quite a few years ago), the blue uniform continues to be a constant in my life. My son is now a correction officer as well. Many of our friends still suit up every day. Hubby is a Life Member of the fire department and, until last year, still taught fire prevention in the local schools.
Me? I tell stories about superheroes. Ones who don’t wear capes but uniforms. Who don’t leap tall buildings but rush into those buildings. Who when others are running from danger, run to it. Thank you for standing in the gap. Protecting, serving, consoling, and keeping the rest of us from harm. This book is dedicated to First Responder in all forms. The people who give up their time and often their well-being to protect and serve. And especially to Lieutenant M. Monaco of the Newton NJ Police Department. I hope I did justice to you all with my character Officer Michael Machau of the fictional Slate Quarry Police Department. To my friend Getty. Each day when leaving work, we would all get a Getty hug and be admonished to “make good choices.” You are an inspiration. To El Felder, my editor, breathing coach, and cheerleader. To my beta readers, Paula L., Noemi D., and Amber Daulton, I couldn’t have done this without you. To Pete, my dearly beloved and biggest supporter, TWF. And finally, to my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.
*addendum* Jazz House is now published.
One Thing in Common: Standing in the Gap SPOTLIGHT
By Donna V. Stone
Several years ago, I took the NaNoWriMo challenge. November is National Novel Writing Month. Thirty days, 50,000 words. Long story short, I accomplished the task only because of writing what I knew. What did I know? For 40 years, I’ve been surrounded by blue uniforms, OK, sometimes black. Some with stripes, some without. Some have helmets, some don’t. But all have one thing in common. They willingly give of themselves 24 hours a day, 365 days a year. Leave the family gatherings on holidays. Snow, ice, temperatures either too hot or too cold. They protect, rescue, and often pick up the pieces of someone’s life.
It was early in the 1980s when I began my First Responder life as a professional and volunteer Emergency Medical Technician. One of my strongest memories is responding to a call in my coverage area. My partner and I were the only all-female crew at the time. The tones went off, and so did we. A short while later, a simple unconscious male became a potentially violent situation. The man woke, and people from all the housing around us came out and egged him on in striking out at us. My partner got rolled by him, but I was able to radio for help. Let me tell you, I was never so happy to see red lights and blue uniforms. First responders from EMTs to firefighters and law enforcement have a special bond. When things go south, as they often do, we count on each other to protect, minister to each other, and save each other from tricky situations.
One of my long-term positions was as an EMT in an NJ State Prison. In 1994, I married a correction officer and volunteer firefighter. Now we’re both retired. My first book, “Rock House Grill,” was the 50,000-word novel I alluded to above. It’s considered romantic suspense and has, you guessed it, EMTs, paramedics and police. The second book, now under contract, is titled “Jazz House.” Police Officer Michael Machau is the main character. Michael is a composite of so many officers in my life. He’s honorable, compassionate and kind. He loves friends and family. He goes above and beyond to help his community.
In today’s climate, so many believe the opposite. One evening, in a chat with other authors, another writer stated she was researching in a county jail. She said she was more afraid of the cops than the inmates. I called her out on it. But if we don’t as a society hold people accountable for their reckless vernacular, they can influence others. You know, not every cop is great. Neither is any EMT, firefighter, or citizen. The fractions of a percent who aren’t, unfortunately, are the ones we hear about. That’s what makes the news, news. Because the other ninety-nine percent are a Michael Machau. Honorable, compassionate, and kind. Shh, I’m going to tell a secret. I know you. Most of you anyway. You love, care, and run to danger every day despite the ugliness of the world. You make a difference even when others don’t or refuse to see it. Through my writing, sorry but I’m going to out you, tell the world you all are big teddy bears. Many are grizzlies on the outside, but inside, where it counts? Koala bears.
Though I no longer respond to calls (I gave it up quite a few years ago), the blue uniform continues to be a constant in my life. My son is now a correction officer as well. Many of our friends still suit up every day. Hubby is a Life Member of the fire department and, until last year, still taught fire prevention in the local schools.
Me? I tell stories about superheroes. Ones who don’t wear capes but uniforms. Who don’t leap tall buildings but rush into those buildings. Who when others are running from danger, run to it. Thank you for standing in the gap. Protecting, serving, consoling, and keeping the rest of us from harm. This book is dedicated to First Responder in all forms. The people who give up their time and often their well-being to protect and serve. And especially to Lieutenant M. Monaco of the Newton NJ Police Department. I hope I did justice to you all with my character Officer Michael Machau of the fictional Slate Quarry Police Department. To my friend Getty. Each day when leaving work, we would all get a Getty hug and be admonished to “make good choices.” You are an inspiration. To El Felder, my editor, breathing coach, and cheerleader. To my beta readers, Paula L., Noemi D., and Amber Daulton, I couldn’t have done this without you. To Pete, my dearly beloved and biggest supporter, TWF. And finally, to my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.
*addendum* Jazz House is now published.
