News
My first mystery has been released as part of the Heartsong Presents Mysteries bookclub. I'm excited to hear what readers and reviewers have to say about it.
Karen Maxwell (the heroine) is becoming a good friend and I'm enjoying working with her! The book was featured on Spyglass Lane, the official blog of the HP Mysteries on Monday, June 30. Since I get plenty of space here to write about myself, I decided to let one of my characters tell his story on the blog. So you get the perspective of Evan Maxwell, Karen's nine-year-old son. To see what he has to say about having an investigator in the family, click here.
I just finished the last round of edits for the second book, Worth Its Weight in Old and have started writing the third book in the series. It has been a lot of fun to write!
To find out more about Heartsong Presents Mysteries, click here.
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Headers
by
Henry thor Straten
Photograph
by
Stephen Purcell
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This month won't feature an article about fitting writing into everyday life. Instead, I'm posting a short story I wrote some years ago. My mom liked it, but I don't think anyone else really did. It was not written about her specifically, but it is about the everyday hero that she typified beautifully.
CLOUD NINE
When she woke, Alice realized that she was no longer floating. What a relief! She had spent the better part of the afternoon bobbing up against the ceiling like an untethered helium balloon, and found the experience rather unnerving. And the worst of it was that she had to watch her own lifeless body down below on the rigid hospital bed as doctors poked and prodded and her sister cried -- her own death performed like some sort of ghastly circus. All the while she remained powerless to do anything. She couldn’t even leave.
But now she had gone. Or so it seemed. From where she lay, she could see white walls all around and sense an emptiness that reminded her of the sterile atmosphere of the oncology unit at St. Joseph’s. But the hospital smell was now noticeably absent. Instead, the aroma of fresh-baked chocolate chip cookies hung almost palpably in the air, mingled with a freshness, like the clean air of a mountaintop.
The walls weren’t really white, either. Their surface was luminescent, gently reflecting colors of light as though made of pearls. Were they even walls? As she watched, the shimmering surface appeared to move in the rhythmic motion, as though gently breathing.
She bit her lip, steeling herself for the pain as she reached forward to touch the strange surface.
No pain. The searing ache which had accompanied her every movement for so long was gone. She tried the move again, and again felt no pain. Alice stood and stretched, then jumped for the sheer joy of movement. But when she looked down and saw another chair not too far from her own, she froze in awe. Then she giggled.
“Now I know I’m in heaven.”
On the chair next to her lay the sleeping form of Drake McKean, star of so many movies and her secret dreams.
A laughing voice suddenly boomed out, “You’re not in heaven yet!”
Alice spun around, but could see no one talking. The voice had not come from the sleeping man. But the sound apparently roused him. His eyelids fluttered open slowly. “You can auction off the bike, you know,” he mumbled, closing his eyes again. “Even though it’s a wreck. Someone will pay good money for it, since it was mine.”
Alice waited a moment to see if he would open his eyes again.
“What bike?”
His eyes snapped open. “Where’s Mick? Why won’t you let him in here? I know to you, he’s just my agent, but to me he’s family, and he should be here with me now as . . . am I dead?”
Alice giggled again as his outraged expression changed to that adorable puzzled look she knew so well from the big screen. “I think you are. At least, I’m pretty sure I am.”
“Oh.” He gazed around, and soon reached out toward the walls, or whatever they were, just as she had done a few minutes before. She felt content merely to watch his movements. It was Drake McKean, here in the room with her, and no one else. Except that they weren’t really in a room.
“Good morning,” the unseen voice boomed again, reminding her that they weren’t alone, either.
“Who are you?” The actor rolled smoothly off his chair, poised as if to do battle with a full squadron of aliens, or Mafia thugs, or whatever the script called for that day.
The voice laughed again. “It is good to see you feeling well again. As I mentioned a moment ago, you’ve not reached heaven yet, but your cloud will dock in just a few minutes. When it does, you simply follow the light. I must warn you, though, there’s quite a crowd awaiting your arrival. It seems your exploits on Earth have been followed with more than a little admiration. In fact, I might even go so far as to say you’ve got a fan club waiting. Now, relax and enjoy the rest of your flight, and please remain seated until the cloud comes to a complete stop.”
Drake flashed his trademark mischievous smile, but it was soon supplanted by a sigh that matched her own.
So much for having him all to herself. In her daydreams, she would meet him unexpectedly and they would just talk, he as interested in her mundane life as she in his tales of action and glamour. After they had become friends, then the relationship would naturally become more intimate and. . .
But now, when she had come so close, she would never even get that chance to talk.
“Well, just a few minutes before we get there, huh? I’m Drake McKean.” He offered his hand.
“I know.” She looked at his outstretched hand stupidly for a moment before extending her own. His grip felt warm and snug; her fingers tingled from his touch.
“May I ask who I have the pleasure of accompanying to heaven?”
This seemed like a line from one of his movies but it was not; and it was not a beautiful actress but she, Alice Brougham, who answered. And they did talk, just as she had imagined in her dreams. First about the illness and motorcycle accident that had ended their earthly lives. Then about those lives. His mother had been a grade-school teacher, like her, and they laughed over stories of children’s exploits. He had planned to become a teacher himself, but in college had found acting to be more fun, and eventually, much more lucrative.
“And I could never go back to teaching.” His sigh of regret was genuine.
“Why?”
“The fame. I couldn’t be a person anymore. I was a persona. I couldn’t do the things that ordinary people do.”
“Such as?”
“Okay, what would you do, back when you were alive, I mean, and before you were sick, if you found you suddenly had a morning of free time?”
“Hmm. I suppose I might go out and get a really fresh bagel and coffee, and sit outside somewhere with a good book.”
“Well I could never do that. People would come up to me, maybe not for an autograph, just to talk. And they’d be nice and all, but how much of that book do you think I’d get read?”
Alice smiled, nodding her understanding.
“And the coffee would sit while I shook hands, until it was cold. I hate cold coffee.” He sighed again. “I know it sounds petty of me, after I’ve been given so much. But I just wanted the chance to rest and be normal again. And now, even here, it looks like that won’t happen.”
“I’m sorry.” Alice felt sorry because he seemed so sad, but she still couldn’t see that fame would be the grave hardship he seemed to think it was. He had forgotten, or perhaps never known, what it felt like to have no one interested in your life at all.
“When did we stop moving?”
“Oh, I hadn’t noticed.” Alice stood, suddenly wondering what to do with her hands.
Drake sprang to his feet and waved toward the bright light. “After you.”
“Um, would you mind going first?” Better to let him get ahead so as to not disappoint the fans that had gathered to see Drake make his entrance. But, once she squeezed past the mob of his fans, heaven would be a wonderful experience, wouldn’t it? She would go look for Grandma Mabel. Or maybe a bagel shop.
“Here they come!”
“Can you see them?”
A crowd appeared through the fading mist. There was much waving and laughter and excited voices.
“Oh, look, she’s moving aside to let that man go first. She’s always so thoughtful.”
“Yes, it’s just like the time at the carnival, moving aside to let those girls ride with their friends.”
What in the world were they talking about? Alice knew all of Drake’s movies, and none of them involved carnivals.
“It’s like when she let her older sister win at Scrabble so she would think she was smarter.”
Alice smiled as she looked at Drake. She used to do that, too. It made her sister so happy.
"Did you see her last trip on the expressway? She signaled every lane change, let another car move into her lane at the toll booth, and even said hello to the toll collector.”
What movie was that from? And why were they saying “she”? Surely they couldn’t be talking about her.
“My favorite was watching her clean out the refrigerator at work after hours.”
“Ooh, I couldn’t watch! That was too gross.”
“I really liked watching her come home from work. She would always pet the dog first thing, even when she really had to go to the bathroom.”
Alice stopped walking. The crowd was talking about her. But how did they know all this stuff?
“I liked it when she used the dryer in her dorm at college. Whenever someone else had left their clothes in, she took them out and folded them before she put in her own.
Alice bit her lip and looked down, feeling as if her whole life had been suddenly ripped open and every detail shaken out like feathers from a pillow. Was there nothing these people didn’t know?
A warm hand grasped her shoulder. “Come on. Your fans want you to join them for coffee.” Drake smiled at her with the exuberant joy of a schoolboy suddenly let on holiday.
As she looked into his face, a flicker of hope started to warm her inside. The warmth swelled to a glow as she sensed the excitement and admiration of the crowd surging ever closer.
And she had never minded cold coffee.
_____________________
Dedicated to Betty Dolan, 1934-2008
copyright 2008 Kate Dolan
Watch for a new "Life Beyond the Lunchboxes" each month. You can read previous columns by clicking here.
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Alicia's Diary
September 19
Seventh grade officially sucks. The teachers treat us like kids. They might cancel drama club this year. And I think my brother is reading this so I'm afraid to really write anything.
September 24
Mom has a new job. Well, it's the same job she's always had, but she's doing different work. She gets to investigate a case instead of just doing paperwork all the time. I'm really happy for her. Things haven't been easy since Dad left, but she's doing a really good job.
September 28
She's the worst mom ever. She's making us go back to this really boring history house so we can learn more about boring history. (And Evan, I don't care if you read this and tell her because you said the same thing yourself.)
October 1
The boring history house wasn't too bad because there are lots of actors there and we get to dress up and act out parts in front of tourists. I think mom asked one of the other actors on a date. She said its not really a date, but I can tell (it was in the July issue of Teen Life Magazine "How to Tell if it's Really a Date")
Oct. 5
I'm really worried about Evan. I heard Mom talking on the phone about him and she was crying. I hope he doesn't have cancer or something.
Oct. 6
They're coming to take Evan away tomorrow. He has some kind of rare disease that's contagious and they have to isolate him from the rest of society. She doesn't want him to know how serious it is because she doesn't want to ruin his last day with the family. I can't even talk to anyone about it. It's so scary.
Oct. 7
Ha, ha! Told you I wouldn't get in trouble, you twerp. That'll teach you to read my diary.
Alicia is the daughter of Karen Maxwell of DS Investigations. New pages from her diary will appear here whenever she leaves it lying open.
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