Tuesday, March 7, 2017

A Nun Walks into a Bar - Nun-Fiction Novel, Book #1




CHAPTER ONE
Sister Abigail Eunice

I HAVE BEEN told I look like Mila Kunis, and you’d think this was a good thing, but in my line of work, it’s more of a hindrance. You see, I’m a nun. Admittedly, I’m not a very good one, but nonetheless, I am, in fact, a nun.
Which (in a very roundabout way) led me to a tiny, hole-in-the wall bar at the edge of the Pearl District in Portland, Oregon, on a quiet Wednesday night.
I was supposed to be meeting my friend, Laura, for dinner, but as I stepped off the MAX, I realized I’d gotten off at the wrong stop and, as was my luck, the small wet sprinkle coming from the sky quickly turned into a downpour.
“Well, crap!” I slapped a hand over my mouth and mumbled, “Sorry, Lord.”
Seriously, I was the worst nun ever.
Unsure of which street I was on, I took shelter under an awning next to a building with a frog motif, but no other identifying information. Frustrated, I fished my phone out of my purse and tried to figure out where I was. I had a missed call from Laura, and a new voicemail, which I could only guess meant she wouldn’t be able to make it.
“Hey, lady. I’m so sorry, I’m stuck at work and I can’t get down to the Pearl for another hour. Do you still want me to try or do you want to resched?” Yes, she said, “resched.” “Anyhoo, text me and let me know what you want to do. Love ya, ’bye.”
Laura Chan was my oldest friend. She was actually the only one who knew me before the nunnery, and therefore knew me as Sadie Ross, not Sister Abigail Eunice. Laura’s parents had moved from China, and into the house next door, the summer before second grade. She’d spoken very little English, but we still managed to communicate and we roamed the neighborhood, inseparable until my parents’ death. I adored her, even though she wasn’t always reliable. Ever hopeful, however, I always gave people the benefit of the doubt, so here I stood, only slightly protected from the pouring rain. And it was pouring. I fired off a quick text to Laura, pressing send... just as my phone died.
“Oh, holy mother of—” I pulled my sweater closer around me and stepped toward the building’s entrance so I could warm up and perhaps borrow a phone, but just as I moved away from the wall, something came loose from above, dropping a bucket’s worth of collected water on my head. I let out a quiet squeak and pulled off my now soaked veil, yanking open the heavy wooden door and slipping inside.
“ID,” a gruff voice demanded.
I nodded even though I couldn’t see anything in the dark space, reaching into my purse and pulling out my Oregon ID.
A large hand swiped it from me then handed it back. “Sister Abigail, you look lost.”
I let out a snort. “You have no idea. I’m stranded and my phone died.”
“Ryder can call you a cab.”
“Ryder?”
“Owner.” He nodded toward the back of the building. “He’s at the bar.”
“Do I really need to go to the bar?” I asked.
“Lady, he’s got the number for the only cab company he trusts and if I let you leave in one from a company he doesn’t trust, he’ll be pissed.”
I gave him a look of mock concern. “That sounds serious.”
Bouncer dude chuckled. “Yeah, he’s got this weird thing about sweet women being protected.”
“What about women who aren’t sweet?” I challenged.
“Those too.” The bouncer laughed. “But the sweet ones always seem to get special treatment.”
I smiled. “Okay, I’ll head to the bar.”
“Good plan.”
I walked past the pool tables, dartboards, and a jukebox playing something with a heavy drumbeat next to the bar, the counter of which ran the length of the building. There weren’t a whole lot of patrons, just a few who looked as though they paid weekly rent for their stools. However, I was surprised by the heart motifs hanging and taped up in a few key places. I guess it made sense... Valentine’s Day was tomorrow, so the bar was probably getting ready.
A tall man with his back to me turned and I felt sucker punched. Like, as in, the breath left my body.
His light-blue eyes met mine and seemed to peer into my soul. I froze, unable to take one more step under the weight of his scrutiny. He crossed his arms, keeping eye contact, and I was drawn into his tractor beam-like pull. I inched forward, one baby step at a time, taking in his light-blond hair, a full beard—not quite Portland hipster full, but still sexy-as-heck full. When my gaze landed on his lips he gave me this incredibly delicious sideways smirk, and Lord help me, I wanted him to kiss me.
See? Worst nun ever.
“You lost, Sister?”
“How did you know I’m a nun?” Without my veil, most people just threw pitiful glances at my clothes as though I didn’t know how to dress in anything fashionable. I wore a sturdy black wool dress, black tights, and a gray button-up cardigan.
“Couple years of Catholic school. ’Course, I never saw a nun who looked like you, but it’s your shoes that give you away. It’s always the shoes.”
“Oh.” I bit my lip, glancing at my feet. “Well, you got that right. They call them sensible... I call them ugly.”
“Not touchin’ that one.” Ryder smiled. “You need directions?”
I shook my head. “I’m that tale of woe, I’m afraid. My friend couldn’t make our dinner date and my phone died.”
“You need a cab?”
“Yes, but do you mind if I just warm up for a minute?”
“You want some tea?”
I couldn’t stop a huge smile of relief as I sat on one of the stools. “I would love some tea.”
“Give me your phone and I’ll charge it for you.”
“No, that’s okay.” I waved my hand dismissively. “I doubt you’ll have a charger that works.”
He chuckled. “You’d be surprised.”
I pulled out my six-year-old flip phone and slid it to him.
“Right,” he said.
“Solve that one,” I retorted with a giggle.
“Oh, you don’t think I can?” He pulled open a drawer next to the cash register. After testing several cords against my phone, he let out a, “Gotcha!” and faced me again, plugging my phone into the wall. “Found one.”
“How is that even possible?”
He laughed. “We never throw anything away and people leave shi—ah, stuff here all the time.”
I raised my hands and gave him quiet applause. “Well done, sir. Well done.”
He grinned and handed me a cup of hot water and a couple of tea bags. I was pleasantly surprised to see he had my favorite licorice flavor and steeped it in the water while Ryder went about his business.
“You look like you’re gearing up for Valentine’s Day,” I said, and sipped my tea.
Ryder shook his head. “Not my choice.”
“Aren’t you the owner?”
He chuckled. “Doesn’t mean I’m not ruled by my patrons.”
“Ah, so not a romantic, then.”
“Just think men should show their women they love ’em every day... not wait for one day out of the year. The whole holiday is a farce, in my opinion.”
I smiled. Maybe he was a romantic.
As he freshened my hot water, I wondered what my fellow sisters would think about the predicament I’d gotten myself into. Granted, they rarely left the abbey, but they also didn’t have jobs like I did.
Being a fourth-grade teacher and working for the Catholic school next to our living quarters was a perfect setup for me. Lately, however, I’d been feeling restless and I know Reverend Mother noticed. In fact, I had a meeting with her in the morning and it sounded serious, so being late or tired would not be an option. Perhaps my ill-fated evening was cut short for a very good reason. Mother always says God works in mysterious ways.
“You ready for that cab?”
Ryder’s question pulled me from my thoughts and I smiled, shaking my head. “Is it okay if I stick around for a little bit?”
“Knock yourself out.” He glanced at his watch. “But you’re outta here within the hour. It gets a little rowdy at night.”
“Your bouncer warned me about you.”
“Yeah?”
I wrapped my hands around the cup, warming them. “He said you’re very protective of women.”
He glanced behind me and then met my eyes again. “Bennie talks too much.”
“Maybe so.” I shrugged and then sipped my tea again.
“What do people call you other than ‘Sister’?”
“Nothing. I’m Sister Abigail Eunice. Although my parents named me Sadie.”
Now why did I share that? I hadn’t used my real name in years.
He leaned against the bar. “Pretty.”
My breath caught. “My parents thought so,” I said once I could speak again.
“But not you?”
“No, I like it fine. I guess I don’t really think about my name much.” I shrugged. “My students call me Sister and I don’t have many friends outside of... well, outside.” I shook my head. “Gosh, that sounds so narrow.”
Ryder grinned. “Sheltered perhaps.”
“That’s very gracious, Ryder.”
He cocked his head. “Never been called gracious before.”
Elbow on the bar, I settled my chin in my palm. “That surprises me.”
“Of course it does. You’re a nun.”
“Meaning?”
“You’re gracious to everyone, so you assume others will be gracious as well.”
“I’m not gracious to everyone. I’m a nun, not perfect.”
Ryder shrugged. “Fair enough.”
“I should go.”
“Probably a good idea.” He grabbed his cell phone and put it to his ear. “Hey. Got time to drop someone home?” He faced me. “Where do you live?”
“Beaverton.”
“Beaverton. Great. Yeah, five minutes works. Thanks.” Ryder hung up and slid his phone back in his pocket.
“You’re pretty friendly with the cab company, huh?” I took the last swig of tea and set the cup down.
“One of my guys is taking you home.”
“I thought you were calling me a cab.”
“Can’t let a nun pay the cab fare all the way to Beaverton.”
I frowned. “You don’t think I can pay for cab fare?”
“Not what I said, Sister.”
“Wow, you really take this whole I-am-man-hear-me-roar stuff, to a whole ’nother level, huh?”
His gaze went to something (or someone) behind me and he nodded. “Ride’s here.”
I decided not to argue; probably because it would do absolutely no good, and slid off my stool. “Thanks for the tea.”
“Anytime, Sister.”
Somehow, him calling me “Sister” felt lacking. I took a deep breath. Lordy, I was ridiculous... and I probably needed to confess, but I knew I wouldn’t.
Again, worst nun award goes to...
Ryder grabbed my phone and stepped out from behind the bar. “My number’s in there if you need anything.”
“What would I need?” I asked, and took the phone from him.
He shrugged. “You never know, Sister. It’s a resource. Feel free to use it.”
What a strange thing to say.
“Thanks for everything, Ryder,” I said, leaving my internal thoughts in my head.
“No problem.” He nodded toward his friend. “This is Reese. He’s gonna take you home.”
Reese was tall, dark, and handsome as they say, but he had an edge about him that made me a little nervous. His hair was longer than Ryder’s and kind of shaggy, and he was quite muscular. I was fairly confident he wouldn’t hurt me, but had I met him under different circumstances, I might have declined a ride.
A warm hand settled on my back and I felt a shiver steal down my spine.
“You okay, Sister?” he asked.
“Yes, fine.”
“You’re safe with him, yeah? You have any issues, you call me.”
“Okay.” I stepped away from his touch and forced a smile. “Reese, it’s lovely to meet you. Thank you for the ride.”
“No problem.” He waved his hand toward the door. “This way.”
With a backward glance and smile to Ryder, I followed Reese out to the car, grateful he wasn’t a big talker. Our conversation consisted of him asking me for my address and me giving it to him. The rest of the ride strictly featured me gripping the door handle (as was my habit). I hated cars and avoided them whenever I could.
It didn’t take long to arrive at the rectory and I thanked Reese and climbed out of the car, a little taken aback when he followed. “I’m fine from here.”
“Ryder’d kick my a—rear if I didn’t make sure you made it inside safely.”
“Right, his protection fetish.”
Reese chuckled but didn’t comment.
I led him up the brick walkway and to the back of the building where I unlocked the door and stepped inside. “Thanks again for the ride.”
“My pleasure, Sister. Have a good night.”
He walked away, and I closed and locked the door. 

* * *
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Sunday, October 9, 2016

The Promise - Sneak Peek!



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PROLOGUE
Lily

A BLOODY NOSE.
Never in my wildest thoughts could I have ever imagined that something as simple as a bloody nose would be the beginning of the end of “Liverick.” We were forever.
I had just started my senior year of high school and my boyfriend, Maverick, was off fulfilling his first year of a full-ride athletic scholarship playing football for Notre Dame. It was our first time away from each other and we were miserable. But we’d concluded it was just one year and then I’d join him the following year and we’d be back on track. There was never any talk of me not moving to Indiana to be close to him, even my parents were on board. If I didn’t get in, then I’d go somewhere else close to Mav. After all, we’d been together since I was five and he was six. This was it for us.
Well, until…
It was a Wednesday. It was raining and school had sucked. Ballet, however, had almost made up for my crappy day, but I was still late. I ran through the front door, yelling, “Hi, Mom, bus was late, sorry, gotta Skype Mav,” and rushed up to my room, powering up my laptop. Our black lab, Rex, followed, so I greeted him quickly, then I peeled off my wet clothes and changed into dry pajamas while I tried to connect Skype.
Maverick answered on the second buzz. “Hey, gorgeous.”
“Hi, Möosh.”
He chuckled. I’d given Maverick that nickname one night when we’d been out at Frenchman’s Bar, lying on a blanket and making out like crazy. He was always saying the sweetest things and I always found it funny how the men in my sphere of influence were the romantic ones, while the women…not so much.
“You’re so mushy,” I said, kissing him.
“It’s because I love you.”
“So, because I’m not as mushy, I don’t love you?” I challenged.
He grinned, the crater on his left cheek melting me. Seriously, tall and muscular with longish dark hair, blue eyes and dimples, Maverick Quinn was the hottest guy on earth. He’d always reminded me a little of Superman. You’d never guess he was the son of a bad ass Motorcycle Club member, being way more jock than biker…but I suppose, you could say that about me as well. I was far more ballerina than biker chick.
“Mom and Dad are the same way,” he pointed out. “So are your parents.”
“This is true.” I giggled as he squeezed me. “I do love how you get all mushy and then you smoosh me, though. They just make out and play ass grab with each other. It’s weird.” I craned my head to look up at him. “But you’re totally my moosh.”
Maverick laughed. “What the hell?”
“I’m over ‘babe’ and ‘honey’ and ‘sweetie.’ From this point on, you’re my moosh.”
“You already picked ‘Liverick.’”
“Well, we couldn’t be Maly…that’s just silly.”
He shook his head. “Well, if I’m your moosh, I want something cool. Something with umlauts in the spelling or some shit like that…like a bad European rock band.”
I giggled. “Like m-ü-s-h?”
“Huh-uh. I want m-ö-o-s-h. The second umlaut is silent.”
 I laughed so hard, I snorted, which was always Mav’s goal.
“How was dance?” he asked, bringing me back to the present.
“It was really good, actually. Your mom’s kicking my butt.”
“As she should.”
I sighed. “She wants me to do a showcase for the Portland Dance Company.”
He leaned forward. “And what did you say?”
Maverick knew how much I hated attention…good or bad. I was naturally shy and tended to stay in the background whenever possible. “I said I’d think about it.”
He gave me a gentle smile. “Just tell her no, baby. She’ll understand.”
“Outside of the fact, there could be scholarship money, I don’t want to hurt her feelings.”
“Lil,” he said, his voice a gentle admonishment. “You won’t hurt her feelings. She’s asked before, right?”
I nodded.
“She’ll get it, babycakes.”
“I’ll tell her tomorrow,” I promised. “How’s practice going so far?”
“Easy. Which means the tough part’s coming.” He shrugged. “I’m ready.”
“I know you are.” I sighed. “I miss you.”
“I miss you, too. Less than six weeks and I’ll be home for Thanksgiving.”
“I’m crossing the days off on my calendar.”
“Me too, baby.” He leaned forward. “Lil, your nose is bleeding.”
I touched my lip and my hand came away with blood. “Oh, gross. Hold on.” I rushed into the bathroom attached to my bedroom and grabbed a washcloth. Rex followed inside and sat beside me as I got the cloth wet.
“Press it against your upper lip, just under your nose,” Maverick directed from the computer. “Give it lots of pressure.”
I kept my head tilted back slightly and sat back down at my desk, peering at Maverick around the bloody washcloth. “So, video sex probably wouldn’t be attractive right now, huh?”
Maverick laughed, shaking his head. “Lily! If your dad heard you say that, he’d have my balls.”
I grinned. “He doesn’t know about us…you know.”
“I’m sure he suspects.”
“I’m sure he doesn’t,” I countered in a whisper. There’s no way my dad suspected we were doing the nasty, because if he did, Maverick probably wouldn’t be able to walk, let alone play football.
Maverick and I had waited a long time to have sex…well, a long time by teenage standards, really. It was my seventeenth birthday and we’d been given permission to take my dad’s boat out for the day alone, provided we were home in time for the big blowout party my parents had planned.
The whole day had been one of dreams. We’d made love, swam a little, made love some more. After that, I found it difficult to keep my hands off of him. Everything with Maverick was always perfect and I couldn’t wait until we could find time to be together again.
Maverick smiled. “Well, I’m not telling anyone.”
“Me neither.”
“How’s your nose?”
I pulled the washcloth away. “Seems good. That was weird.”
“Probably allergies.”
I nodded. “Probably.”
“I have to go grab dinner with the guys. I’ll text you later, okay?”
“Okay, Möosh,” I said, but it wasn’t okay. I wanted to keep talking to him.
He smiled. “I miss you, too, babycakes.”
“I know.”
“I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
“I’ll text you before I fall asleep,” he promised.
He hung up Skype and I headed downstairs. Hunter, my eleven-year-old brother, was in the family room, playing some Disney Infinity game with Cash my nine-year-old brother, so I patted their heads (they did not like to be interrupted during play time), and walked into the kitchen. Rex was attached to my side, so I once again laid my hand on his head.
“Hi, Mom.”
Payton wasn’t my biological mom, but she’d adopted me when she and my dad and had gotten married. She was my mom in all the ways that counted, especially considering my bio mom was a druggy and total waste of space.
“Hey, honey. How was school?”
I wrinkled my nose. “Um, totally sucky.”
“Because it’s school or for a specific reason?” she asked, sliding something that looked a bit like a pie into the oven.
“Because it’s school.”
“Sorry, babe.” She opened the fridge. “I grabbed that cheese you like. Want some?”
I had a small obsession with cheese. Okay, maybe not so small.
“Yes, please.”
She handed me the wedge.
“Thanks. Cass asked me to do that showcase,” I said as I broke a piece of deliciousness off the triangle.
“I know. She told me,” Mom admitted. “It’s five-thousand, baby girl.”
“No pressure,” I grumbled.
“I am sympathetic to your stage fright and discomfort having people watch you, but if you can put that aside and are chosen, it’s a nice chunk toward school.”
“What if I’m not chosen? Then I would have done all of that for nothing.”
“Valid argument,” Mom conceded. “But, the likelihood of you not being chosen is pretty low.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“That’s all we ask. You know, the collective ‘we.’ The mom and dad who work hard to pay for a great education…those two. The ones who could use a five-thousand dollar break?”
I giggled. “I hear you.”
“I appreciate that.”
“Are you making a peach pie?” I asked, changing the subject.
She grinned. “I am. Your dad requested it.”
I clapped my hands. “I love your peach pie.”
She chuckled. “So does your dad.”
“Okay, gross. I did not need to know that.”
“How’s Maverick?” Mom asked with a chuckle.
I sighed. “Not here.”
“I’m sorry, honey. This has got to feel like forever, huh?”
I nodded. This was something I loved about my mom. She never minimized how I felt or told me things like, “It’s only a year, or a few weeks, or whatever.” She let me cry on her shoulder and validated every emotion, distracting me when things got really tough.
I heard her gasp and then a towel was pressed against my face. “Your nose is bleeding,” she said.
“Oh, yeah, that happened when I was talking to Mav,” I said. “It stopped for a bit. It’s probably just allergies.” I held the towel against my lip again and waited.
“Maybe. I’m going to have Macey have a look. If she thinks it’s allergies, then I won’t rush you to emergency wrapped in bubble wrap.”
I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t help but smile. Macey was Mom’s best friend and a registered nurse. She used to work in the emergency room at the hospital, but had started working labor and delivery part time after she had babies. Mom called her about everything more serious than a hangnail. It was the running joke, but Macey was really good at her job and could usually tell if an ailment was something minor, or if a doctor needed to do tests, so everyone trusted her.
I heard the garage door go up and then Dad walked in, throwing his leather jacket and cut in the closet. My dad, Alex ‘Hawk’ James, was Treasurer of the Dogs of Fire Motorcycle Club, and tonight was their club meeting, which they referred to as “Church.”
“Hey, baby girl,” he said, and hugged me as he walked into the kitchen, nodding toward the towel. “What’s up with that?”
“Hi, Daddy. Allergies I think.”
He released me and pulled Mom in for a grosser than normal public display of affection which I avoided by turning around and looking outside. So much for my opinion they didn’t smoosh. In my need to avoid the PDA, I almost stepped on Rex who still hadn’t left my side. I settled my hand on his head again as I kept pressure on my nose with the other.
“You call Mase?” Dad asked Mom.
“She’s coming over to borrow a dress, so she can look at Lily then.”
“Gonna go say hi to the boys.”
“Okay, baby,” Mom said.
Dad headed out of the kitchen and I faced Mom again. “What time’s Macey going to be here?”
“I think she and Dallas are swinging by around nine.”
“Okay, I have some homework, so I’ll work on that before dinner.”
“Sounds good.”
I made my way upstairs and started on my homework. Dinner was pretty uneventful, the peach pie was divine, and then my world imploded.
Macey didn’t think it was allergies.
Macey was right.