"Here I am." Savanna's mother rushed into the room, stopped and flattened her palm against her chest. "Oh, my. I need to slow down and take a breath."
A tender smile pulled at Savanna's mouth at the sight of her mother. "I know how hard you're working to make this a wonderful day for me, Mom," she said.
It was so like her mother to overwork herself. Each and every birthday was made special, each holiday an elaborate affair, because Mrs. Langford fussed to make everything perfect for her husband and only child.
Savanna's mother dismissed the compliment with a wave. "It's what being a mother is all about, honey. Now come. Sit." She patted the cushioned chair facing the mirrored vanity and fluffed the skirt of Savanna's gown after her daughter sat down.
"You should see Danny." The woman's blue eyes twinkled. "He looks so handsome in his tux. That black suit brings out the best of his dark good looks." Smoothing her hand along one side of Savanna's blond, upswept hair, she commented, "It's a shame your friends couldn't be here for the wedding."
"Maggie and Sharon left for school two weeks ago," Savanna said, a flash of sadness rushing through her at the thought of her friends who were now on the other side of the country. "And Josie was lucky to get an internship at that pharmaceutical company. With everyone just getting settled, it was too much to ask them to fly home again."
Mrs. Langford cocked a wicked eyebrow at her daughter's reflection. "Well, if they could see Danny today, they'd simply swoon."
Savanna laughed. "Swoon? Mom, no one 'swoons' anymore."
"Oh, yes, they do." Her lips quirked in a perky smile. "They just call it something else."
Savanna thought her mother was probably right; if her friends had been sitting downstairs, they most likely would have been swooning at the sight of Danny in a tux. But then the sight of Danny, no matter what his attire, had driven her high school friends crazy ever since he'd first shown an interest in Savanna. Maggie would consistently turn three shades of red, and Sharon would giggle herself silly. Josie, on the other hand, had always been pea green with envy because Savanna was involved with a "college man."
And now those same friends she'd graduated with were off seeking their destinies at colleges and corporations across the country. A small frown creased her brow as the black cloud of doubt billowed and thickened and hovered closer than ever.
"Oh, I forgot to tell you. Danny's parents arrived while I was downstairs." Savanna's mother gently shook out the folds of the gossamer veil. "They're with your father. I've never seen Daniel and Susan happier. And your father's floating around down there with a smile on his face that's a mile wide."
As she watched the reflection of her mother arranging the white, lacy panels of French silk tulle over her head, Savanna struggled to breathe. She supposed this match between herself and Danny had been a given from the very beginning…to her friends, her parents, Danny's family, even to Danny himself. And that had never bothered her before. So why did she find the thought so claustrophobic now?
Mrs. Langford positioned the stiff, satin-covered band on her daughter's head and began to pin it securely in place.
"You're going to make a wonderful wife," she said. "And your father and I can't wait to be grandparents."
But Savanna wasn't listening; she was concentrating on sorting out the feelings churning inside her.
Danny's attentions had always flattered her, had always made her feel special. His touch excited her, his kisses made her tremble. Being with him, she felt protected and secure. Danny would keep her safe, just as safe as she'd always been here at home, living with her parents.
As if she were a mind reader, Mrs. Langford said, "After today you'll have no worries." Her mother chattered on, not noticing Savanna's silence. "As the wife of a lawyer, your future will be set. I can't find the words to express just how happy I am. This is what your dad and I always planned for you."
As the words echoed in her head, Savanna's mind reeled. Her eyes widened a fraction as a realization struck her with force—everything had been planned for her. Every single aspect of her life had been mapped out by those who loved her. She'd always been sheltered, kept perfectly safe from the outside world. Never had she been touched by unpleasantness of any kind, never had she faced a problem alone.
Savanna struggled to remember one time in all her nineteen years when she had encountered and tackled an obstacle on her own, one time when she had overcome a challenge single-handed. The fact that she couldn't recall even one instance was mind-boggling.
"Mother…" Savanna's voice was raspy with dry emotion. "I can't do this."
Mrs. Langford continued to fuss with the headpiece. "Can't do what, honey?" she asked blithely.
"I can't marry Danny."
"Of course you can." For several seconds, Mrs. Langford kept pinning the delicate veiling material, but Savanna's prolonged silence made her glance up. After studying her daughter's expression, she must have read the panic there, for her tone changed dramatically as she straightened and asked, "What do you mean you can't marry Danny?"
Savanna squeezed her eyes shut. "I don't know what I mean. It's hard to put in to words. I'm feeling something, and I'm not sure what it is." Her eyes were pleading for understanding when she looked up. "Something just isn't right."
"Don't be silly," her mother reproved. "You love Danny."
Twisting around to face her mother, Savanna said, "Of course I love him. He's wonderful."
"He is," her mother agreed, her voice suddenly tight. "And he'll take care of you. It's what your father and I want for you. It's what everyone wants for you, Savanna."
But was that what she wanted for herself? For someone to care for her for the rest of her days? The questions whirled inside her head, and Savanna was surprised by the tears that prickled her eyelids.
By marrying Danny was she merely fulfilling everyone else's expectations of what was best for her? If she did marry him, how would she ever know what she, Savanna Langford, was capable of achieving? How would she know what challenges might be awaiting her out in the world?
Who am I? she wondered. What do I want for myself? The questions rocked her to her very foundation. She had never asked that of herself before.
She might not know the answers to any of the questions that were rearing up in her mind, but she did know that she couldn't possibly commit herself to Danny until she had the chance to at least ponder them.
Immediately she reached up and began pulling at the pins that held the headpiece in place.
"Savanna, stop that," her mother demanded.
The two of them engaged in what would have been a comical bout, as one plucked out hairpins and the other tried to snatch the pins and put them back into place. But there was nothing funny about the despair pushing Savanna to the brink of hysteria.
"Mother!" Frustrated by the game, Savanna stood so quickly the chair toppled over.
Mrs. Langford scowled. "You're being silly, Savanna. This is nothing but an attack of pre-wedding jitters." She stooped down and picked up the pins that had fallen to the floor. "It's usually the groom who gets cold feet."
"I cannot do this." Savanna's unflinching gaze made it evident that she was utterly serious.
Mrs. Langford stood and planted her hands on her trim hips. "The minister has arrived. The guests are assembled. Everyone is waiting for the bride's entrance." She cocked her head. "The bride is you, Savanna."
Savanna swallowed and tipped up her chin a fraction. "I need to talk to Danny."
Mrs. Langford's lips pursed so tightly that they paled under her sheer lipstick. After a long, tense moment, she said, "All right. I'll go find him. I only hope he can talk some sense into you."
After the door closed firmly, leaving her alone with her doubts and questions, Savanna wondered what on earth she was going to say to Danny. How could she explain her feelings? How could she make him understand when she didn't understand herself?
Fear and confusion gripped her with an icy hand and she buried
her face in her open palms. "What are you doing?" she murmured.
There was a soft knock at the door. "Savanna?"
A familiar warmth rippled through her at the sound of Danny's deep, rich voice.
"Danny!" Her urgent whisper was nearly choked off by a sob as she pulled open the door.
The very sight of him calmed her and she drank in the comfort his presence never failed to give. The smile that tilted his lips gave her strength and she tried valiantly to return a smile of her own.
"You're beautiful," he said. "But with all the superstition about bad luck, are you sure it's safe for me to see you before the ceremony?"
His jesting tone told her that he didn't realize the extent of her emotional state. Maybe it was better that he didn't know the turmoil she was feeling. What she needed to do was explain to him in clear, logical terms the chaos that was twisting around in her brain. The contradiction in terms nearly made her laugh aloud. Instead she took a deep breath.
"Danny," she began. It hurt to say his name, knowing what she was about to tell him. "I'm afraid I can't do this."
He took her hands in his and held them securely. The feel of his skin on hers was stirring. All she wanted to do was drift deeper into his protective embrace. No, her mind screamed. Not now.
"Savanna, everything's going to be all right. You'll see, as soon as we..."
His voice trailed off as she began to shake her head. She pulled her hands from his grasp and stepped back. She couldn't touch him and think clearly at the same time.
"You don't understand," she said. "I'm afraid."
"I know you are."
She saw his dark eyes fill with compassion and love.
God, why can't I get this right? 'Afraid' wasn't the word she'd meant to say. Anxiety swept through her, settling in the pit of her stomach where it churned, slowly and steadily.
"Listen," he said, "I'll go down and tell everyone that we need some time." He reached out and gently cupped her elbow. "Say, an hour? That will give us time to talk." He chuckled. "Time for us to gather up your courage."
"But-"
"It's okay," he told her. "Dad can break open the champagne early. There'll be no harm in that, now will there?" He gave her a charming, lopsided grin.
Hope budded like a rose inside Savanna. Looking at Danny so confident and assured, she wondered how she had ever doubted that he couldn't make everything right.
He went over and uprighted the chair, leading her with him. "Now you sit down and relax." He settled her in the seat, leaned close and caressed her cheek with his strong, smooth fingers. "It's going to be all right, Savanna. I promise."
His lips were warm and moist as he pressed them against hers. "I'll be right back with a glass of bubbly." He grinned. "And then I'll remind you of all those dreams we made. That'll ease your nerves." He kissed her softly on the mouth.
When Savanna was alone she sat in the warm cocoon of security in which Danny had left her wrapped. She didn't need to worry. Everything was going to be just fine, perfect even.
Those two tiny words sent an icy prickle chasing up her spine. The shadowy cloud of apprehension that descended was thick enough to smother her.
"Oh, God!" The words ripped from her throat like a torturing claw as she ran toward her closet and wrenched out the suitcase she'd so carefully packed for her two week honeymoon.
She snatched the bridal veil from her head, barely wincing as the pins snagged then pulled free from her hair. She reached behind her to rip at the back of her gown, and a dozen dainty pearl buttons bounced soundlessly on the plush carpet.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Donna Fasano is a USA TODAY Bestselling Author whose books have sold nearly 4 million copies worldwide and have been translated into 2 dozen languages. She’s written over 30 romance and women’s fiction titles that have made both the Kindle and Nook Top 100 lists numerous times. Find out more about her on her blog. Her titles include: Reclaim My Heart, The Merry-Go-Round, Mountain Laurel, The Single Daddy Club Series, Where’s Stanley?, and other titles
MAZIE BABY
by
Julie Frayn
Copyright 2014 Julie Frayn
Edited by Scott Morgan of write-hook.com
Cover art by Carolyn Frayn of www.carolynfrayn.com
Mazie Reynolds has moxie from the top of her bruised face to the tip of her broken wrist. She married a man she adored, and who adored her in return. But over fourteen years, her happy marriage soured with each new beating. When his attentions shift to their twelve-year-old daughter, Mazie knows it’s time to get the hell out. She hatches a plan to escape. But can she outwit the man she vowed to obey until death do they part?
Please press “Next Page” on your e-reader for the first chapter of Mazie Baby.
Mazie Baby
by Julie Frayn
CHAPTER ONE
Cool pavement kissed the soles of Mazie Reynolds’ bare feet. Beads of shining dew, caught in that nether-moment between breaking dawn and the sizzle of a spring heat wave, clung to clipped blades of grass. The world smelled clean and fresh. Smelled of open air and endless horizons. Smelled of freedom.
The rusty bolt that secured the red flag to the mailbox whined when she forced it up. She shot a glance over her shoulder. The house remained still, her morning reprieve uninterrupted. The eerie quiet lulled her into a sense of normal.
Whatever that was.
She pulled a small stack of mail from the box, the envelopes like sandpaper against her fingertips. Bill, bill, flyer, pizza menu. The last bulky and colourful piece announced that Cullen may have already won two million bucks. She snorted. As if.
She glanced at the van sitting in the driveway before turning her gaze on the mountains in the distance, all lilac and orange in the rising sunlight. How easy would it be to just drive away? Never look back? Do something different. Something new. Something better?
The hair on the nape of her neck stood on end at the crack of wooden heels on concrete. She tensed her shoulders and set her jaw. She hadn’t heard the door open. And why was he wearing those old cowboy boots on a work day?
“Surprise!” Soft, pale, freckled arms encircled her waist and squeezed.
Mazie laughed. “Well, good morning, Miss Simpson. You are definitely not who I was expecting.” Mazie reached her arm around the girl’s shoulder, gave her a small hug, and planted a light kiss on her frizzy, copper hair. “What are you wearing?”
Polly, the neighbour’s daughter, stepped back and stomped the sidewalk with wooden clogs painted bright yellow. “Grandma sent them from Holland. They’re klomps.” She twirled. Her short skirt flew in the air and flashed a bit of pasty, plump ass cheek and white cotton underpants. “Can I go show Ariel?”
“She’s still in bed. How about later?”
“Morning, Mazie. That’s a lovely scarf.”
Mazie donned a wide smile and turned slowly. That smug half-grin sat there on her neighbour’s round face, all prepped for another day of sticking her stupid nose in everyone else’s lives. “Hello, Rachel.” Mazie touched the thin material around her neck and pulled the scarf higher before drawing her sweater tighter across her chest.
Rachel jerked her head at her daughter. “Polly, honey, get back inside and eat your breakfast.”
Polly slipped off the klomps, picked them up, and skipped across the dewy grass, her wet footprints darkening the wooden front stoop before disappearing into the house next door.
“She’s growing up so damn fast.” Rachel plopped her balled-up fists on the sides of her ever-expanding muffin-top.
“Too fast. Just last year all boys had cooties.” Mazie sighed. “Now those cootie-carriers are all cute. And Ariel asked if she could wear makeup.”
Rachel nodded. “Well, today’s twelve is our generation’s fifteen.”
“I suppose. Kind of scared for my future grandkids.”
Rachel raised an eyebrow. “Getting a little warm for scarves and long sleeves. You must be boiling all bundled up
like that.”
Mind your damn business, Rachel.
“I’m fine. I like to be warm.”
“And you’re looking a little thin. You dieting again?”
Damn this woman and her incessant need to pry. Always peering over the fence, eyeballing Mazie’s family from her deck, standing on her tiptoes and craning her stubby neck, listening to Cullen’s phone conversations. Though, that was his fault. He shouldn’t drink and take private calls in the backyard. He was so much louder when he drank.
“I’m always dieting.” Mazie slipped her index finger under the flap of one envelope and tore it open, her focus anywhere but on Rachel’s questioning gaze.
The paper sliced into her finger. She winced, squeezed the tip with her thumb and watched a droplet of crimson ooze from the tiny scratch.
“Any plans for summer vacation this year?”
Mazie nodded. “Maybe a trip to the mountains. Or east to visit Mom. Cullen will go fishing, of course.”
“Without you and Ariel? You used to go all the time.”
“He likes his solitude.” And so did she.
The screen door squeaked on its hinges. “Mazie?” The air stilled after Cullen’s voice boomed across the front yard. “Oh. Hello, Rachel.” He said her name as if it were poison he had to spit from his mouth before it killed him.
Rachel’s nosy eyebrow shot up. She crossed her arms. “Cullen.”
“Mazie. Baby, come back in. Your coffee’s getting cold.” His voice lost its boom, took on an average volume, like what she imagined a normal husband would sound like.
She looked at her feet. “I’ll be right there.” She turned and headed toward the house.
“Well, have a nice day,” Rachel called as Mazie retreated. “Come for coffee sometime.”
Mazie waved over her shoulder, stepped inside the door, and bolted it against the outside world.
In the kitchen, Cullen leaned against the counter, his arms crossed in front of his chest, chin down, eyes dark and brows pinched. “Why do you talk to that stupid bitch?”
Anger spewing from his mouth was nothing new. But when his voice became a low growl, her skin crawled.