For today's blog, I want to share a selection from my book The Beckoning Flame, where examples of love and hate both show up for what they do to one's life. Admittedly, Martin is an extreme example of where hate can take someone, but if you read newspapers, you see examples daily that also show how damaging it can be.
This snippet is from the end of the book (something writers generally don't like to show readers before they read it); but since it's a romance, readers know the outcome from the time they buy the book. And in reading the story, readers will see Martin's downward spiral.
This is how you might, as a writer, use emotional growth and deterioration to not only depict the characters, but also might encourage your readers in the direction they want for their own lives. Fiction, maybe, but life has a way of being the model for fiction.
--------
The day of her wedding came with a sunny sky but a few
clouds. Perfect and not too hot. As soon as she awoke, Grace was in her room.
She was glad she had suggested Cord sleep elsewhere to make this day more
special.
“When do we put on the dresses?” the little girl asked
as she perched on the bed.
“After breakfast and getting your hair done.”
“I want to wear it a lot. It’s so pretty.”
“You can after the wedding, of course.” She got up and
put on her robe. She hadn’t given a lot of thought to her own hair but knew
it’d be in a bun at the back of her neck, to give room for the veil and the
pearl ringlet that held it in place.
Priscilla had little interest in eating breakfast but
enjoyed hearing the women talk as well as Davy’s opinion on all of what was
going on. He already was speaking more complex thoughts in the short time since
she’d seen him.
A few hours later, they were upstairs, with Davy off
with Ollie on some little adventure of their own. Looking down from the
upstairs window, Priscilla saw the way the wedding site looked with the
flowers, one hundred chairs, and a pathway leading to where she and Cord would
take their vows. She felt satisfied but wondered how many would really come for
the wedding. She had left word everywhere she could imagine but no way to be
sure how much interest Tucson would have in giving up a Saturday for this event.
Behind her, she could hear the rustling of fabric as
the dresses were donned. The giggles of
Grace added to the energy of the room. She had fixed Grace’s hair to hang down
her back after being held back from her face by a jeweled clip, one that had
belonged to Priscilla’s mother.
“You all right with all this?” Abby asked as she came
to stand beside Priscilla. “You can still change your mind.”
Priscilla laughed. “Are you joking? I am so eager to
marry that man that I can hardly stand it. I want it all to go well and be a
memorable day.”
“It will be. Now, how about your dress? You’ve been
keeping that a secret.” Priscilla turned to look at the three who would be
standing beside her with their lovely pink dresses. She was happy that Josey
had found another of the previously castoff dresses for Abby. They looked
lovely in their finery. If that was all it took to make a wedding memorable,
they provided it. Although Rose wore her hair in a high bun, Abby had let hers
hang down after being clipped back from her face, using some barrettes that had
been her mother’s.
She felt uncertain about the dress, as she’d never worn
anything like it. Walking to the armoire, she opened the door where the lovely
dress hung. “It’s white,” she said needlessly, “and I’d probably have chosen
off white or something.” She cast a teasing look to Abby as she couldn’t
explain with Grace listening.
The dress had a scoop neck with a long ruffle that went
from it over the shoulders with long white sleeves to the wrist with a lace
trim. The skirt was full with several layers but no train. She had had Josey
cut that off where hers was to be a garden wedding.
“It’s gorgeous,” Abby said when she brought it out to
show them.
“You’ll be so beautiful,” Grace agreed along with Rose.
She pulled out the veil that would fall to the length of the skirt.
She knew it was lovely, but different from what she
usually wore, not that she didn’t have a nice wardrobe. Just no ballgowns. Such
had never appealed to her.
“You don’t think it’s too much?” she asked with
uncertainty.
Abby laughed. “You are supposed to be the star of this
show. Let’s see it on.”
“People are gathering below,” Rose said looking back
out the window. “The chairs will soon be filled with more coming.” She grinned
as she heard the first of the harp music start.
It was a show as well as a legal commitment. Priscilla
understood that and took a deep breath as she let the others help her into her
dress and the petticoats that supported it. At least, it only took two. When
she was dressed, with Abby helping her attach the veil, she looked in the
mirror and wondered who that woman even was. She laughed then at her silliness.
This would be a once in a lifetime event for her. She would enjoy it as she
turned to face her wedding party. “Guess we should go down?”
“James is waiting,” Rose said. “He looks fine in his
suit. This should be fun.”
At the foot of the stairs, James told them all how
lovely they looked. He smiled at Priscilla. “Maybe I won’t give you away but
keep you for us.” She laughed. When Grace looked concerned, he retracted the
statement with a chuckle. “The garden is packed with as many standing as
sitting. I saw the judge, Cord and his men head to their place.”
Priscilla took his arm and watched from behind the wall
of the house to see her female attendants walk down the aisle to the harp
music. She was grateful again for Josey suggesting it, as it lent a more
wedding feel to the occasion.
And then it was her turn, as she and James began to
walk down the created aisle. She observed the guests for only a moment before
she saw Cord, looking unbelievably handsome in a dark suit, his jaw freshly
shaved and hair trimmed. When their gazes met, he smiled and suddenly she felt
her jitters disappear, as she was filled with love. It was a dream come true.
One she’d never dared dream.
Watching from one of the chairs four back from the
aisle, Martin smirked. They all thought they knew so much but in reality, only
he knew what this day would hold. Having grown as much beard as possible, no
one recognized him. He had heard he was dead. They could wish, he snickered to
himself. He had hidden that day, had seen Cord limp away and knew what they
would think. They were so stupid.
His hate seemed to grow into almost an internal flame.
He knew the cause of all his troubles had been her, the woman in the white
dress, which should have been black for her black heart. He shifted in his
chair, easing his gun from the pocket where he had secured it. He was glad he
was a good shot as he wanted that white dress not only covered with blood but
also the woman wearing it dead. He felt more joy at the thought. Killing her
would provide satisfaction for all she had cost him. He didn’t care if he lived
after that. He would possess her in death as he never could in life.e didn’t
The judge spoke simply when he asked if anyone had any
objections, and if so, this was the time.
Martin edged past the other guests and said— “I do,” as he stepped into
the aisle with the gun now leveled. He wasn’t ready to fire. He wanted to savor
the moment. He saw shock on Priscilla’s face as she and Cord turned toward him.
For once, justice was done, Martin thought, as he smiled more broadly and took
more steps toward them.
“Never expected to see me again, did you, Marshal?”
Martin said. He glanced briefly side wise. He concentrated on the two at the
makeshift altar. The crowd had grown eerily silent, which suited Martin
perfectly. Finally, they understood, him for the leader he was. He laughed.
When he saw Cord edge toward Priscilla, he raised his voice to what might’ve
sounded like a scream to others, but to him, it was the cry of the victor.
“Move again, Marshal,” he said, “and I’ll kill her right now. You thought I died
up there, didn’t you,” he said. “I outsmarted you. I lost my rifle when I fell
but I landed under a crevice. I would have liked to kill you right then but
turns out there were better ways. You took my woman. That’s theft.”
“He took nothing that was ever yours,” Priscilla said.
She felt Cord’s hand as he tried to move her behind him. She resisted, not
wanting to see Cord killed in front of her. Better if it was her.
“Well, you’ll be mine now.” He took another step
forward only to trip as a long pole thrust between his ankles, throwing him to
the ground. In an instance, Ben Albright lunged from his chair, grabbed Martin
and lifted him in the air, the revolver fell from his hands. When he felt himself thrown back down,
the brute stepped on his hand, probably enough to break it.
“I can take care of this,” Sheriff Adams said as he
moved forward to use handcuffs he’d brought with him to clasp Martin’s hands
behind his back. As he came to his senses, he screamed out his rage. This was
so unfair. “I’ll get him out of here,” Adams said. “Don’t want garbage like
this to ruin a wonderful day like this one is.”
With the help of Ben and Ridge, he half dragged and
half forced Martin to walk as he babbled about the unfairness.
Priscilla saw
that finally the handcuffs Sheriff Adams always carried had been brought to
good use. She tried to still her shaking. It helped that Cord held her, his own
voice emotional. She still felt irked at how the sheriff had treated her after
her kidnapping, but she had to put that aside also.
“Even a broke
clock is right twice a day,” Cord said, having read her mixed emotions. That
led to her giggling. It all seemed so unreal. Martin had meant to kill her an
only an intervention had prevented it happening, that and Martin’s inability to
do anything right.
The judge, a man
of steel himself, said, “It’s time to take your vows.” Priscilla knew then she
had to straighten her own backbone and managed a smile. Martin had been a bad
mistake in her life, but he would go to prison now for the murder he had
committed, maybe even be hung. That mistake was over, and cleared her voice to
listen to the age-old words asking if she would take this man for her husband.
That’s when she smiled. Would she. She resisted laughing. She heard the
answering emotion in Cord’s voice and knew he’d repeated the words. Of course,
she’d love him forever, until they were both old and gray. They’d gone through
the fire together and now it was time for the joy. When Cord was told he could
kiss the bride, he gave her a long, sweet kiss as he held her in his arms. “You
are so beautiful,” he said.
“You too.” She said before turning with him to their
audience, who were now all standing, laughing, and clapping. Whatever shock
they had felt at what happened, it was gone with this reaffirming of the
strength of love.
Cord turned to take Priscilla in his arms. “I should
have gone down and taken him out up there. I am sorry.”
“And maybe gotten killed yourself with a fall. No, this
was it was meant to be. And now he’ll pay for what he did to Sally, even though
he got away with so much else.”
Sam growled as he came up to hug them both. “I told
Abby I should have carried a gun.”
Cord looked then toward the one who had stuck out a
long pole to trip Martin. Carlos Vega had just retrieved it, examining to make
sure his prayer pole was undamaged. “Mr. Vega,” Cord said as he went down to
him, his arm still around Priscilla. “We owe you more than we ever can repay.”
Vega laughed. “You two would have survived it either
way but this was true justice with having the man tripped by his own evilness.”
“That is true,” Cord said as he took the older man’s
hand. “And tripped by your goodness.”
Vega chuckled.
Priscilla managed a smile as she scanned the guests.
“Time for our lunch, I think.” She laughed. They had survived again, as she
knew they always would.
.jpg)
