Cover Page

Gifts From The Heart

An Anthology

Edited by Maggie Lynch

Published by

Windtree Press, Portland Oregon

818 SW 3rd Avenue #221-2218

Portland, Oregon 97204-2405

855-649-0821

ISBN: 978-19423680-7-6

First edition

“The Telltale Heart” Copyright © 2012 Sarah Raplee
“Is He the One?” Copyright © 2014 Judith Ashley
“Saved by the Ring” Copyright © 2012 Diana McCollum
“Be My Valentine” Copyright © 2014 Susan Lute
“Dancing on Water” Copyright © 2014 Mercer Addison
“Heart of a Highlander” Copyright © 2014 Collette Cameron
“The Flaming Heart of Winter” Copyright © 2014 Pamela Cowan
“Matchmaker Cat” Copyright © 2011 Jane Killick

Cover design, Gilded Heart Design: gildedheartdesign.com

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed ‘Attention: Permissions Coordinator,’ at the address above.

All works of fiction including names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

Ordering Information:

Quantity sales. Special discounts are available on quantity purchases by bookstores, corporations, associations, and others. For details, contact the “Orders Department” at the address above or email windtree@windtreepress.com.

windtreepress.com

Thoughts About Love

Acknowledgments

Foreword

The Telltale Heart - Sarah Raplee

How can there be a win-win situation when two young men love the same woman? This story of best friends, lost chances, and found love will bring a tear to your eye and a little skip in the beat of your heart.

Is He The One? - Judith Ashley

When her best friend and long-time lover proposes marriage, Sophia hesitates to say “yes.” Unable to trust her heart, she analyzes their relationship using Dr. William Glasser’s concepts of basic psychological needs. By morning she has her answer.

Saved by the Ring - Diana McCollum

A soldier leaves for Afghanistan and the love of his life has refused to wait for him. Through war and injury he remains faithful and motivates his recovery with the thought of seeing her one more time.

Be My Valentine - Susan Lute

Dancing on Water - Mercer Addison

After surviving the sinking of the Titanic and the loss of her fiancée, Letha is determined to overcome her fear of sailing as she boards the SS McCall for a one-day voyage down the Hudson. But her past and present collide in a river of emotions where she must choose which path, and which man, will be the best way to move forward with her life.

Heart of a Highlander - Collette Cameron

A young widow with a small child faces a difficult choice in the highlands of Scotland. Attracted to her husband’s best friend, they both struggle to accept the wonderful love she had in the past and to reconcile their own loving relationship for a future together.

The Flaming Heart of Winter - Pamela Cowan

The legend of Ann’er pits the love of life against the love of another. Mora is faced with untenable choices in order to break out of the self-made prison of her love for Anum.

Matchmaker Cat - Jane Killick

Who helps Rosemary turn around her lovce life? Who puts the dating website on her computer? Who finds the attractive man with the smiling eyes? Is it a coincidence? Or is Chester the cat hiding a secret?

Metro Loves London - Susie Slanina

A call from London brings Sherry and Metro to help a sad and lonely princess. They help her to bring laughter and happiness back into her life through the unconditional love of a pet.

Windtree Press

All, everything that I understand, I only understand because I love. ~ Leo Tolstoy

You know you’re in love when you can’t fall asleep because reality is finally better than your dreams. ~ Dr. Seuss

The best and most beautiful things in this world cannot be seen or even heard, but must be felt with the heart. ~ Helen Keller

Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage. ~ Lao Tzu

Acknowledgments

Undertaking an anthology requires many people to coordinate the submissions, editing, sequencing, compilation, formatting, and eventually marketing. Every author in Windtree Press has some part in this anthology, whether they submitted a story or not. However, below are those who went the extra step to make sure this all came together, particularly during the time that I had a family emergency and could pay no attention to this volume for two weeks.

Red Circle Ink who provided developmental and first round

edits on all the stories. redcircleink.com

Judith Ashley, Associate Editor and Submissions Coordinator

Diana McCollum, Associate Editor

Sarah Raplee, Associate Editor

Christy Caughie and Gilded Heart Design, Cover Design

Jane Killick, Print Formatter, Interviewer and Producer/Editor for the anthology podcast and video.

Like the love and relationships we celebrate on Valentine’s Day, the history of this day is also messy. At least three martyrs named Valentine are part of the early Christian church’s traditions and commemoration: one in Rome, another in Terni (central Italy in Umbria) and another in Africa. The stories of these men range from being protectors of early Christians to ones who married those who were forbidden to marry in those times. Throughout history there have been couples forbidden to marry because of race, culture, different economic status, gender identification, or even simply because a king, a slave owner or some other power wished to have control of the individual. In some ways, those men celebrated as Saint Valentine were the rebels and protesters of their beliefs then.

Though most of the western world embraces the Bishop Valentine in Rome, who was martyred in the late 5th century, celebrations of love bonds started long before the Christian church and can be found in early pagan rituals, some of which are still practiced today in ceremonies for declaring love, handfasting for a one year commitment, weddings for long-term commitment, and in a variety of blessing and naming ceremonies for different life passages.

For most people, Valentine’s Day is a time when we celebrate the power of love in our lives. This includes the unconditional and simple love of children for family, friends and pets, as well as the complicated and sometimes messy love of adults for their family, their children, and their partners or spouses. This anthology contains all those types of love.

My parents, married since 1953, were engaged on Valentine’s Day and they always celebrated their time together much more on Valentine’s Day then their anniversary four months later. I expect it was their statement that the real commitment date began at the acceptance of the marriage proposal. So, for me, Valentine’s Day has always held a special place in my heart.

Like the Windtree Press Christmas anthology, this collection contains a mix of stories, ranging from another children’s story about Metro the Little Dog (the last story in the collection) to fun and suspenseful paranormal stories and to adult stories of first love, long-time love, and love found through hardship. I hope you enjoy each of these as much as I did.

Our wish is that all our readers find a love that wraps you in warmth, compassion, and peace.

Michael Truman blinked at the endless variety of pink and red craft papers lining the aisle at Daffy Crafters. His hands turned cold. Why in hell had he thought shopping here was a good
idea?

More than anything, he wanted the grandmotherly saleswoman who stood next to him droning on about shades of scarlet and rose to disappear. He tuned her out, removed his glasses and wiped the lenses with the edge of his green and yellow Oregon Ducks hoodie. Yesterday Carrie had told him his dark retro frames made him look like a teenage, nerdy Leonard from The Big Bang Theory on TV.

He sighed. Time to save for a new pair.

He donned his now-spotless spectacles and focused on the saleswoman’s smiling face. At least she seemed to be passionate about her work, the way he was passionate about engineering — and Carrie. He’d fallen for the redheaded stranger with sad gray eyes the moment she’d entered his hospital room last February and offered to trounce him at chess.

“We have free project guides if you need one,” the saleswoman was saying. She gestured toward a gaggle of middle-school girls huddled around the end cap. Her eyes danced. “It’s nice to find a young man romantic enough to make his sweetheart a special valentine.”

He didn’t bother to explain that:

1. He was a high school senior. Carrie would think he was a pathetic loser if he couldn’t design a valentine without help.

2. She wasn’t his sweetheart.

3. This was his chance to change that situation.

Eyeing the package of lace paper hearts and the selection of multi-colored glitter pens in his cart, he shook his head. “Uh, thank you for your help, ma’am. I can handle it from here.”

“I’m sure you can.” Her doubtful smile belied her words. The girls’ strident chatter drew an anxious glance. Frowning, she hurried down the aisle to referee.

Gabe Harper’s mocking voice blindsided Michael from behind. “New hobby, Mikey? Or are you trying to get in touch with your feminine side?”

Michael’s heart jolted as if Gabe had touched him with a live wire. He spun around to confront the (in Carrie’s words) tall, dark and handsome boy, but Gabe’s hands were empty. Why in hell had his nemesis decided to torment him again after months of silence?

He’d better leave the store before the situation got dicey. Gabe had a knack for showing up at the worst possible moment and then goading him into embarrassing himself in front of witnesses. He’d learned the hard way not to engage the pain-in-his-ass in public.

Turning his cart around, Michael found Gabe had somehow managed to block his way.

“Don’t forget the red construction paper,” the other boy said. “Didn’t you learn anything in kindergarten?”

The realization that this time Gabe’s taunts were justified brought Michael up short. He abandoned the cart and brushed past the taller boy toward the exit.

“Really?” Gabe stuck to Michael’s heels like toilet paper. “You can’t take a little friendly advice?”

Exiting the store, Michael didn’t slow down until he reached his old Jeep. “Actually, Gabe, I’m taking your advice. You’re right. Carrie challenged me to create a valentine that expresses who I am and speaks to her heart. I am definitely not lace doilies and glitter pens.”

“You need a whole new plan,” Gabe said, nodding. “I can help.”

Michael raised a skeptical eyebrow. “I’m supposed to believe you’ll help me win over your ex-girlfriend?”

Gabe went quiet for a moment. He stared at the toes of his black leather motorcycle boots as if considering his answer with care.

As if Michael’s reaction to his words mattered.

Michael’s eyes narrowed. Was this another setup?

Gabe’s intense brown eyes focused on his face. Much as he wanted to, Michael found he was powerless to look away. “We both know I love Carrie, Mikey. And we both know you love her, too.”

Michael found himself nodding.

Gabe scowled. “I’ve had a lot of time to think since I left town. Carrie and I are no good for each other. She deserves to love and be loved by someone who can be here for her all the time. Someone who can give her everything she needs. I can’t do that.”

Michael’s heart thudded. Gabe sounded serious, like he might really be ready to let Carrie go.

“Carrie needs …” Gabe paused dramatically. “You.”

Michael grimaced and shook his head at Gabe’s over-the-top pronouncement. “You almost had me. Next time don’t be so melodramatic.”

“You gotta believe me, Michael!”

“No, I don’t.” For once he had the upper hand. Smirking, he opened the Jeep’s door and slid into the seat.

Gabe leaned through the open side window and grabbed the steering wheel with one hand. “Tell you what. I’ll bet if you follow my advice Carrie will go out with you. If she doesn’t, I’ll clear out — forever. It’s a win-win situation for you.”

For all his faults, Gabe’s word was his bond. And Michael hadn’t made any real headway with Carrie since Gabe left, not even during the months she’d played bedside angel while he was sick.

What did he have to lose?

Later that night, in his basement workshop Michael laid his pencil on the workbench and smiled in satisfaction. Picking up his graph paper sketch, he examined the side view he’d drawn of a clockwork heart. The dimensions were identical to the dimensions of a real human heart. A windup key protruded from the back. He’d already designed the clockwork mechanism in his head. When Carrie wound the key, the heart would actually beat.

But what if his valentine grossed her out? He tossed the drawing onto the bench and picked up his Tesla mug.

The stairs creaked. He turned on his shop stool and watched Gabe descend. Raising his coffee to his mouth, he swigged the bitter brew.

“I did some research,” Gabe said with his usual cocky grin.

Michael choked on a mouthful of coffee. Gabe was allergic to intellectual pursuits. Consumed by a coughing fit interlaced with uncontrolled laughter, he set his mug down.

“What?” Gabe said. His eyes dared Michael to speak. “A person can’t change? Get over it!”

Damned if he didn’t almost believe him. How crazy was that?

Gabe gazed past him at the heart drawing. “Is that your new design?”

His hands started to sweat. “Yes. I’ll build a silver clockwork heart that really beats.” Why in hell had he exposed his heart idea to Gabe’s possible scorn?

“That’s more like it, Mikey,” Gabe said, nodding. He touched one finger to an old pocket watch on Michael’s project shelf, then stroked the back of a partially built clockwork horse. His lips quirked in a wistful smile. “Carrie values honesty. This design channels your inner nerd — in a good way. And I gotta admit you do quality work.”

Michael eyed him with suspicion. “Then what do I need you for?”

Gabe’s dark, intense gaze hooked his. “Modify this to show her you see what’s inside her heart. And show her what’s in yours.” He glanced skyward. “Then pray.”

Valentine’s Day dawned clear and bright. Michael’s nerves buzzed like his alarm clock. Everything hinged on Carrie’s reaction to his valentine.

Because it was Saturday, he arrived at her house at ten o’clock in the morning with a cube-shaped gift box in hand. They sat together on her front porch swing. She opened the box’s red lid. Her raincloud eyes widened and her rose petal lips parted on an indrawn breath. “Michael, it’s beautiful.” Lifting his creation, she dazzled him with a smile that set his heart humming. After winding the key, she laughed at the lovely silver heart beating in her hands. When the rhythm slowed, her smile faded. Then the front sprang open like a locket, transforming one heart into two.

He held his breath while she studied what he’d engraved inside each one. Her trembling lips formed the names silently.

Michael. Gabriel.

She burst into tears and his dreams imploded like a popped balloon. He ignored the pain that threatened to stop his heart and pulled her onto his lap, rocking her until the sobs subsided. “I’m sorry,” he whispered over and over. “I’m sorry.” His future yawned like an open grave, empty and cold.

After the storm of grief, because she was Carrie, she smiled and thanked him for his gift as if the clockwork heart hadn’t mortally wounded her. If his own virus-weakened organ had still beaten in his chest, it would have shattered under the weight of his remorse and set his spirit free. But his replacement heart, Gabe’s heart, pounded a relentless rhythm that anchored him on this side of the veil between death and life.

Later, because he truly, madly, hopelessly loved her, Michael drove Carrie to the cemetery to visit Gabe’s less-than-restful resting place.

Graveside, she closed her eyes and bowed her head.

Gabe’s image smiled back at Michael from the headstone, forever seventeen, his whole life ahead of him. An unearthly chill shook Michael’s body. What was it like to die?

Gabe’s spectral image leaned on his headstone and whispered, The hardest part was hurting Carrie.

A knife twisted in their shared heart. Bittersweet tears welled in Michael’s eyes and then spilled down his cheeks. I’m sorry, Gabe. I’m so goddamned sorry.

I know, Michael. So am I. But thank God I saved you. You’ll make her happy

Michael blinked.

At that moment, Carrie lifted her head and stared at Gabe as if she could see him, too. She spoke softly. “It’s time to say goodbye.” Her voice wavered on the final word.

I know, Gabe whispered.

Michael’s heart thudded.

She squared her shoulders. “It’s time for us to move on.”

I’ve been working on that.

Michael’s heart thudded again.

Carrie nodded. “Thank you for giving me Michael.”

He’s the one, babe. Gabe smiled.

She nodded and reached for Michael’s hand. Their fingers entwined and then Gabe was gone.

Michael’s heart thudded one last time and then settled into a rhythm strong enough and sure enough to last another lifetime. Hand in hand, they walked away toward the Jeep.

Carrie gifted him with an uncertain smile. “Now what?”

Michael grinned, sure that Gabe had won his last bet. “How about I buy you a cup of coffee?”

About the Author

Sarah Raplee grew up in Northern California and on a tropical island. Sounds rough, doesn’t it? As a child, she wanted to be a mommy, a writer, an artist and a poet. An unfortunate lack of eye-hand coordination got artist booted from the list for good.

Her firefighter-cum-Coast Guardsman-cum-survival school instructor-cum-engineer husband is the inspiration for all her heroes. They reside in the Pacific Northwest with their amazing dog, Penny Lane, and The Cat Who Shall Not Be Named, who bosses her around.

You can learn more about Sarah and her work at: sarahraplee.com

Sophia Denton gained a conscious state in stages.

First stage: awareness of the steady beat of the ocean waves pounding on rocks.

Second stage: awareness of being in a warm cocoon.

Third stage: awareness of movement, a whisper of air across the top of her head, the ebbing and flowing of a light pressure on her back.

As consciousness spread, she snuggled into the warmth.

Fourth stage: a hand cupping her breast, the hard chest at her back, the long hairy legs entwined with hers.

Her mouth tilted in a secret smile. This was the best Valentine’s weekend she’d ever had. Jonathan Stewart, her friend, colleague and current bed partner at the Sand and Surf Motel, had proposed. Her first ever and if she was grading it, she’d give it an A+++.

Jonathan had thought of everything: roses, champagne, candlelight and all the right words. The ring was one she’d commented on three months ago when they were in Eugene and wandering through the Valley River Center Mall.

But, if she wiggled her hand free, she wouldn’t see the ring on her finger.

Why?

Because it wasn’t there — yet.

“I wasn’t expecting this, Jonathan,” she’d said, a quiet tension rocketing through her body. “Give me until morning to answer?”

“If that’s what you need,” he’d said, his voice calm, disappointment in his eyes.

“I do,” she’d replied, relief coursing through her.

“Do you want time alone? To think? Someone to talk to?”

“No, I was just taken by surprise.” She’d slipped her arms around his neck and kissed his jaw. “I hope my needing a little time, won’t spoil what else you have in mind,” she’d said in a low-pitched husky voice.

“Are you sure you want to spend the night making love?” His jaw tight, his mouth firm, his gaze had searched her face.

“I can’t think of anything else I’d rather do than spend tonight with you.” She’d pressed against him, rose on her toes and kissed him fully on the mouth, her body already seeking the intimacy she treasured with him.

How he’d handled her hesitancy was quintessential Jonathan: considerate, kind, always thinking of others. So why did she need more time? What niggled in the back of her mind?

While he was still asleep, now was the time to sort it out.

Still wrapped in Jonathan’s arms, Sophia sorted through Dr. William Glasser’s four psychological needs. When she’d first learned about them they’d struck a deep chord. In her classroom she used them to great success but applying them to her personal life? Maybe now’s the time?

The temptation to shake her head to push the intellectual discussion playing out in her head was strong but she subdued it. Nestled against Jonathan’s chest, the sense of well-being strong, she asked herself what her answer was to his proposal. The niggling voice said, “Are you sure?”

When Jonathan woke, he’d expect a response. He had expected to hear “yes” last night and based on the time they’d spent together over the past year, she was surprised at her reply too. I’ll use this time to find the answer that’s right for me.

Dr. Glasser said the need to be loved and know we are loved in return, to know we belong to a group or family was a foundational need. Sophia quieted her thoughts and concentrated on where in her body those words settled — her heart. Her heart beat a steady rhythm synchronized with Jonathan’s against her back. She loved Jonathan and knew he loved her. He not only said the words but showed her in so many ways. His proposal was a fantastic example. But did he love her unconditionally? Did she love him unconditionally? I think I do but what’s more important, I can talk to him about anything.

The need most in conflict with love and belonging was power: personal power, achieving, feeling important in some area of your life. The other part of power — power over people she dismissed as not being important to her. Quieting her thoughts again, she focused on where these words settled — her mind. She wanted everyone to be the best teacher and student they could be. Jonathan wanted her to be successful in the classroom and she wanted him to achieve his professional goals. He always supports me in trying out new teaching techniques in the classroom. But …

She shifted to her back. Her hand rested lightly on his hand — the one cupping her breast. The feel of his hand on her skin always brought a flush of arousal. This morning it wasn’t as much of a flush as a rosy glow.

Jonathan stirred.

Sophia stilled.

In the haven of Jonathan’s arms, the steady rise and fall of his chest soothed.

The niggling sensation wasn’t stronger when she thought of power. It’s time to move on, to assess the last two needs: fun and freedom.

In the classroom she worked hard to engage students, to show them what fun they could have learning, to give them a choice in how class time was structured, to participate in creating the learning environment they each needed to be successful and how they wanted to learn the materials within the formal curriculum. She prided herself on being good enough to be flexible.

Her brow furrowed as she considered what problems she and Jonathan had encountered. Relationships of a personal kind between teachers in their high school were frowned upon. This past year they’d been very careful to take their relationship out of town. Thankfully there were so many different things they could do outside Fremont, that hadn’t been hard.

But what was hard?

She struggled to quiet her thoughts because the chatter of niggling doubt grew louder.

The dishonesty, the secrecy, the subterfuge was hard: taking their own cars, feigning surprise when first meeting up with each other. And when they ran into people they knew, they had their explanation down pat. “Look who I ran into!”

Having their relationship out in the open meant no more hiding, no more dishonesty. Relief flashed through her when an image of the two of them strolling hand in hand down the street of the coastal town emerged.

Where did the niggling come in? Why didn’t she leap into his arms, smother his face with kisses, repeating “yes, yes, yes”?

She was counting on her answer being somewhere in these needs. As she reviewed her answers, it occurred to her she’d looked at fun and freedom as something she did for others, not at how important they were to her.

Another look at fun found her acknowledging she and Jonathan had a damper on it. Neither of them liked the subterfuge. They weren’t spies. They were friends who wanted to spend time together.

Is that really the crux of the issue for me?

No, it wasn’t. Freedom was more important. She loved being a classroom teacher because she had a great deal of freedom in her room. She longed to own her own home so she could decorate and garden just like she wanted. She wanted to be free to show the world how much she loved Jonathan.

In retrospect, for her love and belonging and freedom were the most important needs. Fun was next with power being the least important to her. Was that right? Power was also feeling successful. Hmm. Not something I need to sort out right now.

She had no doubts Jonathan loved her, no doubts she loved him. They enjoyed each other’s company and had fun together. When it came to teaching, they respected each other’s classroom skills and their subjects were so different — English and math — there was no competition there. She had no desire to go beyond the classroom and if Jonathan did, he hadn’t said. Did it matter to her if he did want to become an administrator? No.

So what was it?

The thought “he loves me too much” popped into her head. That doesn’t make sense.

Jonathan’s love was deep and true. How could anyone have too much love in their life? She internally shook her head to dispel that thought. The niggling voice whispered what about your freedom?

Cuddled in Jonathan’s arms, she was safe, cherished, loved and even adored. Would that change when they married? No.

What would change? They’d have more freedom, freedom to be together, to be open about their relationship, to go places, maybe buy a house (they’d been surreptitiously looking), maybe have children.

Sophia paused remembering their tentative conversations around the subject of being parents. She loved teaching teens, but also loved being able to go home, to have breaks and vacations without them around. Her memory of Jonathan during those talks? He wasn’t enthusiastic and even said I was enough.

He stirred, his hand tightened around her breast.

Her nipple sprang to attention ready for more of his touch. If I do say “yes”, we’ll be able to be together like this every night.

Her body roused. Sex is not a reason to get married.

Awareness Jonathan was now waking quickened her review of her thoughts. The niggling at the back of her mind about the impact of marriage on her freedom was all that remained. We love each other. We’re best friends. We can talk about anything. What I want is more of what I have with this man I love.

Jonathan’s thumb stroked her nipple.

Sophia shifted and turned so she faced him.

“You asked me a question last night,” she said, nibbling on his chin and kissing his nose.

“I did,” Jonathan responded in a sleep-filled voice, a hand drifting down the curve of her back and caressing her hip.

Sophia traced the outline of his face with a finger, searched his blue eyes now bright with awareness. “I’d love to hear the question again,” she said, a hint of breathlessness in her voice as her body reacted to his touch.

“Sophia Camila Denton, will you marry me?” She heard a thread of tension even though his face was masked in neutrality, his voice calm.

Joy bubbled from deep inside. She pressed against him, rained kissed over his face. “Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes!”

He reached behind him, groping for the nightstand drawer. A grunt, a muttered curse, he pulled away.

The loss of his warmth, his touch spoke to her of nights to come. Nights she’d sleep in his arms. Nights they’d share as husband and wife. When he turned back, she brushed the lock of sleep tousled hair off his forehead. “Are you okay?”

“I am. You surprised me,” he said, an earnest look on his face. “Let’s do this again, okay?”

She nodded.

“Sophia Camila Denton, will you marry me?” He held the open box in his hand, the fire opal ring catching the daylight fluttering through the curtains.

Her breath caught and a lump rose in her throat. Tears welled in her eyes. “I will,” she answered.

The cool metal encircled her ring finger, sealing their commitment.

Sheltered in Jonathan’s arms, Sophia held her hand so the ring captured a slice of light slipping through the curtains. The fire opal flashed. Blues, reds and greens glowed. This is the best Valentine’s Day ever.

About the Author

Judith’s imagination has always been active and through books she’s been a princess rescued from the tower by the handsome knight, a missionary in India, explorer in the Amazon jungle, a priestess of the Goddess, and a nun to name a few. She’s lived with people from all walks of life including different tribes of indigenous people on five continents in tents, wood cabins, igloos, castles, mansions, high-rise apartments, penthouses, dungeons, basements, and cottages.

You can learn more about Judith and her Sacred Women’s Circle series of novels at: judithashleyromance.com

Ben couldn’t believe Lizzie had dumped him because he signed on for another tour of duty with the Army. They’d been sweethearts since high school. Seven years together. They had talked of getting married and the family they’d have. He didn’t understand her change of heart.