THE VIOLIN

THE VIOLIN

by Sarah J. McNeal

Available in print or ebook at www.amirapress.com , fictionwise , amazon.com and through my website at www.sarahmcneal.com

Blurb:

THE VIOLIN by Sarah J. McNeal (Blurb)


Genevieve has dreamed about him all her life, but it isn’t until she buys his violin and finds the remnants of his life and the mystery of his death within its case, that she makes a decision that will change her life forever. Is there a way to change the past and save the man who haunts her heart?

Excerpt:

THE VIOLIN at Amira Press by Sarah McNeal

John bent forward and kissed her on the cheek. He spoke to her in a low voice as his deep, green eyes looked into hers. “I thought you were a goddess. You fairly took my breath away.”
He laughed as he stood up taking her with him as he took both her hands in his. “Forgive me for seeming rude but your beauty rendered me completely speechless for a few moments.”
“Why don’t the two of you stay here for supper tonight instead of going out?” Matilda suggested. Her voice still had an edge to it.
“I think that’s a good idea,” Will added.
Jimmy laughed as he danced around the couple standing in the living room holding hands and looking into each other’s eyes. “He was just funning, Pop, that’s all,” Jimmy said.
“John, I think ...,” Will started to speak.
“Pop, please, you’re scaring Genevieve,” John said and gave his father a warning look.
Will scrutinized John for a moment as emotions scattered in a riot across his face. After a moment of contemplation, he nodded his head to give consent. “You're a grown man, John. You will do what you want regardless of what I think. As your father, I only ask that you use discretion when entrusted with another's well being and care for yourself for those who value you.” He looked down at Jimmy and smiled. “Come with me outside and I’ll let you look at my pipe while we test out your cannon.”
“Will,” Matilda cried following the man and the boy out through the kitchen, “Don’t you dare show that boy that pipe.”
The couple was left alone in the living room. John’s hands seemed to burn into Genevieve’s. She wanted him to stay with her like this forever. Her heart ached a little and she wasn’t sure why. “Are you really okay? She asked.
“Hell no, I’m not okay. I’m never okay around you.” He smiled charmingly. “Now that you’ve turned into a goddess with the help of my mother, I’m not sure I will ever be okay again,” he said and grinned.
Genevieve jerked her hands out of his grasp. “I don’t think your jokes are all that funny. You scared the life out of me,” she said angrily.
He reached around her and pulled his jacket from the back of the couch. “Come on, Genevieve, let’s get going.” He took her hand back in his firm grip and pulled her along behind him out the front door, off the little porch and across the yard to his motorcycle.
Genevieve skidded to a halt. “I’m not going to ride on that thing.” She felt the knot in her stomach form just looking at the motorcycle. What a dangerous piece of machinery it was.
“Yes you are,” John said determinedly.
“No I’m not.” Genevieve was obstinately determined that she was most certainly not going to get on that death machine. “I could get killed on that thing.” She looked at the Indian motorcycle as if it were a dragon seeking its next meal.
From the back yard came a miniature explosion. Matilda’s little shriek cut the air followed by the laughter of Will and Jimmy. John glanced at Genevieve and laughed lightly. “Well, looks like that cannon you bought Jimmy has gone over big.”
She scrunched her face into a frown not listening to a word he said. “I’m not going to ride on that thing, John.”
John turned to her and spoke in a low voice as if explaining something to a child. “Listen, honey, Sunbury is ten miles or more down the road. You couldn’t even walk the first two miles before those blisters would start to hurt again.”
He guided her slowly over to the motorcycle. “Now see, I have this wonderful wheeled horse just to take milady conveniently and, without walking on sore feet I might add, to a wonderful restaurant I know in Sunbury.”
He turned her around to face him. “Now we can stand here and argue all our time away on how we’re going to get there but, in the end little miss goddess of mine, you are going to get on this motorcycle if I have to drag you on it and tie you to me.” There was absolute resolution in his voice.
Genevieve knew she couldn’t win. John had to be the most stubborn person on the face of the earth. “Okay,” she relented barely audible, “I’ll do it but I want you to know I’m really scared. You better not get us killed.”
John threw a leg over the saddle of the bike and drew her on to the back where she sat with her legs tucked behind his. He laughed a little. “Don’t worry, honey, I’m not going to kill us, not on purpose any way.”
“Oh, that’s reassuring,” Genevieve snapped back sarcastically. Her heart was pounding in her chest. She wasn’t sure which bothered her more, riding on the motorcycle or John’s back pressed against her chest and her legs snugly folded next to his.
John reached back, took her hands, and wrapped her arms around his waist. “All you have to do is hang on tight and lean the way I lean. Got that?”
Genevieve was shaking too much to answer so she nodded her head even though she was sure he wasn’t really waiting for her permission. Her stomach clenched with anxiety and fear made her hands tremble.
John kicked the starter with his left heel and the engine sputtered into life. It sounded like a chain saw.
Genevieve hugged John’s waist in a death grip and laid her face against his back as he drew on his goggles over his eyes. “Genevieve,” he yelled over the roar of the engine, “I have to be able to breathe, honey, not that I don’t love you holding me that tight.” He laughed and the motorcycle lunged forward onto the dirt road.
Genevieve watched as John squeezed the clutch with his left hand and reached down to change the gear with his right hand on the stick gear in front of him.
“Aren’t we supposed to have on helmets? There’s a law about that,” Genevieve yelled into his back. She felt the rumble of his laughter on her cheek.
“I don’t think they have a law about that. We’re not going into battle; we’re just taking a ride.” He laughed out loud. “You might want to keep your mouth shut before a bug flies in it,” he shouted and laughed again.
The engine whined a few seconds as John changed gears again. The machine hummed as they scattered rocks and dirt in their wake down the country road. The wind blew through his hair and Genevieve’s braid flopped heavily in the wind the bike created.
“I never saw a motorcycle with a stick shift on the body before,” Genevieve called out over the roar of the engine. “Isn’t there some kind of shift thingy on the handlebar?”
“That’s a mighty interesting question seeing how there is no other motorcycle anywhere. Indian is all there is and this is where the gears are.” John was silent a moment than added, “But now that I think about it, it would sure be more convenient if the ‘thingy’ was on the handlebar.”
Genevieve was beginning to loosen her grip a little as she began to grow calm. A little burn of fear still scorched her stomach though. “Does this thing have brakes?” she called out the question.
“You’ll be glad to know there’s two. I got one in my right hand and the other is located here under my right foot. You couldn’t be any safer.” He spoke loudly making his voice rise above the engine noise. “Isn’t this the greatest?” He was obviously enjoying himself.
Genevieve wasn’t so sure it was the greatest thing riding wildly down a dirt road on a motorcycle. In her real life, she would never take such a crazy chance. But there was one thing she thought that made this dangerous and impulsive antic worthwhile. She got to hold John close to her until she could hear his heartbeat and the vibration of his voice through his jacket on her cheek. The time she spent with John was worth all the heartache that would come later.

Sarah McNeal www.sarahmcneal.com

THE VIOLIN

This picture of Keanu Reeves reminded me so much of John Douglas in THE VIOLIN that I just had to post it.
Here is an Excerpt and a Blurb from my latest release, THE VIOLIN.

THE VIOLIN by Sarah J. McNeal (Blurb)


Genevieve has dreamed about him all her life, but it isn’t until she buys his violin and finds the remnants of his life and the mystery of his death within its case, that she makes a decision that will change her life forever. Is there a way to change the past and save the man who haunts her heart?



THE VIOLIN by Sarah J. McNeal at Amira Press
http://amirapress.com/theviolin.htm


John came to the Susquehanna River and turned north until they arrived in front of a house that had been converted into a restaurant. The front porch faced the river and had tables set with linen and hurricane globes that kept the candles from sputtering out in the light breeze from the river. The entire front of the house was one window after another until it appeared to be all glass.
Genevieve looked in awe at the splendor of the fine linens and the warm glow of the candles placed on every table inside as well as the little crystal vases of fresh flowers that were placed on each table.
A striking woman wafting in a cloud of thick perfume greeted them at the door and gave John with a familiar hug. Too familiar as far as Genevieve was concerned. “It’s so good to see you again,” the blond headed woman with stark red lips and rouged cheeks said. She smiled, oh, so prettily.
She wore a red satin dress with a dropped waist and a short hem just above the knees. Her black, silk stockings were rolled about mid thigh and, when she leaned over to give John a kiss and a generous view below her loose neckline, Genevieve could see the tops of her stockings. Several long strands of faux pearls hung from her neck and were tied in a knot just below her breasts accentuating the voluptuous orbs that bobbed unencumbered by a bra. A red sequined scarf was tied around her head and tied in a bow just above her left ear. The ties fell to her shoulders. She was definitely a modern girl for nineteen-twenty-seven. Genevieve remembered reading about this type of woman and recalled that they adopted the name of flapper.
The smile vanished from the ruby lips as soon as the painted lady's pale eyes fringed with fake lashes beheld Genevieve. The woman studied Genevieve slowly from head to toe and smirked drawing her lips into a thin, disapproving line. “Well, your standards have certainly shifted mighty low, John,” she said.
Genevieve drew in a sharp breath at the hurtful remark. As usual, she had no witty or philosophical retort. She stood there with stricken vocal cords and a little knot of pain in her throat. She was very aware of her haphazard apparel, her ordinary brown hair and blue eyes and her plain looks with not even a dot of redeeming makeup.
John loosened himself from the woman’s grasp. He smiled at the witch and said, “In with those claws now, Ruby.” Of course, her name would be Ruby. “I see you’re on your way somewhere so you probably want to go on and get there. You wouldn’t want to make some fella wait too long and lose interest.”
Ruby threw her chin in the air and sniffed the air. “By the looks of things, John, you’ll be having an early night tonight,” she said and twirled her beads as she slinked down the steps.
“It’s not the quantity of time, Ruby, dear, it’s the quality,” John called after her. “But you go on and have a nice time just the same.”
From some distance came a sharp reply, “You go to hell, John Douglas.” The click of heels fell faint in the distance.
John opened the door for Genevieve and guided her in with his hand to the small of her back. “Don’t mind her. Ruby’s just jealous. I hear she’s seeing Hank Shifford. He’s a nice guy I guess but kind of dumb and no where near as handsome as me.” John gave Genevieve a charming grin.
“You are the most arrogant man I have ever met,” Genevieve retorted but she couldn’t help smiling back.
A finely dressed waiter directed them to a table beside the front windows. Other diners were already there and more were threading through the door in a somewhat steady stream. Everyone seemed to know John and treated him well with kind words and generous attention. Genevieve surmised that John dined at this restaurant quite frequently.
Everything was perfectly beautiful from the table linens to the fine china and flatware to the meal itself. John kept her entertained with funny antidotes and stories until her sides ached with laughter.
During the course of the evening Genevieve remembered what the older Julia had told her about John in the dress shop in Sunbury the day she almost left to go back home. Supposedly John had a finance’. So where was this woman? Her heart felt a little heavy in her chest as she thought about John belonging to another.
She knew she should leave the subject alone and just enjoy this meal and his company for whatever time she could. She would be going back to another time and place soon. She had no right to be jealous or hurt that John had a life without her in it. But it did hurt.
“What are we doing here?” she asked interrupting his story.
His words sputtered to a stop in the middle of his little antidote. He was silent for a moment as if trying to grasp what she just asked. “What in blazes are you talking about?”
“What are you doing with me here? Don’t you have a girlfriend or maybe a finance’? What would she think about you being out dining with another woman?” There it was. She had just laid it out there. She almost wished she could take it back and that she hadn’t said anything at all. It was too late now.
At first, John looked pale and fell silent. He clasped his hands in his lap and stared at them for a moment. Then he looked up, smiled at her and said, “I swear to you that there is no woman in my life except the one sitting across the table from me right now.”
“But I ... well I...,” Genevieve started to tell him what the older Julia had said but her words ground down to silence. How could she tell him that? No sane person could believe she was from the future. What was she thinking?
John lifted a brow. “It appears that you are mistaken. Think about it, honey. Here we are in a small town. Everybody knows everybody else’s business. If I were cheating on my finance’ as you believe I am, wouldn’t it stand to reason that someone would tell her?” He grinned. “I can do some stupid and crazy things but I’m not that stupid or that crazy. Not yet anyway.”
Genevieve settled her spine against the back of the chair and looked at him for a moment. Her internal radar that was ever vigilant was ringing loudly in her head. She felt that John was holding back something. What secrets was he keeping? Genevieve’s heart wanted to trust him in spite of her misgivings. Perhaps the older Julia was mistaken. “So this is like a date we’re on?”
John rolled his eyes. “I would have thought that was perfectly clear. For Pete’s sake Genevieve, what else could it be?”
“I thought you were just being nice to me for helping your mother bake for the picnic tomorrow.” Genevieve clasped her hands in her lap trying to get control of her runaway heart.
“I hate to state the obvious but this is a date, a romantic interlude, if you will. I’m pretty sure you know how this works. I find myself attracted you. I hope with all my heart that you’re attracted to me. I take you out presenting myself in the best possible light to give you food and wine with the hopes that I appeal to you enough to merit a kiss. It’s an elaborate sort of mating dance.” John’s mouth twitched as if holding back a burst of laughter. “Now don’t go getting all nervous. We’re not at the mating part yet.” Then he did laugh.
He wasn’t quite the hero from a romance novel but he was charming in his own way Genevieve thought. He made her laugh. Mostly he made her insides churn all up. He would say the sweetest things and then ruin it by just infuriating her. She was sure there was no one like him, not ever.
He took her out of her comfort zone, away from safety. He made her step to the edge of her ability to cope then convinced her in his own enchanting way to take just one more step. But he always took the step with her.
He made her nervous. She couldn’t look at John without her heart racing and blood surging through her veins out of control. He was turning her world upside down.
She looked across the table at him and his eyes looked into hers almost as if he could read her thoughts. She felt the crimson tide of blood race up to her cheeks and neck in an embarrassing blush.
This was everything she had ever feared. She was in another time and didn’t know how she got there, didn’t know how she would get back to her own time, and, even worse, didn’t know if she wanted to get back to her own time. She didn’t understand any of it.
She did know one thing and it came to her like a blinking neon sign; she was head over heels crazy in love with John Douglas. It terrified her. She didn’t really know him. They had just met. Her insides were rambling out of control.
John reached under the table, pried her clenched hands loose, and took her right hand in his warm, comforting grasp. He leaned across the table, peered into her eyes and said ever so softly, “Don’t be afraid. Every thing's going to be all right.”

Endings

ENDINGS

Just like real life, endings in our books are sometimes dramatic, occasionally sudden, once in a while drug out in like a terminal illness but then, just every now and then, they are sweet, just and better than you ever thought they could be.

I love it when the story gets the main characters into a deeper and ever deeper mess. There just doesn't seem to be any way out, until the characters just throw in everything but the kitchen sink, against all odds, giving it one last shot, all or nothing and then, despite all the cards stacked against them, they come out on top, win the woman or man of their dreams, become the town hero and win the day. Even better, because of their enormous effort and noble character, they win the lottery or find the gold at the end of the rainbow as well as winning their true love and defeating the enemy.

I've written some good endings and some so-so endings. I have two favorites. The first is from the first short story I wrote that was published by Rhapsody Romance back in the day. It's about a woman with a horrible scar on her face who has discovered a way to surgically implant artificial optics to help the blind see. The hero is a man of the future whose people are all born blind--except him. At the very end the heroine is embarrassed that he can see her horrible scarred face. Here is the ending from BLIND INTUITION.

"Oh, Maria," Roth whispered as he kissed me and cupped my face in his hands, "Everything will work itself out."
He brushed my cheek gently with the back of his hand, "And the scar, well, who doesn't have a scar of some kind or other? A scar is just a place that hurt once then healed."

The second ending is from THE VIOLIN published this year by Amira Press. Of course, I might just wait to share that one with you since it would ruin the story for you. But you get my point I'm sure that endings are as important as beginnings. If that story doesn't end the way you promised, readers are going to howl with disappointment and I can't blame them. I've quit reading books by authors who left me high and dry at the end. I read Stephen King's IT. It was a fat book filled with clues about a monster that no one could see but children. There were so many wonderful clues about innocence, water and the lack of response by adults. I knew the end was going to be something spectacular. Well, disappointment reigns because the wonderful clues were just red herrings leading nowhere and the monster turned out to be a lame space spider. Yep. Space spider. That was the last Stephen King I ever read. As much as I respect him, it's like he just got tired of writing the story and dumped me off at the curb.

Endings are difficult to write, as difficult as beginnings. But when it's done right, it's the cake, the icing and the plate!

I hope you've read or written some great endings and I would be glad if you would share those endings with me. Bring 'em on.

All good things to your corner of the universe.

Sarah McNeal

http://www.sarahmcneal.com/

http://amirapresssays.blogspot.com/