Gifts from the Heart

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