Winds of time, p.1
Winds of Time, page 1
Winds of Time
Copyright © 2023 A. Marie
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 as permitted by U.S. copyright law. This is a work of fiction. Unless otherwise indicated, all the names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents in this book are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
ISBN: 979-8-9888696-1-0
Contact Info: author.ac.marie@gmail.com
To my mom for reminding me to dream again.
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Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
AUTHORS NOTE
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
CONNECT WITH ME
CHAPTER ONE
P
eople always say home is where the heart is. Was that why Morra’s chest ached as Chicago’s skyline became a distant memory? Had pieces of her heart been carved out with each home she had to leave? It would explain the hollowness that sat heavy in her chest.
Morra gazed out of the dirty white hatchback as more hope escaped with each exhausted sigh that passed her lips.
Her stormy grey eyes watched another field pass by.
Open land felt different to after her living in the city. Rolling fields blanketed by different shades of gold and brown stretched endlessly before her eyes. But as much as she admired the view, she longed for her home. Towers and concrete, a jungle made of glass, metal, and strangers, was once where she lived before her mom decided they would move… again.
Slumping, she curled in on herself. Her bones ached from another loss, and this time she couldn’t even be mad.
Pain shot through her chest and unconsciously she reached up to rub the spot. The chilling ache resembled the icy winds during winter. No amount of sun beating through the car windshield could soothe it.
Of all the places they had lived, she had loved Chicago the most. There was a freedom in not knowing the people who passed her. Each day was new, new people, new things. It was her favorite part of the city. But in the tiny valley town of West Virginia, people would recognize her. Morra would walk through town, greeted by strangers, but soon she would know every face. She would recognize each person before the first leaf of fall.
A shiver crawled up her spine and goosebumps bloomed on her tawny skin. The sharp tang of blood coated her tongue as her teeth sunk deeper into her lip. Morra could already feel her chest tightening at the thought of the small town. Her hope began to dwindle as the car trudged along, pushing them farther from Chicago. Morra’s faith in her mother dwindled as well.
The cracked leather squeaked as her mom shifted in the driver’s seat. The tension in the car grew with the silence. Morra realized her mom wasn’t trying to uproot her each time she built a life in a foreign place, but it had become a pattern. A familiar one. In Chicago, she had a friend, which was a rare occurrence for Morra. Natasha and her were going to be the only sophomores to make varsity team in softball. One that went to national almost every year. That meant college scholarships; small towns didn’t have those opportunities.
Bitterness burned the back of her throat.
It’s not her fault, she thought.
Morra wasn’t sure if she believed it, but she was trying to. After packing her things, she put them in the old car and said goodbye for the fourth time in five years. Each time, her mom had promised it would be the last.
It never was.
As her bitterness grew, so did her guilt; she knew her mom tried to keep her promises. Morra’s eyes fell shut as another sigh escaped her lips. Whenever the fury of her displacement swelled within her, Morra remembered her mother’s warm smile as she proudly presented the little shop in downtown Norwich. It didn’t help calm her anger, but it caused her stomach to twist enough that she kept quiet.
Morra’s mother, Adelaine, had always dreamed of opening a bakery. Morra knew her mother put aside her aspirations the day of Morra’s birth. After sixteen years and purchasing the deed to the small brick building, she could finally live that dream.
With the last of the money her father left them, Adelaine found a small town where she could put a shop on main street and a small two-story house close to it.
Morra’s shoulders sank as she thought about the father she never knew. A wave of bittersweet grief swarmed her. She saw his face in her dreams, or a amalgamation of the parts on her face that didn’t match her mom’s. With no pictures all she could do was imagine.
The dark curly hair bunched in a high pony sure didn’t come from her mom’s long line of Irish lineage; both her parents were red heads. Morra’s nose and high cheeks matched her mom’s, but her dark tan skin and silver eyes had to be her father’s.
Her mother had always been silent about him, but Morra could tell that they had loved each other deeply. The navy blue button-up was a testimony to that love, her mother wore it every night, it had been threadbare for years, but it was the first thing her mom packed when they moved to their new home.
Morra’s hands fumbled in the bag under the old leather seat, foraging for an old teddy bear. She ran her fingers over its threadbare fur, checking to make sure it was there. Its once dark emerald green eyes faded over time and its ear hung by a single stitch of thread. Her mother sewed them back on twice and still they were loose and ready to fall off again. No matter how many times they moved from city to city, she kept it close. It was the only thing Morra had from the man who had once been there, like a distant memory lingering in the back of her mind.
Stupid bear.
It made her feel closer to him, as if she could look up and see a shadow or a flash of someone recognizable. Or a childlike smile in a large crowd. One that felt familiar because it saw the same crooked grin in the mirror.
“Honey?” Her mother’s voice pulled her out of her internal turmoil.
The sun started to fade on the fields of West Virginia. The pink and orange dappled sky cast shadows across the rolling field of crops, Morra traced them with her eyes as the town crested into view.
Her new town.
The robotic voice coming from her mom’s phone guided them, the monotone static drowning out the radio playing in the background.
Stretching her arms in the air, a yawn escaped, heaviness clawing at her. The two-day drive caught up to her. The previous night was spent restless in a sketchy motel. Morra craved a comfortable bed, especially one without bugs. Shivers wracked her as the memory skittered across her mind.
“What’s up?” Morra looked over, turning in her seat, unable to meet her mother’s eyes. The gold light shined against Adelaine’s strawberry blond hair and fair skin. With a wise look she glanced Morra’s way, a soft smile played on her lips.
“Life is too short, and we must live, sweet girl.” Adelaine peeked over for a quick second before reaching for her daughter’s hand. “I know you wanted to stay, but this will be great for us. It’s the life I always wanted for us… before your father died,” she said, voice cracking, “he said he wanted to show me the world and then we would settle down in a little town just like this away from all the noise of… life. Create a haven just for us. It is not how he would have wanted, but I have tried to keep his dream alive.”
Morra couldn’t look at her mother, shame filling her. Shaking her head, Morra wished she could explain her feelings, but the words just caught in her throat each time she tried. Silence hung heavy in the car. Adelaine sighed gently when enough silence had passed, putting her hands back on the peeling leather of the steering wheel as she drove them to their new home. Morra refused to look up until they arrived.
When the rumbling of the engine stopped, she focused her gaze on her hands. Morra noticed the pain once she saw the blood coated nails. Picking at the skin around her nails till she bled was a bad habit she couldn’t break. She looked up from her mangled fingers and she saw the home for the first time.
Light blue siding covered the two-story townhouse. White trim surrounded it and rose bushes lined the front windows as a stone pathway led up to the door. Lush green foliage filled the yard despite the blistering August sun.
The car door shut behind her with a loud thud as she gazed down the street. House after house lined the road, fresh paint and mowed grass. It looked like a good place. Grabbing some boxes from the back, she walked in. Between the two of them, it didn’t take long to get all the boxes inside.
Morra began unpacking and lifted the cardboard top to the box labeled ‘Kitchen’, quickly putting away the white ceramic plates in the cupboard next to the stove. Her mom came in leaning against the counter watching her only child.
“I want you to have something.” Reaching into one of the moving boxes labeled ‘Keepsake’, Adelaine pulled out an old worn book. Its brown leather cover creased from its use as the binding lifted, handmade stitches slowly unraveling with time. “Here, it’s always been my favorite, and I want you to have it. Maybe gain some insight into life since you are growing up so fast.” A kind smile graced her face, one Morra knew well.
She gently took the book out of her mom’s hands.
Reading the title, she almost rolled her eyes.
Le Morte D’Arthur by Sir Thomas Malory.
First edition.
Glancing up from the gift, she could see the corner of her mom’s soft green eyes crinkle at the book in fondness. Morra never understood why the stories in this book mattered to her mom, but it became a tradition between them.
Her first bedtime stories were of chivalry and honor, snuggled under the covers she would read the lives of Guinevere and Sir Lancelot and the brave King Arthur.
Every time Morra’s school did a unit on the stories of Camelot, she aced it. The knowledge was engraved into every fiber of her being.
“Thanks, Mom.” Morra gazed softly at the book; this was an important peace offering. An olive branch, she thought. It didn’t fix the problem because in a year or two Morra would have to repack and leave. It was inevitable but for now she would not turn it down.
After a moment Morra shifted her focus from the book, her gaze landed on the empty living room. “Hey, is it okay if I go wander around the town, see what there is to do?” Sleepiness tugged at her eyelids, but she knew sleep would be futile. The echoing of the empty house set her on edge. The pungent stale odor, the incessant ticking of the cheap clock that hung above the doorway, and the barking of the neighbor’s dog grated her like sandpaper on delicate skin. She needed to feel the wind on her skin to clear her mind.
After getting permission and rifling through a box of clothes, searching for a jacket, Morra left the house gently closing the door behind her. The late august evenings were turning cold, slinging the jacket on she decided to leave in the direction they came.
Morra trudged down the dusty, broken sidewalk, her eyes darting around taking in the sights of her home for the foreseeable future. The brick buildings, dimly lit from the evening’s sunlight, were clustered together like a tiny village. One in particular caught her eye. Black Bird Books, she felt a flutter of excitement at the thought of getting her hands on a new book. A place where she could let herself escape.
The evening air had already started to cool, causing goosebumps to dance across her skin, it helped ease the panic that had been consuming her.
It didn’t take long to reach the shops. Morra paused and stared down the hill at the small town, the reality of her situation suddenly hitting her like a ton of bricks.
Her face twisted into a frown. It looked like something out of a Lifetime movie.
The lights in the bookshop were on and Morra sighed in relief but before her foot stepped off the curb, a glimpse of blue caught her attention.
The sun fell even deeper past the horizon, shining dark orange and red. The evening sky glowed, illuminating the banner with the words ‘Opening Soon’. Emotions tumbled through her as she realized it was her mother’s bakery. Cocking her head to the side, she decided to take a peek. Smushing her face against the outside glass, she cupped her hands around her eyes, trying to see inside.
The brown wood floor complemented the navy blue walls and the leather couches. The marbled counter tops had a painting of the shop’s name, ‘The Sweet Shop’, in charming bubbly cursive.
An image of her sitting at the table doing homework as her mom whistled while frosting cakes flashed through Morra’s head. As she gazed through the storefront, the anger that she held in a death grip eased, she knew it was time to let go. Her mother could finally fulfill her dreams after struggling with being a single mom, still she wished she could hold the rage and let it burn. She wished she could just act like a child for once. Shame caused her cheeks to burn at the thought as she stared at the acclamation of her mother’s goals. Morra needed to give her support without protest.
Letting out a sigh, she stepped away when somebody suddenly turned up by her side. Her heart leapt to her throat before calming to its usual rhythm. Being met with strange people wasn’t new to her, after all, she spent three years living in Chicago.
She had to get used to the occasional oddball.
The man stood enraptured, completely oblivious to her presence. Morra watched as deep set eyes brightened at the cobalt banner. A broad smile painted his face causing his crow’s feet to deepen with the stretch of it. Pride splashed across his face and Morra found it odd. She looked the man up and down, trying to place the stranger. He looked… familiar. A Deja Vu kind of familiar that tickled the back of her brain.
Her curiosity got the better of her. As she started to ask, the man turned towards her and grinned, pride still heavy in his eyes, before turning around and walking away. Morra waited until he turned the corner. The night had fallen, and darkness pressed heavily around her.
Deciding to mind her own business she ignored the stranger, and she snuggled into her jacket as the wind kicked up her hair and lapped at her face.
CHAPTER TWO
S
ummer green turned to the first visage of fall as Morra and her mother settled into Norwich. Sitting cross-legged on a cream plush armchair, she watched while Adelaine danced around the shop blaring the radio. Morra’s lips tugged into a small smile watching her mother’s carefree attitude. She wouldn’t consider Adelaine a high-strung person, but she spent more time worrying than not. Watching her cheerful and free caused the anger that still gripped her heart to loosen. If her mom could be happy, it would all be okay.
Sweat beaded on Morra’s forehead as she stared at the pile of boxes. They had so much to do, but it didn’t matter. Morra chuckled as she watched her mother dance in the background to some Queen song. It didn’t seem to matter that they had only a day before the grand opening, or that they were up most of the night, or that tomorrow was her first day of school. It seemed her mom was enjoying every minute she could. Days before, Morra had asked her mom to let her help, but she had been quickly turned down. Her mother saw right through the ruse.
Adelaine peered at her, eyebrows raising in disbelief. “Nice try, kid, not going to happen. Plus, you can’t miss out on the first day of your West Virginian school career!”
Morra smiled chagrined; she couldn’t get anything past her. She never could.
“How about I make your favorite carrot cake and after your first day of school, we can celebrate together? Just us.”
Morra looked around as the memory faded. Pastries were on display and the chalkboard had the menu written in neat bubbly cursive letters matching the logo that decorated the room. The chairs and tables were neatly arranged. All that was left to do upfront was to fill the shelves. She decided it was a task for later.
As she watched her mom prepare icing, her eyes wandered around the store. She could unpack more boxes, or she could go get coffee. With a small nod she decided the caffeine would be more productive. The two had discovered a small coffee shop down the street. The man who owned it greeted them cheerfully. Her mom and him created a pact of free coffee for them and free pastries for him; and she planned to cash in on that promise. Morra tried to carry her voice to the back of the shop for her mom to hear as she asked if she wanted anything.
“Yes! Bring me an iced latte!” Strawberry hair whipped around the corner, obscuring her mother’s face. Morra snickered at the streaks of blue marring her mom’s pale arms and pink cheeks reaching up into her hairline. The apron she always wore became a useless protector against icing and flour as it pierced the cotton armor, splattering her whole body.
Strolling out the door, Morra shook her head, smiling. The bell above her dinged as the wind swept by, causing her to gasp as the cold air hit her. The leaves began to shift and fall off the trees and the smell of fall began to penetrate the world. Closing her eyes, Morra took a deep breath, inhaling the smell of wet earth. She tried to like it as much as Chicago. Try as she might, she would give anything to be walking the Loop with the smell of caramel wafting from Garrett’s Popcorn as she walked side by side with Natasha.
