Autumn\u2019s Summer
\n1
\nNot Your Typical Love Story
\nBy
\nFelicity Talisman
\nAuthor, Frank Talaber in collaboration with Jen Talaber.
\nA Bridges of Madison County romance with a fantasy twist.
\nWhat if you were given up for adoption NOT because your
\nmother didn’t want you, but because she was trying to protect
\nyou from a curse?
\nGreat loves come and go
\nProfound Ones Mark your soul
\nIn ways that take the rest of your lifetime to comprehend.
\n2
\nWhile comprehension is one thing,
\nbeing brave enough to break other people’s hearts is another.
\nSometimes the best is left unsaid.
\nThat way only my soul cries in dismal agony.
\nPrelude
\n3
\nUnexpected moments come, sometimes once in a lifetime.
\nUnfortunately not when planned or expected. That’s the magic and
\nthe beauty of them.
\nIs it possible to love two people at the same time and not have the
\ncourage to reveal the truth to one or leave one for the other?
\nRichard; if you are reading this, I am dead, and even in death this is
\nthe hardest thing I have ever had to do. My hand shakes; not from the
\ncancer, but from my innermost hurt.
\nFirst of all, I have loved you deeply. You made my life the happiest It
\nhas ever been, or could have ever been. I could never have asked for
\nmore wonderful man, husband, or partner than I had in you.
\nAnd, as always, I was a coward, as you know.
\nBut there was a part of my soul that was unfulfilled, I have
\ndiscovered. This has nothing to do with you, but everything to do with
\nme.
\nI would never have left you, would never have broken your heart in
\nthat way, but neither could I leave her.
\nI am only telling you to put my soul to rest and hope that, in yours,
\nyou will find a way to forgive me.
\n4
\nPlease don\u2019t hate me.
\nOr her.
\nIt wasn\u2019t her fault.
\nSome things, I\u2019ve learned, are destiny.
\nOne\u2019s never meant to be, but once set in place, can\u2019t be altered
\nby either party.
\nAnd for that I\u2019m sorry, truly deeply sorry.
\nPlease.
\nLove, Always
\nAutumn
\nMarch 31st, 2011
\n5
\nRichard stared at the brief four-page cover letter, the handwriting rough. She must have written
\nthis letter just before she died. From the padded envelope he pulled out a thick leather-bound
\ndiary, the cover an engraved Celtic Tree Of Life, a pink opal heart at its center. His hand shook
\nas he unwound the leather lace binding it and stared at the first page; My Journeys With
\nSummer.
\nThe package had been delivered this morning; one year and one day after Autumn had
\nsuccumbed to that dreadful disease that had swallowed her so rapidly. A brief letter from their
\nlawyer\u2019s office accompanied it; they\u2019d been given instructions to so do. He held the book,
\nshaking, unable to turn a page, not knowing what to expect. Not knowing if he wanted to read
\nany of it. It wasn’t a man she was with, but it was someone she loved and\u2026 he swallowed; made
\nlove to?
\nHe made himself comfortable on the loveseat they had so often shared and stared at the
\nlarge writing on the four handwritten pages again. Breathing deeply, he turned to the first entry.
\nDear Richard;
\nThis journal begins the tale of another romance. One I shouldn’t
\nhave started, yet called to me every day; it haunted my every
\ndream and pulled at me whenever I saw a woman with red lipstick.
\nYou will read some shocking and intimately explicit parts, but
\nafter I\u2019m gone I just want to be fully and completely open and
\nhonest with my feelings and you. Maybe it will give you some
\nidea of why I did what I did and, once started, why I couldn\u2019t
\ngo back to my former life and the person I once was.
\nI began a diary on my computer after first meeting Summer,
\nto process my thoughts, realizations and learnings. I had read
\nit helps if you write down what you are going through, it helps
\nthe mind to process. When the cancer was discovered, I began
\nwriting this journal, a record for your eyes, written by me now
\nas I read back through my original diary. Some details you will
\nalready know as I would have shared them with you at the time,
\n6
\nbut I am adding them in as well to show the whole picture, and I
\nwant the complete story to be told to whomever you choose to
\nshare it with. I cannot bear to leave this world without
\nconfessing all to you, not in a bid to hurt you but, as you will
\nfind out about this eventually, to be the one to tell you. It is
\nso important to me that you know, no matter what had happened
\nbetween Summer and me, that you were always the love of my life
\nand that I would never have left you. I just couldn\u2019t bear to
\nlet her go either.
\nI do not know, and now never will, if you ever suspected.
\nBut, if you ever did, it was with Summer, not another man. I am
\nunsure whether that will make a difference to you as I still
\ncheated on you and for that I am deeply sorry. That is something
\nI have to deal with wherever we go in the afterlife.
\nRichard paused and stared at their wedding photo on the mantel. We were so in love. Or so I
\nthought.
\nNope, she hid it well, I had no idea other than she and Summer had become very good
\nfriends, and neither had ever alluded to anything more.
\nSummer took me to places that I didn’t know existed and, in
\nthe end she saved my life, as you will read, before I found out
\nabout the cancer.
\nSummer knows nothing of this journal. I hope when you are
\ndone reading it, you have the courage to allow her to read it as
\nwell.
\nI bought and planted the lilac tree and the lavender to be
\nreminded of her when I was at home. If I shut my eyes it was
\njust like being with her, in her backyard.
\n7
\nRichard wandered over to the French doors and stared out at the lilac; it had grown quite large
\nover the years. How long, he wondered? If memory serves me right, was what nearly three or
\nfour years ago?
\nAs per Autumn\u2019s request, her cremated remains were interned under the lilac. A Celtic
\nceramic cross marked the location of the modest wooden box. He had sprinkled some of her
\naround the tree as well. She said she loved the sweet scent of the blossoms and wanted to be
\nclose to him.
\nOnly it wasn’t just me she wanted to be close to, was it?
\nHe remembered the few times they had fought. It was rare; that was why he loved her so
\nmuch, they got along so well together. Soulmates, he\u2019d told her. She’d storm out of the house and
\nsit under that tree crying, on the ceramic bench adorned with flowers and hearts. It never
\noccurred to him it was for another reason. Most of the time she’d sit out there, and write or read,
\nusually with a glass of red wine or herbal tea, looking so peaceful.
\nRichard sat again and poured another glass of red wine from the bottle on the small side
\ntable. He drank back half of it and stared at the journal on his lap. He wanted to cry, but had done
\nenough of that already in the last year and a half or so.
\nI don\u2019t want to, but I need to know that side of my wife, the woman I thought I knew so
\nwell. Apparently, hardly at all when I wasn\u2019t here but out on my business meetings. Taking a
\ndeep breath he turned once again to the journal, and continued to read as tears oozed from his
\neyes and down his cheeks, their faithful Jack Russell, Jackson, peacefully sleeping in front of the
\nfire.
\nHe wondered if he\u2019d ever sleep as peacefully again.
\nApril 12th, 2011
\nEaster had passed and you were gone on another road trip. The
\nkids had stopped by for Easter Sunday dinner and now the house
\nwas quiet again. How many times after Julie and David were gone
\ndid I walk into their bedrooms, one after another, run my hands
\nover already pressed sheets wishing they were all scrunched up.
\nOr stare at their desks hoping to give them heck for leaving a
\nmess that wasn\u2019t there, or hear their voices giggling talking to
\na friend over the computer or I-phone? Sounds I never thought
\n8
\nI\u2019d miss.
\nI sat down and cried yesterday beside Julie\u2019s bed wishing I
\ncould see her face looking up at me as she woke up. She was the
\nlazy one of the two that dragged the bed hours out as long as
\npossible, unlike David.
\n\u201cHurry, David, get off your computer. The school bus will
\nbe here in less than an hour.\u201d In my mother\u2019s scolding voice
\nthat I no longer was or needed to be and never knew.
\nEven just to see them there and know they were mine and I
\nloved them and loved looking out for them? A parent\u2019s remorse
\nover knowing they were out there living their own lives and my
\njob was done. Was this what so many mothers went through? I
\ndidn\u2019t truly know as I never had a mother to know if this was
\nnormal.
\nA part of my lifetime that had ended and I hadn\u2019t accepted
\nnor wanted to end in the realization that another phase had to
\nbegin. But a phase into what?
\nClosing doors that didn\u2019t need opening, yet I still did,
\nwishing for something to fill my life again.
\nYou\u2019d be gone for days, Richard, sometimes a week or more
\non business trips. Yes we had a well-established habit you\u2019d
\ncall around eight every night, our suppers done just to talk,
\nhear your voice before watching some detective show or thriller
\ncrime drama relaxing with wine to dull my senses.
\nWhat I realized is that it didn\u2019t matter what I watched.
\nNothing mattered, I was supposedly happy, content in this self
\ncontained, non-eventful life.
\nOne where the highlight of the day involved walking
\nJackson, our dog. Sipping wine before a fire, waiting for your
\nvoice on the phone and making sure the beds were made and all
\nyour clothes ready for your return and making sure I had on
\n9
\nclean clothes after a long shower. The rain of water felt good
\nmost of the time, reminding me what it was like to be alive.
\nWhich I know now I wasn\u2019t inside.
\nLiving the life that many working women aspire for.
\nI should have gone out to find a job, perhaps help in a pet
\nshelter or food bank. Although I knew if I did that I\u2019ve be
\nbringing home dozens of strays. That was it, I was a stray.
\nUntied to anything, especially after finding out I was
\nadopted.
\nA being sitting in a wonderful shelter, safe protected, but
\nwith no one to love me, protect me or guide me or just someone
\nbesides you Richard to say thanks for being in my life. The kids
\nhad me, loved me immensely and occasionally they\u2019d call or I\u2019d
\ncall them when I was lonely, which I know now was most of the
\ntime.
\nI had no one to call, say hello mom, I love you and miss
\nyou. No one to kiss my on the forehead and wish me a good night,
\nsweet dreams like I did with the kids. Only you Richard and two
\nkids that weren\u2019t there anymore.
\nAnd you weren\u2019t here half the time and no mother that
\nwanted me was ever here. I think that made me sink into my shell
\neven farther after I finding out I was adopted, which in my
\nsoul, I already knew.
\nAs it was I rarely called my step parents. My mom, Alma was
\nokay, except I knew she only adopted me because she couldn\u2019t
\nhave any kids and due to her strict Catholic up-bringing had to
\nbe a real mother otherwise she\u2019d feel like a failure to her
\nhusband, to the church and to herself.
\nShe wasn\u2019t overly affectionate, her strict religious
\nupbringing prevented that and she wanted to be in the higher
\nechelons of the local church group, so I was often sent away off
\nto schools, to quote get a better education, only I realized
\nlater to not have to deal with the crazy red headed daughter
\n10
\nthat didn\u2019t look remotely like her or her well to do husband.
\nIt was funny, he travelled a lot for his job as well.
\nSomething I learned later from Summer a thing called the comfort
\nzone. I attracted into my life a man that was just like my
\nstepdad who wasn\u2019t there.
\nDon\u2019t get me wrong Richard, I\u2019m just spilling out
\nrealizations now as they come to me. Part of the opening up of
\nAutumn, as Summer called it.
\nAll part of the lessons of learning who I was or wasn\u2019t
\neven if they were lessons I didn\u2019t want to learn.
\nAs I mentioned, part of the Autumn you never got to see,
\nwho cried by her kids beds wishing they were there to look
\nafter, tuck in, to give back the love from someone that I never
\nhad in my comfort zone.
\nFrom the Autumn that didn\u2019t exist in any comfort zone I
\nnever had. Nor ever could until I became aware of what I wanted,
\nyet had never experienced, hence why my life became what it was.
\nThe empty part inside that I\u2019d grown up with, which I now
\nhad begun to reclaim due to Summer.
\n11
\nChapitre un
\nApril 24, 2008
\nMy eyes had been inexplicably drawn to the ad on the grocery
\nstore\u2019s corkboard and for an unknown reason my heart pounded. I
\nwas staring at it, lost in thought, when a wave of ylang-ylang
\nor Patchouli washed over me like a soft fleece blanket.
\n“I see my ad has caught your attention.” Her voice, soft,
\nsincere, washed into me and something inside jumped as I turned
\nto stare for the first time into soft blue eyes with oceanic
\ndepths.
\nSo it began.
\n****
\nIt was late spring, just before the beginning of Summer. That
\nwas her name by the way; Summer.
\nI had stopped on the other side of the Sammamish Lake at
\nthe Lakeside Full Line Grocery store. I usually hit the big city
\nstore on the way home, but had realized I’d forgotten a couple
\nof things for dinner. On the way out, postings clipped to a
\ncorkboard caught my attention. One for canoe lessons, something
\nI’d been meaning to learn, and wanted to surprise you with. Our
\ntwo kids, David and Julie, had flown the nest and had begun
\ntheir own lives. With your career in sales you were often gone
\nfor days or weeks and, although I wanted to return to my
\nwriting, to the journalistic career I\u2019d put on hold for
\ndomesticity, I wasn\u2019t sure where to begin. Learning to canoe
\nwould at least be an achievement. I\u2019d love to go out on the lake
\nto pass the hours without you. When we went together, I was
\nsubmissive, happy to let you paddle. I enjoyed it, letting you
\n12
\nbe in charge of me. Or so I\u2019d thought. I tore off the strip of
\npaper from the bottom of someone called Jason\u2019s ad, meaning to
\nphone as soon as I returned home.
\nBut another ad caught my eye, and my spirit, as I picked up
\nthe heavy shopping bags. A hand-drawn picture of someone
\nmeditating, legs crossed and a heart erupting over them. \u2018Yoga
\nclasses, meditations, spiritual readings, etc. Sign up and find
\nyour inner voice and spirit. Fulfill the deeper meaning of your
\nlife.\u2019 The words hit rather hard. I had no deeper meaning, other
\nthan cooking, washing, cleaning the house and looking after the
\nkids that were no longer there. I realized right then and there
\nhow empty I was inside. I should be happy; your well-paying job
\nprovided very well and had bought the lovely house on a gorgeous
\nlake. And I was very happy, or so I thought. But perhaps there
\nwas something more?
\nThe words called to me again and again as I stared like a
\ndeer dazzled by headlights. I stood lost in the knowing that
\nwhat I was about to do, no, wanted to do, would change something
\ninside me. The weight of the shopping bags pulled at me, calling
\nme back to my humdrum, yet peaceful life. Go now! Cried out from
\nmy mind as I put them down.
\nDid I want to complicate it? Still a part of myself called
\nfrom within. At the moment I had nothing, was nothing, only a
\nhousewife.
\nMost likely some crazy hippy chick doing woo-woo stuff to
\nmake a buck out of us richer folk out here at this lake. Or,
\nperhaps, a more down-to-earth person connected to herself and
\nthe planet. Since college, marriage and two kids I’d not had
\nmuch time to indulge in what I liked or wanted to do with
\nmyself. Quite frankly I wasn’t really sure what that was or who
\nI really was anymore.
\n13
\nI picked up my bags ready to turn and exit the store,
\nallowing that cynical voice to take control once again.
\n“I see my ad has caught your attention.” Her voice, soft,
\nsincere, washed into me and something inside jumped as I turned
\nto stare for the first time into soft blue eyes of oceanic
\ndepths. A moment of sheer co-incidence, only as I learned later,
\nnothing is co-incidence.
\n****
\nThis was the meeting that prompted the computer diary. For the
\nfirst time in an age, I was compelled to write, wanting to put
\ndown my thoughts while they were still fresh. Meeting Summer had
\nawoken my muse and questioning realizations. This was a positive
\nstart.
\nI stared into her eyes as rivers ran into me, through me,
\nwaves thundered into the cliffs of my existence. Journeys never
\ntraversed in this lifetime, but I\u2019ve dwelled in others, calling
\nto this life in the serenade of water splashing on my canoe or
\nthe dust of an old country road humming along the heat of a
\nsummer\u2019s morning. Time, love, and, ultimately death come to us
\nall. Amongst the haunt of lilacs wafting in a warm breeze and
\ncrackles of a cozy winter fire, seduced by acrid smoke and
\nchilled wine there is a need or want that calls hauntingly to
\nour souls. To mine.
\nAt that moment I was utterly stunned, those words came to
\nme again and again, later after a couple of lessons. I heard
\nthem calling like being dared to fly and thrust off a cliff\u2019s
\nedge. I remember being scared and thrilled at the same time, but
\n14
\nmore scared at finding out the true me; the me I\u2019d never really
\nknown.
\n****
\nShe had soft red lips, high, wide cheek bones, longer blonde
\nhair that trailed over her shoulders with in curly waves; a
\nsingle braid strung with colored beads laced her right cheek. I
\ninhaled, my breath taken away, like I\u2019d seen her in some of my
\ndreams or in some erotic visions. “You okay?” she asked, a
\npuzzled look on her face.
\n“I, er yes, I guess I didn’t expect to meet the\u2026 er author
\nof the ad,” I lied, hearing words whispering to me from inside
\nmy mind.
\nHer smile held, a twinkle of mirth crossed her lips. She
\nshifted her shopping bags to one hand and reached out with her
\nother. “I’m Summer.”
\nWarmth, tingles ran in electric waves as I felt a touch I’d
\nfelt forever for the first time. I didn’t want to let go as
\nsensations of mists calling to forests below slide down granite
\ncliffs. Still somewhat even more stunned. “I’m\u2026 ah\u2026 Autumn.”
\nFinally finding my breath.
\n“I love the autumn, colors exploding, spirits going to rest
\nbefore the numbing caress of winter begins.”
\nHer words added further to my incredulous astonishment,
\nwhich happens to some of us when we hear and become aware
\ninternally of a song verse or a phrase unexpectedly on a TV
\nshow. I didn’t expect, nor would ever forget, what she said that
\nday. The light in her eyes told me I’d caught her attention as
\nwell. Like when you meet someone and know instantly you\u2019d like
\nto befriend them or in some perverse erotic dream spend time
\nwith them alone.
\n15
\nI realized I was still holding her hand and, blushing,
\nreluctantly relinquished it. I said something inept like, “nice
\nmeeting you. I was thinking of signing up for one of your
\nclasses.”
\nSummer smiled back as an older couple shoved their way by
\nas we’d somewhat blocked the exit of the store by our meeting.
\n“Excuse us,” they both grumbled, miserable looks on
\nmiserable faces, spent in what was obviously miserable lives now
\ntoo lazy and late to change; stuck in what they were and too
\nafraid to venture into the unknown. Was that me the realization
\nhit hard?
\nDid I want to become that person? Without having to answer,
\nI already knew I was.
\n“Hope to see you there.” She smiled affectionately, her
\nblue eyes widening, and I felt my heart tremble as she shuffled
\nher heavy bags and sedately strolled to her car, turning once to
\ncatch me staring at her. I could see a slight smile cross her
\nlips and felt the loss of the brief moment of contact. Wishing
\nfor more.
\nI stood there long moments as others shuffled behind me
\nbefore I snapped a picture of her ad, then tore one of the
\ninformation strips from the bottom, obviously for those not-so
\ntech-savvy types.
\nI stared at that strip of paper in my hand, and already
\nknew the question it asked couldn\u2019t remain unanswered. There was
\nsomething that had haunted me my whole existence. I dreamt it
\nsometimes, knew there were closed doors I couldn\u2019t open, not
\neven in my dreams and hadn\u2019t wanted to until now. Something
\nmissing from my life and not just because I was adopted. I had
\nalways thought my mother, the one I couldn\u2019t ever find abandoned
\nme.
\n16
\nSo yes, Richard, I am a coward. But not that day. I put the
\npaper into my pocket and picked up the small bag; it didn\u2019t feel
\nso heavy now. As I waited for another couple to scoot by me, I
\nknew a great weight, some forgotten weight from this past life,
\nhad been lifted from me and I was about to start something,
\nwhat, though, I had no idea. Only a purpose, one involving her
\nhelping me find myself.
\nLater in one of our meetings she talked about how people
\nwake up in the morning and have a set number of energy points to
\ngo through the day with, say, for example, a hundred. But they
\nhave so many threads of past events that are unresolved or
\nthings they\u2019ve regretted doing, or regretted not doing, that
\nthey have already used one hundred and twenty points, and that\u2019s
\nwhy they have no desires or driving force in them. They are
\ndragged down, weighed down, burnt-out before even rising to
\nbrush their teeth, let alone dress.
\nShe didn\u2019t have to tell me; I knew that I\u2019d expended my
\nhundred energy points before I got out of bed every morning
\ndenying what I wanted to be or do with my life and maybe some of
\nthat was from feeling abandoned, not worth anything to the woman
\nthat bore me into this life. I immediately felt so much lighter
\njust because I\u2019d made the decision to attend her classes and
\nlearn about myself. Threads of me, attaching to me, melting
\naway. Suddenly the shopping bags felt weightless as I strolled
\nout the door. I looked around, intoxicated, like a spell had
\nbeen put over me, but she was already gone. Vanished into the
\nmystical realm of bizarre happenings, like an apparition that I
\nthought I\u2019d seen, but hadn\u2019t. I touched the paper in my pocket,
\nthe smell of patchouli still sang in my nose and the memory of
\nher blue eyes connecting and touching mine. She was real.
\nBack in my car, I mused for long moments, wondering at what
\nhad just happened. Her touch on my hand; I still felt it, the
\n17
\nmemory of her warmth sending shivers deep within me. Tingles of
\nwants, cravings to be fulfilled. Wondering how a single
\nunexpected moment, could change your entire lifetime. I didn’t
\nfully realize it then, but I just experienced an epiphany, at my
\nlocal supermarket of all places. I thought enlightened moments
\ncame only when you meditated for long hours in some holy place,
\ninhaling the heady scents of special oils and incense, not
\nholding grocery bags of all things.
\nHer words rang in my head, \u2018I love the autumn, colors
\nexploding, spirits going to rest before the numbing caress of
\nwinter begins.\u2019 The realization hit hard. She, Summer, I knew
\nwas something I wasn’t; deep. I had no depth, just someone going
\nthrough life like those two miserable elders at the store. Fixed
\ninto the motions of just existing and not living, only to die
\none day nothing but a husk, more empty than the shell I\u2019d leave
\nbehind. I wanted to be more like her. I knew nothing about
\nmyself, I was merely a stranger in a strange body. It didn\u2019t
\nhelp that we\u2019d found out from my parents I was adopted; and just
\nbefore our wedding. Great timing. Abandoned and, sorry to say
\nthis, made to look after and please others her whole entire
\nlife, including you, Richard. Tears ran down my cheeks as I
\nstarted the car. The learnings had already begun.
\nAs I said, this was when I started the diary, as soon as I
\nreached home. I wanted to record the whole experience before any
\nof it faded away, and then I signed up for one of her courses on
\nmeditation and awareness. Knowing somehow the course of my life
\nhad just hung a wicked left down Mulberry Lane or some such, to
\na place I never had imagined, and on to an adventure I could
\nnever have dreamed of.
\nI also remember staring at your picture and saying to
\nmyself that day, so sorry, but I need to do this, even if it
\nmeans disconnecting from you.
\n18
\nBeing true to yourself is one thing, hurting others that
\nlove you is another. I will use that phrase many times through
\nthis journey, Richard. On the one hand, I am so sorry. But on
\nanother note, somehow I am not. I needed to find my true self,
\nthe self I\u2019d kept hidden from me all those years ago and
\nhopefully you will understand and still love when you read this
\njournal.
\nPlease forgive me.
\n****
\nRichard left the journal open, upside down with both covers splayed, and walked back to the
\nFrench windows, staring unseeingly at the garden. He felt a sudden urge to hurl the wine glass at
\nthe window with all of his might. But didn\u2019t.
\n\u201cFuck!\u201d He yelled to the universe, and the remaining spirit essences of Autumn dwelling
\nhere, and changed his mind and threw the glass against the wall. Sharp springs of exploding glass
\nand redness seared the area running like scarlet tears down the yellow wall; like the red aching
\ntears going through my heart, even more raw now than when I held her hand and felt her pass
\naway from me, from us.
\nOr what I thought was us.
\nShe is right, I am cut beyond all belief. I never even suspected anything like this, let alone
\nwith another woman. Shit, I am such an idiot.
\nI think that hurts even more. He grabbed a broom and began to sweep the mess up as
\ntears continued to stream down his face.
\nIt didn\u2019t matter, nothing mattered now. She was gone and whatever she did, didn\u2019t
\nmatter. My wife is gone, my heart has shattered since then and no matter what she has to say in
\nthis journal make anything better.
\nHe fell in a heap onto his knees, not caring if any glass cut into him. She was making love
\nto someone else all of these years.
\nWearily rising, Richard finished sweeping the shards of glass, berating himself for
\ncausing the mess he now had to attend to. He stumbled out to the Celtic cross in their backyard
\n19
\nand sank heavily onto the ornate bench sobbing, listening to the rustle of branches as a storm
\nthreatened.
\nSometime later, he realized it was now near dark and quite cold. He was chilled through
\nbut hadn\u2019t noticed. The sound of a wolf or coyote howling called from the dark and, as he
\nlistened, trying to stop the tears splattering on his jeans, a great warmth surrounded him like a
\nblanket. As if she had put her arms around him, like she had so many times, giving her deep
\ngrounding hug she did so well.
\nRichard sobbed long and hard some more before rising.
\nThanks for that, he said to the Celtic marker and took a deep breath. Now to continue.
\nLike she said, no matter how much this is going to hurt, I have to finish her journey in order to
\nbe true to her heart; to find out what I didn\u2019t know about the woman that I loved all of these
\nyears.
\nBack in front of the fireplace, Richard stared at his wristwatch; time for bed. He glanced
\ndown at Jackson, who was happily chewing on a rawhide bone, oblivious to his master\u2019s
\nheartache. Okay another few pages and off to bed.<\/p>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Autumn\u2019s Summer<\/strong><\/p>\n What if you were given up for adoption NOT because your mother didn’t want you, but because she was trying to protect you from a curse? Autumn embarks on a voyage of discovery with the spiritualist, Summer, to find new meaning to her life. Learning that in Celtic traditions they are Anam Caras; soulmates through multiple lifetimes and genders. A journey that, once commenced, transports her to realms and dimensions she never knew existed.<\/strong><\/p>","protected":false},"featured_media":4094,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"site-sidebar-layout":"default","site-content-layout":"","ast-site-content-layout":"default","site-content-style":"default","site-sidebar-style":"default","ast-global-header-display":"","ast-banner-title-visibility":"","ast-main-header-display":"","ast-hfb-above-header-display":"","ast-hfb-below-header-display":"","ast-hfb-mobile-header-display":"","site-post-title":"","ast-breadcrumbs-content":"","ast-featured-img":"","footer-sml-layout":"","ast-disable-related-posts":"","theme-transparent-header-meta":"default","adv-header-id-meta":"","stick-header-meta":"","header-above-stick-meta":"","header-main-stick-meta":"","header-below-stick-meta":"","astra-migrate-meta-layouts":"set","ast-page-background-enabled":"default","ast-page-background-meta":{"desktop":{"background-color":"","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"tablet":{"background-color":"","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"mobile":{"background-color":"","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""}},"ast-content-background-meta":{"desktop":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-5)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"tablet":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-5)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"mobile":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-5)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""}}},"product_brand":[],"product_cat":[26,15],"product_tag":[],"class_list":["post-4093","product","type-product","status-publish","has-post-thumbnail","product_cat-books","product_cat-uncategorized","desktop-align-left","tablet-align-left","mobile-align-left","first","instock","virtual","taxable","purchasable","product-type-simple"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/greatcreators.ca\/fr\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/product\/4093","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/greatcreators.ca\/fr\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/product"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/greatcreators.ca\/fr\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/product"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/greatcreators.ca\/fr\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=4093"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/greatcreators.ca\/fr\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/4094"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/greatcreators.ca\/fr\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=4093"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"product_brand","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/greatcreators.ca\/fr\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/product_brand?post=4093"},{"taxonomy":"product_cat","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/greatcreators.ca\/fr\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/product_cat?post=4093"},{"taxonomy":"product_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/greatcreators.ca\/fr\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/product_tag?post=4093"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}