Tag Archives: rewrites

Here is a long excerpt of my progress for Day 21 of the National Novel Writing Month:
_________

“She is the one, isn’t she?”

“What are you talking about?” But a sidelong glance gave him the answer before she even spoke the words. [Carla] knew.

“The lady, Chris. You know who I mean. Paul called her your ‘lady of charcoal’. Sara is the one, isn’t she?”

Christopher picked a kerchief from his pants pocket and busied himself with stuffing it into his breast pocket.

“Yes. I thought as much. She did appear familiar, though I could not place it until just now. It must have been when I saw her looking down into the fire that I was tickled with the familiarity. Something in the way she was lost to her surroundings for a minute or two. Perhaps it was simply her posture. You always had an uncanny knack with the sketching of profiles, especially hers.” Carla’s shoulders rose and fell with a deep breath. “Well, there is not much I can do against a figment come to life, is there?”

Confusion drew Christopher’s brows together. “What are you talking about? ‘Do against’? If you are coordinating—”

“Come on, Chris. You know I was not talking about coordinating anything with our galleries. Don’t you? Certainly you reasoned it out before we graduated? I thought that was why you stopped writing. It was simply too uncomfortable for you, and then you were so busy with that last mentorship….”

Christopher blinked down at her, nonplussed.

Carla laughed, but the sound was sharp and almost cold. “So you still have no idea?” She stepped close and took hold of his lapels, gazing up into his eyes with an emerald expression that scared him with the truth. “I love you, Christopher Andrew Lake.”

“Wh-what?”

“You heard what I said. I love you—”

“Oh….”

Christopher blanched and turned, the voice sending a shiver of horror up and down his spine. Sara stood in the middle of the path, eyes glistening as she bit her lower lip. Oh God….

“I-I’m sorry,” she choked out. Her form swayed as she took a step backward, gaze flicking from him to Carla and back.

Christopher brushed Carla’s hold from his lapels and stepped toward her. “Sara, I can explain.”

Carla caught his hand as Sara fled. “Chris, don’t you dare.”

“Sara, wait!” He turned on Carla, yanking free of her hold as the chip and crackle of pebbles beneath Sara’s retreating steps goaded him to action. “Carla, I have nothing to say to you. Let me go after her!”

“I tell you ‘I love you’ and you have nothing to say?” She scoffed. “At least make an attempt to be a gentleman about this.”

Red faced, heart racing, and panicked, Christopher turned on his heel and strode from the garden. For all he knew or cared, Carla stared after him. He strode up to the footman at the garden door. “Did you see a young woman come through here a moment ago?”

“No, sir.”

“What?” Christopher scrubbed at his scalp, his eyes seeking one way and then the other as his brain stumbled over itself to reason her escape. “Side gate!” He bolted to the right. The side gate emptied onto an alley, which then led to a main street. All the memories of them walking around and around the deck of the vessel for hours goaded his mind.

The side gate stood ajar, her white cashmere wrap caught tight on the latch. “Sara!” Charging toward the main street, he knew it was too late. The hour was such that all manner of pedestrians would be about, blocking her from his view. He could not really leave the party and walk the streets between here and their hotel, could he?

He set his jaw and turned left, his eyes scanning the crowd for a lady in a mahogany velvet gown with no wrap and  a lock of white lilac in her hair. Lord, please help me find her.