Hidden Dreams by Darlene Franklin

Hidden Dreams by Darlene Franklin

Author:Darlene Franklin [Franklin, Darlene]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: (¯`'•.¸//(*_*)\\¸.•'´¯)
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2013-05-27T14:00:00+00:00


Chapter 13

Wallace rolled the thin sheets from the outdated Remington No. 2 typewriter that Aunt Flo had given to him. After removing the carbon paper for a second use, he separated the three copies of page two hundred of his manuscript into different stacks. The first copy was destined for the publisher, the second for his own records and the third for extra insurance.

Typing six to eight hours a day in a stifling cabin wasn’t Wallace’s ideal way to spend a summer. Every day over the past month, and sometimes several times a day, he had longed to return to the cool woods with Mary Anne.

No wonder he struck the typewriter keys hard enough to jam them more than once. When the keys stuck badly, he considered buying a newer machine. Or perhaps Mary Anne’s magic hands could fix this one somehow.

Instead he managed to untangle the metal on his own, and he inserted a fresh page onto the roller. Unlike his fellow students, Wallace had used the Remington for most of his college papers. Since he found typing less stressful on his hands than longhand, not to mention easier for his professors to read, it made sense. With years of practice, he had become quite proficient.

But this summer, his typing was worse than it had been on his first term paper. Most pages took two and many three attempts before he had a clean copy. Several times he had to start over when he forgot to mention a sketch.

The sketches had proved troublesome as well. He had contacted the interested editor about colored illustrations, but received a negative response. Color added too much to the cost of printing. Wallace redrew his best sketches in pencil, wishing he had Mary Anne’s keen eye to point out any errors.

Of course, Margaret Landrum had offered to help, more than once. She had even sought him out at the cabin, complaining that he should have telephone service if he insisted on living by himself. Resisting the impulse to point out the purpose of solitude, he deterred her suggestion with a comment about smoke signals.

Her smoky gray eyes studied him without blinking. “I get the message. I thought maybe we could find something this summer, but... I left it too late.”

After his fumbling apology, she kissed him lightly on the cheek. “Don’t worry. Maybe God has an accidental meeting waiting in store for me some day.” She lifted her fingers in farewell and disappeared down the path.

Mary Anne filled his thoughts even though he didn’t see her. When he realized she visited the cemetery on a regular basis, he dragged a large rock over near the fence for her to sit on. Once in a while, as he headed down the trail, he heard her singing and turned back. She knew where to find him, if she wanted to.

With thoughts of Mary Anne intruding on his work, Wallace would never finish the manuscript before fall, when he had promised to pitch in with the harvest.



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