#mmmuse drafts

[mmmusewrites-blog]

Nisqually -- ch 10 snippet

“That’s quite a grin you’ve got on your face, Ross,” Artie chuckled, rolling a cigarette between his fingers and thumbs.

“Plans and schemes, Artie. Plans and schemes.” Ross arched a brow. “All well-intended, of course.” He held up a lighten twig for Artie to light his cigarette. “Listen, I want to thank you for being such a wonderful host for us here these last few days.”

“The pleasure’s been mine, Ross,” Artie offered. “It’s been a blessing to hear about Richard and his family after so many months.”

“I expect for them to be gearing up to head north within the next three or four days,” he mused, a frown creasing his brow, “unless there has been some kind of set back.”

Artie leaned forward, concern clear in his eyes. He handed Ross a small silver flask. “Is that a possibility?”

Ross knew the container held some of Artie’s precious Irish whiskey. He eagerly accepted. “Well, Dwight doesn’t think so,” Ross said, taking a drink of the rich, smoky liquor. “Helen was making progress, but it was very slow progress, mainly brought on by the continued push forward towards the Columbia. Now that she’s had some time to do nothing but rest, he thought she should be as right as rain around now.”

“And there’s no chance of your staying until they arrive?”

Ross looked at his new acquaintance. They were around the same age, although Ross felt much older these days. Artie’s Scottish burr was markedly lighter than his brother’s, which made sense given the length of time he’d been from home and surrounded by people speaking many different tongues. Ross noticed both GC and Drake’s accents had grown more fluid as they’d made their way across the country. A part of him mourned the fading of Cornwall from their laughing voices, but he felt that had more to do with his own sense of homesickness more than anything.

Ross shook his head, to clear it and respond. “We must press forward, Artie. There’s much to do and little time to do it.”

“Well, that’s one of the things I’ve been thinking of,” Artie said. “You know how I’ve told you the business prospects around here have been in a decline for the past year, with all of the newer settlements expanding to the north.” Ross nodded. “I’d considered uprooting from Tenino and moving north myself, except I’ve had no way to alert Richard to the change in his location, what with their emigration west and all.” He blew smoke rings up into the night sky. “To come all this way to find nothing profitable at the end. I would feel terrible.” The Scot ground out his cigarette under the heel of his boot. “You’ve talked of your plans for settling in Bush Prairie. Would you be joining the existing settlement or looking outside of it to set down your roots?”

“More than likely something outside of the established community, but not too far flung. We will need the support of Bush Prairie to get us through our first winter. But I have to admit the appeal of starting something new, a community of my own, is intriguing.” He took another pull on his pipe. “Very intriguing. But I would need others to join me, so we could pool our resources. There would be land to clear, housing to build. We’d have to get a winter garden started, shelter for the animals. I’d like to get a smokehouse built so we can preserve as much meat and fish as possible.” Ross’s heartbeat quickened. Surely, it would be too good to be true. “Arthur, why do you ask?”

“I’m thinking we should come with you,” he said simply.

[prairiechzhead]

Poldark S3 Was A Huge Disappointment For Me and It All Boils Down To One Root Cause.

I had originally begun a draft of this post that devolved into everything that I cannot stand about how the show chose to move the character of Demelza into a different direction. That part of the post got really, really, really, really long.

Instead of sharing that really, really, really, really long post, I decided to write a new one. It’s also Sunday and the final episode of season 3 hasn’t aired yet as I begin this, but I need to write because for the past 10 weeks, I’ve been doing homework on Sunday mornings. I have no homework to type up because the summer term is finished. I find myself at a loss, so I began this post.

But I digress. You’ll find that I’m really good at that.

This is a really, really, really, really long post about the one reason why Season 3 was a disappointment to me. I’ve been able to distill my disappointment down to one root cause.

If you listen to the @poldarkpodcast​, you know that I regularly submit my opinions on the episodes that just aired. You probably also know that I’m not fond of the direction in which they took Demelza this season.

Actually “not fond” is putting it mildly.

I HATE what they did to her character. I hate, hate, hate it! The Powers That Be decided that Demelza wasn’t “strong” enough or “feisty” enough in the novels, so they had to make her more modern to appeal to modern audiences.

However, in doing so, they basically took a shit all over Winston Graham’s work and a character that was based on his own wife. They’ve taken the product of someone who is a very gifted storyteller and dumbed it down so much, I start to feel stabby.  

I’m glad he’s not alive to see this.

Feisty Demelza does not work in the Hugh/Demelza storyline. She doesn’t fit. She doesn’t belong there because Demelza’s inner conflict can’t exist with Show!Demelza as she has been written. An integral part of this story, Hugh Armitage’s basically taking advantage of Demelza’s kindness and turning it around on her through subtle manipulation, is missing. It cannot exist with Modern, Feisty Show!Demelza because of the trope that Modern, Feisty women can’t be manipulated. Internal conflicts only make one indecisive, and Modern, Feisty women, such as Show!Demelza can’t be indecisive.

As @mmmuses​ pointed out in an episode of the Poldark Podcast, when TPTB changed up Demelza, they neglected to change the other characters, too, particularly Ross. The two characters are foils for each other. In changing her, but not having him change in line with her change, the equilibrium is gone. 

Show!Ross is pretty much the same as in the novels, with a few exceptions. In Black Moon and Four Swans, Book!Ross has matured and grown from the events in the previous novel. In the show, Show!Ross has grown and learned from what happened in season 2. However, when, in E1, he doesn’t want to talk about Elizabeth, even though Demelza is poking at him to do so, I don’t see this as him pretending that a problem doesn’t exist. I see it as him avoiding creating more problems because Demelza will inevitably take whatever he says the wrong way and not give him a chance to explain what he means. Demelza on the show has a very bad habit of doing this. In this episode, I see his reluctance to talk as Ross trying to avoid an argument. Granted, he doesn’t handle this in the best way because he’s not a good communicator. 

Unlike her book counterpart, Show!Demelza seems to have regressed into a bratty teenager. Book!Ross describes Book!Demelza as “his conscience.”

Then there are all the inconsistencies in how her character is portrayed. The biggest and most egregious example of this for me (and this should not come as a surprise to you) is when, in Episode 7, she goes after Ross, who has just learned that his aunt Agatha died, is walking on the beach, trying to sort through his emotions, and then begins to tear him a new one about his decision to decline the offer of running for MP, because he “didn’t ask for her opinion”.

This scene STILL sticks in my craw because it is so out of character for Demelza to do this. Demelza is a kind and selfless person. She puts others before herself. Book!Demelza, when struggling with her attraction to Hugh, even puts the struggle into terms of her not wanting to see someone else suffer (this would be her tendency towards kindness) with her deep love for Ross and honoring her marriage vows. Book!Demelza and Show!Demelza from S1 and 2 would not do go to Ross and start screaming at him. Her first reaction would be to go to him and console him.  Her opinion on this MP issue can wait because her husband needs her more.

If this out-of-character behavior wasn’t bad enough, there is a sub-section of the fandom who defend her behavior in that scene.

First of all, you don’t rip into someone who just learned that one of their few remaining relatives has died. You don’t do that. Period.

Second, why does Ross need her opinion on not running for MP? Now if he decided to run for MP without consulting her opinion, she has a case, because that would involve upheaval in their lives that would affect her, their children, the mine, and all the other day-to-day things that happen at Nampara.  But for someone who has been very vocal in the past about her wish for Ross to be at home more, it makes zero sense for her to be upset with him for turning down something that would require him to be away from home for months at a time.

The writers also have Show!Demelza gift her brothers the use of a storage barn on Nampara land to use as a Methodist meeting house. (In the books, it was Ross who gifted them a building of some sort. Which one specifically escapes me at the moment.) But the thing is, Show!Demelza did this out of spite and behind his back because she was pissed off at Ross for being in France longer than he said he would be. He had good reason to: he was waiting for his contact to give him a list of the prisoners at Quimper and then he would know where Dwight Enys, a friend of the family, was.

It’s not like he decided to stay in Roscoff because he wanted to go out and party or anything like that. Her reaction was out of proportion to the event that supposedly triggered it. That is not the sign of an emotionally mature and strong person.

Strong people don’t do things out of spite. Weak people act out of spite. Immature people act out of spite. Perhaps if Show!Demelza had done this without being motivated to do so by her anger at Ross, it would come across more as an act performed by a strong person because a decision had to be made and there was no one around to make it except her. The writers want us to believe this, but I’m not buying it. Her anger and spite is clear when she makes the decision to gift the building to her brothers. 

Because of the inconsistency in her characterization, the struggle that Book!Demelza went through in Four Swans over her attraction to Hugh Armitage is not there. I don’t sympathize with Show!Demelza. I’m not even sure if she is struggling emotionally, because given her past, inconsistent behavior on the show and how TPTB decided to not have Ross and Demelza fully reconcile, they have set up the climax of this storyline and Demelza’s motivation as to get revenge or to do it out of spite.

Again, emotionally mature, strong people DO NOT do things out of spite or to get even.

The characterization on the show then becomes problematic in scenes that are played out as they are in the novels. The best example is in episode 8 when Demelza makes the “I wish I could be two people” speech. In the novels, it comes off as her being honest and conflicted and it is set up to be confessional. On TV, it just comes off as her informing Ross that she’s probably going to make the Beast with Two Backs with Armitage and that if he doesn’t like it, too bad. In the same scene, she also tells Ross that he’s the one she belongs with. The scene is also blocked in a way where the two of them are sitting across from each other, which gives it a confrontational feel. It also makes Ross’s honesty about beginning to doubt his wife’s feelings for him even more painful to watch. Modern, Feisty Show!Demelza tells him to “be patient. As I was patient with you.” She’s referring to the aftermath of Ross’s Very Bad Thing with Elizabeth in season 2.

Which brings me to another point about Show!Demelza’s characterization in S3. TPTB have basically ignored what Show!Demelza did and said in S2. She wasn’t patient with Ross. She was angry, and rightfully so. She was ready to leave him because he couldn’t seem to make up his mind on who he really wanted. She was fed up waiting for him to get his head out of his ass. Ross can be thick sometimes, particularly when it comes to emotions. Ross is an emotionally stunted man who has difficulty expressing his emotions, AND expressing them in a way where he is not putting his foot in his mouth and making things worse. He certainly did plenty of that in S2 after his transgression.

But the main difference between him asking her to be patient and her asking him to be patient is that when Ross asked this of Demelza, the deed had already been done. When Demelza asks this of Ross, the deed has yet to come.

But now, when the shoe is on the other foot, she expects Ross to sit back and wait for her to get her head out of her ass and figure things out. Except this doesn’t work because Demelza is better at expressing her feelings than Ross is, MOST of the time. When she does not, she goes full passive-aggressive, which just makes things worse. Then there are times when she loses her temper and reacts to things that Ross says or does and she doesn’t give him a chance to explain further or clear up any confusion. This seems to happen when he says something in the most asinine and garbled way possible. As a result, Ross becomes reluctant to share things with her because he doesn’t want to anger her or hurt her.

Which brings me back to Episode 1 and the appearance that he’s pretending there is no problem in regards to Elizabeth.

This couple has very atrocious communication skills. The future therapist in me wants to sit both down and work with them on this.

So between what S2Show!Demelza did and the platitudes she threw in Ross’s face after Ross’s indiscretion now contradicts what S3Show!Demelza is about to do with Lord Byron aka Hugh Armitage. In this regard, Show!Demelza comes off as a hypocrite and Show!Ross now has some moral high ground. Making pronouncements works better if you make them after you did something wrong because you can always frame them as you messed up, but you learned from your mistakes. He messed up and he knows that what he did was wrong. He knows that he inflicted pain on her in the worst way possible. He regretted what he did almost immediately. She was hurt by what he did to her, but here she is, about to inflict the same pain on him. This is what gives Ross that bit of moral high ground. He learned. She has not.

One of the arguments that defenders of this Hugh/Demelza storyline in the show fall back on is this notion that Show!Demelza is being neglected by her husband. This is a line that’s been put forth by TPTB in the press. Having watched this show, I’m still waiting to see evidence of such neglect.

Ross was neglectful of her in S2. When it was pointed out to him that he had no clue that everything Demelza was doing to make sure there was food while they were going through a period of impoverishment, he tried to make up for it and as a result, we got that Stocking Scene. He also learned that she was starting to doubt his feelings for her, too. He showed her that he still loved her by the events in the stocking scene.

The one thing he doesn’t do in that moment and in that scene is brush off her concerns. In S3, when Demelza asks him to be patient after he confesses he’s begun to doubt her feelings for him, it comes across as if she’s brushing him off.

However, in S3, the couple are seen regularly sitting together and talking. Or they’re taking walks, hand in hand, I should add. Sometimes, the walks are just the two of them. Other times, their children are along. They work together in the garden. They are intimate.

So I am a tad confused as to where this argument that Show!Demelza is being neglected comes from.

TPTB have set up this tryst with Hugh Armitage based on non-existent evidence that her husband is not paying attention to her. Riiiiight.

I’m from the old school in that if you’re going to make a claim, it is your responsibility to back up that claim with evidence. Maybe the people in the back don’t require supporting evidence of this so-called neglect, but the people in the front do and I’m one of those people sitting up front. 

Spousal neglect is one of the reasons why my first marriage fell apart. This neglect had ZERO to do with—

Again how exactly is Demelza being neglected? Dammit, I can’t even finish that sentence now.

The kind of emotional neglect that can destroy a marriage includes not standing by and supporting a spouse when that spouse is going through something very difficult. In my case, I had just been formally diagnosed with Major Depressive Disorder that I’d been living with undiagnosed for half my life (I was 29 when I received my diagnosis) and my ex refused to support me because I’d decided to start taking anti-depressants and he “didn’t believe in taking pills for such a thing”.

THAT is neglect. His refusal to stick by me was one of the reasons that man is now my ex-husband. The man I am married to now (I refuse to call him my current husband because that suggests that there might be a future husband, which there will never be) has taken the time to learn about my depression and my anxiety. He goes with me to therapist appointments when I ask him to go. When I had a nervous breakdown four years ago and was contemplating suicide, I voluntarily checked myself into a psychiatric hospital. That man was there during visiting hours every single day. When I am going through an episode of depression or anxiety, he is the one who urges me to get up and do something. Anything. He may not always do the right thing, but that’s not the point. He is standing beside me and he is there when I need him. And that is why we’ve been together for almost 18 years and married for 15.

And after writing all of that, I’m still having trouble finding exactly in what way Ross is neglecting her during S3. Saying stupid things or insensitive things in the heat of the moment is not neglect. That’s just being a horse’s ass. At least he’s talking to you, Demelza. 

The book version of Demelza, the one that TPTB decided wasn’t strong enough is actually a stronger person that the so-called Modern, Feisty Demelza. We, as a culture, have a serious problem with how we define strength and weakness in a person, particularly when it comes to emotions. Strong people, emotionally mature people are usually the quiet ones who take time to contemplate. Emotionally immature and weak people are the ones who throw tantrums and act out of spite. However, because we are conditioned to believe that strength is demonstrated by action, we view the person who has the outbursts and reacts based on their emotions as the strong ones. The person who takes the time to contemplate what they are doing is the weaker person, according to society.

It’s actually the other way around. It takes a tremendous amount of strength to make yourself take that step backwards, take those deep breaths, and not react viscerally.

TPTB have it backwards. Book!Demelza is the strong one. Season3Show!Demelza is the weaker character.

I’m sorry that the people in the back can’t wrap their heads around this, but that’s not my problem and those of us in the front should not be made to suffer for other people’s ignorance.

And this is why S3 is such a disappointment to me. 

As it is about 2 hours and 45 minutes until the show airs, I’m posting this anyway, because unfortunately, I doubt that there is enough that will happen in one last episode to redeem this season for me. 

[mmmusewrites-blog]

Nampara Garage, chapter 6 snippet

I’ve been pecking away at the start of this chapter for the last three days. Apparently, the third time was the charm. Things should go smoother now...here’s a little snippet for you! 

One of the things Andrew Blamey remembered from his first meeting with Demelza Carne was her insistence on work-life balance. At first, he’d wondered if she’d said that because she knew he was a single father with two children under five, but he later learned it was something she’d told all of the people she’d worked with along the way. It was something she lived up to as well, never sending emails or requests to him after hours and respecting his need to be flexible during these first few weeks settling into a new home and country.

The moment he’d received a text from her at almost eleven o’clock at night he’d known something terrible had happened.

He’d just turned out the light by his bed when his phone vibrated against the oak top of his nightstand. He fumbled for his glasses, slipped them on and peered at the screen:

From: Demelza Poldark To: Andrew Blamey 17/05/2016 23:07 999. Didn’t want to ring for fear of waking the children. Please call me ASAP.

He didn’t hesitate and her number in his contacts. She answered on the first ring. “Andrew?”

Her voice sounded tremulous, as if she’d been crying. He sat bolt upright in bed. “Mis--Demelza?” he asked, already reaching for his robe. “What’s happened?”

“I’m so sorry for bothering you at home.”

Her voice caught on the last word. “No worries, mate.” He wasn’t surprised to hear the familiar phrase slip free from his mouth. “How can I help?”

“It’s personal,” she sighed, “but I-I need to get away from here.” She took a deep breath, managing to sound a bit more composed than before. “Can you book me on tomorrow’s flight to the states?”

“Absolutely,” he confirmed, bracing the phone against his cheek with his shoulder while he opened his tablet and navigated to the company travel site. He set the phone down and put it on speaker. “There….is….” he murmured. “I can get you on American to Denver through Detroit at half past nine o’clock. You would arrive a little after five o’clock local time.”

“Good, that’s good,” she said absently.

“I’ll contact Patrick to have him fly you over from Newquay,” Andrew confirmed, his fingers flying over the keypad. “Returning when?”

“Not until next Monday,” she said. ”Taking some time to myself.” The composure evaporated with another sob.

“Demelza, please, what’s wrong?” he asked, worry turning his stomach queasy.

“It’s nothing, Andrew, truly,” she said hastily. “I’ll be ready to leave for the airport in twenty minutes.”

“I’ll have a car waiting,” he said. He set down the tablet, picking up the phone and turning it off speaker. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

There was a lengthy pause on the line, making him think she’d hung up before she spoke. “Please text me if anyone with the last name of Poldark should call.” Then, he heard her sigh wearily. “Thank you for everyone, Andrew. Goodbye.”

[mmmusewrites-blog]

Nampara Garage -- chapter 5 update and snippet

Honestly, I can’t stop. I mean I really need to in order to get back to work on Townhouse, now that I’m going to jump ahead to a later chapter in the hopes of shaking off the block I have there. But still. These two need to leave me alone. 

Needless to say, it’s coming right along. This snippet is from our darling Verity’s POV, a flashback to when she’d gone to Nampara to check on Ross after his broken engagement. Enjoy!

It was only when Francis was released from hospital and returned home with Elizabeth by his side, a massive diamond on her finger, that Verity had gone up to Nampara to draw the beast from its lair.

It had been years since she’d been to the farm and it broke her heart to see it in such a dilapidated state. “Ross!” she shouted, slapping the palm of her hand against the rickety door. “I know you are here. Again, the GTO is a dead give away. Open the door!”

“Piss off,” he barked.

His voice was slurred from drink and she wondered how much he’d poured down his system. Knowing him, a substantial quantity. “I will not ‘piss off’ until I’ve had a chance to see that you are healing.” She was met with nothing but silence and set her jaw. “If you don’t, I’m calling Dwight.”

“Go right ahead,” he countered with a dry laugh. “Will have a hard time getting here from Edinburgh, though. Medical conference.”

Damn. She rolled up her sleeves and crossed her arms. “Then I’ll call Choake.”

Several beats of silence went by. “Very low blow, cousin,” he grumbled. She heard him stumble against something, the shatter of crockery before he slid the latch.

The stench was the first thing to make her eyes water as he opened the door. Stale liquor, cheap cigars and unwashed male. The second were the bloodshot, devastated eyes that met hers. “Oh, Ross.”

[mmmusewrites-blog]

Nisqually, The Poldark Prairie Saga, part 2 -- chapter 8 update and snippet

I’ve been busily researching the Sisters of Providence in order to prepare to write the second half of this chapter, because Helen and Richard will have two weeks to spend with them. The photo above is St. Joseph Hospital, established in June 1858 (three months before the Poldark party arrive in Vancouver). It was the first permanent hospital in the Northwest Territories. Today, it is part of PeaceHealth’s organization. You’ll learn much more about them soon. 

Before then, however, comes the parting of the Poldark-Carnes and MacGowans. A little snippet for you...

The sun neared its apex in the sky. Ross knew they’d have to push the animals hard to make it to the camp outside of Union Ridge, despite the fact that it was only fifteen miles away, half the distance they’d been able to cover on the prairies. He’d done what he could to take his time breaking down the camp, and had been on the receiving end of several glowers from Graves, each more dour than the last. But each was worth seeing the sight that lay just beyond the other side of their wagon: his wife Demelza spending the last few hours with her dearest friend before a half-month separation in a new land. The two women had been tucked away at the back of the MacGowan wagon, sharing last minute conversations and cooing over baby Addie, who seemed to grow like a weed. There were moments when he would see them from the corner of his eye, Demelza’s ginger head close to the baby’s, and he could easily picture her with a child of their own.

If there were one positive thing about their leave-taking, it was that he and his wife found themselves more closely bonded than ever before. They’d come together last night in the realization that they would soon be truly on their own, in wilderness without the company of those they’d grown to love so deeply; the four of them working to carve out their new home, with the hopes of a fifth to join them in the spring.

If someone were to have approached him a year ago and told him he would be a happily married man on the verge of starting a family he would have laughed himself hoarse. But here he was, married to a woman who made him laugh, cry, rage, and love. He likened the journey to a crucible of sorts, with all of the challenges they’d encountered along the way heating them to their core to make them stronger. They would need that strength as they made the final push towards their new home.

GC’s laugh from near the MacGowan’s wagon nudged Ross back to the present and he looked to see the boy had clambered up to join the ladies, peering at her while he lightly stroked her curly red hair with one finger. He tightened the last ropes securing the barrel of corn meal onto the wagon and walked over to join them. “She’s awfully small, isn’t she, my lad?”

GC looked up to beam at his uncle. “I thought Mr and Mrs Sheehan’s little girl, Si...Si…”

“Siobhan,” Demelza finished for him.

The boy grinned. “I thought she was the smallest person I would ever see. Addie’s not small, she’s wee, like Richard says,” he marveled. “But for someone so small she sure can make a lot of noise!”

“She surprised me, too, GC,” Helen chuckled. Ross was glad to see her up and about. “Would you like to hold her?”

GC’s raised wide, apprehensive eyes, first to Helen and then to Ross and Demelza.  Ross’s eyes flashed over Helen. “Are you sure that’s wise?”

“We’ll make sure nothing happens to her,” Demelza said, reassuringly. What occurred next was something he hoped to remember for the rest of his life: Demelza drawing him down to sit in her lap before Helen gently lowered the sleeping lass into the boy’s waiting arms. GC’s mouth formed a perfect “o” of surprise and awe as the little girl opened her eyes and stared up at this new face. Ross touched the back of the lad’s head before he looked at his wife.

Tears sparkled on her lashes. No words were needed.

[mmmusewrites-blog]

Nampara Garage -- chapter 3 update and snippet

Hey there! Finished chapter three and it's on its way to beta! It's a jam backed chapter that I think you'll like a lot. I don't wat to give much away but I can share the introduction of another character. His back story is going to be a tad different that it is in canon. More to come. Thanks again for all your support!

“Andrew, were you able to make arrangements for lunch with my father and brothers today?” Demelza asked as she walked through the heavy glass door of her outer office.

“Yes, Miss Carne, half past twelve at Tabb’s.” A tall, nice looking man around forty got up from his desk and met her near the door, a cup of tea in his hand. “I had to move your one o’clock with the project management leads to three. Will that be alright?”

“Yes, that’s fine,” Demelza said, handing him her coat in exchange for the tea. “And it’s Demelza, Andrew.” She grinned, taking a sip from her cup. Perfect. “Are you and your children settling down here in town?”

“Yes, ma’am, I mean Demelza,” he said, a shy smile twitching the corners of his mouth. It was a smile that never seemed to reach his eyes, and betrayed a deep sadness that he held very close to the vest. He hung up her coat in the closet and went back to his desk. “The relocation team made the move from the States nearly effortless, and the executive staff has been very welcoming, and were able to help me get Esther and James into a nursery.” He nudged his glasses up his long, straight nose. “Thank you, again, for this opportunity.”

Andrew Blamey was a widower who had relocated to the area with his young children from Kalgoorlie-Boulder, Western Australia only the week before. He was serious, quiet, efficient and the most diplomatic person she’d ever met. She also liked the way his accent made her name sound exotic. “You’ve earned it.” She grinned as she settled at her desk and withdrew her laptop from her bag. “My brother Sam said your work in Western Australia was exemplary and I am grateful to have someone with as much institutional knowledge about the administration as my executive assistant.” She slid her phone out of her pocket, surreptitiously checking for new messages and was surprised to find herself disappointed.

“Speaking of settling in, Demelza.” She started, looking up to find Andrew standing at the sliding glass door separating their workspaces. “I’d hoped to take Friday off so we might visit our family in Falmouth. There’s a surprise seventieth birthday party for my father this weekend. It’s been nearly ten years since we’ve seen him.”

Demelza beamed. “Of course you can, Andrew! Does he have any idea the three of you will be there?”

Andrew shook his head. “No, it’s all been a part of the surprise.”

“Well, feel free to take next Monday off as well,” she urged. “Make the most of it.”

He beamed. “Thank you so much, Demelza.”

“You’re more than welcome, Andrew. Please be sure to give Captain Blamey my warmest regards.”

[mmmusewrites-blog]

mmmusewrites In the Hopper: Modern Mechanic!Ross Romelza AU

courtesy of @rainpuddle13‘s fic bunny farm...

"Dammit. Not again." Demelza Carne paused before turning the key in the ignition again. Nothing. Not even the dissapated wheeze of an engine attempting to come back to life. She blew out a sigh and opened the door of the truck, her boots crunching on the gravel roadway near their copper mine.

She'd agreed to come out to the site to speak with Henshawe, their foreman, at her brother Sam's request. "He'll give you more information than me, especially if you dazzle him with that smile," he'd joked. She'd given him a swift kick in the shin for that, the sexist arse. However, it was part of her responsibility as one of the heirs to the Carnemore Minerals Corporation. So she'd changed out of the sleek Zac Posen suit she'd worn for the board meeting into a favorite pair of jeans and jumped into one of the company trucks. She'd stayed on to make a few calls and was the last out of the office.

Stranded. And with only thirty minutes left to get home and changed for her brother Drake's graduation party! She pulled out her smartphone, Googled the nearest tow company and pressed the link to call. "Yes...hello...I am in desperate need of a tow or a jump or whatever I need to get this thrice-damned truck moving...I'm at the Leisure copper mine, how soon can you get here?...Thirty minutes?...Could it be any sooner?....oh, oh alright, fine. Thirty minutes. It's a black Chevy truck right near the mine office....thank you...I'll see you then." She hung up and frowned. "Bollocks." She dialed her brother next. "Drake...hello, love... yes, I'm calling about that... I've had a spot of car trouble so I will be late...of course I'll be there as soon as I can. We all must celebrate with you tonight...Don't worry, I've a tow on its way...see you soon. Bye!"

She was unaccountably sad by the time she hung up the phone. It wasn't as if this was the end of the world. She'd be a tad late, and -- in the end -- would have a tale to tell over Mrs Gimlett's delicious dinner.

She was mentally going through her wardrobe choices for the evening's affair when she heard the sound of a heavy truck engine approaching from the east. She glanced up to see faded blue tow truck lumbering down the drive. The driver expertly swung the big rig around, the beeping of the backing alarm now discordant with the strains of the Beatles "Helter Skelter" streaming from the open windows at ear-shattering decibels.

She released a breath she hadn't known she was holding when he turned off the ignition and silence fell over the site. "You'll be deaf in a week if you continue like tha---" The rest of the words turned to dust in her mouth as the owner of the tow truck eased out of the vehicle.

Tall, dark and handsome was one way to think of him, but that tired expression merely scratched the surface of the man striding towards her. Demelza shut her mouth with a snap before anyone could accuse her of looking like a grouper. She'd never found the ubiquitous manbun attractive until now. He had a mass of black curling hair carelessly captured in one of the things, tendrils slipping loose along the strong column of his neck. He had a beautifully sculpted face, full lips and eyes of a color she'd never seen before: greens and golds and grays all warring for attention. Muscular, graceful in his simple white t-shirt and blue jeans, the corner of his mouth hitched up into a half-smile as he came to a halt before her.

"You call for a tow, ma'am?" he asked, pulling a bandanna from his pocket and wiping his hands. 

She nodded dumbly. Oh, what a voice, Demelza thought to herself. "Y-yes," she stammered.

He nodded towards the driver's seat and she all but jumped out of his way. "What happens when you turn the ignition?"

"Nothing. Just a click." He leaned over, the t-shirt shifting over well-defined back muscles, and turned the key. He cocked his head to listen. She swallowed. "I'm not sure what's wrong with it. It ran fine on the way here."

He leaned back and shut the door. "I'm pretty sure it's the alternator, but I won't know for certain until I get it back to my shop." He looked around the site and frowned. "Are you all alone up here? I always found this place to be a bit creepy when everything goes all silent at night."

It was her turn to cock her head. "You're familiar with this place?"

"Oh, yes," he said. "My shop is about five miles from here. Nampara Auto Shop?" She'd driven by it countless times, unaware of the delights held within its fenced-in yard. He rubbed his chin, and her toes curled at the rough, sandpapery sound of his whiskers. "You can ride with me up to the shop, and then I could give you a lift ho--"

"--No."

He blinked and took a step back. "I'm sorry, I didn--"

"--No, I mean, yes...sorry...I'd appreciate a lift," she said. "Back to the office in Truro, if you don't mind?"

He smiled again. "Not at all, Miss..."

"Carter," Demelza said, thrusting her hand out. "Demelza Carter."

[mmmusewrites-blog]

He would know the sound of her footsteps anywhere, stilettos on cobblestones and turned. “Good evening, my mistress.” She smiled brilliantly. The crimson velvet cloak concealed what she’d chosen to wear for the private party they were to attend. He prayed it would be the black beaded mini-dress he’d glimpsed on her chaise the other day.

“Good evening, dearest Dec,” she murmured, drawing close enough to whisper in his ear. He shivered in response, brushing a kiss on her cheek, enjoying its curve under his lips. “Did you complete your homework?”

He grinned, and her eyes all but simmered in the night. “Magpie Lane was once known as Gropecunt Lane or Grope Lane back in the 13th century and was known as a spot where prostitutes conducted their business.” He paused. “So, am I to be allowed?”

“I believe that can be arranged.” She teased open her cloak to reveal the absence of the black dress...of all except her garter and silk stockings and drew him into the alcove.

in response to last night’s ramblings with @rainpuddle13 

[mmmusewrites-blog]

Nisqually ch 6 update -- the bad news and the good news

Well, I'll start off with the bad news: it's taking longer than I'd anticipated. AND I'm not able to fit everything in it that I'd originally planned, which means some of it will get pushed to ch 7 (although I'm pondering another Memory from the Trail flashback chapter, but that's not forming up in my head right now).

The good news? Well, I know there are SOME of you who said you missed seeing Ross and Demelza in the last chapter. This next chapter? It's ALL about the Romelza. Eventually. There's a bit of strife first. Of course.

A little sample? Well.... Alright. I shared the first bit in a WIP meme on my @mmmuses blog earlier in the week... here's a peek at some more. And that's it until I publish. Trust me, I think you'll like it. Evenually.

 Ross held the glass of bourbon up to his eye, the amber liquid glowing bright in the light from the campfire. Anyone looking at him from afar would think he was a handsome, young man enjoying a relaxing evening. In truth, he was troubled and gloomy, something he hadn’t counted on feeling so close to their new home. Any fool would have figured it to happen, if they’d been paying attention and he certainly had not.

He’d hoped Dwight’s assessment of Helen’s condition was wrong, but in the end the doctor had been correct. Ross and his family would have to part with MacGowans in the morning. At least he’d been prepared for it. Demelza and the children, on the other hand, had not.

“What do you mean we’re leaving Richard, Helen and the children behind?” Demelza asked, her wounded eyes leaving the stew she was tending to meet his. Her grip on the lid from the hot dutch oven slackened, burning her hand as it fell to the ground.

“Demelza, you’re hurt yourself.” Ross reached for her, only to have her step back from him.

She flapped her uninjured hand at him. “Nevermind about that,” she said, her voice quavering.

“I will not, Demelza,” he disagreed, stepping forward to check the burn. A fine line of blisters had formed along the back of her pretty hand. “Something like this can become far worse out here. Dwight will see to this now.”

“Why aren’t the they coming with us?” She dug in her heels. I’ll not take another step further until you explain this to me!”

“Dwight will do a better job of it than I, and you know it,” Ross snapped. “Come with me now and hear it from him.”

The doctor told her about his concerns over Helen’s delayed recovery while he cleaned and treated the burn. Minutes later, she’d stormed away from the two men, her hand wrapped and in a thunderous temper. He tipped the glass, draining the whiskey in a swallow that left him wheezing and rose for more, continuing to brood as the barrel gurgled another two fingers of liquor. Clearly he’d made a mistake in not telling her, but he felt he’d done the right thing. What would have been the point of having her worry over something that might not have happened?

He was raising the glass to his lips when a tug on his waistcoat made him jump, spilling a good portion of the contents onto his chin and shirt. He swore loudly, turning to see GC standing at his feet, wiping bourbon from his face with his shirt sleeve. “Jesus, lad, you should know better than to sneak up on me like that!” he exclaimed, setting the glass down and reaching for his kerchief.

“I called your name but you didn’t hear me, Uncle,” the boy said, his voice muffled by Ross’s harried ministrations.

“Well, what is it then?” he asked, abandoning his efforts and marching the boy towards the tent for a clean shirt. If Demelza was angry with him now, she’d be furious over her newly adopted son smelling like a distillery.

“Well, me and Drake--”

“‘Drake and I’,” Ross corrected, rummaging around the carpetbag.

GC sighed impatiently. Ross bit back a laugh, for the boy’d sounded just like he did when he was at his wit’s end. “Drake and I want to camp out with Glenn tonight.”

“Do you now?” he said absently.

“Yes. Drake sent me over to ask if we could.”

Ross heard a sniffle and raised his head from the search, looking at his nephew. He chuckled wryly. He had to give them credit. Send over the tow-headed waif with the big, sad eyes to soften him up. Worked every time. “Alright, my boy, as long as Mr MacGowan gives his consent.” He could barely get the buttons on GC’s shirt closed up fast enough and snared the lad by the collar before he bolted out of the tent. “You will set up our small tent right next to ours, and you will go to sleep when told to, you understand?”

“Yessir,” GC agreed. He giggled as Ross ruffled his overly long hair. The boy threw his arms around his neck, drawing him down for a hug. “Thank you, Uncle Ross.”

In an instant, he was gone. Ross blinked the sudden dampness from his eyes and began to unbutton his own shirt when he heard GC’s voice outside the tent. “Uncle Ross said we could camp out with Glenn tonight, Mama!”

“Did he now?” she said with a smile in her voice. Ross had noticed whenever she spoke to her adopted son her voice would take on a tone different from any she used with he or Drake. There was a low, nurturing gentleness that made his heart yearn to hear her speak to their own child in such a way. “And why does your hair smell like a distillery?”

Ross winced. “I snuck up on Uncle Ross and made him spill it all over both of us!” GC proclaimed!

“Where is your uncle, sweetheart?” The gentleness was still there, but with a slight edge to it.

“He’s in the big tent,” the lad said. “You’ve been crying, haven’t you, Mama?”

“A little, sweetheart,” she murmured. “I’m sad that we have to say goodbye to the MacGowans tomorrow. You know Helen is my very good friend, like Glenn is yours.”

“Uh huh. That’s why we want to camp with him tonight.” He paused. “Do you think we’ll ever see them again?”

“We certainly will,” she said, and Ross could hear her trying to hold back her emotions. It took all he had within him not to burst out of the tent to gather her into his arms.

“Can I go tell Drake and Glenn, Mama?”

She cleared her throat. “Yes, you may,” she said. “Mind that you use extra blankets tonight, GC! It was very chilly last night and I’ll not have you catch your death with a cold.” Ross heard the boy’s feet pounding off into the distance, turning just in time to see Demelza silhouetted by the light from the campfire. Her face was unreadable, darkened by shadow, until she stepped into the tent.

[mmmusewrites-blog]

Nisqually ch 5 snippet

This is a photo of Fort Vancouver, Washington Territory in 1859, two years after our characters arrive on the shores of the newly incorporated city to start their new lives. We see the scene from Dwight’s perspective as the wagons are disembarking the ferry from Oregon. Enjoy the following snippet!

“MacGowan, Poldark, Enys over to the left!” the ferry captain barked. Dwight slapped the reins down onto the backs of his team of oxen. They lowed nervously as the bright blue wagon in front of them began its forward motion off of the ferry and onto the dock in Vancouver, Washington Territory. Five and a half months of travel were behind them and they were within days of their final destination: Bush Prairie.  

The ground was boggy with mud as he disembarked and he prayed the wheels wouldn’t get mired too deeply. Suddenly, he saw Drake Carne jogging up to him, his face damp with sweat. “Some wood shavings have been laid down to the right of you for the heavier wagons, Dwight. Lead over a bit more…a bit more....” He followed the young man’s instructions and instantly felt the ease on the wheels. “Excellent!” Drake shouted. “Now, ease the reins, I’ll walk them up.” He took a hold of Jud, the lead ox on the team and hauled on the traces.

Dwight slackened his hold on the reins and sat back, taking in the changes that had occurred in his absence from the region. Several more buildings had sprouted up near the waterfront. The road heading up and away towards the north had broadened, become clearer. He closed his eyes, savoring the overpowering scent of freshly cut wood as the blades of the sawmill shrieked its production. The top of the fort’s watchtower was barely visible from their location but boasted an unimpeded view of the river and its environs.

They’d been fortunate to have excellent weather for their crossing when they arrived on the river’s edge outside of Portland the night before. The Columbia River was one of the largest and fastest moving rivers in the North American continent. In good weather, the crossing was difficult, even for the most seasoned ferry captains. The only water journey more treacherous was for those souls arriving by way of the Pacific Ocean and into the mouth of the river. Known as The Bar, a massive sandbar formed by the collision between the rushing river flow from the west and the turbulent waters of the Pacific, it was a place of dramatic waves, winds and currents that could change at a moment’s notice. Thirty ships and dozens of lives had been lost on The Bar since 1792 and was only part of the area identified along the coast of the Washington and Oregon as The Graveyard of the Pacific.

“Come about to line up along this fence rail, Dwight!” Drake called, backing up to stand at gate leading towards the field where they would be for the next day and a half. Dwight slapped the traces along the backs of his team and eased them forward. The oxen lowed their contentment to be moving at normal speed once again. He slapped the reins down and gave them their heads, smiling in spite of himself. He could see local people setting up their wares and trade goods along the fort’s tall, straight fence line a half a mile to the east of the docks and knew they would find eager customers amongst the remaining members of the Poldark party.

Many of their party were calling the land bracketing the Columbia home. They had already bid farewell to the Stevensons and the Thibodauxs in Oregon and would see the Andersens and Ellingstons leave them to settle here in Vancouver. It was the latter family that drew Dwight’s attention. If the rumors he’d heard were true, then he may have found the solution to the problem he’d been mulling since boarding the ferry that morning: Helen MacGowan.

[mmmuses]

anacrusis -- ch 2 snippet

Let’s get to know Ross....

Ross had noticed Elizabeth on their first day in an Introduction to Art History class. She was the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen, with long, curling, honey-blonde hair and a figure made to wear haute couture. He’d been shocked to discover her lingering eyes on him a week into school, even more so when she’d boldly asked him out for a coffee soon after. That coffee had turned into drinks and, within days, shared breakfasts after nights of lovemaking. He suspected she’d been drawn to him because his not-entirely-undeserved reputation as a bad boy and his rough-about-the-edges looks. Distressed denim jeans, vintage concert tees, battered Doc Marten’s and old leather jackets may have been all the rage at H&M, but for Ross, they comprised the entirety of his wardrobe and had been earned the hard way. Regardless of her reasons for it, Ross had basked under her attentions and had grown to love and admire her for her charm, beauty and intellect.

Despite the love for art that had brought Ross and Elizabeth together their first year at uni, they’d soon begun to take decidedly different paths during their second. Music had always been an important part of his life, since his childhood, really. It had started to flourish while in secondary school and burst forth, fully formed, once in uni. It had captured his soul, and opportunities to play with fellow troubadours in small clubs around town and develop new, experimental jazz compositions had become his passion. There wasn’t much money to be had with these endeavours, which was nothing new to him, so life on a shoestring had been manageable. The new studio bedsit he’d rented for the upcoming school year was tiny and efficient, and he’d cared more about having a place to park his lorry than he’d been about the size or what part of town it happened to be in. He augmented his gigs as a server with a catering company and a little under-the-table cash on moving jobs. 

Elizabeth, on the other hand, had become quite well known as a style blogger and worked on her design skills, with a mind to move to London, Paris or Italy to launch a career in fashion. She’d always wondered when Ross would stop screwing around with the jazz trio, to use his sharp intelligence on the business side of the music industry. He’d excelled in his intro to business courses, and he could almost, in hindsight, remember seeing a gleam in her eye at the possibilities. In the end, he couldn’t blame her for wanting the finer things in life. There’d been too many nights out having cheap beer and mediocre pizza, not enough out dining on white linen tablecloths. Having to wait until the movie she’d wanted to see had come to the discount cinema instead of going on opening night. He thought the final straw had been when he’d brought her to his new place for the first time. He’d seen the distaste in her eyes as she’d taken in the spartan room, with its futon bed, microwave and mini-fridge. She’d stayed only the one night before the excuses had begun. In the end, he’d barely offered a token of resistance when she’d told him it was over.

[mmmuses]

#18, Nisqually Ross and Demelza

“What am I to you?”

Ross looked at Demelza who leant back against the tub’s incline. Her Christmas surprise was filled to the rim with warm water, and the upper slopes of her breasts glistened in the firelight. “Let me think,” he mused, easing himself down next to her. “You’re my helpmeet,” he said, plucking the sponge from her fingers. “My confidant.” He kissed her shoulder. “My lover, friend and wife.” He stood, offering his hand. As she stood, rose-scented water sluiced down her body, her hand resting on her belly. “And the mother of our child.”

[mmmuses]

Nampara Garage, ch 16 snippet

He closed the lid on the laptop, rising from the sofa to go investigate the fridge when he heard the creak of the master bedroom door. Demelza stood in the entryway of the great room, her Minnie Mouse sleep shirt skimming the middle of her thighs, her pretty hair tousled from sleep. “Morning, Dee,” he said, his voice rough with disuse. “I was just about to fix a cup of tea. Will you joi--oof!” She’d padded into the kitchen and wrapped her arms around his waist, startling the air out of his lungs.

“Morning, Ross,” she murmured, her lips pressed against his throat.

He drew back, stroking her hair back from her face. “Did you get any sleep last night? Or, should I say, this morning?”

“A bit,” she admitted.

He kissed her, almost chastely, releasing his hold. “Why don’t you have a seat and I’ll bring you a cuppa.” She nodded and made her way to the sofa. He pulled another mug from the cabinet, poured tea in both and froze. “Uh, Demelza?”

“Hmm?” She glanced up from tossing more peat into the fire.

Ross’s cheeks burned. “How do you take your tea?”

She smiled. “Just a little milk, no sugar,” she said, settling back into the sofa. “Are you alright?”

“I just realised I’ve never made you tea.” He added milk to her cup and made his way over to join her. The mugs clattered on the rustic wooden coffee table. “I asked you to marry me as soon as humanly possible and I’ve no idea how you like your tea.” He rubbed his eyes. “I am the biggest idiot on the planet.”

“Oh, darling,” she crooned, offering him his mug before picking up hers. “Don’t say that.”

“I am!” He got up off the sofa and paced in front of the fire. “Listen, I’m sorry about what I said last night, the elopement. I was being a Neanderthal, Demelza, making assumptions and--”

“It’s okay, Ross, I understand.” She’d leapt from her seat, interrupting him by placing her fingers against his mouth, stroking his lower lip. “I was just a little shocked, that’s all.” She pressed a kiss to his chin. “Let’s sit and have our tea. I’ve a few questions for you.”

[mmmuses]

My Wife, a missing moment fic by mmmuses, part 3

Another Poldark Day is upon us, folks! I really wanted this to be the last part, but there’s something wrong with my right eye and I need to go rest it for a while before the show starts. Final part next Sunday, I promise!

From Poldark 3.03, continued from here (part 1) and here (part 2). Story request and gif by @poldarked-fangirl

Demelza slipped from her petticoat and shift, marvelling at the unfamiliar gift of personal time she’d received through her husband’s assistance, seductive and welcomed after so many months of never having time enough for everything. She glanced at the closed chamber door over her shoulder. Ross had been gone, checking on Jeremy, for quite a while. She hoped all was well but worried just the same. His relationship with his son had been troubled from the start, the loss of their daughter Julia having struck him harder than she’d realised, and harder than he’d revealed. A thread of the bitterness that had plagued them while they awaited Jeremy’s arrival threatened to encroach on her happiness. Ross was home, warm, attentive and more open than she’d ever seen him before, and she’d not allow the sorrow from that time to sully their reunion.

She hadn’t missed the way his eyes had followed her as she’d moved about the parlour preparing the table for supper, warm and intense when they’d met hers, soft and filled with regret when they’d rested upon her belly. He’d caught her when she’d finished with the glasses, his arm slipping around her waist to pull her close, resting his head against the swell of their child.

“How has our friend been treating you, my love?” he’d murmured, his eyes searching hers. Demelza had been struck by the sorrow that shone from his whiskey-brown gaze. He’d snuck a glance towards their son, who played with his tin soldiers near the hearth before pressing his lips against her belly, his hand cupping her low, near her groyne. She’d barely had time to stifle the involuntary moan that had rushed to her lips behind the back of her hand before tilting his chin up for a kiss, one filled with love and desire, a squealing embrace from their son bringing the moment to a close.

More glances and half-smiles had come her way as the evening had worn on, as he’d shared some of his adventures with them, despite their son’s squeals of laughter over some of his father’s tales of daring do, most of which she’d prayed were exaggerations and not based on reality. Those hopes had been dashed after they’d squared off over the meeting house when he’d told her that he’d wondered if he would make it home alive. The fierce independence she’d had to assume during his absence had faltered, and the fear she’d carried with her from the moment he’d left threatened to reveal itself. She’d managed to cover it with teasing playfulness, but the uncharacteristic openness he’d revealed had been profoundly moving. It made her hope he would live up to his promise to find his contentment in his home and family, and leave the days of reckless adventuring behind.

Can he? a faint voice in the back of her head warned. She shushed it with a frown, exchanging her shift for her night rail and blowing out the candle. She slipped under the bedclothes just as the door opened. His eyes had lingered on her face before he pressed the sturdy oak closed, the click of the latch loud in the quiet room. “How is Jeremy, Ross?” she asked.

The corner of Ross’s mouth quirked up. “Oh, I suspect he and Garrick are doing what I told him not to do: staying up and playing.”

Her eyes widened. “You let Garrick stay with him?” The only other time Ross had allowed the dog up onto the second floor was when he’d charged the mongrel to mind Julia when he’d gone off to check on Jim Carter.

“Just this once, as I told the lad,” Ross said. His fingers fussed at the buttons at his wrists before he sat on the edge of the bed to take off his boots.

She slid closer, enjoying the play of the muscles along his back and shoulder as he pulled off his boots, running one finger along his spine. She was rewarded with a shiver that halted his movement. “Ross?”

“Yes, my love?”

“Hurry.”

[mmmuses]

#25 "I don't want to be alone" - Prairie Dwight and Caroline

Thanks for asking, honey!

Ray Penvenen, late of Cornwall, died near The Dalles. Caroline had borne the news with as much decorum as was expected from a woman of her class. That was, until, the time had come to bury the coffin.

The Robinsons left to prepare the repast; their vigil had lasted for days before it was done. Many of the mourners assumed her headstrong demeanour had signalled their time to depart. Dwight had known better.

"I don't want to be alone." A silvery tear slipped along her cheek and had done him in.

He took her hand. “You won’t be.”

[mmmuses]

Nampara Garage, Chapter 14 Update & Snippet

Well, I had to skip out on this week’s @poldarkpodcast recording because of another business trip *sobs*, so here I am, back in MT for another business meeting and chilling in the hotel after my flight. No better way to do that than to slurp on some ice tea lemonade, prop my feet up and do a bit of writing. This one’s coming along, a little slower because, well, it’s important to get it juuuuuuust right. But here’s a snippet. Hope you like it!

She looked lovely, her forehead and cheeks glowing from their exertions. He loved watching the way her hair bounced along in its tail as they ran, her long legs sleek and strong in her running tights. They stopped about two kilometres into their run at the Boardwalk Café, enjoying some espresso and muesli before they continued on their way. The temperature of the day had risen markedly since they’d left the cottage, and the pace his new girlfriend set was enough to show her to be more competitive than he’d first thought. By the time they reached the viewpoint on Monument Hill, Ross had leant forward, propping his hands on his knees to support the weight of his torso while he huffed and puffed.

She stood straight and tall, draining the last of the water from Ross’s water bottle gulp by thirsty gulp. He wheezed out a chuckle, hauling his t-shirt over his head to mop his face. “Hey, red.” She turned to look at him from over her shoulder. “Could you spare a sip for an old man?”

She brayed with laughter. “Oh, Ross.” She trotted over to the water fountain, refilling the container. “‘Old man’, indeed.”

“I certainly feel like one all but flailing to keep up with you out here,” he muttered. She lightly tossed it to him, coming to stand under his raised arm as he caught it. He took several thirsty pulls from the bottle before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. She snuggled next to him. “I’d warn you off from getting too close to me, but you feel too good. I’m rank.”

Her nose crinkled. “Well, maybe a bit, but I’m not much better.” She kissed his cheek as he swallowed several more gulps of water. “How about if we head back to cottage and hit that shower? It looks large enough for two.” She waggled her eyebrows.

He shook his head. “Woman, you are incorrigible.” He shuddered as he slipped his disgusting shirt back over his head and bolted. “Race you!” he shouted over his shoulder, laughing at the expletives that she barked in his wake. Thirty minutes later, they stumbled into the cottage’s entryway, giggling as they helped one another out of their running gear and sighing with pleasure as the warm water sluiced over their skin. “Is it possible for a shower to feel any better than this one?” he gurgled, the water delightful against his face, yelping when her hand slipped around his waist to cup his genitals. “Well. Okay, perhaps now.”