Here is an excerpt from my novel that is currently in the hands of an editor, getting flayed. My Main character in this story is Brigit, a woman who does welded art.
In honor of the commissioning of my husband’s “Lilly of the Valley” sculpture today, I thought I would share this excerpt.
“We’re going to move my sculptures upstairs, and set them up,” she replied, motioning to the large pieces of metal art work under the staircase. They loaded the three-foot tall steel bases one by one into the dumbwaiter, then the bronze and copper, and steel sculptures. There were five in all. It was a lot of climbing up and down the stairs, but when they were done, the effect was satisfying.
Two large, Japanese silk screens to partitioned off the upper room. One had mountain scenes in black and white, the other had bright pink cherry blossoms. The sculptures were set up on the empty half of her loft, on the south side, with one in each corner and the largest in the middle.
Stephen felt himself drawn to the sculpture in the middle of the room for some reason. The large sculpture was beautifully made with spirals of steel and bronze seeming to both imprison and explode from a highly polished piece of dark green jade. Suspended in the center, and completely stationary, it gave the impression that the stone could either sway, fall, or even fly away at any moment. He stood staring at it for a while, taking it in from several angles.
“I really like this one,” he told Brigit when she finally came up beside him, “It’s strange, I get this almost haunting sense of both freedom and loss. The way it’s shaped, it almost reminds me of a baby.”
When she did not answer him, he turned to look at her. Her fair skin looked as pale as milk and her lips were trembling. Her expression was stunned, as if he had hit her. Her arms were crossed over her chest defensively, tears swimming in her eyes.
“Are you okay?” he asked, alarmed. She swayed a little, but stayed upright. She finally looked him in the eye.
“No…no one…has ever noticed…that before,” She stammered, biting her full lower lip, tears spilling out of her eyes and down her down her pale cheeks.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you,” he said, automatically reaching for her.
“It’s not you,” she said putting up one arm, pushing him away.
“What’s wrong?”
She reached out and touched the sculpture gently with her fingertips. “I was married when I was 18. It was stupid…I shouldn’t have…he was, a lot older than me, and really charming…at first. It was really bad…I stayed with him two years. When I tried to leave…” She put one hand over her mouth and started sobbing. Stephen wrapped his arms around her, pulling her to his chest. After seeing the bullet holes, he now had a pretty good idea what she was going to say. “He tried to kill me. I was pregnant. I didn’t know I was pregnant at the time. I miscarried from the shock of getting shot four times. A guy I worked with shot him fatally, before he could finish the job.” He felt her start to sway in his arms as her knees buckled, and she started to sink to the floor as she cried. He sat down on the floor with her and rocked her in his arms.
“I got shot in the head.” She pulled back, and removed her hat, showing him the wound she did not realize he had already seen. “Twice in the chest and once in the side.” She pointed to those wounds through clothing. “But ironically, it wasn’t any of those things almost killed me. It was the shock from the loss of blood when I started to miscarry that almost did me in, it was too much.” She gave out a hard laugh, covering her face with her hands. Stephen squeezed her tighter, pressing his lips to the top of her head. “My sister and my cousin Ivy were already on their way, to help me leave him, you know? Barb was already here. They flew up to Alaska, but they got there right after it happened. My sister, my cousin Ivy, and my aunt Barb; we all happen to have the same blood type. If it hadn’t been for them…I’m lucky to have them. Lucky to be alive.” Her voice trailed off. He felt her shudder. Then she pulled back and looked into his eyes. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to dump all this on you. I’m normally not such an emotional train wreck.” She sobbed harder shaking her head and trying to stand up, but he clamped her close to his chest and rocked her gently.
“Hey, hey, shhhh…” He murmured against her hair, locking his arms around her, trying to still her frantic attempts at escape. “It’s okay, I don’t mind. Just relax. Okay? Please Don’t shut me out.” she paused for a moment as she stared at him, acquiescing. “I think you are incredible Brigit. I’m glad my brother has met such an intelligent, beautiful, courageous woman as you.” He choked a little on that last sentence.
“Please,” she implored, “please don’t tell Sean. I don’t think I’m ready for him to know that yet.”
He did not have the heart to tell her that Sean had the police background check capability to find out whether she liked it or not. He felt a little guilty now for telling Sean about the bullet wounds. Instead he merely touched her cheek and said, “Your secret is safe with me, kid. And I’m guessing there’s more to it than what you’ve told me.” She looked down, afraid to meet his eye. “Hey, if you need a friend, someone to talk to, I’m here. Seriously.” He put his hand under her chin and forced her to look at him. “You have my number if you need someone to talk to, call me anytime. Please? I want to be there for you.”
She smiled a little and hugged him tight in return, burying her glossy red head against his chest and breathing hard. He held her close, rocking her again. A voice in his head asked why he was torturing himself like this, but she was going to be his brother’s girl, he might as well get used to being part of the family.
After a few minutes, she pulled back slowly and wiped her eyes, “Thank you. I guess I needed that. It’s been a rough week.”
“That’s a mild understatement,” Stephen replied stroking her hair, “I admire how well you’re holding up. Most people would crack.”
“That wasn’t cracking a moment ago?” she asked with a laugh, as she continued wiping her face.
“Nope, not at all,” he assured her with a grin. Their faces were so close, they were almost touching. He could feel and taste her sweet breath against his lips. Now that he was no longer comforting her, he was in dangerous territory, again. He was painfully aware of her toned, warm body in his arms. Her full breasts grated against his chest with every ragged breath as she tried to calm down. Her soft ivory skin begged to be touched. His body throbbed insistently in response to having her in his arms.
“Here, let me help you up,” he said. He was desperate to put some distance between them. If he held her too much longer, he might lose control and give in to the throbbing sensation in his loins and push her down on the carpet and make love to her. God, how he wanted her.
As she stood up, her eyes went wide, “I promised you dinner.” She turned towards the kitchen.
“No, you don’t have to cook for me,” he told her.
“Oh no, really. It’s ready to go in the oven. I made chicken enchiladas and salad. It will only take 30 minutes or so. I’m hungry. Aren’t you?”
He smiled, yes, he was hungry. For more than just food.