Life in Two Parts Read online

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Epilogue

  Janet Eckford

  www.beautifultroublepublishing.com

  Life in Two Parts

  Janet Eckford

  Copyright © 2011 by Janet Eckford

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or shared in any form, including but not limited to: printing, photocopying, faxing, recording, electronic transmission, or by any information storage or retrieval system without prior written permission from the authors or holders of the copyright.

  This book is a work of fiction. References may be made to locations and historical events; however, names, characters, places and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination and/or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons (living or dead), businesses, events or locales is either used fictitiously or coincidental. All trademarks, service marks, registered trademarks, and registered service marks are the property of their respective owners and are used herein for identification purposes only.

  Published by

  Beautiful Trouble Publishing, LLC

  PO Box 61

  Colfax, NC 27235

  www.beautifultroublepublishing.com

  Cover Art: Les Byerley http://www.les3photo8.com/

  Editor: Stephanie Parent

  Proofreader: Novellette Whyte

  http://authorgurunovellette.blogspot.com/

  Formatter: Savannah J. Frierson, http://sjfbooks.com/editing/

  E-book Conversion: Jim & Zetta, http://www.jimandzetta.com/

  ISBN: (ebook) 978-1-61788-123-7; (print) 978-1-61788-124-4

  For my grandmother, who once told my mother, “I’m 65 years old and I’m just now learning how to live.” With the memory of your wisdom, I hope my journey isn’t quite as long. —Janet

  Note about eBooks

  eBooks are NOT transferable. Re-selling, sharing or giving away eBooks is a copyright infringement. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission of the author or Beautiful Trouble Publishing.

  CAVEAT

  This work of erotica contains adult language and sexually explicit scenes, which are smoking hot. This book is intended only for adults, as it is defined by the laws of the country in which the purchase is made. Keep this book out of the hands of under-aged readers.

  Chapter One

  Augusta Johnson stared at her naked body in the full-length mirror in her bedroom. Smiling she nodded at her reflection thinking she looked pretty good for an eighty year old broad. She’d always maintained a healthy diet, even before it was in fashion. Clean living, except for the occasional glass of Scotch, okay and there was that time she’d tried pot in 72’, but other than that clean living, healthy food, and laughter had kept her hale and hearty when most of her peers could barely walk from their bedroom to their bathroom. In her youth she’d never been described as pretty, but had features that leaned more toward handsome, a word that implied character in her day. Today she may have been described as striking. She had a high, broad brow and large, brown eyes that rested above a nose that on a more delicate face would have been described as large. With her high cheekbones and firm jawline it fit just perfectly. Her golden brown skin still shone with vitality and health even in her old age, and aside from the normal wrinkles that came with time, it had the smooth texture of women half her age.

  Her daddy had always described her frame as solid. With a height topping out at five ten, broad shoulders, strong arms and legs and full hips she made the perfect farmer’s daughter. On her Daddy’s small farm in Arkansas she’d been right beside him plowing fields and tending cattle until he woke up one day and stated that her world wouldn’t be confined to the small corners of the family farm. Saving every little penny that didn’t go back into keeping a roof over the family’s heads and the animals fed, he’d sent his only daughter away to college. Smiling, Augusta thought about how she’d cried when her Daddy put her on the train that would take her away to her new life. He’d given her a fierce hug and promised she’d be happy he’d done what he did when she was older.

  Turning from her mirror, she started pulling on the clothes she wore when she worked in her garden and reflected on how her Daddy had been right. She’d gone to college and thrived, going so far as to move out West to Los Angeles to work as a teacher. Plaiting her thick, gray hair into a braid that hung down her back she hummed as she finished and headed toward her kitchen. Going through her normal breakfast routine she finished her bran cereal and glass of grapefruit juice. Reminiscing about home made her think about the buttery biscuits and thick slices of ham her mother would make for the family to fortify them all before they started their chores. Tapping her finger against the glass she was holding she decided that she was going to make a Sunday dinner like the ones she’d have after church growing up. She’d call her niece Claire to see if she wasn’t busy and if she’d want to join in.

  Even those who practiced clean living had to have their few exceptions now and then. She’d even take out that bottle of Single Barrel whisky she’d been saving for a special occasion. Yep, as she walked out her front door Augusta couldn’t help reflecting on how great her life was. Right until she saw the flashy, black sports car parked in front of her house and the large, handsome man leaning up against the passenger door with a wicked grin on his face. Scowling, she walked down her porch steps and glared at him.

  “What do you want,” she barked.

  Over the years she’d realized that arguing with Dáire was an exercise in futility. It was best to get straight to the point before he started doing all his verbal tap dancing. If she had known picking up a hitchhiker on Pacific Coast Highway when she was coming down from a weekend trip in San Francisco during one of her summer breaks as a teacher would have caused her over thirty years of headache, she would have left him where she found him. Nope, she had to be all Good Samaritan, energized by the message of change she’d just heard at a rally in Berkeley, she’d pulled her cherry red Ford Mustang over when she saw a man walking along the narrow road. She’d been concerned that as it got darker a passing motorist would hit him.

  “Now, Augusta is that anyway to greet your oldest friend?” he asked with a mischievous smile as he peered at her over his sunglasses.

  Snorting, she turned her back to him and walked over to her rose bushes. Taking the pruning shears out of the gardening basket she had grabbed when walking out of the house, she ignored him. The musical sound of his laugh sent tiny little chills of pleasure across her skin.

  “Tap it down Casanova. If it didn’t work back when I was young it most definitely won’t do anything for you now,” she called over her shoulder.

  The awareness of him and his presence she’d developed over the years was the only signal she had that he was moving toward her. In the beginning it had unnerved her that he could move so silently but now, like most things about him and his strange nature, she ignored it. It would only give her a headache and swell his already over inflated ego to think she was spending precious time thinking about him.

  “You really do have a way with roses, Augusta,” he breathed along the back of her neck.

  Though she was tall, Dáire still towered over her. She could feel the heat of his body as he stood at her back. In her youth it had caused her body to go haywire and if she were honest with herself, it still had a pretty potent effect. It was sheer will power alone, and a healthy dose of common sense, that prevented her from falling prey to the temptation Dáire presented. When she’d pulled over
and looked into his emerald green eyes that late summer day she knew immediately that she’d made a mistake. With his long, black hair, faded jeans, t-shirt, sandals and large duffle bag, he looked like any number of the hippies she’d been mixing with back in San Francisco. Yet, it was that smirk and those eyes that sent a signal to her brain that something just wasn’t right.

  “Don’t you know it’s not safe to pick up hitchhikers?” he’d asked in a husky voice as he leaned against her passenger side door.

  “Do you plan to make it unsafe?” she responded with a raised brow.

  Staring intently at her he answered, “Would you believe me if I said no?”

  Looking him over, she tried to take a measure of who he was. It may have been the idealism of social change coursing through her blood, that she, a young black woman had her entire life ahead of her, a promise of a future so different from that of her family’s, especially of her mother’s. She felt invincible and as she stared into the beautiful face of the strange, white hippie and she smiled.

  “No, but I’ll still give you a ride,” she told him with her chin raised in defiance.

  Age had tempered that rash sense of invincibility and colored it more in the hues of foolishness. If her niece Claire ever did anything as remotely stupid as that she’d have more than choice words to impart to the younger woman. She’d probably tan her hide for good measure.

  “Are you going to ignore me?” Dáire asked pulling her out of her musing.

  “Yes,” she replied shifting to put more distance between them.

  Sighing, he tugged at the end of her long braid. It was a gesture she’d become used to over the years. As hard as she tried to keep a wall between them, a barrier against any type of intimacy, Dáire poked through her defenses with little touches and caresses. In her youth she’d rage at him but as she aged she’d learned when to pick her battles.

  “Well, that is unfortunate because I’d thought we’d go for a nice drive up the coast,” he said releasing her hair and moving to stand in her peripheral vision.

  In the corner of her eye she could see that he looked no different from the young man of that, long ago summer day. Granted, he’d evolved with the times with regards to appearance. His once long, black hair was cut short in an artfully messy style that accentuated the aristocratic nature of his features and lushness of his mouth. The fitted, white polo shirt he wore was cut in a way to best showcase his broad shoulders and muscled chest and the dark jeans he wore hugged his narrow hips and strong thighs. He was just as beautiful and youthful as the day she met him and he always would be.

  “I’m not in the mood for a drive,” she groused, moving to another of her rose bushes.

  “You’re never in a mood for a drive,” he replied glumly.

  “That’s because I’m an old lady, Dáire. I don’t want to sit in a car for hours unless I’m going somewhere,” she turned to scowl at him.

  “Whose fault is that?” he snapped.

  Sighing, she just shook her head and continued to prune her roses. This was an old argument and as she’d learned, it just wasn’t worth arguing with him.

  Chapter Two

  Dáire was doing everything in his power to tap down the growing rage building inside of him. He hadn’t come to argue with Augusta today. He’d planned a beautiful day of driving up the coast and possibly stopping in Santa Barbara for lunch. Instead she had to point out the one thing that would set him off, her age, or rather her aging, and the reality that each day she died a little more.

  “What no pithy comeback, no scathing remark?” he asked in a mocking tone.

  The tensing of her shoulders was the only sign that she’d been affected by his comment. He wanted to shake her and grab her close to him and never let her go all at the same time. Running his hand through his short hair, he pulled at the strands in frustration. Moving to put some distance between them, he walked over to the side of her yard where another rose bush was in full bloom. Leaning down, he inhaled the fragrant scent of the flowers and ran his fingers over the velvety soft texture of the petals.

  “I didn’t want to argue with you today,” he whispered, knowing she would still be able to hear him.

  “Then don’t,” she replied in her matter of fact tone.

  Opening his mouth to reply he quickly shut it. Whatever he said would probably just push her further away from him. He’d seen how happy she was right before she spotted him. Humming softly to herself she’d appeared invigorated and far more youthful than her years suggested. This was the Augusta he remembered, and saw less and less of as time passed. He knew that she’d always kept a little bit of herself apart from him over the years, humans should always be cautious when they encounter one of the Sidhe, but she had never been so closed as she was now.

  She wouldn’t admit it but he knew a great deal of it had to do with the fact that as she aged he still remained the same, a condition of his immortality. What frustrated him was that it didn’t have to be that way. Not long after she’d picked him up along the side of Pacific Coast Highway, where he was hitchhiking, he’d given her a choice. She could have come back with him to his home, in the Unseelie Court, and though she wouldn’t ever be an immortal she could have lived far longer than what her mortal years would allow.

  When she refused he experienced an emotion that he’d never felt before. There was a great sensation of pain in his chest and it had lodged itself firmly there, springing up every time he saw the effects of time on her face and the reality of her mortality. Initially concerned that she may have been frightened by the myths that surrounded his people, he explained to her that human concepts of good and evil didn’t apply to his race. They were beings that existed more in the gray and when she came to his home, she wouldn’t be going to hell or heaven but another realm his kind lived in.

  It didn’t work of course, and now he stood sulking in her yard, a constant source of amusement for his family and the other Nobles of the court. Dáire, a Prince of the Unseelie Court, tied in knots over a mortal woman. His kin didn’t understand why he didn’t just enthrall her in the beginning and bring her back through the veil and keep her tucked away on his lands. They, of course, didn’t know Augusta and though it was quite possible to enthrall her like any other human, she wouldn’t be the person he’d come to love over the years.

  “Is there something you’d rather do instead?” he asked hopefully.

  “I’m doing it,” she replied never lifting her gaze from her task of gardening.

  “Must you…”

  “Yes,” she snapped sharply, cutting off his statement.

  Fueled by his anger he’d walked over to her and gathered her in his arms before he’d even realized it. Pushing his sunglasses to the top of his head he stared down at her. The slight grimace on her face caused him to pause in his tirade. Looking down at his hands clutching her forearms he realized that he was holding her far too firmly. The shock of her fragility seemed to extinguish the flame of his anger before it even had time to build to a blaze.

  She still had the tall, sturdy frame of her youth but there were subtle differences in the feel of her forearms under his hands. The firm muscles that he remembered were softened now with age. He hadn’t been this close to her in years and he took his time looking at what time had brought. That ball of pain was flaring up inside of him again because she was still so beautiful to him and yet so different. Her face was not only sprinkled with the freckles of her youth but also fine little lines that traced the history of her life. There were some for laughter as well as pain. There were two that rested between her eyes on her brow that came from years of concentration, and spoke of the wisdom she had earned.

  Yet, there were some things that hadn’t changed. His eyes immediately honed in on his second favorite part of her face, her mouth. Whether pulled wide by her engaging smile or pursed tight in frustration and anger it was the most beautiful mouth he’d ever seen. Dáire had watched it intently over the years as it delivered her sharp barbs
and soothing words, always aching to know just how soft it would feel against his. Even now he hungered to kiss it and in turn claim it only for his use. When he thought of the men that had had the privilege of feeling those lush lips against their skin his anger flamed to life anew.

  Tearing his gaze from her mouth, he looked into Augusta’s deep, brown eyes that had gone black with rage. For a fleeting moment, a small whisper of thought across his consciousness, he contemplated enthralling her now. Capture that look of defiance, bend it to something more palatable and take her away to a place where the fragility of her mortality would no longer be a problem. She would never be young again but he would still have her to hold and to love.

  “Don’t,” she whispered with a look of alarm now replacing her ire.

  “I could if I wanted and there wouldn’t be anything you could do about it,” he replied angrily.

  “Just because you can doesn’t mean you should, Dáire,” she said softly.

  Resting his forehead against hers, he let out a strangled sound of frustration. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He was the Prince that found his Lady Love and they would ride back to his castle and live happily ever after. That’s what the mortals whispered to their little girls at night before they went to sleep, why had he’d picked one that didn’t listen.

  Chapter Three

  “Aunt Gus, are you okay?”

  The sound of her niece’s voice pulled Augusta out of her musings. The scene with Dáire earlier in the day had left her shaken and confused. She’d never seen him look so…so desperate before. He’d mock threatened over the years that he would snatch her up one day and take her away but it was only when they were standing in her garden staring at each other as he held her close that she actually believed it.