All of Me

He had set the lofty goal of becoming one of the top five wealthiest men in the world and reached it at the age of thirty-five.  He bought a castle that once belonged to a Lord.  He had a large staff which took care of everything.  He had his privacy.  He had his own beach and could take long walks along its shore anytime.  The only thing missing was someone to share his life with.

He was tired of going on dates with women he had no interest in.  Most of them were only interested in his wealth.  He was lonely and longed for companionship.  Then, he had the idea of hiring a companion.  He was willing to pay for them.  He preferred that the woman be between the age of thirty and fifty.  She had to be attractive, well read and employed.  He had his secretary place the ad in the local newspaper and screen the calls and do the interviews.  Out of hundreds of applicants, only a handful were chosen for him to interview himself.

The woman he chose was a French university Art professor who moved to Brussels five years ago.  She was very attractive, engaging, shared the same interest in books and a love for the Arts.  She was forty but looked younger.  They got along very well.  She had made it very clear that she wasn’t doing this for money.  Most of her friends were married and her family was in France and like him, she yearned for companionship.  She told him that when she saw the ad, at first she was hesitant to apply but after thinking about it, she decided to do it and was happy she did.

They spent every waking moment together, learning about each other and sharing parts of themselves they had never shared with another living soul.  They swam in the ocean, went for walks, drives, went to the opera, enjoyed classical musics in his private movie theatre and enjoyed intimate dinners in the large dining-room or on the terrace facing the sea.

Then one terrible day, he got a call from her.  She sounded upset.  She informed him that she couldn’t continue seeing him.  Alarmed, he asked her why.  After being evasive, she finally informed that she had been diagnosed with chronic kidney disease.  She didn’t want to burden him with her illness.  “It wouldn’t be fair to you,” she said.  “I’ll be in and out of hospital.” However, he insisted that he wanted to be there for her and after they ended the call, he went over to her place.

He was there for her during the daily dialysis and several hospital stays.  He took her food and helped her to get dressed.  He spoke to the doctors, anxious to find out everything he could.

When he found out that she needed a transplant and after learning that her relatives couldn’t be donors, he asked to be tested.  Despite her protests, he was tested and it turned out that he was a match.  Both of them were tearful when they got the news.  They underwent the kidney transplant and on her forty-first birthday which was a couple of weeks later, he proposed to her.  She happily accepted, knowing in her heart that not only had she met the man who selflessly gave his kidney so that he could save her life but she had met the man of her dreams.  As they sat on the terrace gazing out at the sea one afternoon, she said to him, “I have your kidney and you have my heart.”

He smiled and reached for her hand.  “You have all of me.”

This story was inspired by one I read today of a man who donated his kidney to save his girlfriend’s life.  If you would like to read their story, click Here.

This was written for the Ragtag Daily Prompt for today’s prompt, Lofty.  If you’re interested in participating, click HERE for more information.

Source:  Leicestershire Live

 

Finishing What They Started

Monique had just taken off her dressing-gown and was about to get dressed when the door opened and Shane walked in, bold as brass.

“Who gave you permission to just walk into my room?” she demanded, hands on hips.  In the past, she would have covered up to hide her curves but that was before she had come to accept and be proud of her appearance.  She even became an advocate against body shaming.

“We’re going to finish what we started,” he informed her as he walked right up to her.  His expression was dead serious.  The air crackled with the tension between them.  The way he looked at her made her heart pound heavily against her chest and her breath quicken.

Her chin raised just a fraction higher and her eyes were wary as they met his.  “What do you mean?” she asked.

He was standing very close now.  Their bodies were almost touching.  “Don’t tell me that you’ve forgotten what happened the last time we saw each other?”

No, she hadn’t forgotten.  She had thought of nothing else since it happened.  They were at a mutual friend’s barbecue and after having something to eat, she decided to go for a walk on the beach.  She was standing at the water’s edge, facing the ocean, enjoying the feel of the sun on her face and the breeze on her skin when he joined her.

It was the first time they had ever been alone together and it made her very nervous.  She was bare-feet and carrying her sandals in her hands.  The floral print sundress reached just above her ankles and it flattered her.  Her hair was pulled back in a French knot with a few strands framing her face.

Shane was dressed in a yellow tee shirt and khaki shorts.  He looked absolutely gorgeous.  She tried not to stare at him but she couldn’t help it.  The expression on his face as he looked at her made her mouth dry.  “I hope you don’t mind me being here,” he said.

She glanced away.  “Why should I?” she replied.  “You have as much right to be here as I do.”

“What are you afraid of?”

His question caught her by complete surprise.  It took several minutes for her to recover enough to declare, “I’m not afraid of anything.”

“I think you are, Monique.”

“All right, you seem to know me better than I know myself.  What do you think I’m afraid of?”

He moved closer.  “I think you’re afraid to be alone with me.”

She swallowed hard.  “Why should being alone with you make me afraid?” she wondered breathlessly.  She wanted to step back but she couldn’t seem to move.

He didn’t answer.  Instead, he leaned over and kissed her.  His hands went around her waist and held her tightly against him when she responded.  The feel of his lips on hers was her undoing and she clung to his shoulders, her nails digging into the sleeves.

The sudden ringing of his cell phone was like being doused with a bucket of cold water.  At first he ignored it and let it ring but when it rang again a couple of minutes later, muttering under his breath, he released her to answer it.  She turned and ran up the sandy slope as fast as she could.  When he returned to the house, she wasn’t there.  She had left.  That was a couple of weeks ago.  She hadn’t seen him again until now.

“I see that your memory has returned,” he murmured.  “We were interrupted by that  call.”

She turned away.  “Maybe it was a good thing we were.”

“You don’t believe that any more than I do.  And there isn’t anything to interrupt us now.  I don’t have my cell on me and we’re the only ones here.  Everyone’s gone into the city.  We can finish now what we started that day on the beach.”

She felt her resolve weakening and when he pulled her roughly against him, his eyes dark with desire, she didn’t resist.  When his mouth hungrily sought hers, she wrapped her arms tightly around his neck and feverishly kissed him back.

An hour and half later, they showered and got dressed.  He took her into the city for a romantic, candlelight dinner with a spectacular view of the sea.

This was written for the Ragtag Daily Prompt for today’s prompt, Finish.  If you’re interested in participating, click HERE for more information.

I Still Enjoy Good Food but…

I was a gourmand.  Food was my obsession.  I gorged on it every chance I got.  Whenever I traveled, I preferred to pop into the different restaurants and enjoying the different cuisines than go sightseeing.  My friends and family stopped going abroad with me because I always wanted to stop somewhere to eat when they wanted to be on the go.

While they were pounding the pavement in the midday heat, I was in a nice, air conditioned restaurant, enjoying great food. This love for food began when I was in my late teens and continued into my late twenties.  Unlike most of my friends and relatives, I was still single.  I dated a couple of times but the men were turned off because I ate more than they did.

I hardly socialized.  I was used to eating out alone and when I wasn’t doing that, I was at home, reading or watching television while enjoying take out or recipes I tried from the scores of cookbooks I had.  Then, one day,  I looked a really hard look at myself and realized that if I didn’t stop, I was going to eat myself into an early grave.

So, I did what I never thought I would ever do.  I gave away my cookbooks and went on a diet.  I ate mostly fruit, grains and salads.  It wasn’t easy but determination can be a great motivator.  Besides, I wanted to live to a ripe old age like most of my family.

I started going to the gym as well and that’s where I met Peter.  He was the most attractive man in the entire place and I was blown away when he noticed me.  I had lost some weight but still needed to lose a lot more.  Anyway, after weeks of catching each other’s eye, he finally came over and introduced himself.  We spent the rest of my time at the gym together.  Before I left, he asked me out.  I was on cloud nine.  I ran down the sidewalk like a giddy school girl.  It felt great to be going on a date after such a long time.

We went to Spicy Affairs, a vegetarian restaurant (he was vegetarian) and over Mushroom Marsala we talked and laughed.  We had such a wonderful time together that we made other dates.  When we weren’t at the gym together, we were going to the beach for long walks or drives up the coast, the movies, museums and art galleries, all the kinds of things I wasn’t interested in when food was all I cared about.  Now, I have so many other interests and I met a terrific guy who makes me feel beautiful.  It is because of him that I haven’t lost all of my chubbiness.

Did I forget to mention that we’re engaged?  Oh yes, he popped the question yesterday when we were taking our regular stroll along the beach.  That photo you see of us was taken after I said YES!   Every time  I look at it, I am ever so thankful that I had the good sense to turn my life around.  I still enjoy food but not as excessively as before and besides, I have Peter to keep me in line.

This was written for the Ragtag Daily Prompt for today’s prompt, Gourmand.  If you’re interested in participating, click HERE for more information.

The Man on the Beach

After a swim in the ocean, she scrambled onto the beach where she found him. He was lying underneath the beam.  Who was he?  Where did he come from?  Cautiously, she went over and examined him closely.  He was unconscious and bleeding.

She ran back to where her clothes lay and hurriedly got dressed then dashed off the school.  She burst into Miss Williams’ office.  “There’s wounded man on the beach,” she blurted out before the older woman could say anything.

“Careful, Miss,” one of the men warned as the headmistress approached the body.

She gasped.  “It’s my brother, Charles.”

 

100 Words

This was written for the Friday Fictioneers challenge hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields For more details, visit Here.  To read other stories based on this week’s prompt, visit Here.

A Love Too Strong/Threshold #writephoto

Photo by Sue Vincent

They searched for the tribesman and the woman missionary.  They combed the beach, and searched the cave but there was no sign of them.  The only thing they found was a note the woman had written.  They gave it to her fiance.

A love too strong for us to deny

We leave this island behind

to embrace a new life out there

Some of you may ask why

would I forsake my own kind.

I love him, would be my reply.

And as long as we are together

I shall have nothing to fear.

The storms, with God’s help, we will weather.

 

Alan, I hope that one day you will find it in your heart forgive me.

Ella 

 

This was written for the #writephoto Prompt – Threshold at Sue Vincent’s Daily Echo.

Falling in Love Again

“I gave Anastasia the scarf you brought back from Kampala and she loves it,” Tomás said to his father.

“I hope you didn’t mind me buying her something.  It’s just that I saw it and thought of her.”

“No, no, I don’t mind at all.  She and I are just really good friends.  Papá, why don’t you ask her out?”

Salvador balked at the idea.  “You can’t be serious?”

“Why not?”

“I’m too old for her.”

“When it comes to love, Papá, age shouldn’t matter.”

“Is it that obvious?”

“That you’re in love with her?  To me it is.”

“What about her?  Do you know how she feels about me?”

“Well, she hasn’t come right out and said anything to me but I can tell that she feels the same way just from the way she acts whenever we talk about you.”

Salvador ran his fingers through his hair.  “I feel like a lovesick schoolboy,” he remarked.

Tomás grinned.  “It’s good to see you fall in love again.  It’s about time.  Mami has been dead for fifteen years now.  You need to get on with your life and be happy.  Anastasia is a fantastic girl.  The two of you will be very happy together.”

“So, you really think I should ask her out?”

“Yes!  Do it this afternoon when she stops by to thank you personally for the scarf.”

Salvador’s heart skipped a beat.  “She’s coming here this afternoon?”

“Yes.  Somehow, I don’t think the scarf is the real reason for her visit.  She missed you while you were gone and is very anxious to see you.”

“I missed her too.  I thought of nothing or no one else all that time I was in Kampala.”

“Good.  Then, the two of you can tell each other how much you missed each other in person.”  He glanced at his watch.  “I’d better be going or I’ll be late.”

Salvador watched him in alarm.  “Where’re you going?” he demanded.

“I’m going to the movies with the guys.  Papá, I mentioned this yesterday.”

“You’re going to leave me here alone with Anastasia?”

“Papá, you’re a big boy now.  You don’t need a chaperone.  Gotta run.  I’ll call you tomorrow.”  And he was out of there before his father could say anything else.

Alone, Salvador went over to the sofa and sat down.  He was nervous.  He had never been alone with Anastasia before.  Tomás was always around.  What was he doing to do when she showed up?  Agitated, he got up from the sofa, slid the glass door open and went down the steps leading to the beach.  A walk would help to clear his head and calm his nerves.

Anastasia rang the bell but there was no answer.  She rang again twice.  Frowning, she tried the handle and the door opened.  She went inside, closed and locked it behind her.  After removing her shoes and leaving them on the mat in the foyer, she went into the living-room.  It was empty but the glass door was open.  She went out on to the terrace and looked.  She saw a lone figure walking along the water’s edge.  It was Salvador.  Her heart began to race in excitement.  She couldn’t wait to see him.  She missed him so much when he was in Kampala.  As soon as she heard that he was back, she had to come and see him.  Placing her satchel in one of the chairs, she opened it took out the beautiful scarf he bought her.  Smiling, she draped it about her shoulders and waited for him to come back.

When he came back sometime later, he saw her waiting for him on the terrace.  Nervous and excited he approached slowly, cautiously.  She had the scarf draped about her and was looking down at him as he stood at the bottom of the steps.  She looked so lovely.  He ached to take her in his arms but he shoved them into the pockets of his trousers, trying to look nonchalant.  “Hello,” he said.

“Hello,” she replied.  He had the most amazing eyes.  She wanted to run down the steps and throw her arms around him but she remained where she was.  Until she knew how he felt about her, she had to remain cool.  “I had to come by and thank you for the beautiful scarf.”

“I’m happy you like it.”

“Was this your first visit to Kampala?”

“Yes.”

“Did you like it?”

“Yes, I did.”

“It’s funny.  When I was living in Gulu, my family and I never visited Kampala which was a four hour drive away.  At one point I wanted to attend the university there but my parents wanted me to go to Uganda Christian University instead and I’m happy I did.  I would like to go to Kampala one of these days, though.”

He wanted to say, I’d love to take you, but instead, he said, “You’ll like it.”

It was still bright although it was almost seven in the evening.  “It must be nice living at the beach,” she remarked, turning to gaze at the waves as they rolled onto the sand.

“It is,” he agreed.  A long pause while he wrestled with himself.  Finally, he asked, “Do you have any plans for the evening?”

She looked at him.  “No.”

“Would you like to stay and have dinner with me?”

“Yes,” she said without the slightest hesitation and that was very encouraging for him.

Smiling, he went up the steps.  “You can stay and relax out here while I go and get things ready.”

After he went inside, she folded the scarf and put it back into her satchel.  Then she sat down in one of the chairs facing the beach.  Twenty minutes later, he joined her, carrying two large plates of something which smelled really good.  “I thought we could eat out here and enjoy the view at the same time.”  He set the plates down on the table between the two chairs.  “I’ll be right back.”

She looked at what they were going to have.  It looked like meatballs in sauce served over rice and vegetables on the side.  It looked and smelled delicious, making her mouth water.

He returned with two glasses of sangria which he set on the table before he sat down in the other chair.  “I hope you enjoy the Spanish Style meatballs in a Sunny Mediterranean Sauce.  I don’t eat Pork so I used Chicken instead.”

“I don’t eat Pork either.  I’m sure I will enjoy this.”

He smiled.  “Buen apetito.”

They ate and she marveled at what a great cook he was.  She had never tasted meatballs this good before.  She wondered why Tomás never mentioned his father’s culinary skills.

It was while they were sipping the Sangrias when he turned to her, heart beating fast and said, “Anastasia, you don’t have any objections, I’d like to us to be in a relationship.”

She put her class down.  “I don’t have any objections,” she said.  “I’ve always wanted to be in a relationship with you.”

He put his glass down and stood up.  Reaching down, he took her hands and drew her to her feet.  Cupping her face between his hands, he kissed her.  Behind him the sun began to set, marking the end of another day but tomorrow it would rise again, marking the beginning of a new day.  That evening marked the beginning of a new relationship for them.

Don’t be afraid to fall in love again.  It’s God giving you another chance at happiness. 

Thinking of Her

She ran along the beach, laughing.  When she looked back and me and smiled, my heart stopped.  The sun hit her at just the right angle.  I envied it because it was caressing her face.  The hands holding the camcorder ached to hold her instead.  I forced myself to concentrate on my task.  I wanted to capture every moment.

Surrounded by sand and sea, we were in paradise.   As I watched her dancing, her arms spread out like a bird’s wings clad in that swimsuit that drove me crazy, I thought of what a lucky guy I was.

Yes, I was a lucky guy.  I married the woman of my dreams and we were blissfully happy until that day when fate intruded upon our happiness and snatched her away from me.  I sit here now on the beach, thinking of her and missing her.  It’s a grey and dismal day, reflective of how I am feeling inside.  The sea seems angry.  I close my eyes and think of that day when we were walking along the water’s edge on a beautiful beach, our future ahead of us.  Not once did it ever occur to me that a year later, she would be gone from my life forever.

Yes, fate dealt me a cruel and heavy blow which has knocked me down.  I don’t know if I will ever be able to get up again.  I can’t imagine going on without her.  She was my life, my world and now she’s gone, leaving this emptiness behind.  I don’t know how long I will sit here and listen to the waves or the cries of the seagulls.  Right now, I can’t face going back to an empty apartment.

There is no armour against fate – JAMES SHIRLEY, The Contention of Ajax and Ulysses