Communication

This picture give me a sense of community, solidarity, and the idea of communication.

Monkey And Frog

She used her tokens in many ways
A brilliant idea on lonely days
She was creative in spicing our lives
she knew how to energize

She had a frog with spring loaded hands
which she would put on my night stand
in it’s hands was a love token
it said good for one hug

And a word need not be spoken
I would get into bed give her a gentle tug
I would give her a kiss and a gentle hug
in the morning when I was a sleep

She would get up and not make peep
Over to the vanity she would go
There was the monkey asking for a toll
In itʼs spring loaded hands was a token

Good for one kiss
No words were ever spoken
If you want a marriage to last
A simple monkey and frog is up for the task

Always freely give your kisses and hugs

Some people will say this is a corny Idea, but does it seem like A method was used to communicate? Communication is the art of expressing ones feelings and voice to another in order to enhance understanding. There was a time in our marriage, Marian and I were like islands far apart. Unable to communicate properly, working long hours, she had weekends off while I worked. Many nights I was home after she was in bed.

Too much work, too much parting after work took its toll on our marriage. I was the culprit and had to make changes in my life. Luckily Marian was an extraordinary Individual and changed my way of doing things. She was a proactive individual who saw through my loneliness ( I am sure she was lonely) and began to communicate with the use of those two stuff toys, the monkey and the frog. Soon my excesses slowed down as she asked for more of my time. Partying stopped, no more over drinking excuses like your asleep when I get home after work. I would come home at midnight and my wife would be asleep on our love seat. I would pick her up and take us to bed. Always she would say, “I love You”.

I would find sticky notes everywhere. In my car, on the refrigerator,(her favorite sticky note spot), in my underwear drawer, anywhere she would think I would look. Her skill to communicate in a positive fashion, kept our marriage alive. It made me want to be the same way. We began going out at night on her work days, on my days off; making sure I played golf without getting drunk. We began to enjoy our marriage of thirty-eight years.  Marian passed away at fifty-eight years old. My companion of forty-two years was gone. I thanked God for changing my attitude, or was it Marian who led the class?

If you love someone, you find away to have a better relationship. Pura Vida!

Press the link below for my bookstores:

 

Love

Relationship

Excerpt From
Odes to Life and Love
Timothy M. Nugent
This material may be protected by copyright.

Perseverance

IMG_3906After a long day of correcting my writing with Grammarly; reediting paragraphs, correcting misspelled words and commas. I feel satisfied the manuscript is good, ready for the publisher to put it into a book format only to have to correct some more mistakes made by the editor who wishes to change the essence of the book and you cry foul and change it back to what makes you happy 😃

This takes kindness, patience and most of all  perseverance. Mny times you will be faced with these challenges. You will find out the easy part is the manuscript you spent months writing ✍️The challenge is arriving at the printing stage and selling your great accomplishment, which is in the eye of the beholder. The critics can whittle you down to size. I like being an angry humble writer with little patience for the publishing stage. I give them a complete book with chapters and page numbers; all they need is a table of contents and a new chapter on a new page, not a finishing page on the last chapter. You give them a bio and you are ready, RIGHT!

I like to use my own photos and it is a challenge because it is always not clear enough, the pixels are wrong. I do not understand? It does not compute, it doesn’t matter that you wrote the entire poetry book on a vacation and you want it to be inspirational, because of this great picture that looks like people are walkover the sands of heaven. Right, the pixels are blurry; of course they are blurry, the are walking to heaven, right.

I learned if you are patient and willing to persevere, anything is possible or is it my striving to have things done ✅ my way an obstacle to compliance? What do you think? I am in the process of printing my second novel and it seems to take forever. Persever I tell myself; we are just around the corner.  I am in the writing stage of my fourth novel, The Dreamer and I get stuck on chapters.. I reboot m mind and wait for the process to start again. Does this happen to you writers? Until next time, Pura Vida! Press the links below for my bookstores:

Xlibris

Litfire

Things have calmed down since the bomb attempts of 2018. Lucky and Carla have become an item. Carla has transferred to the Monterey office so she can live with Lucky in Santa Cruz. Lucky’s Mother Sunny has grown to love Carla and Lucky could not be happier. Jack is busy at the Restaurant and has found a new woman himself. Jasmine owns a surf shop and gives surfing lessons. Jack calls her Jazz, “Why do you call me Jazz?” “It is what you do to me Jazz; you are like a great piece of music that is ever-changing. You keep me feeling great,” Jack smiles. Jack calls Lucky, it is Saturday morning, and Jazz is at the restaurant, so Jack invites Lucky and Carla for breakfast. Breakfast will be at ten, out on the sand, at Lucky’s favorite spot. Jack wanted a change of pace, so he ordered a pitcher of Bloody Mary’s. Each glass has a peppered asparagus, an olive, and a sprig of thyme. “Jack, what is the occasion?” Lucky ask.

“Yeah Honey, what is all the hubbub about Bub?” Retorts Jazz laughingly. As Jack stands, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a box, and falls to one knee. “Jazz, will you marry me?” Silence, the ocean seems to sound loudly against the sand for a few seconds as Jazz looks at Lucky and Carla, smiles and dives into Jack’s arms. “What took you so long?” Jazz cries in Jack’s arms and tells him she loves him. Carla and Lucky walk over and hug the couple. “I am buying breakfast this morning!” Carla says.

Writers Amaze Me

A1E4B5C1-8F48-4688-A6CF-69A9F218F713I have been writing poems, short stories, novels for the past ten years and have come to realize I have a lot to learn about writing. Truly great writers amaze me, the Stephen Kings, Patterson’s, Hemingway’s; how they develop interesting plots and have subplots going at the same time. How do they do it?

I watched a movie the other night that was exciting, never boring; a movie script produced from a famous mystery writer. It had me guessing through the entire movie. Being a movie junky, looking to see what book the story was adapted, it simply amazed me. Does this happen to you? My question to you is how do they come up with these amazing plots and subplots. Like Star Wars, a life time of scripts came from one story and it gets more creative as production becomes more sophisticated. What a wonderful world of writing we live in! Don’t you think?

My hope , you enjoy my stories, poems, and my new novel, through Litfire publications: The Man with a limp, and take the time to email to me and talk to me about my books. You can get to my bookstores at these links below:

Short stories

Limp

The first link is to my Xlibris bookstore; I have twelve books of poetry and short Stories. The second link is to my new novel, The Man With a Limp, It is ready for sale  in Softcover and Hardcover and an ebook to follow.  An excerpt from my new novel below, enjoy 😉 Pura Vida:

The security is on the move: checking trash cans and sniffing for
bombs. Off to the right of the restaurant on the sand, two sets of bleachers are set up by the city. The restaurant is full, and a young man with a back-pack sits in the middle of the restaurant. He is a college age boy, blonde hair, blue eyes, and dressed expensively. He puts his backpack on the floor and goes to use the restroom. He is gone several minutes, and I call Lucky. Max comes charging through the door as Lucky follows. Max stops in the middle of the room and sniffs. Suddenly he turns away and charges over a table and attacks a man; knocking him to the floor. The Man pulls out a detonator, and Max bites his hand so hard he twists off two fingers and the man was unable to push the button.
Lucky rushes over to grab the detonator from the man. It is a wireless remote. On the man’s body under his baggy shirt is a vest of C4. It would have killed hundreds of people. The young man comes out of the restroom, and three agents grab his arms and frisk him. Another detonator, the officers handcuff him and find C4 in his backpack. The Agents take him to a unique building set up to interrogate any terrorist at the event. The word is instantly sent out to look for pairs of individuals working in tandem. Lucky tells his people it only takes one explosion to cause enough distraction to set off several more bombs.

An excerpt from Short Stories by Timothy M Nugent below:

Every time I walk into the den, the house seems to come alive with memories. I sit on the handmade leather couch with the push button leg raisers and extend my legs to relax. I had the couch made for my wife, who had cancer and needs the extra comfort the couch affords. I remember coming home late from work, opening the door and Marian would be laying on the sofa instead of being in bed. Marian wanted me to see her; she would be the first thing I saw when I came home. After she had died; I would envision Marian laying on the couch as I opened the entrance to the den. Corina is taking a shower after our nine-hour motorcycle trip from Las Vegas, Nevada. As Corina walks into the room, she adds a picture of the two of us on the blue full dress Harley and hangs it on the wall above the TV. It adds a dimension of ownership for Corina. Makes her feel she is part of the home. I tell her I like it and she smiles “you think Marian would mind?” Corina says. “No, I believe she is smiling. Happily, you are comfortable in our home,” I say. “Our home, It has a nice ring, doesn’t Honey,?” Corina says. “Yes, it does,” I say.

I hope you give my books a chance on a rainy afternoon or on vacation in Hawaii as you seat on the beach under a large umbrella, shading yourself from the hot sun, drinking umbrella drinks, reading one of my books, Thank you for your attention.

Timothy M Nugent

How do you write?

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LuLu &LaLa

Questioning eyes 👀 wish to know, how do you prepare your writing? Novels, short stories or poetry, what gets the mind rolling on ideas? Do you write an outline on your book idea and add chapters, lines , paragraphs? How do you get your writing juices moving in the right direction. Are your books based on your experiences or what happens on the evening news that prompts a Detective 🕵️‍♀️ story or a spy thriller.

My poetry never uses an outline and is stimulated by emotion. I wrote my first three poetry books around the life and death of my wife and the woman I met a year after my wife’s death. I rode my Harley around the country working at healing a broken heart 💔. I wrote a book of short stories which had a basis in my childhood. I would write an outline on some of the stories, but on many stories my mind flowed with ideas and exaggerations to make the stories come alive.

I have prepared four novels; I started my first Novel, The Man With A Limp, with an outline which I changed constantly. I wanted to humanize a harden Iraqi war hero and constantly changed my format. In some chapters I discarded the outline completely because I liked the flow of the story that was popping out of my imagination. On my second novel, The Chameleon, I did not use an outline except for the villains of the book. I flowed from my first book to this next chapter in Lucky McLaughlins life as the protagonist. I enjoyed writing about his friends and family as he searched out evil in the world. Charlie is my third Novel of Lucky McLaughlin and his family. Charlie is his athletic daughter who wishes to continue her aging Father’s work. I use the internet to help research stories and keep me from flowing to far off base, I was hoping to make the stories sound real life and credible. My last Novel I am writing is about Lucky McLaughlin’s Father. It is called Brooks Mc Laughlin, the creator of the Chameleon.

This story has a basic outline that is the villains in each chapter mixed in with the trama and exhilaration of everyday life. Much of my books fly by the outlines because I get distracted with the characters and I wish to expand on them. Does this happen to you in an effort to write a compelling story? Wikipedia has been a great source for my stories and u tube videos giving historic information to add to some stories. I do not spend hours on research; I grasp an Idea and flow with what I have learned.

How about you? How do you write your stories? I have Published my one Novel and will publish my second Novel in a couple months. Unfortunately, money has it’s restraints and the process for me is slow, but I enjoy writing ✍️. Pura Vida!

Writing

It is a cold winter morning in Santa Cruz, California. It is windy, rainy and no one is at the beach. A lone man, about twenty-four years old is walking with a six-foot bamboo walking stick. He is wearing a rain poncho, a rain hat, and rubber boots. He has thick long black hair down to his shoulders and a massive long black beard hanging down to the middle of his chest. He walks with a limp on the left side. His hand is curled up, and his left arm hangs down, appearing to be a useless appendage. He is smiling; it is obvious he likes to walk in the rain. With him, as he walks is a large German Shepard who has scars on its face and a large scar on his chest. I own a restaurant on the beach called “The Santa Cruz Experience.” It is an inexpensive diner with the usual Santa Cruz decor: surfboards and surfing pictures hang on the walls and a Harley Davidson motorcycle setting inside to the right, by the front door. I like to ride. My name is Jack.

 

OMG it’s Black Friday!

1AD22265-5F24-427E-B2F2-4BC5B3CACC56Good shoppers day to you all! Those of you that get sucked into the malls and the buyers frenzie that is Black Friday. I never could understand the need to wake at five in the morning to get to stand in line until the store opens. Many movies  🎥 where developed with this theme. I thought the Christmas movie with Arnold and Sinbad was hilarious about a forgetful Dad who waited to long to get his child a special doll and the terror that goes with shopping on this quality day. Did I say quality? 😲

People seem to go crazy on this Holiday week end. My friends Melody and Sam Baugh have the right Idea; rent a cabin in Lake Tahoe and enjoy life and pass on the holiday spending. What about the specials running 🏃‍♀️ on Amazon or Kindle? Buy a good book and have them send it to you. If you have kids, buy them a book instead of  a new phone they don’t need or a thousand dollar computer because their ten year old friend will get one. Throughout my childhood I can never remember getting a book for Christmas. Do not get me wrong, I had fabulous Gifts under the Christmas tree; a bicycle one year, a Chemistry set and a telescope a couple of years later. Now the bicycle lasted forever and it was well worth the money mom and dad spent. The telescope was fun but took a lot of research and being a lazy eleven year old it sat in the coroner. Besides no one wanted to stand out in the dark and watch the stars. Bonanza was on TV!

Maybe if I read more I would have gotten better grades and would be interested in learning. No one made me sit and read Gullivers Travels, Why bother? It was on Disney. My learner curve kicked in when I was twenty five and realized I needed some college education. College would go on forever, a good decision that would help me make more money.  I write for a living now and I will jump on the Black Friday Bandwagon! You can visit my bookstore at:

Books

If you buy a hard cover or soft cover copy of one of my books; I will send you an e book of one of my books FREE! That is right FREE! Send me your Xlibris receipt to tnmugent@icloud.com and I will send you the Timothy M Nugent ebook of your choice. P.s. Tell a friend, you will not be disappointed!  Excerpt from Short Stories By Timothy M Nugent below:

A visit to the beach
It was a cloudy day at County line beach. All the overnighters had bon firers and began to awaken after a night of drinking, smoking pot and love making. It was seven A.M., and I jumped into the cold ocean to body surf. The water was about fty- eight degrees and the goose bumps popped up all over my body. When the water is chili, you need to get in quickly. Otherwise, you may give up and walk away. I love the cold water. It makes your heart skip a beat or two and makes you feel alive.
I played in the water for an hour and swam towards the beach. I do not know why I noticed the man, but two hundred yards from the water I see a senior man asleep in a red vintage Mercedes convertible. Bright red, circa the nineteen forties, give or take a year. It was so prestige and elegant. I decided to be nosy and walk up to highway one. I dried myself off and went to the car. I approached from the back. He had silver colored hair and was meticulously dressed. A pinstriped suit with silver stripes and black material. A beautiful suit was wrinkled like it has slept in the last couple of days. He was unshaven quietly snoring way.
Suddenly he snapped upright. I accidentally stepped on an aluminum can and startled him.
He turned slightly and pointed a forty- five pistol at me. “Whoa!” as I took a step back. “I did not mean to startle you.” “At my age, you must be ready” he responded. “What the hell are you doing?” “I saw you from the water, and I thought you needed some help. I thought you were ill”. “I guess my curiosity got the better of me, I’m sorry.” With that, I turned to walk away. “Wait a minute! Have you had breakfast yet?” “No I haven’t” “Hop in, I know of a nice place down the road.” After a short drive, we stopped at The Paradise Cove, an outdoor diner for breakfast. It was seventy degrees, and the clouds had disappeared. We sat and had breakfast at a table on the sand and talked for hours. The time went quickly. He talked about his family. He was ninety- two years old and was retired. His family was overly protective of him. He told me he made millions from inventing computer parts in the late fifties. He said he spoiled his wife and kids and they try to run his life. To escape the smothering; he leaves them a note and disappears for a couple of days. The ocean curls over the sand and the sun tan my face as we listen to Beach Boy music.
Not once did he tell me his name. I found that a little strange. We had talked for hours before he felt comfortable enough to tell me his name. “Friends call me Junior. My father John was a war hero. In nineteen – eighteen he stormed a bunker and knocked out a couple of machine guns. The Germans were decimating his squad. He saw a minute opening and ran up and threw a pair of hand grenades. He was a hard man to follow. They gave him the Congressional Medal of Honor. He saved hundreds of people that day. My father became a college professor of chemistry and an inventor. He is why I was such a driven young man. He expected a lot from me”. “Was he proud of you?” I said. “Yes, he was the kindest man I ever met.” “He is gone now. Lived to be eighty-four years old. I miss him dearly”.
We left the restaurant, and he drove me to my car. We exchanged phone numbers and promised to visit again. He pulled a U-turn and went towards Malibu. His silver hair is glistening in the morning sun. I looked at my car. A red Oldsmobile convertible with white interior, a nineteen sixty-three, Dynamic eighty- eight. My parents let me drive the car on occasion. It will be the last time I drive “my car.” I will be heading to military service. I lost my school deferment. It is the Vietnam war and if you did not have a disability you were leading to war. I was sixty- nine in the draft and came from a middle-class family, so I was doomed. I was lucky. I scored high on my Air Force test. I was accepted, two weeks later I was off to Lackland Air Force Base. I would not make it through basic training. I was standing next to a fellow recruit, and he accidentally discharged his M sixteen on the ring line. He ruptured my ear drum, and there was blood all over the place. I would get a disability discharge. I lose the hearing in my right ear. No Vietnam for me. I was happy. I did not believe in the war and was glad to be home.
Three months had passed since I last saw Junior. I get a phone call on Saturday night. “Bill, what are you doing tomorrow?” “No plans Junior, what’s up?” “Can you meet me at Paradise Cove” “Sure, what time.” He asked me to meet him at eight A.M. I hang up the phone, and my Dad asked me who that was. I told him it was a friend of mine who told me to meet him in Malibu for breakfast. My Dad kept asking me questions but did not hear him. My bad ear was facing him, and he forgot I need to be facing him to hear him clearly. He gets upset with me. He remembers I need to be careful when I am talking to people.” Sorry Dad I was facing the wrong way”. He smiles at me and apologizes to me. He reminds me father’s make mistakes too. “I worry about you son.” “Ok Dad, I have a date with Kelly. See you later.” I was nineteen, footloose and fancy-free. I received a disability check for my injury in basic. Free medical for the rest of my life. I never figured  to be taken care of by my government. I received twenty- five thousand dollars for an education, part of the Gi bill. I put off my college for another six months. Dad did not like that. I was looking forward to seeing Junior.
Junior was visibly upset. He looked weathered, beaten. We sat at a table on the sand. He began to talk, and I listened carefully. We ordered some coffee, a breeze came up and blew the napkins off the table, blowing his hair. Junior grumbled about the wind and stood up for a second. Tears were in his eyes. My wife passed away two weeks ago. “Bill, I was with that woman for seventy years!” “What am I going to do?” It took all my strength not to cry. What a relationship he had. Every morning she got out of bed; making him coffee and homemade raisin toast. He lived close to work and came home for lunch. Most days he was not home until seven P.M. He worked long hours, six, seven days a week. She patiently waited for him and had dinner waiting for him. Just before he came home, she would take a shower and wash her hair. Put on a cute dress and a dash of perfume. She would wait for him to open the front door and rush to him. She would hug him and tell him how much she loved him. He would take off his jacket and hang it on the hallway hook and walk to his dining room chair. She would bring him his hot dinner and they would discuss their individual day.
“I am a lucky man, and I will miss her.” “My children want me to go to fancy old folks home, and they have been pressuring me. Both have run my business well since I retired ten years ago.” “I am not ready to hang it up yet” “I am ninety -two years old and still help them occasionally with the business. I come and go as I please and will not let them dictate my life.” Suddenly Junior stops and realizes something is different about me. “Why do you sit that way?” He asks. I explained my military experience the last three months and how I lost the hearing in my right ear. He was shocked and told me he was sorry for telling me his problems and not noticing mine. I said it is old news. “Did you ask an ear specialist about it?” No, I have not.” He began to explain that he did not trust Doctors and he would set up an appointment with an inventor friend of his. His friend is on the front edge of hearing devices. Junior was good for his word. In a few years, I would get an implant that helped me tremendously. The hearing became a way of life. It was getting late, and I needed to get home. Junior was going to stay in his car at the beach. It was his thing to do. I left for home and I head to San Fernando Valley; home is Canoga Park. I spend the afternoon with my mom and dad. We have dinner and watch our favorite shows: Bonanza, Wyatt Earp, and Have Gun will Travel. We went to bed early with the windows open. It is a cool night, and I should sleep comfortably. My phone rings, it is three A.M., “Mr. Justice, Mister Bill Justice.” “Yes, this is Bill Justice.”
“Do you know a John Chan from Seattle, Washington.” “Yes, I do.” “He killed a man tonight. It was self-defense.” “Can you pick him up?” I tell the Officer, yes, but I will be an hour. With a little hesitation, I wake my father to tell him what is going on. He insists on going with me. In ten minutes we are out the door. My dad wants a lot of answers I can not supply. Finally, Dad relaxes as we pull into the police station. I ask the cops desk Sargent,” where is John Chan?” He tells us to take a seat, goes and gets the lieutenant. Lt. Mike sits with us and explains what happened. “Junior was attacked at his car. The assailant had a knife, reach over to grab John and John shot him between the eyes. For an old man, he is a hell of a shot.”
The officer was explaining, Mister Chan has a single concealed weapons permit. Apparently, he is a remarkable man.” “He is a lucky man. Does he always camp out in his car?” I explain to the officer Juniors behavior. He smiles and walks away. As he leaves, he yells back; “Tell him to get a room!” Junior walks out from the interrogation room and notices me sitting down.He smiles as I introduce my Dad. My Dad smiles and says “Hi Junior! Long time no sees.” I can not believe my ears.
In World War 2 my father was in the Construction Battalion, he met this senior man who was sixty-nine years old. He invented the radio that produced a code that couldn’t be solved. My Dad helped supervise the building of the compound that produced the radio for the government. It would change the course of the war. It was a native Indian code translator. Another group of men developed a computer that changed how to break codes, but Junior did the Indian software. It was a great accomplishment and the beginning of new business for Junior.
Junior and Dad talked for hours. We went to Denny’s and had breakfast. I felt like the odd man out. I listened to their military stories. Junior talked about his children and wife. How he and his dad built a prolific inventors business. Dad and Junior rekindled an old friendship that disappeared after the war. My Dad has fallen on bad times. At a young age, his health had deteriorated to the point where he could not work anymore.He was a paint manufacturing superintendent. The caustic materials ate away at his nerves making it difficult to walk and concentrate. He was bedridden for three months and only recently has been able to function properly. He was told to change careers, out of manufacturing varnishes. Junior listened intently, “why don’t you come work for me?” “I thought you were retired?” Dad replies. “I have another business, with your experience, I know you would be a big help.” My Dad is visibly excited. You can see a difference in his face. They make plans to get together before Junior heads out of town.
We finish  with some small talk and leave for home. My Dad would not stop talking all the way home. Once we were home, he continued with mom.
Mom looked up and smiled at Dad and said: “let’s hope for the best.” Junior would follow through with what he said. In the coming months, Dad would fly to Seattle and have a meeting with Junior and his new business partner. They signed him up for a technology school in computers.Junior knew Dad was good with his hands. He never graduated from high school so Junior made him get his GED. Six months later Dad was a high school graduate. He would work and go to school. He enjoyed the positive atmosphere he was surrounded with and blossomed. Mom loved the move. I think it was the change in Dad that prompted Mom to go back to school. Now she teaches kindergarten. She loves little children. All her children live productive lives. It is amazing what has happened in less than a year. I took over Mom and Dad’s rental in Canoga Park. Junior told me to go back to school. I decided to go to a computer school. I want to learn the business inside out. Junior gave me incentive. He told me to pay for the technology school, and he would help me with the next two years then my Masters of Science Degree. How could I say no! At the end of nineteen seventy -three I graduated from Northridge college and went to work for Junior. Junior was ninety-seven years old. He was completely retired and not doing very much traveling. He had turned over the company to my Dad. There were no partners, and my Dad was enjoying the fruit Junior gave him. He never disappointed remembering the generosity of his friend. I worked with my Dad. Junior always reminded us to stay up with technology. Two new companies sprang up: Microsoft and Apple. We embraced the competition. We kept up with military contracts which were the core of our business. We were never alone, we always had Junior visiting us. Junior’s family become our friends. It could not help but happen. We are with Junior’s Family.It is Saturday morning and there is No business today. Mom, Dad and I went to a bbq at Junior’s son’s house. His son’s name is Tom. A nice young man with a couple of kids and a beautiful wife. She is a lawyer who works at Junior’s firm. She is a talented lady who doubles as an accountant. She is the company Controller. A very dominant position in business. His sister Paula, a single business woman who has devoted her young life to books and publishing.
Slowly she begins to walk over towards me, and we start up a casual conversation. Her father is attentively watching his daughter. I glance quickly over to Junior. He smiles back at me, and a sense of relief comes as I sigh. Paula says, “what was that sigh for?” “Just relief, I was hoping you would slide on over to me.” “Are you seeing anyone?”
She smiles and kisses me on the cheek. “You saw Daddy watching us, and he smiled, didn’t he? I laugh a loud laugh making her giggle.” Yep!” “I believe you have your Father’s instinct.” “Yep and do not forget it!” With that, we laugh, and I suggest I introduce her to my Dad. The BBQ last through the night. Everyone begins to leave,Mom and Dad left early. Junior stayed overnight at his son’s house, and Paula and I leave in separate cars. I arrive home, open the front door and my cell phone rings. It is Paula. She is sitting outside my house hinting to come inside. “It is cold out here. How about a nice night cap?” I tell her the door is open come on in. She opens the door. Takes two steps and drops her coat to the floor. Showing her beautiful naked body, leaving the door wide open. I rush to her, give her a kiss and kick the door closed with my foot. I carry her to the bedroom and gently set her on the bed. I look down at her and tell her she is beautiful. “Do you always do this on a firstdate?” “No, but this is not the first date?” I take off my clothes and crawl into bed next to her. We make passionate love throughout the night. Paula would stay through the weekend. We would talk and eat. She is an excellent cook and passionate women. Paula, I will not let get away. Sunday night Paula would head home promising to see me again. She would keep her promise. A year later we would be married. We would begin a great life together.
Life has been great. Our company is going strong, and Paula, and I had our first child. Grandpa Junior dotes over little Johnnie. He is happy we named the first born after him. Junior always kids and says we have someone to leave his legacy. Junior still skips town for his road trips. He’s gone, a note on our door saying he was heading to Malibu. Little did he know we were heading there to a friends house on the beach.
He is a favorite author that Paula helps manage. It is a business vacation trip to begin his book tour. We are driving down Highway one heading to the author’s house. In the distance, I spot a Mercedes Convertable. Bright red, a vintage forties car. I slow down and pull behind the car. I get out and look into the car. His silver hair glistens in the bright sunlight. He is wearing a black suit with silver pinstripes. Junior has a smile on his face. Junior has finished his travels. In his shirt pocket is his registration signed with a note. Thank you for your friendship. Enjoy my Mercedes and live life your way. Take good care of my family. All my love, Junior.

I hope you like this short story! Timothy M Nugent