The Flyboy’s Girl_A Photographs Novella Read online

  The Flyboy’s Girl

  A Photographs Novella

  Michelle Rene

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by Michelle Rene

  The Flyboy’s Girl—Michelle Rene

  Copyright © 2018

  Published by: Michelle Rene

  No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Editor: Jennifer Van Wyk, JaVa Editing

  Cover Design: T. E. Black Designs; www.teblackdesigns.com

  Interior Formatting: T. E. Black Designs; www.teblackdesigns.com

  Dedication

  For the ones who have stories to tell

  and those who want to hear them.

  Chapter One

  Natalie – Present Day

  Sitting in the pick-up lane at school, a crisp fall breeze blows through the window as I watch an elderly man across the street rake the leaves in his yard. The ringing of the dismissal bell catches my attention as students begin pouring out the doors. Moments later, Alana comes into view, long blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, purple backpack slung over her shoulder and a bright smile on her face that took me three years in braces to obtain, while hers is completely natural.

  Laughing and talking with her friends, Alana slowly makes her way to the car, flute case in hand. At twelve years old, Alana is every bit the social butterfly her sister is, even with the almost five-year age difference.

  Finally saying goodbye to her friends, Alana opens the car door and climbs inside, dropping her backpack on the floor between her feet while reaching for the seatbelt.

  I wait for the greenlight from the parking lot monitor and greet her, “Hi honey.”

  “Hi Mom,” she replies while buckling her seatbelt.

  “How was your day?”

  “Oh, my gosh Mom, you are never going to believe what happened today,” she gushes while turning to face me as she talks in her seat with a bounce. “So Justin, you remember Justin Harris that I’ve known for like ever? Well Justin asked Marissa, who asked Amber, who asked me, if I would like to go to the Harvest Moon dance with him!” she squeals in delight, eyes shining, barely taking a breath between sentences.

  “Oh Alana, how exciting!” I tell her as I turn the car toward home. Glancing over at her and then back to the road I ask, her excitement so contagious I find myself almost bouncing in my seat as I turn to her, my smile mirroring hers. “So I guess this means we need to go shopping for a dress this weekend?”

  “Actually, I thought I’d see if Zoey would design something for me. Do you think she will, you know if I beg?”

  At nearly seventeen, our oldest daughter Zoey is determined to become the next big name in fashion design. Of course, taking into consideration the dress she created for me for the charity gala Mark and I attended in the spring, she is incredibly talented, if I do say so myself.

  “I’m sure she will. You know how much she loves designing. Just remember, Dad and I have to approve of it first.”

  “Okay,” she readily agrees before her excitement takes over again. “Let’s see… today’s Thursday, so Zoe will be home early. Oh! Maybe we can get started tonight.”

  “Alana, I hate to rain on your parade, but don’t you think you should wait until Justin actually asks you to the dance himself before you start on a dress?”

  “Mom,” she drawls out with a roll of her eyes. “He’s going to ask, this was just his way of finding out if someone else had already asked me. Which they hadn’t, by the way.”

  “Okay, if you’re sure, just let me know what I can help with.”

  “Thanks Mom,” she says as she continues to talk about her day as I drive us home. Of course, everything else in her day faired in comparison to being asked to the dance, even if it was via three people.

  Pulling into the driveway, I put the car in park as Alana gathers her backpack before we make our way to the front door. Stepping inside, I drop my keys in the basket by the door as Alana starts up the stairs. “I’m going to go get started on my homework so Zoey and I can start planning tonight.”

  “Don’t you want a snack first?”

  “Maybe later,” she calls back just before she reaches the second floor, her foot hitting that all too familiar squeaky step.

  My siblings and I spent our entire teenage years trying to avoid that step. My parents considered a built-in alarm, alerting them when one of us was either trying to sneak in past our curfew or out when we were supposed to be sleeping.

  When Mom and Dad decided to retire and move to Florida, they offered Mark and I the chance to buy my childhood home. At the time, we were contemplating a move to a bigger place, so we jumped at the chance to raise our kids in a house that already held so many memories for both of us.

  Once Mom and Dad were settled into their new place in Florida, Mark and I began renovations. We added an in-law suite, upgraded the electrical and the appliances, refurbished the floors, and gave everything a fresh coat of paint, both inside and out. But even with all the upgrades, we both insisted that squeaky step be left alone.

  Standing in the kitchen peeling potatoes, I hear the front door, followed by, “Hi Mom, I’m home.”

  “In the kitchen,” I call back just before she enters and we begin our afternoon routine.

  Since the day Zoey started kindergarten, we’ve spent every day after school the same way. Of course, in the beginning it was I pouring her a glass of milk and giving her a cookie or two. I can still see her sitting at the kitchen table, blonde hair pulled up in pigtails, crayons scattered in front of her telling me about her day as she colored while I prepared dinner. Now at nearly seventeen, which is almost impossible for me to believe, Zoey has traded the glass of milk for a bottle of water. And even though fruit is now the front runner of in the world of after school snacks, Zoey still treats herself to a cookie or two.

  “Hi sweetheart, how was your day?”

  Making a beeline to the refrigerator, she takes out a bottle of water and takes a seat at the island. “Ugh,” she says on a sigh as she pushes her shoulder length dark blonde hair behind her ears and rolls her brown eyes. “Long. Mr. Rickman decided now would be the perfect time to assign a term paper on early American civilization.”

  “Well that sounds like loads of fun,” I reply sarcastically.

  “Right! Because it’s not like this isn’t the most social time of year. I mean, the holidays are right around the corner, and homecoming is in a few weeks.” She lets out a sigh and slumps forward, elbows on the counter. “At least he gave us until the Monday before Thanksgiving to complete it.”

  “That’s good. Hopefully you can get the bulk of it finished early and still have time for everything else.”

  “I hope so,” she says as she takes a cooki
e from the jar.

  The rapid sound of feet coming down the stairs reminds me and I warn, “Brace yourself.”

  “Zoey, my favorite sister in the whole wide world,” Alana says while wrapping her arms around Zoey from behind.

  “Let’s not forget only, so that automatically makes me the favorite,” Zoey counters.

  “Yeah, there is that,” Alana replies causing Zoey to laugh.

  Knowing Alana has nothing left to argue, Zoey takes pity on her and says, “What can I do for you my favorite little sister?”

  I smile as I listen to Alana tell Zoey how, by way of three other people, Justin asked her to the dance, then finally asking Zoey to help her come up with an amazing dress for the dance.

  “This wouldn’t be Justin Harris would it?”

  “Um, yeah,” Alana replies shyly.

  “The same Justin Harris that you’ve had a crush on since the first grade?”

  Biting my lip, I glance up to see Alana blushing before turning my attention back to preparing dinner.

  With a sigh and a roll of her eyes, she says, “You know it is. Will you help me Zoe? Please?”

  A slow smile spreads across Zoey’s face, “Of course I’ll help you! Now we have to come up with something completely fabulous so Justin won’t be able to take his eyes off you.”

  “Zoey,” I warn, “keep in mind she is only twelve, so nothing too provocative. And I’ve already told Alana, Dad and I have to approve of it.”

  Looking at her sister, Alana gives Zoey a nod in agreement to the terms. “We can live with that,” Zoey says as she hops off the stool. “Come on, let’s go up to my room and brainstorm until dinner.”

  As they scramble out of the room, I hear them say, “Hi Dad,” moments before Mark enters the kitchen.

  “”Hey, gorgeous,” he greets, just as he has every day of our marriage, as he walks over to my side and kisses me.

  “Mmm, hey you. How was your day?”

  “Much better now,” he replies giving me another quick kiss. “Do I even want to know where the girls were headed in such a rush?”

  Slipping into my best twelve-year-old girl impression I say, “Well, Justin asked Marissa, who asked Amber if Alana would go to the Harvest Moon dance with him.”

  A slight scowl mars his handsome face as he asks, “Do we know this Justin?”

  “We do. Justin Harris, they live a few streets over from us. He and Alana have known each other since kindergarten.”

  “Why didn’t he ask her to the dance himself?”

  “I’ve been assured that he will. Apparently he was just trying to make sure she didn’t already have a date.”

  Mark groans and rubs his forehead. “Did you have to use the D word? I’m not ready to think about Alana dating, I’m still in denial about Zoey.”

  Laughing, I dry my hands and make my way over to my husband. Wrapping my arms around his waist, I lay my head on his chest. “You knew this day was going to arrive sooner or later.”

  Sighing, he rests his chin on the top of my head. “Yeah, yeah. I was just hoping for much later than twelve.”

  Stifling a giggle, I try for a comforting tone as I attempt to ease his mind. “It’s only a school dance. I’m pretty sure they are just going to meet there, stand awkwardly along the wall, maybe even dance once or twice. I’m willing to bet he doesn’t even kiss her.”

  “That’s true. If he’s as nervous as I was at our first dance, I’ll get to save my gun cleaning routine for a few more years.

  Mark and I met our sophomore year in high school. He was the new boy that had all the cheerleaders vying for his attention. I was the shy studious one admiring him from afar. With all the girls swooning over him, I knew there was no way I’d ever have a chance. I always enjoyed going to the dances to hang out with my small group of friends, all of us wallflowers. Until the night I watched Mark cross the gym and head straight for our group. Stopping in front of me, he introduced himself, like I didn’t already know who he was, believe me I did, and asked me to dance. After a moment of stunned silence, I accepted, and let him lead me out to the dance floor. We’ve been together ever since.

  Laughing, I step up on my toes and kiss him. “I still remember the look on your face when my dad pulled that on you.”

  A slow sexy grin makes its way across his face as he takes my head in his hands, his thumbs gently caressing my cheeks. “He was testing me. I was more afraid of him telling me you couldn’t go out with me, than I actually was of your Dad. Little did he know it was going to take a hell of a lot more than a gun to keep me away from you.”

  With our twentieth wedding anniversary just days away, this man who stole my heart at sixteen, is still surprising me. Just as they did when we were dating, his sweet words cause my heart to soar. “My parents knew that day it was over for me. Mom said she could tell by the way we looked at each other, we were meant to be together.”

  “Hard to believe it’s been almost twenty years,” he says sweetly. “You’re still as beautiful today as you were the day we met.”

  “And you’re still the same sweet talker that stole my heart,” I say with a smile.

  “Only speaking the truth babe.” Nodding towards the kitchen he asks, “What can I help you do?”

  “Set the table and then call the girls down for dinner, everything should be ready by then.”

  * * *

  Setting the last bowl on the table as the girls enter the dining room, I notice the sketchbook in Zoey’s hand. Taking our seats, we join hands as Mark says grace blessing the meal before we begin filling our plates.

  “How was school today girls?”

  “Good,” they answer in unison as they begin eating.

  Knowing that teenagers are anything but forthcoming, and that tonight’s dinner conversation needs a little prompting, Mark initiates a round a of high-low. A little game we’ve played over the years to get the girls to participate in dinner conversation. “Who wants to start us off on high-low?”

  “I got asked to the school dance today,” Alana says a little nervously.

  “That’s great,” Mark says trying to calm her nerves. “Who are you going with?”

  “Justin Harris.”

  “I’m going to design Alana’s dress,” Zoey says trying to take some of the attention off her little sister. “Mom’s already told us that you two have to approve of it before I begin making it.”

  “Zoey drew up a few choices for you to look at,” Alana says, excitement coming back into her voice.

  As the tension begins to wane, the conversation continues to flow. Mark and I add in our highs and lows as well, and when the girls tell us what they considered their lows of the day, we talk about how to turn them around and learn from them.

  * * *

  After dinner, the girls begin to clear the table. Before they make their last trip to the kitchen, I remind them. “Don’t forget girls, your dad and I are going out to dinner tomorrow night for our anniversary.”

  Chapter Two

  Fastening my earrings in place, I take one last look in the mirror just as I hear the front door close and Mark call to the girls that the pizza is here. Smoothing my hands over my strapless black dress, I smile in surprise of the fact that after nearly twenty years of marriage, my husband still gives me butterflies.

  As has been our tradition, Mark and I alternate years planning our anniversary celebration. This year, Mark was in charge and the only information he gave me was to be ready at seven for our reservations. And to dress up.

  Picking up the small black clutch from the dresser, I toss in my driver’s license, lipstick and phone, and then start down stairs to meet Mark.

  Halfway down the stairs, Mark comes into view. Dressed in my favorite black pinstripe suite with a crisp white shirt, his blue eyes roam over my body as a low whistle sounds from his tempting lips. Stepping up on the last step so we’re eye to eye, Mark wraps an arm around my waist. “Natalie, you look incredible,” he murmurs as his eyes dance over me on
ce again.

  “And you look incredibly handsome,” I reply running my hands over his lapels, before leaning forward to kiss him.

  Taking my hand, he helps me down the remaining stairs, “You ready to go?”

  “Whenever you are,” I confirm while getting my wrap from the hall closet.

  “Girls, we’re leaving!” Mark calls as he helps me with my wrap.

  “Wow Mom, you look beautiful,” Alana says as she steps into the foyer.

  “You really do, Mom,” Zoey confirms.

  “Thank you, girls.”

  Feigning hurt Mark places his hand on his chest. “What, nothing for Dad? I see how it is.”

  “You look very handsome too Dad,” Zoey says as she stretches up to kiss his cheek.

  “Thank you sweetheart,” Mark replies.

  “Okay girls, you know the drill, doors locked, no visitors, call us if you need us. We won’t be too late.”

  “Got it,” they say in unison.

  Checking the locks on the front door one last time, Mark leads us through the kitchen to the door leading to the garage. Opening the door Mark pushes the button to raise the garage door before walking me to the passenger side door and helping me inside. Rounding the front of the car Mark climbs in behind the wheel and starts the engine. “Are you going to give me any hints as to what you have planned for tonight?”

  “I’ll give you two,” he says giving me a quick smile as he glances over at me. “There will be dinner.” He grips my hand in his and kisses the back of it. “There will be music.” Another kiss. “Other than that, you will just have to wait and see.”