Below is the raw, unedited opening for Harvest Moon Rising. Feedback is more than welcome. Otherwise--enjoy!
I hung up the phone, leaning against the counter when my knees sagged. Before I could tell him not to worry, Mike was through the screen door, picking me up and carrying me into the living room. He eased the pair of us down onto the sofa, cradling me with all the care of a china doll.
“What’s wrong, Cari?” He brushed my hair back, his eyes darting frantically over my face. “Did something happen?”
“Michelle found a doctor.” The words didn’t seem to come from me, even though I felt my lips moving, my tongue working. “She said he might be able to fix things.”
“Fix things? Cari, there’s nothing wrong with you. What things?” His fingers closed over my wrist, not stroking, just holding steady. Annoyance shot through me at his overly obvious attempt to check my pulse. “Talk to me, Cari.”
“Maybe if you’d stop treating me like glass, I’d be able to.” Wiggling off his lap, I shoved my hands in the pockets of my robe, pacing to the end of the room. “He’s some sort of special doctor, a reproductive specialist. It’s the only kind of work he does, and he’s pretty good at it, at least according to Michele.”
“A reproductive specialist.” Mike scratched the back of his neck, brow furrowing in concentration. “Like the kind of guy who does in vitro fertilization and what not?”
“Yeah, he probably does stuff like that. But he can also work around scar tissue. Like the kind Doc sad I have.” I looked out the window, stared at the treeline. From this distance, the low grave wasn’t visible. But I’d never forget it was there. “There’s a chance to fix things.”
“Cari.” He closed his mouth and shook his head. “You know you can’t do this.”
“I can try.” Turning back around, I studied him. Some sixth sense told me to back down, to listen to him, to follow the voice of reason. But Michele’s voice still rang in my ear, her absolute faith in this man none of us had ever met. A lifetime of believing her didn’t die in a week. “We can try, Mike.”
“You’re not doing this, Cari.” He stood, crossing his arms, his eyes flickering from green to brown and back again. “That’s final.”
I lifted my chin. “Watch me.”