Keeping Victoria's Secret by Melinda Peters Page A

fire a-flame,
    But something rustled on the floor,
    And some one called me by my name:
    It had become a glimmering girl
    With apple blossom in her hair
    Who called me by my name and ran
    And faded through the brightening air.
    Though I am old with wandering
    Through hollow lands and hilly lands,
    I will find out where she has gone,
    And kiss her lips and take her hands;
    And walk among long dappled grass,
    And pluck til time and times are done
    The silver apples of the moon,
    The golden apples of the sun.
     
     

Chapter 7
     
    Gwendolyn shivered with fright as the Captain
grabbed her roughly by the arm. “Stay close by me and you will be
taken for one of my crew,” he muttered into her ear. Disguised in
men’s clothing with her titian hair hidden under a wide brimmed
hat, he forced her from the longboat into the salty shallows and
dragged her onto the beach.
    Struggling to match his long strides through
the sand, she looked back over her shoulder at the three tall ships
anchored in the bay. On the beach was a riotous throng of laughing
buccaneers passing bottles of rum and terrified women captives back
and forth. Bales and boxes of plunder were handed quickly up a long
line of men from the boats. For now, she was this mad man’s
prisoner and had no choice but to do as he demanded. She trembled
with fear. The fact that she’d not yet been physically molested by
the pirate captain was her sole consolation.
    From “Caribbean Fire”, by Tori Baxter
* * *
    Victoria leaned back and peered at her
computer screen imagining the pirates and their captives on the
beach engaged in something resembling a wild frat party. Tapping
her finger, she visualized the scene. Men would yell commands in
French, English, Portuguese, or Spanish. From different stations in
life, they’d be in a variety of dress, or state of undress. She
laughed as she thought it might resemble the bar scene from Star
Wars. Should some of the women be carried off with bodices torn and
breasts exposed? Perhaps.
    Her cell phone chimed and recognizing the
number, she flipped it open. “Hello, Dr. Sweeny. How are you?”
    “Very well, thank you. I called to let you
know Elvira has collected those photos and keepsakes from the days
when young Victoria lived in Pippen’s Grove. Would it be convenient
for me to bring my wife by the house today?”
    “That would be wonderful. I really want to
know all I can about Nanna’s life.” After saying good-bye, she
closed the phone and focused on the computer screen once more to
read over what she’d just written. She enjoyed the morning sun
streaming into her new office as she rocked back in the worn oak
chair at the roll top desk. Had Nanna ever sat at this desk, in
this chair?
    As her fingers once more went to her
keyboard, the cell phone rang again. This time it was her agent,
Marsha Chandler.
    “Vicky, how’s life up in the Hudson
Valley?”
    “Hello, Marsha.” She listened, juggling the
phone. “Very good. Thanks.”
    “Listen, I know you’re busy, but I wanted to
know if you’ve received my email about the printing date of your
latest novel.”
    She apologized explaining that she hadn’t yet
established internet service, and was still in the process of
moving, making a mental note to get that password from Jack
today.
    “Well, just wanted to let you know, a few
days ago I shipped you a box of your latest, Rendezvous Romance. It
should be there soon.”
    Rendezvous was her most exciting book so far.
A torrid tale of love set in the high Rockies during the 1830’s; it
fairly bristled with danger and excitement. It was full of steamy
sex and romance between handsome fur trappers and their beautiful
Indian maiden lovers.
    “That’s good. Marsha, I promise. As soon as I
get things more settled I’ll be back in touch with you.”
    They said their goodbyes, but when the cell
phone rang a third time, Vicky decided that she was through
working, at least for the moment. This time it was the man from