Band Together: Collections, #17

By Meyari McFarland

Family shapes us from the time we're born until the day we die. The scars family leave on our hearts influences everything. Good, bad, indifferent, the bonds of family wrap through this collection, showing just what we can become when we find our true family.

Bottling the Cold, Hard Heart

Wedding Plans

Stolen Away

The Street of the Phoenix

Checkout Line

The Widow's War

Moonshine and Thistle

Threads of Birthing

The Eternal Librarian

Sensory Hoard

Also includes an excerpt of Following the Beacon!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Meyari McFarland
• Release date: Jul 25, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393366348

Meyari McFarland

Meyari McFarland has been telling stories since she was a small child. Her stories range from SF and Fantasy adventures to Romances but they always feature strong characters who do what they think is right no matter what gets in their way. Her series range from Space Opera Romance in the Drath series to Epic Fantasy in the Mages of Tindiere world. Other series include Matriarchies of Muirin, the Clockwork Rift Steampunk mysteries, and the Tales of Unification urban fantasy stories, plus many more. You can find all of her work on MDR Publishing's website at www.MDR-Publishing.com.

Book preview

Band Together

Band Together

Collection #17

Meyari McFarland

MDR Publishing

Special Offer

The rainbow has infinite shades, just as this collection covers the spectrum of fictional possibilities.

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From contemporary romances like The Shores of Twilight Bay to dark fantasy like A Lone Red Tree and out to SF futures in Child of Spring, Iridescent covers the gamut of time, space and genre.

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Meyari McFarland shows her mastery in this first omnibus collection of her short fiction. Twenty-five amazing stories, all with queer characters going on adventures, solving mysteries, and falling in love are here in the first Rainbow Collection.

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And now you can get this massive collection of short queer fiction, all of it with the happy endings you love, for free!

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Sign up here for your free copy of Iridescent now!

Contents

Other Books by Meyari McFarland:

Author's Note: Bottling the Cold, Hard Heart

1.

2.

3.

4.

Author's Note: Wedding Plans

Wedding Plans

Author's Note: Stolen Away

1. Stone Walls

2. Ice Rose

3. Barn Cat

Author's Note: The Street of the Phoenix

1.

2.

3.

4.

5.

Author's Note: Checkout Line

Checkout Line

Author's Note: The Widow's War

The Widow's War

Author's Note: Moonshine and Thistle

Moonshine and Thistle

Author's Note: Threads of Birthing

1. Headscarf

2. Pickles

3. Legacy

4. Joy

Author's Note: The Eternal Librarian

The Eternal Librarian

Author's Note: Sensory Hoard

Sensory Hoard

Author's Note: Following the Beacon

1. Debts Owed

2. Zero Sum

Other Books by Meyari McFarland:

Afterword

Author Bio

Other Books by Meyari McFarland:

Day Hunt on the Final Oblivion

Day of Joy

Immortal Sky

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A New Path

Following the Trail

Crafting Home

Finding a Way

Go Between

Like Arrows of Fate

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Out of Disaster

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The Shores of Twilight Bay

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Coming Together

Following the Beacon

The Solace of Her Clan

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You can find these and many other books at www.MDR-Publishing.com. We are a small independent publisher focusing on LGBT content. Please sign up for our mailing list to get regular updates on the latest preorders and new releases and a free ebook!

Copyright ©2019 by Mary Raichle

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Print ISBN: 978-1-64309-063-4

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Cover image

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ID 112994407 © Grandfailure | Dreamstime.com

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All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

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Requests for permission to make copies of any part of the work should be emailed to [e-mail].

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This book is also available in TPB format from all major retailers.

Created with Vellum Created with Vellum

This collection is dedicated to my mom.

Author's Note: Bottling the Cold, Hard Heart

Family doesn't always mean good things. Sometimes it's bad. Very, very bad. But even in the middle of the worst family possible, there are bright points. Love and laughter and happiness. They just tend to be outweighed by all the bad stuff that happens.

And, as much as it can hurt to admit it, even the worst person in the world can have that one person that they love more than reason. The one person for whom anything is possible.

Even murder….

1.

Eliza paused just inside the back fence, heart pounding so hard that her head spun and her stomach churned. Her familiar old yard looked so very barren now. Sandra had stripped out the purple and gold irises that had clustered along the west side of the yard like sunlit storm clouds in the spring. Every single blueberry, concord grape and blackberry bush was gone, torn up as though they were worthless. There was no hope of wine this year, sweet and rich from the fruits of the garden Eliza and Grandmother had spent so many years tending.

Her old oak tree, trunk bent and twisted from the lightning strike that had killed half the tree when Eliza was ten, was gone. There wasn't even a hummock or stump left. Sandra must have paid to have the stump dug out and the hole filled in before she covered everything in the yard with purchased blocks of dry-edged sod.

Even the old fence, broad boards that Eliza had once decorated with chalk drawings of suns, stars and moons, was gone. Every single bleached grey slab of wood had been whisked away. In its place was an eight foot tall cold, impersonal chain link fence whose only bit of personality was the green plastic coating over the bare metal. The Chelsey's back yard looked startled at being exposed and old Mr. Quinn's yard all but glowered, shrubs leaning away from the chain link as if offended by its presence.

Grandmother's house was as unrecognizable. When Eliza moved in at eight, after her parent's deaths, Grandmother had insisted on repainting the house in Eliza's favorite colors. The roof had been covered with new burgundy shingles. Eliza, Grandfather and Grandmother had gleefully painted the siding forest green. The trim had been a rich golden tan. All the doors and window frames had been carefully covered with deep purple paint that made the little rambler look like a grand Painted Lady of the Victorian era.

Not now. The house was white. The shingles were black. Every scrap of color was gone, just like Grandmother's life was gone, like Eliza's life was over. Only Sandra's desires and tastes remained.

Except for Miki, her precious little Cavalier King Charles spaniel. Miki, hopefully, was the last bit of life and color left in the house that had been Eliza's home since her father killed her mother and then himself when she was eight years old. Now she just had to rescue Miki and go to jail for crossing Sandra.

Eliza wished for that old battered fence for more than just nostalgia's sake as she edged carefully across the bricks of grass towards the back door. Anyone passing on the road in front of the house could see her there. With all the greenery gone, Eliza stood out like the sole red rose in a display of pure white lilies.

It hardly mattered that Eliza had parked her car a mile away and walked down the much quieter back lane that only garbage trucks followed to get here when there was no cover at all in the yard. Someone had to notice her, had to call the police soon. But no, Eliza couldn't hear a single car. The afternoon was still and quiet as suited a Tuesday afternoon in the middle of the month. Everyone in the neighborhood was gone, hopefully especially Sandra.

Birds sang next door, a strident Bluejay calling its claim to the neighbor's garden worms, a little chickadee trilling as it hopped along the top of the chain link fence. The chickadee cocked its head at Eliza, taking in her wild hair, shaking hands, pale face. Then it flew away as if afraid to even look into Sandra's yard.

And wasn't that the heart of it all?

This was Sandra's now. The yard stripped of flowers, trees, shrubs, the fresh sod laid down over the clover Grandmother and Eliza had favored, even the bare black paving stones by the back door with one pristine white-painted iron chair sitting by a carefully centered white ironwork table; it all belonged to Sandra when it had been willed to Eliza.

The Bluejay shrilled as it took flight in a clap of wings that startled Eliza back into the chain link fence. It clanged, startling her even worse. Eliza bit her lip against a scream that would turn to tears, to panic, to shaking and crouching by the gate instead of going in to rescue Miki.

Miki, Eliza whispered. I have to save Miki.

She pressed her hands to her mouth, shut her eyes. No matter how frightened she was of Sandra, Eliza had to rescue Miki. Grandmother had willed the house and everything in it to Eliza. Sandra had gotten the money, the investments she'd always prized over people and pets, but the house had gone to Eliza so that she'd always have a home for herself and Miki.

Not that the will had stood against Sandra's lawyers.

2.

The hot dry air in the courtroom had sucked all the moisture out of Eliza's mouth. Nothing could dry her eyes. A week after Grandmother's death, just hours after the death certificate had been issued, Sandra had showed up at the house with lawyers, four police cars and a summons.

I'm challenging the will, Sandra had declared, slapping the summons into Eliza's hand. You're to vacate the house until it's sorted out.

But… Eliza had stared at the summons, stared at the police cars while shrinking into herself, legs shaking. I… Sandra, why do this? If there was a problem all you had to do was say so.

Didn't you hear me? Sandra had snapped, her chin coming up as she glared down her nose at Eliza. You need to vacate the house. Our court date is on Tuesday. Get on with it.

And that, according to the lawyers and police, had been that. Eliza had been allowed to take underwear, two pairs of pants and three shirts. Her purse had nearly been taken away from her as she walked out the door to the tiny garage where her ancient pickup had waited. But the worst part was that Sandra's lawyers hadn't allowed Eliza to take Miki no matter how hard Eliza protested that Miki was her dog, not Grandmother's. They begrudged her the right to even feed and water Miki, take her out in the back yard for walks, before the court date.

On Tuesday, Eliza had gone to court, heart in her throat, and watched as Sandra's perfect pair of lawyers with their impeccable suits and hair that could withstand a hurricane had torn Grandmother apart even though she wasn't yet in the grave. Nothing Eliza had said helped. While Eliza cried, protested, tried to convince the judge, Sandra sat, one leg crossed demurely over her knee, hands still on the white wool pencil skirt that had to cost more than Eliza's monthly wages at the convenience store in town.

By the time that horrible day was done, Eliza had three books from Grandmother's library, a small monthly stipend from a locked-tight trust fund, and broken dreams smashed around her feet. As the lawyers put their papers away and the judge retreated back into his somber office, Eliza had wiped her cheeks, stood and went to look up into Sandra's eyes. The contrast between them had been so painfully clear. Sandra's perfect white suit made Eliza's hand-knit sweater and worn jeans look unprofessional, childish, worthless.

I guess that's it, Eliza had said. Um, I'll be by tomorrow to pick up Miki and my things.

No, you won't, Sandra had said, one perfect eyebrow climbing up her forehead. It's all mine now. You heard the judge.

But Miki is my dog, Eliza had protested, heart beating faster for entirely different reasons than before. She had always assumed she'd get Miki back. Sandra, I bought her. I raised her. She was only staying at Grandmother's house because of the yard.

Everything in the house is mine now, Sandra had replied so coldly that Eliza had stepped back, hands clutched to her chest. If you couldn't take care of the dog then that's not my problem, Eliza. It's mine along with everything else. You heard the judge.

He said that I could get my personal items! Eliza had exclaimed. My photos and clothes and things.

As if they're worth anything, Sandra had sniffed. She tossed her sleek brown hair over one shoulder, looking down her nose at Eliza. I'll box them up if you insist but you're not setting foot in my house.

Sandra had swept out before Eliza could say another word. The lawyers had glowered, pushing Eliza out of the way. Even the court bailiff had scowled at Eliza, firmly escorting her out of the court room and into the blazing August sunlight.

3.

S he's a cold child, Grandmother had murmured when Eliza was fourteen and learning to bottle wine with Grandmother's help. I suppose she takes after me and your grandfather. Her mother was a sweet child, so kind and loving, but Sandra has always been her exact opposite. Pity that. I'd hoped she'd turn out more like her parents than me.

I don't know, Eliza had said while carefully pouring the wine down the funnel into the deep-bellied brown wine bottle. It looked like something from a generation gone past, appropriate for the old-fashioned wines that Grandmother had always brewed. She was nice to me when she visited last time.

And she walked away with your brand new quilt, child, Grandmother had said, shaking her head in dismay. After we spent all that time choosing the fabric and stitching it together.

Well, that just gives us an excuse to make another, right? Eliza had said. Besides, it was her twenty-first birthday. A quilt was a small enough gift, along with the wine you gave her. She'll need it after drinking all that wine, you know. You gave her the too-strong stuff that we can't legally sell. I saw. And I know you. You'll call her in the morning just to make her deal with the phone ringing through her hangover.

Grandmother had blinked, grinned and then thrown her head back to laugh so loud that the funnel rattled in the neck of the wine bottle. She'd always laughed like that, loud and hard, as though there was too much life inside her to be contained. They'd spent the rest of the day bottling wine, cooking pan fried chicken and mashed potato fritters from the previous night's garlic-spiced mashed potatoes.

Their lives had been quiet. Eliza liked it, liked their quiet little house that had no TV, no video game consoles. Even though Sandra had complained about how boring they were, Eliza enjoyed spending time talking with Grandmother. It had just been the two of them since Grandfather died a bare month after Eliza moved in. Just two days after he'd yelled at Eliza for spilling a bottle of wine and shaken her so badly she'd passed out.

His death had hurt, losing yet another family member so soon after her parents' murder-suicide, but Grandmother hadn't seemed so sad. She'd wiped Eliza's tears, buried Grandfather in a plain pine box, and put a simple stone over his head that just said his name and the dates of his life. There hadn't been any visits to his grave, either, despite Eliza asking.

The dead are dead, child, Grandmother had said on the anniversary of Grandfather's death. They sat on the back steps, sipping cocoa and watching the neighborhood cats chase mice under the blackberry bushes. It does no good to focus on them. Focus on yourself. You're young, just nine, but death is something that you'll see again and again.

Didn't you love him? Eliza had asked, tears dripping down her cheeks. You never visit.

He isn't in that box under the earth, child, Grandmother had replied, one warm brown hand smoothing Eliza's unruly hair. He never was. He's in my heart. In the pantry, to tell the truth. All those bottles of wine? Well, I made them with him. In the future I'll make them with you. And someday, after I'm gone, you can uncork a bottle and taste the summer that we bottled. You can taste my man's craft, his care. And maybe someday, when you're old and gray like me, your grandchildren will be able to taste your love carried through the years in the wine.

And that had soothed Eliza's tears even though Grandmother's smile had been a bit odd and vindictive when she said the words 'craft' and 'love'. Her smile had always gone cold when she talked about Grandfather. Still, Grandmother had hugged Eliza, scooped up the empty mugs and then they'd laughed while playing tag in the back yard, scattering both the cats and the hiding mice in their wake.

Even at the end, when her body had wasted away to hanging skin and fragile bones, hair so thin that it looked like strands of embroidery floss draped over Grandmother's skull, Grandmother had still laughed with all the strength she had left. Her smile had been much meaner but Eliza truly thought that Grandmother had a right to be as mean as she wanted with death waiting patiently on the sofa like the visitor who simply wouldn't leave.

The last laugh had been the night before her death, just a month and a half ago. Eliza had helped Grandmother from her hospital wheelchair and settled her into the plush white armchair that Sandra had bought for visits. Sandra, of course, preferred not to sit on the couch with its broken springs, dog hair and dozens of blankets piled like nests. Her chair was to be kept clean, pristine, just for her.

Eliza had enjoyed putting Grandmother in it, vindictively taking pleasure in 'soiling' Sandra's prized chair. Maybe Sandra would stand the next time she visited rather than be tainted by Grandmother's illness, as though old age was contagious. Certainly, Sandra had acted as though Grandmother's impending death would reach out and clutch her throat the one time she'd visited the hospital. She'd only stayed three minutes before checking her phone and walking out without saying goodbye.

Grandmother had snickered as she settled into the expensive white chair, caressing the velvet arms and then patting her lap so that Miki would leap up into her arms, licking her face and spreading bright red dog hair all over the white upholstery.

Grandmother, Eliza had laughed, one hand over her mouth, the other over her chest because it hurt so much to see little Miki look large against Grandmother's shrunken frame.

Oh hush, child, Grandmother had said. I've missed Miki. And you. The hospital is a horrible place to die. That's why I wanted to come home. Now, I know you wanted to straighten things up, especially in the pantry, but you leave those alone. I've not much time left and I want to spend it with you.

She had caught Eliza's hand, keeping her from venturing into the old fashioned kitchen with its huge pantry full of bottled wine from decades gone past and canned