Kisses Burn

By JG Smyles

KISSES BURN : "WHERE BREATH IS WORD IS MADE SO"
Life is simple but the spirit realm is structured, planned, influencing and plays a very different game to what we're used to here on earth.
When you walk into a room and know something, is up, because the atmosphere, is thick with it, how then can we say we are insensitive to the spirit realm or deny there is one? In the Greek, the word, ‘spirit’ is ‘pneuma’ or ‘air’ and so we are appreciating that something, ‘in the air’, is ‘up’. In truth, we all experience the sensitive intangible which since the Victorian era has become increasingly popular to explore that is now pop culture as horror or supernatural, but, is it real?

A STORY OF THE PHYSICAL AND SPIRITUAL AS ONE REALM
Kisses Burn is based on true events with emphasis on a life beset with demons with the reader being guided through, the thick of it, bringing the spiritual realm to a place of an alarming tangible reality. Rhebekah Lhore is her fictional name, in reality, she found the truth and could not let it go for it set her free. It’s available to everyone, it’s in the spirit realm and is Spirit, at no financial cost it’s everyone’s, the cost cannot be calculated, it is, an eternal freedom for her and all who choose it.

“under my authority, he enjoys weaving his wickedness over and through them, it hampers their lives and that pleases me” the Devil

'what you believe determines your future'
She goes to bed and hears it. It’s never there during the day. A subtle sound that can keep her awake if she’s not too tired, the truth, she has inadvertently trained herself to only go to bed when she’s very tired, she’s being controlled and if she stops long enough to think about it, she knows it comes from the spirit realm but does nothing to address it, living the lie that it’s not really harming her. Her soul is being taunted, tested, tainted, set into turmoil and she thinks it’s emotions, when it’s spirit, more specifically, demonic.
‘Why her?’ is the nugget running through the book. Her concerns of who it is we are battling against stir the conscience, but she’s no one special, she’s just like us and because of her simple, straightforward, resolute approach, just a person getting on with it, just living a life, ‘why’ will test you. Why her indeed? Why you or your neighbor? Just why? For this era is the age of the Spirit of truth but do you know who you are listening to? It does matter, your soul is at stake, the paradigm shift has erupted.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Feb 7, 2019
• ISBN: 9780359404704

Book preview

Kisses Burn

KISSES BURN by JG Smyles

A Dedication of Love

I dedicate this book to, all the children who are frightened at night, to the outcast who is shunned because they can, 'see' and 'hear', and my friends for believing me and believing in me.

My special thanks, goes to God.

FOREWORD

When something within the dormant fourth dimension stirs the temporal into a  habit forming phobic complex and an attachment is made, time bends and no  one thinks the same again.

A life adventure story, written as a time line of events, where there seems to be no justice or reason, brings two ordinary people together, will shock, surprise and stall you who leads a normal life into the stark realization, that you too are being influenced for one purpose.

If you believe yourself to be apart from the horrors you read about in your daily newspapers, Kisses Burn will offend you, accuse you, shake you from your very foundations until your consciousness is renewed to the fragile level of truth only 1% of the top 5% of the world's population live with.

As each chapter unfolds, the one dimensional world, of a temporal existence is lost and a subliminal realization of the truth of how the spirit interacts with ordinary people is revealed until your untapped unlimited hunger for this truth overtakes you and you are left begging to be emptied that you may be filled with more.

An ironic theme, 'No longer permitting the obvious to remain hidden’ is the only way that I am able to begin to describe what your relationship with Rhebekah will bring about.

As you experience Tinah, a divine irritation will traverse your soul that may make you feel sick to the stomach and stir you to wish you had not had the knowledge of truth of helplessness placed within a hairs breadth of your mind that rides so closely to the compassion that sits uncomfortably still in your heart.

Two such intensely different people should never have joined forces, yet, as opposites attract, angels battle to keep them together until the Master’s work is done.

Chapter One

Unnatural Birth

1.

She had been looking forward to the weekend since the Monday. She knew that this would be an extra special one to remember. She knew something big was going to happen.

Picking her clothes carefully; she didn't like being cold, it made her feel anxious and uncomfortable, always feeling the need to rub her arms made her feel as though she was drawing attention to herself and that wasn't, right, so, the white cardigan was essential; it went with anything. It was a warm and simple piece of clothing; if the sun came out for any length of time, it would be easy to take off, carry if necessary, draped over her shoulders wouldn't be a problem, or worn around her waist, tied in a knot at the front, was perfectly acceptable. The burn whole in the cuff could be easily concealed if she turned the cuffs over and that would add to the casual look. She smiled down at the cardigan and squeezed the wool between her hands. She was sure that his would be part of the prefect choices associated with the weekend. Above everything else the cardigan would not clash or compete with anything that Gemma would wear. As Gemma always made her mind up at the last minute, she couldn't trust what her companion and confidant would choose to wear and knew it was pointless asking her about clothes. Once again she smiled at the cardigan.

Competing with Gemma was a battle lost years ago, she knew that she had to accept that she was more beautiful in every way imaginable than she could or would ever be and that she had to be happy and grateful that she was her friend first and foremost; friendship was all that mattered.

By Friday, she had finally made up her mind to wear her black skirt and T-shirt during the day, the contrast of colours would be stunning, but not too showy, and with lace up boots there would be a certain amount of freedom for larking about. For the evening, she chose her blue denim skirt. It was a little too long, but that was okay; she'd be sat down most of the time. She chose a sky blue turtleneck jumper; it was too late in the season to be thinking of blouses, and she didn't like being cold. The lace up boots would be fine, so long as she changed her socks after the day's activities. Yes, she was confident that she would be comfortable and happy.

A little later on that day, she checked on Gemma, but of course, she hadn't made her mind up yet.

2.

Glad for the boots keeping her feet warm and safe, she ran a little ahead of everyone else. She could hear the laughter of children. Gemma had decided to run with her, they laughed together. The sea air always lifted their spirits, she was right, this was already a special weekend and it was only midday on Saturday. She had been a little worried about the journey down, but Gemma and Peter were fun and he took such good care of her.

Peter was calling for her to slow down, she knew that he didn't like her getting too silly, that it drew attention to her and that just wasn't fitting, so she began to walk again and idly chat with her friend. Then the warmth of Peter's hand was felt in hers.

Strong, soft, but quite bony, the contrast was electrifying, she let the warmth drift into her hands, his touch sent shivers all the way up her arm and down her spine. It was reminiscent of the way when he looked at her with that special look. She had never witnessed him look at anyone else like that, and was glad, it made her feel, so very special.

She could remember once, perhaps two years ago now, when she was clearing dishes at a relative's house. He was in the kitchen washing up. He had glanced over his shoulder at her as she came in through the door, and there was that look in his eyes, it made her feel ever so loved and warm. Yes, warm really was the very best way to describe it. From that moment on, his kisses had changed; they lasted longer and occurred more often, as well as this, he kissed her on her lips after that time in the kitchen.

On that particular day he had taken his hands out of the hot soapy water and suggested that she did the washing-up. She knew that he was very particular, and this simple act registered that a level of trust had been gained. As she dipped her hands into the bowl he let his hand touch her shoulder, causing for her to momentarily stop what she was doing. He let his other hand travel around her slim waist to her belly, which he squeezed tenderly. His breath was on her neck, not unpleasant or rough, just warm and reassuring. She had waited a long time for this overt show of love, a long time, but the wait had been worth it.

She had wanted to turn around and kiss him lovingly but she knew that that would be unfitting, improper, it would not be, what he would want. She knew that it was because he loved her, and that he just wanted it to be perfect for her, that he was strict with her.

Now at the seaside, with his hand in hers, her attention focused on him, her eyes gazing upwards, she waited for him to look at her in, that way .

He talked to her about her clothes. He was pleased that she had decided to look more like who she was and not like Gemma. It had taken a lot for her to understand that this was important, but she still couldn't understand or make sense of why, it was important.

That night, they had more chance to be alone. Everyone had gone to bed. Neither she nor Peter was tired. She was curled up in her denim skirt, sky blue turtle neck sweater and white socks on Peter's lap, he had both arms around her, her head was resting on his chest, she could hear the beating of his heart, and liked the way his chest rose up and down, its rhythm was hypnotic. Eventually, her eyes got heavy and she found herself drifting off, safe and secure in his arms. The warmth of his body and the glow of the fire engulfed her, there was no resistance and she slipped, into velvet soft sleep.

It was the awareness of the glow of the fire on her bare legs that stirred her. The heat was making her silk, lily-white flesh a little too hot and a slight headiness was forming.

Peter was gently talking to her, a low soft murmur, ‘So special, you're so special.’ She could hear, ‘Wake up Sweet Pea, I want to tell you something,’ he urged.

Her left leg had slipped off of his lap the heat of the fire was catching the inside of her legs. His hand was gently stroking her calf.

Please, she thought, don't ever stop, I love you so much. I just want to stay here all the time, just with you.

She regained consciousness and turned to look up into his face, he kissed her on the forehead, then on her nose, then on her eyes, then on her lips. This final kiss lasted quite a while; he just gently pressed his lips onto hers.

Something was happening, something that she had never experienced before, she couldn't quite fathom it. The glow of the fire on her thighs was making her feel quite different. Then he pulled away and simply asked, ‘I want to make you my wife. Would you like that?’

He hadn't stopped stroking her calf, she was mesmerised. All that she could manage was to nod a yes. He smiled a very different smile from anything that she had ever seen before. It wasn't, a happy smile, but of course, smiles couldn't be sad, it was just a smile that was different, somehow, different.

My wife would need to know how to look after me, he said in a hushed tone. ‘She would have to be good, do as she was told.’

She could do nothing more than nod a yes, yes she thought, yes, to please you, yes.

He scooped her legs together and pulled her very close to him, she was putty in his hands. She knew that he had chosen her because she was special in his eyes and that made her feel better than good, it made her feel wanted, useful and cared for, so, cared for. Then he kissed her on her lips again, this time a little harder than before. She had experienced this firm kiss in the past but not for so long. Then, without moving his lips away from hers, he moved his lips over her lips; and he opened his lips over hers.

Please don’t let anyone come down the stairs, was all she could think as he kissed her.

Not sure what to do with her lips, wanting to please him, she thought that she should move them. Not away from his, just move them and then it happened. Her lips were moving with his, it was as if they had become one.

Their breathing changed, it became more rapid and deeper too, but it changed in unison. His hands did not move over her body, nor did they stroke her legs, they just remained around her. His kisses slowed. Not quite ceased. His lips moved slightly off of hers, they were barely touching, his breath drifting into her mouth she could taste the beer he'd supped earlier. It wasn't unpleasant.

Her eyes were lightly closed, her whole being just taking the moment in. Eventually, she opened her eyes he was looking at her and then smiled.

My wife.’ He stated in a hoarse whisper, ‘My good wife,’ he added as if to confirm his innermost desires.

Gently moving her legs off of his, he stood her up. As he stood behind her, she looked up at him standing over her. He was so tall, so strong, so kind. He had taught her everything, shown her so much. Everything from laying the table to cleaning a car correctly, he had shown her, there was nothing that he did not know, and he shared it all, with her.

He guided her to the stairs, she did not resist, and with his hands on her shoulders, he walked up the stairs behind her to her bedroom door. Turning the light on for her, he led her to the bed. It wasn't like the bed at home, this one squeaked, but it was only for one night. He sat her down on the bed and knelt at her knees, his hands gently drifted to her legs, he stroked them. Never taking his eyes off of hers, he leant forwards slightly and through her skirt, he kissed her knees.

She made a funny little noise in her throat, she couldn't help it. He stopped and looked up at her. As he rose to his feet he cupped her head in his hands and kissed her a long, slow, goodnight on the forehead.

As he left the room he looked over his shoulder and whispered, ‘Good night Sweat Pea, keep your dreams for me.’ And he was gone.

She heard his door open. She stayed sat on her bed for a little while trying to take it all in. Her mouth was dry, and she trembled. Her whole body was alive with electricity, she gulped in air. She wanted to be touched, to be reassured but she was alone.

Not through fear, nor quite excitement, as her whole body, from the top of her head to the ends of her toes uncontrollably shook, she began to recall the events of the past week or so. It all felt nice, but she wished that the shaking would subside; it was beginning to make her feel cold.

She burned to tell Gemma, but she knew that she would be asleep. Eventually, she got undressed, climbed into bed and tried to remember what his breath smelt like, no, tasted like, but she couldn't. All that she could think of was, that she was going to be, Peter's wife.

3.

A few months drifted by and she became Peter's wife.

She would never forget the first night they spent together. She knew in her heart of hearts that some people would not accept that she was and now is Peter’s wife. Well that was their problem, she was happy. Peter loved her, he told her so and she was a good wife, just as he had shown her to be.

The first night together was hard. Just as she'd anticipated, there had been protests. Some people would not, no, could not, begin to understand. But all she knew was that her and Peter were in love and that it was their problem, not hers or Peter's. Peter would take care of her and she would take care of him, this is what he had promised.

Wanting so much to enjoy her first real day with Peter, she did all she could to make herself look totally exquisite for him. As she stood totally naked in front of her mirror, a mirror that he had hung for her, she considered herself. Reaching for her hairbrush, she began to groom her shiny, thick black hair. As she gazed into the mirror, she caught sight of her dress and smiled over at it. It took her but a moment to ease into it and thought of the times when others had tempted her.

Although there had been an opportunity, there had been no one else before Peter. She knew, deep down, that that opportunity had just been a fleeting moment. That it could never have matched what she felt towards Peter or what Peter felt towards her.

She was glad that Peter was the only one who had ever touched her and knew that as a virgin she would please him all of the time.

If the day had been hard, the first night was even harder. Peter had taken her by the hand and led her up the stairs. It wasn't that late but the house was silent, still, almost heavy with expectation.

He closed the bedroom door behind them, she could not move, she had never been in his bedroom before. His bed was very large, not like hers, which was small, quite small.

He placed his hands on her shoulders and gently eased her away from the door and guided her to the middle of the bedroom. Her legs felt like wooden blocks, her heart was beating so fast that she thought that it was starting to hurt her chest, almost as if she'd just run a two hundred yard dash. She wished that

Gemma had talked to her about this, but it was no good wishing now, she was Peter's wife and she wanted to be a good wife, to please him, to make him happy like no other was able to.

Not quite frightened, but not far from it, she cranked her neck backwards and looked at him looking at her over her shoulders.

‘What do I do?’ She whispered up at him.

He gave no immediate response and just delivered that smile that she had got all those months ago at the seaside that evening when they were alone by the fire. She still didn't understand that smile, and thought that there was ever so slightly a wicked, childlike element to it.

He slipped his hands around her upper chest and waist and picked her up. An effortless task for him, he being so big and strong and she so petite. He carried her to the bed, and lay her down upon it. He stared at her for quite some time, she was grateful; it gave her heart a chance to quieten down. She laid motionless, knees slightly bent to her chest, just as Peter had put them, then he spoke.

‘Are you my wife?’ He asked.

‘Yes, I am your wife. Your very good wife.’ She paused and blinked. After swallowing hard, she finished the sentence, her voice resumed a robotic monotone, ‘Just as you have taught me to be, your wife.’

She didn't understand what this meant, but she had heard Peter use these words on many occasions and she knew that they were good words, words that he would want for her to say. As she said these words to him he smiled at her. Not a smile of love, his eyes did not have love in them, his eyes were cold and his lips were pulled thinner than usual. No, not a smile of love.

He moved away from the bed, towards the door and turned the light off. Then he walked over to the window, closed the curtains just enough to leave a little gap to let the street light filter in and turned on his heel and stared at her again. Once their eyes had adjusted to the low light, he approached the bed. Like an obedient, well-trained hound, she was still lying as he had placed her. As he got to the bed, he reached out his hands. By raising her body up off of the bed she was able to take his hands in hers.

His hands were not warm as they had been so many times before. She detected a little clamminess on them.

Once her hands were in his, never moving his eyes off of hers, he pulled her into a sitting position, and then moved towards her. He bent his head down to hers and kissed her on the lips. Then, he took her in his arms and turned her around so that her back was facing him. He viewed her frame, it excited him; she was so much smaller than any other woman that he had known. He noticed that she was trembling slightly and that her breathing was erratic. He knew that she was no more in control than a Double Decker bus that had just hit an icy patch going down Briney Hill.

If she could see his face now she would not have enjoyed the look in his eyes. His eyebrows had formed wicked centre points causing his nose to wrinkle and upper lip to form a snarl. The very fact that she was trembling pleased him immensely.

His intentions were not good. It was his prime concern to get as much out of the evening as possible. With his hands at the back of her knees and his arms supporting the backs of her legs, he slowly lifted her onto his lap, she moaned, but she did not move.

Through her thin hair he kissed the back of her neck. Lifting her hair off of her shoulders to expose her delicate flesh, he kissed her neck again. He pulled her closer to him, his shirt brushed against her bare back and shoulders it felt almost sharp against her flesh. Her hair fell down over her shoulders, which he played with for a short while. The sensation of the feather like strokes of hair on her skin created goose bumps upon goose bumps all over her body.

Bored with giving pleasure, Peter's true personality kicked in. Like a wild cat that can only take so much petting, something cracked open in his mind and the night of terror for Sweet Pea began. What should have been the most divine experience became a living nightmare for her.

Kisses became forced and painful to receive. His body was used to force her to stay still and his body weight caused for her to panic as she thought he might crush her.

She wanted to be a good wife, but as a wild animal would attempt to escape from a trap, her legs did a little flurry of a kick. Peter did not respond and so she said nothing. Even though a few tears sprung from her eyes, she did nothing further to aid her escape. She didn't want to complain and found herself biting her bottom lip. The pain induced from this act of self-control took her mind off of her husband's cruel hand.

No one had told her that this was going to happen, not even Gemma, whom she had known all of her life, why, she wondered, didn't anyone tell me?

Confusion ensued; she loved his touch and wanted to be touched but, at that moment, she would have preferred him to stop, then, when he pulled off of her, she breathed a sigh of relief, unfortunately for her, this was a big mistake.

All night he bullied her, bruised her and abused her. He was relentless, totally unforgiving selfish to the core.

She did not know what to do. So she did nothing. She lay there, not moving, not moaning, just wondering why Gemma or any of the others had not told her that this is what happened when you became a wife. Then it was very painful, deep inside, something tore, she knew that she was bleeding, she tried to move her body but Peter was protecting it with all of his so there was no way that she could move or let him know that she wanted to stop for a while, just, a little while.

As for the welfare of his new wife, he had no concern Bleeding or not, she was his wife and a good wife too, she would submit. In his heart he was proud and glad; she really had kept herself for him.

Such a good wife, such a good wife, so pleasing, such a good wife, he kept repeating to himself.

As quickly as the pain had arrived it began to subside and once more she felt loved.

He pulled all of his weight off of her, she didn't know what to do, she wanted him to love her, but it hurt when he loved her, she wanted him to return to her, but she wanted some time alone.

She could feel the blood between her legs, she wanted to wash herself but didn't want to leave Peter. She needed him to comfort her, stroke her hair, kiss her gently whisper how much he loved her. She wanted to feel safe.

Peter laid naked alongside his wife, he was totally independent of her, his pleasure was the only thing on his mind, so he drew her close to him. A simultaneous sigh of relief, sorrow and fatigue, was breathed. She had mistook his motives as pure and loving, he mistook her sigh, as a sound of encouragement and as his face began to contort with the thought of what else he could get out of her, he began to manipulate her body.

‘Come over here Sweet Pea,’ he delivered in a growl.

The voice frightened her and she became rigid. The sound rang around in her head, she had never heard him sound like that before, he sounded as though he was an animal and that this animal was about to hurt her. A tear sprung from her eye and she began to cold sweat and tremble.

Without waiting for a response, he pulled her right up close to him, buried his head in her neck and said, ‘When I ask you to do something I expect you to do just that. Do I make myself clear Sweat Pea?’

As different as his voice was; there was less of an animal sound to it, she still felt disturbed by its tone. She wanted to win him back over to her but felt too afraid to say anything.

‘I asked you a question. Do you understand what it is I have asked you?’ he spat through gritted teeth.

Her head and heart were so full of fear, she couldn't even remember what it was that she had been asked, an involuntary and lifesaving, ‘Yes,’ came out of nowhere.

After a while that could have been a life -time, he let go of her. She tried to sleep but all attempts failed. As she became fitful, wanting him to cuddle her and stroke her calf as he had done so tenderly in the past, her mind grew ever anxious and then something changed inside her, and she no longer cared about herself, she no longer cared, nothing mattered, and she slept.

He had been looking at her for some time. The only reason why he allowed her to sleep was because he had promised her the best day of her life and he knew that she would need all the energy she could muster to be able to keep up with his plans.

There was quite a lot of blood on the sheets, he liked what he saw, once again his face contorted. If there were any such thing as vampires it would have been at this moment that he would have claimed what vampires so needed to stay alive.

The sun was pouring in through the window. Some rays were shining across her body. He wondered if the skin touched by the early morning sun would be hotter than the bits of flesh that were shaded. He wondered if her flesh would burn if it were left for too long exposed to the sun even though it was sunlight coming through the window. He was astounded at how delicate her flesh appeared.

As she began to stir her first thoughts were of Gemma. She needed to be with Gemma.

She opened her eyes to the new day and saw Peter looking down at her. He was naked, she had never seen him naked before, she was quite surprised at what his body looked like and she remembered how strong he had been the night before. She tried to smile up at him but could not. He continued to stare down at her.

‘Do you remember that I promised you the best day ever?’ he questioned.

She remembered and delivered a simple, yes, that came out dry and croaky.

Now she was fully conscious and she became aware that she was naked, bloody and bruised. She didn't like the thought of being exposed and wrinkled her brow, she thought she was going to cry but managed to hold back.

‘Would it be okay to invite Gemma?’ She asked in her most appealing voice.

‘No, not today, not ever again, Gemma and you are no longer permitted to see one another.’

As he was speaking he walked towards her, and she was gathering her legs up to her chest her eyes staring into his.

‘I don't want to do that again!’ She exclaimed. Her voice was high pitched she hadn't meant to say anything it had just come out that way.

As close to her as he could be, he took a deep breath in and held it. With his lips pursed he exhaled which made a whistling kind of sound through his teeth. Then, he involuntarily laughed. The laughter was that of someone who was listening to something unbelievably incredulous. It only lasted a few seconds but it was enough for her to respond with an involuntary reflex of fear; her body recoiled into a semi fetal position. She knew that she had upset him.

Without thinking, he moved away from her, whilst cocking his head in disbelief, he grabbed for her hair, moved to the side of her body and pulled her towards him.

‘That is the last time I hope that you will answer to me Sweat Pea.’ Half a question, half a statement, he glared into her fear stricken eyes. As he dragged her head to the side, their eyes remained engaged, he hadn't finished, ‘Or else, you will not like me very much,’ and her heart sank ever deeper.

She thought that his eyes were strange, they bored into hers. ‘Sorry,’ she whispered.

He was incensed, how dare she think that she could dictate terms to him. His hand cupped her jaw and he kissed her with her lips puckered. She was so frightened she couldn't close her eyes and then her bladder gave way. Hot fluid spilt onto her legs and the bed, she was embarrassed.

He knew that she had wet herself. He exhaled and in one short sharp breath. ‘Have you finished?’ He asked in a particularly distasteful voice.

‘Please may I go to the bathroom?’ She pleaded.

His answer was simple and direct. ‘You may not do anything unless I say so. Do you understand?’

‘Yes,’ came her barely audible bleat of a reply.

Peter had never behaved in this way before. She knew that she had done some silly things, but he had never responded like this to her. He had only ever shown her kindness and compassion. What was this all about? Why was he being so mean? He loved her and she loved him. Why would he want to hurt her? She wanted to be nothing other than a good wife to him. Surely he knew this. Hadn't he taught her everything? As well as these, there were more questions in her head, but already, a mere 24 hours into their marriage and she was too afraid to ask.

Her head hurt and she wanted to scream, but nothing came out. She found his hands with hers and gently patted and stroked them. She wanted him to be like he used to be.

Knowing that this was what she wanted, but not caring, he wanted what he wanted and he was going to get it, she had no choice, he deliberately stared into her eyes and eventually, she lowered her gaze. As it was submission that pleased him most, he smiled a broad smile of victory over her.

He wasn't disgusted at the fact that she had wet the bed, but he was going to have to talk to her about this and decided to find out what she had learned and how obedient she really was and he began to give out orders.

At first she hesitated, not truly understanding the need to fetch water, biscuits, shoes and the like. The assortment of paraphernalia was unrelated and she was exhausted. Peter enjoyed his game immensely and laughed aloud. Happy that she could still make him laugh, she began to relax a little.

Truthfully, there was no real joy in his laughter; it came out as a twisted and tangled noise of high and low pitches, truthfully, there was no real joy in serving him.

4.

Later that day, they made some sandwiches and went to the park. She already missed Gemma, but she only really wanted to please Peter.

Some passersby looked on as they ate their lunch. Mr. Gregory, who owned the grocery store, smiled and exchanged a few words both to her and Peter. He looked at her as if he could read her mind and inquired as to when she was likely to be shopping at the store for he had her favourite fruit cake in stock again. Peter answered for her and informed Mr. Gregory that his Sweat Pea,