Reading Relish

By Suzy Stewart Dubot

It's summer again! We all look forward to wonderful days filled with the busyness of the season. Here's an anthology of various genre short stories for the rare moment you have a free minute.

Garnet.  What's in a name? An invitation to explore other universes? Sweet historical with a supernatural twist.

A Lady Without Means. Prize winning short story. An adventure in the old West with two people who need a new start.

Ever in Eternity.  A dark tale of love and loss. A grieving vampire can't see what she most craves.

Dead End Beach. Contemporary romance. Most summer workers leave Alaska at the end of August. The woman who is the bouncer at the local bar has his attention. Will she give them a chance?

Arbitrator. Science fiction. A small farmer on a hot planet finds he need help from the Mercenary's Union when the company decides to rid themselves of the locals.

 The Winchmore Hill Dog Trainer.  Contemporary romance. A gem, a dog and coffee to go.

Planet Crisis. Science fiction. A planet in trouble finds three lifeforms working to better things. A young man needs to give his bondmate some time off and enlists his trainer's help.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Paper Gold Publishing OLD
• Release date: Apr 27, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223439981

Book preview

Copyright © Paper Gold Publishing

2023

Copyright Notice:

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the authors’ imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, events, or locales is completely coincidental.

License Notes:

This anthology is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This anthology may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this anthology with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this anthology and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your retailer and purchase a copy for yourself. Thank you for respecting the hard work of these authors.

Artwork: C. MacFarlane

Contents

Garnets

A Lady Without Means

Ever in Eternity

Dead End Beach

Arbitrator

The Winchmore Hill Dog Trainer

Planet Crisis

Garnets

by

Suzy Stewart Dubot

Copyright. 2013 Suzy Stewart Dubot

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

suzybazaarebooks.weebly.com

*

My Journal

Chapter 1

It has happened before. I have awakened in a room that I do not know.

It is a curious sensation when first I open my eyes and see that the room is not mine. It has not worried me since my youngest age because I know I have only to sleep again to find my own familiar surroundings.

A dream, one might think?

It is hardly that because I am able to move around the room and pick up objects. I can feel their weight, sense their surfaces, whether rough or smooth, cold or not. By grasping them firmly in my hand, I have even managed to take small objects with me back to my own room. Sometimes, if there is a mirror, I can see myself in my nightclothes, my hair in the plait that I prefer for sleeping. No, not a dream, but something quite out of this world.

My earliest recollection of these ‘visitations’ was as a child of no more than six. It was to another room belonging to a child, because the furniture and furnishings were suited to one of my own age. Perhaps it was why I was not frightened that first time. Although it always happens in my own night, all of these rooms have appeared to me as daytime and all have been quite empty of any living being. I know now that it is one of the rules that governs my travels to these places. There are other rules that I have ascertained and noted over the years as a matter of curiosity.

As a child, I sometimes lingered to play with the toys, careful to replace them before sleeping again. It was quite by accident that I discovered I could bring things with me, but rarely have I stolen from those homes. I have only ever taken certain things without great value, such as a child’s drawing, a remnant of ribbon or flower petals.

Now that I am a woman, I find that the rooms have somehow changed with me. They are rooms belonging to women of another time. I have sometimes been tempted into trying on their clothes, shoes and jewellery, but I have scrupulously replaced it all before leaving. I have never done more than to steal a touch of their perfume. Upon awaking, the fragrance has accompanied me to my own room. But, it has brought me nothing but trouble, so I no longer do more than inhale all the scents I have had the good fortune of encountering. In my world, I dare not wear perfume for fear of the consequences.

Last night I did something I have never done before. I opened the door to the room where I found myself.

A veritable thrill ran through me because it has taken me fourteen years to be so bold.

*

Chapter 2

I doubt I shall ever know why I was called Garnet. I asked my uncle once, but he only shrugged while making a disapproving sound in his throat.

It is with the greatest difficulty that I am able to conjure up images of my parents, as they died when I was six. Even those images I think I remember may only be those of a child fancying people who loved her. At the time of their death, I was too young to have put any effort into remembering them faithfully, and so now I am left with shifting images.

My travels began that same year, perhaps as an escape from the drudge that life became after being taken in by my mother's family. Today, if I am honest, I suppose life in my uncle’s house has been better than living and working in the poorhouse. Let us say, I have had no wish to experience the differences.

My uncle is not a bad man. He is just oblivious to all that passes around him that is not manly. He has a wife who is able to dissimulate all that is to her advantage. Me, as a secret lady’s maid to her two daughters, my two cousins, was her first exercise. When that passed without comment from my uncle, lady’s maid slipped easily into slave. I have no hesitation in naming my position with the family. It is slave.

Let me tell you why I stay when there are no guards manning the doors or dogs who could bring me back if I fled. It is a simple equation. I have no money and am not paid for my duties, so where would I go? My aunt often tells me I should be grateful for the roof over my head, the food before me and the cast-off clothes she feels meet any need I might have. Needless to say, they are not suitable for any form of socializing and I suspect her of blighting all chances I might have of meeting a potential husband for fear of losing her slave. Because she is condescending, my two cousins have followed her lead and have forgotten, I believe, that I am related to them in any way.

Sometimes, though, I have seen Leila looking at me with sadness in her eyes, so perhaps she feels some tiny prick of remorse when we speak to one another, albeit superficially. In Coleen’s eyes, I have only seen the brilliance that comes from the power to command. She is like her mother, deprived of any ember of empathy.

Having painted a dismal picture, I have to admit that my conditions are tolerable, in that I have my own small room equipped with basic furnishings. I believe my aunt would not have dared send me to a room in the attic with the two maids for fear of drawing attention to her connivances.

A carpet, although faded, is a comfort of which servants rarely benefit. A table, chair, bed and chest complete the room, which is the haven to which I am able to escape whenever I am not needed. From the time I learned to read, I have been borrowing books from my uncle's library. The subjects are very varied and sometimes not meant for females, but I read anything I can put my hands upon without attracting undue attention. I think my uncle knows that I borrow his books, but he has never said anything to me. Perhaps he is a little flattered that his library interests someone other than himself. It has certainly never interested his daughters.

If I am present at various social gatherings, it is only because my uncle will suddenly remember me and demand that I be there. My aunt is not brave enough to object for fear of upsetting the arrangement she has established. She must consider it a small price to pay to keep me under her thumb, and the old-fashioned, hand-me-down clothes are yet another way of keeping me insignificant.

*

Coleen was the first to go.

I had already been aware of the interest that she had received from various gentlemen when overhearing her speaking with her mother or Leila. She readily forgot that I was in the room as she discussed her suitors. Or it may be that it gave her some sort of warped pleasure to speak of their admiration in front of me when it was unlikely that I would ever draw any.

Coleen is small, fine-boned, and almost doll-like in her appearance. She might easily be the model for those fine porcelain dolls that the Germans make so well. Her delicate appearance and gentle manners are deceptive, though, because she is quite hard and ruthless in private. I pity the man who has been taken in by her placid, acquiescing nature when in public, because he has married her. But, if there has been any problem between them, she will never admit it. My uncle had made it quite plain to her in advance that once she had made her bed, she was to lie in it.

Now Leila is on the point of leaving. Her wedding is to be in ten days, and all our time leading up to her nuptials has been spent completing her bridal trousseau. She is not particularly enthralled with the marriage, but I suspect that her parents have pressured her into it. Her fiancé is a man wealthy enough that they have overlooked his age. I heard that he is forty-five while my uncle is fifty. Both Leila and I are twenty.

This brings me to the question of my utility once my cousin has gone. Will my aunt still think I am worth my clothes, food and lodging, or will she find some way to be rid of me? Heaven help me if she decides to marry me off to some old man. She has had few scruples with her own daughter, so she would certainly have none with me.

It is why, last night, I decided to look beyond the door of the room I visited.

*

Chapter 3

The room was really quite delightful, giving me a sense of well-being. In fact, it was one of the best I have ever visited. Its pastel colours were pleasant to the eye and the decor tastefully accorded. There was a small bouquet of violets on the dressing table, and I swear their delicate perfume filled the air. The room was comfortable and comforting at the same time, which is perhaps why I was tempted to look beyond to see the rest of the house.

With trepidation, I opened the door.

In all the years that I have travelled to so many different rooms, no one has ever crossed my path, so I have always felt secure from intervention within the confines of those chambers.

Pandora is the name which came to mind as I slowly twisted the porcelain knob. The fact that it turned so smoothly in my hand, without noise, encouraged me to continue. As the door swung silently inwards on its hinges, I took stock of what had been hidden from me on the other side.

A sunny passageway was bordered by solid, sculpted, wooden banisters overlooking the entrance hall below. The sun shone through a large stained-glass window, bathing the upper landing in myriad colours, all gay, while mottling the thick carpeting at my feet. As I stood examining the exquisite quality of the place, I got the fright of my life. Someone had entered the hall below and was speaking to another person.

The man's voice was deep, and I heard it quite plainly as the quarry stone hall had no carpets or curtains to muffle the sound. It came straight to me from the stairwell.

I shall be leaving again, Richards, as soon as I have got what I came for. I will not be home for dinner. Please let my wife know when next you see her.

Yes, sir, was the response from the other man before I heard a door click shut.

I did not wish to take the risk of being found, so began quietly backing into the room from which I'd come.

Mistress! a woman's voice called just before I noiselessly closed the door. Had someone seen me and mistaken me for the Mistress of the house? I hoped not because I didn't want them to follow me into the room and discover their error. I waited with bated breath, searching frantically for the excuse I would give for my presence, but nothing more happened. Relief eased my heartbeat so that it returned to its normal tempo.

I now had much to think about, and I wondered if I would be able to sleep and find my way back to my own room. I need not have worried though, because there is some unexplainable trick to the travelling. With my head on the pillow, I sleep and return.

*

My aunt chided me for my inattention. She had spoken to me and I had not heard, as I was lost in my thoughts. Is it any wonder after the amazing discovery of last night?

It is a strange phenomenon which allows me to go to the rooms. I do not have any control over my travels and I do not go every night. It seems I only wake in the night when the room has arrived, or I have arrived in it.

Many years ago, several times, I tried to stay awake all night to see how it happened. In vain, because each time my own plain room remained, and I was scolded the next day for being slow. Today, Leila and my aunt are no wiser as to last night's experience, in spite of the inner excitement bubbling just beneath my skin.

So now that I know that those other worlds are populated (I can only assume that there have always been people on the other side of each door), do I want to make contact? How shall I explain myself to anyone I meet? What would happen to me if I am caught and put in prison for trespassing, or worse, stealing?

My mind is overflowing with such questions as 'how much time goes when I am there? Does my time in the foreign room always equal the time that passes in my night?'

I am not aware of having visited the same room twice, but it is difficult to be sure as they have evolved in the same manner as have I through the years. The more I think on it, the more complicated it becomes. I am able to treat the matter in a reasonable way because I have had fourteen years in which to adapt to its strangeness, but imagine the reaction of someone like my uncle or aunt who, if they knew, would immediately pronounce me mad.

I suppose it is safe to presume that my way back to my own world will be through the room from whence I arrived, but I cannot be certain before putting it to the test. Until last night, I had thought that I might be invisible to anybody from those other worlds. That is less sure now.

Of course, the most important question, which will probably never have an answer, is, 'Why has this been happening to me?'

*

Chapter 4

My aunt has moved faster than I could have anticipated because she has not even waited for Leila to be married.

I should have been suspicious when she presented me with what might be considered a decent garment. It was not new, but it was not too much out of fashion; one which she had recently discarded.

And do something with your hair, she had thrown in for good measure.

Unlike my aunt and cousins, I am fair-haired, with blue eyes. They all have varying shades of red hair and brown eyes so that the dress was a green which did not suit me particularly, but it was better than anything I have been given to date. The adjustments I was able to make to the size also improved the look of it.

Fourteen years with my aunt has fashioned patterns in her behaviour and routine. The fact that I was summoned to take tea with the family in my new dress alerted me to something out of the ordinary. I only take tea with them occasionally, when my uncle is going to be present. It gives him the impression that that is how it always is. It was the new dress, however, that signalled something different, and upon entering the room, I saw what.

My uncle was sitting in an armchair near to the settee where Leila and my aunt were seated. The low table in front of them was garnished with the tea things and a plate of small cakes. In an armchair winging the other side of the settee sat a rotund gentleman of a certain age. He seemed pleasant enough until he stood and smiled at me, showing the few bad teeth that remained in his mouth. I then noticed that his cravat was not of the freshest. Obviously, a man who put more emphasis on his food than on his clothes. He winced a little as he took a step towards me and my suspicions were confirmed. His gout spoke as clearly as any doctor, proclaiming his self-indulgences.

Standing, my uncle immediately took the initiative of presenting the man to me.

Garnet, my dear, this is my friend and business associate, Anthony Gilbert. Anthony, my niece, Garnet Monroe, my defunct sister's daughter.

I lowered my regard when replying, as I did not want to see the lecherous look in the man's eyes. There was no doubt in my mind that match-making, or if you prefer, business, was in progress here. My stomach churned at the thought. I wondered how much I would be allowed to say in the matter, but just as quickly realised it would probably be nothing.

Sir, was all I said, not wishing to engage further.

He had taken my hand to that awful mouth, and it was all I could do not to wrench it free. I was now near enough to smell him. Dear God, did the man not wash? I withdrew my hand and went to sit on a straight-backed chair, but my aunt indicated that I should sit on the end of the settee nearest to Mr. Gilbert.

The rest of the hour was spent without my presence — my conscious presence.

Oh, I was spoken to and replied in a vague sort of way, but was there any point to making myself agreeable? No, there was none. Perhaps indifference would play in my favour...

At one moment, I heard the man ask if I were quite normal, and then I heard the reassurances from my aunt that I was, although a little timid.

The fool accepted her explanation because he apparently found me to his taste. A nod from him to my uncle indicated that he was interested.

Upon leaving, he took my hand again and said, I hope that we shall enjoy each other's company, my dear.

He squeezed my hand gently before releasing it.

I knew that he meant more than the occasional outing with him. The satisfied look he gave to my uncle as they left the room together caused me to feel sick.

I, too, was about to leave the room without thinking when my aunt called me back.

Where do you think you are going? It was a rhetorical question. You will wait until your uncle has finished with you. Leila, go to your room.

Leila passed me by with a defeated air. Her future husband might be forty-five, but he had all his teeth. Nonetheless, she had the bearing of someone who felt that we had both been trapped. She didn't seem any happier than I.

When my uncle returned, he appeared pleased with himself.

Please sit, Garnet.

He indicated the settee, but I preferred the rigidness of the straight-backed chair.

You are at the age now when it is my duty to find you a husband. I have known Mr. Gilbert for some time now, and we have agreed that it is to everyone's advantage that you marry him.

He paused, pleased with his explanation, which had been delivered smoothly.

My uncle, I began.

No need for comments or thanks, young lady. Your aunt is willing to handle the necessary aside arrangements, and as soon as the Banns are published, you will be married.

I refuse! I cried out without thought.

The strike on my face from my aunt was more of a shock than a pain. In fourteen years, she had never raised her hand to me. She had had more insidious methods for bending me to her will.

You will do as your uncle tells you, Garnet, and consider yourself lucky. Mr. Gilbert is a well-to-do gentleman who has, surprisingly, found you acceptable. It is either marriage with him or the streets.

She finished with a triumphant smile on her face while I remained speechless from the sting on mine.

I had known that this would happen, it had just been a question of when. Now it seemed that my marriage would follow on the heels of Leila's, but I couldn't help wondering why it had come about so suddenly. It was Leila who would later answer my unasked question.

*

I suppose you are wondering about Mr. Gilbert? she suggested. "He is simply the means to an end. Papa has had financial difficulties and both our husbands-to-be would have paid for us. Not only will they not receive a dowry, but the men have invested heavily in Papa's business. I'm just luckier than you, Garnet, because my future spouse is palatable."

Her words were spoken without guile. They were even offered with a hint of sympathy, which is what brought on my tears.

That night I lay in my bed thinking about what life with Anthony Gilbert might be. Perhaps as his wife I could put him on a diet, make sure he washed and wore clean clothes. His teeth were a lost cause, but maybe he was a man with a sense of humour so that I would overlook his teeth. I suppose I might develop an affection for him.

And then the vision of sharing a bed with him was too much. What girl does not dream of a handsome man to woo and win her? The tears of self-pity came again to encompass my whole cold life that not even a well-to-do, fat, possibly affectionate man with bad teeth would be able to warm. I forgot to say old man, because he too had to be fifty.

I did not travel that night.

*

Chapter 5

I woke in the morning with the weight of the world upon me. I had not thought about travelling as I went to sleep, but the fact that I hadn't left my bed added another dose of anxiety to my day. What if I wasn't able to travel before my marriage? I would lose all hope of a new life because, once married, the room would be forever out of my reach.

Was there any point in protesting further to this arrangement? It was that or the streets and even well-brought-up girls knew what the streets meant...

There was no one upon whose mercy I could throw myself. My uncle was my legal guardian, and I was not yet of age. Was I brave enough to choose the streets and hope to find work before being forced to sell myself? For all its starkness, I have lived a sheltered life, which is the equivalent of an ignorant one. The only two things I feel I do well is sew and coif hair. This has been confirmed by comments I have overheard from the family, although never to me directly. I am sure, however, that it would not be enough to secure a job without references, of which I have none.

There is, of course, the possibility that Anthony Gilbert will not live long. He suffers from gout, I am sure, and he is not young. If he continues to indulge in all those rich foods that contribute to his condition, his life may well be shortened and I will be his widow. Even that thought does not console me. If only I had someone in whom to confide and who could advise me.

*

The formalities for the publishing of the Banns have been completed. I saw no other way out. Mr. Gilbert was not obnoxious by any means. He made a determined effort to be agreeable to me and kindly offered me a small but pretty gold brooch with garnets and tiny pearls to seal our pact. But even so, I cannot bear the thought of becoming his wife. Because I have gone along with the necessary ecclesiastical requirements does not mean that I will go through with the marriage. I have three Sundays in which to come up with another solution. Next week is Leila's wedding, and then she will be gone. I have no trousseau, which leaves me in the obligation of my future husband, and I hate the thought that I shall be indebted to him in any way.

It may be that Mr. Gilbert has sensed my reluctance as being something other than timid. Or it may be that he is very occupied with his affairs. Whatever the reason, he has not insisted on spending time with me. He came one afternoon for tea and we were left alone in the salon for fifteen minutes. I could see that he was making an effort to be pleasant with me, but