If I Could Steal Your Heart

By Merton G. Yahn

Merton G. Yahn explores the world of short stories by introducing his readers to various story lines and taking them on a rollercoaster ride of emotions without insulting the intelligence with graphic vulgarity or explicit sex. No two stories are alike and the individual endings may be more of a surprise than one might expect. All of his short stories were written in the here and now with completely believable characters that may cause his readers, both young and old, to reflect on memories of their own past.

Included are the dreams of some, the judgments of others, the disoriented life after the death of loved ones, and so much more.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Dec 5, 2008
• ISBN: 9780595622283

Merton G. Yahn

Merton G. Yahn was born in Chicago, Illinois and is the youngest of five children. However, he has lived his adult life in California. He married his best friend, has four grown children, and almost eleven grandchildren. His hobbies include riding his motorcycle with his friends and writing short stories.

Book preview

Contents

Preface.

If I Could Steal

Your Heart

Dora’s Letter

Henry’s New Car

Joshua

The Golden Hour

Karin’s Sister

We’ll See You Later

Not Now, Jean!

Stolen Heart

I dedicate this book to my grandchildren.

They are, in the order they arrived in this world:

Isaac, Jesse, Justin, Alyssa, Brandon, Asia, Kayleah,

Melania, Madison, Kamiko, Ryder, and counting…

Preface.

The most difficult part about writing these short stories is putting down on paper all those ideas that have been floating around in my head for the last couple of decades with some sort of clarity for you to read. I have had a lot of pleasure writing these short stories for you and I truly hope that you will enjoy reading them with the same pleasure.

All of these fictional stories are of my own design with the exception of Karin’s Sister. In this case, I had the wonderful assistance of my grandniece, Ashley Nicole Watson. Between the two of us, we managed to put together a story with an interesting ending. She loves to read books, but had never put down on paper her own thoughts. So, with some prodding from me, she and I came up with the storyline as presented in this book.

Some the ideas for the stories came from my own past. It may have been the way I was treated as an adult or the way I saw things as a child. I try not to reflect only on the negative aspects in life. We get enough of that in the here and now.

Friends are just as important as family. In some cases, friends are more important than family. I have had many acquaintances, but not all I would have considered friends. I believe that it was my friends that helped me grow-up more than my own family could have taught me. When I was about thirteen or fourteen years old, I was living in Flagler County, Florida, with my mother and father. I attended Flagler Palm Coast High School and it was there that I met two of my first true friends. They were Donna Broadstreet and Brenda Dodgen. There was no hanky-panky going on between us. Just a friendship that I look back on with such fondness. These were two friends that I could talk to about anything and they would never judge me. Instead, they would talk with me, like sisters, and would give their opinion in a way that did not make me feel bad when I was way off base on something. They were not only my two best friends from Florida, but, in my opinion, they were also the two prettiest girls in that school. When my parents decided to move, I lost contact with them and it hurt me deeply. I haven’t seen them in at least thirty-three years, but I am certain that they are doing well and doing just fine. I will forever have a special place in my heart for the both of them. I miss you guys.

I joined the United States Army Reserve when I was seventeen years old. In time, I was stationed at Hamilton Air Force Base in Novato, California, for my weekend drills. It was there that I had met a Master Sergeant by the name of William Bill Wasik (now retired as a Command Sergeant Major). He was like a father figure to me in that he tried to get me going in a better direction than the one I was headed down. He cared about all of his soldiers under his command. But it was his leadership, his friendship, and his trust that helped me grow-up.

There was a fellow in Clearlake, California, by the name of Anthony Lopez. His friends all called him Tony. He spent some time with me when I was in my mid-to-late twenties. He was very influential to the community in the job that he had. He also put his trust in me… a trust that I had never been given before. He was like a brother to me when I needed direction. I needed that.

On June 14th, 2000, I married my very best friend in the world. Her name is Sandy. It is interesting in that I was thirty-nine years old when we were married. I was pretty sure that I would be alone since I was a divorced man with four grown children from a previous marriage and a previous relationship. She has taught me about trust, love, responsibility, loneliness, patience, and forgiveness. She has remained at my side even when some folks thought that I was hopeless and/or worthless. Sandy, I Love You.

There’s one more friend that I really need to mention: Larry Fistolera. He has been there for Sandy and me since 1999. When we were in dire need of help, Larry was there to guide us along. If we needed to make some extra money to pay our bills, he would hire us to do whatever was needed to get us back on track. He was always there to give us a hand up. He never had to give us a hand out.

Please don’t think that my family was all that bad. Actually, I had a really good family. Mom and Dad have passed on. My eldest brother, Marty, passed away a couple of years ago as well. That leaves Don, Cathy (she hates it when I spell her name with a C instead of a K, but she’ll get over it), and Nancy. I’m the youngest by eight years from Nancy. I guess that is why that by the time I was ten years old, I was like an only child: It’s why I relied so much on my friends for attention and love.

I have four grown children, from two previous relationships, who have helped me learn from my mistakes and grow-up with them. Each one has a special place in my heart and they will forever be the best kids a man could ever be blessed with. The only one that does not have any children or a girlfriend is my eldest son. He tells me he is still looking for someone he can grow-up with, too. I love them all.

I cannot forget to mention my very tolerating nieces:

Sheila; who has decorated her entire kitchen in Coca-Cola memorabilia and did a really good job at it. I think she is still looking for more stuff. You got any?

Michelle; who would listen to me for hours on end and talk with me about anything when I needed someone to talk to most.

Connie; who was at my wedding and has always given me such wonderful hugs. She seems to be in a perpetual state of happiness. Maybe it’s because she’s having her first baby in a few months.

Katie; she always amazes me by brushing herself off after a nasty spill in life.

There are so many wonderful memories and stories that we all have within us to call upon if we so choose. You only need to close your eyes and dream of a different time and a different place. Since you were there, you are the best to tell the story… even if it didn’t really happen exactly that way.

Enjoy.

Merton G. Yahn

Summer 2008

Please email your comments to me at:

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I will try to answer as many messages as I can.

If I Could Steal

Your Heart

Sleepy. So sleepy this morning. I have always felt that waking up in the morning was one of the cruelest factors of my existence in this life. I am almost always so warm and so cozy in my comfortable bed. Why would anyone want to ruin such a wonderful feeling? It is totally beyond me.

I am lying on my right side, all snuggled in bed, with the covers pulled up to and under my chin when I open my left eye to see the world around me. There you are sleeping so soundly. I can’t believe you are lying here next to me. Never could I have imagined that such a beautiful woman could have ever wanted me in her world. And yet, here you are.

Facing me, I can see your dark hair is partially covering your face. Your eyes, though they are closed, are moving with the dream that you are experiencing from within the realms of your slumber. I wish I were in there with you, watching that sunset or dancing on the beach or maybe making love somewhere in the forest with the springtime breezes to cool us in our passion. I truly wonder what it is that you are dreaming about.

I slip out of bed quietly as to not disturb you. Your dream is still playing in your mind’s eye and I am hoping that it will not be disturbed by my leaving the bed. I slip on a robe as the temperature in the room seems a little chilly and I work my way to the master bathroom. Your clothes are on the chair in the corner nearest the headboard. I take it you are dressed as I was in that bed, I whisper to you, actually hoping that I don’t wake you.

Within a few moments I am in the shower. The warm water feels so good trickling down my face and body. It would have felt better if you had been in here with me, but let’s try to remain focused on getting clean. We have a long day ahead of us and I really want it to go perfectly. We need this time to grow. We need this time to nurture what we have.

Showered, shaved and clean as a whistle, I slip back into the bedroom to quietly put on my socks, jeans, shoes, and heavy shirt. I look back to see if my Angel is still sleeping. You are still in the same position as you were the last time I saw you. However, the eye movements have all but stopped. You are nearly awake.

Carefully, I lay back on the bed with my face close to yours. You are so pretty.

Your lips are but a breath away from mine as I take in your essence. Gently, my lips touch your exceedingly luxurious lips and I kiss you softly. You begin to stir a little. I kiss you again to wake you. As I pull back, just a little, you open your eyes. Good morning, my sleepy girl, I say to you and smile my ‘fifty-dollar-smile’. Have I ever told you how beautiful you look first thing in the morning?

You smile back at me and bring your right arm over my body, drawing me closer to you. Without a word, you kiss me in a way that stirs my inner soul. With lips that only a woman like you could possess, I am drawn into your spell.

"Good morning to you, my charming delight. How long have you been awake?" you ask with a sleepy voice.

Not all that long really. I didn’t want to disturb your slumber. You were dreaming, you know.

And how would you know these things? Are you now a Reader-of-Minds or what? you ask with a smile and a sparkle in your eye.

Your eyes gave you away. Those beautiful green eyes. They always give you away.

Lance, you ask quite sexily, …what are my eyes saying right now?

That you need to be fed, I say with a sheepish grin. I’ll make you some breakfast. This will give you some time to hop up out of bed and prepare for our day.

Lance… I’m glad I stayed here with you last night.

I kiss you again. I’ll make some breakfast for us. I stand up and go into the kitchen to make a breakfast of eggs, bacon, and toast. As I am busying myself with the preparations, I think how nice it is to have you here with me. But something is wrong. I just can’t put my finger on what it was, but it keeps nagging at me a little.

After about twenty minutes or so, you come out in my robe and a pair of my slippers. Your hair is still damp from the shower. Lance, will you help me with my hair? I just need you to brush it out for me is all.

Sure. I would love to. But I really think you should eat some breakfast first before it gets any colder, I say. What would you like to drink?

Coffee would be just fine.

Let’s see… Folgers, two sugars, and some milk. Am I correct? I ask standing at the counter with my back to you.

Did you read that in my eyes?

No. I remember you telling me this once before. I try to remember as much as possibly can about you. I am your biggest fan you know.

I couldn’t ask for a better fan, that’s for sure. What do you have planned for the day’s events? you ask as you eat your breakfast. I am noticing for the first time just how sexy my robe looks on you.

Actually, I begin as I sit down next to you at the table to eat my meal. I was thinking about a motorcycle ride up to Natural Bridges State Park. It’s a beach just North of Santa Cruz with a lot of places to walk and explore. I really think you might enjoy the ride and the walking will feel good after the long ride.

Lance, I think that it might be too cold for a motorcycle ride. How in the world will I keep warm? It’s not like being in a car with the heater on, you know!

Well, I was thinking that it would be nice if you to snuggled up to me on the journey up there. I would enjoy having your arms wrapped around me and I am quite sure that I will keep you warm with my body heat.

You make it sound as if we will be sharing the same coat, you say reservedly.

Take my word for it, Guin. We will be nice and warm with all the equipment we will be wearing. And, I will still feel your figure behind me, I say with a definite twinkle in my eye. It is the best part of a bike-ride—being so close together.

Yeah, right. I have a feeling that I am going to freeze. That’s what I think, you say as you are finishing your coffee. Let me get dressed and I’ll be ready in about twenty minutes.

And I’ll clean up the dishes and get the bike out and ready.

You give me a small kiss on the cheek. Thank you, Lance. That was the best breakfast I’ve had all day.

You are welcome, Miss Guinevere. I can never get enough of seeing you up close. Your kisses always make me feel so warm and… something. What is that ‘something’? All I know is I don’t want this to end. But, what is that ‘feeling’?

I walk outside and bring ol’ Betsy out from the garage. She is one of my worldly pride and joys in this life. A candy-apple red Honda GoldWing with all the creature comforts one could imagine like AM/FM/CD stereo, cell phone, intercom, and bike-to-bike communications for when we are touring with the other guys and gals on their bikes. There is plenty of wind protection so keeping warm on those rather cool rides up the coast isn’t such a bother. Actually, it’s quite comfy. I am sure my girl will be warm, despite all her fears. I will enjoy just having her snuggled up behind me!

After about thirty minutes, you come outside wearing your black jacket, black jeans and carrying your helmet. Those jeans have never looked so good to me (like when I see them in the dresser drawer or when we are doing laundry). But, Lord help me, they look great on you now!

So, you ask standing with your arms out a little like you’re one of those fancy models at a fashion show. How do I look?

I don’t think it’s a good idea to distract the driver before a long journey. But no matter what you wear… to me, you are always going to look great. I know that you tend to worry about your looks. You have always taken the extra time to make yourself look especially nice when we are in public or at home alone. You are very conscious of your appearance and I try to do the same. The problem is, I could never look as good as you. (sigh).

That’s not what I asked. Do I look alright with all of this stuff on?

As opposed to not having it on? I ask, waiting to get smacked.

You can be so frustrating sometimes. Do you know that?

Yes. And you love it! So, let’s get this show on the road, Princess. Your chariot awaits. I hold my arm out to help you aboard.

By the way, thanks a lot for brushing my hair.

You had me. I was so caught up thinking about cleaning up after the meal and getting the bike ready, I had forgotten about brushing your hair. I’m sorry, Sweetheart. I’ll make it up to you later. I promise.

Promises, promises, you say with a giggle. I’ll hold you to that. You start to turn away, pause, then turn back to me. Lance?

Guin.

You called me ‘Sweetheart’.

Yes, I did.

You gaze at me… in my eyes, like you were looking into my soul. Softly you say, I like that.

I do, too. That’s why I said it. I look back at you with that feeling again. Are you ready?

I will be as soon as I get this helmet on. Will I be able to talk to you while we are riding down the highway? This is a full-faced helmet and the face shield will block my voice.

Yes. Just talk normally and the microphone in your helmet will transmit your voice to the speakers in my helmet and vice-versa, I explain.

Once you are snapped together and zipped up, I mount the bike, start the engine, and we are off and riding on our journey.

This motorcycle is very responsive for such a large bike. I can feel you tighten up your grip around my waist as I accelerate quickly onto the highway. I like that.

Lance, can you hear me? you nearly yell over the intercom.

Yes, Dear. I can hear you. You don’t have to yell. I’m right here. Are you alright?

Sorry. I didn’t mean to yell. I’m fine, though I must admit that I am a little scared. I haven’t done this in a while and I am worried that someone will crash into us as we are riding, you say, still holding me tightly. I don’t want us to get hurt, Lance. I want us to have a long, full life!

"Okay. I’ll be extra careful. But if we get into a wreck with a big truck, I’ll throw my body between you and the truck so you won’t