Title: City of Sin
Chapter: Chapter 1
Author: Gracelin
Plot: Great plot, loved it.
Scene: The scene was awesome.
Characters: Great discriptions, and I understand the different personalitys of the friends.
Grammar: Sentence stucture needs some work, maybe buy a book to read. I bought me The Everything Guide to Grammar and Style, and it has helped majorally.
Overall: I loved this story, it was great. The sentence stucture will turn people off from reading the story. ing verbs need to be deleted, and the word "was" from every sentence you can. Descriptions where great, some paraghraphs may of been to long. Always remember that people read the first couple of pages to see which book they would want to buy. Now adays people like fast paced so like I said before smaller paraghraps will do this, and maybe smaller chapters. I also recommend The Everything Guide To Writing A Romance Novel, it has shown me a lot. Great Chapter though, makes me want to go read the other one.
Line-by-Line:
Oak Alley seemed almost haunted late at night. I think here it would sound better without the almost It creaked with every gust of wind, an eerie sound at such a late hour. here you repeat that its late, so you need to either omit it from this sentence or the last sentence. this would be my revisin: Late at night it creaked eeriely with every gust of wind. The breeze through the trees could be heard inside–branches brushing against the house, tapping at the window like a ghost. ok what POV are you using, it sounds like omniscient or Author's POV which sometimes is looked upon by Publishers as a POV slip if you use thired person POV with the Omniscient POV. this sentence is off to me, probally because of the POV, I would rather hear the main character talking about the sounds she hears The moon-light cast slow drifting shadows of the branches across the whitewashed bedroom walls. A low hissing and crackling came from the hearth as the fire slowly died down to embers. The smell of I think the is needed here wet earth drifted in through an open window, mingling with the clean sent of freshly washed bed sheets. Between the crisp linen a warming pan was releasing the last of its heat. All of this invaded Crystal de la Chaise’s senses as she waited for the old plantation to fall into a deep slumber.
It had been a long wait, the only thing she had to occupy her mind was the night ahead. Every second that passed filled her head with doubts and she couldn't remember the reason she agreed to this in the first place. Her best friend, June Allian, had planned this the better part of two weeks ago, when she had first heard from her cousin about the goings on in the ‘back of town.’ The back of town was a neighborhood on the lake side of the French Quarter known as Faubourg Treme. It housed the largest population of free colored people in New Orleans. Every Sunday free Negroes and slaves alike gathered in the Place de Negres, an open field just outside the city walls. There, from early afternoon to far into the night, they spent the day dancing, singing and socializing. Crystal had heard a great deal about the savage dances that were performed and the indecent amount of clothes that were worn. It had sounded so exciting a few weeks ago, sneaking out of the house, being free for a single night to do as she liked. June had been so adamant about the fun they would have, and she was an expert at pushing all rational thinking out of her best friend's head.
“It will be a grand adventure. Cousin Felix said they perform the dances of their African heritage. He said it was the most barbarous thing he’d ever seen. It will be such fun! We can go late at night, so that no one will know that we’re gone. Crystal, we must go, we simply must!”
“But June, surely you realize it would be dangerous. Only the two of us in the middle of all those Darkies, why, they could all turn on us and then what would we do?”
“Oh, don’t be ridiculous,” June snapped. “They wouldn’t do any such thing. And besides, there are not only Negroes there. Perfectly respectable people go there to watch all the time.”
“Not after dark!”
“Yes, after dark! Felix said he’s seen white people there at all hours of the day. Though they may not be the most honorable people . . . ” The last she murmured under her breath.
“Even so, why are you so determined to see half-naked Darkies dancing like heathens? What does the back of town have that so interests you?”
“Indians!” June had sounded thrilled at the prospect, bouncing on her bed as if a little girl at Christmas.
“Indians?” Crystal laughed. “June, there are no Indians in New Orleans, not anymore. Who told you such a tale?”
“Felix told me. He said they–”
“June, Felix is just playing with your mind–or he’s just daft–either way, there are no Indians.”
“You can’t be sure of that,” June protested as Crystal rolled her eyes. “Oh, come now, Crystal, wouldn’t you like to have one last adventure before you marry Charles? And he’ll never even know–no one will know–it’ll be our little secret escape from the confines of what’s proper and safe.” your dialogue is good, but you do the thing that they call head bopping. You need more tags about the actions the people are performing after the dialogue.
Crystal glared at June, knowing she had brought up Charles name to tempt her into going. June knew that she felt pushed into this engagement and wanted to get all she could out of life before the wedding. Anything that Charles would be against appealed to her. Fully aware of the scheme, she still couldn’t help but fall into June's trap.
She had been betrothed to Charles de Mandeville since April of last year. When he had asked for her hand after only a month of courting, her parents had been delighted. All Crystal had thought about was what people would say when they found out, and what her parents would say if she refused. Doubts had invaded her mind, but the expectancy of others convinced her to accept his proposal. Knowing that Charles could give her everything she wanted. At least that's what everyone else said. Charles was a good man, a respectable man, and a rich man. Any woman would be glad to be her. She could never quite put her finger on why she didn't agree, and because she could never really explain her unease about him, she was unable to say why she was reconsidering her decision.
It was the mention of Charles that made up her mind. She would go, if for no other reason than to defy her fiancé, even if he would never know.
Crystal slipped out of bed and dressed in the dark. She put on an old brown frock and an old grey cloak. June had suggested she wear something plain so that they wouldn’t draw attention. As she braided her long dark hair, she stared at her reflection in the mirror. She raised her brows. "What are you getting yourself into?" Thinking of June's wild tendencies and what might come of them. Her blue eyes looked back with doubt. Sighing, she rubbed the bridge of her nose, wondering for a moment if she did it long enough would the freckles there eventually disappear. Not likely, she decided as she got up from the vanity.
She left her room and crept down the hall, grateful for the thick oriental rug that muffled her footsteps. As she passed her parents' room, she could hear her father’s deep rumbling snores. The next room over she heard her two little brothers mumbling in their sleep. The other rooms were silent, her three sisters deeply asleep. She descended the grand staircase, crossed the entrance hall and opened the front door. She stepped out into the chilly air. Winter had been unusually long this year, still holding on even in April.
She inhaled the crisp air before wrapping her cloak more tightly around her, then hurried off the porch and down the alley of live-oak trees for which the house was named. The night was quiet and the sound of her footsteps against the wet ground was unnerving, echoing in the quiet. She could not help glancing behind her in fear that someone was following.
She reached the gate with relief and found that June wasn't there. Reflecting that June had never mentioned how they were going to get to the Place de Negres, Crystal wondered for a moment if she was expected to get there on her own and then dismissed the idea as foolish. All June had told her to do was get out of the house undetected, and she had. So where was June?
She looked back toward the house, which was barely visible through the huge oak trees; with fourteen on each side, the tunnel was nearly half a mile long. All she could see of the house were the eight giant pillars that ran along the front porch. No lights came from the windows. There was no movement at all.
It seemed eerie you already described the house as eerie so try using something else here or omiting it all together to her, for she was unaccustomed to Oak Alley looking so un-lively. There were no sounds of slaves singing in the fields. No children playing tag in the front yard. No carriages riding up the tunnel bringing visitors. No smoke billowing from the cotton gin that sat a few miles away on the westside of the plantation. No Negroes calling pleasantries to one another as they went about their work. Nothing but a few cats prowling about, looking for their next prey.
After waiting a few minutes, she was about to go back up to the house when she heard the familiar pound of hoofbeats, and around the bend a wagon appeared. It was dark, but she was able to make out June and a black man on the seat, the cart bumping along at a brisk pace.
Even before the wagon came to a stop, June was talking excitedly. “Crystal, I'm glad you’re here. I was afraid you might lose your nerve.”
“I nearly did," Crystal said, glancing at the Negro.
“Oh, this is Free. He’s a field slave. He’s going to go with us to the back of town, and don’t worry, he won’t tell anyone where we’ve been.”
She nodded; she had not known how they would get to the Place de Negres she had not expected this.
“Well, come along now, Crystal, hop in the back, and do try to avoid smelling like anything back there.”
Crystal crawled into the wagon and perched herself on the edge, hearing a fowl squelching sound as she moved. The wagon bed was loaded with hay and smelled strongly of horse manure.
“Hold on,” June said, seeming amused by Crystal’s uncomfortable position. She then turned to Free, explaining to him slowly, as if speaking to a child, which route he was to take to get to the Place de Negres.
Crystal glared at the back of June’s curly blonde head, knowing that she had done this purposefully to see if she would complain about being put in such an un-ladylike situation. This was confirmed by the smirk that June threw over her shoulder. It annoyed June greatly that Crystal insisted on being prim and proper at all times. June teased her unceasingly, often saying that she would have tea with the dreadful pirate Jean Laffite himself if only he asked politely.
This was balanced by Crystal's utter annoyance of her friend's endless search for danger, adventure, and anything remotely scandalous.
Tonight Crystal was not willing to give June the pleasure of seeing her whine. She pulled her skirts up around her ankles to keep them from being sullied, and held on tightly to the edge of the wagon as it slowly lurched down the road.
*******I don't understand why there is a break here because the scene would still move freely without it, I thought that you would be moving on to a much later part of the night or something, but instead you are still very close to where you broke off
Crystal's unease increased as they neared the Place de Negres. The rhythmical drum beats could be heard a quarter mile away. A large bonfire burned in the middle of the square and around it dozens of Negroes danced, stomping their feet and wailing to the night. They were ornamented with a number of tails from all sorts of smaller animals, as well as fringes, ribbons, little bells and shells and balls, jingling and flirting about the performers’ arms and legs. The women wore gauze, muslin, and percale dresses, so soaked with sweat that they were nearly transparent. The males covered themselves only with a sash of the same sorts wrapped around their waists.
On four corners around the bonfire there were groups of men beating at drums, strumming on banzas, and shaking tambourines. In the midst of all this a man sang a song in some African language, somehow managing to get his voice to rise above the incredible noise.
Surrounding the bonfire and the performers was a diverse assortment of races: Caucasians, Creoles, and Negroes moved their bodies in rhythm with the music, shouting and laughing in a drunken stupor.
Crystal watched in horror as the men and women danced sinfully close together, realizing why Charles didn't want her here in the thick of these lowly, uncultured people.
They rolled to a stop under a large cluster of oak trees. June's eyes sparkled as she jumped from the wagon. I do believe you need a paragraph break here“Do stop staring as if you are witnessing a murder and come down from there,” she shouted over the noise.
Crystal jumped off the wagon as well I don't think you need the as well here, and the jumped is repeated from the last paragraph so try something else. Try something like this: Crystal leaped of the wagon: then go into the falling part without the as well and fell to her knees.
“This is so barbaric.” She stood and dusted herself off. “I cannot believe I let you convince me to come here.”
“Hurry. We’re missing all the fun,” June said, ignoring Crystal’s words of protest as she raced off into the swarm of people. I just wanted to commit. Nothing wrong with this I just noticed that now you are using detail with dialogue. Sounds good.
“June! . . . June, come back here this instant!” Crystal shouted, but June’s bouncing blonde ringlets had disappeared into the throng.
Crystal groaned. How could June do this to her, leaving her here in the middle of all these heathens? She turned toward the wagon, to find Free riding it away. She called to him but over the noise he did not hear.
Well, I can't go home alone, she thought. She would just find June. She couldn’t have gone far. Working her way through the crowd was difficult. She had to shove people aside. The smell of sweat and moonshine invaded her nostrils. The thick press of dirty bodies against her own made her feel grimy and disgusted.
“Whoa there, little missy!”
She staggered when a man roughly gripped her forearm.
“Where you headed off to? The party’s right here with me.” He spun her around and pulled her close. Crystal was greeted by rotten teeth and whiskey breath.
“Unhand me, sir. I need to find my friend, and then we will be leaving.”I would love to hear something like: she turned her head and tried to push him away from her. After the dialogue.
He did not seem to hear her and attempted to pull her closer. “Come on, darlin', let’s dance.”
“Let go of me!” Crystal yelled, struggling with the man. two things here. First paragraph break. Second, try your best to not use ing verbs, they don't make your sentences as strong. This is the same as the word "was" Pulling one of her arms free, she jabbed her fingers into his eyes, forcing him to step back. He screamed in pain but the noise blended into the music. She quickly pushed her way farther into the crowd. Where was June? She had begun to think that she would never find her when she heard a familiar laugh. She turned around and breathed a sigh of relief.
“June, thank God, I thought I would never find you.” She grabbed June's hand. “We are going home right now.”
“No, we’re not,” June protested. something I read is that protested is not a good tag to use, "said" is the tag you should use most, how can you protest your words, or cry your words. instead use action that would describe a protest “This is too much fun to go home early. And I still haven’t seen an Indian.”
“June, have you taken leave of your senses? This is no place for ladies.”
“Come now, Crystal, is that not the reason we came here, to break out of the bounds of propriety?” June laughed at the look of uncertainty on Crystal’s face. “It will be fine. Now come and let me introduce you to a few new friends of mine.” again I'm pretty sure you need a paragraph break June turned and pulled Crystal with her to an area just beyond the throng you have already used this word once so again try not to repeat yourself to many times, and are dancers considered a crowd of dancers.
“This is Jac.” She pointed to a dark haired young Creole holding a bottle of whiskey. Paragraph break He grinned at Crystal with a devilish look in his eye, she felt distrust crawl up his dont you mean her spin.
“And this is Pierre.” June let go of Crystal’s hand and went to stand beside Pierre.
“Mignonne, vous allez a jolies fleur,” Jac complimented her drunkenly. “Come with me, we shall dance, oui?”
“Non, monsieur, non!” Crystal shouted, but her cries went unheeded.
Jac grabbed her wrist and she was dragged back into the mob of sweating bodies. He crushed her to his chest so she wasn’t able to move, and then spun her around until she was dizzy.
Crystal shrieked at him to stop comma but he didn’t seem to hear her, run on sentence I believeor refused to listen.
When the dance finally ended, she jerked herself free of him, wrenching her arm so forcefully from his grasp that he stumbled forwardsno s on forward, and I don't know if you need those commas. She darted back through the crowd and ran over to where June was standing, holding her own bottle of whiskeythis last part of the sentence is off.
“June, are you drinking? Your mother is going to kill you!” Crystal's eyes and mouth widened in shock.paragraph break Never had she seen this side of June before. It was beginning to scare her.
“What my mother doesn’t know, won’t hurt her,” replied June, shaking the bottle in front of Crystal’s face, and then tipping it back for another drink.
“I want to go home, June. Please, let’s go home.”
“You know, Crystal, if I had known you would be such a baby I wouldn’t have brought you,” June said, suddenly angry. “Now if you want to leave, be my guest, but I'm not going anywhere.” She turned away from Crystal. “Come along, Pierre, what fun is a party if you don’t dance?”
Crystal watched them disappear into the crowd of drunken dancers with contempt. A lump rose in her throat and tears welled in her eyes. Irritated at her tendency to cry when she was angry, she harshly wiped them away.
“Fine,” she yelled to no one. “I will go home.”
Heading over to the cluster of oak trees where a bunch of wagons were parked, she searched for the wagon they had come in. Hoping the slave that had brought them here would be around. All the wagons looked the same, and Free was nowhere in sight.
Giving up her search, she wandered the outskirts of the square, catching sight of June once in a while laughing and flirting with Pierre. She was upset at her friend, but also upset at herself because she was unable to let go and be care-free like that.
Leaning against a tree, she pulled her hood up over her head, hoping that no one would notice her, and watched the dancers. After a moment a huge man with bulking shoulders and an unkempt beard walked up to her. He grabbed hold of her arm and boldly whispered a profane suggestion in her ear.
“I protest, sir! Unhand me at once,” she said.
When she tried to pry her arm free of his grasp, he roughly pulled her away from the crowd, into the surrounding darkness. She screamed at the top of her lungs, wrestling against him, but she was no match for his bulk.
Sobbing hysterically, she clawed at his face, drawing blood. He threw her to the ground and knelt over her, locking her legs under his. He moved to unbuckle his belt.
She screamed again and at the same moment the crack of a gun shot split the air. The hulking man was flung backwards, and blood gushed from the bullet hole in his chest.
Crystal sat up, too shocked to be relieved as she stared at the man on the ground, blood quickly turning his shirt scarlet. A nauseating feeling rose in her throat and the ground started to move beneath her. She was sick on the grass. Once her stomach had been emptied, she unsteadily got to her feet. Closing her eyes against the tipping world, she reached out for something to balance herself against don't need the against. Shrieking in surprise when she felt a hand clasp her own.
“Did he hurt you?”
Her head snapped around and a cry of fear burst from her lips as she caught sight of the towering figure before her, completely masked in darkness, a gun gripped in his hand. Terror filled her and without a moment's hesitation she kneed him in the groin, causing him to double over in pain, cursing and groaning. She then darted back toward the light of the bonfire.
Back in the square, tears spilled from her eyes and she kept her hood low. She wanted desperately to go home, but June was nowhere in sight and she was too afraid to attempt to find her. She looked for a place she could go to get away from the crowd.
Finding a low branched oak tree, she hiked up her skirts and awkwardly climbed up, her body trembling with fear and sobs, her soft hands blistering under the harsh wood. When she made it up high enough so that she could not be seen, she made herself comfortable. Through the branches she could see the flickering light of the bonfire and the Darkies that leaped around it.
Fighting for control of her emotions, she closed her eyes tightly, trying to stop crying. She would sit here and wait. June couldn’t stay here all night. Wrapping her cloak around herself, she set her mind on the fact that she would be there for a while.
It wasn’t long before she began to doze, her head slumping down and then jerking up when a particularly high African note pierced the night.
After what felt like hours, she noticed the noise had died down a little, and as she looked down below her she saw that the crowd had thinned out considerably. She climbed down from the tree and cautiously observed her surroundings. Everything had calmed down. The dancers were gone, and though music still played, it was a lower, more soothing hum than before.
Deeming it safe to venture out, she wandered around and around the square and did not find June. She began to worry that she had left without her. After all, she had never told June that she couldn’t find Free and so was forced to stay. Panicking, she ran over to where the wagons were parked, but they were all gone.
Walking back toward the tree she had vacated, she saw four horses hooked to an oak a few yards away. Could she take one? She would try to return it tomorrow. She then noticed four men heading toward the horses. They staggered by her drunk; getting up onto their horses seemed to be quite the challenge for them. When one man fell off, they laughed hysterically, including the man on the ground.
“Now tha’ was graceful, Jeremy.” One man slurred, doubled over on his horse laughing.
Disgusted by their stupidity, she hurried away.
Now what? she thought as she sat down against the trunk of the tree. What if she wasn’t able to get home, and her parents found out that she had snuck out of the house to go to the Place des Negres? Charles was going to be furious and Mother would kill her for jeopardizing the marriage that they’d been planning for almost a year. Oh, why did I ever decide to come here? This time, when Crystal felt tears brimming behind her eyes, she didn't try to hold them back. Pulling her knees against her chest, she put her head in her hands and cried.
*******
“Are you all right?”
She hadn’t heard his footsteps, hadn’t sensed his presence when he crouched down beside her, so when he spoke, Crystal was so startled that her whole body sprang, her hand flying up and hitting him in the face.
“Damn it,” he muttered, putting a hand to his mouth. “What did you do that for?”
“What –what do you want?” she asked, ignoring his question. Her voice shuddered and choked from crying but was filled with accusation. She was angry at herself for letting him sneak up on her and suspicious of his presence.
“I was just wondering if you were all right,” he said, sounding defensive.
Crystal glanced at his face, surprised by his offended tone. Was he concerned for her or was this a decoy to get her defenses down? Though, what defenses did she have? Left alone in the square there was little she could do to protect herself against any sort of threat. Any advances from the lean, agile man before her would be unstoppable.
She stared at him and his return gaze was penetrating, yet gentle. She burst out crying.
“Tell me what’s wrong, are you hurt?”
“Yes, well . . . no . . . but . . . I . . . I’m . . .” Crystal let her words trail off into the night, unable to decide whether or not she could trust him.
“What’s the matter?” he prodded.
“I . . . um, I came here with a friend of mine, and, well, we got into a . . . a fight. I was going to go home, but the slave who –well, he brought us here, and he was gone so I stayed, and now I can’t find June anywhere, and I haven’t any way to get . . . home, and I . . . I don’t know what to do.” Crystal took a deep breath, trying to stop crying.
He let out a slow whistle. “Look,” he said, biting his lip hesitantly. “If you want, I can take you home.”
She started, surprised by his offer and afraid of his motives, but the alternative was to stay here and wait for another –possibly more dangerous –stranger. “Would you?”
“I'm the one who offered.”
He stood up and extended his hand and the firelight swept the shadows from his face, sharpening his features. His green eyes sparkled brilliantly in the light of the dancing flames. Quiet confidence and weary caution shone in their emerald depths, along with an acute awareness of his surroundings, his every sense seemed intently alert ready for fast thinking and even faster action. He had a defined jaw and straight nose and hair so dark she’d have thought it black except for the glints of umber that tinted the short locks. Her gaze flickered to his hips, where two revolvers were tucked into the holster that was belted around his narrow waist. His appearance seemed to suggest a hard and long life, though he could hardly be older then twenty.
Timidly she grasped his hand and as their skin touched a warm spark shot up her arm and expanded throughout her body making her gasp. She looked up in time to see the same look of surprise on his face, but it was masked quickly and he pulled her to her feet.
Breathless, she turned her face away. “thank you,” She said quietly as he helped her up.
He nodded and then gestured for her to follow him. “You look familiar,” he said after a moment, looking back over his shoulder at her as they walked across the square.
“Do I?”
“Yeah.” He stopped and turned to look at her, appraising. His eyes narrowed and recognition briefly came to his face, but after a moment he shook himself. “I’m probably just thinking of someone else.”
They moved on.
She had to hurry her pace to keep up with the man’s long legged stride. They walked farther away from the square, and as the darkness enveloped them both she recognized his tall, lean figure.
“You’re the man in the woods! You’re the one that saved me from that ogre that was attacking me!”
He glanced back at her once more. “Yeah, I guess that was where I’d seen you.” He did not seem surprised at this information at all which led her to believe that he was not telling the truth. “Though by the way you were acting you’d think I was the one that attacked you.”
She blushed. “Yes, forgive me for that. I didn’t realize . . . I hope I didn’t hurt you.”
He laughed. “No, not at all, I barely felt it.”
Her face turned a deeper shade of red at his sarcastic tone.
“Did he hurt you?”
It took her a moment to figure out what he was talking about. “Oh –uh . . . No. I’m fine. Thank you . . . for saving me, I mean.”
“My pleasure.”
She smiled at his polite manner. “I only hope that man will recover from his wound. I wouldn’t want his family to suffer over this.”
“Recover? He’s –” he stopped, staring at her. “Um . . . yeah, I think he will.”
He led her to a big black stallion that was waiting, lazily swinging its tail as it grazed about twenty yards away from the square.
“We’re going to have to ride together, you realize?” he said, watching her.
“Oh, yes, of –of course. Behind you, right?” she said, pointing at the horse.
“Unless you want to sit in front . . .” He raised one brow, and she thought she saw a glint in his eyes, She blushed again, shaking her head.
Hooking his boot in the stirrup, he swung himself onto the horse and again held out his hand to her. She took it hesitantly, afraid of the odd feeling she’d felt when she’d taken his hand before. This time the spark was less shocking but even more overwhelming, their eyes met over their clasped hands for a brief instance before he swiftly pulled her up onto the saddle, looking unsettled.
“You’re going to have to hold on to me,” he said.
She thought she heard a hint of laughter in his voice.
“I know.” She put her arms around him, trying to think straight and unsure of the odd feelings she was having, grateful that he couldn’t see her face.
She jumped when he grabbed her clasped hands and pushed them down toward his stomach, away from his chest.
“Did I scare you?” he asked.
Yes, she thought. “No,” she said.
“Ready?”
“Uh huh.”
Following her directions, he rode away from the Place de Negres at a gallop, but when they reached the Garden District he eased the horse into a trot. When they finally reached the gates of Oak Alley and he handed her down off the horse, she felt relieved to not have to be so close to the handsome stranger. The feel of his chest beneath her hands seemed seared to her fingers, even with coat and shirt covering his bare skin from her own flesh. She’d felt too close for comfort riding with him, but she also felt an unsettling need to be next to him again. For a moment she wondered if he was feeling the same things, then, realizing she was staring, she quickly broke the silence that lengthened between them.
“Thank you very much, for everything; I don’t know what I would have done without you.” She smiled warmly at him, hoping he would see how grateful she was.
“No problem,” he said, nonchalant.
An awkward silence again filled the air.
“That’s an awful nice house you got there,” he said finally as he stared through the moss-covered trees toward the plantation that glowed blue in the bright moonlight.
Thinking he was pointing out her wealth, she stuttered, “Oh –yes –um . . . of course I will pay you for your troubles. Just let me retrieve my pouch and-.”
“Pay me? I didn’t help you for the money. I didn’t even know you were rich.”
“I’m not rich. It’s my father’s money.”
“Well, whose ever money it is, I don’t want it.”
“But I could –”
“I don’t want your money. I don’t need your money."
Crystal flinched. “Very well then. Thank you, sir, for all your help. I wish you a good life.” She glanced about their surrounding, trying to find something to say to keep him there a little longer, but nothing came to mind.
“Yeah, well, that’s just what I need right now, a good life,” he said.
“Good night,” she whispered. Slowly she pulled open the gate and turned back to him. Waiting for something that she couldn't explain.
He nodded, turned, and rode away quickly. She stared at his back until he was out of sight, then she stepped inside the gate and closed it firmly behind her. The loud clangor of the latch echoed in the quiet night. She stood there for a long time, hoping he would come back, and at the same time wondering way she hoped such a thing. Why did she feel so connected with him?
I’m probably just tired, she thought as she turned and headed for the house. It’s been a long night and I’m not feeling like myself. Yes, that’s it, I’m just not feeling well.
Sure that she’d found the answer, Crystal let her thoughts of the emerald eyed man slip from her mind. This night was over with and she wouldn’t think of him again.
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