Debbie Ramsey - Romance Novelist

Eden Moon

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Eden Moon Excerpt
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An excerpt from Eden Moon.

Marty sorted through the mail and found a letter that was postmarked out of Peru. It looked as if it had been through a war; it was crumpled and torn, but the letter was still intact. He opened what was left of the envelope and read the letter. It was a standard form letter advising him that the Mannings had died in a small plane crash on their way to a remote village. Without realizing it, he sat down and stared at the letter, not knowing what to do. He ran his hand through his hair with the sudden realization that everyone in his life that he had loved had died. He started to panic and thought maybe the best thing to do would be to cut all ties with Molly, so that nothing dreadful would happen to her.

Marty went downstairs and took two little boxes off their shelf in the closet. He looked at them for a long time before he opened them. Inside one, on the very top of everything, was a letter from Rita. He opened it, noticed that it was written in her hand, and read it slowly.

My Dearest Marty,

You have been the light of our lives these past many years. As you know, we never had children of our own, and you have filled that void for us. You cannot know the joy you bring, how much we love you, and how proud we are of you. We have thanked God every day for sending you to us. I do not know when we will see you again, if ever. Devin and I want you to know that you are truly a gift from heaven, and there is a reason for you and your music.

Be at peace and know that you will always be loved.

Rita

Marty could not contain his grief any longer, and he wept, the memories of his time with them flooding back like some unseen current in the oceans of time. He laid his head on his arms and cried until, exhausted, he finally fell asleep.

The next morning, Marty got up and took a cold shower. He went to see his Pie; he needed her strength. When she saw him, she knew by looking at him that he was fighting some inner demon, and she was afraid.

“Marty, what’s wrong? Has something happened?” He just grabbed her, there in the driveway, and held her for a long time. It was all he could do to keep his emotions at bay. He was battling so many of them he knew he must surely be going insane.

“Marty, please talk to me. What’s wrong?” He shuddered and clung to her with all his might, and she realized that he was sobbing. She was awash with fear, a cold knife penetrating her heart, wondering what could have possibly happened, her mind racing, searching for answers.

He reached in his pocket, found the letter from Peru, and without a word, handed it to her. He moved away and stood with his back to her, head hanging, hands in his pockets, as she read the letter. She looked at him when she got to the end and said, “Oh my God, Marty, I am so sorry. I don’t know what to say …” Her voice got husky and trailed off to nothing. He looked at her; his green eyes were glazed over and had dark circles under them. All he could do was shake his head. He looked up to the heavens, took a deep breath, and slowly let it out again.

“Come inside, Marty,” she said, leading him to the den and his favorite chair. He sat staring into space. Molly went to the kitchen to get some coffee. She quickly told her mother what happened and handed her the letter to read. Kate went to Marty while Molly prepared the coffee.

“Marty, I want you to know how sorry I am. They were wonderful people, and they were obviously very devoted to you,” she said kindly. He looked at her with sad eyes, and all he could do was shake his head.

Molly came in with a cup of coffee fixed just the way he liked it, sweet and strong. He took it and said, “Thanks, love.” His voice had a hollow, empty tone, which only intensified the fear Molly was feeling. She searched his eyes, but he was masking his deepest feelings; the thing she looked for was not there. But there was something there; intuitively, she could feel it. Marty set his coffee on the end table, untouched. He looked from Kate to Molly, and then back again. He wanted to tell them that he was the reason these people had died, and that was the reason he had never told Molly that he loved her. He was afraid that if he said it out loud, she would be taken from him, too. Choking on his tears, he fought them back. Molly was dying inside. She felt so helpless. She was so full of love for him, yet there was nothing she could do. He wasn’t helping by not talking to her.

“Marty… please,” she pleaded, hands held out, palms up.
“I can’t,” was all he said as he got up to leave.

He stopped at the door, looked at Molly, gave her a sad smile, and walked out.

The band left for Canada. Marty didn’t contact Molly, and she left him alone. She hoped that he was just trying to deal with his grief.

The band had just finished singing Molly’s favorite song when Marty was struck by a sharp pain in his side. It felt like his entire rib cage was being compressed, and he couldn’t catch his breath. The pain was so severe that he buckled over and had to leave the stage. Ken met him backstage and made him sit down. The rest of the band followed, and they announced that they would be taking a break, but would be back.

Dirk went to him. “Dude, what the hell is going on? Are you all right?”

Marty just looked at him, the pain in his side starting to ease. He said, “Mate, there’s something terribly wrong! I can feel it. I’ve felt it all day. I couldn’t tell you what it is, but it’s eating away at my very soul.”

Ken’s phone rang. As he took the call, he looked over toward Dirk, and Marty, who was now standing and getting ready to go back to work. Ken had a grave look on his face, and Marty instinctively pointed to Dirk. Ken shook his head and gave one nod to Marty.

Marty took the phone from Ken, not knowing what to expect, but he knew it wasn’t good from the look on Ken’s face and from the feeling of doom he had carried around with him all day. He said, “Marty here.”

“Marty, this is George Monroe.” When Marty heard George’s voice, his blood ran cold. “Yeah, George, it’s Molly isn’t it? Is she okay?” he asked, panic in his voice.

“There’s been an accident, Marty. They’re flying Molly to a trauma center right now. We have no idea how bad it is; we’re on the way to the hospital,” George said, his voice breaking as he spoke.

Marty felt as if he were flying every which way at once but was rooted in one spot all at the same time. His knees went weak, and he had to prop himself against a wall. “How bad is it, George, do you know?” Marty asked, not making eye contact with anyone.

“Do you believe in God, Marty, because if you do, I think you had better start praying,” was all George said.

“Oh God,” Marty said softly, and he closed his eyes against the rush of images playing in his mind.

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