Elizabeth Lennox

Intimate Whispers – Introduction

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Colt’s Story….

Colt rolled over and swore, as he did every morning, that he was going to strangle that rooster. He had dreams about gagging that bird with duct tape, then crawling back into bed and sleeping until the sun was hitting his face. He smiled at the dream, pulling the blanket up higher over his shoulder. But then the rooster crowed once more and Colt sat up in bed, furious with the idiot bird.

Every morning, no matter what time of the year, that stupid rooster woke him up. There was no such thing as an alarm clock here on Aunt Wilma’s ranch, just the soon to be dead rooster.

“Don’t fight it,” Jeff said as he too rolled out of his rough, wooden bed.

“Mornin’ boys,” Aunt Wilma said as she handed both of them a warm cup of milk. “Better get your chores done. Sun’s not a waitin’ for no one.” And she ambled out of the room, on her way to wake up the rest of the kids.

Colt groaned as he sipped his warm milk, pulling on a clean pair of jeans. “I wish I knew how she got up before us every morning,” he grumbled.

Jeff sipped his own milk, pulling on his shirt with his eyes closed. “Who do you think wakes up the rooster?”

Colt would have laughed, but he didn’t have the energy. He and Jeff had been out riding the horses late last night. They couldn’t show any weakness with Aunt Wilma, who wasn’t really their aunt. They just called her Aunt Wilma because she had formed a family with all of these crazy foster kids, and they showed her respect by addressing her with the title of aunt.

Colt thought back to the previous night and smiled. They’d had a grand old time, riding through the woods on Tomahawk and Star – two of the twenty horses Aunt Wilma raised here on her ranch. They weren’t afraid of hurting the horses by stumbling in the dark, because they knew these lands like the back of their hands. Each boy had been riding the area with their horse for a while now. They knew how to control them, knew what areas to avoid and how to get home undetected.

“Looks like Tomahawk and Star need a bit of a breather after last night’s ride,” Aunt Wilma called out, making Colt and Jeff freeze, their eyes colliding as they realized they’d been caught.

“Yes ma’am,” Jeff squeaked out.

With that, they raced out of their room and down the hallway. They ignored the knowing smirks of Jessy and Annabelle, two of the girls who also lived with Aunt Wilma. There were ten in all, four girls and six boys, all of whom lived in both fear and love of Aunt Wilma. She’d brought each one of them here to her ranch in Colorado, taught them the rules of the ranch, and taught them how to care for the animals. Not necessarily in that order. Sometimes, it was easier for the more abused kids to trust animals before they trusted humans again. Aunt Wilma was kind, but strict, and she didn’t allow for any foolishness when it came to her kids or her animals.

But every once in a while – like last night – they stepped over the line, just to see if Aunt Wilma would know and take steps to stop them. It hadn’t been a conscious decision to test her last night, but as Colt raced ahead of Jeff out the door to the barn, they knew exactly what they’d done. And both had failed. Miserably.

Now they needed to make it up to Aunt Wilma. Both boys mucked out stalls, fed the horses, the cats (all ten of them), and raced ahead of the dogs who barked excitedly at the new, early morning game. They arrived at the kitchen, where everyone else was already seated at the table.

Jeff and Colt pretended like they weren’t out of breath, but it was hard to do when they’d just run from the barn to the house.

“Don’t you dare sit down at that table until you’ve washed your hands, you two!” she snapped to both Jeff and Colt. Both boys jumped up and scampered into the bathroom off to the side of the living room. They scrubbed their hands, then returned to the table and took their seats again.

By the time they’d gotten back, most of the food had been taken by the other eight kids, all of whom were gloating that they’d snatched up the hot biscuits Aunt Wilma had just pulled out of the oven.

Aunt Wilma stood over the table, watching her brood of kids with an eagle eye. “Everyone have their homework packed up?”

When all ten heads nodded, she looked around. “Annabelle, you have your book report done?”

Annabelle dutifully nodded. “Jessy proofed it last night.”

Aunt Wilma nodded with approval. “Good job, Jessy. Did you get your math done? I know you’re struggling with algebra this year, but you know you can do it.”

Jessy sighed. “I got it done, but I don’t know if I did it right.”

Aunt Wilma’s eyes slashed to Colt’s. “You check her work on the bus, okay?”

Colt nodded, swallowing the biscuit without honey since the other kids had used it up. “Yes ma’am.”

“And if she gets a perfect score on her test today, you can ride Tomahawk this afternoon. If not, then you’re done for the week.”

Colt almost choked on his dry biscuit. If there was one thing he loved more than anything, it was riding horses. He’d never known such freedom as when he was flying across the prairie on Tomahawk’s back. He didn’t try to be the best rider, just the fastest. Being banned from riding his favorite horse for three more days would be torture.

His eyes moved over to Jessy’s and narrowed. “Yes, ma’am,” he said, thinking of all the tricks he could teach Jessy on how to do her algebra. There was absolutely no cheating allowed under Aunt Wilma’s roof, but he could show her some short cuts that he hadn’t bothered to explain earlier in the week.

Jessy smirked, knowing that Colt was now her math minion.

Fortunately for Colt, Aunt Wilma caught the smirk. “And Jessy, if you don’t get a perfect score like I know you can do, then there will be no more baking for you.” Jessy’s love of baking was a benefit to all of them; Aunt Wilma’s threat would be a punishment worse than death for Jessy. The girl loved baking anything at all, and the cookies she whipped up each afternoon made the other’s mouths drool.

So it was a very tense silence as the ten kids trudged up the stairs to gather their things for school.

On the bus, Colt sat next to Jessy and went over the details while six others loomed over either the seat in front or behind, interrupting the school-bus lesson. The youngest two were on a different school bus, still in middle school so they would be waiting in agony all afternoon to hear whether Jessy did well enough on her algebra test to bake.

When they stepped off the school bus, Colt took Jessy to the side. “You know how to do this,” he assured her. “Cookies aside, you’ll be fine.” Colt was trying to encourage her, but she still looked worried.

“Just concentrate on the steps and check your work,” he said firmly, looking at her with a serious expression. He looked up when Jessy’s eyes slashed to the right. “Hey!” he snapped, bringing his foster sister’s attention back to him. “Don’t sit behind Matt!” he ordered. “He’ll distract you.” Colt moved closer. “And he’s not worth it anyway. Jeff and I saw him at the Wheeler’s barn last night.”

Jessy’s eyes shifted right back to Colt’s, pain snapping into the blue depths. Matt was her latest crush and she’d been trying to get his attention for weeks, to no avail.

Colt wished he could do something to help Jessy, but her math was more important than this month’s boy idol. “Just concentrate, okay? There’s a lot riding on this test.”

Jessy cast her gaze downward, but when she looked up again, she looked determined. “Okay. I won’t let everyone down.”

Colt almost laughed, but it wasn’t really a humorous issue. Aunt Wilma kept plenty of baking supplies on hand for Jessy to experiment with and everyone in the house loved her cookies, cakes and pies. It was a nightly treat that they all savored.

And darn it, Colt wanted to ride tonight!

Eight hours later, eight of them traipsed back onto the bus, all of them waiting until Jessy was seated before they asked her about her algebra test. She waited until the bus was moving towards the ranch before she took it out and showed them the good news. “Ninety-five percent!” she beamed. “Think Aunt Wilma will let that pass?”

Colt ruffled Jessy’s hair and nodded, relieved that he and Tomahawk could still enjoy their daily ride. Of course, there were tons of chores to do first. And he had to finish his homework as well, and check everyone’s math. Colt was in charge of reviewing math homework, Jeff and Jessy caught the book report duty, and so on and so on. Aunt Wilma made sure that everyone was checking one thing of another person’s since there was no way she could keep up with the homework and goings on of ten children. She had a rigid chores schedule too. And everyone had to help cook dinner.

When Colt laid down that night, staring up at the wooden ceiling, he closed his eyes and said a silent prayer of thanksgiving. If he couldn’t have his own parents, then he was certainly glad that God had put him in Aunt Wilma’s callused but caring hands.

And with that, he fell asleep, dreaming about riding across the prairie on Tomahawk’s back this coming weekend.

Chloe’s Story…

“Hi mom!” Chloe called out as she ran into the house after school.

Her mother was sitting at the kitchen table sewing a new apron. “Hi dear,” she said and stopped to give her daughter a hug. “How was school?” she asked.

Chloe grabbed a carrot stick that her mother had left out on the counter, chomping on the boring vegetable mindlessly. “It was okay,” she replied, wondering why her mother needed yet another apron. Her mother hated to cook. Every time she tried, the end result was either dried out or tasteless.

Chloe walked to the fridge and pulled out the chick peas, then wandered to the pantry, picking up one spice after another, smelling them and either putting them back on the shelf or out on the counter. “Mind if I make some hummus?” she asked her mother.

Doris Emerillio looked at her daughter curiously. “What in the world is hummus?” she asked, snipping off the last thread on her apron.

Doris might not be the best cook in the world, but she was an outstanding seamstress.

“It’s a middle-eastern dip made with chick peas,” Chloe explained. “I had some today at lunch and really liked it.”

Doris shrugged her shoulders. “Go for it. Dinner is in a few hours, so just make sure you finish your homework.”

Chloe used the mixing beaters and a fork to puree the chick peas because they didn’t have a food processor. She added a touch of canola oil instead of tahini oil. She’d looked up the recipe online during English when they’d been in the library. They were supposed to be doing research on old English writers, but Chloe had been fascinated by the hummus that she’d eaten during lunch in the cafeteria and had looked up the recipe.

She put a little of this, a little of that, added some spices, pepper, cumin, a bit more oil, more pepper…little by little, she added spices until she had created what she thought was an even better hummus than what was served in the cafeteria.

“Here, try this,” she said to her mother, offering her the carrots with the hummus she’d just created.

Doris took a tentative bite of the brownish, tan dip. When the subtle flavors hit, her eyes widened with surprise and delight. “Wow! This is incredible!” she said and took a bigger sample, enjoying the carrot so much more with the hummus.

Chloe beamed with pride and hurried to the fridge to get more vegetables. “I think this dip goes with more than just carrots,” she said, thinking out loud. She then cut up red peppers, celery, broccoli and zucchini, putting them on a plate. “Let’s try it.”

Doris watched in fascination as her daughter started eating vegetables for the first time in ages. Chloe wasn’t one to eat much of anything, had always been such a picky eater. But with this new recipe, she was going to town on nutritious foods. “Why don’t you nibble on the veggies while you do your homework?” she suggested.

Chloe smiled with delight and grabbed her books, pulling out her math and English homework. “Will you let me help you cook tonight if I finish in time?” she asked.

Doris laughed, delighted. “Absolutely!” she agreed.

Chloe finished her homework in record time, eager to see what other miracles were possible if she added spices to food. When her father came home from work that night, he stopped in his tracks as the smell of cooking hit him. He walked into the doorway of the kitchen skeptically, his eyes wary as he watched his daughter whipping up a sauce, then pouring it over the chicken that was gently sizzling on the stove. “Am I in the right house?” he groaned as the delicious smells hit him full on.

Chloe giggled and rushed around the counter to hug him. “Doesn’t it smell wonderful?” she asked. “Mom let me try out the spices, and I had so much fun!”

Doris caught her husband’s eyes and shrugged her shoulders, not sure where the transformation came from either. “Let’s run with it,” she said.

Meals in the Emmerillio household had been nourishing, if bland up to that point. But as Chloe discovered her love of cooking, she took over more of the responsibility of preparing the meals. Her mother, who hated cooking but loved being a stay at home mother, was more than happy to give her that role, providing her with whatever ingredients Chloe needed, as long as the meals remained healthy and well balanced.

And that was the beginning of Chloe’s love affair with cooking. It only increased as she learned more about balancing both science and art in the kitchen.

Read more about Intimate Whispers, book one in The Love and Danger Series.

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