Maybe it's because I've had a kid or two that I find the whole idea of discovering you're in love in the middle of birthin' a baby more than a tad on the hilarious/ridiculous side (I can just imagine the poor woman giving birth laying there and rolling her eyes "Hello! Down here!")Sappha and Rolf are out on a tiny island in the loch preparing to deliver a baby by c-section. Sappha had carried a vacoliter of blood across the cold slippery causeway in the dark, but now, as she goes to hand it to Rolf she drops it.
"I hope you're O..positive...she nodded..."Then it's our lucky day, isn't it. Jump on the bed, there's a good girl and I'll take a pint or so off you." ... "Clever of you to bring the blood donor set"...then he said very kindly; "If you hadn't come our patient and the baby might very well have been dead by morning - that cancels out any dropped
bottles."
Sappha continued to stare while the elusive thoughts she had buried so firmly under the emergencies of the evening suddenly became very clear indeed. She knew now why she ought to go back to London - and soon. She had fallen in love with Rolf....
So here's the challenge. Write your very own "her dawning realization" in the style of Neels. Remember, this is HER dawning realization, not his. If you've already made up characters for earlier contests feel free to use them again. Contest entries will be accepted until Midnight March 12th Pacific coast time. Or whenever The Grand Poohbah Arbiters of Everything decide. (I know, I know, it's only a week - but we're not asking for much here. The Neels could take care of Dawning Realizations in a scant sentence or two!)
Here's a little extra inspiration from Carlene Carter and Taylor Swift. Enjoy.
The temptation to write the Dawning Realization scene as the heroine is herself about to give birth is considerable, but all wrong, of course because it wouldn't be a virgin birth, and they have to be in love before they have any sex. (Frankly, I'm pretty sure they have to be in love before there's any tongue, but Betty is discreet about such matters so we can't verify that.)
ReplyDeleteIsn't "forceful" her euphemism for tongue? Hmmm.
ReplyDeleteI was thinking her euphemism was "thorough". Or perhaps "satisfactory".
ReplyDeleteOh, good point. Unless it's with Leo the Louse (what do you call him?) then tongue would need another adjective.
ReplyDeleteYou know, I really am not sure any of those actually mean French kissing. I'm serious. Maybe they did, but then again, maybe they didn't. Certainly I can think of kisses that fit those descriptions but aren't "open" enough.
ReplyDeleteOh, well, it's one of the beauties of Betty Neels' love scenes: all in the mind of the bereader.
Let's get back on track. Here's my attempt:
ReplyDeleteThe ride on the ferry was much worse than Ariadne thought it would be.
"I feel ill", she mumbled as the boat gave a particularly violent lurch. Tjaard gallantly held her head over the railing as she heaved into the foamy waves. When she had finished, he carefully wiped her face with his snowy white monogrammed handerchief. She knew at that moment that she loved him - she loved him and could never let him suspect. With that thought, she turned and leaned over the railing again.
That is fabulous Betty Debbie. Kudos for her leaning BACK over the rail. A touch of genius!
ReplyDeleteHere's mine:
Boudicca was reaching for the last box of staples in the supply cupboard when she heard a soft tread behind her and an even softer rumble of laughter. The professor was back from Norway and what a time to discover she was top over tail in love with him. That was why she had been curiously flat all week. As she scrambled out of the cupboard, showing a good deal of leg in the process, she thanked heaven that her love wasn't written in the backside of her sensible tweed skirt.
Okay, here's mine.
ReplyDeleteEuphemia stood quietly by as Professor Thijs de Jongh-Bijlsma -- sitting on the side of Mrs. Keith's bed -- explained to the patient why she must never smoke again.
"Lose me fags? Ee -- yer must be jokin'," Mrs. Keith rasped.
"As Sister Bishop will confirm, I never joke," he replied solemnly.
Euphemia murmured her assent when Mrs. Keith looked at her briefly, but inwardly she was not that certain. Surely the Professor's outrageous statement when he first appeared on the ward was a joke. A cruel one, perhaps, given that Euphemia was not as young as the slender blonde she had seen in the passenger seat of Professor de Jongh-Bijlsma's midnight blue Rolls-Royce Phantom Drophead Coupe Convertible. True she'd rarely seen him smile, but he must have been teasing when he had said he intended to woo her. So far, all their conversations had been solemn discussions about Mrs. Keith's condition.
"So, you see, Mrs. Keith, if you do not stop smoking, you might develop gangrene of the digits," he concluded gently.
Euphemia's eyes widened slightly, shocked to her core. Why should his mention of gangrene make her realize that she loved him? she thought wildly, her calm gaze still fixed on the dark head with its faint dusting of grey at the temples.
He turned as if he could read her thoughts.
"Don't worry, Mrs. Keith. Sister and I will help you quit smoking, clean your flat of that lingering nicotine smell, and refit it with new carpet. Sister Bishop knows I'm a man of my word, even if she's still waiting for evidence that I see her as anything other than a ward sister."
What a horrid man, Euphemia thought savagely and with aching love. "Of course, Professor," she agreed mildly. At the sound of his knowing chuckle, she ground her teeth.
"lose me fags..." love it.
ReplyDelete"midnight blue Rolls Royce Phantom Drophead Coupe Convertible"...a man with a car like that would never joke.
Way to rock the first entry, Betty Magdalen!
Ooh, and Betty Debbie -- I hope you know me well enough to know I got the right disgusting side effect for the disease. (Thank you, Google.)
ReplyDeleteI'm in awe of your Googling prowess!
ReplyDeleteDid I mention that I love your use of gangrene in a Dawning Realization?
Thank you. I'm starting to think I should just write the entire pastiche novel, and then I can just cut-and-paste as you announce the relevant contest!
ReplyDelete"Stars Through the Clouds" a new novel by Betty Magdalen!...(Betty Debbie rubs her hands in gleeful anticipation)
ReplyDeleteI like the way you think.
Omigoodness -- I can't decide, although the vomitous Ariadne (how do you pronounce Ariadne, btw?) might have the lead....I am catching up on a week's worth of blog here ladies, and loving it....thanks for making me laugh!
ReplyDeleteAriadne
ReplyDeleteAir-ee-add-knee...that's the way I've always pronounced it. No doubt I'm wrong. Does anyone out there know?
Ariadne: a-ree-AD-nee According to Chambers, it means very holy.
ReplyDeleteThank you. I think I first saw Ariadne in an Agatha Christie whodunit, and I've always wondered how to say it -- I've never met anyone named Ariadne.
ReplyDeleteLol! I think it's the mention of gangrene sparking the realization that did me in here. Too funny!
ReplyDeleteBeryl had been standing at the mirror trying to arrange her mouse colored hair for nearly 20 minutes. Usually she kept her hair in a tight efficient knot at the nape of her neck but today she had thought to try something different. She wanted something softer and more feminine so the next time Dr van Kamp saw her...
ReplyDeletePuzzled she sat down on the end of her bed. Why did she care how she looked to Dr. van Kamp? Suddenly she knew the reason she became flustered in his presence the reason her heart quickened when he glanced at her the reason she had become so concerned about the shabbiness of her clothes.
She loved him. This was terrible, how could she marry him when she loved him and he thought of her only as caretaker for his twin nephews. A life of being constantly near to a man whom one loved but not to be loved in return.
No. She had to break off the engagement and quickly. Dr van Kamp had said something about a special license, he could be planning to marry her at any moment.