One of the delightful discoveries of our retirement campervan travels has been that, with power from our onboard solar panels, we can actually do work while we travel, preparing lessons for courses we are still teaching, getting ready to offer science teacher workshops, and others. We can also work on our special projects, Mary cross-stitching and me writing. In my first year plus of retirement, I’ve written four crossword puzzles (for earth science magazine, EOS), worked on two small ‘wisdom’ pieces that I’ve been tweaking away at for some years, completed two new short stories, plus one new novel and am close to wrapping up a draft of my second.
Here’s a snippet from my current Work in Progress, my Quelly Clary Universe novel, A People Joined Asunder.
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I came up outside the driver’s door of the van, a question on my face. “What are you doing?” I asked.
“I have an hour. A little over. Should be able to get the bomb far enough away to keep the artifact safe at least, if not the city.”
Barn just never gave up. He thought that we still had a chance to win this. Even so, I felt a kick in my gut. We might win it, Earth might win it. But Barn embarked on a one-way mission from which he could not return.
A resolve formed in my breast, a realization, finally, that I cared for this man whom I had so often tormented with my accusations and impatience.
“I’m going with you,” I said.
He shook his head and grinned his big grin. “Hey you, don’t try to steal my thunder! This is my chance to do something important. I get to save you! You women get to do all kinds of stuff, interpret complicated stratigraphic sequences, read ancient records of alien ships in rock records, have kids. I got just one job, die to save the world, or at least save my best girl.”
His best girl? Did he mean that? I felt a surge of something welling up inside me. Not anger at the typical Barn arrogance. Something deeper. Something new. “Woman,” I said. “Not girl.”
“Indeed,” Barn said. “In any case, we need you here, with the artifact, helping to figure it out, know what to do. Shanyah needs you. Bren needs you. My job is here, with the bomb. It is what I can do. Yours is there, with the artifact and our hope for humanity’s future.”
I knew he was right, even as my heart ached. Not fair, not right, that I finally figured out my own mind, and I figured it out just too late. Just like with Sam.
I set my foot on the running board of the truck and stood up beside him, my face coming level with his as he sat in the truck, his hands on the steering wheel. I kissed him on the check, my lips feeling the roughness of his unshaved stubble, my nostrils filled with the smell of his hair. I didn’t want to lose him. Not now. Not when I had finally, finally, realized that I wanted him.
My lips moved to his ear, my hand on his shoulder to brace my perch on the running board. “Come back to me,” I whispered.
Not a question. Not a request. A command.
But I knew he couldn’t follow that command, however much he might want to.
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Next time I’ll post a true BCRP (you know, Big Chunk of Rambling Philosophy!) No SF adventure is complete without a BCRP plunked into the middle of the action, right!? I love BCRP, but that’s next time.