Hearts of Gold Preview

Prologue

Profound innocence.  Can it be accurately defined?

It is the soft look on a baby's face as they really notice you for the first time.  The second their beautiful eyes open and gaze lovingly into your own while their tiny fingers grip your hand.  The feel of your heart as it leaps happily in your chest, overcome with a clarity, a joy unmatched by any other.  You could swear you see clearly into the depths of their precious soul.  The moments you fall in love with them over and over again.

It is the need for a puppy to curl up at your feet only to bounce up and follow you wherever you may go.  The writhing of their body as you bend down to cradle them in your arms.  The smell of their breath as they nestle their furry face next to yours.

It is the look of complete and utter trust as your toddler puts their faith in you to love them, teach them and keep them out of harm's way.  Or the feel of their tiny arms wrapped around you as they lay their heads down to sleep at night. The gentle sound of their voice as they whisper they love you.

It is the exhilarated tail wag as your senior dog awaits your arrival.  The unbridled enthusiasm as you greet them at the door.

Innocence and purity.  These are the makings of real and tender love, most often found in children and dogs, and often recognized by each other.

These are the very terms that describe Hearts of Gold.

Chapter 1-The Sanctity of Marriage

The inside of a home should be cozy and warm, blanketed by the love between husband and wife, not chilled by a hatred that a blazing fire couldn't kindle.

 

From the moment of inception, and quite conceivably some time before, an insurmountable grief had been bestowed upon Peyton's young life—a period when innocence and youth should have gone hand in hand, a time when the only darkness should have always been accompanied by a comforting bedtime story and a favorite teddy bear.

Instead, her darkness began in the wee hours of almost every morning and continued until her tiny body lay to rest at night.

Her horrors were measured by how well her mother could keep her father's temper at bay. With his short fuse, the method of measurement was almost always cut in half.

No one could blame the frigid weather for the constant chill in the air. It would have been more accurate to blame the bitterness on the likes of Wayne Henry Bishop, Peyton's father.

While often it was Peyton's mother, Morgan, who suffered the brunt of the beatings, Wayne was not shy about raising his fist to his daughter on occasion or assaulting her with words, mostly those meant to diminish her self-esteem. He had all the ammunition he needed, like the neighborhood bully, and fired away at his daughter every chance he saw fit.

In no way could he even be classified as a caregiver to Peyton.

Peyton's mother on the other hand did what she could to give Peyton a normal life, though it wasn't much. With her petite build, porcelain skin, beautiful light brown hair, and cerulean blue eyes, most men would've agreed that Morgan was a catch. If they were smart, they would consider themselves lucky just to be in her presence. Her husband's awareness of her beauty only made him more determined to maintain control. He dangled her very life in front of her like a carrot before a starving bunny.

She could remember when it first started—the beatings. Back then it was more of a slap here or a push there.

At first, it amounted to nothing more than a shock, a burst of confusion, a blow to her ego.

Morgan was always confident, never submissive. She was also capable of a hot temper when warranted, but she was no match for his brawny build of six foot four or the fiery beast that grew within.

When the slaps turned into punches, her foolish pride was what initially kept her in a marriage that her parents hadn't approved of from the very beginning.

It wasn't long before she had a change of heart. She would trade her pride for her life any day. But she wondered now if it was too late.

During Morgan's pregnancy, Wayne flaunted his masculinity by using her stomach as a punching bag when things didn't go his way, which was quite frequently according to him.

From the bruises she sustained, it was a miracle that she survived his abuse, no less managed to carry her pregnancy to full term.

He felt that by "punishing" her, he would teach her a very valuable lesson. And what a teacher he was.

He boasted to her in private, claiming that he was making her tough and the baby even tougher. He held their lives by a string; they were mere puppets to do what he wanted when he commanded it be done. 

On the rare occasions where she chose to fight back, he put her in her place with frequent threats.  "I can kill you in a heartbeat.  You're just lucky that I choose not to, Morgan."

His seemingly charming personality was his saving grace around all of Morgan's friends. No one in their right minds would ever suspect he was capable of hurting so much as a hair on her head.

In addition, he kept his arrogant comments to himself, especially when she came imminently close to death in the hospital after a severe beating. The doctors were pleasantly surprised when she recovered, though they weren't naive. When the physician on call questioned him about Morgan's dire condition, Wayne adamantly denied any allegations of abuse to his young wife. He rattled off one lame excuse after the other, an act he'd improved upon subsequent to each beating. If lying was a muscle, his was definitely toned.

"Oh, Morgan's always hurting herself. She's been like that since the day I met her.  Thankfully I was around otherwise who knows what would've happened!" 

The nurses predicted that Morgan would deny any abuse, and they were right. As soon as Morgan recovered enough that she could speak, she stuck up for her husband, an act she'd perfected and one she thought she performed flawlessly.

Sadly, it was common for the hospital staff to see women admitted into emergency rooms with a bloody nose or a broken leg. It was also common that these same women suffered with battered woman syndrome.

Morgan was no different, fitting the cookie-cutter image to a genuine fault.

Taught to be a loyal wife, or at least threatened if she didn't behave as such, she never admitted anything was wrong with her marriage. Until she took those difficult first steps, no one would be able to help her.

Her excuses always seemed viable for the many bruises she wore. Friends had witnessed firsthand how clumsy Morgan appeared.

Her friend Tracy had even seen Morgan take a spill down the front steps outside of her apartment in a snowstorm. She surmised that Morgan fell because the steps were icy. It seemed like a logical explanation at the time.

What Tracy didn't know—and couldn't know—was that Morgan fell due to a beating Wayne had given her moments earlier.

His irrational gripe? Morgan had made plans to go out without asking his permission first. He accused her of having an affair, even though he was quite aware that she was going shopping with Tracy, her lifelong best friend.

So when Morgan stepped out onto the steps, she was still shaking from the pain her husband had inflicted, causing her legs to give out beneath her and take a tumble. Like the coward that he was, he made sure not to bruise her in any obvious areas. Her stomach was the first place he usually aimed.

When Tracy asked if she was okay, Morgan responded with, "Oh, yea. I'm so clumsy.  I should've known better than to wear these shoes."  She dismissed the fall as if it were completely normal, even though she was in agonizing pain.

Unfortunately, Morgan never did share her misery with Tracy. To the outside world, Morgan and Wayne had the ideal marriage, aside from their financial issues. But hey, who didn't have problems with the economy in despair? And Wayne wouldn't have it any other way. He threatened that if she told a soul, he would kill her and their unborn baby.

"Promise me you'll do as I say or they'll be hell to pay, Morgan.  Do I make myself clear?"

She typically answered with a nod.  She was backed into a corner, given no choice.

She believed he'd make good on his promise. He'd brought her close to death many times before but then nursed her back to health after his rampage was over. His beatings came simultaneously when he had a strong buzz on. His alcohol of choice was good old Jack Daniels. Once he was able to see straight again, he'd "fix up" his wife, as he called it, apologize, and expect to start anew without any repercussions, as if it were perfectly acceptable to beat someone weaker than him.  There was always a reason as well.

"If you only hadn't said this, Morgan."  Or, "If you only hadn't said that."

It was never his wrongdoing.  In his mind, Morgan was the only one at fault.

She had planned to leave him once Peyton was born, but her plan went awry when he discovered her hidden stash of money. That was when the big beating came down on her, teaching her a lesson she'd never forget: don't ever cross Wayne Bishop.

And she didn't forget. Now, she learned to be more careful.

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Paw Prints in the Sand

Introducing my latest book, Paw Prints in the Sand-Available on Kindle, Nook and in paperback on Amazon.com

Prologue: Precious Innocence

A dog is not a thing. A thing is replaceable. A dog is not. A thing is disposable. A dog is not. A thing doesn’t have a heart. A dog’s heart is bigger than any “thing” you can ever own.

The buildings are always the same; old rusty cages, the unmistakable smell of fear; desperate dogs begging for loving homes, their raspy cries echoing throughout the lonely and frigid hallways.

As you trudge up and down the aisles of a kill shelter, you see that each crate houses an abandoned animal whose yearning eyes plead while your heart melts into a roaring sea of helplessness. How did they get here? Why them? No one deserves this.

You want so badly to rescue them. You’d love to take all of them home, but of course, it isn’t feasible.

As you look into the innocent eyes of each dog, you know it’ll be less than a week before the older ones lose their life, and the young “vicious” dogs, as they have been stereotypically labeled, only have a few more days at most.

While you’re there, you can’t help but wonder, do they know? Is there any possible way the dogs realize what cruelty fate has in store for them? Admitting that painful truth to yourself is harder than you ever imagined.

The thought races out of your mind as quickly as it had entered. Not because you don’t care—God knows you care more than anything—but because it is too difficult to accept the harsh reality.

But, alas, there’s still that somewhat gratifying feeling of knowing that you are there to make a difference in at least one of their lives.

You have a spot, or maybe even two, in your home and more than enough love in your heart to accommodate these precious creatures and hopefully free up some room for another unfortunate stray at the facility in the process.

At least that’s how it happened for Chelsea and Anthony Shelton.

Chapter 1: Love Unguarded

There will always be detours in the fascinating game called life. Find the path to your heart’s desires, and stay on course.

 Chelsea and Anthony had been teenage sweethearts, who, like most at that young age, broke up for a short while to sow their oats before realizing they were true soul mates.

Before they got back together, they each dabbled in the party scene and enjoyed a few drinking binges, complete with the dreaded hangovers the next day, but realized that wasn't the permanent lifestyle they sought after.  Eventually, they found their way back into each other’s hearts in their early twenties and had been together ever since.

Both became successful, conscientious individuals and though they occasionally had arguments like every married couple, they respected and genuinely cared for one another.

They weren't considered glamorous by any means, but were definitely average in looks.  Chelsea had long, brown hair and light green eyes and Anthony was blessed with a muscular physique and full head of thick, sandy brown hair.

Married only four years, they’d already experienced their share of hardships with trying to start their family. They wanted nothing more than to have a child of their own, but after they both underwent a series of medical tests, the doctors revealed that it just wasn’t in the cards for them.  A major disappointment as since the day they were married, they’d always imagined sharing their lives with at least two children, and a family dog to complete the picture.  

With the support of their beloved family and friends, they got over the initial shock of their misfortune, and moved forward with plans to adopt a child. The downside was that according to the adoption agency, it might take years. And there were no guarantees.

Although they were understandably disappointed, they decided that in the interim they would still consummate the second portion of their plan. After giving it some thought, there was no valid reason to put their lives on hold.

They'd been prepared to rescue a shelter dog and each time they sat through the tear-jerking commercials on the television, they realized in their heart that now was as good a time as any.

It was an early Saturday morning when they drove down to the town shelter. The building itself rested at the end of a cul-de-sac, surrounded by nothing but trees and a broken-up parking lot to match the brokenhearted pups inside.

When they ambled in through the double-glass doors, the middle-age volunteer greeted them with a personality as lively as a crumbled piece of that parking lot. Barely acknowledging their arrival, she merely pointed the way toward the gray, metal door that housed the dogs. Then she buried her face in her fitness magazine.

This establishment was known as a kill-shelter, and Chelsea speculated that to volunteer in the facility, it was probably better off that one didn’t show any emotion, as demonstrated by the detached woman occupying the front desk.

With so many dogs being neglected, abandoned, dumped, abused, and everything in between, there are never enough facilities to provide shelter for all of them. What adds to the devastation is that often shelter dogs fail to get adopted due to their seemingly aggressive behavior, even if they were once friendly on the outside.

Nine times out of ten, something changes their disposition once they get locked up. Their personalities shift, whether it be from the fear, the isolation, the confusion, the cold cement floors, or the lack of toys. Or it may be from being bereft of exercise, deprived of love, or simply because they can smell the death of their canine peers from the euthanasia rooms. The necessity to survive causes them to lose their trust and more importantly, their confidence.

The unfamiliar noises and lonely environment do nothing to mollify their fears. Since they appear aggressive, the likeliness of them finding a good home diminishes. It’s the same doleful story in every facility, yet their population continues to increase daily.

As the door slammed behind Chelsea and Anthony, it resonated, setting off a chorus of frenzied barks from the distressed occupants. The couple walked gingerly past the countless rows of crates, trying their best not to frighten any of the dogs, each one looking more desperate than the last.

Had it not been for one dog’s demanding howl, Chelsea might have run out of the building empty handed. The absolute realization and heartache was too much for her to bear.

But that howl.

It was the single thing that caused her to laugh when she was on the verge of tears. That demanding howl, combined with the act of the dog maneuvering his scrawny paw through the cage in a sincere effort to grab her leg, as if to say, “Hey, get over here. Come be my new mom.”

Aside from his disheveled exterior, he was indubitably striking. Like most shelter dogs, he was in dire need of a thorough grooming, as his knotted hair was course and his skin flaky. The hardened goop under his eyes appeared as if it hadn’t ever been cleaned.

Underneath that tangle of golden fur was a bright-eyed, energetic sweetheart of a dog. His fox-like ears bent forward toward his light brown eyes, which revealed an expression that couldn’t be mistaken for anything but hope.

His sparkling personality shined through like an illuminating star, and those same hopeful eyes translated a heartfelt story that words would never be able to accurately describe.

In the cage directly across from him sat a more demure canine that appeared to be his twin. She wasn’t nearly as vocal, but just as stunning, if not more so. Her golden fur was also knotted right behind the ears, and her paws were caked with mud, presumably from yesterday’s rainfall. She sat erect, the previously white tuft on her chest now gray and soiled. Both of the dogs had clearly been neglected even before they had arrived at the shelter.

Chelsea had already made up her mind when she turned back to catch Anthony’s eyes, who was grinning from ear to ear. He didn’t have to say a word.

“Both?” she whispered, knowing her husband well enough to read his mind.

He nodded. “Absolutely.” Though he was a man broad in stature, he was normally not flagrant with his emotions. This time, however, tears pooled in the corners of his hazel eyes. Apparently, the dismal environment was heart wrenching for him as well.

While they discussed it, another volunteer turned the corner and greeted them. This one seemed to have notably more compassion than the woman occupying the front desk. She smiled warmly at them before realizing that they were interested.

“Have you decided on which dog you’d like to take home today?” she asked Chelsea. After helping out at the shelter for so many years, it was easy for the volunteer to recognize the vibrant sparkle in Chelsea’s eyes that could signify only love at first sight—the special kind that often transpires between human and dog.

Chelsea couldn’t wait for Anthony to speak, so she took the lead. “Yes, please. We’re interested in these two.” She pointed to the female and male. The male was ignoring the conversation, focusing on reaching through the bars, trying to grasp the shoelaces on Chelsea’s sneaker.

They asked the volunteer a number of questions, including whether or not the dogs were related, wondering if perhaps they were brother and sister. The volunteer said that, to the best of her knowledge, they were not.

She informed them that they had been surrendered within two days of each other. The male’s age was estimated to be approximately a year and a half, while the female was about a year old.

Both were unmistakably purebred Nova Scotia duck tolling retrievers. They had all the markings, the white tuft, the fox-like ears, the pink nose and lips, and the light eyes that matched their golden coat.

While some families have no other choice but to surrender their dogs because of hardships, financial difficulty or medical issues, these dogs were given up needlessly.

Apparently, the male was given up because he barked incessantly, and his owners couldn’t handle the atrocious noise level. They admitted that they didn't have the time or the patience to train him.

The female was turned in because she wasn’t housebroken yet, even though that was due to no fault of her own. Rather than train her, the previous owners argued that dogs should instinctively know how to take care of business. They voiced their frustration and said they wanted her out of the house as soon as possible.  The shelter took her in that same day.

Hearing their heartbreaking stories further confirmed their decision, and it took only moments for Chelsea and Anthony to fill out the necessary paperwork.

Within an hour, the dogs were on their way to their new home, finally given a second chance at enjoying their lives as they should, which was an opportunity many other dogs are never granted.

Sadly, the pair was hesitant to meander out of the facility. Both dogs tucked their tails between their legs, both were frightened and shy—most likely stemming from their stay at the shelter.

But once they walked outside with their new owners, the warm breeze wafted a plethora of new scents to their keen noses, allowing them to do what came naturally to them—just be dogs. To a dog, smelling the scents of other dogs, humans, or creatures that had visited a path before them is a luxury in itself.

Hearing the natural songs of the wildlife, even smelling something simple such as flowers that are in bloom, is a wondrous joy. To them, each unique scent tells a captivating story and is a vibrant indication that they are still alive, and more importantly, it signifies that there is hope.

Before long, the two dogs slowly began to wag their tails with unbridled enthusiasm. Moments later, they even danced around each other, demonstrating the customary canine greeting that initiates a friendship and builds the foundation for an everlasting relationship. It was a sight to remember.

Before leaving the shelter, Chelsea and Anthony had been advised that the female had been spayed, but the male had not yet been altered. So the first thing they did once the adoption was finalized was make an appointment at the vet to have Spice neutered. The appointment was set for the first of March, three weeks after his adoption date. Sugar wouldn’t have to go to the vet for shots until a month later.

 

Copyright © 2012 Elizabeth Parker

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