Tuesday Tales: From the Word INTENSE

Welcome to this week’s Tuesday Tales. Our word is INTENSE, and I’ve used the verb form of the word in a post from my current work in progress on a new book from a new series called Timeless Love. The first book, Beneath the Ashes, deals with a love lost when Mount Vesuvius blew its top and destroyed Pompeii, Herculaneum, and much of the area around the Bay of Naples. The idea for this story originated ten years ago when I wrote a short story on the topic.

Enjoy a quick taste of Beneath the Ashes.

Lucie’s heart pounded as she struggled to hide what was happening to her. She clenched her hands on her lap. Damn! She’d done so well all day and now … The feelings of déjà vu intensified as they neared the site of the Villa dig. As had happened in Rome, the past superimposed itself on the present. Along the bumpy, makeshift road, she glimpsed the shadows of the citrus trees that had produced the sweetest oranges. Beside them was the apricot orchard, and next to it, the olive grove.

When Trent stopped the vehicle, the house Julius had designed specifically for her, for them, wavered in front of her, shaded by the stone pine trees, the other bushes, and the plants surrounding it, welcoming her home. Beyond it would be his pride and joy, his vineyards. Far off in the distance, no more than mere dots of black and white on the verdant hill, sheep grazed.

Twisting in her seat, she looked back at Vesuvius, seeing not only a mountain with a rounded top, but the volcanic monster with a jagged crown who’d caused death and destruction.

As quickly as the vision had arisen, it vanished, leaving behind the damage done to the farmer’s field by the machinery, tents, fencing, and other paraphernalia that now surrounded her. The only thing that remained of her delusion were the sheep. Her hands trembled and cold sweat snaked down her back.

Trent glanced at her.  “Are you okay? You seem a little pale.”

“Just tired,” she managed to say. “I suppose I’m still a little jet-lagged.”

Trent opened his door. “Yeah. Usually takes me a week to settle after I come back from a trip home. Mario’s on his way, and he looks lemony. This work is important to all of us, but it consumes him, and anything that might interfere tends to make him cranky—not that you’ll interfere, but you might present a distraction. Like me, he’s not expecting anyone like you, so if he seems like a stunned mullet, completely stonkered, you’ll have to give him a break.”

She blinked. At times his Australian expressions stymied her. “I’m assuming you mean he’ll be surprised because he was probably expecting a mousy old lady, with the dust of the ages bending her back, or a crusty old battle-axe fighting for recognition in a world of men. I did notice that all your staff is male.”

That’s it. Stay safe, and don’t forget to check out the other Tuesday Tales.