Good Deed Bad Deed Marcia Morgan (life books to read .txt) 📖

me on who had composed whatever music was playing. I gave it my best, but I was hopeless… no decent sense of rhythm.”

“You’d never know it to look at you,” he said, teasing. “I can see there’s still a lot to learn about you, Ana Doherty.”

“Well, my middle name is Cristina, for my mother and my grandmother. You’ll just have to discover my hidden qualities… but let’s change the subject. I’m getting hungry.”

They left the enchanting little plaza and strolled toward the Puente Nuevo Bridge. At some point, Ana had no idea when, Ben had managed to collect some facts about Ronda and was anxious to share them.

“Of course you probably know that Hemingway spent a lot of his time in Spain— even fought in the civil war. Ronda was a favorite of his. He called it the most romantic village in Spain. It’s a bit more than a village now, but you can see what he meant.”

“You’ve certainly done your part to help renew his observation,” Ana said, putting her arm through his.

“It’s also called ‘the city of dreams,’ but when you consider the atrocities perpetrated here through the centuries it’s hard to think of it in only romantic terms. There’s a lot of history since it was declared a town in the fourth century— by Julius Caesar.”

“I’m not up on the history, and maybe I don’t want to know.”

“I won’t be generous with description, but that ‘romantic’ bridge— and the gorge— were used for easy executions. One good push— problem solved.” Ana didn’t react so he continued. “In Hemingway’s novel, For Whom the Bell Tolls, Fascist sympathizers are thrown from the bridge. Many people believe this fictional story about the Spanish civil war was based on what actually happened.”

Ana put an end to the negative turn of the conversation, and said, “I prefer to think of all the special moments lovers have had on the bridge.”

“You mean like the one we’re about to have?” Ben asked.

“Exactly.”

They hurried on, reached the bridge, and strolled out toward the center. Ronda’s elevation allowed the summer twilight to linger, and they could just see the river, it’s water still reflecting the sunset’s last vestiges of color. Yet parts of the gorge were already in near-blackness. As Ben and Ana leaned out to look at the river, their arms touched. Both were quiet until he slipped his arm around Ana’s waist and pulled her close to him. Ben turned his head toward her and she instinctively did the same, looking up to lock with his gaze. A seductive yet self-conscious smile crossed his face and he paused, trying to find his words, remembering his past.

Ben would admit to being somewhat of a lothario in his youth. An idealistic and aspiring writer, he was brimming with love sonnets just waiting to be offered to the parade of desirable girls who frolicked through his college days. Now he found himself tongue-tied and sure it was real— this love— because it had turned his brain to mush. The water was deep and turbulent, but he dove in, refusing to lose Ana to his silence.

“I wanted to tell you before this, but conditions weren’t right… I’m in love with you, Ana.”

He studied her expression, waiting impatiently for a response. Ana’s heart was pounding with an odd mix of joy and fear. She fought hard not to become vulnerable, but there was no denying this man had her heart, probably since that first night, watching him sleep with an icepack on his shoulder. She put her arms around him and her face against his chest, taking in the familiar scent of the leather jacket.

“I love you too,” she said softly.

Ben leaned down and kissed her gently. “That’s a relief,” he said, pretending to wipe his brow. “A guy is never really sure until he hears the words.” He stared for a few moments at the great expanse of the gorge, pondering what to say next, and then he faced her again. “So I guess I’ve got my story. Would you be interested in living a sequel with me?”

For a moment Ana didn’t understand. He hurried to add, “I mean live the stories with me— travel, research, have the adventures— be my inspiration.”

Then she realized he was going to incorporate all that had happened to them into a novel, and the sequel he referred to would, or could, be a story to last for the rest of their lives. His declarations were the last thing Ana expected, but she remained composed and answered that yes, she was interested in living a sequel— along with anything else he had in mind. Ben pulled her close, gave her a lingering kiss then smoothed away a lock of hair that had blown across her face.

Ana took his hand in hers and asked, “Now that I’ve said yes to your sequel, do you think maybe we could do that interview?”

Ben laughed and said, “We could if you still had a job!”

Ana shrugged her shoulders and smiled. After a moment’s hesitation, she took Ben’s face in her hands and kissed him hard. For that moment there was no one else in the world. They turned back to the view, watching as the sun disappeared and the river turned from blue to gray to black. Ana grew pensive as she took in the beauty around her and considered the direction her life had taken. She leaned closer to Ben and said, “Have you ever watched a leaf drop into a path of rushing water and start its journey— bobbing, tumbling, slowing, spinning, ricocheting off one obstacle after another? Our lives are like that…”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

The author has an ongoing interest in location inspired story-telling. Her own travel experiences, along with some imagination, help to create a backdrop for characters to find their way through the story.