Love's Endearing Charm Gilded in Stardust

By Marianne Dora Rose

(Dorothy) Paula Freda writing as Marianne Dora Rose presents "Love's Endearing Charm Gilded in Stardust," a Contemporary Clean and Wholesome Christian Sci/Fi/Fantasy Romance for hearts of all ages.
Excerpt: Disoriented, eyes blurred and heart pounding with fright, Brenda felt the comfort and strength of the arms holding her, and the warm reassuring breath from the lips asking, “Are you alright?”
She blinked several times to clear her blurred vision. The voice was a deep baritone, a man’s voice she assumed, judging by the feel of the arms effortlessly holding her. She was no light feather, on the tall side, a sturdy one hundred and thirty-five pounds.
Nothing felt broken. No sharp pains anywhere.
“Are you alright?” she heard him ask again.
“Yes, yes, I’m alright. You can put me down.”
He complied. But the moment her feet touched the floor, she realized she’d spoken too soon. A wave of dizziness unbalanced her. He caught her as her knees buckled.
“Easy, Brenda. You may have suffered a concussion. The ball was heavy leather and rubber, and barely any deflation.” He added, “Probably a recent resident.”
She wasn’t in the mood for levity, but she sensed the undercurrent of concern in his voice. She breathed in and out deeply, and turned her head thrice slowly side to side and up and down. Another three breaths, and then a calming moment, an exercise she’d learned from a girlfriend who suffered with motion sickness. The dizziness ebbed. “I guess the ball didn’t care for my invading its space,” she said. Then in a serious tone, “I should have been more careful where I placed the ladder.”
With equal seriousness, he advised, “You should have the chance that you suffered a concussion checked out right away. If you need, I can drive you to your doctor’s office, or the emergency room at the hospital nearby?”
“No, but thank you for the offer. My parents are retired. My father drives, and I can call him.”
“Straight-away,” he advised, his hand moving to the top of her head and then her forehead. She experienced a quick, odd feeling of transparency that dispersed the moment he removed his hand. “Straight-away,” he advised again. “I’ll walk you to the nurse’s office, where you can call your father.”
“Okay,” she nodded. “I appreciate your help.” Her knees still felt wobbly.
Her vision had cleared enough for her to make out his features. He was a few inches taller than her, but his moderate frame belied the strength she’d felt in his arms when he caught her. Moderate sinewy frame, her thoughts rephrased. He had keen, discerning eyes, hazel with a tinge of lavender, and wavy ash-brown hair cut to the nape of his neck and combed back, both distinguishing features bringing to her mind the variant colors of birch bark.
She might have thought more about his appearance as he supported her on their way to the nurse’s office, except that she suddenly recalled spotting him from the top of the ladder as he worked on the electrical outlet on the opposite side of the gymnasium. He had been hunched over on one knee repairing an outlet, his back to her. It was him, she assured herself. She recognized his electrician’s work clothes. But how? she wondered. How had he reached her in time to catch her? The gymnasium was large. There was at least twenty yards of distance between the stepladder and the outlet he’d been repairing.
The thought made her head hurt and she squeezed her eyes shut for a moment to clear it. She might have a concussion, after all. As they exited the gymnasium, she reasoned that he had probably finished repairing the outlet, and already crossed the gymnasium on his way to the exit, passing by the stepladder at just the right moment. A lucky coincidence, she thought, sending him a grateful smile.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Marianne Dora Rose
• Release date: Sep 19, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005997625

Marianne Dora Rose

About the AuthorDorothy Paula Freda, is also known under her pen names Paula Freda and Marianne Dora Rose. Herbooks range from Fiction and Non-fiction Adventure, Romance, Fantasy, Sci-Fi, Poetry, Articles, Essays and How-to-Write Instructional complete with Lessons and optional assignments.Homemaker, mother of two grown sons, and former off-the-desk publisher of a family-oriented print small press, (1984 thru 1999), The Pink Chameleon, that she now publishes on line, Paula was raised by her grandmother and mother, and has been writing for as long as she can remember. Even before she could set pencil to paper, she would spin her stories in the recording booths in the Brooklyn Coney Island Arcades for a quarter per 3-minute record. She states, "I love the English language, love words and seeing them on display, typed and alive. A romantic at heart, I write simply and emotionally. One of my former editors kindly described my work, '...her pieces are always deep, gentle and refreshing....'" Paula further states, "My stories are sensitive, deeply emotional, sensual when appropriate, yet non-graphic, family fare, pageturners. My hope is that my writing will bring entertainment and uplift the human spirit, bring a smile to your face and your soul, and leave you filled with a generous amount of hope."

Book preview

Love’s Endearing Charm

Gilded in Stardust

By Dorothy P. Freda

(writing as Marianne Dora Rose)

Smashwords Edition

© April 12, 2021 by Dorothy P. Freda

(Pseudonyms - Marianne Dora Rose aka

Paula Freda)

Bookcover photo and interior photos licensed by

Dorothy P. Freda from Dreamstime.com and

iStockphoto.com

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof. This is a work of fiction; names, characters, places and incidents are a product of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

DEDICATION

With thanks to my Dear Lord Jesus and his Blessed Mother Mary whose strength, guidance, and her Holy Rosary, are my anchor in this troubled world, I dedicate this book to my husband, Domenick, whose love, patience and kindness over 48 years kept my dreams and view of the romantic alive and vibrant.

The Lord is our anchor, the anchor we cling to, that keeps our souls afloat, no matter how stormy the sea. Jesus, Son of God, our lifeline. His mother Mary, Blessed Lady, our lifebuoy. Joseph, our cloak, and the Holy Spirit, our wisdom, the map, the path to the Lord.

CHAPTER ONE

(Thursday, early afternoon)

Brenda stood on the next to the last rung of the sixteen-foot wooden stepladder, her hips pressed against its platform, her head and arms raised as she stapled one end of the wide streamer to the side corner of the gymnasium’s wall. The rose, magenta and green striped streamer brightened the faded yellow of the walls badly in need of a refresher coat of paint.

As was customary for social events, maintenance had folded back the bleachers against the wall, and the court’s basketball hoops against the high ceiling, securing any kick basketballs that had missed their targets and wedged between the hoops and rims, or stuck to nails that poked through the dry wall ceiling from the joists behind it supporting the floor above.

Yearly, Saint Mary’s High hosted the school’s Start of Spring Dance. As was their yearly custom, several of the Town’s florists had donated vases filled with early blooms of daisies and irises arranged around a solitary rose, centered on each table, and raffled off at the end of the dance. The earnings from the raffle went towards the purchase of decorations for the next dance. Opened folding-style tables and chairs flanked the walls leaving ample room for the modern day free-style dancer’s moves on the polished maple hardwood flooring etched with the court lines and markings. The game’s starting mid-circle often served as the spotlight for the dancing couple with the best moves. As customary for every dance planned, the faculty’s warning had gone out to all the students: Keep it clean! This is a Christian School.

Brenda, twenty-five, medium-framed, five foot ten with darkest brown hair and eyes, had graduated from St. Mary’s High, gone on to a two-year college for the arts and humanities, and graduated from there as well with honors. Along with her IQ, she was not afraid of heights, with hiking and hill climbing among her favorite activities. Ergo, her present stance at the top of the sixteen-foot ladder.

Except for the boys in high school and the young men at college who felt threatened by her IQ and her agility, beaus aplenty vied for her affection, not easily attained. Brenda was one of the rare breed who believed in waiting for the marriage vows witnessed by the Good Lord and her family, before consummation. Unfortunately, not a belief held unanimously sacred in her present time, she pondered, as she double-stapled the front end of the streamer to secure it safely.

Safety was the key word in her mind for the scores of teenagers expected to fill the gymnasium with their free-style moves, as they danced to the music of the band, alumni volunteers like herself.

Safety was also in the mind of the young man in his late twenties, a licensed freelance electrician, hunching on one knee repairing an electrical outlet at the opposite corner of the gymnasium. The outlet would serve the band’s amplifiers and speakers.

Every so often, the young electrician turned and gazed up at Brenda across the gym, an admiring gleam in his eyes. But along with the admiration, a sense of caution. The ladder was old and a bit wobbly. The feeling intensified and he scanned the room, horizontally and vertically. He perceived the danger coming from the ceiling above her.

The high school building dated back to 1970s. Wedged kick balls, sharpened pencils, shoes, pointy tips of nail bottoms protruding from joists holding the floor above in place, littered the drywall ceiling.

The young man’s gaze zeroed in on one ball that someone had kicked upward with unusual force. The ball had hit the nail tip and stuck firmly. The leather exterior and rubber bladder fully inflated indicated the event had occurred recently, and left there for posterity to marvel at. A hissing sound from the ball deflating, inaudible at that height to the average human ear, arrowed through the electrician’s heightened sense of danger and raised an appalling image in his mind:

Debra blissfully unaware that the ball pinned to the ceiling several feet above her was about to unpin, fall and come down on her head, causing her a moment of disorientation. She would lose her balance and fall from the ladder to the hardwood floor below, and suffer serious injuries upon impact.

Immediately, as what he perceived began to occur, he sprung to his feet and rushed to the ladder to catch Brenda in his arms before impact with the hardwood floor.

CHAPTER TWO

Disoriented, eyes blurred and heart pounding with fright, Brenda felt the comfort and strength of the arms holding her, and the warm reassuring breath from the lips asking, Are you alright?

She blinked several times to clear her blurred vision. The voice was a deep baritone, a man’s voice she assumed, judging by the feel of the arms effortlessly holding her. She was no light feather, on the tall side, a sturdy one hundred and thirty-five pounds.

Nothing felt broken. No sharp pains anywhere.

Are you alright? she heard him ask again.

Yes, yes, I’m alright. You can put me down.

He complied. But the moment her feet touched the floor, she realized she’d spoken too soon. A wave of dizziness unbalanced her. He caught her as her knees buckled.

Easy, Brenda. You may have suffered a concussion. The ball was heavy leather and rubber, and barely any deflation. He added, Probably a recent resident.

She wasn’t in the mood for levity, but she sensed the undercurrent of concern in his voice. She breathed in and out deeply, and turned her head thrice slowly side to side and up and down. Another three breaths, and then a calming moment, an exercise she’d learned from a girlfriend who suffered with motion sickness. The dizziness ebbed. I guess the ball didn’t care for my invading its space, she said. Then in a serious tone, I should have been more careful where I placed the ladder.

With equal seriousness, he advised, You should have the chance that you suffered a concussion checked out right away. If you need, I can drive you to your doctor’s office, or the emergency room at the hospital nearby?

No, but thank you for the offer. My parents are retired. My father drives, and I can call him.

Straight-away, he advised, his hand moving to the top of her head and then her forehead. She experienced a quick, odd feeling of transparency that dispersed the moment he removed his hand. Straight-away, he advised again. I’ll walk you to the nurse’s office, where you can call your father.

Okay, she nodded. I appreciate your help. Her knees still felt wobbly.

Her vision had cleared enough for her to make out his features. He was a few inches taller than her, but his moderate frame belied the strength she’d felt in his arms when he caught her. Moderate sinewy frame, her thoughts rephrased. He had keen, discerning eyes, hazel with a tinge of lavender, and wavy ash-brown hair cut to the nape of his neck and combed back, both distinguishing features bringing to her mind the variant colors of birch bark.

She might have thought more about his appearance as he supported her on their way to the nurse’s office, except that she suddenly recalled spotting him from the top of the ladder as he worked on the electrical outlet on the opposite side of the gymnasium. He had been hunched over on one knee repairing an outlet, his back to her. It was him, she assured herself. She recognized his electrician’s work clothes. But how? she wondered. How had he reached her in time to catch her? The gymnasium was large. There was at least twenty yards of distance between the stepladder and the outlet he’d been repairing.

The thought made her head hurt and she squeezed her eyes shut for a moment to clear it. She might have a concussion, after