Child of the Loch (Child of the Loch Series) Read Free

on. I wish it was spring again. My trees are outfitted in green, even the smells are of fresh and growing things. It’s a time where the Earth experiences new life and re-birth. It is then when I always long to go into the forest and never return. I can’t believe what I have just seen. There was some new bloom on the trees and sprouts of green grass had come up in patches.
    I shake the vision away. I can’t be crazy. I have to be rational. I am an accountant. I cannot be crunching numbers in the nut house. I don’t know why but things always seem to come to a head on my birthday.
    My sanity is leaving me, independence is on the horizon, and I have big news for my parents. I am moving to the town where I work. It is going to be difficult to convince them that it is the best decision. The town is close but it is not above the garage, in the suite that was added on as a separate apartment for me. It’s private, rent controlled and has its own entrance, complete with state of the art locks and security system. However, my parents are always looking in on me.
    My dad is very protective of his only child, a daughter none-the-less, and my mother is of the mind that children don’t get kicked out the nest until there’s a husband or wife to catch them. I think they are very old fashioned and paranoid.
    I have to gather my strength to challenge their ideals. Fortification and comfort go hand-in-hand for me. I always can get the extra “oomph” I need by wearing comfy clothes, and I will need all the “oomph” I can get.
    Today, there were my soft, faded blue jeans that hugged my generous curves in the most becoming way and a superhero t-shirt that was so worn the cotton had become thin and silky. The hero’s face was worn off and it looked like an “insert-your-face-here” computer graphic.
    I plopped down on the soft blanket beside Hank, my large, very woolly St. Bernard, who hogged my bed at night and was presently keeping me company. He snuffed my cheek in boredom when I leaned back to pull on my comfy, black hiking boots. I wiped the wetness from my cheek and gave him a mock dirty look. I could never really be mad at my best friend.
    I turned back to my military grade boots. Now my butt looked really shapely but I could still go tromping through the underbrush and camp with the best of them.
    Thinking back on the task at hand, there was only one formula for a great day and shocking news delivery. It’s so very simple. Add “nice butt boots” to “comfort and fortification” and you get “ready to face anything.” I’m an accountant, believe me, there is a formula for everything and if there isn’t there most definitely should be.
    With a bounce in my step, I bounded down the stairs with Hank noisily in tow. We peeked around the corner. Hank and I always peeked because my parents are a loving couple. Seeing your parents flirting, kissing or naked in an amorous embrace is not on my list of happy times.
    This time, thankfully, I was seeing my mother busily cooking a special birthday breakfast of bacon, and eggs ,  all wrapped in homemade tortillas. It was so fragrant that my mouth watered and the pleasant aroma put an extra spring in my step. Bacon and tortillas always did. Hank was drooling great gobs of frothy saliva onto the plush carpet. I was slobbering myself and would save some bacon for him for later, our little secret.
    My blue jean sang with a whoosh as I fell bumping my butt on each stair with loud thunk , thunk , thunks . Hank let out an unhappy yelp. I’m not sure, but I think I stepped or maybe sat on my poor, dear Hank’s giant paw. When reality smacks you in the head with all 5 fingers you don’t remember much. There are only two exceptions to that particular rule, even if you are half expecting it. You only remember the slap of reality and your rump wherever it lands.
    In all honesty, I wasn’t expecting to be hit by a ton of bricks and ending up on the bottom stair in the span of seconds.