From inspiration to real life...maybe...

Last summer, I was fortunate enough to be invited to participate in a holiday romance hockey charity anthology. The task? Write a hockey romance story only 20,000 words long. 

I love pro sports and have football and baseball romance series. But hockey? I am not nearly as conversant in hockey as I am in the other sports. A dear friend volunteered to beta read it for me and correct all my hockey mistakes, so I decided to do it. 

Now, to find some inspiration! I searched the Internet for unique hockey stories and came upon one that touched my heart. The more I read about this retired player, the more empathetic and curious I became. 

"What would it be like to have to give up the game in your prime because of an injury? How would that affect a dating relationship? A marriage?" I asked myself questions like these, and lo and behold, a story began to unfold in my brain. 

The story, "The Final Slapshot", tells of a husband and wife searching to find their footing after the husband sustained a freak, career-ending injury.

In my story, the couple had a good marriage, but had struggled with keeping it together while spending too much time apart. What will this new wrinkle do? How will it change the balance of their relationship? 

I dove into the story with all my heart and submitted it. The anthology was released in November. Along with the 17 other authors participating in this tome, we promoted the hell out of it and made the USA Today best-seller list. We cheered the fruit of our efforts. But the best was yet to come. 

The book ended up earning over $4,500 for our charity, USA Warriors Ice Hockey program for disabled veterans. In December, our stories were released to us and I've put mine up as a separate ebook and paperback. 

Slowly an idea dawned on me. I looked up the man who inspired my book. I wondered if he'd like to know that his story inspired my story which helped to raise money for such a worthy cause? 

And the idea of sending him a copy of the paperback with a letter explaining this popped into my head. I found his address. I've been toying with the idea. 

Do you think he'd like it or be angry? The book hasn't made much money for me personally, but the story is still one of my favorites. What do you think I should do? Should I send him the book? Or leave the man alone? Opinions welcome. Please leave them in the comments section. 

TUESDAY TALES - WORD PROMPT "SNOW" - MAGGIE'S STORY CONTINUES...

Welcome! This week our word prompt is "snow." We have more of "Maggie's Story." Scroll down to return to Tuesday Tales. Thanks for coming. 

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“Aggie, it’s been two weeks and this pip ain’t got a job. Rent’s due in another week,” Burt said.

“Maggie, any leads?” Agnes turned to face her roommate.

The brunette shook her head. She’d worn out a pair of shoes, walking the pavement, looking for a job, with no luck.

“Burt, take her in with you. Aren’t they always looking for people at the hotel?”

“Yeah, yeah. Just fired a chambermaid yesterday. Everyone’s complainin’ they’ll have to do twice the work.”

“Burt works at the Gold Crown Hotel.”

“You do?” Maggie’s eyes got wide.

“In the laundry,” he snorted.

“Oh.”

“They’ll be needin’ a new maid. You game?” He looked at Maggie.

“Sure. Thanks.” She twisted a napkin in her hands, dropping her gaze to avoid Burt’s piercing stare.

“It’s hard work, girl.” He took hold of her chin and raised her face.

“I’m not afraid of hard work.” She raised her chin.

“Be ready at five thirty.”

“In the morning?”

“Hell yes. Laundry, maid’s work is done early. Set up your cart, get rooms ready. But you’ll get out around four.”

She nodded.

“Don’t fuss about clothes. They give you a uniform. Just keep your knickers on, your eyes to yourself, and your mouth shut, and you’ll do fine.” He looked her up and down, then gave his head a slight shake. “Kinda puny for this work, ain’t she?”

“She’ll be fine,” Aggies said. “Right, girl?”

“Thanks.” Maggie nodded. She knew that her skinny form wouldn’t tempt anyone and that was a load off her mind.

The next morning, she threw together a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, grabbed a carrot and stuffed it into her small purse. She met Burt at the door.

“Come on, lassie. Don’t look so glum. A smile might get you the job. No one likes to work around a sad sack.”

When they arrived, Burt introduced Maggie to a woman with snow-white hair. 

"Burt says your a hard worker."

"That I am," Maggie said. 

"Good. There's plenty of hard work here. But you'll get wages, vacation, and sometimes tips from the guests. Just behave yourself and you'll have a steady job as long as you want."

"Thank you." Maggie smiled. 
"That's what I like. A smile," the woman said, returning the

greeting. "Burt'll show you the ropes."

Burt put his arm around Maggie and squeezed her for a moment.  
"A new beginning, Maggie. You'll do fine."

"Thanks, Burt. For everything. I won't let you down."

"I know, Lass. I know. Let's go."

Maggie let out a breath. Hired, just like that. Things in New York were looking up.

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TUESDAY TALES - PICTURE PROMPT - MAGGIE'S STORY CONTINUES...

Welcome to Tuesday Tales. This week is picture prompt week. I've chosen the picture above. We are only allowed 300 words on picture prompt weeks, so it takes extra skill to write something meaningful that's so short. Thanks for coming! Scroll down to return to Tuesday Tales for the other stories.

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Maggie climbed the subway stairs, anxious to reach the street and fresh air. The heat of summer heightened the rancid, putrid smells of the station. She needed fresh air. Once at the street level, she glanced around, looking for a bench. She found an old sofa, waiting to be tossed and collapsed down onto it. Fishing in her little handbag, she pulled out a hanky. Maggie thought about the day. She’d had three job interviews but no offers.

Tears formed. Did she have to beg for a job? So humiliating. Where would she get forty dollars, her share of the rent? She covered her face with her hand as the big, wet drops rolled down her cheeks.

“What here?” a masculine voice called. “Miss? You in trouble?”

She looked up. A chauffeur in a shiny black car peered out passenger window.

“I beg your pardon?” she asked.

“I asked was you in trouble.”

“No sir.”

“Then whatcha cryin’ for?”

“Nothing that concerns you.”

“Such a pretty lass to be so sad,” he said, shaking his head.

“None of your business.”

The man reached down inside the car.

She wished he’d go. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

“Mebbe.”

Staring at her hands, she prayed he’d leave.

“Come here.”

She shook her head.

“Come here. Come on. Not gonna kidnap you or anything.”

“What you want?”

He motioned her over. Curiosity gripped her. She approached his vehicle slowly.

“Maybe this’ll help,” he said, waving two twenty-dollar bills.

“What do you think I’m gonna do for those?”

“Nothin,” he said, starting the motor. “Thought they might make you smile.”

She snatched the money and stepped back. He put the car in gear and with a wave of his hand he was off. She didn’t even get his name.   

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TUESDAY TALES - MAGGIE'S STORY CONTINUES - WORD PROMPT "GREASY"

Howdy-do! Welcome! We continue with Maggie's Story today. Scroll down to return to Tuesday Tales. Thank you so much for coming!

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After a climbing three staircases, they entered a tiny two bedroom apartment. Gladys led her to a narrow twin bed in a room with tw"o other beds the same size. There was barely room to move.

“This is your bunk, love. Here’s the paper. Look for a job. If you can’t find anything, Burt might be able to get you some work as a chambermaid at the hotel where he works. Do ya know how to make a bed?”

Maggie nodded. Gladys handed her a set of keys, kissed her on the cheek and headed for the front door. When her cousin was gone, Maggie sank down on her bed and cried.

"Come, come, lass. Ain't that bad. We've got some fish and chips. You must be hungry," Gladys said, handing Maggie a tissue.

After mopping her eyes and blowing her nose, she followed her cousin to the living room. In the small ell, a table was set up. 

"Help yourself," Gladys said with a smile. 

Maggie filled a plate with a piece of fish and French fries. She joined the others in the living room, taking a small chair. The food was a bit greasy, but delicious. She hadn't realized how hungry she was. 

"Do ya like living here?" she asked her cousin.

"New York City? It's bigger 'an you could imagine. But they got everything here."

"I hope they have a job."

"What do you do?" Gladys asked.

"Take care of children."

"Oh, a nanny?"

Maggie nodded.

"Might be kinda hard to find that here, seein' you don't know nobody."

Maggie finished her food, washed up her plate and returned to her room. Lying on the bed, she stared at the ceiling. Maybe something good could come from this huge place? That is, if it didn't swallow her whole, first. 

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TUESDAY TALES - BRACELET IS THE PROMPT - MORE OF MAGGIE'S STORY

Welcome! This week the prompt is "bracelet". We have more of "Maggie's Story". Thanks for stopping by. Scroll down to return to Tuesday Tales. 

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Resigned to her father’s decision, Maggie packed her bag. She prayed the relatives would be kind and not know about her troubles. Her friends took her out for a few pints as a farewell. Some insisted she’d be back one day, but she knew different. A disgraced daughter isn’t welcome to return in the Chadwick family. So she gathered her possessions into one small bag and threw it in the boot.

Her mother and grandmother drove her to the boat because her dad had to work, or that’s what he said. Now Maggie was headed to New York City, to bunk in with a cousin she’d met once. Embarrassing daughter problem eliminated. Terrified of planes, Maggie had a room on board a ship. It pulled out of the dock and headed East.

Grandma Evans took Maggie aside. She slipped something shiny out of her pocket and fastened it around Maggie's wrist. 

"This is mine, from your grandpa. Give to me on our first anniversary. It's solid gold. Don't lose it, 'cause it's worth money."

"Grandma, you don't have to..."

"Hush. This will keep you safe. And remind you you're an Evans. Keep your head up, dearie. You're mighty fine. My favorite, but don't tell your mother."

"Thank you."

Maggie hugged the small woman and touched the bracelet. It was engraved with their names and a lovely design on the outside.

"Touch it when you need guidance."

"I will."

Every penny her mum and dad had put away for holiday went to pay for her passage. She assuaged her feelings of guilt with the fact that she’d cost them their last worry. The ticket said “one way”. She was not expected to return. People milled about, but loneliness surrounded her like a cloak. With no family to help, she’d have to clean up her own messes from now on.

When they docked in Manhattan, Gladys, a large woman in a loud dress accosted her.

“There you are, dearie! Good to see you, Mags.” The woman slapped her on the back.

“Gladys?”

“Come on, lovey. This way.”

After days of being alone, Maggie was happy to see a friendly face. She took a deep breath, then descended into the hot New York City subway, half scared, half curious. 

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TUESDAY TALES - WORD PROMPT "YEAR" - MAGGIE'S STORY

For reasons too complicated to explain, I'm not posting more of "Santa's Thrift Shop." Instead, we're switching to "Maggie's Story", a novella I began some time ago. This heartfelt and funny tale is on my schedule to complete this year. 
Tuesday Tales will be helpful in jumpstarting this story in my head. I hope you enjoy it. It's a prequel to one of the Mathattan Dinner club books. 
Scroll down to return to Tuesday Tales. Thank you for stopping by. 

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London, England, Thirty years ago

 “Just don’t get preggers again. Okay?” Her mother whispered.

“It’s not like I’m going to take up with some random stranger, Mum,” Maggie said, twisting a handkerchief in her hand.

“Just be a good girl. Do what they tell you.” Her mother patted her hand.

“I’m not a girl. I’m twenty-two,” the young woman mumbled.

Maggie glared at her mother. A loud whistle startled the women.

“Time for me to go.” With a quick wave, Maggie’s mother exited down the gangway as the ship prepared to depart.

Maggie Chadwick spotted the woman making her way to the underground to return home. Glad to have this bad seed off her hands, I bet. Sure, she’d gotten knocked up –every mother’s nightmare. Maggie never expected Nigel to bug off to Wales.

Broken-hearted and penny-less, Maggie had given up her small flat in London and moved back home with her family. Though she didn’t want it, her mum maneuvered her into having an abortion, explaining to her daughter it was the only way to get a fresh start. Maggie didn’t want a fresh start –she wanted Nigel and, especially, her baby. But it was 1979, she claimed to be a modern woman. It shouldn’t bother her much, but it did.

“You’ll have more, dearie, when you’re ready. The legit way. Married and all. You’ll forget this soon enough,” her mother had said.

Maggie didn’t agree, but kept silent.

With no money and her dad threatening to toss her out, she had no choice but to go along. After the procedure, she stayed in her room, crying, for three weeks. That’s when her dad took steps. He called the relatives in New York City.

“At least I’ll have some peace in me own home,” he’d muttered after he’d made arrangements.  

“Bootin’ me off to the relatives. Washing yer hands of me, eh? Nice, dad. Real nice.”

“What do you expect me to do? Cryin’ all day long, not lookin’ for a job. I can’t afford to keep you, lass. Go to New York. Maybe they can talk some sense into you. And stay away from men!”

It was useless to argue. He was a hard-working man who pinched every penny. She knew he’d resent her for the money it cost to get rid of her.
"It's just for a year, Maggie," her mother said. But Maggie knew the truth. 

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