Hey Gang,
I'm thrilled to participate as a guest blogger for one of my favourite writers ever -- Linda Gerber! I'm so excited to see Linda's new novel debuting this week -- we are all in for a BIG treat.
Now -- as you may have noticed from the spelling of the thirteenth word in my first sentence -- I am Canadian. I wanted to bring you a touch of a Canadian beach scene from one of my books. I have written many beach scenes, but interestingly -- none of them involve bikinis and many of them occur in winter! So, just for something different, here's a beach scene that takes place one cold November near the end of my novel MS. ZEPHYR'S NOTEBOOK. This is the end of a chase scene between the two main characters in this story -- Logan (a 15 year old boy) and Cleo (a 14 year old girl). The car he's driving is a cherry-red Ferrari. And the thing he's trying to save? I think I'll just leave that a mystery....
In spite of the cold Logan didn't give a thought to flipping up the convertible top. He just hopped in and roared down the block toward the lake. Almost right away he caught a glimpse of her sweater, like a drop of blood against the falling snow. She was loping slowly along the shore beside the black water.
At the sight of her so close to the ice, Logan actually forgot about the car. All the fears he'd had for her came rushing back into his throat, making it hard to breathe. He careened off the road and down a boat launch ramp, screeching to a stop only as the tires hit the edge of the ice.
She looked over her shoulder and started running. Logan didn't stop to think. He jumped over the door of the car and bolted after her. He saw her glance over her shoulder again. She couldn't run very fast and was gaining on her, his legs windmilling like a cartoon character on the slippery surface of rock and ice. She finally skidded to a stop and without a second glance at him, flung something high over the line of ice and dark water.
"What are you doing?" he yelled, trying to grab her to slow himself down.
"What are YOU doing?" she yelled back, as he slid by.
She reached out for him but her red mittens slipped uselessly across the back of his coat as his momentum carried him past her. His feet scrabbling for purchase, and totally out of control, he slid on.
At least it's me and not Cleo, he thought. Gravity finally won the fight and he fell to his knees in the slush, within an arm's reach of where the ice grew black and wet and became lake again.
Right beside him was Cleo's missile.
That's enough of this cold beach for today, I think. Back to celebrating bikinis with Linda!
And if you'd like to win copy of MS. ZEPHYR'S NOTEBOOK, why not send me the name of your favourite beach? The winner will be announced here and on my blog (http://kcdyer.blogspot.com) next Thursday, May 22. Best of luck to you all!
~kc
