Joy Garrett is preparing to marry the man of her dreams and needs her birth certificate in
order to get a passport for her honeymoon. For some reason her mother wants to avoid the issue
and urges her to enjoy the good ol' USA. While pilfering in her mother's things in the attic, Joy
comes across a birth certificate, and although the date, hospital and doctor are a match with her,
the paper certifies someone else's birth... What secret is her mother keeping?
Excerpt:
Fresh from her shower, Joy Garrett stood naked in front of the mirror and fingered the inch-long
scar just below her navel. Surgery performed on her at ten months had left the jagged line.
She’d forgotten the reason her mother gave for the operation, but the obvious results, although
small, marred Joy’s otherwise flawless torso and irked her. Anyone who wanted to keep Scott
Porter on a short leash had to look their best.
Wrapped in terrycloth, she went into the bedroom. Her heart pounded with anticipation of
the evening ahead—her first cocktail party and introduction to Scott’s co-workers. She planned
to make this an evening he’d never forget.
She slipped into her matching black bra and thong and then removed her dress from the
hanger on the closet door. Thankfully, those dreadful panty hose of old and annoying slips were
passé these days. “The less the better,” Joy murmured.
The plastic bag, with the retail store’s name emblazoned across it, crackled as she slipped it
off of her slinky dress. Annoying static plastered it to her hand. She peeled the cloying
cellophane away, wadded it, and flung it into the trash. Visions of her luscious date ran through
her mind: dark hair, eyes bluer than the sky, tall…and those shoulders—broad enough to make
other guys envious.
“Scott Porter.” His name dripped from her tongue like water from melting ice as she
shimmied into her dress. Even though they’d been seeing one another for the past six months,
thoughts of him still turned her stomach fluttery. She hoped to marry him one day. Of course, her
dreams hinged on him asking.
She had one year left to complete her master’s degree and still lived at home. A part-time
job didn’t offer the luxury of an apartment. Sharing the rent with a roommate was an option, but
she was holding out for something better. She scanned her room, noting the floral drapes and
frilly bedspread, and then wondered what style Scott would prefer in the bedroom they’d share.
Yep, someday she’d be Joy Ann Porter if she had her way. She warmed at the thought of waking
up in Scott’s arms.
This and my other short stories are available at a discounted price in various downloadable formats at Muse It Up Publishing
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