When the Ribbons Dance

Chapter 1

Modern Day

"You threw that pen again, didn't you?"

If Bronwyn hadn't known the disembodied voice on the other line, hadn't been friends since the cradle with the disembodied voice, hadn't poured her heart and pain and hopes and dreams and spent how many countless nights building tents and Barbie Doll houses with the disembodied voice, her cursing would have been worse. Much worse.

"Damn,"she grunted.

Bronwyn Davidson was in a painful position. She re-cradled the phone between her shoulder and left ear, the old-fashioned phone cord stretched taut and the phone itself teetered precariously close to the edge of the nightstand, while the fingers of her right hand stretched into the darkening netherworld of under the hotel bed where the offensive pen – a mocking parting gift from that meandering, faithless,roving, self-serving, career ruining bastard of an ex-husband – lay just beyond the reach of her fingertips. She could feel the clip on it, just barely a hair beyond her grasp.

"No,"she lied, eyes now narrowed in vexation. "I'm stretching."

"Exercise? You? Somehow, I doubt that!" Ashley's voice was laced with an infectious humor that had graced her her entire life. Her mother told people the babe was born smiling. "C'mon, girlfriend! You didn't call me so I can hear you sweat over the phone."

"I didn't call you. You called me! Remember? AHA!" There! Bronwyn's fingertips grazed the edge of the pen and she nudged it towards her,before finally grasping it in her fist.

"Iwas returning your call, dingleberry! What time is it in Wales?"

"11 P.M. ACK!" Bronwyn pulled her arm out from under the bed, dust and decaying God knows what else flying up with it. Shaking the debris from her arm, she inadvertently flung the pen to the other side of the room, the tubular metal ringing as it ricocheted into the far corner and under the television cabinet. "DAMNITTOHELL!"

Ashley'slaughter was not comforting. "You threw it again, didn't you?"

"There's dust in the carpet." Bronwyn stood up, brushing filth from her already filthy khaki jeans. She now faced the dilemma of retrieving the pen from the other side of the room. For a moment, she contemplated the erstwhile pen and then decided for now, it was safe hiding beneath cheap furniture. A limp hank of dark auburn hair fell in her eyes. "I hate that man!"

"Whatdid Royce do to you now?" On the other side of the line, Ashleysounded as preoccupied and as far away as she really was. Thousandsof miles.

"Not Royce." Not her ex-husband, this very minute. "Alfred!" She blew at the offensive lock of hair, in an attempt of moving it and not putting her fingers in it.

There was a moment of silence. "Is this a new boyfriend?"

"NO!"Bronwyn decided that the pen needed to be retrieved so she could throw it again. She blew again at the hair in her eyes. "Alfred is in charge of the dig and Royce is a complete and total asshat and male chauvinist prick! Alfred is ignoring the situation!" She took a breath and blew again. "And he's a drunk!" Giving up, she grabbed a nondescript headband from the nightstand and shoved it on her head, effectively removing the hair from her eyes and pulling all of it from her face.