Straight From The Heart Page 11

  By the time I was nineteen I was living in my own apartment and working as a full-fledged orthodontic nurse. We now had some adult patients, but most of them were married. Then came Michael, to teach me the meaning of real love and heady romance. Our office staff was composed of seven females, five of whom were lovely and charming girls near my own age. If some unattached male unsuspectingly entered our office, he wouldn’t know what hit him. Some felt they’d stepped in a harem with five treasures clad in virginal white!

  One cold November day a junior from the University of Georgia was referred to our office for braces; but what female would have noticed this tiny flaw with a smile like he possessed! Fate saw to it that the other nurses were occupied, and I entered the reception room to claim this new patient, to seat and prepare him for an examination. But I was totally unprepared for the sight that greeted my eyes: the epitome of Adonis and Sir Lancelot rolled into one man. As Shakespeare so aptly put it, “. . . such stuff as dreams are made on . . .”

  I’m sure I gaped at this striking male with my eyes wide and mouth open; I can’t recall because I was utterly bewitched at first glance. I had never seen or met any male with such a combination of arresting qualities. He was handsome, sexy, charming, and confident; he was well-mannered and polished. An impeccable and stylish dresser, he was attired in earthtones: freshly shined brown wing-tip shoes, a tailored oxford shirt with brown pin-strips, dark brown pants, and a chocolate Alpaca sweater with “MHT” monogrammed over his heart. Michael—even the name had a sensual and romantic ring. Anyone who doesn’t believe that there’s such a thing as love at first sight is badly mistaken.

  When I regained my wits and speech, I led him into an examination room. With shaky hands and quivering voice, I asked him to sit down; then I placed a “bib” over his clothes, set out the necessary instruments, and filled out his chart. The room was small; his presence seemed to fill it, and my spinning mind. Crazy as it seemed, the soft music from the ceiling speaker offered an aura of romantic seclusion. Never had I been so intensely aware of a male! I seemed to notice everything about him at once, until he flooded my mind with sights and sounds.

  I was at a complete loss. I couldn’t seem to think clearly or to make my hands work. He affected me in powerful ways. I found myself nearly stammering when I spoke. I blushed each time our eyes met. His enchanting voice washed over me like a gentle wave. I found it difficult to look at him, but impossible not to! I began to feel foolish and forward, a most unnerving and intriguing combination. Who was this magical creature, and how could a total stranger have such an effect on me? One read about such things in romance novels or saw them on the movie screen, but they were purely fantasy. Weren’t they?

  Somehow I made it through his initial visit without acting the utter fool or brazen flirt. It was decided; he would become a patient of ours. It would require a span of treatment to cover 18 to 24 months, nearly two years of monthly visits . . . When another nurse entered the room to assist me with the diagnostic tests, I saw the way she “noticed” this virile and handsome male who was causing my heart to flutter. I bristled with possessive jealousy and determination. After his departure, I immediately announced to the entire female staff, “That’s the man I’m going to marry.” I practically demanded “all hands and eyes off!” What did it matter that the male in question hadn’t seemed to notice I was in the room! He had been so polite, but remote. No doubt he was weary of being pursued by countless females.

  There was a major problem: I was still very timid and naive. How could I boldly chase a man, a stranger? How could I attract and interest such a rare creature when he could have his pick of females? How could I make any progress even if I found the courage and wit, since I was to see him only once a month? He had money and social status; I was a working girl from “Podunk.” When compared to the females of his world, I lacked all confidence in my looks and appeal. Did I have the daring to chase a dream? Was it too late to develop sex appeal and social sophistication? Was this dream beyond my reach and green abilities? But, I had at least a year and a half for him to realize I was alive and available. Whenever I see those nurses today, they still remind me of those strident and confident words: “That’s the man I’m going to marry.” But I did!

  When my boss entered the office the following morning, I received a stunning and thrilling shock. Just before opening the office, we girls were in the lab making final preparations. The doctor entered, grinning like a Cheshire cat. Slowly and humorously, he revealed a curious phone call he’d received the night before from a new patient. As he playfully went over the conversation, my face grew redder, and my surprise and pleasure increased. Michael had actually called him, giving him my description in minute detail, and asking for my name and phone number! Everyone agreed, there was no mistaking who the new patient had been describing: me! Needless to say, I took a lot of teasing for quite some time. Since the attraction was mutual, surely the other nurses would respect my fierce claim.

  But I didn’t hear from him or see him for several weeks. I later learned, while I was agonizing over his obvious change of heart, that he was also shy and was finding it difficult to summon the courage to call me, actually fearing I would rebuff him. I would also later learn that he had been smitten at first sight. Just as the heroes in the romance novels I would come to write, he was battling that “loss of freedom” disease. As we’ve talked over the years since meeting, it constantly amazes me how closely our thoughts and feelings matched, and still match.

  We dated off and on for a year, each fearing that love at first sight was too good to be true or to last. He was caught up with college studies and his family’s business in another town, which caused him to be away for many weekends, most holidays, and all summer. We each dated a few others, perhaps testing our depth of feeling and need for each other. When he returned to Athens for his senior year, we dated frequently. But because he made no commitment to me, I wondered if I was waiting for a dream that would never materialize. By then, I was deeply in love with him, and I feared being hurt by losing him. While dating others, I was forced to admit to myself that he was the only man for me. But how did I convince him that I was the only woman for him? Unbeknownst to me, it wasn’t necessary. Shortly before Christmas, he asked me not to date anyone else. My heart soared. Surely that could only mean . . .

  College closed for the holiday season, and I was invited to his home to meet his family and spend two days of Christmas there. Since he had been home for several weeks, I rode the bus to Augusta to meet him. Upon arrival at the terminal, no Michael. Worse, his family acted strangely when I called for him to pick me up! I was frantic. Had he invited me without his parents’ permission or knowledge?

  Finally, he arrived, smiling and apologizing. He said he had been doing some last minute shopping and lost track of time. I was slightly miffed and confused. I was to stay with his married brother and sister-in-law. It was Christmas Eve, and everyone was rushing around. Suddenly I felt uncomfortable and nervous. Everyone was acting weird.

  After dinner, Michael took me out to a quaint English-style pub, called the King’s Inn, for privacy and a glass of champagne. The place was most romantic: soft music, dim lighting, quiet booths. We talked for a long time. As we were sliding out of the plush booth, he absently tossed a velvet box in my lap with a “Merry Christmas.” Naturally, I expected to find either a birthstone ring or dinner ring. To my disbelief, it was a solitaire engagement ring. I was so stunned, my first thought was, “it isn’t real”! He removed it from the box and placed it on my finger, only to remove it for a larger diamond on our eighteenth wedding anniversary. When we returned to his brother’s home, I learned why everyone had behaved so oddly. He had only decided that afternoon to buy the ring; he was purchasing it when I arrived! Naturally they couldn’t tell me where he was or why he was late.

  We’ve been married for decades, but the love and romance between us increase with time. Michael realizes how special romance is and goes out of his way
to do or say special things. He understands me and accepts me as I am. We work together and play together; we’re best friends. It’s so important to “like” as well as “love” each other. We’ve come to know, respect, and understand each other. We never fight, and rarely disagree. No two people could be more perfectly suited to each other, or be so happy and lucky. Romance is a wild and wonderful emotion, one that must be kept alive and green. Love is a rich blessing and a growing experience, especially when it comes at first sight.

  (Continue reading for more about the author.)

  About The Author

  Janelle’s first book, Savage Ecstasy, was sold to Zebra Books in 1981 when she was thirty-seven. That volume launched her enormously successful five-book Ecstasy Saga Series. It was the first romantic novel to break new ground by allowing a white girl to have an Indian lover. Janelle, recognizing an ongoing bias against American Indians, wanted to tell the other side of the story. Her series won countless readers, and she received many favorable and appreciative letters from men, women, whites, and Indians nationwide. So overwhelming was the response, in fact, that Janelle has recently been contracted to extend the sagas by five more volumes, to bring the total in the series to ten.

  Janelle Taylor was born and raised in Athens, Georgia, where she considered herself a typical run-of-the-mill country tomboy. She loved hunting, fishing, and hiking just as much as her two brothers did. As a child, she remembers that she was something of a loner; a very shy child whose favorite pastimes were to write poetry and short stories and daydream. Of course, another favorite diversion was reading. Janelle was intrigued by American and British history up to the 1900s, especially the period between 1700 and 1800. She was also unusually fascinated by Westerns and by famous Indians, particularly Sitting Bull, Red Cloud, and Crazy Horse. She devoured books about their lives and read their historical writings. The lives of Chief Joseph, Geronimo, and Cochise intrigued her.

  Surprisingly, it was not Janelle’s lifelong ambition to become a writer. Her background was in science, chemistry, animal surgery, and medical research. Janelle happened to be watching the “Today” show one morning and saw an interview with the legendary Kathleen Woodiwiss. Janelle had read many of her books and already considered her to be one of the all-time best writers. As she watched the interview, Janelle was overcome by inspiration. She felt that she and Woodiwiss had similar personalities: they were both shy, reserved, and both had been so-called “mental writers” since childhood. It was then that Janelle decided to write the book that she knew by heart from all her years of reading Indian history.

  Her first book required more than a year of research and writing. Her belief that an Indian book should be as authentic as possible led her to the decision to translate all the Indian dialogue in Savage Ecstasy into Sioux. Thanks to the assistance of Hiram Owen, Director of Education for the Sisseton-Wahpeton Sioux tribes, Janelle’s translation was a success. This was the start of a warm friendship with the Sioux Indians of North Dakota. Recently, Janelle received a personal invitation to the Sioux “Wacipi,” a yearly celebration in Sisseton, South Dakota. There she was presented with a number of wonderful gifts and allowed to view a video tape of several ancient ceremonies: The Sun Dance, The Vision Quest, and The Sweat Lodge and other rituals.

  As a new writer, Janelle recalls that she had to learn everything as she went along. Sometimes the going was hard and painful. After first writing her novel in long-hand, and then proceeding with several typings, a publisher told her that her manuscript was typed in the wrong form and that she would have to do it again. Having already given the project her all, not to mention the fact that she was an extremely poor typist at the time, Janelle nearly ended her writing career before it began. In a flood of tears, she refused to type even one more word! Finally, however, she did manage to put her manuscript into proper form, and was soon overjoyed to learn that it had been accepted. Today she prefers the convenience of using a word processor, what she calls the writer’s answer to a dream.

  Consistency and realism are two basic staples of a Janelle Taylor novel. The period, climate, clothing, landscape, wildlife, inventions, and occupations of a particular time and place are meticulously researched. When Janelle sits down to write, her work space is decorated with photographs and posters from her extensive collection, depicting historical events, people, and locations. This helps her keep a particular scene or character firmly in mind and also helps her avoid any variation in setting or personality. In fleshing out her heroes and heroines, Janelle begins with a physical and psychological profile of each character to get to know the individual thoroughly. She uses charts and lists to keep detailed descriptions of flora and fauna, climate, and any other pertinent facts on selected locales. Janelle prefers keeping charts, instead of drawing up detailed outlines, because she feels outlines can stunt the spontaneity and freshness of a story.

  Janelle lives with her romantic husband, Michael, in Georgia, on a twelve-acre tract of woods and pasture. They have two grown daughters. She boasts that after all their years of marriage, Michael not only leaves romantic love notes in the morning but still sends her roses on impulse. Their ranch-style home, surrounded by dogwoods and redbuds, provides her with the perfect atmosphere for writing. The Taylors have had many pets: dogs, fourteen ducks, twenty chickens, ten rabbits, four turtles, two canaries, twenty hermit crabs, eight goats, six geese, and a green snake.