Click on image to enlarge.
|
Love Signs [MultiFormat]
eBook by Dick Claassen
| |
Regular |
|
 |
|
Club |
| You Pay: |
$4.99 |
|
|
|
$4.24 |
eBook Category: Romance
eBook Description: Peter is deaf. Molly is hearing. They meet in a most gentle way and learn to communicate; not just in thought, but in love. But the outside forces that bring them together are anything but gentle as Peter and Molly are taken through the terrifying tragedy of past lives that is haunting them in their present life. How can they reverse the horrible fate that has befallen them again and again in the past lives they have lived together?
eBook Publisher: Awe-Struck E-Books, Published: 1998
Fictionwise Release Date: March 2002
Available eBook Formats [MultiFormat - What's this?]: Adobe Acrobat (PDF) [270 KB], eReader (PDB) [123 KB], Palm Doc (PDB) [90 KB], Rocket/REB1100 (RB) [87 KB], Microsoft Reader (LIT) [223 KB] - PocketPC 1.0+ Compatible, Franklin eBookMan (FUB) [145 KB], hiebook (KML) [241 KB], Sony Reader (LRF) [169 KB], iSilo (PDB) [80 KB], Mobipocket (PRC) [100 KB], Kindle Compatible (MOBI) [141 KB], OEBFF Format (IMP) [136 KB]
Words: 31974
Reading time: 91-127 min.
Microsoft Reader (LIT) Format: Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud ENABLED
Adobe Acrobat (PDF) Format: Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud DISABLED
All Other formats: Printing DISABLED, Read-aloud DISABLED
 
5 STARS: "Again I have had the opportunity to read another novel by Dick Claassen, and I must say I'm not disappointed. He has yet again created a unique love story that pulls at your heartstrings. If you love to read romance, buy this book! I rate this book (1-5) scale: A bold 5!" Reviewed By Jewel Dartt of MIDNIGHT SCRIBE REVIEWS
The atrium was pleasant. The sun slanted through the windows and warmed her as she sat very peacefully in its healing glow. She needed these silent moments. Depression was an insidious invader. People who were blessed with an accepting, happy disposition couldn't begin to imagine what depression felt like. They couldn't possibly know what it was like to have your whole life wadded up in a knot, lying like a stone in the pit of your stomach. They couldn't fathom what it was like to have all hope spin away from you and to fall headlong into a black, bottomless pit. But Molly Ling knew.
Her father hadn't known what to do with her. He had checked her into this facility a month ago. The psychiatrists had put her through the standard battery of tests. Molly didn't care for the testing, the probing, the endless questions. She couldn't answer their questions -- she couldn't. "What kind of relationship did you have with your mother when you were a child?" one psychiatrist had asked. "I loved my mother," Molly answered. "Wonderful," said the psychiatrist. "Do you harbor anger toward your father?" "No, but I'm harboring anger toward you." Questions, questions, and when she was exhausted with their questions -- more questions. The doctors could find nothing in her past that would cause the debilitating depression, so they finally concluded that it must be Molly's brain chemistry that was at fault, although they didn't use the phrase, 'at fault.' They were much too savvy, Molly realized, to place 'blame.' They instead talked of "causes," "triggers," and "hereditary predisposition." Their solution to Molly's problem was to prescribe a seretonin adjuster. Molly refused to take it. She didn't object to other people taking drugs like that, but she would not take it. She had tried to explain this to her father before he insisted on bringing her to this place, but he would have none of her explanations. He just wanted her to get well. It mattered little to him that Molly was thirty-two years old, an attractive, intelligent woman who may not know what was wrong with her, but who insisted she knew what wasn't wrong with her. So Molly sat here now in the atrium, basking in the sun's glow, able to escape, if only for a little while, from her depression. She looked up at a familiar flash of movement next to her. It was her father. Molly and her father had an especially close relationship, and she took great comfort in that. He sat down beside her and looked at her with a father's love. "You've got to cooperate with the doctors, Molly." "I won't take a prescription drug. We've had this discussion before. Taking a designer drug runs counter to everything I stand for." "But ..." "No," Molly interrupted. She put her hand on her father's arm in way of comforting him. "You don't need to tell your friends you are taking a prescription. It's not their business to know." "I realize this, but I'll know. My friends know the stand I've taken on the side of natural healing. It's my philosophy of life, for God's sake. Taking a designer drug to ease my depression would be hypocritical. I can't take anything like that. I just can't." Sam Ling sat back and sighed. "You are the most stubborn daughter a man could have." "I know this has been tough for you. I appreciate you bringing me here," she said softly. "You damn near died with that suicide attempt! I had no choice but to bring you here!" "Dad, keep your voice down," Molly whispered frantically. "Let's not announce this to the world. All right?" "I'm sorry. You just steam me so much." Molly looked across the room. She was relieved to see that the elderly lady who had been sitting across from her before her father came in was no longer there. She turned to her father. "Look, I've been doctoring myself with herbs." "You need something more ..." "I know that now," Molly interrupted. "I know. I'll work on it. I'll double dose, triple dose, whatever it takes. I'll get my depression under control. Somehow I'll straighten myself out." *** Peter had his back to the shop door, but looked around when the red light in front of him flashed. He turned away from his computer and looked at the person who had entered the small store. It was one of his faithful clients. Peter smiled and pointed to the chair next to his own. The extra chair was facing his computer. "How are you, today, Jacob?" Peter typed on the screen. Jacob sat down, then typed in return, "I'm just fine." "What can I help you with?" "I came in today because I need something for indigestion. Do you have anything for that?" "Are you the one who has the problem?" "No," Jacob typed. "It's my daughter who's having trouble." "Okay. I remember that your daughter, Jenny, is six? Seven?" I think I've forgotten her age." "You're close," Jacob typed. She's seven and a half." Peter smiled. "Time's moving too fast for me." "It happens to us all," Jacob typed. Peter got up and went to a shelf. He handed his old client a bottle of Cayenne capsules. Then he took out his notepad and wrote, 'adult dose- 3 capsules daily. child dose- at least 1, up to 2 capsules daily.' Jacob's mouth moved into the shape of a sincere thank-you. He followed Peter to the cash register and paid for the capsules, then left. Peter sat back down at his computer. The morning moved slowly. A few old and faithful customers like Jacob came and went, some buying bottles of capsules or extract while others purchased herb tea. Some took a candy flavored vitamin C sample from the dispenser by the cash register before they left. A woman from the local gym came in to buy white willow for pain, and oat fiber and wheat germ as a source of vitamins B and D. Peter was thankful for his old customers, but he hoped new customers didn't show up because today he really didn't want to educate them to his own shortcomings. He didn't have the energy to do that today. He was depressed enough already. He again sat down at his computer, back to the door. The customer alert light, not lit, stared at him like a half dead eye in the head of someone who was as depressed as himself. But now the light blinked on, alerting him to another customer who had entered his store. He got up and tiredly turned around. A woman approximately his age, with short black hair, a petite face and figure, beautiful black almond eyes, and a perfect complexion smiled at him. He felt his face flush. He must have been staring. He was no good with pretty women. He wasn't worthy of a second look from them. What would she think of him? He couldn't even talk to her. Her words formed into a "Good morning." Peter scrambled for his notepad. He hastily scribbled down "Please sit at my computer. I am deaf."
Copyright (c) 1998 by Dick Claassen
|
)
