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Ghost of Willow's Past: The Night Stalkers Short Stories, #1
Ghost of Willow's Past: The Night Stalkers Short Stories, #1
Ghost of Willow's Past: The Night Stalkers Short Stories, #1
Ebook33 pages29 minutes

Ghost of Willow's Past: The Night Stalkers Short Stories, #1

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-a Night Stalkers romance story-

Master Sergeant Dusty James returns to Portland, Oregon on his one week’s leave. A visit to his parent’s favorite rose may change the course of his life.

Master Sergeant Amy Patterson would mourn the loss of her mother, if the pain didn’t still consume her.

But a shared history may bind their hearts forever. A history known only to the Ghost of Willow’s Past.

LanguageEnglish
Release dateFeb 16, 2014
ISBN9781507046883
Ghost of Willow's Past: The Night Stalkers Short Stories, #1
Author

M. L. Buchman

USA Today and Amazon #1 Bestseller M. L. "Matt" Buchman has 70+ action-adventure thriller and military romance novels, 100 short stories, and lotsa audiobooks. PW says: “Tom Clancy fans open to a strong female lead will clamor for more.” Booklist declared: “3X Top 10 of the Year.” A project manager with a geophysics degree, he’s designed and built houses, flown and jumped out of planes, solo-sailed a 50’ sailboat, and bicycled solo around the world…and he quilts.

Read more from M. L. Buchman

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    Book preview

    Ghost of Willow's Past - M. L. Buchman

    Ghost of Willow’s Past

    a Night Stalkers Christmas short story

    by M L Buchman

    And Tomotada looked so long upon her face it grew rosy red from chin to forehead, and though she smiled, her eyes filled with tears.

    -from Green Willow (an ancient Japanese folk tale of a samurai who marries the ghost of a willow tree)

    1

    Master Sergeant Dustin James nudged a clod of dirt back into place with the toe of his boot. The rich black soil of the Portland Oregon Rose Garden simply dissolved and left a blackish patch of mud on the worn leather. Today was the Winter Solstice. It was raining and about three degrees above freezing. Pretty typical. He stared down at the Rosa canina.

    This rose had been propagated from a cutting of the oldest documented rose bush on the planet. The rose now huddled, dormant and pruned back for the winter. In bloom, it was the least assuming rose in the garden, a single layer of five pink petals around a yellow center. Four days before Christmas, it was a cluster of frosty twigs decorated by bright red rose hips.

    Most people passed it by, but not his father, the head gardener of the nearby Japanese Garden. He had visited the rose every day after work on his walk home. Dusty and his mother had often walked up to meet him at the old Briar Rose.

    I met your mother by this rose. We married right here. Being a man of few words, his father never embellished the story. It wasn’t the most scenic spot in the garden, but with ten thousand rose bushes in a couple hundred neatly tended beds, not bad either. The fact that they’d married here on the Winter Solstice when nothing bloomed had been a little odd perhaps, but then his parents had been rather eccentric.

    Dusty had come home for this Christmas, even though

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