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    I'll Search The Heavens
    I'll Search The Heavens
    I'll Search The Heavens
    Ebook96 pages1 hour

    I'll Search The Heavens

    By Marianne Dora Rose

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    Excerpt: Somewhere in Egypt, first. In a temple, filled with a wealthy crowd, black wigged and draped in white and gold-filigreed linen sashes. She stood opposite her fantasy man, on a dais at the top of steps that gleamed white. Her bridegroom was a warrior of high rank and clad accordingly, a short white wrap-around skirt bordered in gold and a wide leather sash fitted diagonally across his bare chest. A copper knife at his waist and a sheathed wood javelin, with a copper spearhead was fastened with leather thongs to his muscled arm and shoulder.
    She was a princess, her wedding robes woven from fibers so fine, it was nearly transparent. She was overjoyed and aesthetic to be joined to her warrior, more in love with him than any human being in her life. It was easy to love him, for his love for her was as strong and perhaps stronger.
    The Pharaoh sat on his throne, overseeing and blessing their union. A High Priest stood in front of her and her bridegroom. The High Priest held a corded flaxen rope woven with filigreed gold. As she and her warrior exchanged vows, he wrapped the cord around their joined hands and their wrists. The memory of the words he spoke was not as clear as those her bridegroom added. His voice was steady, strong and very clear. "I am yours to protect you, to love you, to guide you, in this life and all lives to come, for all eternity. This I swear before all the Gods we worship, including the Greatest of them all."
    Without reservation, she replied, "And I am yours to share my love, my loyalty and all my being, in this life and all others to come, for all eternity. This I swear before all the Gods we worship, including the Greatest of them all."
    She heard the High Priest's startled intake of breath. Her bridegroom also heard it. They glanced at the High Priest, and read a wary expression in his eyes. But he said nothing, only turned to gaze up at the Pharaoh, and observed his smile and a nod. A father's approving smile and nod, content to see his favorite daughter and his most loyal warrior, son of royalty as well, joined in marriage.
    The High Priest turned back to the couple. His words issued with an unyielding prophetic finality. "So have you both sworn. So is it ordained."
    A sudden shiver rose up her spine, not of fear, but of momentousness. She gazed into her bridegroom's eyes, and found the reassurance she sought, in the love and utter surrender she read in their expression, and breathed a sigh of relief. A salving mist rose about them as the dream faded.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherMarianne Dora Rose
    Release dateApr 18, 2019
    ISBN9780463878644
    I'll Search The Heavens
    Author

    Marianne Dora Rose

    About the AuthorDorothy Paula Freda, is also known under her pen names Paula Freda and Marianne Dora Rose. Herbooks range from Fiction and Non-fiction Adventure, Romance, Fantasy, Sci-Fi, Poetry, Articles, Essays and How-to-Write Instructional complete with Lessons and optional assignments.Homemaker, mother of two grown sons, and former off-the-desk publisher of a family-oriented print small press, (1984 thru 1999), The Pink Chameleon, that she now publishes on line, Paula was raised by her grandmother and mother, and has been writing for as long as she can remember. Even before she could set pencil to paper, she would spin her stories in the recording booths in the Brooklyn Coney Island Arcades for a quarter per 3-minute record. She states, "I love the English language, love words and seeing them on display, typed and alive. A romantic at heart, I write simply and emotionally. One of my former editors kindly described my work, '...her pieces are always deep, gentle and refreshing....'" Paula further states, "My stories are sensitive, deeply emotional, sensual when appropriate, yet non-graphic, family fare, pageturners. My hope is that my writing will bring entertainment and uplift the human spirit, bring a smile to your face and your soul, and leave you filled with a generous amount of hope."

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      Book preview

      I'll Search The Heavens - Marianne Dora Rose

      I'll Search The Heavens

      by

      Marianne Dora Rose

      I'll Search The Heavens

      by Dorothy P. Freda

      (writing as Marianne Dora Rose)

      © January 1, 2019 by Dorothy P. Freda

      (Pseudonyms - Marianne Dora Rose aka Paula Freda)

      Smashwords Edition

      Bookcover photos Licensed by Dorothy Paula Freda from Dreamstime and iStockphoto (The Statue of Liberty with One World Trade Center background, Landmarks of New York City - Stock image - spyarm

      and

      Woman walking down the book pass above clouds with windmill old ship in horizon - Stock image

      https://www.istockphoto.com/portfolio/SIphotography?mediatype=photography

      All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof. This is a work of fiction; names, characters, places and incidents are a product of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

      Dedication

      With thanks to my Dear Lord Jesus and his Blessed Mother Mary whose strength, guidance, and her Holy Rosary, are my anchor in this troubled world, I dedicate this book to my husband, Domenick, whose love, patience and kindness over the past 47 years kept my dreams and view of the romantic alive and vibrant.

      CHAPTER ONE

      Sunlight streamed through the sheer curtains into Estelle's bedroom. It slowly flooded the room with light and woke her. She opened her eyes, a smile teasing her lips. The rain had stopped and the clouds dispersed, allowing the sun admittance to the cloudless sky above. It was the first day of Spring.

      Each night her maid asked to draw the drapes together across the wide window, to shutter any light, and induce uninterrupted and restful sleep. And each night Estelle's reply was the same.

      No, Angie. I like the soft rays of sunlight at early dawn to wake me.

      But Estelle, the maid protested, permitted to use the familiar salutation. She had been in the service of the household for years, and sixteen-year-old Estelle considered her more a Nanny than a maid. Are you having that dream again, the one from which you prefer the sun's early light gently to wake you?

      Shhh, Estelle put a finger to her lips.

      Angie advised, There's no one about in the hallway to hear me. It's too early for the other servants to be about. Your parents are still asleep, their drapes drawn tight.

      What gave me away, Estelle asked.

      What gives you away, each time, Angie replied.

      The smile?

      Angie nodded. Where were you this time? she asked.

      Not sure, but it was lovely. A rose garden on a terrace, overlooking the Mediterranean.

      "Were you alone?'

      He'd just started down the stone stairwell, toward the carriage on the grounds below, with a promise to be waiting for me tomorrow morning at the foot of the altar for our wedding.

      The same man? Angie said.

      Yes, though the settings may differ, the century, his clothes, the color of his hair, his name, his features. But I recognize him. It's the same man.

      It's been a while since you dreamt about him last.

      Estelle's brow furrowed. Yes, it has. Shortly before Christmas. I was growing afraid I'd never see him again.

      Dear, it's a dream, Angie counseled. He's not real. A leftover fantasy from your childhood.

      He's real, Estelle insisted. To me, she whispered. As real as the young bridegroom in the family portraits that hang along our stairwell, returning each century to find his beloved, remarry her and spend his life with her.

      Please tell me, Angie pleaded, you haven't yet outgrown the fantasy that you are her reincarnation?

      Estelle didn't answer. What good would it do to argue? Angie still thought of her as an impressionable child who although she'd outgrown her belief in fairy tales some time ago, had merely exchanged that phase for a belief in the paranormal.

      You are lovelier than the beautiful ladies in the portraits, and someday, a young gentleman worthy of your affections will come, and make you forget your obsession with the fantasy man in your dreams.

      If you think so, Estelle replied, her tone a bit miffed. She heard the displeasure in Angie's sigh, but took no offence. Angie cared deeply for her and had always wished the best for her.

      Has my gown arrived? she asked, changing the subject.

      Yes, it arrived last night, express. You were asleep. I hung it in the closet. You will likely be the most beautiful debutante at the ball. Do you want to try it on?

      No, not yet. This afternoon will be soon enough, if it needs alteration.

      Does your mother know which one you chose?

      I don't think so. She's been very busy at the office with Dad reviewing the new Paris line for the Fashion Show next week. All the elite and richest families have RSVP'd to attend.

      Are you ready to rise, or shall I return later? Angie asked.

      It was Saturday. No school and nothing else today on the calendar. Estelle yawned and stretched. No, I think I'll get up, have breakfast and go for a ride. It's much too lovely a day to miss the dawn.

      I'll fetch your breakfast, Angie said.

      Estelle nodded and pushed the covers aside. She sat up and curved her legs over the side of the bed. She sat a moment recalling the dream and her fantasy man. It might be a quirk of her subconscious, but his visits came in a chronological order.

      Somewhere in Egypt, in a temple, filled with a wealthy crowd, black wigged and draped in white and gold-filigreed linen sashes, she stood opposite her fantasy man, on a dais at the top of steps that gleamed white. Her bridegroom was a warrior of high rank and clad accordingly, a short white wrap-around skirt bordered in gold and a wide leather sash fitted diagonally across his bare chest. A copper knife at his waist and a sheathed wood javelin, with a copper spearhead was fastened with leather thongs to his muscled arm and shoulder.

      At this time, what was referred to as linen was mostly woven from the stem of the flax plants that abounded in Egypt. The stalks were cooked, beaten, meticulously cleaned and the fibers spliced and twisted until soft and smooth enough for spinning and weaving into material. The more work involved, the softer and smoother the resulting fabric. She was a princess, her wedding robes woven from fibers so fine, it was nearly transparent.

      She was overjoyed and aesthetic to be joined

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