Loving Bella, Elizabeth Bonet [little red riding hood ebook free .TXT] 📗

was true. Every word. For all three of her daughters it was true. They would not trust there own mother when it came to personal matters of the heart. But instead would go to Mrs. Joy who would vow not to tell a soul but pray for them. And she kept true to her word, but it still bothered him how they were so ungrateful to their mother.
Both husband and wife looked up to hear the door creak open and shut before them as just a bit of black hair and the edge of Bella’s jeans exited the room on silent feet. Knowing her daughter had heard every word she uttered, Natine threw her face in her hands and began crying all over again.

~*~*~*~

“She thought I thought that I couldn’t trust her! Where in the world did she get such a notion like that?!” Bella bit her lip at the sudden remembrance of her mother’s words. “She’ll go and confide in the Pastor’s wife but she won’t even tell me what’s wrong! Her own Mother!” Was it true? She always did have trouble connecting with her mother. Not that they weren’t close.
But whenever she needed personal advice she generally didn’t go to her. One, because she knew she’d end up telling people. Which was one major thing she didn’t want. Number two, her mother got easily mad and agitated. Especially when Bella would tell her something she either didn’t agree with, understand, or like.
Mrs. Joy was a very patient and understanding woman. Not to mention, she knew how to keep her mouth shut. Something most people enjoyed about her. She also gave good advice and didn’t just say “Pray about it” like her mother would. Bella slumped back on her bed and threw her pillow over her face in one exaggerated move. She sighed deeply breathing in all her troubles and letting them out slowly.
In doing this her whole mood lifted. Even her room seemed to brighten. Her room was always bright unless it was dark out or storming. Especially with her yellow and white walls, eye-lit curtains, tasteful figurines and artful paintings telling of beautiful sceneries. It was a bit small, but she didn’t mind. It gave her a bit of a solace. Her own space to think.
Bella suddenly remembered what had transpired just a few moments before. She had watched her mother painfully make her way from the table and into the kitchen holding back a flood of tears and how Mark had walked in behind her. Bella feeling bad and hearing her mother yelling walked in after them.
Only to hear her mother say that she didn’t trust her and to see Mark’s face harden in conformation. Flabbergasted, Bella had slipped out and away from the emotional turmoil in the kitchen. Bella sighed again at the memory. Her mother was very anal and dramatic. “Sheesh I wonder where she got it from cause I know that I’m certainly not like that.”
“Pray for her Bella. Natine needs your prayers.” Bella nodded to no one in particular and bowed her head for a few moments of intercession for her mother.

~*~*~*~

Mason sat prostrate on his bunk staring at the open book on his lap. It was a journal that a family had given to him the night of his going away party. He nonchalantly flipped through the pages which he had divulged every feeling, emotion and thought. The first page was dated June 31st, 2009. The day after the party.
Mason slowly read the first two lines to himself. “Only three more days till I leave for Alabama. And only 3 more days until I can fill my head with thoughts of training instead of her.” Mason stiffened upon reading the last word and slapped the book closed, throwing it at the wall in front of him.
“Isabella.” Just the mere thought of her name sent a shock of heat throughout his entire body. It’s effect so powerful he convulsed in pain. He shut his eyes to block the image of those chocolate eyes out. But it was to no avail. It was as if she possessed him, clouding his mind with nothing but thoughts of her.
Mason threw his eyes open with a vengeance. The gold flints in his green eyes sending lethal darts. The brightness of his room seemed anything but, mocking his mood with the brilliant stream of light that flowed in through the open window. Mason growled, stabbing fingers through auburn hair causing disheveled curls to fall against his forehead.
Mason practically jumped off the bed and began to pace the room.
Bradley swung open the door to their billet to find Mason rummaging through some papers in his trunk like a mad man. The tall blond stood in a trance as he watched his friend acting like a maniac. He had only seen him like this a few times but every time it scared him. Bradley knew exactly what had happened to put him in such a state. Never before had he wanted to strangle a woman so much.
To reduce a man to such conditions could only mean one thing and he particularly didn’t want to think about it. Bradley sighed plopping down hard on Mason’s bunk. “So what ya lookin’ for?” Mason froze at the sound of the older man’s voice. He spun around and gawked into shocking blue eyes. The look in his friend’s eyes caught him off guard. “Wow he’s really worried about me… Go figure I’m even worried about me.”
A wry smile pulled at the corner of Mason’s lips. Bradley cocked his head to the side in confusion. Only causing Mason to grin to his ears. “What is it you fool?!” Mason busted out laughing. Bradley placed both hands to his face and dropped one to the side leaving the other to prop his chin. “Ok I think you’ve officially lost it.”
The redhead stood up, papers in hand and sat next to Bradley on the bed. He loosely placed a tanned arm around Bradley’s shoulders, giving him a little boy grin. “You my friend that’s what. You being worried about me made me realize that I, myself, was worried about me!”
Bradley chuckled as he shook his head at his friend. He stopped when he spotted the letters in Mason’s hand. Before Mason could guess his intentions he leaned over and plucked the papers out of Mason’s hand. Mason’s eyes turned round as he watched Bradley scan the pages. Grinning like a fool Bradley shot up and posed dramatically as he read the one paragraph written by that little 13 year old who seemed much older than her age.
Placing a hand to his chest he made a high pitched noisy sigh before reading aloud the contents of the sentences. “ Dear Mason, How are you? I was just sitting here and I thought of my favorite chapter in Psalms and I thought you would enjoy it also. The whole chapter is good but I thought of this one verse for you. ‘Trust in the Lord and do good; Dwell in the land and feed on his faithfulness.’ ~ Psalm 37:3. We all miss you terribly and wish you well. Love, Bella.”
Mason shook his head and couldn’t help but laugh at his friend. “You big goofball. You’re always good for a laugh and know how to cheer me up.” Bradley grimaced. “Not the first time I’m sad to say. You were depressed for weeks afterward. I thought you might’ve died from that if not from a bullet or piece of shrapnel.”
The younger man’s eyes softened as he looked on the sincerity of Bradley’s face. “I forgive you, and I’m sorry.” He stood up giving Bradley a strong hug before they separated to take a shower and clean up the mess he had made of their room.

~*~*~*~


Chapter seven

“Mrs. Patrick O’Conner?” Marcy’s gaze shifted to the soldier who had spoken, and she nodded slowly. “May we come in, ma’am?” he asked. She nodded again, never budging from the door. The soldiers glanced briefly at each other before the spokesman repeated the request. “Ma’am, may we come inside, please? He asked again, his voice gentle.
Marcy’s hand clutched to her throat as fear fisted in her chest. “No!” she screamed. What do you want?” Her cry brought Charity to the landing. “Mother, what is it?” She sped down the steps, tying her robe tightly about her. She grabbed her mother’s arm, but Marcy shook it off, glaring at the men.
“What do you want?” she said again. The spokesman turned to Charity with a pleading look. “Miss, we have news of her husband. May we come in please?” “Of course,” Charity said, her voice trembling as she pried Marcy’s finger’s from the door. Charity looped her arm around her mother’s waist and led her to the parlor as if she were a child.
The men followed silently while Bridget and the children huddled on the steps. Charity looked up at Bridget . “Grandmother these gentlemen have news about Father,” she said calmly, and they exchanged a look of dread. “Can you take everyone into the kitchen and give them breakfast, please?” She spoke with an air of authority, and Bridget nodded, ushering Beth and Steven into the kitchen.
Marcy lowered to the couch, her eyes glazed as she stared at the floor. Charity took a seat beside her and clutched her arm around her mother’s waist. The soldier wasted no time. “Mrs. O’Conner, I regret to inform you that your husband, Private Patrick O’Conner of the 30th Infantry Regiment, 3rd Division, was killed in the line of duty-”
“Noooooooo!” The sound that issued form her lips was bloodcurdling as Marcy lunged at the soldier, her fist striking him in the chest before his arms immobilized her. Charity reached for her mother, eyes brimming with tears. “Mother, please…” “He’s lying…it’s not true! Marcy shrieked.
Bella looked up from her book with tears streaming down her cheek. “Poor Marcy what she must be suffering! I couldn’t imagine…” Sudden thoughts of Mason laying in the middle of war in a trench flooded her mind. The huge bombs surrounding him instantaneously killing the men and women who were brave enough to fight for their country. She thought of Mason with gun in hand dodging bullets and fighting for his life.
When the next thought came she bit back a gag.