Christmas in Paris (A Master Chefs Series Standalone Novel)
“Wearing a pale colored dress that blew in the wind, she waited for him at the other end of a long field of dry, dead flowers that swayed in the heavy wind. Her hands stretched out to him, she called his name and smiled, but no joy came to her eyes, only sorrow.
He trudged on, putting every ounce of energy into getting to her, but the mud only became deeper and deeper, slowing him more and more. Soon he was waist deep in the thick mud that threatened to swallow him up. The more he tried to move forward, the deeper he sank.
“Taryn,”
he called out. “Taryn, I’m coming. Don’t move. I’m coming.”
“It’s too late, Errol,” she called out to him, her voice barely making it through the din of the wind. “You’ve come too late. I waited for you. I called out to you, but you didn’t come. And now it’s too late.”
“No! No, it can’t be. I’ve been looking for you all night, since the very first moment I learned you were missing, I’ve been looking. Come with me now. Come home.”
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