Lights and Shadows (Oregon In Love)

Chiaroscuro, the treatment of light and shade to give
an illusion of depth, is stock in trade for Marc Dorin's work as a
photographer. When he meets the silk and steel Julia Wilcox, 
it's as if one of his sepia-toned prints comes to gently-hued life.
But will the shadows from her past drain all the color from their
future together?

LIGHTS AND SHADOWS

(Book Two of the Oregon In Love series)

a Christian Romance

by

Bonnie Blythe

© 2012 Kindle Edition

All rights reserved

Scripture taken from the HOLY BIBLE, NEW INTERNATIONAL
VERSION®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 International Bible Society.
Used by permission of Zondervan.

All rights reserved.

Cover design by
Gilded
Heart Design

Cover photos ©
Dmytro Konstantynov

© Constantin Opris

© Luba V Nel

Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming

down from the Father of heavenly lights, who does

not change like shifting shadows.

James 1:17

Chapter One

“
This place blows. Who could experience anything
soulful inside these institutional walls?”

“
You're
my
inspiration, baby.”

Marcos Dorin turned the corner, overhearing a
conversation between two students echoing down the mostly empty
campus hallway. He paused mid-step when he saw the owners of the
voices.
Oh, great
. Belinda—a former student—and her
boyfriend, who seemed more of an accessory to her post-industrial
look of pink hair, black fingernails, and purple lipstick.

And yet, he could reluctantly admit he understood her
lament. Even now he couldn't wait to escape the campus with all its
modern concrete glory.

Belinda caught sight of him and her eyes sparkled with a
hectic light. He stiffened and gripped his briefcase and camera bag,
dreading her attention. The girl had once offered to model for him
during the photography class he taught. He grimaced at the memory.
She'd apparently failed to understand the class had been on
nature
photography. The flora and fauna type.
Just please let me get
outside
.

“
What do you think, Mr. Dorin?”

Marc suppressed a groan. He was just steps away from the
exit. The light beyond the door windows beckoned with a heavenly
glow. In seconds he’d be on his way to the cool forests of the
Cascade Mountain Range. He continued walking, hoping she'd turn her
attention back to her boyfriend.

“
Are you
dissing
me?” she asked, an edge to
her voice.

Marc felt his face heat as her gaze fastened on him.

“
Yeah, are you dissing my girl?”

Now the boyfriend was staring at him. Marcos stopped in
front of the couple. “What can I do for you?” he asked in a bored
voice, hoping his attitude would discourage her from whatever
mischief she was up to.

Belinda stepped up to him and stared into his eyes. “You
looked like you could use some inspiration, too. I mean, who wouldn't
be depressed in a place like this?”

Before Marc could think of reply, she suddenly leaned up
and smashed a kiss on his cheek. Then another.

He
reeled back,
nearly dropping his briefcase.

“
What are you doing?” hollered her boyfriend,
yanking her away.

She retreated to the man's side, sending Marc a wink.
“Just trying to cheer someone up, ya know? Help out my fellow man,
and all that.” She lowered her voice to a whisper as if she wasn't
in the arms of her boyfriend. “You look like you could use it.”

The boyfriend pulled his girl tighter against him. “The
only man you need to be helping out is me, baby.”

Disgusted beyond belief, Marc spun away and stalked out
to the parking lot to his pickup, noting the gathering storm clouds
with grim satisfaction. At least Belinda was over eighteen and there
was a witness. All he needed was to lose his job on top of the
outrage of being accosted by a former student.

Yanking open the door, he tossed his briefcase and
camera bag onto the opposite seat.
Unbelievable
.

He’d started the day by locking himself out of his
apartment, which made him late to class. Then the computer he was
using to record grades had crashed, putting him behind schedule. With
only a week before the term ended for the summer, he had a deadline
he absolutely had to meet.

And to make it all so ironically bizarre, he
had
been thinking he was stifled...that he needed inspiration.

Good grief!

Marc started the truck and zoomed out of the parking lot
onto the busy streets of the greater Portland metropolitan area. He
tightened his fingers on the steering wheel when he thought about
Belinda's behavior. To be attacked in such a way was a first, and it
rankled him that she wouldn't feel a lick of remorse for her actions.
She was attending classes due to some outside compunction, not
bothering to muster interest in her own future. He’d thought so
when she’d been in his class, and her little performance today
confirmed it.

He sighed.
Am I any different? Am I just going
through the motions?
He hated the restlessness that had been
plaguing him, but he couldn't seem to shake it.

On the other side of the intersection, Marc heard the
ominous sound of a siren. In his rearview mirror he saw a black and
white police car flashing his headlights at him, signaling him to
pull over.
No way
.

He jerked his truck to a stop on the shoulder of the
road. He shut off the engine, closing his eyes for a moment in an
attempt to wrest his emotions into some semblance of control.
Insulting a police officer would not improve this dreadful day.

From his side mirror, he watched the officer approach.
Before the man could tap on his window, Marc rolled it down and
prepared himself for his fate.

The policeman bent down a little. “May I see your
driver’s license and registration please?”

When Marc handed over the documents, he caught distorted
reflections of himself in the policeman’s mirrored sunglasses.

The images disappeared when he pushed the sunglasses up
and stared at him with raised brows. After a moment of intense
scrutiny, Marc pressed his lips together. “Is there a problem?”

The sunglasses dropped down over the policeman’s eyes.
“You were going a little fast there, don't you think?”

I hadn't noticed
. Marc decided he'd keep the
information to himself.

The policeman turned and ambled back to the squad car
and spent an inordinate amount of time checking the information.

At this rate, I'll never make it to Buell Creek
.
Marc let out an exasperated sigh and drummed his fingers on the
steering wheel, frowning at all the cars driving slowly by to gawk.

“
Mr.
Dorin
!
”

Marc peered out his window at the sound of his name. A
red Porsche inched past. Belinda hung out of the passenger window.
With a wicked grin, she blew him a kiss as they drove by.

He turned away, burning with fury. Several agonizing
minutes later, the police officer returned, scribbling on a pad.

“
This will help you think twice about running a red
light while going forty-five in a twenty-five mile an hour zone.”
He handed the slip of paper to Marc. “Please note that fines on
moving violations are double in construction zones.” After
returning the driver’s license and registration, he grinned. “And
you might want to consider a new girlfriend. The one you have now is
a bad influence on your driving. Have a nice day.”

Before Marc could figure out the cryptic statement, he
glanced down at the amount written on the ticket. He put a hand to
his head, feeling sucker punched.
Four
hundred and twenty
five dollars
. Gritting his teeth, he counted to ten before
starting the truck. When he finally pulled away from the curb, it
took every ounce of self-control to drive within the speed limit.

As the buildings and housing developments gave way to
green hills and towering pines, Marc wished for the hundredth time he
could support himself strictly through freelance, leaving the noise
and frenetic pace of city life behind—with its construction
zones—and troublesome females. Maybe that's what had been bothering
him. He was stifled by his inability to succeed on his own terms.

He was only one of thousands of photographers in the
area, and competition was fierce. Even his first book, a coffee table
edition filled with glossy photographs, was just one of many in the
bookstores.
What I need is something like a spot on a talk show
.
Marc's mouth twitched when he thought of the mess he’d no doubt
make of such an appearance. He loved the quiet, simple life too much
to ever become famous—even if that had been his goal. And paying
his bills meant living in the city where a market for his work was
the strongest. At least he could escape on the weekends to the
mountains under the pretense of photo opportunities.

Marc forced his shoulders to relax. His future seemed
etched in stone—a quiet life spent willingly in obscurity. But that
was okay. Right? Glancing up at the blue sky frilled with lacy white
clouds, he reminded himself that
God
was in control of his future.

An hour later, Marc pulled into the driveway of the Pine
Ridge Bed and Breakfast, in the small town of Buell Creek. It was a
chance to relax with friends and get an early start up to the
mountains the following morning. The owners' fellowship was always a
blessing, and their inn, restful and homey. They kept a room on
reserve for him, which he appreciated. He could unload his stuff
straightaway in the room and go for a run before unwinding with them
in the evening, leaving behind the hassles of the week—of
today
.

He parked his truck and looked out toward the
snow-capped mountains wavering in the golden evening light. The added
bonus was that there would be no trouble-making
females to
knock him off kilter.

Marc climbed from the cab and hoisted his camera bag out
from behind the seat. He noticed too late that the camera bag was
unzipped. His brand new digital camera tumbled out from the case and
landed on the gravel driveway with a sickening crack.

He snatched up the camera and inspected it for damage.
His worst fears were realized when he saw the shattered lens. Marc
clenched his jaw, feeling like the Incredible Hulk right before he
turned green.
This is too much!
With deliberate movements, he
replaced the camera in its case, grabbed his luggage, and locked up
the truck. He stomped up onto the porch and went in the front door,
left open for guests.

After the brightness outside, it took a moment for his
eyes to adjust to the relative dimness of the interior. In the low
lamplight, the outline of a woman became visible. Marc immediately
knew it was not one of the owners. The woman turned at the sound of
his entrance.

She held a copy of his book in her hands.

Setting the book on the coffee table, she approached him
with an outstretched hand. Marc backed up and lowered his bags, all
at once sure he was about to be besieged by another conniving female.
When he bumped into the wall behind him, he panicked, only wanting to
retreat back to the relative safety of his truck. He put up his hands
in a defensive gesture. “D
on't touch me!
”

Her mouth opened as if she were about to speak.

He decided not to wait around to find out what she
intended to do. Marc slid past her, avoiding all contact, and bolted
for the stairs.

Chapter Two

Well, that wasn't weird
. Julia Wilcox raised her
brows and stared up the stairs after the man disappeared to the upper
level of the house. She furrowed her brows. How could greeting a
person cause such an insane reaction?
So much for the vaunted Marc
Dorin
. All that remained of their encounter was luggage and a
camera bag on the floor.