Peter is deaf. Molly is hearing. They meet in a most gentle way and learn to communicate; not just in thought, but in love. But the outside forces that bring them together are anything but gentle as Peter and Molly are taken through the terrifying tragedy of past lives that is haunting them in their present life. How can they reverse the horrible fate that has befallen them again and again in the past lives they have lived together? Find out in Love Signs, the paranormal romance that will keep you guessing at each turn of the page.
Frank wrenched the door from her grasp and opened it wide. “I want you to go with me to the dance tonight. It’s over on Culver Road. You know the place. Great dance floor. The Thunder Bolts are playing.”
“Frank, I already told you, I’m not interested in going out with you. You’ll just have to learn to take no for an answer.” Her heart was hammering and she could feel the sweat on her lip. She considered screaming for help, but that might make things worse. She’d have to wait for her chance. She was sure she would know when the time was right to act.
Frank leaned into the car, his face close to Molly’s. She could smell beer on his breath. “You don’t get it, Molly. You might not want me, but I want you. If you think I’m gonna be put off by your goddamned uppity behavior, you’re so wrong.”
Molly thought she was living a nightmare! The vision of the woman in the forest trying to save the man suddenly plunged into her consciousness like a bullet to the brain. “Ahhh…” she gasped. “You’re scaring me, Frank! Please. I’m not interested in you. Try someone else,” she pleaded frantically.
He cuffed her on the side of the head, and for a moment she thought she was going to pass out. “Frank, what’s wrong with you? What have I ever done to you!”
“You’ve turned me down, bitch. You’ve turned me down and no woman turns me down. If they do, I beat them until they accept my polite proposal.” He grabbed her behind the neck and pulled her to him, plunging his tongue into her mouth.
“Ah,” Molly gagged. She bit down hard on his tongue. Now was the time to act!
Frank let go of her and clutched at his mouth. “You bitch! You bitch!” he screamed as blood dribbled from his mouth.
Molly tried to close the door, but Frank had his body solidly jammed into the doorway. Desperate, she punched his crotch with all her strength. His breath went from him as he groaned. He wildly groped for anything he could reach and grabbed her by the shoulder and squeezed so hard she saw stars. The world spun in front of her. She felt as if she was going to puke. She could hear him cursing at her, but it sounded like he was yelling at her down a long tunnel.
Then he was gone.
She sat—stunned, exhausted. And then the pain set in. Peter! She had to go back to Peter! He would help her! She struggled out of the car, her left shoulder sticking out crookedly like the broken wing of a bird. Molly feared the worst. She started down the sidewalk, praying that Peter would still be in the shop. People that met her on the street looked at her oddly. She didn’t want their help. She didn’t want the help of strangers. She wanted Peter.
She came up to the front door of the shop and immediately realized that pounding on the door to get Peter’s attention would be useless. She looked inside, trying to see him, hoping he would still be there. But the lights were off.
The back of the shop! Surely he parked his car in the back of the shop, she realized! Maybe he hadn’t left yet. She staggered down the alleyway that led to the back of his shop, every step she took, murder. And the pain from each step pushed her to the breaking point.
And then she saw him climbing into an SUV. She yelled feebly, even though she knew he couldn’t hear her. She put up her right arm and waved frantically. He saw her!
He came running toward her. She felt herself falling to the pavement, but Peter’s strong arms caught her. “Peter,” she sobbed. “Peter,” she sobbed again. “Ahhh, no!” In trying to hold her up, he, by necessity, had twisted her left arm and shoulder. She struggled to stand upright on her own; she didn’t want him to carry her. Peter was making the sounds of sincere distress only a deaf man could make. She looked squarely at him and said as clearly as she could, “Let me walk by myself.”
Peter understood. He took her by her right arm, fumbled with the key to the back door, and finally led her into the back door of the shop. He guided her to the computer. It seemed forever before it booted up. Molly was sweating like a pig. Peter typed, [Tell me what’s wrong. Don’t type. Tell me clearly. Tell me with spoken words.] He pointed at his mouth.
Molly could barely breathe now. “A man...a man hurt me. My shoulder...he hurt my shoulder....”
[Your shoulder is dislocated,] Peter rapidly typed. [I have to put it back into place. It will hurt when I do this. Do you want me to do it, or should I take you to the hospital?]
“Do it,” Molly said. She gritted her teeth and closed her eyes.
Peter stood up and gripped her shoulder. Even before she fainted from the pain, she realized he knew exactly what he was doing.