Once Every Spring

v✯ ☆҉‿➹ Get another romance book free! CLICK NOW to get your digital download of Visions. ✯ ☆҉‿➹

Once Every Spring

Janell Michaels writing as Lisa Logan

Copyright © 2017 by Janell Michaels

Second (Expanded Edition) Publication: September 2017

First E-book Publication: June 2011

Cover design by J. Rose Allister

All cover art and logo copyright © 2017 by Janell Michaels

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

ABOUT THE E-BOOK YOU HAVE PURCHASED: Your non-refundable purchase of this e-book allows you one copy for your own personal reading on your computer or device. You do not have the right to distribute or resell this book without the prior written permission of the author. This book cannot be copied in any format, sold, or otherwise transferred from your computer to another through upload to a file sharing peer to peer program, for free or fee, or as a prize in any contest.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

A Note to You, the Reader

FREE Book Offer

About the Author

Chapter One

HER ROUTINE COFFEE ritual was the first thing Dana Stockholm did every morning, but today wasn’t routine. In fact, routine was the last thing she wanted. But as she slogged to the kitchen with a groan, she wondered whether that logic had been faulty. By changing the norm, she had hoped to stave off the black clouds hanging over her. Instead, she had eliminated something familiar, a set of mundane motions that might have helped distract her enough to keep self-pity at bay for a few minutes. And yeah, caffeine. Why did she think she could face the day without it?

The idea to declare the day a failure before it had even begun seemed like a good one. By staying home from work to spare the public from her mood—preferably cocooning in her bed sheets until tomorrow dawned—she could escape the dreaded day entirely. Too bad the plan hadn’t even lasted until nine o’clock before she gave into the need for a mandatory caffeine infusion. She found herself measuring a precise number of scoops into the coffee pot, wondering whether to call the office and go to work after all. But while the boss hadn’t blinked an eye at Dana taking her birthday off, trying to un-take it would definitely raise a brow—as well as questions she didn’t want to answer. Screw it. She’d just suffer through without the mindless tasks that could have diverted her attention.

She glanced outside with a sigh. The garden was in full bloom, assaulting her eyes with a brilliant palette of color and wafting a delirium of fragrance through the screen door. Enough pollen swirled in the air to spawn an allergy-induced sinus attack. Rather than having the decency to allow the day to pass unmarked, Mother Nature had decided to pull out all the stops, celebrating with an early morning marching band. Birds and bees chorused around the yard, flowers waved, and tree branches scraped her exterior walls.

A quick shower failed to rinse quite all the conditioner from her hair, but she didn’t care. It wasn’t like the bit of extra grease would be seen by anyone. Blue eyes glowered at her in the mirror while she gave her wet, brown locks a half-hearted surface attack. She glared back, and for good measure, stuck her tongue out at her reflection.

Birds out the window were in full gear. Happy Birthday! Happy Birthday! their choruses seemed to say.

Gritting her teeth in an attempt to ignore the annoyingly pleasant call of sparrows and whir-cheep of hummingbirds, she decided to face her accusers head on. She purposely dressed in shorts and a tank top that were too summery for the near-crisp spring morning. On the way outside, she refilled her coffee mug and didn’t bother to rinse the pot.

A deep breath of fresh air did little to bolster her spirits, nor did the burst of fresh spring color. She was one of only three tenants in the condominium complex who had an actual yard. Other units sported cement patios with small strips of dirt around the outer edges for plants or decorative rock or whatever struck the owner’s fancy. Dana had been thrilled to be one of the lucky three, and she had waged a brave battle against her brown thumb to nurture the space into a reasonable facsimile of a garden.

She stood frozen in her surroundings, trying to force her shoulders and jaw to relax. So what if it was her twenty-first birthday, the latest landmark to pass on her inconsequential life? Big deal. She was healthy, made a fair office income for a two-year college grad, and while she was no red-carpet bimbo, she wasn’t half bad looking. Not that she had any involvement with men. Not aside from the guy who came by to misread her gas meter every month.

The small effort to evict her crappy mood drained her reserves, and she gave up. She wandered over to the yard’s majestic, if not messy, centerpiece to sit down. The jacaranda was too big for the space, wishful thinking on the part of whoever had planted it. It was a beautiful shade tree that produced leafy, fern-like fronds and an explosion of purple flowers each spring. The sight was breathtaking, but Dana was less than thrilled about the resulting detonation of floral debris all over the ground. At this point in the season the tree had just begun to shed, leaving an almost-perfect ring of purple in a wide, intermittent arc around the tree’s base.

She stepped into the broken flower ring and sat down with her back against the trunk. Sipping coffee lacked its usual calming effect, considering she’d neglected to sweeten it. Making a face as she swallowed the bitter brew, her thoughts fluttered like the insects landing on nearby snapdragons, geraniums, and pansies. Her garden was usually a point of pride, but today she felt an odd detachment from the masses of spring blooms, the gazing ball, her tiny fountain, and even the whimsical clay frogs. Nothing seemed able to slap some gratitude back into her existence, and part of her felt rather disgusted by that.

The air stirred around her, as if attempting to console her thoughts. The breeze set loose a fine rain of lavender blossoms from the tree. Petals fell to the earth around Dana in a delicate shower, fusing the purple arc on the ground into a complete circle. As the last purple bloom fell, she closed her eyes to shut out the view. She wished to be somewhere else in the world—anywhere else—despite the stab of guilt for wallowing in such negativity. She had no right to wish herself away just because her life felt about as full as pouring water through a strainer. It was just her damned birthday, with all the familiar regret and unmet expectations, which jarred her sense of logic.

With her eyes still closed, she raised her arm to take another sip of coffee. She tasted air instead, for the mug was no longer in her hand. She hadn’t remembered putting it down. She reached out and felt around for it on the soft, springy grass.

Her frown in response wasn’t just because she’d lost her damn mug. She didn’t have soft, springy grass under her tree.

Wow. You must really hate grass.

Dana jerked at the unexpected voice. Her eyes flew open at the sight of something even more disturbing than the spontaneous eruption of lawn. There was a strange man standing in her yard. As far as strange men went, this one wasn’t the worst looking. The intruder wore an expression of amused curiosity that turned his angled features into something highly attractive. Beneath soft brown hair, his eyes glittered in a kind of a jade green color. He had an appealing amount of stubble, just enough to want to run a hand over. The forearms exposed by his rolled-up sleeves were tanned and sinewy with a fair amount of muscle. The overall male effect was enough to speed her pulse, even if adrenaline weren’t already racing through her veins at the thought of a suspicious, possibly dangerous trespasser on her property.

Then she blinked and squinted past the stranger. Shit, she whispered.

The problem was much bigger than having a trespasser on her property. Dana was no longer on her property. She was still reclining against the jacaranda tree, but her tiny yard had vanished. Nature struck out in all directions as far as she could see, and although she spotted no yellow brick roads or an Emerald City, it was clear she’d taken leave of her condo—and her senses.

Her throat dried into cotton.

The stranger cocked his head. Are you allergic to grass or something?

She froze, realizing she was still poking at the soft blades of grass beneath her hand. It took a concentrated effort to find her tongue and croak out a single word. Where?

Yeah, that. He shrugged, his eyes taking a brief tour of the landscape. I’m not exactly sure where this is, actually. Your tree is new, though.

She blinked. My tree?

He gave a half nod that tossed back a strand of his hair. I wasn’t certain any others had the same magic as mine.

His eyes landed on her tree with an expression of awestruck regard. He stepped with care over the wide ring of purple flowers still circling the ground and moved forward to examine the trunk. Dana craned her neck at a painful angle to watch him, wondering why she was sitting there frozen, unable or unwilling to get up.

He nodded. I guess this confirms it can still work for other people.

"What can work for other people? Possibilities whirring through her mind landed on a particularly notable explanation. Her tone fell to a whisper. Am I...dead?"

His laugh both irritated and enamored her. Far from it. In fact, you may find yourself feeling more alive here than you ever have.

She felt the acute sense of his eyes on her and ran a self-conscious hand through her hair. Suddenly she wished she’d rinsed and combed with better care. Then if I’m not dead, I must be losing it.

Right. Her birthday. It had unhinged all sense of reason. This break with reality had probably been a long time in coming. The poor little orphan girl finally snapped, dreaming up an imaginary world to compensate for her empty existence. How poetic. No, pathetic.

With a groan, she pushed away from the tree. Her achy back and legs protested as though she’d been sitting for hours, rather than minutes. The man reached for her, and after a brief pause, she took his hand. It felt warm and comforting, yet an unsettling jolt charged up her arm. She fought to ignore it while struggling to her feet.

The transition is a bit disorienting, he said while pulling her up. Makes the joints feel stiff. I guess that’s the same for both of us too.

She noticed that despite her fair height, he stood almost a head taller. Do you live here? she asked.

He shook his head. Not always. But I get here the same way you just did, it would appear.

With a slight wobble, she wandered out from the tree for a better view. Sunlight fell like a beacon across the field they stood in, the flat vista broken up here and there by gently sloped hills dotted with groupings of trees. Silken green grass covered everything, with splotches of sweet clover and wildflowers the only interruption to an endless emerald blanket. Maybe she was in Oz, after all.

Dana was both drawn to the beauty and reluctant to venture into it. The jacaranda tree felt like a lifeline—her last link to anything solid or real. Perhaps leaving it behind wasn’t a smart idea.

The warmth of his body heat penetrated her when he moved close to stand beside her. His voice held a note of reverence. It is beautiful, isn’t it? Powerful, and yet soothing. Like nothing could go wrong in the world so long as it stays like this.

She nodded in silence, trying