Feathered Dreams: Book One

  Contents

  Feathered Dreams

  Feathered Beginnings

  Trouble Begins

  Opportunity

  Dismissed

  Bouncing Back

  Home

  Committee

  Duties

  Confusion

  Troublemaker

  Dating

  Learning to Share

  Christian’s Choice

  Epiphanies

  Rough Day

  Helping

  Sick

  Surprises

  Realization

  Two Sides

  Loose Ends

  Thank You

  Plucked

  About the Author

  Dedication

  Feathered Dreams

  By Brittany Putzer

  Feathered Dreams by Brittany Putzer

  Copyright © 2019 by Brittany Putzer

  All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. For permissions contact:

  Brittany.Putzer@hotmail.com

  Cover by Rae Lumpkins.

  ISBN: 978-0-578-75856-5

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the authors’ imaginations or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Published in the United States.

  Feathered Beginnings

  The dark thunderstorm builds overhead as thunder booms in the distance. Ann sighs as she swipes her dirt covered hand across her face. Sharp twigs dig into her knees as she kneels in the grass glaring into the bush. This had to stop. She didn’t know how much longer she could do it. A gentle breeze blows attempting to cool her red face.

  “Pecker, if you don’t get out of there right now, I will be forced to use drastic measures.”

  I stare her down as sweat inches towards my eyes, but I don’t back down. “1, 2, 2 and a half, 2 and three quarters. Pecker. Don’t make me get to three. Fine, let’s do this the hard way.” I groan as I climb into the bushes, ignoring spider webs, thorns, and Poison Ivy to grab the black and white hen who insisted on making a nest in these stupid bushes right before bedtime. As I feel the fluff of her spoiled butt, I hear a gasp.

  “Ann what are you doing in the dirt? Your date will be here any minute and you look like you have been rolling in the pig pen.” I back out with Pecker screeching and flapping spastically, causing red scratches across my cheek.

  “Dad, I’m sorry. Pecker got stuck in the bushes and the coyotes could have attacked her.”

  I try my best to look innocent, as I go towards him holding out the evidence. But my dad shakes his head while he pulls out a feather from my messy braid.

  Pecker struggles in my tight grip. I stroke her soft feathers and think to myself, I did it again. That look dad gave me. I know he wants me to be happy. And in his mind, that means me going out, dating, and marrying one day. But I disappoint him.

  “Dad, I’m sorry. Really I am.”

  “You said that last time, Ann, remember? The white chicken in the tree? You nearly broke your neck grabbing that hen.”

  “Fluffy went up there and I couldn’t let a hawk attack her.”

  I march Pecker to her pen and toss her in with a warning look.

  “We will talk about this later, Pecker.”

  I slam the pen door shut. Running inside, I kick off my muddy boots and black sludge speckles the floor. I hear the doorbell. My head shoots up. My shirt is muddy, and my pants are splattered in—don’t ask. I face palm and drag my feet to open the door.

  My date is staring at my disarray with wide eyes. Jim is an old high school acquaintance. He was charming and sweet but hasn’t worked a day in his life. I force a smile and ignore his open mouth.

  “Uh, am I early?”

  “Sorry, Jim, I was rescuing Pecker from a bush and I lost track of time.”

  “Pecker, and a bush—okay. Ann, I don’t think this is going to work.”

  He walks away to his red, sports car shaking his head and not looking back at my defeated form.

  I shout after him trying to explain, but it makes him move faster.

  He gets into his car and drives off with a squeal of high-performance tires. As gravel flies all around me, I sigh at my bootless feet. Twenty-one years old and I haven’t had a serious boyfriend. Well, unless I can count holding hands with Richard in middle school. As his car leaves, I’m stopped by, our neighbor Suzie. She is an older divorced woman who is pleasant, but she tends to stick her nose in our business.

  “Ann, you are an absolute mess. Was that your date leaving?”

  I hold back the urge to roll my eyes at her observation. My mom died from cancer, when I was ten-years old and since then she has been inserting herself into my life like the replacement I never wanted. Although she is kind and honest, I’m not that little girl. I force a smile as I brush past her.

  “Your dad made you a deal. If you start dating you wouldn’t have to put your name in for the Prince.”

  I purse my lips, feeling my face flush. There it is. The real reason she is prodding me about my dating life. The stupid semi-arranged wedding for the Monarchy. When the first born becomes twenty-one, he or she must pick a commoner to be their spouse. This tradition gives every state a chance to present their favorite women or men for the opportunity to marry a future ruler. It allows the people’s voice to be heard. It’s been a tradition in our country for centuries, but I have no interest in it. I don’t want to live in a palace wearing expensive dresses and be forced to be proper. And I don’t want to be pushed to marry somebody I don’t like just because that’s the way it is. No, thank you. I love my life as it is, chickens and all, but I understand my dad’s interest. Whoever wins—or loses depending on how you look at it— gets a nice paycheck for as long as they are away from their family. The money could really help the farm. And then I can find true love and he can die happy. It’s a fairy tale ending.

  “Yes Ms Suzie, I know the arrangement, but dad understands that I have responsibilities and things happen that I can’t control. There will be plenty of time to setup another date.”

  That night I have a quiet dinner of hotdogs with macaroni and cheese. I eat with dad and afterwards we sit in the living room to relax. Dad turns the television up as we settle into our nighttime routine. I brush my hair after my shower, while grabbing a favorite book off my shelf. I rub my hand over the worn spine and turn to my favorite chapter. I put my feet up in my recliner trying my best to ignore the news. There’s never anything good to report it’s either negative or boring. It seems pointless to me, or it does until I hear my name mentioned and, out of the corner of my eye, I see my picture flash on the screen. My book slips from my fingertips and crashes onto the floor. I stare at the tv and hear the end of the segment.

  And this is the line-up of the lucky girls nominated for the opportunity to marry our Prince. Congratulations Ladies.

  If I could give a death glare or die of embarrassment this would be the time. As my face turns red, I stare at my dad.

  “Dad. Tell me you didn’t sign me up for that ridiculous competition.”

  “A deal is a deal young lady.”

  They called my name. I run my hand through my hair and pull, as my eyes lose focus. I was legally obligated to go to the Palace with a flock of other women to compete in winning the Prince’s heart. This couldn’t be happening.

  Hiding out and ignoring the Palace phone calls worked for a day or two, but I couldn’t ignore them forever. They wouldn’t let me. Representatives from the Palace c
ame in like a hurricane and took over my quiet farming life. I had tutors that came and taught me how-to-walk in heels, eat and even how to speak properly. My dad was beside himself seeing me in dresses and learning manners. I wasn’t, it was a nightmare. I wanted to snitch on my dad for putting my application through, but I didn’t want to see him get into trouble. I did as much as I could around the farm in between training and I left dad a list of to-dos and places to check at night in case Pecker or Fluffy got any crazy ideas of breaking out again.

  When the morning of the competition came, it was time for me to say my goodbyes to everybody.

  Dad hugged me tight and whispered to me.

  “Ann, honey please don’t be mad at me. Who knows, you may enjoy yourself. The worst-case scenario is that nothing comes of it and then you’ll be home in a few weeks, right?”

  I couldn’t stay mad at him because he only wants the best for me. But it reminds me how little he knows me and what I want for my life. I kiss his cheek and it takes everything for me to walk away from our home.

  The four-hour drive was quiet as I watch out of the dark, tinted window. I try not to cry as my hometown passes in a blur. As a distraction, I rummage through my bag. I packed comfortable clothes for the ride and some essentials, but I was surprised to see a few odds and ends that I didn’t pack. I tilt my head and smirk as I pull out a stuffed animal, it was a chicken and almost looked like Whitey with its red comb and white feathers. I start laughing. Then tears fall as I hold the soft toy close to my heart. I hear a crinkle and find a handwritten letter from my dad.

  Ann,

  I can’t imagine how hard this must be for you, because for me it’s like a piece of my soul is being torn out. After your mother died, you had a lot of roles to fill. And you did an amazing job. But it is time for you to fly the coop—see I can be funny too. You need to see what the world has to offer you and you to it. I feel I have held you back for far too long, Ann my dear, so spread your wings. I know you will soar to some amazing heights. Remember I love you and only want the best for you. Please give this an honest try.

  All my hugs,

  Dad

  Behind the letter is my old camera. I took a digital photography course one summer and loved it so much that dad bought me this camera the following Christmas. I push the power button and scroll through the old images. The memories flood through. What I wouldn’t give to go back to simpler days. Setting the camera back into my bag, I stare ahead.

  I smile at the driver in the rearview mirror.

  “Anything I can do for you, Lady Ann?”

  His words pierce my ears like nails on a chalk board. They warned me I’d have my new title “Lady.” I don’t want to be known publicly for my gender.

  “How long have you been with the palace, mister?”

  “Ben, my lady. Since I was a boy. I started in the stables and worked my way up to this position.”

  I’m used to being busy all the time on the farm and sitting here made me jittery. And if I stare out the window, I’ll get car sick. Which would be very embarrassing and not the greatest way to start out as a “lady.” I think about playing twenty questions with Mr Ben.

  The ride went well and Mr Ben was easy to talk to. Especially since he’d worked in the stables when he was younger. We talked about the horses and to my utter excitement their chickens. They were raised for meat, so the excitement didn’t last long because the chickens didn’t have a long or happy life like my free-range egg layers back home. I was dismayed and it made me miss my girls.

  The four hours pass as Ben tells me about him and Palace life. I see the Palace in front of me out of the tinted windows. Mr Ben opens my door and I freeze. I can’t do this.

  “Are you okay, Lady Ann? You look pale. Should I go get the doctor?”

  I was being a coward. I grab his outstretched, work-worn hand and step into the warm sunlight. My eyes are assaulted by the sights around me. The bright, sweet smelling, flowers, the white fountains, and shady trees were beautiful and well maintained.

  “Thank you, Mr Ben but that won’t be necessary.”

  He grabs my luggage and hands it to the staff that flutter out of the palace like finches. I don’t know where to stand or what to do. A well-dressed woman guides me in the right direction, but when we step through the massive front door, my jaw drops. It was magnificent. There were so many colors and hanging portraits and paintings.

  “Welcome to the Palace, Lady Ann.” Her voice drones on, but I only catch the end of her instructions as she disappears around the corner.

  I hear something about the first door on the first floor. But there are tons of doors. And specifically, one on either side of said first door. I peek my head inside the door on the left, ready to back out at a million miles an hour if there’s somebody in there in a state of undress.

  A grin spreads over my face as I stare at an enormous library. It’s beautifully lit with huge windows and tables.

  I finger some of the closest worn spines and twirl in the bright sunlight relishing in the familiar smell of old books and sunlight. I’m delighted and wonder if this might not be so bad after all. I read some of the titles and authors of the closest books. I’m in heaven.

  “I’ve never seen such happiness over books.”

  A man’s deep voice comes from the back corner of the room. He is staring at my shocked expression with a book in his hand. His soft, brown eyes are lit with humor and a hint of disbelief.

  My face pinks at being caught dancing in a library. This man looked important by the way he was dressed in a light grey suit and the way he spoke. I tilt my head as I watch him and try to cover my embarrassment with a smile.

  “The more that you read, the more things you will know. The more that you learn, the more places you’ll go.”

  I respond with an old quote from an author my mother loved to read to me growing up. I was hoping to spark his curiosity and test his intelligence.

  The man blinks trying to recall the quote and stands up from his seat. Oh boy, he was taller than I thought. Tall, dark, and handsome. I feel my face flush as he closes his book with long fingers and sets it down. He comes a foot from me and stops. As he towers over me, he stares into my hazel eyes as if he is trying to read my soul.

  “Interesting quote, Mark Twain?”

  “No, it’s not.”

  Somebody enters and breaks the silence with a gasp.

  “Lady Ann, you are supposed to be in the sitting room.”

  “My apologies, I got lost.”

  The well-dressed woman from earlier purses her lips at me.

  “Prince Ryan, I’m sorry. Forgive her, she is one of the new girls.”

  My head shoots from the woman to the Prince who is smirking. I am escorted to the sitting room which is the first door on the right—just as she said.

  How could I be so naive to not recognize the Prince? But I can't dwell on it because I’m late to the gathering. As I enter the sitting room, the nine other girls turn towards me. I find a spot on one of the plush couches. The blonde haired, blue eyed girl next to me smiles.

  "Good evening, my name is Lady Mary.”

  “It is nice to meet you, Lady Mary. My name is Ann.”

  “Nice to meet you, Lady Ann.”

  Everybody is gorgeous and I feel average. I run my hands over the soft, yellow fabric in my lap, bite my lip and push aside my insecurities, as the room is hushed and a beautiful woman enters. She looks older with long blonde hair and sharp icy eyes. Her gold dress sparkles in the light and her jeweled crown dazzles us.

  “Welcome ladies. I’m pleased to see you all here today. I’m Queen Elizabeth. Welcome to our home. Over the next few weeks, my son will try and fall in love with one of you. And I’ll have gained a daughter.”

  We all giggle at her honesty. She smiles as she continues, “Let’s all join the rest of the family for dinner and then you may see your rooms, unpack, and settle in. Because tomorrow starts your new life.”

  She exits wit
h grace and elegance, and the girls follow her to the dining room. The room is adorned with red carpet and banners with gold lining. There are tables with silver name plates on top of white china, and we find our designated seats.

  Once the King and Queen are seated all heads turn to the back of the room as two young gentlemen walk in. One I recognize from the library as Prince Ryan and to my surprise and amusement he winks at me as he passes to sit with his parents. I blush and give an awkward nod before turning forward to face the front as they find their chairs next to the King and Queen. The one I don’t recognize addresses us.

  “Good evening everybody and welcome to the Palace. My name is Prince Christian. I’m honored to see you aiming to win the privilege of being my wife and I look forward to meeting you all soon. I hope you feel welcome to explore our home, just please stay off the 3rd floor.”

  He gives us a stern look.

  As he speaks, I force a polite smile. Prince Christian is handsome with dirty blonde hair, and muscles, but his piercing eyes are cold and distant. Prince Ryan is the opposite, he’s calm with a hint of mischief in his brown eyes as he smirks at me and I smile back.

  Dinner is too elegant for me to enjoy, the food is unfamiliar and I’ve never eaten squid in my life. However, the rice was flavorful with a hint of spice and that was decent. Dessert comes out and it looks fantastic. There’s every flavor and color of macaroons you can imagine. I choose some blueberry ones and Prince Ryan steps in front of me and my heart gives a skip. I strive for something intelligent to say.

  “You still can't figure out the quote?”

  “Don’t give up on me yet, Lady Ann. I may surprise you.”

  “I look forward to it, Prince Ryan.”

  He smirks. “Oh, so you do know my name?”

  I stifle a blush as he grabs a bright red velvet macaroon and walks away. I watch him leave and find Lady Mary is behind me.

  I jump as she says, “You know, that’s not the right Prince?” She is smiling as she teases me and grabs pink colored peach macaroons.