Forever Ashley

Forever Ashley

By
Lori Copeland

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places
and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used
fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to events
or locales, is entirely coincidental.

FOREVER ASHLEY

Copyright
©
1992 – 2013
Copeland, Inc.

Published by Copeland, Inc.

Springfield, MO

Library of Congress
Cataloging-in-Publication Data Copeland, Lori.

Forever Ashley / Lori Copeland.

ISBN:
978-0-9854923-1-1

All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be
reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any
means—electronic, mechanical, digital, photocopy, recording, or any
other—except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the prior
permission of the publisher.

Cover Design - The Graphics Shop - Sharon
Kizziah-Holmes

“What do you think you're doing?”

“I’m going to give you a bath.”

“The devil you are!” Before she could finish, he’d
unbuttoned all twenty-seven of the little buttons on her dress and pulled it
down her shoulders.

Outraged, she clutched the fabric and stared at him. The man
was good, she’d give him that!

“It seems you’re determined to stand in this stream all day
complaining, but I have other commitments,” he said. He reached for her again.

“You can forget it.” Her eyes warned him to perish the
thought.

With the barest hint of a smile, he let his gaze travel over
her curves, barely hidden by the damp, clinging dress. His heart beat faster,
reminding him of how long it had been since he had held such a woman....

Prologue

A soft chime sounded throughout the Great Hall of
Apocalypse. Daniel stood up quickly, taking one final glance through the
well-worn folder he carried.

Trying to quell the prick of anticipation he felt, he closed
the Record Book that he used to keep track of his earthly charges. Well, Daniel
old man, you’ll just have to do the best you can, he told himself.

At the end of the hallway, palatial doors swung open, and an
older man, clad in a long, flowing, butterscotch colored robe, appeared.
“Daniel?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Gerrbria will see you now.”

“Thank you.” Drawing a deep breath, Daniel followed the old
man through the doorway. No matter how many times Daniel met with Gerrbria,
Most High Exalted Clergyman of Women, he got nervous.

Upon entering the Great Hall, Daniel was, as usual,
overwhelmed by its magnificence. The room was lit by a million candles, all
glowing in ethereal beauty.

Daniel’s soft slippers glided across the floor of glistening
pearl. He was most eager to dispense with his unpleasant task as quickly and
efficiently as possible.

The angelic voices drifting through the air gave Daniel
pause that morning. The voices sounded as though they came from a great
distance, yet were very near. Their melodic strains bathed his frayed nerves
and soothed his soul. No matter how often he heard the music, he was filled
with delight each time he entered the Great Hall.

And today was certainly no different.

“Come, come.” Daniel quickened his pace obediently as he
heard Gerrbria urging him closer. “I understand you wish to speak to me?”
Matters of this nature were usually handled through lower channels, but
Gerrbria had agreed to the meeting when Daniel sent the urgent message.

“Ye-yes, sir,” Daniel stammered, embarrassed that Gerrbria
had caught him dawdling again. Time meant nothing here, but on earth it was of
the essence. Especially today.

Gerrbria motioned for Daniel to approach his desk. “There is
something troubling you, Daniel?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You may speak.”

“Well, sir...she’s done it again!” Daniel blurted out.

Gerrbria scowled, knowing at once of whom Daniel spoke.
“Surely not.”

“Yes, sir, I’m afraid she has.”

Gerrbria shot to his feet, heat suffusing his round cheeks.
“Bubbleshocks!”

The sound of Gerrbria’s beefy fist smacking the desk echoed
throughout the Great Hall. The music faltered, the voices pausing expectantly.

Daniel waited patiently, having fully anticipated Gerrbria’s
reaction. It was a rare case that could reduce the High Exalted Clergyman of
Women to use such vulgar language, but then Daniel knew that Ashley Wheeler was
a rare woman.

“Well? What’s she done now?” Genrbria demanded.

“She’s left the ring on his desk—but with a note this time,”
Daniel conceded.

“Bubbleshocks!” Gerrbria smacked the desktop again, clearly
at the end of his wits.

After marching to the fratmore machine, Gerrbria’s hand
trembled as he poured himself a brimming cupful. He tipped his head back and
took a long swallow, letting the soothing, delectable liquid trickle down his
throat.

When he finally lowered the cup, Daniel was relieved to see
that Gerrbria had regained his wits. "You must forgive the outburst,
Daniel, but the woman is giving me rotworst,” Gerrbria said repentantly.

“I understand, sir.” And Daniel did understand. Ashley
Wheeler would give anyone a roaring case of rotworst.

“Well, she simply cannot be permitted to continue in this
vein,” Gerrbria conceded. He took another long drink from his cup, then,
suddenly recalling his manners, he smiled. “I’m sorry, Daniel, would you like a
cup of fratmore? It’s quite tasty this morning.”

“Thank you, sir.” Daniel relaxed a little. To be invited to
share a cup of fratmore with Gerrbria was quite an honor. Now he would have
something to brag about to the others later.

“Limpid?”

“Uh, no, I take it with a little mosby, if you don’t mind.”

“Certainly, certainly.”

When Gerrbria handed Daniel the cup, he sipped from it, his
eyes closing with ecstasy as the delicious juice trickled down his gullet.
Lowering the cup, he smiled. “Excellent, sir. Truly excellent.”

Gerrbria nodded. “Now, to the matter of Ashley Wheeler. Do
you have any specific recommendations, Daniel?”

“I have tried to think of a proper recourse, sir, but I’m
afraid I haven’t been able to come up with a thing. I mean, after all, she has
been given ample opportunities to find her true love.” Daniel set his cup on
the corner of the desk and opened his thick folder, his eyes scanning the long
columns on each page. “She was scheduled to be married by the time she was
twenty-one. It’s all right here in her book. See? Twenty-one. But she’s nearing
thirty, and she eventually finds something she doesn’t like about every man we
send her.”

“Yes, I know.” Gerrbria sat down behind his desk,
philosophically stroking his bushy brows. His job as head overseer of women
wasn’t easy—not easy at all. “Let’s see…we have provided her with commendable
candidates—the cream of the crop?”

“Yes, sir—the very best we have to offer.”

“Mmm—yes, there was Jon and Eddie...”

“Yes, sir. And Lon, the senatorial candidate?”

Gerrbria frowned. “Oh, yes. Whatever did she find wrong with
Lon?”

“He wanted to move to California, sir.”

“Oh.” Gerrbria knew he wasn’t supposed to have any opinion
concerning one earthly place or the other—but California…well, the girl had a
point.

Gerrbria remembered only too well how he’d met his death in
Los Angeles in the middle 1950s. During an earthquake, trapped on the top floor
of a thirty-story building—screaming like a deranged billetworst!

It had been pure snoptz. Not to mention highly embarrassing.
He had endured a merciless amount of teasing about it for months upon arriving
here.

“…and now she’s just dumped Joel, her fourth,” Daniel was
saying. He paused, releasing a sigh. “We simply can’t permit her to go on this
way. We’ve already logged in well over three hundred hours just trying to get
her settled.”

Ashley was the only one of Daniel’s charges behind schedule,
and she was ruining what, until now, had been a sterling record. “We have a
future to run here,” Daniel reminded.

It was Gerrbria who sighed this time. “Well, perhaps it is
time for extraordinary measures.”

Daniel nodded. “I thought perhaps you might have an idea.”

“Shock tactics,” Gerrbria proclaimed gravely.

Daniel sat up straighter. “Shock tactics, sir?”

“Shock tactics. It’s time Ashley Wheeler was taught a
lesson.”

“Yes, sir!” Daniel couldn’t agree more. He couldn’t keep
sending Ashley perfectly good men who would each make her an excellent husband
and have her keep casting them aside. No, sir. After all, she wasn’t the only
single woman on earth looking for a husband! There were at least twenty other
women under Daniel’s protection whom he had to consider. Twenty other women who
weren’t so picky.

Leaning back in his chair, Daniel enjoyed another sip of
fratmore. It was time for Gerrbria’s wisdom of women—something Gerrbria was
known to have an extraordinary amount of.

"Well,” Gerrbria said, his features assuming his most
solemn, wise expression. “It is not our policy to administer punishment, but
rather to provide guidance for our subjects. But we are now forced to make
Ashley understand that after not one, but four opportunities for lasting love,
she must be willing to accept it.”

Daniel nodded. “I agree.”

“Now,” Gerrbria mused, “we must come up with an effective
way to administer the lesson.”

“I suppose a gentle reprimand is in order?” Daniel knew that
was how Gerrbria handled most matters.

“Not necessarily. It’s going to take more drastic action to
gain Ashley’s attention,” Gerrbria conceded.

Silence fell upon the two men as they racked their brains to
come up with the perfect way to teach Ashley Wheeler a long overdue lesson. She
was a sweet young woman, but a bit stubborn at times.

“She works as a legal secretary by day and as a tour guide
in a Boston museum by night, is that correct?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Her life is good, isn’t it?”

“Excellent.”

“Mmmmm.” They thought some more. “Broke up with the surgeon,
did she?”

“A few minutes ago. Just left his ring and a note on his
desk.” Daniel shook his head, still finding it hard to believe that she’d do
such a thing.

“What doesn’t she like about him?”

“She likes him—in fact, she could love him if she would
permit herself, but she doesn’t know that.”

“Mmmmm. ’

They thought some more.

“Well, obviously we’re going to need an unusual man to make
her realize that true love doesn’t come along every day,” Gerrbria mused.

“Yes, sir. Most unusual.”

They went back to thinking.

“Likes history, does she?”

“No, sir, she hates it, particularly the eighteenth century.
She only accepted the job at the museum to supplement her income.”

“Oh?”

Daniel nodded.

“She works in an eighteenth-century museum and she hates
history?”

“You’ve never met Ashley, have you, sir?”

“No.”

Daniel sighed. Oh, to be so favored. “No, she doesn’t like
history. Claims she’d never be able to exist in such crude conditions—you
know…she can’t give up her mousse and Red perfume.”

“Uh-huh.” Having been High Exalted Clergyman of Women for
many years now, Gerrbria knew all about those perfumes and mousses his flock
admired so much.

“Too bad we can’t send her back to the eighteenth century,”
Daniel said. “Show her how good she has it—”

“Oh! Oh!” Gerrbria exclaimed, interrupting Daniel’s musings.
His cheeks filled with color, and there was a naughty twinkle in his eye.

Daniel started. “Yes, sir?” He grinned. This was going to be
great! He could just feel it.

“I know just the thing and just the man!” Gerrbria leaned
forward and began to whisper gleefully into Daniel’s ear.

Daniel’s face lit up, his grin widening as he listened to
the slightly unorthodox but completely suitable plan Gerrbria was concocting.
“Yes...perfect! Perfect! That’ll make her think twice about dumping another
man! Oh, sir, I can hardly wait to set the plan in motion. But we’ll need a
storm—a big one. Perhaps even this afternoon?”

“Consider it done.” Gerrbria sat back, smiling with
satisfaction. For a moment there, he’d thought that Wheeler woman had him
stumped. “I’ll arrange for a storm—a real doozy! It shall take place around
four.”

“Wonderful!”

They lifted their cups of fratmore, saluting each other’s
wily ingenuity.

After draining the last of his cup, Daniel stood, hurriedly
gathering his folder. There was work to be done.

Gerrbria sighed. All these problems. Today’s American women
were just never content with what he gave them. No matter what he did, he
couldn’t keep them satisfied.

“You know something, Daniel?” he asked.

“No, sir. What?”

“I think that earthly talk show host—what’s his name? Bill?
Will?”

“Dr. Phil, isn’t it, sir?”

“Yes, yes, Phil.” Gerrbria sighed again. “I think he’s hit
the nail squarely on the head.”

“About what, sir?”

“America’s going to snoptz in a handbasket.”