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Friday, April 10, 2009

An interview with Icy Blackstone

Hi, Icy Snow Blackstone here, and I'd like to thank everyone for inviting me to blog. However, instead of me talking about my latest book, Jericho Road, which was released by Lyrical Press on April 6, Logan Redhawk has asked if he might say a few words about his part in Jericho Road, and I've agreed. Logan, it's all yours...

Thanks, Ms. Blackstone. Okay, I'll start of by getting the necessaries out of the way. I'm Logan Redhawk--Doctor Logan Redhawk--assigned to Temple General Hospital in Sardis Crossing, Georgia, as part of my obligation to pay off the Fredericks Loan which put me through medical school. I'm part Mohawk, and I've walked a chalk line because of that all my life, so please excuse me if I'm just a little belligerent. My parents think I should choose one race or the other to be accepted but I--dumb me--want to be a part of both. As a result, I have a humongous chip on my shoulder. You see, all my life, I've been treated like some kind of freak--when I was in college, my roommate cut off my braids while I slept...white women seem to think I'm some kind of sexual trophy...and being assigned to a small-town hospital in the middle of White Supremacy Alley hasn't exactly been a stroll through the park, believe me. Sometimes I wonder what bureaucratic idiot would send a halfbreed to such a bigoted place--or if he even cared!

That all changed the night I met Lindsey Sue Conyers. She'd been in an auto accident (her date "couldn't hold his likker"), and I was the doctor on call. I couldn't believe this diminutive little creature was an adult! She was so tiny, with that wonderful strawberry-blonde hair falling over her face and those big green eyes...though one was black-and-blue at that moment. Believe me, it really shook me up that I felt such an immediate attraction to her. But she's an adult all right, and if her response was any indication, she felt the same attraction. She's a little younger than me--twenty-two to my twenty-eight but I don't think that matters. The best thing is...Lindsey accepts me for what I am, didn't even know I was a man of two races, in fact. Guess that made me love her even more.

Since I'm a gentleman, in spite of being a damnYankee, I won't tell the details about our first date. Let's just say I went into it with preconceptions about Southern women--gained, I admit, from television and movies, especially Gone with the Wind--and found they were totally wrong. Nearly loused up our whole relationship before it even got started. Before the night was over, however, Lindsey and I were set on the course that would take us through the rest of our lives.

All in all, Lindsey's family has accepted me. Lindsey's brother Wade just got back from Vietnam and he's going through some bad times, I've heard. Still, he's a good guy and I'm hoping he comes out all right. There seem to be some problems in his relationship with his new wife but I haven't pried. It's not really my business, since I'm not a member of the family...yet. Her younger brother Heath, is a good kid, too, if a little too eager to "become a man." I'm beginning to wonder if I should offer him some advice in that department, tell him that being a man means more than just how many women you can maneuver into bed. My one obstacle in that little household is Papa Conyers. The old man's about as Old South as you can get...he practically bristles at mention of my name, and then there are those guys in black hoods who show up on my lawn one night, armed with torches and shotguns...

When I came to Sardis Crossing, my father told me it was my Rite of Passage, my Mohawk Ritual of Manhood. Wonder if Dad had any idea this was one ritual I might not survive?

EXCERPT from Jericho Road:

Lindsey looked up at him. "Is it true that your mother's folks don't speak to her just because she married an Indian?"

"Of course not, and it's Native American," he corrected gently, "not Indian."

"What's the difference?"

"A lot! Indians are from India. The people of the Six Nations aren't!"

"The Six Nations. Is that what they call themselves?"

"That's what we call ourselves. We're the Kanienhehaka."

He expected her to make some other comment, about his siding himself with just one people when he was part of both but instead, she shrugged and looked at the photo again and said, "Well, I think it would be a stupid way to act! Why, I'd be proud if someone in my family married an Ind--a Native American! Or if I were mar--"

She stopped and looked up at him and blushed slightly, "I mean--" and stopped again.

Neither of them said anything, just stood there, looking at each other.

He was standing too close to her, ought to move away. He could see the quick rise and fall of the tiny breasts, realized that one hand was brushing her hip. He looked down at her, thinking how utterly small and innocent she looked.

And white.

"Well?" Lindsey said softly. "Aren't you going to kiss me?"

Logan didn't move.

“You've been wanting to do it for about three hours now, haven't you?”

He shook his head. “Four.”

He put his arms around her, pulling her slight body against his, almost lifting her off the floor. He felt her rise onto tiptoe and waver toward him before she regained her balance and then the slender arms were around his neck and she was pressing against him, mouth touching his in a very childish, very chaste closed-lip kiss.

He pulled away long enough to mutter, "Lindsey, maybe we'd better--" and she touched his cheek and whispered, "Shh--" and he kissed her again, thrusting his tongue against her lips, feeling them part and welcome his invasion eagerly.

One hand moved to touch one tiny breast, feeling the nipple quiver into tautness against his fingers. She made a little protesting sound and raised her hand to push against his wrist but as it met resistance let it drop again. Gently, Logan's fingers encircled the soft little mound.

He couldn't know what she was thinking, that abruptly, Lindsey realized that here was a man and not one of those silly awkward boys who were all gropings and heavy breathing. Here was someone who knew exactly what he was doing and what he wanted was her. She knew she ought to stop him--she could stop him with one word--but his hands felt so good touching her, making hot little shivers generate inside her in places she'd never felt them before.

Just a little longer, she thought. I'll let him touch me just a little longer and then I'll tell him to stop. But she never said the words, not even when Logan picked her up and without taking his mouth from hers, carried her into the bedroom.


Barbara Monajem said...

What a beautiful excerpt! And it was fun having your character speak about himself.

Judy said...

Nice, Toni! Love your characters...Thanks for letting us meet them!

Scarlet Pumpernickel said...

Ms Blackstone paints a very vivid picture with her writing ability! Enjoyed the excerpt. Thanks for letting us hear about Logan in his own words.


Estella said...

Enjoyed hearing Logan tell about himself!

Toni V.S. said...

Thanx everyone for your comments! Glad you liked the blog!