Thursday, January 15, 2015

Welcome author Kelly Wyre

WE ARE INFINITE Stories: The Right Wheels by Kelly Wyre

There comes a point in our lives when we realize the people we used to talk to about impending decisions have either moved on, gone on, or have started to lean on us instead of the other way around. Maybe that's what it really means to move away from home; to get to a place where you must make choices without soliciting the advice of parents or elders. Maybe it's just a truly sad side effect of age and the cycle of life. At some point, you have to rely on yourself.

It's never an easy thing. It happens too soon for all of us.

My mother's mom died two months before I was born. My mother's father died in 2012, right around the Fourth of July. My grandfather was 93, just a few weeks shy of his 94th birthday. He was ready. His last words to us were, "I just want to get some rest."

I told him, "Then take a nap, Grandpa. It's all right."

For weeks before he passed away, I had dreams about him demanding hugs from me. "You should hug me every time you leave me," he chastised in my dreams. So I made a point to do so. In the last few years, I've finally gotten used to listening to dreams, signs, random voices, and messages from the Beyond. I guess I got tired of dealing with the consequences of being stubborn; of thinking I was crazy, shouldn't listen, or attempting to chalk up signs to an overactive imagination. Maybe all those things are true, but that doesn't mean what we hear/manifest isn't useful. The Universe doesn't want our lives to be an uphill battle both ways. It really is trying to give us a hand. Sometimes even an arm and a leg.

So when it came time for my mother to buy a new car and my Otherworldly Spidy Senses began to tingle, I tried to pay attention. Mom never thought she'd be able to afford a new car. She quite possibly didn't think she'd live long enough to need to buy one. She'd been driving her Honda CRV for years. We'd taken that thing through Monument Valley, across the country and back again, and it'd been her faithful companion through three jobs and the desperate time in between them. She'd named the car Hildy. Hildy Honda.

"Hildy's not doing well," Mom said to me one day on the phone.

"I know," I replied. "She's been on the way out for a while."

And the car really had. All said, the repairs to fix her were worth more than her trade-in value. The time had come to do some shopping, and my mom dreaded it. "I always feel like such a fool," she would say, as we drove to one car dealership after another. "Like they see me coming and think they can take advantage of me."

"Well, they won't think that when they get a load of you," I reassured her. "Nor will they think that if they try that shit and get a load of me."

So we began the great hunt. Mom was set on getting another CRV, and I swear to you, I think we drove every one of them in captivity. We tried the 2011, 2012, and 2013 models. We tried older ones, newer ones, bluer ones. We tried the high end version and the base version. We drove and drove, and absolutely nothing felt right. Mom was frustrated; this kind of car had been so good to her. Hildy had been a faithful companion and none of the other cars were measuring up.

Cars are not just cars, you see. Spiritually speaking, planes, trains and automobile choices represent how we are moving through life. If you drive a sleek, flashy car, you might be trying to prove something. Or get to your next destination in style and quick speed. If you drive safe cars, then you're cautious. Minivans are practical. Yachts are ostentatious. Sailboats are classic. The subway is speedy and economical. The bus is just brave. Even not caring about cars is a statement; it means that you care more about the destination than the means to get there. Our mode of transportation in this country is usually highly personal and something we rely on daily if not hourly to work for us. We are devastated when it doesn't.

Mom needed to find a vehicle that called to her. Something that went beyond four wheels and an engine; she needed a new mode of travel through her very existence. Nearly two decades after a devastating divorce, she was finally through all the phases of coping and dealing with the fall out. Not a year after the death of her last parent, she was attempting to face the world on her own. She was ready for change.

One Friday afternoon, on my mother's day off, we were dashing around town going from one dealership to another, and the Otherworldly Spidy Tingles became a full on itch. "Why don't we try a different kind of car?" I asked.

"What'd you have in mind?" my mom answered, nervously but also curious.

"Not sure," I said. "But maybe we could..." I didn't finish the sentence because we were driving past a Toyota dealership, and before I could even think about it, I whipped Hildy into the parking lot.

"So a Toyota, then?" Mom asked, amused.

"You never know."

We parked the car and sat there for a moment. It was three o'clock and the dealership was dead. We were the only car parked near the entrance. Even the service department was slow. "What are you thinking?" I asked Mom.

"I'm thinking I wish I knew what to do," Mom replied quietly.

"Maybe that's what this is," I said. I knew she wasn’t only talking about the choice of what car to buy. She was talking about her life, her view of it, and her existence without her parents. "Something's trying to show us the way."

Mom didn't answer, and as we sat there, a silver car pulled into the parking lot. It pulled in behind us, and Mom and I were both checking it out in Hildy's side mirrors.

"Hello," I said.

"It's a RAV4," Mom said. "They look nicer than I remember."

"Maybe they have some for sale," I said.

"Maybe. That one's surely somebody's already."

We watched a woman get out of the RAV4. She was about Mom's age, with glasses and white hair. She was wearing a Toyota t-shirt. My mother, sick of dealing with male salesmen, made a soft sound of surprise and happiness. I knew without asking that Mom wouldn't think a woman was out to fool her. Superstitious or not, Mom's beliefs mattered.

"Let's go," I said, and we both got out of the car.

The saleswoman, seeing us coming, paused and smiled at us. "Hi there," she said. "How can I help you?"

"We're looking at RAV4's," I said before my mom could speak.

"Oh?" the saleswoman said. "What year?"

"A couple years old, probably," Mom said.

"Used," I agreed.

"Something with less than 50K on it," Mom said. "Less than 30K, if we can find it."

"Money's tight," I said. "It'd need to be in a certain price range."

"What about features?" the saleswoman asked. We were all standing under the sunny afternoon sky having a chat in the middle of the parking lot. It was a meeting of the consumer and salesmen worlds.

"Not that picky," Mom said. I gave her a look. "I'd like a nice stereo. Doesn't need to be leather or anything, interior wise."

"What color?" the woman asked, a smile playing on her lips.

"Blue?" Mom asked. "Maybe silver? Gray? Something easy to keep clean."

The saleswoman took a step to the side and gestured to the RAV4 she had parked. "I just got this one in," she said. "Used. Gentleman bought it for his wife, but she passed away. He's trading it in. It's a 2011, has 27K miles, upgraded features, and it'll be discounted for the sale we're about to start."

"How much?" I asked.

She told me the whole price, even with estimated tax and title fees, and it was precisely what we'd wanted to pay for a car. I looked at Mom. She looked at me. And we both started to laugh.

The saleswoman, seeming to get that she'd made a sale, just grinned. "Shall I get the keys?"

We drove the car, and it rode so much like Hildy that it was like driving a newer version of Mom's trusty CRV. It came with a year of satellite radio, a feature Mom would never have bought for herself but one she loved instantly. We went home that night, made financial arrangements, and we agreed to meet the following morning to sign the paperwork.

I didn't ride with my mom on the way to the dealership that last day she drove Hildy, but when Mom met me at the Toyota place, she had a funny look on her face as she got out of her old car.

"What is it?" I asked her before we went inside.

"The strangest thing," Mom said. "You'll think I'm nuts."

"Hi, I'm Kelly, your truly weird daughter. Have we met?"

Mom laughed and shook her head. "Well, it's just that... Well. I cleaned out the car this morning, saying goodbye and telling her I hoped I was doing the right thing. I told her she'd get fixed up, go to some teenager and get to start over this whole new life with somebody who wasn't me. And I was a little sad and a lot worried if I was doing the right thing. And I missed Dad, you know? I missed Mom, too. No real good reason, I just did.

"Then on the way over here, I crested a hill and the sun came out, and I swear... I smelled cigarette smoke. When Mom and I would go anywhere when she was alive, she'd let me drive and she'd roll down the passenger window and smoke. I smelled the smoke and then felt her presence, sitting there next to me. And then I could swear I..." She paused to laugh. "...I could swear I got a glimpse of Dad in the rear view mirror. Sitting in the back with his hands in his lap looking out the window. Like they were there with me and silently approving. And it felt good, you know? Just really good."

We both had tears in our eyes as we stood there for a few minutes. Eventually I sighed and shook myself. "C'mon, Mom," I said. "Let's go get your new wheels."

"Okay," Mom said. She took a deep breath. "Okay."

Much love and vehicular faith,

WE ARE INFINITE Stories & Giveaway

Do you have a story about how a giving Universe changed your life? Helped you on your way? Led you to your path? A family ghost tale, memories from a former life, a dream that came true, a person who arrived in the nick of time, an animal who made the difference, a moment in which you were absolutely convinced there was no such thing a coincidence?

Kelly Wyre wants YOUR stories!

Send them to Each story is an entry for the grand prize in Kelly's WE ARE INFINITE contest. The prize pack includes a $25 Amazon gift card, a fine art print from Leslie Allen Art Design, and a free copy of Kelly's latest novel, Meet Me at the Gates.

For all the contest details and an updated FAQ, visit Kelly's blog:

Deadline to enter is February 8.

Need more chances to win? Comment on THIS blog post for a chance to win a copy of Meet Me at the Gates, a supernatural contemporary romance available January 13, 2015.

Book Summary:
Outer Banks bookstore owner Hyacinth Silver Fox has a secret millennia in the making: her soul was magically entwined with another, and at night she dreams of every lifetime they've ever spent together. The rules of their magic are simple: Hydee always knows her lover, but he, or she, doesn't remember her. It's up to Hydee to find and make her soulmate see they are destined for each other, and this lifetime is no different, but there's one problem: her soulmate is Theo Monk, heartthrob actor and Hollywood's sometime-infamous badboy. Hydee's hope of reuniting is wearing thin, but she has no idea how dire the situation really is.

Because meanwhile in California, Theo Monk is losing his mind. Anxiety and paranoia rule his life, along with his on-again-off-again girlfriend and her entourage. When fear and frustration push him to an edge, Theo cuts and runs as far from his problems as he can without knowing Fate's giving him one last shot to unite with the only person who can help him. Hydee and Theo must save one another before hope runs out and Hydee's despair and Theo's fear keep them apart forever.

Meet Me at the Gate Excerpt:

Hydee stared at the pile of pillows at the base of her wall. “I remember the first time I dreamed of him.”

Lynne and Adir inched closer. “Yeah?” Lynne said. “Tell us.”

“You’ve heard it before.”

“I like the dream stories,” Adir said.

Hydee drew a long breath and blew an even longer sigh. “It’s not the earliest life on our timeline, but it’s the first one I remember seeing. I think we were in Africa, and it was a long time ago. In the dream, we met as kids. We were part of the same village by the water. Everyone fished, and he was showing me how he could stab one in the water with the spear his father had made him. We were small and thin and hungry. We wouldn’t live past our early twenties, but I would live those years with him. We had children of our own, and he made our son a spear.” Hydee drank and tried to center herself. “The first time I had that dream, I didn’t even know it was Theo Monk.”

“I know,” Lynne said. “Your mom called him your little dream boy.”

“Oh yeah. Harmless, those dreams. No big deal.” Hydee felt herself smile without mirth. “Then one day Mom and I were in the living room…” Hydee trailed off because she’d recounted this story so many times, she wasn’t sure she could get through it again.

“Go on,” Lynne said when she knew Hydee’s will was faltering.

Hydee closed her eyes. “I was nine, and I was drawing in a notebook and sitting on the floor. Mom was at the table by the front door, smoking next to the open window. It was raining. The TV was on. We had a little thirteen-inch thing that picked up four channels on good days and one on bad days. It was a bad day. So Mom was watching a soap opera.”

The Dawning Light,” Lynne said.

“Yeah, and then he was there. The person in my dreams knocked on the door to some woman’s house on the show, and she opened it, and I knew him.”

“It’s the eyes,” Lynne said softly. “You say it really is something about the eyes.”

Hydee nodded. “The soul looking at me through them is always the same.”

Lynne picked up the story. “So then you did what any kid would do. You pointed at the screen and said, ‘Mama, look! It’s the man I’m going to marry.’ And Glenda’s like”—Lynne mimed taking a drag off a smoke and rasped in a two-pack-a-day voice—“‘Yeah, honey. Me fuckin’ too.’”

Adir laughed a little, as though he wasn’t sure he should, and Hydee ran her hands over her face. “It’s always been way more than a crush.”

“That’s because it is more than a crush,” Lynne pointed out. “You bound your soul to another soul in some magic ritual of the gods some ten bazillion years ago or whatever, and now you dream about you and your soul mate together in every lifetime you’ve ever lived. That’s not a crush, that’s destiny.”

Buy your copy today!

Author Biography:
Kelly Wyre enjoys reading and writing all manner of fiction, ranging from horror to romance. She used to work in advertising but is now happily chained to her writing desk. She relishes the soft and cuddly and the sharp and bloody with equal amounts of enthusiasm. She's a coffee addict, a movie buff, and loves a good thunderstorm. Kelly resides in the southeastern United States, and is the author of several novels, novellas, and short stories, including Fight and The New Amsterdam Series. Her latest release is a supernatural contemporary romance called Meet Me at the Gates.

Kelly welcomes fans to follow/add her on any Internet social hotspot or to drop a line on her website:

Connect with Kelly:
Twitter: @kelly_wyre

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