Ringing phones and doorbells always startle me out of my skin. I can’t imagine what the rest of the world does when the doorbell rings on a rainy night, but it never fails to send me jumping for cover. The most recent event in my life resulted in my introduction to the most significantly strange person I’ve ever met.

Rain drops splattered against the dining room window from about sunset on, although I don’t recollect knowing that the sun had actually gone down. Or, that it had been up most of the day. It had been remarkably gray and dismal since I got up that morning. I must have been feeling the mood, because when the doorbell rang I sat straight up on the couch, clutched my book to my chest, and gasped for air. The sigh I let out probably scared any possible gremlins away, although, I remember feeling a few nearby later in the evening.

I managed to kick a bowl of popcorn off the coffee table with the corner of the blanket as I got off the couch. The doorbell reminded me of why I was shaken up in the first place and I left it while I went to the door.

“Ms. Tanya Harper?”

“No, I’m Kera Shelton. Tanya Harper lives in the next block.” I explained pointing through the rain to the white two story in the middle of the next block.

“There’s no answer, and I have a package for her.” He spoke in a monotone I wasn’t likely to forget in the next three lifetimes. “Can I leave it here?”

“I suppose. How will she know?” I asked, taking the box.

“I’ll pin a note to her door.” He answered. I looked at the rain and doubted it would stick, but kept the box anyways.

“Okay.”

“It’s raining.” He looked up at the clouds. “This is my last stop.”

I don’t know what made me do it, and I probably knew better, even as the words spilled out of my mouth. But there they were. “Would you like to come in and dry off? I have a nice fire going.”

“Th-Thank you!”

“I can put on a pot of coffee?” I offered, leading him to the kitchen. “Do you like hazelnut?”

“That’s lovely.”

I ground the coffee beans, poured wated in the pot and set it back under the edge of the cabinet while I gathered two tall latte mugs. “Cream and sugar?”

“Please.”

I poured cream and sugar into one cup, cream into the other for myself, and sat on the second stool near the counter.

“My name is Roger.”

“Pardon…” I looked up, not sure what he said, and had no clue what I’d been thinking.

“My name is Roger. Roger Paris.” His voice was raspy and deep. “I deliver your books.”

“Oh…”

“I know you’re a writer.” His eyes were deep blue, set back under dark heavy brows and thick lashes. “I was wondering if you needed a hero?”

“A hero?”

“You could use me in one of your books?” He smiled a crooked grin with only one dimple. “I’d treat the lady real nice.”

“I’d have to come up with a plot.” I hedged.

“You could make me a little taller if you’d like.” His voice was quieter and softer. “I’m not as tall as I’d like to be.”

“Well, in literature, height isn’t often an issue. The character can be big or small and it doesn’t much matter.” I smiled at him. “In fact, I rarely give height in the characterization, because I prefer my readers to come up with their own physical descriptions.”

“How would you describe me, Ms. Shelton?”

“I’d mention your deep set blue eyes, your dimple, and your shoulders.” I answered honestly, seeing many strengths about the man.

“It’s done.”

“What?”

“The coffee, it’s done.” He answered. “You seem distracted?”

“Thinking about a book, with you as the hero.” I deadpanned. “I’m trying to imagine your heroine and the plot.”

“Perhaps she could be a clerk in the paper store, I deliver there often.”

I poured the coffee and considered his suggestion.

“I think she might need to be stronger, maybe a secretary in a law office?” I raised an eyebrow.

“Oh yes.” He responded, taking a sip of the coffee. “This is very good.”

“And you would be the courier?” I continued.

“She could be having a fling with the attorney, and I rescue her from a life of being the other woman. That would be a good plot. She could be struggling to choose between the lawyer, the man of her dreams and choose me, because I’m a gentle person who would understand her flaws.”

I nodded, took a drink of the coffee, and set out a platter of cookies.

“Perhaps,” I continued, “she could have a special needs child, the lawyer wouldn’t understand, but you not only understand but love her child as your own.”

“That would be a good story twist,” he agreed, “I think I like this story.”

When his finger touched my hand, I wasn’t sure where he was going. The lightening flashed. Thunder rolled and the lights flickered out.

“I’ll get a candle.” I offered feeling his hand on mine.

“No need.” He whispered.

“But, I… ” his lips touched mine and the night grew darker.

Lightening splintered the night, thunder echoed from the distance, life evolved outside the kitchen, and we sat there, kissing in the darkness. A stranger on a rainy night, and my story came to life.

When the rain stopped a few minutes later, the lights came on and we finished our coffee. He stood to leave and I followed him to the door.

“I’ll be looking forward to your next book.” He kissed me good bye at the door. “Enjoy the evening, Ms. Shelton.”