Triggering an intervention of fate, 42 year old Rose Gerbaldi, discovers her heart and soul have been forever united with beautiful, 30 year old, British movie star, Michael Terrance. A discovery that compels her reality to firmly reclaim her – consequently devastating the very lives fate had so lovingly entwined.
Forsaken by a woman he’s never met, unable to control the debilitating agony, Michael seeks solace on the darker side of Hollywood. Meanwhile in Western Canada, having been doubly devastated, Rose relinquishes to a life of loneliness. Both are certain they’ll never again find that for which they long for – each other.
Foolish people – fate is infallible.
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While suffering from pre-menopausal exhaustion, typically loving wife and mother, 42 year old Rose Gerbaldi, delves into a self-created fantasy realm while reading a book, completely consumed by thoughts of the hero and possibly certifiably nuts. At least that’s what she thinks when actor, Michael Terrance, seeps into her dreams reeking havoc on her emotions and mind, giving new meaning to the phrase “an affair of the heart”. Attempting to reclaim her sanity, Rose writes Michael a letter with no return address -- the consequence of which summons a heartfelt, soul altering response, thrusting him into her life by way of telephone lines. During four months of telephone calls Rose is oblivious to her true feelings for Michael, but she can no longer deny the obsessive love she feels for him. Despite Michael being forever etched in her soul, Rose is unwilling to leave her husband and releases Michael from her life, only to be doubly devastated five months later -- a widow.
Inhumanely beautiful, Ireland born, Britain transplant, 30 year old Michael Terrance is a desired movie star and a hot head in his own right. He cares little for the attention his fame brings him and most definitely never risks his heart, that is -- until Rose. Amid the conversations, Michael is gobsmacked at her ability to defeat his infallible resolve, falling undeniably in love with the faceless woman on the other end of his mobile. Proving his previous defences weakened, Michael is ultimately forsaken. With no ability to control the debilitating agony he sets a course of self-destruction, seeking solace on the darker side of Hollywood.
“Hello,” I answered.
“Is Rose Gerbaldi in?” the male voice asked.
“Is this the same Rose Gerbaldi that wrote Michael Terrance a letter?”
My stomach lunged into my throat, cutting off my air, my hands started shaking. Was I really hearing that voice, even though I had never heard it outside of the movie, the English accent was a dead give away. It was him! Maybe it wasn’t, but what if it was? What were the chances of him reading my letter? What was he doing? Why would he be phoning me? It was just a simple letter written by a temporarily insane woman, who had made a simple observation. The question he asked wasn’t a hard question to answer, but my brain terminated the use of my voice, struggling... my air waves finally broke free. “Well... um... I... gue-guess... th-that... would... depend on... um... who’s asking.” Losing control of my tongue, words stuttering out, surely he thought I had a speech impediment. All I could hear was his breathing... that was good, at least he hadn’t hung up on me at my disastrous attempt to talk.
“Michael Terrance, actually,” he responded, confirming my assumption.
There was a hint of apprehension in his voice, which led me to believe he wished he hadn’t called, all the while my fantasy world was bursting to the fore front of my mind, like a locomotive, whistles blowing, and me not being able to get control of it, it pushed its way through, in a garbled mess of instant flashes in certain parts. It was like watching a movie on fast forward and slow motion for the clearer parts. Not sure what to say. “You seem a little unsure that I was the one who wrote it, why don’t you ask me about it?” A cackle escaped my lips, but at least I found my tongue. My hands were shaking so hard, my teeth were going to hit the end of the receiver, I held the phone away from my mouth.
“All right... what... movie did you refer to?” he questioned with a crackle in the words.
“Only Her,” I confirmed it for him.
He laughed, relieved. It was a beautiful laugh, it was deep and buoyant, coming from deep within his chest. “Well, I suppose you are the one.”
“How are you?” I quickly asked.
“I... I’m all right,” he faltered. “How... are you?”
“I’m good, thanks. So... what do I owe the pleasure?” Knowing I wouldn’t remember the conversation.
“Well...” he wavered. “Your letter was interesting.”
“Ohh... thanks.” I waited for him to continue.
“You know you didn’t put a return address on it, not even on the envelope,” he said, avoiding my interesting letter.
I laughed. “I know.”
“May I ask why?”
“Well, there are two reasons actually. The first being that I didn’t need a reply, I was just making an observation, which I’m sure was way off base. Secondly, and the most important reason, I really, really didn’t want an autographed, eight by ten glossy of you showing up in my mail box!” He started laughing, he sounded more relaxed. Laughing along with him I continued, “Sorry, but that’s a fact.”
His voice evened out, it was no longer crackly and he seemed more in control. “Really? Are you sure? If you give me your address I’ll send you one myself, and I’ll even sign it for real,” he teased.
Giggling. “No that’s okay... but thanks anyway.” He was laughing again, his voice was just as beautiful as his laugh, but I was biased when it came to British accents, they always made me weak in the knees.