Lyn Cote's Blog, page 97

Lyn Reviews Nancy Moser's An Unlikely Suitor

An Unlikely Suitor by Nancy Moser

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Once again Nancy Moser chooses a unique setting and characters for An Unlikely Suitor. She takes us to the Gilded Age from NYC tenements to the grandeur of the summer cottages, really mansions on Newport Island. The author creates unforgettable yet flawed characters; I appreciated that. The main character Lucy is especially convincing and engaging. I loved all the descriptions of the clothing, coaches, homes in the story. The only reason I gave this 4 stars instead of 5 (which I usually give Nancy's books) is that I had a hard time believing  a couple of the endings of the three romances. This being said, the story of the mores and excesses of society at the time and Lucy's triumph over them made for an entertaining and intriguing read.

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Chapter Twenty Scene 3 La Belle Christiane

If you've just discovered this free read, click Archived Free Read and start at the beginning.

La Belle Christiane

2011 Copyright Lyn Cote

All rights reserved

Part Three

Chapter Twenty Scene 3

Afternoon sunlight poured through the window as Christiane knelt in front of her vanity seat. On the seat now was the chest that she had just unpacked from the small trunk. She recognized the chest well. Her hand trembled a little as she inserted the small gold key. Even though she knew what to expect, she still gasped.

Her mother's jewels. During their travels, the gems had fallen out of their individual compartments and lay in tangled clumps. Painstakingly she began to sort the sets and untangle the strings of pearls from the golden chains and silver bracelets. The delicate strands took great concentration to unravel. The ruby pendant had wrapped itself around the sapphire brooch and a pearl ring. At last they were separated. She began untwisting another silver chain, a black pearl rope, and a string of petite emeralds. When only half done, she sat back on her heels. The remaining tangles would have to wait. Her hands were trembling a bit. And there was the letter.

For a few moments she merely held it in her lap. Then carefully she opened it and began to read.                                                                                                                                                                                            10,                                                                                                                                                                                          October 1779

My dear Christiane,

It has been a great surprise for me to hear

that you are in America. I often wondered where you

had gone with that Irishman and why. Now I know, at

least, where. From your letter, I learn that you are

a widow with two small children. I can understand why

then you have decided to appeal to me.

The Marquis has told me that you have allied your-

self with the revolutionists. I find this easy to

understand since you were born a rebel.

The Revolution is all the rage here, but, of course,

it is just idle foolishness.

I do not think for a moment that the court

would welcome a revolution closer to

home. The Marquis also tells me that you have made friends

with some of the most prominent members of American

society. Perhaps then all the time and effort

your mother and I expended on grooming you has not gone to waste.

You have asked for assistance. I have sent to

you what your mother promised you many times. It was

her wish. As for further aid, I offer you and your children

a home here at the Chateau Pelletier. I have missed you.

Madeleine Renee Marie Pelletier

Christiane stared at the pages in front of her. Then she read them again and stared again. No sound, no sight around her penetrated her consciousness. Memories dominated her. Images of her mother came in procession like turning the pages in a book. Maman holding her own small hand as they admired roses in the garden. Maman smoothing back her hair and kissing her forehead. Maman reading her poetry by the fire. And behind Maman the ever-watchful grandmere. She felt for the first time regret at having disappointed her forbidding grandmother. How lonely she must be. How long Christiane sat thus she did not know.

The sun caught the colors of a dozen different facets and flashed them over the sunlit walls and ceiling. Christiane came to herself and sighed at the sight.

The door flew open. "Mama, Mama. They're going riding. Can we go–" Sarah had rushed in, but her excitement became hushed awe as she surveyed the rainbow of shimmering hues on the walls around and above her. Her mouth opened and closed several times. At last she asked, pointing to the reflections, "Is it magic?"

The wonder in her voice made Christiane laugh. "No, my dearest, come closer and see."

The little girl, still glancing up and around, stepped carefully over to her mother. She breathed a long "Ooh" when she spied the jewels in her mother's lap. "Pretty," she exclaimed as she stroked a large opal with one finger.

"Yes, they are. My grandmother, your great grandmother, sent them to us from France."

"To us?"

"Yes, my mother promised that they would be mine and when you grow up, some of them will be yours. Which do you like best?"  Without hesitation the little girl fingered the opal. "Then I will save that one specially for you. Now what is this about a ride?"

"They are going riding. I want to, too."

"The general?"

"Yes, and some of the others. Can we go? Please? Can we?"

The mother made a quick decision. She was expected to help with the social activities and besides suddenly she wanted to be out of this room and into the world. "Yes, my dear, go tell Sally to come and help me into my riding habit." The little feet flew away and the door slammed. Christiane could hear the piping voice summoning, "Sally! Sally!"

Christiane smiled as an unexpected feeling of confidence surged through her. A ride would be perfect this late afternoon. A few hours of solitude was sufficient, but really she had endured three years of solitude. No longer did she want to hear the voices and laughter from afar. She wanted to be there–among them–talking and laughing herself. Quickly she replaced the remaining jewels to their respective compartments. Oddly she remembered where each one belonged. "Merci. Merci, Maman, Grandmere," she whispered, "This morning I was a dependent of this house. This afternoon I am a woman of means."

Sally came in as Christiane was locking the chest. "Miss Sarah Renee say you be wantin' to get dress," she murmured. The little girl bounced up and down beside her.

"Yes, Sally," Christiane said directly, "please get out my habit. I want to go riding. Quickly, please."

Sally drew the simple summer-weight black cotton habit from the tall maple wardrobe. Soon Christiane was sweeping from the room and down the wide staircase. Sarah held her hand and ran to keep up. In the yard the party was just mounting up. "Zechariah!" Christiane called to the head groom, "will you bring out Penny please?"

"Yes, mistress," he responded with a nod.

"Gentlemen," she addressed them, first in English and then in French, "would you object to female companionship?"

The Generals smiled along with the others. Rochambeau answered in French, "Madame, we would be honored." Zechariah led Penny out and Christiane mounted her. Then he lifted up her daughter who was accustomed to riding in her mother's lap, straddling Christiane's leg as it curved around the side-saddle horn.

They were off. General Washington led the way, proudly pointing out the beauty of the lands he loved so well. Rochambeau listened intently and smiled eagerly. The American's enthusiasm was irresistible. Christiane rode close enough to offer brief translations when motions failed. The sun was warm and the breeze was light. The leaves were still lustrous green, though here and there a golden edge hinted at the coming autumn.

Sarah Renee chattered happily to anyone who was near. The men graciously accorded the precocious child the courtesy that they would have shown her mother and the little girl thought it her due. An adored child raised mainly among adults, she expected it.

Sarah was discussing raccoons with the American officer on her right while Christiane exchanged pleasantries with a French officer.  A great to do was made of leading Christiane around "treacherous" brooks and through the few gates. She drank in the attention as a wilted blossom revives in water. She hadn't realized how she'd missed the camaraderie and gallantry she'd enjoyed among the officers.

The ride ended too soon. They arrived in the yard with a flourish. The two Generals watched benignly as the younger officers of both countries vied for the honor of helping Christiane dismount. She laughed delightedly and handed Sarah to the nearest pair of up-stretched hands; then allowed Laurens to help her down. In a flash she recalled the day years ago when they had met on Manhattan island at the beginning of this war for independence. She was no longer the poor young wife of that day. What would she do now with her own economic independence?

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Author Louise M Gouge, The Wedding Season & a Giveaway

My guest today is Author Louise M Gouge who is offering a giveaway of her latest novella, one of two in The Wedding Season.

I appreciate this opportunity to share about my writing and the strong, brave women in my family. Last month I wrote about my widowed daughter, who is rearing her two children in a godly home despite facing all the difficulties of being single mother. But she is not the first woman in my family who has faced this challenge. Five generations prior, her great-great-grandmother, Mary Johnson, raised three children in a much more challenging time, the late 1800s. Mary was expecting her third child when her husband died. We don't have details of his death, but my grandmother told me enough about her mother to inspire my admiration and a desire to follow her example.

Fortunately for Mary, her husband left her the family home, and she supported her family by keeping boarders. Although that was an accepted practice in those days, she could have taken a different path. She could have put her three small children in an orphanage, also an accepted practice in those days, and could have gone off on her own with no responsibilities. But Mary stood strong, despite the difficulties. Like Ruth in the Scriptures, she did what she had to do to keep her family together. And for me, the proof that her endeavors were successful is that her three children grew up to be godly people of character. And they passed along their strong faith and moral principles to their children and grandchildren.

While my newly-released book is not about a widowed mother, it does share a common theme with my family. In times of weakness and loss, my characters rely on God. Just as my daughter, my great-grandmother, and Ruth in the Bible chose not to live selfish, self-centered lives or to give in to bitterness or despair, my character Elizabeth must make a choice between pursuing her own way and obeying God's principles. In the midst of a light and entertaining read, you will find a deep spiritual lesson that we should all put in to practice. In a day when everyone is urged to "do your own thing, baby," I believe it's important to stress – in real life and in fiction – that the only true happiness and peace come from trusting God and following His path for our lives.

Novella blurb:

"The Gentleman Takes a Bride" by Louise M. Gouge

Surely Elizabeth Moberly was born to be a nobleman's bride. She can't possibly be attracted to the untitled stranger who interrupts her cousin's wedding. Yet Elizabeth finds herself drawn to Philip Lindsey's tender heart and strong faith. And if Philip has his way, he'll convince Elizabeth the only title she needs is Mrs. Lindsey, beloved wife.

This novella is in the June 2011 Love Inspired Historical anthology The Wedding Season, which also includes a delightful story by Deborah Hale. The book is on sale now in Walmart, amazon.com, and cbd.com.

Bio:

Award-winning Florida author Louise M. Gouge writes historical fiction, calling her stories "threads of grace woven through time." In addition to numerous other awards, Louise is the recipient of the prestigious Inspirational Readers' Choice Award. Married to David Gouge for forty-six years, Louise is a mother of four and grandmother of six children. In addition to writing, she teaches English and humanities at Valencia College in Kissimmee, Florida. To learn more about Louise, visit her website at http://blog.Louisemgouge.com

Louise, I had a great grandmother who ran a boardinghouse too. She was widowed with nine daughters to raise. The elders at a local church came and asked her if she could run a boardinghouse if they bought and furnished one for her. Now that's true religion as James says: "Pure religion and undefiled before God and the Father is this, To visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction…" If you want to qualify for the drawing to win a copy of Louise's book, leave a comment. (But only if you live in the US or Canada.)–Lyn

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Chapter Twenty Scene 2 La Belle Christiane

If you've just discovered this free read, click Archived Free Read and start at the beginning.

La Belle Christiane

2011 Copyright Lyn Cote

All rights reserved

Part Three

Chapter Twenty Scene 2

She paused to frown. Evan Marsh, an old friend of the Washingtons, had come upon Mrs. Washington and herself just a few months after they'd arrived at Mt. Vernon and had been touring the plantation together. Christiane had remained silent after the introduction, painfully aware of her obvious state of pregnancy. In the years since then he had been a frequent visitor. At first Christiane had tried to avoid him as she did all other guests. But he always asked after her and usually Mrs. Washington had summoned her to join them. Christiane, intuitively aware of his interest in her, had anticipated his making some sort of advance toward her, but so far he had not. She shook her head and hurried down the remaining steps. She had enough to think about today. Evan Marsh would have to wait.

Mrs. Washington and Sarah Renee were already, hand in hand, on the front steps, facing the courtyard. Christiane hesitated inside the doorway, her heart beat quickening. Beside her stood Breechy, the liveried, gray-haired butler, waiting his master's return.

The servants, like the inhabitants of a small village, had been as excited over the general's homecoming as Martha herself and had been anxious to give a good showing to the foreign visitors of their home. Lund Washington, the general's manager and cousin, was eager to show off the additions he had made according to the owner's instructions and every aspect of the house and grounds had been thoroughly prepared. To Christiane, the aged Negro butler with his shining brass buttons seemed to embody their collective efforts. Then the round German housekeeper rustled up beside Christiane and peeked out also.

The horses cantered up the still green, tree-lined lane. The blue and white uniforms and sleek mounts made a fine military spectacle. Christiane stood a bit straighter just watching them.

General Washington on his white charger led the procession. As he came closer, he let his horse gallop ahead as though the call of home had overpowered him. He leaped from his mount and bounded up the walk like a much younger man. The tall, somewhat severe-looking husband embraced his small, plump wife. His hug said to all, he was home and he was delighted.

The embrace lasted too long for Sarah. "Hello, General," she piped up, tugging his coat tail.

The tall face looked down. For a moment he just stared. Then he smiled. "I'll wager that you are Sarah Renee."

"Yes, and you're Gramma Martha's General," she answered happily.

"Yes, I am." The remainder of what he said was lost in the arrival of the other officers. Quickly he introduced his wife to General Rochambeau.

The old butler, his head held high, wordlessly ushered Christiane out the door and down the few steps. Christiane glanced back and saw the housekeeper take her place in the center door of three. A colonnades fronted the main house which was white with a red roof. From all the green-shuttered windows peeped black faces and all around the edges of the yard, slaves gathered to see the master again. The general acknowledged his servants by a special sweep of his hat to them and a chorus of "Welcome, welcome!" flowed over the house and grounds. A half a dozen smiling grooms claimed the horses and led them away on the circle drive.

Christiane advanced till she stood just a few feet from the Washingtons. The French general was making polite conversation as best he could. "This is your grandchild…?" he asked, pointing to Sarah.

"No," Mrs. Washington replied, "she is the daughter of a friend." She glanced around and motioned Christiane to join them.

"General Washington," Christiane greeted him with a spontaneous smile and a graceful curtsey.

"Christiane, how good it is to see you again," the general said warmly. He grasped her hand and kissed it. "General Rochambeau, allow me to introduce a close friend of ours, Mrs. Christiane Kruger."

She curtseyed politely as she extended her hand to the Frenchman. She was grateful for the general's warm greeting. She felt calmer now. "An honor, General Rochambeau," she murmured in her best court-style French.

"Ah, you are the Frenchwoman," he sighed. "Mr. Laurens told me a beautiful Frenchwoman lived at Mt. Vernon."

The conversation continued politely as the French and American officers went through the entrance and flowed through the spacious central hall to the rear piazza, overlooking the Potomac River. Christiane observed General Washington examine this newly added piazza and nod his approval to Lund. The household staff deftly came and went, serving luncheon.

The fall flowers: bronze cockscomb, pink and yellow zinnias and deep red roses, could be seen from the gardens beyond. The day could not have been more perfect for an outdoor gathering.

The French officers were obviously impressed by their surroundings. It would have been difficult not to be impressed by the simple elegance of Mt. Vernon. Christiane's apprehension melted as she enjoyed a taste of the comradeship she had known before in this company. Everyone accepted her with the same warmth that the American and French generals had shown her. Little Sarah ignored her mother's motions and settled herself next to Martha and at the general's invitation quickly climbed into his lap. Into this milieu Breechy announced formally, "Mr. Evan Marsh."

General Washington immediately stood and greeted his long-time neighbor. "Evan, it is good to see you again. Allow me to introduce you to General Rochambeau." The amenities were observed and then tall, trim Evan was sitting by one of the square columns. Christiane had to admit he cut as fine a figure as any of the officers present and she reminded herself that he was comparable to her late Jakob in age. As was his way, he watched the festivities with interest and talked easily to the officers nearest him.

Christiane found that she could not ignore their exchange when General Washington walked over and sat down beside him.

"Evan,  I was so sorry to hear about your losing Leah. I regret I was away. She was a fine woman, a fine woman."

"Thank you, George. It is good to see you home at long last."

"It has been a long stretch, hasn't it? I just wish the thing was done."

"Well, this alliance may be it, don't you think?"

"We hope so. We hope so." A worried look came over the general's face.

"By the way," Evan said, evidently trying to lighten the tone, "I have a few more good horses for you, if you need them."

"We always need them. I have appreciated the ones you have contributed each year."

"It is the least I can do, George. I wish I were able to send more." The two men were interrupted at this point. They shook hands and Washington moved on. Evan glanced around and caught Christiane looking at him. He smiled lazily and somehow this caused her to blush. Studiously she looked away.

Lunch ended and the visitors drifted off to their rooms in the care of servants. Sarah Renee was nearly asleep on the general's broad shoulder, so he and his wife, holding hands, carried the child to her room for her nap.  Christiane smiled at Evan, but did not linger. Breechy had told her the general had ordered Christiane's package delivered to her room. Her heart pounded as she went to discover what her grandmere has sent her.

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Author Donita K Paul & Attitude!

My guest today is Donita K Paul, an author who writes amazing fantasy, not an easy thing to do. She is going to talk to us about her latest book, Dragons of Chiril and a strong woman with attitude!

Here's Donita:

"The heroine in the first two books of the Chiril Chronicles is Tipper Schope. In her early twenties, she has been in charge of a massive household for the many years following her father's disappearance. In her mind, she has not done a great job. At the time of the first scene, she has been reduced to selling her noted father's artwork in order to pay the bills. Her home is a deteriorating mansion. They have two servants left from the full staff. Her mother's mental health and stability has broken down. The failure of the mansion has caused hardship among those who depended on her father and this establishment. Tipper feels the weight of all the responsibility.

I see strong women face two types of situations those they chose and those that are thrust upon them. I know a young lady who worked hard to put herself through college to become an RN. She showed tremendous strength and determination to meet her goal, one she had chosen herself. But this same young lady had an abusive parent, an alcoholic spouse, and a relative with a debilitating disease. Obviously these burdens were not ones she chose. With each new obstacle that came her way, she continued on the path she knew God had ordained. And not only that, but she remained a cheerful, optimistic person. As a great mom, she has drilled into her kids, "Attitude is everything."

The character in Dragon of Chirl is also challenged by adversity. Unfortunately, three of the statues she sold to acquire money for expenses, turned out to be the cornerstone of the world she lives in. With the statues separated, the countryside has bizarre eruptions that destroy property and life.

As in real life, with each new challenge, Tipper grows to meet the difficulty. That stretching to do the next thing, the thing we think is just beyond our ability, makes us grow stronger. Tipper's character deepens as she handles what I (the author) throw at her. And she also gains a perspective of herself that eliminates the false guilt. I think false guilt weighs us down more than the reality we face. Tipper does reach a happy ending, but the reader is aware that it is not happily ever after, because the road we travel will not smooth out and be bump-free until we reach Heaven. That's okay. We have the hope!"–Donita K Paul

For more about Donita and her books, drop by:
www.donitakpaul.com
www.dragonandturtle.com
http://donitakpaul.blogspot.com/ This one is the OLD Blog where I get a chance to share books by my fellow authors. Other Literary Dabblings.
http://awriterwritessometimes.blogspot.com/

I agree with Donita. We have hope! Have you any examples of someone who refused to let her situation get her down?–Lyn

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Chapter Twenty Scene 1 La Belle Christiane

If you've just discovered this free read, click Archived Free Read and start at the beginning.

La Belle Christiane

2011 Copyright Lyn Cote

All rights reserved

Part Three

Chapter Twenty

Mt. Vernon in Virginia

September, 1781

Christiane stroked the brush through her daughter's long brown hair. Just like her father's. Christiane's jaw tightened, but her strokes retained the same even rhythm. No one but Christiane could realized how completely the child reflected her father's looks. She had his straight, thick, brown hair and finely sculpted eyebrows. Her eyes were the same cool, clear blue. Her narrow nose was a miniature of his. And sometimes she pursed her lips as he had often done when thoughtful.

"They're really coming?" the little girl asked.

"Yes, Sarah Renee, the courier said the general will be here anytime now. That's why we are tidying up."

The child pulled away and went to the window.

"Sarah," Christiane said in slight exasperation, "you must stand still. I have to braid your hair and tie the bows."

"Yes, Mama," she answered and came back.

Christiane turned the small body to the proper stance and continued the grooming.

"Will there be a party?" Sarah asked.

"You know there will be." Christiane smiled. Her daughter's habit of asking obvious questions was usually a pleasant one. She knew that for some reason hearing the same explanations over and over comforted the child and the whole household accommodated it.

"Will my father be with them? I want to meet him, too."

A deeply felt frown squeezed Christiane's brows together, but Sarah's back was to her, so it went unseen. "No, he will not come this time."

"Soon?"

"Not this time. I will tell you when I know." Christiane waited, dreading any further questions.

Only a month before this unwelcome query about her father had come from Sarah. Foolishly Christiane had been caught short by it. She had never anticipated that her daughter, at only three years, would ask about her father, so she had stammered that he was away. Since General Washington was away and often talked about, her child had accepted her explanation. But this was the second time the child had voiced the question. When would Christiane have to tell her that her father was never coming back, that he did not know or probably did not care that he had a daughter in Virginia? Christiane cringed inwardly and chose a ribbon from a silk lined box.

As always, thinking of her daughter brought her son to mind. In less than a month, Jean Claude would be six years old and she had not seen him for almost four. Her throat tightened as it did whenever she thought of her distant son. It was hard not to grieve daily over their separation, but she could see no easy way to reunite with him. Their only connection was by letter. In spite of the erratic mail delivery, the Richardson's and she corresponded regularly.

The Richardson's had generously offered to send Jean Claude to her in Virginia. This offer had tempted her greatly. She wanted him, wanted to make up for all the days, hours apart, lost forever. But she had declined. He was her legitimate child and she did not want him tainted with her love child's stain. He was legitimate, but how could she prove it? She had no token or certificate of marriage. And the only witness she could call for her first wedding turned out to be the father of her illegitimate daughter. Her lips twisted as she plaited the hair into braids.

It was dreadful to be forced to view her children as the world would, but it was necessary in order to make sensible decisions. She acknowledged now that the biggest mistake of her life was leaving the Richardson's Meadow Farm that November night almost four years ago. Still, she was comforted with the fact that Jean Claude was safe and loved. So many children did not survive till six years. She blinked back tears as she tied the ribbons securely around the ends of the braids.

To be separated from him was like dying slowly, but she had made the right decision about him. Her future and Sarah's were unsure, but his was settled. He would be well-educated and in time inherit two prosperous farms. A good future for a fur trapper's orphan. She knew he probably wondered about his absent mother, just as Sarah Renee wondered about her absent father. But she hoped that when he was an adult, he would understand and forgive her.  Over the years, she had begun to seek God's forgiveness and to understand how to live a life worthy of her children. During Christiane's pregnancy, Mrs. Washington had begun reading the Bible to her as they sat in the evenings. Christiane had learned much, but still felt separated from God. My fault. Sarah fidgeted and Christiane scolded.

At last, the braiding and ribboning were done. Christiane turned her daughter in a slow circle, examining her.                 Christiane sighed. Even though the full harvest of her bitterness was probably yet to come, Sarah's appearance was always a reminder to Christiane of her regretted actions. She had often heard that illegitimate children always resembled their fathers. Even she had favored her father more than the Pelletiers. Supposedly it was God's way of marking ownership. She decided, however, it must actually be God's way of never letting the mother forget the wiles of the father and her own folly. Where was Sarah's father and did he ever think of the woman he had lied to and seduced in Philadelphia?

"You look beautiful," Christiane pronounced, resisting the downturn in her mood. A smile lit her daughter's face. "Now, Sarah, what are you to call him?"

"General," her daughter slurred. "But I still think Grandpa Martha would be better."

"No, his name is not Martha. It is George."

"But–"

"No, please obey me. Call him General."

Sarah nodded in defeat. "May I go see Gramma Martha?"

"Yes, go show her how beautiful you are." The little one sprinted from the room.

Christiane bent slightly in front of her vanity and smoothed back the tendrils that curled moistly around her hairline. Though it was early September, the Virginia breeze was still warm. Unconsciously her hands sought her waist and she pivoted slightly, side to side, as she scrutinized her dark russet gown. Her waist was as slender as always, but her bosom and hips had rounded out after carrying Sarah and now she had a woman's figure, not a girl's.

Today she would see General Washington for the first time since she had left Valley Forge. With him would be many of the officers she had known in her short service to the Revolution. The plan was for the general to visit Mt. Vernon, his home which he had not seen for six years. Then he would go to Williamsburg and there assume the total command of the allied forces of France and America.

She had been greatly relieved that Henry Lee would be absent from this homecoming. He remained with the slower-moving land troops. Her regret over her betrayal of him lingered within her, but what was done was done. She rose and went to the window, overlooking the approach to the manor house, wishing that the Marquis de Lafayette would be included in the visitors.

But he, was already in Williamsburg preparing for the coming confrontation. He was the one she really wanted to speak to. He had returned to France in the summer of 1779 to enlist the aid of his country for the Revolution. He had succeeded excellently.

King Louis had recognized America as a nation and had sent five thousand troops and a fleet of ships. The French General Rochambeau and his officers would be accompanying Washington to Mt. Vernon. They had travelled by French ship along the coast while the Continental troops marched south.

She sighed and rested her head against the window frame. She'd written to the Marquis before he had returned to France and had asked him to go to visit her grandmother near Paris. She had enclosed a letter for him to take to grandmere. Christiane had explained her situation in the letter and had asked her grandmother for some assistance. Though grandmere would probably think her foolish for not following the tradition of the Pelletiers and supporting herself, Christiane hoped for some monetary help. She was very grateful for all the Washingtons had done for her, but she still wanted some security and independence of her own. From beneath her window, she heard her daughter's chattering. This drew her away from the window.

When Lafayette had returned, he had written Christiane that he had indeed seen her grandmother at her chateau near Versailles and had brought back a letter and a box for Christiane. He had not been able to come before and had not trusted any other than General Washington himself to convey the box safely. Today she would know at last the contents of the letter and box. The suspense had been maddening.

Horses. She could hear the distant hoof beats now. Quickly she finished tidying herself. Usually when outsiders visited, she did not appear. But today she was needed to help translate the conversations of the French visitors. Over the last three years, she had abided by the old priest's penance and had never dissembled her situation. Since she had not wanted her own social stigma to touch the Washingtons, she had always stayed out of sight whenever visitors had called. Better to remain unknown than experience the cut-direct. She now hurried down the stairs. Very few people were aware that Christiane and Sarah lived at Mt. Vernon or knew who they were.

All except Evan Marsh.

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A Young Woman with a Heart for God Needs Our Help

Today I have the pleasure of introducing you to a young woman who wants to serve God.  But she needs your help. Here's Alyssa.
Hi,
My name is Alyssa Liljequist. I will graduate from homeschool highschool next month and turn 18 at the same time .
Since I was young, God has graciously given me a passion for reaching the unreached. At the age of 16, I began to have a strong desire to not only pray and give, but also to go and personally tell people about Jesus who had never before heard of Him. I asked the Lord for direction. There were so many unanswered questions. Where? When? With what organization?

These questions were answered in a totally unexpected way. I was looking through CD-roms from different mission organizations that we'd received through the Mission Connexion Northwest Conference. I came across the interactive CD from Operation Mobilization (OM) regarding their ship ministry. My family was familiar with the ministry of OM but I researched the ship ministry in particular. In the end, I realized that the Logos Hope was the answer to my prayers.

It offered protection in that I would be with a group of people (as opposed to serving in a country by myself). It offered affordability in that the trip itself was not expensive (though the plane tickets are). The length of the trip is also great. The STEP (Short Term Exposure Program) trips are from 2-4 months. Mine is two months long. At that point, I had decided that I wanted to serve onboard the Logos Hope. And then an incredible thing happened…I found out that they'd be going to Phuket, Thailand in August of this year! Since this is a ship, it travels rather slowly from place to place plus it stays in each port for a week or so. Therefore, it may take many years before the ship comes to Asia again. My mom was born and raised in Thailand and I've studied Thai as my second language in high school so this is perfect.

I don't know if you're familiar with the Logos Hope or not. OM has a video series of the Logos Hope online: http://www.omships.org/shipshots/. Click here to watch a 60 second video about the Logos Hope. In a nutshell, its mission is to bring knowledge, help and hope to the nations of the world. The Gospel is central to this. It is the most important knowledge, the greatest help, and the only true source of hope. Yet practical service is a huge part of the Logos Hope ministry as well. One of its main attractions that draws crowds of people is its book fair which contains over 7,000 different book titles. The Logos Hope is a unique ministry and I eagerly look forward to partnering with you to serve the Lord and others in this way.

I need to raise $985 for the trip costs before July 3rd. Otherwise, I will not be able to go. However, that is not all. I also need approx. $1700 for airfare there and back. It's a total of $2800 (including misc. expenses) that I need before August.

Please consider a tax-deductible gift of $25, $50, $100, $200, or some other amount. You can donate online by clicking the following link and completing the online donation form (indicating me "Alyssa Melody Liljequist" as the OM Missionary and including my account number): https://usa.om.org/GiveOnline/. My account number is 8-11025054. Note: I can't actually access my OM account to see who has given. (But I will receive a weekly report starting this coming Friday.) If you don't mind, please let me know if you decide to give so that I can thank you . My email address is blamelessandpure@yahoo.com.

I also ask that you pray for me. Please pray for protection and provision for me. And please pray that I would honor Christ in everything I do and that I would act with wisdom, boldness, and love.

I hope to update my blog, Life With A Mission, http://mylifewithamission.blogspot.com/ with news and photos while I am onboard the Logos Hope. If I am unable to do so, there will be a lot of information after I return! I will also be posting information as I prepare to go onboard.

Soli Deo Gloria,

Alyssa Liljequist
I hope you wll consider Alyssa's request.–Lyn

Chapter Nineteen Scene 2 La Belle Christiane

If you've just discovered this free read, click Archived Free Read and start at the beginning!

La Belle Christiane

2011 Copyright Lyn Cote

All rights reserved

Chapter Nineteen Scene 2

The intervening day and night had expired at last. Silently, miserably Christiane sat opposite Mrs. Washington in the rocking carriage. Two mornings ago they had departed from Valley Forge. Christiane remembered their leaving again. She had been grateful for the masking of the early light. Still a few friends had ventured out to say good by.

Henry had stood beside the General and the pain in his eyes had split her heart. She knew she would be causing him even more hurt before that day was done. The ring and a simple note she had left him would forever break the formal tie between them, but that was just the surface issue. She knew the ache of betrayal herself. How could she have wounded such a fine man?

Again she tasted the chaste kiss which he had pressed upon her lips in farewell. Never before had she felt so soiled, so unworthy.  Because of her ill-considered actions a good man would suffer heartbreak and, worse yet, an innocent child would be born without a father, disgraced. A tear trembled and slipped down her cheek.

"Do you want to talk, my dear?" Mrs. Washington asked sympathetically. They had both been deep in private thoughts that morning.

"There isn't much to say," Christiane replied bleakly.

Mrs. Washington was touched by the sadness in the younger woman's voice, but one could not soothe her like a child. Everything would not be all right. "Christiane, this is not the end of your life–"

Christiane looked up. "In a way it is."

"How do you mean?"

"The life I had chosen for myself and my son is ended," her voice trailed off.

"You are not even twenty yet. I will not lie to you. What you have done will leave its mark, but time passes. People forget, a little, if not completely. God forgives. Life goes on."

Christiane nodded and unconsciously pressed her hand on her abdomen.

Mrs. Washington smiled at this timeless, universal gesture. They both went back to their private thoughts then. By and by, one of their escorts rode up to the window. "We are in Maryland now, ladies." The women nodded. The lady dozed finally, but Christiane still fretted.

Then she sat up straighter. Maryland? They were in Maryland, the only Catholic colony. Mrs. Washington's comment about God took on more significance suddenly. She had been in the Protestant colonies for so many years that she had given the Church and God no thought. That she was now guilty of many serious sins was only too obvious. To be free of guilt, to receive absolution would be a blessed release. And now she might. Her heart beat faster. Without thinking further, she motioned out the window to one of the escorts. "Did you say we are in Maryland, sir?" she asked breathlessly. Her companion stirred at the sound.

"Yes, ma'am," he answered politely.

"Would you please ask the driver to be looking for a church? I would like very much to stop at a Catholic church."

"Yes, madame," he replied and rode forward to the driver.

"What's this?" the lady asked, still drowsy.

"Oh, I am sorry. I should have asked you first," Christiane apologized, "but it just came to me all of a sudden."

"What did?"

"That we were in Maryland. I remembered that it is Catholic. I would like to stop at a church and speak to a priest." She stopped, worried that she may have offended her friend. The anti-papist bias was very deep in the Protestant colonists.

But Mrs. Washington only nodded. "Whatever you wish, my dear."

"Thank you. I won't take long."

"Don't worry. It will take us several more days to reach Mt. Vernon as it is. An hour or two will not make that much difference."

The long afternoon crawled along while Christiane fidgeted, watching out the small window beside her. The spring had been dry and dust billowed around them. The heat of the day wrapped around them in their layers of proper clothing and flies dropped in occasionally to practice avoiding fans. Finally Christiane gave up and dozed, too. Perhaps Maryland was the Catholic colony, but it had no churches.

The coach stopped and both the women awoke abruptly. "Mrs. Kruger?" The escort was at the window. "Here is a church." She looked out at a small brick building with a cross. She was so accustomed to white clapboard churches that she could only stare at first. Then she opened the door and he helped her down.

"I won't be long," she paused to say.

"Take your time, my dear. I will stretch my cramped legs," Mrs. Washington answered.

Christiane turned and went directly up the cobbled path and stepped inside the large oak door. Inside it was cool and dark. The late afternoon sun illumined the stained-glass windows. A few candles flickered at the feet of a statue of Mary who held flowers and looked away serenely. A small crucifix hung over the altar. She felt like an alien. No comfort came to her from the stout walls, surrounding her. Images of Notre Dame slid through her mind and teased her heart. Automatically she stepped down the aisle, genuflected and knelt in the last pew. She tried to remember a prayer from her childhood, but none returned to her lips. Minutes passed while tears seeped from her eyes and guilt overwhelmed her.

"Who are you?" a querulous voice demanded from behind her.

Her heart jumped and she stood and turned. A white-haired priest, short and somewhat stout, scowled at her.

"Father?" she asked tentatively.

"Yes, who are you?" he repeated even more querulous.

"Father, I would like to make confession and be absolved."

"It's not time. Come back when it is," he replied and turned to go.

"Father!" she exclaimed, "I am just travelling through. Please hear my confession. I don't know when I will find another church."

The old priest frowned mightily. For a long while he just stared at her. Then he motioned for her to sit and he came and sat beside her. "Very well. How long has it been since your last confession?"

"Seven, maybe eight years," she stammered.

"Eight years!" he bellowed.

"I've been in the Protestant colonies," she defended herself.

"Why?" he asked, unappeased.

Christiane could think of no response. "Don't you have a confessional?" she asked, trying to distract him.

"Confessional? Why do we need to go into a confessional? We are the only two in the church." His voice climbed, "Do you want to make your confession or not?"

She twisted her handkerchief. How to say all she had done to this unpleasant old man?

"Well!" he shouted.

She jumped. "I am pregnant, but not married," she blurted out.

"What!" Then he asked matter-of-factly, "You're not too bad to look at. Why won't he marry you?"

"He is already married," she mumbled.

"An adulteress."

"He lied to me. He promised to marry me."

"Good," he said grudgingly "Good, you didn't look a complete fool." He studied her face. In the silent moments she felt her cheeks grow warmer and warmer.

"Well!" He slapped his thigh as though to wake her. "No doubt you think me an unpleasant old man."

She swallowed, silently agreeing.

"If you do, you are right. I did not become a priest to please people. It seems to me that most confessions I hear are about the same, old, foolish things. At least, yours has the novelty of being serious." He paused and gave her another searching look. "You are travelling?"

"Yes, south."

"Well, what I'm going to say will not please you. I am not going to give you any of the ordinary penances. A strong sin needs a strong remedy." He paused. "Don't lie," he said evenly.

"What?"

"Don't lie. You may think you are leaving your past behind you. Don't! It is wartime. A husband is easy to manufacture and if he is supposedly killed in battle, so much the better. Don't do it. Never lie about your sin. That is your penance. Don't forget it!" Without so much as a prayer or a blessing, he struggled to his feet and walked with stiff knees to the altar and thence to a door behind it and disappeared.

She sat there several minutes in the quiet church. The low candles flickered. At last she rose and walked from the sanctuary. Without speaking, she allowed the escort to help her back into the coach. Mrs. Washington smiled. "Feeling better, my dear?"

Christiane looked up. "I don't know," she replied soberly and the carriage lurched forward. She did feel better for confessing her sin, but did that make any difference? She felt around her emotions and her spirit. She had taken a first step but she sensed she need to do more. She closed her eyes and prayed silently, "God, help me do better. Show me the way."

A slight easing in the tightness around her heart could not be denied. She has asked and now must wait for the answer.

At last! What did you think of the priest's penance?–Lyn

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Author Stephen Bly & Love in a Classic Western

FINDING LOVE IN A CLASSIC WESTERN

Excerpt from Throw The Devil Off The Train

"Hmmm. . .a compliment from Mr. Race Hillyard. Should I be suspicious?"

"I'd be disappointed if you weren't."

Catherine studied the faces in the train car window beside them. "You know, yesterday I held you in deep disgust."

"Has that changed?"

"Yes, today I hold you in mediocre disdain."

The kernel plot idea determines how much the love element majors in my westerns. Will women play a significant part at all? If so, how much? Will there be hints or scenes of romance? If so, what portion does it play?

For some western writers, especially those who focus on the romance market, those are big questions. In fact, I would presume that they factor the love interest first thing in their plotting. Me, not so much. If my main character's a woman, which it has been for a number of my novels, then her relationship with the men, or her main man, will be key, of course.

A time or two I've written about strong women who turn down the potential love interest because of other considerations, such as a career (i.e. Miss Fontenot, Book #3, Heroines of the Golden West Series). My fans and a few editors screamed about this. But that was the way Miss Fontenot decided it. I had to respect her wishes.

Then out pops the idea for my new release, Throw The Devil Off The Train.

It's a road story inside a train headed west. The grandeur of the West from a train window. The very slow journey, compared to modern transportation, yet cramped, crowded, at times chaotic conditions.

Later, a theme evolved. . .that people are much more complex than first meetings reveal. That hurts and pains, victories and defeats of the past, affect responses in the present. My observation is that most of us hide spiritual and emotional hurts from others. . .and sometimes ourselves. We must be open to what God is doing around us, even through flawed people, to receive the help he sends.

That lead to. . .what if I tossed two cats into a burlap bag, then watched to see how they'd survive. . .or not? This had to be a male and a female. With a long train ride, sparks are going to hit the track. . .somehow, somewhere. Will it be eternal hate or meld into love?

The gal on the train. . .she heads west to escape from her past in Virginia, to a prosperous fiancé in Paradise Springs, a childhood friend. To get a new name. She's desperate that no one knows her real last name.

She can be as honey-sweet as any southern belle, if she wants to. She and her twin sister, Catelynn, spent the war years in the north at an aunt's house. While they missed witnessing the violence and ravages of the Civil War, they lost their parents and their estate. Catherine is not glamorous like her twin sister, but her good looks and confident air capture much attention. She's willing to use her beauty and personality to get things done. . .her way.

He travels west to get justice for his brother's death. His blunt, stubborn ways leave no room for charm or diplomacy. Independent, with focused courage, he's in the habit of success at whatever he attempts. His set glare keeps most folks scooting away from him. That suits him fine. He has no use for a woman he considers shallow and manipulative. He also has no fear of dying, because he's not sure he wants to live. When he sets his mind on a goal, he expects everyone to get out of the way.

After a few gouges and bites between Catherine Draper and Race Hillyard, I could see the trail markings of their story. That's how I knew Throw The Devil Off The Train was a western romance first, front and center. In fact, my original working title was "Throw Away Heart." But my editor objected. The Bly fans for this publisher look for a western first, romance optional.

Yet a question still remained right up to the end. Will the Miss Fontenot type independence reign? Of course, that's up to Catherine. . .and Race. Romance comes late for them. . .perhaps too late.

Yep, they hate each other on sight. Meanwhile, traditional western stuff happens. A holdup, hijack, kidnapping and gold mine swindle swirl around them. . .and something else evil's on board. Fiery, opinionated and quick to react, can they make a truce long enough to throw the devil off the train?–Stephen Bly copyright 2011

Stephen Bly is a Christy Award finalist and winner for westerns for The Long Trail Home, Picture Rock, The Outlaw's Twin Sister and Last of the Texas Camp. He has authored and co-authored with his wife, Janet, 105 books, both fiction and nonfiction. He and Janet have 3 married sons, 4 grandchildren, and 1 great-grandchild and live in the mountains of northern Idaho on the Nez Perce Indian Reservation. Find out more about the Blys at their website http://BlyBooks.com or blog http://BlyBooks.blogspot.com

Throw The Devil Off The Train can be ordered through your favorite local or online bookstore, such as www.Amazon.com. It's also available through http://BlyBooks.com
I had the pleasure of meeting Stephen and his sweet wife Janet several years ago. You would love them! And Stephen's books never disappoint.–Lyn

Chapter Nineteen Scene 1 La Belle Christiane

If you've just discovered this free read, click Archived Free Read and start at the beginning!

La Belle Christiane

2011 Copyright Lyn Cote

All rights reserved

Chapter Nineteen Scene 1

Christiane sat up and wiped her tears away quickly. "Of course. Come in, Mrs. Washington," she responded softly. Her heart beating faster as if the lady had read her faithless thoughts from her room down the hall.

The door opened and the older woman in her dressing gown came in. The woman paused, "Christiane, what is the matter?" She looked down at the younger woman with such concern that Christiane was overwhelmed. Her tears burst forth with such force that she could not hold back.

Mrs. Washington came closer. "I knew it. Something is amiss." She sat down and put her arms around Christiane who was now sobbing. "Now, my dear, please tell me."

"I don't want you to know," Christiane answered helplessly.

"Tell me please."

Christiane pulled away from Mrs. Washington and went to the window, turning her back to the lady. She could no longer hold back the truth. "I'm pregnant." She glanced over her shoulder.

The other woman's mouth formed a silent "O". A few moments limped by. "Well, then,"  she said, her tone was brisk, "the  general will have a talk with Mr. Lee and your wedding will be tomorrow."

"No."

"My dear, if you two have quarreled–"

"Henry is not the father," Christiane said plainly and then went hot with shame.

"Then the  general will have a talk with someone. Who?" the lady insisted.

"You do not know him." What an understatement.

"Then we will meet him. He will marry you."

"He is already married." Complete silenced ensued. Christiane's tears ended. There she had said it. She leaned her forehead against the cool window pane. Her voice sounded tired, "I did not want anyone to know that I had been such a fool."

"Perhaps you could explain."

Something in her friend's tone reassured Christiane and she took a deep breath. "It happened on the way here from New Jersey. I was in Philadelphia longer than I let on. I became infatuated with him there. He promised me marriage. Then I found out that he was already married, so I left." She was surprised at her lucidity. The story had come out almost free of emotion.

"You're sure that you are expecting?"

Oh, yes. "I've felt the quickening."

"I'm afraid that is as certain as a woman can be." Mrs. Washington came up behind her and put her hands on Christiane's shoulders. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"I am so ashamed." Christiane's voice shook.

"Christiane, I have lived fifty odd years and I have seen a great deal of folly. You are unfortunately not the first or last woman to be deceived by a man. I have been with you enough to know your true worth. Henry Lee was wise to offer you marriage. He still might you know."

"Oh, no," Christiane gasped, "Ever since I realized my condition, just to be near him has been agony. I was disgusted with myself already, but this has made the pain sharper. He would never feel he could trust me and I wouldn't blame him." Her tone became gentler, "Besides if my love had matched his love for me, I would not have been tempted."

"You are very hard on yourself. Some men, like the one who tempted you, seem to be able to believe that though they philander, they still love their wives." She squeezed Christiane's shoulders. "So you will not give Henry the opportunity of demonstrating his true value?"

"No, it would be dishonest." She couldn't even contemplate marriage now.

"You might be surprised at the depth of his love for you."

"I would not be surprised." Christiane sighed and pushed wisps of hair back from her forehead. "But I cannot."

"Your son is still in New Jersey. Are you thinking of going to him?"

"No, I don't want to have him stained by my reputation. In any case, I hardly feel worthy to be his mother. Twice I have abandoned him."

"Abandoned is an unfair description. You left him in the care of very fine people. That is not abandoning him."

"I can't go to him."

There was a long pause as the  general's lady seemed to think deeply. "Then you will come home with me," Mrs. Washington said finally.

"No." Both hope and denial rushed up within Christiane. "You and the  general have already suffered enough vilification. People are always looking for ways to slander you. So many others want the  general's position. I cannot give them more ammunition."

"I don't care what people say. You are coming home with me tomorrow. We will simply say that you have decided to go for a visit at Mt. Vernon. You will write a note to Henry, explaining everything. George will give it to him after we have gone."

"Oh, I can't." This is too easy. I don't deserve it.

"Christiane, when I decided to sponsor you last year I did it for Patsy."

"Patsy?"

"Yes, Patsy was our daughter. I said to the  general, 'what if we had died and left Patsy all alone, who would have protected and cared for her?' Christiane, I am going to help you as I would have wanted someone to help my daughter. And I will not take 'no' as your answer. My mind is closed." At this the older woman turned Christiane and embraced her. Christiane wanted to speak, but her mingled relief and gratitude choked her.

I sighed with relief at the end of this chapter. Didn't you? God promises to provide a way of escape in times of temptation. Often godly friends can offer that help.

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