Lyn Cote's Blog, page 98
June 6, 2011
Author Roxanne Rustand & Caramel Blonde Brownies!
My guest today is my dear friend Love Inspired Author Roxanne Rustand. I can testify that she's a great lady and a wonderful cook. Here's the scoop about her latest book plus recipe!
SECOND CHANCE DAD
ISBN: 978-0-373-87673-0
Love Inspired
June, 2011
Roxanne Rustand
He Was A Challenge She Couldn't Ignore…
The minute she steps foot in his dark, miserable house, Sophie Alexander knows Josh McClaren is not her usual patient. But the single mom and physical therapist is desperate to make a life for her and her young son. And she's definitely no quitter! It's obvious to Sophie that handsome, cantankerous Josh hides his pain behind a wall of grief. Little by little, Sophie and her son, Eli, do more than help Josh find his faith again. They make Josh wonder if there's a family in his future after all….
Aspen Creek Crossroads: Where faith, love and healing meet.
This book is available at :
and fine bookstores everywhere.
Drop by Roxanne's website and get a free downloadable cookbook. http://roxannerustand.com/cookbook-an...
Here's one of her favorite recipes as a tease.
CARAMEL BLONDE BROWNIES
1/2 cup melted butter (no substitute!)
2 cups brown sugar
2 eggs
1 Tbsp REAL vanilla
2 cups flour
1/2 tsp salt
2 tsp baking powder
1 cup M&Ms
Combine first four ingredients and beat really well, then stir in dry ingredients. Don't overbeat. Add the M&Ms last.
Pat into a well-greased 9×13 pan, then bake 30 minutes at 350 degrees. Do not overbake–these should be nice and chewy, so watch them carefully!
Hope you enjoy these, and come back again for other recipes. And if you'd like to share a favorite, that would be great!
Roxanne Rustand can be found at www.roxannerustand.com and her "All Creature Great and Small" blog, http://roxannerustand.blogspot.com. If you'd like to see the foal at her house (or barn), drop by http://roxannerustand.blogspot.com/2011/05/new-baby-at-our-houseand-it-nickers.html
To subscribe to her quarterly e-newsletter, which offers prize drawings, family recipes and news about her books, go to: http://roxannerustand.com/newsletter-signup
I'll be visiting Roxanne in August and can't wait to see her latest edition and sit at her table! Yum.–Lyn
June 5, 2011
Chapter Eighteen Scene 4 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 Eighteen Scene 4
Weeks later alone by her window, Christiane stood. The after-dinner discussion of the baron's new military orders, The Regulations for the Order and Discipline of the Troops of the United States had given something positive for her to think on. Already the baron's changes were being felt. The army ran on a central time. Each morning every brigade major made sure his watch matched the clock at headquarters. Also the American foot soldier now knew how to march in an easy medium pace in columns of four. Bayonets were no longer confused with javelins. Christiane lingered over the accomplishments, forestalling her own dilemma, but it was futile.
Her mind brought up again the thoughts she had been chewing on for the weeks since the shad run. Would she follow in her mother's footsteps? As a girl in Paris, she had tried to change the direction of her life. But had she really? In Philadelphia she had forgotten her ambitions, her loyalties, herself. How had the major bewitched her so completely?
She had been so confused that she had mistaken the promise of marriage for marriage itself. And she had stepped over that invisible line. It was useless to plan any future now save the one she had earned. She had no one she could turn to. Why had she fought so long against the inevitable anyway? Her mother's daughter she was and she might as well accept it. A feeling of hopelessness gripped her.
Carefully she mulled over the possibilities. To return to Philadelphia was distasteful. Williamsburg was unknown and too close to the Washingtons. Boston was too straight-laced. Only New York remained. Large, urbane and wealthy, it would be ideal. If she were going to sell herself, she would be able to demand the highest prices there. She would tell everyone here that she was bound for New Jersey to spend the summer with her son. Then she would go and find appropriate lodging in Manhattan. She did not think it would be difficult to begin a new life. But she must leave soon in order to earn enough funds to carry her over the last of her pregnancy and recovery. Timing was essential.
Her spirit rebelled against this plan; she gripped the window sill. A decision made. Was it the right one? Jean Claude would remain protected and untouched by her stigma. The child she was carrying would be provided for. Henry Lee would be hurt, but not shamed like he would if she stayed. But what about her? She stopped her mind and turned to bed. She was trapped in her own consequences, without hope. Her spirit called out for help. But what help could their be for her? An adulteress.
#
The mid-May night breathed damp, but balmy. Christiane led the way through the quiet house. Mrs. Washington and Christiane mounted the steps, both too tired to talk. Shadows marched solemnly beside them. Christiane tried to suppress a yawn. They'd spent the evening at the aide station, helping to inventory and generally get all the medical supplies ready to move with the army. The day after tomorrow Mrs. Washington would leave for Virginia. She had once again invited Christiane to return with her. Christiane, of course, had declined. They stopped at the general's door. "Good night, Mrs. Washington," Christiane said with another yawn.
"I am so sorry that I kept you so long, but you and I work together so well."
"It is quite all right, madame," Christiane answered and with that they parted. Christiane went on down the hall, her exhaustion causing her to feel trembly and weak. She stumbled into her room, placed the candle on the dressing table, and lay down immediately. Since she had left the window open, the spring dampness was in the room, but she was too tired to get up and close it.
After Mrs. Washington left, she would have to leave herself. Already her girth was growing. She had to hurry or she would not have time to carry out her plans. Henry had insisted that he would take her to New Jersey as soon as he was able; the roads they would have to travel were still enemy-held. So very soon she would have to go for a morning ride and just not return. Her disappearance would cause some stir and she would have to concoct a plausible lie in the note she would leave.
A very unsatisfactory end to her honest life. She had been lied to and now she was forced to lie to everyone. The thought of travelling alone again terrified her and the recognition of what she planned to do in New York filled her with self-loathing. Tears dripped from her eyes and she didn't try to stop them.
Even though she had been deceived in Philadelphia, all the consequences were her own fault. Could she really go through with her plan? She listened to the muted sounds from the night, the leaves brushing against the house with the gentle breeze, the spring toads bellowing in the small creek, the undistinguished sounds of voices from below. Time was flowing on, carrying her in its current. By fall her child would come to term.
A light tap on her door startled her. "Who is it?"
"Mrs. Washington. May I please speak with you, Christiane?"
Hope at last!–Lyn
Two Drawings! Three Winners! And Another Chance to Win!
May Third Annual MEGA May celebration of Strong Women came to an end Thursady. I hope you enjoyed my humorous family stories and others that were also included. (Photo above from my Death by Painting story. Click here if you missed me telling on my son!)
If you recall I was offering two chances to win books from this blog in May. One was for people who entered their email addresses above in the Yahoo slot to join my egroup, LynCote_to_Readers. I send out an occasional note to readers about what I'm reading, writing, doing and information about contests on other blogs and websites. If that interests you, just look up on the top right and enter your email address (which by the way I keep confidential.)
The winner of two of my books is Marion! Congratulations, Marion.
Secondly, I always celebrate May with the MEGA May basket to which many guest authors donate books to. The winner of this years 3rd annual MEGA May basket is–drum roll please–Rose! Congratulations, Rose!
Also in May, I always participate in Brenda Novak's Diabetes Research Auction. The photo above shows what I donated. Vince won the bidding and he'll be receiving this soon. Thanks, Vince! I will be sending these off this week. Promise.
Now finally, my friend WI author Andrea Boeshaar is offering a complete set of her Civil War series, Seasons of Redemption. Click here to drop by and leave a comment. This drawing ends Monday June 6th so be quick about it!
I love blogging since it gives me a chance to interact with readers regularly. I hope you'll consider joining my egroup (above right) and considering leaving a comment occasionally. It's taken a while (since Nov 30, 2008) but I feel like this blog is becoming a two-way street, a good thing.
Happy June!–Lyn
June 2, 2011
Chapter Eighteen 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
Chapter Eighteen Scene 3
A sour taste welled up into her mouth. It was not only from her stomach, but from her heart also. Now she understood the phrase, "bitter as gall." How could the major have lied to her so convincingly, so cruelly? How could he have conceived such a clever falsehood? Unable to father a child? Liar! He had, at least, a daughter in London and now in American the child she carried. It was difficult to decide which made her more sick with anger–his deception or her own gullibility.
But placing blame was no solution. It was nearing the end of April. By the time the summer campaign began her condition would be very difficult to conceal. She could not disgrace Henry by staying. The ugly consequences of her wrongdoing in December crowded around her. Swinging her legs outside the warm blankets, she pushed herself up gingerly. If she lay abed any longer, it might be thought unusual.
Pressing a wet cloth against her face, she stared at her reflection in the mirror. Fatigue made her tremble. Did she really look that pale? A full day and a full evening of duties lined up before her. The concealment of her condition made them all the more difficult. If only she could rest in the afternoon or sit down and put her feet up. For a moment she allowed her mind to dwell on the many little courtesies that her first husband had shown her during her first pregnancy. How kind he had been. A tiny sigh escaped her. She wiped her face one last time with the cloth. Then methodically she dressed. A soft knock came.
"Come in," Christiane said.
Mrs. Washington bustled in. "How are you, my dear? You have seemed pale lately."
"I just need some sunshine."
"Well, the weather seems to accommodate us more and more. I am so grateful that this dreadful winter has gone."
They were both silent as they remembered the hardships–six days in February when no flour had come, horses dying of starvation, men losing fingers and toes from the cold. It had been a winter of unbelievable, unspeakable pain. Six thousand men had survived it and Christiane respected each and every one of them.
Mrs. Washington broke their sober moment. "Excitement. And we must go and witness it." She clapped her hands in childlike cheer.
Christiane turned her back, silently asking for help with the lashes of her dress. "What is it?"
"The shad are running. It is an unusually big run. Most years, I am told, they do not go farther than the Delaware River. But this year, Christiane, this year they have come far up the Schuylkill River right here and the fishing has begun. We must go see it. The Old Man says it is something to see." As she spoke, she quickly finished tightening Christiane's laces up the back of her plaid dress and tied them.
Though outside a hint of cold lingered in the breeze, under the warming sunshine, the dogwood trees were all in blossom, millions of white blooms. The camp seemed less busy, emptier than usual. As they neared the river, they discovered where most of the army had gone. Above the sound of the rushing spring run-off, voices shouted all around them. Cavalrymen rode their gaunt mounts mid-river and beat the water with large bushes, driving the fish toward both shores. Men stood in the shallow water shore side ready to spear or net or scoop the fish as they came near.
Just watching all this activity made Christiane's pulse quickened. The men had not looked so happy since March when they had heard the news that they were to receive an extra month's pay and an extra tot of rum for sticking it out through the winter.
Christiane recognized Henry as one of the cavalrymen and she waved. He was thinner, too, after the winter, but his broad shoulders were still notable as he maneuvered his horse. She knew that she was engaged to one of the most eligible men of the Revolution. The fact made her heartsick. Henry surprised them then by riding up beside them. He swung down and bowed to them. "Good day to the two most beautiful ladies at Valley Forge!" The physical activity and the sunshine seemed to have released his high spirits that the winter had vainly tried to conquer.
Mrs. Washington curtseyed and returned his banter, "I fear that I am included in your compliment only because of the company I keep."
"Oh, never, my dear lady, never." He breathed deeply from his exertion. His eyes lingered on Christiane's face and inwardly she squirmed.
How she wished she could respond to him as he desired her to. She would have to leave him and soon. She smiled and concealed the looming betrayal.
"Oh, go ahead and kiss her," the older woman said gaily, "that is what you came for."
He grinned and then bent to place a kiss on Christiane's cheek. Then he leaped back into his saddle and galloped back into the fray. Christiane's face froze into a deceiving smile.
After the two women watched for over an hour, drinking in all the excitement, they strolled back. Mrs. Washington continued chatting and Christiane made the correct listening sounds. How painful it will be to leave this dear woman. Until today, Christiane had avoided thoughts of leaving, but seeing Henry so happy had moved her past this. Soon she would have no choice. Where will I go and how will I live?
They arrived at the stone house and joined the other ladies in the parlor. Christiane picked up her sewing basket and continued stitching one more pair of moccasins. The ladies were listening avidly to the general's wife as she described the shad run.
Christiane, on the other hand, was mentally making a list of possible people to turn to. Tildy? She knew that Tildy would not approve of what she had done, but she could not picture Tildy turning her away. But Tildy was living on the charity of another. No, Tildy would want to help, but would not be able to. The Richardsons? They, too, would be willing to help, but Christiane inwardly shrank at the thought of how hurt they would be at her immoral behavior. More importantly Jean Claude would be harmed. He would not be the bastard, but when Christiane delivered him a bastard brother or sister, the stigma of illegitimacy would stain him also.
She had lived among these people long enough to know the cost of unclear parentage. Look how it had affected Alexander Hamilton. He was a brilliant man, a fine officer, but if someone wished to insult him, they only had to breath the word, "bastard." No wonder he was so touchy. Her own illegitimacy had never bothered her in France only because of the special circumstances of her family. But she did not want either of her children to suffer the consequences of her act. If she could protect, at least, one of them, she would. She had already sinned against her son enough by leaving him twice. No, she could not turn to the Richardsons.
The Washington's? No, they had been good to her, but she would only bring disgrace to them. If only Old Sarah at Rumsveld were still alive, she would gladly return to the frontier tavern and Sarah's old feather bed. How could she support herself?
As she bent over her work, she castigated herself. All her grand plans were ashes now. Suddenly she felt hard and brittle inside. It seemed she had only one talent. She was beautiful and desirable and men wanted her. One man had concocted an elaborate lie to win her favors. Men propositioned her with their eyes, with their words, as naturally as they took breath.
A cold wind blew through her mind. If this were her only ace, why not use it? The very thought shook her. She had fled France seven years ago to avoid what she was now contemplating. How could she even let herself think this idea? Lost in her thoughts, she stuck her sewing needle deep into her thumb. "Oh!"
"Well, she has finally come back to us," Mrs. Knox observed cheerfully. "Penny for your thoughts?"
Christiane smiled fraudulently. "I was thinking about all those fish for dinner."
General amusement followed her comment. "Not fish," Mrs. Knox waggled her finger playfully. "You were dreaming about a handsome young captain, now weren't you?"
Everyone chuckled and then sewing resumed. Christiane stitched the supple leather and wrestled mentally. Can I really live as my mother's daughter? The repellent thought made her sick and weak–yet her false smile held.
June 1, 2011
Author Pat Simmons & Crowning Glory
My guest today is Kensington Author Pat Simmons who shares about her unique heroine in her latest book, Crowning Glory. Here's Pat:
"In my fifth Christian romance novel, Crowning Glory (Kensington, April 2011), I tackle some difficult issues that some people would prefer not to discuss.
If I knew everything about an individual, I probably wouldn't like her. If she knew every thing about me, she probably wouldn't accept me as a friend. Women are the fastest growing prison population and what happens when our sisters (brothers too) are released from prison, and the world knows her transgressions? My character, Karyn Wallace, repented, received her conversion through physical and spiritual baptisms as a result of a church prison ministry. Her daily inspiration after she is released is Romans 8:36: "So if the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed."
Karyn paid her debts and Christ paid for her sins, so how do we respond to our sister? We have to search our hearts and ask God to help us look beyond another person's faults and see her needs. This is why Crowning Glory is my favorite novel because we (the reader) have to search our hearts and ask ourselves what if we were in her shoes?"–Pat
Pat Simmons is the award-winning and bestselling author of five Christian fiction novels: Guilty of Love, Not Guilty of Love, Still Guilty, Talk to Me, and Crowning Glory. Her sixth novel, Guilty by Association will be released in January 2012. She is a genealogy sleuth and when she discovers ancestors, she casts them into starring roles in her novels.
Pat is a baptized in Jesus name Bible Believer and describes her Holy Ghost experience as an amazing journey in her salvation walk. She has a B.S. in mass communication from Emerson College in Boston, MA and has worked in various media positions for more than twenty years, most recently as an assignment editor and news writer for TV. Presently, she is the publicist for the annual RT Booklovers Conventions. She has been married for 28 years and has a son and daughter who recently graduated from college. Pat describes her husband, Kerry, as her GPS-guided chauffeur to book events as well as her amateur travel agent, booking those book events.
For more about Pat, check out http://anythinginspirational.blogspot.com/ or http://www.PatSimmons.net Also for Pat's latest enewsletter, click here.
Thanks, Pat. I admire you for having the courage to tackle difficult subjects. Right now I'm writing a proposal about a former prostitute trying to make a new start in 1869. There is nothing new under the sun, especially in the department of sinners needed forgiveness and healing.
Well, readers, what do you think? Is this a book that piques your interest?–Lyn
May 31, 2011
Chapter Eighteen 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 Eighteen Scene 2
"I have always anticipated the coming of a nation, based upon the ideal of liberty. Mr. Benjamin Franklin encouraged me to come and do what I could to help it emerge. To fulfill a lifelong dream, madame," he paused and sighed, "it is a great satisfaction."
Christiane smiled genuinely at him. "When you spoke, baron, you remind me of my late husband." And his enthusiasm for liberty cheered her. To the majority of the British officers in Philadelphia this war was just another boring little war, not the fulfillment of a lifelong dream. Even the major had admitted that he was here only to keep himself occupied. Fresh pain wrenched her and she hid it, biting her lower lip.
At that moment the Marquis de Lafayette began a conversation with the baron in rapid French. And the dinner conversation took on a timeless quality. The officers and their wives discussed the signs predicting a hard winter, military strategies, the price of wool, the change of fashions. The words flowed over and around Christiane as she ate sparingly, churning with her misery. She forced herself to listen as the baron and general discussed his background. Evidently Baron Von Steuben was something of an expert the drilling of an army. She recalled the Continental Army's sad attempts at marching drill that she'd witnessed in Manhattan in '76.
"I am happy that you are not given to idle chatter and giggling," Henry whispered , interrupting her concentration.
Christiane glanced at him with a guess that he was referring to Henry Knox's bride. "I think that Knox enjoys it," she whispered back.
"I prefer your seriousness," he replied.
Her seriousness. An invisible tourniquet around her heart made her almost gasp in pain. In all the years since leaving France–when had she ever had the privilege of chattering and giggling? Her life had been one test after another, one loss after another. And now this most dreadful because it held the poison of betrayal. Near tears, she turned to the baron and began asking him about his home in Germany.
The long meal finally ended and they all paraded to the parlor. There the furniture had been pushed back against the walls and the carpet had been rolled up to make way for dancing. Two men with fiddles lounged by the fire. Christiane wished that she could now leave, but to go would be unnatural and would cause comment. Her manufactured smile was again carefully put into place and weighed on her.
"Mr. Lee, if you don't mind, I will claim Christiane for the Virginia Reel. After that she is yours," the general said. He motioned to the fiddlers and commanded, "A Virginia Reel please." The peppy music began almost immediately. The parallel lines formed quickly. Christiane lost herself in the rhythm of the melody: bowing, turning, bouncing, and sashaying. When the next dance formed, the general took his place against the wall, letting Henry take her hand. Since there were more men than women, the husbands graciously sat out dances, so that the unattached officers could enjoy the fun also.
Finally, Christiane's hand was claimed by the baron. She found him a good dancer. Each succeeding dance became more of a trial. When would this evening end?
"Madame, how is it that you have a German name?"
"My late husband Jacob was originally from the area near Hamburg," Christiane replied. And then not wanting for him to get the wrong impression of her. She added, "My late husband was a corporal."
"That is of no consequence to me."
From the dinner conversation, she had gotten the impression that the general wanted something from this man, but could this newcomer understand what he had gotten himself into? This was no European army. Not clearly knowing why, she began intuitively, "Baron, for the first thirteen years of my life, I was European. Now I am an American."
"Is an American so different from an European?"
She took her time thinking of the right answer. "Do you remember how General Washington lived when he first arrived at this forge?"
"Ja, in a tent."
"Yes, up on a platform in the wind. Why do you think he did this?"
"I thought it was a grand gesture. To show that he would not take his comfort until theirs had been taken care of."
"More than that. The men respect him so highly because he does not only give orders. He commands their respect by his actions and his devotion to their common cause. This is not easy for me to tell you, baron, for it is still a painful memory. Last December as my husband and I wintered in tents, we waited for Jakob's enlistment to end on the thirty-first. We planned to leave to be with my son. I was merely surviving till that day. Then the general himself came through the ranks, asking the men personally to stay on just six weeks longer." Christiane paused, shaken by these sad memories, piled onto her Philadelphia burden.
"And your Jakob stayed on?"
"Yes." She took a calming breath. "He was killed January third at Princeton. Jakob was completely devoted to liberty and personally his respect for Washington knew no boundary. Do you see my point? This army is fighting for a whole new way of living and it is a different army, built on mutual respect, not blind obedience."
The dance ended. The baron bowed over her hand. As her next partner claimed her, she watched the baron. He looked thoughtful. As the torturous evening dragged on, Christiane felt like a puppet on a string. She smiled, curtseyed, danced, smiled. She acted out this painful and exhausting manner for almost two hours.
Finally the music was halted and glasses of mulled wine were passed around. The last minute of 1777 was breathlessly counted down and at the last stroke of midnight, they raised their glasses for the toast. "Hurrah for 1778! Hurray for the New Year!" Many kissed and embraced. Henry kept a tight arm around Christiane's waist to ward off any attempts by others. She turned and smiled at him as best she could though tears were bedeviling her again.
"Why tears, my sweet?" he asked.
"Oh," she lied, dabbing at them, "I just wish the war were over."
He smiled broadly and kissed her cheek, for, of course, he interpreted her statement as her desire for their marriage to come more quickly. After formally ringing in the New Year, the party quickly dispersed. Everyone's duties would resume as usual in the early hours of the morning.
By candlelight Henry escorted Christiane to her room. They paused at her door to say good night. Glancing up and down the empty hall, he drew her to him and kissed her. A guilty conscience prompted her to return the kiss ardently. He sighed with satisfaction and they parted without words. She closed the door, undressed. The image of Major John Eastham would not fade from her mind and neither did her lips forget his touch. She cried herself to an uneasy sleep.
#
Another afternoon at the aide station where the frostbitten were tended was done. Christiane sighed, pulled on her cape and stepped out into the brisk wind. It was February 10, 1778, and she was sick to death of this winter. Unbidden the major's face came before her eyes. She often wondered how she had been able to carry on, giving the appearance of being the same woman she had been in November. Inside she felt as though she had been scoured thoroughly and everything that she loved everything–trying to gain love, peace, and her son. She had lost. Over and over, she tried to fit all the pieces together and gain a full perspective of what had truly happened there. But try as she could she could not make all the figures add up to the correct sum.
She fought the wind back to the yard in front of the imposing, cut-gray stone house. Loving the major had been foolish. Now away from him, she realized that if she had run away with him, she could never have been at peace. Maybe after this dreadful winter, she could come to some understanding of what to do about Henry Lee and her son.
As she came closer to the Hewes' House, she could see a great many people milling about the entrance of it. The horses were being unhitched from a large carriage in the stable yard. Her pace quickened and her ears listened sharply to the bits of conversation around. Inside she stepped directly into the unusually crowded front parlor. She found there the face she was looking for. "Mrs. Washington!"
"Christiane!" They embraced. Christiane had so much to say, but so many people were in attendance that she turned to the commonplace.
"Has anyone ordered you tea?"
"No."
"Then I will go see to it. When you are done with your tea, have the general escort you up."
Mrs. Washington squeezed her hand. "Thank you, my dear, you know my thoughts exactly."
How good it felt to have this dear woman close again.
#
April morning sunlight flooded Christiane's room. Nausea made it impossible for her to rise. So far she had not vomited and she did not want to. It would be too revealing. When she had first come to Valley Forge, she had suspected that the story Major Eastham had told her that morning after the fateful ball had been false. She had waited anxiously for her monthly flow. It had come late and had been usually light, but it had come. She had been relieved. However, a few days after Mrs. Washington had arrived, she began experiencing nausea. At first, she had passed it off as quinsy. General Washington was suffering from it then also.
But in the weeks that followed the symptoms had not relented. Perhaps if she had not experienced them before, she would have been able to continue to fool herself. Then she had missed one month and then another. Weeks of denial had finally given way to acceptance. Now she had missed her fourth. She was pregnant and she knew it.
Did you see this coming? No hiding the truth any longer.–Lyn
May 30, 2011
Author Miralee Ferrell & The Break-Through Spirit
My guest today is Author Miralee Ferrell. She shares how God led her and her dh through a difficult period. And some about her new book, Love Finds You in Tombstone, Arizona!
A number of years ago our family hit a very hard place financially, just like my heroine Christy Grey did in my recent book. Her home and family were in jeopardy and she went through a lot of stress before she finally realized her hope came from the Lord, not from what she could provide. Sometimes we have to come to a place of total release before we're able to see the mighty hand of God work on our behalf.
My husband Allen and I were in trouble and we knew it, but nothing seemed to be working. We'd hit a lot of financial hurdles in the past few years, but this one brought its own truck load of stress and it felt like we were about to be buried under it.
We'd had our house on the market three different times over the past four years, with no success. We weren't sure we could hold on much longer as our business was struggling in an economy that had flattened. Housing sales were beginning to strengthen, but ours hadn't attracted much attention, even with major renovations to the house and its location on thirty beautiful acres.
I was nearing desperation and made the commitment to pray until I sensed a break-through in my spirit. Allen and I also decided to give a generous "break-through" offering that we couldn't afford, following the scriptural principal of giving over and above our tithes, and asking that the windows of heaven would be opened for us. We prayed about our gift and felt the Lord directing us in the amount as well as the recipient.
Two weeks passed and we continued to press into the Lord, asking Him to provide a buyer. One evening I hit a low, something very unusual for me, and began to cry out to God, asking for mercy and hope.
I began to praise Him and then settled into a time of listening with my spirit….then heard, very softly the following words… "It'll be sold in one week"… What? Could I have heard the Lord? I'd heard His voice many times in the past, but this seemed too good to be true. One week? We didn't even have anyone looking. Maybe He meant that within a week, someone would view it, and we'd start the process…Maybe…a ton of scenarios flooded my mind but that voice persisted…One week.
Two days later a friend called. Their relatives were flying in and looking for a house…he believed our place in the country was just what they wanted, could they come in two days? Of course, I replied. Husband and wife, semi-retired, spent several hours walking the property and talking, then returned for another visit the following day. That evening, they called with an offer and the next day we signed earnest money papers. A total of six days had passed from the time the Lord spoke. Our long wait had finally ended, our place closed on schedule, and God opened doors of possibility from that sale that we'd never imagined….but that's an entirely new story!
Book Summary:
Love and second chances aren't easy to come by in a town named Tombstone. When Christy Grey receives an urgent summons to Tombstone, Arizona, she reluctantly leaves her new life in California. The trip goes from bad to worse when four masked men hold up Christy's stage. She finally arrives in
Tombstone to find her mother ill and her brother trapped in a life of gambling. Desperate for money to support her family, will Christy bow to pressure from the local saloon owners and return to the life she thought she'd given up for good?
Nevada King has problems of his own. He's been dodging bullets for years and wants nothing more than to settle down and get married. But he's on the run from outlaws bent on revenge, and the one woman who captures his interest recognizes him from the stagecoach holdup. Will Christy turn Nevada in to the authorities, or will the outlaws on his trail catch him first?
Miralee Ferrell is multi-published author with two contemporary women's fiction and three historical romance, with a sixth book releasing August 1, 2011. She serves as president of the Portland, Oregon, chapter of American Christian Fiction Writers and belongs to a number of writer's groups. She also speaks at women's groups, libraries, and churches about her writing journey. Miralee and her husband Allen have been married 38 yrs. They live on 11 acres in the beautiful Columbia River Gorge in southern Washington State, where they love to garden, play with their dogs, take walks, and go sailing. Miralee also rides her horse on the wooded trails near their home with her grown daughter who lives nearby.
You can find out more about her and her work at her web site or blog:
Web Site: http://www.miraleeferrell.com
Blog: http://www.miraleesdesk.blogspot.com
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/miralee
Love Finds You in Bridal Veil, OR, 4 ½ stars and Top Pick Romantic Times
Finding Jeena, Kregel Publications
Love Finds You in Tombstone, AZ, Summerside Press, 4 ½ Stars
Miralee certainly tested God just like Gideon. But did she really test God or her trust in him?–Lyn
May 29, 2011
Chapter Eighteen 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 Eighteen Scene 1
Christiane wonered how she was going to survive this day, her first full day at Valley Forge.
"Christiane," Henry said, gently holding her hand. "I missed you so much and I am glad to have you back, but I wish you had not traveled alone from Philadelphia." Finished with breakfast, they sat alone at the long dining table.
"I understand, Henry, but there was no possible way that you could come to an enemy-held city. The Richardsons' friends were very good to let me travel with them as far as Philadelphia. I was alone only the last day and I was very careful." Each calmly spoken was a penance and a knife thrust. "As it was, I hardly saw a living soul."
She was lying and hated herself for it. But she hated herself even more for other secrets that her fiancé must never know. To explain her inconsistencies, she had created imaginary travelling companions, and had credited the Richardsons with her new riding habit and mount. Each moment spent here with Henry holding her hand tightened her agony.
"You will never travel alone again. I will see to it myself." He tenderly kissed her hand, making her writhe with guilt. I was made a fool.
Breaking through an honest tear slipped out of her eye.
"Christiane, why a tear?" he asked softly.
"I missed you," she said simply. And it was not totally a lie. Without being aware of it, she had missed him. Henry Lee would never deceive a woman as she had been deceived. The breach could not be mended; more tears dripped down her cheeks, chapped from her cold ride yesterday.
Through her tear-filled lashes, she studied Henry. He had light sandy brown hair which tended to wave even though it was pulled back severely into a tail. His rich hazel-brown eyes returned her gaze. This man was handsome, courageous, and so in love with her. She felt deep respect and affection for him. Why couldn't she return his love? More tears slipped out, but she drew in a deep breath and quelled them. He would never know of her past shame. There would never be a future one.
She had purposefully come down as late as possible to avoid everyone, especially him. How like the general to include Henry at his table now that she had returned. Now Henry kissed her forehead and left.
She sipped her cold tea listlessly. She dearly wished she could return to her room, pull the covers over her head, and spend the day weeping. Instead she must go about her day with her role of happily engaged woman clearly in mind or all would be lost.
A note lay open beside her plate. It read: "Dear Mrs. Kruger, Join us in the front parlor this morning, if you please. We ladies of Valley Forge would like to meet you. We are sewing for the soldiers and rolling bandages. Yours faithfully, Mrs. Nathaniel Greene." She had no fears about acceptance by the "ladies of Valley Forge." Her association with Mrs. Washington and her engagement assured her position. But to be forced to make polite conversation today, a crucifixion of her heart.
Rising, she left the table and climbed the steps to her room. For a long time she stood looking out her frosted window. To blot out any thoughts of warm Bermuda days, she concentrated on the scene below, her second winter quarters. Men, wrapped in blankets, stood around fires. Some farther on seemed to be practicing some sort of drill very badly. A frozen river shone in the distance. Primitive log cabins stretched in all directions.
Stumps, protruding from the snow, showed where the logs had come from. Here and there a woman or child was seen. "Thank God," she whispered, "Tildy and her children are safe near Boston." And Jean Claude was still comfortable at the Richardsons. She must write to them soon. Her heart ached with physical pain as she thought of spending another winter parted from her child. Circumstances and now her own recklessness kept them apart. How would she regain him?
She had overdramatized the Richardsons' reaction to her marrying and taking her son with her. They would have grieved, but they would have survived. How painfully foolish she had been. Shamed. Deceived. Heartbroken. And no one must ever know. She still had difficulty believing that John had meant to hurt her. But the more she thought of it, the surer she was that she had been deceived on some level.
Her rampant emotions threatened to overtake her again, so she quickly picked up her sewing basket and went to join the ladies, hoping they would distract her–if only her self control didn't desert her.
#
Later responding to Christiane's "Enter," the petite chambermaid opened the door and stepped in. "Mrs. Kruger? It is only quarter of an hour before dinner. The dinner starts the New Year's Eve celebration. I come to help you dress, if you please." The girl stood expectantly.
The New Year's Eve celebration, Christiane sighed to herself. "I'll change dresses," Christiane said simply when she could think of no excuse. The little maid helped her out of the brown plaid and into her green wool, part of the clothing she'd left her pending her return. "You can tell them that I will be down directly," Christiane instructed; the girl bobbed and departed. Christiane took a few moments to rearrange and smooth her hair. Carefully she pulled out the garnet ring on the chain so it would be visible. The mirror reflected the burning candle and she stared at her own image.
For a brief moment another image haunted her. Her hair was piled high and pearls hugged her neck. He was behind her, kissing her bare shoulder. Her skin recalled the touch of his lips. Spinning around, Christiane snuffed the candle and quickly let herself out of the room. Down the hall and stairs to the dining room, she sped.
She entered the room. As though ordered to rise, all the men stood and all the women turned to look at her. "Christiane," General Washington greeted her warmly. He turned to her fiancé. "Mr. Lee, as usual Christiane will act as my hostess in Mrs. Washington's absence but, of course, you must take her other side." He guided the two of them to their seats and the others automatically found their chairs and stood behind them. "Christiane, before we sit may I introduce you to a new member of our staff, Baron Von Steuben?" He motioned to a short, round, gray-haired man directly across from her. "Baron," he said, "Mrs. Christiane Kruger."
Christiane intended to curtsey where she was, but the rotund man bustled around the table formally kissed her hand and clicked his heels. "Enchante, madame," he said firmly with a thick German accent.
"He speaks no English, only Prussian and French," Henry murmured in her ear.
"Enchante, baron," Christiane replied smilingly. In spite of her somber mood something in his manner caught her interest.
After the baron took his place again, General Washington bowed his head and said, "Let us give thanks. Heavenly Father, thank you for the bounty here provided. Bless this evening and the new year which starts tonight. You know best the longing of our hearts–freedom for this beautiful land. Amen."
Everyone sat and a cheerful babble broke out up and down the long table. The longing of our hearts lingered in her mind as Christiane carefully put on her smile and looked around. She did not want to admit even to herself what the longing of her heart was, so she concentrated on those around her.
Though the ladies present wore outfits that were not lavish, she could tell that they had all turned out in their best. The officer-husbands were in their uniforms, brushed and polished. Her mind wandered to the lavish ball that must be taking place tonight in Philadelphia at Smith's Tavern. There would be the breath-taking clothing, dancing, and sumptuous food and would the major make an appearance? A tight clamp squeezed her heart. Forcing her mind onto this room alone, she sipped the home-brewed concord wine.
The candles glowed on the table and on the wall sconces and a comfortable fire crackled nearby. The homey atmosphere should have been a balm to her jagged spirits. The baron smiled at Christiane and she asked, "How do you come to be with us, baron?"
One has to give Christiane points for courage and endurance.–Lyn
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May 26, 2011
Chapter Seventeen Scene 4 La Belle Christiane
If you've just discovered my free read, click Archived Free Read and start at the beginning.
La Belle Christiane
2011 Copyright Lyn Cote
All rights reserved
Chapter Seventeen Scene 4
Colonel Mensing droned on, oblivious to the major's irritation. Major Eastham shifted in his seat and glanced again at the tall clock at the end of the room. 4:45 p.m. Soon candles would have to be lit. He had been sitting, standing, speaking, and listening in this room since early morning. The weight of a letter in his inside coat pocket kept reminding him that this would be last interminable meeting for him, but that was no consolation right now. He wanted to be in his room, holding Christiane.
A tap at the door startled them all. The sergeant at the door opened it cautiously, then turned back. "Begging your pardon, my lords. Major Eastham's man wants to see his lordship on an urgent matter."
All heads turned to the major as he rose and walked to the door. Outside Eastham closed the door behind him, nodded to the sergeant, and led Alfred a little way down the hall. "What is it?"
"I apologize, my lord," Alfred whispered with his head down."But I have waited and waited for your meeting to end and I finally decided that I must interrupt you. It is Madame Belmond. She has disappeared."
"What?" Ice flooded John's stomach.
"She went riding this morning and hasn't returned, my lord."
"I saw her leave, but that was this morning, hours ago." What had happened to her? His mind whirled with dreadful possibilities.
"I know, my lord. When she did not return to lunch, as she said she would, I went looking for her. When she was not back by two, I went out riding myself, looking for her. I had no luck, sir. Then," the valet paused and looked up at his master, "I came back to the room to see if she had left any clue there as to where she was going. I found these under the paperweight on your desk." He held up the two notes. "One is addressed to you and one to Lord Hazelton." Their eyes met.
John stared at the two notes and then quietly unsealed the one for him with fingers that trembled. As he read and then re-read the note, the familiar, horrible icy flow that he had experienced before Christiane's love steadily reclaimed him. "She has left me," he said, low and gruff. He turned back to the room and entered quietly.
Again all eyes turned to him.
"Major," Howe said, "we are just about to adjourn."
"A moment, general," he answered, steeling himself to do what he must do. He turned to the newcomer near the head of the table. "Lt. Beckett, I believe that your revolutionary name is Hansen?"
"Yes."
"I have just received a farewell note from Madame Christiane Belmond."
There were looks exchanged up and down the length of the table.
John ignored them. "She closes with a brief message for you, 'Please inform Captain Hansen that I would hate to attend his hanging, but I will if he returns to Valley Forge, whatever the personal cost to me. Ask him if he knows Christiane Kruger.'"
A shocked silence followed his reading.
Finally General Howe spoke, "May I see that, major?"
"I would rather not, sir. The main part of the note is personal."
"There is nothing else that is pertinent? I have your word as a gentleman?"
"You do, sir."
"Very well." The general turned to the young agent. "Can you shed any light on this, Beckett? Do you know this Christiane Kruger?"
"Of course. Everyone at Washington's headquarters knows her. Who is Christiane Belmond?"
Howe answered, "She has been associated with Major Eastham this month." His intonation left little doubt as to the type of association. "Now again who is Christiane Kruger?"
"Well, sir," the spy began, "she has many roles. She does many duties at Washington's headquarters, household managing, French translation. When Mrs. Washington is away at Mt. Vernon, she acts as the general's hostess. When Mrs. Washington visits, she acts as her companion and social secretary."
Another round of unbelieving silence ensued.
"Am I to understand that Mrs. Kruger has been here and has used the name of Belmond?" the spy asked.
"That seems to be the case," Howe replied. "Major, would you read us the line again?"
John complied woodenly.
"This is preposterous," Lord Hazelton objected finally.
Without speaking, the major handed him his note. The older officer read his own in obvious disbelief.
"I don't wish to intrude," General Howe broke in, "but does your note shed any more light?"
"Not very much. She does say that she is innocent of any intrigue."
"Major Eastham, I apologize for having to ask you this, but I am sure you understand my position. Is that correct?" Howe pursued. "Did Madame Belmond at any time try to use your association to gain military information?"
"No, general, on my honor as a gentleman, never at any time did we discuss military subjects."
"I find that hard to believe," Colonel Mensing said in a low voice.
"Would you care to repeat that, sir?" John said menacingly. His tone promised the challenge of a duel at the merest hint of further accusation.
Mensing pursed his lips.
The general went on, "I don't understand then. Why was she here? It makes no sense."
"She left Washington a few weeks after Germantown to visit her infant son somewhere in New Jersey," Beckett said.
"That is what she told me also," the major said grudgingly. "And if you remember, this all began when she was detained by sentries."
Beckett continued, "No exact date was given for her return, but according to what has just been said here, she must have been intercepted enroute to Valley Forge. We did expect her to come back sometime before Mrs. Washington arrived."
"Evidently that is true and she had returned today," Howe said matter-of-factly. He turned to Eastham. "You hadn't quarreled?"
"No, general," he murmured.
"Then we must assume that she saw Beckett and feared exposure and a charge of espionage, so she fled. Under these circumstances and to prevent scurrilous gossip, I believe I will have to read both letters." He put out his hand. Both Eastham and Hazelton gave him the notes reluctantly. The general read them quickly and looked up at the assembled men. "There is no hint of intrigue in either letter. Major, no doubt Madame Belmond feared for you also. Matters, of course, would have had to be handled differently if she were still here. There would have had to have been a formal military inquiry. Now it seems pointless." He handed back the notes. "I am sorry, major," Howe said genuinely.
Eastham nodded stiffly.
"I just cannot believe this all happened," Lord Hazelton put in.
Mensing gave a look that said he believed it and more, but he carefully said nothing.
"It would seem that your usefulness as an agent has ended, Lieutenant Beckett," Howe observed. "You will be re-assigned to more mundane duties, I'm afraid. And, unless anyone has anything further to offer, we will adjourn. I, for one, am sick of this room."
Men stood and began to move about. They cast looks at Eastham, but held their tongues.
"I beg your pardon, Major Eastham," Beckett said brashly as he stepped quickly over to catch the officer before he left. "I do not wish to be impertinent, but from your exchanges with the general may I assume that your relationship with Mrs. Kruger was more than just friendship?"
"She was his mistress," Mensing could not resist saying.
Eastham and Mensing eyed each other with mutual distaste.
"May I congratulate you then, sir?"
"I don't understand, Lieutenant," John replied. He only wanted to escape this awful room.
"You, an English gentleman, have succeeded where no colonial has. Every officer in the Continental Army has thought of trying his hand at seducing the beautiful Mrs. Kruger and all failed. Why it was even rumored that the Marquis de Lafayette tried and failed. She evidently was playing her cards very carefully. Her first husband was a mere corporal, a farmer from the frontier, if you can believe that. Anyway just before she left, she became engaged to one of Washington's captains, Henry Lee of the Virginia Lees. Quite a catch. I would love to tell him how his intended has whiled away her December."
The major fixed his eye on the young spy. "You are impertinent, sir." With that he left without further comment to anyone.
Hazelton approached the enthusiastic lieutenant. "Did you try your hand with Christiane?"
"Of course."
"Then it seems that some English officers are more successful than others," Hazelton said acidly left also.
When the major arrived at his room, Alfred was waiting anxiously, but all he said was, "Will you want your tea now, my lord?"
John rested his hand on his servant's shoulder. "Not now. Go and have yours."
Alfred searched his lord's face. He read there a desire to be alone, so he left quickly.
John went to stand by the fire. His mind was a tangle of thoughts and feelings. He could almost understand her leaving in light of Beckett's arrival. But it demonstrated a complete lack of trust in him on her part. It was inconceivable that she could distrust him so completely, but it must be true. She had left. He read once more her note. It simply made no sense.
What facts had caused her to distrust him? His head ached and he felt physically miserable. The worst part was that he could not go to her or even communicate with her. She was the enemy and at the very seat of the rebellion. The thought that he might have put his trust in the wrong person chilled him. Slowly he pulled out the letter of resignation from his inner pocket and dropped it into the flames. Someday, he promised himself, I will ask her what I am guilty of.
#
Miles from Philadelphia, Christiane sat in her bed in her room at the headquarters. It was larger than her room at Morristown and had its own fire. She had snuffed out her bedside candle and now pensively watched the flames on the hearth. The warm fire, a nourishing supper, and two glasses of port had calmed her, but the thoughts and feelings she had avoided all day were closing in on her now. Tears slid unheeded out of her eyes and down her face. Could I have really been duped so completely?
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May 25, 2011
Author Lynette Eason & The Arms of God
My guest today is Author Lynette Eason who has a story of crisis to relate. Here's Lynette:
"Having strength when times are good is not such a hard thing. Finding it when things go south—is. A little over 12 years ago, when my daughter was about two months old, I found a lump in my throat. On my thyroid actually. I had it checked repeatedly and we watched it grow. The doctors finally decided to do a biopsy. The results came back as "suspicious cells". Which meant, it could be cancer. But they weren't sure. But I would have surgery to remove the lump. As you can imagine this was a VERY hard thing to hear. And I was dealing with it all alone. My mother-in-law had gone with me for the procedure. But my parents were out of town, my husband was out of town and I felt so ALONE.
After much angst and prayer, I finally made the decision: God was in control. I stood over my daughter's crib, watching her sleep, praying I would have the opportunity to watch her grow up. That night as I lay in bed, unable to sleep, praying, I felt a pair of arms slip around me. I don't know how else to describe it. I was all alone—but I wasn't. In my distress, my Lord came to comfort me. I KNEW he was there. All worry fell away and I went to sleep, waking only when my daughter needed to be fed. I've never forgotten that moment when I felt the arms of God around me. It was amazing and indescribable. And the lump was benign, praise God.
Unfortunately, my heroine in A KILLER AMONG US, doesn't have this comfort when her world gets rocked by her father's deathbed confession. She's adopted and has a birth family out there. Stunned, she allows bitterness and anger to take over as she leaves her home to search out her "real family", to find where she belongs. Ultimately, with the hero's help, she finds out that belonging to Christ is the most important thing, that this world is just our temporary home.
I always love to hear from my readers! You can find me online:
www.infinitesuspensefromlynetteeason.blogspot.com
www.ladiesofsuspense.blogspot.com
www.facebook.com/lynetteeasonauthor
Lynette, so glad that the lump was benign. I've been hypothyroid most of my adult life. So far no lumps, however. Thanks for sharing how God comforted you. Do any of you have a time when you felt the "arms of God?"
