Lisa R. Howeler's Blog, page 102

How to improve dialogue and capture your readers’ attention

This appeared first on the Hope, Hearts, and Heroes blog.



For some writers, dialogue is their biggest challenge, not necessarily because they don’t know what they want their characters to say, but because they don’t know how to present that dialogue well.

Today I thought I’d jump off a topic our own Kelly Barr touched on a couple of weeks ago on the blog when she wrote about the difference between action beats and dialogue tags.

As a new fiction writer, I am among those writers who sometimes don’t do the best job of presenting dialogue in my stories.

One of the traps that we new writers fall into is adding descriptive words to replace “said” after every part of dialogue. Instead of simply writing “said”, writers often try to break up that monotony by replacing “said” with terms like “exclaimed,” “declared” or “shouted.” Sometimes these replacements work, but sometimes, if read in successive dialogue exchanges, these descriptive words can be completely awkward.

Here is an example:

“Jenny, are you going with me to the dance?” Jack asked.

“I don’t know! Stop asking me!” Jenny exclaimed.

“Gosh, sorry,” Jack extolled. “I didn’t realize wanting to take my girlfriend to a dance would be so upsetting.”

“I’m sorry,” Jenny sighed. “It’s just — I’m tired and things haven’t been great at home. My parents are fighting again.”

Instead of writing words like asked, exclaimed, or extolled, we could instead add what are called “action beats.” Action beats are when the writer has the character who is speaking doing something before they speak, to show the reader who it is that is speaking.

So, let’s try the above example again, by using action beats. We’re also going to take out the word “asked” because I once heard author Jerry B. Jenkins say he felt the word was unnecessary if there was a question mark already at the end of the sentence. It’s clear a question is being asked. There’s no need to reiterate that the person asked a question by writing “he/she asked.”

Updated example:

Jack leaned back against the row of lockers next to Jenny’s. He turned his head to look at her. “Are you going with me to the dance?” (We don’t have to add Jenny’s name since we already said he was standing next to Jenny’s locker.)

Jenny tipped her head back and groaned, slamming her locker door closed. “I don’t know! Stop asking me!”

“Gosh, sorry.” Jack held his hands, palms out, in front of him. “I didn’t realize wanting to take my girlfriend to a dance would be so upsetting.”

Jenny signed, hugging her books to her chest. “Sorry. It’s just —” She closed her eyes briefly, then opened them again. “ I’m tired and things haven’t been great at home. My parents are fighting again.”

Sometimes we writers even write “said” way too often. There is no need to write “she said,” or “he said” after every word our character speaks.

So that it doesn’t sound as if I am slamming other new writers, I thought I’d pull some examples from my first attempts at writing fiction to show how distracting it is to write “said” after every part of dialogue and how equally distracting it is to try to come up with new superlatives to attribute a quote to a particular character.

The following excerpt is from my first book, A Story To Tell. It’s since been revamped and re-edited, but this is how it was written before I knew more about how to write dialogue.

“She’s too young for dances,” Daddy said, sitting in his chair, reading the local newspaper, not even looking up.

“Well, Edith is going to be there,” Mama offered, mentioning my older sister.

“Is this meant to comfort me?” Daddy asked.

 Edith walked into the living room in a flared blue skirt and a white blouse with the top two buttons unbuttoned. “Oh, good grief,” she said. “She’s 17, Daddy. She’s old enough for dances.”

Daddy looked at Edith disapprovingly.

“Is that what you’re wearing?” he asked sharply.

“What’s wrong with it?” Edith looked down at her skirt and smoothed it with her hands.

“It’s fine if you want to wait on a corner in the city,” Daddy mumbled under his breath.

I knew Edith didn’t hear him, but I did.

“It looks lovely,” Mama said quickly. “At least it’s longer than the last skirt you wore. Are you going to wear your pearls with it?”

“Pearls aren’t in fashion right now, Mama,” Edith said.

Later I rewrote this part and tightened up the dialogue a bit more, taking out some of the “saids” and “askeds”.

 “She’s too young for dances.”

Daddy was sitting in his chair, his eyes focused on the paper.

“Well, Edith is going to be there,” Mama offered.

Daddy peered over the paper, one eyebrow crocked. “Is this meant to comfort me?”

Edith flounced into the living room wearing a flared blue skirt and a white blouse with the top two buttons unbuttoned. “Oh, good grief. She’s 17, Daddy. She’s old enough for dances.”

Daddy glanced at Edith disapprovingly.

“Is that what you’re wearing?” His voice was sharp.

“What’s wrong with it?” Edith looked down at her skirt, smoothed it with her hands.

“It would be fine if you were standing on a corner in some city,” Daddy mumbled.

I knew Edith didn’t hear him, but I did.

“It looks lovely,” Mama said hastily. “At least it’s longer than the last skirt you wore. Are you going to wear your pearls with it?”

“Pearls aren’t in fashion right now, Mama.” Edith waved her hand dismissively, shifting her attention to me. “Come on, Blanche, let’s find you a dress and see what we can do with your hair.”

In addition to not adding too many adjectives to your dialogue tags, another way to avoid stilted dialogue is to simply take out the dialogue tags altogether. This is easy to do if you only have two people in a scene, as long as you only do it for a short exchange.

If you have two people talking back and forth about a subject, it isn’t really necessary to keep saying “he said,” and then “she said.”

We get it. The two people are talking to each other, so for a selection of lines, you could simply share what they are saying to each other.

I’ll show this, using an example from my third book, The Farmer’s Daughter. First, the way I wouldn’t do it now that I know more about dialogue:


“You have a degree in computer programing, Alex,” his dad had said over the phone in his familiar depreciating tone. “We could use you here in the IT department. And from there, maybe we can move you up into — ”

“Thanks, Dad,” Alex said. “I’m good here.”

“Farming?” his dad asked. “Really? This isn’t what I had in mind for you when—”

“When you what?” Alex asked. “Abandoned Tyler and I all those years ago?”

“That’s not what happened, Alex,” his dad said. “When you get older, you’ll understand that life isn’t always easy.”

“Yeah, okay,” Alex said. “Listen, Dad, I have to go. Mr. Tanner needs me to clean some cow poop out of the stalls, and I’d rather do that than talk to you.”

Now, the cleaned-up version from the book:

“You have a degree in computer programing, Alex,” his dad had said over the phone in his familiar depreciating tone. “We could use you here in the IT department. And from there, maybe we can move you up into — ”

“Thanks, Dad. I’m good here.”

“Farming? Really? This isn’t what I had in mind for you when—”

“When you what? Abandoned Tyler and I all those years ago?”

“That’s not what happened, Alex. When you get older, you’ll understand that life isn’t always easy.”

“Yeah, okay. Listen, Dad, I have to go. Mr. Tanner needs me to clean some cow poop out of the stalls, and I’d rather do that than talk to you.”

Looking at this now, I’d love to clean it up even further, by changing the first sentence to: “You have a degree in computer programming, Alex.” His dad’s tone on the other end of the phone was depreciating. As usual.

None of what I am suggesting here means I am some expert at writing dialogue or haven’t made some insanely silly blunders in my dialogue. I’m nowhere near an expert and looking back over my last two books, I can see some major errors, including how I over-explain in between dialogue and offer too many action beats.

There is always room for improvement, no matter where you are in your writing journey so if you are doing some of what I’ve mentioned above — making what some call “writing mistakes” — it’s not the end of the world. Writing is a journey, and you can always improve whether in your next novel, novella, or short story or by editing the story you’ve already written.

Not only can, and will you improve, but some readers aren’t as bothered by these so-called mistakes as fellow writers are. Do your best to tighten your writing, but don’t let what you think you are doing wrong, stop you from continuing to write.

Learn more about the best way to use dialogue in the following articles:

Five Tips for Using Dialogue TagsHow To Write Dialogue: Formatting, Examples, and TipsHow To Write Dialogue That Captivates Your Readers

Fiction Friday: A New Chapter Chapter 21 Part 2

readers know that the book will not be called A New Chapter when I am done with it and publish it in book form. Last week it struck me that I already have A New Beginning and now I was going to call this book A New Chapter. It seemed a bit lazy on the naming side so I have changed A New Chapter to Beauty For Ashes and at this point it is scheduled to be released in full on April 26. I haven’t decided if I will keep the book in Kindle Unlimited or not yet.

For those who are new here, I share a chapter of a novel in progress on Fridays for Fiction Friday but sometimes I also share a part on a Thursday or Saturday. The version I share here often changes before I push publish on the final book down the line.

If you want to read the other chapters click HERE and if you want to read the other books click HERE.

Chapter 21 Part 2

“Ooh, boy, Bella. That’s a stinky one.”

Liz sat back on her feet and made a face. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

She reached for the wipes and the new diaper while Bella kicked her feet on the blanket she was lying on on the floor.

She should call Matt after she was done. It had been a week since she’d witnessed him arrest Gabe and she hadn’t heard a word from him. She’d been wondering why she hadn’t been hearing his voice on the scanner at night and should have asked, but then she’d have to admit she listened to hear his voice on the scanner.

Awkward.

Instead of calling Matt last night, like she’d considered doing, she’d tried to call Ginny and make sure she wasn’t somewhere alone with Keith. Molly’s suggestion that hanging out with Keith could be a temptation for her had alarmed her. Ginny hadn’t picked up the phone, though, and she’d been about to drive to her house when Molly had walked in after milking at the barn.

Calling Matt would have been awkward though What was she going to say? “Hey, how’s it going since you kicked the crud out of my ex in front of half the town the other day?”

Molly took her coat off and hung it on the hanger next to the door. “Have you talked to Matt recently?”

Liz hooked Bella’s diaper and looked up. “No, I haven’t tried him yet. Why?”

Molly slid her shoes off, sniffed them and then placed them outside the door. “He might need a friend right now.”

“Yeah, why? And thanks for putting the shoes out there this time. This apartment stinks enough with all the diapers. We don’t need to smell like manure too.”

Molly’s eyes widened. “Why? Why would he need a friend? You were there, you saw why he would need a friend. Did that really look like normal Matt McGee behavior to you?” She turned and walked into the kitchen, opening the fridge. “Not only that, but Alex just told me he got suspended from the police force.”

Liz straightened and sat back on her heels. “Are you kidding me? Reggie suspended him?”

“He had no choice. The council made him because of the charges Gabe filed against him and the threat of a lawsuit.”

Liz’s chest tightened and her throat thickened with emotion. This wasn’t fair. Matt was a good cop. What was this going to do for his acceptance to the academy?

“You okay?”

She nodded. “Yeah. I will be.”

“It’s not your fault, Liz. Matt made his own choice. It’s exactly what he told Alex.”

The old familiar tingling spread from Liz’s hands up her arms as she stood and sat on the couch. Yes, Matt had made a choice, but it was her choices that had landed him in the position to make that choice.

Molly sat next to her and slid an arm around her. “It’s all going to work out, okay? Listen, I wasn’t really supposed to say anything to you. Matt didn’t want you to know, but since I already knew you were there, I just figured you would want to know what happened.”

Liz leaned against her friend. “I did want to know. I just wish I didn’t know. You know?”

The woman laughed and Molly leaned back to look at Liz. “Yeah. I know.”

They laughed again and then Liz leaned out of the embrace. “Don’t you need to get ready for your sleepover?”

Molly and her grandmother had a sleepover once a month and usually Liz was invited, but this month she’d opted to stay home and let the ladies have some together time without their third wheel.

Molly sighed. “I do, but I hate to leave you alone after I just dropped that on you.”

Liz shrugged a shoulder. “The only thing you could do is stop me from eating the entire pint of chocolate Haagendas in the freezer.” She winked. “But really, you couldn’t even do that, so go on. Have fun at Grandma Fran’s and tell her I’ll be back next month.”

Molly stood and stretched. “She’ll be happy about that. She says you make better hot chocolate than me. Plus she wants to see Bella again. You’ll have to bring her by before then.”

Liz folded one of Bella’s blankets and laid it on the back of the couch. “I will. What’s on the agenda tonight?”

Molly wiggled her body in a type of dance. “Spa night. Facial masks, manicures, pedicures, and I’m giving her a massage.”

Liz laughed at the picture of 76-year old Frannie wearing a facemask.

Molly left after a shower and change and Liz headed for the freezer, her phone in her hand. She would call Matt and check on him, but first — ice cream.

She was swallowing the first bite when her phone buzzed.

Matt: Hey, you home?

Good grief. It was like he could read her mind.

Liz: Where else would I be? I don’t have a life you know. *wink emoji*

Matt: Be over in ten?

Huh. Not even a joke back. This couldn’t be good.

Liz: Sure. I’ll be here.

She caught a glimpse of her reflection in the window on her way to the couch and winced. She should at least comb her hair, or put it in a bun, or something. She looked down at the baggy sweatpants she’d stolen from Molly and the stained Needtobreathe T-shirt. And change her clothes. Yeah. She should change her clothes. Sure, Matt was a friend, but she could at least look half way decent for him.

How should one dress when their friend was about to tell them they’d slammed their ex-boyfriend’s head off some concrete? She decided on casual, but not too casual, slipping on a white tank top, covered with a beige sweater and a pair of blue yoga pants. She was yanking a brush through her hair when the knock on the door came. Apparently her ten minutes was much different than his ten minutes because for her it had only been about six.

She’d needed that extra four to finish brushing.

She pushed her fingers through her hair instead and attempted to fluff it, as much as straight hair would fluff. Since it was shorter now, it didn’t look as crazy with just a quick brush as it had when it fell down her back, but still.

That whole saying about absence making the heart grow founder seemed to hold water when she opened the door and saw him standing on the landing, hands deep in his front pockets, looking out over the town. A cold breeze ruffled his hair and his normally smooth jawline was speckled with a few days growth, which gave him an entirely more rugged look. That rugged look sent her heart thudding fast against her ribcage and her bottom lip between her teeth as she took in the rest of him — his dark blue jeans, tan cardigan hugging his newly fit torso.

He turned his head toward her, and she ceased her pursual, hoping red wasn’t spreading across her skin as fast as the warm flush of appreciation was spreading under it.

“Hey.”

The husky tone of his voice tipped her stomach upside down.

Just friends, Liz. You two are just friends. That is all. Stop staring at your gorgeous friend and let him in your apartment.

“Hey. You want to get out of the cold?”

Of course, he wants to get out of the cold, idiot. Just step out of the way and let him in.

She stepped back and opened the door fully. “Come in.”

He stepped past her, and she drew in a sharp breath. Wow. He smelled amazing. She needed to focus. He wasn’t here for a pleasure call.

He stepped into the kitchen area and turned to face her, hands still in his pockets, cheekbones flushed soft pink from the cold. “Sorry I haven’t called. You been okay?”

He was apologizing? She hadn’t spoke to him barely at all since the day in the parking lot at the art class and he was apologizing.

He really was something else and that something else was wonderful.

“Yeah, I’ve been good.”

“Bella?”

“She’s great. Just taking a nap on the blanket right now.”

“Good. Good.”

He nodded as he spoke, then looked at the tip of his boot.

She knew she should put him out of his misery but wasn’t sure how. Should she tell him she knew about what happened with Gabe? Should she admit she’d been upset because she found out he’d been in her apartment the night of her overdose? Debating it in her head wasn’t going to help move either of them forward in their lives so she’d better pull one trigger or the other.

“Listen —”

They spoke at the same time, then laughed together.

“Sorry.”

In unison again. Really? Liz laughed softly, tugging gently on her earlobe. This was getting weird.

“Listen.” He spoke first this time. “I’m sure you’ve heard by now what happened the other night at Mooney’s.” He rubbed his hand along the back of his neck then held it there, pulling down. “I just wanted to apologize for my behavior and if I made anything worse for you. I should have controlled my anger. I didn’t and I’m sorry.”

He peered at her with what she could only describe as puppy dog eyes. His sincere contrition made her want to slide her arms around his neck and comfort him, tell him she wasn’t mad, not in the least, but there was still a part of her that was upset at him for this and for not telling her he was at her apartment that night

She bit her lower lip for a few seconds before speaking. “I know. I was there that day.” Matt winced and looked back down toward the floor as she continued. “I’m guessing that hadn’t gotten around yet.”

He shook his head. “No. Not yet. And if Alex knew he didn’t tell me.”

“Yeah. He knew. He was sworn to secrecy until I could figure out how to tell you.”

Matt looked back up at her again and his green eyes locked on hers. “I guess we both had secrets we didn’t want to talk about.”

A chill shivered through her and not just from the cold blast that had come in when he’d stepped inside. That statement held a meaning beyond what had happened at Mooney’s. She knew it, but did he?

“I wasn’t honest with you about the night you overdosed, Liz.”

Her breath caught. She hadn’t expected a confession, yet she should have. It was Matt she was talking to. Of course, he was going to be open with her. Time for her to be honest too.

“I know.”

“You know?”

“Ginny accidentally told me.”

“How did Ginny — Oh right. Stan. I asked the guys at church for prayer for you. He didn’t know the full story, but I’m guessing he put two and two together.”

A faint smile pulled at Liz’s mouth. “Yeah, he’s a horrible husband but he’s still got some brains left up there.” She played with the necklace around her neck. “I lied to you too. More than once, which, of course, you know.” The sting of the tears surprised her, and she swallowed to try to keep them at bay. “I’m sorry, Matt. I’m sorry I wasn’t honest with you.” She looked toward the living room, struggling to make eye contact. “You’ve been a good friend and I haven’t.”

He leaned back against the kitchen counter, bending his hands over the edges. “We both screwed up by not being open with each other.” He pushed himself off, stepped toward her. “I don’t want to do that anymore. Be dishonest with you.”

Her breath quickened at the heat coming off him. He needed to step back. She was having trouble thinking clearly and this time she knew it wasn’t alcohol causing issues.

“I don’t want to keep holding my feelings back or keep them hidden.” He took another step and now he was definitely too close. She started to step back but he placed a hand at the small of her back, stopping her and pulling her gently toward him. He slid the other hand on the back of her neck, leaning his head close to hers.

“And I don’t want to be just friends anymore.”

The words sent her heart slamming inside her ribcage, forcing her to take a deep breath and hold it for a few seconds. She glanced at his mouth, then moved her gaze back to his eyes. She’d imagined him kissing her a few hundred times over the last few years, but now that he was this close, she was suddenly terrified. What if changed their friendship and not for the better?

 “You know, seeing you do that to Gabe? It showed a whole different side to you.” She was stalling, she knew it.

He laughed softly, his breath tickling her cheek. “Yeah. Not a good one.”

“It showed me you’re not as perfect as everyone — as I — thought you were. It showed me you have a lot more passion in you than you let on.”

He moved his hand from the back of her neck to the back of her head, sinking his fingers into her hair. “Liz, you and are a lot similar than you think. You’re not who people think you are, and neither am I.”

His gaze dropped to her mouth, and she smiled. “Is this confession time? Are you going to tell me you’re actually a bad guy, secretly running an underground drug ring?”

Matt laughed softly. “Yeah. Right. That’s me. A secret drug lord.” He grinned. “No. What I mean is, I’m not perfect.”

“You’re not?”

“No.”

“What do you do that makes you not perfect, McGee?”

A playful grin turned his mouth upward. “I rip those tags off pillows that say ‘do not remove’. One time I left my cart in the middle of the parking lot. I actually like pineapple on pizza.”

He pressed his hand more firmly against the small of her back and pulled her against him. “And I think about kissing you way more than I should.”

Her gaze dropped to his mouth, her voice fading to a whisper as she pressed her hands against his chest. “You can’t think of kissing me.”

“Why?”

“Because we’re just friends. Remember?”

“Then let me give you a friendly kiss.”

She closed her eyes as his lips brushed against her forehead, her cheek, and then found her mouth, capturing her upper lip.

Heat shot through her as he slipped his mouth to her lower lip next. She moved her hands to his face and leaned into the kiss as he found her whole mouth, savoring the feel of him.

If this was what it felt like to kiss a friend, then she wanted him to be her friend for the rest of her life.

He smiled as he pulled his mouth away several seconds later. “That went better than I thought it was going to.”

“Kissing me?”

He shrugged a shoulder. “That and talking to you about all the things I should have talked to you about already.”

“Did you plan to kiss me?”

“Not necessarily, but I thought it would be nice if it finally happened since I’ve been thinking about it so long. I needed to take the chance and let the chips fall where they may.”

She smiled and slid her arms behind his neck as his arms slid behind her back.

Her hand moved automatically to the back of his head, up into his hair, like she’d imagined doing many times before. She finally felt comfortable enough to mess up that perfect Officer McGee hair. She smirked. “Does this mean we’re more than friends now?”

The huskiness of his tone slid over her senses like a warm blanket on a cold winter night, transforming her smirk into a smile. “I certainly hope so.”

He kissed her again, as soft and sweet as before, no urgency, just a  comforting sense of leisure. She slid her hands down the back of his head, resting them on the back of his neck to hold him close, almost afraid he’d pull away and disappear and this would all be a dream.

A few minutes later, a small cry from the living room interrupted them and Liz pulled her mouth from his, her eyes on the living room. She slipped from his arms, and he followed her as she walked toward the blanket in the center of the floor. They found Bella looking up at them with a firm pout in place and fresh tears on her cheeks.

He stooped down before she could and lifted Bella into his arms. “Hey, little girl, jealous of all the attention your mom is getting tonight?” He winked at Liz. “Can’t be helped.”

He sat on the couch with the baby cradled in his arms, her small form practically dwarfed against his much larger arms.

Liz couldn’t believe how natural it all seemed, him with a baby, relaxed, smiling. It stopped her in her tracks, left her holding her breath without even realizing it.

She finally let herself breathe again and walked to the kitchen, lifting a bag of breast milk from the freezer and setting it to warm in a bowl of warm water. “Maybe I shouldn’t ask this,” she said as she returned a few minutes later with a bottle. She braced herself mentally, sitting next to him and handing him the bottle. “What happened with the academy?”

He took the bottle and kept his eyes on Bella. “They rescinded my application because of the charges filed against me.” He shrugged a shoulder. “Guess God has different plans for me.”

Liz’s chest felt tight, and she rubbed the top of it under her throat. Her voice fell to a whisper. “I’m sorry.”

He looked up at her. “It will work out. No big deal.”

“It is a big deal. This was your dream and it’s my fault you’re not going to be able to realize it.”

Matt kept his eyes on hers. “Not everything is your fault Liz, and this definitely isn’t. I made the choice to react the way I did to Gabe. It was my decision to slam him against my patrol car, not yours. Actions have consequences and losing that spot at the academy was mine.”

Liz dropped her gaze, watching Bella drink from the bottle. “Liz, I want you to listen to me.” She nodded but kept her eyes on Bella. “Look at me.” She lifted her eyes and once again, the green of his eyes startled her, pulled her in. “This is not your fault. I’m serious. We all make poor decisions at some point in our lives. What happened with Gabe? It was a poor decision. That’s all. That night in your apartment? The same thing. Those mistakes do not define you, though. You get that right? You are what God says you are, and He says you are his child, mistakes and all.”

It was a message Liz had resisted over and over. That God loved her, no matter her poor choices and that she could learn from those poor choices and make better ones in the future. She’d usually roll her eyes and move away or make a joke or change the subject, but something about the way Matt said it, the way she could tell he meant it, truly believed it, and wanted to her to believe it too, broke her.

She didn’t stop the tears this time, didn’t look away from him when they came. She nodded as they flowed, trying her best not to ugly cry as she let the words sink in.

“Thank you.” She finally managed the words, leaning forward and brushing her lips against his cheek. “You know it too, right?”

He looked at her with a questioning rise in his eyebrows.

“That your bad decision to react the way you did to Gabe does not define you.”

He smiled sheepishly, tilted his face down toward Bella again. “Touché, Miss Cranmer. Touché.”

She slid next to him, her feet under her, one arm across the back of the couch, watching him feed Bella, and wishing she’d let her walls down before, let herself believe she could be happy and that she deserved it. Like him holding Bella, this — her leaning into him — felt natural and right, like how her life should be and hopefully would be in the future.

Fiction Thursday: A New Chapter Chapter 21 Part 1

We are getting closer to the end of this story and I just wanted to let regular readers know that the book will not be called A New Chapter when I am done with it and publish it in book form. Last week it struck me that I already have A New Beginning and now I was going to call this book A New Chapter. It seemed a bit lazy on the naming side so I have changed A New Chapter to Beauty For Ashes and at this point it is scheduled to be released in full on April 26. I haven’t decided if I will keep the book in Kindle Unlimited or not yet.

For those who are new here, I share a chapter of a novel in progress on Fridays for Fiction Friday but sometimes I also share a part on a Thursday or Saturday. The version I share here often changes before I push publish on the final book down the line.

If you want to read the other chapters click HERE and if you want to read the other books click HERE.

Chapter 21 Part I

A cool breeze brushed Ginny’s hair back as she stepped out onto the sidewalk. She rubbed her hands across her arms and breathed in the smell of winter on its way.

“I was going to suggest we go for a walk, but maybe it’s a little too chilly for that.” Keith tilted his head toward the riverwalk across the street as he zipped his coat. “What do you think?”

It was chilly and she needed to get home, yet part of her wasn’t ready to go home. She was still angry at Stan, disappointed that he’d stood her up once again.

She zipped her coat up under her chin. “I could go for a walk. I need to burn some calories after that desert.”

The river was high, the streetlights lining the riverwalk reflecting a bright, blue-tinted white off the surface. The town of Clarkston had installed the riverwalk ten years ago, but replaced the electric lights with LED a year ago to be more energy efficient. Ginny understood the need to care about the environment, but she missed the cozy orange glow of the old streetlights.

“It’s cold but it’s beautiful.” Keith paused at one of the observation areas and leaned on the metal railing, looking out across the river. “I remember kayaking in this river with my dad. We tipped one,” he pointed toward a bend island further down river. “right about there. I thought I was going to drown but the old man grabbed the front of my vest with one hand and yanked me all the way to the island. The kayak floated to the other shore. There were no cellphones back then, as you know, so we waited, not sure what we were going to do. I was pretty sure I could swim to the other side.” He winced. “But dad wasn’t so sure. The water was pretty deep and there was a current there. We were lucky a fisherman came by an hour later and rescued us.”

Ginny stood next to him and smiled. “You were a lot more adventurous than I was as a teen. I can’t remember ever climbing into a kayak. You couldn’t get me to climb into one now either.” She laughed. “Then again, maybe it would spice up my life a little bit.”

She regretted saying it as soon as it was out of her mouth. Why was she sharing the need to spice up her life with a man she barely knew? Sure, she’d known him years ago, in high school, but not now. He was practically a stranger, even if they did have some shared memories and had been talking to each other off and on the last few weeks.

Keith turned and leaned back on the railing. “It’s never too late to add some excitement to your life, you know. I could take you kayaking.”

Ginny laughed. “And you’d be dragging me out of the river, I’m pretty sure.”

Keith winked. “I wouldn’t mind that. Much more rewarding than that time I had to push a dead beaver out of the way.”

Ginny made a face. “Oh gross. I’m not sure that’s the adventure I’d like to have.”

 

Keith’s laugh was rich and sent a rush of energy through Ginny. It was nice to hear a man relaxed enough to let out an authentic laugh. He pushed off the railing and started walking again. She fell in step with him, her muscles relaxing as she began to enjoy the freedom and lightness of the night. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been able to simply talk with another adult — well, beside Liz — without feeling like what she said wasn’t important.

Keith sighed. “I feel like I’ve missed a lot of the good things of life, Gin. I worked a lot during my marriage. Missy and I weren’t compatible. Not at all. But it didn’t help I was at the office more than I was home. I don’t want to keep missing out on life. I don’t want it all to pass me by while I’m on a conference call or sitting in a boardroom somewhere.”

He slid his hands in his jean pockets as he walked. “Maybe this is just a getting old thing. Do you ever feel like you’ve missed out on life?”

Boy, did she. “In some ways, yes.” She bit her lower lip, not sure how much she felt comfortable sharing. “There are a lot of things I wished I had done. I wish I had traveled more, tried more new things. That’s why I was at the art class, actually. I wanted to try something new, or, well, a little old for me since I took some art classes in college. I wanted something just for me again. Reading used to be just for me but then I became a librarian, and we don’t have the time for reading people think we do. We’re shelving and checking books out, but we aren’t reading them very often.”

She pulled her hood up to block the breeze. “It’s weird but when you’re a mom you feel like you’re whole life revolves around your children when they are home and then when they move out, well, you wonder what the purpose of your life is.” She smiled faintly. “I know. It’s silly.”

“No.” Keith stopped walking and turned toward her and she stopped too. “It’s not silly. It’s real. Life is real and messy and yeah, sometimes we lose our way in it and forget that it’s not only about making money or raising kids or making our spouses happy. Life is also about being happy, experiencing every last drop of being alive there is until we aren’t alive anymore.” He threw his hands out to his side. “Don’t you miss feeling alive, Ginny? I do. I miss feeling like I did when I was a teenager – that my future was unmapped and it was ripe for excitement and adventure and all the things that make life worth living.”

Yes, she missed feeling alive. She sighed. She missed feeling alive with Stan.

“I want to feel alive again, Ginny and when I’m with you, that’s how I feel.”

His gaze focused on hers. “I kissed you on that water tower. Do you remember?”

Ginny’s cheeks flushed warm, panic bubbling up inside her fast, ready to explode through her body and send her running up the sidewalk along the river and back to her car. “Yes, I remember.”

“It was a nice kiss.” The step he took toward her was full of purpose and the shock of it left her frozen, unable to move away. “A kiss full of life.”

The sudden movement of his hand behind her head brought a gasp from her throat and she put her hands up, but his mouth was already on hers. She pressed her hands against her chest, planning to push him away, but the kiss was fierce, hot, sending flames skittering through her blood stream, awakening what had been asleep for too long. Her mind clouded, the pleasure of his mouth against her making her forget where she was and who she was for a few second. She let the kiss linger without even thinking how wrong it was.

His hand on her lower back pulled her against him and the kiss deepened, but as it did, she saw Stan in her mind, his smile, his laughter, the flash of passion in his eyes when he lowered his mouth to hers so many times over the years  — the Stan she used to know so well.

She pulled back quickly, gasping for a breath, yanking herself from Keith’s embrace, her hands still out in front of her. “Keith. I’m a married woman.”

“Ginny, I’m sorry.” He stepped toward her, but she pushed her hands toward him again and he stopped moving his arms still out as if he was holding her. “You’re a beautiful woman and it drives me crazy that Stan doesn’t seem to notice that. You’re smart, bright, funny, engaging. . .You deserve better than some man who is married to his job.”

Ginny hugged her arms around her and shook her head, closing her eyes. “I shouldn’t have let you do that, Keith.”

“Why? I felt you come alive in my arms, Ginny.” Keith set his hands on his waist and gestured toward her. “You clearly needed to be reminded you’re still a vibrant, passionate woman. Admit it. That kiss made you feel alive again.”

For a few seconds, it had. He was right. But it had also made her feel weak with guilt and horror at betraying her wedding promise to Stan. She’d promised to have and to hold, for better or for worse, not to let an ex-boyfriend kiss her when she felt neglected and lonely.

“I’ve had a wonderful night, Keith, but I need to go home.”

She turned, walking briskly toward the top of the riverwalk, her arms still hugged tight around her.

“Ginny! Wait!”

Keith’s footsteps behind her only quickened her steps. His hand on her wrist stopped her and she turned to look at him.

The confidence was gone, replaced with an expression she read as contrition. “I’m sorry.” He swallowed hard. “I got caught up in the moment, in my own desires to feel alive again.” He closed his eyes briefly as he shook his head. “It was wrong. You’re married and —” He looked at her again. “I’m just sorry. Can you forgive me?”

She folded her hands in front of her face, blew on them to try to chase the chill away. “I do forgive you, if you forgive me for leading you on.”

Keith laughed. “You didn’t lead me on. You were just being your normal sweet, amazing self and I took advantage of it. I didn’t plan on doing that, just so you know. It was the atmosphere, the good conversation, how beautiful you looked in the moonlight. It was like we were in high school again. I suddenly regretted walking away from you and letting Stan have you.”

Ginny stepped back again. “You didn’t let Stan have me, Keith. I chose him.” She gestured toward the direction of her car. “I need to go. It’s late.”

“Can we still talk sometimes?”

She shook her head, turning away from him. “No, I don’t think that would be a good idea.” She looked over her shoulder. “I hope things work out with your business and you enjoy your time back in Spencer.”

She saw him standing in the middle of the sidewalk, watching her, as she turned the corner to head toward her car. The tears came when he was out of sight, flowing freely, cooling on her cheek as soon as they fell. Her body trembled as she walked, horror slicing through her. How had she let herself lose track of reality back there?

What[lh1]  was she even thinking walking along the river after a dinner alone with a man who wasn’t her husband? What had happened to her? Stan wasn’t perfect but it wasn’t as if he was abusing her, beating her, screaming at her. He was inattentive, yes, but he didn’t deserve this – for her to be going behind his back, kissing another man.

She quickly unlocked the door of her car and slid behind the steering wheel, slamming the door closed and locking the door. Clutching the steering wheel, she pressed her forehead against the middle of it and sobbed.

“You are so, so stupid, Ginny Jefferies. So stupid.” The sobs came fast and hard, causing her to gasp for breath as an ache spread from her chest up her throat.

“God, what has happened to me? Who have I become? Forgive me, Father. Forgive me for being swept away by Keith’s charm, for losing sight of the commitment I made to Stan on our wedding day. Can you forgive me?”

She turned the ignition, checked her side mirror, and yanked the car out of the parking space, pressing her foot on the accelerator.

“Forgive me, Father.” The words choked out of her as she drove, fighting past the tears. “Forgive me for what I did. And please, please let Stan forgive me too.”

You Are My Sunshine is not necessarily a ‘happy song’

You Are My Sunshine is a happy song, right?

It’s talking about a person being someone else’s sunshine.

This is probably why my aunt used to sing the chorus to people she loved so often, especially my son (who I call The Boy for the sake of the blog).

Aunt Dianne sang the chorus of that song from the first time she met The Boy right after he was born up until right before she passed away two days before 2018 kicked off.

She sang it in the fun “hillbilly” way the song was originally written in, her original accent in full swing and even more pronounced. It was usually sung while she had an arm around our necks and she’d end the chorus with a sloppy wet kiss on our cheek and a good-natured laugh.

When she passed away, Mom asked me if I would pull some photos together to display for her funeral, as I had for my paternal grandmother. I went into Walmart for some supplies, deciding I’d put together a display on poster board and then some extra photos in a photo album. As I walked up and down the arts and crafts aisle, still very much in the throes of grief, feeling like a heavy weight was on my shoulders, I was frozen in place by a photo album sitting at the front of the album display.

The words on the front were written in bright yellow: You Are My Sunshine.

I broke down right there in the aisle, clutching the album to my chest, feeling like it was a sign from Dianne, telling me she loved me.

A woman asked me if I was okay.

I sobbed out some words about my aunt dying and how she’d always sang this song to my son and me and the words on the album was some sign. I’m sure I didn’t make any sense at all.

The boy and I have a hard time hearing the song without everything inside us tightening up like the ropes on a ship sail and we usually turn it off or move somewhere we can’t hear it.

The other day I came across a version of it by a band called The Dead South and for some reason, I kept listening.

My heart ached listening to the familiar refrain, but I enjoyed their more maudlin interpretation of it because some of the lyrics suggest there is a bit of sadness in the song and The Dead South used a version of the song that makes the lyrics even more heartbreaking, maybe even a bit eerie. Yes, there is more than one version of the song, with some who sing it choosing to drop some of the more depressing parts to make it more of a lullaby.

The more upbeat version of the song, like the one sung by the original performer of the song — Jimmie Davis — or the one in the movie O’ Brother Where Art Thou, is what most people are used to hearing. If you really listen to the first verse, however, you’re already prepared for the song to be a little depressing.


The other night, dear
As I lay sleeping
I dreamed I held you, in my arms
When I awoke, dear
I was mistaken
So I hung my head and I cried

As you see here, they awoke without that person in their arms, which is fairly melancholy, and why The Dead South version is probably one of the more accurate emotionally-wise versions that I have ever heard. A distant cousin hilariously disagreed with me when I shared it on Facebook, writing that the band had virtually “murdered” the song. Her response made me giggle because she was right, to a point anyhow. I think she felt it was a case of musical homicide because she was used to hearing my aunt, and others, sing it as a happy song. Believe me, I totally understand, but for some reason, The Dead South version still appeals to me, thought not as much as the version my aunt sang to me.

On its surface, You Are My Sunshine isn’t the saddest song ever, so it’s okay to sing it with a bit of an upbeat melody. Really, though, it’s clear that the point of view of the person singing it is practically begging the person they are singing to to stay with them.

You are my sunshine
My only sunshine
You make me happy
When skies are gray
You’ll never know, dear
How much I love you
Please don’t take my sunshine away

Even more unsettling are the subsequent verses:

I’ll always love you and make you happy
If you will only say the same
But if you leave me to love another
You’ll regret it all someday

It is this line —  You’ll regret it all someday — that The Dead South lead singer sings in a much more threatening way than most likely the author of the song originally intended.

This next verse isn’t much better:

You told me once, dear, you really loved me 
And no one else could come between
But now you’ve left me and love another
You have shattered all my dreams

So, if the original lyrics are sung to this song, it is much more of a downer than the perky tune suggests.

There is quite a bit of debate on who actually wrote the song even though two-time Louisiana Governor Jimmie Davis and a man named Charles Mitchell are credited with it. Davis recorded it in 1940.

Lore has it that a man named Oliver Hood of Georgia actually wrote the song, but that Davis and Mitchell copyrighted it in 1940 after purchasing it from a man named Paul Rice who Hood’s family used to write with Hood.

In a 1990 article in Chronicles Magazine, writer Theodore Pappas claimed that Hood wrote the song and that his descendants back up this fact by saying he first sang it in 1933 at a Veterans of Foreign Wars convention in LaGrange.

Pappas also insisted that Davis never claimed authorship because he had purchased the song from Rice. Davis simply copyrighted in and renewed that copyright in 1967 with both his and Mitchell’s name on it.

In later interviews, Rice said he wrote the song in 1937 and based it on letters he had received from a girl in South Carolina who called him her “sunshine.” Rice also said that many people have claimed to have written the song over the years, despite him saying he had written it. After all my research, I’m also still not sure who ultimately put the more chipper melody to the words, Hood, Rice, or Davis.

In the end, the song still remains a favorite among many, no matter who wrote it.

If you are a fan of the more happy versions that have come out over the years, and dead set against listening to a more serious one, you probably wouldn’t be interested in The Dead South’s version. But if can bring yourself to listen to it, stick with it at least until the cello solo, which I think is perfectly lovely and saves the song for even the most stringent fan of the original version.

(If you are reading this through your WordPress reader, click through to the blog to see the video.)

What the different versions of this one song goes to show is how much inflection and tone can affect meaning, whether in song or the spoken word.

Regardless of who sings the song and how they sing it, it will always hold a special meaning for me and my family and for the person who sang it to us — the woman who was our sunshine when skies were gray.

The many adventures we do and do not have in very cold weather.

I looked at the small kitten padding at high speed across the frozen surface of the snow and ice and pondered if I wanted to chase after her. I was sure that like usual, I would almost reach her, and she would dart out of my reach again until I was left gasping in the cold air, reaching for my rescue inhaler.

Still, it was only 18 degrees out and I didn’t want her running up a tree, getting stuck, and freezing to death.

Luckily, my son saw the crisis unfolding and swept Scout up before she could get very far.

Sadly, she escaped through the open door fifteen minutes later and darted away from my son, racing to the top of a smaller, naked tree in our backyard.

If you’re new to this blog, then you don’t know that this young cat, who I still call a kitten, has left us biting our nails many times because she has climbed tree after tree, sometimes unable to figure out how to climb down.  She got herself so stuck one time, our neighbor contacted the town fire department, and they brought their ladder truck to rescue her.

My son and husband had to leave to drop off some groceries at my parents, so I said I’d watch the kitten and wait for her to come down. She eventually did come down and then somehow ran past me into the house, without me seeing her. I had shut the side door, shaking my head after I had watched her climb down from the tree, hoping she would run inside and when I stepped inside to shut the inside door I was surprised to see Scout sitting on the top step of our basement stairs. She must have run back inside when I wasn’t looking.

The bitter cold most likely chased her back inside, as it has been doing each time she’s escaped for the past six weeks or so.

Some winters bring our area snow and some cold. This year we have been plunged into a type of deep freeze as temperatures have been below freezing on more days in December and January than they have been above freezing.

These temps have not only stranded the humans inside, but also our outside cat, Pixel, and our want-to-be outside cat, Scout.

And if it hasn’t been the cold that has kept us inside, it has been the snow or ice covering our steep driveway. Right now our driveway is frozen under two-solid inches of ice and a small dusting of snow. Shoveling or snow blowing it is out of the question because of how solid the ice is. The ice storm that hit us Thursday has left some area businesses and churches closed because not even the commercial snow removal companies are able to rip up the ice without causing damage to their equipment.

Our outside cat is severely disappointed by the cold, one because we have been telling her it’s simply too cold for her to go out and then don’t let her go out and two, because she seems to expect a different outcome on the rare occasion we do allow her outside. For about three weeks now I’ve had to explain to her over and over how cold it is, but for some reason, she doesn’t seem to understand me. Hmmm..it’s almost like she’s a cat and not human.

So, she goes out into the cold and looks around her, bewildered each time. I close the door and five minutes later I find her looking into our kitchen window plaintively begging to come back in as if I have cruelly tossed her out into the cold.

She stays inside for about half an hour and then she’s back at the door scratching at the door frame trying to get our attention so she can go back out again. For a while, this was happening every 30 minutes or so. Then she finally seemed to get that it wasn’t going to get any warmer and the stretches of time between she wanted to outside got longer.

Then she eventually started to just curl up in a little ball on one of our couches or chairs or near the fire accepting that it was simply too cold to go out and explore and hunt for mice. You would think that she would forget about the outside after a while but that’s so far hasn’t happened. She is still itching to get out even when it is below freezing. Sunday she didn’t try to leave the house even once, instead making one of the recliners her bed.

The Boy and my husband’s trip to my parent’s came when my 78-year old dad called to tell me he had just taken a ride on a runner sled on the ice below his barn and it was the most frightened he’d ever been on a sled ride.

He’d gone out to test the sled because he said the ice would be perfect for sledding since there was no softer layer of snow under this snow, only solid layer upon layer of ice. He said this would make the ride exhilarating but also terrifying because a spill off the sled could mean a cut to the face if it hit the hard ice. To stop his ride, and keep himself from flying off into the woods several hundred yards away from the top of the hill, my dad had to slam the heals of his boots against the ice several times until they broke in enough to stop him.

He knows my son is a daredevil of sorts, so he invited him over to try a ride of his own.

My son took one ride on the sled and another ride without anything, simply sliding on his snow pants.

It was too cold to spend too much time outside since the thermometer stayed around 26 in the afternoon, dropping back to 21 in the evening. Based on what the weather app on my phone says (though it is often wrong) it looks like we will have some warmer weather later this week but it still won’t go up much above freezing.

This winter has been a little different since we have had more cold and less snow. In some ways, it feels like we have had snow but in fact, we only had one storm of about 7 inches and then it got so cold that the snow never melted. So, we have had snow on the ground around our house for about a month. It melted some the day before this latest ice storm came in but then the ice and a couple of inches of snow covered the ground again. I’m not complaining since I am used to Pennsylvania winters. If I was going to complain my only small complaint would be that I can’t get out of my steep driveway when it is icy and messy out so sometimes I am stranded for days at a time.

Opportunities for photographs are also reduced when the weather is bitter cold. When I do get outside, though, I’m grateful for the beauty winter often offers. Last week I snatched some photos of our ice-encased trees and bushes but spent as little time in the yard as possible since it was so cold.

 My husband has to travel in the cold, sadly, and since he tolerates the cold better than I do he has attended a couple of events in the cold winter air for his job, including a horse-drawn sled race that was held a couple of weeks ago in our town. I would have gone but the high that day was eight and I do have a little bit of trouble breathing in the cold air thanks to asthma as a child and maybe my battle with You Know What two months ago. I had him send me a few of the photos from that event so I could share them here. Keep in mind that the temperature in these photos is 8 degrees. Eight degrees!

I am looking forward to spring and warmer weather but until then I will enjoy snuggling up in front of our woodstove with a cup of tea a good book and our dog Zooma.

Even though life can be a little mundane in the winter I enjoy the slow pace of it. In the spring and summer, I feel like I have to do things, or I should be out and about because the weather is nice. In the winter I am allowed the excuse of cold weather for keeping me in the house and keeping the pace slow and easy.

If only our cats could appreciate the slow and easy life of winter as much as I do.

Book Review: Freedom Crossing

Title: Freedom Crossing

Author: Margaret Goff Clark

Publisher: Scholastic

Description: Little Miss and I read Freedom Crossing by Margaret Goff Clark for her history/literature curriculum in the months of December and January. It is a Scholastic book published for children from 8 and up.

The book takes place in the mid-1800s, prior to the Civil War, and is about a young girl named Laura who moves back home with her brother and father, several years after the death of her mother. Originally she was sent to live with her aunt and uncle in the South, where slavery was a normal part of life. Her father asks for her to come home again, but once there she doesn’t know where she fits in.

The book opens with her father being gone on a business trip and her being home alone with her brother Bert when a young man named Joel, who Laura knew from her childhood shows up late at night. With him is a young African American boy, named Martin, who she soon learns is a runaway slave. Even more shocking to her is the fact her brother, father, and Joel are all part of the Underground Railroad and are planning to help Martin escape to Canada to join his family. Helping runaway slaves leave their masters and escape to freedom is something Laura’s family has been involved in for months now and she doesn’t know how to feel about it.

In her aunt and uncle’s home, African Americans were treated as slaves, but they were not treated cruelly. Being a slave isn’t that bad, is it? She doesn’t think so and at first, she refuses to help her brother and childhood friend smuggle the young boy to freedom. She wants to wait for her father to come home, but there’s no time. Martin needs to be taken to a meet-up location with other members of the Underground Railroad within a couple of days and their father won’t be home before then.

As slave hunters close in, Laura has to decide if she wants to obey the law in place that will send anyone to jail who helps a runaway slave or bring Martin to freedom.

REVIEW

Freedom Crossing is full of action, but also lessons. It teaches young children about the horrors and sadness of slavery without being graphic or too dark. Through Laura’s confusion and reluctance to help her family, children learn how easy it was at that time to believe slavery was normal. As the book progresses, though, it becomes clear that Laura is misguided in her understanding of what slavery truly is.

The reader is educated at the same time as Laura not only about how dehumanizing slavery was (and is) but how important the Underground Railroad and the abolitionist movement were to help thousands of slaves find freedom from abusive masters. Thanks to the nail-biting action in the book, it can be easy to forget the book is aimed at giving young readers a history lesson. In the end, though, the book uses the story of Martin, Laura, Bert, and Joel to make sure young people know the true story of slavery in the United States and the movement by many to put an end to it.

Sunday Bookends: Ice, ice baby, finally finished that Longmire book, and earworms

Welcome to Sunday Bookends where I ramble about what I’ve been reading, doing, watching, writing, and listening to.

What’s Been Occurring

Cold. Cold. Cold. That’s what it has been in our neck of the woods for over a month now with this past week still being cold and then having an ice storm thrown into the mix.

Little Miss and I managed to make it 12 miles to get our hair cut before the ice storm set in on Thursday evening into Friday.

We woke up Friday morning with our trees, driveway, and many other things encased in ice. Unlike other ice storms where the ice melted during the day when the sun came out, there was no sun after this ice storm and the temps dropped even more over Friday night into Saturday, leaving us still encased in ice, with no sign of warmer temperatures for a couple of days. Saturday’s high was 16. Yikes.

The ice did make for some fun photographs, most of which I took with my iphone because my regular camera wasn’t happy with trying to capture close up photos. Mainly because I don’t own a micro lens and my nifty fifty was struggling to focus on the frozen drips of water.

The Boy was quite thrilled that he could run across the surface of the snow from our back porch and up the hill toward our garden shed late Friday evening when the temps had dropped around 14. Yesterday morning the temperature started at about 3 degrees and rose slightly while my husband chipped his car out of its parking space since none of us thought about the snow and ice freezing around the tires after he parked. He traveled to pick us up a grocery order about 45 minutes away, because that’s how far away we are from anywhere that offers grocery pick-up.

Before he did that, he started the fire in the woodstove and while he was out in the cold forging for food, I was in the warm house reading books and occasionally breaking up arguments about who would have the privilege of holding the Elsa doll and playing her for the “movie” Little Miss and her friends were creating during an impromptu playdate. They didn’t have a camera, so it wasn’t really a movie. It was more like a play.

Either way, I let them know that none of them should want to be Elsa because she was the real bad guy in the first movie anyhow. I mean, think about it, the woman froze an entire village in, causing a near economic collapse of the region. The village, serving as a commerce port, most likely supplied fish and fresh food to many other villages in a 50-mile radius so when Elsa had her little hissy fit, she threatened not only the livelihoods of the people in the village but also the lives of the people who relied on the village for their food.

“It wasn’t her fault!” little voices cried, horrified that I would suggest Elsa was the bad guy in it all. “She couldn’t control her powers.”

I swiftly mocked them. “It wasn’t her fault. Wawawa! It was. Get over it. She was evil.”

They eventually decided I was picking on them (I was not) and moved on to my suggestion that they all pretend to be in a Barbie girl band so they all could sing together at the same time.

(If you are new to my blog, please realize I use sarcasm a lot. I didn’t actually mock young children. I just joked with them. *wink*

Today promises more freezing temperatures and while I would prefer not to venture out, we will most likely go have lunch with my parents and maybe watch a movie before we come home like we did last week when we watched Song of the Thin Man, the last of the Thin Man movies with Myrna Lloyd and William Powell.

 After that, I have no plans to leave the house, but I am sure that at some point I will have to.

I know many of you who read my blog pray so I would ask that you say an extra prayer for me and The Boy. We lost our sense of taste and smell with Covid and while most of it came back from me, it has been much slower for The Boy. Now he and I both seem to be developing parosmia. This is where smell and taste is distorted and many things begin to smell and taste rotten. Please pray that this does not progress for us as it has for other Covid-19 survivors.

Right now peanut butter and garlic smell like a chemical to me and peanut butter tastes like one. My son is having the same issue with peanut butter, oddly. I’m trying to stay calm about it all and I do have some natural options we can try, so I ask that you pray for them to work. I’m especially worried about my son as he has already had stomach issues off and on over the years. From what I understand, this condition gets worse over time, not better for a while anyhow.

What I/We Are Reading

I did it. I finally finished The Dark Horse, the fifth book in the Longmire Mysteries series.  The series is great, and I love Craig Johnson’s writing, so the quality of the book wasn’t why it took me so long to finish it. I took so long because of being sick with Covid and then not being interested in dark stories while I was recovering for the month of December.

Up this week I hope to finish The Cat Who Saw Stars by Lilian Jackson Braun and continue The Reckoning Trees by Alicia Gilliam. I also started Miss Julia Renews Her Vows by Ann B. Ross to see what it is like and I’m hooked, so The Reckoning Trees might get bumped down. I’m not sure yet. I usually read a hard copy of one book during the day and the Kindle at night after I am in bed so I may read Miss Julia and The Reckoning Trees at the same time, after I finish The Cat Who book. Not that any of you care so I have no idea why I am sharing all that! Ha!

Little Miss and I have already read The Farmer Boy by Laura Ingalls Wilder but we are set to read it again since it is part of our history/literature curriculum this week. I told her we didn’t need to read it again but she said she wanted to. It also reminded her how much she liked the Little House series so now she has asked me to read the second book in the series to her again. I’d prefer to keep reading The Mouse and the Motorcycle but if she likes Little House on the Prairie, we will read it again.

The Boy will probably finish A Long Walk to Water this week.

What We’ve Been Watching/Watched

I read more than I watched this week but I did watch, for some unknown reason, Runaway Bride, which I think is both sweet and awful at the same time. Richard Gere sort of irritates me. In every movie he just plays Richard Gere. Arrogant and cocky with a pout. But that’s just my opinion.

The Boy and I watched a couple of episodes of Longmire. Yes, I realize it’s like we have a theme going on in our house this week.

The husband and I watched the pilot episode of Fringe. I don’t know if I will watch more of that one. Science Fiction isn’t really my thing as much as it is for my husband

What I’m Writing

I have been working on getting to the end of A New Chapter’s first draft and hope to have it done by the end of this week. Every morning last week I wrote for 2-3 hours with a group of writers from Novel Academy. We participated in writing sprints that last about fifty minutes each.

I have not been writing as much on the blog, but hope to remedy that as soon as this first draft is finished. I will have to work on the second draft and editing, but that won’t be as time consuming as writing the first draft is.

What I’m Listening To

Ah man. This week I got an ear worm stuck in my head and couldn’t get it out.

Here it is for you, so you can also get it stuck in your head:

Then you can also listen to this other earworm by them:

The rest of the week I listened to a lot of Mumford and Sons and The Dead South while I worked on my book.

I sort of liked The Dead South’s version of You Are My Sunshine, a song my aunt used to sing to me and my son. If you actually listen to the song, it’s not a very happy one, so the happy version of the song is a little bit of a juxtapose I suppose you might say. A family member told me the band murdered the song with this version, but I thought the interpretation was creative.

 I also listened to quite a bit of Brandon Lake, especially this song:

Then I introduced my son to Vanilla Ice and he was horrified.

Now it’s your turn

So that is my week in review. How about you? What have you been doing, reading, watching, writing, or listening to? Let me know in the comments.

Special Fiction Saturday: A New Chapter Chapter 20

I thought I’d share an extra chapter this weekend as I am marching toward writing the final chapters during the week. I shared Chapter 19 yesterday.

To catch up with the story click HERE.

If you would like to read the first books in this series, you can find them HERE.

Chapter 20

Ginny looked at her watch for the fifth time in the last ten minutes. Where was he? He’d told her this morning he’d be here.

“Don’t stand me up this time, Stan.”

She did not want to have to tell Keith they’d have to reschedule because her husband was, yet again, too busy with work.

Oh great. There he was. Keith, parking his car in a space a few spots up from hers. She looked in the rearview mirror.

“Stan, come on.”

Maybe she could simply drive away and text Keith, telling him she’d have to cancel. That would work. It would be awkward, but no more awkward than having to admit her husband cared more about his job than his family, especially his wife.

She slid the key in the ignition, preparing to leave before Keith reached the sidewalk next to her car, but it was too late. Curse that man’s long legs. He spotted her and waved, sliding his sunglasses off and slipping them into the inside pocket of his leather jacket.

She forced a smile and waved back, opening the door to the car.

Keith reached out for her hand as she stepped up on the sidewalk and pulled her into a hug. “Hey, there. Where’s the ball and chain?”

Ginny breathed in the smell of his cologne, a pang of guilt stabbing at her for enjoying it, the manliness of it. She longed to have Stan hug her this way so she could breathe in his cologne while nuzzling his neck.

She pulled back from the hug and looked at her watch, frowning. “Running late, I guess. He should be here soon.”

Keith gestured toward the restaurant’s front door. “Shall we get a seat and wait for him? We can order drinks and an appetizer.”

Ginny chewed her bottom lip, hesitating. “Um. Yeah. Okay.”

She looked back over her shoulder as Keith opened the door for her, searching the street for Stan’s car.

Come on, Stan. Be here. Just this once. Please.

Inside the restaurant was warmly lit, tables set under lightbulbs casting off soft, orange glows.

“Two?” the hostess asked looking between Ginny and Keith.

“Three actually,” Keith answered. “The other member of our party is running late.”

When they sat, Ginny glanced at the empty chair and her jaw tightened.

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly as Keith placed his jacket on the back of his chair. How many times in the last two years had she attended events without Stan, making apologies, waiting for him to call and explain or make another excuse? Too many to count.

She was tired of it.

After hoping for a year to taste the food at this restaurant she was here, but not with the man she’d wanted to be with.

It didn’t matter. She was going to make the best of it and hopefully, he’d show up before the waitress took their orders for entrees.

Keith folded his hands on the table. “So, at the art class, you were telling me your daughter was trying to decide if she wanted to stay in California or not. What did she decide?”

Ginny pushed aside her thoughts of Stan and sighed. “I came home from the class and found her in my kitchen.”

Keith laughed. “Ah, I see. So she made up her mind to come home then?”

Ginny rolled her eyes. “Yes, and she’s dropped out of school. She has no idea what she’s going to do and it makes me want to scream.” She laughed. “I love her and I love having her closer to home but all that money and she’s not even going to get a degree. It’s infuriating.”

The waitress approached and Ginny ordered a glass of water with lemon, Keith an iced tea, and an appetizer of blini with caviar. Stan loved caviar. Ginny hoped he arrived in time to have some.

“You know,” Keith propped his hand under his chin. “It might be good for your daughter to take some time off. She may decide she wants to go back and get her degree later on or she may not, but either way, she’s finding out what makes her happy.” He winced. “Of course, that doesn’t replace all that money you and Stan shelled out. What was her degree going to be in?”

“Social work.” Ginny’s phone rang and she looked at the caller ID. “It’s Stan. I should take this.”

“Of course.” Keith nodded toward the phone. “Definitely take it.”

“Hey, hon’, listen, I don’t think I’m going to make it.”

She’d known what he was going to say before he said it, but hearing it didn’t make it any easier.

“Yeah.” She didn’t even try to hide the annoyance in her voice. “Okay.”

The waitress arrived with her water and Keith’s iced tea.

“Are you upset?” Oh, how perceptive of him. “Listen, I’m sorry, but the client was running late. He just got here and this is a possibly big sale.” No surprise he didn’t even wait for me to answer.  “The Henderson farm. They’re looking to make it into a commercial farm. It could mean jobs for the area.”

Ginny didn’t answer. She tapped her fingers on the table and scowled into her glass. She’d heard it all, this was no different.

“Gin, you still there?”

“Yep. I’m here.”

“Send Keith my apologies. I’ll find another date we can do this again. My treat.”

“That’s fine. I’ll tell him. See you later.”

Ginny slid her finger over the end button without even a goodbye. She was tired of faking cheerful goodbyes after he let her down. It was getting old.

Keith raised an eyebrow. “Not going to make it?”

Ginny shook her head, sipping her water.

“I’m guessing by your demeanor this isn’t a new thing?”

Looked like Keith was perceptive too.

“No,” she said. “Not at all.” She pushed her hand back through her hair, enjoying the feel of it soft against her skin. She’d used a new conditioner Liz had suggested, hoping Stan might finally notice her new haircut, or at least comment on it. She’d caught him starring at her one day, thinking he might have finally noticed, but then he’d told her he’d sold a property that had been on the market for three years and walked away.

“Well,” Keith spread his hands out. “We’re already here. The appetizer is on its way. We might as well have some dinner.”

Ginny felt insanely uncomfortable agreeing to have dinner with a man who wasn’t her husband, but Keith was right. They were already there, seated, with appetizers on the way and she was hungry. She was also antsy for a night out. Between the fundraiser, planning for Clint and Tiffany to come home, helping Liz with Bella and her new job. She was ready for a break. It wasn’t her fault if Stan couldn’t be bothered to show up. She was tired of waiting on him to live her life.

“Remember that night we climbed the water tower?” Keith asked the question ten minutes after they’d sampled the caviar and ordered their entrees.

Ginny looked up with furrowed eyebrows. “Oh, my goodness. I had forgotten about that.”

The dimple in the cheek popped up again as Keith smiled. “You were terrified and kept saying, ‘Keith, no. We shouldn’t be doing this. Won’t we get in trouble?’” He laughed. “You pressed your back against the tank, closed your eyes, and it took me five minutes to convince you to look out over the town.”

Ginny laughed. “Oh, I remember. I was so scared. I’m glad I finally opened my eyes, though. It was beautiful.”

“You should open your eyes more often.”

Her gaze met his, noticed the way the candle in the center of the table reflected in the light brown iris. She’d forgotten how hints of green blended into the brown. “What do you mean?”

Keith kept his eyes on her. “It’s just, I’m afraid you’ve forgotten how to live Ginny.”

She pulled her gaze from his, dropped it to her hands folded in her lap. She opened her mouth to speak but he continued. “Be honest with me. There’s been something missing your life, hasn’t there? That spark. The spark for life. Don’t you want to get that back again?”

She rubbed her fingers along the edge of the tablecloth. He was right. She did want to get that spark back again. How to do it was the question that had been poking at her for months now.

The server bringing the entrees was a welcome sight and a welcome interruption. She changed the subject to the food, to how long it had been since she’d eaten out a restaurant like this and he, thankfully, followed her lead and began to talk about his new love of cooking.

The server’s appearance came as they finished their entrees and he was describing how he had discovered how to cook the perfect pot roast.

“Desert for the lovely couple?” The server was a young man who looked like a seventh grader to Ginny. He’d been attentive the entire time, asking every ten minutes if they needed anything or if he could refill their drinks and each time she felt like asking him if his mother knew where he was.

She raised a hand in response to his question. “Oh, no. We’re not a —

“Sure.” Keith smiled at her and winked. “We’d love some dessert.”

“Keith, I —”

The dimple appeared again, his eyes sparkling. “Have some fun for once Ginny.” He ran his index finger down the desert list. “How about the Mont Blanc Chocolate Pavlova. That sounds good, right?”

His French accent when he pronounced the desert impressed her, she had to admit. She smiled and propped her chin in her hand. “Yeah, actually, it really does. Even though I have no idea what it is.”

Keith winked. “Then that is what we’re having.” He handed the list back to the server. “We’ll take two. One for each of part of this lovely couple.”

Ginny sipped from her water, the word couple lingering in her thoughts, apprehension sneaking along her senses.

***

Matt stretched his legs out and propped his feet on the coffee table. He tipped his head back and closed his eyes, pinching his nose between his thumb and forefinger. Normally at this time he’d be pouring coffee into his thermos and grabbing a slice of toast on his way out the door to work.

There wasn’t a job to go to this morning, though, so all he could do was sit and think about the last 24-hours.

He’d expected it, of course, but the meeting with Reggie had still been uncomfortable.

“I can’t stand that I have to do this, Matt.” The man shook his head, leaned bag in his chair, and huffed out a breath, his gaze on the top of his desk. “You’re the best cop I’ve ever had in my 25 years on this force.” He shook his head, leaned forward with his hands folded in the shape of a triangle on top of the desk, and looked up at Matt. “What in the world happened, boy? Never in my wildest imagination did I think I’d be suspending you for excessive force.”

Answering Reggie had been even harder. How did he explain that what Gabe had said about Liz had incensed him, left him mentally black for several minutes, and when he came to his senses Gabe was already bleeding on the sidewalk?

In the end, he’d simply said, “I lost my cool. I was out of line. I’m really not sure what came over me.”

Reggie had scoffed, flopping back in this chair. “A woman came over you, that’s what. Women will be the death of us and our careers, I swear.” He winked. “Don’t tell my wife I said that, of course.” Reggie slid a sheet of paper across to him. “This is your written warning and suspension conditions. You’ll be reinstated by the council after a full investigation and pending the outcome of any criminal legal proceedings against you.”

After that had been the call from the State Police Academy

“Mr.  McGee we regret to inform you that due to a criminal complaint filed against you while on duty as an officer with the Spencer Police Department, we are going to have to rescind our acceptance of your application to join the state police academy.

The entire situation was surreal, yet he knew it was all entirely his fault. Those ten minutes with Gabe were still a blur. Looking back, he realized he must have had some kind of mental break. He’d heard the term blind with rage but never thought of it as a real occurrence until that moment. Then there was the saying “I saw red,” and he supposed he could say he had seen red, figuratively anyhow, when Gabe said he’d forced Liz into sleeping with him that night.

“Don’t tell Liz about this,” he’d told Jason and Alex when they’d met him outside the police station later that night.

“It’s a small town, dude, she’s going to find out,” Alex reminded him.

“Just – maybe she’ll be too worried about finding a new job or too busy with her classes to hear,” Matt said, dragging his hand through his hair. He really didn’t know, but he didn’t need to add more stress to Liz’s life.

Would she feel like it was her fault that he’d been suspended from his job and lost his place at the academy?

He hoped not.

Maybe she’d be angry instead. At this point, he had no idea. Liz was hard to read at times, especially recently. He wished they had more moments like they’d had at the bowling alley that one time or during movie nights when she laughed and joked with him, forgetting about her worries. She let her guard down during those moments and he wanted more of that, more moments of the real and unhindered Liz. The Liz he remembered from high school and before she hooked up with Gabe.

Those were the moments when he could see himself reaching over, laying his hand behind her head, clutching that beautiful dark hair, and kissing her mouth the way he’d imagined doing for years now.

Wouldn’t that shock her? Knowing he had thoughts like that. Thoughts of kissing her, thoughts beyond being a police officer or teaching young boys about how to live a good, righteous life. No, he didn’t think imagining kissing her was inappropriate, but he wondered if it would shatter her preconceived notion that he was some kind of saint.

Someday he’d have to tell her and find out if she was shocked that he wasn’t so perfect after all, but right now he had to figure out what he was going to tell her when she eventually found out he’d been suspended for slamming her ex-boyfriend off the hood of a patrol car.

He yawned and stretched. Doing nothing sure was exhausting. He hadn’t done nothing for years now. Even his days off were normally filled with activity. This time, though, he didn’t have the mental energy to keep himself busy. Plus, the idea of going into town or anywhere people could see him wasn’t appealing right now. If Liz was right and everyone thought so highly of him, they probably wouldn’t as word got around how he’d treated Gabe.

He clicked the TV off and stood, stretching again. A series of cracks sounded up his back and he reflected how that had gotten a little better since he’d started going to the gym with Jason and how he hadn’t been to the gym with Jason for a week. Lifting a few weights and a few rounds on the stationary bike might be just what he needed to lift his mood.

He turned toward his bedroom to change out of his t-shirt and sweatpants when a knock on the door stopped him. Alex was still at the farm and he had a key, so it couldn’t be him.

The sight of Bernie standing at his door sent a shiver of uneasiness sliding through him and he kept the door partially closed.

“Bern?” How did he even find his cabin? “What’s up?”

“Hey, Matt, sorry to bother you like this, and I hope you don’t mind I asked Evan Starks if he knew where you lived.” Matt had graduated with Evan. He’d have to remember to talk to Evan about handing his private information out to people he’d arrested. Bernie pushed his long strands of dirty blond hair back from his face and laughed softly. “I probably should have told him you’d arrested me once. He might not have been so forthcoming with the information.” He winked. “I’m not here about that, though. Really. Can I talk to you about something?”

Matt hesitated then opened the door wider. “Um, yeah.” It was too cold this morning for them to stand on the porch and have a conversation. “Come on in.”

Bernie looked around the inside of the cabin as he walked in. His gaze drifted upward to the high ceiling and second story. “Nice place. Didn’t this used to be just a cabin you and your dad used?”

Matt walked to the kitchen and reached for the coffee pot. “Yeah. I decided to remodel it a few years ago and turn it into a house. I was tired of living in an apartment over the hardware store.” He held the pot toward Bernie. “Coffee?”

Bernie nodded. “Yeah. That would be nice.”

Matt gestured toward the chair at the kitchen table. “Have a seat if you want. Sorry the place is a bit of a mess. I’ve got a new roommate and he’s not the cleanest guy around.”

Bernie laughed. “I hear you. Chrissy isn’t the best housekeeper and the kids trash our place pretty good. This is nothing compared to what it looks like there this morning.”

Matt set two mugs of coffee on the table and sat down, sliding the sugar bowl toward Bernie.

“Listen, Matt, I know this weird, but despite everything I trust you and I need to tell you about something that’s been going on.” Bernie sipped the coffee. “I’m in some trouble and before you ask, it’s not what you think. I did something for somebody, but I didn’t know I was doing something illegal, you know? When I found out, I panicked. I can’t go to the police about this, for obvious reasons. I mean, officially go to the police.”

Matt leaned forward, brow furrowed. His stomach clenched. Where was this going? “Hey, I understand. This is between you and me for now. Let’s figure out if we even have to go to anyone else.”

Bernie cleared his throat. “Okay, so I did this job for Gabe Martin. He wanted me to deliver a package for him. I knew it was wrong, but I needed the extra money. He told me if I didn’t do it, he’d find a way to pin something on me. He knew the police wouldn’t believe me. I couldn’t risk getting sent away again so I agreed.” Bernie stared into the mug. “I know it was stupid. I should have just told him to get lost, but, again, I needed the money. The mechanic business isn’t going great yet and we were running out of food.” He shook his head slowly. “So, I picked up the package and I delivered it for him about two hours away. I met some guy that just gave me the wrong vibes, you know? I didn’t ask any questions. Just took the package to him.” Bernie took another sip of coffee, winced. “The guy starts asking me if this is the good stuff. I’m thinking, the good what? I don’t know, right? Because I’m just delivering it for Gabe. I’m like, ‘yeah, I guess’ and the guy goes, ‘because I don’t want any of that fentanyl mixed crap you sent last time. It got one of my customers killed and I’m not messing with that again. If it’d got linked to me, I would have been sent up to state.’”

Bernie chewed his bottom lip for a few seconds and then looked at Matt. “I didn’t know, Matt. I didn’t know about the drugs, okay? I shouldn’t have done it. The cops are never going to believe me.” He pushed a hand back through his hair, clutched it at the top of his head, and drew in a breath. “Do you even believe me?”

Yeah, for some reason Matt did. Not only because he knew the real Gabe Martin but because if Bernie was guilty he wouldn’t have walked into the lion’s den this morning. Unless — he didn’t want to think it. Unless Bernie was trying to frame Gabe.

Gabe wasn’t a great guy, no doubt about it, but was he a drug dealer?

Matt studied Bernie for a few seconds then nodded slowly. “Yeah, I think I do. I mean, as far as I know, burglary is more your thing. I never really pegged you for messing with drugs.” He rubbed his hand across his chin. “Of course, as much as I dislike Gabe, I didn’t peg him for that either.”

Bernie nodded. “Yeah. I didn’t either, to be honest. I don’t know if this is his thing or if he’s just transporting like I was. The guy is a jerk, but a drug manufacturer and dealer.” He shrugged a shoulder. “I don’t see it either. All I know is he is the one who sent me the package.”

The state police hadn’t released a report about the discovery at the abandoned building. They didn’t want it in the newspapers until they knew more. Alerting the media might tip off the owners. Matt wondered if Bernie knew anything about it.

“Where did you meet Gabe for the package pick-up?”

“Outside some building about five miles out of town. Looked abandoned.”

“Did you go in?”

Bernie shook his head. “No. Gabe met me outside at his truck. About 1 a.m.”

“Anyone else around?”

“No, not that I know of. Place was dark. Creepy actually.”

Matt took a swig of the coffee, swished it in his mouth. “You tell anyone else about this? Even Chrissy?”

Bernie laughed. “No, and especially not Chrissy. She’d kill me.”

Matt leaned back in the chair, arm hanging off the back of it. “Good, keep it that way for now. Let me look into some things and I’ll get back to you.”

Bernie cupped his hands around the mug. “Is it true that you got suspended for decking Gabe?”

Matt grimaced. “Yeah. That’s around town huh?”

Bernie tipped his head down slightly. “Dude, it’s Spencer. Of course it’s around town. You think people aren’t going to talk about the town’s saint police officer kicking the crap out of a guy on Main Street?”

Matt ran his hand across his face and laughed. “Saint police officer. Sounds like how someone else described me. Yeah, it wasn’t my best moment. Not in the least.”

Bernie grinned. “I thought it was cool.” He lifted the mug and peered over it. “Showed me you’re not as uptight as I thought you were.”

And it showed you I might be the prime person to help you set up Gabe if that’s what you’re doing. Matt hated even having the thought and he hoped it wasn’t true. While hoping Bernie really had started a new chapter in his life, he also hoped he was right that Gabe hadn’t known what was in the package either. He didn’t like Gabe, that was for sure, but the last thing he wanted was for Bella’s biological father to be a drug dealer, for the sake of her and Liz, and for Gabe.

Fiction Friday: A New Chapter Chapter 19

For those who are new here, this is a novel in progress. I post a chapter each week and there may be typos, plot holes, inconsistencies, etc.

I have been busy working to finish this story and hope to start working on the second draft the week after next, to get this book ready for an April 26 release to Amazon.

To catch up with the story click HERE.

If you would like to read the first books in this series, you can find them HERE.

Chapter 19

“Liz? You here?”

She heard her mom calling from the front of the apartment and groaned, covering her head with the pillow.

Molly had taken Bella to her parents today, telling Liz to sleep in and try not to think about what had happened the day before at the restaurant. She didn’t have a class until the afternoon today, so she’d agreed to it. She’d already answered a call from Ginny, checking on her, asking if she needed anything. Texting back that she was fine hadn’t been a lie, not really. She was fine, in some ways. At least she hadn’t had a full-blown panic attack. Yet. Somehow.

The entire town probably knew what had happened by now. People who had been closer to Gabe and Matt by the bar, like she had been, heard exactly what Gabe said that set Matt off, but she hoped most of the restaurant didn’t.

“Liz?”

She tossed the covers off her and stepped out of her room, squinting in the sunlight blasting in through the apartment’s floor to ceiling front window.

Marge set her purse on the couch and stepped toward her. “Oh, hon’.” Liz bristled at the pity in her mother’s voice. She was not in the mood for pity. How had she even heard about it? And how much did she know?

Liz folded her arms across her chest, avoiding eye contact with Marge who was standing with arms outstretched, and headed for the bathroom, locking the door behind her. She splashed her face with cold water, choked down bile and willed her stomach to calm down.

Had that really happened yesterday? Maybe she was dreaming, and her ex-boyfriend hadn’t told an entire restaurant, or at least the bar section, that he’d practically forced her into sleeping with him the night she conceived her child.

She dried her hands and face quickly and pinched her arm. That hurt, so clearly she wasn’t dreaming. Unfortunately.

The anger she’d seen flashing in Matt’s eyes when he dragged Gabe through the front doors of the restaurant and tossed him onto the sidewalk had been real, even though it felt like a nightmare as it was happening. The moment he’d slammed Gabe onto the hood and cuffed him hadn’t been a figment of her imagination, but she wished it had.

Her face had burned with embarrassment as Gabe hissed his confession at Matt. She’d kept her eyes downcast at the floor, dreading looking up and seeing expressions of pity or disgust being cast her way. She knew it was stupid, but she felt like they were all judging her for being weak and pathetic.

In reality, most of the people in the restaurant didn’t know her and those who did probably didn’t care as much as she thought they did. The world didn’t revolve around Liz Cranmer and her many failings. People had much more important issues in their lives to deal with. She probably wasn’t even a dot on their radar. There had been a few whispers, though. A few looks cast her way. She’d caught them after she’d grabbed her purse, gave Ginny a curt, “I need to go,” and walked swiftly to her car.

Luckily the fundraising meeting had been almost over anyhow. The shouting had drawn the gazes of her and the rest of those in attendance toward the noise. It was only when she saw the face-off between Gabe and Matt that she’d stood and walked to the doorway to get a closer look. Ginny had stood behind her, a hand on her shoulder, asking in silence if she was okay.

She wasn’t, but she’d nodded her head once.

Now, here she was with her mother outside her bathroom door, pacing, ready to pounce and ask her about what Gabe had said. Mary Landers was on the library board. She was also in Marge’s Bible study. Ah. That’s how her mother knew.

Liz groaned and wiped a hand across her mouth, regretting her decision to stay in a small town where everyone knew everything about you and if they didn’t, someone would tell them.

“Liz, are you okay?”

Liz had to give her mom credit, she at least sounded concerned. When Liz opened the door, Marge looked concerned too. Kudos for effort.

“Mary Landers called this morning to ask if you were okay. I had no idea what she was talking about.”

Liz brushed past her mom without answering and headed for the kitchen.

Marge followed. “What in the world did Gabe say to Matt to cause him to act like that? Do you have any idea?”

So, Marge didn’t know the full details. Yet anyhow. Liz reached for the carton of milk and the bottle of chocolate syrup in the fridge. It was a heavy on the chocolate syrup kind of morning.

“I’m not totally sure, no.” It wasn’t a lie. She hadn’t heard everything Gabe said. She’d heard enough to know he’d spared few details about how she’d ended up pregnant.

“I would have never expected that out of Matt. Have you talked to him? Is he okay? Did he say anything to you?”

Liz stirred the syrup into the milk, the spoon clanging against the glass. “No, I haven’t talked to him and hasn’t said anything to me because he didn’t even know I was there.”

Marge sat at the kitchen table and shook her head. “It is just so out of character for him.” She chewed at her bottom lip. “Gabe must have said something awful about you. Why else would he do that?”

Liz sat down across from her mom and took a swig of the milk. “I don’t know, Mom.” She stared at the glass. “I don’t really want to talk about it. Is that the only reason you stopped by?”

Marge looked up sharply. “There’s no reason to be snippy, Liz. I came here to check on you.”

Liz’s eyes narrowed, her jaw tightened. “I’m fine. You don’t need to check on me.”

“Liz, if you have something to say to me then just say it.” Marge’s sharp tone brought Liz’s gaze up to meet her mother’s. “I’m tired of the way you talk to me, the way you treat me like I’m some evil ogre. I even wonder what you’ve told Ginny Jefferies about me.”

Liz quirked an eyebrow. “The way I treat you? Really? That’s rich.”

Marge’s eyebrows dipped into an angry scowl. “I told you I was sorry for what I said about you sleeping with Gabe and Matt at the same time. I should never have said that.”

“You also shouldn’t have even thought it.”

Marge took a deep breath. “Fine. I shouldn’t have even thought it. You were in a dark place back then. Did I really think you would do that? No, but I didn’t know. People do awful things when they aren’t in their right mind and for a while there I don’t think you were in your right mind.”

Liz emptied the glass in one long gulp, then stood and set the glass in the sink. “Which time? When I was living with Gabe or all the years before that when I still couldn’t do what was right in your eyes.”

Marge stood, setting her hands at her waist. “I never said you were doing anything wrong when you were young, Liz. I don’t know where you get the idea that I was always criticizing you. I was not. You were always criticizing me. It didn’t matter what I said, I was always wrong, and you were always right. I can’t even remember how many times I expressed concern for you, and you somehow decided I was being critical or controlling.”

Liz held up her hand. “I’m not in the mood for an argument, Mom.”

Marge’s voice lowered into a strained tone. “You’re never in the mood for a discussion and that’s what this is. I’m not trying to argue, I’m just trying to find out what Ginny has that I don’t.”

Confusion furrowed Liz’s eyebrows. “What? What does Ginny have to do with this?”

Marge folded her arms across her chest, lifting her chin slightly, focusing her gaze somewhere across the kitchen. “You talk to Ginny like I always wanted you to talk to me. I just want to know, why is she the person you can talk to? Why don’t you come to me when you are upset or down? I’m your mother.”

Liz scoffed. “Maybe because she doesn’t judge me. She doesn’t suggest I try to act more like my sister or tell me I’m not living the way the Lord would want me to.” She stood and flung a cupboard door open, reaching for a mug. “She listens to me, she tells me it’s going to be okay. She offers to pray for me, not tells me to pray about it. She doesn’t look at me like I’m the biggest disappointment in the world to her.” She slammed the mug on the counter and reached for the package of hazelnut coffee.

Marge’s expression fell, fading from angry to clear hurt. “I don’t — I —” Her lower lip quivered, her eyes glistening. “I pray for you, Liz. I’ve always wanted the best for you. I —” She closed her eyes, shaking her head slowly. “I’ve never thought of you as being a disappointment. I’m the disappointment. I’m the mother who did such a horrible job that you would have rather died than tell your father and me you were pregnant.”

Liz drew in a ragged breath. She turned around, stepped back against the counter. “What — how — you knew? All this time?”

Marge laid a hand against her chest, nodding as tears streaked her cheeks. “Of course, I knew.”

“Did someone tell you?”

Marge shook her head. “No. No one told me anything. I just felt something was off when you said you accidentally took too many pills. I don’t think you’d do that. You’re too bright to make that mistake.” Marge swiped her index finger under her eye, across the moistness there. “I just kept thinking I was such a bad mother that you couldn’t even come to me in your darkest moment. I could never bring myself to ask you to the truth, though. It was too hard for me to face that it was my fault you’d tried to kill yourself.”

Liz reached for the tissue box on the counter, took one and held the box out to her mom. “Mom, it wasn’t your fault.” She let out a shaky sigh. “It was my messed up thinking that took me there. It was my fault. You can’t take responsibility for my decisions.”

Marge took a tissue and dabbed the corners of her eyes. “But if I had been less critical when you were growing up, more warm, more open, more — more, well, like Ginny.” She pressed the tissue against her eyes as she spoke. “I wanted the best for you and instead of encouraging you, I criticized. I don’t know why I did that. I wish I could go back and change how I acted, how I projected my fears on to you through my critical spirit.”

Liz let out a breath and sat at the table again. She pushed a hand back through her hair, pushing it back from her face. “I know, Mom. I do. I wish I could go back and change how I acted too.” She shrugged a shoulder. “But can’t go back.” She rested a hand on the table, looked at her mom still crying into the tissue. She thought about Matt’s words all those weeks ago, about not letting a root of bitterness take hold. Watching her mother cry, she saw her in a different light. She saw a brokenness from a woman who’d done what she thought she should do and failed. In that moment she saw herself in her mother.

She stretched her arm across the table, laid a hand over Marge’s. “But we can move forward.”

Marge looked up, eyes red and swollen. “I want to do that. I really do.” She squeezed Liz’s hand. “I’m sorry. I really am. I can’t promise I’ll be completely different, but I’ll try. Old habits are hard to break, but the Bible says they can be broken.”

Liz looked at her hand in her mom’s and thought about all the years she’d pushed her parents away, especially her mom. The rebellious teenage years had stretched into the early 20s and now here she was nearing 30 and she still had the same rebellious spirt rattling inside her. “I’m sorry too, Mom. I’ll try too.”

The women smiled at each other and then Liz sat back and finished wiping her face with a tissue. “I never wanted my life to go this way, you know. I didn’t. I wanted to do it the right way. Find a man to marry, date him, get engaged and then get married and have children. I just don’t know how I ended up where I am now.”

Marge snatched a tissue from the box and leaned over, dabbing it against Liz’s cheeks. “Life happens, honey. What’s done is done. Isaiah 61:3 . . .to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of despair.” Marge smiled. “You still being here, and our Bella are our beauty from the ashes.”

Fresh tears burned Liz’s eyes. She cleared her throat and pulled her gaze from her mom’s, not used to so much tenderness between them. She stood and took a couple of steps to the counter. “Have you had breakfast yet? I could make us some pancakes and bacon. Molly brought some of that bacon from Murphy’s Farm home from the store last night.”

Marge blew her nose. “Oh my, yes. That sounds wonderful.” She laughed softly, a foreign sound for Liz, at least for the last few years. “Having a breakdown really works up an appetite.”

Liz laughed as she opened the fridge. “Yeah, it does. Trust me. I should know. I’ve had enough of them.”

Marge stood and opened the cupboard next to the stove. “Where are your pans? I can help.”

Liz gestured to the cupboard next to the sink. “The griddle is in there and the frying pan is in the drawer under the stove. Not a lot of room in this little place.”

Marge retrieved the griddle and set it on the counter. “No, but if there was more room you’d just collect a bunch of things you don’t need like I have over the years.” She smiled, nudging Liz in the arm with her elbow. “You know what I mean. All those dutch ovens and baking pans I’ve collected.”

A small laugh came from Liz. “Or all those rolling pins.”

“Well, two of them were passed down from your great-grandmother.” Marge opened a drawer and then another before retrieving a spatula. Liz poured the pancake mix in a bowl as her mom found a frying pan for the bacon. It had been years since they’d worked together like this, without Marge ordering Liz to do so, and Liz had to admit it felt nice. It was how a mother and daughter should be, working together, laughing together. Well, they weren’t quite to laughing, but close enough.

Marge layered the bacon in the skillet. “Listen, I know it’s really none of my business and maybe I shouldn’t bring it up right now, but —”

 “Matt and I are friends, Mom. Really. That’s all.” She stirred the water and pancake mix together, smiling. “He’s been good to me, and I care about him, but we’re just friends.” She looked over at her mom, the smile. “And, Mom, I promise you, I have never slept with anyone other than Gabe. I wish I hadn’t even done that.”

Marge turned the burner on, nodding. “I believe you, honey. I do.”

A few moments of silence followed, filled only with Liz pouring and flipping pancakes and bacon sizzling.

“But, about Matt, you don’t have any romantic feelings for him at all?”

Liz bit the inside of her lip as she flipped a pancake. Seriously, Marge? Come on! She’d just told her mom she’d try to be better, and one way to do that was to stop being dishonest. Still, she didn’t really know how to answer that question without opening up several other cans of worms. While she was debating, though, her mother spoke.

“Because he loves you, Liz.”

“Mom, come on. We’re just —”

The seriousness of her mom’s expression made Liz swallow the familiar response.

“He does. I can see it in his eyes when he looks at you.” She moved her hand across an imaginary sky. “Like you hung the moon. That love doesn’t come along very often, you know.”

Liz returned to mixing the batter. “I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you. Really. It’s just —” She shook her head, not sure how much of herself she wanted to share with her mom right now. “I’m not good enough for him. Matt’s amazing and everyone loves him, rightly so. He’s like fine wine and I’m a cheap beer.” She winced. “Sorry. I know I shouldn’t have made an alcohol reference considering my past issues. It was just the first analogy that popped into my head.”

Marge flipped the pieces of bacon. “Oh, Liz, that’s not true. You are worthy of happiness, and you are worthy of him. Let him love you.” She leaned over and kissed Liz’s forehead. “Let down some walls and just let us all love you.” Liz’s smile was faint. She knew her mom was right, but how did she let her walls down with a man who hadn’t even told her the truth about where he’d been the night she’d tried to kill herself?

Book Review: The Rhise of Hope by Max Sternberg

Book: The Rhise of Hope

Author: Max Sternberg

Genre: Christian Fantasy

DESCRIPTION: A new Judge has been chosen, now a new path must be taken…

Leon Rhise has been chosen. He is the latest Judge to walk amongst civilization. Saving villages, slaying undead, and bringing the light of a forgotten God back to the world was proving to be no easy feat. Recently, it had become even more difficult after being branded a criminal.

Hidden behind a heroic identity, he attempts to atone for his past deeds– including ones that left the Kingdom without its prince. After uncovering and witnessing a long forgotten truth, Leon and his friends rush to aid Princess Schalae who had once been betrothed to Leon’s commanding officer, Prince Gelan.

A massive army of undead is bearing down on her home, and they must help her decide whether her people should stand and fight against impossible odds, or run and save what they can.

Pasts and paths converge, and the fate of the last kingdom will be decided. But what form will that fate take when it seems as if all hope is already lost?

MY REVIEW

Sternberg has done it again in this second book in the series, using an imaginative world to tell a compelling story while pointing the reader to the true story of who God is and how he loves his people. The first book is called The Rhise of Hope.

The creativity in the book is as impressive as the writing, which draws you into the world until you feel like you are there. Sternberg’s world is vivid and full of endearing characters that readers won’t be able to stop themselves from falling in love with.

Leon’s journey to help the people of the land fight against evil forces can easily parallel our own lives. While we may not be fighting physical zombies or monsters as Leon and his friends do,  we fight them daily within our minds and we have the spiritual realm around us and within us.

This is a book that will take you away from your everyday struggles, drawing you into an imaginary world, but will also leave you thinking about the picture of your life, especially the spiritual aspect.

EXCERPT

Schalae pressed her hands on the table and leaned forward, “Can’t this Adonai just fix everything if He is so all powerful? He could stop this Xhormas right now if He wanted to, right?”

“Who is to say that He has not already?” Rohiel countered, also leaning forward over the remnants of their breakfast. He picked up a leftover grape and set it at one end of the stone table.

 “Adonai sees all time, all at once, He sets His plans, which include our purposes, in motion.” Flicking the grape, it rolled across the table until it slowed and stopped at the other end. “He sees the end before we do because He is already there. Already at the solution.

Yet because we are not Him, we can only see the plan in motion. Your assumption that Adonai sees the world in the same way that you do would be incorrect.” To learn more about Max’s books check him out on Amazon and www.maxbsternberg.com