Lisa R. Howeler's Blog, page 113

Fiction Friday: Harvesting Hope (formerly The Farmer’s Sons) Chapter 18

Hold on to your seats, regular readers. Today’s chapter is going to send you on a bumpy ride. In fact, the next several chapters are going to.

If you are a new reader here, I share a chapter from my WIP each Friday, and sometimes Saturday, on my blog. There are typos, grammatical issues and even plot holes at times because this is a first, second, or third draft that hasn’t gone to my editor yet. If you see a typo, feel free to kindly let me know in the comments. Sometimes the error has already been fixed on my copy, sometimes not. I shared Chapter 16 of this story yesterday.

Catch up with the rest of the story HERE. Don’t feel like reading the book in a series of chapters each Friday? Preorder the book HERE. Do you want to read the first book in the series? Download it HERE.

Chapter 17


Sunday morning Ellie watched a bottleneck effect unfold in the sanctuary doorway and wished she had slipped out of the service early. At this rate, standing all the way at the back of the crowd, she’d never get out of the sanctuary. It was her turn to provide lunch at her parents, and she still had to go back to her apartment and pick up the crock pot with the shredded chicken. And Judi. If Judi was even awake. Ellie had driven a drunk Brad and Judi home the night before, sometime around midnight, dropping Brad off first and then parking his truck at her parents. He could walk to her parents this morning, or whenever he regained consciousness, and pick it up.

She’d done everything she could to keep Judi quiet while she helped her from Brad’s truck and practically shoved her in the passenger side of the sedan, hoping their parents didn’t wake up and find out the truth about Judi at 1 a.m. on a Saturday night. Her absence in church wouldn’t have been a sign to them that anything was amiss, since Judi hadn’t attended a service since she’d arrived. Their mom had mentioned it once, in private, to Ellie, expressing concern about Judi’s spiritual health, but hadn’t pursued it further as far as Ellie knew.

This morning Ellie’s eyes were heavy, and she’d yawned more than once during the sermon, hoping Pastor Joe hadn’t seen her and thought it was a silent review of his message.

She looked to her left and flinched involuntarily at the sight of Jason standing directly next to her. She had no way to get away from him. People were crushed against them on all sides.  Their shoulders touched, and heat rose from her chest to her face. There it was again. The physical attraction she wanted to deny but couldn’t. Without warning, an image of him shirtless by the woodpile the afternoon before popped into her mind.

She let out a slow breath and willed the image away, but only managed to transform the image into one of him swinging the ax, his biceps contracting with each hit. His biceps. The ones she used to run her hands up as they kissed. The ones pressed against her shoulder at this very moment.

 He glanced at her at the same moment she glanced at him, then they both looked away quickly. Like a pair of love struck teenagers, she thought, withholding an eye roll, so he didn’t think she was rolling her eyes at him.

“Good morning,” he said at last.

“Good morning.” Where had her voice gone? It came out as a squeaking rasp.

Finally, the crowd broke through and they were stepping into the more spacious lobby area. Sunlight taunted her through the floor to ceiling windows lining the front walls. A few more steps and she would be free. She started to step away from him, toward the hallway that led to the back door, when she heard a voice behind her.

“Ellie. Jason. Hey.” Pastor Joe stepped between them and placed a hand lightly on each of their elbows like a teacher who’d caught two students misbehaving in the hallway. His voice was gentle, though not in the least bit scolding. “Glad to grab you two together.”

They caught each other’s gaze. They weren’t exactly together. They’d simply walked out at the same time.

“I was hoping I could talk a few minutes with you,” Joe continued. “In my office?”

He gestured down the opposite hallway that Ellie had been trying to escape down.

She looked up and Jason was looking at her, as if he was trying to decide how he should answer the pastor.

“Um. Yeah,” Jason said slowly, his gaze still locked with her’s. “Sure.”

Sure? No. It wasn’t supposed to be sure. Where was his usual excuse of “I’ve got work to do at the farm”? She could have really used that line from him today.

“Hey, Don.” Pastor Joe called to the assistant pastor, who was saying goodbye to parishioners. “Can you make sure we’re not interrupted?”

Don nodded and smiled as if he knew something Ellie and Jason didn’t.

Ellie’s eyebrows dipped down, and she frowned. Is this some kind of intervention?

Inside his office, Pastor Joe sat in a chair in front of his desk and gestured to two chairs across from him. “Sit down, guys.” He gently pushed the door closed. “I don’t like to sit behind my desk when I talk to people, if you’re wondering why I’m sitting here instead. I feel the desk puts up metaphorical walls between us and we don’t need walls up today.”

Ellie’s muscles tensed at his words. Walls? What walls? Had Pastor Joe heard about her conversation with Jason in the parking lot? The service has been in the middle of worship. Could the congregation have heard them between the songs? Maybe the walls weren’t as thick as they looked. If someone other than Molly had heard them, though, then why had Pastor Joe waited so long to talk to them about it?

“So.” The pastor clapped his hands together and leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees. “This is an awkward conversation for me to initiate but, well, I care about you two and I’m just going to go for it.” He cleared his throat and sat back in the chair, propping his elbow on the arm. “Normally I don’t get involved in the private lives of my parishioners, unless they ask, but in this case, I hope you’ll take this as me simply being concerned about your well-being and not me being nosey. Frankly, I’m worried about you two.” He paused for effect and held each of their gazes for a few seconds. “Let’s not beat around the bush. I’m aware you two are not a couple at the moment and, well, I just want to be sure that this is what you both want.”

Ellie and Jason had both pulled their gazes from their pastor. Jason had found something very interesting on the front of his shirt and was picking at it. Ellie was examining the carpet like it was a science experiment that needed to be figured out. Ellie chewed lightly on her bottom lip and Jason rubbed two fingers against his chin, as if suddenly deep in thought.

After about thirty seconds of silence, Pastor Joe cleared his throat. “So, it is what you both want then.”

It was a statement, not a question.

Jason glanced at Ellie, then looked back at the desk. “It’s what she wants.”

She stiffened at his comment, and her jaw tightened. Oh really? She’d wanted him to keep his past from her?

“Okay.” Pastor Joe leaned back in his chair and looked at each of them. One at a time. “Is there a reason for that? I mean, would you two like to talk more about it sometime? Maybe during a type of counseling session?”

Ellie laughed softly. “What, like marriage counseling? We’re not even married.”

And probably never will be at this point.

Pastor Joe smiled. “I know, but you’ve been together so long it’s almost like you are.”

So long. Yes. Twelve long years. Maybe twelve long, waisted years.

“But we aren’t,” she said stiffly.

She felt rather than saw Jason roll his eyes. “Just keep rubbing that in why don’t you?”

She didn’t respond, crossing one leg over the other and leaning back in the chair instead, now studying Pastor Joe’s collection of books.

Oswald Chambers, C.S. Lewis, Derek Prince, Billy Graham, and several theological texts.

All out of alphabetical order too. She should volunteer to organize it for him sometime. The disorganization was making her head spin.

Pastor Joe nodded. “Okay, so I’m guessing one of you wants me be married and the other doesn’t?”

Her muscles tightened at the question, waiting to hear what Jason would say.

He didn’t say anything for several minutes. Then, finally, he cleared his throat. “You could say that, I guess.” He was looking at the arm of the chair as he spoke. “I wanted to marry her but she —”

“He wasn’t even really going to propose.”

Had she just said that out loud? Apparently she had, and apparently, she wasn’t done. “I thought he proposed, but really he was going to tell me about something he did in college. Something he’d never told me about.”

Pastor Joe nodded, encouraging her to continue.

“Well, I mean —” She swallowed hard. Her mouth was dry. What had she been going to say? To their pastor? She certainly wasn’t going to say what Jason had done and why it bothered her.

“You mean what?”

Jason’s tone was as sharp as the look he was giving her.

Her heart rate had increased, her palms were damp. She clutched the sides of her skirt, hoping to calm her breathing. For a brief time Pastor Joe disappeared from her view, or at least she forgot he was there.

“You gave to her what you were supposed to give to me.” She blurted the accusation out before her brain had fully engaged. “‘Therefore shall a man leave his father and mother and shall cleave unto his wife and they shall become one flesh.’ That’s what we were supposed to be on our wedding night but you became one flesh with another woman instead.”

She’d expected Jason to apologize again, to recognize she was trying to tell him how she really felt. She expected him to soften, to understand the vulnerability she was showing.

Instead, he snorted.

Literally snorted.

Like Old Bart before he charged.

His green eyes darkened.

“I know the verse, Ellie.” His tone was even and low, but she could hear the slight tremble in it, like a rope straining under a great weight, just about to break. “That’s what I wanted with you but then you dropped me in college.”

“I did not drop you in college. We agreed to take a break.”

“No. You wanted the break. I agreed because I thought it was what you wanted.”

“What I wanted? I thought it was what you wanted. You kept talking about hard long-distance relationships were. I thought you were saying you thought we should break things off while you were in college.”

“You thought? Why didn’t you just ask?”

“What, like you asked me? You didn’t ask either. You assumed. You assumed I didn’t want you and I guess that was the excuse you needed to go get what you’d probably always wanted to do anyhow.”

A muscle in Jason’s jaw jumped, like the pump of a shotgun being pulled back. “Excuse me? What’s that supposed to mean? What I always wanted to do?” There was the snort again. “Is that all you think I ever wanted from you? I mean, it’s how you acted part of the time over the years. Always apologizing when you told me we had to slow down like I was some sex-craved maniac who only wanted to ravage you. Then me, going home, feeling guilty because I wanted to ravage you, but it wasn’t all I wanted to do. There’s more to a relationship than sex, Ellie and I thought that was obvious by how I’ve respected your wishes all these years.”

Now it was her turn to snort. “My wishes? Weren’t they your wishes, too? You act like it wasn’t hard for me either.”

“Well, was it? I don’t know. You always acted like it wasn’t difficult for you. As far as I know you’ve never even wanted our relationship to progress beyond making out and holding hands.” He gripped the arms of the chair, his knuckles white. “You know what, that’s not true.” He leaned forward. “I know you did. Let’s stop pretending for our pastor’s sake. You never said it, but your body showed it more than once. Don’t sit here and lie. Why don’t you tell Pastor Joe the truth? That you aren’t the innocent little virgin everyone thinks you are. That you have sexual desires just like anyone else. You’re not some virtuous, pure of thought woman, sitting on a bed of lily-white. You wanted me as much as I wanted you or your hands wouldn’t have been —”

She stood quickly. “That’s enough Jason.”

“What’s enough?” Jason leaned forward, and she could feel the anger radiating off him. “Pulling back the curtain you hide behind? Calling you out for your hypocrisy? Who knows, El. Maybe I’m not the only one who has secrets. What happened between you and Brad while I was gone?”

Her mouth opened slightly and stayed there a few seconds before she closed it again.

“Nothing happened between me and Brad.”

“Really? Because he’s been sniffing around you like a bloodhound since he got back. Seems like he wants to rekindle a fire he started at some point. Maybe on those dates you two went on while I was in college.”

“You’re comparing three dates with your cousin to you sleeping with a girl in college while drunk and never telling me?”

Jason was standing now. He took a step closer, his eyes never leaving hers, practically boring holes straight through her.  “I screwed up. I told you that. I forgot who I was. I was drinking and made a huge mistake.” He pointed a finger at her chest, like he had that day in the parking lot. “Real life isn’t like one of your Christian romance novels, Elizabeth Lambert. Those novels where everyone is pure and perfect and never fall. In the real world, people go against everything they stood for and wanted in life to make all the pain stop and then they regret it.” Her gaze fell on a vein popping up on the side of his neck as his voice rose.” I messed up. I know that. I went against God’s word and my morals. I shattered my idea of what my first time would be like, and I get I shattered your perfect dream of that moment, but real life is messy.”

He stepped back, tossing his arms up and then down again. “And I’ve apologized. More than once. To God and to you. I will not spend my whole life apologizing for something I can’t go back and change.”

Pastor Joe stood and took a step forward until he was practically between them. “Okay, guys, listen. I can tell there are some real issues here. I have no problem talking through them with you now, but if you want to take a break, calm things down some, we can agree on a time to meet again and —”

Jason propped his hands at his waist, shook his head. “What’s the point? She’s never going to forgive me.”

Ellie huffed out a sigh. “It’s not just about forgiving, Jason. It’s also about forgetting. I have to forget that you weren’t open with me, that you felt like you couldn’t tell me about your past. I have to forget about you sleeping with this other woman. That’s not an easy thing to do.”

Even as the words came out of her mouth, she knew it was a mistake. First, she had her own issues she hadn’t been open with him about and second  . . .

“And this is why I didn’t feel like I could tell you about my past. Because I didn’t know how you would react, if you would stop loving me, stop looking at me like I’m someone you want to spend the rest of your life with. My nightmare became a reality the moment you broke down when I told you, the moment you told me you needed a break. Be honest with me, Ellie. You don’t just want a break, you want to end this. You want to turn around and walk away and find the perfect man who fits your perfect idea of what a Christian man should be — pure and righteous and never makes a mistake.”

He took a step back, shaking his head again, jaw tight again, eyes flashing again. “Well, I can’t be that. I’m real. I’m not the figment of some novelist’s imagination. This is real life. Right here. With me loving you despite it all, with me wishing you could see that I’m not perfect, but all I’ve ever wanted is to spend my life loving you and our future children. If you can’t see past my imperfections, then I don’t know what to tell you.”

He turned quickly and ripped the door open, walking through it and maybe, Ellie realized with sickening dread, out of her life.

Pastor Joe placed a hand on her shoulder. “You okay?”

She nodded slowly, knowing she was lying, again, to her pastor. Emotions swirled in her like a tornado across the Kansas prairie. Hurt, desolation, and anger dominated, ready to alight on her soul and take it over. Humiliation was fighting for its rightful place, too. Her face flushed warm at the memory of Jason’s words. How he’d almost told Pastor Joe about the many times they’d pushed the envelope, set a foot over the line of temptation and almost been unable to turn back.

“I need to go.”

“Ellie, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed you two to talk. I had no idea things would get that heavy that fast.”

She waved away his guilt. “It’s not your fault. It’s been building up to that for months. Sadly, you were just here to witness the final explosion.”

He squeezed her shoulder gently. “If you need to talk, you know how to reach me. Call me anytime. Truly. And if you’d feel more comfortable talking to a woman, I know Emily would be more than willing to talk with you as well.”

She thanked him, suddenly numb. Out in the parking lot, she didn’t even feel the sun warm on her face or hear the birds chirping in the oak tree next to the church playground.

The next ten minutes were a blur. The dam she’d built over the last several months broke as she drove out of town. Her vision blurred behind a veil of tears. She barely noticed the buildings and cars rushing by her, the town fading into farmland and forests, green and brown rushing by her car window until she reached a pull off along a wooded area next to the river, five miles out of town.

She slid the car into park, shut it off and pressed her hands against her face, images of Jason’s angry face swirling in her mind as sobs shook her body. Rung out, beat down, drained of any strength, physical or mental. That’s how she felt.

How could he have said all of that in front of Pastor Joe? About the times they’d almost slept with each other? About the times they’d gone further than either of them had planned? About how she was a liar and a hypocrite?

She was glad she saw the dark side of him before she’d made the mistake of marrying him. Now she was sure that the Jason she had thought she had known all those years wasn’t the real Jason.

The real Jason was the shouting man in Pastor Joe’s office.

The real Jason kept secrets from her and humiliated her.

The real Jason wasn’t who she wanted to spend the rest of her life with.

“Businessman”!?

A very thought provoking post from a new blog I am a part of. I’ve joined with a handful of other authors and we share our thoughts throughout the month. Enjoy this one from Patrick.

Where A Collective of Authors Share

“You must think of yourself as a businessman as much as an artist.”

I have often heard this statement or variations of it, and here I give my thoughts on why it is misunderstood, and difficult to accept.

There is an image of businessmen (and salesmen) which in many ways is defined as “not an artist at all”, in fact someone who doesn’t appreciate or care about or interact with art or the concept of art in any way. It isn’t part of the definition, and it’s rarely spelled out in so many terms, but if one accepts some exaggeration (like a mental magnifying glass) we can more easily address the issue.

If you take this underlying idea of a businessman without allowing it to be vague, then for any artist to actually think of himself as a businessman he must cease to be an artist, down the most fundamental…

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Tell Me More About . . . Elizabeth Maddrey, Inspy Romance Author

Welcome back to an old feature of mine, Tell Me More About . . . I’m so excited to resurrect it this week with super-succesful, Inspy Romance author-extraordinaire Elizabeth Maddrey.

Tell Me More About . . . is a feature which focuses on every day people from a variety of walks of life who impact the world around them in big or small ways.

So, let’s get to it! Welcome, Elizabeth to the blog!

Tell us a little bit about yourself such as background, where you’re from originally and now (general region is totally fine), your family, hobbies, etc.

I grew up in northern New Mexico. We moved to the DC area when I was eleven—just before sixth grade. After college and grad school and a few years with hubby in the Army, we landed back in the DC area, so at this point I feel like I have to call it home. I have a PhD in computer science and my professional life, before I became a mom, was all centered on software engineering in one form or another. That’s probably why my book heroes trend geeky – they’re my peeps and I love them. Hubby and I have been married coming up on 26 years, we have two boys (13 and 9). Hobbies include reading, crochet, and continued attempts to learn to love knitting despite the fact that it stresses me out.

When did the writing bug first bite you?

This is hard to answer! I don’t remember not writing. I’ve always loved to read and it always seemed a natural extension to write. I started getting serious about seeking publication probably eighteen years ago, but it took me another nine(?) before I had something finished that I thought was actually good enough.

What made you pursue becoming an independent author?

Honestly? I spent two years querying agents in search of that dream contract. I got fed up with the “no” that kept coming—or, more often than not, the silence (and I still get frustrated that it’s considered acceptable for agents and publishers to not even bother with a form letter to say no thank you. There are very few other places where that’s considered de rigueur. Although I say that and a lot of the big software companies are that way with resume submission. So you’d think I’d be used to it. Anyway, I did get a contract with a small press and started that way, but the owner encouraged me to go Indie because she knew I had the technical chops to handle it (and you don’t need a ton, but this was back before there were quite so many amazing tools for indies) and that it would be more beneficial for me. So I did.

What advice do you have inspiring authors, indie or otherwise?

Believe in your stories and don’t read your reviews.

What has influenced you in your writing style in your past or present?

I read. A lot. More than 200 books a year across a broad variety of genres. I know there are successful authors out there who say they aren’t readers, but I firmly believe those are the minority. Most authors are also readers.

What author comes to mind when you think of authors who have influenced you over the years?

So many. Anne McCaffrey, who was the mother of so many of my best friends in middle and high school. Elizabeth Moon for the same reasons. L.M. Montgomery. Jane Austen. Madeline L’Engle. Susanna Kearsley. Nora Roberts.

What future projects do you have planned that you would like my readers to know about?

This summer, I have a six-book sorta-billionaire romance series that’s coming out, one book each month through October. And I feel the eye rolls, I do, but I love these stories. I’m so, SO pleased with how they turned out and I hope that readers give them a try and love them as much as I do. The series is called So You Want to be a Billionaire.

How many books have you penned since starting your career?

I have 36 out right now, but if you count all the Billionaires which are written but not released yet, it’s an even 40.

How would you define your writing style? Pantser? Plotter? Share with my readers a little about your writing process, if you don’t mind.

I’m definitely a pantser. Part of what took me so long to finish a book I thought was worthy of trying to have published was that I spent a ton of time doing it the way you’re “supposed to.” I read so many craft books. I made outlines, timelines, character interviews. I cut out magazine photos of people who could be the characters (the Internet was still a baby and I didn’t always want to use the dial up). I found outfits in clothing catalogs. And I hated all of it. I had all this information for the story and by the time I was done doing “what you had to do,” I was over the story. I didn’t want to write any of it. It wasn’t until I gave myself permission to just sit down and let the story come as it did that I was able to write and finish and love the process. So now that’s what I do. I generally have a vague idea of what the story is, but other than that, it’s a blank page and a timer and writing sprints.

Where can readers connect with you online and otherwise?

For non-interactive information, my website: http://www.ElizabethMaddrey.com

For more interaction (which I love!) there’s Facebook: http://www.Facebook.com/ElizabethMaddrey

And Instagram http://www.Instagram.com/ElizabethMaddrey

And if you sign up for my monthly-ish newsletter on my website, there are two free books as thank yous, so I know I always like that as a reader.

Short Fiction: Better Than Whiskey

The alcohol had dulled his senses, but he still take in how good she looked in that low-cut tank top. Looking down the length of the bar, it was clear a few other men had noticed too.

She held the bottle, tipping it toward the glass. “Another one, Luke?”

He slapped his hand over the mouth of the glass, looking up at her through glassy eyes. “Something different this time.”

 “Like what?”

 “Don’t know.” He shrugged. “Let me think about it.”

The shirt plunged lower when she leaned forward, elbows on the bar, as she waited for his decision.

Her finger under his chin lifted his eyes back to hers. “Up here, buddy.”

He grinned. “Got any whiskey? That stuff from Tennessee I like?”

She snatched up the bottle from the collection behind her, poured, watching the glass, then him, then the glass again.

“That’s enough.”

He winced as it hit his tongue. It burned all the way down, making him cough hard.

By the time he could speak again, she was pouring a drink for the next guy. When she didn’t look his way again after she was done, he brushed a hand against hers.

“You look good tonight, Lily.”

She kept her eye on the drink she was pouring. “You look drunk tonight.”

He grinned. “And good, right?”

She walked away without ever looking at him.

If he hadn’t been so drunk, he would have enjoyed the way she ordered him to get up a few minutes later when he slid off the stool and hit the floor. He always did like a forceful woman.

Orange streetlights streaking by in a haze of rippled patterns constituted his last memory until he woke up face down on an unmade bed, the smell of vomit thick in his nostrils. Sunlight burned his retinas and for a moment he thought he’d gone blind. Blind drunk. That was the saying and maybe it had happened to him. Pain exploded in his temples and through the back of his head. He groaned as he sat up. The world came into focus again and he didn’t like what he saw. And overflowing laundry basket, crumpled sections of a newspaper, a half -eaten banana and an empty carton of cigarettes littered the bedroom floor.

The clanking of dishes brought him to the kitchen reluctantly, his feet shuffling, as if lifting them would make his head hurt worse.

Standing straight wasn’t an option this morning. He leaned a shoulder against the doorframe for support. “You been here all night?”

She flipped a pancake onto a plate. “Didn’t think you should be alone, old man. You’d probably trip over that ugly dog and hit your head on the toilet.”

Pete, the basset hound, let out an indignant huff.

He rubbed the dog’s head in comfort. “Who you callin’ old? They, whoever they is, say you’re only as old as you feel. I don’t feel a day over sixty.”

He winced as he sat in a hardwood chair at the kitchen table, using the table to buffer his weight, knowing sitting too fast would send more pain shooting through creaking joints.

She scoffed. “Well, that’s not good. You’re only fifty-five.”

He rubbed his hand across the stubble along his chin. “Fifty-four.”

She slid a plate of eggs with a side of unbuttered toast and two slices of crispy bacon across the table next to the plate of pancakes.

“You turned fifty-five last week.” She scowled. “You were probably too drunk to remember.”

He grimaced. “Not sure I can stomach that this morning.”

 “The food or the truth?”

“Both.”

She leaned back against the counter, folded her arms across her chest. “You’re going to have to start taking care of yourself. I won’t be around the bar anymore to keep an eye on you.”

He looked up from his pancakes, one eyebrow raised questioningly. “What do you mean?”

She tossed the pan into the sink. It clattered, metal on metal. He groaned at the pain radiating in his skull.

“I quit.” The words clipped out of her sharp, like the pan in the sink. “Tired of seeing people drink themselves into an early grave. Not exactly what the honorable Rev. James Fields wanted for his baby girl.”

He snorted a laugh, a piece of bacon pinched between a thumb and forefinger, hovering a few inches from his mouth. “Funny you’d use that word to describe him.”

She stopped mid-pour, slammed the pot down. Coffee splashed onto the table. “Get yourself cleaned up, Luke. You’re pathetic.”

The slam of the door reverberated in his head.

He thought of her that night when he methodically slid the bullets in the chamber, one by one by one by one, and held the gun in a trembling hand.

He thought of her when he tipped the bullets out fifteen minutes later, placed them in the drawer by the bed, the empty gun in its box on the top shelf in the closet.

He thought of her as liquid swirled down the sink like melted caramel two days later.

He thought of her a week later during the meeting in the stale-smelling basement of the old Baptist church.

For two months, the phone didn’t ring; the knock didn’t come.

When she finally walked up the sidewalk he stood in the doorway, hands in his front jean pockets, one side of his body propped against the doorframe, eyes narrowed in bright sunlight that caught the blond highlights in her hair. Fresh from the shower, he was clean shaven, his hair wet, but combed.

She stopped a few feet away, one hand resting on a slender hip encased in faded blue jeans. His gaze stayed on her eyes, didn’t stray, even though he wanted it to wander down the length of her, across the curves his hands wanted to touch.

“You should have left me when you had the chance.”

She smirked. “I did.”

A smile tilted one side of his mouth up. “You should have stayed left then.”

“I should have done a lot of things.”

He pushed off the doorframe and stood straight, fully blocking the doorway. “I could fall off the wagon, you know.”

She squinted back at him, shielding her eyes from the sun with her hand. “You could. “

Her perfume, like lilacs blooming in spring, was intoxicating, the kind of intoxication that heightened his senses instead of dulled them. She stepped up to him, tilted her face up toward his.

His fingertips grazed her cheek, trailed along her jawline. “You’re better than whiskey, Lily. Always have been. I was just too messed up to see it.”

He traced her bottom lip with the edge of his thumb. She closed her eyes.

Pressing his forehead against hers, his voice faded to a whisper. “You sure you want to take a chance on me again?”

The answer came with her mouth warm and soft on his. Sliding one arm across her lower back, he pulled her gently against him and moved his other hand behind her head, his fingers clutching at her hair. She wound her arms around his neck as the kiss deepened. The taste of her lips sent adrenaline crashing through his veins, chasing away logic and reason.

They stayed pressed together, clutching each other, even when their lips parted. They didn’t speak for a long time; simply looked into each other’s eyes, relearning.

Sunlight glinted off the diamond when she raised her hand. “For better or for worse. Right?”

He shook his head. “All I’ve ever given you is worse.”

She smiled. “Then it’s time for the better.”

Sunday Bookends: Unconvential shows and movies, dairy parades, and new book covers

 Welcome to my weekly post where I recap my week by writing about what I’ve been reading, watching, writing, doing, and sometimes what I’ve been listening to.

What I’m Reading

This week I finished More Than Honor by Carol Ashby. It was a Biblical fiction/Roman historical fiction book and very intriguing. It was well written but the time frame was a bit unrealistic for me, if I read it right, and the story wrapped up much too soon for me. It appeared that the book was supposed to only have happened in a week, but some of the headers suggested it had actually been more than a week. I really don’t believe some of what happened would have actually happened in a week. The characters were so rich, though, I was able to overlook the difficulty with the timeline.

Carol writes a series of books and continues the stories in other books. I’m sure I’ll be picking up another one of her books.

I am continuing Sarah’s Choice by Pegg Thomas, which I am reading before it is released in August to provide a review for the author. It is very good and I’m sure it will be a popular book when it is released.

I’m also reading The Heart Knows the Way Home by Christy Distler and Promises Kept, an Advanced Reader Copy by Jodi Allen Brice. I hope to finish at least two of these books this week so I can start Plot Twist by Bethany Turner and The Edge of Belonging by Amanda Cox.

What’s Been Occurring

Saturday was our county’s dairy parade. Yes, we live in an area that still holds dairy parades and celebrations. The celebration was very small, with only a few booths up downtown. The library hosted a magician for their summer reading program and he did a great job. He was in a very small room which made his slight-of-hand magic even more impressive to me. Many of the adults were as impressed as the children.

Afterward, Little Miss wanted to meet him and tell him about her stuffed kitten, Mittens, so we went up to him. He was sweet and attentive and seemed a little taken aback when she announced that our kitten, Scout, is a polydactyl cat, adding that means she has extra toes. I don’t think he expected such a large word to come out of such a tiny little girl.

The parade was in the evening and the sky darkened up and rain let loose as the parade started, but everyone stood in the rain and watched the business and organization floats and fire apparatus drive by anyway, getting soaked in the process. Children ran for the candy that was thrown out and I came home with my purse packed with what the children had collected.

We joked as the dark clouds came in over the town right before the parade started, that people would later say, “And that’s when the tornado touched down and all the pick up trucks and cows were sucked up inside.” Thankfully, that never happened and the parade went on as planned.

During the week I became obsessed with designing a book cover for my next book. I’ve worked with Photoshop before and really felt I could pull it off if I simply kept pounding away at it.

In the end I decided on this one:

But I also designed this one:

What I’m Watching

Yesterday I watched this video after reading a blog post written by the singer. I really encourage you to read the blog post and then watch the video and be ready to be kicked in the cut and wrenched in your heart while also inspired.

My husband and I have been watching Yellowstone. It’s a hard show to watch. It’s not something I would usually watch but I am a big Kevin Costner fan. It’s violent and depressing but somehow its easy to get caught up in the lives of the characters.

I also watched a movie called Ondine with Collin Farrell. It was interesting and different. It was about an Irish fisherman who pulls a woman out of the ocean. The fisherman’s daughter needs a kidney transplant and decides the woman who was pulled out of the ocean is a selkie, a mythical creature who is magical for those she meets. The woman is anything but mythical, as they will soon learn, but she does help a family come together in an unconventional way. The characters are pretty dark and the low of the low, but somehow I found myself rooting for them anyhow. It sounds like I was in a dark mood this week, but I promise I wasn’t.

I also watched the 10th Generation Dairyman, which I mentioned in my Randomly Thinking post. I am a bit addicted to this YouTube Channel about a dairy farm in Lancaster, Pa. (by the way, to pronounce Lancaster properly, say it fast and leave the “a’s” out. You’re welcome.

This week I plan to watch Episode 6 of The Chosen which will premiere on YouTube and Facebook at 9 p.m. Wednesday night for 24 hours and then be on their app.

What I’m Writing

Last week I wrote a blog post every day. This week I most likely will not. I have edits to do on Harvesting Hope and two advanced readers copies to read.

Blog posts I wrote included:

Was Pa Ingalls trying to always find something better, or was he trying to provide for his family?

A new season of flowers

Randomly Thinking: I am socially awkward. Surprised? Yeah, me either.

Fiction Friday: Harvesting Hope (formerly The Farmers’ Sons) Chapter 16

Special Saturday Fiction: Harvesting Hope Chapter 17

Flash Fiction: Strike it Rich

What I’ve Been Listening To

I’ve been enjoying the Unashamed podcast with three of the men from Duck Dynasty (including matriarch Phil Robertson).

That’s my week in review. What have you been reading, watching, listening to, writing, or doing? Let me know in the comments.

Special Saturday Fiction: Harvesting Hope Chapter 17

If you are a new reader here, I share a chapter from my WIP each Friday, and sometimes Saturday, on my blog. There are typos, grammatical issues and even plot holes at times because this is a first, second, or third draft that hasn’t gone to my editor yet. If you see a typo, feel free to kindly let me know in the comments. Sometimes the error has already been fixed on my copy, sometimes not. I shared Chapter 16 of this story yesterday.

Catch up with the rest of the story HERE.

Chapter 17

Loud music thumped under Ellie’s feet, in her brain, and through her veins. She could barely form a thought against the onslaught of dance music bouncing out a rhythm every second. Colorful lights flickered across the mass of bodies on the dance floor making the scene look otherworldly and, through the eyes of someone as sheltered as Ellie, demonic.

Men and women writhed against each other, whooped and screeched, the sounds reminding her of mating calls in the wild. Judi was out there somewhere, letting loose her own mating call of sorts, giggling and jumping, singing along to the music, degrading herself exactly like Ellie knew she would.

The tables were for standing only so Ellie stood at one, leaning both elbows on it, spinning the glass of ginger ale around on its surface, wishing she’d never agreed to tag along.

Brad had tried more than once to pull her into the chaos, but she’d resisted each time, finally confessing that a headache was pulsing against her temples. It wasn’t a lie. The pain was now slamming against the inside of her head at the same tempo as the dance song blaring from the speakers.

Within a half an hour, Brad was back, hair damp around the edgest, eyes bright with adrenaline. He said something she couldn’t hear over the music. She cupped her hand to her ear, even though she didn’t really want to know what he was saying.

He leaned close, his lips grazing the skin under her ear. “I asked if you’re sure you don’t want to dance.”

He laid his hand over hers as he spoke then raised it and trailed his fingertips across her wrist and slowly up her arm.

She shook her head. “I’m sure.”

“You need to have some fun once in a while, Ellie. Let off some steam.”

His other hand had slipped to the small of her back, a place too intimate for his hand to be in her opinion.

She shifted her body until his hand dropped away. “I’m good. Really.”

He shrugged a shoulder, frowned, and stepped away. “Okay then. I’ll find Judi. She’s always good for some fun.”

The comment sent a chill through Ellie. What had that meant? Judi was always “good for some fun”? They’d come up here with four other people and met six more. Weren’t any of the other women in the group good for some fun, so to speak? Or were they all paired up with other men? Either way, Ellie didn’t like the idea she’d essentially offered her sister up like a lamb to the slaughter simply because clubs had never been, and never would be, her so-called “scene.” Of course, she’d also wanted to stay as far away as possible from Brad and his roaming hands.

She lifted herself up on the tips of her high heeled shoes — shoes she’d only worn once before and were now pinching her feet like a lobster about to be boiled in a pot of hot water. Craning her neck. she tried to catch sight of Judi. Her sister had downed two beers and a mixed drink shortly after they’d arrived, disappearing into the mob, rarely seen from since, other than one trip to the bathroom.

Judi’s hair was blond now, after convincing Missy to give her highlights the other day. Ellie switched from looking for honey blond hair to looking for bleached blond hair and spotted Judi in the middle of the dance floor, under the spinning lights, arms flailing like a drowning victim. In front of her Brad was gyrating, though Ellie supposed some might define it as dancing. He moved an arm around Judi until the front of their bodies touched while they danced. Judi tipped her head back, exposing her throat and Brad lowered his head until his lips touched the nape of her neck.

Ellie made a face as Judi curled her fingers in Brad’s hair. This evening had worn out its welcome. She slammed the glass on the table, setting her jaw tight as she stomped into the pulsating crowd, pushing through sweating, perfume drenched bodies to grab her sister’s arm. Judi wrenched her arm away and used both hands to push Ellie back, pressing them against her chest.

“Back off! Just because you’re a dried-up old prude, doesn’t mean I have to be.”

Ellie gasped and fell backward into a solid body behind her. Hands grabbed at her, a derisive  laugh coming from whoever belonged to them. She looked over her shoulder, glaring into dark brown eyes connected to a leering 20-something year old.

“Hey, baby. If you wanted to meet me, all you had to do was say ‘hello.’”

Ellie clutched at his hand still on her hip and pulled it away from her. “Get off of me.”

The younger man laughed again, his eyes roaming across her, and her stomach churned.

She had clearly underestimated the strength of a fully-intoxicated Judi.

Judi had turned her back on Ellie and resumed her Dirty Dancing-style moves with Brad. He raised his eyes to look at Ellie over Judi’s shoulder, his sneer highlighted by multiple colors flashing across his face. His hands slid down Judi’s backside and cupped both cheeks of her bottom as he held Ellie’s gaze,as if to say, “You could have had some fun, could have protected Judi, but now I’m having fun with her instead.”

He flicked the tip of his tongue out across his lips, his eyes wild.

She shuddered at the evil in his eyes and movements, turned slowly, and broke his intense, mocking gaze. Wrapping her arms around herself as she walked, she rubbed her upper arms, wishing again she was at home in her apartment, curled up on the couch, sipping tea and watching a Hallmark movie.

She pulled her phone out and as if on instinct clicked on Jason’s name. She stared at it for several seconds, her fingertip tracing each letter. What would she even say to him if she texted?

My sister is in worse shape than I thought she was?

I never should have come up her with Brad?

Why did you never tell me about Lauren? Do you think of her when you kiss me? Are you worried I’ll be horrible in bed if we get married because I’ve never had any experience with a man beyond you?

She sucked down the rest of her ginger ale, her eyes still on her phone then scrolled down and clicked on Lucy’s name.

She tapped out a text that bordered on an SOS.

Judi out of control. Never should have come.

Several minutes passed before the response came.

Lucy: Sorry. I was giving Lexi her bath. What’s going on?

Ellie scowled at the dance floor. She’d rather be Lucy right now, wrapped up in calm, domestic bliss instead of out here, trapped among wolves and ravenous lions.

Ellie: Judi’s out on the dance floor practically having sex with her clothes on with Brad. They’re both drunk. He’s mad I don’t want to dance. What made me think I could keep her from making a fool out of herself?

Lucy: You’re a good person, that’s why. And you’re a good sister. You love her. You’re worried about her and as much as she drives you crazy, you still want to protect her.

Ellie: I guess.

Lucy: Sorry we missed your grandma’s birthday party. How did it go? Did you have to see Jason?

Ellie: Of course, I had to see Jason. It’s his grandmother. I saw him all afternoon. With his shirt off while he split wood. It was torture.

Lucy: LOL. Girl, you just need to admit how much you still love him. You two need to talk this out. Your heart belongs to him, and you know it.

Ellie chewed on her lower lip, swirling the ice in her glass with her finger.

Yeah, she thought with a sigh, but is his heart still mine?

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Jason looked around the barn and noticed the only other one there was Molly. Somehow in the last several weeks they hadn’t been alone together anywhere, and he’d been glad. It had meant she couldn’t bring up what she’d heard in the church parking lot that day. He had hoped wouldn’t have to try to explain to yet another woman in his life what happened in college. Maybe he’d get lucky, and he still wouldn’t have to.

“You’re actually on your own?”

Molly looked up from the bottle she was filling for the calves and smile. “Yes. Alex is out mixing feed. Why? Should we be connected at the hip all the time?”

“You shouldn’t be, but you normally are.”

Molly scowled at him. “Very funny.”

She stood and placed the lid on the bottle then placed the bottle in a bucket and reached for another empty bottle. “Hear anything from the builders for the new bottling plant and milking parlor yet?”

Jason shook his head. “No. So far we’ve only got the plans for the goat barn. Still can’t believe everyone is on board with this. What do you think? Is it going to work or are we spreading ourselves too thin?”

Milk poured from the spout into the bottle. Molly would feed the calves as soon as the bottles were filled. “I’m worried about the goats, but I think the A2 milk is going to be a good thing. Keeping the cows separate will be a challenge unless we can get another heifer barn built at the same time. And that’s if we can get that grant, we applied for through Tina’s office.”

Tina Shipman was their local state representative and a family friend. Her staff had been optimistic about their chances, but the grant would only cover about half of the project at this point. The rest would need to come from loans or a federal grant they’d applied for around the same time they’d applied for the state one.

He took the bottle from her and placed it in the bucket. “If we apply for the loan and all of these changes do work out, we should be able to have it paid off within the first year.”

She agreed. “It would definitely help us secure things more financially if it does pan out the way Dad and Uncle Walt hope.”

She screwed a lid off another bottle. “Hey, Jase, I wanted to ask you something.”

His chest tightened. Here it came. The conversation he’d been dreading.

He placed another empty bottle next to her.

“Listen, I know you overheard Ellie and me in the parking lot that day so if this is about that, let me explain first.”

“You don’t have to explain. It’s none of my business.”

“I’m sure you’re thinking the worst of me about now and I can’t blame you, I —”

“Jason.” Molly straightened, a half-filled bottle in her hand. “I don’t think the worst of you. It sounds like you screwed up in college somehow and your upset about it, not like you were bragging.”

Upset was an understatement, but he decided Molly didn’t need to hear about how deep his shame went. There was only so much a sister should have to hear about her older, supposed-to-be more mature brother. “Yeah. I am upset about it. Have been for years.”

She stooped to fill the rest of the bottle. “I gathered from what you and Ellie were saying that it had something to do with a girl. I figured that maybe,” she looked up, hesitating. “Maybe you slept with this girl?”

Jason took the bottle from her and screwed the lid on. “Yeah. I did. Not a proud moment for me or a nice memory and a one-time thing.”

Two more bottles and it would be time to feed the calves. He’d like to leave Molly to it and go finish fixing the sensor on the robot feed pusher they’d installed a few years ago. Without it, feeding the cows would be a very lengthy process tonight, complete with manually sweeping the feed into the cow’s troughs.

“Whatever happened to the girl?”

Jason looked up, startled by the question. Up until a couple of weeks ago, he’d never given it much thought. When he’d asked Alex if he’d ever heard, he was disheartened at the answer.

“I’m — uh —  not exactly sure. Alex looked her up on some social media site and said it looks like she’s not married and is still pretty messed up.” Jason looked at the floor, shoving his hands deep in his front jean pockets. He kicked at the barn floor with the tip of his boot, knocking dirt and manure off it.

“I can’t help feeling that I had a part in that. To her I was probably just another guy who used her for what they wanted and tossed her aside.” He shook his head, rubbed the side of his hand against his chin, under his bottom lip, and winced. “You know, for years I’ve made her the villain in my story – when I talked to Alex about it and when I thought about it. Instead, I was the villain. I was the one who could have shown her something different, who could have not slept with her and shown her she was as worthy of being loved even if she wasn’t laying down. All girls like Lauren really want is to be loved. She equated sex with love instead of understanding that love can be shown in other ways too. Most of the guys she had sex with didn’t love her. I didn’t even love her. I was drunk and depressed and used her to take my mind off being hurt by Ellie. I’ve lived with that guilt for years but always hid the guilt behind anger — at Lauren, at myself and even at Ellie.”

Molly placed the last bottle in the bucket and laid a hand against his arm. “Neither of you were the villain in the story, Jason. You were just two people who both made bad choices. Pray for Lauren. It’s all you can do at this point.”

“Yeah.” Jason lifted one pail and handed the other to Molly. “Sorry I went on that rant. I just figured that’s what you wanted to talk to me about so — ”

Molly took the pail and walked toward the calf pens. She looked over her shoulder, talking as he followed her. “Actually, I was just going to ask you if you thought Alex would like a new hat for his birthday or if he’s too attached to the one he has. Then I was going to ask if I did decide to get him a hat if you would help me pick it out because I put two in my shopping cart at that hat place online.”

Jason inwardly groaned. He’d just spilled his heart out to his sister and she’d only wanted to buy a gift for Alex. Seriously? “I guess I shouldn’t have assumed.”

Molly stopped at the calf pen, grinning as she kneeled down to offer an all-black bull calf the first drink. “Nope. You shouldn’t have. We all know what the proverbial ‘they’ say about assuming.”

Jason tipped a bottle to a smaller heifer calf, black except a white stripe across her back. “Yep, and I certainly feel like one.”

Talking about his past with his sister wasn’t something he ever thought he’d be doing. Now that the conversation was over, though, it was like a burden had been lifted. A small portion of the burden anyhow. He still felt the heaviness of what he’d done and of not telling Ellie.

Footsteps behind him signaled they weren’t alone anymore.

“Want to trade?” Alex dragged the back of his hand across his forehead.

Jason narrowed his eyes. “So what you’re saying is, you want me to go finish mixing the feed so you can hang out with Molly.”

Alex grinned and reached for the bottle. “Yeah. Pretty much.”

Jason jerked his head toward the barn door. “Get out of here, lover boy. There will be plenty of time later for you two to make googly eyes at each other. After we’re done with work.”

Alex sighed and slid an arm around Molly’s waist. “That’s fine. I guess I’ll just give her a long good-bye kiss before I head back to the mixer.” He pulled her against him, his eyes drifting to her mouth. “While you’re standing here. Right next to us.”

Jason shrugged a shoulder and reached for another bottle so he could feed two calves at once. “Doesn’t bother me. I can handle it.”

Alex wasn’t lying. The kiss was long and slow, and by the end Jason was fighting nausea. He wasn’t going to back down, though. Alex was always trying to get out of the hard work. If they started kissing again, though . . .

“Oh, come on!” Jason shoved the bottle at Alex. “Take it. I’ll finish mixing the feed. Take a cold shower when you’re done, both of you.” Jason paused in the doorway and used two fingers to point at his sister and best friend. “Wait. Let me clarify. A cold shower alone. In separate bathrooms. In separate houses and preferably in separate counties.”

Molly’s eyebrows darted upward and her mouth dropped one. “Jason!”

“I’m serious. My rifle’s in my truck and I won’t hesitate to use it.”

Alex clicked his tongue. “Jason Andrew Tanner.” He propped his hands on his waist and shook his head in a mock scolding motion. “You are so violent. You should really see someone about that.”

Jason snorted out a laugh as he walked toward the skid steer. “As long as you behave yourself, you’ve got nothing to worry about, Stone.”

He glanced over his shoulder at Molly and Alex laughing as they fed the calves. That’s right. Keep them working. It would help keep their hands off each other.

Special Saturday Fiction: Harvesting Hope Chapter 16

If you are a new reader here, I share a chapter from my WIP each Friday, and sometimes Saturday, on my blog. There are typos, grammatical issues and even plot holes at times because this is a first, second, or third draft that hasn’t gone to my editor yet. If you see a typo, feel free to kindly let me know in the comments. Sometimes the error has already been fixed on my copy, sometimes not. I shared Chapter 16 of this story yesterday.

Catch up with the rest of the story HERE.

Chapter 17

Loud music thumped under Ellie’s feet, in her brain, and through her veins. She could barely form a thought against the onslaught of dance music bouncing out a rhythm every second. Colorful lights flickered across the mass of bodies on the dance floor making the scene look otherworldly and, through the eyes of someone as sheltered as Ellie, demonic.

Men and women writhed against each other, whooped and screeched, the sounds reminding her of mating calls in the wild. Judi was out there somewhere, letting loose her own mating call of sorts, giggling and jumping, singing along to the music, degrading herself exactly like Ellie knew she would.

The tables were for standing only so Ellie stood at one, leaning both elbows on it, spinning the glass of ginger ale around on its surface, wishing she’d never agreed to tag along.

Brad had tried more than once to pull her into the chaos, but she’d resisted each time, finally confessing that a headache was pulsing against her temples. It wasn’t a lie. The pain was now slamming against the inside of her head at the same tempo as the dance song blaring from the speakers.

Within a half an hour, Brad was back, hair damp around the edgest, eyes bright with adrenaline. He said something she couldn’t hear over the music. She cupped her hand to her ear, even though she didn’t really want to know what he was saying.

He leaned close, his lips grazing the skin under her ear. “I asked if you’re sure you don’t want to dance.”

He laid his hand over hers as he spoke then raised it and trailed his fingertips across her wrist and slowly up her arm.

She shook her head. “I’m sure.”

“You need to have some fun once in a while, Ellie. Let off some steam.”

His other hand had slipped to the small of her back, a place too intimate for his hand to be in her opinion.

She shifted her body until his hand dropped away. “I’m good. Really.”

He shrugged a shoulder, frowned, and stepped away. “Okay then. I’ll find Judi. She’s always good for some fun.”

The comment sent a chill through Ellie. What had that meant? Judi was always “good for some fun”? They’d come up here with four other people and met six more. Weren’t any of the other women in the group good for some fun, so to speak? Or were they all paired up with other men? Either way, Ellie didn’t like the idea she’d essentially offered her sister up like a lamb to the slaughter simply because clubs had never been, and never would be, her so-called “scene.” Of course, she’d also wanted to stay as far away as possible from Brad and his roaming hands.

She lifted herself up on the tips of her high heeled shoes — shoes she’d only worn once before and were now pinching her feet like a lobster about to be boiled in a pot of hot water. Craning her neck. she tried to catch sight of Judi. Her sister had downed two beers and a mixed drink shortly after they’d arrived, disappearing into the mob, rarely seen from since, other than one trip to the bathroom.

Judi’s hair was blond now, after convincing Missy to give her highlights the other day. Ellie switched from looking for honey blond hair to looking for bleached blond hair and spotted Judi in the middle of the dance floor, under the spinning lights, arms flailing like a drowning victim. In front of her Brad was gyrating, though Ellie supposed some might define it as dancing. He moved an arm around Judi until the front of their bodies touched while they danced. Judi tipped her head back, exposing her throat and Brad lowered his head until his lips touched the nape of her neck.

Ellie made a face as Judi curled her fingers in Brad’s hair. This evening had worn out its welcome. She slammed the glass on the table, setting her jaw tight as she stomped into the pulsating crowd, pushing through sweating, perfume drenched bodies to grab her sister’s arm. Judi wrenched her arm away and used both hands to push Ellie back, pressing them against her chest.

“Back off! Just because you’re a dried-up old prude, doesn’t mean I have to be.”

Ellie gasped and fell backward into a solid body behind her. Hands grabbed at her, a derisive  laugh coming from whoever belonged to them. She looked over her shoulder, glaring into dark brown eyes connected to a leering 20-something year old.

“Hey, baby. If you wanted to meet me, all you had to do was say ‘hello.’”

Ellie clutched at his hand still on her hip and pulled it away from her. “Get off of me.”

The younger man laughed again, his eyes roaming across her, and her stomach churned.

She had clearly underestimated the strength of a fully-intoxicated Judi.

Judi had turned her back on Ellie and resumed her Dirty Dancing-style moves with Brad. He raised his eyes to look at Ellie over Judi’s shoulder, his sneer highlighted by multiple colors flashing across his face. His hands slid down Judi’s backside and cupped both cheeks of her bottom as he held Ellie’s gaze,as if to say, “You could have had some fun, could have protected Judi, but now I’m having fun with her instead.”

He flicked the tip of his tongue out across his lips, his eyes wild.

She shuddered at the evil in his eyes and movements, turned slowly, and broke his intense, mocking gaze. Wrapping her arms around herself as she walked, she rubbed her upper arms, wishing again she was at home in her apartment, curled up on the couch, sipping tea and watching a Hallmark movie.

She pulled her phone out and as if on instinct clicked on Jason’s name. She stared at it for several seconds, her fingertip tracing each letter. What would she even say to him if she texted?

My sister is in worse shape than I thought she was?

I never should have come up her with Brad?

Why did you never tell me about Lauren? Do you think of her when you kiss me? Are you worried I’ll be horrible in bed if we get married because I’ve never had any experience with a man beyond you?

She sucked down the rest of her ginger ale, her eyes still on her phone then scrolled down and clicked on Lucy’s name.

She tapped out a text that bordered on an SOS.

Judi out of control. Never should have come.

Several minutes passed before the response came.

Lucy: Sorry. I was giving Lexi her bath. What’s going on?

Ellie scowled at the dance floor. She’d rather be Lucy right now, wrapped up in calm, domestic bliss instead of out here, trapped among wolves and ravenous lions.

Ellie: Judi’s out on the dance floor practically having sex with her clothes on with Brad. They’re both drunk. He’s mad I don’t want to dance. What made me think I could keep her from making a fool out of herself?

Lucy: You’re a good person, that’s why. And you’re a good sister. You love her. You’re worried about her and as much as she drives you crazy, you still want to protect her.

Ellie: I guess.

Lucy: Sorry we missed your grandma’s birthday party. How did it go? Did you have to see Jason?

Ellie: Of course, I had to see Jason. It’s his grandmother. I saw him all afternoon. With his shirt off while he split wood. It was torture.

Lucy: LOL. Girl, you just need to admit how much you still love him. You two need to talk this out. Your heart belongs to him, and you know it.

Ellie chewed on her lower lip, swirling the ice in her glass with her finger.

Yeah, she thought with a sigh, but is his heart still mine?

[image error]

Jason looked around the barn and noticed the only other one there was Molly. Somehow in the last several weeks they hadn’t been alone together anywhere, and he’d been glad. It had meant she couldn’t bring up what she’d heard in the church parking lot that day. He had hoped wouldn’t have to try to explain to yet another woman in his life what happened in college. Maybe he’d get lucky, and he still wouldn’t have to.

“You’re actually on your own?”

Molly looked up from the bottle she was filling for the calves and smile. “Yes. Alex is out mixing feed. Why? Should we be connected at the hip all the time?”

“You shouldn’t be, but you normally are.”

Molly scowled at him. “Very funny.”

She stood and placed the lid on the bottle then placed the bottle in a bucket and reached for another empty bottle. “Hear anything from the builders for the new bottling plant and milking parlor yet?”

Jason shook his head. “No. So far we’ve only got the plans for the goat barn. Still can’t believe everyone is on board with this. What do you think? Is it going to work or are we spreading ourselves too thin?”

Milk poured from the spout into the bottle. Molly would feed the calves as soon as the bottles were filled. “I’m worried about the goats, but I think the A2 milk is going to be a good thing. Keeping the cows separate will be a challenge unless we can get another heifer barn built at the same time. And that’s if we can get that grant, we applied for through Tina’s office.”

Tina Shipman was their local state representative and a family friend. Her staff had been optimistic about their chances, but the grant would only cover about half of the project at this point. The rest would need to come from loans or a federal grant they’d applied for around the same time they’d applied for the state one.

He took the bottle from her and placed it in the bucket. “If we apply for the loan and all of these changes do work out, we should be able to have it paid off within the first year.”

She agreed. “It would definitely help us secure things more financially if it does pan out the way Dad and Uncle Walt hope.”

She screwed a lid off another bottle. “Hey, Jase, I wanted to ask you something.”

His chest tightened. Here it came. The conversation he’d been dreading.

He placed another empty bottle next to her.

“Listen, I know you overheard Ellie and me in the parking lot that day so if this is about that, let me explain first.”

“You don’t have to explain. It’s none of my business.”

“I’m sure you’re thinking the worst of me about now and I can’t blame you, I —”

“Jason.” Molly straightened, a half-filled bottle in her hand. “I don’t think the worst of you. It sounds like you screwed up in college somehow and your upset about it, not like you were bragging.”

Upset was an understatement, but he decided Molly didn’t need to hear about how deep his shame went. There was only so much a sister should have to hear about her older, supposed-to-be more mature brother. “Yeah. I am upset about it. Have been for years.”

She stooped to fill the rest of the bottle. “I gathered from what you and Ellie were saying that it had something to do with a girl. I figured that maybe,” she looked up, hesitating. “Maybe you slept with this girl?”

Jason took the bottle from her and screwed the lid on. “Yeah. I did. Not a proud moment for me or a nice memory and a one-time thing.”

Two more bottles and it would be time to feed the calves. He’d like to leave Molly to it and go finish fixing the sensor on the robot feed pusher they’d installed a few years ago. Without it, feeding the cows would be a very lengthy process tonight, complete with manually sweeping the feed into the cow’s troughs.

“Whatever happened to the girl?”

Jason looked up, startled by the question. Up until a couple of weeks ago, he’d never given it much thought. When he’d asked Alex if he’d ever heard, he was disheartened at the answer.

“I’m — uh —  not exactly sure. Alex looked her up on some social media site and said it looks like she’s not married and is still pretty messed up.” Jason looked at the floor, shoving his hands deep in his front jean pockets. He kicked at the barn floor with the tip of his boot, knocking dirt and manure off it.

“I can’t help feeling that I had a part in that. To her I was probably just another guy who used her for what they wanted and tossed her aside.” He shook his head, rubbed the side of his hand against his chin, under his bottom lip, and winced. “You know, for years I’ve made her the villain in my story – when I talked to Alex about it and when I thought about it. Instead, I was the villain. I was the one who could have shown her something different, who could have not slept with her and shown her she was as worthy of being loved even if she wasn’t laying down. All girls like Lauren really want is to be loved. She equated sex with love instead of understanding that love can be shown in other ways too. Most of the guys she had sex with didn’t love her. I didn’t even love her. I was drunk and depressed and used her to take my mind off being hurt by Ellie. I’ve lived with that guilt for years but always hid the guilt behind anger — at Lauren, at myself and even at Ellie.”

Molly placed the last bottle in the bucket and laid a hand against his arm. “Neither of you were the villain in the story, Jason. You were just two people who both made bad choices. Pray for Lauren. It’s all you can do at this point.”

“Yeah.” Jason lifted one pail and handed the other to Molly. “Sorry I went on that rant. I just figured that’s what you wanted to talk to me about so — ”

Molly took the pail and walked toward the calf pens. She looked over her shoulder, talking as he followed her. “Actually, I was just going to ask you if you thought Alex would like a new hat for his birthday or if he’s too attached to the one he has. Then I was going to ask if I did decide to get him a hat if you would help me pick it out because I put two in my shopping cart at that hat place online.”

Jason inwardly groaned. He’d just spilled his heart out to his sister and she’d only wanted to buy a gift for Alex. Seriously? “I guess I shouldn’t have assumed.”

Molly stopped at the calf pen, grinning as she kneeled down to offer an all-black bull calf the first drink. “Nope. You shouldn’t have. We all know what the proverbial ‘they’ say about assuming.”

Jason tipped a bottle to a smaller heifer calf, black except a white stripe across her back. “Yep, and I certainly feel like one.”

Talking about his past with his sister wasn’t something he ever thought he’d be doing. Now that the conversation was over, though, it was like a burden had been lifted. A small portion of the burden anyhow. He still felt the heaviness of what he’d done and of not telling Ellie.

Footsteps behind him signaled they weren’t alone anymore.

“Want to trade?” Alex dragged the back of his hand across his forehead.

Jason narrowed his eyes. “So what you’re saying is, you want me to go finish mixing the feed so you can hang out with Molly.”

Alex grinned and reached for the bottle. “Yeah. Pretty much.”

Jason jerked his head toward the barn door. “Get out of here, lover boy. There will be plenty of time later for you two to make googly eyes at each other. After we’re done with work.”

Alex sighed and slid an arm around Molly’s waist. “That’s fine. I guess I’ll just give her a long good-bye kiss before I head back to the mixer.” He pulled her against him, his eyes drifting to her mouth. “While you’re standing here. Right next to us.”

Jason shrugged a shoulder and reached for another bottle so he could feed two calves at once. “Doesn’t bother me. I can handle it.”

Alex wasn’t lying. The kiss was long and slow, and by the end Jason was fighting nausea. He wasn’t going to back down, though. Alex was always trying to get out of the hard work. If they started kissing again, though . . .

“Oh, come on!” Jason shoved the bottle at Alex. “Take it. I’ll finish mixing the feed. Take a cold shower when you’re done, both of you.” Jason paused in the doorway and used two fingers to point at his sister and best friend. “Wait. Let me clarify. A cold shower alone. In separate bathrooms. In separate houses and preferably in separate counties.”

Molly’s eyebrows darted upward and her mouth dropped one. “Jason!”

“I’m serious. My rifle’s in my truck and I won’t hesitate to use it.”

Alex clicked his tongue. “Jason Andrew Tanner.” He propped his hands on his waist and shook his head in a mock scolding motion. “You are so violent. You should really see someone about that.”

Jason snorted out a laugh as he walked toward the skid steer. “As long as you behave yourself, you’ve got nothing to worry about, Stone.”

He glanced over his shoulder at Molly and Alex laughing as they fed the calves. That’s right. Keep them working. It would help keep their hands off each other.

Fiction Friday: Harvesting Hope (formerly The Farmers’ Sons) Chapter 16

Before I share this week’s chapter, I just want to thank those who read my stories on here and comment, or even don’t comment. This past week I became very overwhelmed with thoughts of where I am in life versus were I think I should be in life. I guess I was being a bit like Ellie and Molly. I thought about how I should be further in life and how I wish I had started this writing stuff much earlier in my life. Then I started to feel down because sometimes my work isn’t recognized, even though I don’t mind it isn’t recognized (it’s a weird condundrum in the life of an introvert – waiting to be noticed, yet really, really not wanting to be noticed at the same time).

I started to compare my journey to the journey of other writers and those other writers are so far ahead of me in their journey so I feel less than. It’s all silly, of course. We all have our own path to take and some of us will be wildly popular and successful and some of us will just be moderately so or not at all. In the last few years I have looked at success in a different way than I used to. I used to base it on how popular I was or wasn’t.

Now I base it on whether I am having fun or feeling fulfilled in what I’m doing, even if my audience is small or non-existant. By the second definition, I am successful right now. I’m finishing novels I started and learning more each time. I’m having fun teaching my kids and taking photographs and cooking dinner and occassionally (very ocassionally) remembering to wash and fold my laundry and load the dishwasher (it’s my husband’s fault for being so good at all of that. *wink*)

I have enjoyed the connections I have made through my writing. I may have only one or two people who comment on my posts a week but after a couple of years of not having any in-person friends, those comments mean more to me than any award or any wide-spread popularity do. You may think I’m just saying that, but if you knew how lonely I’ve been since 2017, then you would know I am not just saying that. I truly mean it.

But enough of the sentimental ramblings. On to the continuing story of Jason and Ellie’s stubborness and internal struggles. What will happen this week? Will they be reminded they still love each other, or instead realize they are further apart than they ever were? Read on to find out.

If you are a new reader here, I share a chapter from my WIP each Friday, and sometimes Saturday, on my blog. There are typos, grammatical issues and even plot holes at times because this is a first, second, or third draft that hasn’t gone to my editor yet. If you see a typo, feel free to kindly let me know in the comments. Sometimes the error has already been fixed on my copy, sometimes not.

To catch up on the rest of the story click HERE.

Chapter 16

The majority of the guests had wished Franny a happy birthday and said their goodbyes leaving the Lambert and Tanner families the only people left in Franny’s backyard.

Molly propped her chin on her hand and frowned at the wood pile on the edge of the property. “I miss that old tree already.”

“Yeah, I do too,” Franny said with a sigh. “But it needed to come down. It could have blown over onto the house or the chicken coup. It was old. Older than me even.”

She nudged Molly in the side with her elbow. “Your granddaddy and I had our first kiss under that tree.”

“Really? I didn’t know that. How old were you?”

Franny stared at the spot where the tree used to be, her gaze wistful. “I was 16. He was a mature 18.” She winked. “He was a good kisser, I’ll tell you that. A year later he was in Vietnam.”

Ellie propped her chin on her hand. “How long was he there?”

“He did two tours. So, he was over there a year, came home for six months and went back for another year. We got married during his leave.” She reached across the table from her seat in a lawn chair and patted Walt’s hand. “Walt was conceived during that six-month break.”

Walt winced. “Mom. Did you really have to use the words ‘Walt’ and ‘conceived’ in the same sentence?”

Franny scowled. “Good grief, Walt. Grow up.”

The rest of the family laughed, and Walt joined in.

He pointed out toward the woodpile. “Seriously, though, Jason, Alex, Brad. There are axes in the woodshed. I bet you could have that chopped up for us and stacked in less than an hour.”

Jason leaned back on the picnic table on his elbows. “Yeah, we probably could but I’ve got to head up and see if the guys have delivered the supplies for the goat barn yet.”

Brad smirked. “What’s wrong, cuz? Afraid of a little competition?”

Jason’s eyes narrowed and Ellie caught the edge to his response. “Everything doesn’t have to be a competition. I thought we’d just do it as a team. Working together. Like a family.”

Brad laughed. “What’s the fun in that?” He pounded Jason on the back.  “Come on. We’ll split the logs into piles of even sizes and see who can get done with their pile first.”

Alex cracked his knuckles, keeping his eyes on Brad. Jason had told Ellie years ago the two had never really hit it off. She had a feeling Alex was itching for a chance to show Brad up.

“Now we’re talking.” Judi climbed up on the top of the picnic table, using the bench as a place for her feet. “Pull up a chair, girls. This is going to be a good show.”

Ellie’s chest constricted as she swung around on the bench to face the wood pile. She had a good feeling Judi was about to embarrass her. As usual.

Molly moved to sit next to her. “Men. They never grow up.”

Franny chuckled. “I’m surprised my boys didn’t pick up axes themselves.”

Molly nodded toward her dad. “Dad probably would if it wasn’t for his leg.”

“And my dad probably would if it wasn’t for his ribs,” Ellie added.

A second later Ellie sucked in a sharp breath as Jason tugged his shirt up over his head, tossing it to the ground, and reached for an ax. She glanced at the women sitting around her to make sure her gasp hadn’t been loud enough for them to hear. They either hadn’t heard her, or they all had good poker faces. She knew Judi wouldn’t have held back if she’d heard that unguarded response.

Brad laughed and shook his head. “Apparently, Jason can only swing the ax if his shirt is off.”

Alex smirked, slapping Jason’s bicep. “He never misses an opportunity to show off all that hard work from the gym.”

Ellie didn’t have to turn her head to know the whistle she heard was from Judi. She’d heard the same sound last week in the barn, right before Judi launched her one-woman heckling onslaught against her. “Wow, El, look at that. Maybe he’s trying to woo you back with his amazing six pack. Or is that an eight-pack.”

Ellie glared, glad the men were smack talking and couldn’t hear Judi.

“Be quiet, Judi.”

 “Seriously, how did you let that go? He’s even more built than the last time I saw him.”

Molly made a face. “Please. This is my brother we’re talking about. Talking about his abs is making me queasy.”

“This should make you feel better, then.” Judi jutted her chin toward the men as Alex pulled his T-shirt over his head. She propped her elbow on her knee, her chin on her hand. “Heeey. He’s not half bad either. Now who else do I get to ogle? Oooh. There he is.” Brad’s shirt was suddenly missing as well. “Bradley’s not looking half bad himself.”

Ellie rolled her eyes and dropped her head against her hand. Why couldn’t Judi just shut up already? She wanted to crawl into a hole somewhere. A hole where she could privately admire Jason’s physique, but still a hole. And why did these men always have to be so competitive? One takes their shirt off and all of them have to? Good grief. Molly was right. Men never do grow up.

Robert stepped on the other side of the pile of logs with Walt, folding his arms across his chest, propping his good leg on the stump. He and Walt and Bert, Jason and Molly’s uncle by marriage, had already separated the logs into even wood piles. Robert looked down at his watch. “Alright, boys, I’ll tell you when to start. The first one who finishes their pile wins.”

For the next twenty minutes there was a good deal of grunting, flying wood, and sweaty backs and biceps as the three men worked their way through their individual piles. The contortion of Brad’s face showed he had underestimated the effort behind chopping logs into wood stove sized pieces. Jason had clearly chopped wood before. His pile was shrinking exponentially faster than the piles of the other two. Alex was slightly ahead of Brad but was beginning to lose ground and Ellie wondered the sweat on his hands making his grip loosen.

Ellie tried to pretend she wasn’t enjoying the show, but her body’s reaction was giving her away. She knew without even looking at a mirror that her face was flushed both from the pleasure of watching Jason and the effort to not let anyone know about that pleasure.

“It’s clear milk does a body good, isn’t it, Ellie?”

She would have expected that comment from Judi. The fact that it came from Franny both startled and amused her. She cleared her throat and shifted her body away from Franny to avoid giving the woman the satisfaction of seeing her smile at the remark. It was clear she wasn’t fooling the older woman by trying to pretend she didn’t care about what was happening in front of her. She snatched her empty cup up from the table and walked back to the punch bowl. Franny watched her with a wry smile the entire way, but Ellie didn’t make eye contact, knowing if she did, she might burst into laughter or cry. Her emotions were so fragile at this point she wasn’t sure which would happen.

“Looks like Jason’s got it,” Walt announced. “One more chop and — yep! Jason’s finished first! Do we want to go for second?”

Alex swung the ax over his head. “Might as well. We’ve got to get the rest of this pile chopped up anyhow.”

Ellie kept her back to it all, not wanting to see Jason wipe the sweat off his face and — she blew a breath out — his chest. She was also definitely not interested in watching Alex and Brad’s show down.

“I’ll take one of those.”

Blast it. She couldn’t catch a break. She poured a cup of punch and silently prayed, “Please, Lord, let him have a shirt on.”

Jason’s shirt was back on, a fact that gave her both relief and disappointment. He drank the punch in one gulp and dragged a hand across his mouth. “Good punch. Molly said it was your grandmother’s recipe.”

She shrugged and smiled. “It was probably a million grandma’s recipe from the 80s. Not exactly rocket science.”

He looked inside the empty cup. “Actually, I remember this punch. I’m pretty sure we had it at more than one of your birthday parties over the years.” He leaned over to place the cup on the table, his hand brushing her arm. He was a few inches away from her now, his eyes locked onto hers. His voice dropped into a deep, smooth tone that sent a tingle up her arms. “Brings back a lot of memories.”

That one sentence shouldn’t have caused her brain to spin, but it did. Her body was betraying her again. She touched her hand to her throat, tried to brush it off that she was scratching an itch, but really, she could feel her heartbeat pounding wildly underneath her fingertips. She willed her mind not to focus on those memories, some more passionate than others.

Instead of answering with words she simply nodded and slyly moved her gaze from his to the

grotesque display of masculinity across the yard. She tipped her head in the direction of the competition.

“Looks like Alex will pull out a win.”

“He should. He was close behind me. I knew he wouldn’t beat me though.”

Jason lifted an arm, curled a bicep, kissed it, and winked. He laughed as she rolled her eyes. “Sorry. I couldn’t resist joking. To be honest, I was a little nervous. Alex has been working out himself and working even harder on the farm. Those guns of his might rival mine soon.”

Ellie snorted a small laugh. “Which should make Molly happy.”

Jason winced and made a face. “Don’t remind me.”

“Still not comfortable with it, huh?”

“About as comfortable as I am with sleeping on a bed of nails.”

Cheers and applause rose up from the tables. Alex had already raised his arms in victory and Ellie wrinkle her nose in disgust, only imagining what smells were emanating off him. Then again, Jason had been working hard too. Sweat still beaded his forehead and stained the armpits and collar of his shirt, but the smell coming off him  . . .

Well, it wasn’t bad at all. Not at all.

It was — good grief. Dare she even think it?

Intoxicatingly masculine.

She pulled a strand of her hair back and hooked it behind her ear. Her thoughts were getting out of control. Her heart was trying to overrule her mind and she knew that could spell disaster in the future. Disaster because she might forget about Jason withholding his past from her, about how that might be a pattern he’d carry into their future, even if he said it wouldn’t.

It was time to head home. Her parents had driven her and Judi, though. She had to convince them it was time to go too.

“Welp, girls, shall we head home and get the milking done?”

Her dad’s question was perfectly timed.

Ellie glanced at Jason who was watching her while he drank more punch.

“We should,” she said, trying to calm her breathing.

Judi, standing next to Brad, looked less than pleased at the prospect of leaving but followed along dutifully.

“Pick you ladies up at 6?” Brad called after them.

Judi’s dejected expression brightened. “We’ll be there.” She smirked, pushing a hip out. “With bells on.”

Ellie inwardly groaned and outwardly glowered at Judi. She hadn’t agreed to go, but part of her felt like she should, to keep her younger sister out of trouble.

“You going too, El?”

There was no way she could miss the way Jason’s eyes narrowed as he watched the exchange, waiting for her to answer Brad.

She’d lived most of her life barely living, only doing what was safe and easy. She needed to branch out and at this point, Jason really didn’t have much to say about where she went or who she went with.

“Sure. It will be fun.”

Even as the words left her mouth, she wondered how it had become so easy for her to lie in the last several months, if not the last two years when she’d started lying to Jason about her doctor’s appointments. She tried not to notice Jason turning away, walking toward his truck, but she did. What was he thinking? Was he upset she’d agreed to go somewhere with Brad and Judi? Especially with Brad? Did he even care? Maybe he simply had a goat enclosure to finish building and what Ellie did wasn’t even registering on his radar. Maybe her repeated rejection had pushed him to the point where he simply didn’t care anymore.

She slumped back against the backseat and pulled the door closed, her throat aching at the thought he didn’t care anymore because she knew, no matter what facade put up in front of him, she cared for him as much as she ever had.

***

“You can go with us, Jason, if you want.”

Brad’s invitation hadn’t been sincere, and Jason knew it. It’s why he hadn’t even turned around to answer but instead kept walking toward the truck. He’d already kissed his grandmother’s cheek and said his goodbyes. He had work to do.

“Got a barn to build.”

“We’re not going until later. It’s not a sin to go have some fun once in a while, you know.”

A sick ache rolled around in the pit of Jason’s stomach as he drove away, knowing Brad didn’t actually want him to ride along. His invitation had been mocking, a way to remind Jason that Ellie had agreed to go somewhere with him.

Between seeing Brad and Ellie talking on the front porch and catching Brad smiling at Ellie more than once throughout the day, his gaze roaming the full length of her, Jason had a very good feeling that Brad had lied to him that day in the barn.

There was no doubt about it in Jason’s mind.

Brad had his sites set on Ellie.

Ready, aim, fire.

He was trying to step in and take Jason’s place.

Jason gunned the engine.

There was no way that was going to happen.

Randomly Thinking: I am socially awkward. Surprised? Yeah, me either.

Welcome to my random thoughts and events for the week. Enter at your own risk.

Well, it looks like I might make it to 25 days consecutive posting on this blog by Monday, but I’m not doing it on purpose now. I simply had these future posts ready to go. Next week I don’t care if I post consecutively or not. I have a lot of reading to catch up on, blogs and books both.

When I talk to my neighbors, I feel the need to apologize repeatedly for my social awkwardness, which simply makes me even more socially awkward. Someone help me. I need someone with a taser down the street who just zaps me when they see me talking to a neighbor, so I don’t any more of an idiot out of myself. Actually, the taser zapping me wouldn’t help that situation, would it? Never mind.

My 14-year-old son and I were talking about the differences between men and women in the bathroom. Men do not talk to each other in the bathroom under any circumstance. Women? Yeah, we often do. Or, I should say we used to. These days women don’t talk to each other out of the stalls or the bathroom. Since last year I’ve found most women to be very paranoid and unfriendly. But, back in the day, as we old folk say, women would chat right along with the women next to them in the stall, especially if they knew each other.

A conversation between women in the bathroom might go something like this:

Woman Number One: “I love those shoes. Sorry, I just couldn’t help noticing them.”
Woman Number Two: “Thank you so much. I got them at JC Penny years ago.”
Woman Number One, coming out of stall: “It’s so awful how JC Penny is going out of business.”
Woman Number Two: “I know. I used to love to shop there.”
Woman Number One: “Me too. I got the best perfume there.”
Woman Number Two comes out of the stall: “I did too! I have it right here! Let me wash my hands and then you have to smell it!”
Woman Number One: “Oh my gosh! That smells amazing! I used to have one like that. An ex-boyfriend gave it to me, and I didn’t want to ask him where he got it because then that would mean I’d have to talk to him.”
Woman Number Two: “Yikes. I hear you. There are some men I dated that I wouldn’t go near if they offered me a million dollars.”
Woman Number One: “Seriously. Did you get that purse at JC Penny too?”
Woman Number Two: “Ha. No. Speaking of exes, this came from my ex-husband. He probably spent a mint on it, but not as much as I make him spend in child support.”

And then they laugh and the conversation keeps snowballing from there.

My husband and son say that men get in and get out and they can’t figure out why we’d want to talk to anyone in a bathroom.

I took my mom to a doctor’s appointment recently and while there she ran into a young woman who works there and whose mom used to rent from my parents. The girl immediately kneeled next to my mom, who was sitting in a chair, and asked her how she was doing. In the next few moments, my mom transformed into one of those slightly nosey elderly ladies right before my eyes.
“I hear you have a new special someone in your life,” my mom said to the young woman.
“Why, yes, I do,” the young woman said.
“My husband was showing me the photos on Facebook.”
“Oh, I have some more here,” the young woman said and pulled out her phone.
The conversation switched to the young woman’s sister’s children and then my mom showed she wasn’t done grilling the young woman about her “special someone” by saying, “So, are you and this young man serious?”
I finally butted in. “Mom! You can’t ask that stuff!”
The young woman laughed and said, “It’s okay. We’ve been dating for about five years.”
My mom’s eyebrows shot up. “Ooh. I see.”
I knew what Mom was thinking. “So, you’ve been dating five years and he hasn’t proposed yet?”
Thankfully the young woman in question was called off to help a co-worker so Mom couldn’t ask the question.
A few minutes after the woman left my mom leaned over to me and said, “Well, I could have asked her if she was living with him unmarried, but I didn’t so . . .”
So, I guess I was supposed to be proud of her for holding her tongue this time.

The woman who took my mom back to her appointment that day, by the way, was a Victoria’s Secret model on the side, I swear. Tall, blond, and I couldn’t see her face because of the facemask but I guarantee she was gorgeous under there. I’d never felt more short, fat, and troll-like in all my life. Well, at least in a few years.

A bloggy friend had her own random thought-moment this week and had me snorting with laughter when she told me about it. First, she woke up in the middle of the night and couldn’t find her husband, so she texted him but the text back was blurry so she thought she was going blind. Oh gosh, if she only knew that this is my life story. I worry about my eyesight all the time, especially after experiencing ocular migraines once or twice a year for the last few years. I’m always sure I’m a second away from going blind.
Anyhow, after she found the husband (who had to deal with some work issues remotely), she laid awake thinking about Taming of the Shrew and “as I was falling back asleep I realized that the title Taming of The Shrew had the same cadence and rhyme as Ten Things I hate About You, that Heath Ledger movie based on Taming of The Shrew.”
It’s scary how similar her and my brain works. No, really, it is scary.

I have a serious problem. I am obsessed with watching this YouTube channel I originally started watching for research for my book. It’s about dairy farming in Pennsylvania. I am fascinated by it. I can’t stop watching it. Help me.

The young son (about 24) runs the channel and sometimes he makes his dad talk too. Dad always looks a little nervous at first but then shares about whatever the son wants him to share.
Mainly the kid shows what he’s doing day in and day out on the farm.
I will say I have been able to glean a lot of information about dairy farming, some that I have incorporated into my story.

In addition to the YouTube channel, I’ve also been obsessed with trying to design my own book covers. I have known how to use Photoshop for years, but mainly on the basics. Now I’m trying to learn more than the basics and honestly, it’s making my head hurt. I won’t lie, I’ve also cried more than once. Yes, in the end, I may break down and pay someone to design my book covers, but I’m not some successful Indie author who can afford that right now, so I doubt that will be an option at this time.

You ever see those Indie authors who say they put one book up on Amazon and they immediately made tons of sales? Yeah, I’m convinced they are full of it. I have four books up on Amazon and so far, even with begging people to read it and buy it, I’ve made about $8 a month. It’s not as lucrative as some claim, but it is still fun because I’ve met some super cool people on this writing journey. At this point, I will take that over the money any day.

So those are my random thoughts for the week. Share some of yours with me in the comments, or send me private messages like my other bloggy friend does because random events and thoughts crack me up and I often need that during the week.

A new season of flowers

I had nothing to do with the flowers blooming around my house. I have no idea how to maintain them and they’d probably last longer if I had a clue what I’m doing. But I don’t have a clue so I weed them a little, pull some old ones off, and then I take a lot of photos of them. I thought I’d share of the photos I’ve been taking today on the blog. Hopefully flower lovers and non-flower lovers alike will enjoy the photos.