Lisa R. Howeler's Blog, page 116

Special Saturday Fiction: Harvesting Hope Chapter 20

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 (eh, husband) 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.

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. (It is free on Kindle through today.)

Chapter 20

“Hey, Trooper. How you holding up?”

Jason looked up and watched Brittany walk into the emergency room exam room, her usual jovial and flirty behavior greatly subdued.

“You here to sew me up?” he asked with a grin, his hand still holding the gauze the nurse had pressed there before she left to consult the doctor.

Brittany laughed. “No. Sadly, that is not one of my specialties. I just came to see how you were doing. Emotionally more than physical.”

He shrugged a shoulder, frowning. “Eh. I’m . . . well, hanging in there, I guess.”

She sat back on the exam table next to him and leaned her shoulder into his. “We win some, we lose some, okay? It’s not a reflection of how good we are at our job. Sometimes crap just happens.”

Only she didn’t say crap, because that Brittany didn’t tone her language down for anyone.

Jason stared at the pattern of the linoleum on the floor, Anne’s voice echoing in his memory. He knew Brittany was trying to comfort and encourage, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that if he had been more careful, he would have understood what Anne was saying and could have saved John too.

“Okay, Mr. Tanner.” The nurse stepped back in the exam room, bringing the tangy citrus smell of her perfume with her. “The doctor is on his way in. He’s going to do the sutures instead of the glue. He says that cut is too deep for the glue, so I had to grab more threat. Sorry for the wait.”

Brittany winked and slid her hand over Jason’s, intertwining her fingers with his. “That’s okay. I was keeping him company. I’ll hold his hand while the doctor stitches him up.”

She punched Jason playfully on the upper arm. At least he thought it was playful. Maybe Brittany was trying to be more than playful. Her fingers were tightly wound around his. If she was trying to be more than playful, he didn’t have the mental capacity to worry about it at the moment. The only subject on his mind, other than his need to apologize to Ellie, was hearing from Cody, finding out for sure that John was in the house and if Anne was okay.

The doctor came in next and after a greeting, wiped more blood away, cleaned the wound while Jason grimaced, and started the stitches. Jason’s phone rang on the third stitch.

“I’ll get it,” Brittany announced, snatching it from his hand.

Jason didn’t like her assertiveness in this case, but at least she wasn’t holding his hand anymore.

“Yeah, Cody, it’s me, Brittany. The doctor is sewing him up, so I thought I’d answer for him. I was on a transport to the hospital when I heard about the fire and that Jason was here. I thought I’d check on him.” She paused. “Yeah. Okay.” Her playful tone morphed into a more serious one as she nodded and listened to Cody talking. “I’ll tell him. No, I will. You know that. I’ll make sure he knows. Okay.”

She slid her finger over the screen and laid the phone on the top of the exam table between them.

He already knew what she was going to say before she said it. Her blue eyes glistened under the fluorescent glow.

“The fire marshal found John. In the kitchen. Near the stove. Preliminary investigation shows the fire was an accident, but she’ll know more later.” Brittany slid her hand over his again, squeezing gently. “Cody wants me to tell you that this isn’t your fault. You didn’t know John was in there. You’re a good man and a good firefighter. And he wants to make sure you call him if you need to talk. He’s also going to call later today and check on you and would appreciate a text when you get out of here for an update on the cut.”

Jason nodded, tight-lipped, jaw tight. He tried to speak, to thank her for the information, but no sound came out. He swallowed hard, finally got the words out. “Thanks, Brit. I appreciate it.”

She kept her hand tight on his and laid her other hand on his arm, leaning her head against his shoulder while the doctor continued sewing. “Anytime, bud. Anytime.”

***

Cody had told her Jason was at the hospital being stitched up. He’d also told her what the fire marshal had found, and that Anne Weatherly was being examined at the hospital. They’d know more about her condition later that evening.

As Ellie walked through the emergency room entrance, she felt a case of deja vu, only this time she knew Jason was okay and had only needed a few stitches for a cut on his forehead.

The situation could have been very different. One wrong step, a few more minutes of delay in the house, and she could have been here to identify a body. Of course, that task usually fell to family members, not ex-girlfriends.

Glancing at the front desk, she stifled a laugh. No way. It couldn’t be. What kind of crazy schedule did this woman have? Or maybe she was the only receptionist the hospital employed. Maybe this woman simply lived somewhere down the hall. Or pulled her bed out from under the desk in between visitors.

Whatever.

She didn’t have time to worry about the work schedule of a purple-haired stranger. She simply needed to find out where Jason was.

Wait. Purple hair? Didn’t she have blue hair last time? No. It was purple then, too. Wasn’t it?

Not that it actually mattered.

“Excuse me.”

The woman didn’t look up from the computer, per her usual customer service performance.

“May I help you?”

Fingernails clipped across the keyboard.

“I’m looking for Jason Tanner. He was brought here a couple of hours ago.”

“You family?”

“No, I’m —”

The woman pointed past Ellie’s shoulder, her gaze still on the computer. “Waiting room. Across the hall.”

“I understand, but —”

The receptionist pointed again.

Ellie rolled her eyes toward the ceiling and sighed.

In the waiting room, she pulled out her phone and saw a message from Molly.

Molly: I didn’t know whether to message you or not, but did Lucy tell you about the fire at Weatherly’s?

Ellie: Yes, I’m at the ER, waiting to check on Jason.

Molly: He texted and said it was just stitches, so we’re back at his place waiting for him.

Ellie: I’ll update you when I know more.

Molly: Thanks. Love you, El.

Ellie: Love you too, Molly.

She spent the rest of her wait scrolling through social media posts, crinkling her nose at the outfit of some 20-something-year-old celebrity she’d never heard of.

She had no idea why she’d ever signed up for Instagram anyhow. Probably because Judi had told her to so she could follow Judi and all her city-based adventures.

Speaking of Judi . . . What had she been posting on her account lately?

She searched Judi’s name and found a photo of her with an attractive-looking man at the top of her feed. A click on the photo showed the picture had been posted more than a month ago, a few days before Judi had arrived on Ellie’s doorstep.

Ellie read the caption.

“Life is better when you’re out on the town with your seriously hooooot co-worker. Kiss-kiss-hug-hug, peeps.”

Someone with the username lifeisahighway was tagged.

Ellie clicked the name and a series of photos of the man with his arms around barely stressed women or posing sans shirt popped up. The latest photo had been posted yesterday and was him being straddled on a couch by a woman with long red hair, his hands grasping her waist, his face buried in her cleavage.

“Nothing like a sex-filled weekend in the Hamptons,” read the caption.

Ellie cringed. “Gross.”

She scrolled further down his feed and stopped at a photo of him with Judi. They were standing on the patio of some restaurant. He was one step behind her, his hands resting on her thighs.

The caption drew a gasp from Ellie. To say it was crude and beyond inappropriate was an understatement. His description of what he planned to do with her sister clearly crossed the line of pornographic.

She scrolled further down the feed, but didn’t see any other photos of him with Judi, only other women, most of them cuddled up against him, a few even in his bed, sheets draped over them, yet making it clear they weren’t wearing clothes under those sheets.

At the sound of voices in the hall, she looked up, the phone still in her hand, her mouth still slightly open, denoting her shock over what she’d seen. Through the doorway, she watched Jason stop in the hallway next to the receptionist’s desk and turn to a blond woman next to him.

Ellie couldn’t hear what they were saying from where she was sitting, but the woman’s expression exuded compassion and her mannerisms were those of someone who was familiar, very familiar with him.

The woman patted his shoulder in one move and in the next her arms were around his neck, her lips against his cheek. The embrace and kiss were brief. In less than 30 seconds she was gone, and Jason stood in the hallway alone, watching her leave.

Ellie glanced to her left, wondering how smoothly she could move out of Jason’s eyesight if he turned toward the waiting room. He didn’t, though. Instead, he pulled his ducked his head down, pulled on his John Deere cap, and walked through the exit doors. Craning her neck, she looked through the wide windows in the waiting room, her gaze following him, curious if he’d follow the blond woman to her car.

She stood and walked to the window, almost afraid to look.

A truck was idling in the hospital driveway and for a moment she thought it might be the woman, picking him up. She watched Jason climb inside and then realized, as if a fog had lifted from her, the person driving the truck wasn’t blond and it wasn’t a woman. It was their friend, Matt McGee and obviously off duty as a Spencer Valley Police Officer.

Relief swept over her, but only briefly, because then she remembered how the woman had hugged Jason and pressed her mouth to his cheek. Who was she? Was she someone Jason had been seeing? It’s not as if Ellie could say anything. She was the one who had broken it off, the one who had pushed him away no matter how many times he had tried to apologize.

She slid her purse strap over her shoulder and walked into the hallway.

“That guy you were looking for just left.”

The receptionist’s voice mixed in with the sound of her nails clicking across the keyboard. As usual, she didn’t look up from the computer while she spoke.

“Thank you,” Ellie said with an amused smile. “You’ve been very helpful.”

Fiction Friday: Harvesting Hope, Chapter 19 Part 2

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 (eh, husband) 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.

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. It is free through tomorrow on Kindle.

I will be looking for people to provide advanced reviews of the book on Goodreads, so if you are interested in that, let me know. I will send you a free copy of the book to read in full for that.

To explain why there is a part two to last week’s chapter: originally this section was going to be a prologue to the book (I posted it on here originally a few month ago), but I’ve decided to drop the prologue and move it down here (right with the scene where Jason arrives at the fire scene and before Ellie talks to Lucy) to help the story flow better. Tomorrow I will share Chapter 20, which will focus on what happens after the fire.



Chapter 19 Part 2

A few minutes later, smoke curled down Jason’s throat, choked him, burned his eyes, reminded him he didn’t have a clue what he was doing, and he should have waited for back up.

He couldn’t stop, though. He had to keep walking, one boot-clad foot in front of the other, gloved hands feeling the wall.

A life depended on it.

 “Help . . .” Ann’s voice quivered with panic, barely audible.

“Don’t move, Ann. I’m coming. Keep talking to me, okay?”

She was in the kitchen. He knew that, could tell where her voice was coming from, but he couldn’t see beyond the thick black smoke to reach her. Was he in the living room or the dining room at this point? It should be the dining room, but where were the tables and chairs?

 A series of coughs to his right changed his direction. He kept walking, slammed his arm off a door frame, glad the fire suit was padded. Air puffed into his mask from his oxygen tank, but the smoke still stifled, making him gag. Maybe it would overtake him before he could get to her. The coughing had stopped. He needed her to cough, to make some sort of sound.

“Ann?”

He heard nothing but the crackling of the flames licking up the wall, across the ceiling of the kitchen.

“Ann?”

His foot hit something solid, almost sent him sprawling. He regained his balance, crouched, moving along the floor, his line of sight demolished by the smoke. He yanked the gloves off, felt the floor, cool to the touch. His hand bumped against warm, soft flesh.

A hand.

Now an arm and a shoulder. He shook the shoulder gently.

 “Ann, it’s me, Jason Tanner. Can you hear me? I’ve got to get you out of here. Are you hurt?”

A soft cough from the direction of the body told him she was at least alive.

 “I’m going to lift you and we’re going to get out of here, okay?”

He couldn’t fling her over his shoulder. She was too fragile at her age to be carried like a sack of potatoes. Instead, he slid one arm under her legs, the other behind her back, carrying her like he might a small child. Her head fell against his shoulder as he lifted her.

“John.”                                                   

“No, ma’am. It’s Jason. You’re going to be okay.”

“John . . .”

She was lighter than a sack of potatoes, that was for sure. There was almost nothing to her.

Standing he looked through the smoke to where he knew the back door was. He couldn’t carry her through there. It was already engulfed in flames. He pressed his back against the wall and slid along it, slamming into the Hoosier cabinet. He knew that meant he was only a few steps from the kitchen doorway.

If he hadn’t visited this home so many times over the last year, he wouldn’t have known that the kitchen led to a small hallway, the dining room into the living room and then a foyer to the front door

He winced when his hip slammed into the dining room table. Ann moaned and he pulled her tighter against him, breathing hard. Above him flames crackled, wood snapped, the fire ripping across the ceiling, shredding the wooden beams between the floors.

 “John  . . .”

“We’ll be out soon, Mrs. Weatherly.”

But he wasn’t really sure of that. He had thought the living room was right in front of him, but now he was bumping against walls he didn’t remember being there. Had he turned wrong and ended up in the laundry room instead? Or maybe even a bathroom. He felt out with a gloved hand, touched a wall, then something hard, metal. The washer. He was in the laundry room. The laundry room that didn’t have a door or window.

He turned around slowly, making sure Ann’s head stead safe against his shoulder. Smoke poured from below and above him now. With the fire spreading across the top floor, he wondered how long it would be before it fell down on him.

“Jason!” Cody’s voice boomed from somewhere to his right. He felt for the wall, moved forward a few steps and stopped when his foot kicked into a doorframe.

“Jason! Are you in there?!”

“I’m coming!” His breath fogged up the shield of his helmet as he spoke.

At least had the sound of Cody’s voice to follow because he was even more blind that he had been before. “Move, Tanner! The roof is coming down!”

 Shuffling he tried to ignore the crackling and snapping above him. In front of him red and orange roared along the wall, blocking his exit. He took a deep breath, curled his upper body around Ann and kept moving. After a few steps, he felt a hard pull on the front of the turnout gear, hands yanking him forward into bright light and cool air.

“Guys!” Cody shouted next to his ear. “We got a patient!”

Ann was lifted from his arms, and he stumbled forward off the front porch, pulling at the mask, falling to the ground on his hands and knees as he gulped fresh air into his lungs. Behind him he heard the snapping of wood and the shattering of glass. The top floor had caved in. Hands snatched him under his arms, dragged him forward across the grass, further away from the burning house, as he continued to gag and gasp for air.

“Did Denny get out?!” he yelled as soon as he could breathe again.

He looked up, his vision blurred by sweat and smoke.

Denny was guzzling water a few feet away by the fire truck, pouring it over his head and then drinking again. Two other firefighters, James Lantz and Duane Trenton, stood above Jason, breathing hard, wiping sweat and soot from their faces. Jason realized they were the ones who had dragged him across the yard. Cody hooked an arm under Jason’s, helping him to his feet.

“No one is sure where John is. Denny was in looking for him, but the flames pushed him back. See any sign of him?”

Jason shook his head, taking the fresh bottle of water Denny offered him. “I could barely see anything in there. Ann was in the kitchen. If anyone else was in there I couldn’t see them.”

He couldn’t have seen anything. What if John had been in there? Somewhere on the floor near his wife?

He sucked the water from the bottle down in one gulp, then quickly looked up at the firefighters still battling the flames, trying to save the house even though they all knew it would be a total loss.

“Breathe in.” Brittany pressed an oxygen mask against his face and hooked the band behind his head. “Sit.”

Brittany wasn’t afraid to order the first responders around if it was for their own good and sometimes even when it wasn’t. Jason sat on the ground, legs bent, popping his arm on his knees as he breathed deep, coughed, and breathed deep again.

Ann’s pleading voice inside the house replayed in his mind as he sucked fresh oxygen into his lungs.  “John.”

Horror shivered through him. Oh God. No.

“Cody!” He pulled the oxygen mask off his nose. “John’s still inside!”

He leapt to his feet, but Cody pivoted fast, pressed his hands against Jason’s chest. “Slow down, big guy. You aren’t going anywhere. The second floor’s collapsed. There’s nothing we can do.”

“She tried to tell me. Mrs. Weatherly. Ann. She — she couldn’t breathe, must have passed out, but she was calling for John. I didn’t understand. I should have —”

Cody shook his head. “Let’s not jump to conclusions. Maybe John is at the store or somewhere else. You couldn’t have carried them both out, anyhow.” He placed both hands on Jason’s shoulder. “Look at me, Tanner. If John’s gone, it isn’t your fault. You did all you could. We’ll know more when the fire is out and the fire marshal gets here.”

Jason nodded, pressed the mask back to his face and breathed in deep, glancing to his right and watching the paramedics attending to Ann as she laid prostrate on her backon the stretcher.

Part of him knew Cody was right.

He couldn’t have carried both Mr. and Mrs. Weatherly out of that house, but if he had only stopped to listen, to understand what Ann had been saying, he could have tried. He could have pushed forward a few more feet, found John if he was in there.

He raked a hand through his damp hair, clutched at it, and let out a long breath into the oxygen mask. His mind raced.

 Maybe John Weatherly hadn’t even been home when the fire broke out. Maybe he’d pull into that driveway any minute in his old blue 1970 Lincoln Continental and be perfectly healthy and alive. Jason slumped back against the side of the fire truck, fought the emotion grasping at his throat. Something deep in his gut told him John wasn’t going to pull into that driveway.

Not today.

Not ever again.

He was inside that house, now almost down to the ground, flames shooting up from what was left of the first floor.

Ann hadn’t mistaken Jason for her husband.

 She’d been trying to tell Jason her husband was still in the house.

His jaw tightened as he heard the ambulance siren wail, saw the red lights swirling. It took him back to nine months before, to that rainy day in the lower field, when it had been his dad being loaded into an ambulance. He had felt emotion stuck in his throat that day in the lower field too and he had swallowed it down hard, shoving the fear of losing his father tight inside the same hollow spot in his chest where he’d shoved his heartache over Ellie walking away.

He hadn’t had time for emotion then, and he didn’t now. He shoved his guilt over John right against his shame from that night with Lauren Phillips, right against the grief he still felt over the loss of his grandfather, right against the hurt he’d caused Ellie.

Writer Tip: Use a thesaurus, but prudentally or you might get submerged in superfluous jargon

Find me today on Hope, Hearts, and Heroes.

This post was originally posted on Lisa R. Howeler’s blog, Boondock Ramblings.

There are two kinds of writers: writers who overuse the thesaurus and writers who are afraid of using a thesaurus.

Okay, fine.

There are actually three types of writers, with the third type being the writer who actually knows the proper way to use the thesaurus, but those writers don’t need my advice today, so I’m pretending they don’t exist (even though I have slowly become one of those writers, but only with a great deal of practice.)

I was once afraid of the thesaurus. Somehow, I thought I should have all the words in the universe in my head already.

It wasn’t only my pride keeping me from using one, however. I also avoided thesauruses because one of the biggest lessons we learned in journalism 101 when I was in college was K.I.S.S.

No, our professors were…

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Tell Me More About . . . Robin W. Pearson, author

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.

Robin W. Pearson is one my favorite authors and she’s only written two books. Robin, if you are reading this, I’m not only saying this about you to flatter you. I love the way you weave a story. I’m very serious.

Her debut book, A Long Time Comin’ is award winning (the Christy Award which is one of the top literary awards in Christian fiction) and she released ‘Til I Want No More earlier this year and showed she’s not a one-hit writer. She’s just finished the manuscript for her third book and I am so excited to find out what it is all about I’ve been stalking her social media for when she shares that news. Okay, I’m not really stalking her social media. I am occassionally checking in for when she makes that announcement. Anyhow, let’s get on to telling you, my readers, more about Robin.

Thank you, Robin, for agreeing to take part in this feature.

First, tell us a little bit about your background. Where are you from originally? Tell us about your family, your interests and your hobbies, any jobs you had before you were an author. 

I’m a hugger by birth, though that may have something to do with being born, raised, and educated in North Carolina. After graduating from college, I took my hugs on the road when Hubby and I settled in Massachusetts. There, I started as an admin for Houghton Mifflin Company and worked my way up to an editor before we relocated, grew our family with a few dogs and more than a few little people, and I began freelancing as a writer and editor. A few years ago, Hubby and I returned to our home state, but I’d have to use both hands to count the number of times we’ve moved up, down, ad around the East Coast.  

As a wife, writer, and a homeschooling mama of seven, I don’t have much time for my “interests and hobbies.” In a perfect world, I would read as much as I wanted, do Sudoku puzzles and crosswords, watch crime dramas, eat Chinese and Mexican food (on separate plates, mind you), and stay up late and sleep in.  

You’ve had two fiction books published in the last couple of years. Tell us what inspired you to start writing fiction? If you don’t mind, please also share what inspired your first book A Long Time Comin’ and your second book, ‘Til I Want No More. 

My family inspired me to write—the people I came from and the ones who came from me. I wanted to preserve our traditions and stories and pass them along, and one day this fictional character popped into my mind—Granny B. She took a seat on her front porch with her bushel of butter beans and commenced to telling me her story about her children and her life in Spring Hope. There was nothing I could do but write it all down, and that became my debut, A Long Time Comin’.  

A different season of life and the Biblical story of Jacob and Esau inspired ‘Til I Want No More, my second novel. Like Jacob, my main character Maxine Owens is carrying around a life-sized burden she’s run from for years. But one day, her “Esau” showed up.  

I want to use my work—both my fiction and my devotionals—to show what real faith looks like in real life and in real time.  

What advice would you give to other writers who hope to someday write a full book or simply enjoy writing in general?

Throw away your laptop and find a job as a calculus teacher. Totally less stressful. If that’s not an option then… 

pray and seek God for your purpose and stay true to it,  don’t keep track of the rejection letters or mount the commendations on your wall,  take lots of notes, and write down your ideas, no matter how strange, inconsequential, or random, write regularly, write your own story, not someone else’s. 

What hobbies do you have outside of writing? If you don’t have time for hobbies, what hobbies do you wish you had?
 

I wish I loved to exercise, but I’m persnickety enough to make myself do what I don’t want to do…sometimes. And as much as I love food, I should be able to grow it. We started a container garden, so we’ll see how that goes. Also, I think as a homeschooling mama, I should be able sew or regularly engage in some type of craft-related, useful activity, but…alas, no. While I am creative and imaginative, these fingers were made for typing, playing the piano and board games, and pressing the buttons on my remote.  

What has been the best part of being an author? 

Doing what I love amidst the people I love where I love to be. It’s a gift from the Lord. And there’s nothing like hearing from a reader that something I wrote impacted or inspired them. So grateful! 

What advice would you offer to the younger version of yourself?
“Don’t let acceptance (or lack of it) make or break you. Believe what God says about you and to you. Remember He made you exactly the way you are, fearfully and wonderfully, despite anything else you see, read, or hear. Now, quit your whining.”

Please let us know about any future projects you may have coming up and where readers can find out more about you, your books, and future projects?

I’ve recently submitted my third manuscript to my publisher, so right now I’m checking my e-mail thirty times an hour for word from my editor and resisting the urge to pepper her with “So, what do you think?” emails. This next book is set for release in Spring 2022. Currently, you can read my first and second books wherever books are sold and on the shelf of your local library. Readers can learn more about who gives me gray hair and what makes me sing at RobinWPearson.com, in my Robin’s Nest newsletter, or find me on social media using @robinwpearson.  

Sunday Bookends: Do you have book reading goals? And a trip down the river. Luckily on a boat.

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.

Do you have book goals for the year? Like do you try to read a certain amount of books during a year? I don’t, in case you were wondering.

My husband does and every year he reads thirty-some more than he planned on. Makes me both sick and impressed.

I don’t set challenges because it stresses me out and I have enough to stress me out. I prefer not to be stressed out about reading too.

I should add that my husband just discovered his Goodreads counted some of the books he read twice so maybe he didn’t read 73 out of 50 last year after all. Ha! Take that! He also reads comics, graphic novels, and hardcover/paperbacks throughout the year and writes hundreds of news stories. Yes, he is an overachiever when it comes to words.

What I’m Reading

So, on to my (slow) reading this week. I finished two books, one by Jodi Allen Brice, who asked me to read an Advanced Readers Copy for her. It comes out June 29 and is called Promises Kept. It was a nice, simple story about a small town with some romance thrown in.

I also finished The Heart Knows the Way Home by Christy Distler and will probably finish Sarah’s Choice by Pegg Thomas this week.

Pegg’s book comes out on August 3. It is a very raw look at life after the French and Indian War through the eyes of a woman who loses her husband at the hands of Native Americans. It is raw, gritty, and not necessarily something I would read again, but it is very well written. I’m not sure I think we have to be reminded so many times that the woman hates Indians (who I call Native Americans because I hate the term Indians since they were never Indians. They weren’t from India), but that’s who the character is, so I suppose it is necessary.

She has very good reasons to hate them, don’t get me wrong, but the number of times they are called savages like it is fact is a bit much for me. This book is not going to remind you that the settlers came in and kicked the Native Americans out of their homes and their land without a second thought, that’s for sure. You’re going to be told to feel sorry for the settlers who built forts and moved in guns and destroyed the forests and that’s a little hard for me in some ways, but in other ways not because I know the author is trying to convey to the reader how the settlers felt. As she says on her Goodreads account, she isn’t trying to instill modern values and opinions on the matter into her story. That’s very clear within the first chapter. The whole situation stinks, but in this book, only one side of the situation stinks, which is awkward for me. The book is extremely well researched and well written so any negatives I am expressing here are more about the situation back then, not about the book itself or the author. She’s an excellent writer and keeps the story moving along to the point you don’t want to stop reading.

Christy’s book was a much lighter read. It focused on a woman who returns to an area where she grew up in a difficult childhood and ends up temporarily staying with the Mennonite family who helped raise her after a tree falls through the house she is renting. She hasn’t seen them in over a decade and one of the people who is most uncomfortable with her visit is her childhood friend Luke Martin.

Luke is still reeling from the loss of his wife and raising his son Joah on his own.

He’s also struggling with moving away from the more stringent rules of the church he’s always been a part of. Janna, the main character, is doing some reeling of her own, after having a daughter in college and leaving an abusive relationship five months prior. This is a Christian book but it is not overly preachy, well, not exactly.

It does get a little preachy about Mennonite customs, but that is to explain the characters and the main character’s transformation.

I’m not sure what I thought about the ending exactly, but it was a very sweet ending, which I found refreshing after slogging through the depression of Sarah’s Choice.

The book is not a romance because there is no kissing. I mean none. Like no. Really. NONE.

Lots of “feelings” and “looks” and a couple of side hugs. It’s a very Mennonite-positive book. No men running off with non-Mennonite women to explore life outside the church here. The author was respecting Mennonites with this book because she used to attend a Mennonite Church, and there is nothing wrong with that. She also used the book as a way to raise awareness of a genetic condition that affects mainly the Mennonite community and to raise money for that cause.

This week I hope to read a couple of hardcover books I picked up at a library sale, a The Cat Who book, and a book called Double Minds by Terri Blackstock.

What I’m Watching

Hubby and I are mainly watching Poirot movies, and I watched The Chosen episode six this week but watched very little else this past week because I’ve either been reading, running errands, or watching my daughter’s little friends as they walk up and down our street between their Nana’s house and our house.

What’s Been Occurring 

My daughter’s little friends came back from a six-month stay in Texas, and she’s been able to see them three or four times since they’ve returned. They stay with their great-grandmother off and on during the summer because of their mom’s crazy work schedule. Their Nana, as they call her, lives at the end of our street so the girls walk up and sometimes they all walk back down in search of toys (usually Barbies) they want to play with up here. I used to let them walk back and forth and was content on standing on our front sidewalk to watch them reach her house and then she would watch them from the front porch until they arrived at ours.

However, this week I noticed how creepy some of the guys driving past our house are and got a little nervous about letting them walk alone. Our street isn’t super busy but it is a shortcut to the local hardware, garden store so cars often zoom up if off another road, and by zoom I mean they act like it’s a drag racing course. Two small cars come up here a lot and the guys in them are sort of creepy, proven this week when the one guy stopped, leaned out his car window, and said to my daughter’s friend, “That’s right. Got to look both ways before crossing the street.”

I have no idea why the man’s comment made me nervous. I mean, it was good advice. It was just the way he seemed to leer when he said it. Shudder. I suddenly had flashbacks to foreshadowing moments in movies where the character who seems nice later comes back and kidnaps the children. Luckily it gave me a chance to talk to the girls again about how we don’t talk to people we don’t know on the street and what to do if someone ever tries to grab them.

The weather warmed up enough this week that we broke out the slip n’ slide in the backyard. Let me tell you about this slip n’ slide — all I wanted was a little simple slide like I’d had as a kid. I logged on to Amazon to search for it and about 50 recommendations came up, all of them over $70. It was nuts. I finally find one for only $13 and the reviews weren’t great, but I didn’t care. I just needed a piece of plastic with some holes to let the kids slide on. It isn’t the most state-of-the-art thing but the kids had fun so that’s all that matters.

On Saturday we kicked off my husband’s vacation week with a trip down the Susquehanna River on a paddleboat. It was a very nice ride. In addition to the view, we were able to learn about the history of logging along the river, as well as information about the Underground Railroad stops in the area, via a video they played on two large screen TVs on board. We also learned about local Native American history, which, sadly, was as tragic as their history in other places in our country.

My daughter was more fascinated with the snack bar than anything else but she also had developed a cold, although we weren’t sure it was a cold until later that day. We thought it was allergies until her temperature rose once we got home.

Now we are all bracing ourselves to see if we catch it as well and if our planned day trips for the rest of the week will be able to be held or not. 

 In between day trips, I will be researching homeschool curriculum and taking our homeschool paperwork in to the school district.

What I’m Listening To

I’ve been listening to the Unashamed podcast during the week, but sadly try to listen at night and fall asleep listening to the Robertson’s talk about their crazy lives. I like waking up and hearing them talk about what they’ve learned from the Bible.

What I’m Writing

I gave up on writing blog posts consecutively because, well, I was beginning to look like a loser with no life. I mean, I am one, but I don’t want to look like it. *wink*

 I finished the first manuscript of Harvesting Hope last week and am on to the editing stage and changing the ending because, well, I hate the ending.

On the blog I wrote:

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

Short Fiction: Better Than Whiskey

Remembering To Find the Good in the Purpose God Has Set for Me (on the Hopes, Hearts, and Heroes blog)

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

Special Saturday Fiction: Harvesting Hope Chapter 19

Also, Dorothy our “scarewoman” shows here how I felt in the heat Saturday and will the rest of this week, if it gets as high as they say it will.

So that’s my week in review. How was your week last week? What are you reading, watching, listening to, writing, or doing? Let me know in the comments.  

Special Saturday Fiction: Harvesting Hope Chapter 19

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 (eh, husband) 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.

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.

I will be looking for people to provide advanced reviews of the book on Goodreads, so if you are interested in that, let me know. I could use a couple beta readers in mid Mid-July as well.

Chapter 19

Bile rose in Jason’s throat as he drove out of the church parking lot, his foot pressed all the way down on the accelerator. He tasted bitterness and dragged a hand across his mouth, considering pulling over and vomiting on the side of the road. Had he really just snapped on Ellie in front of their pastor? He’d made her sound like she was the villain, and he was the victim. How could he have done that?

He loved Ellie. More than he could even express. He certainly hadn’t done a good job of showing it by yelling at her, though. Now he wondered if she had any love left for him at all. Not only had it sounded like he had been mocking her, and his firmly held Biblically-based beliefs, but he’d outed her as a hypocrite in front of Pastor Joe. Just as badly, he’d made it sound as if she’d done something worse than what she actually had.

He pounded the steering wheel as he drove toward her apartment. The conversation had careened completely out of control.

No. It hadn’t been the conversation.

He had lost complete control, and he hated it. He hated he had shared their private struggle without her permission; used her pain and embarrassment as a weapon.

He yanked the truck into a parking space in front of her apartment building but didn’t see her car. She’d probably gone to her parents.

Great.

He’d almost got her father killed and now he’d screamed at her in front of their pastor. He needed to find her and apologize.

Now.

He pulled onto the road, headed toward her parents, hoping he could find her before she reached her parents and either she or Tom met him at the door with a shotgun.

The scanner trilled out a series of tones as he drove. He ignored it, focused on the drive to Ellie’s, replaying what he’d said and how he’d said it.

He couldn’t let this conversation fester like the other one, drill holes of bitterness into their hearts. She was too important to him for him to let that happen. Like his grandmother had said, Ellie was worth fighting for.

The voice of the female dispatcher caught his attention. “Department 12, Tri-County EMS. Ellory Road, two miles past Tanner Enterprises. Kitchen fire. Two story family home. Call came from the homeowner.”

He mentally ticked off the houses on Ellory Road. There were only four houses, One was a ranch home, another a one-story modular. Dread set in like a brick, sinking to the bottom of a creek bed. What if it was the Weatherly’s? They had a two-story home. Then again, the Murphys, who were probably home with their six children having Sunday dinner, also had a two-story home.

His worst fears were realized with the next dispatch.

“Department 12, homeowner is still in the home. An elderly woman. Has been advised to leave but refuses. Coughing and choking. Difficult to understand. Possible smoke inhalation.”

He yanked the trunk into gear and took off, knowing immediately it was the Weatherly home. If Ann was the homeowner her lungs would fill up fast if she didn’t get out. She weighed less than a fifth grader at this point in her life and her lungs were probably even smaller.

By the time he ripped the truck into a space in front of their house, Denny was standing outside, pulling his gear on. Jason slammed his truck into park and reached for his suit, keeping his eyes on dark black smoke billowing from the window at the back, where the kitchen was, flames darting through the smoke and licking the siding.

“Where are Ann and John?” he asked.

Denny shook his head. “John’s car is gone. He may not be home. Dispatch says Ann’s still in there and she’s not answering me.”

Jason yanked his glove on and reached for the oxygen mask and tank he’d stashed behind his front seat. “I’m going in.”

Denny reached out and grabbed his arm. “We need to wait for the fire truck so they can fight back the flames.”

Jason jerked away. “If Ann is in there, she could be dead before they get here. I’m heading in. Spot me.”

The scanner squealed, and Cody’s voice informed dispatch the truck was on its way.

Jason smiled through the oxygen mask. “See? They’ll be here any minute.”

Shaking his head, Denny positioned his oxygen mask on his face and followed him. “You better know what you’re doing, Tanner.”

Jason knew it didn’t matter if he knew what he was doing or not. Someone had to go in that house and find Ann. He was nervous, knowing the ceiling could come down on them if the fire spread. He had to take the chance, though. Ann had lived a long, full life. She didn’t deserve to die this way, and he wasn’t about to tell her children she had.

***

Ellie had washed her face, reapplied makeup, and walked into the apartment to pick up the crockpot and Judi. She’d silently prayed Judi wouldn’t ask her where she’d been or why her eyes were red and swollen. Luckily Judi had been as self-focused as ever, dealing with a hangover. She perked up ten minutes into the drive and spent the rest of the short trip talking about new outfits she had purchased and the party she planned to wear them to later that night. She obviously didn’t remember how she’d acted the night before, when Ellie had tried to convince her to leave the club.

Ellie wondered if she was ever going back to the city. She’d said she had a job. Didn’t she have to get back to it? If Ellie hadn’t had so much on her mind already, she might have asked her. At this point, though, she couldn’t handle anymore drama. It was bad enough Judi had taken over her spare room, her mess spilling over into the rest of the apartment. Ellie had no idea why she had a spare room, anyhow.

It’s not like she had visitors, or at least rarely did, which is probably why she’d only placed a used daybed in the room after she moved in. Lucy liked to joke she would crash in it some night when she needed a break from Denny and the kids. Her cousin Randi had used it once to stay in when she’d come for a family reunion.

Ellie did her best to sound chipper during lunch, grateful when it was over, and she could use the headache she’d developed since leaving the church as an excuse to leave early.

“Want to go to a party with me at Lana’s?” Judi asked on the drive home.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I still have a headache from last night.”

“Take an Advil. It’ll be gone in time for the party.”

“I’m not interested, Judi.”

“I’m not interested, Judi.” Judi’s tone was mocking. “You’re not interested in much, are you? What do you even do all the time now that you don’t have a boyfriend?”

Ellie pressed her foot down harder on the accelerator. “Maybe you’d know if you were ever around.”

Judi snorted a laugh. “As if you’d want me around. You never have and you know it.”

Ellie didn’t have the energy for this. Not now. She turned the music up on the radio.

“Isn’t there anything to listen to besides Family Life?”

Judi reached for the radio knob, but Ellie slapped her hand.

“Oooh. Someone’s hormones are raging.”

She wasn’t in the mood for Judi’s snarky retorts. Family Life offered uplifting Christian music and that was what she needed at the moment.

“I like Family Life. Leave it.”

Judi groaned. “But the music is so boring.”

 “It’s my car and we’ll listen to what I want. You can listen to whatever you want while you clean the mess you’ve made in my apartment.”

Judi sighed and propped her feet on the dashboard, sliding her finger across the screen of her phone. “You’re such a cranky old lady, I swear.”

Back at the apartment Ellie walked to her room immediately, not even caring if Judi had followed her inside. She flopped on the bed and pulled her knees up to her chest, closing her eyes, hoping in vain that when she opened them Judi would be gone, and everything that had happened earlier in the day with Jason had never happened at all.

When sleep didn’t come, she rolled over and picked up her phone. She tapped the FaceTime button, hoping Lucy was home and not at her or Denny’s parents.

Lucy’s cute, round, and very perky face greeted her. Maybe this had been a bad idea. Lucy looked so happy and relaxed. Ellie didn’t want to ruin her day.

“Hey, pretty lady. I lost you after church. Where’d you go? You okay?”

Ellie sighed. “Yeah. No. I don’t know. Pastor Joe asked if Jason and I would come talk to him.”

The image on the phone blurred, jerked and straightened again, Lucy’s background now the family photo on the wall behind her couch.

“Oh boy. How did that go?”

“I don’t want to dump on you. It sounds quiet there, like maybe you’re finally getting some alone time?”

Lucy waved her hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. Now we can talk without the kids interrupting. They’re at my parents. Denny and I were going to watch a movie, but the tones dropped so he’s out on a call.” She popped a grape in her mouth. “Tell me what happened. Did Pastor Joe getting the boxing gloves out for you?”

Ellie scoffed. “He should have. That’s how bad it got.”

Lucy’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh. Am I going to need chocolate for this story? Or should I hop in my car and come over?”

Ellie shook her head. “No. Don’t do that. I’ll be fine. Maybe get the chocolate for yourself, though.”

“Fill me in, kid. Come on. I can tell you need to talk about this.”

Ellie filled her in, blow by blow, even telling her the part where he accused her of trying to act like she was a perfect, virtuous woman. Lucy knew about her struggles with trying to be authentic, yet still trying to keep her private life private. She also knew about her struggles with desiring more of a physical relationship with Jason, even as she desired waiting until marriage.

Ellie didn’t think she actually pretended to be virtuous or have only pure thoughts. It’s just that Bible study wasn’t the place she was going to admit she’d imagined Jason naked more than she cared to admit. Maybe it should have been the place, and maybe the ladies would have appreciated her honesty, but it wasn’t something she felt comfortable with. She supposed she’d have to analyze why later. Maybe Jason was right and she wanted people from the church to think she was someone she wasn’t.

“Okay, El.” Lucy clapped her hands together and shifted closer to the camera. “I think it’s time for some tough love, but I’m really not sure if you are in a place you can handle it. Are you in a place where you can handle it?”

Ellie sighed, her chin propped on her hand, her elbow propped up on the bed. “Might as well let it loose. Soft love isn’t getting me anywhere these days.”

Lucy shifted her bottom on the couch, wiggling like she was trying to get more comfortable. Ellie braced herself.

“Okay. So. You said Jason showed you his true colors today. Let me ask you something.” She leaned closer to the camera, narrowing her eyes. “Do you really think that? Do you really think that what you saw from Jason today is who he is? Ellie, you’ve known this man for over a decade. Besides this one secret and him blowing up today, have you ever witnessed him be anything other than good, kind, and loving to you? He’s never going to be perfect, but Jason is always going to strive to be a good man and he’s always going to strive to be the best man for you and in the sight of God. You know that. Deep down I believe you know he’d never intentionally hurt you. I’ve told you before that one day your stubbornness is going to be your downfall. I hate to say it, but that day might be here.”

Ellie’s whistle sounded similar to Judi’s from the other day. “Ouch. That was some tough love.”

“Yeah, well, I think you needed it. No matter what, though, you know I love you, right? You know I’m always here for you no matter what you decide when it comes to Jason.”

Ellie propped the phone against a pillow and moved her other hand under her chin, folding it over the one she’d been leaning on before. “Yes, I do.”

“El, we’ve known each other almost our whole lives. I know you planned your life out long ago.  Who you would marry, when you would marry, when you would have kids and a career. You have these ideas in your head of how it is all supposed to go, but life doesn’t always work out the way we expect it to.”

Ellie knew that.

She did.

There were just times, like now, that she didn’t want to accept it.

Lucy squinted at the phone screen. “Hold on. Denny’s calling. I’d better take this. I’ll switch back over in a minute.”

The screen went blank, and Ellie waited, thinking about what Lucy had said. How Jason had always strived to be a good man. How the angry Jason at the church wasn’t all there was to Jason. She knew that, of course. It was hurt and anger giving her tunnel vision. She needed to pull back and look at the bigger picture.

 Like her, he had many emotions, many feelings and even though this was the first time she’d witnessed anger directed at her with such animosity, it didn’t mean it had taken him over completely.

“Hey, El?” Lucy’s face popped back on the screen, but her smile had faded, replaced by a somber expression. “You still there? The fire was at the Weatherlys.”

“Oh, no.”

“Yeah, total loss but worse than that, they think John didn’t make it out.”

Ellie gasped, tears filling her eyes again. She and Jason had both delivered groceries to Ann and John over the years. She also remembered Ann well from when her mother used to host a sewing circle at their house.

“Denny said he and Jason were first on the scene. Jason went in and carried Ann out. He didn’t see John though and he’s taking it pretty hard that John might have been inside. Cody wants a cut on Jason’s head checked at the ER, but Denny said he won’t go. He just keeps pacing back and forth, waiting for the state police fire marshal to come so they can get confirm if John was inside.”

Ellie sat up on the bed and drew in a shaky breath.

For the last seven months she’d been questioning who Jason really was, asking herself how much of his life and their relationship had been an act. She still had lingering concerns about what else he’d hid from her, but what she did know was that Jason hadn’t been faking it when he showed love for the Weatherly’s. He hadn’t been faking the glint in his eye over the years when he announced he’d “take one for the team” by delivering their groceries, knowing they’d lavish him with praise and, most likely Ann would slide him a desert for his effort.

This would hit him hard.

Very hard.

“You okay?” Lucy asked.

Ellie wiped a finger under her eye. “Actually, in a renewed effort to be authentic, I will tell you that no, I am currently not okay.” She laughed through the tears and rubbed the palm of her thumb along the corner of her eye. “I’m going to go sign off and have a good cry. Can you call me if you hear anything else?”

Lucy nodded. “I will. For now, though, let’s pray before you hang up.”

Lucy prayed for the Weatherlys, the firefighters, and Jason, asking for God’s comfort in all the ways that were needed.

After they hung up, Ellie knew she couldn’t sit in her room crying. She needed to drive to the scene as hard as it would be.

She needed to make sure that Jason was okay, even if he pushed her away.

Remembering to find the good in the purpose God has set for me

It’s happening again. I’m starting to hate what I love — that which provides an escape for me from the depression and the anxiety. It happened once …

Remembering to find the good in the purpose God has set for me

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.