Lisa R. Howeler's Blog, page 117

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?

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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.

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.

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

After re-reading the Little House series by Laura Ingalls Wilder as an adult, I have a different view of Charles “Pa” Ingalls than I once did.

In my child’s mind, Pa was fun and spontaneous and always looking for adventure.

As an adult I still see Pa as those things, but also as a little bit irritating and maybe somewhat irresponsible at times. From what we read in the books, he was always looking for the next adventure or opportunity, instead of finding stability for his family. Then again, maybe traveling from place to place was how he was finding financial stability for his family – he had to go where the work and food was.

It had to have been hard for him to stay still, I realize that. He was a person who was always looking for a new experience. When more families pushed into the west to find new experiences, he wanted to join them.

Pa reminds me a lot of a family member of my husband’s who is always seeking a new opportunity that she is sure will bring her riches. Each scheme fails and she’s left right where she started. In some ways, this is Pa.

He moves the family to the prairie, but the government threatens to move them out so he leaves and moves on to Plum Creek. They are there several years but as soon as Pa is offered another opportunity to build a new life in a new land, he’s gone again, moving his family hundreds of miles across the country.

Living with him must have been hard for his wife and children, more so his wife Caroline. Even though the books are more fiction than non-fiction, it’s clear that Laura probably wrote some truth in the pages when it came to her parents and her father’s constant urge to move the family. There were many times Laura described her mother as worried or tired and who wouldn’t be when their spouse is constantly coming home with a new idea and when they live in unpredictable places where life can change on a whim?

“Laura knew that Ma had never wanted to leave Plum Creek and did not like to be here now; she did not like traveling in that lonely country with night coming on and such men riding the prairie.” – On the Shores of Silver Lake.

When Pa did come back from his trips, he always had some crazy story about why he was delayed or what happened during the trip. The stories were most likely true — except that far fetched one on Plum Creek when he fell in a snowbank/cave and had to stay there for three days until he was able to dig his way out and then found out he was right up the hill from their house. Come on, Pa, really? You were in town hanging out with the blacksmith or the general store owner. Don’t lie, dude. *wink*

He also left his family alone in some dangerous situations where angry Native Americans (I mean, the Ingalls were building homes on their land half the time, so of course tthey were angry), wolves, rowdy railroad workers, or other threats could have harmed them.

Charles and Caroline Ingalls

Despite Pa’s propensity to launch the family into an insecure situation, it was clear he loved them. I don’t believe he was always rushing off to something new simply for himself. Sometimes he might have been, but mainly he was taking new jobs, trying new things in farming, and moving to new places to help provide a better life for his family, not gain riches and fame for himself.

Even if he was doing it for his family, it couldn’t have been easy never knowing when he might come home and suggest they move again.

Luckily, Pa sacrifices his desire for adventure more than once for Caroline and his girls, something Laura touches on in The Shores of Silver Lake.

When Laura’s cousins leave to go further West, both she and Pa look after them wistfully, wishing they could follow them into adventure. Pa, however, says he won’t continue into the west because a town his being built where they are now and with a town will come a school. Caroline always wanted her children to attend school and Pa says he promised her he would calm down and settle down so the children could be educated.

In the end, it was the love of Caroline and his girls that kept him at least a little bit grounded.

Have you ever read Laura Ingalls Wilder’s Little House series? What is your impression of Charles Ingalls based on these books? Was his desire for adventure a detriment or a benefit to his family? Did he drag them all over the country too much, even if he did do it for the right reason?

Flash Fiction: Strike It Rich

I am still working on this one, but still thought I’d share it for fun.

It was rejected for a flash Fiction magazine but I was given some pointers to improve it. I may share it again when I touch it up.

Strike it Rich

“Holton Fields, you can’t be serious.” Her voice grated on his nerves like a baby rabbit stuck in a garden fence. “Put that contraption down and get back in this camper.”

But he wasn’t going to put that contraption, as Lulabelle called it, down. No siree, he was not. That contraption was the key to his fortune, and he aimed to use it tomorrow up there in those hills right in front of him.

“Why do you think I brought you all the way out here to Wyoming, woman? Just to sight-see? No. I’m here to make us some money. Just like Charlie Steen.”

Lulabelle propped a hand on her hip and tipped her head. “What crazy stories you been listening to?” Wearing a pair of thigh high denim jeans and a sleeveless red and white checkered shirt tied above her belly button, she looked like a movie start to him. If he hadn’t been so annoyed with her, Holton would have been turned on.

Now her arms were tight across her chest. “And who is this Steen fellow anyhow?”

“That guy I read about in the paper. I told you. He’s rich now. Made all that money when he found the uranium over there in Utah.”

Lulabelle rolled her eyes. “Uranium sounds like a disease.”

Holton slapped his hand to his forehead. “It’s a metal, Lulabelle. An expensive metal that Steen made a bunch of money from and now I’m going to do the same thing.” He shook his head and twisted the knobs on the machine he’d bought from George Kissinger before he left.

“It’s a waste of time, Fields,” George had told him. “It’s all wishful thinking. A pipe dream. There ain’t no way to strike it rich looking for that stuff. Steen got lucky. That’s all.”

Holton ignored him though. He was going to find uranium. He’d been studying how to do it. Read all the books he could find at the library. Read all the articles in the paper about that Steen fellow. He’d even talked to a professor at the local college.

All he’d needed was that Geiger machine and George had sold him that. He’d cashed in his life savings, bought the camper and took off for Wyoming. The land there was ripe for picking. That’s what it’d said in the newspaper.

“How you going to use that thing anyhow?” Lulabelle was looking over his shoulder now.

“I’m going to go up in those mountains and do some digging, and this machine will tell me when I strike it rich.”

His wife pursed her lips together and played with a dark curl draped across her shoulder. She looked past him at the mountains. “Those mountains don’t look safe to me. I don’t think you should go. You might fall down a hole and break your neck, and then what will I do? I’ll be all alone. All alone in this camper with no way to get home to my mama.”

Why did women always go to the worst-case scenarios? Break his neck. Good grief. What Lulabelle needed was for him to paint her a positive picture.

“Now come on Lulabelle, baby.” He hoisted the machine against his shoulder and turned to face her. “Don’t think that way. I’m out here for you. I promised you the moon when we got married, didn’t I? Told you I’d find a way to give you everything you wanted. Don’t you want to be living high on the hog like those Rockefellers? Don’t you want a fancy house on the river? A fancy car to drive and a mink coat to wear? I’m going to go up there tomorrow so I can give you all that and more.”

Both hands dropped to her hips and her eyebrows dipped down. “I’m allergic to mink, Holton. It makes me break out in hives. All over my body. You know that. Or you would if you ever paid attention to anything other than all these hairbrained ideas of yours.”

Hairbrained ideas. That’s gratitude for you. Didn’t that door-to-door book salesman thing do okay? Before he’d left the books out in the rain and had to pay the company back all the money he’d made?

Fine.

So that idea didn’t work, but what about buying those hens and selling eggs? That worked for a few months.

Until that he’d left the door open, and the coyotes ate them all.

“Yeah, well, you might be right.” He set the machine in the back of his pickup. “I made some bad decisions over the years. This ain’t one of them, though. I’m going to find uranium and buy you a genuine diamond. It’s what you deserve, Lulabelle. It’s what you deserve after all these years of putting up with me and my crazy ideas.”

Lulabelle sighed and shook her head. “Holton Alexander. When you gonna realize that I don’t want anything in this world except you?”

He squinted at her, studied her face. She’d never said anything like that before. Did she really only want him?

Even now, 40-years after that conversation in the middle of nowhere Wyoming, he couldn’t believe it, but it was true. She really had only wanted him.

He’d never found the uranium, even though he’d tried for two weeks straight. He’d never bought her that mink coat. Good thing, since he never forgot again that she was allergic to mink. Who ever heard of anyone being allergic to mink? He shrugged and laughed.

He’d never built her a fancy house or drove her around in one of those pink Rolls-Royce cars either.

None of that mattered to either of them now.

Love had made them richer than any of those men who went looking for their fortunes in the hills.

“Grandpa?” A little voice pulled him from his thoughts. “Tell me again about driving to Wyoming in a camper and seeing those coyotes and Buffalo and how grandma fell in love with you again.”

Sunday Bookends: Rooms, Blooming Flowers, and finishing Harvesting Hope

 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’s Been Occurring

As I wrote last week, I have been on a streak of posting on here and I think I’m on day 17 at this point. I’m not sure how long I will push the posting streak for, but I think I might aim for 20 days in a row and then stop. That will be Wednesday. I don’t think I’ll have much left in me after that, but we will see. I may not even have anything in the tank for these last three days. My little mind is a bit empty, which is not uncommon. Ha! Maybe some more blog post ideas will pop up and I’ll keep pushing on to 30 days. I doubt it, however.

Our flowers are in full bloom around our house. They are only here for a short time so I have been trying to enjoy them as much as I can. I’ve been taking photos to remember how beautiful they are. It’s so sad that they are only in bloom for about two weeks before they are all gone again.

The roses in the backyard have been in full bloom but yesterday I noticed they are also starting to fall away. The peonies have fully opened now ,and they will hopefully last for a couple of weeks before they are gone. I should learn more about how to plant flowers so I can see flowers all year around, but I’m not really great at plants.

My neighbor is wonderful at it, so I simply sit back and enjoy her flowers and reap all her hard work. She really is a hard worker too. Her and her husband are always in their yard, making it look beautiful. I admire them and maybe someday I can do the same. I won’t hold my breath, though.

I’ve been busy trying to finish up Harvesting Hope. Scenes for the story run through my mind constantly. I often think about giving up and not writing these books, but I’m simply having too much fun, even if no one reads them. That’s been my goal all along with writing – “just have fun.”

I hope to have the first draft of the book done this week and then start going through it for the second draft in the next couple of weeks.

I really need to finish this book because Ginny The Librarian has been screeching at me to finish her story. She is stuck in limbo right now. Liam Finley, the editor, would also like some happiness beause right now he’s a raging drunk, depressed newspaper editor in my head. Then there is Randi who lost her job in her field and is now back home in a dinky town applying for a job at her small town paper with before mentioned raging drunk at the helm.

And in the background, always, is Josefa, daughter of Jairus, raised from the dead by Jesus, literally. She was what kicked this all off and she’d like to know what life held for her after Jesus told her to rise.

What I’m Reading

I finished Rooms by James L. Rubart this week and it was different than most of the books I read, but it was really interesting and thought provoking.I considered abandoning it a few times. I am not a supernatural fan when it comes to books. In life, I am, of course. But in books I was getting a little annoyed with all the weirdness. Then, as I read, I got wrapped up in the weirness and I ha to find out what happened. I could not get this book out of my head and still can’t. It truly makes you think about God’s love for us, even when bad things happen or we make bad decisions. It makes you sit and ponder what God things of things you’ve done, mistakes you’ve made and hope he has the response that he does in Rooms. I am not sure in what category to place it in, other than speculative supernatural fiction.

The description from Amazon (a little long, but worth it to undertstand the unusual plot(:

What if you inherited a brand-new mansion on the Oregon coast—from a great uncle you never knew? Would you blow it off? Or head down there to check it out?
Micah Taylor isn’t stupid. He’s made a fortune building a Seattle software empire. But he can’t figure out why he’s been given a 9,000 square foot home right on the beach.
And not just any beach.
The one beach he loves more than any other.
The one beach he hates more than any other.
Both at the same time.
Micah drives down to check out the house. On the surface, everything seems legit. He instantly feels at home and then he meets a beautiful young woman at the local ice cream shop.
Now there’s two reasons to keep coming back to Cannon Beach. But the house still feels off. Things start happening that Micah can’t explain.
That Micah doesn’t want explained.
Because he’s slowly realizing the house isn’t just a house.
It’s a physical manifestation of his soul.
He begins a journey into the most glorious rooms of his life, but also the darkest.
Rooms where terrible things happened.
Things that must not be remembered, but scream out to be heard.
Micah can’t run. Can’t hide.
Because the memories aren’t just memories.
They’re real.
Memories that can heal and set him free.
But that can also destroy him
And there’s no way to know which side will win in the end.

This week I am continuing an advanced reader copy of Sarah’s Choice by Pegg Thomas, as well as The Heart Knows The Way Home by Christy Distler.

Little Miss and I have finished On the Banks of Plum Creek by Laura Ingalls Wilder, and we are now on The Farmer Boy.

What I’m Watching

On Friday I watched the replay of the K-Love awards, which are Christian music awards. I enjoyed every performance on there. Some of my favorite artists performed, including Danny Gokey, Cory Asbury, Elevation Worship, Zach Williams, Matthew West, Crowder, Kari Job and Cody Carnes, and Casting Crowns.

On Saturday, my husband, daughter and I went to see Peter Rabbit 2: The Runaway. It was a cute, family movie with less off-color jokes than some of the so-called family movies I see these days.

The theater we went to is about 45 minutes from our house and it is really nice inside. They have these large, black and white photo of old actors or scenes from old movie up on the walls. I had to take photos of two of my favorite actors, Paul Newman and John Wayne. And then The Philadelphia Story, of course.

At home I’ve been watching some Jonathan Creek, but not much else. I’ve been reading more than watching this week.

What I’m Listening To

This week I’m listening to Zach Williams, Crowder, Elevation Worship, and CeCe Winans.

What I’m Writing

I mentioned a little about my writing and what I’ve been working on, above.

If you followed the blog the last 17 days, you know I’ve written a lot. Probably too much.

This week on the blog I wrote:

A Book review of Amanda by Sarah Monzon

My To Be Read list just grows and grows and grows

Faithfully Thinking: Why aren’t some people healed?

Randomly Thinking: The Scarewoman, mouthy first-graders, and creepy Christmas music

Fiction Friday: Harvesting Hope (formerly The Father’s Sons) Chapter 14

Special Fiction Saturday: Harvesting Hope (The Father’s Sons) Chapter 15

So that’s my week in review. What have you been up to this week?