Lisa R. Howeler's Blog, page 125

Photos of the Week: Now, That’s a lot of Snow

When the forecasters said we could get anywhere from 8 to 20 inches (the huge gap was because they apparently had no confidence in their forecasting skills. I can’t blame them.) our area hoped to see that prediction at the lower end of the scale. Sadly, the actual number was not only at the higher end, but four inches over the worst case scenerio.

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So, Thursday morning the people in most of our county, and the counties surrounding us, woke up to two feet of snow. This left a lot of people stuck in their homes or digging out. It left my children excited to sled down the hill behind our house. Sadly, the snow was too soft so the sled sank in the snow. That didn’t stop my son. He decided to use the driveway instead. The sled went into the street, but no one was driving on the road anyhow and we were out with him to watch for cars.

Our animals decided they would all try going out in it. Even though, they disappeared in the drifts. We had to rescue the kitten about six times. Watching my son chase a six month kitten through the snow while I watched from the window in the kitchen was entertaining. It was less entertaining the four other times I had to chase after her, three times without a coat or shoes.

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The Boy didn’t only sled. He also helped his dad dig out the car to get to work the next morning, considering the only thing visible of the car in the morning was the passenger side mirror. I have a feeling we will still be digging out over the weekend. I told the kids that this snow fall might have to count for our white Christmas, even though it came a week early.

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Need Some Light?

This was just a beautiful post I wanted to share with you all. An uplifting reminder for this Christmas season.

Fuel For The Race

“I believe in you
You know the door to my very soul
You’re the light in my deepest, darkest hour
You’re my savior when I fall…” (1977) “How Deep Is Your Love?” Recorded By: Bee Gees Composers: Barry, Robin and Maurice Gibb, and Blue Weaver

“Dad, I paid $90.00 for that thing!”

That’s what my eldest daughter said to me on the phone last week, in her very frantic delivery. Ever since she and her husband were able to get into a house, she has gone a bit over the top on holiday decor. (My opinion.) It doesn’t matter if it’s Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas or Easter, she decorates loudly and early.

My eldest daughter’s house, Thanksgiving night 2020.

When my phone alerted me to her call, I had a gut feeling there was trouble, even before I answered. Sure ’nuff, there was a major issue going on in her world…

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Fiction Friday: The Secrets We Hold

I don’t have a new series to start for Fiction Friday, but I did write a very short beginning to the book in the series that will be about Liz and her journey dealing with an unexpected life change.

I won’t be sharing it here yet. I probably won’t start a new serial fiction story until the new year.

The working title for Liz’s story is The Secrets We Hold.

Guilt twisted in the center of Liz Cranmer’s chest. She’d lied to her best friend.

Not exactly lied.

Simply left some details unspoken.

Still, Molly had left the hospital thinking she knew everything about why Liz had swallowed half a bottle of painkillers.  

There was so much Molly didn’t know, so much Liz didn’t want her to know.

Part of Liz wished panic hadn’t led her to call for an ambulance.

Liz had let Gabe charm her again, the alcohol letting her believe him when he said he was sorry for how he’d hurt her.

“It was my fault,” she’d told Molly.

And it was. Everything that had happened that night and everything she was facing now was her fault. She’d screwed up. Again. Like she always did.

And now her life would never be the same.

My Grandfather’s Pipe

I stole this column from my husband, which he wrote for his weekly newspaper column two months ago. I thought my blog readers would like it since a lot of you are like me and like the sentimental.

Everyone has those memories that are triggered by external stimuli.

It can be a glimpse of something, a taste, or, in my case, a smell.

The smell that I’m speaking of is pipe tobacco, specifically, the kind that my grandfather used to smoke while I was a child.

The smell of my grandfather’s pipe tobacco takes me back to my early childhood, before I moved to California and eventually, later, to PA.

One of my earliest memories stems from my grandfather’s pipe. I would always be greeted by that scent whenever I would enter my grandparents’ old home in Hinsdale, IL.

Since my parents divorced when I was extremely young, my grandfather was the only father figure I had growing up.

One of the most treasured photos I have is one of myself at two years old, sitting in my grandfather’s lap. He was smiling down at me, his pipe in his hand, and I’m looking up at him smiling, holding my (toy) pipe in mine.

That photo perfectly encapsulates my life—I always tried to emulate my grandfather because of how much I respected him— and I still do.

When I was younger, he was a towering giant—a man who could do no wrong. He cooked. He cleaned. He worked hard. He took care of my grandmother. He helped out my immediate family when we were struggling. He always spoiled both my sister and me when we were kids (later he would do the same thing for his great-grandkids).

My opinion of him never changed from when I was a kid. I was always in awe of him. He still worked hard in his retirement, growing a garden that was the talk of the town in South Waverly, and taking care of my grandmother, which became even more of a challenge as she got older and the Alzheimer’s ravaged her mind resulting in her becoming mostly bedridden in her final years.

My grandfather was always the first one I would go to whenever I had news to share or needed advice. In fact, my grandfather was the first member of my family to know I was engaged, and later, he honored me by serving as my best man.

My grandfather stopped smoking while I was in my five-year exile in California.

I didn’t think much about the missing pipe until several years ago when I went into his basement.

Let me set the stage—my son, Jonathan, was about five at the time, and, a couple of weeks earlier, my grandfather had drug out my old Legos to give to him.

On this day, Jonathan wanted to see if great-grandpa had any more toys in his basement. A kid can hope, right?

So, all three of us went down to investigate.

In one of the cases we opened there was a tin. Neither my grandfather nor I knew what was in it.

I opened it—and was blasted with a smell that I hadn’t encountered in decades.

The tin contained not only several of my grandfather’s old pipes but also some of his old tobacco.

I started tearing up at that point and had to settle my emotions before I asked him if I could keep what we had found. In his usual, short-on-words-style he said, “Sure.”

While my son was disappointed that we didn’t find any more toys, I was ecstatic by my discovery and couldn’t wait to tell my wife about it.

My grandfather passed away about a year later. During the funeral, I slipped one of the pipes into his sport coat.

I still have the tin and its contents today. One of those pipes is on my desk as I type this.

At times when I’m feeling stressed or can’t come up with the word I need when I’m writing, I grab that pipe and either tap the tip of it against my thumb or inhale the lingering scent of tobacco that still permeates the head of it.

The feel of it in my hand, coupled with the smell, is calming to me. But it also has another purpose— to serve as a reminder of some of the happiest memories of my childhood.

Want a Way to Delete your Facebook and Never Look Back?

Did you know if you choose to delete your Facebook account it actually takes 30 days, or more, for your account to officially disappear?

You can say you want it gone, but if you sign back in during any time in those 60 days, your account is activated again.

I Googled to see if there was a way to delete the account quicker than 30 days.

I was also feeling pathetic that I kept logging in to check stupid things (partially at the urging of my dad but that’s another issue for another day).

I felt better, however, when I read a comment on Quora where a person admitted they also kept being tempted to log back into Facebook. I have a feeling they felt better off when they were off it but — as I heard a pastor say a couple Sundays ago – the person was returning to what they were used to.

And what they and we are used to is negative news, negative thoughts, complaining, twisted up thoughts and views, drama, fear-inducing articles and declarations.

We know none of it is helping us but it is what we run back to when we are afraid, we are bored, or we are lonely.

None of that is going to fill the God-shaped hole in our chest, though. Never.

I know many of us have Facebook to keep in contact with friends and family and there is nothing wrong with that.

But how many of us have walked into a drama we had no place being in because of Facebook?

Or how many of us have involved ourselves in battles that were not ours to fight ?

Many of us, I’m sure.

So, if you’re ready to pull the plug on your Facebook, but don’t want to be tempted to log back in again, here is a good suggestion on how to do so.

Create a NEW email id (you will be sacrificing it so don’t use your regular one)Go to Facebook settings and replace your regular email with the new one and verify it. Then you will be able to remove your phone number (if you had provided)Go to Facebook settings again, this time using the website on a browser that provides password suggestions, most people have chrome for that. Open the setting to change your password. Let your browser suggest you a password. Don’t try to remember it, just use it.Set your Facebook account for permanent delete.Open your browser settings and go to the place where it saves the passwords. Find facebook and delete the password.Delete the email id you created in Step 1

So far, it has worked for me. Good luck.

A quick reminder too: You don’t have to fully delete your Facebook. You can deactivate it and reactivate it when you are ready. I’ve been known to do this for weeks at a time and I think once for a month or so. There are instructions on how to do that on the Facebook site as well.

Victorian Reading Challenge

I am going to try this next year. We will see how it goes. . . I don’t often follow through on these things.

To read the entire reading challenge guidelines: Becky’s Book Reviews. 

Victorian Reading Challenge
Host: Becky’s Book Reviews (sign up here)
Duration: January 2021 – December 2021
Goal: Read between 4 to 6 Books (4 minimum)

Choose to participate in the basic challenge (quarterly) or the advanced challenge (themed months). All books must fall into the “Victorian” category being either a) books originally published between 1837 and 1901 b) books originally written (but not published) between 1837 and 1901 c) general nonfiction about the Victorian era (the times, the culture, the people, the events) d) biographies of Victorians.

Sign up by leaving a comment @ Becky’s Book Reviews post for the reading challenge.
The above information is copy/pasted from Becky’s post. 

I am signing up to read the quarterly challenge which is 4 Victorian books (one per quarter). 

1. Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austin

2. Uncle Tom’s Cabin by Harriet Beecher Stowe

3. The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain

4. The Sign of Four by Arthur Conan Doyle’s (husband’s suggestion)

5. Middlemarch by George Elliott

Photos of the Week: Our first Little ‘Snowstorm’ this winter

We had a little bit of snow this past week, more snow than we have so far this winter. Little Miss and Zooma the Wonder Dog had a lot of fun trapesing through it.

Sunday Bookends: Reading Books, Long Old Movies, and Snow . . . Again

Welcome to another Sunday Bookends where I share what I’m reading, watching, writing, eating, seeing, smelling — no, wait. Only what I’m reading, watching, writing, sometimes what I’m listening to and a little about what we’ve been up to. Feel free to let me know what you’ve been up to in the comments.

What I’m Reading

I am really enjoying the two books I’m switching back and forth between: Home to Holly Springs by Jan Karon and Maggie by Charles Martin.

Home to Holly Springs is the story of Jan’s Mitford character Father Tim returning to his hometown to confront his past relationship with his father. While there he will stumble on a family secret that will shatter the view he had of his father and other members of his family. He takes this journey at the age of 70, which puts an entirely different perspective on things for me, thinking about a man at this late stage of his life learning how much of his past was a lie.

It is written in the same charming way Jan writes all her Mitford books. I pretty much love it, in other words, and don’t know why I never read it when it first came out and my husband bought me a beautiful hardcover copy of it for Christmas.

Maggie is the sequel to The Dead Don’t Dance and takes the reader down the road of healing in a marriage and of a couple who suffered the loss of a baby in childbirth. These are the first two books Martin wrote, on his way to becoming a NY Times best seller, and he’s a master writer and storyteller.

Here is a quote from Maggie I really enjoyed: “Love has its own communication. It’s the language of the heart, while it has never been transcribed, has no alphabet, and can’t be heard or spoken by voice, it is used by every human on the planet. It is written on our souls, scripted by the finger of God, and we can hear, understand, and speak it with perfection long before we open our eyes for the first time.”

I don’t have plans for what to read after these two books because I’m just enjoying getting to know the characters in both of them. Maggie is a little heavy in spots,  so I try not to read that one before bed.

What I’m Watching

Last week I watched a movie with my mom. I’ve been trying to do this on Sunday afternoons to give my mom a break from all the politics or news stuff of the world. A little escape for her and me, I guess you’d say. So last week I decided we would watch Anchors Aweigh with Frank Sinatra and Gene Kelly (1945). My husband and I had watched it before years ago. Apparently, it was so many years ago that I forgot how blasted long that movie is. It was like the movie that would not end. I mean, it’s pretty entertaining, but how many times do we have to watch a Gene Kelly movie and be subjected to half hour dance scenes. Frankly, I would have preferred to have more scenes with Frank in them, but oh well, Gene was the movie star back then.

My mom has a cataract she will eventually need surgery on, and I always worry it will affect her eyesight but so far it hasn’t. This was proven to me again last week when she noticed in the beginning credits that Dean Stockwell was in the movie. I was like, “How old is that guy that he was in this movie and was still acting in the 90s on Quantum Leap.” I couldn’t imagine who he had played in the movie so, of course, I Googled it, imagining it was a different Dean Stockwell. It wasn’t. It was the actual Dean Stockwell and he played the 5-year old little boy in the movie. Apparently, Dean started as a child star in several big movies of the 40s.

One interview with him that I found said he didn’t enjoy the experience on Anchors Aweigh because he was supposed to be tutored during the filming but was usually only tutored for 15 minutes every few hours and worked 8 to 9 hour days for six days a week at a time. He also didn’t like working with Gene as much as he liked working with Frank, but that’s not new. I’ve read that from other co-stars of his, but Dean said that like most movie stars, Gene didn’t like playing opposite children because the child inevitably got all the attention. He said that Frank didn’t care about that stuff and was more down to earth and had fun with him.

So, there is your movie trivia for the week. If you do choose to watch the movie, just be warned that it is long and to be ready to skip past a few dragged out Gene Kelly dance scenes. You will, of course, want to pause in your fast-forwarding for the infamous scene where he dances with Jerry, the cartoon mouse from Tom and Jerry and any singing scenes with Frank.

While watching the movie my daughter said, “Hey! That guy sounds like that Frank Sinatra we listen to before bed!” She’s never seen a photo of Frank, but we have listened to him before bed almost every night (when we don’t read Paddington) since she was a few months old.

I also watched a couple Hallmark-type movies this weekend but I don’t want to talk about them. They were too stupid to mention.

What I’m Writing

I finished The Farmer’s Daughter last week and then started ripping it to shreds and rewriting/rearranging it for when I throw it up as an ebook in February.

I also started The Farmer’s Son and a story about Liz which will be called The Secrets We Hold.

I wrote a couple of blog posts this week:

Photos of the Week

Randomly Thinking: The Weird Things Children Say and Do and other Random Thoughts

The Farmer’s Daughter Chapter 37 (final chapter).

What’s Been Occurring

Snow fell this week and I hiked up behind our house, trespassing on our neighbors’ land to take some photos of the snow all over the trees.

Little Miss hiked up behind me, complaining part of the time that she was cold (it would have helped if she had buttoned her coat) but then enjoying collecting snow to roll into snowballs that we eventually placed in our freezer in the garage. I don’t know why we are collecting snowballs and mini snowmen in our freezers, but I guess because Little Miss wants to hold on to her happiness a little longer and she’s happy in snow.

Zooma The Wonder Dog was very happy that day because I let her off the lead so she could run all over in the snow and sometimes jump up and smack Little Miss’s snowballs out of her mitten-covered hands with her nose.

Hubby was not as happy with the snow because the car wouldn’t go up the driveway, he fell twice trying to get in the house and then got stuck in the spot across from the driveway the next morning.

I fell on our sidewalk taking snow photos when my foot slipped into a crack between panels, which I couldn’t see because it had been covered by snow. It was one of those fall where you know you are falling and you can’t do anything about it. I told my husband I toppled over slowly like a toy top, but I guess it would be better to say I toppled over slowly like a toy soldier. Either way, the slow fall was good because when I slammed my elbow into the hard sidewalk, it didn’t hurt as much as it could have.

I will share a few more photos tomorrow for my Photos of the Week post.

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

SUNDAY BOOKENDS: READING BOOKS, LONG OLD MOVIES, AND SNOW . . . AGAIN

Welcome to another Sunday Bookends where I share what I’m reading, watching, writing, eating, seeing, smelling — no, wait. Only what I’m reading, watching, writing, sometimes what I’m listening to and a little about what we’ve been up to. Feel free to let me know what you’ve been up to in the comments.

What I’m Reading

I am really enjoying the two books I’m switching back and forth between: Home to Holly Springs by Jan Karon and Maggie by Charles Martin.

Home to Holly Springs is the story of Jan’s Mitford character Father Tim returning to his hometown to confront his past relationship with his father. While there he will stumble on a family secret that will shatter the view he had of his father and other members of his family. He takes this journey at the age of 70, which puts an entirely different perspective on things for me, thinking about a man at this late stage of his life learning how much of his past was a lie.

It is written in the same charming way Jan writes all her Mitford books. I pretty much love it, in other words, and don’t know why I never read it when it first came out and my husband bought me a beautiful hardcover copy of it for Christmas.

Maggie is the sequel to The Dead Don’t Dance and takes the reader down the road of healing in a marriage and of a couple who suffered the loss of a baby in childbirth. These are the first two books Martin wrote, on his way to becoming a NY Times best seller, and he’s a master writer and storyteller.

Here is a quote from Maggie I really enjoyed: “Love has its own communication. It’s the language of the heart, while it has never been transcribed, has no alphabet, and can’t be heard or spoken by voice, it is used by every human on the planet. It is written on our souls, scripted by the finger of God, and we can hear, understand, and speak it with perfection long before we open our eyes for the first time.”

I don’t have plans for what to read after these two books because I’m just enjoying getting to know the characters in both of them. Maggie is a little heavy in spots,  so I try not to read that one before bed.

What I’m Watching

Last week I watched a movie with my mom. I’ve been trying to do this on Sunday afternoons to give my mom a break from all the politics or news stuff of the world. A little escape for her and me, I guess you’d say. So last week I decided we would watch Anchors Aweigh with Frank Sinatra and Gene Kelly (1945). My husband and I had watched it before years ago. Apparently, it was so many years ago that I forgot how blasted long that movie is. It was like the movie that would not end. I mean, it’s pretty entertaining, but how many times do we have to watch a Gene Kelly movie and be subjected to half hour dance scenes. Frankly, I would have preferred to have more scenes with Frank in them, but oh well, Gene was the movie star back then.

My mom has a cataract she will eventually need surgery on, and I always worry it will affect her eyesight but so far it hasn’t. This was proven to me again last week when she noticed in the beginning credits that Dean Stockwell was in the movie. I was like, “How old is that guy that he was in this movie and was still acting in the 90s on Quantum Leap.” I couldn’t imagine who he had played in the movie so, of course, I Googled it, imagining it was a different Dean Stockwell. It wasn’t. It was the actual Dean Stockwell and he played the 5-year old little boy in the movie. Apparently, Dean started as a child star in several big movies of the 40s.

One interview with him that I found said he didn’t enjoy the experience on Anchors Aweigh because he was supposed to be tutored during the filming but was usually only tutored for 15 minutes every few hours and worked 8 to 9 hour days for six days a week at a time. He also didn’t like working with Gene as much as he liked working with Frank, but that’s not new. I’ve read that from other co-stars of his, but Dean said that like most movie stars, Gene didn’t like playing opposite children because the child inevitably got all the attention. He said that Frank didn’t care about that stuff and was more down to earth and had fun with him.

So, there is your movie trivia for the week. If you do choose to watch the movie, just be warned that it is long and to be ready to skip past a few dragged out Gene Kelly dance scenes. You will, of course, want to pause in your fast-forwarding for the infamous scene where he dances with Jerry, the cartoon mouse from Tom and Jerry and any singing scenes with Frank.

While watching the movie my daughter said, “Hey! That guy sounds like that Frank Sinatra we listen to before bed!” She’s never seen a photo of Frank, but we have listened to him before bed almost every night (when we don’t read Paddington) since she was a few months old.

I also watched a couple Hallmark-type movies this weekend but I don’t want to talk about them. They were too stupid to mention.

What I’m Writing

I finished The Farmer’s Daughter last week and then started ripping it to shreds and rewriting/rearranging it for when I throw it up as an ebook in February.

I also started The Farmer’s Son and a story about Liz which will be called The Secrets We Hold.

I wrote a couple of blog posts this week:

Photos of the Week

Randomly Thinking: The Weird Things Children Say and Do and other Random Thoughts

The Farmer’s Daughter Chapter 37 (final chapter).

What’s Been Occurring

Snow fell this week and I hiked up behind our house, trespassing on our neighbors’ land to take some photos of the snow all over the trees.

Little Miss hiked up behind me, complaining part of the time that she was cold (it would have helped if she had buttoned her coat) but then enjoying collecting snow to roll into snowballs that we eventually placed in our freezer in the garage. I don’t know why we are collecting snowballs and mini snowmen in our freezers, but I guess because Little Miss wants to hold on to her happiness a little longer and she’s happy in snow.

Zooma The Wonder Dog was very happy that day because I let her off the lead so she could run all over in the snow and sometimes jump up and smack Little Miss’s snowballs out of her mitten-covered hands with her nose.

Hubby was not as happy with the snow because the car wouldn’t go up the driveway, he fell twice trying to get in the house and then got stuck in the spot across from the driveway the next morning.

I fell on our sidewalk taking snow photos when my foot slipped into a crack between panels, which I couldn’t see because it had been covered by snow. It was one of those fall where you know you are falling and you can’t do anything about it. I told my husband I toppled over slowly like a toy top, but I guess it would be better to say I toppled over slowly like a toy soldier. Either way, the slow fall was good because when I slammed my elbow into the hard sidewalk, it didn’t hurt as much as it could have.

I will share a few more photos tomorrow for my Photos of the Week post.

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

 

Fiction Friday: The Farmer’s Daughter Chapter 37

We are here. The last chapter of The Farmer’s Daughter.

Of course, I do still have to finish Jason’s story for regular readers and I will get there! Eventually. Ha!

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

Chapter 37

“I told you that you weren’t going to die, old man.”

Alex propped his foot against the bottom of the hospital bed, leaned back in the chair across from Robert’s bed, and looked at his employer with a smug expression.

Robert took a sip of his coffee and smiled. “Who you calling old man? I could outwork you any day.”

Alex grinned. “You’ll have to get better soon so you can prove that claim.”

Robert still looked like hell, two weeks after he’d come out of the coma and moved to a rehab facility closer to Spencer, but he was awake and alive and that was enough to make Alex feel better.

Shifting slightly, Robert grimaced as he pushed himself up more into a sitting position. Alex stretched his legs out further and folded his hands across his stomach. The brief silence that followed unnerved him. Why did he feel like there was a serious conversation coming?

“Alex, I need to ask you a question.”

Alex’s muscles tightened. He had been here twice now since Robert woke up and so far, they hadn’t spoken once about his relationship with Molly. Somehow, he felt that was about to change.

“Where are you in your relationship with God?”

The question was as bad as Alex had been worried it would be. It wasn’t about Molly, yet he knew it was at the same time.

 “I’m going to be honest, Robert.”

Robert folded his arms across his chest, nodded. “I prefer honesty.”

“Honestly, I never really believed in him. I’m not going to lie to you and tell you that since I’ve come to work on your farm and fallen in love with Molly that I’m suddenly converted and planning to sign up to the mission field.”  Alex leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. “But, something is changing in how I think about faith – and I guess I’d say God. I’ve watched some things happen that I can’t explain away. One of them is you sitting here talking to me. I’ve also had conversations with Molly that really got me thinking. There is still a lot about the Bible that I don’t understand but – I’m studying it some and I’m more open to learning about God more than I’ve been before.”

Robert rubbed his hand along his chin, his previously unreadable expression relaxing into a comfortable smile.  “That was a good, honest answer.” He folded his arms across his chest. “Unfortunately, I have another hard question.”

Alex’s mouth went dry. Nothing could be worse than the God question, right?

“Yes, sir?”

“Are you sleeping with my daughter?”

Alex gulped. Actually gulped. Something he thought people only did in books or movies. This was definitely harder than the God question, but he was glad he could give an answer that wouldn’t get him shoved out of the window behind him and to the pavement six stories below.

“No sir.”

Robert cocked an eyebrow. “Are you just telling me that because you know I can’t get out of this bed yet to whip you?”

Alex laughed softly. He listened to footsteps in the hallway and hoped it was Molly coming to rescue him. “No, sir, because I know you can send Jason after me instead.”

“That’s true.” Robert smiled. “So, you are being honest with me.”

“Robert, I respect Molly too much to rush into a physical relationship with her. I know how she feels. I know how your family feels. I can’t say it isn’t because I don’t —” flushing bright red along ears. “I mean, it’s not —” He rubbed his hand across the back of his neck, sat back in the chair and broke eye contact with Robert. Why hadn’t he started over explaining himself. He’d answered the question. He should have left it at that. “I just respect her and you, sir. That’s all.”

Robert laughed as the door opened and Molly and Annie walked in.

Molly looked between the two men, her smile fading. “Uh-oh. Alex looks uncomfortable. Dad looks slightly delighted. This isn’t one of those conversations that dads and boyfriends have where the Dad says, ‘I don’t want you to see my daughter anymore is it?’”

Robert smiled. “No, it isn’t. You’re a grown woman. I can’t tell you who to date.” He winked at Alex. “It was just one of those conversations where I tell Alex if he hurts my little girl, I’ll have Jason throw him through the wood shredder.”

“Dad!”

Robert laughed weakly, coughed, and held his side. “Sorry. I just wanted to see the look on your faces.”

“Well, now you did, so that’s enough of that,” Annie said straightening Robert’s blankets and smiling. “It’s time for you to get some rest before your next rehab session and it’s time for Alex and Molly to get back to the farm.”

Robert held his hand up. “I know. I know.” He looked at the doorway as Jason walked in. “First, though, I need to talk to all of you about something.”

Jason and Alex leaned back against the table across the room, posing almost identical to each other, arms folded across their chests, one leg crossed over the other.

“Walt called me this morning,” Robert started. “He said he was holding a check to cover the remainder of our loan and then some. It was made out to Tanner Enterprises and dropped off by some sort of delivery service. He wants to know what we want to do with it.” Robert moved his gaze to Alex. “It’s from someone named Cecily Burke.”

Alex’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “How would my mom have known anything about the loan?”

Molly coughed softly and held up her hand. “Well, that’s because I blabbed it without thinking the day she left. She wanted me to ask mom if she could help but with everything else going on, I never thought about it again. I didn’t tell her the amount, though.”

“Maybe the bank told her the amount,” Jason suggested.

Robert shrugged. “I don’t know but what I do know is I don’t feel right taking her money to try to fix the problem I created.” He rubbed his chin for a few moments and sighed. “But I don’t want to reject her either. I don’t think this was only to help out Tanner Enterprises.” He caught Alex’s gaze. “I think she wanted someone else to know she cares.”

Alex shifted uncomfortably, shoved his hands in his front jean pockets and stared at the tip of his work boots.

“It’s a very nice gesture,” Annie said. “Why don’t we take a couple of days and talk it over. In the meantime, I’d like to get ahold of your mother, Alex, and thank her for her offer to help.”

Alex nodded, even though he didn’t really relish the idea of his two worlds colliding.

“Now, we are all going to head home, Robert is going to rest and,” Annie looped her arm through her son’s. “I’m going to ride with Jason and he’s going to tell me what’s been going on with him and Ellie.”

Jason’s eyebrows darted upwards. “Uh, we are? I don’t remember agreeing to this.”

Annie winked. “I’m your mother. Of course, you agree.”

Jason looked over his shoulder at Alex with a pleading expression as his mother dragged him toward the door, but Alex simply shrugged. He knew he couldn’t save his friend from a conversation that was certain to be about why Jason’s relationship with Ellie had dissolved.

In his truck ten minutes later, he looked at Molly curled up against the passenger side door, yawning, hair pulled back from her face in a ponytail, looking beautiful. They hadn’t had a lot of time alone lately. He wanted to remedy that. And soon. It had been far too long since he’d held her close, touched her soft curls, kissed her mouth. The moment he pulled his truck into the Tanner’s drive to drop her off, he planned to do all of those things and at this point, he didn’t care who interrupted them.

***

She felt the rhythm of his heart under her cheek, the warmth of his arms around her, the smell of aftershave and hay sweet. It didn’t even matter to her that the cold of winter was creeping in through her coat, nipping at her cheeks and nose.

Molly still couldn’t figure out what Alex saw in her; why someone so beautiful and charming seemed to want her. But she was accepting it as much as she could, day by day, sometimes pinching herself when they were at a movie or out to lunch or nights like this when he was holding her close under the stars.

They’d actually been going on dates, something she’d rarely done since Ben. Movies, bowling, even karaoke one night where they’d both just watched others and agreed neither of them would ever see each other on that stage.

Their relationship in the barn hadn’t changed much, other than him yanking her behind a wall or door to kiss her every other day. They still joked and shot one-liner insults at each other throughout the day. One difference was Molly no longer felt comfortable competing in burping contests, wondering if her winning the loudest burp might be a turn off for Alex in the long run. Another difference was Alex no longer allowed her self-depreciating comments when he was around.

“Why do you say those things about yourself?” He asked one day after milking. He’d taken her hand and was pulling her through the barn door, leading her to the back of the barn. “You’re none of the things you say you are.” He backed her slowly against the outside wall of the barn, propped a hand on either side of her head. “You’re beautiful, Molly. I know that and I’m pretty sure God knows that.”

She’d tried to respond but his mouth on her’s had stopped her and she let herself focus only on his kiss, ignoring the doubt. “I love you, Molly,” he’d whispered against her ear a few moments later. “Every single, beautiful,” a wry smile crossed his lips as he trailed his finger down her throat. “Inch of you.” He laughed softly. “I’d better stop that while we’re out here where anyone could see us, I suppose.”

Molly had laughingly agreed, and they’d returned to work.

Now they were together again, and he said similar things. Sometimes she wondered if he’d ever get sick of trying to convince her how much he loved her.

“So, this is it, then, huh?”

She looked up at him  and smiled. “It? In what way? Are you saying goodbye forever simply because I’m moving in with Liz?”

Alex laughed. “I mean, so this is it for today. I have to leave you here with that crazy friend of yours and drive back to the farm alone.”

“I heard that, Alex!” Liz called from inside the apartment where she was unpacking Molly’s clothes.

He pulled the apartment door closed. “And now you can’t hear anything.”

“Yes,” Molly said looping her arms around his neck. “But I’ll see you in the morning and I appreciate you helping me move the last couple of days.”

“You’re welcome.” He kissed her softly, drew back, then kissed her again, and she lost track of where they were as the kiss intensified and he pulled her against him.

The opening of the door startled them both, brought them back to their surroundings.

“Are you going to stand out there making out all night or are you going to come in and unpack?”

Alex sighed and pressed his forehead against Molly’s. “Are you sure this was a good idea?”

Molly smiled. “I’m sure. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Night-night, Alex.” Liz gave him a quick wave and wink.

“Night, Liz,” he mumbled as he walked back to his truck.

Molly watched him drive away, rubbing her hands across her arms against the cold of the night. So much had changed in the last few months, but also in the last year. Her father was home, still recovering, she and Alex were getting closer every day, the country store was expanding, and Cecily’s check was helping keep the farm and business afloat for a little longer. Still, there seemed to be so many loose ends for her to worry about.

 As she walked back into the house and started to unpack, she wondered what had happened between Jason and Ellie. She hoped they’d be able to work it out and get back together.

She thought about Liz, seven months pregnant, still feeling guilty about how she’d gotten to this point in her life, avoiding Matt, though he seemed to care about her.

Ginny feeling stagnant in her life.

Ben and his reluctance to meet his daughter.

Alex’s reluctance to speak to his parents or about his father’s diagnosis. 

It was all a bit overwhelming.

She couldn’t figure it all out right now, though.

She had unpacking to do, a country store to help run, and a new relationship to enjoy.

She’d have to think about everything else later.