Camy Tang's Blog, page 162
December 3, 2010
Yet MORE new titles added to my Street Team book list!
Captain's Log, Stardate 12.03.2010
Yes, one of these days I'll have enough time to get back into blogging again (probably after my first marathon on December 12th!) but until then, I'm working hard on my Street Team stuff.
Yet again (!!) I've added a bunch of titles to the list of books I'm giving away to my Street Team members!
For every 80 bookmarks a Street Team member gives away, you get to pick TWO FREE BOOKS from the list!
Click here to find out more about my Street Team.
There's lots more prizes, too, if you're on my Street Team newsletter YahooGroup. (It's an announcement-only YahooGroup, so there won't be a ton of emails in your Inbox.)
Right now, until Dec 31st, you can enter to win a cabernet sauvignon goat's milk soap AND a free book and I'm also holding a contest until December 15th to win one of four neat prize packs! Click the links for more details.
Subscribe to Camys_StreetTeam
Yes, one of these days I'll have enough time to get back into blogging again (probably after my first marathon on December 12th!) but until then, I'm working hard on my Street Team stuff.
Yet again (!!) I've added a bunch of titles to the list of books I'm giving away to my Street Team members!
For every 80 bookmarks a Street Team member gives away, you get to pick TWO FREE BOOKS from the list!
Click here to find out more about my Street Team.
There's lots more prizes, too, if you're on my Street Team newsletter YahooGroup. (It's an announcement-only YahooGroup, so there won't be a ton of emails in your Inbox.)
Right now, until Dec 31st, you can enter to win a cabernet sauvignon goat's milk soap AND a free book and I'm also holding a contest until December 15th to win one of four neat prize packs! Click the links for more details.
Subscribe to Camys_StreetTeam
Powered by us.groups.yahoo.com
December 1, 2010
Yay! I won NaNoWriMo
Captain's Log, Stardate 12.01.2010
I came in at 50,080 words as of around 8:30 pm on November 30th!
I was working on my next manuscript for Zondervan, which is about a girl who is ex-Japanese mafia—she's niece to the San Francisco yakuza boss and she goes to jail for a crime she didn't commit. She finds Jesus in jail and now she's out of prison, trying to walk the straight and narrow (and somehow find a job) with her uncle wanting her to work for him again and everybody else distrusting her because of her past. Cool, huh? It'll be out next year in October. I don't have a title yet, but I'll post here when I do!
Anyone else did NaNoWriMo? How'd you do? Tell me about your story!
I came in at 50,080 words as of around 8:30 pm on November 30th!
I was working on my next manuscript for Zondervan, which is about a girl who is ex-Japanese mafia—she's niece to the San Francisco yakuza boss and she goes to jail for a crime she didn't commit. She finds Jesus in jail and now she's out of prison, trying to walk the straight and narrow (and somehow find a job) with her uncle wanting her to work for him again and everybody else distrusting her because of her past. Cool, huh? It'll be out next year in October. I don't have a title yet, but I'll post here when I do!
Anyone else did NaNoWriMo? How'd you do? Tell me about your story!
November 26, 2010
New titles added to Street Team book giveaway list!
Captain's Log, Stardate 11.26.2010
I've added a bunch of titles to the list of books I'm giving away to my Street Team members!
For every 80 bookmarks a Street Team member gives away, you get to pick TWO FREE BOOKS from the list!
Click here to find out more about my Street Team.
There's lots more prizes, too, if you're on my Street Team newsletter YahooGroup. (It's an announcement-only YahooGroup, so there won't be a ton of emails in your Inbox.)
Right now, until Dec 31st, you can enter to win a cabernet sauvignon goat's milk soap AND a free book! Click this post on my Street Team YahooGroup for more details.
Subscribe to Camys_StreetTeam
I've added a bunch of titles to the list of books I'm giving away to my Street Team members!
For every 80 bookmarks a Street Team member gives away, you get to pick TWO FREE BOOKS from the list!
Click here to find out more about my Street Team.
There's lots more prizes, too, if you're on my Street Team newsletter YahooGroup. (It's an announcement-only YahooGroup, so there won't be a ton of emails in your Inbox.)
Right now, until Dec 31st, you can enter to win a cabernet sauvignon goat's milk soap AND a free book! Click this post on my Street Team YahooGroup for more details.
Subscribe to Camys_StreetTeam
Powered by us.groups.yahoo.com
November 23, 2010
Street Team book list excerpt - THE LIGHTKEEPER'S BRIDE by Colleen Coble
Camy here: Aside from the fact this is one of the most beautiful covers I've ever seen (!!!), here's another book I added to my Street Team book giveaway list! You can win this book by joining my Street Team--Click here for more info!
This week, the Christian Fiction Blog Alliance is introducing The Lightkeeper's Bride Thomas Nelson (October 19, 2010) by Colleen Coble
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Author Colleen Coble's thirty-five novels and novellas have won or finaled in awards ranging from the Romance Writers of America prestigious RITA, the Holt Medallion, the ACFW Book of the Year, the Daphne du Maurier, National Readers' Choice, the Booksellers Best, and the 2009 Best Books of Indiana-Fiction award. She writes romantic mysteries because she loves to see justice prevail and love begin with a happy ending.
A word from Colleen: God has been faithful, though the path has not been easy. Nothing worth doing is ever easy. God wouldn't let me give up, and I like to think the struggle made me stronger. God has given me so much in my life, most importantly my great family, a loving church family at New Life Baptist Church, and my wonderful publishing family at Nelson Books.
ABOUT THE BOOK
A thrilling romantic mystery set in the lush Victorian age.
Central Operator Katie Russell's inquisitive ways have just uncovered her parents' plan for her marriage to wealthy bachelor Bartholomew Foster. Her heart is unmoved, but she knows the match will bring her family status and respectability.
Then Katie overhears a phone conversation that makes her uneasy and asks authorities to investigate. But the caller is nowhere to be found. Mysterious connections arise between the caller and a ship lost at sea.
Against propriety, Katie questions the new lighthouse keeper, Will Jesperson. Then a smallpox epidemic forces their quarantine in his lighthouse. Though of low social status, Will's bravery and kindness remove Katie's suspicion and win her love. Katie and Will together work to solve the mystery of the missing girl and the lost ship as God gives the couple the desire of their hearts.
Excerpt of chapter one:
Chapter 1
The lapel watch on her blouse read half past nine when Katie Russell removed the skates from her boots and dropped them inside the door of the Mercy Falls Telephone Company. She pulled the pins from her Merry Widow hat, then hung it on a rack. Smoothing the sides of her pompadour, she approached the switchboard in the room down the hall. "Has it been busy?" she asked the woman in front of the dangling cords.
Nell Bartlett sat with her stocking feet propped on the railing of the table that supported the switchboard. Her color was high and her voice clear and energetic as she answered a question then disconnected the line. A faint line of discontent lingered between her brows as she eyed Katie. "It's your shift already?"
Nell was unmarried and still lived with her ailing mother, though she was thirty-five. On the street she dropped her gaze and barely whispered a hello, but in front of the switchboard she came alive. Whenever she entered the office, she removed her hat, let down her hair, and took off her shoes.
"It is indeed," Katie said, approaching the switchboard. "Has it been busy?"
"Not too bad. I only received three calls last night." Nell's tone indicated her displeasure. "But the rings have increased quite nicely this morning." She rose and stepped away from the seat in front of the switchboard but kept one hand on the top with a proprietary air.
Katie settled herself in the chair and donned the headset. Nell slipped her shoes back on, wound her hair into a bun, then put on her hat. Out of the corner of her eye, Katie watched her scurry from the room, her mousy identity back in place.
Katie peered at the switchboard then forced herself to put on her hated glasses. She nearly groaned when the light came on at her own residence. She plugged in the cord and toggled the switch. "Good morning, Mama."
Her mother's voice was full of reproach. "Katie, you left before I could tell you that Mr. Foster called last night while you were out gallivanting at the skating rink."
Katie bit back the defense that sprang to her lips and kept the excitement from her voice. "What did he say?"
"He asked to speak with your father and they went to the library."
Such behavior could only mean one thing. Heat flooded Katie's face. "He asked Papa if he could court me?"
"He did indeed! Now you mind my words, Katie. You could not make a better match than this. You need to quit that ridiculous job and focus on building your social ties."
Katie opened her mouth then shut it again. Another light flashed on her switchboard. "I must go, Mama. I have another call." She unplugged the cord over her mother's objection. Her parents didn't understand how important this job was to her. She thrust the cord into the receptor. "Operator," she said.
"Fire! There's a fire," the man on the other end gasped.
Katie glanced more closely at the board, and her muscles clenched. The orphanage. "I'll call the fire department, Mr. Gleason. Get the children out!" She unplugged and rang the fire station with trembling hands. "Fire at the orphanage, hurry!" She rushed to the window and looked out to see smoke billowing from the three-story brick building down the street. People were running toward the conflagration. She wished she could help too, but she turned back to the switchboard as it lit up with several lights. Moments later she heard the shriek of the fire truck as it careened past.
She answered the calls one by one, but most were people checking to make sure she knew about the fire. The afternoon sped by. She relayed a message out to the North house and managed to chat a few moments with her best friend, Addie North. One call was Mrs. Winston asking the time, and Katie realized it was after one o'clock. At the next lull, she removed the waxed paper from her sandwich and munched it while she watched the board.
The light for Foster's Sawmill came on. She plugged in. "Operator."
Bart Foster's deep voice filled her ears. "I'd recognize that voice anywhere."
Katie pressed the palm of her hand to her chest where her heart galloped. "Mr. Foster, I'm sorry I missed your call last night."
"I had a most rewarding chat with your father," he said, a smile in his voice. "Did he tell you?"
Her pulse thundered in her ears. "He did not."
"Excellent. I wish to tell you of our conversation myself. Might I call tonight?"
"Of course." She wasn't often so tongue-tied. All her dreams of respectability lay within her grasp. From the corner of her eye, she saw her boss step into the small room. "I won't be home until after seven. Will that be too late?"
"Of course not. I shall call at seven-thirty."
"I look forward to it. Did you wish to place a call?"
"Someone must be there since you are not quite yourself." The amusement in his voice deepened. "Connect me with your father's haberdashery, please. I'll see you tonight."
"Of course." She connected the cord to the shop then turned to face Mr. Daniels.
"I just stopped by to commend you on the way you handled the fire call, Miss Russell. You kept your head about you in a most admirable fashion."
She stood to face him. "The children? Are they all out safely?"
He nodded. "I just came from the site. The building is a total loss, but everyone is safe, thanks to your quick call to the fire department that I was told about. Well done. I'd like you to consider more hours. You're the best operator I have. People like you, and you're most efficient."
She couldn't stop the smile that sprang to her lips. "Thank you, sir. I'm honored. I love my job."
"Then you'll increase your hours? I'd like you to work six days a week."
She realized the plum that had been thrown into her lap. These were tough times, and jobs for women were scarce. But her parents—especially in light of Bart's courting—would be less than pleased.
"Katie?"
"I would like nothing better, Mr. Daniels, but I fear I'm going to have to cut my hours instead. Nell will be delighted with the extra work."
Will Jesperson brushed off his hands and surveyed the gleaming glass on the Fresnel lens in the light tower. Whether he'd done it properly was up for debate, but he liked the way the sun glinted through the lens and lit the floor of the tower. His eyes moved outside again. He'd found it hard to keep working when he would rather study the clouds and the waves from this vantage point.
Beautiful place, this rocky northern California shoreline. He still couldn't believe he had landed such a perfect job. Instead of pursuing his hobby once a week, he could do it every day. There were weather balloons in the shed just waiting to be used. He eyed the rolling clouds overhead and held up a finger. The wind was coming from the north. Was that common here? He'd have the time and equipment to find out.
He stepped outside and leaned against the railing. The beauty of the rolling sea transfixed him. Whitecaps boiled on the rocks poking up from the water at the mouth of the bay. Seeing them reminded him of his grave duties here: to save lives and warn ships of the dangers lurking just below the surface of the sea. Squaring his shoulders, he told himself he would keep the light shining bright—both here at the lighthouse and in his personal life. God had blessed him with this position, and he would do his best to honor him with his work.
He removed his pocket watch, glanced at the time, and then stared back out to sea when he heard a man yell. Were those shouts of alarm? Through the binoculars he saw a ship moving past the bay's opening. A puff of smoke came from a smaller boat trailing it—gunfire? The small craft caught up to the ship, and several men clambered up the mast.
Pirates. Will pressed against the railing and strained to see when he heard more shots across the water. Additional men poured onto the ship and were already turning it back toward the open ocean. He had to do something. Turning on his heel, he rushed toward the spiral staircase. The metal shook and clanged under his feet as he raced down the steps. He leaped out the door and ran down the hillside to the dinghy beached on the sand. The pirates shoved men overboard, and he heard cries of pain. He clenched empty fists. No weapon. Still, he might be able to save some of the men thrown overboard. Shoving into the water, he put his back into rowing, but the tide was coming in and the waves fought him at every stroke.
He paused to get his bearings and realized the ship was moving away. The smaller boat, attached by a rope, bobbed after it. Something whizzed by his head and he ducked instinctively. A hole appeared in the side of the boat behind him. The pirates were firing on him. His hands dropped from the oars when he saw several bodies bobbing in the whitecaps. Men were already drowned.
The wind billowed the sails and he knew he had no chance of intercepting the ship. But he could save the men that he could reach then inform the authorities of what he'd seen. He grasped the oars and rowed for all he was worth.
###
At 3:03 a light came on and Katie answered. "Number, please." The caller, a man whose voice she didn't recognize, sounded breathless.
"Is this the operator?"
She detected agitation in his tone. "It is. Is something wrong?"
"Pirates," he said in a clipped voice. "Just off the lighthouse. They shot some sailors and dumped others overboard."
She sprang to her feet. "I'll contact the constable. Do you need further assistance?"
"I need a doctor at the lighthouse. I've got two injured men. The rest are—dead. I couldn't get their bodies into the boat, but they're washing up onshore now." His taut voice broke. "I had to leave the men on the shore to get to a phone, but I'm heading back there now. Tell the doctor to hurry."
"Right away," she promised. She disconnected the call and rang the doctor first. Saving life was paramount. The constable would be too late to do much about the pirates. With both calls dispatched, she forced herself to sit back down, though her muscles twitched with the need for activity. She reminded herself she'd done all she could.
The switchboard lit again. "Operator," she said, eyeing the light. The call originated from the bank.
"R-10, please."
She plugged in the other end of the cord to ring the Cook residence. Instead, she heard Eliza Bulmer pick up the phone on the other end. "I'm sorry, Eliza, we seem to have a switched link somewhere. Would you hang on until I can get through to the Cooks?" Katie asked.
"Of course, honey," Eliza said. "I just picked up my wedding dress, and I'm trying it on. So if I don't say much, you'll know why."
"You're getting married? I hadn't heard. Congratulations."
"Thank you." Eliza's voice held a lit.
"Just leave the earpiece dangling, if you please."
"I can do that."
There was a thunk in Katie's ear, and she knew Eliza had dropped the earpiece. Katie waited to see if the ring would be answered at the Cook residence but there was only a long pause. "There's no answer, Eliza. You can hang up," she said.
The other woman did not reply. If the phone were left off the hook, it would go dead. Katie started to raise her voice, but she heard a man's voice.
"You said you had something to tell me. What is it? I need to get home."
The voice was familiar, but Katie couldn't quite place it. It was too muffled.
"Honey, thank you for coming so quickly," Eliza said.
Though Eliza's voice was faint, Katie thought she detected a tremble in it. This is none of my business she thought. I should hang up But she held her breath and listened anyway.
"Would you like tea?" Eliza asked.
"No, Eliza, I don't want tea. What are you doing in that getup? I want to know what was so all-fired important that you called me at work—something I've expressly forbidden you to do."
Katie's stomach lurched as she tried to place the voice. Identification hovered at the edge of her mind. Who is that?
"Very well. I shall just blurt it out then. I'm out of money and I must have some to care for my daughter. I need money today or . . ."
"I won't be blackmailed," the man snapped.
A wave of heat swept Katie's face. She heard a door slam, then weeping from Eliza. She wanted to comfort the sobbing young woman. Numb, Katie sat listening to the sobs on the line.
The door slammed again. "Who's there?" Eliza asked in a quavering voice. She gasped, then uttered a noise between a squeak and a cry.
Katie heard a thud, and then the door slammed again. "Eliza?" she whispered. A hiss, like air escaping from a tire, came to her ears. "Are you all right?"
Only silence answered her.
She jerked the cord from the switchboard and broke the connection. Unease twisted her belly. She'd already dispatched the constable to the lighthouse. But what if Eliza was in trouble? Her fingers trembled so much she had trouble slipping the jack back into the switchboard. She muffled her mouthpiece with her hand and asked Nell to come back early. She had to make sure Eliza was all right.
This week, the Christian Fiction Blog Alliance is introducing The Lightkeeper's Bride Thomas Nelson (October 19, 2010) by Colleen Coble
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Author Colleen Coble's thirty-five novels and novellas have won or finaled in awards ranging from the Romance Writers of America prestigious RITA, the Holt Medallion, the ACFW Book of the Year, the Daphne du Maurier, National Readers' Choice, the Booksellers Best, and the 2009 Best Books of Indiana-Fiction award. She writes romantic mysteries because she loves to see justice prevail and love begin with a happy ending.
A word from Colleen: God has been faithful, though the path has not been easy. Nothing worth doing is ever easy. God wouldn't let me give up, and I like to think the struggle made me stronger. God has given me so much in my life, most importantly my great family, a loving church family at New Life Baptist Church, and my wonderful publishing family at Nelson Books.
ABOUT THE BOOK
A thrilling romantic mystery set in the lush Victorian age.Central Operator Katie Russell's inquisitive ways have just uncovered her parents' plan for her marriage to wealthy bachelor Bartholomew Foster. Her heart is unmoved, but she knows the match will bring her family status and respectability.
Then Katie overhears a phone conversation that makes her uneasy and asks authorities to investigate. But the caller is nowhere to be found. Mysterious connections arise between the caller and a ship lost at sea.
Against propriety, Katie questions the new lighthouse keeper, Will Jesperson. Then a smallpox epidemic forces their quarantine in his lighthouse. Though of low social status, Will's bravery and kindness remove Katie's suspicion and win her love. Katie and Will together work to solve the mystery of the missing girl and the lost ship as God gives the couple the desire of their hearts.
Excerpt of chapter one:
Chapter 1
The lapel watch on her blouse read half past nine when Katie Russell removed the skates from her boots and dropped them inside the door of the Mercy Falls Telephone Company. She pulled the pins from her Merry Widow hat, then hung it on a rack. Smoothing the sides of her pompadour, she approached the switchboard in the room down the hall. "Has it been busy?" she asked the woman in front of the dangling cords.
Nell Bartlett sat with her stocking feet propped on the railing of the table that supported the switchboard. Her color was high and her voice clear and energetic as she answered a question then disconnected the line. A faint line of discontent lingered between her brows as she eyed Katie. "It's your shift already?"
Nell was unmarried and still lived with her ailing mother, though she was thirty-five. On the street she dropped her gaze and barely whispered a hello, but in front of the switchboard she came alive. Whenever she entered the office, she removed her hat, let down her hair, and took off her shoes.
"It is indeed," Katie said, approaching the switchboard. "Has it been busy?"
"Not too bad. I only received three calls last night." Nell's tone indicated her displeasure. "But the rings have increased quite nicely this morning." She rose and stepped away from the seat in front of the switchboard but kept one hand on the top with a proprietary air.
Katie settled herself in the chair and donned the headset. Nell slipped her shoes back on, wound her hair into a bun, then put on her hat. Out of the corner of her eye, Katie watched her scurry from the room, her mousy identity back in place.
Katie peered at the switchboard then forced herself to put on her hated glasses. She nearly groaned when the light came on at her own residence. She plugged in the cord and toggled the switch. "Good morning, Mama."
Her mother's voice was full of reproach. "Katie, you left before I could tell you that Mr. Foster called last night while you were out gallivanting at the skating rink."
Katie bit back the defense that sprang to her lips and kept the excitement from her voice. "What did he say?"
"He asked to speak with your father and they went to the library."
Such behavior could only mean one thing. Heat flooded Katie's face. "He asked Papa if he could court me?"
"He did indeed! Now you mind my words, Katie. You could not make a better match than this. You need to quit that ridiculous job and focus on building your social ties."
Katie opened her mouth then shut it again. Another light flashed on her switchboard. "I must go, Mama. I have another call." She unplugged the cord over her mother's objection. Her parents didn't understand how important this job was to her. She thrust the cord into the receptor. "Operator," she said.
"Fire! There's a fire," the man on the other end gasped.
Katie glanced more closely at the board, and her muscles clenched. The orphanage. "I'll call the fire department, Mr. Gleason. Get the children out!" She unplugged and rang the fire station with trembling hands. "Fire at the orphanage, hurry!" She rushed to the window and looked out to see smoke billowing from the three-story brick building down the street. People were running toward the conflagration. She wished she could help too, but she turned back to the switchboard as it lit up with several lights. Moments later she heard the shriek of the fire truck as it careened past.
She answered the calls one by one, but most were people checking to make sure she knew about the fire. The afternoon sped by. She relayed a message out to the North house and managed to chat a few moments with her best friend, Addie North. One call was Mrs. Winston asking the time, and Katie realized it was after one o'clock. At the next lull, she removed the waxed paper from her sandwich and munched it while she watched the board.
The light for Foster's Sawmill came on. She plugged in. "Operator."
Bart Foster's deep voice filled her ears. "I'd recognize that voice anywhere."
Katie pressed the palm of her hand to her chest where her heart galloped. "Mr. Foster, I'm sorry I missed your call last night."
"I had a most rewarding chat with your father," he said, a smile in his voice. "Did he tell you?"
Her pulse thundered in her ears. "He did not."
"Excellent. I wish to tell you of our conversation myself. Might I call tonight?"
"Of course." She wasn't often so tongue-tied. All her dreams of respectability lay within her grasp. From the corner of her eye, she saw her boss step into the small room. "I won't be home until after seven. Will that be too late?"
"Of course not. I shall call at seven-thirty."
"I look forward to it. Did you wish to place a call?"
"Someone must be there since you are not quite yourself." The amusement in his voice deepened. "Connect me with your father's haberdashery, please. I'll see you tonight."
"Of course." She connected the cord to the shop then turned to face Mr. Daniels.
"I just stopped by to commend you on the way you handled the fire call, Miss Russell. You kept your head about you in a most admirable fashion."
She stood to face him. "The children? Are they all out safely?"
He nodded. "I just came from the site. The building is a total loss, but everyone is safe, thanks to your quick call to the fire department that I was told about. Well done. I'd like you to consider more hours. You're the best operator I have. People like you, and you're most efficient."
She couldn't stop the smile that sprang to her lips. "Thank you, sir. I'm honored. I love my job."
"Then you'll increase your hours? I'd like you to work six days a week."
She realized the plum that had been thrown into her lap. These were tough times, and jobs for women were scarce. But her parents—especially in light of Bart's courting—would be less than pleased.
"Katie?"
"I would like nothing better, Mr. Daniels, but I fear I'm going to have to cut my hours instead. Nell will be delighted with the extra work."
Will Jesperson brushed off his hands and surveyed the gleaming glass on the Fresnel lens in the light tower. Whether he'd done it properly was up for debate, but he liked the way the sun glinted through the lens and lit the floor of the tower. His eyes moved outside again. He'd found it hard to keep working when he would rather study the clouds and the waves from this vantage point.
Beautiful place, this rocky northern California shoreline. He still couldn't believe he had landed such a perfect job. Instead of pursuing his hobby once a week, he could do it every day. There were weather balloons in the shed just waiting to be used. He eyed the rolling clouds overhead and held up a finger. The wind was coming from the north. Was that common here? He'd have the time and equipment to find out.
He stepped outside and leaned against the railing. The beauty of the rolling sea transfixed him. Whitecaps boiled on the rocks poking up from the water at the mouth of the bay. Seeing them reminded him of his grave duties here: to save lives and warn ships of the dangers lurking just below the surface of the sea. Squaring his shoulders, he told himself he would keep the light shining bright—both here at the lighthouse and in his personal life. God had blessed him with this position, and he would do his best to honor him with his work.
He removed his pocket watch, glanced at the time, and then stared back out to sea when he heard a man yell. Were those shouts of alarm? Through the binoculars he saw a ship moving past the bay's opening. A puff of smoke came from a smaller boat trailing it—gunfire? The small craft caught up to the ship, and several men clambered up the mast.
Pirates. Will pressed against the railing and strained to see when he heard more shots across the water. Additional men poured onto the ship and were already turning it back toward the open ocean. He had to do something. Turning on his heel, he rushed toward the spiral staircase. The metal shook and clanged under his feet as he raced down the steps. He leaped out the door and ran down the hillside to the dinghy beached on the sand. The pirates shoved men overboard, and he heard cries of pain. He clenched empty fists. No weapon. Still, he might be able to save some of the men thrown overboard. Shoving into the water, he put his back into rowing, but the tide was coming in and the waves fought him at every stroke.
He paused to get his bearings and realized the ship was moving away. The smaller boat, attached by a rope, bobbed after it. Something whizzed by his head and he ducked instinctively. A hole appeared in the side of the boat behind him. The pirates were firing on him. His hands dropped from the oars when he saw several bodies bobbing in the whitecaps. Men were already drowned.
The wind billowed the sails and he knew he had no chance of intercepting the ship. But he could save the men that he could reach then inform the authorities of what he'd seen. He grasped the oars and rowed for all he was worth.
###
At 3:03 a light came on and Katie answered. "Number, please." The caller, a man whose voice she didn't recognize, sounded breathless.
"Is this the operator?"
She detected agitation in his tone. "It is. Is something wrong?"
"Pirates," he said in a clipped voice. "Just off the lighthouse. They shot some sailors and dumped others overboard."
She sprang to her feet. "I'll contact the constable. Do you need further assistance?"
"I need a doctor at the lighthouse. I've got two injured men. The rest are—dead. I couldn't get their bodies into the boat, but they're washing up onshore now." His taut voice broke. "I had to leave the men on the shore to get to a phone, but I'm heading back there now. Tell the doctor to hurry."
"Right away," she promised. She disconnected the call and rang the doctor first. Saving life was paramount. The constable would be too late to do much about the pirates. With both calls dispatched, she forced herself to sit back down, though her muscles twitched with the need for activity. She reminded herself she'd done all she could.
The switchboard lit again. "Operator," she said, eyeing the light. The call originated from the bank.
"R-10, please."
She plugged in the other end of the cord to ring the Cook residence. Instead, she heard Eliza Bulmer pick up the phone on the other end. "I'm sorry, Eliza, we seem to have a switched link somewhere. Would you hang on until I can get through to the Cooks?" Katie asked.
"Of course, honey," Eliza said. "I just picked up my wedding dress, and I'm trying it on. So if I don't say much, you'll know why."
"You're getting married? I hadn't heard. Congratulations."
"Thank you." Eliza's voice held a lit.
"Just leave the earpiece dangling, if you please."
"I can do that."
There was a thunk in Katie's ear, and she knew Eliza had dropped the earpiece. Katie waited to see if the ring would be answered at the Cook residence but there was only a long pause. "There's no answer, Eliza. You can hang up," she said.
The other woman did not reply. If the phone were left off the hook, it would go dead. Katie started to raise her voice, but she heard a man's voice.
"You said you had something to tell me. What is it? I need to get home."
The voice was familiar, but Katie couldn't quite place it. It was too muffled.
"Honey, thank you for coming so quickly," Eliza said.
Though Eliza's voice was faint, Katie thought she detected a tremble in it. This is none of my business she thought. I should hang up But she held her breath and listened anyway.
"Would you like tea?" Eliza asked.
"No, Eliza, I don't want tea. What are you doing in that getup? I want to know what was so all-fired important that you called me at work—something I've expressly forbidden you to do."
Katie's stomach lurched as she tried to place the voice. Identification hovered at the edge of her mind. Who is that?
"Very well. I shall just blurt it out then. I'm out of money and I must have some to care for my daughter. I need money today or . . ."
"I won't be blackmailed," the man snapped.
A wave of heat swept Katie's face. She heard a door slam, then weeping from Eliza. She wanted to comfort the sobbing young woman. Numb, Katie sat listening to the sobs on the line.
The door slammed again. "Who's there?" Eliza asked in a quavering voice. She gasped, then uttered a noise between a squeak and a cry.
Katie heard a thud, and then the door slammed again. "Eliza?" she whispered. A hiss, like air escaping from a tire, came to her ears. "Are you all right?"
Only silence answered her.
She jerked the cord from the switchboard and broke the connection. Unease twisted her belly. She'd already dispatched the constable to the lighthouse. But what if Eliza was in trouble? Her fingers trembled so much she had trouble slipping the jack back into the switchboard. She muffled her mouthpiece with her hand and asked Nell to come back early. She had to make sure Eliza was all right.
November 19, 2010
Street Team book list excerpt - THE SILENT ORDER by Melanie Dobson
Camy here: Here's another book I added to my Street Team book giveaway list! You can win this book by joining my Street Team--Click here for more info!
This week, the Christian Fiction Blog Alliance is introducing The Silent Order Summerside Press (November 1, 2010)by Melanie Dobson
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Melanie Dobson is the award-winning author of The Black Cloister; Love Finds You in Liberty, Indiana; and Together for Good.
Prior to launching Dobson Media Group in 1999, Melanie was the corporate publicity manager at Focus on the Family where she was responsible for the publicity of events, products, films, and TV specials. Melanie received her undergraduate degree in journalism from Liberty University and her master's degree in communication from Regent University. She has worked in the fields of publicity and journalism for fifteen years including two years as a publicist for The Family Channel.
Melanie and her husband, Jon, met in Colorado Springs in 1997 at Vanguard Church. Jon works in the field of computer animation. Since they've been married, the Dobsons have relocated numerous times including stints in Virginia, Tennessee, North Carolina, Colorado, Berlin, and Southern California. These days they are enjoying their new home in the Pacific Northwest.
Jon and Melanie have adopted their two daughters —Karly (6) and Kinzel (5). When Melanie isn't writing or entertaining their girls, she enjoys exploring ghost towns and dusty back roads, traveling, hiking, line dancing, and reading inspirational fiction.
ABOUT THE BOOK
Rural America - 1928. After the murder of his partner, Detective Rollin Wells hides away in an Amish home near Sugarcreek, Ohio, to find out who in the police force is
collaborating with Cleveland's notorious mob. While Rollin searches for answers to his partner's death, he befriends an elusive young Amish woman named Katie and her young son. As Rollin learns about Katie's past, he's shocked at the secret Katie is hiding - a secret that has haunted Rollin for eight years.
Excerpt of chapter one:
Chapter 1
"Let's go home," Nikki whispered, her lips quivering. Even her toes, squashed into the sharp points of her strapped Mary Janes, wouldn't stop shaking. "Liz…"
"Hush," her sister hissed as she swung open the side door of Man¬giamo's. Nikki held up the small battery-powered lantern, and the shiny countertops in the kitchen glowed.
Nikki's knees knocked under her navy blue skirt and she pressed them together. Her father's employees left the restaurant hours ago, around midnight or so. Everything inside was still except her heart, which had been hammering in her chest since she and Liz snuck out of the house. Somehow Liz had secured the key to the side door of Man¬giamo's, but she wouldn't tell Nikki why they needed to get inside.
"No one knows," she whispered as the door creaked closed behind them. No one would find out she and Liz were here.
Their parents and older brother were asleep in their large home, a few blocks up Murray Hill. As she and Liz snuck down to Mayfield Road, the usually bustling streets in Cleveland's Little Italy were draped with an eerie fog. The silence unnerved her—even the alley cats had stopped howling for the night.
As Nikki followed her sister across the kitchen, Liz pulled a second key out of her purse.
Nikki gasped. "Where did you get—"
"I told you to shut up," Liz barked as she pushed the key into the lock of another door—a door that kept the kitchen staff out of their father's private lounge.
Nikki leaned closer. "Papa's going to kill you."
"He'll have to catch me first." Liz laughed, sounding more like she was twelve than twenty-one.
Her sister teetered daily between the frivolities of her youth and the weight of adulthood. The shiny red barrette in her bobbed black hair matched the red bow on her scalloped dress. Even in the dull light, she exuded glamour.
Until this moment, Nikki never thought to ask why Liz was dressed to the nines—she was still trying to wake up after her sister shoved her out of bed in the middle of the night, saying she needed help. She hadn't told Nikki why they needed to come here, but it didn't matter. Nikki always seemed to be on call for her older sister, and Liz knew it. She covered for Liz whenever her sister slipped away to visit one of Cleve¬land's many nightclubs.
But never before had Liz tried anything as daring as breaking into Mangiamo's back room. Their father's sanctuary.
Their brother was allowed inside this room when invited—and he bragged about it often—but Salvatore never talked to either of his daughters about the place. Didn't really talk to Nikki at all. She knew the extent of his fury, though, and she feared him almost as much as the spineless henchmen who bowed to him like he was God on earth. She'd never bowed, but she usually cowered when he was around, hop¬ing he wouldn't notice her. He rarely did.
Her sister wasn't afraid of anything, including their father. She had the gift of being able to charm almost any man. If their father discovered them trespassing in his den, though, no charm would work. Discipline would be swift. And painful.
The knob turned in her sister's hands, and as she cracked open the door, the stench of cigar smoke mingled with the lingering smells of spicy sausage and cheese from the kitchen behind them.
"Liz—" she repeated.
Liz grabbed the lantern from Nikki's hands. "Tell me if someone comes to the front door."
Light illuminated the gray stone that lined the narrow staircase below them. Her sister stepped down and slowly descended into the dungeon.
Nikki propped the door open with her heel, waiting in the darkness. She had thought there was a small room in the back of the restaurant, not a basement, but she wasn't surprised. Secrets bound their family together like the tangled silk threads layering the web of a black widow.
The girls at Nikki's school envied these seemingly luxurious threads, but she knew that the Cardano money only covered the secrets with a blinding sheen that most people couldn't see past. She and Liz knew the truth, and they were trapped in their family's web for the rest of their lives.
Her mother refused to talk about their family's secret life, and her father usually refused to talk to her, period. Silence stopped even the walls of the Cardano mansion from sharing their secrets, but the walls knew. They knew about her father's mistress over on Woodland Ave¬nue. They knew about the bitter tears her mother shed. And they knew about the dirty money that surged through her family like water from a fire hose, money that never seemed to extinguish the smoldering inside her father for more.
Nikki watched the light in her sister's hands turn the corner at the bottom of the steps, and she rested her back against the post, praying Liz would hurry.
Light from the city lamps trickled in through two small windows at the side of the room, illuminating the shiny tops of the kitchen ovens and the draped tables that filled the dining room. Instead of windows by the imposing front door there was a wall filled with paintings of Italy.
The restaurant couldn't possibly support the Cardano family life¬style, nor could the factory where her uncles refined sugar, but there was always plenty of money. Some mornings she walked down the stairs and the dining room table was hidden under silvery green mounds of cash. Someone supplied her father with thousands and thousands of dollars at least once a week, but she didn't know who paid him, nor did she want to know. She just wanted to rush out the door each morning before the others woke up to join her friends at Saint Anthony's.
Their mother liked to pretend that her husband's business ventures were perfectly legitimate as she tried to induct her daughters into the high society circles like they were members of Cleveland's elite. Two years ago, Liz began rebelling against the dog-and-pony show and decided to flaunt herself in circles not so pleasing to their mother. The more their mother and father disapproved, the happier Liz seemed to be.
Salvatore ignored Liz's exploits for a long time, but everything changed in July. For the past three months, her father had kept Liz home around the clock, under surveillance. On the rare occasion that her father let Liz go outside the estate, she was escorted by two of his bodyguards.
Tonight, however, the man who was supposed to be standing guard outside Liz's door was sleeping beside it instead. Nikki assumed Liz, with her smooth words and alluring smile, offered him a couple of drinks from the stash she snuck into her room under her longer dresses.
The lantern light blinked below her.
"Liz?" she called in a hushed voice.
When her sister didn't answer, her gaze wandered back toward the six rows of tables that separated the kitchen and the front door. The chairs and table settings appeared to be in their proper place; there was no hint of the loud patrons who had departed four hours ago and no bloodstains left from the man shot inside the parlor back in March.
Nikki shivered. Did the man's ghost stay behind to haunt those who'd murdered him?
She glanced back down the staircase, at the light bobbing on the wall below. She should have asked Liz why they needed to come here in the mid¬dle of the night, but it was much safer to play along than ask questions.
A sharp click sounded in the dining room, and her heart leapt. Turning, she squinted in the dull light, but nothing moved. No one was in the restaurant at this hour, she told herself. No one but her and Liz.
She whispered her sister's name one more time, but Liz didn't respond.
Holding her breath, she pressed her hands against the doorframe and pretended to be one of the Sicilian statues in her father's pictures. If the murdered man had come back for vengeance, perhaps he wouldn't see her. Surely he would know she didn't have it within her to hurt a soul.
She peeked around a column as the front door crept open and a man walked inside, built thin as a rail and a good head taller than she was. The evening was warm, yet he wore a dark overcoat and hat, the uniform of a Cleveland Mafioso.
And he looked very much alive.
She stepped down into the stairwell. If anyone except their father caught her and her sister, they might bump them off, and there were no guarantees with their father.
She and Liz had to get out of here.
Nikki locked the door behind her, and as she rushed down the stairs, she struggled to catch her breath. Air didn't come until she reached the bottom, but even then, her breathing was shallow. The room in front of her seemed to spin.
Steadying herself against the wall, she took a deep breath and hiccupped.
The basement was one room, a dank space fortified with cold stone and a solitary brown hat rack that hovered in the corner. An old table stood in the middle of the room, surrounded by folding chairs, where the men probably dealt business ventures along with their cards. At the side of the room, a much shorter set of steps led up to a storm door.
Liz swiveled around by an open closet door, a narrow metal box clutched in her hands. "I told you to stay upstairs."
"But someone's—" Nikki didn't finish her sentence. The door above her swung open, banging into the wall. Apparently her father wasn't the only one with a key to this place.
Liz shoved the lantern into Nikki's hands and tucked the metal box under her arm. Then she stepped toward the second set of stairs. Nikki followed her lead, but at that moment, the storm door began to shake. Someone else was outside.
Liz swore and grabbed Nikki's arm, shoving her into the closet. Liz squeezed into the tight space beside her and yanked the door closed, the lantern shining like a beacon until Liz punched the button on top. The closet turned black.
On the other side of the door, Nikki heard muffled voices as sev¬eral men greeted each other. At this time of night, surely this meeting wouldn't last long. They'd finish whatever deal they'd come to resolve and disappear back into the night. She and Liz would escape minutes later, going home to the safety of their beds before daylight. No one would be the wiser.
Her ear pressed against the door, Nikki strained to listen to the men's words. Rough talk about the Puglisi family, interfering coppers, and the blessed Volstead Act floated under the thin crack beside her feet and burned her ears. They were making a pact to work together under the nose of the government.
A hiccup swelled in her throat again, and she swallowed hard, holding her breath for a good minute. When she finally released her breath, her hand raced to her mouth to squelch another hiccup, but in her panic, her fingers knocked the lantern in Liz's hands. She groped for the lantern in the darkness, trying to stop its fall.
Liz reached out to catch the lantern, but when she did, the metal box in her arms fell to the floor, and the crash echoed around them.
Nikki froze.
Liz swung open the door to the closet, pushing Nikki in front of her, and Nikki stumbled forward. Chairs slid back, and the men at the table opened their coats. She saw her father's face first. The anger etched in his eyes. And there was another emotion she'd never seen before.
Fear.
Her brother sat there, stunned. And all three of her uncles.
There was another man beside them. A man with bushy blond hair.
Nikki watched in horror as the blond man reached for his gun.
"Stop, Heyward," her brother yelled, but she could see the malice in Heyward's eyes. He wasn't going to stop.
"Blast it, Nikki." Liz shoved her toward the storm door, her eyes still focused on the blond man. "Run."
Heyward shouted, commanding the others to shoot. Nikki snapped out of her stupor when she saw the gleam of his gun. Racing up the stairs, she slammed open the storm door and burst outside.
Cool air flooded over her as a gunshot echoed down the alleyway. Lifting her skirt, Nikki ran into the billows of the fog, but with every step, her sister's face trailed her. The faces of the men haunted her soul.
Another thread for their family's web of secrets. A thread she could never escape no matter where she fled.
This week, the Christian Fiction Blog Alliance is introducing The Silent Order Summerside Press (November 1, 2010)by Melanie Dobson
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Melanie Dobson is the award-winning author of The Black Cloister; Love Finds You in Liberty, Indiana; and Together for Good. Prior to launching Dobson Media Group in 1999, Melanie was the corporate publicity manager at Focus on the Family where she was responsible for the publicity of events, products, films, and TV specials. Melanie received her undergraduate degree in journalism from Liberty University and her master's degree in communication from Regent University. She has worked in the fields of publicity and journalism for fifteen years including two years as a publicist for The Family Channel.
Melanie and her husband, Jon, met in Colorado Springs in 1997 at Vanguard Church. Jon works in the field of computer animation. Since they've been married, the Dobsons have relocated numerous times including stints in Virginia, Tennessee, North Carolina, Colorado, Berlin, and Southern California. These days they are enjoying their new home in the Pacific Northwest.
Jon and Melanie have adopted their two daughters —Karly (6) and Kinzel (5). When Melanie isn't writing or entertaining their girls, she enjoys exploring ghost towns and dusty back roads, traveling, hiking, line dancing, and reading inspirational fiction.
ABOUT THE BOOK
Rural America - 1928. After the murder of his partner, Detective Rollin Wells hides away in an Amish home near Sugarcreek, Ohio, to find out who in the police force iscollaborating with Cleveland's notorious mob. While Rollin searches for answers to his partner's death, he befriends an elusive young Amish woman named Katie and her young son. As Rollin learns about Katie's past, he's shocked at the secret Katie is hiding - a secret that has haunted Rollin for eight years.
Excerpt of chapter one:
Chapter 1
"Let's go home," Nikki whispered, her lips quivering. Even her toes, squashed into the sharp points of her strapped Mary Janes, wouldn't stop shaking. "Liz…"
"Hush," her sister hissed as she swung open the side door of Man¬giamo's. Nikki held up the small battery-powered lantern, and the shiny countertops in the kitchen glowed.
Nikki's knees knocked under her navy blue skirt and she pressed them together. Her father's employees left the restaurant hours ago, around midnight or so. Everything inside was still except her heart, which had been hammering in her chest since she and Liz snuck out of the house. Somehow Liz had secured the key to the side door of Man¬giamo's, but she wouldn't tell Nikki why they needed to get inside.
"No one knows," she whispered as the door creaked closed behind them. No one would find out she and Liz were here.
Their parents and older brother were asleep in their large home, a few blocks up Murray Hill. As she and Liz snuck down to Mayfield Road, the usually bustling streets in Cleveland's Little Italy were draped with an eerie fog. The silence unnerved her—even the alley cats had stopped howling for the night.
As Nikki followed her sister across the kitchen, Liz pulled a second key out of her purse.
Nikki gasped. "Where did you get—"
"I told you to shut up," Liz barked as she pushed the key into the lock of another door—a door that kept the kitchen staff out of their father's private lounge.
Nikki leaned closer. "Papa's going to kill you."
"He'll have to catch me first." Liz laughed, sounding more like she was twelve than twenty-one.
Her sister teetered daily between the frivolities of her youth and the weight of adulthood. The shiny red barrette in her bobbed black hair matched the red bow on her scalloped dress. Even in the dull light, she exuded glamour.
Until this moment, Nikki never thought to ask why Liz was dressed to the nines—she was still trying to wake up after her sister shoved her out of bed in the middle of the night, saying she needed help. She hadn't told Nikki why they needed to come here, but it didn't matter. Nikki always seemed to be on call for her older sister, and Liz knew it. She covered for Liz whenever her sister slipped away to visit one of Cleve¬land's many nightclubs.
But never before had Liz tried anything as daring as breaking into Mangiamo's back room. Their father's sanctuary.
Their brother was allowed inside this room when invited—and he bragged about it often—but Salvatore never talked to either of his daughters about the place. Didn't really talk to Nikki at all. She knew the extent of his fury, though, and she feared him almost as much as the spineless henchmen who bowed to him like he was God on earth. She'd never bowed, but she usually cowered when he was around, hop¬ing he wouldn't notice her. He rarely did.
Her sister wasn't afraid of anything, including their father. She had the gift of being able to charm almost any man. If their father discovered them trespassing in his den, though, no charm would work. Discipline would be swift. And painful.
The knob turned in her sister's hands, and as she cracked open the door, the stench of cigar smoke mingled with the lingering smells of spicy sausage and cheese from the kitchen behind them.
"Liz—" she repeated.
Liz grabbed the lantern from Nikki's hands. "Tell me if someone comes to the front door."
Light illuminated the gray stone that lined the narrow staircase below them. Her sister stepped down and slowly descended into the dungeon.
Nikki propped the door open with her heel, waiting in the darkness. She had thought there was a small room in the back of the restaurant, not a basement, but she wasn't surprised. Secrets bound their family together like the tangled silk threads layering the web of a black widow.
The girls at Nikki's school envied these seemingly luxurious threads, but she knew that the Cardano money only covered the secrets with a blinding sheen that most people couldn't see past. She and Liz knew the truth, and they were trapped in their family's web for the rest of their lives.
Her mother refused to talk about their family's secret life, and her father usually refused to talk to her, period. Silence stopped even the walls of the Cardano mansion from sharing their secrets, but the walls knew. They knew about her father's mistress over on Woodland Ave¬nue. They knew about the bitter tears her mother shed. And they knew about the dirty money that surged through her family like water from a fire hose, money that never seemed to extinguish the smoldering inside her father for more.
Nikki watched the light in her sister's hands turn the corner at the bottom of the steps, and she rested her back against the post, praying Liz would hurry.
Light from the city lamps trickled in through two small windows at the side of the room, illuminating the shiny tops of the kitchen ovens and the draped tables that filled the dining room. Instead of windows by the imposing front door there was a wall filled with paintings of Italy.
The restaurant couldn't possibly support the Cardano family life¬style, nor could the factory where her uncles refined sugar, but there was always plenty of money. Some mornings she walked down the stairs and the dining room table was hidden under silvery green mounds of cash. Someone supplied her father with thousands and thousands of dollars at least once a week, but she didn't know who paid him, nor did she want to know. She just wanted to rush out the door each morning before the others woke up to join her friends at Saint Anthony's.
Their mother liked to pretend that her husband's business ventures were perfectly legitimate as she tried to induct her daughters into the high society circles like they were members of Cleveland's elite. Two years ago, Liz began rebelling against the dog-and-pony show and decided to flaunt herself in circles not so pleasing to their mother. The more their mother and father disapproved, the happier Liz seemed to be.
Salvatore ignored Liz's exploits for a long time, but everything changed in July. For the past three months, her father had kept Liz home around the clock, under surveillance. On the rare occasion that her father let Liz go outside the estate, she was escorted by two of his bodyguards.
Tonight, however, the man who was supposed to be standing guard outside Liz's door was sleeping beside it instead. Nikki assumed Liz, with her smooth words and alluring smile, offered him a couple of drinks from the stash she snuck into her room under her longer dresses.
The lantern light blinked below her.
"Liz?" she called in a hushed voice.
When her sister didn't answer, her gaze wandered back toward the six rows of tables that separated the kitchen and the front door. The chairs and table settings appeared to be in their proper place; there was no hint of the loud patrons who had departed four hours ago and no bloodstains left from the man shot inside the parlor back in March.
Nikki shivered. Did the man's ghost stay behind to haunt those who'd murdered him?
She glanced back down the staircase, at the light bobbing on the wall below. She should have asked Liz why they needed to come here in the mid¬dle of the night, but it was much safer to play along than ask questions.
A sharp click sounded in the dining room, and her heart leapt. Turning, she squinted in the dull light, but nothing moved. No one was in the restaurant at this hour, she told herself. No one but her and Liz.
She whispered her sister's name one more time, but Liz didn't respond.
Holding her breath, she pressed her hands against the doorframe and pretended to be one of the Sicilian statues in her father's pictures. If the murdered man had come back for vengeance, perhaps he wouldn't see her. Surely he would know she didn't have it within her to hurt a soul.
She peeked around a column as the front door crept open and a man walked inside, built thin as a rail and a good head taller than she was. The evening was warm, yet he wore a dark overcoat and hat, the uniform of a Cleveland Mafioso.
And he looked very much alive.
She stepped down into the stairwell. If anyone except their father caught her and her sister, they might bump them off, and there were no guarantees with their father.
She and Liz had to get out of here.
Nikki locked the door behind her, and as she rushed down the stairs, she struggled to catch her breath. Air didn't come until she reached the bottom, but even then, her breathing was shallow. The room in front of her seemed to spin.
Steadying herself against the wall, she took a deep breath and hiccupped.
The basement was one room, a dank space fortified with cold stone and a solitary brown hat rack that hovered in the corner. An old table stood in the middle of the room, surrounded by folding chairs, where the men probably dealt business ventures along with their cards. At the side of the room, a much shorter set of steps led up to a storm door.
Liz swiveled around by an open closet door, a narrow metal box clutched in her hands. "I told you to stay upstairs."
"But someone's—" Nikki didn't finish her sentence. The door above her swung open, banging into the wall. Apparently her father wasn't the only one with a key to this place.
Liz shoved the lantern into Nikki's hands and tucked the metal box under her arm. Then she stepped toward the second set of stairs. Nikki followed her lead, but at that moment, the storm door began to shake. Someone else was outside.
Liz swore and grabbed Nikki's arm, shoving her into the closet. Liz squeezed into the tight space beside her and yanked the door closed, the lantern shining like a beacon until Liz punched the button on top. The closet turned black.
On the other side of the door, Nikki heard muffled voices as sev¬eral men greeted each other. At this time of night, surely this meeting wouldn't last long. They'd finish whatever deal they'd come to resolve and disappear back into the night. She and Liz would escape minutes later, going home to the safety of their beds before daylight. No one would be the wiser.
Her ear pressed against the door, Nikki strained to listen to the men's words. Rough talk about the Puglisi family, interfering coppers, and the blessed Volstead Act floated under the thin crack beside her feet and burned her ears. They were making a pact to work together under the nose of the government.
A hiccup swelled in her throat again, and she swallowed hard, holding her breath for a good minute. When she finally released her breath, her hand raced to her mouth to squelch another hiccup, but in her panic, her fingers knocked the lantern in Liz's hands. She groped for the lantern in the darkness, trying to stop its fall.
Liz reached out to catch the lantern, but when she did, the metal box in her arms fell to the floor, and the crash echoed around them.
Nikki froze.
Liz swung open the door to the closet, pushing Nikki in front of her, and Nikki stumbled forward. Chairs slid back, and the men at the table opened their coats. She saw her father's face first. The anger etched in his eyes. And there was another emotion she'd never seen before.
Fear.
Her brother sat there, stunned. And all three of her uncles.
There was another man beside them. A man with bushy blond hair.
Nikki watched in horror as the blond man reached for his gun.
"Stop, Heyward," her brother yelled, but she could see the malice in Heyward's eyes. He wasn't going to stop.
"Blast it, Nikki." Liz shoved her toward the storm door, her eyes still focused on the blond man. "Run."
Heyward shouted, commanding the others to shoot. Nikki snapped out of her stupor when she saw the gleam of his gun. Racing up the stairs, she slammed open the storm door and burst outside.
Cool air flooded over her as a gunshot echoed down the alleyway. Lifting her skirt, Nikki ran into the billows of the fog, but with every step, her sister's face trailed her. The faces of the men haunted her soul.
Another thread for their family's web of secrets. A thread she could never escape no matter where she fled.
November 17, 2010
I've been AWOL ...
But I had a good excuse! I've been on deadline for a book and so I was putting in 18-20 hour days working to get it done in time. My poor husband had to deal with no cooking, no cleaning, and barely a "hello" when he came home from work! He also flew to China in the middle of all that (probably a blessing in disguise since he didn't have to watch me go into meltdown over my computer) so I ended up pulling a few all nighters to get the book done in time. And I turned it in! Yay!
Now I'm catching up on all the other work I neglected while I was on deadline.
While I was on deadline, I have to admit I was terrible in terms of eating and exercise. Eating, however, was not as bad as I have been for previous deadlines. While it was carb heavy, I also made sure I ate a lot of protein, too. Exercise, however, really fell by the wayside. Instead of running 3 x a week, I only ran once a week, especially b/c the last week I was on deadline I was either sleeping only 4-6 hours a night or pulling a couple all nighters.
I'm doing the ecoaching thing with Jeff Galloway and he said that in future, I should try to get out for 5-10 minutes every other day rather than not running.
I can see the wisdom of that. I just don't know if I'd have felt I could break off my writing momentum in order to go outside for 15 minutes. Since I started writing 4-5 books a year, I've discovered that my writing is such a weird creative thing that is more momentum driven than when I was in biology work, where I could stop at any time and pick up again a few minutes later. If I stop at a crucial point in my writing, when I sit down at the computer again, it takes me 15-20 minutes to get back into my writing flow. It's very frustrating, which is why I don't stop to eat proper meals--I usually snack every hour instead so I don't interrupt my momentum. (On a positive note, my snacking is typically small portions or lots of fresh raw veggies like carrots, cucumbers, bell peppers.)
Okay, okay, enough excuses. I didn't exercise enough while I was on deadline, which made Jeff scale back my pace and run/walk ratio for my long runs. But then (!!!) I woke up with a cold last week Friday, which is when I was supposed to do my 26 mile long run. I went running anyway but by mile 8 I was done, I was just too sick. I felt better on Monday and ran 8 miles, felt pretty good, but then (!!!) I slipped in the shower Mon night and hyperextended my right knee, which is the knee I've had two ACL surgeries on. It's a bit swollen. I've been icing and elevating it since Mon night and doing some light exercise on the exercise bike, which seems to decrease the swelling a bit. But it also means I haven't run since Monday. I'm feeling better today although the knee still hurts a little when I straighten my leg.
I'm hoping if I feel better on Friday I will still be able to do my 26 miler. I just emailed Jeff to ask him if I can do that. My marathon is in 3.5 weeks, on Dec 12th, so maybe???
My running has just been terribly frustrating for me this week, esp because I had hoped to get back on track right after I finished my deadline!
Now I'm catching up on all the other work I neglected while I was on deadline.
While I was on deadline, I have to admit I was terrible in terms of eating and exercise. Eating, however, was not as bad as I have been for previous deadlines. While it was carb heavy, I also made sure I ate a lot of protein, too. Exercise, however, really fell by the wayside. Instead of running 3 x a week, I only ran once a week, especially b/c the last week I was on deadline I was either sleeping only 4-6 hours a night or pulling a couple all nighters.
I'm doing the ecoaching thing with Jeff Galloway and he said that in future, I should try to get out for 5-10 minutes every other day rather than not running.
I can see the wisdom of that. I just don't know if I'd have felt I could break off my writing momentum in order to go outside for 15 minutes. Since I started writing 4-5 books a year, I've discovered that my writing is such a weird creative thing that is more momentum driven than when I was in biology work, where I could stop at any time and pick up again a few minutes later. If I stop at a crucial point in my writing, when I sit down at the computer again, it takes me 15-20 minutes to get back into my writing flow. It's very frustrating, which is why I don't stop to eat proper meals--I usually snack every hour instead so I don't interrupt my momentum. (On a positive note, my snacking is typically small portions or lots of fresh raw veggies like carrots, cucumbers, bell peppers.)
Okay, okay, enough excuses. I didn't exercise enough while I was on deadline, which made Jeff scale back my pace and run/walk ratio for my long runs. But then (!!!) I woke up with a cold last week Friday, which is when I was supposed to do my 26 mile long run. I went running anyway but by mile 8 I was done, I was just too sick. I felt better on Monday and ran 8 miles, felt pretty good, but then (!!!) I slipped in the shower Mon night and hyperextended my right knee, which is the knee I've had two ACL surgeries on. It's a bit swollen. I've been icing and elevating it since Mon night and doing some light exercise on the exercise bike, which seems to decrease the swelling a bit. But it also means I haven't run since Monday. I'm feeling better today although the knee still hurts a little when I straighten my leg.
I'm hoping if I feel better on Friday I will still be able to do my 26 miler. I just emailed Jeff to ask him if I can do that. My marathon is in 3.5 weeks, on Dec 12th, so maybe???
My running has just been terribly frustrating for me this week, esp because I had hoped to get back on track right after I finished my deadline!
November 6, 2010
Street Team book list excerpt - GRACE by Shelley Shepard Gray
Camy here: Here's another book I added to my Street Team book giveaway list! You can win this book by joining my Street Team--Click here for more info!
This week, the Christian Fiction Blog Alliance is introducing Grace Avon Inspire; Original edition (October 26, 2010) by Shelley Shepard Gray
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Shelley Shepard Gray is the beloved author of the Sisters of the Heart series, including Hidden, Wanted, and Forgiven. Before writing, she was a teacher in both Texas and Colorado. She now writes full time and lives in southern Ohio with her husband and two children. When not writing, Shelley volunteers at church, reads, and enjoys walking her miniature dachshund on her town's scenic bike trail.
ABOUT THE BOOK
It's Christmastime at the Brenneman Bed & Breakfast, and everyone is excited about closing down for the holiday.
Anna and Henry will be celebrating their first Christmas as a married couple, and for Katie and Jonathan Lundy, it's their first Christmas with baby Stefan. Winnie and Samuel Miller plan to stop by as well for a wonderful two weeks of family and rest.
But when two unexpected visitors show up, hoping to stay for Christmas, the family must test their commitment to hospitality. Levi is a widower who lost his wife four years ago and can't bear the thought of another Christmas alone. And Melody is a young pregnant woman who won't open up about how she ended up on her own at Christmas at almost nine months pregnant.
Anna, who knows a thing or two about keeping secrets, doesn't trust her, and strives to find out the truth about these two strangers who have disrupted their holiday. But as the Christmas spirit descends on them all, as well as snow that traps them in the inn, a healing and hopefulness takes over, allowing new relationships to be built, and the boundaries of family to be extended.
Excerpt of chapter one:
Chapter 1
CHAPTER 1
December 20, 8:00 am
"Anna!" The Christmas bells that hung on the door of her childhood home, the Brenneman Bed and Breakfast, tinkled as Katie Lundy worked to shut the heavy wooden door behind her. As she gazed at the pair of candles adorned with red ribbons on the front table, a familiar warmth settled over her. "Anna? Are you here?" she called out.
Before she could completely shut the heavy door behind her, parents started fussing.
"Katie, whyever are you creating such a ruckus in the house?" Her mother's form suddenly appeared in the doorway leading to the kitchen. Wiping her hands on her apron, she chided, "You could have woken up all of our guests."
From the other side of the foyer, her father came into sight. "Yes, Katie, that yelling would be a problem…if we did have a houseful, which we do not, thankfully." As he looked her over, his frown contrasted with the twinkle in his eyes. "But you are loud enough to wake the dead, child."
No matter how old she got, receiving criticism from her parents never failed to make her cheeks bloom like roses in July. "I'm sorry." Making sure to keep her voice down, she craned her neck to look beyond her mother into the cozy kitchen. "I'm looking for Anna. Is she here?"
"I am," Anna announced from the landing at the top of the stairs. Looking down at Katie from the well polished spindles, her best friend and sister-in-law smirked. "I think someone is excited to go shopping today."
There was no reason to lie. She was eager about their planned outing for the day. "I can't help it. It's been a long time since we've played hooky."
Her mother grinned. "If you're this wound up about a shopping trip, I'm thinking you should plan more outings."
"It's only because they are so rare that I'm excited. If it was a usual occurrence, it wouldn't matter so much." As Anna walked down the steps, Katie continued. "Jonathan got an unexpected day off at the lumber yard, so he's with the girls and Eli."
Her mother clucked. "You should have brought the bobbeli here. I would have happily taken care of him."
"Jonathan didn't mind watching the baby. Besides, I wasn't sure if you had houseguests."
"It's December twentieth. Of course we don't have houseguests," her mother said. "All I'm doing is getting the house readied for our family holiday."
Though they never formally closed the inn for the celebration of the Lord's birth, Katie couldn't remember a time when they ever had hosted guests at the inn.
Once the calendar marked December fifteenth, visitors suddenly stopped arriving. Their absence allowed the large, rambling house to become a home once again.
This year, in honor of young Eli's birth and Anna and Henry's marriage, everyone decided to spend a whole week together. Katie and her family, Anna and Henry, Rebekeh and her family, and this year-at Anna's and Katie's request-Winnie-who was Jonathan's sister, and Winnie's husband Samuel, were going to stay the week of Christmas as well.
Yes, the house was going to be mighty full, but joyous and merry too. It would be the perfect time for Katie to take a breath and rejuvenate. Lately, she'd been so tired, it was all she could do to keep her eyes open at night. Once or twice, she'd even fallen asleep during Eli's nap.
Jonathan thought she was doing too much, and she probably was. She had many responsibilities now, with a home, a three month old baby, and two busy stepdaughters.
But all of it was a joy. And nothing that couldn't be resolved with a little bit of comfort from her parents.
Speaking again, her mother worried her bottom lip. "I went shopping yesterday, but I feel sure I didn't buy enough flour and sugar. Rebekeh plans to do a lot of baking."
"Just give me a list, Mamm," Katie said. "I'll pick up whatever I can." Katie was just about to motion for Anna to hurry and put on her boots and cloak when Henry walked down the stairs waving a sheet of paper.
"I'm afraid our plans are about to change," he murmured.
When he stopped by his bride's side, Anna pulled the paper out of his hand. Moments later, she frowned. "Oh no."
Katie strode closer, her mother right behind her. "What on earth is wrong?" she asked. "You both look like you've seen a ghost."
"This is a mailed-in reservation," Anna murmured.
"So? What's special about that? We get them all the time."
Henry showed them the envelope he still held in his hands. "Our zip code was either written wrong or the mail carrier couldn't read it. So, from the postdate, it looks like it's been on a trip around Ohio."
Katie tapped her foot. "And? Come on, Henry. I want to go look at fabric."
"Well, the fact of the matter is, Mr. Levi Bender is planning to arrive here today." He pointed to a sentence at the bottom of the page. "We were supposed to have contacted him if we were full up by the eighteenth."
Katie's mother leaned her hand on the banister with a sigh. "And here it is December twentieth. How long is he plannin' to stay, Henry?"
"Through the holiday," he said grimly. "He says here he plans to stay until December 28."
Although she knew it wasn't a Christian response, Katie felt a swarm of irritation buzz through her as all her plans began to evaporate. She'd been really looking forward to only being surrounded by family for the next week or so. It had been such a crazy year and a half, with Anna and her brother marrying, she marrying Jonathan…his barn burning down, Winnie in the hospital.
And Eli being born in October. All Katie wanted to do was enjoy peace and quiet and her family. She didn't want to have to cook and clean for a guest. She didn't want to have to keep reminding her girls to keep their voices down, either.
"This man is going to ruin our Christmas! Can't we turn him away?"
Her father glared. "Of course not."
Her mother walked to her daed's side. "Well, we're just going to have to be grateful for a Christmas guest. That's all there is to it."
"But now how are we all going to stay here together?"
"One man's arrival won't change things." A line appeared between her mother's brows. "Not too much, anyway."
Katie reached for Anna's hand. "Anna, let's get going now, then. With a guest arriving, chances are gut that we won't have another chance to get away."
With a look of regret, Anna shook her head. "I'm sorry, Katie, but I won't be able to go. If we have a guest coming, I'll need to prepare a room."
With a sense of dismay, Katie felt all her anticipated plans fall to the wayside. "But-"
Anna turned away from her. "Irene, which room would you like to put him in?"
"In the room up at the top of the stairs, I suppose. It's our best room."
She was talking about the attic room, of course. The room Katie had planned to occupy with Jonathan. It was lovely, and claimed its own private bathroom-something that Katie had been looking forward to since she still got up often with Eli.
As everyone looked upstairs rather mournfully, her mother sighed. "I have to say that having a guest here for Christmas has put me in a dither. What in the world are we going to do with Mr. Levi Bender here the next eight days?"
One by one, everyone scattered. Soon, only Katie stood alone in the foyer. A strong sense of loss filled her. And though she knew it was not their guest's fault, she couldn't help feel resentful. No matter how pleasant the man was, his presence was going to spoil their relaxed holiday plans. "Levi Bender, how in the world are we going to be able to get rid of you?" she murmured…just before she finally unhooked her cloak and joined her mother in the kitchen.
***
December 20, 2:00 pm
It had taken him all day to get there. First, Levi had had to rise with the roosters at dawn and tend to his small menagerie of animals. Then, after checking and double-checking that all was in order for the two teenaged boys who would be staying at his home for the week, he'd waited for the Englischer to pick him up and drive him to the bus station in Columbus.
Because snow was still falling, the bus was running an hour late. Levi had sat in his chair and sipped too-expensive coffee out of a Styrofoam cup that a vender had been selling right there in the lobby. He'd kept to himself and tried not to notice the looks of interest passing his way. Those same looks that he always felt whenever he was out in the outside world.
After claiming a seat on the bus, he'd ridden for two hours, switched busses, then rode for another hour and half to Peebles. Now he was in an Englischer's car again. On his way to the Brenneman Bed and Breakfast.
"So, have you been to this area before?"
"No."
"Oh. You got family out here?"
In spite of the generic question, Levi felt a shudder rustle through him. "No," he said again, this time with more force.
In the rearview mirror, the taxi driver raised his eyebrows. "Sorry, buddy. Didn't know that was a sore subject." His tone and the slight inflection at the end of his reply led Levi to believe that the driver was waiting for more explanation.
Levi merely looked out the window. In his experience, that was how most Englischers were-too nosy about things that didn't concern them at all.
Because he certainly wasn't going to tell anyone why he'd left his community to travel by himself for Christmas. Why he'd rather stay in the company of strangers than in the midst of people who'd known him for all of his life. Why he was willing to sleep in a small guest room with only a bathroom down the hall than spend another night in his own bed. In a house that he and Rosanna had designed and help build.
Rosanna!
Even just thinking her name brought a fresh wave of sorrow. Like a toothache he couldn't help probing, bringing more pain to the surface. Since he was already hurting, Levi pushed himself to recall another person who had once meant so much to him…Ruth.
As the taxi traveled the winding roads toward the inn, Levi closed his eyes and let the agony fill his body for one last time before he went about pretending that the two most important women in his life had never existed.
Of course, that was the crux of it all…wasn't it? Rosanna and Ruth weren't around, and they never would be again. Ever.
Because he'd killed them.
***
December 20, 3:30 pm
"Miss? Do you need any help, Miss?" the Englischer asked with a concerned expression. "You look like you've kind of got your hands full there."
Melody wasn't used to speaking with strangers. But as the moment passed between them, and he kept rudely staring at her, awaiting a response, she shook her head. "No." Hurt flashed into his eyes. "I mean, Dank-thank you. But no. I'm fine."
After treating her to another long look of doubt at the quilt bag on her lap and the worn suitcase under her feet, he shrugged and walked away.
"Don't you mind the driver, Miss," the elderly lady sitting across the aisle from her on the bus said. "I've ridden with Graham before and he's a worrier. Always has been. And, well, pardon my sayin' so, but you do look like you're about to deliver at any moment."
Shamed, Melody turned to the window and hugged her quilt bag more tightly.
It had been a long journey to Cincinnati, Ohio from Sonora, Kentucky. It had taken almost as long for her to find the correct bus to take her to Adams County. Now she was in a hired van to the Brenneman Bed and Breakfast to spend the next week, if she was lucky.
Her employer, Mrs. Sheridan had given her some money and a gift certificate when Melody had come to work in the coffee shop looking even worse than usual. "I really think you need to take some time off, dear."
"I'm fine," she'd murmured, mainly because she had no choice. This was her job.
As if Mrs. Sheridan had read her mind, she murmured, "No, dear, I don't think you are. Hold on a moment, I'll be right back."
Moments later, she handed Melody an envelope with a hundred dollar bill and a gift certificate inside. Melody had held it like it was on fire. "What is this?"
"It's an early Christmas gift. It's a certificate to the loveliest little inn north of Cincinnati. In Ohio."
"What would I do there?"
"Relax for a bit." Mrs. Sheridan's eyes softened as she recalled the place. "It's a real beauty of a place, I'll tell you that. The Brenneman Bed and Breakfast has a wide wooden porch in the front. It runs the whole front of the building. The house just shines, it does. It's all white-washed, and has shiny black shutters. In the spring, glorious flowers decorate every available inch of land around the house."
In spite of herself, Melody was mesmerized. "And in the winter?"
Her boss sighed. "In the winter, they decorate a bit with greenery. Nature provides holly bushes in the woods. Mrs. Brenneman clips some sprigs and places them in glass bowls. A few of the windows have candles and garland. And they polish everything with the most heavenly scented orange oil. At night, when the snow is glistening outside and the rooms smell of hot spiced cider, wood from the fire and orange oil, why I have to say there's nothing else in the world like it. You should go, dear."
For a moment, Melody, too, had been taken away. But even the thought of traveling by herself was disconcerting. As was the cost. "Thank you for the idea, but I'm afraid I can't accept such a gift. It's too much."
"Oh, it's not so much, really." All smiles, she explained. "Mr. Sheridan and I won this in a charity auction about six months ago. It's good for a week's stay."
In spite of her will not to, Melody found herself gripping the envelope. It took everything she had to weakly refuse one more time. "I couldn't."
"Yes, you could, Melody…if you dare. I think you need some time off." Her voice lowered. "I know that things haven't been too good for you here. Sometimes, if you can't find a comforting place in your own hometown, it's time to venture somewhere else. Go there, Melody. Go to the Brenneman's and relax and learn to smile again. It will do you and the baby a world of good."
A world of good.
The kind words had rung in her ears the rest of the day. They were so different than everything else she was used to hearing. Most folks barely looked at her.
None directly spoke of her circumstances.
Yet, did she really imagine that people would speak of her-to her frankly?
Plain and simply, she'd been raped by an Englischer, abandoned by her family, and now was looking forward to forever being a symbol of foolish behavior for everyone in their community. As in, "Don't go walking alone like Melody did. Look what happened to her."
As in, "Look what happened to Melody. Now she's going to have to carry that burden for the rest of her life."
As in, "Melody, you've shamed us."
Consequently, she'd retreated into herself. If others wouldn't have a care for her feelings, she would.
That night, Melody had clumsily knelt by her bed and prayed. "What should I do?" she'd whispered.
Tightly, she'd closed her eyes. With bated breath, she'd strained to hear words of guidance. And then, like a gift that it was…she heard the Lord's voice.
Just as clearly as if he'd been standing at her shoulder. Go, Melody. Go and learn to smile again.
"Miss? You going to get up anytime soon?" the driver asked. "We're here."
She stood up with a start. To her right was the Brenneman Bed and Breakfast, looking just as lovely as Mrs. Sheridan described.
"Oh! I'm…I'm sorry. I'll get my things and hurry out."
To her surprise, a woman sitting in front of her picked up the suitcase and carried it out of the van. The driver helped her down the step and took her payment easily, not even counting it before slipping it into his black wool coat.
"Merry Christmas," he murmured before closing his door and pulling out of the driveway.
Leaving her alone. Staring at the wide front steps. At the garland that was roped around the porch railing. Suddenly, everything seemed to be too much. The trip, the traveling, the stress. The cold. A wave of dizziness fell over her.
The front door opened. A pretty woman just about her age stepped out and stared. "May I help you?"
The world was tilting. Threatening to go black. "I'm Melody Gingerich."
Blue eyes narrowed. "And?"
"I…I came to stay for Christmas," she murmured. In a haze, she did her best to concentrate, but the woman's reaction was truly puzzling.
"You came to do what?" the girl asked, her voice sounding high pitched. Almost angry.
"I have a certificate."
"For what?"
As the girl's eyes continued to stare her down, Melody fumbled for a better explanation. But truly, all ideas fled her mind. She didn't know what to say. How to explain about everything she'd been through. Everything she'd done.
Then, it didn't matter. Because her knees gave away, her world spun and her suitcase fell to the ground with a thud.
Seconds later, she felt the cold icy snow cradle her cheek…as her world went black.
This week, the Christian Fiction Blog Alliance is introducing Grace Avon Inspire; Original edition (October 26, 2010) by Shelley Shepard Gray
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Shelley Shepard Gray is the beloved author of the Sisters of the Heart series, including Hidden, Wanted, and Forgiven. Before writing, she was a teacher in both Texas and Colorado. She now writes full time and lives in southern Ohio with her husband and two children. When not writing, Shelley volunteers at church, reads, and enjoys walking her miniature dachshund on her town's scenic bike trail.
ABOUT THE BOOK
It's Christmastime at the Brenneman Bed & Breakfast, and everyone is excited about closing down for the holiday.Anna and Henry will be celebrating their first Christmas as a married couple, and for Katie and Jonathan Lundy, it's their first Christmas with baby Stefan. Winnie and Samuel Miller plan to stop by as well for a wonderful two weeks of family and rest.
But when two unexpected visitors show up, hoping to stay for Christmas, the family must test their commitment to hospitality. Levi is a widower who lost his wife four years ago and can't bear the thought of another Christmas alone. And Melody is a young pregnant woman who won't open up about how she ended up on her own at Christmas at almost nine months pregnant.
Anna, who knows a thing or two about keeping secrets, doesn't trust her, and strives to find out the truth about these two strangers who have disrupted their holiday. But as the Christmas spirit descends on them all, as well as snow that traps them in the inn, a healing and hopefulness takes over, allowing new relationships to be built, and the boundaries of family to be extended.
Excerpt of chapter one:
Chapter 1
CHAPTER 1
December 20, 8:00 am
"Anna!" The Christmas bells that hung on the door of her childhood home, the Brenneman Bed and Breakfast, tinkled as Katie Lundy worked to shut the heavy wooden door behind her. As she gazed at the pair of candles adorned with red ribbons on the front table, a familiar warmth settled over her. "Anna? Are you here?" she called out.
Before she could completely shut the heavy door behind her, parents started fussing.
"Katie, whyever are you creating such a ruckus in the house?" Her mother's form suddenly appeared in the doorway leading to the kitchen. Wiping her hands on her apron, she chided, "You could have woken up all of our guests."
From the other side of the foyer, her father came into sight. "Yes, Katie, that yelling would be a problem…if we did have a houseful, which we do not, thankfully." As he looked her over, his frown contrasted with the twinkle in his eyes. "But you are loud enough to wake the dead, child."
No matter how old she got, receiving criticism from her parents never failed to make her cheeks bloom like roses in July. "I'm sorry." Making sure to keep her voice down, she craned her neck to look beyond her mother into the cozy kitchen. "I'm looking for Anna. Is she here?"
"I am," Anna announced from the landing at the top of the stairs. Looking down at Katie from the well polished spindles, her best friend and sister-in-law smirked. "I think someone is excited to go shopping today."
There was no reason to lie. She was eager about their planned outing for the day. "I can't help it. It's been a long time since we've played hooky."
Her mother grinned. "If you're this wound up about a shopping trip, I'm thinking you should plan more outings."
"It's only because they are so rare that I'm excited. If it was a usual occurrence, it wouldn't matter so much." As Anna walked down the steps, Katie continued. "Jonathan got an unexpected day off at the lumber yard, so he's with the girls and Eli."
Her mother clucked. "You should have brought the bobbeli here. I would have happily taken care of him."
"Jonathan didn't mind watching the baby. Besides, I wasn't sure if you had houseguests."
"It's December twentieth. Of course we don't have houseguests," her mother said. "All I'm doing is getting the house readied for our family holiday."
Though they never formally closed the inn for the celebration of the Lord's birth, Katie couldn't remember a time when they ever had hosted guests at the inn.
Once the calendar marked December fifteenth, visitors suddenly stopped arriving. Their absence allowed the large, rambling house to become a home once again.
This year, in honor of young Eli's birth and Anna and Henry's marriage, everyone decided to spend a whole week together. Katie and her family, Anna and Henry, Rebekeh and her family, and this year-at Anna's and Katie's request-Winnie-who was Jonathan's sister, and Winnie's husband Samuel, were going to stay the week of Christmas as well.
Yes, the house was going to be mighty full, but joyous and merry too. It would be the perfect time for Katie to take a breath and rejuvenate. Lately, she'd been so tired, it was all she could do to keep her eyes open at night. Once or twice, she'd even fallen asleep during Eli's nap.
Jonathan thought she was doing too much, and she probably was. She had many responsibilities now, with a home, a three month old baby, and two busy stepdaughters.
But all of it was a joy. And nothing that couldn't be resolved with a little bit of comfort from her parents.
Speaking again, her mother worried her bottom lip. "I went shopping yesterday, but I feel sure I didn't buy enough flour and sugar. Rebekeh plans to do a lot of baking."
"Just give me a list, Mamm," Katie said. "I'll pick up whatever I can." Katie was just about to motion for Anna to hurry and put on her boots and cloak when Henry walked down the stairs waving a sheet of paper.
"I'm afraid our plans are about to change," he murmured.
When he stopped by his bride's side, Anna pulled the paper out of his hand. Moments later, she frowned. "Oh no."
Katie strode closer, her mother right behind her. "What on earth is wrong?" she asked. "You both look like you've seen a ghost."
"This is a mailed-in reservation," Anna murmured.
"So? What's special about that? We get them all the time."
Henry showed them the envelope he still held in his hands. "Our zip code was either written wrong or the mail carrier couldn't read it. So, from the postdate, it looks like it's been on a trip around Ohio."
Katie tapped her foot. "And? Come on, Henry. I want to go look at fabric."
"Well, the fact of the matter is, Mr. Levi Bender is planning to arrive here today." He pointed to a sentence at the bottom of the page. "We were supposed to have contacted him if we were full up by the eighteenth."
Katie's mother leaned her hand on the banister with a sigh. "And here it is December twentieth. How long is he plannin' to stay, Henry?"
"Through the holiday," he said grimly. "He says here he plans to stay until December 28."
Although she knew it wasn't a Christian response, Katie felt a swarm of irritation buzz through her as all her plans began to evaporate. She'd been really looking forward to only being surrounded by family for the next week or so. It had been such a crazy year and a half, with Anna and her brother marrying, she marrying Jonathan…his barn burning down, Winnie in the hospital.
And Eli being born in October. All Katie wanted to do was enjoy peace and quiet and her family. She didn't want to have to cook and clean for a guest. She didn't want to have to keep reminding her girls to keep their voices down, either.
"This man is going to ruin our Christmas! Can't we turn him away?"
Her father glared. "Of course not."
Her mother walked to her daed's side. "Well, we're just going to have to be grateful for a Christmas guest. That's all there is to it."
"But now how are we all going to stay here together?"
"One man's arrival won't change things." A line appeared between her mother's brows. "Not too much, anyway."
Katie reached for Anna's hand. "Anna, let's get going now, then. With a guest arriving, chances are gut that we won't have another chance to get away."
With a look of regret, Anna shook her head. "I'm sorry, Katie, but I won't be able to go. If we have a guest coming, I'll need to prepare a room."
With a sense of dismay, Katie felt all her anticipated plans fall to the wayside. "But-"
Anna turned away from her. "Irene, which room would you like to put him in?"
"In the room up at the top of the stairs, I suppose. It's our best room."
She was talking about the attic room, of course. The room Katie had planned to occupy with Jonathan. It was lovely, and claimed its own private bathroom-something that Katie had been looking forward to since she still got up often with Eli.
As everyone looked upstairs rather mournfully, her mother sighed. "I have to say that having a guest here for Christmas has put me in a dither. What in the world are we going to do with Mr. Levi Bender here the next eight days?"
One by one, everyone scattered. Soon, only Katie stood alone in the foyer. A strong sense of loss filled her. And though she knew it was not their guest's fault, she couldn't help feel resentful. No matter how pleasant the man was, his presence was going to spoil their relaxed holiday plans. "Levi Bender, how in the world are we going to be able to get rid of you?" she murmured…just before she finally unhooked her cloak and joined her mother in the kitchen.
***
December 20, 2:00 pm
It had taken him all day to get there. First, Levi had had to rise with the roosters at dawn and tend to his small menagerie of animals. Then, after checking and double-checking that all was in order for the two teenaged boys who would be staying at his home for the week, he'd waited for the Englischer to pick him up and drive him to the bus station in Columbus.
Because snow was still falling, the bus was running an hour late. Levi had sat in his chair and sipped too-expensive coffee out of a Styrofoam cup that a vender had been selling right there in the lobby. He'd kept to himself and tried not to notice the looks of interest passing his way. Those same looks that he always felt whenever he was out in the outside world.
After claiming a seat on the bus, he'd ridden for two hours, switched busses, then rode for another hour and half to Peebles. Now he was in an Englischer's car again. On his way to the Brenneman Bed and Breakfast.
"So, have you been to this area before?"
"No."
"Oh. You got family out here?"
In spite of the generic question, Levi felt a shudder rustle through him. "No," he said again, this time with more force.
In the rearview mirror, the taxi driver raised his eyebrows. "Sorry, buddy. Didn't know that was a sore subject." His tone and the slight inflection at the end of his reply led Levi to believe that the driver was waiting for more explanation.
Levi merely looked out the window. In his experience, that was how most Englischers were-too nosy about things that didn't concern them at all.
Because he certainly wasn't going to tell anyone why he'd left his community to travel by himself for Christmas. Why he'd rather stay in the company of strangers than in the midst of people who'd known him for all of his life. Why he was willing to sleep in a small guest room with only a bathroom down the hall than spend another night in his own bed. In a house that he and Rosanna had designed and help build.
Rosanna!
Even just thinking her name brought a fresh wave of sorrow. Like a toothache he couldn't help probing, bringing more pain to the surface. Since he was already hurting, Levi pushed himself to recall another person who had once meant so much to him…Ruth.
As the taxi traveled the winding roads toward the inn, Levi closed his eyes and let the agony fill his body for one last time before he went about pretending that the two most important women in his life had never existed.
Of course, that was the crux of it all…wasn't it? Rosanna and Ruth weren't around, and they never would be again. Ever.
Because he'd killed them.
***
December 20, 3:30 pm
"Miss? Do you need any help, Miss?" the Englischer asked with a concerned expression. "You look like you've kind of got your hands full there."
Melody wasn't used to speaking with strangers. But as the moment passed between them, and he kept rudely staring at her, awaiting a response, she shook her head. "No." Hurt flashed into his eyes. "I mean, Dank-thank you. But no. I'm fine."
After treating her to another long look of doubt at the quilt bag on her lap and the worn suitcase under her feet, he shrugged and walked away.
"Don't you mind the driver, Miss," the elderly lady sitting across the aisle from her on the bus said. "I've ridden with Graham before and he's a worrier. Always has been. And, well, pardon my sayin' so, but you do look like you're about to deliver at any moment."
Shamed, Melody turned to the window and hugged her quilt bag more tightly.
It had been a long journey to Cincinnati, Ohio from Sonora, Kentucky. It had taken almost as long for her to find the correct bus to take her to Adams County. Now she was in a hired van to the Brenneman Bed and Breakfast to spend the next week, if she was lucky.
Her employer, Mrs. Sheridan had given her some money and a gift certificate when Melody had come to work in the coffee shop looking even worse than usual. "I really think you need to take some time off, dear."
"I'm fine," she'd murmured, mainly because she had no choice. This was her job.
As if Mrs. Sheridan had read her mind, she murmured, "No, dear, I don't think you are. Hold on a moment, I'll be right back."
Moments later, she handed Melody an envelope with a hundred dollar bill and a gift certificate inside. Melody had held it like it was on fire. "What is this?"
"It's an early Christmas gift. It's a certificate to the loveliest little inn north of Cincinnati. In Ohio."
"What would I do there?"
"Relax for a bit." Mrs. Sheridan's eyes softened as she recalled the place. "It's a real beauty of a place, I'll tell you that. The Brenneman Bed and Breakfast has a wide wooden porch in the front. It runs the whole front of the building. The house just shines, it does. It's all white-washed, and has shiny black shutters. In the spring, glorious flowers decorate every available inch of land around the house."
In spite of herself, Melody was mesmerized. "And in the winter?"
Her boss sighed. "In the winter, they decorate a bit with greenery. Nature provides holly bushes in the woods. Mrs. Brenneman clips some sprigs and places them in glass bowls. A few of the windows have candles and garland. And they polish everything with the most heavenly scented orange oil. At night, when the snow is glistening outside and the rooms smell of hot spiced cider, wood from the fire and orange oil, why I have to say there's nothing else in the world like it. You should go, dear."
For a moment, Melody, too, had been taken away. But even the thought of traveling by herself was disconcerting. As was the cost. "Thank you for the idea, but I'm afraid I can't accept such a gift. It's too much."
"Oh, it's not so much, really." All smiles, she explained. "Mr. Sheridan and I won this in a charity auction about six months ago. It's good for a week's stay."
In spite of her will not to, Melody found herself gripping the envelope. It took everything she had to weakly refuse one more time. "I couldn't."
"Yes, you could, Melody…if you dare. I think you need some time off." Her voice lowered. "I know that things haven't been too good for you here. Sometimes, if you can't find a comforting place in your own hometown, it's time to venture somewhere else. Go there, Melody. Go to the Brenneman's and relax and learn to smile again. It will do you and the baby a world of good."
A world of good.
The kind words had rung in her ears the rest of the day. They were so different than everything else she was used to hearing. Most folks barely looked at her.
None directly spoke of her circumstances.
Yet, did she really imagine that people would speak of her-to her frankly?
Plain and simply, she'd been raped by an Englischer, abandoned by her family, and now was looking forward to forever being a symbol of foolish behavior for everyone in their community. As in, "Don't go walking alone like Melody did. Look what happened to her."
As in, "Look what happened to Melody. Now she's going to have to carry that burden for the rest of her life."
As in, "Melody, you've shamed us."
Consequently, she'd retreated into herself. If others wouldn't have a care for her feelings, she would.
That night, Melody had clumsily knelt by her bed and prayed. "What should I do?" she'd whispered.
Tightly, she'd closed her eyes. With bated breath, she'd strained to hear words of guidance. And then, like a gift that it was…she heard the Lord's voice.
Just as clearly as if he'd been standing at her shoulder. Go, Melody. Go and learn to smile again.
"Miss? You going to get up anytime soon?" the driver asked. "We're here."
She stood up with a start. To her right was the Brenneman Bed and Breakfast, looking just as lovely as Mrs. Sheridan described.
"Oh! I'm…I'm sorry. I'll get my things and hurry out."
To her surprise, a woman sitting in front of her picked up the suitcase and carried it out of the van. The driver helped her down the step and took her payment easily, not even counting it before slipping it into his black wool coat.
"Merry Christmas," he murmured before closing his door and pulling out of the driveway.
Leaving her alone. Staring at the wide front steps. At the garland that was roped around the porch railing. Suddenly, everything seemed to be too much. The trip, the traveling, the stress. The cold. A wave of dizziness fell over her.
The front door opened. A pretty woman just about her age stepped out and stared. "May I help you?"
The world was tilting. Threatening to go black. "I'm Melody Gingerich."
Blue eyes narrowed. "And?"
"I…I came to stay for Christmas," she murmured. In a haze, she did her best to concentrate, but the woman's reaction was truly puzzling.
"You came to do what?" the girl asked, her voice sounding high pitched. Almost angry.
"I have a certificate."
"For what?"
As the girl's eyes continued to stare her down, Melody fumbled for a better explanation. But truly, all ideas fled her mind. She didn't know what to say. How to explain about everything she'd been through. Everything she'd done.
Then, it didn't matter. Because her knees gave away, her world spun and her suitcase fell to the ground with a thud.
Seconds later, she felt the cold icy snow cradle her cheek…as her world went black.
November 4, 2010
November 2, 2010
Street Team book list excerpt - HEAD IN THE CLOUDS by Karen Witemeyer
This week, the Christian Fiction Blog Alliance is introducing Head in the Clouds Bethany House; Original edition (October 1, 2010) by Karen Witemeyer
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Karen Witemeyer is a deacon's wife and mother of three who believes the world needs more happily-ever-afters. To that end, she combines her love of bygone eras with her passion for helping women mature in Christ to craft historical romance novels that lift the spirit and nurture the soul.
After growing up in California, Karen moved to Texas to attend Abilene Christian University where she earned bachelor and master's degrees in Psychology. It was also there that she met and married her own Texas hero. He roped her in good, for she has lived in Texas ever since. In fact, she fell so in love with this rugged land of sweeping sunsets and enduring pioneer spirit, that she incorporates it into the pages of her novels, setting her stories in the small towns of a state that burgeoned into greatness in the mid- to late1800s.
Karen is living her dream by writing Christian historical romance novels for Bethany House. When she visited her publisher back in January of 2010, she was interviewed by the staff. If you'd like a behind-the-scenes glimpse into how she develops her story ideas and a description of her bumpy journey to publication, click here to listen to a podcast of that interview.
ABOUT THE BOOK
Adelaide Proctor is a young woman with her head in the clouds, longing for a real-life storybook hero to claim as her own. But when a husband-hunting debacle leaves her humiliated, she interviews for a staid governess position on a central Texas sheep ranch and vows to leave her romantic yearnings behind.
When Gideon Westcott left his privileged life in England to make a name for himself in America's wool industry, he never expected to become a father overnight. And five-year-old Isabella hasn't uttered a word since she lost her mother. The unconventionality of the new governess concerns Gideon--and intrigues him at the same time. But he can't afford distractions. He has a ranch to run, a shearing to oversee, and a suspicious fence-cutting to investigate.
When Isabella's uncle comes to claim the child--and her inheritance--Gideon and Adelaide must work together to protect Isabella from the man's evil schemes. And soon neither can deny their growing attraction. But after so many heartbreaks, will Adelaide be willing to get her head out of the clouds and put her heart on the line?
Excerpt of chapter one:
Head in the Clouds
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Karen Witemeyer is a deacon's wife and mother of three who believes the world needs more happily-ever-afters. To that end, she combines her love of bygone eras with her passion for helping women mature in Christ to craft historical romance novels that lift the spirit and nurture the soul.After growing up in California, Karen moved to Texas to attend Abilene Christian University where she earned bachelor and master's degrees in Psychology. It was also there that she met and married her own Texas hero. He roped her in good, for she has lived in Texas ever since. In fact, she fell so in love with this rugged land of sweeping sunsets and enduring pioneer spirit, that she incorporates it into the pages of her novels, setting her stories in the small towns of a state that burgeoned into greatness in the mid- to late1800s.
Karen is living her dream by writing Christian historical romance novels for Bethany House. When she visited her publisher back in January of 2010, she was interviewed by the staff. If you'd like a behind-the-scenes glimpse into how she develops her story ideas and a description of her bumpy journey to publication, click here to listen to a podcast of that interview.
ABOUT THE BOOK
Adelaide Proctor is a young woman with her head in the clouds, longing for a real-life storybook hero to claim as her own. But when a husband-hunting debacle leaves her humiliated, she interviews for a staid governess position on a central Texas sheep ranch and vows to leave her romantic yearnings behind. When Gideon Westcott left his privileged life in England to make a name for himself in America's wool industry, he never expected to become a father overnight. And five-year-old Isabella hasn't uttered a word since she lost her mother. The unconventionality of the new governess concerns Gideon--and intrigues him at the same time. But he can't afford distractions. He has a ranch to run, a shearing to oversee, and a suspicious fence-cutting to investigate.
When Isabella's uncle comes to claim the child--and her inheritance--Gideon and Adelaide must work together to protect Isabella from the man's evil schemes. And soon neither can deny their growing attraction. But after so many heartbreaks, will Adelaide be willing to get her head out of the clouds and put her heart on the line?
Excerpt of chapter one:
Head in the Clouds
October 24, 2010
Street Team book list excerpt - Lydia's Charm by Wanda Brunstetter
Camy here: Here's another book I added to my Street Team book giveaway list! You can win this book by joining my Street Team--Click here for more info!
This week, the Christian Fiction Blog Alliance is introducing Lydia's Charm Barbour Books (September 1, 2010) by Wanda E. Brunstetter
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
A Note From Wanda:
Ever since I was a child, I wanted to be a writer. When I was in the second grade, I wrote my first poem about a moth. Luckily, I received encouragement from my teacher. During my teen years, I wrote skits that my church teen group performed during special holidays.
It wasn't until 1980, that I took a course on writing for children and teenagers. I became serious about a career as an author. Soon after that, I began to write stories, articles, poems, and devotionals, which appeared in a variety of Christian publications. Later, I had 5 books of puppet/ventriloquist scripts published. *These books are currently available by contacting me. (wanda@wandabrunstetter.com)
My first novel was released by Barbour Publishing's book club, Heartsong Presents, in Dec. 1997. I have now written nearly fifty books, with over 4 million books in print. Many of the novels I've written are Amish-themed.
ABOUT THE BOOK
Widowed and jobless, Lydia King moves her son and herself to Charm, Ohio, to be close to her mother and help with her grandfather. Menno Troyer, a furniture store owner, is also recently widowed and the father of four energetic boys.
Levi Stutzman, another newcomer to the area, is the only one in his family not handicapped by dwarfism and has dedicated his life to caring for them. As fall colors the countryside, will anonymous gifts left for Lydia bring her hope for a new life and romance, or will another tragedy flood her with infinite despair?
Excerpt of chapter one:
Prologue
A sob rose in Lydia King's throat as she stared at the calendar on her kitchen wall. A year ago today, she'd buried her husband after having been married only five short years. Oh, how she wished she could bring Jeremiah back.
She glanced at her four-year-old son, Josh, who sat at the table, coloring a picture of a yellow cat. The sweet-tempered boy had Lydia's tawny blond hair and his daddy's big brown eyes. He was endlessly curious and enjoyed all kinds of animals—two more of his father's traits.
Lydia blinked to keep her tears from spilling over. Josh needed his father as much as she needed her husband. It wasn't fair that Jeremiah had been killed in a logging accident, leaving her alone to earn a living and raise their son.
The muscles in the back of her neck tightened. It wasn't fair that two weeks ago she'd lost her job at the restaurant in Arthur, Illinois, because business was so slow that the restaurant may have to close. She'd looked everywhere for another job, but there were none to be had.
The rent on their small home was coming due in a few days, and with her funds running low, Lydia didn't know what she should do. She needed to provide for Josh, and without a job, she'd soon be out of money and unable to pay any of her bills. Unlike her English friends who'd also been laid off, Lydia would not rely on unemployment checks because her Amish community believed they should rely on each other and God rather than on insurance.
Lydia had no family living nearby to offer her support. When she and Jeremiah had first moved to Illinois from their home in Wisconsin, they'd made quite a few friends in the local Amish community. Those friends had been quick to help Lydia financially after Jeremiah's death, but she couldn't expect them to provide for her and Josh forever. They had families of their own to support, and Lydia wanted to make it on her own.
Oh Lord, please tell me what to do, she prayed. I need some direction.
Her gaze came to rest on the stack of mail lying on the table, unopened. She thumbed through the envelopes, noting several bills that only fueled her frustration.
When she spotted an envelope from her mother, who'd moved to Charm, Ohio, a year ago, she quickly tore it open.
Dear Lydia,
I received your letter the other day and was sorry to hear that you'd lost your job. It's not good for you to be there with no family, and I think you and Josh should come here to live with your grandfather and me. Since Holmes County has the largest population of Amish in America, a lot of tourists visit here every year. I'm sure it would be easy for you to find a job in the area. I could watch Josh while you're working, and you'd have a place to stay where you wouldn't have to worry about paying rent. Please think about this and let me know your decision.
As Always,
Mom
Tears welled in Lydia's eyes. Things had been strained between her and Mom for a long time. It touched Lydia that Mom cared enough to suggest that she and Josh move to Charm.
Mom had found it hard to leave her home in Wisconsin to take care of Grandpa, who'd suffered a stroke a year after Lydia's father died. Since Mom was Grandpa's only daughter, and her two older brothers lived in Missouri, she'd felt obligated to care for him. Lydia had figured her mom would be happy living in Ohio, where she'd been born and raised, but after reading several of her letters, she'd realized that Mom was miserable. Maybe taking care of Grandpa was too much for her. She probably needed some help.
"I'm hungerich. What's for mattsait, Mama?" Josh asked, breaking into Lydia's thoughts.
Lydia had no appetite for food, but she couldn't let her boy go without his supper. She forced a smile and gave his shoulder a gentle pat. "We have some leftover chicken noodle soup in the refrigerator. Does that sound good to you?"
He nodded enthusiastically and grinned.
Lydia glanced at Mom's letter one more time. Lifting her shoulders and letting them droop with a sigh, she made a decision. She didn't want to leave their home in Arthur, but she had no other choice. It would be a new beginning for Josh and her, and she was sure that Mom would appreciate some help with Grandpa. Maybe her loss of a job was God's way of letting her know that it was time for a change.
Chapter 1
The teakettle whistled. Lydia started to rise from her chair, but Mom beat her to it.
"I'm glad you decided to move here," Mom said, removing the teakettle from the stove. "Your grossdaadi doesn't talk much these days, and I get terribly lonely sometimes." Lydia noticed the dark circles under Mom's pale blue eyes as she poured hot water into their cups. Mom's flaxen hair was streaked with gray, and the wrinkles in her forehead were more defined. She was only fifty, but she'd aged quite a bit since the last time Lydia had seen her.
"Unless someone comes to stay with Dad, I don't get out much these days," Mom explained as she dropped a tea bag into her cup. "Even then, I worry about how he's doing, so I don't stay away any longer than necessary."
Lydia plopped a tea bag into her cup, bounced it up and down a few times, and placed it on her saucer. "Maybe now that I'm here, you can get out a little more."
"Don't you want your tea to steep awhile longer? It looks awfully pale in your cup," Mom said.
"My tea's fine. I like it weak." Lydia held her voice in check, determined not to give in to her frustrations. Some things never changed. Mom telling her what to do was one of them.
Maybe I'm being oversensitive, Lydia told herself. I've been used to being on my own for the past year and doing things pretty much the way I choose. Hopefully, things will get better after Josh and I have been here awhile. I just need to keep a positive attitude and ignore the things I find irritating.
She glanced around the small kitchen and noticed a pot of primroses sitting on the windowsill. That was something positive—a sign of spring.
Mom reached for the jar of honey sitting on the table and put a spoonful in her cup of tea. She pushed the jar toward Lydia, but Lydia shook her head. She'd always preferred her tea unsweetened and figured Mom should know that. But then, Mom had more important things on her mind these days, so maybe it had slipped her mind.
"If you don't need me for anything this afternoon, I'd like to take Josh into town to look for a new pair of boots," Lydia said. "His feet have grown, and his old boots are pinching his toes."
"Do you have enough money?"
Lydia nodded. Truth was she barely had enough, and she hoped she could find something within her price range.
"That's fine. I'll hitch my horse to the buggy for you whenever you're ready to go."
Lydia frowned. "I know how to hitch a horse, Mom." "Yes, but Buttercup's kind of temperamental. She might not cooperate with you the way she does for me."
Lydia couldn't imagine any horse with a name like Buttercup being temperamental. "I'm sure I can manage, but if I have any trouble, I'll come in and get you."
The awkward angle of the gas lamp hanging overhead etched Mom's face in sharp shadows as she pursed her lips and nodded slowly. "You might try Charm Harness and Boot for Josh. If you can't find the right boots there, you should go to the Wal-Mart in Millersburg."
"It'll take too long to go to Millersburg," Lydia said. "Hopefully we'll find what we need at the local store. I might stop by Miller's Dry Goods, too. If there's anything you need, I'd be happy to pick it up."
"I can't think of anything right now," Mom said. "Since I spend most of my days taking care of your grossdaadi, I'm too busy to do any quilting, so I don't buy much from the dry goods store these days."
"I'm sorry to hear that. I know how much you like to quilt." Lydia took a sip of tea and let it roll around on her tongue. She loved the zesty taste of peppermint.
"With the exception of the new store Kiem Lumber built a few years ago, I think you'll find that things haven't changed much in Charm," Mom added.
"It's nice to know that some things haven't changed. So many things in our world have."
Mom nodded. "We do have a couple of new store owners in town."
"Which ones?"
"The woodshop on the outskirts of town is now owned by a man named Menno Troyer. He and his wife, Sadie, moved here from Pennsylvania about a year ago, but she died six months ago from cancer. That left Menno with four boys to raise on his own."
"That's too bad." As a widow, it was hard enough for Lydia to raise one child on her own; she couldn't imagine trying to bring up four boys without the help of her husband.
"Oh, and then there's the general store," Mom continued. "It's run by a family of—"
The back door slammed shut, and Mom jumped, nearly spilling her cup of tea.
"Ich hab ken halt draa grict!" Josh hollered as he raced into the kitchen.
"What couldn't you catch hold of?" Lydia asked.
"Derr katz!" Josh jumped up and down, his dark eyes big as saucers.
Mom put her finger to her lips and frowned. "Be quiet, Josh. You might wake your urgrossvadder."
A gray cat with four white paws zipped into the kitchen and hid under the table, curling its bushy tail around its fluffy body.
Josh dove under the table and grabbed the end of its tail. Meow! The cat let out a screech and raced across the room. Josh tore after it, but his feet tangled in the throw rug in front of the sink, and he dropped to the floor with a grunt. He sat a few seconds, then scrambled to his feet. Dashing across the room, he grabbed for the cat, but it sought refuge under the table again.
"Ich hab ken halt draa grict!" Josh hollered.
"I told you to be quiet!" Mom raised her voice as she pointed to the cat and then to the back door. "Duh die katz naus!"
Josh's lower lip trembled, and his eyes filled with tears as he gathered up the cat and took it outside, as Mom had asked.
Irritation welled in Lydia's soul. Josh wasn't used to his new home or having to be quiet when his great-grandfather was sleeping. What harm could there be in letting him play with the cat in the house? Mom was being too harsh and critical of his behavior. Didn't she realize the boy was only four years old? Besides, if Josh was supposed to be quiet, then why was it all right for Mom to raise her voice?
Lydia grimaced as she thought about how many times Mom had been critical of her when she was a child. She had never been able to do anything right, and whatever she'd done, Mom had usually ended up redoing.
I need to remember that this isn't my house and that Mom and Grandpa are doing us a favor by letting us live here, Lydia reminded herself. As long as we're staying in this house, we'll need to do things Mom's way, or there won't be any peace.
When Josh returned to the kitchen with his head down and shoulders slumped, Lydia gave him a hug and quietly said, "Why don't you go back outside and play with the katz?"
Josh nodded and scurried out the door.
Mom took a sip of tea and released a lingering sigh. "Der grossdaadi hot net genunk scholof grickt lescht nacht."
"I'm sorry Grandpa didn't get enough sleep last night. I'll make sure that Josh doesn't disturb him when we get home from shopping this afternoon."
"I appreciate that. Dad 's not doing well, and he isn't used to having little ones in the house running around, making noise."
Lydia stared into her half-empty cup and blinked back tears. So much for her resolve to remain positive and ignore the things she found irritating. If Josh had to keep quiet all the time, she wasn't sure how long they could stay here. What Lydia needed most was to find a job so that she and Josh could eventually have a place of their own.
Menno Troyer stepped into the kitchen and groaned. Not only were the cabinets old and in need of repair, but the rest of the kitchen looked messy, as well. A stack of dirty pots and pans from last night's supper had been piled up in the sink, and the dishes they'd used for breakfast this morning still sat on the table.
He flung open the cupboard door under the sink and grimaced. The garbage can was heaped with even more trash than it had held last night. Since it was late spring and there'd be no school for the next few months, his boys would be home by themselves most of the time while he was at work in his woodshop behind their house.
This morning before Menno had headed to the shop, he'd given the boys a list of chores to do. Here it was almost noon, and they hadn't completed anything.
Menno moved into the living room. It needed a fresh coat of paint, and the cracked windows had yet to be replaced. He frowned when he saw his two dark-haired boys, five-year-old Kevin and seven-year-old Carl, sleeping on the floor. Nine-year-old Dennis, who had reddish-blond hair like his mother's, sat in Menno's recliner with his scruffy-looking mutt, Goldie, draped across his lap. Ike, who'd turned twelve a few weeks ago, was sprawled on the sofa, reading a book. This was ridiculous!
Menno clapped his hands, causing Dennis and Ike to jump, but the two younger boys slept on. "Get yourselves up and be quick about it! I'll be heading to Kiem Lumber soon, and if you want to go along, then you'd better get with it."
"You don't hafta shout, Papa." Ike sat up and yawned. "We ain't daab, ya know."
"I know you're not deaf, but you sure do act like it sometimes." Menno pointed to the kitchen door. "Doesn't look as if you heard a word I said this morning about doing your chores."
"I fed and watered the horses," Ike said.
"And I fed Goldie." Dennis stroked the golden retriever's ears and offered Menno a freckle-faced grin.
"That's fine, well, and good, but no one cleared the breakfast table or did last night's dishes."
Ike motioned to his sleeping brothers. "That was their job."
Menno's patience was beginning to wane. "Who said?"
"Ike said so," Dennis spoke up before his older brother had a chance to reply. "He thinks he's the boss when you ain't home."
"Ike's supposed to be in charge when I'm working in the shop." Menno turned to Ike and snapped his fingers. "Being in charge means you need to see that everyone gets his chores done before I come home from work every day. It doesn't mean that you get to lie around while your brothers do all the work."
"But you're home early today," Ike said. "So you didn't give us a chance to get everything done."
"I'm home early because I'm goin' to Kiem's. I told you this morning that if you wanted to go along, you'd need to have your chores done by noon."
Ike frowned. "Sorry, Papa, but my lazy brothers won't listen to anything I say."
Menno felt overcome by a sense of guilt. Ever since Sadie had died, he'd put a lot of responsibility on the boys—especially Ike. It was either that, or he'd have to hire someone to come in and do the household chores, and he really couldn't afford that right now. He'd just gotten Sadie's hospital bills paid off and had been trying to put some money away for future needs they might have. With the tourist season starting up again, Menno figured he might sell more furniture and that would help their finances. But he had two employees he needed to pay, not to mention four growing boys who had to be fed and clothed. At the rate things were going, he'd never get this old house fixed up like he'd promised Sadie when they'd first moved to Charm.
Menno glanced at the rocking chair he'd made for Sadie soon after they were married. A wave of sadness washed over him. She'd used that chair to rock each of their sons.
As much as Menno hated to think about it, he really needed a wife—a mother for his boys. But the only widowed women in the area were much older than him. A few younger women weren't yet married, but they seemed so immature. What Menno needed was someone who'd had experience raising children. The question was, who?
This week, the Christian Fiction Blog Alliance is introducing Lydia's Charm Barbour Books (September 1, 2010) by Wanda E. Brunstetter
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
A Note From Wanda:Ever since I was a child, I wanted to be a writer. When I was in the second grade, I wrote my first poem about a moth. Luckily, I received encouragement from my teacher. During my teen years, I wrote skits that my church teen group performed during special holidays.
It wasn't until 1980, that I took a course on writing for children and teenagers. I became serious about a career as an author. Soon after that, I began to write stories, articles, poems, and devotionals, which appeared in a variety of Christian publications. Later, I had 5 books of puppet/ventriloquist scripts published. *These books are currently available by contacting me. (wanda@wandabrunstetter.com)
My first novel was released by Barbour Publishing's book club, Heartsong Presents, in Dec. 1997. I have now written nearly fifty books, with over 4 million books in print. Many of the novels I've written are Amish-themed.
ABOUT THE BOOK
Widowed and jobless, Lydia King moves her son and herself to Charm, Ohio, to be close to her mother and help with her grandfather. Menno Troyer, a furniture store owner, is also recently widowed and the father of four energetic boys. Levi Stutzman, another newcomer to the area, is the only one in his family not handicapped by dwarfism and has dedicated his life to caring for them. As fall colors the countryside, will anonymous gifts left for Lydia bring her hope for a new life and romance, or will another tragedy flood her with infinite despair?
Excerpt of chapter one:
Prologue
A sob rose in Lydia King's throat as she stared at the calendar on her kitchen wall. A year ago today, she'd buried her husband after having been married only five short years. Oh, how she wished she could bring Jeremiah back.
She glanced at her four-year-old son, Josh, who sat at the table, coloring a picture of a yellow cat. The sweet-tempered boy had Lydia's tawny blond hair and his daddy's big brown eyes. He was endlessly curious and enjoyed all kinds of animals—two more of his father's traits.
Lydia blinked to keep her tears from spilling over. Josh needed his father as much as she needed her husband. It wasn't fair that Jeremiah had been killed in a logging accident, leaving her alone to earn a living and raise their son.
The muscles in the back of her neck tightened. It wasn't fair that two weeks ago she'd lost her job at the restaurant in Arthur, Illinois, because business was so slow that the restaurant may have to close. She'd looked everywhere for another job, but there were none to be had.
The rent on their small home was coming due in a few days, and with her funds running low, Lydia didn't know what she should do. She needed to provide for Josh, and without a job, she'd soon be out of money and unable to pay any of her bills. Unlike her English friends who'd also been laid off, Lydia would not rely on unemployment checks because her Amish community believed they should rely on each other and God rather than on insurance.
Lydia had no family living nearby to offer her support. When she and Jeremiah had first moved to Illinois from their home in Wisconsin, they'd made quite a few friends in the local Amish community. Those friends had been quick to help Lydia financially after Jeremiah's death, but she couldn't expect them to provide for her and Josh forever. They had families of their own to support, and Lydia wanted to make it on her own.
Oh Lord, please tell me what to do, she prayed. I need some direction.
Her gaze came to rest on the stack of mail lying on the table, unopened. She thumbed through the envelopes, noting several bills that only fueled her frustration.
When she spotted an envelope from her mother, who'd moved to Charm, Ohio, a year ago, she quickly tore it open.
Dear Lydia,
I received your letter the other day and was sorry to hear that you'd lost your job. It's not good for you to be there with no family, and I think you and Josh should come here to live with your grandfather and me. Since Holmes County has the largest population of Amish in America, a lot of tourists visit here every year. I'm sure it would be easy for you to find a job in the area. I could watch Josh while you're working, and you'd have a place to stay where you wouldn't have to worry about paying rent. Please think about this and let me know your decision.
As Always,
Mom
Tears welled in Lydia's eyes. Things had been strained between her and Mom for a long time. It touched Lydia that Mom cared enough to suggest that she and Josh move to Charm.
Mom had found it hard to leave her home in Wisconsin to take care of Grandpa, who'd suffered a stroke a year after Lydia's father died. Since Mom was Grandpa's only daughter, and her two older brothers lived in Missouri, she'd felt obligated to care for him. Lydia had figured her mom would be happy living in Ohio, where she'd been born and raised, but after reading several of her letters, she'd realized that Mom was miserable. Maybe taking care of Grandpa was too much for her. She probably needed some help.
"I'm hungerich. What's for mattsait, Mama?" Josh asked, breaking into Lydia's thoughts.
Lydia had no appetite for food, but she couldn't let her boy go without his supper. She forced a smile and gave his shoulder a gentle pat. "We have some leftover chicken noodle soup in the refrigerator. Does that sound good to you?"
He nodded enthusiastically and grinned.
Lydia glanced at Mom's letter one more time. Lifting her shoulders and letting them droop with a sigh, she made a decision. She didn't want to leave their home in Arthur, but she had no other choice. It would be a new beginning for Josh and her, and she was sure that Mom would appreciate some help with Grandpa. Maybe her loss of a job was God's way of letting her know that it was time for a change.
Chapter 1
The teakettle whistled. Lydia started to rise from her chair, but Mom beat her to it.
"I'm glad you decided to move here," Mom said, removing the teakettle from the stove. "Your grossdaadi doesn't talk much these days, and I get terribly lonely sometimes." Lydia noticed the dark circles under Mom's pale blue eyes as she poured hot water into their cups. Mom's flaxen hair was streaked with gray, and the wrinkles in her forehead were more defined. She was only fifty, but she'd aged quite a bit since the last time Lydia had seen her.
"Unless someone comes to stay with Dad, I don't get out much these days," Mom explained as she dropped a tea bag into her cup. "Even then, I worry about how he's doing, so I don't stay away any longer than necessary."
Lydia plopped a tea bag into her cup, bounced it up and down a few times, and placed it on her saucer. "Maybe now that I'm here, you can get out a little more."
"Don't you want your tea to steep awhile longer? It looks awfully pale in your cup," Mom said.
"My tea's fine. I like it weak." Lydia held her voice in check, determined not to give in to her frustrations. Some things never changed. Mom telling her what to do was one of them.
Maybe I'm being oversensitive, Lydia told herself. I've been used to being on my own for the past year and doing things pretty much the way I choose. Hopefully, things will get better after Josh and I have been here awhile. I just need to keep a positive attitude and ignore the things I find irritating.
She glanced around the small kitchen and noticed a pot of primroses sitting on the windowsill. That was something positive—a sign of spring.
Mom reached for the jar of honey sitting on the table and put a spoonful in her cup of tea. She pushed the jar toward Lydia, but Lydia shook her head. She'd always preferred her tea unsweetened and figured Mom should know that. But then, Mom had more important things on her mind these days, so maybe it had slipped her mind.
"If you don't need me for anything this afternoon, I'd like to take Josh into town to look for a new pair of boots," Lydia said. "His feet have grown, and his old boots are pinching his toes."
"Do you have enough money?"
Lydia nodded. Truth was she barely had enough, and she hoped she could find something within her price range.
"That's fine. I'll hitch my horse to the buggy for you whenever you're ready to go."
Lydia frowned. "I know how to hitch a horse, Mom." "Yes, but Buttercup's kind of temperamental. She might not cooperate with you the way she does for me."
Lydia couldn't imagine any horse with a name like Buttercup being temperamental. "I'm sure I can manage, but if I have any trouble, I'll come in and get you."
The awkward angle of the gas lamp hanging overhead etched Mom's face in sharp shadows as she pursed her lips and nodded slowly. "You might try Charm Harness and Boot for Josh. If you can't find the right boots there, you should go to the Wal-Mart in Millersburg."
"It'll take too long to go to Millersburg," Lydia said. "Hopefully we'll find what we need at the local store. I might stop by Miller's Dry Goods, too. If there's anything you need, I'd be happy to pick it up."
"I can't think of anything right now," Mom said. "Since I spend most of my days taking care of your grossdaadi, I'm too busy to do any quilting, so I don't buy much from the dry goods store these days."
"I'm sorry to hear that. I know how much you like to quilt." Lydia took a sip of tea and let it roll around on her tongue. She loved the zesty taste of peppermint.
"With the exception of the new store Kiem Lumber built a few years ago, I think you'll find that things haven't changed much in Charm," Mom added.
"It's nice to know that some things haven't changed. So many things in our world have."
Mom nodded. "We do have a couple of new store owners in town."
"Which ones?"
"The woodshop on the outskirts of town is now owned by a man named Menno Troyer. He and his wife, Sadie, moved here from Pennsylvania about a year ago, but she died six months ago from cancer. That left Menno with four boys to raise on his own."
"That's too bad." As a widow, it was hard enough for Lydia to raise one child on her own; she couldn't imagine trying to bring up four boys without the help of her husband.
"Oh, and then there's the general store," Mom continued. "It's run by a family of—"
The back door slammed shut, and Mom jumped, nearly spilling her cup of tea.
"Ich hab ken halt draa grict!" Josh hollered as he raced into the kitchen.
"What couldn't you catch hold of?" Lydia asked.
"Derr katz!" Josh jumped up and down, his dark eyes big as saucers.
Mom put her finger to her lips and frowned. "Be quiet, Josh. You might wake your urgrossvadder."
A gray cat with four white paws zipped into the kitchen and hid under the table, curling its bushy tail around its fluffy body.
Josh dove under the table and grabbed the end of its tail. Meow! The cat let out a screech and raced across the room. Josh tore after it, but his feet tangled in the throw rug in front of the sink, and he dropped to the floor with a grunt. He sat a few seconds, then scrambled to his feet. Dashing across the room, he grabbed for the cat, but it sought refuge under the table again.
"Ich hab ken halt draa grict!" Josh hollered.
"I told you to be quiet!" Mom raised her voice as she pointed to the cat and then to the back door. "Duh die katz naus!"
Josh's lower lip trembled, and his eyes filled with tears as he gathered up the cat and took it outside, as Mom had asked.
Irritation welled in Lydia's soul. Josh wasn't used to his new home or having to be quiet when his great-grandfather was sleeping. What harm could there be in letting him play with the cat in the house? Mom was being too harsh and critical of his behavior. Didn't she realize the boy was only four years old? Besides, if Josh was supposed to be quiet, then why was it all right for Mom to raise her voice?
Lydia grimaced as she thought about how many times Mom had been critical of her when she was a child. She had never been able to do anything right, and whatever she'd done, Mom had usually ended up redoing.
I need to remember that this isn't my house and that Mom and Grandpa are doing us a favor by letting us live here, Lydia reminded herself. As long as we're staying in this house, we'll need to do things Mom's way, or there won't be any peace.
When Josh returned to the kitchen with his head down and shoulders slumped, Lydia gave him a hug and quietly said, "Why don't you go back outside and play with the katz?"
Josh nodded and scurried out the door.
Mom took a sip of tea and released a lingering sigh. "Der grossdaadi hot net genunk scholof grickt lescht nacht."
"I'm sorry Grandpa didn't get enough sleep last night. I'll make sure that Josh doesn't disturb him when we get home from shopping this afternoon."
"I appreciate that. Dad 's not doing well, and he isn't used to having little ones in the house running around, making noise."
Lydia stared into her half-empty cup and blinked back tears. So much for her resolve to remain positive and ignore the things she found irritating. If Josh had to keep quiet all the time, she wasn't sure how long they could stay here. What Lydia needed most was to find a job so that she and Josh could eventually have a place of their own.
Menno Troyer stepped into the kitchen and groaned. Not only were the cabinets old and in need of repair, but the rest of the kitchen looked messy, as well. A stack of dirty pots and pans from last night's supper had been piled up in the sink, and the dishes they'd used for breakfast this morning still sat on the table.
He flung open the cupboard door under the sink and grimaced. The garbage can was heaped with even more trash than it had held last night. Since it was late spring and there'd be no school for the next few months, his boys would be home by themselves most of the time while he was at work in his woodshop behind their house.
This morning before Menno had headed to the shop, he'd given the boys a list of chores to do. Here it was almost noon, and they hadn't completed anything.
Menno moved into the living room. It needed a fresh coat of paint, and the cracked windows had yet to be replaced. He frowned when he saw his two dark-haired boys, five-year-old Kevin and seven-year-old Carl, sleeping on the floor. Nine-year-old Dennis, who had reddish-blond hair like his mother's, sat in Menno's recliner with his scruffy-looking mutt, Goldie, draped across his lap. Ike, who'd turned twelve a few weeks ago, was sprawled on the sofa, reading a book. This was ridiculous!
Menno clapped his hands, causing Dennis and Ike to jump, but the two younger boys slept on. "Get yourselves up and be quick about it! I'll be heading to Kiem Lumber soon, and if you want to go along, then you'd better get with it."
"You don't hafta shout, Papa." Ike sat up and yawned. "We ain't daab, ya know."
"I know you're not deaf, but you sure do act like it sometimes." Menno pointed to the kitchen door. "Doesn't look as if you heard a word I said this morning about doing your chores."
"I fed and watered the horses," Ike said.
"And I fed Goldie." Dennis stroked the golden retriever's ears and offered Menno a freckle-faced grin.
"That's fine, well, and good, but no one cleared the breakfast table or did last night's dishes."
Ike motioned to his sleeping brothers. "That was their job."
Menno's patience was beginning to wane. "Who said?"
"Ike said so," Dennis spoke up before his older brother had a chance to reply. "He thinks he's the boss when you ain't home."
"Ike's supposed to be in charge when I'm working in the shop." Menno turned to Ike and snapped his fingers. "Being in charge means you need to see that everyone gets his chores done before I come home from work every day. It doesn't mean that you get to lie around while your brothers do all the work."
"But you're home early today," Ike said. "So you didn't give us a chance to get everything done."
"I'm home early because I'm goin' to Kiem's. I told you this morning that if you wanted to go along, you'd need to have your chores done by noon."
Ike frowned. "Sorry, Papa, but my lazy brothers won't listen to anything I say."
Menno felt overcome by a sense of guilt. Ever since Sadie had died, he'd put a lot of responsibility on the boys—especially Ike. It was either that, or he'd have to hire someone to come in and do the household chores, and he really couldn't afford that right now. He'd just gotten Sadie's hospital bills paid off and had been trying to put some money away for future needs they might have. With the tourist season starting up again, Menno figured he might sell more furniture and that would help their finances. But he had two employees he needed to pay, not to mention four growing boys who had to be fed and clothed. At the rate things were going, he'd never get this old house fixed up like he'd promised Sadie when they'd first moved to Charm.
Menno glanced at the rocking chair he'd made for Sadie soon after they were married. A wave of sadness washed over him. She'd used that chair to rock each of their sons.
As much as Menno hated to think about it, he really needed a wife—a mother for his boys. But the only widowed women in the area were much older than him. A few younger women weren't yet married, but they seemed so immature. What Menno needed was someone who'd had experience raising children. The question was, who?
