Fiction Thursday: A New Beginning Chapter 22

Here we are at another Fiction Thursday.  I can’t believe I’m already at Chapter 22 for A New Beginning.  I love to know what you think of the story or what direction you think it should take, so please feel free to share it in the comments.

As always, you can catch the first part of Blanche’s story, A Story to Tell, on Kindle, but you don’t need to read it to understand what is happening in A New Beginning. Also, as always, this is a work in progress so there are bound to be words missing or other typos. To follow the story from the beginning, find the link HERE or at the top of the page.


“Blanche.”

When I heard my name and felt the hand against my arm, I was back in that dimly lit apartment with Hank, adrenaline rushing through me like a lightening bolt, Jackson screaming in my ear. I closed my eyes tight against the terror raging inside me, balled my hand into a fist and without thinking swung at Hank, making solid contact with his face.

Only it wasn’t Hank holding his face when I opened my eyes. It was Thomas. My hand throbbed from the impact and I rubbed the knuckles with my other hand.

“What was that for?!” Thomas shouted, a hand against his cheek, red spreading across the skin.

“Oh, Thomas! I’m so sorry! I thought you were someone else.”

“Is this how you greet people?! By punching them?!”

The door to the hardware store was opening, the bell on the front at the top of the it ringing, but I couldn’t see who was coming out. I grabbed Thomas’ hand, pulling him with me down the sidewalk.

“Please…,” I pleaded. “Don’t be so loud. Just follow me.”

“Don’t be so loud? You just slugged me! I’m going to be loud! What is going on?”

I yanked at his hand and he followed me down the street to my shop, still holding his hand against his cheek and grumbling. Once inside I pulled the shades, turned the open sign to closed and locked the door.

“Blanche… what is going on?”

Thomas was touching his cheek and wincing, moving his jaw side to side. “I don’t think you broke anything at least, but I bet I’ll get a shiner.”

He looked at me with confusion and concern.

“You’re trembling like a leaf. Who are we hiding from? Is someone stalking you?”

I peeked through the blind across the front window. Hank was walking out of the hardware store now, toward D’s Diner. A chill shivered through me and I hugged my arms across my chest. I had no idea why he was in town or if he would even look for me but the thought of him being so close by after all this time left a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach.

Thomas stood behind me and I knew he was watching Hank too.

“Is that . . .?”

“Yes,” I said quickly so he wouldn’t say his name. “It is.”

“What’s he doing here?”

“I don’t know, but I don’t want to see him.”

We both stood in silence for a few moments as Hank walked into the diner.

“So… what exactly happened between you two anyhow?” Thomas asked when I turned away from the door and sat in the chair next to my sewing machine.

“Nothing pleasant,” I mumbled, leaning back in the chair, arms folded across my chest.

“Derek said he heard Hank tried to come see you one time and your daddy shot him in the foot.”

I rolled my eyes. “Derek likes to tell stories. I’ve known him since second grade and he was always in trouble for making up whoppers. But, he’s close. Daddy shot at him to warn him off.”

Thomas turned a chair around and straddled it, leaning his arms on the back of it. “Derek said he thought your dad should have shot him. He said you came back to the area with two black eyes, a crooked nose and a baby.”

I patted the bun on top of my head and pushed a stray hair back off my forehead, remembering the day Daddy had driven me into town to sign the divorce papers. I hadn’t wanted to leave the house, to let anyone see the bruises and the scars.

“I won’t allow that boy to have his name,” Daddy had said as I signed my name on the bottom of the divorce intent papers, my hand trembling. I couldn’t focus on what Daddy was saying. I had been thinking about Hank, wondering if he’d even sign the papers and make the divorce quick and easy, worrying about my son growing up without a father. I didn’t care what last name my son had, as long as he was safe from Hank and able to move past the fact his mother had been foolish enough to run away with a man who had become abusive and unrecognizable to the man her mother thought he was.

“I was an idiot,” I said, looking up at Thomas. “I didn’t see the warning signs, or maybe I just didn’t want to see them. When I did it was too late and I was trapped in the never ending circle of thinking I could somehow change a man who didn’t want to be changed. It took him punching me in the face, breaking my nose, a couple ribs and almost my skull for me to wake up and get away from him.”

Thomas’ eyebrows shot up. “He broke your nose and your ribs? What kind of man does something like that?”

“A drunk one.”

Thomas stood and peered through the blinds again. His voice was cold when he spoke. “He better not show his face here today. That son of a -”

“I don’t think he will,” I said quickly, even though I wasn’t sure.

Thomas sat back on the chair, facing me, his arms folded across the top of the chair. He propped his chin on his arm, his blond hair falling across his forehead. “You’ve been through a lot, huh?”

I shrugged, sliding a piece of fabric through the sowing machine to try to distract myself. “Yeah, but a lot of people have.”

“You’re a strong lady, Blanche. No joke about it. Now I understand why you built that wall around you.”

I held the pants up to inspect the hem. “What wall?” I said with a wink, looking around the pants at him. “I’m a perfectly open person.”

Thomas laughed, grinning at me, still leaning his chin on his arm. “Yeah, that’s why it has taken us almost four years to have a real conversation. And why you won’t go out with me.”

I sighed. “Thomas. . .”

“I know. It’s not me, it’s you.” He grinned.

“It’s not that. It’s just . . .”

“You don’t have feelings like that for me.”

“No. I’m sorry.”

“It’s that guy with more muscles in his pinky than I have in my whole body isn’t it?”

I laughed. “What?”

“That J.T. who works with Stanton Construction. He’s a beast of a sexy man the ladies in the office say and I’ve seen him talking to you.”

I knew the laughing fit I was having might make Thomas feel worse, but I couldn’t help it. “Beast of a sexy man? Who even talks like that?”

“Minnie for one,” Thomas said.

“Yeah, she would talk like that,” I said through the laughter. “But, Thomas, I’m not in a relationship with Judson, I–”

“You definitely want to be in one with the way you look at him, according to Minnie.”

“Thomas, Minnie is a little dramatic. And listen, you’re a nice guy . . .”

Thomas sighed and shrugged. “But. There is always a ‘but.’ Listen, it’s okay.” He held up his hand, turned his head, and let out a dramatic sigh. “I’ve been pushed into the role of the friend before.”

He grinned and pushed his hair off his forehead. “I’m sure I’ll survive. Somehow.”

The pounding on the door startled us both and we jumped to our feet.

Thomas held his hand up to me, signaling me to wait behind the sewing table. He moved the blinds slightly and his expression relaxed.

“It’s Emmy,” he said, unlocking the door.

Emmy was a wall of sound. “Oh my gosh, Blanche! Hank is at D’s Diner. Did you know he is in town? I couldn’t believe it. He walked right in and sat at the front counter and ordered a black coffee and a full breakfast. I panicked and tried to run out of there, but he saw me and nodded at me. He said ‘Hey, Emmy,’ all calm and confident like and tipped his head in a nod. I didn’t know what to do. I just stared at him and took off, but then I didn’t want him to see where I was going so I shot down the alley by Mary’s Florist and came here the back way, but I hope he didn’t see me and figure out where you are and. . .”

“Emmy! Calm down!” I took my friend’s hands and gently pulled her toward a chair.

“You’re going to pass out,” Thomas laughed as Emmy sat down.

Emmy was breathing hard. “I just couldn’t believe it. I never expected to see him here again. Not after – you know – I just thought he’d stay away forever. Or at least I hoped he would.”

My heart was racing as I thought about Jackson at school. What if Hank was here to try to see Jackson? Did the staff at the school know they couldn’t let Hank see Jackson? I’d never told Jackson about his father and who he really was.

“Jackson . . .” I whispered.

“He’s at school,” Thomas said. “He’s fine. Don’t let your mind even go there.”

Emmy leaned back in the chair and shook her head. “Look at us. Cowering here in the dark over someone who doesn’t even matter anymore. Like he’s some kind of mass murderer or something.”

“He isn’t quite that, no, but I still don’t want to see him,” I said.

“Looks like you won’t have to,” Thomas said peering through the blind again. Looking over his shoulder, we watched Hank climb into his pick-up, slamming the door behind him, revving the engine and driving down the street, away from the shop.

Emmy sighed with relief. “Thank God he’s gone. At least for now.”

She turned to look at us, her eyebrows furrowed.

“What were you two doing in here with all the blinds pulled anyhow?”

Thomas tipped his head toward the floor, but I could see a smirk pulling at his mouth.

“I saw Hank through the window of the hardware store,” I said quickly. “And . . . uh . . . ran into Thomas while I was trying to get here to hide so he came with me.”

“Yeah. She ran into me all right,” Thomas said, touching his hand to the red spot on his cheek.

Emmy’s gaze traveled between us. “Uh-huh. Okay. That all sounds a little fishy, but I’ll just leave it – for now anyhow.” She turned slightly so her back was to Thomas and tipped her head, looking down her nose at me. She lowered her voice. “I’ve got to get back to the office, but we’ll talk more about this later. If you know what I mean.”

She pointed two fingers at her eyes first and then at mine, one eyebrow raised.

“You’d better go,” I said, ushering her toward the door.

I smiled as the door closed behind Emmy and then sat in the chair she’d vacated, my heart still pounding fast and hard in my chest.

“You okay?” Thomas asked.

I nodded, but my limbs felt weak as the adrenaline began to fade.

“I should get back to work,” I said softly. “I have a dress I need to finish for a lady from Spencer and that pair of pants for Pastor Frank.”

Thomas pushed himself off the counter and slid his hands in his jean pockets.

“Okay. Well, I need to get back to the paper anyhow. Of course, I don’t like the idea of leaving now – in case you need me.”

I laughed. “I’ll be fine. Daddy’s not far away if I need someone to rescue me.”

Thomas turned toward me, his hand on the doorknob. “Hey, have you talked to your mother-in-law about how things are going with Uncle Stan?”

Marion. I needed to call her and tell her about Hank.

“A little. I think it’s going well. Have you asked Stan?”

Thomas grimaced. “Ew. No. Why? Men don’t talk about that stuff.” He opened the door and leaned against the door frame. “Let me know if you need anything okay? Will I see you tomorrow?”

I’d forgotten about the weekly editorial meeting scheduled for the next morning. Stanley had asked me a couple of weeks ago to attend the first meeting of the month so he could give me assignments for feature stories. It looked like I’d be taking that job whether I wanted to or not.

“Yep,” I said. “I’ll see you there.”

Thomas rubbed his cheek. “Just make sure you don’t punch me in a greeting when we see each other.”

I stepped through the doorway and watched Thomas walk back toward the newspaper office. I knew most women would consider him attractive — more than attractive — with his blond hair, blue eyes, masculine jawline, a small dimple in his chin and an amazing smile. Even I found him physically attractive, despite his frequent cocky attitude. It was probably that attitude holding me back, but I knew it was also something else – someone else, no matter how much I tried to deny it.

***

When I closed the door to the shop, I reached for the phone to make sure Marion knew about Hank.

“I was getting ready to call you actually,” she said after I told her why I had called. “He came last night but I didn’t want to alarm you. He told me this morning he was going up to New York state to visit some friends, so I hoped he’d leave the area before you saw him. The more I thought about it, the more nervous I got, though, so I’d just picked up the phone to call you when you called.”

“Did he say why he was here?”

“He said he hadn’t seen me for a long time and wanted to check in. He needed a place to crash before he headed up to see his friends. He slept on the couch because his old room has been transformed into my sewing room.”

“Where has he been all this time?”

“He says Ohio. We didn’t talk much. He came late and fell asleep after I fixed him some food. I was so nervous, Blanche. I wanted to call you last night, but I didn’t want him to hear me talking to you and give him ideas. He did see my photo of Jackson, asked how he was. I told him he was a wonderful boy and doing well and that was the end of it. I think he’d been drinking. He was a little glazed over . . .if you know what I mean.”

I certainly did.

“Blanche, have you told your parents he’s here?”

“Not yet, no.”

“Make sure you do, okay? I really don’t think he’ll try to see you, but  . . .”

“Thank you, Marion. I know you’re worried, but I’ll be fine. I can handle myself. Hey, I’m going to go and get some projects done before I pick Jackson up at school. Let me know if you need anything, okay?”

We said our goodbyes, but I knew Marion was still concerned and she wasn’t the only one. I laid my hand on the phone several times, preparing to call Daddy and let him know what was going on, each time shaking my head and going back to the pants I was hemming for Pastor Frank, determined not to get Daddy into one of his riled states.

I snatched the phone off the receiver and dialed the school.

“No. No one has stopped in asking to see Jackson,” Mrs. Ellery, the school secretary, said, sounding slightly confused when I asked. “Should someone have?”

“No, not at all. Can you just make sure you call if someone does stop in to see him?”

“Of course, Blanche.” There was a moment of silence and then, “We’d never let him go with anyone but you. Don’t you worry, okay?”

I hung up, guessing Mrs. Ellery had started to put two and two together. We lived in a small county and I knew there were more than a few people who knew my history with Hank and why Jackson never had two parents at parent-teacher conferences or school shows.

I started walking to the school a half an hour before dismissal, looking over my shoulder as I walked, wishing I had told Daddy about Hank being in town, and praying Hank didn’t show up to try to see Jackson.

“Hi, Mama!”

Jackson flung his arms around my middle and pushed his face against me as he ran from the school.

“Hey, buddy! Did you have a good day?”

“Yes! Kenny Frasier said he had a bullfrog at home and says I can come see it one day. Can I?”

“Sure, you can. We’ll find time to go over sometime soon.”

“Did you know bullfrogs eat flies?”

“I did.”

“Do you think flies taste good?”

“I don’t know, but I wouldn’t try one to see.”

“Me either.”

Jackson skipped as he walked, talking away, stopping to look at bugs every few skips.

A block from the office I looked up from the bug we had stopped to watch crawl across the sidewalk and saw Daddy walking briskly toward me, his face flushed.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he puffed at me before he even reached me.

“Well, I…wait, what are we talking about?” I asked as Jackson and I started walking again.

Daddy fell in step with me and whispered, “You know what I’m talking about. That he was in town.”

“I was going to tell you on the way home. He didn’t come to see me and I didn’t want to upset you. Marion said he’s on his way to see friends in New York. How did you even find out? Did Emmy tell you?”

“Emmy knew? No, she didn’t tell me. Sam Baker came to the office a few moments ago and told me he’d seen him at D’s this morning. He thought I knew and asked if I had my shotgun ready. How does everyone know about that shotgun story anyhow?”

I laughed. “I have no idea. I didn’t tell anyone, did you?”

Daddy cleared his throat as we slowed down to wait for Jackson to study another bug. “Well, maybe one or two people. At the diner. A couple months afterwards.”

I shook my head and laughed. “Daddy. . .”

“Well, he deserved it and everyone knew it,” he said, looking at the ground sheepishly, rubbing his hand through his hair. “You came home with a baby and a black eye and people put two and two together and I wanted to make sure they knew I didn’t let him get away with it.”

I stopped and hugged Daddy. “Thank you for standing up for me, Daddy.”

Daddy hugged me back and then we continued to walk toward the shop. “I think we should leave early today,” he said as Jackson skipped into the shop. “You know . . . just in case.”

“I’m not about to change my routine for him, Daddy. Go on back to work and I will see you at five. I’ll call you if I need you.”

My hand trembled as I closed the door, watching Daddy walk back to his office, listening to Jackson play with his trucks behind me, hoping Marion had been right and Hank had actually left town.

Faithfully Thinking: God’s kingdom is in your own backyard

As Christians when we hear the term “influencing God’s Kingdom” we often think of pastors, missionaries, preachers, or anyone with a large social media following, selling out stadiums or packing in the church buildings.

Here is the thing though we aren’t all preachers in a global church or even a small one and we’re never going to be.

We won’t all be “influencers” beyond anywhere but our own house. And that’s okay.

Our ministry may only be to our own family, our own children. And that’s okay.

Building faith in our own children is the ultimate way to “influence” the world for Christ.

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Photos by Lisa R. Howeler at Lightstock

What so many of us don’t seem to understand is that God’s kingdom is not “out there somewhere.”

It is here, in our own house.

It is here, in our own backyard.

It is here in our own town.

It is here in our own family.

It is here in our own marriage.

It is here in our own children.

It is here in our own hearts.

God’s Kingdom is not a place, it is a purpose.

God’s Kingdom is not a place, it is a relationship.

God’s Kingdom is a love for those we feel we can not love.

God’s Kingdom is what we do with what he told us to do “Go into all the world and share the gospel.”

Sometimes the world is “the world”.

Sometimes that world is on our doorstep.

Sometimes that world is within the walls of the house we live in.

God’s Kingdom is something to be accepted, not achieved by our own works.

So if we are going to “influence” God’s Kingdom we can do it on any level – personal or global.

Come set Your rule and reign
In our hearts again
Increase in us we pray
Unveil why we’re made
Come set our hearts ablaze with hope
Like wildfire in our very souls
Holy Spirit come invade us now
We are Your Church
And we need Your power
In us

-Build Your Kingdom Here, Rend Collective

Did you drink your water?

Me to myself: “I am so tired. Just so tired. Every, single, stupid day. I probably have cancer or something. I’m dying. We’re all dying, but I’m dying sooner because I’m always tired.”

The small voice in my mind: “Have you had anything to drink today? Like water?”

Me: “I don’t know…why?”

Voice: “Remember all those times you felt totally awful and you actually drank water and felt better?”

Me: “That’s not it. That can’t make me feel that bad! I’m dying from some weird disease!”

Voice: “Just try the water.”

Me: “But, it won’t — ”

Voice: “For Godsake, just drink the water!”

Me: “Fine! But it’s not going to matter!” *drinks water* *drinks more*

Voice, half an hour later: “So…how do you feel?”

Me: “Just shut up.”

Alex’s Sugar Report

 

Alex’s Sugar Report

“Warner. Mail.”

The sergeant tossed the letter at him on his way by. Alex snatched it from where it had fallen on his bunk. He smelled the perfume before he even saw the return address.

A smile tugged at his mouth. He closed his eyes, pictured her smile, her green eyes, remembered her lips warm and soft under his.

“What’s that, Alex? A sugar report?”

Alex let out a long sigh. “Indeed.”

“What’s it say?”

Alex read the words. The smile faded.

“Bad news?” Matthew asked.

Alex laughed. “No. The best news ever. I’m going to be a dad.”

 

Part of the Carrot Ranch Literary Community’s flash fiction challenge. Learn more HERE

February 13, 2020, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story that includes a sugar report. Use its original meaning of a letter from a sweetheart to a soldier, or invent a new use for it. Go where the prompt leads!

Respond by February 18, 2020. Use the comment section below to share, read, and be social. You may leave a link, pingback, or story in the comments. If you want to be published in the weekly collection, please use the form.  Rules & Guidelines.

The stage of childhood when the nightmares start is upon us

Nighttime became a bit of a challenge here last month when my youngest started having nightmares after she saw a clown on a sci-fi show my son and husband watch. The clown wasn’t particularly scary but for some reason, it triggered her fear and the next morning we were up very early with a scared child telling me she’d had a dream about scary clowns.

Luckily we were able to go back to sleep but then I had a vivid nightmare about a man coming into my bedroom, walking toward me and not stopping. My daughter was asleep next to me when I must have cried out and woke her up again. In the dark I heard her voice, so sweet, telling me what I tell her when I comfort her after a bad dream: “Think about kitties and puppies, Mama. They will make you happy. It’s okay.”

I thanked her and we both conked out again but right before bed that night she started to panic, remembering her dream from that morning. “I’m having those dreams again but they are day dreams,” she told me.

I knew this meant my baby girl is a lot like me and a lot like her brother – she has a very vivid and active imagination, which leads to intrusive thoughts and images. I prayed over her, rebuked that spirit of fear and we looked at photos of kittens on the internet to try to take her mind off the images.

It worked a little while but then she said the images were back. I prayed over her again and then we sang Favorite Things from The Sound of Music and watched Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious from Mary Poppins. In the end I had to turn up our old stand-by of Frank Sinatra’s album In The Wee Small Hours which is what we play when sleep is hard to come by.

My son was about the same age when the nightmare phase started. Back then I would play Diana Krall to help him sleep and for head afterwards both he and I would almost fall asleep no matter where we were when we heard Diana Krall singing. This was especially concerning while shopping in Barnes and Nobles one day. I was looking at books, Diana came on and I just wanted to find one of those plush chairs and pass up.

When the nightmares started with my son, I’d curl up with him while he cried, trying to take his mind off whatever images were playing in his mind by telling him stories about the Care Bears. Many times I would drift off in the middle of the story and he’d poke me awake and tell me I needed to finish it.

I’m wondering if Care Bears will work with my daughter as well. I can see her waking me up to finish the story in the same way her brother did.

“Mama! You fell asleep!” He’d yell, poking me awake with his little chubby finger. “You have to finish the story first!”

Luckily this time around I don’t have to stagger out of bed the next morning, no matter how many times he’d poked me awake in the night, and stagger into work. I simply have to stagger around the house helping with homeschool and cooking meals and letting our dog in and out. I’d say “and cleaning” but, I must be honest, I’m horrible at cleaning.

So far this week, the only one having weird dreams is me and some of them have been related to me trying to protect my daughter. Other dreams have been about people in my family who have already died, for some unknown reason.

Nightmares. They are certainly weird and inconvenient at times.

Do you remember those times with your children or maybe with yourself? What do you do when you wake up with nightmares? Maybe you can try to tell stories about Care Bears!

Sunday Bookends: big house news, books finished, books to start

 

I finished two books this week. One was a middle school-aged book and the other was an adult book (not that kind of adult book!). The adult book was a library book, the first I’ve actually read in probably 10 years, if not more. Normally I borrow books or read them on Kindle.

The middle school book, The Misadventured Summer of Tumbleweed Thompson by Glenn McCarty was one my son and I read together for his homeschool English. It was a fun book, full of adventure and perfect for every age, but especially 5th to 7th-grade boys.

Tumbleweed Thompson

I helped my son write a book report about it and realized it really is not easy to write a book without giving away the entire plot. Of course, I realize this when I mention books on the blog, as well. I decided I’d share part of my son’s book report to let my readers know what it was all about and why he said he felt sad when he realized he had reached the end of it.

The Misadventured Summer of Tumbleweed Thompson (or M.S.T.T.), a book made for kids about the Wild West, was written by Glenn McCarty and is his second book. This book follows Eugene Appleton and the son of a shady businessman Tumbleweed Thompson. They go adventuring, doing kooky stuff like being tricked into looking for a fake treasure to getting kidnapped.

The story starts when Eugene Appleton was walking in Rattlesnake Junction when he saw Tumbleweed and his dad “performing. After a scandal involving a misunderstanding about what was actually in Mr. Thompson’s tonic, they became friends, despite the fact the tonic worked as a laxative. Eugene, Tumbleweed, and Charlotte (the love interest) go on crazy adventures, but it gets serious. While they are looking in a widow’s old house, they found out robbers were living there with plans to rob a train. The rest of the book is them trying to stop the robbers.

Eugene, Charlotte and Tumbleweed are the main characters of this story. Eugene is smart, brave, and trusts people too much. Tumbleweed is dumb, brave and lies a lot. Charlotte is smart, brave, and a love interest of Eugene and Tumbleweed, who sometimes compete for her attention. Together they try to stop a band of robbers named the No Shave Gang. It’s probably important to say everything is told through the eyes of Eugene.

Well, in conclusion, this book has everything a children’s book should have. It has adventure, interesting characters, and slapstick comedy. I love how three dimensional some of the characters are, take for instance Widow Springfield the local widow whose husband got in trouble with a local gang. The plots and the great description of the locations are on point and make you feel like your really there. If you like stories that make you think this is the book for you. Even if you don’t like thinking, there’s a lot of action.

I also finished Falling Home by Karen White.

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The book was well written but was fairly melodramatic and cliche. Since I like books that are melodramatic and cliche, that didn’t make me hate the book but I did find myself rolling my eyes a few times. (Let me clarify that the books I write are also melodramatic and cliche and sometimes I even roll my eyes at my own writing, so this isn’t a negative review ;) ). I ended up skimming through some of the chapters toward the end because the subject dealt with a very real fear of mine and I couldn’t handle reading about it. White did such a good job of bringing out the emotion of the situation I could immediately see myself in a similar situation. She’s a wonderful writer, but during those chapters, I almost wish she hadn’t been and I could have had an excuse to abandon the novel. I read all the way to the end, even though I had figured out both plot twists well toward the beginning of the novel and I was squirming reading the one plot twist because of the aforementioned personal trigger.

Up on the reading block this week is a book recommended by Erin at Still Life, With Cracker Crumbs: Love Begins at Willow Tree Hall by Alison Sherlock. I’ve started it and so far I’m really enjoying it. It’s a nice light read, which I need right now. The description, according to Goodreads:

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A feel-good love story in a gorgeous country village, perfect for fans of Milly Johnson and Heidi Swain.
Previously published as A House To Mend a Broken Heart.

Willow Tree Hall has been the proud ancestral home of the Cranley family for centuries. But now the house is falling apart, and the elderly Earl is growing too frail to manage it himself.

Annie Rogers is looking for a job that will allow her to disappear. The role of live-in housekeeper to Arthur, Earl of Cranley, and his reluctant heir, Sam Harris, is just perfect. How hard can it be to run a household? But with no qualifications, and Sam criticising her at every turn, Annie suddenly finds herself completely out of her depth.

But it turns out that Sam and Annie have more in common than they think. Both of them are running from their past. And both of them have fallen under the spell of Sam’s beautiful, once-grand home. Maybe, just maybe, together they can save Willow Tree Hall … and bring each other back to life at the same time.

As for what I watched recently, not a lot. I’ve been reading and writing more than watching. I did watch a movie by myself on the recommendation of my brother: About Time, starring Domnhall Gleeson (what a name) and Rachel McAdams. If you don’t recognize Domnhall’s name you might recognize him from the newer Star Wars movies as General Hux:

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And if you have children, you might recognize him as Thomas McGregor from the latest adaption of Peter Rabbit:

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Or from the Harry Potter as Ron Weasley’s brother Bill (which I added here after my brother reminded me.):

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After I saw him in Peter Rabbit, I recognized him in Star Wars I said “Hey! It’s that guy!” Since I don’t know how to pronounce the man’s name, I will most likely say “Hey! It’s that guy!” And honestly, I’ve been saying that a lot lately since he’s been in a lot of movies we have watched recently. When my brother mentioned About Time, I looked it up and said “Hey! It’s that guy!”

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Anyhow, the movie was very good (rated R for language, just an FYI if you sit down to watch with the family). The R rating surprised me in some ways because the movie really was pretty clean. I think a couple uses of the f-word were what gave it the R rating. The basic premise is that the main character learns that the male members of his family can go back in time to certain points in their lives to change what happened without changing the timeline drastically, as long as they don’t go back before a child or person is born, which can pretty much mess everything up.

The theme was love in all forms – between couples and family, but especially love between a son and father. Yes, I cried. I cried a lot. I think I damaged a muscle in my cheek from crying toward the end because for the rest of the day a muscle along my cheek and temple jumped.

I will probably be burying myself in books the next few weeks while we deal with the stress of selling and buying a house and moving. Last week someone made an offer on the house and we accepted and hope to have it sold by the beginning of April. We also hope to be able to move into our new house around the same time, if all goes as planned.

Last week on the blog, I shared photos from our winter; wrote about my need to trust in God even when I don’t feel he’s near; and I shared Chapter 20 and Chapter 21of my novel in progress, A New Beginning.

Up on the blog this week will be a post sharing some of my favorite blog posts from the last month and two more chapters of A New Beginning and a post about nightmares in children and adults.

How about you? What are you reading or watching or simply doing this week? Feel free to share in the comments.


This post is part of Readerbuzz’s Sunday Salon and Caffeinated Reviewer’s Sunday Post. 

Fiction Friday: A New Beginning, Chapter 21

If you didn’t catch yesterday’s chapter, and you’ve been following along, you might want to read that before you read this chapter so you won’t be too confused and so you can find out what “big moment” Blanche had on her step to pulling herself out of her Hank funk.

As always, you can find the other chapters at the link at the top of the page, or HERE and you can find the first part of Blanche’s story in A Story to Tell on Kindle or Kindle Unlimited.  The Kindle edition is on sale for $1.99 until February 19th (which is about all the marketing I have done for this book.)


Chapter 21

Light, Shadows & Magic (2)

Folding the dress I’d altered for Fannie Jones, I decided I’d deliver it to her at the library on my way to lunch with Emmy at the diner. The weather had cooled some, the sun was bright, and I knew a walk would do me good and might help slow my racing thoughts.

Stepping onto the sidewalk, I noticed the temperature had grown milder since two weeks earlier when we’d been at the lake. As I walked, barely noticing the cars passing by or the owner of the shoe shop setting up an outside display, I wondered if it had been the heat that had led me to be so reckless with Judson that night. Maybe I could blame the kiss on heatstroke if he tried to talk to me about it in the future.

So far, though, he hadn’t tried to talk to me about it. I’d seen him briefly at church, making sure to sit in a pew far from him. He’d stopped at our house once to talk to Daddy about how to remove a hornets’ nest from a bush behind his house, but I’d kept myself busy hanging clothes on the line and then rushing back inside to start dinner, making sure not to look up as he talked to Daddy and then left in his truck. I knew I couldn’t avoid him forever, though, and that eventually, he’d want to talk about it. I had no idea what I’d say to him, but I knew the kiss had been a mistake I didn’t intend to repeat.

Glancing into the flower shop as I neared the library, I recognized Stanley standing near the front, pondering two arrangements on the counter. His head turned slightly and looking at me, he raised his hand and waved me inside.

“Blanche! Just the person who can help me.”

“Oh? How can I do that?”

He placed his hand gently on my back and ushered me toward the counter where Millie Baker stood with an amused smile.

“Which one of these two arrangements speaks to you?”

“Um… .speaks to me?”

“Yes. Which one says something to you?”

“Well, what should it be saying?” I asked.

“Well, it should . . . uh  . . . say …,” I’d never seen Stanley’s cheeks flush red before. He looked at the floor, hands on his hips, wearing his signature red suspenders, wrinkled khakis, and button-up dress shirt, without a suit coat. He coughed nervously.

“I guess it should say, I’ve enjoyed your,” he cleared his throat, rocking back on his heels and still looking at the floor. “company.”

I grinned and winked at Millie, who was stifling a giggle behind her hand. I looked at the flower arrangements, one with bright yellow and pink carnations interspersed with baby’s breath and lavender lilies, the other full of deep red roses and surrounded by baby’s breath.

“Let’s see,” I tapped my fingers on the top of the counter, studying the arrangements. “I would go with this one,” I touched the vase with the carnations. “Because if you go with this one,” I moved my hand to the one full of roses. “It could imply you’ll be getting down on one knee soon.”

Millie failed to hold the laughter in when Stanley looked at me with wide eyes. He snatched the one with the pink and yellow carnations and laid two bills on the counter. “I’ll take this one,” he said stiffly. “Keep the change.”

He turned abruptly and walked quickly out of the shop.

“Blanche, you’re awful,” Millie giggled. “He looked like a deer in the headlights when you suggested this one should go with a proposal.”

“I didn’t mean to frighten him,” I laughed. “I was just being honest.”

Millie straightened some tulips in a vase. “You know, he’s been in here before, but he could just never decide what kind of flowers to buy for her. It’s so cute really. How nervous he gets. It’s totally changed my mind about him. He’s much different than those editorials he writes. He is a lot more. . .,” she tapped her chin with her finger and looked thoughtful. “complex than I thought.”

“It just goes to show we can’t always judge a book by its cover, I guess,” I said. “Anyhow, I have to get this dress over to Fannie at the library.”

Millie waved at me, looking through the tulips. “Have a good day and good luck getting away from her when she starts chatting.”

Luckily, I didn’t have to worry about getting away from Fannie’s chatting since she was cornered at the front desk with a woman asking where she could find books about crocheting. I slid the package with the dress on the desk and waved at Fannie instead.

“I’ll be down after work to drop off payment, Blanche,” Fannie said, looking up from the card catalog. “Thank you so much!”

I rushed outside, glad not to have to deflect Fanny’s stories about her bunions or her husband’s indigestion. I didn’t mind her stories or chatting with her, but I had a stack of projects back at the shop I needed to finish.

Opening the door to the library, a smiling Lillian Steele greeted me. “Oh! Blanche! Long time no see, honey!”

I hugged the pastor’s wife as I stepped into the sunlight and stepping back I saw her hand tightly holding the hand of a little girl. Wide brown eyes stared back at me under a pale yellow sunhat.

“Well, hello, Annabelle,” I said, leaning down closer to Lillian’s daughter. “How are you this morning?”

Annabelle pulled her Mama’s hand across her face and peered around it, a shy smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. “I’m okay, Miss Robbins.”

Annabelle was Lillian’s middle child. She’d been pregnant with her oldest, Benjamin, the day Hank and his friends had lit a cross on the pastor’s front lawn. I knew Benjamin was at school. I guessed the baby, born only three months ago, must be home with Pastor Frank.

“How are you feeling?” I asked Lillian. “Getting your energy back yet?”

“Much faster than I thought I would,” Lillian said, flipping a long strand of black hair over her shoulder. “Hey, we’re starting a new Bible study next month at the church. I’d love to have you there if you have time.”

I’d attended Bible studies with the ladies of the church many times since I’d been a teenager, but I still felt a twinge of guilt thinking back to that first time I’d lied to my parents, using a Bible study as an excuse to leave with Hank one night. I’d told my parents I was attending a Bible study at Lillian’s home when I’d really sneaked out to meet Hank. He’d taken me to a bar that night and I’d had my first taste of beer. Granted, I’d never grown accustomed to the taste of alcohol and hadn’t had any since that night, but the fact I’d lied to my parents and used Lillian to get away with it weighed heavy on my mind long after I’d left Hank and returned home.

“I’d love to, Lillian. I should be able to, but I’ll check with Mama and Daddy and see if it will work with their schedule.”

Lillian leaned in for another hug. “So glad to hear it. I’ll get you the exact date and time at church on Sunday.”

I held the door open for Lillian and Annabelle and as I closed it behind them I smiled, happy to know the local chapter of the KKK wasn’t as active as it once was and that Pastor Frank and Lillian hadn’t been afraid to stay in the community even after hate had tried to drive them away.

My stomach growled, reminding me it was lunchtime. I glanced at the clock in the town square. I had agreed to meet Emmy at the diner in ten minutes.

Passing the hardware store on the way to the diner, I glanced at the front window and caught my reflection. I paused, turned toward the window, and looked at the hair tight in a bun on my head and the plain, blue skirt, and blue striped knit top I was wearing.  I may have been curvier than I had been as a teenager, but I was, in so many ways, still plain, boring Blanche.

I sighed, pushing a strand of hair back into the bun. I leaned closer to the glass, touched my fingers along the skin under my eyes and wondered if it was the reflection or if there really were bags appearing there. I squinted at the skin under my eyes, and slowly my reflection faded as I looked through the window, my eyes focusing on a man standing at the front counter, handing the cashier money.

I leaned closer to the window, trying to get a better look at the man between the reflections of the cars and people passing by on Main Street. Suddenly I felt dizzy with disbelief. My heart lurched in my chest.

It couldn’t be.

But it was.

My ex-husband was standing on the other side of the glass, less than five feet away from me.

The sounds of the town bustling through life that afternoon faded under the sound of my heart pounding hard in my ears.

It was definitely him.

Hank Hakes was standing at the front counter of the hardware store, slightly turned from me and I knew he hadn’t seen me yet. I stood in place as if struck with a tranquilizer dart, starring at the familiar crooked smile, the brown hair pushed back off the forehead, the clean-shaven jaw and the long fingers on the hand that had once touched me gently and then later formed the fist that broke my nose.

I looked away quickly, my breath stuck in my chest, my thoughts suddenly racing. I started walking, head down, hoping I could get to the shop and lock the door before Hank saw me.

Fiction Thursday: A New Beginning, Chapter 20

I think there will be some ladies who will be happy with this week’s chapter from A New Beginning. Ladies, Blanche is about to take her life into her own hands and make something happen. . . but will she be too startled by her actions to admit her move was a good one? Read on and find out and see the blog tomorrow for what happens after this week’s big moment in her life.

Curious about the rest of Blanche’s story? Find the first part on Kindle, or simply follow along with this second novel in progress HERE. You do not have to read the first book to enjoy the second.


Chapter 20

The sun was hot and the small breeze blowing across the lake was doing little to cool us all down as we sat on the shore, the boys with fishing poles, Emmy, Edith and me sipping lemonade and laying out the food for lunch.

Tanner Lake was half an hour from my house. Nestled between two hills it was somewhat hidden away, with few people visiting it other than locals. It had never been marketed as a tourist site, which made it a perfect, private getaway for our family and friends. Looking around the lake at the tall pine trees flanking it, I remembered sitting in a boat with Daddy in the center of the lake probably about 12-years old, a fishing pole in one hand, a peanut butter sandwich in the other, waiting for a fish to bite.

The tan-colored fishing hat Daddy had sat on my head to keep the sun out fell down over my forehead and eyes, making reeling the line in a challenge and doing nothing to protect my bare arms and legs from the sun. I ended up with the worst sunburn I could remember, but we had enough fish to last us the Fourth of July weekend when we’d celebrated with Emmy’s family and our cousins from New York state.

“Why did we agree to this fishing trip again?” Edith asked, dabbing a damp cloth along her throat. “I don’t even like fishing.”

“So, we could all have a day out and finally celebrate summer,” Emmy said cheerfully. “Do you know this is the first real day out I’ve had since the baby was born? I’d almost forgot what the sun looks like. I’m so glad my parents agreed to watch Faith for us.”

I knew we’d also taken this trip to the lake to help take Edith’s mind off her worries about Lily and the baby and Judson’s mind off his dad.

I leaned back, holding a glass of lemonade against my face, hoping it would help me feel cooler. Looking across the grass toward the lake, I noticed Judson kneeling on one knee next to Jackson near the water’s edge, holding Jackson’s fishing pole, hooking a worm as Jackson chatted along about the fish he’d managed to catch earlier using “the biggest nightcrawler he’d ever seen.” Judson’s face was clean-shaven now, his reddish-brown hair neatly trimmed. I felt foolish as I wondered if he’d shaved the beard because he thought I didn’t like it; as if he might make decisions about his life based on what I thought. The truth was, I seemed to find him attractive, sans beard or not, a fact that annoyed me to no end.

“Both our names start with the letter J,” Jackson said suddenly. “Did you know that?”

“Well, yes, sir I did know that,” Judson said.

“Jackson and Judson. Those names sort of sound alike don’t they?”

Judson reeled the line up slightly and handed Jackson the pole again, grinning at him.

“Yes, buddy they do.”

I watched as they walked to the end of the dock several feet away from me and sat next to each other, Jackson wiggling close to Judson and bouncing his feet over the water. He looked at Judson and smiled.  “I like that. That our names sound so much alike.”

Judson smiled and ruffled Jackson’s hair. “Me too, buddy. That’s real cool.”

I bit my lower lip, hoping Jackson didn’t get too attached to Judson. I knew Judson was leaving soon to be with his parents during his father’s surgery and after that, who knew? He might decide his uncle had given him enough training in the last year and head back to North Carolina to start his own business. I dreaded Jackson’s heart being broken.

“Admiring the scenery?”

Edith’s coy question drew me from my thoughts and I stuck my tongue out at her.

“If you mean the sunlight glistening off the surface of the lake, then yes, I am,” I said, scowling at her.

Emmy laid back on the blanket we’d spread out and laughed.

“Oh, Edith, we must let our little butterfly come out of her cocoon on her own.”

“I am not a butterfly, I’m not in a cocoon and I would appreciate it if you two didn’t act like I was your project,” I said curtly.

Edith sat next to me and playfully nudged my arm with her elbow. “Oh, calm down, now, little sis’. You know we’re just picking on you.”

I forced a small smile, still annoyed but not anxious to ruin our day.

“Well, I give up,” Jimmy announced, laying his fishing pole on the ground next to the blanket. He pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it into the grass. “I say if the fish aren’t biting, we just go for a swim in their home.”

He yelled over his shoulder toward the dock. “What do you say, Jackson? Want to go for a swim?”

Jackson turned to look at Jimmy, his eyes wide as he watched Jimmy slide his pants off, revealing a pair of jockey shorts.

“You gonna go in there naked?!” Jackson asked.

Jimmy laughed. “Just half-naked, buddy. Come on. Want to go with me?”

Jackson’s eyes were still wide. “In nothing but my undies?!” He whispered the word undies.

Judson slid his shirt off and laughed. “Come on, kid. I’ll go in too.”

I looked away quickly at the sight of Judson’s bare skin and helped Jackson take off his shirt and pants.

“Are we giving up and going swimming?” Sam asked, pulling his shirt off over his head. “It’s about time! I’m sweating through my clothes.”

Water splashed as the boys ran into the lake one by one, Jackson giggling uncontrollably.

“Mama! We’re in our underwear! Look!”

“I see you, kid. Just keep those on.”

“Come on, ladies! Join us!” Sam called, neck-deep in the water now. “Drop down to your underwear!”

Jimmy and Judson laughed at Sam’s comment.

“Yeah, mommy! Drop down to your underwear!” Jackson called from the water.

“Don’t you encourage my son to suggest such things!” I said with a laugh. “If we go in, we’ll change into our bathing suits, thank you very much.”

“Then change!” Jimmy shouted. “We’ll wait for you and promise only to peek around the back of the truck once or twice while you get into your suits.”

I hesitated when I pulled my bathing suit on, hiding behind Sam’s pickup. I didn’t know if I wanted anyone to see me in a suit that seemed to hug all the parts of me I hated the most. Emmy’s baby fat had almost disappeared and Edith always looked amazing; her slim, yet curvy figure eye-catching no matter what she wore.

“Come on, Blanche!” Emmy said grabbing my hand as I looked down at my thighs and stomach, wincing. “You look fine. Let’s go cool off.”

Judson stood in the shallow part of the lake, as we stepped around the truck, water droplets speckled across his shoulders and bare chest as he watched Jackson jump from the edge of the dock.

I noticed his muscles were larger than I imagined they’d be then mentally scolded myself for actually having imagined once, or maybe even twice, what his muscles looked like under his shirt. I moved my gaze quickly away and turned my head so I was focused on Jackson instead.

“Did you see me, Judson?” Jackson cried as he bobbed up out of the water after his jump.

“I sure did, kid,” Judson said. “Make sure you don’t go too far out, okay?”

“Okay!”

Jackson seemed delighted at any and every suggestion Judson made and I laughed to myself, wishing he would listen to me that well. I dove under the water and swept my hair back as I came back up out of the water. The cool water felt amazing against my skin under the hot sun.

Sunlight glistened off the surface of the lake and flickered through the branches of a weeping willow as I laid on my back, floating on the water, listening to my sister and friends laugh and joke with each other and my son giggle each time Judson caught him as he jumped from the dock.

My muscles relaxed, the water cradling me, the comfort and coolness of the water what I needed for my body and mind as I closed my eyes.

“Hey, your hair is down.”

Judson’s voice startled me and I floundered in the water, my feet sinking into the soft muddy bottom of the lake. I turned to see him grinning at me. “I like when your hair is down. It’s a sign you’re finally relaxing and having fun.”

I made sure to keep most of my body under the water, swishing my arms in the water around me, hoping he couldn’t see the small rolls in my belly I desperately wished weren’t there.

“Are you having fun?” he asked.

“Yes. Sure.”

I wished I could sink deep down into the mud beneath me simply to keep him from looking at me the way he was, the sunlight catching his pale blue eyes as they watched me intently, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

“I don’t think she’s having enough fun,” Sam said from the other side of me. “Let’s make sure she has fun for once.”

The splash hit me full force in the face and I sputtered and then returned the onslaught, splashing Sam and Judson as Emmy and Edith commenced splashing Sam, Judson and Jimmy.

“We girls have to stick together!” Emmy cried as water splashed around us.

“Take them down!” Jimmy shouted, sliding his arms around Edith and flinging her gently into the deeper part of the lake.

“Jimmy Sickler! I’ll make you pay!” she laughed as she broke the surface of the water and pushed water toward him.

Jimmy lunged toward her, tickling her under the water, kissing her neck as she giggled.

“Ah man! Get a room you two!” Sam called as Edith turned her head and pressed her mouth to Jimmy’s.

Jimmy pulled her against him and deepened the kiss as she slid her arms around his neck.

“Ew! Mama! Aunt Edith and Uncle Jimmy are kissing!” Jackson snickered, wrinkling his nose.

“That’s okay, buddy,” I said with a laugh. “They’re allowed to do that. Come on, let’s go get some lunch!”

“Not so fast!”

Muscular arms swept quickly under me, lifting me up in the water. I gasped, tossing my arms around Judson’s neck for support, shocked that he was now holding me.

“I think you could use a good dunking too,” he said, a mischievous grin on his face.

“Don’t you da—”

My words ended in a scream as I felt myself flying and then sank beneath the surface of the water. Pushing myself up to the surface I rubbed water out of my eyes, the laughter cascading across the lake. As my vision cleared I saw a clearly amused Judson standing with his arms across his chest, watching me with a boasting smile.

“Just making sure you really do have some fun,” he said, winking at me.

I sighed and tapped his arm playfully as I pushed through the water back toward the shore.

I wrapped a towel around my waist and helped Jackson dry off as Judson walked out of the lake, reaching for his own towel.

I glanced at him, catching sight again of his tanned skin as he rubbed the towel across his chest and arms. I looked away quickly. Oh, Lord, why did you make him nice and good looking? Is this just your way of seeing if I can resist temptation?

“You’re not mad at me are you?” he asked, sitting next to me as he pulled on his shirt.

“No, of course not,” I said, kneeling on the blanket and taking sandwiches and paper plates out of the basket. “I just hope you didn’t break your back lifting me.”

I was grateful he was wearing a shirt again.

“Not a chance. You’re as light as feather to me. And I liked having an excuse to hold you close.”

My eyes briefly met his and I looked away, startled by the tone in his voice, the intensity in his gaze.

I handed him a plate with a sandwich, barely able to look at him. I noticed a tremble in my hand as I placed more sandwiches on plates.

“Your kid is great, you know that?”

I looked at Jackson swatting at a tree with a stick he was pretending was a sword.

“I do.”

“You’ve done an amazing job with him.”

“Thank you, but I’ve had a lot of help from Mama and Daddy and Edith, Jimmy, Emmy, Sam – it’s a group effort really,” I said.

Judson shrugged. “But you’re his mom and you’re his biggest influence. You should be proud. Take the compliment.”

I smiled and poured a glass of lemonade. “Thank you. Really. I appreciate it. And thank you for spending so much time with him.”

Judson leaned back and watched Jackson with a smile. “Ah, man. I love it. He cracks me up. The things he comes up with are hilarious. And smart. He is so smart. He just told me all about the different varieties of fish in this lake and in the pond behind the church, and then he told me which lures work best for each one.”

Judson took a bite of his sandwich and washed it down with the lemonade. “If I ever have a kid,” he said, still watching Jackson. “I want one just like him.”

I watched Judson watch Jackson and my heart ached. Jackson deserved someone like Judson in his life, but I knew there was a good possibility Judson wouldn’t stick around and even if he, there would come a day he wasn’t interested in hanging around a little boy, especially if he met someone and started a family of his own someday.

I hated how I always listed the negatives of any situation in my head; always looked for what could go wrong, an attempt to control the situation and head it off before it reached the level where disaster might strike. If life with Hank had taught me anything it was that I needed to be in control to keep Jackson and me from being hurt.

After supper the boys tried their hand at fishing again and Emmy and Sam suggested we stay until dark and build a campfire and roast marshmallows. That was an idea Jackson definitely liked. The men and Jackson gathered the firewood and built the fire while we women chatted about the latest hairstyles and Marion’s blooming relationship with Stanley.

As the sun set, logs were dragged around the fire and Emmy sat next to Sam, Edith next to Jimmy and Jackson sat next to Judson, regaling him with tales about his adventures with his grandpa.  Standing near Jimmy’s truck, I watched them all, happy to see them enjoying each other’s company but feeling an ache of loneliness I hated to claim.

Tipping my head back I looked up at the moon appearing in the fading blue sky even as the sun set, admiring its beauty and taking in the sounds and smells of nature around me; the smell of Honeysuckle, the sound of crickets and peepers, a bullfrog croaking somewhere on the other side of the pond.

I walked slowly, thinking about how the years had seemed to fly by since I’d left Hank, how fast Jackson was growing, how different my life had turned out than what I had expected it would when I left that day with Hank. I had looked at leaving with Hank as a doorway to a life of adventure, a way out of the town I’d grown up in, but here I was back in that town and adventure was far from my mind. I’d settled into a comfortable routine within familiar settings and around familiar people and that was fine by me.

I sat in the grass along the water’s edge and looked at the campfire burning on the other side of the lake, comforted by the thought that some of the people who mattered the most to me were there, laughing, holding each other, and growing closer.

At the sound of approaching footsteps, I squinted into the encroaching darkness, recognizing Judson as he walked toward me still wearing a T-shirt and swimming shorts from earlier.

“Hey, where did you go? They’re getting ready to roast marshmallows. Emmy said to come look for you.”

I shrugged and leaned back on my hands. “Just wanted some quiet time to contemplate life, I guess.”

“Mind if I join you?”

“Help yourself but the sunset is almost gone.”

“So, what are you contemplating about life?” he asked, pushing his hand back through his hair as he sat.

I shrugged. “Just thinking about how different it all is than I once thought it would be.”

“But that’s a good thing right?” He stretched his legs out in front of him and leaned back on his elbows. “It’s turned out pretty good, right?”

“Yeah… it has.”

“But? I sense a but.”

I shook my head. “No. I really don’t have a but to add. It’s turned out different, that’s all.”

“Yeah, I get that. When I graduated high school I never pictured myself in this tiny little Pennsylvania town, working construction, instead of playing football, married to Maggie Frances. But you know what? Sometimes getting what we don’t expect is a good thing too.”

I tilted my head at him. “Married, huh?”

He laughed and shook his head. “Ugh. Yeah. That was a brief view of my future. Very brief. I met Maggie in high school, dated her during college, even though we were going to two different colleges. We were so different.” He laughed again. “So different.”

I leaned forward, hugging my knees. “In what way?”

“Well, for one, she was like a Southern debutante. Very proper. Dressed just so and her hair had to be perfect. She was homecoming queen . . .”

“And you were homecoming king?”

I couldn’t see well enough in the dimming sunlight to tell if he was blushing or not but the way he tipped his head and scratched his nose made me think he was embarrassed.

“Well, I was the quarterback so, yeah.”

“So why weren’t you the perfect couple?”

“I didn’t like to be proper, I guess,” Judson said with a shrug. “I liked to play in the dirt and build things and wasn’t as worried about appearance as her. And I went to church because I believed in what the pastor was saying, not because it looked good to everyone else.”

“Maggie and I drifted apart when I started to pull away from football, from the life Dad had mapped out for me. Maybe the idea of being married to ‘just a construction worker’ bothered her, I’m not sure, but when she told me she wanted to break things off, I wasn’t heartbroken. I felt,” he tipped his head back and looked out at the lake. “Relieved.”

He sighed, sitting up and dusting the dirt off his hands. “I guess that sounds callous. Maggie was a nice girl, just not the girl for me.”

Silence settled comfortably over us as the sun faded behind the hillside.

I looked out at the lake, resting my chin on my knees. Was there someone for everyone? I’d heard it said before, but I was never sure it was true. I had thought Hank was the one for me, until who he really was overshadowed who I thought he was. Who was it that said ‘opposites attract?’ I couldn’t remember but I didn’t know if that saying was true. Hank and I had been as opposite as any two people could be. Yes, we had been attracted to each other physically, but on the deeper, more important levels of emotional and spiritual attraction there were gaps as large as the Grand Canyon.

“Why did you really stop by the other night?” Judson asked, flicking a rock into the water.

“I told you,” I said, watching ripples slide across the lake as the rock sang. “To check on you for Emmy. She was worried about you.”

He looked at me as he leaned back in the grass, propping himself up on his elbows again. In the fading light, I saw a smile tilting up one side of his mouth.

“Okay.”

“You know,” he sat up again, wrapping his arms around his legs and pulling his knees against his chest. “I’ve been thinking a lot about you since that day at the hospital. I wanted to call, or stop by, but . . .”

His voice trailed off and he looked out over the lake.

“I guess I decided maybe I should start taking your hints and leave you alone. You’ve made it clear you’re not interested in getting to know me and …”

“That’s not true,” I said. “I never said I didn’t want to get to know you.”

He leaned back slightly, tipping his head to one side. “You avoid me as much as possible, so I took that as a sign for me to get lost.”

I sighed and looked out at the water. “It’s not that, Judson. I’m just – I don’t know – not a very outgoing person. It takes me a while to get comfortable around new people. I’ve always been that way, but it’s been worse since . . . Well, in recent years anyhow.”

Judson watched me, grinning. “You’d think you’d be comfortable with me now. We’ve been around each other for almost a year now – off and on anyhow. I’m always helping your dad with projects around the house.”

I smiled sheepishly, knowing my excuse had been lame.

“Yeah, well…” I let the sentence trail off, unsure how to finish it. I looked at him, furrowing my eyebrows. “What’s with you always helping around our house anyhow?”

He tipped his head back and laughed. “Well, it’s not some kind of conspiracy. I like your dad, that’s all. He’s asked for my help and he’s a good guy. He’s been more of a dad to me than my dad was, in some ways anyhow. I mean, my dad wasn’t, or isn’t, the worst guy ever. He didn’t beat me growing up. He was hard on me, but he did spend some time with me – if it had to do with football that is. Your dad is interested in the things I’m interested in, so I like to learn from him.”

We sat in silence a few moments as the bright red of the sunset faded completely and the darkness of dusk began to settle around us. A cool breeze brushed over my skin and I shivered slightly, rubbing my hands over my arms and watching a dragonfly hover above the surface of the water. The shape of the weeping willow silhouetted against the full moon rising brightly above us caught my attention.

I flinched slightly as Judson reached out, his finger trailing down my nose, over the small bump in the middle.

“So, what happened here?” he asked, a teasing tone in his voice.

A sick feeling burned in the pit of my stomach. I knew he was expecting some cute story about falling off my bike or falling out of a tree as a kid. I could have lied but I had lied a lot in my life and I was tired of it.

“That’s where my ex-husband broke my nose the night I left him.”

His smile faded and he looked at me with furrowed eyebrows, as if he was trying to tell if I was joking or not.

“Are you serious?”

“I wish I wasn’t.”

A muscle jumped in his jaw as he clenched it. “Emmy told me he was a jerk, but she didn’t tell me he was a monster. He better hope I never get ahold of him or I’ll teach him about what happens when you don’t respect a woman.”

I laughed softly and shrugged, flicking a rock into the water. “That’s okay. My daddy already beat you to it. He chased Hank off with a shotgun when he tried to see me.”

Judson shook his head, his mouth still clenched tight. “You didn’t deserve to be treated like that,” he said.

I shrugged, tossing another rock into the pond, agitated by his comment, though I couldn’t figure out why. Maybe it was because I didn’t want to be treated like a Faberge egg anymore, someone too fragile to face the punishment she deserved for being so naïve and selfish. I hadn’t been fragile when I had kicked Hank in the face and broke his nose, but now people acted as if I needed protection.

“How do you know?” I said, tipping my chin up slightly as I looked at him. “Maybe I did.”

“No one deserves to be treated like that,” Judson said firmly. “Not ever. I don’t care what you did or what you think you did. You deserved to be treated better than,” he made a disgusted face as he spat out the next words. “ – that boy treated you. No real man hits a woman.”

I looked up at him, my heart pounding at the husky tone of his voice. The serious expression faded into a teasing one as a grin tipped his mouth upward.

“Like Rhett told Scarlet,” he slipped into his best Clark Gable impression “You should be kissed and by someone who knows how.”

He was watching me intently and I felt a rush of weakness slide through my limbs at the thought that he might actually try to kiss me. He couldn’t be serious. I wanted to jump up and dive into the lake to get away from him. I recognized the feeling in my chest as pure terror.

I couldn’t deny I’d thought often about what it would be like to kiss him, but I’d pushed those feelings deep inside, willing them to fade so I didn’t risk being hurt again. I was so tired of pushing my feelings inside, though, of mentally scolding myself for the attraction I felt for him. My resolve was crumbling each time I was around him and sitting so close to him was obliterating my will power.

I swallowed hard as he leaned his head closer to mine. I was ready to dart away into the darkness. But then he started to lean back again, his arms still folded across his knees.

“I’m sorry,” he said, softly. “I’m being too forward, too pushy. I shouldn’t be doing that.”

I felt a twinge of disappointment overriding the terror. My eyes were on his mouth and I was thinking about what a kiss from that perfectly shaped mouth would feel like. Here he was so close I could feel the warmth of his skin without even having to touch him and he was starting to pull away, maybe taking away any chance I’d have to know if those lips were as soft as they looked. I was tired of waiting for my life to start again.

I moved my head quickly, catching his mouth with mine before he could pull away, determined to do something on my own terms for once.

His lips were as soft and warm as I thought they’d be. I wasn’t sure how he would react, but he didn’t pull away, instead he slid closer, pushed his hand up into my hair, cupping the back of my head and deepening the kiss. I reached up and clutched at the hair at the back of his head, losing track of where I was, thinking of only the feel of his mouth against mine.

I’d been here before, though. I’d been caught up in moments only to lose track of who I was and what I needed to protect.  While it felt good to be the one to make the first move, I was suddenly terrified that I’d let my walls down more than I should have.

I pulled away abruptly and stood, clenching my hands into fists.

“It’s late.” The words gasped out of me. “I need to get Jackson home.”

He looked up at me, saying nothing at first, but then stood too.

“Okay, but–”

I turned, started to walk back toward the bonfire, trembling, shocked at what I’d done, and wanting to keep him from saying anything that would make me change my mind or feel guilty.

“Blanche, wait…”

His fingers gently encircled my wrist and I looked back over my shoulder briefly before his other hand touched my shoulder and he turned me toward him.

Suddenly his mouth was warm against mine again and I strained against him when his arms slid around me and pulled me against him.

I pulled myself from his arms, breathless, hugging my arms around me and shaking my head.

“I can’t do this, Judson.”

He held his arms out to his sides, opening them in a questioning gesture. “Do what? Enjoy life? You kissed me first you know.”

Anger burned inside me. Why did he have to point out that I kissed him first? What difference did it make? It didn’t. No matter who kissed who I didn’t want to let him any closer.

“I don’t need a man to fix me!” I blurted, knowing my anger was based in fear. “Everyone wants to fix me. Everyone thinks I need a man to fix me. Poor little, Blanche, she needs a man and then she’ll be okay.” I felt tears choking at my throat, but I swallowed them down, my words strangling with emotion.

“I don’t need a man to fix me,” I snapped. “I don’t!”

“Blanche, I never said that. What are you even — ”

“I have more to think about than me! I have a son and I have to protect him.”

“I know you have a son. Why are you–”

I needed him to stop talking. My thoughts were spinning. I held up my hand at him. “I have to go.”

I turned, running up the path toward the bonfire before he could stop me again, my face warm, heart pounding, trying to hold in the tears. I brushed my hand against my face, wiped away the tears that spilled down despite my effort to keep them in. I was thankful that the dark concealed most of my face as I approached the campfire.

Jackson had fallen asleep, sitting on the log, leaning against Jimmy. I leaned down and lifted Jackson against me, trying to ignore how his legs now stretched down almost the full length of my body.

“Emmy, can you and Sam give me a lift home? I need to get Jackson to bed.”

I could tell by the expression on Emmy’s face she knew something was upsetting me, but I was grateful she didn’t ask any questions.

“No problem. We need to head back and pick Faith up too.”

Judson carried our fishing poles and picnic basket to Emmy and Sam’s car, lifting them through the back hatch.

“Drive safe,” he said as I gently laid Jackson on the back seat.

He leaned close to me as I closed the door to walk to the other side of the car.

“We need to talk about this,” he whispered. “I never said . . .”

I didn’t let him finish. I stepped around him without making eye contact.

In the car, I leaned my head back against the seat feeling like a fool. First I’d broke my own rule about letting anyone into my life by making the first move, kissing Judson before he kissed me, and then I’d run away like a scared rabbit, leaving him standing in the dark, most likely confused and frustrated.

The way he had returned the kiss, hungry, passionate, fully willing, was clearly his way of silently asking permission to love me and I’d refused, shutting him out instead, terrified that his love would only last so long, just like Hank’s.

I closed my eyes against the tears and mentally chided myself, wishing I was brave, unafraid to open myself up again, willing to embrace life and really live again. I had let fear rule me for so long, I no longer knew how to function beyond it’s suffocating grasp.

I stared out the window, praying Emmy wouldn’t ask me how I was. I knew I’d burst into tears if she did. When we pulled into the driveway Sam carried Jackson into the house and into his room while Emmy helped me carry the basket and poles into the house.

“So, when are we going to talk about whatever happened back there?” she asked.

I hugged her. “Maybe someday.”

She frowned and studied my face. I knew I couldn’t mislead her for very long, but I wasn’t ready to talk about what a fool I’d just made of myself. I wondered if I was always going to just keep making my life a mess with stupid actions for as long as I lived.

“I’ll see you at church tomorrow,” she said. “We’ll talk.”

I closed the door behind her, knowing I wasn’t about to tell her I’d kissed her cousin and had no idea how to feel about it.

Faithfully Thinking: The battle belongs to the Lord

“I don’t see a change, Lord,” I said one night, laying in bed, thinking about all my health issues. “Some days it almost seems worse. No matter how much I pray for healing. Figuring it all out is so expensive and I don’t want surgery if I even need it. What do I do?”

Silence.

“Should I call the doctor?”

Silence.

“Should I fight to actually be diagnosed with this disease, or should I . . .”

Silence.

Honestly, I sometimes feel as if God really isn’t listening to, or helping, me with some of the health concerns I’ve been having for the last few years, but then, there are days I feel like he’s directing me to “wait.”

Be still and wait.

Two of the things I am the absolute worst at.

“You know what, God, I’ll just handle this!” I cry out in frustration. “Just..never mind! If you don’t want to answer me, then I’ll just fix it myself.”

Be still and wait. I’ve got this.

It’s very hard to trust God when we don’t see things changing. Trust me, I know this first hand.

But the Bible tells us to trust he is working for our good even when we can’t see it.

This whole “trust in God” thing has been a real struggle for me over the last couple of years. There are days I feel so hopeless with situations in my life, from finances to the lack of friendships, to trying to sell our house and chronic health issues that never seem to go away.

I heard a great sermon once entitled “The Battle Belongs to the Lord.” I don’t always agree with the pastor, but for this sermon, I absolutely agreed with him.

Each time I find myself in despair I hear the pastor saying, “The battle belongs to the Lord.”

The devil will tell us, “But your checking account is still empty,” and that is when you say “The battle belongs to the Lord,” the pastor said.

This is exactly what happened to me last week when I looked at our savings and realized we were really going to be struggling to make our mortgage payment this month after some unexpected expenses. I began to fall back into the familiar pattern of panic, trying to figure it all out in my head and fix it on my own.

Then I heard the words: “The battle belongs to the Lord.”

This week my mind, for some reason, started rushing again with thoughts of some inconclusive tests I have had in the last few years for a disease that can only be cured by what some consider a minor surgery (I consider all surgeries major.)

“What if I have this?”

“I need to figure this out.”

“I need to decide what to do right now about it because what if this disease kills me. I mean, they say it could take many years, but still. . . ”

I began “researching” on Google, talking to others on a Facebook support group who have it, looking at all my test results again, thinking and stressing. I started to fall back again into a pattern of negative thinking that three years ago left me almost completely mentally paralyzed.

The battle belongs to the Lord.

The words kept coming back to me. Over and over.

I signed out of Facebook, I stopped Googling, and I turned on a sermon podcast and laid down for bed. A year ago I wouldn’t have done any of those things. I would have Googled and researched and fretted all night long.

“The battle belongs to the Lord,” I repeated to myself, over and over to try to calm myself.

I don’t think it is a coincidence that I fall into these obsessive, worrying thoughts about my health, finances, or future in seasons of my life where I feel God is calling me to continue with a task he has asked me to finish. I have a feeling someone is trying all he can to distract me from the here and now; to lead me down paths of confusion so I will forget my calling, forget that God has asked me

to write and to raise and teach my children. What God has called me to may not seem as important as what he has called others to, but this is the path he has set for me and it is clear to me that Satan prefers that I forget about that path and wander off on some wild goose chase in another direction.

There have been more than a few times I have snapped back to reality while running around an empty left field of life like a chicken with my head cut off. I’ve looked around and noticed that where I was supposed to be is way off in the distance. I then have to toss aside the random worries to get back to where I need to be, but I can only do that with the help of God.

He tenderly takes my hand every time this happens and says, “No. Not here. Over here where I asked you to be and where I am doing a new thing, even if you can’t see it. Stay on this path. I will be here with you, even on the darkest days.”

And God does this repeatedly.

Repeatedly he steps off the path we were on together, and I wandered off from, takes my hand and leads me out of the wilderness of anxiety, panic, and confusion and back to the path he set for me.

He’s never impatient when he guides me back.

He’s never frustrated and never scolds me for walking off and letting my human side rule for a while.

He simply leads me back, leans down close and whispers, “Keep going. This way. We’ll get there together, beloved.”

I know I’ll wander off again.

I know I’ll lose myself in a fog of confusion again.

I know I’ll panic again, cry and ask God, “Where are you?!” because I will forget, once again, that he’s right here, next to me, where he’s always been.