Fiction Friday: A New Chapter Chapter 27

I will be sharing the last chapters of this story tomorrow. This chapter has a bit too much cheese at the end so that may change before this book is final.

Chapter 27

She couldn’t get her hands to stop trembling.

Even now, standing at her apartment door, unlocking it, far away from the scene of the shooting. She’d called Ginny and Ginny had agreed with Matt. She was closing the library early anyhow because of all the police activity down the street. 

A conversation she’d had with Molly over a year ago resurfaced.

“I’m just friends with Matt. It’s not like that. He’s easy to talk to and I like hanging out with him, but — he’s Matt. I’ll always think of him as a brother more than a boyfriend. Maybe because he’s friends with Jason and I just remember him as that weird military obsessed guy from high school.”

Molly had tipped her head in a pitying way, more pity toward Matt than Liz. “He’s a nice guy, Liz.”

“Yeah, I know, but he’s also a cop. I don’t know if I can date a cop. I mean, what if I develop more feelings for him and then I’ll just worry about him out there on the streets . . .”

Molly had snickered. “On the streets of Spencer? Where what — he might get punched by a drunk guy down at Mooney’s or get kicked by a cow?”

Liz had turned from the list of coffee flavors behind the counter at the coffee shop they were at and tipped her head. “Molly, you really are naïve about what happens in this county, aren’t you?”

And Molly had been, but maybe she’d been a little naïve too. Sure, she knew there were issues with drugs and alcohol in this town, but someone being shot on the street? No, she hadn’t thought that would happen. Matt could have been killed. It was a thought that surfaced, but that she pushed back down again. If she thought about that too long, she’d trigger a panic attack and those had been better lately. She didn’t want them to come back again

She glanced at the sunlight streaming in through the windows in the living room as her phone rang and she shut the door behind her, locking it.

“Are you okay? Martha said there was a shooting on Main Street. Is that true? Do you know?”

She tossed her keys on the kitchen table. “I’m fine, Mom. Yes. Matt was there and he’s okay too. He told me to go back to my apartment so I’m there, with the door locked.” Sliding her shoes off she yawned. Since her mom and dad were watching Bella, maybe she could manage a nap.

“Where is Molly? Is she with you?”

“She’s at the store. We’ve talked and she’ll be home early tonight.”

They chatted a few seconds longer about Bella and the fact she was taking a nap so Marge would bring her to the apartment in the evening. Liz’s shoulders relaxed as she slid her finger over the end call button and dropped her phone into her purse, then hung the purse on the back of the kitchen chair. Her bed was definitely calling to her.

“Are you okay, Liz? Really?”

A scream ripped through her at the sound of the deep voice from behind her. She swung around to face the dark hallway. Gabe’s laughter boomed off the walls, sending a chill shivering through her. When he stepped forward, sunlight brightened one side of his face and the other remained in darkness. What the sun hit was bruised and swollen, dark purple mixing with light purple.

Liz took a step back toward the kitchen.  “What are you doing here?”

Gabe gestured outward with his arms, leaning against the wall, more of his face coming into the light. “Just thought I should see what the mother of my child is up to these days.” His leather jacket was open, revealing a white T-shirt, stained with red and brown. “What? Don’t you like visitors?”

Liz’s chest constricted as she bumped into one of the chairs pushed into the table. “Not those who aren’t invited, no.”

Gabe pushed himself off the wall, and walked into the living room, slumping into the chair next to the couch.

Liz could clearly see his black eye and a deep cut across his cheek now. He winced and lifted his foot, stretching out his leg, and propping it on the coffee table. “Don’t worry, drama queen. I’m not here to hurt you. I just got myself in some trouble. Needed a place to lay low for a bit.”

“How did you even get in here?”

He smirked. “You know, for having a boyfriend who’s a cop, your apartment isn’t very secure. I climbed in one of the bedroom windows. Must be Molly’s room with all those cow photos hanging all over.” He grimaced as he lifted the other leg and propped it next to the first. “That’s what McGee is, right? Your boyfriend?”

Liz kept moving backwards until she bumped into the kitchen counter. Two more steps to her left and she’d have her hand on the drawer with the knives.

“You need to leave, Gabe.”

“Oh, Liz. Liz. Calm down and have a seat. Let’s just chat a while. I already said I’m not going to hurt you.” He hugged his arm around his side and made a face. “I’m not in any shape to hurt anyone right now anyhow.”

Her fingertips touched the edge of the knife drawer. He wasn’t looking at her. His eyes were focused somewhere outside the window, his eyelids heavy. She wasn’t sure she cared, but she asked anyhow. “What happened to you?”

He scoffed. “Life happened to me, Lizzie dear.” He tipped his head back, closed his eyes. “It finally caught up to me. All the fun couldn’t last forever, right?”

She ran her finger along the edge of the drawer, ready to open it if he moved. He kept talking as her eyes drifted to her purse, now several feet away.

Gabe sighed. “I’m in trouble.” He coughed out a laugh, his eyes still closed. “When am I not in trouble, right? But, alas, I am in even bigger trouble than ever before.”

Her mind flitted between opening the drawer and lunging for the phone in her purse. “What’s going on?” She should probably keep him talking until she decided. “Who did this to you?

She took a step toward the purse at the same moment his eyes opened, and he tipped his head to look at her.

“Do you really care? Really, Lizzie?” He sneered. “You know you don’t.”

He was right. She just wanted him to leave. She knew she should care, though. She should see him the way God saw him – as a flawed human who deserved a second chance. That wasn’t how she saw him, though.

She saw him as a threat.

He tipped his head back again, but kept his eyes opened, focused on the ceiling. “I never thought I’d be where I am today. All I did was borrow some money to keep the business going. Then a little more for the pills to keep me going. Who knew my uncle would call in the loan by manipulating me into running his drug business?” He laughed again, the sound sending a mix of pity and anxiety skittering through Liz.

She stood frozen between the kitchen table and the counter, unsure which direction to go. Gabe’s lack of predictably always had been a problem.

“Are you on the pills now?”

He stood abruptly and turned toward her, but leaned forward quickly, hands on his knees, grimacing. He lifted his head without straightening. “You think I’d be in this much pain if I was?” He stood, his arm wrapped around his side, and moved toward the other side of the living room, near a display of photographs on the wall above the television. His eyes moved from photo to photo as she took two steps closer to the purse.

He glanced at her. “She looks like you. That’s a good thing.”

Liz drew in a breath slowly, glad Bella was with her grandparents.

He kept his eyes on the photo as he spoke. “I screwed up, Liz. I borrowed money from him, lost it gambling and fueling the pill addiction. When I couldn’t get it back to him, he told me I’d either help him with deliveries and production or he’d end me.” His smile was unnatural considering the topic he was discussing. “Fitting isn’t it? He did to me what I did to you. Manipulated me into getting what he wanted like I manipulated you.” He pushed a trembling hand through disheveled, dark brown hair, laughed sardonically. “What goes around comes around, right? Isn’t that in the Bible?

Liz folded her arms across her chest, keeping her gaze locked on him. “No, I don’t think it is.”

He turned to face her. “An eye for an eye, right? Same thing?”

She tilted her head to one side, her jaw tight. “Not exactly. No.”

He walked toward her slowly. “I’m not going to hurt you, Liz. I already told you that.” He stopped a couple of feet from her, hands at his side. “I came here because I can’t figure you out and I want to figure you out before I go to jail.

The muscles in her body tensed. Her gaze flitted to the purse again. Only a few more steps and she could have it, but could she get the phone out before he reached her? He took another stepped toward her and she had her answer. “What are you talking about?

He tipped his head back slightly looking at her through narrowed eyes. “Why didn’t you press charges against me?” He tipped his head back down and shrugged a shoulder, pulling the chair with her purse on it out and sitting in it. “I pretty much assaulted you that night in my apartment. We both know it.” He laid his hand on the table. “Are you still so afraid of mommy and daddy finding out about you that you never told anyone how that baby was really conceived?”

Liz folded her arms tighter across her chest. What was his game, really? Was he kidding right now? Did he feel guilt or pride over his actions? She couldn’t read him.

“You really need to leave, Gabe.”

“It was wrong, Liz.” He leaned forward on his knees, winced again, and touched a hand to his ribs. “What I did. You deserved better than that. You’re a good person. Better than me and almost anyone else and I stepped all over that.”

She pivoted quickly, ripped open the knife drawer and grabbed the first one she could reach. Swinging around she held it out in front of her. She knew him too well. He never apologized. There was another reason behind his words.

“Get out, Gabe.”

He raised his hands, still sitting, a smirk twitching one corner of his mouth upward. “What are you going to do, stab me?” He laughed, his hands still up. “It would serve me right at this point. You should just go ahead and get it over with.”

She gripped the knife handle tighter, stepping slowly around the table until she was in front of him. “Just leave, okay?”

“So, you can call Matty-boy to come arrest me?”

He laughed again, lowered his hands, and then tipped his head forward, closing his eyes. “Just do it.” He opened his eyes again as he lifted his head and looked at her. “Call McGee. Show’s over for me.” He reached behind him, reached into her purse and slid out the phone, laying it on the table. He pressed a finger on top of it and slid it across the table toward her. “Jail is the safest place for me right now, trust me.”

She kept the knife in front of her, glancing at the phone then back at him. He inclined his head toward the phone. “Take it. Call him.” He slid his finger over the screen, opening it. “Here, I’ll help you.” He looked at the phone and tipped his head, pushing his lower lip out. “Aw, look at that. McGee’s in your favorites. “How cute.” He tapped his finger on Matt’s name. “There, I dialed it for you. Tell him to come rescue you from your scary ex-boyfriend.”

Instinct told her not to reach for the phone. Gabe tapped the speaker button instead.

Matt’s voice came from the phone. “Liz? What’s going on? Are you okay?”

Gabe kept his eyes focused on hers, smiling as he leaned toward the phone. “Liz needs rescuing, McGee. At her apartment. Better drop your Bible and get on over here.” He leaned closer to the phone. “And feel free to bring the calvary.”

He slid his finger over the end button and leaned back in the chair. “Uncle Buck was running the overall operation. I agreed to take over the part in this area to keep him off my back about all the money I owed him. Bernie was just a scape goat. I tricked him into make deliveries. He needed the money for his family. When he caught on to what was going on he tried to break loose, and I tried to blackmail him. It didn’t work and he walked. The police already had him pegged as trouble, so it was easy to set him up.”

Why was he telling her all of this? She stepped back against the corner of the wall, pulling the knife closer to her. “You can tell the police this.”

“I will, but I wanted to tell you too.”

“Someone shot Bernie Denton.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “I didn’t know that. Is he going to be okay?”

Her knuckles whitened as she clutched the knife. “I don’t know. Matt was with him.”

Gabe tipped his head back and laughed. “Of course he was.” He looked at her again, the smile fading. “Ah, then Bernie will live. Having McGee around is like having your own personal Jesus, right?”

Liz ignored the snarky edge to the comment. “Were you using?”

He shook his head. “Never sampled the product. Alcohol and pills are my vice. You know that.” He kicked the chair next to him out and propped a leg on it. “So, you officially with McGee now?”

She had no idea why she was standing here. She could reach the door, but part of her worried what he was really up to, if he’d grab her when she tried to run, take the knife and turn the tables on her.

“If you’re asking if I am in love with Matt, then yes I am.” Sirens sounded in the distance. “I used to think I was in love with you, but I was in love with the idea of you. Sadly, you were never what or who I thought you were.”

He snorted a brief laugh. “I wasn’t who I thought I was either.” He tapped the top of the table with his hand. “Sounds like the calvary is almost here so listen Liz, good luck with your life. With the kid. McGee. All of it.” He glanced at the door, the sirens louder now. “I’ll be in there a long time, so I won’t be messing anything up for you.”

Footsteps pounded on the steps outside and Liz lowered the knife slowly. He wasn’t moving. He wasn’t running. He wasn’t reaching out for her.

He was a man beaten. He knew it and as his shoulders stooped, he even looked the part. She kept her eyes on him as she reached over and unlocked the door. It slammed open and back against the wall behind it seconds before Matt rushed into the room. Behind him were two uniformed Spencer officers, one she recognized as his former partner Tom Stapleton. The other must have been the rookie he’d mentioned to her.

Gabe brought his wrists together in front of him and held them up, his eyes still on Liz. “Cuff me, Officer McGee. I’m ready for my close up.”

Tom cuffed Gabe instead, one wrist first, while the rookie held a hand against Matt’s chest, as if to hold him back, remind him he was still on suspension.

Tom pulled Gabe to his feet, pushed him against the top of the kitchen table and pulled his arms behind him, hooking the other cuff in place.

Gabe pulled his gaze from Liz and looked up at Matt. “Look familiar, McGee? Bet you wish you had your knee in my back again, don’t you?”

Matt took a step back toward Liz as Tom pulled Gabe to a standing position and pushed him toward the front door.

Gabe tilted his head down, focused on the floor as he walked. “Take care of her, McGee. She deserves better than me.”

Liz swallowed hard, surprising herself when she told Gabe she’d pray for him.

He scoffed, head still down. “Pray all you want. I don’t believe in that crap and never will.” He swallowed hard and looked back up as Tom pushed him through the doorway. “But thanks for saying it anyhow.” He pushed back against Tom, pausing and looked at Matt, winking. “See what I mean? She deserves better.”

Matt stood in front of Liz and pulled her against him as the rookie followed Tom out the door, pulling it closed behind him. She buried her face against Matt’s chest and let out a shaky breath.

“You okay?”

She nodded, grateful for the numbness that was currently settled over her mind. “This day has been really, really weird.”

The vibrations of his laugh against her cheek made her smile. The warmth of his arms around her made her smile. Him being here when he could have been in a hospital right now fighting for his life like Bernie was made her smile. The fact she somehow wasn’t having a panic attack despite all that had happened also made her smile.

She closed her eyes as he held her and kissed the top of her head. For the first time in a long time, she felt safe and calm. Safe in Matt’s arms, safe in his love, and safe in the love of God.

Looking back at February and forward to March

I was probably supposed to post this on the last day of February, instead of the first day of March, but whatever. I’m not organized. You all know that.

So, anyhow, February was about as dull as January was for us. We were still stuck inside thanks to horrible winter weather, so we didn’t do anything exciting.

We didn’t have as much snow this winter or during February, but it seemed like we did. We actually had snow at the end of December and then two months of cold and a little bit of sleet and ice, which didn’t let much of the snow from December melt. A couple of weeks ago we received  rain which then washed all the snow into the rivers, which were full of ice already, and threatened flooding, which thankfully never came

The weather did provide some lovely photos of ice-encased on trees, which I shared on the blog and will share again here:


While we were inside, I finished writing the third novel in the Spencer Valley Chronicles series (Beauty From Ashes) and we did a lot of schoolwork. Even though we did “a lot of schoolwork” I still don’t feel like I’m teaching my children enough. It’s the curse of homeschooling parents – the whole idea that we are not doing enough. Despite not feeling like I am doing enough, Little Miss is breezing through all her reading lessons and pretty bored with her math so we’ve had to skip ahead some lessons.

She’s not very interested in history yet so I am not shoving too much at her. She’s 7, so it’s not like she’s really going to remember all of this anyhow. She’ll retain more of that information better when she’s older. That won’t stop me from teaching her history, but it does stop me from stressing that she can’t remember the first president some days even though we’ve talked about it several times. She actually does remember him most of the time but sometimes she looks at me with that deer-in-the-headlight expression and I want to throw myself to the ground and declare myself a failure.

I usually get over that feeling pretty fast. This year I have been trying to work on not stressing over homeschool work as much and realizing that a few missed days here and there isn’t the end of the world, especially if those days are for legit reasons or for reasons that will somehow enrich my children’s lives. February did not offer many opportunities for enrichment educationally-wise since it was so cold and miserable, however.

I am hopeful that March will offer us a few more educational experiences outside the home. A local children’s camp is offering science classes in March, April, and May, similar to what they offered in autumn, so that will be one area where we will be able to get out and meet other homeschool students. We did suspect that might be where we caught Covid in November but honestly, we can’t be sure and we’re not going to live in fear anymore. We’ve had Covid, I know what it can do and what to watch for so I need to move forward with my life as best as I can.

As for reading in February, I didn’t read a ton of books like some readers do, but I did finish four, which is an accomplishment for me.

I finished The Cat Who Saw Stars by Lillian Jackson Braun (not one of my favorites of hers), The Dark Horse by Craig Johnson, His Road to Redemption by Lisa Jordan, and Miss Julia Renews Her Vows by Ann B. Ross. I also read Little House on the Prairie with Little Miss but I’ve read that before, so I don’t really count it.

In March, I hope to read, or finish, or well, at least start, the following books:

Moriarty by Anthony Horowitz

Every Star in the Sky by Sara Davison

Anything But Simple, My Life As A Mennonite by Lucinda J. Miller

Kidnapped by Robert Louis Stevenson

And

Miss Julia Rocks the Cradle by Ann B. Ross



I did not take a lot of photos in the month of February, for the above-mentioned reasons (mainly the cold!), but I thought I would share some that I, and my husband, took during the month.


I hope you all had a good February and have an even better March.

Educationally Speaking: The many books homeschoolers have the chance to read

The curriculum I picked up for the kids this year for social studies included eight different books in Little Miss’s set and 12 in The Boy’s.  

There is no way we will be able to get through all of them in one school year. They are supposed to be read with certain units but reading them would require reading them all back-to-back and that’s a lot of reading for me (since I’d be reading them for Little Miss) and for a ninth grader, since he is also reading a lot in his textbooks.

Instead, I’ve been picking and choosing the books and putting the others aside for future school years.

So far this year, Little Miss and I have read Freedom Crossing, Benjamin West and His Cat Grimalkin, Tolliver’s Secret, and Emily’s Imagination. We had already read Farmer Boy, which is what we are supposed to be reading for this current unit, so we are reading it again. We read Emily’s Imagination, but I hadn’t even noticed it was on the list when I chose it to read. We haven’t even reached the unit where we are supposed to read it.

Other books in her set included:

Mountain Born by Elizabeth Yates, The Year of Miss Agnes by Kirkpatrick Hill, Katy by Mary Evelyn Notgrass.

I’m hoping to read a couple more before the end of the school year and so far, I think The Year of Miss Agnes looks interesting so we will probably get to that one, if not the other two. She and I already read quite a few books during the year, and we’re also probably not going to finish this curriculum for this school year because we don’t do history every day. This history is very detailed and I add supplemental material, such as videos, to the lessons to make them a little more expansive.

For The Boy, we have already read Blood Brothers by Elias Chacour and A Long Walk to Water, as well as part of Know Why You Believe by Paul Little. We also read some other literature in our American Literature book. Right now, we are reading Kidnapped by Robert Louis Stevenson.

Before the end of the school year, I am hoping to have us read at least two more books if not three.

The books that interest me the most include Lost in the Barrens by Farley Mowat, Revolution is Not a Dinner Party by Ying Chang Compestine, and Tales from Silver Lands by Charles Finger.

Here are the descriptions for those three:

Lost in the Barrens: Awasin and Jamie, brothers in courage, meet a challenge many mountain men could not endure.  When their canoe is destroyed by the fury of the rapids, they must face the wilderness with no food and no hope of rescue.  To survive, they build an igloo, battle a towering grizzly bear, track several wolves, slaughter caribou for food and clothing.  Two lost huskies they tame bring companionship–and maybe a way home from their dangerous adventure.

Revolution is Not a Dinner Party: The summer of 1972, before I turned nine, danger began knocking on doors all over China.



Nine-year-old Ling has a very happy life. Her parents are both dedicated surgeons at the best hospital in Wuhan, and her father teaches her English as they listen to Voice of America every evening on the radio. But when one of Mao’s political officers moves into a room in their apartment, Ling begins to witness the gradual disintegration of her world. In an atmosphere of increasing mistrust and hatred, Ling fears for the safety of her neighbors, and soon, for herself and her family. For the next four years, Ling will suffer more horrors than many people face in a lifetime. Will she be able to grow and blossom under the oppressive rule of Chairman Mao? Or will fighting to survive destroy her spirit—and end her life?

Tales from Silver Lands: Tales from Silver Lands is a book by Charles Finger that won the Newbery Medal in 1925. The book is a collection of nineteen folktales of the native populations of Central and South America. These interesting folk stories include tales about giants, witches, and animals.

What is fun about reading these books to or with the kids is that I get to read them as well. There are books in these lists that I never would have read because I never would have heard about some of them otherwise.

Last year I read Silas Marner, which I really enjoyed, but never would have read on my own. Choosing to homeschool is a joint decision, so the children can decide to switch to public school in the future if they want to, but I’m hoping they’ll choose to continue if only so I have no excuse not to read some classics. *wink*

Fiction Friday: A New Chapter Chapter 22

This is an almost first draft of a story with typos and errors and who knows what going on. *wink*
If you want to catch up with the rest of this story you can click HERE.

If you want to wait until it is all finished and purchase a copy of the book on April 26, you can do that as well.

Chapter 22

Cutting the mushroom as thin as he could, Stan narrowed one eye and noticed, yet again, how hard it had become to focus on smaller objects. He should have brought his bifocals from his upstairs office, but he’d been so hungry he’d left them in favor of starting lunch.

He tossed the mushrooms into the pan of sizzling hamburger and sauce and when he looked up, he saw his daughter trying to move back up the stairs slowly. He was sure she was hoping he hadn’t seen her.

He leaned on the counter, folding his hands over the edge. “Olivia Grace, I’ve already seen you. You can keep coming.”

She sighed heavily, a lot of the teenager Olivia still in her, and walked slowly down the stairs, clearly attempting to delay the inevitable.

“Have you had lunch today?”

She shook her head as she slunked into a chair at the kitchen table.

“Well, I’m making my famous mushroom stroganoff if you’d like some.”

Olivia shrugged a shoulder. “Yeah, I guess. Where’s Mom?”

Stan shrugged a shoulder as well. “The library. Where she usually is this time of day.” He turned back to the stove and stirred the mixture. “Don’t try to deflect me. You know we need to talk about why you’re home.”

He glanced over his shoulder. “Care to enlighten me about your visit?”

Olivia stretched her arms over her head and leaned back slightly. “I just missed you and Mom.”

Stan laughed and shook his head. “Good try, Liv. Spill it. What’s the real reason?”

“I just needed a break from California and college.”

“A break?” He sat the spoon on the spoon holder next to the stove and turned, folding his arms across his chest. “Did your professors approve of this little break of yours? I assume you’re keeping track of your classes online somehow?”

She picked at the tassels on the knitted placemat in front of her. “Not exactly.”

“Not exactly? Liv, if you are going to drop out of college, I swear I —”

“It’s not if I drop out, Dad. I already did. It’s done.”

“Done? Done?” Warmth spread up from Stan’s chest to his face and he was sure he was beat red and possibly about to have a stroke from high blood pressure. “You are not done until I say you’re done, or you have a degree in your hand, young lady.

Olivia leaned forward, a pleading tone to her voice. “Dad, don’t be upset. I was wasting your money out there. I don’t even want to be a social worker anymore, I —”

Stan ignored her efforts to beg for his forgiveness. “I paid all that money for three years and now you are just, what? Walking away from your education? Wasting my money is what you are doing now. If you drop out you’ve already wasted it. All that money down the tubes because now you aren’t even going to use your degree.

Olivia stood and walked to the refrigerator, pulling out a carton of orange juice. She picked up a container of avocado and made a face, then put it back on the shelf. “Again, it’s not if I drop out. Also, it wasn’t totally a waste. I took a lot of good classes with a lot of great information that I can use in the future.”

Stan leaned back against the counter, his arms still folded across his chest, resisting the urge to slam his hand on the counter. “In the future? What future? If you don’t have a degree then you don’t have —”

“Everyone who is successful in life doesn’t have a degree, okay?”

Stan couldn’t believe his ears. “Well, that’s great. So, you think you’re just going to waltz through life without a degree and do what?”

“I don’t know yet, Dad. I just need a break, okay? And Mark Zuckerburg never got a degree. Steve Jobs didn’t either.”

Stan raised an eyebrow. “I know who Steve Jobs is but who is this Zuckerburt guy? Someone you went to high school with? What did he ever do that was so great?”

Olivia paused with the glass halfway to her mouth. “Really, Dad? Mark Zuckerburg is —” She waved her hand and sat back down at the table. “Never mind. All I’m saying is that I don’t have to have a degree to have a successful or happy life.”

She picked up a book on the table and raised an eyebrow. “Whose book is this? How to Find Happiness in Your Older Years?”

Stan turned back to the food on the stove. “I don’t know. Don’t change the subject. This is a very serious decision.”

“Do you think Mom has been acting weird?”

Stan’s jaw tightened. “No, I don’t. Stop trying to change the subject.”

Olivia flipped through the pages of the book. “She seems sad, right? Have you noticed that?”

“There are no breaks in life kid. There’s hard work and —”

“Right, I know.” Olivia sipped the juice, closing the book. “But what about Mom? Have you even noticed how down she seems lately?”

Stan slapped the spoon on the counter next to the stove. “There is nothing wrong with your mom.”

Olivia leaned an elbow on the table and propped her chin on her hand. “Are things okay between you two?”

Stan threw his arms out to his side, facing his daughter. “Everything is fine with me and your mom. Will you, please, stop changing the subject?”

Olivia pursed her lips and tapped the tip of her index finger against her chin. “But is it, really? Okay between you two? I mean, do you have any idea what’s she been up to lately?”

Stan huffed a breath out impatiently. “What does that mean?” Was his daughter trying to show she’d learned at least something in those psychology classes she’d taken as part of her social work degree. If so, he didn’t like it. Not one little bit. “She’s been working, planning the library fundraiser, hanging out with Liz. Normal stuff.”

Olivia ran the tip of her finger along the edge of the class. “I don’t know, Dad, maybe Mom is acting weird because you’re never home.”

Stan stuffed his hands into his pockets, certain if he didn’t  place them there, he’d pound a fist into the kitchen wall. “She is not acting weird, and I am home sometimes.”

“But not a lot.”

“Because I’m working, paying for you to go to college or I was and apparently I was working for nothing since you’ve thrown away your chance to finish your degree.”

Olivia seemed non-plussed by Stan’s growing anger. She chewed on her lower lip, looking absent-mindedly through the kitchen doorway to the living room. “Every time I call home she’s alone. She says you’re at work or a meeting or conference somewhere.” She turned to look at her dad again. “Do you guys even hang out anymore? When is the last time you two went out? Alone. Just the two of you?”

Stan tossed his arms out to his side. “I don’t know, Olivia. Why are you asking all these questions? Things are fine with your mother. They’re fine with me and your mother.” He pointed a finger at her. “But things are not fine between you and me, so you’d better figure out what you are going to do about all this. You are not dropping out of college, do you understand me?”

Olivia sighed and stretched her leg out across the chair next to her. “It’s too late, Dad. I already told you that. I’m not going back to college. I don’t know what I’m going to do yet, but I’ll figure it out.” She slid her leg down and stood, taking the glass of juice with her. “You know, you need to relax more. You’re going to have a stroke or something.” She smiled as she turned toward the stairs. “You know what’s relaxing? A nice dinner. With your wife.” She pointed toward the stove. “Also, your lunch is burning.”

Stan clenched his jaw and swore he tasted blood. He turned back to the stove and slid the pan off the burner. What in the world did that girl think she was doing asking him all those questions about him and her mother?

Did he think Ginny had been acting weird?

When was the last time they’d gone out to dinner together?

What kind of questions were those anyhow?

He sniffed the concoction in the pan. Burned. He made a face and tossed his hands up and slapped them down against the counter.

Yes, he thought Ginny had been acting weird but he hadn’t had time to really think about it. He had properties to sell, contracts to sign, money to earn to keep a roof over this family’s head and apparently to throw away when his daughter decided on a whim to abandon her responsibilities and walk away from earning a degree.

He had to admit he couldn’t remember the last time he and Ginny had gone out to dinner together. She’d had fundraising meetings and he’d had real estate meetings. Then there was all the times she was out helping Liz, watching her baby, cheering her up by attending art classes with her.

They’d just both been busy lately.

He scraped some of the stroganoff onto a plate.

He wondered how dinner had gone the other night with Keith. She’d never said.

Of course, he’d never asked.

He spooned some of the stroganoff up and took a bite, spitting it out a second later. Burned was an understatement. The beef and mushrooms had been napalmed.

It didn’t matter anyhow. He’d lost his appetite after his discussion with Olivia.

Not only had she avoided all his questions about what she was going to do with her future, but she’d also left his mind spinning with doubts. His marriage was fine, wasn’t it?

If it was, then why did he have a funny feeling it wasn’t?

***

“Let me get this straight.” Incredulous. That’s how Matt described the tone of the trooper’s voice on the other end of the phone. “You’re calling me to try to pin a drug ring on the guy you kicked the crap out of last week and who, incidentally, pressed charges against you and caused you your spot at the state police academy?” Trooper Dan Laudermilch snorted a laugh into the receiver. “Come on, McGee, really? This is clearly an attempt by you or someone else to set this guy up.”

Matt bristled at the suggestion he was a crooked cop, but swallowed a retort. “Dan, you’ve known me for how long? Do you really think I’d do something like that?”

A loud slurp made Matt pull the phone back from his ear. After the slurp, there was a clink of a mug against a desk. “No, man, I don’t, but I also didn’t think you’d slam some guy off the sidewalk. You’re not exactly ole reliable right now.”

Matt pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger as he closed his eyes and let out a sigh. “Yeah, I know. Maybe I shouldn’t have called, but it was a tip, and I didn’t want to ignore it.”

“A tip from who?” Dan’s voice was muffled, talking around a mouthful of food. Matt smirked. Probably a donut. How stereotypical.

“A guy I know.”

“Someone you arrested?”

“Yes, but —”

“How do you know this guy isn’t just trying to send you on a wild goose chase? Chase you off his own scent?”

Matt rubbed a hand through his hair. “I don’t.”

“That’s what I thought. Listen, you’re a good guy, Matt. A good cop. I want to believe you, but I worry your instincts are off with all that’s gone down the last couple weeks.” Another slurp. “Between you and me, I’m glad you decked Martin. He deserved it. I’m tired of pulling him over for speeding and Daddy sending lawyers to get him off.” A crinkling sound on the other end must have been Dan wiping donut dust from around his mouth. “Because you’re a friend, I’ll look into this, but I’m not making any promises. We’re zeroing in on the guy we think was running this thing. He’s a guy you picked up a few years back.” Papers rustled on the other end of the phone. “Yeah. Here it is. A Bernie Denton.”

Matt shook his head no, even though Dan couldn’t see him. “No. It isn’t Bernie. He was never into drugs. Not hard ones anyhow. He’s a good guy, getting himself back on his feet.”

“He’s your informant isn’t he?” Dan groaned before Matt could answer. “Come on, McGee! Really? Your informant is the guy we’re investigating. Doesn’t that seem suspicious to you?”

It did seem a little suspicious, yes, but something about the way Bernie had told him, opened up to him, made him believe it was true, as much as he didn’t want it to be. “Yeah. It does so maybe I’m wrong, okay? But I still wanted to offer the information. If there’s nothing to it, there’s nothing to it. To be honest, I don’t want there to be anything to it. It would be a lot easier for me if there wasn’t.”

Dan chuckled. “So it’s true then? You’re dating Martin’s former woman, huh?”

Matt pressed the heal of his hand into his forehead as he leaned on it. She wasn’t someone’s former woman. Her name was Liz and he loved her. The way she was being defined by Dan as if she was a possession grated on his nerves but he was already bating zero with area law enforcement. No need to burn another bridge.

“Just keep me updated if you can, Dan. I appreciate it.”

“I shouldn’t be updating you about anything, but, again, you’re a good cop, so I’ll oblige you.” Teasing edged Dan’s voice. “Just this once, though.”

Matt slid his finger over the end button and closed his eyes, pain thrumming in his temples and along the base of his skull. Now that that was over he needed to call his lawyer, who’d he just hired two days ago, and find out of Gabe had filed the lawsuit against him he’d threatened to, in addition to the assault charges he’d already filed.

The only bright spot in these last two weeks was finally telling Liz how he felt, coupled with the kisses they’d exchanged the night before. He could have kissed her all night, but that would have led them into dangerous territory. Instead, he’d stayed with her for much of the night, patting the back of a fussy Bella and watching sitcoms. This relationship wasn’t going to be only between him and Liz and for any other guy that would have been a problem. Sharing Liz with Bella wasn’t a problem for him, though. The two of them were a package deal and it was a package he was happy to be the caretaker of.

The idea of protecting them wasn’t something he dreaded. He looked at the prospect with anticipation, looking forward to even more days and nights with them. They both had already filled every inch of his heart and mind. He was ready for them to fill every moment of his life as well.

Randomly Thinking: I couldn’t be a 911 dispatcher, my tea needs more honey, and tomato soup cake

I don’t know about you but I certainly need some silly or funny this week. It’s been a brutal one for me emotionally. Loss and heartache. It took a lot for me to even push through and post this, but sometimes we just have to push through to survive, right? (I know. I’m such a downer this week!)

Anyhow, regular readers know the drill. These are my random thoughts for the month (or two weeks or whenever I get around to writing them). Read on at your own risk, but don’t worry, I tried to keep it cheerful.




A friend recently decided she wanted to go for training to be a 911-dispatcher. She told me she’s good in emergencies, just cries afterward. I said I used to be calm about emergencies — I covered fires and car accidents during my reporting career, and it didn’t phase me most of the time. Now since seeing my kid in an ambulance and my stay in the hospital I am a basket case. I told her the patients would be trying to comfort me while I cried into the phone.

The people who need help would be like, “It’s okay, lady. It’s just a bullet wound. I’m sure I’ll be fine. You can stop crying now.”

***

When I make tea, I think of that SNL skit with Christopher Walken (back when the show was funny) where he says, “It needs more cowbell.”

 I look into my tea and say, “It needs more honey,” in Walken’s voice.

***

I recently told my son that he has the attention span of a gnat and can’t handle watching anything more than 30 seconds because of all the TikTok-like videos he watches. (He hates TikTok so doesn’t actually watch that.)

He countered by showing me this video about how to make a tomato soup cake and told me he’d watched the entire nine minutes and thirty-five-second clip. I said, “fine, your attention span is longer than a —”

And I was hooked and watched the whole thing too.

Seriously, though, did you know there was such a thing as tomato soup cake? Ew.

***

The other night my dad was looking for a quote from General Jim Mattis.

My mom recited it to him: ‘Be polite, be professional, but have a plan to kill everybody you meet.’

Then she let him know she had that one written down a couple of places.

I’m sure she didn’t mean it as threatening as it sounded, but it was still pretty funny.

***

Erin from Still Life, With Cracker Crumbs, sent me this hilarious story about a man who rescued a cat out of a tree and went viral, not because of his good deed, but his good looks.

Here is a sample:



https://filterfreeparents.com/man-rescues-cat-from-tree-and-the-pics-go-viral-but-not-because-of-the-cat/

***

Here is a fun photo my husband recently had to take for his job.

Photo credit: Warren Howeler, The Rocket-Courier

9-year old Lillian and her rooster (Ron Weasly), a one-year-old English Gamer Bantam, recently took second place in the youth division at the Pennsylvania Farm Show.

Lillian lives near us and I don’t know why I love this photo so much. I guess because it just represents our area and our love of our farm animals well.

***

Thanks to that nasty virus, peanut butter, onions, and garlic smell and taste like a mix of chemicals and something that died. That means anything that has those ingredients in it tastes and smells the same.

Last weekend, though, a former classmate made a peanut butter cake for a memorial service I attended and the peanut butter frosting actually tasted normal, but that could be because it was mixed with a ton of sugar and milk.

Hopefully, that is a symptom that will gradually get better.

***

My brother suggested this guitar player named Luca Stricagnoli  and now I can’t stop watching him

***

I’ve also been watching The Dead South cover The Doors. For those who didn’t like their rendition of You Are My Sunshine, you probably won’t like this one either.

***

So there are a few random thoughts for this week. How about you? Has anything weird, unusual, or fun happened to you recently? Share in the comments and if it is okay, I’d like to share it in a future Randomly Thinking to cheer us all up.

Sunday Bookends: I finished another book (it’s a miracle), cabin fever, rough draft finished


Welcome to Sunday Bookends where I ramble about what I’ve been reading, doing, watching, writing and listening to.


What I/we’ve been Reading

I finished another book last week. It’s a miracle. I know.

It was The Cat Who Saw Stars and it was not one of Braun’s best at all.

I was very disappointed with the book because it meandered around, which she always does, but this book never got to the point of Qwill actually investigating anything. It was merely him visiting other people and judging contests and having odd things happen to him. The end of the book was one of the worst endings I have seen in a book as well. I’m guess this was one of her later books. She wrote 29, I believe, before she passed away and she must have been running out of ideas.

To cleanse my pallet this week, I am reading a Love Inspired romance by new-to-me author Lisa Jordan called The Road to Redemption. Love Inspired books are part of Harlequin’s inspirational romance line.

I also started a book by Sara Davison called Every Star in the Sky. It is a Christian Fiction book that deals with the topic of sex trafficking so I have a feeling I will need to take a break from this one a few times. I’m on the fifth chapter and it is very well written, but also a tough read. It is for a book tour so I have a deadline, but luckily it is a fairly long one.

After these two, there are a few books I hope to get to in March and April (but I’ll probably read only one because you know how slow I read), including:

Miss Julia Renews Her Vows by Ann B. Ross

The Reckoning Trees (which I have started) by Alicia Gilliam

Relative Silence by Carrie Stuart Parks

Until I Met You by Tari Farris

Cape Refuge by Terri Blackstock

But I also have books I am reading for book tours and author friends.

I will have to take some breaks from



What’s Been Occurring

This week the temperatures were terribly cold again in the beginning of the week, while we tried to chip our way out of the ice that fell the week before. Our driveway was a mess and I wasn’t able to go anywhere the whole week.

By the end of the week, the weather warmed up and things finally began to defrost some, clearing the driveway at least, but today the temps have dropped again, and we are once again in subzero temperatures. We are supposed to have a couple more days of this and then a slow warm up. My sinuses are just going to love the up and down temps. Ha. Ha.

This is what happens when your children have cabin fever. They stand in window frames and look like a scene from a horror movie.

My children are definitely having some cabin fever and sadly the only time they got out this week was to a memorial service for a good friend of our family’s. Ginger was 89 and quite a character. She and her husband Ernie were pianists who played beautiful music together. Ernie passed away in 2020 and she passed in January. She was originally from New York City and told some of the funniest stories. She was also very blunt, which created some hilarious situations. Honestly, she warrants an entire blog post so I should probably consider doing that for this week.

This week they will have another “exciting” outing when I have to drive 45 minutes north to take our dog to the vet for her annual vaccines. It will be in the town where we used to live, so my son will be excited to visit his old stomping grounds.

What We watched/are Watching

We started watching a new British comedy (new to us) called Ghosts and are hooked.  It is about a group of ghosts stuck in an old house who can’t leave, which is a real problem for the new owner, who inherited the house from a step-great-aunt.

It’s the main thing we’ve been watching, and I can’t actually think of anything else I watched this week because I was working so much on finishing my next book. Which brings me to . . .

What I’m Writing

I’ve been working all week on A New Chapter, which I have renamed Beauty From Ashes.

I’ve been writing for 2-3 hours a day during the week as part of writing sprints with the Novel Academy ladies, but, of course, with two children and a dog, I’m not able to actually write the full time. I’m usually interrupted every ten minutes or so to let a dog outside or feed a child. Why do children think they have to eat every day? Sheesh. It does get tiresome after a bit. Anyhoo  . . . despite all the interruptions, I was able to finish the rough draft and will start editing and fleshing out this week.

I also shared posts on the blog last week, including:

The many adventures we do and do not have in very cold weather.

You Are My Sunshine is not necessarily a ‘happy song’

Fiction Thursday: A New Chapter Chapter 21 Part 1

Fiction Friday: A New Chapter Chapter 21 Part 2

How to improve dialogue and capture your readers’ attention

Book Review: Freedom Crossing

What I’m Listening To

This week I listened to Matthew West, Johnny Cash, and a bit of Jack White to get through the week.

Now it’s your turn

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

How to improve dialogue and capture your readers’ attention

This appeared first on the Hope, Hearts, and Heroes blog.



For some writers, dialogue is their biggest challenge, not necessarily because they don’t know what they want their characters to say, but because they don’t know how to present that dialogue well.

Today I thought I’d jump off a topic our own Kelly Barr touched on a couple of weeks ago on the blog when she wrote about the difference between action beats and dialogue tags.

As a new fiction writer, I am among those writers who sometimes don’t do the best job of presenting dialogue in my stories.

One of the traps that we new writers fall into is adding descriptive words to replace “said” after every part of dialogue. Instead of simply writing “said”, writers often try to break up that monotony by replacing “said” with terms like “exclaimed,” “declared” or “shouted.” Sometimes these replacements work, but sometimes, if read in successive dialogue exchanges, these descriptive words can be completely awkward.

Here is an example:

“Jenny, are you going with me to the dance?” Jack asked.

“I don’t know! Stop asking me!” Jenny exclaimed.

“Gosh, sorry,” Jack extolled. “I didn’t realize wanting to take my girlfriend to a dance would be so upsetting.”

“I’m sorry,” Jenny sighed. “It’s just — I’m tired and things haven’t been great at home. My parents are fighting again.”

Instead of writing words like asked, exclaimed, or extolled, we could instead add what are called “action beats.” Action beats are when the writer has the character who is speaking doing something before they speak, to show the reader who it is that is speaking.

So, let’s try the above example again, by using action beats. We’re also going to take out the word “asked” because I once heard author Jerry B. Jenkins say he felt the word was unnecessary if there was a question mark already at the end of the sentence. It’s clear a question is being asked. There’s no need to reiterate that the person asked a question by writing “he/she asked.”

Updated example:

Jack leaned back against the row of lockers next to Jenny’s. He turned his head to look at her. “Are you going with me to the dance?” (We don’t have to add Jenny’s name since we already said he was standing next to Jenny’s locker.)

Jenny tipped her head back and groaned, slamming her locker door closed. “I don’t know! Stop asking me!”

“Gosh, sorry.” Jack held his hands, palms out, in front of him. “I didn’t realize wanting to take my girlfriend to a dance would be so upsetting.”

Jenny signed, hugging her books to her chest. “Sorry. It’s just —” She closed her eyes briefly, then opened them again. “ I’m tired and things haven’t been great at home. My parents are fighting again.”

Sometimes we writers even write “said” way too often. There is no need to write “she said,” or “he said” after every word our character speaks.

So that it doesn’t sound as if I am slamming other new writers, I thought I’d pull some examples from my first attempts at writing fiction to show how distracting it is to write “said” after every part of dialogue and how equally distracting it is to try to come up with new superlatives to attribute a quote to a particular character.

The following excerpt is from my first book, A Story To Tell. It’s since been revamped and re-edited, but this is how it was written before I knew more about how to write dialogue.

“She’s too young for dances,” Daddy said, sitting in his chair, reading the local newspaper, not even looking up.

“Well, Edith is going to be there,” Mama offered, mentioning my older sister.

“Is this meant to comfort me?” Daddy asked.

 Edith walked into the living room in a flared blue skirt and a white blouse with the top two buttons unbuttoned. “Oh, good grief,” she said. “She’s 17, Daddy. She’s old enough for dances.”

Daddy looked at Edith disapprovingly.

“Is that what you’re wearing?” he asked sharply.

“What’s wrong with it?” Edith looked down at her skirt and smoothed it with her hands.

“It’s fine if you want to wait on a corner in the city,” Daddy mumbled under his breath.

I knew Edith didn’t hear him, but I did.

“It looks lovely,” Mama said quickly. “At least it’s longer than the last skirt you wore. Are you going to wear your pearls with it?”

“Pearls aren’t in fashion right now, Mama,” Edith said.

Later I rewrote this part and tightened up the dialogue a bit more, taking out some of the “saids” and “askeds”.

 “She’s too young for dances.”

Daddy was sitting in his chair, his eyes focused on the paper.

“Well, Edith is going to be there,” Mama offered.

Daddy peered over the paper, one eyebrow crocked. “Is this meant to comfort me?”

Edith flounced into the living room wearing a flared blue skirt and a white blouse with the top two buttons unbuttoned. “Oh, good grief. She’s 17, Daddy. She’s old enough for dances.”

Daddy glanced at Edith disapprovingly.

“Is that what you’re wearing?” His voice was sharp.

“What’s wrong with it?” Edith looked down at her skirt, smoothed it with her hands.

“It would be fine if you were standing on a corner in some city,” Daddy mumbled.

I knew Edith didn’t hear him, but I did.

“It looks lovely,” Mama said hastily. “At least it’s longer than the last skirt you wore. Are you going to wear your pearls with it?”

“Pearls aren’t in fashion right now, Mama.” Edith waved her hand dismissively, shifting her attention to me. “Come on, Blanche, let’s find you a dress and see what we can do with your hair.”

In addition to not adding too many adjectives to your dialogue tags, another way to avoid stilted dialogue is to simply take out the dialogue tags altogether. This is easy to do if you only have two people in a scene, as long as you only do it for a short exchange.

If you have two people talking back and forth about a subject, it isn’t really necessary to keep saying “he said,” and then “she said.”

We get it. The two people are talking to each other, so for a selection of lines, you could simply share what they are saying to each other.

I’ll show this, using an example from my third book, The Farmer’s Daughter. First, the way I wouldn’t do it now that I know more about dialogue:


“You have a degree in computer programing, Alex,” his dad had said over the phone in his familiar depreciating tone. “We could use you here in the IT department. And from there, maybe we can move you up into — ”

“Thanks, Dad,” Alex said. “I’m good here.”

“Farming?” his dad asked. “Really? This isn’t what I had in mind for you when—”

“When you what?” Alex asked. “Abandoned Tyler and I all those years ago?”

“That’s not what happened, Alex,” his dad said. “When you get older, you’ll understand that life isn’t always easy.”

“Yeah, okay,” Alex said. “Listen, Dad, I have to go. Mr. Tanner needs me to clean some cow poop out of the stalls, and I’d rather do that than talk to you.”

Now, the cleaned-up version from the book:

“You have a degree in computer programing, Alex,” his dad had said over the phone in his familiar depreciating tone. “We could use you here in the IT department. And from there, maybe we can move you up into — ”

“Thanks, Dad. I’m good here.”

“Farming? Really? This isn’t what I had in mind for you when—”

“When you what? Abandoned Tyler and I all those years ago?”

“That’s not what happened, Alex. When you get older, you’ll understand that life isn’t always easy.”

“Yeah, okay. Listen, Dad, I have to go. Mr. Tanner needs me to clean some cow poop out of the stalls, and I’d rather do that than talk to you.”

Looking at this now, I’d love to clean it up even further, by changing the first sentence to: “You have a degree in computer programming, Alex.” His dad’s tone on the other end of the phone was depreciating. As usual.

None of what I am suggesting here means I am some expert at writing dialogue or haven’t made some insanely silly blunders in my dialogue. I’m nowhere near an expert and looking back over my last two books, I can see some major errors, including how I over-explain in between dialogue and offer too many action beats.

There is always room for improvement, no matter where you are in your writing journey so if you are doing some of what I’ve mentioned above — making what some call “writing mistakes” — it’s not the end of the world. Writing is a journey, and you can always improve whether in your next novel, novella, or short story or by editing the story you’ve already written.

Not only can, and will you improve, but some readers aren’t as bothered by these so-called mistakes as fellow writers are. Do your best to tighten your writing, but don’t let what you think you are doing wrong, stop you from continuing to write.

Learn more about the best way to use dialogue in the following articles:

Fiction Thursday: A New Chapter Chapter 21 Part 1

We are getting closer to the end of this story and I just wanted to let regular readers know that the book will not be called A New Chapter when I am done with it and publish it in book form. Last week it struck me that I already have A New Beginning and now I was going to call this book A New Chapter. It seemed a bit lazy on the naming side so I have changed A New Chapter to Beauty From Ashes and at this point it is scheduled to be released in full on April 26. I haven’t decided if I will keep the book in Kindle Unlimited or not yet.

For those who are new here, I share a chapter of a novel in progress on Fridays for Fiction Friday but sometimes I also share a part on a Thursday or Saturday. The version I share here often changes before I push publish on the final book down the line.

If you want to read the other chapters click HERE and if you want to read the other books click HERE.

Chapter 21 Part I

A cool breeze brushed Ginny’s hair back as she stepped out onto the sidewalk. She rubbed her hands across her arms and breathed in the smell of winter on its way.

“I was going to suggest we go for a walk, but maybe it’s a little too chilly for that.” Keith tilted his head toward the riverwalk across the street as he zipped his coat. “What do you think?”

It was chilly and she needed to get home, yet part of her wasn’t ready to go home. She was still angry at Stan, disappointed that he’d stood her up once again.

She zipped her coat up under her chin. “I could go for a walk. I need to burn some calories after that desert.”

The river was high, the streetlights lining the riverwalk reflecting a bright, blue-tinted white off the surface. The town of Clarkston had installed the riverwalk ten years ago, but replaced the electric lights with LED a year ago to be more energy efficient. Ginny understood the need to care about the environment, but she missed the cozy orange glow of the old streetlights.

“It’s cold but it’s beautiful.” Keith paused at one of the observation areas and leaned on the metal railing, looking out across the river. “I remember kayaking in this river with my dad. We tipped one,” he pointed toward a bend island further down river. “right about there. I thought I was going to drown but the old man grabbed the front of my vest with one hand and yanked me all the way to the island. The kayak floated to the other shore. There were no cellphones back then, as you know, so we waited, not sure what we were going to do. I was pretty sure I could swim to the other side.” He winced. “But dad wasn’t so sure. The water was pretty deep and there was a current there. We were lucky a fisherman came by an hour later and rescued us.”

Ginny stood next to him and smiled. “You were a lot more adventurous than I was as a teen. I can’t remember ever climbing into a kayak. You couldn’t get me to climb into one now either.” She laughed. “Then again, maybe it would spice up my life a little bit.”

She regretted saying it as soon as it was out of her mouth. Why was she sharing the need to spice up her life with a man she barely knew? Sure, she’d known him years ago, in high school, but not now. He was practically a stranger, even if they did have some shared memories and had been talking to each other off and on the last few weeks.

Keith turned and leaned back on the railing. “It’s never too late to add some excitement to your life, you know. I could take you kayaking.”

Ginny laughed. “And you’d be dragging me out of the river, I’m pretty sure.”

Keith winked. “I wouldn’t mind that. Much more rewarding than that time I had to push a dead beaver out of the way.”

Ginny made a face. “Oh gross. I’m not sure that’s the adventure I’d like to have.”

 

Keith’s laugh was rich and sent a rush of energy through Ginny. It was nice to hear a man relaxed enough to let out an authentic laugh. He pushed off the railing and started walking again. She fell in step with him, her muscles relaxing as she began to enjoy the freedom and lightness of the night. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been able to simply talk with another adult — well, beside Liz — without feeling like what she said wasn’t important.

Keith sighed. “I feel like I’ve missed a lot of the good things of life, Gin. I worked a lot during my marriage. Missy and I weren’t compatible. Not at all. But it didn’t help I was at the office more than I was home. I don’t want to keep missing out on life. I don’t want it all to pass me by while I’m on a conference call or sitting in a boardroom somewhere.”

He slid his hands in his jean pockets as he walked. “Maybe this is just a getting old thing. Do you ever feel like you’ve missed out on life?”

Boy, did she. “In some ways, yes.” She bit her lower lip, not sure how much she felt comfortable sharing. “There are a lot of things I wished I had done. I wish I had traveled more, tried more new things. That’s why I was at the art class, actually. I wanted to try something new, or, well, a little old for me since I took some art classes in college. I wanted something just for me again. Reading used to be just for me but then I became a librarian, and we don’t have the time for reading people think we do. We’re shelving and checking books out, but we aren’t reading them very often.”

She pulled her hood up to block the breeze. “It’s weird but when you’re a mom you feel like you’re whole life revolves around your children when they are home and then when they move out, well, you wonder what the purpose of your life is.” She smiled faintly. “I know. It’s silly.”

“No.” Keith stopped walking and turned toward her and she stopped too. “It’s not silly. It’s real. Life is real and messy and yeah, sometimes we lose our way in it and forget that it’s not only about making money or raising kids or making our spouses happy. Life is also about being happy, experiencing every last drop of being alive there is until we aren’t alive anymore.” He threw his hands out to his side. “Don’t you miss feeling alive, Ginny? I do. I miss feeling like I did when I was a teenager – that my future was unmapped and it was ripe for excitement and adventure and all the things that make life worth living.”

Yes, she missed feeling alive. She sighed. She missed feeling alive with Stan.

“I want to feel alive again, Ginny and when I’m with you, that’s how I feel.”

His gaze focused on hers. “I kissed you on that water tower. Do you remember?”

Ginny’s cheeks flushed warm, panic bubbling up inside her fast, ready to explode through her body and send her running up the sidewalk along the river and back to her car. “Yes, I remember.”

“It was a nice kiss.” The step he took toward her was full of purpose and the shock of it left her frozen, unable to move away. “A kiss full of life.”

The sudden movement of his hand behind her head brought a gasp from her throat and she put her hands up, but his mouth was already on hers. She pressed her hands against her chest, planning to push him away, but the kiss was fierce, hot, sending flames skittering through her blood stream, awakening what had been asleep for too long. Her mind clouded, the pleasure of his mouth against her making her forget where she was and who she was for a few second. She let the kiss linger without even thinking how wrong it was.

His hand on her lower back pulled her against him and the kiss deepened, but as it did, she saw Stan in her mind, his smile, his laughter, the flash of passion in his eyes when he lowered his mouth to hers so many times over the years  — the Stan she used to know so well.

She pulled back quickly, gasping for a breath, yanking herself from Keith’s embrace, her hands still out in front of her. “Keith. I’m a married woman.”

“Ginny, I’m sorry.” He stepped toward her, but she pushed her hands toward him again and he stopped moving his arms still out as if he was holding her. “You’re a beautiful woman and it drives me crazy that Stan doesn’t seem to notice that. You’re smart, bright, funny, engaging. . .You deserve better than some man who is married to his job.”

Ginny hugged her arms around her and shook her head, closing her eyes. “I shouldn’t have let you do that, Keith.”

“Why? I felt you come alive in my arms, Ginny.” Keith set his hands on his waist and gestured toward her. “You clearly needed to be reminded you’re still a vibrant, passionate woman. Admit it. That kiss made you feel alive again.”

For a few seconds, it had. He was right. But it had also made her feel weak with guilt and horror at betraying her wedding promise to Stan. She’d promised to have and to hold, for better or for worse, not to let an ex-boyfriend kiss her when she felt neglected and lonely.

“I’ve had a wonderful night, Keith, but I need to go home.”

She turned, walking briskly toward the top of the riverwalk, her arms still hugged tight around her.

“Ginny! Wait!”

Keith’s footsteps behind her only quickened her steps. His hand on her wrist stopped her and she turned to look at him.

The confidence was gone, replaced with an expression she read as contrition. “I’m sorry.” He swallowed hard. “I got caught up in the moment, in my own desires to feel alive again.” He closed his eyes briefly as he shook his head. “It was wrong. You’re married and —” He looked at her again. “I’m just sorry. Can you forgive me?”

She folded her hands in front of her face, blew on them to try to chase the chill away. “I do forgive you, if you forgive me for leading you on.”

Keith laughed. “You didn’t lead me on. You were just being your normal sweet, amazing self and I took advantage of it. I didn’t plan on doing that, just so you know. It was the atmosphere, the good conversation, how beautiful you looked in the moonlight. It was like we were in high school again. I suddenly regretted walking away from you and letting Stan have you.”

Ginny stepped back again. “You didn’t let Stan have me, Keith. I chose him.” She gestured toward the direction of her car. “I need to go. It’s late.”

“Can we still talk sometimes?”

She shook her head, turning away from him. “No, I don’t think that would be a good idea.” She looked over her shoulder. “I hope things work out with your business and you enjoy your time back in Spencer.”

She saw him standing in the middle of the sidewalk, watching her, as she turned the corner to head toward her car. The tears came when he was out of sight, flowing freely, cooling on her cheek as soon as they fell. Her body trembled as she walked, horror slicing through her. How had she let herself lose track of reality back there?

What[lh1]  was she even thinking walking along the river after a dinner alone with a man who wasn’t her husband? What had happened to her? Stan wasn’t perfect but it wasn’t as if he was abusing her, beating her, screaming at her. He was inattentive, yes, but he didn’t deserve this – for her to be going behind his back, kissing another man.

She quickly unlocked the door of her car and slid behind the steering wheel, slamming the door closed and locking the door. Clutching the steering wheel, she pressed her forehead against the middle of it and sobbed.

“You are so, so stupid, Ginny Jefferies. So stupid.” The sobs came fast and hard, causing her to gasp for breath as an ache spread from her chest up her throat.

“God, what has happened to me? Who have I become? Forgive me, Father. Forgive me for being swept away by Keith’s charm, for losing sight of the commitment I made to Stan on our wedding day. Can you forgive me?”

She turned the ignition, checked her side mirror, and yanked the car out of the parking space, pressing her foot on the accelerator.

“Forgive me, Father.” The words choked out of her as she drove, fighting past the tears. “Forgive me for what I did. And please, please let Stan forgive me too.”


You Are My Sunshine isn’t the happy song you think it is. And who actually wrote it anyhow?

*Updated May 2025


You Are My Sunshine is a happy song, right?

It’s talking about a person being someone else’s sunshine.

This is probably why my aunt used to sing the chorus to people she loved so often, especially my son (who I call The Boy for the sake of this blog) and me.

But if you look at the lyrics of the song, it seems it could have a bit of a sadder connotation than the upbeat music suggests.

My aunt Dianne sang the chorus of that song from the first time she met The Boy (the nickname for my son on this blog) right after he was born up until right before she passed away two days before 2018 kicked off.

She sang it in the fun “hillbilly” way the song was originally written in, her original Southern accent in full swing and even more pronounced. It was usually sung while she had an arm around our necks and she’d end the chorus with a sloppy wet kiss on our cheek and a good-natured laugh.

When she passed away, Mom asked me if I would pull some photos together to display for her funeral, as I had for my paternal grandmother. I went into Walmart for some supplies, deciding I’d put together a display on poster board and then some extra photos in a photo album. As I walked up and down the arts and crafts aisle, still very much in the throes of grief, feeling like a heavy weight was on my shoulders, I was frozen in place by a photo album sitting at the front of the album display.

The words on the front were written in bright yellow: You Are My Sunshine.

I broke down right there in the aisle, clutching the album to my chest, feeling like it was a sign from Dianne, telling me she loved me.

A woman asked me if I was okay.

I sobbed out some words about my aunt dying and how she’d always sung this song to my son and me. I mumbled something about the words on the album being a sign. I’m sure I didn’t make any sense at all. The woman agreed with me anyhow (probably because she was trying to appease a crazy woman).

The boy and I have a hard time hearing the song without everything inside us tightening up like the ropes on a ship’s sail, and we usually turn it off or move somewhere we can’t hear it.

There are more than 300 versions of the song, each artist interpreting it differently and with a different tone, which can convey a different feeling.

The more upbeat version of the song, like the one sung by one of the original performers of the song — Jimmie Davis — or the one in the movie O’ Brother Where Art Thou, is what most people are used to hearing. If you listen to the first verse, however, you’re already prepared for the song to be a little depressing.

The other night, dear
As I lay sleeping
I dreamed I held you
in my arms
When I awoke, dear
I was mistaken
So I hung my head and I cried

The other day, I came across a version of it by a band called The Dead South, and for some reason, I kept listening. Their interpretation gives the song a darker, almost threatening tone.

I find it one of the more accurate versions, emotionally-wise, when paired with the lyrics. A distant cousin hilariously disagreed with me when I shared it on Facebook, writing that the band had virtually “murdered” the song. Her response made me giggle because she was right — to a point, anyhow. I think she felt it was a case of musical homicide because she was used to hearing my aunt and others sing it as a happy song.

Believe me, I totally understand, but for some reason, The Dead South version still appeals to me, though not as much as the version my aunt sang to me.

On its surface, You Are My Sunshine isn’t the saddest song ever, so it’s okay to sing it with a bit of an upbeat melody. If you look deeper, though, it’s clear that the point of view of the person singing it is practically begging the person they are singing to to stay with them.

You are my sunshine
My only sunshine
You make me happy
When skies are gray
You’ll never know, dear
How much I love you
Please don’t take my sunshine away

Even more unsettling are the subsequent verses:

I’ll always love you and make you happy
If you will only say the same
But if you leave me to love another
You’ll regret it all someday

It is this line —  You’ll regret it all someday — that The Dead South lead singer delivers in a much more threatening way than most likely the author of the song originally intended.

This next verse isn’t much better:

You told me once, dear, you really loved me 
And no one else could come between
But now you’ve left me and love another
You have shattered all my dreams

So, if the original lyrics are sung to this song, it is much more of a downer than the perky tune suggests.


I, however, won’t go as far as to say the singer means the person will regret it because they will hurt them.

There is quite a bit of debate on who actually wrote the song, even though two-time Louisiana Governor Jimmie Davis and a man named Charles Mitchell are credited with it. Davis recorded it in 1940. It is also Lousiana’s state song.

Research, however, led me to an article that I believe proves that a man named Robert Oliver Hood of Georgia actually wrote the song. Davis and Mitchell copyrighted it in 1940, though, after purchasing it from a man named Paul Rice, who Hood’s family said used to write with Hood.

Robert Mann, author of the book You Are My Sunshine, which was about the history of the song, says that the first recording of the song was by the Pine Ridge Boys in 1939 more than six months before Davis heard the song. He adds, in an interview with TownTalk.com, it was also recorded by the Rice Brothers’ Gang in New York City, who later performed it on the KWKH radio show in Shreveport. Davis, who was serving as the public service commissioner for the city, also had a show on KWKH. 

“They’re both singing on the Saturday Night Round Up, which is the precursor to the Louisiana Hayride,” Mann said.  

Mann says though Paul Rice claimed to have written the song, he actually didn’t own it. Still, he needed money for his wife’s medical bills, so Davis and his steel guitar player Charlie Mitchell gave Rice $35 for the song. 

Davis recorded his version of the song in New York City afterward.

The song became a hit not because of Davis, Mann said, but because the Singing Cowboy Gene Autry sang it in movies, as did Crosby, making it a huge hit. 

The article in The Town Talk states, “By the time Davis ran for governor, the song had been recorded more than a dozen times by other artists, Mann said. He used the notoriety of the song to help him, and he told people he was the author of the song. In early 1940, he and Mitchell got a copyright for the song and then maintained for the rest of his life that he wrote the song.”

To me, a 1990 article in Chronicles Magazine, by writer Theodore Pappas is the definitive source for this question. Pappas wrote that Robert Oliver Hood (always called Oliver), his grandfather, wrote the song and that his descendants back up this fact by saying he first sang it in 1933 at a Veterans of Foreign Wars convention in LaGrange.

It was a Japanese professor who sought in 1989 to find out who really wrote the song, Pappas says, and eventually found out the truth.

“Mr. Mitsui first went to the office of Georgia State University professor Wayne Daniel, who has long researched the history of American country music,” Pappas wrote in his article. Professor Daniel concluded in a 1984 article that the origin of the song would probably never be ascertained, a conclusion he repeats in his latest book, Pickin’ on Peachtree: A History of Country Music in Atlanta, Georgia (University of Illinois Press, 1990): “So like some of the works ascribed to Shakespeare, the authorship of ‘You Are My Sunshine’ probably will never be decided to everyone’s satisfaction.”

Daniels said, neither the Pine Ridge Boys nor Jimmie Davis ever claimed to have written “You Are My Sunshine,” but not so with Paul Rice; he claimed to have composed it in 1937.

“There are still people alive, however, who remember hearing the song long before 1937,” Pappas wrote in his article. “In particular, a mid-1930’s performance of the song by Riley Puckett himself—and what these people remember is the name of the musician with whom both Riley Puckett and Paul Rice played in the early 1930’s: Oliver Hood of La Grange, Georgia.”

Oliver Hood is in the foreground of this photo provided to Rosemont Records by his grandson.

Later in the article Pappas writes: “Contrary claims notwithstanding, Oliver Hood wrote “You Are My Sunshine.” He wrote the words to the song on the back of a brown paper sack, which his children still possess, and he first performed the song at a VFW convention in LaGrange in 1933; he sang it through a megaphone out of a hotel window, and he sang no less than twenty verses, most of which are lost. Over the years he wrote hundreds of songs, as did all of his friends. To them, music was a not-for-profit venture, an act of love, something that transcended commercial consideration. Never did the thought of copyrighting their music ever come to mind—never, that is, until “You Are My Sunshine” rose to the top of the music charts in 1940. It was then that Oliver Hood began copyrighting his music—one song too late, as he so well knew. A poor cotton mill doffer doesn’t easily quit dreaming of the fame and fortune that might have been, and Oliver Hood went to his grave dreaming.”

In an interview with the Shreveport Times later in his life, Paul Rice again claimed he wrote the song in 1937 and based it on letters he had received from a girl in South Carolina who called him her “sunshine”.

Rice said in the newspaper article, “I wrote ‘You Are My Sunshine’ in 1937. Where I got the idea for it, a girl over in South Carolina wrote me this long letter—it was long about seventeen pages. And she was talking about how I was her sunshine. I got the idea for the song and put a tune to it.”

Rice lived until 101 and changed his story many times, though, according to various articles online. He doesn’t seem to have made any mention of Oliver Hood or how he knew him, from what I’ve seen.

Alice Bulmer, a musician, wrote on her site about the song:

“Jimmie Davis was a well-known country singer and politician. He recorded “You Are My Sunshine” in 1940, and the song propelled him to elected office in 1944 and again in 1960. He used it as his campaign theme, often singing it while riding a horse called Sunshine.

In 1960, Jimmie Davis was elected Louisiana governor on a segregationist ticket.

I think that might be why my American-born mother, Sue, didn’t sing “You Are My Sunshine” to her kids. In the USA in the early 1960s, it was strongly linked to a white segregationist politician.

However, it wasn’t exactly an anti-civil rights anthem – Ray Charles and Aretha Franklin and other black American singers also recorded it.”

The song, in fact, has been recorded by 350 artists and translated into 30 langauges.

In 1962, Ray Charles became one of the most popular artists to record it on the album Modern Sounds in Country and Western Music (it reached No. 7 on the Billboard Charts) and Jimmie Davis acknowledged that in a letter he wrote to Charles Sullivan of Sullivan’s Enterprises (for what purpose, I am not sure).

“Of course the Ray Charles version of You Are My Sunshine is far different to my version; and, incidentally, my version is more on the ‘cornfed’ side,” Davis wrote. “But, nevertheless, the tune itself is well established and planted in the minds of the people throughout the world. But now, to the Ray Charles version — I had a feeing when I heard his recording that it would be a nationwide hit and perhaps go to the No. 1 position. I had always felt that if it got the right kind of what I call the ‘wild treatment’, by the right artist, it couldn’t miss. And, frankly, I do not know of a person who is in a better position to give it this ‘wild treatment’, or the modern touch, or whatever you want to call it, than Ray Charles…”

In the end, no matter who wrote You Are My Sunshine (though I now believe it was Oliver Hood), the song still remains a favorite among many.

If you are a fan of the happier versions that have come out over the years, and are dead set against listening to a more serious one, you probably wouldn’t be interested in The Dead South’s version. But if you can bring yourself to listen to it, stick with it at least until the cello solo, which I think is lovely and saves the song for even the most stringent fan of the original version.

Here is The Dead South version if you want to hear it.


What each unique version of this one song shows is how much inflection and tone can affect meaning, whether in song or the spoken word.

Regardless of who sings the song and how they sing it, it will always hold a special meaning for me and my family and for the person who sang it to us — the woman who was our sunshine when skies were gray.


Additional resources:

You Are My Sunshine – the story behind the song

You Are My Sunshine – Wikipedia

Author Robert Mann sets out to tell background of ‘You Are My Sunshine’ in new book

The Theft of an American Classic

Letter from Jimmie Davis about the song “You Are My Sunshine”


Lisa R. Howeler is a blogger, homeschool mom, and writes cozy mysteries. 

You can find her Gladwynn Grant Mystery series HERE.

You can also find her on Instagram and YouTube.