Fiction Friday: The Farmers’ Sons Chapter 5

To catch up with the rest of this story (a work in progress presented in serial form), click HERE. Let me know in the comments what you think and what direction you think the story should take, or if there are certain characters you would like to hear more from.

If you would like to read the story where Jason and Ellie were first mentioned, you can purchase a copy of The Farmer’s Daughter on Amazon. You can also find an excerpt of it HERE.


They were the perfect couple.

At least that’s how everyone at church saw them. Ellie and Jason had always sat together during the service, led Bible studies together, and even volunteered for the same church events.

Their break-up had sent a ripple of shock through the congregation, though most were tactful enough not to say anything to Jason or Ellie about it.

Most anyhow.

“Ellie Lambert, what’s the story with you and Jason Tanner? Have you called it quits or what?”

76-year-old Sandy Murphy had lost her tact years ago. She pursed her lips, tilted her head back, and looked down her nose at Ellie, waiting for her answer.

Ellie informed her she and Jason were taking a break and suggested Sandy pray for the situation, if she felt led to.

Sandy scowled for a few moments, her eyebrows knit together, then offered a quick, mischievous smile. “Which direction should I pray for things to go?”

Ellie laughed. “As Jan Karon suggests in her Mitford books, pray the prayer that never fails: ‘God’s will be done’.”

Sandy had winked, squeezing Ellie’s hand. “That sounds like a plan, but I must admit I’m praying God’s will is for you two to work things out.”

Sitting now with her parents in a middle pew of the church, Ellie tried her best to ignore the strange sense of loss stirring in her chest as she starred at the back of Jason’s head. He was sitting next to his parents and sister, four pews in front of her. What was God’s will for her and Jason? She wished she knew because right now she didn’t feel led in any direction, even after praying the “never-fail” prayer.

She and Jason had always sat next to each other before the break-up, his arm around her shoulder, rubbing his hand along her arm absentmindedly as he listened to the pastor, or her fingers intertwined with his, her thumb tracing circles along the top of his hand.

Now she sat alone with her parents and he sat alone with his, if he ever showed up at all. In fact, this was the first time he’d shown up since their shouting match in the parking lot three weeks ago.

Ellie’s eyes shifted from Jason to Molly. Her curls were hanging long down her back, unusual for her during the week when she usually kept it in a messy bun or a ponytail while working the barn or at the country store. The only time Ellie actually saw it in all its reddish brown glory was on Sunday. Ellie had always thought Molly was beautiful, but knew Molly didn’t feel the same about herself.

She also knew Molly had been oblivious to the way Alex Stone had been watching her for months when she wasn’t looking. Ellie had noticed Alex’s gaze more than once, but had never said anything to Molly. She hadn’t wanted to encourage a relationship between two people who were what the Bible called “unequally yoked.” That could create a lot of conflict in the future.

But now Molly and Alex were romantically linked. Ellie didn’t believe that was a good thing. Molly was a Christian, and based on what Ellie knew about Alex, she was sure he wasn’t. There was no future in that type of relationship, which was why Ellie had always been glad that she and Jason were on the same page when it came to their faith. But now . . . well, she wasn’t sure what page she and Jason were on, but it definitely wasn’t the same one.

Her gaze drifted across the rest of the church, across the rows of chairs and familiar faces as the congregation stood for the singing.

Pastor Joe’s wife, Emily was sitting in her normal spot in the front row of chairs. She’d styled her honey blonde hair in curls around her face this morning. That was different. She usually kept her hair pulled back with a headband, a style that Ellie thought made her look twice her age, which wasn’t a good thing since Emily was only a couple years older than Ellie.

Behind Emily were Ginny and Stanley Jefferies. Their daughter Maddie and son-in-law Liam were sitting next to them, visiting from Washington, D.C. where Liam worked as a press secretary for his brother, a United States senator. Next to Maddie was Ginny’s youngest daughter, Olivia, who must have been home visiting from college. Ginny’s son Clint lived out of state with his wife Tiffany and their four children. Or was it five now? Ellie had lost count.

Liz Cramner, Tiffany’s younger sister and Molly’s best friend, was a row over from the Jefferies family, yawning as she sang. Ellie had always thought it was interesting Liz attended Grace Community since her parents were leaders at Encounter Church, the small town’s equivalent of a mega-church. Liz’s dress stretched tight against her stomach, swollen from eight and a half months of pregnancy.

Ellie had mentally scolded herself more than once in the last several months about her judgmental thoughts toward Liz, knowing her jealousy was tainting her view of Liz’s situation. Here was Liz, single and recently out of an abusive relationship, but even she was going to be a mother before Ellie. It was ridiculous to think that way, of course; to believe that a person had to act a certain way for God to reward them and that those who made mistakes would, or should, be punished. Still, the thoughts crept in, and she had to constantly ask God to forgive her for her warped thinking.

As the singing ended and she sat back down, her gaze slid back toward the front of the church and she glimpsed Walt Tanner, his wife Marcia, and sitting next to Marcia, Brad.

She looked away quickly as Brad glanced at her, winked, and smiled. Embarrassment and shame rushed through her, even though she had nothing to be ashamed about.

It wasn’t a lie. You just never told Jason about it. What he kept from you was much worse.

“Good morning! How are we all doing this morning?”

At the sound of Pastor Joe’s voice, she realized she had done everything that morning except pay attention to the actual reason she’d come to church.

She pulled a journal and pen from her purse. If she took notes during the sermon, it would keep her more focused. That was her hope anyhow.

“Today we will be reading from Psalms 103:12.” Pastor Joe paused to wait for the congregation to find their place in their Bibles. “Let us read together. ‘As far as the east is from the west, so far has He removed our transgressions from us.’”

Ellie’s pen glided over the page, looping patterns of leaves and vines and roses around the verse. The pastor’s voice faded into the background as her mind danced over another topic she had never discussed with Jason, another secret she’d kept from him.

Her mind shifted to that day in the doctor’s office all those years ago. She’d been 18, scared, hands cold, hoping that clenching and unclenching her fingers around the sweater she’d laid across her lap would help bring feeling and warmth back, but it hadn’t.

Ellie’s mother had reached over and taken her hand as the doctor spoke. When he finished, Ellie’s lower lip quivered under the weight of reality.

“Does this mean —”

“We really don’t know,” the doctor had said. “If your condition worsens, then, yes, it could be harder for you than other women.”

Glancing at her journal, her eyes traveled over the doodles scribbled around the only words she’d transcribed from the sermon.

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”

She sighed, leaning on her hand. She was glad that God knew the plans He had for her, but wishing He’d share them with her.

***

After church she was grateful she’d decided to keep the tradition of spending Sunday afternoons at her parents, even though she had moved out. It was better than sitting alone in her apartment, replaying her conversations with Jason over and over in her head. Driving the 20 minutes to her parent’s, though, she thought about the day she’d first seen Jason at the farm store after he graduated home from college.

She hadn’t been able to take her eyes off of him.

Standing across the store, close to the new display of spring flowers, he was talking to his Uncle Walt, one hand on his hip as he gestured with the other.

Ellie was mesmerized.

Has he been working out? Even more than before he left for college?

She shouldn’t be looking at him, right? Was she lusting? They’d just talked about this at Bible study. Taking a deep breath, she’d closed her eyes briefly, then opened them again to take in the full view of him.

She wasn’t lusting. She was simply — she pulled her lower lip between her front teeth, then released it again, her eyes drifting over his muscular upper arms — admiring God’s handiwork. Right? She drew in a sharp breath, wishing she had a fan to cool off the heat rising up from the center of her chest.

She’d seen Jason over Christmas break a few months before, but his muscles seemed even larger, even more well-toned now. Overly muscular men had never interested her so she was glad Jason had never been, and still wasn’t, overly muscular. He was simply the right amount of muscular.

Light brown whiskers dotted his jawline. The unshaven look coupled with the faded blue jeans and a nicely fitting gray T-shirt with the words The Cows Aren’t Going to Milk Themselves emblazoned in red across it, gave him a rugged, should-be-on-the-front-of-magazine vibe. Like a magazine called Hot Farmers or Steamy Country Men or Real Men For the Country Girl in You. If there were such magazines. That last one sounded like the title of a book she would be willing to write it, making Jason and herself the main characters. She couldn’t believe she was even thinking this way. She’d never say any of it out loud, especially around any of the women she met with for Bible study.

It was like she was in high school again, wishing he’d look her way, flash her one of his drop-dead gorgeous smiles, maybe even a wink, anything to let her know he knew she was alive.

A customer had stepped to the counter, moving into her line of sight, blocking her view of him temporarily. Those four minutes felt like a lifetime and when Mrs. Jenkins stepped away from the counter, Jason was gone. Disappointment settled like a hard rock in the center of Ellie’s chest. It really was like high school again.

“Hey.”

She’d gasped and turned, slamming into solid muscle and soft flesh. He must have stepped into the back office area. Probably to talk to his aunt Hannah, the store’s manager.

“Oh gosh, sorry,” she’d mumbled. His chest was solid under her hands, as he caught her under her elbows to keep her from losing her balance. That brief touch lit a fire of memories of tender moments together. The memories had overwhelmed her then and they overwhelmed her now.

“Whoa. You okay?” He had smiled at her. The smile she had been waiting to see.

She stepped away from him quickly, her face flushing with warmth. “Yes. Of course, I’m fine.”

He’d leaned one side against the doorframe, crossed his arms across his broad chest. “Didn’t mean to startle you,but didn’t want to miss the chance to say ‘hello’ either.”

Warmth spread from her chest to the top of her head.

Good grief. This was ridiculous. She’d dated Jason from her senior year of high school up until two years ago. It wasn’t like he was someone she didn’t know. She knew him. Very well. And she wanted to know him very well again.

They’d started chatting until another customer came and then he’d left, saying he’d stop by again the next day.

He did stop by the next day.

And the day after that, until he finally asked if she’d like to go to the movies.

She’d agreed and their relationship was on again, almost as if they hadn’t taken that two-year break starting at the beginning of his junior year of college.

The knock against her car window startled her from her thoughts, yanking her back into the present. How long had her dad been standing there? She rolled the window down, lightheaded, still emotionally caught in the past she’d been remembering.

“You okay, kid?”

She laughed softly, hoping her face wasn’t giving away the emotions the memory had brought back to her. “Yeah, sorry. I guess I zoned out a bit while I was waiting for you guys.”

Tom Lambert held the door open for his daughter, smiling. “You can go right into the house, you know. We still don’t lock the doors and you’re still a part of the family.

Ellie accepted her father’s embrace as she exited the car. She closed her eyes, and breathed in the smells of the farm; freshly milled corn in the silo, flowers blooming, her father’s old spice mixed in. It was strange not living here anymore, but somehow it made her appreciate it all even more.

Her mom slid out of the passenger side of the dark blue sedan and gave her a quick, one arm hug, her Bible cradled in her other arm. “Hey there, hon’. So glad you came for lunch today.”

 Dust billowed up around a truck driving down the road in front of the house, and Ellie watched as it turned into the driveway, parking behind her dad’s old blue Ford.

She tipped her head to one side, squinting against the glare of the sun, curious about who was behind the wheel. When she spotted the driver between the reflections of the trees and the barn on the windshield, her heart sank.

Oh. Perfect. Just perfect. Could this day get any worse?

“Good afternoon, Lambert family.” The driver was speaking to the family through the rolled-downed window with his naturally flirtatious charm. “Ellie. Hello. How are you?”

She answered curtly, eyeing him suspiciously. “Good.”

“Brad.” Her dad stepped into the sunlight and reached out, taking Brad Tanner’s hand as he slid out of his truck. “What brings you by today?”

Brad was still wearing what he’d worn to church — clean brown work boots, a pair of new-looking dark blue jeans, and a black t-shirt tucked in, fitting snug over his chest and arms, which weren’t as muscular as Jason’s, but close. His light brown hair was cut short, his jawline smooth shaven. The familiar Tanner dimple appeared when he smiled at her.

Brad jerked his head toward his truck, turning his attention to Tom. “I’ve been carrying around that engine part we were talking about and when I saw you all outside, it reminded me. I can unload it in the barn if you like.”

Tom nodded. “Thanks, Brad appreciate it. The small shed there would be a better place.” The men walked to the side of the truck.

“How is it going?” Tom asked. “Back for a visit?”

Brad nodded, dropping the tailgate. “It’s going good. I’m back to stay.”

Ellie raised an eyebrow, the words slipping out before she realized it. “Discovered city life wasn’t for you, huh?”

Brad held his hands out to his side, a smirk tugging at his mouth. “The city couldn’t handle all this beauty.”

Ellie groaned inwardly. Yeah. He’s definitely a Tanner.

She had already turned toward the house, so she knew Brad and her dad couldn’t see her when she rolled her eyes.

Ellie’s mother followed her daughter toward the front porch, paused and turned back to face the men. “You’re probably headed home for lunch, Brad, but you’re welcome to join us when you’re done if you like. I’ve got plenty of roast and vegetables.”

“I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

Ellie scoffed softly. She was glad she was too far away for anyone to hear her.

Rena Lambert waved her hand dismissively. “No intrusion at all. We’d love to have you. I’m sure Ellie would love to catch up too.”

Standing on the front porch, Ellie scowled at the front door, her back still facing her parents and Brad.

She opened the front door, turned, and forced a smile. “Sure, that would be nice.”

The scowl returned when she walked into the house. Jason’s cousin, back in Spencer Valley for good.

“Wonderful.” She tossed her purse and sweater onto the couch and blew out a frustrated breath. “Just what I need. More complications.”

During dinner Ellie shot her mother looks, hoping she’d look up and catch a drift of how uncomfortable she was with Brad being there.

Unfortunately, Rena was clueless. She smiled at Brad like he was the prodigal son. In some ways, at least for the Tanner family, he was.

“So, Brad, what did you do during your time away?”

His smile was clearly captivating, like Jason’s, but it didn’t send a giddy ripple through Ellie like Jason’s. Still, she couldn’t help looking at him as he conversed with her parents, admiring the square jawline, the small, attractive lines at the corners of his eyes when he laughed.

“I had a job at a warehouse along the docks in the city.” Rena spooned more potatoes on his plate as he spoke, and Ellie wondered if she should remind her mother that he wasn’t a starving refugee. “We were in charge of sorting packages from overseas.”

Rena kept asking questions, oblivious to the evil eye Ellie was giving her. “Well, that sounds interesting. What made you decide to move back?”

Brad took a sip of his ice water. “Honestly, I just missed farm life. I missed the open air, the slower pace, the quiet nights.”

Ellie smirked. “And your family?”

Brad’s eyes shifted to hers, an amused grin tilted one side of his mouth up. “My family, yes. Them too.” He kept his eyes focused on hers as he spoke, which left her time to notice, once again, how his eyes were almost the same shade as Jason’s. “And other people back here in our little county.”

She pulled her gaze quickly from his, cheeks flushing warm.

“You came back at a rough time for us farmers, but a good time to help out your family,” Tom said, leaning back in his chair. “It’s been good to see Robert back in church. It’s good to see him anywhere, really. That accident could have easily killed him.”

Brad nodded, his previously joking manner fading. “Yes, it really is a miracle.  When I heard the news, I didn’t think I’d ever see him again. That weighed in on my decision to come home too, thinking about how much I’ve missed out on with my family.”

A cow mooed out in the pasture. Tom stretched his arms up over his head and yawned. “There’s Marigold reminding me it’s almost milking time.”

Brad propped his arms on top of the table and leaned forward. “You milking all by yourself now?” He jerked his head toward Ellie. “Now that your help has moved away?”

Tom winked at his daughter. “I hired some help. Young Patrick Mooney comes over twice a day and Ellie helps when her job and Bible studies aren’t filling her time” He stretched his arms over the back of the chair as Rena cleared the plates from the table. “Ellie is missed, but she couldn’t be expected to live here forever. Of course, I worry about her in the big ole’ city of Spencer.”

Brad snorted a laugh. “Yeah, with all the hardened criminals roaming the streets there, loitering, littering and jaywalking.”

Rena returned from the kitchen with a pie that she set in the middle of the table. “I don’t know. Matt McGee says there is more crime in this little county than a lot of us realize.”

Brad tipped his head in agreement. “That’s true, of course. How is Matt anyhow? I haven’t seen him in years.”

Ellie followed her mom to the kitchen to retrieve the plates. The faster they ate dessert, the faster she could say ‘goodbye’ to Brad.

“He was accepted to the state police academy,” Rena called from the kitchen. She handed a stack of pie plates to Ellie. “He will be heading there in a few months.”

Brad looked impressed. “Wow. He’s moving up in the world. Good for him. I always thought he was destined for somewhere bigger than the Spencer Valley Police Department.”

Another twenty minutes of chit-chat dragged on, with Ellie saying very little, wishing this “catching up session” would end already.

When Brad finally announced he needed to help back and help his dad with milking, she was grateful and even volunteered to walk him to his truck.

“That was nice of your mom.” He paused on the front porch, leaned back against the porch railing, and folded his arms across his chest. Apparently, he didn’t understand he’d already overstayed his welcome. “She’s still one of the best cooks around.”

Ellie nodded, staring past him at his truck. “Yep. Well, you don’t want to keep your dad waiting.”

He laughed softly. “Are you trying to get rid of me, Ellie Lambert?”

“No, I just —”

“Afraid I’ll ask what’s going on with you and Jason?”

Her jaw tightened, and she hugged her arms across her chest, as if a cold chill had suddenly hit her instead of a rush of aggravation. “I don’t care if you ask or not. I’m not going to tell you.”

She hated the way he was grinning. “Okay. Okay.” He pressed his palms against the railing, still leaning against it, crossing one leg over another. “You know, I still remember those dates we had all those years ago with a hefty amount of fondness.”

His attempt at a cute Southern accent did nothing to calm the anger bubbling up inside her. “Do you? So fondly you had to talk to Jason about them?”

He shrugged, still smiling, clearly enjoying the bitterness in her tone. “Hey, is it my fault you never told him? How was I supposed to know you two keep secrets from each other?”

 She scoffed and shook her head.

Wriggling her fingers at him, she worked to keep her tone calm and even. “Bye-bye, Brad. Tell your parents I said hello.”

She pivoted to go back into the house, pausing when she felt his hand on her wrist.

“Hey.” His tone softened. Her back was to him, and she stepped closer. His breath was warm on the back of her neck.“I’m sorry. I was just teasing, okay? Don’t be mad at me. I didn’t know Jason didn’t know. We were just chatting about some of our favorite times over the years and I joked with him about the time you and I went out. I figured he knew already, so he’d think it was funny.”

She yanked her wrist out of his grip, then immediately felt guilty for her reaction. She relaxed her shoulders, straightened them, and let out the breath she’d been holding. “It’s fine. Really. I know you didn’t mean to start anything.”

Brad slid his hands into his jean pockets. “I definitely didn’t mean to, but I could tell by the look on Jason’s face I did. He said he had a delivery to make and left. I hope that’s not what caused the issues between you two.”

Ellie shook her head. “There are other issues, but I’m not going to talk about them with you.”

Brad rolled his tongue along the inside of his cheek and nodded, smiling. “Okay. I understand. I hope you two can work things out.” He turned toward the steps, then paused, and turned back toward her. “If that’s what you want, I mean.”

He kept his gaze focused on hers, his eyes narrowed slightly, a small smile playing across his lips.

Ellie rolled her eyes, turned her back on him, and opened the door. “Have a good day, Brad.”

Closing the door behind her, she leaned against it and blew out a breath. Were all the younger males in the Tanner family trying to drive her insane? Because if they were, they were definitely succeeding.

Bi-polar weather and other goings ons

The weather has been mainly nice, yet cold, for the last two weeks here. Then the snow came yesterday. Luckily it disappeared almost as soon as it arrived. I am not a fan of spring snow. This is the second year we’ve experienced it so late in the year. Last year we had been in our new house a couple of weeks when snow blanketed the trees and bushes that had been trying to bloom. (We celebrated a full year of living here last week). I did not take any photos of the snow that fell. I’m completely over snow. It did look rather pretty on the blooming forsenthye bush, however.

We’ve been enjoying playing outside in the backyard on the warmer days, even if there is a chilly breeze.

We are looking forward to warmer weather, though not too warm because we all enjoy cuddling under the covers at night with a good book or a good show.

I’m not a fan of hot weather but weather where we don’t have to wear a coat is nice. Once that weather hits, I hope to take the kids to a local state park to explore the lake and hiking trails.

In between enjoying some nice weather we have been continuing our homeschooling lessons. I have finally learned to chill out if my plans for the day get changed. If we have to push activities off for a day or two because we get interrupted by sunshine or a visitor or whatever, I don’t get all balled up inside with anxiety like I used to. We will get done what we need to get done one way or another.

I also remind myself that learning isn’t something we do only when the school books are open. Every day offers an opportunity to learn, even if it isn’t “traditional” or organized.

We hope to be finished with our homeschooling year the last week in May.

In addition to homeschooling, Little Miss and I are enjoying going out into the yard each day and discovering new trees or flowers that are blooming.

I’m sure we will have plenty more to admire this upcoming week and the weeks after that.

And I’m sure Little Miss will have more time to make her “yard salads.”

Faithfully Thinking: How can God give you peace when you’re turning to others for it?

I think maybe we all need this reminder right now – this week – in the midst of some very crazy things unfolding.

Lisa R. Howeler's avatarBoondock Ramblings

Many of us are running to our phones or computers every morning, looking for some good news.

“God, just let there be some good news out there right now,” I find myself saying.

Yes, I’m asking God to make the national news media give me good news.

How backward is that? Very it turns out.

One thing I have learned is that I can not receive the peace of God if I am filling my mind and my thoughts with other voices.

I can’t run to the national media, looking for their reassurance and their peace because they don’t have it for me. They don’t want me to have it. Their business thrives on turmoil and fear. Tragedy and anger and fear and scandal sells. Period. It’s sad, but it’s true.

Don’t look to entertainers, to television personalities or news channels or even pastors to bring you comfort or to…

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Special Fiction Saturday: The Farmers’ Sons Chapter 3

I totally forgot I was going to post Chapter 3 of The Farmers’ Sons earlier today. So here it is, although late. For those who followed Jason’s story when I originally posted it with Molly’s story some of this will be a bit of a repeat, but it has been reworked some.

To catch up on the rest of story, click HERE or find it under the Fiction Friday header at the top of the page.

You can read Molly’s story on Amazon in ebook form.


Chapter 3

Jason loaded another set of weights on the barbells and laid back on the bench, gripping the bar tightly.

Why did I let her think I was going to propose that night?

He grunted under the weight, pushing up until his arms were straight, then slowly lowering the bar again, counting under his breath. His muscles strained under the weight.

I should have never waited so long to talk to her.

He pushed up again.

And when she assumed I had actually intended to propose, I went along with it like a complete idiot.

Down, breathing hard.

Ellie had every right to be angry at him. Not only for his non-proposal but for the secret he’d held on to for so long.

He straightened his arms, set the bar back in its place and lay there on the bench breathing hard.

He came to the gym a few times a week to work off some stress. Lately, though he’d only been finding more stress as his mind raced not only with thoughts of Ellie, but also of keeping the farm running.

When he focused on Ellie, his mind always walked him back to the night he had planned to tell her what he’d should have told her when they’d first started dating again, the night that they got engaged instead.

***

Seven months earlier

His heart had been racing, his palms damp with sweat. His stomach was tight and nausea spun in his stomach.  What had he been thinking? Was he really going to do this tonight? Was he really going to tell his longtime girlfriend about his past and let the chips fall where they may?

He had taken a deep breath and tightened his hands on the steering wheel until his knuckles faded white. Yes, he was. He was doing this because he needed the burden off his shoulders, and he needed to know how Ellie would feel about him after he told her. He couldn’t keep waiting, torturing himself with worry of what might be.

He and Ellie had gone to school together since junior high, but it wasn’t until his junior year he really noticed her, or she had noticed him, or he guess he would say they noticed each other. It was in history class and Mr. Prawley had placed them in a group together to work on a project. Before that they’d seen each other at 4H meetings or when Robert took Jason with him to pick up equipment he’d borrowed from Ellie’s dad Jerry.

Late one night after working on their project about Pennsylvanian history they found themselves laughing about their shared interest in old movies.

“Cary Grant is the epitome of old fashioned suave and charm,” she’d said, pretending to swoon, her hand against her forehead when they watched North by Northwest together at his parents.

He grinned, a teasing glint in his eye. “I agree, but I’m the epitome of modern suave and charm, right?”

She’d tipped her head back and laughed and he wasn’t sure if she was enjoying his humor or mocking him.

“Ginger Rogers was a very underrated actress,” he’d announced after they watched Vivacious Lady at her parents’ house.

“I agree,” she had said and smiled.

Wow. That smile.

That smile that was for him and only him.

It took his breath away.

That smile and her soft, long black hair against that pale skin, those large dark eyes and her sweet round face — what a knockout combination.

He’d taken her to the movies twice, dinner once, lunch three times and attended youth group with her every Wednesday for four months before he’d finally worked up the courage to kiss her. And now, here he was working up the courage to ask her to marry him, but first he had to tell her about what had happened during the break they’d taken when they’d both been in college – at two different colleges.

Those two years in college when he’d been without her, when she had decided they should take a break from dating and see “how things developed” as she had said, were the loneliest and most confusing two years of his life. He’d felt like a ship out at sea without a compass. Returning home from college, to the farm and to her had anchored him again. He couldn’t even imagine losing that anchor again.

God, please don’t let me lose her.

 He caught sight of movement out of the corner of his eye and turned his head to see her stepping off the front porch, down the steps, watching him as she walked. Her smile was broad, captivating.  His breath caught in his throat, his eyes followed the length of her body as she walked, and he chewed his lower lip hungerly. Even after all these years her beauty still took his breath away.

His voice fell into a whisper; he barely realized he was talking out loud. “Oh God, I can’t —”

“Hey.” She slid into the truck seat and had her arms around his neck and her mouth on his before he could finish asking God for strength. Once she was in his arms, his mind was clouded by her kiss. She smelled of lilac and vanilla scented shampoo. She curled her fingers in his hair and held his head down to hers.

“We should probably head out to the restaurant,” she said breathlessly a few moments later. She tipped her head to one side, her hand against his chest, and winked. “Before we go too far.”

Jason cleared his throat and nodded. “Right. Of course.”

He grinned as he turned back to the steering wheel and she hooked her seatbelt. “But it wasn’t as if things were going to get too far with us parked outside your parent’s house. Not before your dad shot me.”

Ellie laughed. “Jason, Daddy wouldn’t shoot you.”

He pulled the truck out of the driveway, onto the dirt road. “I beg to differ.”

Ellie shook her head. “He loves you. You know that.”

“But he wouldn’t like me making out with you in my truck.”

“No, probably not.” She shrugged, folded her hands in her lap, and looked out the windshield. “Unless we were married, of course.”

Jason swallowed hard.

Married.

There it was.

The one word hovering in his mind 24/7, waking him up at night, giving him near panic attacks daily. And she’d just said it. Because it was probably on her mind too.

“Right.” He pushed his foot on the accelerator, willing his truck to move them faster toward the restaurant where they could talk about the food, the weather, the farm, anything but marriage.

The drove in silence for a few moments, farmland and trees and open fields blurring into green and yellow out the window.

“Jason?”

Hurry up, truck.

“Yeah?”

“Are you ever going to ask me to marry you?”

Jason’s hand jerked on the steering wheel. The truck swerved over the center line and then back  into the right lane. Ellie gasped and clutched her hand around Jason’s bicep as he regained control of the truck.

Her voice trembled when she spoke. “Oh gosh. Sorry. I just — I shouldn’t have blurted it out like that, but I knew if I didn’t say something now, I would lose my courage.”

Jason slowed the truck down and pulled off into an empty parking lot in front of an abandoned convenience store. He slid the gear into park and turned to look at Ellie.

Was she reading his mind? They’d been together so long he wouldn’t be surprised.

His eyebrows knit together. “What would make you ask that right now?”

“I — I don’t know. I just —” Tears rimmed her eyes. “I’m sorry, Jason. Are you angry?”

Jason shook his head. “No. Not at all. I’m sorry.” He reached over and took her hand in his. The frightened expression on her face sent stabbing guilt shuddering through him. He let go of her hand and cupped his palm against her face.

“It’s not that at all. It’s just that I was actually going to talk to you about that tonight and I was surprised that it was on your mind too.”

A tear slipped down Ellie’s cheek and his heart ached even more. He swiped at it with the palm of his thumb.

“Of course, it’s on my mind, Jason. I’ve wanted to marry you since high school. I love you and want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to have your children. But sometimes I feel like you don’t want any of that at all.”

“No, El, that’s not true. I do want that. All of it.”

“Then why aren’t you asking me to marry you?”

“I — well, I was going to —”

Ellie’s eyes grew wide, and her eyebrows shot up. “Oh! Were you going to ask me tonight and I totally ruined your plans?”

“Well, I —”

“Oh, Jason! I’m so sorry! I ruined your plan.”

“No, that’s okay. It’s just —”

Her mouth was on his again before he could explain. The expression of sheer delight on her face when she pulled back, her arms still around his neck, sent warmth bursting through his chest.

“You know I don’t need a big fancy proposal. All I want is you. Of course, I’d say ‘yes’ no matter how you asked.”

She was kissing him again and he was forgetting what he’d been going to say. Her body was so warm and solid against his and her lips so soft. Her hands were in his hair again; he couldn’t focus. Slowly his thoughts began to clear and that’s when the panic set in.

Wait a minute. Did she think he had just proposed, and she was saying yes?

She peppered his cheek and neck with kisses. “Oh, Jason! I’m so excited! I’ve been waiting for this moment for years!”

 Yes, she did think he’d just proposed, and she was saying ‘yes’.

“I know. I have been too, but I —”

She cut his sentence short again. “Are you okay? I’m so sorry I ruined the surprise.”

“No, it’s okay, I mean — It’s just that I —”

Her large brown eyes were watching him with hopeful expectation, with joy, with complete and utter adoration. There was no way he could tell her about his past now; ruin her night completely.

“I don’t have a ring,” he blurted.

She tipped her head back and laughed. “I don’t care about a ring, silly! We can worry about that later, or not at all. You know I don’t care about stuff like that.”

“But it’s a symbol and it’s important, El. I should get you a ring.”

Ellie kissed him gently and shook her head. “Later. I just want us to enjoy this moment together for now.”

Jason swallowed hard. He wanted to enjoy the moment too, but he knew he couldn’t keep his secret forever. Ellie needed to know sooner rather than later. He wouldn’t tell her tonight, though. He’d already made his mind up about that. They would go to dinner, celebrate their engagement and then later, another day, he’d tell her what she needed to know and let her make up her own mind about whether she still wanted to spend the rest of her life with him.

Only, that had never happened. She’d overheard him talking to Alex and that’s when the manure, so to speak, had hit the fan.

***

A deep voice startled Jason from his thoughts and he recognized it immediately as belonging to Cody Bracken— Spencer’s fire chief.

“Jason. Bud. You okay?”

Jason sat up, barely missing smacking his forehead on the metal bar. “Yeah. Sorry. Have you been standing there long?”

Cody laughed, tossed his duffle bag on the floor next to the wall. “A few seconds. Saying your name. You were totally gone, though. Got a lot on your mind?”

Jason guzzled the rest of the water from his sports bottle and shoved it in his bag. “Yeah. You could say that.”

Pulling off his sweatshirt, Cody unloaded a couple of the weights off the barbells Jason had been using. “I don’t have the muscle mass you do.” He winked. “Need to talk about anything?”

Jason shook his head. “Nah, but thanks.”

He stood and Cody wiped the bench with a towel. “Don’t want your sweaty germs.” He elbowed Jason playfully in the ribs. “Seriously, you got a minute?”

Jason wasn’t in any hurry to get back to the farm and talking to Cody would take his mind off Ellie for a few minutes at least. “Sure.”

“I don’t want to add anything else to your plate, but we had a meeting of the fire company the other night and we were talking about the need for more volunteers. Your name came up, along with some other men around town.” Cody sat on the bench and leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees. “As you know, we are an all-volunteer company, other than my position. It’s been tough the last couple of years to find volunteers and we’re in need of some younger, strong men to at least be trained in case we need some additional hands in an emergency. I told the board I see you at the gym sometimes, so I’d ask you if you’d be interested.” He grinned. “So, would you?”

Jason leaned back against the wall and pushed his hand back through his hair. “I am interested but things have been pretty busy with the business lately, so I don’t know if I would really be available much.”

Cody nodded. “I understand. This wouldn’t have to be a full-time commitment by any means. We’d just like some guys to be trained in case they’re needed. At the most you’d be committing to, well, 100 hours of training, but it’s broken up into a few week nights and a couple of weekends over the next few months. Once your training is complete you can hold on to the certification and we’d call you only when we are short men. You’d only respond when you’re able to.”

Jason rubbed his hand along the scruff growing along his chin and jawline. Shoving training into his regular chores on the farm and work at the farm store would be tough, but it would also be the perfect way to distract himself from constantly focusing on the situation with Ellie.

“Think about it,” Cody said. “You can let me know later if it —”

“I’ll give it a try.”

Cody raised his eyebrows. “You’re sure? I don’t want to add more to your plate. I know how tough the farms around here have had it.”

Jason shook his head. “No. It will be fine. If I start and it gets to be too much, I’ll let you know, but I’d love to be able to help out my community. My uncle had a fire on his farm a couple years back and you guys were a big help. Consider this my way of paying you back.”

Cody reached out his hand and Jason took it. “Thanks, Jason. We appreciate it. I’ll give you a call when we have the first training session scheduled. Probably about two weeks.”

Climbing into his truck, Jason wasn’t sure he truly wanted to split his time between farming and fire fighter training, but again, the more he could shove into his days, the less time he had to think about Ellie.

Fiction Friday: Fully Alive Excerpt, The Day Yeshua Died.

I do have a chapter for The Farmers’ Sons ready to go but today I wanted to share this excerpt from Fully Alive, the Biblical fiction story I shared a bit from last year (maybe the year before, actually) in honor of Good Friday.

I haven’t completed that story but hope to continue to work on it this year.

I will be back with a chapter from The Farmers’ Sons tomorrow.


Josefa woke with a start, cold sweat beading across her forehead. She tried to remember where she was, the only sound her rapid, pulsating heartbeat . She looked around and slowly her room began to take shape in the moonlight. She’d had the nightmare again. The one she’d had night after night. The nightmare of that day in Jerusalem, when her family had been there for Passover.

The day Yeshua died.

The day five years ago when Yeshua had been murdered on Golgotha.

She remembered it like it had been yesterday.

Voices full of rage echoed within the city walls.

“Crucify him!”

Her father had trembled next to her with shock, anger, confusion. He pulled and her younger brother close. “Keep walking. Don’t stop.”

Her mother followed, tears streaking her face, sobs shaking her body.

“Father, why would they do this?” Tears soaked Josefa’s face as the crowd enveloped her, jostled her into other people.

She didn’t understand. Why were the priests of this city demanding the death of the man who had brought her back from the dead? What had he done that deserved death?

She screamed in protest, but no one could hear her and if they could, they weren’t listening.

“It’s not true! He saved me! He brought me back from the dead!” She tried again, her throat raw, her voice hoarse. “He gave me back my life!”

A man shoved her hard to the ground.

“Shut your mouth, you blaspheming liar!”

Saliva dripped down his chin as he screamed. A tremor of fear rushed through Josefa and she looked away quickly. It was as if he was possessed. Maybe he was.

Jairus stooped to protect her and swung around toward the man, anger clouding his vision. “Never touch my daughter!”

The man was screaming again, standing over her and her father. “You are nothing, Jew!”

“I am a leader in the synagogue, I am a holy —”

More people were shouting at Jairus and Josefa now, shouting at anyone they felt were followers of Yeshua.

“You are nothing!”

“Blaspheming scum, go back to whatever city you came from.”

“Do you follow this man? Then you should be put to death with him.”

Jairus jerked his head toward an open area near the city wall.

“Myriam, Ephra, Josefa, come. We must leave.”

Josefa turned to follow her family but paused, looking over her shoulder at the yelling crowd, at the sudden appearance of Yeshua through the crowd, struggling to walk under the weight of what looked like a large piece of wood. She watched in horror as he fell onto the stones, the wood on top of him. Blood dropped onto the dirt from his face, his hands, everywhere. Josefa couldn’t see any of Yeshua’ skin that wasn’t bleeding.

She broke from her father’s arms and stood along the edge of the crowd as Yeshua walked by, reaching out, her fingertips touching Yeshua’ bloody garment, hanging in rags off his shoulder. She jerked her hand away and held it to her mouth as she began to sob.

“Yeshua. Yeshua,” Josefa choked out. “I believe in you, Yeshua.”

Yeshua looked at the ground as he fell again, and she wondered if he even knew she was there. A Roman soldier dragged a man from the crowd and tossed him to the ground in front of Yeshua.

“Help him! Pick up the cross!”

As the man helped lift what the soldier had called a cross, another soldier lifted Yeshua to his feet. Josefa’s heart raced as Yeshua stood slowly, raised his eyes toward the crowd and found her gaze.

His eyelids were swollen, blood running in rivulets from what appeared to be thorns bent into the shape of a crown on his head. He looked at her with an unfocused gaze as he hooked one arm around the man and the other around the wood. Hot tears stung Josefa’s eyes, rushed down her cheeks as Yeshua moved his gaze from her and looked back to the ground, shuffling his feet forward in step with the other man.

A strong hand gripped her wrist and pulled her backward, through the crowd. She looked up into deep blue eyes, a smooth face stained with dirt under a Roman helmet. The soldier’s face was young, but his eyes were old. She expected a rebuke but instead his voice was gentle, filled with compassion.

“You must leave this area. It’s not safe for young girls like you.”

She could hear her father calling for her, but Josefa couldn’t pull her eyes from the soldier’s.

“Come, Josefa!” Jairus said sharply, prying the soldier’s fingers from his daughter’s wrist. “Let’s get away from here.”

Her father’s voice broke with emotion and when she looked up at him, he was rubbing the back of his hand across his face.

“I can take no more,” he whispered hoarsely.

She looked up and the soldier had turned and was following the crowd, to where she didn’t know.

She followed her father and they found the rest of their family waiting for them by the city gates.

“We must leave, Jairus. It’s no longer safe,” Myriam whispered, trembling.

Jairus pulled her close and nodded. “We will go and collect our things from Lieber’s and begin our journey this evening. I will see if I can convince him and his family to come with us. The Romans are thirsty for blood this day.”

“What are they going to do to Yeshua, father?” Josefa asked, fear shivering through her.

Jairus shook his head. “I don’t know, Josefa. Keep walking.”

Jairus’ brother declined traveling away from Jerusalem, begging Jairus to remain for Passover.

“Traveling on Passover is forbidden. We will be safe here on this side of the city. The Romans are only taking care of a troublemaker, a man who called himself the Son of God.”

“But Uncle Leiber —”

Jairus scowled at his daughter. “Josefa. Be silent. Go prepare the afternoon meal with the women.”

All these years later, Josefa still remembered how darkness fell later that day, how the ground shook and she fell to the dirt courtyard outside her aunt and uncle’s home in fear.

She screamed, reaching out for something to hold onto but finding nothing. As the ground rose up beneath her, the sun darkened, and she couldn’t see her parents or anyone else.

“Yeshua! Yeshua! Help me!”

Bricks fell from stone structures around her, striking her and then blackness settled over her and all was still.

“Josefa!”

She woke to her mother’s voice that day and again, five years later, she heard her mother call to her.  And again, her mother took her in arms and again she told her everything would be okay and prayed over her, asking for Adonai’s protection.

For the love of the land, farming, and, most of all, family.

My farming friend Mark Bradley was one of the inspirations behind The Farmer’s Daughter (the farming part of it) and one of the reason I have a soft spot for farmers in general. He’s one of the good ones, the backbone of our country, salt of the earth, you might say. He’s worked hard all his life and works even harder now in a economy that hasn’t been very friendly to farmers the past decade or so. He posted this beautiful status update a couple of years ago on Facebook that helped launch me into a documentary photo project to capture the life of farmer’s in my area. The project fell apart over time, but I’d love to start it back up again and keep capturing the real people behind the industry that puts food on our tables, telling their stories.

Mark wrote another one of those emotional posts this week. I’m not on Facebook anymore but my dad showed me and I emailed Mark and told him how much I enjoyed it, and asked if I could share it here on the blog. Luckily he said that would be fine.

I also once wrote about his son and the amazing work ethic is instilled in farm kids by their parents.




I watched him as he made his way around the empty barn taking it all in. I could see the sadness on his face and hear it in his voice in all the questions he asked. “Why did they sell their cows?” “Why are they just letting the barn fall down?” I watched him peer up through the hole in the ceiling toward the hay mow that once would have been stocked full of enough hay to feed the cows all winter. Now all it held was the roof that had collapsed into it this winter and the melting snow that had accumulated. This was once someone’s dream, their livelihood, their everything. Now it is a thing of the past. Soon to be demolished the rest of the way and be gone forever.

It is hard to explain what it feels like to walk through an empty barn. For me, it’s very emotional and I could see that in Parker as well. I can stand there and picture what it would have looked like full of cows. It’s kind of like the scenes in the movie Titanic where they are exploring the underwater shipwreck and keep flashing back to a time when the ship was full of people in all her glory. I can picture little kids growing up in this barn, learning life lessons. I can see them in my mind petting cows, watching calves be born, carrying around their favorite kitties. I can see it full of light, life, and warmth on the coldest winter day. I can smell the feed, hear the cows contently eating and the radio softly playing… then I come back to what it is now. Cold. Dark. Wet. Musty. Empty…. it is a heartbreaking scene that is played out in tens of thousands of barns all across this country. Our industry has evolved over the years, and in its wake lies empty barns like this one in ruin.

After awhile of silence as Parker and I wandered around, he turns to me and says “Well, at least our barn will never look like this.” With a giant lump in my throat, all I could muster up was “I hope you are right.”

I don’t know what the future holds. I know farms like ours are becoming fewer and further between every day.

When we got home I headed straight to the barn. I walked in the door to be greeted by the familiar sights and sounds of my cows contently eating their hay and lounging in their stalls. I walk up and down the aisles of the barn with a smile on my face taking it all in, stopping to pet and snuggle some of girls.

There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t thank God for giving me this life. It’s a life that has its shares of ups and downs and constant challenges. A life that is definitely not the easy road. I can’t picture myself doing anything else. I can’t imagine raising my kids any other way than on this farm.

The passion I have for what I do is unexplainable, but is driven by my love of this land, my love for my cows, and most of all, my love for my two little farmers. Everything that I do, I do for them in hopes that they may one day be able to take over this farm if they choose to.

Socially Thinking: Let Men Be Men

Many people don’t believe this, but there is a war on men in our world today. Maybe you have to be the mother of a boy to really see it.

Anything that is inherently male is being referred to these days as “toxic masculinity” when in fact much of what men do was biologically wired into them by a creator who purposely made men to be strong protectors.

If that above sentence offends you, then I’m sorry, but it’s true and I’m going to hit you with a few more truths.

Men are biologically physically stronger.

Men are biologically hard-wired to provide for their families (even if some don’t do it).

Men are biologically visually wired, and their eyes often wander where they shouldn’t.

Men are biologically “emotionally shut” off at times. (They’re not really shut off, but that’s how it can see because they process emotion differently than women.)

Men are biologically wired to protect and take care of women and children.

Men do not multi-task as well as women, which does not mean women are smarter, it means God made men to focus on (mainly) one task at a time and that task is usually centered on providing for his wife and family.

I’m not sure what has made some in society decide that men wanting to provide for their families and wanting to protect women and children as a bad thing.

Why in the world women are yelling at men for holding doors for them or holding their hand when they step down from a bus or out of a car? To me that shows a man is polite, not trying to show a woman he is superior. It’s not that he doesn’t think you can’t open a door or walk down a flight of stairs without killing yourself, it’s that something deep in him says, “I should respect this woman and hold the door for her and help her balance as she descends these stairs.”

Toxic masculinity to me is when a man stands over a woman and tells her he is superior. A man acting on what God has built in him to do is not toxic.

I recently watched an episode of The Andy Griffith Show where Opie becomes upset when a young girl he befriends is better than him at everything. The girl is Andy’s girlfriend’s (Helen’s) niece. When Opie stops talking to the girl, she can’t figure out why. Helen tells her niece that she knows why. Earlier in the episode Andy got upset when he found out Helen was better than him at bowling. At first Helen tells Andy that he shouldn’t be upset that she’s better than him at something, but during the conversation with her niece she realizes that men are biologically built to want to protect a woman and that’s why they feel threatened by smarter or more accomplished women. If a man feels he can’t do something better than a woman, then he feels he isn’t strong enough to protect her. I am, of course, summarizing what Helen says.

Does that sound a little silly to us women? Sure it does. It even sounds silly to men when it’s said out loud, but subconsciously that’s most likely where the awkwardness comes when a woman succeeds in something that men traditionally are dominate in. Most men eventually get over that inferior feeling and realize that they aren’t less of a man because a woman is better than them at sports or lifting heavy things or . . . thinking (*wink* I’m kidding about the thinking part! Only a few of us women are way better than men at thinking. Totally. *hee* *hee* Allow me a little teasing while I defend men.)

Helen tells her niece that sometimes a woman should let the man be strong. She should let him “be the winner”, so to speak, to help them feel strong again. She wasn’t saying that a woman should subjugate herself to a man or pretend to be dumb, but that it isn’t necessary to flaunt her superiority in front him every chance she gets either.

Helen has come to realize that one way to respect a man  (because yes, even with all the chants of ‘respect women’ we should also ‘respect men’), women should also respect how men are built, which is to be the protector of a woman.

Again, this idea totally goes against the modern day of feminism because we are told that if a woman lets a man be strong, she’s letting him rule over her. That’s not what I’m suggesting. If a man is abusive toward a woman in any way, then that is toxic masculinity and he shouldn’t be respected.

I’m also not suggesting lying to a man. If you’re better than bowling at him, well, he’s going to figure it out eventually but there is no need to rub it in his face and make him feel inferior, the same way it would be wrong for him to do the same to you. (I’m not opposed to a little gloating, of course.)

Deep down, all men want to be the protector. If they can’t be the protector, they feel like a woman doesn’t need him, which creates a whole other host of issues for a relationship. Many men like an independent woman too, but if, once in a while, she shows she’s vulnerable, well, they really like that too.

Now, if a man is arrogant or abusive about his strength, feels he can overpower a woman or he acts like women are beneath him intellectually and otherwise, then yes, women should stand up and say something. That is “toxic masculinity”. For the most part, though, let the man be a man.

The bottom line is that women need to step back, take a breath, and have some patience with the men in our lives. Many times, a man will figure out on his own he was being rude or making the woman in his life feel less than. The Bible calls for us to pray for our husbands, and that doesn’t mean praying God “fixes” them.

In case anyone reads this and believes I believe women should just shut up and let their husbands walk all over them, believe me, I do not believe that at all. Just ask my husband.

 I believe a husband and wife should be equal in their marriage. Many pastors have taken Ephesians 5: 19-33 out of context over the years by suggesting wives should “submit” to their husbands when the verse actually trying to say that a man and wife submit to and love each other.

21 Submit to one another out of reverence for Christ.

22 Wives, submit yourselves to your own husbands as you do to the Lord. 23 For the husband is the head of the wife as Christ is the head of the church, his body, of which he is the Savior. 24 Now as the church submits to Christ, so also wives should submit to their husbands in everything.

25 Husbands, love your wives, just as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her 26 to make her holy, cleansing[a] her by the washing with water through the word, 27 and to present her to himself as a radiant church, without stain or wrinkle or any other blemish, but holy and blameless. 28 In this same way, husbands ought to love their wives as their own bodies. He who loves his wife loves himself. 29 After all, no one ever hated their own body, but they feed and care for their body, just as Christ does the church— 30 for we are members of his body. 31 “For this reason a man will leave his father and mother and be united to his wife, and the two will become one flesh.”[b32 This is a profound mystery—but I am talking about Christ and the church. 33 However, each one of you also must love his wife as he loves himself, and the wife must respect her husband.

There are biological differences between males and females. That’s a fact. Those differences are natural and something to be recognized, embraced and accepted.

No amount of hormone injections will change those physiological and psychological differences. Each sex is born with their own set of differences engrained in their DNA. It is grafted into them. A person can inject themselves with all the hormones of the opposite sex they want, place the genitalia of the other sex on themselves, and declare themselves a different sex, but the differences between men and women go deeper than sexual organs or hormones.

God created those differences, and in order for the two sexes to get along, we should start recognizing that and accepting it as reality.

Sunday Bookends: Spiritual Suspense Thrillers, All Agatha Raisened out, and ‘guy films’

Welcome to my weekly post where I recap my week by writing about what I’ve been reading, watching, writing, doing, and sometimes what I’ve been listening to.

This week was even less eventful than last week, and I’m fine with that. The weather was nice most of the week, but we are supposed to have cooler weather again next week, which we are not looking forward to.

I am planning a small spring break for the kids starting on Good Friday until the Tuesday after Easter. I could have made it longer, but it’s going to be cold next week and the fewer breaks we have, the quicker we can finish our school year. In Pennsylvania we have to teach 180 days, the same amount of days children in public schools attend.

What I’m Reading

I finished Dark of Night by Carrie Cotton this weekend and really enjoyed it. I posted a review of it last night. It is a fast-paced Christian fantasy/suspense novel with a powerful message. Check out the review for a description and my thoughts on it. It took me a while to finish it because I had reading assignments to finish with The Boy.

I am continuing to read To Kill A Mockingbird, which my son and I are reading for his English class. I am thoroughly enjoying it and breezing through it. I read it in eighth grade and have always listed it as my favorite book but, honestly, there is so much about it I forgot. Scout is awesome and reminds me so much of my daughter it’s scary.

Little Miss and I are reading White Stallion of Lipizza at night before bed.

What I’m Watching

I’m giving up on Agatha Raisin because, well, the storylines and characters have gone a bit stale for me. Plus, they kept removing characters and not explaining where they went, and I found that annoying. It didn’t help that I tried to read one of the books and was very disappointed.

For Saturday’s family movie night we watched something a little different for us, Fast and Furious Presents Hobbs and Shaw. It was . . . well, fairly good, but more of a “guy film” in some ways. I was going to write that at least I got to see Dwayne Johnson with his shirt off, but honestly he’s too muscular for me. Yes, there is such a thing as “too muscular.”

I haven’t really picked anything else to watch at this point. Maybe this week when we are stuck inside in the cold weather again.

What I’m Writing

I’ve been working on The Farmers’ Sons this week. I shared Chapter 2 on Friday.

I also shared some Random Thoughts on Thursday.

I also re-edited and re-released A Story To Tell on Amazon and Kindle Unlimited this past week.

It was nice of Erin at Still Life, With Cracker Crumbs to post a review for The Farmer’s Daughter on her blog this week. I also received a couple of nice reviews on Amazon.

So that’s my (short) week in review this week. How about you? What have you been reading, watching, listening to, or doing this week? Let me know in the comments.