Fiction Thursday: The Next Chapter Chapter 8

On By Lisa R. HowelerIn fiction, Fiction Friday, Fiction ThursdayLeave a comment

Welcome to a special Fiction Thursday.

If you want to catch up on the story you can HERE, but if you want to wait until it is all done, it will be out on Amazon in the Spring.

As always, let me know what you think in the comments. If you haven’t read the other books in this series, you can find information about them HERE. The first two books in the series are The Farmer’s Daughter and Harvesting Hope.

Chapter 8

Liz flopped back on the bed in Jason’s spare room and groaned, pressing the heel of her palms against her eyes. “I don’t even want to be here today. I mean, not because I don’t want to be at the wedding. It’s just —” She shook her head. “I can’t believe Matt didn’t talk to that nurse. Everyone is going to be staring at us. It’s going to be so weird.”
She also couldn’t believe that Matt hadn’t stopped by or called in two days, giving her the opportunity to grill him about the birth announcement snafu.
Molly tossed a bottle of water onto the bed next to Liz. “Drink that.” She reached for her dress hanging on the back of the door. “And calm down. Jason and Ellie only invited about 50 people to the ceremony so not everyone will be staring at you. Maybe about 20 out of the 50 and even then, they will only stare at you after the wedding because they’ll be staring at Ellie during the wedding.” Molly stepped into the dress and pulled it up across her body, looping the straps over her shoulder. “Her gown is gorgeous. I can’t wait for you to see it.”
Liz propped herself up on her elbows and looked at her friend. She was wearing a peach-colored dress with spaghetti straps displayed in a fan pattern across the back. The skirt flowed out in a ruffled pattern that fell to her ankles and set off a pair of light-tan heels.
“That gown is gorgeous too. Did Liz pick them out or did you have a say?”
“Judi and I had a say and then each dress was fitted to each of our body types because Judi and I are obviously not the same size.”
Judi was Ellie’s younger sister who had moved home earlier in the summer.
Liz sat up and opened the water bottle, sipping from it.
Molly gestured at the bottle. “No sipping. Drink it. You need to stay hydrated. You’re nursing, it’s warm out, and you’re on the verge of a panic attack.”
Liz scowled and drank more from the bottle. On the verge of a panic attack? Oh no. She was already there. “Wouldn’t you be panicking if the guy you went on two dates with let the whole town think he was the father of your baby?”
Molly shrugged. “Better him than Gabe, that’s all I know.”
Outside the window, Liz heard laughter and greetings. More guests were arriving. She wondered if Matt was here yet, though she figured he was probably with Jason and Alex at the Tanner’s, getting dressed. Maybe she could find him before the ceremony started, warn him about the announcement, in case he hadn’t seen it. She stood and looked out the window. White chairs had been set up in the backyard and a trellis was placed where Ellie and Jason would stand to say their vows. The was under the drooping branches of a weeping willow and in the distance was a recently cut cornfield. Beyond the field were the green hills of Pennsylvania and beyond them hazy blue mountains even further away, hugging the expanse of farmland that made up most of Spencer Valley.
Liz tipped her head back and closed her eyes, willing her muscles to relax. The birth announcement wasn’t the only worry pressing in on her. Ginny had volunteered to watch Isabella today while she was at the wedding and even though she fully trusted Ginny, she felt like she was neglecting her duties as a mother. She should be the one taking care of Isabella, not someone else. Taking even a short break to help Molly get dressed as Ellie’s bridesmaid and staying for the ceremony and reception filled her with illogical guilt.
“Zip me up?” Molly lifted her hair and turned around.
As she zipped the back of the dress, Liz thought about how she’d once been confident, not filled with fear and anxiety over every little thing. It didn’t seem that long ago in some ways, but in others, it seemed like a lifetime ago. She needed to find her confidence again, stop worrying about what other people thought of her. Now just to figure out how to do that without burning every bridge like she currently felt like doing.
From there, her thoughts shifted abruptly to how long Molly’s hair had become, how the soft curls were falling past the middle of her back now, and how Molly was practically glowing. She looked over Molly’s shoulder, at her reflection in the mirror. Her friend was losing weight, something she’d been wanting to do for a long time. Liz only hoped Molly was doing it for the right reasons, not to try to fit in and make a man happy like she’d done herself for so many years.
Molly turned and clasped Liz’s hands in hers. “Hold your head high, Liz. All the thoughts that you think people are having about you are probably nowhere close to what they are thinking.”
Liz snorted. “Yeah. It’s probably a lot worse.”
“Liz!” Molly laughed and rolled her eyes. “You’re starting to sound like me. Now come on. Go find your seat and I’ll talk to you after the ceremony.”
In the kitchen, on her way to the backyard, Liz found Annie, Molly’s mom, folding napkins and placing them in a wicker basket on the counter.
“Hey, Liz. You look beautiful today.”
Liz placed a hand on her hip and tipped her head down slightly. “Now, Annie, you know it’s a sin to lie.”
Annie’s laugh was rich and full, one of the many attributes Liz loved about her. She shook her head as she folded the last napkin.
“It’s true, my dear. I know you’re tired, but you do look lovely. Missy did a nice job on your hair.”
“Thank you.” Liz decided to push the protest of the compliment aside and instead accept it. She patted the hair Missy Fowler had piled on her head, leaving the rest of her dark strands hanging down her back and across her shoulders. Missy was the hairstylist who had a shop below Ellie’s apartment — or Judi’s apartment now. “I actually do feel a little more rested today. We actually had one two hours and one three-hour stretch last night. Isabella has been better since Ginny brought me that gripe water the other day. She also showed me some pointers she used on her babies to get the trapped gas out.”
“What do you think Isabella’s nickname will end up being? Bella or Izzy?”
Liz made a face. “I hope it’s Bella. Izzy is too close to Lizzie. The kids in school used to chant that Lizzie Borden rhyme at me and I hated it.” Liz’s rolled her eyes as she recited the rhyme “Lizzie Borden took an ax, and gave her mother forty whacks; when she saw what she had done, She gave her father forty-one.’ Ugh. How awful.” She knew no matter how upset her mother made her, she’d never be like Lizzie Borden. “I’m just glad I never told anyone my real name. The taunting would have been the same.”
Annie’s brow furrowed. “Real name?”
“Lizanne.”
“Oh.” Annie looked surprised. “I always thought it was Elizabeth.”
“People assume it is and I just let them. I’m named after my great-grandmother, which was a fine name in the early 1900s, but not so great now.”
The sound of a truck engine brought Liz’s gaze to the kitchen doorway and out through the front window. Her heart rate sped up at the sight of Matt climbing out of his truck. She wished the palpitations were only because she found him attractive and not because she was terrified of talking to him about the birth announcement. Had he seen it? She couldn’t imagine he had or he would have answered her call earlier or called her before she’d tried to call him.
Her gaze took in a gray vest over a white shirt and a light-gray suit coat hanging from a bent finger and draped over his back. He’d had a haircut, making his dark brown hair even shorter on the sides and top. She imagined he’d have to cut it even shorter when he started at the academy in a couple of months.
“High and tight” is what she’d heard the state trooper hair cuts referred to as.
As she had a few times before, she found herself daydreaming about his hair looked like all ruffled up after a shower.
Or after she’d pushed her hands through it.
She drew in a sharp breath at the thought of messing up Matt’s hair, knocking some of that perfection out of him, and seeing what an unguarded Matt McGee was like.
She pulled her gaze away from him and slid her phone out of her purse, shooting a quick text to Ginny to check on Bella. She had left two bottles of pumped breast milk, hoping they’d be enough to keep Isabella satisfied until she came home.
Ginny texted back as Liz found a seat in the backyard.
All is well. She’s swinging in a little swing I’d kept here for the grandchildren. Happy as a clam.
When Matt appeared next to the arch standing next to Alex, who was standing next to Jason, she wished she could grab Matt and pull him aside, scold him for not blocking the announcement from going in. There were too many people filling the chairs, though, and soon the ceremony would start. She’d have to wait for later to interrogate him.
Molly was right. Ellie’s dress was simple and gorgeous. The veil hung across the back of her hair in a thin wisp of white. Finely sewn lace interlaced patterns down the back and along the train, which trailed a couple of feet behind her but clearly could be removed later, as evidenced by the bustle buttoned at Ellie’s waist.
Liz fought back emotions through the entire ceremony, partially because she was happy for Jason and Ellie and partially because she was sad for herself. Would she ever have a happy, beautiful ceremony like this? She mentally kicked herself, wishing for the hundredth time that she’d never gone to that party that night, that she’d never let herself be alone with Gabe and listened to his threats.
If she’d been stronger, hadn’t had that last glass of wine, then maybe she would have been like Ellie, standing hand in hand with a handsome man looking at her like he’d lasso the moon for her if she wanted it. Taking a deep breath, she reminded herself of what she’d thought the night she brought Bella home. Since she couldn’t have what her sister had, children with a husband, or what Jason and Ellie had — a love so deep their connection would survive whether they had children or not — she’d find a way to make it up to Bella. She’d find a way to make sure Bella wouldn’t be embarrassed to have her as a mother.
Tears stung her eyes as she watched tears glistening in Jason’s eyes when he said his vows. She wiped a fingertip under her eye, careful not to smudge the makeup she’d actually taken time to put on that afternoon after not wearing any for the last two months. Soon there were tears on Ellie’s cheeks as well and a quick glance around her showed that others had pulled out tissues and handkerchiefs, including Molly who kept nibbling on her bottom lip, obviously trying to hold the emotion in.
When the ceremony was over, and Jason and Ellie had walked down the aisle, beaming at each other the whole way, the guests dispersed to a pair of large tents set up to the left of the chairs. Liz sat herself at a table close to the head table, seriously considering leaving and heading back to the apartment for a quiet night with a sleeping baby and a movie. She couldn’t leave, though.
She still needed to talk to Matt. So far, she hadn’t been even able to catch his eye and she was beginning to wonder if he was avoiding her on purpose. After a meal of pulled pork, roasted potatoes, and homemade coleslaw, she gave up on pulling him away from talking with Jason and Alex and decided a walk might help her relax more. She’d better enjoy it while she could. She’d be back on newborn duty as soon as she arrived home.
A cool breeze swept over the yard at the front of the house as she rounded the corner of the house and walked toward the front porch. The porch was open, the white railing freshly painted and reminding her of a picture on an issue of Country Living magazine. She stepped up the steps and found a wooden slatted chair painted to match the railing and front of the house. Sitting in it she smiled, thinking how this house would soon look like a real home thanks to Ellie’s touch, instead of a bachelor pad, which is what it had been for the last five years.
She leaned back in the chair and closed her eyes, letting her mind wander and focus on the sound of a cicada or katydid somewhere across the driveway instead of her racing thoughts. After a few seconds of counting chirps, the world faded around her.
“Need a blanket?”
The words snapped her out of her brief nap, leaving her in a world of disorientation for a few seconds. She couldn’t even seem to register if she’d dreamed the words, or someone had actually spoken them.
Blinking her eyes to clear the sleep away she saw Matt standing on the top step, leaning his hip into the stair railing.
She shook her head. “I can’t believe I fell asleep like that.”
“You must have needed it.”
She pushed her hand back through her hair and let it fall slowly down her back. “I’ve been trying to catch you all day. We need to talk.”
He cocked an eyebrow, grinning. “About?”
Why was he grinning? Did he really think she was flirting right now?
“You haven’t seen the paper?”
He pushed off the railing and stepped up off the top step onto the porch, shoving his hands in his front jean pockets.
“Yeah, I saw it.”
She tightened her jaw. He was so aggravating. Seriously. “Saw what?”
“The baseball scores.” He rolled his eyes. “The birth announcement, Liz. I saw the announcement.”
“You saw it and didn’t call me?”
“I saw it an hour ago. When Jase showed me. I didn’t have time to call you. When did you see it? Why didn’t you call me?”
Liz glanced away, focusing on her hands clenched in her lap. “I —” She couldn’t say she thought he’d stop by, and she could talk to him then. How would that sound?
Desperate.
That’s how it would sound. “I don’t know. I was in shock, I guess. I can’t believe you didn’t stop that nurse.”
Matt sighed and propped the right side of his body against the column, his hands still in his front jean pockets. He tipped his face down toward the porch floor. “I did stop her, Liz. I asked her not to put it in the paper. She said she wouldn’t.”
Liz stood pressing her hands against her hips. “Well, then we need to call that hospital and give them a piece of our mind. They violated our privacy.”
Matt looked at her with an amused smirk. “We need to call?”
Liz threw her hands in the air, tipping her face toward the porch ceiling. “Okay. I need to call. And I will. First thing Monday morning.”
“And what good is that going to do?”
Her head snapped down and she leveled a burning gaze on him. “Excuse me?”
He shrugged a shoulder. “What’s been done is done. It’s not like they can take it out of the newspaper. It’s already been printed so calling them up and yelling won’t help anything. The proverbial cat is out of the bag.”
Was he serious right now? Why was he so calm?
“McGee, the whole town thinks you were sleeping with me. The people at your church think you were sleeping with me.” She paused for effect. “Having sex. Out of wedlock. Do you get that? They think you fathered a child with the screwed-up daughter of Frank and Marge Cranmer, the most revered members of Encounter Church. Do you not get that?” She huffed out a frustrated growl. “What are we going to do?”
Matt tipped his head and the smile faded into a more thoughtful expression, but she still couldn’t read him. His response sent anger seething through her.
“Nothing.”
She tossed her hands out to her side. “What do you mean nothing?”
He frowned. “What I said. Nothing. It’s no one’s business. Let people make up their own minds about what the truth is.”
Liz slapped her hands down against her side. “Oh, that’s just great. Let people make up their own minds? In this little town? That’s fine for you but everyone is looking at me like I corrupted the town saint.”
Matt’s amused laugh grated on her nerves. “The town saint? What does that even mean?”
She took a step toward him, incredulous. “You can’t be that clueless. You’re the town golden child. You’re a police officer, you lead Bible studies, help old ladies cross the street, take cats out of trees, and I’m pretty sure a woman was healed last week when she touched the hem of your uniform.”
His laugh deepened and she briefly imagined smacking him in the head. “Liz stop it. That’s ridiculous. No one thinks that stuff about me. I’m just — well, me. Small town cop. Spencer Valley’s Barney Fife.”
“Uh, yeah.” Liz raised her eyebrows. “If Barney Fife had groupies.”
Matt tipped his head back and laughed loudly. “I do not have groupies.”
He wiped the bag of his hand across his eyes as he stepped toward her. His eyes were still moist from the tears of laughter as touched his hand under her chin, cupping it gently. “And you’re not screwed up.” The smile faded and the intensity of his gaze on her sent her heart flapping wildly against her ribcage. She wanted to look away, but she couldn’t. His intensity pinned her down, stopped her racing thoughts. “You need to stop claiming that title. I’ve never given it to you, and I don’t know anyone else who has either. It’s something you call yourself.”
Her mouth lost its moisture as she tried to speak. “My parents —”
He dropped his hand from her chin. “Have they ever said you’re screwed up?”
“No, but they —”
“You think they think that, but they’ve never said those exact words, right?”
Liz put her hands up in front of her. “Okay. Enough about my parents. That’s not what we’re talking about. We’re talking about how to handle this birth announcement thing.”
“I already told you I’m not going to do anything other than going on with my life and you should do the same.” He held out his hand. “Now come on. There’s a party going on in the backyard. Let’s go celebrate Jason and Ellie.”
“McGee. Seriously. We can not just —”
“Yeah. We can. Now come on.”
Liz’s jaw tightened and her eyes narrowed. She was not just going to go back to the reception like nothing was going on, like this birth announcement wasn’t going to create even more issues for her and for him.
He kept his hand held out to her, his eyes on hers. After a few seconds, she took his hand reluctantly but let it go as she hit the bottom step. She tightened her hand into a fist against her side. How could he be so calm and confident about it all? Wasn’t he worried about his reputation? No, he obviously wasn’t, so why was she?
She was used to feeling like the black sheep in her family and her community. She didn’t want him subjected to the same judgment.
They walked together toward the backyard in silence. Jason and Ellie were dancing in the middle of the second tent, the rest of the guests watching.
Jason’s mom touched a tissue to the skin under her eye and Molly had slid into a chair next to Alex, her head against his shoulder as she watched.
Liz’s chest tightened. How long would it be before Molly and Alex were standing there, having their first dance? Then she’d be alone for real. Molly would be building a life for herself and Alex. Yes, Liz would have Isabella, but she would essentially be on her own.
Her palms grew cold, and she closed her eyes. No. She would not do this here. What was with her anyhow? She’d never dealt with a panic attack a day in her life before the night she’d found out she was pregnant. She’d had a small break from them during pregnancy and now? Well, now she felt like she should be in a mental hospital.
The voice of the DJ startled her out of her racing thoughts. “The bride and groom would love for their guests to join them.”
And that was her cue to step back and head —
Her back slammed into something solid. Glancing over her shoulder her gaze met Matt’s grin.
Oh.
She hadn’t backed into something. She’d backed into someone.
“Where are you going?”
“Home.”
“You’re not leaving before you dance with me, are you?”
“Uh. No.” She raised her hand and took a step away from him. “I don’t dance.”
“So?” He shrugged a shoulder. “I don’t either. We’ll just fake it. Plus, you owe me.”
“I owe you?” She turned toward him, raised an eyebrow. “For what?”
His smile widened. “I delivered your daughter.”
She rolled her eyes and turned her back on him. “Wipe that grin off your face, McGee.”
He stepped toward her, and his breath tickled the back of her neck. “Come on, Liz. This is your first time out since Bella’s been born. Have a little fun.”
Liz brushed her hand across the back of her neck, then held it there, warmth spreading across her skin. She closed her eyes. “McGee, come on. I don’t dance, okay?”
His breath was warm against her ear. “Just one, then you can go. I promise.”
He stepped in front of her and held his hand out. She pulled her lower lip between her teeth, studying him for a few seconds before laying her hand in his and letting him tug her a few steps forward to the edge of the makeshift dance floor. She really didn’t dance. Never had, never had wanted to. What was she doing agreeing to this?
Where did she even put her hands?
She tried to remember all those romantic Hallmark movies she’d watched over the years and laid one hand on his shoulder while he held the other. He slid his other arm around her side and laid his hand against her lower back.
She couldn’t lie.
It felt awkward.
The way she was standing.
How he was holding her.
She felt like she was dancing with her brother if she’d had one.
But then the dynamics shifted as his hand slid to the curve of her lower back and he gently pulled her toward him. It was a different kind of awkward now. She and Matt had known each other on an acquaintance level in high school. They’d been on a couple of dates in the last two years, had sat next to each other on movie nights when Molly, Alex, Jason, and Ellie all piled into her and Molly’s tiny apartment, and for goodness sake, he’d delivered her baby. She didn’t know how to feel about how close they were standing to each other now, but she knew her body was firing off warnings all over the place. Her cheeks were warm, her hands were clammy, her breath had quickened and she could barely hear the music over the thumping rhythm of her heartbeat.
He smiled and her chest tightened.
How had she never noticed the tiny freckle right above his left eye? Or how long and dark his eyelashes were? Or how amazing his aftershave smelled? Or was it cologne? She wasn’t even sure. Maybe he only wore cologne on special occasions, so that’s why she’d never noticed. Maybe she’d simply been too self-focused in the past to notice all these things.
No, not maybe. She had been.
Now, though, here she was looking right at him after he’d pulled her closer and she was finding it hard to look away.
No wonder all the women in town swooned when he walked into the diner or held a door open for them at church. She’d even heard stories of one for two women needing to fan themselves with their speeding tickets after he pulled them over.
“Doing okay?”
She nodded slowly, pulling her gaze from his, glancing over his shoulder where she caught Molly watching her with a smile. Or was it a smirk? Liz scowled at her, and Molly laughed, her arms around Alex’s neck as they swayed to the music too.
“Okay, we should stop.” She tried to pull away, but Matt pulled her back in. “Matt. Come on. I’m not a dancer.”
He shrugged a shoulder. “Neither am I, or most of the people here. Let’s fake it.”
The music from the DJ’s sound system switched to a new song. The singer was singing, “I’m going to love you forever and ever, amen.”
Liz’s gaze flicked around the tent, even more, self-conscious as she thought she saw Ellie’s sister Judi whisper something to one of Jason’s cousins.
She leaned her forehead against Matt’s shoulder, lowering her voice. “This should get the tongues wagging.”
“Let them wag. We’ve got more important things to focus on in our worlds. I’ve got the academy to think about and you’ve got a little girl to focus on. What others think of us, doesn’t matter.”
There he went again. Being practical. Logical. Totally right.
As the dance continued Liz felt her knees weakening and she knew it wasn’t because Matt’s other hand had moved to her waist.
Not now. Not here. Please.

Faithfully Thinking: How many times will God forgive us?

On By Lisa R. HowelerIn Faithfully Thinking6 Comments

There is an area of my life that I keep messing up in.

It’s a place of shame and difficulty that I have prayed about and tried to rectify over and over again. Every time I fail, I feel like a bad Christian. I immediately want to hide from God, as if he isn’t already aware of my sins and mistakes.

It’s extremely hard for me to imagine that God loves me in my worst moments, in the moments where I repeat something I’ve asked God for forgiveness for probably a hundred times.

There is a verse in the Bible where Peter asks how many times we must forgive another person who has wronged us.

“Then Peter came up and said to him, “Lord, how often shall my brother sin against me, and I forgive him?   As many as seven times?”
Jesus said to him, “I do not say to you seven times, but seventy times seven.”
— Matthew 18:21-22

According to some Biblical scholars, the idea behind this statement is not to sit and actually do the math and keep track of how many times you have forgiven someone. Instead, the idea is that there should be no limits to our forgiveness, the same way God does not limit how many times he will forgive us.

This doesn’t mean that we should keep messing up over and over, deciding God will forgive us anyhow, so it’s not a big deal. Of course, we need to do our best to walk in God’s ways, to obey his commandments, and to stop what we are doing that we know he would not want us to do. There will be times, though, that our flesh steps in. Our selfishness, our human side takes over, if even for a brief time, and we temporarily lay aside what we know we are supposed to do. Even then, God forgives us.

Even writing that is hard for me because I still feel very disappointed in myself over my repeated failings. I still ask God, “Why do I ignore that inner voice that tells me to behave and act the way you are calling me to?” I still feel the shame, still feel I don’t have the right to come to him and ask, yet again, for forgiveness.

In this season in my life, I sense God is urging me to seek out the real reason I keep messing up in certain areas of my life. There is a deeper reason, something I’m trying to hide from or run away from. Maybe not physically run away from, but psychologically. There are areas of my life I don’t want to face and it’s easier to distract myself in ways I shouldn’t. It’s easier to act out or be angry at someone else because then I don’t have to sit and look in at myself and how I haven’t handed over hurts or feelings of insecurity that I should have handed over to God long ago.

There are times I shy away from asking for forgiveness from God.

“Ugh. I can’t do it again,” I say to myself. “How can I be doing this yet again?”

In 1 John1:9 we are told that “ If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness.”

It doesn’t say he will forgive us our sins once and that is it. The Bible doesn’t assign a number to how many times God will forgive us, why should we?

If you’re like me and struggling with a sin you keep repeating yet feel shame over and keep asking God to forgive you for, please know you’re not alone. Not only am I struggling with this issue, but I am very certain there are thousands, if not hundreds of thousands of Christians struggling as well.

Looking back at October in photos

On By Lisa R. HowelerIn everyday musings10 Comments

I really feel like I just did this post for September only a week ago. October absolutely roared by us. I am having a hard time wrapping my mind around the fact we are now in November.

November brings with it two family birthdays and a family anniversary. My son’s birthday is Sunday and my husband’s birthday is on the same day as my brother and sister-in-law’s 25th anniversary.

Other than the birthday and anniversary celebrations and Thanksgiving, I don’t have a ton planned for November.

October wasn’t super busy either, luckily. We had my daughter’s birthday, a few family outings, the drama of the cat having to be rescued from a tree by the fire department, and that was about it.

Here are some highlights of our month in photo form.

Sunday Bookends: A short update. A few books. Annoying TV characters. A little trick-or-treating and the last of fall.

On By Lisa R. HowelerIn Sunday Bookends11 Comments


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


What I’m (We’re) Reading

I finally finished Another Man’s Moccasins by Craig Johnson, which kept getting pushed aside because of books I was reading for book tours.

This week I should finish The Love Coward by Naomi Musch and I am starting The Inn On Hanging Hill by Christy Barritt.

Little Miss and I finished Tolliver’s Secret for school this week. At night we are reading These Happy Golden Years, which I haven’t read since I was maybe ten. I am completely caught up in this book as I re-read about Laura’s romance with Almanzo. I didn’t remember the stories about her rivalry with Nellie Olson and I found myself reading ahead after Little Miss fell asleep. It was a lot of fun to do Nellie’s stuck-up voice; though I feel my effort was lost on Little Miss who kept falling asleep.

Speaking of Little Miss, I think I need a new blog nickname for her. Little Miss makes her sound stuck up. She’s opinionated and sometimes a bit bold and bossy but she isn’t stuck up. I’ll have to think about a new blog name for her down the road.

Anyhow, I have digressed.

The boy and I are reading Blood Brothers by Elias Chacour. I don’t participate in non-fiction November but this could count.

What I’m Watching

I’m watching The Eliott Sisters and I’m waiting for the one sister to get what is coming to her because she is having an affair with a married man and she’s totally arrogant about it. She’s a terrible character right now. She’s always sure her latest relationship (we are on three or four and this is only the second season) is “the one” and it never is.

The other sister is just very stuck in her ways and is overly intense.

The show is set in 1920s England follows the lives of a pair of sisters running a fashion business.

Why do I keep watching the show? Because sometimes making fun of shows is a nice distraction from the trials of life.

What’s Been Occurring

This past week we did almost nothing because the last key fob to our van broke and we have had to wait for a replacement before we can start our van. Even after we get the replacement in the mail, I have to go to a dealership to have it programmed.

On Saturday we went to a trunk-or-treat and trick-or-treating event in a town about 30-minutes away as a family. We met up with some friends for the event and my husband also took photos for his job at the local paper.

The earlier part of the week was warm so we enjoyed some time outside for school before the cold weather set in, along with rain, on Thursday.

This week we have the last science class for the fall at a local children’s camp and a grooming appointment for our dog. Our son’s 15th birthday is next Sunday.

What I’m Listening To

Last week I watched The Dove Awards, which TBN put on YouTube. I enjoyed the performances by Natalie Grant, CeCe Winans, and Zach Williams.

So that is my week in review.

Let me know what you’ve been reading, watching, listening to or doing in the comments.

Fiction Friday: The Next Chapter Chapter 7 Part II

On By Lisa R. HowelerIn everyday musings, Fiction Friday3 Comments

This is a story in progress. There may be typos, plot holes, etc. They are corrected (if my computer saves them in the right place unlike my last book. Grrr!) before publication in the future.

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

Chapter 7 Part II

The house was set back off a dirt road, under the canopy of a pair of towering maple trees that Matt had been trying to convince his mom to cut down for five years now. The paint had faded some so that it wasn’t white anymore, but an off-white, closer to tan. The black shutters showed some neglect, even though Matt had painted them a few years ago, shortly after his dad had passed away. His chest constricted at the memory, how he’d painted them out of guilt more than vanity.

He needed to get down here and paint them again, as well as the whole house. Living in the middle of nowhere, five miles away, in a cabin that he and his dad had built when he was a teenager and working full time as a police officer, as well as studying for the state police academy, shouldn’t be an excuse. Then again, add in volunteering for the local pregnancy care center, his work with the Boys and Girls Club, filling in for Dan Trenton as a Boy Scout leader once a month, and helping with the youth at the church, and he didn’t have much time for painting or help his mom keep up the property the way he wanted to.

Hopefully, when his young brother, Evan, came from college for winter break he would help more. His older sister, Melanie, helped when she was able, but she had her own life — along with the lives of three children — to balance.

Pulling his truck up in front of the house, he shut off the engine and looked up at the front door, set back inside a wide front porch. Inside his mother was most likely busy creating in one way or another — either with food or her sewing machine. The house would be warm and inviting, the atmosphere one where he could easily relax and maybe even take a nap if he had time. He didn’t have that luxury, though. Not today. Today one of his best friends was getting married, while the other one would be moving into his cabin with him, staying there on his own during the week when Matt went away to the state police academy in two months.

He still couldn’t believe he’d been accepted to the academy at his age. He would be older than most of the other recruits, but he didn’t intend to let that slow him down. He’d had a dream of being a member of the state police since he was ten years old, and a trooper had let him sound the siren at a local safety fair. In two months that dream would be a reality and he was excited, yet also on edge. He’d be leaving his mom, unable to come to visit her every other day like he did now. For six months he’d live three hours away during the week and be able to return only on the weekends, helping her with the upkeep of the property. After that, he wasn’t sure where his first assignment would be. That would be up to the state police.

Leaving his mom wasn’t the only aspect of all of this that had him on edge, of course. There was the worry that he would flunk out of training, yes, but also the ache in the center of his chest at the thought of not being able to see Liz and Isabella.

He smiled at the thought of holding the tiny newborn that day in the hospital, how it filled his chest with more delight than he’d ever expected. He’d never thought he wanted children of his own up until the day his sister had given birth and let him hold her firstborn. Holding his niece had triggered something in him, a feeling which had lain mostly dormant until he’d held Isabella and laid her on Liz’s chest. Liz had been exhausted, hair matted with sweat, but she’d also been beautiful; the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen in fact.

How was it that pregnancy and labor had made her even more beautiful to him? He had no idea, but he needed to stop thinking about all the things that weren’t in the cards for him — if he believed in cards instead of God — including Liz.

He needed to stop thinking, period. He had a lot to do today, starting with getting dressed for Jason’s wedding.

The sweet smell of apples and cinnamon hit him as he walked inside the house, the screen door squeaking, making a stealthy arrival impossible. Stepping through the parlor into the kitchen he found the source of the smell. His mother was standing next to the stove with her back to the doorway, stirring a long wooden spoon in a pot of applesauce she was preparing for canning.

Looking over her shoulder, his mom smiled. “There you are. It’s about time. You’re cutting it close, aren’t you?”

“All this for me?” He gestured toward the empty jars on the table.

 “Some of it for you, of course, but not all.” You’re not the only one who likes my applesauce on your pantry shelves all winter.”

He leaned over his mom and kissed her cheek as he dipped a finger in the applesauce. He stuck the finger in his mouth, chuckling as his mom gently slapped him in the shoulder.

She gestured toward the hallway. “Go on and head upstairs. Those cufflinks you were looking for are upstairs on the dresser. The shirt is in the walk-in closet in the spare room.”

It had been six years since his dad had died but his mom still kept a jewelry box full of various items of his on top of her dresser. Inside the small brown wooden box, he found the small gold cufflinks, engraved with the initial M, his dad’s old watch, still somehow ticking, a handful of change, and his dad’s class ring. He’d had the change in his pocket the day he died and somehow his mom couldn’t seem to let go of it.

She’d managed to move some of his clothes to the spare room two years ago, giving the rest of it away to goodwill or Matt and his brothers. The white dress shirt was the one Alan McGee had worn to his daughter’s wedding, held the year before he’d passed away. Matt considered himself lucky he and his dad were the same sizes. He’d needed a dress shirt for the wedding and his was at the dry cleaners after he’d bled on it while apprehending a drunk outside of Mooney’s a couple of weeks ago. It’d been quite a left hook but hadn’t caused much damage other than blood from his nose, luckily.

He snatched up the cufflinks and the shirt, pushing back the memories. He’d have to focus on that later. He didn’t have time to dwell on sentimental emotions. Heading back down the stairs he breathed in deep the smell of cooking apples.

His mom switched off the burner and reached for another full pot on the back of the stove. “Found them?”

He nodded and reached for a chocolate chip cookie sitting on a tray on the counter. He scanned the kitchen as he shoved the cookie in his mouth, taking in the canning jars filling the table and sitting along the counters, three trays of freshly baked cookies, two loaves of banana bread cooling, and two pies sitting next to an empty pie carrier near the fridge.

“Whoa. Mom. What’s going on? You opening a bakery?”

Rebecca McGee set the pot on the table next to a row of empty canning jars and smiled. Her 5-foot 3-inch frame looked even smaller when she was barefoot like she was now. Her cheeks were flushed from the heat of the stove and the rushing around. Matt knew she called herself plump and maybe she was compared to some, but he preferred to call her “fluffy” because that’s how she felt when he hugged her. Her blond hair, growing lighter by the day, was swooped upon her head in a fluffy bun, wispy strands fluttering around her forehead and face as she moved between the stove and kitchen table.

She slapped her son gently on the arm. “Very funny. No. I overextended myself. I agreed to bake something for three different community organizations.” She gestured toward the tray of cookies behind him. “That reminds me, I need you to take those cookies and pies to the Tanners for the reception. I’d take them myself, but I told Millie Baker I’d bring her the other two trays of cookies for the Friends of the Library bake sale fundraiser and I need to seal these jars up before I leave. If I time it right, I should be able to get the cookies to Millie, the banana bread to the pregnancy care center for their dinner tonight, and then make it back before Ellie walks down the aisle. If you take the cookies, then I won’t have to try to balance them while rushing to find my seat before the ceremony starts.”

Matt stole another cookie. “First, it isn’t really an aisle. It’s just a path between the chairs in Jason’s backyard. Second, you could have asked me to help you with the other deliveries too. I would have had plenty of time if I’d known.”

Rebecca placed a funnel in the mouth of a jar then paused, hands on her hip as she took a deep breath. “Oh, it’s fine. You have enough on you today.” She sized her son up for a few seconds, which made him stop mid-bite.

“What? Do I have crumbs on my chin?”

“How’s Liz and that beautiful baby?”

His chest constricted. Alert. Awkward conversation ahead.

“Um. . .” He commenced chewing. “She’s tired but good. Isabella is even more beautiful than when I first met her.”

Rebecca’s hands were still on her hips. “Mmhmm. Right. About that day. When you first met her. The moment she exited Liz’s womb. In the front seat of your truck. We haven’t had a chance to talk about that.”

Matt snorted a laugh. His mom was nothing if not blunt. “Nothing to talk about. We went for a ride to the pond, and she went into labor. That’s all.”

“And you two are . . .what? Friends? More than friends?”

Matt walked to the fridge. “Got any milk?”

He could feel his mom’s eyes boring into his back as he opened the door and reached for the carton. “You know the Tanners are going to be making a special milk sometime next year. They’re building a bottling plant and have already tested a good portion of their jersey cows.”

He reached for a glass in the cabinet next to the fridge, keeping his back to the woman who gave birth to him, the woman who could read him better than anyone, the woman who was not going to back down from this conversation without divine intervention.

“Annie told me. She also told me about the corn maze and the pumpkin farm they’re planning for next year.” He didn’t have to turn around to know she’d folded her arms across her chest. “Matthew, you know I like Liz. I like her a lot, but I don’t want to see you hurt. What’s her relationship with Isabella’s dad? If it’s who I’ve guessed it is, I hope she isn’t in any relationship with him. I don’t often say this, but he’s a waste of space at this point in his life.”

Matt guzzled half the glass of milk and dragged his hand across his upper lip as he turned around and leaned back against the counter. “Liz and I are friends, Mom.” He shrugged a shoulder and drank the rest of the milk, turning quickly to put the glass in the sink. He filled it with water like he knew his mom would ask him to. “I’m just helping her out. Gabe’s not in the picture right now and I don’t think he ever will be.”

Rebecca sighed, a long deep sigh, with a tinge of sadness. “Okay then. If you want to stick with that story, then —”

He laughed. “Stick with what story?” He slid an arm around her and hugged her against his side. “You worry too much, Mom. Listen, we’ll talk more about this later, but right now I have to get over to Jase’s before his head explodes.” His phone dinged as he released her. “See? I bet that’s him, telling me to hurry up. I bet Alex is falling down on the job, and he wants me to replace him as his best man.”

Rebecca shook her head and kissed his cheek. “Well, whatever is going on between you and Liz, feel free to bring her out here soon for some lunch. I’d love to finally get a look at that beautiful baby, and the woman who has my son so flustered these days.”

Flustered? He was not flustered.

He snatched the shirt from over the back of the chair, pushed the cufflinks into his front jean pocket, and waved over his shoulder. “See you at the Tanner’s later, Mom. Don’t work yourself too hard. Wouldn’t want to be too tired to interrogate me more later.”

“And don’t think I won’t, my boy.”

Matt smiled and shook his head as the screen door slammed behind him. At least when his brother came home from college, she’d have someone else to focus her attention on.

She was a persistent woman. The only problem with her planning to interrogate him was that he didn’t know what to tell her. He didn’t know what he and Liz were.

Friends? He hoped so.

More? No. They weren’t but he certainly wouldn’t protest if she wanted to be.

He glanced at his phone’s lock screen as it rang. Looked like the topic of conversation was trying to reach him. He didn’t have time, though.

He tapped the decline button and shoved the phone in his pocket. He’d see her soon enough at the wedding. They could talk then.

Faithfully Thinking: Trusting God in the Waiting

On By Lisa R. HowelerIn everyday musings13 Comments

Several times in the last week I have heard someone — either online friends or pastors — talk about trusting God in the waiting seasons of our lives. Those seasons could either be when we are waiting for God to answer our prayers about an issue or when we are waiting for Him to tell us what step we should take next in our lives.

I have been in those times of waiting and I am there again. This time there are a few issues I am waiting on and my issues are not any more serious than anyone else’s. In fact, they are probably much less serious than some I know right now.

No matter how serious the issue or concerns, though, God is with us in the waiting. There is always a reason we are in a holding pattern in our lives. Maybe God wants to show us something or maybe he simply is asking us to draw closer to him in our time of uncertainty.

Pastor Larry Bray recently said in a sermon at Elevation Church that when there is a period of waiting in our lives, many of us fill that empty space with other things. We fill it with fear, with anger, with bitterness, with hurt toward God and some of us fill it with excuses. We also try to pray the space away instead of asking ourselves what we can learn in the waiting.

I know when I faced an extended time of loneliness, I prayed for God to take it away and “fix it.” I didn’t like the loneliness and quiet and feeling so alone. I still don’t. I’m still somewhat in that place and it’s very uncomfortable. Being alone and feeling like an outcast is in some ways normal to me but it’s also an uncomfortable place to me. (An aside: because I feel like I’m an outcast or alone doesn’t mean I am either of those things. We can feel something but that doesn’t make it a fact. As I’ve heard said before — a feeling is not fact and fact is not a feeling.)

When I was asking God to change my situation, I was rejecting anything he might want to teach me through it. I still don’t really understand this period of isolation I’ve been walking through, but I do see some positives. I have found myself in a time of more simplicity; a time where I can learn more about what God wants for my life. I wish I could say this time has pushed me to read my Bible more, have more quiet times with Christ, but I haven’t always filled my waiting time with what I should be. I’m not saying that I haven’t ever found myself with more time to do a devotional or read the Bible and not taken that opportunity, but I have not taken the opportunities as often as I should have.

Are you in a period of waiting?

Do you find yourself standing in the middle of where you were and where you want to be?

Maybe it is with a health concern or a career choice or even a relationship.

Is there a way you can “hunker down”, so to speak, in this time in your life and practice patience while you wait for God to show you what he wants in your situation?

I’m horrible at practicing patience.

When God handed out patience, he obviously sprinkled a tiny bit in me, hoping it would grow naturally. Sadly, I obviously have the talent of killing what God has placed in me to grow in the same way I have a talent for killing all plants.

But maybe those things I think I’ve killed are really not all the way dead. Maybe they are only, to borrow a term from The Princess Bride, mostly dead. They are still alive enough that with a little bit of watering and feeding from God’s word they can regain their strength and grow the way God intended them to.

I may never have perfect patience, but maybe I can have just enough to stop my striving and instead listen to what God wants me to learn in my waiting.

Once we’ve learned what we need to do during our time of waiting, then we can step forward into the future God has planned for us, leaving doubts and mistrust behind. Our time of waiting may be short, or it may be long, but no matter how long it is, God will be there with us.

The Lord is good to those who wait for him, to the soul who seeks him. Lamentations 3:25

Sunday Bookends: fiction with real messages, books for book tours, and a little trick or treating

On By Lisa R. HowelerIn Sunday Bookends4 Comments

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

What I’m Reading

I finished two books this week but I was almost done with both of them.

I finished The Rhise of Light by Max Sternberg (a Christian fantasy book) and my first Terri Blackstock book, Double Minds.

Double Minds was a raw look at the not-always-perfect world of Contemporary Christian Music and how even Christians fall into the trap of fame and power. That trap can lead to lies and murder, or at least it did in this fiction book. While I have had heard a couple stories about the lies and power traps within the Christian music community, I luckily have never heard of a murder case.

I am sure there are also many women in the industry who have struggled with the body issues that one of the characters in this book did. I’ve heard about Blackstock’s books before and how they are clean but also very honest and raw, not afraid to pull aside the curtain and show that Christians struggle like everyone else.

The Rhise of Light held my attention all the way through, even though I’m not usually a fan of fantasy books or movies. I posted a review of it yesterday.

This week I am continuing The Love Coward by Naomi Musch and am determined to finish Another Man’s Moccasins by Craig Johnson, since I have been interrupted by other books since I started it some three or four months ago.

After that I have a small list of books I need to read for book tours or reviews by mid-November or early December.

Those books include:

Saving Mrs. Roosevelt by Candace Sue Patterson;

A Convenient Risk by Sara R. Turnquist;

Heart of Stone by David James Warren (the last book in the Rembrandt Stone Series and oh my gosh I am sooooo excited I get to read it early!);

The Inn on Hanging Hill: The Beach House by Christy Barritt;

and Songs in the Storm: Wind River Chronicles by Kathy Geary Anderson (written by a woman in my writing critique group so I have actually already read this and I really enjoyed it. I’m not a huge fan of historical fiction, but I got caught up in the lives of these characters.).

What’s Been Occurring

This past week was a fairly relaxed week other than the cat drama I wrote about earlier in the week.

From Thursday to Friday our temperature dropped about 20 degrees and Little Miss ended up with her normal weather change sickness. She always develops a fever of about 101 when the weather changes, it lasts about a day, and it’s done.

About three weeks ago this happened but she had a legit cold because my son got it as well.

We went to a trunk-or-treat event in the town where my husband works yesterday and I only allowed Little Miss to go if she wore her mask, which she was fine with since it was part of her costume (Spider Gwen from a parallel universe). She was pretty tired from not sleeping well the night before but didn’t want to miss seeing her friends and getting candy. She immediately told her friends to “social distance!” in case she could get them sick.

What I’ve Been Writing

I’m working on The Next Chapter, but am taking a different approach than my last books. I am actually trying to develop lists for my characters so I know exactly where they are going in the story and why. The main reason for doing this with this book is that I have three point of views and therefore three character arcs I need to make sure develop, but also interconnect at some point in the book.

I am also trying my hand at a little bit of plotting, versus writing by the seat of my pants. I still don’t like strict plotting before I start writing, but with three POVs, I will need to have some idea of where the story is going to go as I write.

I’ve always been a bit of a hybrid writer, or at least since book three that is. I write my books mainly by the seat of my pants, but I also plan out chapters as I get going, writing down a few thoughts about what I want to happen in future chapters.

Last week, I didn’t share a ton on the blog. I wrote a post about our tree climbing cat and shared a chapter from The Next Chapter. I’m sure most of the chapters I am sharing will change  a ton before the book is finally published sometime in the spring.

What I’m Watching

I did not watch a ton this week. My husband and I started season four of Lovejoy (which I talked about last week).

What I’m Listening To

I listened more to Crowder’s new album Milk and Honey this week and love it.

So that’s my week in review. How about all of you? Reading anything good? Watching anything interesting? Let me know in the comments.

Book Review The Rhise of Light by Max Sternberg

On By Lisa R. HowelerIn book reviews, books and reading1 Comment

Book: The Rhise of Light

Author: Max Sternberg

Genre: Christian Fantasy

Description: This is not your typical Christian Fiction story…

The entirety of living civilization stands on the very brink of death. Undead hordes have rampaged across the world. Determined to do his part, Leon Rhise left his wealthy father’s estate and chose to defend the last living kingdom by joining the military. It had seemed to be a good idea at the time.

After his career in the airship navy came to an abrupt end Leon arrived home, hoping for a warm reception. Instead, he was abruptly tossed out. Disowned, unemployed, and friendless. All hope seems lost. Then Leon discovers a mysterious relic, which opens up the possibility of him becoming a Judge: a hero of legend. One that has not been seen for centuries.

As Leon travels the road less taken his destiny converges with newfound companions, each one surrounded by mystery. Advised by strange beings in dreams and visions, Leon learns that the undead onslaught the world has suffered is part of a much larger problem. A solution can be found by learning about the forgotten being known as Adonai. But the world is ending, and time is running out.

Delve into a world that brings a unique twist and interpretation to faith-based high fantasy. With emotional highs and lows, certain peril, dysfunction, and humor; tough questions are asked, and answers will come to light.

My Review

Let me get this out of the way first: I don’t read fantasy, Christian or not. I just don’t do it. But I’d met the author of this book in an online writing group, and he seemed nice so I thought I should read it to support him. I dragged my feet on it. I did. I cannot lie. I was like a little child. I folded my arms across my chest, slouched down on the couch and pulled my hood down over my face.

I pushed my lower lip out. “I don’t like fantasy books. All those ridiculous names and magic and sword battles with fantastical creatures.”

I huffed out a breath and grabbed my Kindle. “Fine. I’ll try it, but only because Max is a nice guy.”

Now, after reading The Rhise of Light, I can’t say that I will keep reading fantasy, but I can say I will read more fantasy written by Max Sternberg.

The Rhise of Light is not only full of well-written prose and dialogue and good, smart fun. It is also deeply theological, thought-provoking, and spiritually moving.

I fell in love with the main characters, Leon, Miala, Duame, and Kelleren but then there were even more characters to fall in love with as the book went on.

Creative well-developed characters and his descriptions make you feel like you are right there and all the characters are alive and real – whether they are human, elf, dwarf, dog, or an undead zombie.

Sternberg paints a vivid image of the world Leon and his friends live in, so vivid that sometimes it is a bit scary, considering that when people die they immediately become undead zombies who want to kill everyone else, no matter how nice they were in life or how they died. The only way to kill them for good is to dispatch them a second time and often in a grisly way.

Sternberg doesn’t pull any punches in fight scenes, but he also isn’t overly graphic. He weaves humor in the midst of heavy and serious and touching in the midst of heartbreaking.

Perhaps you’re not a fan of fantasy either. Don’t overlook this one because of your preconceived notions. You might just be as surprised and as enchanted as I was with Sternberg’s debut novel.

Fiction Friday: The Next Chapter, Chapter 7 Part I

On By Lisa R. HowelerIn everyday musings2 Comments

To catch up with the rest of the story, click HERE.

“I’m thinking of taking an art class at the community center,” Ginny said to Stan as she poured a glass of orange juice and set it next to his uneaten breakfast.

Or rather, she said it to the newspaper in front of his face.

Ginny had been thinking about what Sarah had said about her needing a new hobby when she’d hung a flyer on the announcement board the day before.

Sketching class. All ages. $35 for three classes, $15 per class afterwards. Wednesdays 7-9. Spencer Valley Community Hall.

Sarah was right. She did need a hobby. Something for herself. She’d attended a couple of the general art classes, but this was a class specifically about sketching. A more focused medium that she could focus on instead of focusing on how drab her life had become.

The art teacher, Alexandra Dupre, a name Ginny was convinced was fake, had handed the flyer to Ginny as she left the sewing class, asking if she would hang it in the library.

Ginny had taken a few art classes in college, but of course that had been decades ago now. It would be nice to try something new, get out of the house on those days when Stan was working late, which was almost every day lately. It would also be nice to have a normal conversation with other adults – adults that listened, unlike Stan.

She set a glass of juice next to her own plate and sat down. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s silly but I think I should pick up a new hobby, meet some new people.”

Stan reached around the paper, picked up his glass of orange juice and slurped it.

He slurped orange juice. He slurped soup. He slurped any liquid and sometimes he even slurped ice cream. Why did he do that? It drove Ginny crazy.

“Umm…yeah,” Stan mumbled. “Nice. Did you know that they are predicting a rise in prices for homes in this area in the next year thanks to the natural gas industry?”

 “I used to paint in college,” Ginny said, spreading grape jam on her toast.” Do you remember that?”

“Of course, the hard thing right now is trying to find a way to sell all that land the farmers are leaving behind,” Stan said. “The local farms are dropping like flies anymore. It’s sad.”

Ginny added creamer to her coffee and stirred it slowly, looking out the kitchen window at the neighbor’s bird feeder. “I think it will be good for me to try something different so I’m asking Sarah to close that night. She is the one who suggested it anyhow.”

 “I got a call about another farm up on Henderson Road. About 250 acres. Pretty sure we’ll have to break those acres up to sell them off.”

Ginny leaned against the counter. A blue jay landed on the bird feeder and flapped its wings at a chickadee. “I wonder if I’ll need to buy some extra supplies.”

Stan folded the paper, laid it down, and buttered his already cold toast. He crunched into it as he stirred creamer into his coffee. “I might can market it commercial, but that’s going to be a really hard sale. It isn’t on a major highway like the Drake’s farm out on 220 was. Still can’t believe they’re going to put another Dollar General there. Those things are popping up everywhere. They multiply like baby rabbits.”

Ginny dropped three drops of liquid Stevia into her coffee. “I think I might have some old paint brushes in the closet. Or maybe it’s the shed. Oh wait, I think I put them in the attic.”

Stan slurped his coffee again. “The farmhouse won’t be hard to sell at least. It’s beautiful. Who knows, maybe someone will have an idea how to farm the property again and it will sell as is. Maybe they could put some organic stuff out there. Organic food is popular with the younger generation these days.”

“I bet there are some canvases up there too,” Ginny said, sipping her coffee.

Stan took another bite of toast and made a face. “Welp, off to show that property out on 187.”

He snatched a piece of bacon off his plate, stuffed it in his mouth, and grabbed his briefcase from the chair next to the back door. “See you later tonight.”

He brushed his lips against Ginny’s cheek in a quick movement on his way toward the back door.

Ginny rolled her eyes as the door closed behind him. “So glad we had this talk.”

She had the morning off of work, but sadly she couldn’t enjoy a nice day of sitting on the back porch reading a book this time.

She made a face as she reached for the grocery list she’d tacked to the fridge. Grocery shopping. The activity she hated almost as much as washing dishes. She looked down at her stained shirt, realizing she’d dripped strawberry jam on it, and decided she’d better change.

Ten minutes later she looked at herself in the full-length mirror on the back of her bedroom door ten minutes later and winced. She was getting quite a belly. She turned to the side and grimaced. Her pants were hugging that belly like cellophane over a watermelon. She turned again, groaning. Just look at that. Her butt was the other side of the watermelon.

Maybe that’s why Stanley was so busy these days. Who would want to look at this all day if he didn’t have to? She couldn’t say she blamed him. Straightening her shoulders, she tried to suck in her belly and push out her chest.

Oh my.

Her chest was rushing toward her knees. Getting old was not for the faint of heart. Maybe she should take Hannah McGee up on that spinning class she’d invited her to. Ginny wasn’t exactly sure what spinning really meant but she hoped it was the spinning of stationary bike pedals and not some New Age activity involving spinning in place in the middle of the room. She hadn’t been able to spin in place for years; it always made her dizzy.

Of course, everything made her dizzy anymore.

Down in the kitchen Ginny reached for the grocery list she’d made after reading about a new diet in the Good Housekeeping. Surely eating more fruits and vegetables and less bread would help her lose some of those pounds she’d put on over the years. She touched the skin under her chin and sighed. Maybe it would also help her get rid of the gooseflesh she’d developed in various areas of her body as well.

Ginny couldn’t remember worrying about her weight much over the years, except after the birth of her children and once in college when she had gained the so-called “freshman ten,” which had been more like the freshman “twenty”. Before she hit middle-age she had lost the weight quickly, simply by walking more laps around the track at the high school and cutting out sweets. Now none of those tricks were working. She knew she’d have to step up her game if she wanted to see results.

Avocado

Fat free milk

Green leaf lettuce

Almonds

Salmon

Kale

B-vitamins

Grass-fed butter

Grass-fed beef

Coconut oil

Olive oil

Lean, organic chicken breasts

She looked at the start of her shopping list and sighed. It looked like eating healthy was going to be an expensive endeavor, but if Stanley could spend money on golf outings and an extra sports channel to watch the Cubs then she could spend money on getting healthy.

She finished the list and snatched up her purse, deciding now was a good of a time as any to do the shopping. Stanley was at work, and this was her one morning a week off from the library. She chose the larger, chain supermarket in town for her shopping, hoping they’d have some of the more eclectic items on her list. Inside the store she squinted in the bright fluorescent light, silently lamenting her ever-changing eyesight, including developing light sensitivity.

“Excuse me,” she said to the bored looking, 20-something year old blonde girl stacking apples in bins. “Can you tell me if this store carries —” she looked at her list, adjusted her glasses to the tip of her nose, and squinted again.  “Organic cassava flour?”

The girl turned, an apple in her hand, and wrinkled her nose. “Sounds foreign to me. Is it foreign? Because we have a foreign food section. Aisle 10.”

“I don’t know.” Ginny looked at her list again. “I suppose it could be foreign. I’ll look in that aisle.”

The girl turned back to filling the bin of apples, tossing them with a swift flick of the hand like she was in some kind of competition to see which move could bruise the fruit faster.

In aisle ten Ginny looked for the cassava flour but only found coconut milk from Thailand, which she decided to try, and corn tortillas that were supposed to be from Mexico but were actually made in Cleveland. She dropped both in her cart and when she looked up Liz was walking towards her, pushing a cart with a baby seat sitting snug on top.

“Escaped the library again, huh?”

Ginny smiled as Liz’s cart stopped next to hers. She leaned over to get a closer look at Isabella. “Only for a little while. It’s my morning off.” She kept her eyes on the soft features of the sleeping newborn for a few moments longer before looking at Liz. “You look a little more rested since I last saw you. Are you?”

Liz pushed a straight strand of dark hair behind her ear. “A little more yes. We managed to catch a couple three hour stretches last night. She woke up once to nurse and then we were both back to sleep. We didn’t even wake Molly this time. It was heavenly.”

Ginny remembered well the euphoria of experiencing long stretches of sleep after weeks of waking up once an hour, even though it had been 22 years since she’d last cared for a newborn full time.

“It must be nice to get out a little bit, even if it’s just to the store.”

Liz agreed and for a few minutes the women compared items in their cart, with Liz making a face at a few of the items, most of which she’d been exposed to at her job at the local health store.

“Linda carries the cassava flour in three-pound bags,” Liz said, tilting her head to look at Ginny’s list. “She also has coconut flour but that is much more fine and has a sweeter flavor.”

Linda was Liz’s boss at the health food store, which Ginny had stopped visiting the year before when Linda had suggested she purchase a pack of tarot cards along with her apple cider vinegar and gluten free bread.

Ginny slid her bifocals to the tip of her nose again to see the list better and was about to ask which flour Liz thought might spur on some weight loss, when a man’s voice filled the brief silence.

“Ginny? Is that you?”

Ginny looked up in surprise, her glasses still on the tip of her nose, and found herself starring into a pair of intensely green eyes. Her gaze drifted from the eyes to a charming smile and back to the eyes again. Was she supposed to know this good-looking man? More importantly, how did he know her?

“Um . . .yes?”

The man ran a hand across his rugged jawline and a dimple appeared at the corner of his mouth as he smiled.

“Ginny, it’s me,” he said with a small laugh. “Keith.” He raised a hand in Liz’s direction. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Ginny caught a small smile from Liz.

“No problem,” Liz responded. “We were just discussing the price of tea in China.”

Keith grinned. “It depends on what kind of tea you want. Right now, it’s about $40 American for 500 grams of oolong. It’s a little less for black tea.”

Liz snorted a laugh, but Ginny simply stared. Her mind raced, trying to figure out how this attractive man knew her. He turned his attention back to her and an anxious buzz skittered across the skin along her arms as it hit her.

Keith? No. It couldn’t be. This couldn’t be Keith Sta —

“Stafford,” he said as if reading her mind. “Tell me I haven’t gotten so old you didn’t even recognize me, Ginny.”

It wasn’t age that had left her in the dark. It was placement. She’d never expected to run into Keith in a supermarket some 35 years after she’d last seen him. She knew exactly where she’d last seen him too. Standing on her parents’ front porch, his hands in his pockets, speaking to her through the screen door, begging her to come outside and speak to him.

 “Keith. I’m so sorry. It’s just, it’s —”

“Been such a long time. I know.” Keith laughed and her heart lurched at the familiar throaty timbre. “About 30 years since we last saw each other, isn’t it? And I’m sure I don’t look the same.” He shrugged a shoulder, grinning. “I’ve changed and probably not for the better.”

Ginny disagreed but felt it would be inappropriate to remark that his looks had only improved with age. “Now, Keith. That’s not true.”

He grinned and when he folded his arms across his chest Ginny noticed muscles rippling along his forearms. Apparently, he’d been working out. “You haven’t changed at all, Ginny Lynn.” Her face flushed warm as his gaze traveled the length of her, all the way down to her simple black flats, and back to her face again.  “You are as beautiful as ever.”

She laughed softly and shook her head, pulling her gaze from his and focusing on the handle of the cart instead. His appearance might have changed, but his ability to flirt certainly hadn’t. “Well, I don’t know about that, but it’s nice of you to say.” 

“I mean it. You look amazing. Truly.”

Ginny smiled. “Thank you, Keith.” She reached for another can of coconut milk to avoid making eye contact, completely forgetting Liz was still there until she heard the younger woman cough softly and say, her voice dripping with amusement, “Well, I should probably finish my shopping and let you two catch up.”

Ginny glanced at Liz, trying to catch her eye. Don’t you dare leave me, Liz. Not now.

“Oh, no need to leave on my account,” Keith said with a furrowed brow.

Yes, see, Liz, no need to leave on his —

“Actually, it’s almost feeding time for the little one so I really should finish up and head home before I have a screaming newborn, but thank you. It was nice to meet you.”

Keith flashed one of his charming smiles at Liz and held his hand out.

Liz took it, smiling away, clearly not sensing Ginny’s inner panic. “You too, Keith.”

Keith stepped aside as Liz pushed her cart past him and glanced into the car seat. “Oh my. Beautiful baby you have there.”

Liz threw a smile over her shoulder and thanked him while Ginny frantically searched her brain for a way to convince Liz to stay. When no ideas came, she turned her attention to Keith who was obviously interested in small talk by how he said, “So, how’s life been treating you all these years?”

Ginny loaded two more cans of coconut milk into her cart. “Good. It’s been good.” She wished she’d had a more exciting life story to share with him. “Taught middle school for 20 years and now I’m the town librarian.”

“That’s great.” His eyes were intently focused on her, sending warmth spreading up the back of her neck. “Married, I’m guessing?”

“Of course.” Ginny raised her left hand to show her wedding ring, then remembered she’d removed it the other day because it was digging into her swollen finger. “Oh. Well, the ring is usually there, but . . .well, I had to take it off to — uh —”

Keith grinned. “It’s okay, I believe you. So, who’s the lucky guy?”

“Stanley Jefferies.”

Keith’s eyebrows raised. “Ah, so you two did end up together after all.”

“Yes.” She nervously fingered her necklace.

“Glad to hear you two made it,” Keith said. “I married a woman I met in college, but, well, as things go sometimes, we divorced last year.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“I’m not.” Keith laughed, shifting his basket from one hand to the other. “Divorcing her was the best thing that ever happened to me. I’ve never felt so free. I decided to move back here to my hometown, buy a cabin, and run my business from there.”

“Oh, what business are you in?”

“Software development. My partner and I started it about ten years ago. Before that I worked for Microsoft. I fly out to L.A. once a month to touch base, more if I’m needed.”

Ginny tightened her grip on the shopping cart, feeling suddenly even more fat, old, and boring next to Keith, who was as handsome and charming as he’d always been, definitely led a more successful life, and had obviously been keeping in better shape than her. His T-shirt pulled against a firm, flat stomach, short sleeves revealing well-formed upper arms as he reached up on a shelf for a carton of organic chicken broth.

“You ever use this? It’s great for flavoring chicken dishes.”

“Oh yes. I have.” Had she? She really couldn’t remember. Why had she said she had? She looked away, cleared her throat. “Well, I should get going. I’m buying so-called healthy food so I should probably head home and figure out how to cook it.”

Keith nodded, flashing that captivating smile again. My goodness his teeth were straight.

“I understand that. I’m trying to eat healthier too.” He patted his stomach, as if there was something there to pat other than a clear six pack. “Let me know if you need help on figuring out some recipes. I’d be glad to help. My ex was a horrible cook, so I did most of the cooking. Hey, here.” He reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out his cellphone. “Give me your number. I’ll text you so you’ll have my number if you need it.”

Ginny felt uneasy, yet flattered, that Keith was asking for her number. She gave it to him and watched as he typed it in his phone then sent her a quick text. “There. Now you have my number too. I hope to hear from you sometime. It would be great to get together with you and Stan for dinner one night. I’d be glad to do the cooking.”

Ginny moved a strand of hair that had fallen from her ponytail from her forehead to behind her ear. “Sounds good.”

After they’d said a goodbye and Keith left, she mentally chided herself for being so awkward.

Sounds like a plan? What sounds like a plan? Does anyone even say that anymore? Oh, my word I’m such a loser.

She tried to finish the rest of her shopping trip without remembering how Keith’s muscles had rippled under his shirt or how confident and laid back he’d looked when he’d pushed his hand back through silver flecked brown hair, laughing easily as they talked.

Keith Stafford. The boy who stole her heart in the tenth grade and broke it in eleventh grade. She’d never forget how he’d made her feel, first elation with a pounding heart, then hurt with crushing rejection. It had been Stan who had rescued her the last half of her junior year, mainly by being her friend and simply asking her to walk with him, go to the movies, or visit the arcade.

She let out a quiet breath as she walked briskly toward the checkout line. Stan was different now, of course, but they all were. People change, including her. Changes were what life was all about, whether she liked it or not.

Her phone dinged as she waited in line. Sliding it out of her purse she smiled at Liz’s text.

Do I need to come rescue you? I just finished loading my groceries, but I can rush back in and chase that man away from you if you need me to.

Ginny laughed softly and quickly responded. Already rescued myself, but thanks anyhow.

Liz texted again. Not that you looked like you really wanted to be rescued  . . .

Oh, yes, Liz. Yes, I did want to be rescued, she thought, but didn’t text it back. Instead, she told Liz to have a good day and she’d stop by soon with an extra baby carrier she’d found in the garage.