I ended up in a TobyMac YouTube spiral Sunday and it was amazing. It was the most relaxed and at home I had felt in awhile. It fit in perfectly with my social media detox (full disclosure – I have popped on Facebook once or twice to ask a couple questions in groups I am in and I went on Instagram to apologize to two authors for not yet reviewing their books after they had agreed to review mine. I have not, however “scrolled” any timelines and that’s been so refreshing! Oh wait – I briefly scrolled my dad’s timeline while I was eating some lunch at their house but was so horrified with the nastiness there I quickly remembered my detox and closed the iPad cover.)
Back to the real reason for this blog post: For those of you who don’t know who TobyMac is, he is a Christian rapper/singer/musician who originally started out with the Christian rockish/rap/pop band D.C. Talk.
As I listened to all those TobyMac songs Sunday a thought hit me – Toby’s music has been the soundtrack of my life since junior high school. His music has been there through the highs and the lows. It’s lifted me when I’ve been down or kept me up when I was already joyful.
I first discovered Toby around 1990 DC Talk and the album Nu Thang. I picked it up (a cassette! Gasp!) at the Christian bookstore at the local mall (two things we don’t have many of anymore) and popped it into my walkman (yes, I am that old). I listened to it the entire hour and a half drive back to our house (yes, we lived that far away from a mall). I ended up being able to catch DC Talk in concert with Michael W. Smith in Hershey, Pa. a year or so later. We were behind the stage and everything was pretty loud, but it was still a cool experience.
I was able to see DC Talk again at Creation, a Christian music festival in Pennsylvania, somewhere around 1995 when their album Jesus Freak came out.
Eventually the band took an extended hiatus and during that time TobyMac started a successful solo career. I have picked up everyone of his albums and I have liked almost every song on every single one of those albums. You know how you sometimes by an album and you think “I like all these songs except … that one.” Well, with Toby I don’t have a “that one.”
Last year his fans mourned with him when his oldest son, Truett, passed away due to a drug overdose. His son had been appearing on his albums in short vignettes or even songs since TruDog (his nickname) was about three years old. We fans were very familiar with him and in some odd way we felt like he was part of our family too.
He was 21 when he died, another victim of drug abuse in this country, which I know broke Toby’s heart. He tried so hard to bring his son back into the fold of his earthly family and the fold of Christ’s family. His broken heart was even more evident in a song he released after Truet’s funeral and in a song called The Real You that he released in an album called The Lost Demos this summer. He wrote The Real You for Truett before he died.
Most of Toby’s music is uplifting and upbeat and definitely energetic, even when he’s dealing with tough subjects.
Because I think you need to hear some positive music right now, I’m sharing some of my favorite TobyMac songs for you to listen to. Just click on one song and Youtube will do the rest and send you down a fun, spiraling path of his music. Maybe you need an encouraging word this week or maybe you simply need a song with a good beat. Either way, Toby has it for you.
*Disclaimer: I have not been compensated by TobyMac or anyone from his management. This post was written of my own free will. *wink* However, if anyone from Toby’s team ever sees this post and wants to send me some merch, I’ll take a couple T-shirt’s, one of Toby’s cool hats for my son and a pair of his cool sunglasses for me. Ha!
Sunday Bookends is my week in review, so to speak. It’s where I share what I’ve been up to, what I’ve been reading, what I’ve been watching, what I’ve been listening to and what I’ve been writing. Feel free to share a link or comment about your week in review in the comments.
What I’m Reading
I’m savoring A Long Time Comin’ By Robin W. Pearson. The story takes place in North Carolina, which I am familiar with since my mom is originally from there. I’ve been reading from it all week but I have had to pause and have a good cry during part of it, not because it is depressing, but because much of it is touching.
I have mentioned this book before but I thought I’d share the description again:
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To hear Beatrice Agnew tell it, she entered the world with her mouth tightly shut. Just because she finds out she’s dying doesn’t mean she can’t keep it that way. If any of her children have questions about their daddy and the choices she made after he abandoned them, they’d best take it up with Jesus. There’s no room in Granny B’s house for regrets or hand-holding. Or so she thinks.
Her granddaughter, Evelyn Lester, shows up on Beatrice’s doorstep anyway, burdened with her own secret baggage. Determined to help her Granny B mend fences with her far-flung brood, Evelyn turns her grandmother’s heart and home inside out. Evelyn’s meddling uncovers a tucked-away box of old letters, forcing the two women to wrestle with their past and present pain as they confront the truth Beatrice has worked a lifetime to hide.
So far I can absolutely relate to Evelyn and somewhat to Granny B. Granny B can be a difficult character to like, in some ways, but I do like her and I am enjoying slowly learning about her, savoring a chapter or two a day. I’m also learning about her seven children, the husband who left the family, and the frayed ties that hold them all together.
Robin’s next book is due in February 2021 and it’s already on the hot new releases for Amazon. I guess that tells you a little about how much people like her first book.
Up next on my list to read:
Above the Fold by Rachel Scott McDaniel and for a complete opposite of Rachel’s book, I’m going to try a Longmire book, The Dark Horse by Craig Johnson, since I’ve watched a few episodes of the show.
What I’m Watching
I’m still watching Father Brown and I’ve also been watching reruns of Benson (the old show with Robert Guillaume), which actually holds up pretty well (other than the keep call black people “the blacks.”). Benson is available on the Roku app on the . . . well, Roku.
What’s Been Happening:
The new kitten is fitting in fairly well, though our resident adult cat still hates her. Pixel, our adult cat, is spending a lot of time outside still, but did let me start petting her again. For the first few days she wanted nothing to do with me, glaring at me from under the table most days. She still glares some, but it’s better and her tail flares less now when she sees the kitten, but she still hisses and growls at her if the kitten dares to get within a few feet of her. We did finally choose Scout for the kittens name and I guess Little Miss has accepted that the kitten will not be called Mittens.
Scout climbs on my chest anytime she wants comfort or sleep which can be very inconvenient at times, like when I need to make dinner or type or well, do anything at all. It was cute at first and it’s sweet she sees me as her comfort but the other night I had to switch her to my husband so I could finish dinner.
This past week was also stock up on stock photography week. I took a bunch of new stock photos to submit to my stock agencies, including Lightstock, a Christian-based stock agency. During that upload I had to ask a question on their chat and Scout ran across the keyboard which led to a humorous exchange with the gentleman I was chatting with, mainly me apologizing for all the extra letters on the keyboard.
You will see some of the photos for stock in my photos of the week. The photos of my son doing school work were set up that way; we haven’t started school yet. We probably won’t start until after Labor Day.
I visited my Dad’s garden this week to grab some kale (he has tons and now I have tons waiting to be cooked) and not only took some photos of the garden, but the sun pouring through the clouds overlooking the property and some of the purple cone flowers at the front of the house.
I don’t know if I will be taking too many photos this upcoming week, at least the first half of it, because it is supposed to be very hot and I hate the heat, or my body does at least. Temps are supposed to decrease later in the week so maybe I will venture out then.
What I’m Listening To
Zach Williams and Toby Mac have been on my playlist lately. For Zach I have been listening to his Chain Breaker album and for Toby I’m listening to his Lost Demos album, which is what it sounds like – demos that he wrote but then never actually made the albums. The songs are very good and of course hold some memories for Toby since a couple were written about his son, who died last year.
Yes, I wrote another long chapter so this is part two of Chapter 19 and you can find part 1 HERE. To catch up with the rest of the story, which I feature every Friday, click HERE or find the link at the top of the page. This is a “novel in progress” and when it is finished I usually toss it up on Kindle for friends, family, and blog readers to read in full (after I fix plot holes, edit, rewrite and hopefully fix typos).
Sitting at the bar with his third bottle of beer in front of him, Alex dragged his hands through his hair and wished he could drink until he couldn’t think anymore. He knew he couldn’t, though. He’d finished the days chores, but Robert could need him at any time of the day. He hated the idea of Robert seeing him with glazed over eyes or a hangover. That had happened only once before and Alex had felt the stinging rush of humiliation when Robert sent him out of the barn and ordered him to sleep it off. Thankfully Robert had accepted his apology.
It wasn’t the first time in his life Alex had felt the sting of humiliation. In fact, he’d felt it many times in his life and often when a man much better than him had to correct him on one of his many mistakes.
“You need to make a decision on what kind of man you want to be, Alexander Timothy Stone,” his grandfather had said to him as they drove away from the jail one night in his grandfather’s old pick up.
Col. Paul Madigan. Career Marine. Retired by the time Alex was in high school; just in time to whip his own grandson into shape. Or at least try to.
Even at 67 he had still been an imposing man. Six feet tall, broad shoulders and chest, square jawline
“What do you think you’re proving pulling all this stuff, boy?” his grandfather had asked him. “You’re not proving that you’re a real man. You’re not proving you’re better than your father. Is that what you’re trying to do? Get his attention? It’s not going to work. You know that. Your father doesn’t care about anyone other than himself, boy. You better think about what you want for your future, who you want to be. You want to be someone your future children can be proud of.”
His grandfather’s jaw clenched, his hands gripping the steering wheel tight. He’d let out a long breath and then shook his head.
“I know one thing, though, boy, no matter what you do, I won’t top loving you. I know there’s a man inside that body of a boy. I know there is a man who wants to be better, who wants to be what a man should be – responsible, trustworthy, and able to provide for his family. A man people will want to look up to one day, not shake their heads at.”
Alex had wanted to be a better man, to be what his grandfather had wanted him to be and somedays he thought he was on the way to being that better man, but today he really didn’t care anymore.
He needed a break from trying to be better. It was exhausting.
Country music blared from the speakers and cigarette smoke filtered across the bar like the haze filtering across his mind. The bar was sparsely crowded with only two other people sitting on actual bar stools near him, the rest scattered around the dimly lit inside of the bar, sitting at tables or leaning against the pool tables.
Blond hair spilled over his shoulder, interrupting his thoughts. Someone leaned against his back, a clearly feminine arm draping over his shoulder, a strong smell of alcohol and perfume hitting him.
“Hey, farm boy. You look like you need a friend.”
He glanced over his shoulder, his face now inches away from the face of a woman he’d met in the same bar a few months before. What was her name again?
He struggled to remember.
Jenny?
Jackie?
Julie?
The woman’s smile was broad, her eyelids heavy under dark blue eyeshadow. Her bright red lipstick matched her blouse which featured a low cut v-neck that clearly revealed her cleavage. “Remember me?”
“Uh. . .yeah. . . hey … Jackie.”
She rolled her eyes and giggled.
“Jessie, silly.”
Jessie. Right. Jessie Landry.
“Right. Jessie. Hey. How’s it going?”
Jessie slid onto the stool next to him and leaned an elbow on the bar. “Good, but you look like you’ve seen better days.”
Alex shrugged, taking another swig of beer. “Yeah. I guess.”
Jessie smiled slyly and tipped her head. “Fight with your girlfriend?”
A slight smile tugged at Alex’s lips at he looked at her.
“No girlfriend to have a fight with.”
“No wife either?” Her tone was playful now as she slide her hand along the bar toward is arm.
“No woman to speak of,” he said, looking back toward the stack of bottles behind the bar.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw Jessie push her lower lip out and tip her head to the other side. She crossed one long leg over another, her high heels clicking on the bottom rung of the stool.
“Aw. That’s so sad. Someone so good looking shouldn’t be so alone.”
Alex laughed softly and shook his head. He knew a flirt when he saw one, even with all the alcohol in his system, and this Jessie Landry was definitely one of those.
Music thudded from the jukebox on the other side of the bar. Bodies pushed into the center of the room, moving and swaying to the rhythm. Jessie slid off the bar stool and began to dance next to him. That’s when he noticed her too short mini skirt and her too tight bright red shirt. She tugged at his arm as she danced, hips moving from side to side.
“Come on. Dance with me. It will make you feel better.”
“I don’t dance,” he said with a smirk, sipping the beer.
She leaned close to him and winked. “Then just stand out here with me and I’ll dance around you, silly.
His senses dulled by the beer, Alex staggered from the stool as she grabbed his hand, letting her lead him to the center of the floor. She gyrated slowly in front of him, her straight blond hair bouncing back and forth across her back and shoulders as she moved down to the floor and back up again, sliding her hands up his legs seductively.
He watched her through bleary eyes, drowsy from the beer, admiring her slender form and the way her body curved in all the right places.
When a slow song came on, she slid her arms around his neck and stepped close to him, pressing her body into his. He questioned himself briefly about why she was being so forward — they’d only met once or twice before, yet here she was dancing with him liked they’d been dating for months. He dismissed the thought almost as quickly as he’d thought it as she tipped her head back, revealing a long bare neck, the top of her shirt pulling down and drawing his eyes to where he knew he shouldn’t be looking.
Her voice was whiny as she flipped her head back up and pressed her forehead against his. “It’s so boring here tonight. We should think of something else we could do…” She trailed her finger down the front of his shirt, letting her eyes drift down and then up again, then leaned close and seductively whispered the last word. “Together.”
Alex watched her for a moment, lowered his eyes to her full lips and shrugged. Why not? It wasn’t as if someone Molly would ever be interested in someone like him. An alcoholic loser like him. A heathen someone like Ben Oliver might say. Why not take his mind of Molly and how he wouldn’t ever be good enough for her?
He grinned at Jessie and laid his hand against her thigh. A familiar need pulsated within him.
Her jerked his head toward the door. “You want to get out of here? I know somewhere we can have a lot more fun.”
Jessie giggled and nodded. She took his hand as he broke their embrace, and followed him out into the parking lot. When she climbed up into his truck and closed the door behind her, she slid next to him and laid her hand on his upper thigh, rubbing it gently as he shifted the truck into gear.
He drove toward the house, glad to know he’d soon have a way to take his mind off Molly, his failures, and his confusion about life in general.
I have another long chapter this week so I have split it into two parts and once again won’t make anyone who wants to read it wait until next Friday but will share the second half of the chapter on a special fiction Saturday.
I hope you are all doing well. Stay calm and reading fiction as a distraction. Trust me on this. It helps.
To catch up with the rest of The Farmer’s Daughter, click HERE or see the link at the top of the page.
Molly groped for her cellphone in the dark, her heart racing. It had startled her out of a deep sleep. “Molly?”
“Yes?”
She didn’t recognize the voice in her drowsy stupor.
“It’s Allie. I’m at the hospital. I’m not supposed to do this. I could probably get fired for calling you, but Liz won’t let us call her parents. She only wants you and I don’t think she should be alone.”
Molly sat up abruptly. “What happened?”
The following brief silence hinted that what had happened was more complex than what could be explained over the phone.
“Umm, I’m going to let Liz tell you when you get here.”
The drive to the hospital gave Molly’s imagination plenty of time to run wild. A variety of scenarios flitted across her mind’s eye and with each one her grip on the steering wheel tightened.
Liz’s hospital room was dark and quiet when Molly walked in with only a strip of light pouring in from the streetlamp outside the window. Allie had met Molly at the nurse’s station, nodding toward Room 22 with an expression that exuded sympathy. Molly didn’t even bother asking Allie what had happened again. She knew Liz would need to tell her.
The beep of the heart monitor and voices of nurses in the hallway were the only sound when Molly stepped inside and closed the door behind her.
“Liz?”
Molly’s best friend since grade school laid curled up in a ball under the covers in the hospital bed, her honey blond hair hung limply across her back and shoulders. Her eyes were closed and pale skin blended in with the moonlight spreading across the pillow under her head, her face void of the makeup she usually wore. Molly wasn’t sure if Liz was asleep, so she sat quietly on a chair next to the bed.
In the moments after Molly sat down and Liz finally spoke the silence was deafening, terrifying, panic inducing for Molly. What in the world is going on?
Liz didn’t open her eyes or unfurl herself from the fetal position she’d wrapped herself in. “Molly, do you think God forgives us for things we have done wrong? Really forgives us?”
Molly leaned forward in the chair, confused. Where was this going? “Yes, Liz, I do. I truly do but I’ll admit that sometimes I worry he won’t.” She tipped her head, her eyebrows furrowed. “Liz, what’s going on? What happened?”
Liz let out a long breath.
“I’m an idiot, Molly.”
“Liz, you’re not an —”
“I tried to kill myself, Mol.”
A cold chill cut through Molly and she closed her eyes, hot tears rushing into her eyes before she could stop them. She turned her face away, covering her mouth to choke back a sob. She swallowed hard and tried to regain her composure as she opened her eyes again.
She took a deep breath. “Liz. . . how? Why? What’s going on?”
Liz stared out the hospital window, expressionless. “I’m pregnant.”
Molly’s mind raced for answers. Liz was pregnant? When had this happened?
“How? I mean, I know how, I just mean —”
“You mean, who?”
“Well, yes. Who?”
“Gabe.”
Molly was baffled. “Gabe?”
Liz closed her eyes, a tear slipping down her cheek. “I fell for it again, Molly. I fell for him again. I believed him when he said he loved me and he wouldn’t hit me or cheat again.”
“Hit you? He was hitting you?”
“Yes.”
“You never told me he was doing that.”
“I never told anyone.”
Molly looked at Liz in disbelief. “And you went back to him?
“For one night, yes.” Her stoic expression crumbled as she began to sob. “How could I have been so stupid?”
Molly leaned back against the chair, feeling as if she’d been hit in the chest with a two-ton weight. She struggled to wrap her mind around what Liz was saying.
“I drank a lot when I was with Gabe, Molly. Did you know that?”
“No, I didn’t kn—”
“There is so much you didn’t know.”
Molly’s eyebrows raised. Was she in some kind of alternate universe? This conversation was surreal. Had she been so wrapped up in her own world she hadn’t noticed the pain her friend was in? It was becoming more obvious by the minute that the answer was ‘yes.’
Liz closed her eyes and shook her head. “I wish I hadn’t called 911. I should have just kept those pills down and I wouldn’t have to be here anymore.”
Molly moved the chair between Liz and the window. “Liz. Please. Tell me what is going on.”
“I got drunk one night three months ago at a party Brittany Jennings convinced me to go to. I hadn’t had a drop of alcohol since I’d left Gabe. He was there. I don’t remember much, just him leading me upstairs at this house, someone’s house, his hands all over me. . . .”
“Liz, did he force you to sleep with him?”
Liz shook her head slowly. “No. I agreed to it. I remember that much at least. I was out of it, but I agreed to it and I thought I wanted it. It wasn’t until the next morning I realized what I’d done. I was so ashamed.”
Tears soaked Molly’s cheeks. She had given up on trying to hide her emotions. “I just don’t understand why you didn’t tell me.”
Liz’s voice faded to a whisper, as if she was too weak to even talk. “I didn’t want you to know how messed up I was. I didn’t want you to know how far I’d fallen. I’d let Gabe walk all over me and abuse me all those years, simply because I thought he would change — that I could change him. I moved in with him without being married to him and I was already embarrassed about that. I just couldn’t imagine telling you I had been stupid enough to get pregnant by him too. I was drinking so much when he and I were dating. I couldn’t think straight most days. Drinking, taking pills Gabe offered me, sometimes pushed me to take. It’s probably why I could never think straight long enough to get away from him.”
A sick ache clutched at Molly’s stomach. Liz had been drinking and depressed and she’d never even noticed. How could she have been so clueless and selfish?
“You must have hid the drinking well.”
“It was mostly on the weekends. The weekends when I told you I was working late or made up some excuse about having to do inventory at the store.”
“Oh, Liz, I’m so —”
“This isn’t who I thought I would turn into back when we were going to youth group together,” Liz said quickly, talking over Molly. “Back when we always said we’d save ourselves for marriage and never get drunk or do drugs. We were so naïve.”
Molly thought about how she had kept all of those promises so far and how sometimes it made her feel boring, but most of the time it made her feel proud for keeping her word to her younger self. Keeping those promises didn’t make her better than Liz, though, especially not in the sight of God. He loved both of them, no matter what Liz might think about herself and her worth right now.
“No one is perfect and you may not have kept the promises you made to yourself back then but it’s never too late to change.”
Molly motioned for Liz to move over and sat next to her friend on the bed. Liz slid over and leaned against Molly, crying against a crumpled tissue clutched in her hand. “The worst thing about all of this is that I was really falling for Matt, you know? I knew he was too good for me though. I didn’t deserve him.”
Liz broke down again. She tried to speak through the tears, stopped and started again. “I think I thought Gabe was the only one who would want me that way. That I wouldn’t ever be good enough for Matt so why even act like he would want me? And now. . .” she paused to sob into her hands that were now covering her face. “Now he definitely won’t want me. No one will want me. I’m a mess. I’m an alcoholic, an addict, and obviously a mental case who wasn’t strong enough to walk away from an abusive man. To top it all off, now I’m pregnant with that man’s baby.”
Molly gently pulled Liz’s hands from her face. “Liz, all this is lies. Lies you are telling yourself. Lies that the ruler of darkness is telling you. You know that. Your life might be a mess right now, but you are worthy of love. You have made mistakes but there is redemption and you will have that redemption. Do you hear me?”
Liz nodded weakly, burying her face in Molly’s shoulder.
“Have you told your parents about this?” Molly asked as she hugged her friend close. “Do they even know you’re here?”
“God, no.” Liz’s response was sharp as she pulled back and made a face. “Can you imagine me telling Frank and Marian about this? Frank would be here anointing me with oil and Marian would be using me as an example of who not to become at Bible study. They may just make me wear a sweater with the letter “s” for slut emblazoned on it when they do find out.”
Molly laughed softly. “Liz, they love you. They are not going to do that.”
Liz rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right.”
Molly handed her friend another tissue. “I just wish you had told me.”
She leaned back to look at Liz. “How is the baby? How far along are you? Or did this . . .”
Liz shook her head. “The heartbeat is good. The doctors don’t think the pills I took harmed it. I panicked after I took them and called an ambulance. I’m guessing I’m about three months.”
“Are you telling me that you were three months pregnant and still kicking my butt at the gym every day.”
A small smile tugged at Liz’s mouth, then faded, replaced by tears and sobs.
“I’m three months pregnant and I don’t know if I can do this, Molly.”
“I’ll help you however I can. You won’t be alone. We can get an apartment and raise the baby together.”
Liz laughed weakly. “What, like an old married couple?”
A slight smile tugged at Molly’s. “No. Like the friends we are. Though we do sometimes act like an old married couple.”
Molly stood and pulled the blanket up around her friend’s shoulders.
“For now, I want you to rest until the doctors say you can go home.”
Liz’s sleepy gaze drifted out the window, over Molly’s shoulder.
“They want me to stay for a few days in the psych ward. The psych ward. How did I even get to this place in my life?”
Molly shrugged. “One mistake at a time, like any of us. You’re going to be fine, though. Maybe they’ll allow you to have outpatient care instead. But for now, I think it’s best you stay here and rest. Do you want me to call your parents for you?”
Liz looked back at Molly and shook her head.
“No. I’ll call them soon. This town is so small, I’d better before someone at the gas station or library tells them.”
“Do you want me to call Matt?”
Liz grimaced. “Oh gosh, no way. He’s going to run as far away from me as he can when he hears about this. That relationship is over. Sunk. I’m sure of it. I don’t know how I’m going to handle that right now. I mean, can you imagine? ‘Hey, Matt, so like you want to go on another date? Oh, and by the way, I’m carrying my abusive ex-boyfriend’s baby.’ Yeah. That conversation is so not going to happen.”
Molly couldn’t help but laugh at her friend’s sense of humor and how it came out even in the darkest of times.
“I wouldn’t put it to him that way, no. But at some point, you owe it to him to tell him what’s going on. You can’t control how he reacts but at least you will have done the right thing and told him. He cares for you, Liz. He’d want to know.”
Liz pulled her knees up against her chest under the covers, closing her eyes.
“I know. I’ll tell him. Later.”
A nurse walked into the room, pushing a cart. Molly knew Liz needed her sleep and took it as a sign to leave. Still, anxiety over leaving Liz alone was poking at her thoughts.
“Do you want me to stay with you a little longer?”
Liz shook her head, her eyes still closed. “No, that’s okay, I think I’m going to rest, but can you come back in the morning?”
The nurse checked the IV in Liz’s arm and then began to hook a blood pressure cuff on her upper arm. Molly stood in place, still feeling uncomfortable with leaving.
Liz opened one eye, glanced at the IV, then back at Molly.
“They’re watching me, here, Molly. It’s okay. And I chickened out and called the ambulance, remember? I regretted it as soon as I took those pills. I won’t try it again.”
Molly leaned over and hugged Liz. “Okay, but I’ll be back first thing in the morning. I’m a call away.”
“I know, Molly. Thank you. And listen, when you come back I want you to tell me all about how things are going with you and Alex.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
Liz opened her eyes and grinned sleepily. “Please. I know something is going on between you and Alex and when you come back , I want you to bring chocolate and tell me all about it.”
“Liz, there is nothing going on between Alex and me.”
“But you want there to be.”
Molly looked at the nurse, who looked to be in her mid-40s, her dark brown hair cut shoulder length. The nurse shrugged and smiled. “I’ll check with the doctor about the chocolate. The story should be fine.”
“Don’t encourage her,” Molly responded with a laugh. “There isn’t any story to tell.”
Molly looked back at Liz, grateful to see her eyes closed, her body relaxed and her chest rising and falling in a rhythmic patter. She was breathing and alive, something Molly was eternally grateful for. Out in her truck Molly pressed her forehead against the steering wheel and let the tears fall for several moments before pulling out of the parking lot.
Driving in the dark, back toward the farm, she felt foolish for moping through life when she was blessed to have the life she did. Yes, it was stressful knowing that the farm and family business was struggling. Yes, she was anxious about feeling stagnant and lost. But she was alive, she had a family who loved her, good friends, and a God who wanted the best for her.
Then there was Alex. Where did he fit in? For now, she was placing him somewhere between family and friend, but closer to friend. A very good looking friend who she had daydreamed about kissing more than once.
Oh boy.
So, maybe friend wasn’t the category he belonged in, but for now, until she could figure out how he felt about her, that was the category he’d have to stay in.
I’ve been off Facebook for a few days and haven’t looked at the news but based on some of the blog posts I’m reading, the events going on in today’s world are hitting people hard and spiraling them into depression. Take a break from it all today – either reading this chapter from this novella I’m working on or simply walking away from media all together and pick up a book, take a walk, or start a hobby that gave you comfort before. We have to choose to walk away from the stress so I’m encourage you (and me) to choose to do that.
Matt Grant tapped the end button on the screen of his phone and laid the phone on the coffee table next to his laptop and paperwork. He rubbed his hand across his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a tension headache pulsating in his temples.
He’d just got off the phone with his assistant press secretary, John Chambers. They’d drafted another statement for the media, answering accusations that Matt was still at work in his office in the capitol.
“Just make sure they know I’m at home, self-quarantining, just like my doctor told me to,” Matt had told John, more than a touch of annoyance in his voice.
“I’m making sure,” John said. “I’m assuring them all of us are safely locked away now. Just like the critics seem to think we should be, even though our preliminary tests are inconclusive. I doubt this will satisfy them, but we can try.”
With the statement to the press out of the way, Matt’s mind wandered back to his brother Liam, who he needed to call and check on. The doctor who had examined Liam had listed his diagnosis as “probable” for the virus, which was what had triggered this latest scandal in the first place. Matt was sure Liam would be fine but there was a small part of him that worried about his little brother developing symptoms of the virus that was sending others to ICUs across the country. Matt wasn’t only worried about Liam’s physical health though. He was also worried about his mental and emotional health.
Liam had told Matt months ago that his marriage was in shambles. Matt had barely listened, sure his brother and sister-in-law would work things out. He knew Liam still loved his Maddie, and Maddie still loved Liam. He was sure of it. If they didn’t they wouldn’t be struggling so much with the idea of divorce and it would have been finalized months ago.
It couldn’t be easy being quarantined together during a pandemic with all the issues they had with each other, but Matt was glad they were. Maybe it would give them a chance to work out their issues and save what had been a great union at one time. As it was, their divorce proceedings had been delayed because of the pandemic, which Matt saw as a way for them to buy more time and truly be sure the divorce was what they wanted.
What made Matt uncomfortable wasn’t only that he could hear pain mixed with longing in his brother’s voice when they had talked about the divorce a couple of weeks ago. It was also that he wondered, worried even, that maybe his marriage was bleeding out in the same way his younger brother’s had and he had been too wrapped up in himself to realize it.
Matt and Cassie hadn’t had a lot of time alone lately. They actually had barely even had time to talk.
Their life had been a runaway train since the election six years ago and now it was picking up speed again as their re-election campaign was underway. Really, though, the train had never actually slowed down.
In Washington he faced daily drama and conflict whether he wanted it or not. Becoming the head of the Committee of Homeland Security and Governmental Affairs last year hadn’t helped slow things down any either.
Then there was this crazy never-before-seen virus that seemed to come out of nowhere a few weeks ago and now had him at home with his family, waiting to see if he developed any symptoms after being exposed to it more than a week ago. He was convinced if he had the virus he would have developed symptoms by now, but he had stayed home to make sure things looked good to the press and his constituents. Making sure things “looked good and right” to others seemed to be 90 percent of his job anymore, leaving little room for him to actually do good and right and accomplish the things he’d been elected to do.
All the drama in Congress left him little time to focus on Cassie or the kids and he regretted that. He regretted it even more when his brother’s march toward divorce had become a growing reality. He’d never pictured Liam and Maddie divorced. They were the perfect couple. They’d weathered some hard storms, but Matt had been sure the challenges would bring them closer together. In fact, he thought it had but now he realized he’d been too wrapped up in the campaign and job to notice how much they’d actually drifted apart.
Sure, Liam, as his press secretary, spent many late nights working with him, but he imagined when he went home, he and Maddie made up for lost time. Instead Matt had recently learned that Liam had been working at home as well, sleeping in his office, leaving Maddie alone most of the time, writing her romance novels and reaching for companionship on social media.
Matt and Liam’s parents had been the perfect example of a stable, loving marriage. Married 54 years, Tom and Phyllis Grant made it clear each day how much they loved each other. Sure, they had argued, even in front of their children, but those arguments had been resolved usually before the sun had gone down and with a fair amount of ‘making up’. Matt and Liam, and his sister Lana had been grateful the majority of that making up had gone on behind closed doors.
Standing from the couch to stretch, Matt looked out the window at his own three children playing ball in the backyard and felt a twinge of guilt. Getting pregnant and carrying three babies to term had been easy for him and Cassie. They’d never had to face the heartbreak of not being able to get pregnant or of a miscarriage. Matt felt like he’d taken being able to become a father so easily for granted.
He looked around his living room, well-decorated with expensive furniture and commissioned paintings, and thought about how much of his life he had taken for granted, especially lately. He’d taken for granted the newer model car he drove, the highly-rated bed he slept on, the full refrigerator, and even fuller bank account.
He rubbed his hand along his chin and turned toward the kitchen where Cassie was making a late lunch for him and the kids. Her dark brown hair fell to her waist in a tight braid, the bottom of it grazing the top of the waistband of a pair of red workout shorts. Her favorite T-shirt, featuring Johnny Cash wearing a cowboy hat, fit her medium build well, hugging all the areas it should, especially for the benefit of her husband admiring the view that he hadn’t admired for a long time.
He watched her stirring the taco meat in the skillet and his gaze traveled down her legs and back up again, thinking about the first time they’d met in an English lecture at college.
“Pst.”
He’d leaned over the desk to try to get her attention, but she was intently focused on the professor. He had tried again.
“Pst.”
She glared over her shoulder at him.
“Do you have an extra pen?” he whispered.
She rolled her eyes, ignored him, tapping the end of her own pen against her cheek gently as she kept her eyes focused forward.
“It’s just,” he leaned a little closer so he didn’t interrupt the other students. “I left my pen back in my dorm room and I want to make sure I’m taking notes.”
He was glad he had leaned a little closer. She smelled amazing. What was that perfume? He had no idea but it was intoxicating. Maybe it was her shampoo. The fluorescent light from the lecture hall was reflecting off her luxurious black strands of hair and he pondered what it would feel like to reach out and touch it. But he didn’t reach out and touch it. That would be weird. Even a 19-year old college freshman like himself knew that.
A year later, though, he was touching that soft dark hair while he kissed Cassie for the first time outside her dorm after their third date. And over the years he’d sank his hands in that hair in moments of tenderness and moments of passion. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he watched his wife and thought about a few of those moments, including that time in the back of his new car after he’d landed that job at the law firm in Detroit.
He could deny it. It wasn’t only the material things of his life that he had taken for granted. He had also been taking Cassie for granted. For far too long.
***
Cassie Grant turned from where she was cooking lunch for her husband and children and watched her husband pace back and forth in the living room.
She knew he was worried about the situation with the virus, the way his office had been thrown into the middle of an unexpected scandal. She was sure he was also worried about whether he’d develop symptoms of the virus, pass it on to the children, and if his other staff members would be infected, now that it looked like Liam’s test for it would be positive. Too little was known about how the virus affected the majority of people, although early reports showed that most cases were mild.
And then there was Liam and Maddie’s marriage which was about to end. Matt and his brother had been raised by parents who had been married 54 years. The brothers and their sister weren’t a product of divorce and Cassie wondered if the prospect of Liam’s marriage ending was weighing on Matt’s mind along with the virus.
Cassie wasn’t sure what her husband was thinking anymore, though, because Matt hadn’t been talking to her much lately. He’d been busy at the office, putting out fires, which seemed to pop up several times throughout the day, thanks to a 24/7 news cycle that never let up.
She couldn’t deny that she missed seeing her husband. She missed their date nights and family movie nights and him just being around the house when she needed him. But she knew that he was doing what he thought was right to try to make a difference for the people who elected him.
Turning the burner down she leaned back against the counter and watched Matt turn and look out the window where their children were playing. Her gaze fell on the back of his head, on his soft brown hair and she remembered with a soft laugh that day in college when they’d been studying in a private room on the first floor of the university library. The love seat they were sitting on was soft, plush, light maroon.
Papers and books were spread out in front of them and Matt was debating the importance of some moment in history to the future of something or other. Cassie couldn’t remember now and hadn’t cared then. She’d tuned him out long ago. Instead she had been watching him amazed at how impassioned he was about the topic at hand. She had been staring at the muscles in his jaw and how they moved as he spoke, at his long fingers connected to that manly hand, at a strand of hair that had fallen across his forehead that she desperately wanted to push to the side. And she’d definitely been watching his mouth. His lips looked amazingly kissable.
Cassie was sick of listening to him quite frankly.
“Cassie, don’t you see that —”
Cassie leaned forward and pressed her mouth to Matt’s, cutting his sentence short, touching the side of his face gently. She pulled back and looked at him, her mouth still inches from his. He had finally fallen silent. At least for a few seconds.
“Oh. Um. Okay. Was I talking too —”
“Just shut up, Matt.”
She caught his mouth with hers again, sinking her hands into his hair, moving closer to him at the same time he moved closer to her.
He slid his arm around her and held her to him gently as the kiss continued.
“So, I guess you weren’t only interested in me as a study partner,” he said breathlessly a few moments later.
“Is that the only way you were interested in me?” she asked, her fingers still in his hair, playing with it.
A grin tugged at one corner of his mouth. “What do you think Cassie Henderson?”
She answered with another kiss, and they leaned back against the seat as they kissed, forgetting they were in a study room in the library.
Three years later they were married, a year later their first, a boy, was born. That had been 15 years ago and now they had three children, an expensive home in the suburbs of Washington, D.C., and Matt was a U.S. Senator while she stayed home with the children, her career as a social worker long behind her and his career as an attorney behind him, for the time being at least.
Sure, some of that initial passion of their relationship was gone, replaced with the everyday and the mundane, but Cassie recognized this as a season – a season during which marriage became more about comfortable moments and less about desire. It wasn’t that she didn’t have desire for Matt; it was just that they never seemed to have time for it anymore.
She startled out of her thoughts, smelling something burning.
“Oh no!”
She rushed to the stove and turned it down, smoke billowing from the skillet where she’d been browning meat for tacos. She moved the skillet to another burner and groaned. It looked like they’d be having peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for lunch today.
The blaring of the smoke alarm only made the humiliation that much worse.
Matt rushed into the kitchen, waving a newspaper at the smoke. “Whoa there! Let’s not add burned down house to our list of bizarre occurrences for the month.”
“Sorry. I guess I got distracted.”
Matt pulled the battery from the fire alarm. “No big deal, right? It might can be salvaged.”
He grimaced at the charged edges of the meat in the pan. “Or maybe the dog would like a treat.”
Cassie sighed. “I’m not sure even Barney should eat that. I’ll just make the kids some peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. You want one?”
“You know what, yeah. I haven’t one of those in years. Crustless?”
Cassie shook her head. “What are you, six?”
“Sentimental reasons,” Matt said with a wink. “My mom used to make them that way for me.”
Cassie pulled the bread out of the bread box and Matt slid the peanut butter and jelly across the counter.
“So, being quarantined with me has to be pretty boring for you, huh?” he asked.
“Not really,” she said with a smile, spreading peanut butter on slices of bread. “But it is weird seeing you here this time of day or, well, much at all.”
Matt winced softly. “Ouch.”
“Well, it’s not your fault. You’re busy.”
He couldn’t read her tone of voice but sadly it seemed more apathetic, more along the line of “that’s just the way it is” than anything else.
Matt leaned back against the counter, sliding his hands in his dress pants pockets. He looked at his dress shoes, chewing on his bottom lip, thinking. First, he thought about how absent he’d been in his family’s life. Then he thought about how he was quarantined at home but for some reason he was still wearing dress shoes, a dress shirt and tie, as if he was on his way to a meeting or a senate hearing. He had apparently forgotten how to relax, unwind, and kick back.
He cleared his throat. “I guess I can go to change into something more comfortable. It doesn’t look like I’ll be doing anything business related for a few days anyhow.”
When he returned wearing a pair of sweatpants and a Garth Brooks t-shirt the children were already around the table, munching on sandwiches and drinking chocolate milk.
“Daddy! Sit next to me!” his youngest, Lauren, called, tapping the back of the chair next to her.
“Okay. I can do that.”
His son Tyler eyed him over his glass of chocolate milk as he drank from it. At the age of 13 he waffled between being bored and annoyed most of the time.
“It’s weird seeing you here,” Tyler said bluntly as Matt sat down.
Matt looked into his son’s bright blue eyes, noticing the acne starting to form along the top of his forehead near his closely cropped hairline. He wasn’t sure how to take the comment. Did Tyler mean “good weird” or “bad weird”? Should he ask? Did he even want to know?
Luckily, he didn’t have to decipher his son’s meaning for long.
“But it’s a good weird, right?” Cassie asked, as if she could read Matt’s mind, and after 15-years of marriage, she probably could.
Tyler grinned. “Yeah. It’s a good weird. Just weird.”
Gracie, his middle daughter, smiled sweetly at Matt and then giggled around a mouthful of sandwich.
“I like you being here, Daddy.”
Matt smiled back at her, reaching across the table to cover her hand with his. “I like it too, sweetie. Maybe something good will come out of all of this, huh? At least you will all see me a little more often.”
His gaze focused on Cassie and he saw she was watching him, but again he was having a hard time reading her expression. Was she happy they’d all be spending more time together? Or was the extra time with him simply a reminder for her how much she didn’t need him around anymore?
Book reviews won’t necessarily be a regular feature here but I’ve read a couple I’ve liked lately and wanted to share in case others are looking for a good distraction. Plus I “met” this author online and thought it would be cool to help her promote her first book. I mean she’s from Pennsylvania and the book takes place in Pennsylvania so she must be cool, right?
First, the Goodreads description of the book:
As 1756 dawns, Isaac Lukens leaves the Pennsylvania wilderness after two years with the Lenape people. He’s failed to find the families of his birth parents, a French trader and a Lenape woman. Worse, the tribe he’s lived with, having rejected his peacemaking efforts, now ravages frontier settlements in retaliation. When he arrives in the Quaker community where he was reared, questions taunt him: Who is he—white man or Lenape? And where does he belong?
Elisabeth Alden, Isaac’s dearest childhood friend, is left to tend her young siblings alone upon her father’s death. Despite Isaac’s promise to care for her and the children, she battles resentment toward him for having left, while an unspeakable tragedy and her discordant courtship with a prominent Philadelphian weigh on her as well.
Elisabeth must marry or lose guardianship of her siblings, and her options threaten the life with her and the children that Isaac has come to love. Faced with Elisabeth’s hesitancy to marry, the prospect of finding his family at last, and the opportunity to assist in the peace process between Pennsylvania and its Indian tribes, Isaac must determine where—and to whom—the Almighty has called him
My review:
To be honest, the prologue to this book made me think I might not enjoy it because the language seemed a little old fashioned. The important words in the previous sentence? Seemed and at first. Because by chapter 1 I realized the use of older language was a way to bring me closer to understanding the characters and their way of life. It wasn’t long before beginning it that I was hooked on the book and having a hard time putting it down. I was on the edge of my seat throughout, wondering what trial or triumph might face the main characters, Isaac and Elisabeth, next.
This book is a romance in some ways, yes, but it is such a sweet, gradual romance that the reader isn’t overwhelmed with sappiness and drama. Much of the romantic nature of the story is over shadowed by the compelling story of the Lenape people through the eyes of Isaac and the story of the Quakers through both Isaac and Elisabeth’s eyes. This isn’t one of those romantic stories where romance is the main focus. Yes, love is the main thread that holds the characters and the story together but it is a love that is deeper than a physical and romantic attraction. It is a spiritual love and an emotional one.
From the beginning of this book I fell in love with the characters, my heart broke for their trials, and my eyes were opened to the struggles faced by this nation’s early settlers and the natives who lived on the land before the settlers ever arrived. I literally wanted to crawl inside the book at times and hug Elisabeth close and then take her away from a world that could be so cruel in the early years of our nation’s founding.
I was never sure what adventure was coming next for Isaac and Elisabeth and I loved that. It kept me turning pages (and kept me up too late at some nights). As a Christian I don’t believe in fate so in this case I believe it was divine guidance that led me to discover Christy’s book. In the first few pages, Christy mentioned a town near where I grew up and now live, which hooked me on the book even more.
I later discovered the author lives in the same state and holds the same love for this state’s local and Native American history in the same way I do. This is Christy’s first book, but I expect to see many more from her in the future and I’m really looking forward to them.
If you’re not already a fan of historical fiction, this book will make you one. She could use some reviews for the book to get it some more attention so if you read it and like it, please leave her a review on Amazon.
Christy is also an editor (copy editing, content editing, line editing, proofreading, manuscript review) and you can find more information about that part of her life HERE.
Sunday Bookends is my week in review, so to speak. It’s where I share what I’ve been up to, what I’ve been reading, what I’ve been watching, what I’ve been listening to and what I’ve been writing. Feel free to share a link or comment about your week in review in the comments.
What I’m Watching
I don’t know if I would really call myself a book nerd. I would call my husband one. He is a definite book nerd.
I like books.
I read books.
But he is obsessed with books of all kinds. Therefore it made sense to choose a documentary called The Booksellers for our weekend movie night. But then we watched Casino Royale with our son instead since he’s getting older and we wanted to introduce him to some of the movies we’ve seen and enjoyed over the years. This was the first James Bond with Daniel Craig and a reboot of the franchise. We will probably watch The Booksellers Sunday night (tonight) or Monday instead.
According to a description on YouTube, The Booksellers is about …. yes, booksellers. “Antiquarian booksellers are part scholar, part detective and part businessperson, and their personalities and knowledge are as broad as the material they handle. They also play an underappreciated yet essential role in preserving history. THE BOOKSELLERS takes viewers inside their small but fascinating world, populated by an assortment of obsessives, intellects, eccentrics and dreamers.”
I also watched Win A Date with Tad Hamilton this week but my husband said I shouldn’t mention that to anyone. That’s probably because I fast forwarded a lot of it and it was fairly cringe worthy in some ways. All I know is I would have picked Topher Grace over that other idiot any day. If you haven’t seen the movie, you’re not missing much, but the bottom line is that Tad Hamilton is a stuck-up, shallow actor and Rosealee, a young woman from Virginia who works at a Piggly Wiggly (yes, it is a real chain of supermarkets for those not from the south) wins a date with him. Tad is enchanted by how down to earth she is and falls for her but the entire time her best friend Pete is in love with her and can’t get up the courage to tell her.
I also started watching Father Brown again, the more modern version on Britbox on Amazon (there is apparently a version from the 1970s as well. This show is based on books by G.K. Chesterton). It may be available other places as well. I’m not sure. I abandoned the show in the seventh season because they got rid of a couple of characters and some of the episodes were a bit too .. er…. sexy for me? I don’t know how to put it other than there was too much focus on sex crimes in that season and it was disturbing. I can’t binge crime shows the way some people do. If they are really dark crime shows I can’t watch them at all. Father Brown isn’t usually too dark. They do show the person being killed but it’s not usually a drawn out murder scene and they don’t usually focus on the graphic aftermath for shock value like some shows.
What I’m Reading
A Cord of Three Strands by Christy Distler
I finished this this week and will have a review of the book up on the blog on Tuesday. It is historical Christian fiction.
A Long Time Comin’ by Robin Pearson I know it’s been a long time reading too but my reading was interrupted when I read a couple books/stories for some other authors and with writing this week. I have gotten back into it this week and I am really enjoying it.
What’s Been Happening
I’m trying a real legit Facebook detox for the entire month of August. Pray for me. I really need to get my nerves under control and I think a break from social media will help. It will nice to not be told what I have to be angry about or afraid of for an entire month.
I’m also dealing with some issues with my bladder (like going to the bathroom all night long) so I’d love some prayer on that as well. I think it’s related to hormones but I have an appointment with urology in a month (if I don’t call and beg them to get me in earlier). TMI ahead for any men that might read my blog (I don’t think there are any) but what is weird is that I just had a period after a month of not having one and I didn’t go to the bathroom as much during it so I have no idea what is up, other than I really believe my hormones are off.
On a happier note, I somehow agreed to adopt a kitten this past week and we picked her up on Saturday. I can’t remember the last time I’ve had a kitten in the house so this is all pretty weird and a bit exhausting coupled with the above mentioned bladder issues. The kids have been thrilled, though The Boy was less thrilled last night when he had to watch her in his room to keep her away from the other pets (who aren’t yet sure what they think of her) but hopefully things will eventually settle down and she will fit in well.
She has extra toes so my daughter wants to name her mittens. I told my son he could name her because he always complains that he doesn’t get to name our pets but when I asked him to provide a name he said “I dunno..” and slunked away like the teenager he now is. I picked Scout after Scout Finch from one of my favorite books To Kill A Mockingbird. We will see which one we end up sticking with. We like these choices better than the name the foster family had for her at the shelter: Valerian, after the flower and root. I can’t say the word right and when I do I can’t seem to say it without a posh British accent.
Phots from the week:
I actually barely touched my camera this week. Hopefully I will pick up the camera more this next week but I at least have some photos of the new kitten I can share.
Chapter 18 of The Farmer’s Daughter? Really? It seems so strange to be this far already in some ways, but in other ways it isn’t because I actually started this story sometime last year and have been slowly working on it since I even wrote my other books.
I can already see some changes and additions I want to make, but so far I’m liking the direction of the story. I have a feeling I’ll be tweaking a lot before all is said and done, but for now – brace yourselves, one of our characters may get themselves in some trouble in the next couple of chapters.
Molly slid a pile of books across the library desk at Ginny, unsure of when she’d have time to read the books but knowing she needed to do something to distract her from life, or her lack of one, these days.
Ginny glanced at the title of the book on the top of the pile.
How To Get Out of A Rut in Your Life.
She cleared her throat, sliding it into the library bag and reaching for another book.
How To Spice Up Your Life.
And then, Does He Like You? Ten Ways to Tell If He’s Totally Into You.
Ginny raised one eyebrow and looked up at Molly who was chewing on her fingernails.
“So, Molly, have you figured out how you were feeling a few weeks ago about sort of being stuck in life?”
Molly shrugged. “Not really. Still not sure about things and still feel like my life is somewhat. . . Hmmmm..I’m not sure what to call it.”
Ginny knew what to call it.
“Stagnant,” she said bluntly.
“Yes. That’s it. Stagnant. Like dirty water.”
Ginny laughed softly, tapping the top of her pencil on top of the desk, leaning against her hand. “Trust me. I get it.”
Molly studied Ginny’s expression, the sadness there, and wondered what was making Ginny feel stagnant. She had a good job, was popular in the community, had three lovely, now grown children, and was married to the most successful real estate agent in the region.
“You?” Molly asked.
Ginny looked up at Molly, a faint smile tugging at her mouth. “Yes, Molly. Even old people feel stagnant in life sometimes.”
Molly laughed, flipping a strand of her hair off her shoulder. “Ginny. You are not old. Stop.”
Ginny shrugged. “I feel old. Much older than I actually am. Maybe we need to cheer both of us up. I’m not an expert on how to do that, unfortunately.”
“Maybe an art class?” Molly suggested, gesturing toward the flyer taped on the top of the counter. “There is one in two weeks that is entitled ‘Lessons in realistic sketching.’ The description says we will be drawing a life model.”
“Knowing my luck it will be some skinny model with a perky chest and perfect skin,” Ginny sighed, rolling her eyes.
Molly snorted a laugh. “It will be both our luck, but let’s try it anyhow.”
Ginny handed Molly her bag of books. “And maybe by getting out a little more you won’t need all these books. Except that one about finding out if he really likes you or not.”
Light pink spread along Molly’s cheeks.
“Um..just pretend you didn’t see that one.”
“You don’t need to read the book. He likes you. I already told you he was flirting.”
“Ginny . . .”
“I’m just saying.”
“I know you’re just saying, but I’m just saying hush.”
Ginny laughed as Molly walked toward the door. “Okay,” she said softly. “But he does.”
“See you Wednesday night, Ginny.”
During the drive to the farm Molly thought about the conversation she’d had with her parents, Jason and Alex earlier in the day.
“We didn’t want to tell you anything until we knew for sure what was going on,” her father had said after he told her about the financial trouble the farm was facing.
“I understand,” she said, deciding not to mention she’d already been tipped off about the situation when she’d eavesdropped on her aunt and uncle at the farm store.
Her parents had assured her and Jason that every effort was being made to keep the farm and the rest of the enterprise afloat but she still couldn’t help feel a twinge of panic and alarm at the idea her family could be standing with so many others watching their lives being auctioned away.
Sure she felt stuck in some ways, but that didn’t mean she wanted her family’s farm to go under or the families who worked with them to be left without an income. The thought that it could happen terrified her. She’d called Liz shortly after talking to her parents. Liz had seemed concerned, but distant somehow.
“Are you okay?” Molly had asked.
“Yeah, fine,” Liz said. “I was just thinking about work, but that can wait until later. What are your parents going to do?”
Molly didn’t think Liz was fine at all. She could hear the tension in her voice, but she decided she wouldn’t push for an answer for now.
“We’re going to keep doing what we’re doing but add some different items for sale at the farm store, expand what we offer and hope we have a good crop this year. We are looking at opening a café. I don’t think we have time to pull it off, though, Liz. We had a lot of rain this spring, the crops aren’t growing as fast as they should and it will take time to expand what we offer at the store. This might be it. We might lose our farm.”
“It’s not going to happen, Molly,” Liz’s tone was firm. “Something is going to work out. It has to. I can’t imagine your family without their farm.”
Molly couldn’t either and as she pulled into the driveway toward it she felt tears choking her. She pulled the truck off next to the top field, shifted it into park and gulped back a sob. She’d spent her whole life here, took her first steps outside the barn, learned to ride her bike in this driveway with her grandfather’s hand on the back of the bike until she took off. She’d even had her first kiss ever on the front porch of her house. That kiss had been with Ben, of course, and even though her feelings for him weren’t as strong as they were back then, it was still her first kiss.
Her grandfather had taught her about cows and calving and how to store grain on this farm. She had shucked corn and snapped green beans with her mother and grandmothers on this porch before her mom’s mom had moved away. She didn’t even have to close her eyes to imagine her grandfather walking out of that barn wearing a pair of dirty overalls and a pair of manure and mud caked work boots, reaching into his front shirt pocket for a piece of hard candy to hand her before he headed back to his house for the evening. Somedays it was if she could still see him there, out of the corner of her eye, but when she turned it was her dad or the wind or nothing at all.
“God, what are we going to do?” Molly asked softly. “Please, please don’t take this farm from our family. Help us, somehow. Help us figure out how to save it.”
She wiped the back of her hand across her cheeks and couldn’t help laughing slightly. Only a few weeks before she’d been lamenting her life here on the farm and now she was asking for God to save this farm, save her family’s livelihood, save the very life she thought she hadn’t wanted.
***
Alex’s phone blinked a warning of awkwardness ahead.
He held it in his hands for a few moments, staring at the ID blinking at him, his thumb hovering over the decline button. He rolled his eyes and hit the accept button instead, bracing himself.
“Well, well, look who finally answered his phone.”
“Hey, mom.”
“Hey, yourself. I guess you’ve been busy. I’ve been getting kicked to voice mail for a month or more now.”
“Service isn’t always great out in the fields.”
“Hmmm..right. The fields.”
He heard the mocking tone and chose to ignore it.
“Have you heard from your father lately?”
“Nope.”
“Me either. Thank God. How about your brother?”
“Last week.”
“Is he doing okay? He never calls me anymore and I have to chase him down too. I guess I’m not as important to him as his father is.”
Alex ignored the passive aggressiveness. “Yeah. He’s fine. Got a promotion at the office.”
He heard an exhale, knew his mom was blowing a plume of cigarette smoke out. “Well, good for him.” She inhaled and exhaled again. “So, you’re happy? On that farm in the middle of nowhere?”
He laughed softly. “Yeah, mom. I’m happy here. On this farm, in the middle of nowhere.”
“And Jason is good?”
“Yes, Mom. He’s good.”
Jason grinned and pointed his thumbs toward his chest. “Is she talking about me?” he whispered.
Alex nodded and rolled his eyes.
“Did he ever ask that nice girl he’s been dating forever to marry him?”
Alex laughed out loud, looking at Jason.
“No, Mom, he hasn’t asked Ellie to marry him yet.”
Jason smirked, shaking his head. He stood and leaned close to the phone. “You too, Cecily? Thanks a lot.”
Alex wasn’t used to hearing his mom laugh, especially now that her laugh was hoarse from her years of smoking. The sound was slightly jarring to him. “You just tell that boy to do the right thing and propose,” she said.
“She says just propose already,” Alex told Jason as Jason walked toward the door.
He waved his hand at Alex. “Yeah, yeah. See you at the barn later.”
Alex turned his attention back to his mom. “So, what’s up, Mom?”
“Nothing is up. Can’t a mother just call her son?”
“Sure, she can, but you don’t usually do it unless something is going on.”
“It’s just — well,” his mother let out a heavy sigh, an exhale that probably include more smoke. “It’s your father.”
Alex rolled his eyes. “What about him?”
“I don’t think he’s doing well, health wise.”
“Why do you think that?”
“It’s just that your brother hinted that something was going on awhile back. He said he’d had some appointments with a doctor. He said it wasn’t anything to worry about, but I don’t know. I felt like he wasn’t being honest about what’s really going on.”
Alex shrugged. “Like I said before, I just talked to him and he didn’t say anything to me about Dad’s health. I’m sure it’s nothing.”
“You know I don’t care much about your father’s health for my own sake, Alex, but maybe you should call him, talk to him.”
Cecily Madigan Burke wasn’t sounding like herself and now Alex was wondering is something was wrong with her health.
“Mom, compassion toward Dad really isn’t like you. Are you okay?”
Cecily sighed again. “Alex, I just said I’m not worried about him for my own sake. I’m not even worried about him for his own sake, but I don’t want something to happen to him before you’ve talked to him and worked some things out. I don’t want you to carry that anger for him for the rest of your life. It’s not healthy. I’ve had to let a lot of it go or I’d have even more wrinkles than I do now. My Yoga instructor led me through this amazing meditation of forgiveness last week. Maybe you could do something like —”
“I think we’re rushing things a bit here,” Alex interrupted. “We don’t even know there is anything wrong with his health, okay? And you’re already acting like he is dying. Besides, Dad is the one who should be contacting me and, as you have always said, act like a real father for once. I’m not going to chase someone who obviously doesn’t care whether I live or die.”
“Alex, I don’t think it’s true that he doesn’t care, he’s just too selfish to show it.”
“He’s focused on himself, Mom. Always has been and always has. Listen, I’ll ask Sam about his health, but I think you’re reading too much into it. He’s probably just getting a vasectomy to make sure he doesn’t father anymore children in his old age.”
His mom laughed softly at the suggestion and then they said their goodbyes, with Alex agreeing he’d try to keep in touch more and insisting he was still happy on the farm. When he slid his finger over the end call button his phone, though, he knew he was only half telling the truth. He did love working on the farm, but right now he was struggling because of what he’d witnessed between Molly and Ben.
He pulled a soda out of the fridge and cracked it open, pushing the refrigerator door closed hard behind him. He hadn’t been able to get the image of Molly and Ben together out of his mind for a week now. He’d been quiet in the barn, talking when talked to but not offering comments or jokes like he usually did. He’d been inside his head too much to feel relaxed enough to act like nothing had changed since he’d seen Molly laughing and lightly touching Ben’s arm outside the church that day.
He sat on the porch railing, his legs hanging down, the soda can cupped between his hands, glad Jason was still down at the farm bringing the cows into the barn for the night.
Sleep had been hard to come by for the last week. When he closed his eyes, he pictured Molly and Ben together, Ben’s arms around Molly, leaning down to kiss her, her leaning up to kiss him back. No, he hadn’t seen that actually happen, but in his mind it had or was going to.
He was tired of thinking about it, tired of knowing he wasn’t good enough for Molly. He needed to get out of his head, and he needed to get out of this house.
He crunched the empty soda can in his hand, jumped off the railing, and stood on the porch as he stared down the road that would lead him toward town. He had no chance with Molly. He was wasting his time imagining he did.
She was a hundred times better than him. She believed in God; he didn’t know what to believe. She was sweet and gentle; he was hard and often cynical and bitter. She’d been talking to Ben outside a church.
A church.
They’d smiled, looked happy together. Because they were, like Jason had said, “meant to be together.” A good fit.
He and Molly weren’t a good fit and it was time he accepted that.
When it came down to it, she was good, and he wasn’t.
He was restless, anxious to get away from his own rambling thoughts. He’d been avoiding the bars lately, avoiding the temptations they brought but he needed the distraction tonight, temptations or not. He reached inside the front door and snatched keys off the hanger then turned on his heel, walked briskly down the front steps and to his truck.
He ripped out of the driveway, driving fast in the direction of town and away from the thoughts that tortured him at home.
Because I’ve decided to combine Quarantined (the short story I wrote in April or May or at some point during all this craziness) and Rekindle into a novella called … er… Quarantined, I’ve decided to share parts of the novella from the beginning starting every Thursday. I’m releasing it as a self-published Novella sometime in September. And this time I’ll offer it on more sites than Amazon — just for fun.
Anyhow, some of these parts this will be a repeat for some of my regular blog readers, but some of it has also been rewritten to tie up some plot holes and to add Matt and Cassie to Liam and Maddie’s story.
Maddie Grant glared at her husband over the edge of a book as he pounded his fist against the wall by the living room window.
Liam’s voice was strained, tired. “I can’t believe I have to self-quarantine. I don’t even have symptoms. This is absolutely ridiculous.”
Maddie couldn’t agree more. “Yeah, well I’m not thrilled with it either.”
His eyes flashed with anger as he turned to face her, hands on his hips.
“Excuse me?”
“Nothing.”
His jaw tightened as he spoke. “Yeah, I heard you. Believe me, I don’t want to be stuck here with you as much as you don’t want to be stuck here with me.”
She lifted the book higher, blocking her view of him. “We wouldn’t be stuck here if you hadn’t gone to that stupid political rally.”
“I went to that stupid political rally because it’s part of my job, Maddie. Remember what that is? A job.”
Maddie slapped the book closed, stood, and slammed the book on top of the coffee table as hard as she could. “I have a job, Liam. I’m a writer. Or don’t you remember the checks I’ve been putting into our bank account to help pay the bills? She walked past him toward the kitchen, but stopped abruptly, looking at him through narrowed eyes. “Oh, that’s right. I forgot that you’re the only one making a difference in this world.”
He bristled at her sarcastic and bitter tone.
“Of course I’m not. Clearly your romance novels are truly” he made quote symbols with his fingers. “world changing.” He turned away from her to look out the window again. “To lazy, pathetic housewives all over the world.”
Maddie’s hands ached as she tightened them into fists at her side, knuckles white, nails digging into her palms. Red spread slowly from her chest to her forehead as she stared at his back, every muscle in her body constricting with anger.
She pointed at his back aggressively. “If it wasn’t for you, we’d be divorced by now.” She snatched her phone off the coffee table. “I’m calling my lawyer and seeing if we can sign those papers electronically.”
“We can’t sign them electronically,” he snapped. “I already asked Art. We have to go over the settlement details before we can sign, and we have to do it in person.”
Maddie stood in the doorway between the living room and kitchen, one leg cocked slightly, arms tightly folded across her chest.
“You can have it all if it means I can get rid of you.”
She turned toward the front door. “I’m going for a walk.”
“You’re not supposed to go for a walk. We’re supposed to be in the house for 14 days to make sure we don’t expose anyone else and this thing doesn’t keep spreading.” He watched her walk down the hallway toward the front door, raising his voice. “If someone in the media finds out we’re going for walks they’ll smell blood in the water and be all over it. It could look bad for Matt.”
Snatching her coat off the hanger by the door she kept her back to him. “I can go for a walk.” She’d clenched her teeth so hard an ache shot up through her jawline. “I’ll stay six feet away from anyone I see, okay? I’ll even wear a hat and sunglasses, so I don’t ruin the career of the illustrious Sen. Matthew Grant.”
She snatched a sunhat from the front closet and her sunglasses off the table by the door.
“What happened to you, Maddie?” Liam called after her. “How did you become such a bitter person?”
Maddie’s muscles tightened again at his words. There was tired of arguing with him but there was no way she was letting this one slide.
She walked quickly back to the living room, eyes flashing.
Liam knew the tongue lashing was coming and he wasn’t in the mood.
“I’m sorry? How did I become so bitter? Maybe you should be asking how you became so distant. Maybe you should be asking how you became so preoccupied with your career and your reputation and the reputation of your stupid older brother that you let your marriage fall apart. Maybe you should ask yourself what it has been like for your wife to sit here at home alone while you’re out flitting around with sexy little reporters and congressional staffers and maybe —”
Liam scoffed. “Oh please. That’s such crap. I did not let this marriage fall apart. You are the one who shredded it, Maddie. And I invited you to those events plenty of times. You just wanted to sit here with your computer and your Twitter followers. You could have cared less about what was going on in my life and my career. You haven’t cared for a long time.”
Maddie shook her head and pivoted, walking briskly from the room and flinging open the front door. She made sure to slam it hard behind her as she walked through.
Her mind raced as she took the front steps two at a time and made her way down the sidewalk past the neighbors’ houses.
Why would she want to attend events where she merely stood in the corner while Liam kissed the butts of every politician in the room? Then there was the way he laid his hands on the backs of female staffers as he talked to them, winking before he walked away.
Yes, he winked at them.
Always that stupid, fake wink that spoke volumes about his relationship with those women when Maddie wasn’t around. She couldn’t remember him ever winking at her; not in the 15 years they’d known each other and not in the ten they’d been married.
Now she was trapped in her house, her safe haven, for the next 14 days with the man who had become a stranger to her because he had kept meeting with politicians despite the warnings about the spread of a weird virus. Oh, and, of course, he had also kept meeting with the media. The stupid, pain in the butt, fear-mongering, obnoxious, and arrogant media, which for Liam mainly meant that red-headed reporter from the local NBC affiliate.
Wendy Parker.
Cute, shapely, long red curls hanging down to her small, firm bottom.
“Oh, Liam, you’re always so good at keeping me in the loop,” she cooed through the speaker on his phone one day.
Maddie had walked by his office on her way to the kitchen. She rolled her eyes at Liam’s response.
“No problem, Wendy. You’ve always been good to us. I’m glad to give you the scoop.”
The tender timbre of Liam’s voice when he spoke to Wendy was a tone Maddie hadn’t heard him use toward her in years. In truth, Liam hadn’t cared about Maddie for a very long time. He was never interested in her writing or her accomplishments. Last year he had barely looked up from his paperwork when she told him she’d surpassed her personal goal for ebook sales.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
His pen bumped against his lower lip repeatedly as he looked through a stack of papers.
“Hmm? Oh, that’s great, hon’.”
Maddie had stared at that pen on that bottom lip for several moments, remembering how those lips used to press against hers, but hadn’t for months now, not longer than a quick peck on his way out the door anyhow.
“Yeah. I thought so,” she said softly, knowing he really didn’t care.
He flipped another page of the packet, his eyebrows furrowed. “That’s a big thing for a self-published author, right?”
Annoyance hit her square in the chest. His use of the words “self-published”, struck her as patronizing.
She’d walked away, leaving him to continue his work; reviewing speeches or gathering dirt on a political opponent, she wasn’t sure which.
As she stood across from him a few moments ago shouting at her, veins popping up along the top of his forehead and along his neck, she realized just how sick of it all she was.
How sick of him she was.
Sick of all the times she’d felt rejected and pushed aside.
Sick of all the times she’d felt like she was competing with television cameras and self-serving, power-hungry politicians.
Sick of the way he’d made it clear she wasn’t a priority to him anymore.
When he’d told her he had the virus, he hadn’t even expressed concern for her. So far, he hadn’t had even a sniffle, but she knew it could get worse and she knew she could be next.
All he’d done the last two days was rant about how ridiculous all this quarantining and so-called “social distancing” was and how it would make his job more difficult since he’d have to work from home.
What about her and how it would affect her? As soon as he’d announced he’d be working from home for the next two weeks, maybe even longer, all her quiet writing time had evaporated.
She didn’t have a private office like he did since he’d never finished transforming that spare room upstairs into her writing space like he’d promised, instead filling it with political documents and books.
Not being able to meet with their lawyers to finalize the divorce papers was like the poisoned apple on the cake.
She wished she had taken her friend Andrea up on her offer to stay at her apartment during the quarantine.
“I’m single, no children, and no elderly parents to catch it if you do get it so let’s be stuck here together,” Andrea told her over the phone three days ago. “It’s supposed to be a mild virus for 80 percent of the population anyhow. Too many people are acting like it’s the end of the world. If it is, we can make milkshakes, pop some popcorn, and watch it burn. Or we can watch a couple Brad Pitt movies. Either way, you won’t have to be stuck in the house with that jerk.”
“Make it a few Hugh Jackman movies and I may take you up on that offer,” Maddie responded. “But, seriously, all my paperwork for the book is here. Plus, I’m sure Liam will be locked in his office the whole time anyhow.”
But her brooding, distasteful, self-important, soon-to-be ex-husband hadn’t locked himself in his office.
He’d been practically been crawling up the walls since his boss and older brother, U.S. Senator Matthew Grant, had ordered him into quarantine after he tested positive for the virus. He spent his days pacing the floor like a caged animal. Why didn’t he just go in his office and leave her alone already?
She needed a very long break from him, but this short walk in the cool spring air would have to do. She’d have to return to the house eventually. But for now, she intended to enjoy the warm sun on her face, the newly sprouting buds on the trees around her, and the chirps of the birds.
***
The front door crashed closed, rattling the hinges.
Liam stared after his wife, jaw tight, heart pounding from the adrenaline.
Holy heck that woman is so . . . he struggled for the word as he turned and walked toward the small flight of stairs that led to his office.
Evil.
That’s what she was, or what she had become anyhow.
Evil.
Cold.
Bitter.
Distant.
Detached.
None of those attributes were how he would have described her when they’d been dating or when they had married ten years ago, but now he couldn’t think of any other way to say it.
She was mean.
Flat out mean.
He tossed his hands in the air in frustration as he walked into the office and flopped back into the black, leather chair, behind the desk, reaching for his phone.
He didn’t want to think about her anymore.
He had other subjects he needed to focus on.
Work for one thing.
He still had a press release to work on with John for Matt’s statement to the media, updating them on restrictions that had been placed in his district to try to reduce the spread of the virus. Honestly, he wasn’t even sure why so many restrictions were being placed but that wasn’t his job. His job was to make his older brother Matt look good and that’s what he was going to do.
He reached John’s voicemail.
“John, hey, it’s Liam. Give me a call when you get this. Let me know the latest. I’ve started the release and need to fill in the details. You’ve got my number.”
He swiped the end button and set the phone face down on the desk, pushing his hands back through his hair as he leaned back against the chair.
He was going stir crazy in this house. Maybe he needed to take a walk like Maddie, or a run. A run would sweat out the virus, which he wasn’t sure he even had. It would also help him focus on something other than the tension between him and his soon-to-be ex-wife.
Ex-wife.
That definitely sounded weird. But it was needed. He and Maddie hadn’t been connecting for years. It was time to move on, shake the dust off his feet, so to speak.
He’d told Maddie he had the virus, but the truth was that his first test had been inconclusive. He was waiting for a call from the doctor’s office for the results of a second test.
Telling her the test had been positive had been the only way to shut her up when she’d been harping on him about being missing the meeting with their attorneys to finalize the alimony numbers.
“I have the virus, okay?!” he’d yelled, tossing his arms out to his side. “I’m in quarantine for 14 days and the doctor said you’re stuck here with me because you’ve been exposed already. We have to put up with each other for two weeks, maybe longer, so maybe you can just get off my back for once and shut up.”
Her annoyance bubbled into pure fury. “Are you serious? You couldn’t have called me? I mean, why do I have to stay here? So, I can get it too?!” She’d tossed her notepad and pen across the room at him, missing him by two inches. “Well, that’s just great! I am so looking forward to getting sick with you.”
“I don’t even have any symptoms,” he’d shouted at her back as she walked toward her bedroom. “You probably won’t get any either so don’t worry about it. But, hey, thanks for being concerned about me.”
Even though the tests had been preliminary, there was no denying he’d been exposed to the virus. The ambassador from Italy had announced three days ago he’d tested positive. Liam had been at a meeting with the ambassador the previous week. They had shaken hands and even sat next to each other at dinner. Symptoms or not, he knew there was little chance he wouldn’t develop it. That meant he hadn’t lied to Maddie. Not really.
The doctor had told him that based on his age and overall good health, it was more likely that his case would be mild if he did develop symptoms, but they couldn’t take a chance he’d spread it to others who were more vulnerable, so he had been sent home and told to self-quarantine.
He knew it wouldn’t have looked good for Matt if he’d tested positive and kept going to work, possibly exposing others.
He’d cursed under his breath all the way home, wearing a mask on the subway, everyone around him scowling at him like he’d released a biological weapon in their midst.
He spun his phone around on top of the desk and then shoved it away from him and slapped the desk in frustration. He couldn’t just sit around waiting to get sick. He had to do something to occupy his mind until John or Matt called him back. The only communication he’d had from his brother in two days had been a quick text: Press is blowing up. Going into quarantine at home. Be in touch.
He couldn’t focus on work anyhow.
His mind raced with the events of the last few days.
Being in the same house with Maddie longer than a couple of hours wasn’t helping.
Honestly, he’d been avoiding coming home even before they’d agreed to the divorce. He wished he could avoid it now too.
He glanced through the partially open door to the spare room across the hall. He should finish clearing the room out. He would have to anyhow when he officially moved to the apartment he’d rented on the other side of the city in a couple of weeks.
He’d agreed to give Maddie the house in the divorce. He didn’t need it. It was too big for just him and he didn’t have plans on getting into another relationship anytime soon. Honestly, he was looking forward to some solitude after years of walking on eggshells around the woman he had once thought he’d spend the rest of his life with.
He pushed himself to a standing position with a groan, heading into the spare room. Boxes cluttered the floor and he started opening them, tossing papers into a trash bag he’d started filling the week before. Old speeches, stained copies of his resumes, press releases from his brother’s campaign. He tossed them all. They weren’t needed anymore.
The last box in the stack by the window was covered in a layer of dust and he blew it off as he picked it up, coughing and shaking his head. What had he been thinking? Blowing the dust all over? Like he needed dust in his lungs if he had a virus growing in there. He flipped the lid off the box and looked inside. Old bills, bank statements from six years ago, birthday cards from his family, and a stack of envelopes tied together with twine. He tossed the statements and bills in the trash bag and flipped through the birthday cards. He ended up tossing them too. He appreciated them but he couldn’t keep everything.
He frowned at the letters. What were these and why were they hidden in this box? He worked the twine loose and one fell off the top to the floor. He reached down and picked it up, looking for a name on the front. Finding none he slid out the letter he found inside.
Liam:
I won’t lie, I feel so weird writing this letter, but I haven’t been able to think about anything but you all week. I really enjoyed our night together, especially our dance alone in the courtyard outside the restaurant. I didn’t notice before that moment how blue your eyes are or that scar at the edge of your jawline. I hope we can meet again soon, and you can tell me how you got it.
Classes are almost done for the semester. I have decided to stick it out with the communications major, though I’m still not sure what I want to do with it. I’ll be spending my summer break at home, probably working at the ice cream stand again. What will you be doing this summer? I hope you’ll write me back and let me know.
Sincerely,
Maddie
P.S. Is sincerely too cold of a way to sign a letter to a person you were kissing only a couple of days ago?
P.P.S. I fall asleep every night thinking about that kiss.
Liam slid the letter back into the envelope and shook his head. Those words had been written a lifetime ago. When was the last time Maddie had thought of him in that way? He didn’t even know, but he knew it had been a long time since he’d thought of her that way. He stared at the envelope, remembering that night in the courtyard, his arms around her waist as they swayed, her honey-brown hair cascading down her back, the way she’d laid her head against his shoulder and he’d breathed in the citrus smell of her shampoo.
The rest of the world faded away and it was as if they were the only people in the courtyard, even though a few other people were also dancing to the impromptu concert a couple of street performers were putting on. Her skin was so soft, her lips even softer when he’d touched her under her chin, and she’d looked up at him and he’d leaned down to kiss her.
He’d wanted that kiss to last forever. It had only ended because the sky had abruptly opened up and sent them running to his car, laughing and soaked when they’d climbed inside. They’d resumed the kiss for several passionate moments, steaming up the windows, and then he’d driven her back to her dorm room, his body aching to hold her again as he watched her walk inside.
He sat on the floor by the window, crumpling the letter in his hand and tossing it across the room.
He opened another box.
Photo albums.
No way.
He refused to look at old photos and let any more memories twist his already jumbled thoughts. That’s all they were — memories of what used to be, not the reality of what was now. The people in these photos were ghosts. They were ghosts of who he and Maddie used to be. They weren’t who they had become, who they were now; two people who had once loved each other, but no longer did.
He snatched up one of the albums and started to toss it toward the garbage bag. It wasn’t like Maddie would miss them. She never even came into this room. There had been a thick layer of dust on this box just like the one with the letters.
A photo slid out of the album as he started to toss it and it skidded across the floor, face up. He glanced at it as he reached down to pick it up. A smiling Maddie on the beach, her hair flowing in soft waves down her back, her head tipped back, her bare throat exposed.
The memory came against his will.
It was their first trip together.
Spring break.
Sophomore year of college.
On the beach.
Florida.
“Should I pose like this?” Maddie’s hand was on her hip, one leg pushed out slightly from the other, knee bent. She tipped her head back and laughed, the sunlight dancing across her curls. He snapped the shutter.
“Yep,” he’d said, completely under her spell. “Just like that.”
She’d laughed at him, playfully slapped her hand across his upper arm.
“You did not take that photo! I looked like such a goofball! You better delete that.”
He grinned and pulled her in for a kiss. “Nope. That one is my favorite so far. I’ll keep it forever and never forget the way you smiled at me in the sun on this gorgeous spring day on this gorgeous beach.”
Her smile had faded into a more serious expression and then she’d tipped her head up and pressed her mouth to his, tugging gently at his bottom lip when she’d pulled back. He’d almost exploded with desire.
He tipped his head back, closing his eyes as he remembered that kiss. It had been an amazing, mind-blowing kiss. One for the record books he liked to tell her for years afterward.
God, she had been beautiful that weekend. He’d been head over heels, though he knew part of it had been his libido speaking. He’d wanted to spend the whole weekend with her in bed, but he knew she’d have none of it.
She hadn’t been raised that way. For her, sex was something had only after the marriage was final. He’d sighed and rolled his eyes when she’d first told him but gradually he’d accepted it, remembering his own upbringing and how his parents had urged the same for him. Maddie was worth waiting for, he’d decided, and he’d compromised with long walks and extended make-out sessions on the beach before bidding her a good night outside her own hotel room.
He’d been right. Maddie had been worth waiting for. They had spent two years dating getting to know each other beyond a physical connection and on their wedding night they’d casted aside any physical expectations, instead simply enjoying each touch, each kiss, and each rush of pleasure at just being able to be together.
Liam leaned his head forward, opening his eyes to look at the photo again. He could barely remember the last time he’d made love to Maddie. Sure, they’d had sex once or twice in the last year, but it’d been rushed, distant, cold even. It had been for their individual physical needs and nothing more. He knew that and he hated it. He clutched at his hair and flicked the photo across the room.
He hated who he had become, and he hated that it had affected his marriage more than he ever thought it would. He and Maddie had been so young when they’d married, so full of naïve idealism. They were going to change the world together. They’d buy a home in the suburbs, raise two children (a boy and a girl, of course), both have successful careers in communications, and take amazing family trips to Europe every summer. That’s what they told themselves anyhow.
But now, they were barely talking. They’d never had any children. Maddie had had two early miscarriages, and one at 25 weeks. They’d taken a break after the last miscarriage, deciding they’d talk about trying again when life settled down. That had been four years ago, and life had never settled down. Shortly before that Matt had been elected as a U.S. Senator and he had hired Liam as his press secretary, meaning Liam and Maddie had moved to Washington D.C. from Ohio and Liam had started spending more time in the city and less time at home in the suburbs with Maddie.
Liam yawned and pushed himself up from the floor, staggering toward the bed that had been shoved to the other side of the room, in the middle of the boxes and bookcases. It was the bed he’d been sleeping in since Maddie had told him she wanted a divorce six months ago.
He was exhausted and knew the walk down memory lane wasn’t helping to calm his jumbled thoughts. He flopped down on top of the covers on his back, when he reached the bed, closing his eyes, not even bothering to undress.
Maybe I should stay awake until Maddie gets back, he thought as sleep started to overtake him. But he couldn’t fight the sleep and his thoughts swirled together with dreams of the way his life with Maddie used to be.
