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

 

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

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

Tumbleweed Thompson

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

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

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

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

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

I also finished Falling Home by Karen White.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

Fiction Friday: A New Beginning, Chapter 21

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

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


Chapter 21

Light, Shadows & Magic (2)

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh? How can I do that?”

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

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

“Um… .speaks to me?”

“Yes. Which one says something to you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

He turned abruptly and walked quickly out of the shop.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It couldn’t be.

But it was.

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

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

It was definitely him.

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

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

Fiction Thursday: A New Beginning, Chapter 20

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

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


Chapter 20

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, buddy they do.”

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

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

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

“Admiring the scenery?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mama! We’re in our underwear! Look!”

“I see you, kid. Just keep those on.”

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

Jimmy and Judson laughed at Sam’s comment.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay!”

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

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

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

“Hey, your hair is down.”

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

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

“Are you having fun?” he asked.

“Yes. Sure.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not so fast!”

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

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

“Don’t you da—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I was grateful he was wearing a shirt again.

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

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

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

“Your kid is great, you know that?”

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

“I do.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mind if I join you?”

“Help yourself but the sunset is almost gone.”

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

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

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

“Yeah… it has.”

“But? I sense a but.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And you were homecoming king?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I smiled sheepishly, knowing my excuse had been lame.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you serious?”

“I wish I wasn’t.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay, but–”

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

“Blanche, wait…”

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

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

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

“I can’t do this, Judson.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know you have a son. Why are you–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I hugged her. “Maybe someday.”

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

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

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

Faithfully Thinking: The battle belongs to the Lord

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

Silence.

“Should I call the doctor?”

Silence.

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

Silence.

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

Be still and wait.

Two of the things I am the absolute worst at.

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

Be still and wait. I’ve got this.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What if I have this?”

“I need to figure this out.”

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

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

The battle belongs to the Lord.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And God does this repeatedly.

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

He’s never impatient when he guides me back.

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

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

I know I’ll wander off again.

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

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

Pennsylvania suddenly remembers it’s winter

It appears that Pennsylvania has been a little confused about what season it is for the last couple of weeks as warm temperatures tried to move into the area. But this past week Pennsylvania said to herself, “Oh, right. We are due for some snow because it is winter. Here you go.”

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So after a week of warmer temps and rain, Winter dropped six inches of snow in a few hours and another two the following day. My children had started to like the idea of being able to go to the playground in warmer weather when the snow came. Luckily my youngest decided to make the most of it and ran out into the snow and then pretty quickly back in when she got snow in her shoe. She went in and out a few more times for a couple of days and even convinced her brother to go out in it a couple of times. Apparently, since becoming a teenager he no longer tolerates cold well.  Or he is just lazy. I’m going to go with lazy, even though I’m not a fan of the cold either.

After I told my son I missed him being adventurous and getting excited to go play outside in any weather, he took off without a coat or boots and jumped off our porch into the snow.

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Luckily, he didn’t break anything.

 

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My daughter took her favorite (today anyhow) toy with her – a ragged dog I bought for way too much money for Christmas that I probably could have made for $10. The thing comes in a ball and the child is supposed to dunk it in water to unravel it. Now that Little Miss knows it can get wet and be dried fairly easily she takes it with her everywhere, from into the snow and rain, to her baths. Her brother buried it all the way under the snow at one point when she wasn’t looking but stuck a tree branch over it so he could find it later. She realized it was gone within a few moments of coming back in the house.

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She pestered her brother and me all day about going out into the snow but each time we got there, she would run back inside less than ten minutes later.

“You made us come out here and now you are leaving?” I shouted at one point as she ran toward the front porch.

“Yeah, well, I have SNOW IN MY BOOT!” she yelled back.

She was so indignant about it; it cracked us up.

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DSC_7548_2DSC_7592_2DSC_7627On one of the days, we had snow a friend of my son’s came over and they had some kind of wrestling match in our side yard. No idea what that was about, but I know that beating each other up is how boys relate.

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DSC_7712_1Watching the kids play in the snow made me think about how this will be the last winter they play in the yard of this house since by next year we will be living 40 minutes away, closer to my husband’s job and my parents. The day before the snow hit we visited a local playground that is set to be demolished sometime this winter or spring so that a new one can be rebuilt in the fall. The playground is a wooden playground that was built more than 30 years ago and is a favorite of my children, as well as other children in the community. It will be sad to see it go, but it will be safer and easier for the borough to maintain it once it is replaced.

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Sunday Bookends: Social anxiety, libraries, snow and what I’m reading

Our winter has been weird this year. We haven’t had as much as snow as other years and if we have had it, it’s come suddenly and all at once, and usually after a warm spell.

That’s what happened Friday when six inches of snow was dropped on our small town (more in the higher elevations around us) in about three hours. The snow came after a mixture of heavy rain and ice fell throughout the night and early morning hours. The temperatures went from 51 earlier in the week to 24 by the end, which, of course, our sinuses never appreciate.

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My oldest jumping into the snow off our porch because I told him he wasn’t adventurous since he became a teenager.

The youngest declared she wanted to go out in the snow, but I knew she’d probably run out and five minutes later run back in, because, in addition to the snow, the wind was blowing. She did want to come back inside in about five minutes but this time it was because there was snow in her boot. We didn’t get the kids snow pants this year, I think because we were so distracted with the house stuff we simply forgot. And since the weather hasn’t been very “wintery” all winter, we haven’t been too worried about it.

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DSC_7487I’m sure I’ll share more snow photos later this week.

I read a blog post by Lisa at The Manitoba Mom Blog a month or so ago where she said she needed a good snowstorm to snow her in and give her a break from normal life and we were lucky Friday to get that snowstorm. I needed it after a long, emotional and physically draining week. After a week-long painful (men, turn your heads) PMS experience, I then did something to my neck that felt like a pinched nerve. The pain radiated down my arm and kept me from typing and finishing revisions on the first draft of A New Beginning for a couple of days. All of this pain was going on while we had two house showings (yes, I am sick of writing about this) and I finally got my rear in gear and took my daughter to storytime at the local library.

I have been boycotting our local libraries after an incident with a lost children’s book where they didn’t notice it was missing for three weeks, but when they did they called and texted me once a day for a couple of weeks, sometimes twice a day. I called them and told them I was sure I’d brought it back. They said they couldn’t find it. I finally said I’d pay for it but the messages continued until I told one of the staff, when I saw her somewhere else, I’d be in to pay for it and she joked about how the libraries were now sending some people to the local judge when they didn’t pay their fines. I wasn’t sure how to take that comment but luckily I found the book the next day and returned it and paid the fine. After that, and another incident with that same staff member involving my oldest, I backed away from the library and started buying books instead.  I didn’t want to risk losing another one and getting the texts and phone calls again.

However, we needed to go somewhere during a house showing last month and we ended up at a different local library. My daughter wanted to play in the children’s room and that’s when I picked up a book by Karen White called Falling Home. I had never heard of her so I decided to start reading the book to waste time. I was hooked in the first few pages, but I was on a library strike, so I finished chapter two and put it back on the shelf, planning to look on Kindle for it. I did look on Kindle and they wanted $13 for it and I rarely spend that much money on a Kindle book unless it is an author I know well. (Aside: recently Erin at Still Life with Cracker Crumbs mentioned that her library lists how much money she’s saved throughout the year by going to the library. I didn’t think our local libraries did this, but when we got our books, six of them altogether, the receipt said we had saved $106 this year. Huh. Interesting.)

I guess you could say that my finding that book was like a (single) woman meeting a (single) man somewhere and not being able to get him out of her head because I could not get that book out of my head.  I thought about that book so much I finally talked my daughter into storytime this week so I could break my vow to never sign books out of the local libraries and sign it out.  And then I took that book home to be mine, all my mine (for two weeks at least). If you have read this book, please don’t tell me what happens. I’m only on Chapter 10 or so, but so far I am in love and have found a new author to follow.

In case you are interested, here is the synopsis of the book from Goodreads:

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You know that saying about how sometimes you’re the windshield and sometimes you’re the bug?

It’s true. Take me, for example. I shook the Georgia dust from my feet fifteen years ago,vowing never to leave Manhattan. I traded sweet tea for Chardonnay, fried chicken for nouvelle cuisine, lazy days on my aunt’s front porch for ad campaigns and board meetings, and the guy who broke my heart for my handsome boss, who soon became my fiance. Perfect, right?

Until my sister called. We haven’t spoken since I left home—because she married the guy who broke my heart. What’s more, she called to say my father is dying—but he refuses to finish until I show up. So I’m back in the hottest, dinkiest small town in Georgia, facing my sister and my old boyfriend over the heads of the—count them—five children. It couldn’t get weirder, right? Unless you count Sam Parker—a long-forgotten classmate, now the town doctor—and how good he’s beginning to look to me.

I’m falling apart, I think, wondering why resentment and wounded pride seem silly here in Walton, where forgiveness and acceptance go hand-in-hand with homecoming. And I’m beginning to suspect that I’m falling in love for real this time, with a man whose touch is so right, I feel like I’m…Falling Home.

In addition to picking out my book, I asked my daughter if she wanted to pick a few books out for herself. One of the highlights of my childhood was picking out my own books at the library, maybe because I didn’t have video games or other devices waiting for me at home. I also didn’t have a life, but anyhow, I digress. My daughter was thrilled with her books and I’ll talk about her picks in a post later this week.

While at the library I was reminded I don’t talk to many adults in person anymore since I started homeschooling my son two years ago. Because I don’t see people as much anymore, I have developed severe social anxiety and because I have social anxiety I ramble like I haven’t talked to another human being in decades when I run into actual adults. Those poor women I ran into Tuesday . . . I definitely feel for them. I’m hoping if I go to storytime again I can stop rambling like a drug addict on speed and act like a normal person, but I don’t have much faith in that happening unless I ducttape my mouth shut.

I didn’t watch a lot this week but Friday we did watch The Hunt for Red October for our family movie night. I hadn’t seen it in years and, of course, it still bugs me they slacked off and didn’t use Russian accents for the majority of the movie. As if it is normal for a man with a thick Scottish accent to be commanding a secret Soviet submarine. And Tim Curry with his cockney/Soviet mix accent. Good grief. But the movie is still a good one. Hollywood is always making remakes so it would be nice if they remade this one and gave the Soviet Navy actual Soviet/Russian accents.

On the blog this week, I rambled about a variety of subjects:

My 87-year old aunt reminding me I’m fat;

The Real Blanche Behind A Story to Tell;

Fiction Thursday: A New Beginning Chapter 18

Fiction Friday: A New Beginning Chapter 19

January in Photos

Flash Fiction Challenge: A Dog in the Daisies

So, what all are you reading, watching or doing this week? Let me know in the comments!

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Flash Fiction: A Dog in the Daisies

Nothing felt the same since the fire. They’d lost everything. Barking in the distance caught his attention. He looked out across the field of daisies, searching. There. On the other side of the brook. Could it be him? Another bark and his speed picked up. It was him.

Patrick felt tears sting his eyes as he lowered himself to greet the black and white creature rushing toward him, tongue lolling to one side, tail wagging crazily.

“Rufus! You’re alive!”

The tongue was wet, warm, the paws placed solidly on Patrick’s chest. Patrick laughed. They hadn’t lost everything after all.


Part of The Carrot Ranch’s Flash Fiction Challenge for this week:

February 6, 2020, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story to the theme “a dog in the daisies.” It can be any dog, real or imagined. Push into the setting and as always, go where the prompt leads!

Respond by February 11, 2020. Use the comment section below to share, read, and be social. You may leave a link, pingback, or story in the comments. If you want to be published in the weekly collection, please use the form.  Rules & Guidelines.

January in photos

I’ve been focused on writing more than photography recently, but I did take some photographs in January.  I no longer take photographs professionally, so I consider my photographs family documentary since they focus mainly on my family life.

We didn’t have a lot of snow. We were running in and out of the house a lot for showings. And we did homeschool lessons. In other words, there really wasn’t a lot to photograph throughout the month of January.

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Fiction Friday: A New Beginning Chapter 19

In case you missed it, I posted Chapter 18 yesterday because we all need a distraction from the news of the world today, or just other stresses in our lives. Or at least I do because this week has been stressful for me. The one highlight of the week is that I have finished the first draft of A New Beginning and am now beginning rewrites, revisions and all that jazz, hoping to publish it on Kindle sometime in the Spring.

You will find a link to the previous chapters I have posted HERE or at the link at the top of the page.

You can find the first part of Blanche’s story on Kindle and Kindle Unlimited. 

 


Chapter 19

The waiting room at the adoption agency wasn’t exactly what I would call welcome. Walls that had probably once been a sterile, eggshell white were now dull and stained. A few metal chairs and a coffee table with magazines scattered on top of it sat in the center of the room. In one corner a desk with a stained blue chair pushed against it was gathering dust. In the other corner, a plant revealed its synthetic status by the dust on its leaves.  In some ways, the room reminded me more of a prison cell than a waiting room.

Edith’s hands were red from wringing them for half an hour now. I took her hands in mine to keep her from ripping the skin off and she managed a smile, worry clearly etched across her face.

Jimmy, chewing on a toothpick, paced in front of the small smeared window facing a brick wall, pushing his hand back through his sandy brown hair. Every few moments he looked at the floor, then back out the window, then at the closed door of the room. As I wished for the tenth time someone would come in to update us on what was happening, the door to the room opened and a plump woman with grey-streaked, frizzy blond hair and black cat-eye glasses stood in the doorway with a clipboard. Dressed in a blue blouse untucked from her grey skirt and covered with a gray suit jacket she looked flustered as she walked briskly into the room.

A teenage girl with straight blond hair and stooped shoulders walked behind her, her eyes lowered. Thin except for the small round belly protruding against the fabric of a flower-covered peasant blouse, she looked like she should be in a line at school, waiting to go to recess, not waiting to sign her baby away. The hem of her blue denim skirt rested a few inches above the knees, her legs covered by bright red tights.

“I’m sorry we took so long, Mr. and Mrs. Sickler,” the woman with the clipboard said, glancing up and stretching her hand out to Edith first and then Jimmy. “I’m Sandra Tyler, your social worker. Lily was running a little late. I should have updated you but my other appointment ran a little long.”

“We understand,” Edith said then gestured toward me. “I hope it’s okay we brought my sister Blanche as moral support.”

Sandra smiled at me and shook my hand as well. “Of course it is. I’m sure Lily is happy to meet anyone who will be a part of her baby’s adoptive family.” She gestured toward the chairs. “Please. Let’s all sit and get to know each other a little.”

Lily lowered herself gently into one of the metal chairs, her belly spilling over the top of the skirt under the blouse. Sunken eyes with dark circles under them looked out from the small, round face. She bit her bottom lip and bounced her foot, looking at Jimmy and Edith, as if sizing them up.

Sandra cleared her throat.  “So, this Lily. She’s a young lady from here in the city and she’s due three months from now. We’ve been helping Lily with her addiction and she was just released from rehab a couple of weeks ago. Lily, this is Jimmy and Edith, the couple you chose from the files we showed you. Do you have any questions for Edith and Jimmy?”

Lily shrugged, folding her arms across her chest. “Yeah. I guess.” She looked at Sandra from under heavy eyelids and then at Edith and Jimmy. “Have you got a lot of room for kids?”

“Oh yes,” Edith said. “We live in a small town with a lovely backyard and both our parents have homes in the country with plenty of space for a child to run and play in.”

Lily’s mouth tipped upward slightly. “How come you don’t have kids of your own?” she asked abruptly.

Sandra looked startled at the question. “Lily, honey, that might be a little too personal,” she said softly.

“No. It’s okay,” Edith said quickly. “I don’t mind.” She smiled at Lily. “We lost a baby a few years ago and haven’t been able to have any more children since then. She was stillborn.”

Lily looked at the floor and shifted in the chair, her smile gone. “Sorry,” she mumbled. “That sucks.” She looked up at Edith through blond bangs. “Doesn’t really seem fair someone like you not being able to have a baby and someone like me – someone screwed up like me – getting knocked up by some guy who don’t even love me anymore.”

Edith swallowed hard and looked at Jimmy. “Well, Lily, I don’t … I mean, you’re not…”

Sandra interrupted. “What Edith means, Lily is that you’ve made some mistakes in life but you’re fixing those mistakes and one way you’re doing that is doing the right thing for your child and giving him or her to a loving couple to take care of him or her.”

Edith nodded and I could tell she was grateful for Sandra stepping in. “Right, Lily. You’re trying to make up for all that now.”

Jimmy cleared his throat and leaned forward slightly.

“So, how have you been doing, Lily ? Feeling pretty good ?”

Lily shrugged again and slumped slightly in the chair. “Yeah,” she squeezed her forearm and looked at the floor. “Been keepin’ clean from the drugs. They’ve got me in some program. I think it’s workin’.”

She kept her eyes downcast as her lower lip started to tremble. “Wish I’d never started all that junk in the first place.” She sniffed and dragged her hand across her nose. “I’m not ready for a baby at my age. I’m only 15. Can’t believe I let that guy talk me into doing that just for a hit off his pipe.”

My breath caught in my chest and I did my best not to gasp out loud. She was only 15 and pregnant. I had been a mess at 17 when I found out I was pregnant. She must have been terrified.

Tears rolled down Lily’s cheeks and dropped off her chin. Edith stood and kneeled in front of Lily, laying her hand over hers. “It’s going to be okay, Lily. You’re getting help. You’re getting on the right path and we’re going to take care of your baby, okay?”

Lily nodded, accepting the tissue Sandra offered her and wiping her face, then blowing her nose. She laid the crumpled tissue back in Sandra’s hand. The social worker looked at it with a small grimace and tossed it into the trash can next to her.

“You seem like good people,” Lily said softly.  “I’m really excited for you to have this baby.”

After a few more minutes of conversation, Lily asking if Edith had painted the nursery and how old she and Jimmy were, Sandra suggested Edith and Jimmy plan another meeting with Lily in a month and everyone agreed.

“I feel a lot better about it all now that I’ve met you,” Lily said as we all stood, her nose still red from when she’d cried.

“We’re so glad to have been able to meet you, Lily,” Jimmy said.

Lily nodded, sniffed and laid her hand against her belly. “I’m glad you’re taking my baby. I’m in no shape to take care of it and the daddy don’t – doesn’t want it. I think it’ll be happier with nice people like you.”

When the door closed, we all looked at each other and I could tell none of us were sure how to react.

Edith sat in a chair and let out a breath. “Whoa. That was . . .”

Her voice trailed off as she shook her head.

“Crazy,” Jimmy said, sitting next to her. “How does a kid that young get in a situation like that? Where were her parents?”

“Maybe on the streets just like her,” I said with a shrug. “Who knows.”

Edith leaned forward, pressing her hand against her forehead. “Are we doing the right thing? Taking this baby from this girl? What if – I mean, maybe we could–”

“Edith, she’s too young to raise this baby on her own,” Jimmy interrupted. “We can give this child a better life.”

“And then what happens to Lily?” Edith asked, tears suddenly pooling in her eyes. “If her parents don’t care about her now and the father has left her – who else is around to care for her? And what about when she gets older and realizes what she’s done, that she gave up her baby?”

Jimmy leaned back in the chair and pushed his hands back into his hair. “I don’t know Edith. I just don’t know. But we can’t trust her to take care of that baby on her own either. We live too far away to keep an eye on her – what else can we do?”

We sat in silence, looking at the floor, feeling a heaviness as we heard doors open and close in the hallways beyond the room we were sitting in. I wondered how many other waiting rooms were in this building, how many other young mothers were struggling to decide how or if they could care for their babies. I thought how I could have been that mother if I had chosen Hank or drugs or anything else over Jackson, if I hadn’t had the support system I had had in Miss Mazie, Hannah,  and my family.

When Sandra came back into the room, she handed a stack of papers to Jimmy and Edith.

“This is the preliminary paperwork you’ll need to sign. Of course, nothing is finalized until the baby is born and you and Lily sign the final papers the day of the birth.” She flipped the pages and pointed out where Edith and Jimmy needed to sign.

“What happens to Lily after the baby is born?” Edith said, her hand hovering over the stack of paper.

“What do you mean?” Sandra asked.

“I mean, does anyone keep an eye on her or help her through all this? It’s a big step, isn’t it, giving up your baby?”

Sandra sat back in the chair and sighed. “Yes, it is but most young girls like Lily move on with their lives and, sad to say, many of them return to the streets or the drugs or even, well, more unpleasant occupations.”

Edith winced. “Where are Lily’s parents?”

Sandra shook her head. “She only has her mother and that’s who brought her in, I’m afraid. She knows Lily can’t take care of this baby and the mother isn’t in any shape to do it either. She’s an alcoholic, living in an apartment complex in one of the worst parts in town. Quite frankly, I’m grateful she came here at all instead of trying to get Lily a back alley abortion somewhere.”

I felt sick to my stomach hearing what other young desperate mothers might turn to instead of adoption. I remembered Hank suggesting the same when I became pregnant, though thankfully he retracted the suggestion. I hadn’t understood what he meant back then when he’d suggested ending the pregnancy, but now I knew more and my heart ached that procedures like that were even possible.

“Mr. and Mrs. Sickler, listen,” Sandra laid the papers on the small coffee table and leaned toward them. “I know this is hard and scary and I think it’s wonderful you are so worried about Lily, but what she is doing is right for this baby. She can’t care for the baby on her own. The father isn’t even in the picture; we aren’t even sure who he is. Her mother is in worse shape than she is. You’re doing the right thing taking this baby. Otherwise, he or she will end up in foster care, bouncing from family to family. Your concerns for Lily are admirable, but the truth is, we just can’t save everyone.”

Edith was quiet on the way home and I knew she was thinking about what Sandra had said and struggling with her worry for Lily.