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Fiction Friday: A New Beginning, Chapter 21

/ Lisa R. Howeler / 10 Comments

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 Friday: ‘A New Beginning’ Chapter 17

/ Lisa R. Howeler / 5 Comments

I posted Chapter 16 yesterday on the blog, so if you missed that, head over and read that post first.

As always, this is a first (or so) draft so there will be typos and left out words. Feel free to let me know they are there when you see them. Also, feel free to let me know in the comments what you think about this section and where you’d like to see the story as it continues. Am I shoving too much in one story? Let me know that too so I can adjust it in the final draft.

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 17

Daddy sat in his chair, reading a book with a cup of tea next to him as I lounged on the couch with my own book. Jackson played on the floor between us, creating truck sounds with his mouth. It was our first quiet night in a month.

Sam, recovering at home, was still very sore but healing, enjoying his daughter and happy to have a new story to tell people about his job. He was moving slowly, his ability to walk not yet fully restored. Two canes helped him walk small distances in or around his home. The surgeon said he felt, in time, Sam would be able to walk easily again and return back to work. The hope was he could return in six months and it had been five already.

“What better story is there?” Sam had asked weakly the night he came home. “Getting shot, almost being paralyzed, surviving two surgeries and waking up to find out my baby girl had been born in a snowstorm along the side of the road, delivered by my wife’s best friend? It sounds like something you’d read in a book or see in a movie.”

Sam was right. It did all seem like a fictionalized story and there were still days I could barely believe it had actually happened. The morning he woke up and saw Emmy next to his bed with a sleeping baby in her arms his eyes had lit up more than I thought they could with all the pain he must have been in. He’d smiled as Emmy leaned down to show him Faith’s face and then asked in a raspy voice what had happened. For once it was Emmy’s chance to tell her own story of adventure.

My time since then had been full of work at the shop, writing my column for the paper, visits to see Emmy and Sam to help with Faith and then coming home to tuck Jackson in for bed, sometimes falling asleep next to him. Now that Sam was getting better and Emmy was more accustomed to her role as a first-time mom, and in helping Sam, I was glad to have a night to relax and delve into a new book from the library.

In the last couple of years Daddy and I had slipped back into our routine of reading together, sometimes reading a passage out loud from our respective books.

“And what’s on the reading list for tonight?” Daddy asked as I flipped the page.

“The Voyage of the Dawn Treader,” I said.

“C.S. Lewis,” Daddy said. “Good choice. Even if it is fiction and not one from his collection of theology rich discussion starters.”

I sighed. “I needed something lighter tonight, Daddy. No deep thoughts for me.”

I had been thinking too deeply lately so when it came to reading, I needed something full of adventure, romance or humor. Daddy, on the other hand, seemed bent on delving into anything that left him pondering what he’d read hours after he’d closed the book.

“To love at all is to be vulnerable,” Daddy said, looking up from his book, starring out the window. “Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal.”

He looked at me, cradling his chin between his thumb and forefinger, looking scholarly. “Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable.”

He smiled. “C.S. Lewis wrote that, did you know that?”

“I did not,” I said, peering around my book.

“He’s reminding us,” Daddy said. “that to love is to lay ourselves bare, to open our souls and leave it open to be hurt.”

“Yes, Daddy. I get it. Very poetic.”

I moved my book back in front of my face.

“It’s true, though, isn’t it?” Daddy said thoughtfully. “I think being a parent shows that the best of all.” He paused and I didn’t have to lower the book to know he was rubbing his chin and starring over my head out the front window, deep in thought.

“We bring a child into the world,” he continued. “And there, right there, is our heart laid open and walking around outside of our body where it can be hurt and we have no control over it.”

Daddy looked back at his book and I looked back at mine, hoping he was done philosophizing.

I read in my book: “It isn’t Narnia, you know,” sobbed Lucy. “It’s you. We shan’t meet you there. And how can we live, never meeting you?”
“But you shall meet me, dear one,” said Aslan.
“Are -are you there too, Sir?” said Edmund.
“I am,” said Aslan. “But there I have another name. You must learn to know me by that name.”

“You know,” Daddy said suddenly. I rolled my eyes behind my book. “It’s hard,” he continued. “To allow ourselves to be open to love, especially if we’ve been hurt before.”

“Mmhmmm…” I hummed and then kept reading my book.

“But if we don’t take that risk we could lose out on some very real, life giving moments…”

“Daddy?”

“Yes?”

“I’m having my first quiet night in at least a month.”

“Yes?”

“And . . . that’s all.”

Daddy smiled. “Oh. I see. No deep thinking tonight?”

“No, thank you,” I said, smiling as I peered over the edge of my book.

Daddy looked back at his book, still smiling.

I looked back at my book and started reading, but not comprehending. My mind was elsewhere, on what Daddy had said. “Wonderful,” I thought to myself. “He did it again.”

My thoughts were spiraling off into deep places I didn’t want them to go and I had a feeling Daddy knew exactly what he had done.

Fiction Thursday: ‘A New Beginning’ Chapter 16

/ Lisa R. Howeler / 1 Comment

I don’t know about you, but the news has been depressing lately me (what? You couldn’t tell by my post yesterday? Ha!). I’m doing my best to avoid it, but sometimes it can’t be helped and it filters in. To try to offset the depressing news, I thought I’d offer a distraction by sharing an extra chapter this week, although this chapter may start a little depressing, it will end on a happy note. Chapter 17 will be on the blog tomorrow for Fiction Friday.

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 16

Sam’s left eye was swollen shut and bruises spread out from under the bandages around his middle. An IV stretched from a bag of fluid to his arm and an oxygen cannula was pressed under his nose, the hose hooked over his ears.

Sitting on a chair across from his bed I watched him sleep and thought about the first time Emmy had told me about meeting him. She’d called me when I was still with Hank, gushing about the boy with the brown hair and dark eyes, the strong jawline and determination to become a police officer. She’d met him at the small community college an hour from home and at first, he’d only asked if she’d like to study history with him. From that point on I heard stories about his hand accidentally touching hers and how it had made her feel, long looks into each other’s eyes and, finally, Sam asking her if she’d have coffee with him.

The afternoon of their wedding the rain fell hard and heavy on the roof of the church, almost drowning out their voices as they said their vows, but unable to mask the smiles on their faces or the look of adoration in Emmy’s eyes at each word Sam uttered. Emmy had always been worried about Sam’s job and the danger it put him in and now here she was with those fears being realized.

Dark circles streaked the skin under his eyes, his face almost as pale as the sheets on the hospital bed. I ached to hear his laughter and see his eyes light up when he shared one of his latest work-related escapades.

“Oh, Sam . . .”

Emmy’s voice was soft behind me and I stood to take the wheelchair from the nurse. The nurse nodded sympathetically and patted my arm as she turned to leave.

“I think he looks worse today than yesterday,” Emmy said, tears rimming her eyes.

“You know bruises always look worse the second day,” I told her, helping her into the chair next to the bed.

Emmy slid her hand into Sam’s, watching him closely as he slept. His fingers were limp against her palm as she lifted his hand and kissed the back of it.

“It’s crazy, isn’t it?” she asked. “Having a baby and watching your husband recover from being shot all the span of a few days? It seems like a wonderful dream and a horrible nightmare rolled into one.”

I touched the top of Emmy’s head, leaned over and kissed it, then hugged her close. We’d been friends since seventh grade when she had moved here from North Carolina; as close as sisters, spending nights together giggling about our favorite actors, sometimes our favorite book characters. Looking at her now it was hard to imagine her as the innocent preteen, laying on her back on her bed, her dark hair spread out over the pink bedspread, wondering if she’d ever get married or have children.

She was more like Edith and most other girls. I was always the odd one out, rarely considering a future of marriage or children. None of that interested me. A domesticated life with a good man seemed so foreign and unattainable to me. Not to mention I wasn’t really fond of young children as a preteen or teen. The only future I pondered was full of exploring, learning and reading, maybe even travel. I daydreamed about big adventures far from home while Emmy and Edith filled scrapbooks with wedding ideas and window shopped for wedding dresses.

“It’s going to be okay, Emmy,” I told her as she cried against me.

She nodded, unable to speak between the sobs. I wasn’t sure why I had told her it was going to be okay when I really wasn’t sure it was going to be okay.

“What has the doctor said?”

Emmy leaned back in the wheelchair and reached for a tissue next to the bed. She wiped her eyes and face with it.

“He said there’s still a chance there has been spinal cord damage. The bullet was so close to that area. It could be weeks before we know for sure if he will be able to walk again.” Fresh tears slipped down her cheeks. “Or we could know within days. Whenever he wakes up.”

I helped Emmy back to her room before I left the hospital, passing her mother and Sam’s parents on my way out. After quick hugs and updates, I sat in Daddy’s car with my hands on the steering wheel, feeling selfish as I pondered if I would ever have a connection with someone the way Emmy did with Sam. I’d never really had that connection with Hank. Our connection was more physical than emotional and though I longed for the physical connection with a man again, I ached almost more for an emotional one.

I pushed the thoughts aside, closing my eyes and saying a prayer for Sam before I pulled back onto the road to head toward home.

***

“The mother was a junkie,” Edith said slowly as she picked at the edge of the tablecloth in our parent’s dining room. “The agency said she has been in rehab and picked us to adopt her baby. They want us to go down to meet her.”

Mama took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Well, okay… how do you two feel about this?”

Jimmy reached over and gently held Edith’s hand. They smiled at each other, tears rimming Edith’s eyes.

“We’ve been praying and we think it’s what we should do,” Edith said softly.

“But we’re still nervous,” Jimmy admitted. “The birth mother could change her mind at any point before the adoption is finalized. And with this being an open adoption — well, we aren’t sure what involvement the mother will have, but at this point, the agent we are working with said she isn’t interested in any involvement. She’s simply too young to be a mother.”

I knew Mama well enough to know her furrowed eyebrows and downcast eyes were caused by worry that Edith and Jimmy might have to face the unimaginable pain of having the child taken from them if the mother changed her mind.

Still, I also knew our parents would support my sister and Jimmy in whatever decision they made.

“We will be praying,” Daddy said, reaching across the table to take Edith’s hands in his. “We all know you two are going to be amazing parents.”

Edith let out a shaky breath. “I hope so, Daddy.”

“We know so,” Mama said brightly. “Now, no more of that worrying and wondering. I’m excited to be a grandma again so let’s just cast down all imaginations and bring all thoughts captive to Christ like our favorite verse says.”

Mama smiled and pushed a piece of pie across the table at Edith. “Now, eat some more pie and let’s make this a celebration!”

Laughter broke out around the table as I stood to answer a knock at the door.

“Sorry I’m late,” Marion said standing in the doorway.

Her smile was broad, her skin appearing younger than I’d ever seen it. She walked inside and I helped her take her coat off. “Stanley and I went for some coffee after church and I lost track of time.”

“Stanley, huh?” Mama called from the dining room. “Come on in here, Marion and fill us in on how things are going!”

Marion’s cheeks were flushed and she sheepishly smiled as we walked into the dining room.

“Grandma!” Jackson rushed toward her and tossed his arms around her waist.

Marion kissed the top of his head. “Hey, sweet boy. What are you up to today?”

Jackson looked up at her with bright green eyes and grinned. “Grandma, Aunt Edith says you have a new boyfriend. Am I going to have another grandpa soon?”

While my face burned with embarrassment, Marion tipped her head back and laughed heartily, hugging Jackson to her.

“Oh, my boy,” she giggled like a young woman. “You are so funny and smart. But let’s not rush anything. Stanley is a good friend and that’s all for now, okay?”

Jackson sighed. “Okay, Grandma, but I don’t like you over at that house being all lonely. I think you need a man to keep you company.”

My family snickered at my son’s words while I stood in bewilderment wondering who had indoctrinated my child to believe a woman needed a man to survive, but also finding it sweet he was concerned about his grandmother’s potential loneliness.

“Jackson, I think it’s time to go sit have some of Grandma’s pie and let the adults talk now,” I told him, kissing his cheek.

He sighed again. “Okay, Mama, but I swear, you just never let me have any fun.”

Mama’s face was red with laughter when we sat back at the table. “Oh, Blanche, this child’s sass is total payback for the attitude you gave your daddy and me when you were growing up.”

Daddy grinned. “And it’s so sweet to watch.”

“Why don’t you two just eat your pie and interrogate Marion about Stanley and leave me out of it?” I laughed.

After dessert, I walked Marion to her car, sliding leftovers Mama had packed for her onto the passenger side seat.

“So, you’re enjoying your time with Stanley?” I asked.

Marion leaned back against the closed driver side door of the car and looked out at the sun setting, the orange glow pouring across her face almost like a spotlight. Her smile was peaceful, wistful even.

“He’s much different than I ever expected, Blanche. Much different that you probably expected too. He’s gentle and thoughtful, calls during the day to check on me. Sure, he’s a little rough around the edges about some things, after all these years in newspapers but it hasn’t jaded him the way I thought it would have. He lost his wife you know.”

“Yes, Thomas told me.”

“He really loved her and at first he was afraid to talk about her, but I let him know it was okay. I wish I could have met her.” Marion laughed and shook her head. “Although I guess that would be awkward now that I’m dating her husband. I hope she would have liked me – if she had met me.”

“You just used the word dating,” I teased.

Even in the fading glow of the sunset, I could see the red flushed across her cheeks. She pressed her hand to her mouth and giggled like a young girl.

“Oh, I did, didn’t I?”

I felt awkward asking my ex-mother-in-law about her dating life but, at the same time, I couldn’t seem to stop my curiosity.

“So… has he kissed you?”

Marion laughed and looked away for a moment then back at me with a broad smile.

“Yes, and it was wonderful.”

I hugged her and we laughed together, the warmth of the sun still on us.

“Oh, Blanche,” she leaned back to look at me. “There can be love again after heartache and hurt. I want you to know that. I want you to know there will be love again one day. Pure, gentle love. Not every man is hard and hurtful. There are good men out there. Don’t be afraid to love again someday, okay?”

I laid my hand against the face of the woman Hank’s father had bruised with his fists many times and saw in her eyes genuine joy, joy I hoped I could have within myself someday. I nodded to let her know I understood her message to me, hugged her again and opened the car door for her.

Standing in the driveway long after she left, I watched the sun slip behind the hill, an orange and pink glow spreading along the horizon’s edge. I basked in the happiness I had felt radiating off her when I finally walked back to the house, letting it carry me through the rest of the evening.

Fiction Friday: “A New Beginning” Chapter 15

/ Lisa R. Howeler / 11 Comments

I just wanted to take a moment to thank all those who have been following A New Beginning, whether you comment or not. I know I tease those who comment sometimes (like joking with those who “complained” about there being cliffhangers) but I hope it’s never misunderstood how much I appreciate your likes, comments and even views. Writing is an escape for me. Much like photography and blogging, it has been a lifeline for me during my most depressed or stressful times in life. The fact that others are enjoying what I’m writing means more to me than many of you will ever know.  The fact that others tell me they actually care about what I’m writing is an added bonus.

You can find more about the first book about Blanche at the link at the top of the page, along with an excerpt. It is available on Kindle and Kindle Unlimited.

If you have read it there and liked it, I’d love if you leave me a review or share it with others on your blog or social media. For those who read the story when it was on the blog, I did add to it, change a few things and tighten a few others. I even changed the first paragraph to allow for an immediate jump into the action.

Light, Shadows & Magic (2)Chapter 15

The sound of the phone ringing downstairs woke me from a sound sleep. I stared at the clock, groggy and disoriented.

2 p.m. I’d slept through half the day.

“Blanche! Are you awake honey?” Mama called from the bottom of the stairs.

“Am I downstairs?” I mumbled to myself. “Then I’m not awake.”

“Yes!” I called, trying to sound cheerful. “Just now.”

“Thomas from the paper is on the phone.”

I stumbled down the stairs, completely uninterested in talking to anyone, let alone Thomas Fairchild, after the day and night I’d had the day before.

“Hey, Robbins. I hear you had an exciting day yesterday.”

“Yes. How did you hear?”

“I’m a journalist. I know all.” Thomas laughed. “Seriously, I overheard Emmy’s mom at the post office this morning. I wanted to know if you’d let me interview you for a story I’m working on it. It’s going to tie in with our coverage of Sam being shot.”

Interview me? Why me?

“Uh…. I don’t think so. I’m not really….”

“You’re the happy part of the story, Blanche,” Thomas interrupted. “The inspirational, heart-wrenching part. The part that breaks up the depressing news in the paper. The part that sells papers, as Stanley would say.”

“Listen, Thomas, I just woke up, I was up all night and I haven’t even checked in to see how Sam or Emmy are yet . . .”

“I called the hospital this morning,” Thomas said. “Emmy and the baby are great and Sam is in stable condition after the surgery. So how about you meet me at the Twilight Rose Café down the street from the hospital and then go check on them? We’ll discuss the story and see if you want to be a part of it or not.”

I sighed and rubbed my eyes. Apparently, nothing I said was going to deter Thomas from pursuing an interview with me. Stanley hadn’t changed from calling him his “cub reporter” to his “bulldog reporter” for nothing.

“I’ll meet you at 3:30 at the café,” I said with a yawn.

When I reached the café, Thomas was sitting at a table in the back corner of the café, wearing a polo shirt and a pair of khaki pants, scribbling away in a notebook and sipping coffee from a paper cup. He looked like a stereotypical newspaper reporter: handsome, well-dressed and preoccupied with the story he was after. His blond hair was cut slightly shorter than the first time I had met him but still left enough bangs so he still had to flip his head back to move them out of his eyes.

“Hey, there, hero,” he said as I approached his table, motioning to the chair across from him. “You look pretty good for someone who was up all night.”

I yawned as I sat down and looked at him through bleary eyes. “I’m barely functioning,” I said.

“So, listen, I know you don’t want to let me interview you, but people love these heartfelt stories. It’s a nice break from the hard, sad news and politics. And besides, you owe me. I got you that job writing feature stories for us.”

I laughed. “I haven’t even decided if I’m going to take that job.”

Thomas waved to the woman behind the counter. “Hey, Annie, a cup of coffee for my friend here and a couple of raspberry scones.”

“I don’t really drink coffee.”

“Yeah, but you need some,” Thomas said. “And you’re going to take that job. The world – or at least our little area of it – needs Blanche Robbins writing stories for them. They may not know it yet, but they do.”

The waitress placed two scones and a mug of coffee in front of me. She wore her dark hair in a tight ponytail and her full lips were highlighted with bright red lipstick. A blue sweater and short black skirt fit nicely on her slender form.

“Thanks, Annie,” Thomas said with a wink.

I glanced at the waitress and suddenly realized I knew her. It was Annie Tanner, a mother of three who had gotten pregnant in high school and married Billy Tanner, much to the disapproval of the ladies in my sewing circle.

I watched Thomas’ eyes follow Annie as she walked away. He grinned at me. “She’s nice to look at at the end of a workday. Or the beginning. Or even in the middle.”

I rolled my eyes. “She’s the mother of three and married you know.”

Thomas shrugged and poured creamer in his coffee as he smirked at me. “Doesn’t mean I can’t admire what I can not have.”

He broke a piece of his scone off. “You know I enjoy watching you when you leave too.”

I felt my face grow warm and looked at the top of the table. “Thomas, I am much too tired for your teasing today.”

“I’m not teasing,” Thomas said. “And, hey, maybe we can count this as that date I asked you out on a couple years ago.”

“Uh, no we can’t.”

Thomas sighed. “You’re no fun, Blanche. Fine, no date. But at least make this trip worth my while and agree to let me interview you and tell the community a heart-lifting story that could have been a tragedy.”

I relented to the interview, anything that would let me return home to my family and my bed quicker.

“Just don’t make me sound like some hero, Thomas. I just did what I had to do,” I said as he pulled out his notepad and pen.

Thomas grinned. “I’m pretty sure that’s what all heroes say. ‘I just did what I had to do.’

I rolled my eyes and tossed a napkin at him playfully.

When the interview was done, I asked Thomas if the paper had been told anything about the man who shot Sam.

“Yeah, some guy in a junkyard up in the corner of the county close to the New York state border. Sam was trying to bring him in for burglary. Coward shot Sam from behind and took off. The cops are looking for him today. I’ll be heading up to the barracks later today to see what else I can find out. Derrick is working on the story too.”

He leaned back and draped his arm over the back of the chair. “So, what’s your story, Blanche? Is reporting something you’ve always wanted to do?”

I sipped the coffee and winced. I hated coffee. Why did I keep letting men tell me I needed it?

“No. I don’t really want to be a reporter. I just like to write.”

“Well, you’ll have to do a little researching and reporting for any writing you do, so this job will be good training for that.” Thomas grinned again. His grin was getting on my nerves and I wasn’t sure if it was my lack of sleep or just him.

I looked at the coffee, stirring in creamer and sugar, wishing I was at home and asleep in bed.

“My main job is being a mom, Thomas. Not writing. You do know I’m a mom right?”

Thomas was still grinning as he sipped his coffee. “I’ve read your columns, Blanche. I know you’re a mother.

“So, tell me, Thomas, how did you even get into reporting? Is it something you always wanted to do?”

Thomas broke off another piece of the scone, tipped his head back and dropped it in his mouth. “Yeah. I mean, I haven’t always wanted to do it. When I was five I wanted to be a firefighter, but I guess you could say it’s something I’ve wanted to do for a long time. I always imagined myself somewhere with a lot higher circulation, though. Maybe national. I started in Philadelphia, interned at the city paper there, but didn’t get offered a job. Uncle Stanley offered me a job here for some experience, so here I am.”

“Stanley’s your uncle?”

“Yeah, but he doesn’t like to tell a lot of people, so it doesn’t look like he’s playing favorites,” Thomas said.

I picked up the scone, realizing how hungry I actually was.

“So, your uncle,” I said, realizing this might be my chance to learn a little more about the man who wanted to date Marion. “Was he ever married before?”

Thomas leaned forward slightly, letting out a breath leaning his elbows on the table. For once his gestures lacked the cocky swagger. His expression was hard to read as he looked up at me.

“Yeah,” he said softly, tapping the eraser end of the pencil on the tabletop, his expression somewhat distant. “He was. To my Aunt Margaret. She was my dad’s sister.” He cleared his throat. “She died when I was about 12. Cancer. I was very close to her. It was hard on the whole family, of course, but . . . yeah..well, anyhow, Stanley was shattered. A year or so after she passed he was looking for a way out of town, saw this job advertised in the papers back home and grabbed the chance to try to run away from the memories.”

He swallowed hard and coughed softly.

It was the first time since I’d met Thomas that I’d seen him look serious about anything.

“Anyhow,” he said, twirling the pencil on the table. “It’s been nice knowing someone in the business who can help me learn the ropes and it’s been nice to be around Uncle Stanley again too.”

He shrugged. “Plus, I’ve grown to like this tiny county and the people in it.”

He smiled and winked, the cocky attitude I was familiar with returning for a supporting role to his more serious tone. “Including you. Even if you won’t go out with me.”

I leaned back, studying Thomas for a moment as he ate the rest of the scone and sipped his coffee. I wondered if I had misjudged him the last couple of years I’d known him. Maybe he wasn’t the one-dimensional, arrogant, flirting playboy I’d thought he was.

“Hey,” he said, looking over my shoulder. “Speak of the devil. Someone else must have had the same idea about meeting here today.”

I turned to see Stanley and Marion sitting down at a table near the entrance. Marion looked nervous, her hair pulled back and pinned up on top of her head. The blue dress she wore fit modestly on her slender form and matched nicely with the stylish black heels. I smiled as I saw she’d taken my advice on the outfit and the hairstyle.

“Good for Uncle Stanley,” Thomas said, softly chuckling. “It’s about time he got back on the dating scene.”

I turned back around and took another bite of my scone.

“Do you know the woman?” he asked. “I’ve seen her around but not sure I’ve ever met her.”

“She’s my former mother-in-law.”

“Really?”

“Yep. My ex’s long-suffering mother and I’m very happy to see her out enjoying life again. Her husband died a few years ago. My ex doesn’t have any contact with her and her other son rarely stops in to see her even though he lives a couple counties away.”

I decided not to mention my initial misgivings about her going on a date with Stanley.

“I hope they find some joy together,” Thomas said, watching them. “Even if it’s just in getting back out into the world again.”

I looked over Thomas’ shoulder. “Is that a back door? Maybe we can sneak out before they see us. I don’t want to make them feel uncomfortable.”

“Yeah,” Thomas said following my gaze. “I think it is and that’s a good idea. Come on, I’ll pay and we’ll sneak out. Let the old folks have a little privacy.”

I squinted against the sunlight outside, my eyes heavy, from never fully waking up. I wasn’t as familiar with the town of Sawyer as I was with Dalton and I looked down the street at picturesque shops and a row of old fashion gas street lamps lining Main Street, feeling as if I had stepped back in time in some ways.

“Want to take a walk before you head over to check on Emmy and Sam?” Thomas asked. “There’s a spot by the river I think you’d like.”

We buttoned our coats, pulled on our hats and started to walk.

The walkway along the river paralleled Main Street and took us down under the large bridge that crossed the Susquehanna River and brought visitors to Sawyer from the main highway to the main part of town. Flowers, trees, and well-kept hedges had been planted along the walkway and even with the flowers not in bloom the landscaping was eye-catching.

“I don’t think I’ve ever walked this way,” I said. “I didn’t even know this view was here.”

Thomas winked, sipping the coffee he’d carried with him from the shop. “That’s why I’m here – to help you explore the beauty that is around you.” He gestured his arms out over the view of the river. “Look upon the beauty that is our lovely county, nestled here in the rolling green hills of Pennsylvania or as some call those hills – ‘the Endless Mountains’.”

“I know what these mountains are called, Thomas,” I said. “I’ve lived here all my life you know.”

“Ah, yes,” he said, sitting on a wooden bench and leaning back. “Are you sure that’s something you want to announce to the world? That you’ve always lived in one place and never explored life outside your tiny bubble?”

He patted the bench next to him and I sat on the end of the bench and watched a hawk fly over the water toward the opposite shore.

“I haven’t always lived here,” I said. “I was gone for a few years at least.”

“Oh yeah?”

“I lived in New York state for a while with my ex.”

“I heard before that you had an ex,” Thomas said. “So, tell me about this ex. What kind of man left you to raise your little boy by yourself? I know I seem like a huge flirt who shuns responsibility but even I know that’s a garbage move.”

I shook my head, knowing I didn’t want to talk about Hank, that I was tired of talking and thinking about Hank.

“We were just too young.”

I could feel Thomas’ eyes on me. “He really hurt you, didn’t he?”

I leaned back on the bench and nodded. “Yeah. In more ways than one.”

Thomas sighed and sipped from the coffee cup.

“I moved up here after I caught my girlfriend cheating on me,” he said bluntly.

He laughed softly, shaking his head. “Man, she did a number on me. We shared everything, dated since 10th grade. She was sweet, beautiful, and smart. I never thought  . . . well, anyhow. We were young too. Maybe I was just too cocky, ignored her too much during college. I don’t know. I never expected her to run off with my best friend but when she did it woke me up pretty good.”

He leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees. “Maybe you’ve figured out by now my cocky attitude is a cover up in some ways.”

I smirked. “What, like underneath it all you’re a sweet, hurt little boy?”

I immediately regretted the comment, knowing the lack of sleep was only heightening my tendency to be snarky.

Thomas winced. “Ouch. You’re savage today, aren’t you?”

“Sorry. I – you just joke a lot and I was just – sorry.”

Thomas grinned and blew a kiss at me. “No worries. I like a savage woman.”

“Thomas. . .”

He tipped his head back and laughed, his nose crinkling.

“I love flirting with you. You resist it so strongly. It’s fun to watch you squirm. Seriously, though, most of this really is a cover. I’m not as smarmy as I seem and I don’t really pursue women the way I pretend. I’m good with being single right now. Maybe someday – but for now? I’m focusing on my career, on writing a book, and on getting to know nice people in this county like you.”

I watched him warily but didn’t see the normal swagger in his body language, the playful grin normally there. His expression was serious, his mannerisms relaxed and friendly.

“Don’t take this the wrong way but do you find it hard to let people in?” Thomas asked. He leaned back against the bench again, stretching his arm across the back of it.

“Because honestly,” he said, before I could answer the question. “I do. I don’t like the idea of opening myself up, only to be hurt. I’d have to imagine that’s even harder for you and what you’ve probably been through.”

I watched the hawk land on the spindly branch of a tree and wondered how vulnerable I truly wanted to be with a man I’d only ever known to be flippant and flirty before today. I cleared my throat.

“Yes,” I said finally. “It is hard. And it’s scary but it’s even harder for me because I have Jackson to protect.”

“Ah, yeah,” Thomas said with a quick nod. “That would be a challenge. Keeping a wall around yourself is one thing but you and your child? That’s an entirely different ball game. Like, you can keep yourself all locked up inside, but the danger of causing your son to be afraid to love too? I wouldn’t want that responsibility at all.”

I scowled at Thomas. “Well, thanks. I hadn’t thought of it that way before.”

Thomas laughed softly, cleared his throat and stood. “So, anyhooo…maybe we should head back up to our cars and you should go see Emmy and Sam before I stick my foot in my mouth again.”

Thomas opened the door to Daddy’s Olds for me when we reached the street. “Think about that job, okay, Blanche?” he said. “I think you’d be good at it. Truly.”

“I’ll think about it,” I said, sliding behind the steering wheel.

He closed the door and peered through the window. “Good. And thank you for the walk.” My muscles tensed as he leaned through the window and kissed my cheek.

He leaned back slightly and looked me in the eye. “Don’t be afraid to live again, Blanche. Don’t let that jerk take that away from you. From what I’ve heard and what you said today, he doesn’t deserve to have that power over you.”

Driving down the street toward the hospital, I knew Thomas was right. Hank Hakes was still living in my head, still controlling me from the inside. I had to find a way to take that control back, live life without the fear of being hurt the same way I’d been hurt by Hank.

Fiction Friday: A New Beginning Chapter 14

/ Lisa R. Howeler / 13 Comments

Here we are to Fiction Friday already. I doubled up again on chapters this week (so Chapter 13 was posted yesterday) but will be back to one a week next week as I work out some kinks in upcoming chapters. I already know most of my ending and some in between but there remains a large gap in the middle to finish writing. It isn’t so much that I don’t know what I want to do in the middle but in what order I want to do it. I’ll be hammering that out in the coming weeks.

As always, you can find the other links to this novel in progress at the top of the page under “A New Beginning” or at THIS LINK.

Also as always, there will be typos in this story or other errors because I still have a second draft, rewrite and editing process to go through. I simply share the chapters here for fun and to interact with other writers/readers/bloggers.

The first part of Blanche’s story can also be found on Kindle or Kindle Unlimited.

Chapter 14

I winced at the bitter taste of the coffee from the styrofoam cup Judson handed me. Emmy’s parents were dozing in chairs in Emmy’s room, Daddy and Jimmy had gone home to rest and update Mama and Edith. Judson and I were sitting in the surgical waiting room, waiting for news about Sam, who was in surgery to remove a bullet that had lodged near his spine when he was shot. Sam’s parents were on their way to the hospital from their home in Maryland.

I closed my eyes briefly and tried to forget about the exhausted sobs Emmy choked out when her mom told her about Sam.

She’d clung to me, sobbing against my shoulder as I promised to wait for the doctor to come out of surgery.

“Oh, Blanche,” she whimpered. “I can’t lose him. I love him so much.

She’d eventually fallen into a fitful sleep while the nurses and her parents cared for Faith. I was having a hard time wrapping my mind around the events of the day. I ached to be home with Jackson, holding him close, but knew Emmy and Sam needed me.

I pressed my fingers against my eyes and tipped my head back against the hard back of the hospital chair.

“You okay?” Judson asked.

I nodded, but kept my eyes closed. “Long day. That’s all.”

“Emmy said you were amazing delivering the baby.”

“I just did what I had to do.”

“Blanche, without you, Faith might not be alive.”

I opened my eyes to look at Judson.

“I really didn’t think she was going to,” I admitted, my voice cracking. “It was a miracle.”

“Yeah, it truly was,” Judson said softly.

He leaned back on the couch, laying one arm across the back. He laughed softly as he looked down into his cup of coffee.

“It’s so crazy to think of little Emmy being a mom,” he said. “I keep thinking of her with her pigtails and dirty bare feet, running along the beach on vacation. One time she tripped and fell straight on her face and came up with a mouthful of sand. It was pretty hilarious. I was such a jerk back then. I didn’t even help her up. Just stood there laughing and pointing until my sides hurt. I was probably 12. She must have been …” he though a moment. “Nine I guess.” He shook his head. “Now here she is, all grown up, a wife and mom. Crazy. And here I am feeling like the immature kid who never grew up.”

Silence settled over us until all I could hear was the sound of nurses walking in the hallway and the beep of machines in the rooms of patients.

The enormity of the birth, the blown tire, Sam being shot – it suddenly all hit me at once and I closed my eyes again and turned my face away from Judson, swallowing the emotion.

“It’s okay to cry,” Judson said.

I shook my head and kept my eyes closed.

“No, it’s not.” I bit my lip, my face still turned away from his. “Because if I start, I don’t know if I’ll stop.”

Judson sighed heavily.

“You don’t always have to be so tough, you know.”

I slipped into the familiar comfort of emotional numbness, the urge to cry fading . “I used to be soft. It didn’t work so well for me.”

Judson sipped from his coffee and held it between his hands as he propped his elbows on his knees. “So, you just don’t feel anymore?”

My jaw tightened and I opened my eyes, feeling suddenly annoyed, lifting my head to look at him. I folded my arms right across my chest.

“I feel. I just don’t broadcast to everyone how I feel.”

“Ouch.”

Judson raised his eyebrows, looking surprised but then smiled slightly as he stood, walking across to the sink on the other side of the room. He poured the rest of the coffee in the sink, tossed the cup into the trash can and turned toward me, leaning back against the sink and folding his arms across his chest.

“You’re an interesting one, Blanche,” he said. “I can’t seem to figure you out. You’re like a gentle lamb one moment and a prickly porcupine the next.”

I winked and managed a tired smile.

“And do you really want to figure me out? You might be drastically disappointed if you do.”

Judson grinned. “I don’t think I’d ever be disappointed learning more about you.”

Good grief, how did I walk into that one?  I mentally scolded myself for letting my guard down during a moment of exhaustion. I cleared my throat and stood, walking across the waiting room floor and looking out the window at the empty hospital parking lot lit by fluorescent street lamps four stories below me.

“So,” Judson said behind me. “Your dad was really worried about you today. You’re lucky to have him.”

A car turned into the parking lot and I watched it slide into a parking space. “I really am. It’s not lost on me.”

Judson sighed. “My dad only seemed to care about me when I was playing football and even then we only talked about drills and passes and strategy. When I told him I was quitting football, the look of disgust he gave me showed me I was nothing to him unless I was on a field with a ball in my hand.” He laughed softly as I turned to face him and sat in a chair across from him. “Apparently you’re my therapist now.”

I shrugged. “It’s okay. I get it. Daddy and I haven’t always have a great relationship either, to be honest. We were close until – well, puberty hit to put it delicately. I don’t think he knew what to do with a growing girl. He didn’t seem to understand I was still the same Blanche — just with a lot or rebellion and confusion in me. Our relationship definitely wasn’t any better after I ran away with Hank.”

Judson stretched his legs out in front of him. “What was all that about anyhow? I know I don’t know you real well, but you don’t seem like the type of girl to just take off with some man.”

I sipped the coffee again and grimaced at the bitterness. “I guess I was just tired of doing what everyone thought I would do and acting the way everyone thought I should. I thought Hank was my ticket to a life more exciting than the predictable one I was living at the time. Unfortunately, it wasn’t exactly the excitement I was expecting.”

I sat and my leaned my head back again, a wave of exhaustion over taking me. The magnitude of the day was beginning to hit me and I was struggling to keep my emotions in check. I didn’t want to talk about my ex-husband with Judson anymore. I wasn’t interested in sharing too much of my personal life, letting him too far in.

“Why don’t we pray?”

I turned my head and looked at Judson in surprise. “Um..yeah…that would be nice.”

He leaned forward and took my hands in his, bowing his head and closing his eyes. He laughed softly and looked up at me again. “I’m not great at this, so bare with me, okay?”

I smiled and closed my eyes as he closed his again.

“Father, we bring Sam before you. We ask for you to guide the hand of the surgeons, to bring comfort to Sam and to Emmy. Hold them both in your watch care tonight and bring them, and us, the peace that only you can give. Amen.”

“Amen,” I whispered.

I opened my eyes and my gaze met his. His face was much too close to mine, his hands much too warm around my fingers. I’d never had a man ask me to pray with, other than Daddy. Judson’s blue eyes were fixed on mine and he opened his mouth to speak at the same moment the door to the waiting room squeaked open.

“Are you here with Sam Lambert?”

I jerked my hands out of Judson’s grasp at the sound of the doctor’s voice.

Judson and I spoke at the same time. “Yes.”

“Are you family?”

“No,” I said. “His parents are on their way here.”

The doctor sighed and dragged his hand through his hair and across the back of his neck.  “I don’t usually release information to anyone but the family, but it’s been a long day and I’m heading home for some rest. For now I can say the surgery went well. We were able to remove the bullet. It was close to the spinal cord so we will need to wait and see what that will mean with his ability to walk. We’re hopeful there won’t be any issues at all, but we’ll know more in the next few days. He also has a few broken ribs and those should heal well on their own.”

I thanked the doctor and promised to update Sam’s parents when they arrived. Judson and I sat on the couch next to each other to wait, sitting in silence. Leaning my head back against the couch, sleep overtook me quickly, despite my attempt to fight it. As sounds faded in and out I dreamed Judson slid his arm around me and pulled me against him as I slept, my head on his shoulder. In the dream I felt his hand push a strand of hair off my forehead.

I woke to Judson standing, talking to Sam’s parents, sharing with them what the doctor had told us. Judson’s rolled up jacket was under my head and I had slumped over on the couch. I sat up and rubbed my eyes.

“Thank you both so much for waiting.” Sam’s mother Maryellen dabbed her red-rimmed eyes with a crumpled tissue. “You’re more than welcome to head home and get some rest. We plan to stay here until Sam wakes up.”

“Of course,” I said, standing. “Please know we’re all praying and will be by tomorrow to check on him and Emmy.”

“Thank you, Blanche. So good to see you again,” Sam’s father, Freddy, said, hugging me briefly.

Outside the waiting room, Judson and I pulled on our coats and hats. “Come on, I’ll give you a ride home,” he said through a yawn.

As we walked outside a soft glow was brightening the sky along the horizon.

I looked at the sunrise through bleary eyes, drew in a deep breath of the crisp morning air, and looked up at the mainly gray sky. “God, please be with Sam and Emmy and their baby girl.”

Snow crunched under our feet as we walked to Judson’s truck and he opened the passenger side door for me.

“Wow. What a day huh?”

I yawned. “Yes. A day and a night. It all seems like a dream in some ways. I think we may have to trade church for a nap today.”

Judson rubbed his eyes and turned the heat up before pulling out onto the road. My eyelids were heavy and I blinked to try to chase away the exhaustion.

We drove in silence for several miles, farms and fields passing by, scenery  slowly growing brighter as the sun rose over the hill.

“It was nice seeing you and Emmy at that movie yesterday,” he said suddenly.

A silence fell over us again as he drove. I stared out the windshield, thinking of my warm bed and anxious to hug my little boy.

He glanced at me quickly as he drove.

“Maybe sometime I could take you to a movie. Alone I mean.”

I tipped my head at him quizzically. “Excuse me? Weren’t you just out with another woman yesterday and now you’re asking me out?”

He grinned and glanced at me again, then turned his eyes back to the road.

“Well, yeah, but she’s just a friend. She asked me out. I didn’t ask her out. It’s not like we’re,” he made quotes with his fingers as he briefly lifted from the steering wheel.  “going steady or something. It’s not like I gave her my class ring.”

I sighed, knowing I was too tired for this conversation.

“Is that a no?” he asked.

“You didn’t exactly ask. You just said maybe you could sometime.”

“Well, that was meant as a hint.”

“I’m too tired for hints.”

Judson pulled onto our road, heading toward our house. Smoke rose from our chimney and I knew Mama was inside, cooking breakfast, getting ready to wake Daddy and Jackson so they’d have plenty of time to get ready for church.

“So, I’ll ask directly,” Judson said as he drove down the driveway. “Will you go with me to a movie some time?”

I yawned again as he braked in front of the house and clicked the truck into park. I opened the passenger door and slid out into the cold winter air, shivering as I pulled my hat over my ears.

“Get some rest, J.T.” I said with a wink as I held the door, ready to push it closed. “Thanks for staying with me and for the ride home.”

I smiled and closed the door, watching him through the window as a smile tilted his mouth upwards and he shook his head at me.

After kisses for Mama and Daddy and Jackson, I undressed and climbed into bed, pulling the covers around my shoulders, too tired to even think about Judson’s question.