I don't know where the last few weeks have fled to, but I see that's it's now October. How can it be October when the year just started?
Last Friday I was writing and got the last of TCR - Book 2 written! I still have editing and things like that to do before I can get it sent to my illustrator and the few select test readers. I'm not sure how much I'll be able to work on TCR today as there are lots of other things I need to get done.
On Saturday my shoulder and neck were really bothering me so I tried not to use the computer. I was able to writing Wednesday's report though.
Sunday came and only a three families were at church including us. It was a small group, but we enjoyed the fellowship.
Then came Monday. My mom, sister and I headed up to KC to visit my grandma for a few days while my grandpa was off on a trip with my uncles. I was looking forward to a few relaxing days, but they went by too quickly and my shoulder was still hurting. (I did something to it in my sleep Sunday night.)
We went shopping Tuesday and I made a new fall wreath for Grandma.
Wednesday arrived and I painted their downstairs bathroom. It's now a rose color and really pretty.
Yesterday we headed home again as I had SCA class in the evening.
Tonight we have to head out to Red Oak II and set up our tent for Farm Girl Fest. Wish you all could come to it! It was lots of fun last year. There are booths with crafts for sale, food for sale, hay rides around the old town and I heard that this year there is going to be a pie eating contest. My sister will have a booth with some of her clothes and flexi-clips as well as my books and some things from Light of Faith. Farm Girl Fest actually starts tomorrow morning and ends Sunday evening. And I still need to get my things ready for it.
I'm sure glad those of you who commented didn't mind another Dr. Morgan because right now, that's all I have to post. I am going to try and get some other things written this week so I won't have to scramble next week looking for something to post.
“Good bye, Amy,” Dr. Morgan said, stopping beside the couch where she was resting after having eaten lunch with the others at the table. “Take it easy with that leg. You’re in good hands here.” He smiled and pressed her hand gently.
Amy said a quiet good bye and then, sitting up, she watched silently out the large windows as moments later the doctor’s pickup truck left the house heading back towards the village, down the mountain to the hospital and everything Amy could clearly remember, leaving her behind, alone with comparative strangers. Suddenly she felt an intense loneliness steal across her and she blinked back the tears which would come and trickle down her cheeks in spite of herself.
A cheerful whistling caused her to quickly wipe her eyes and lie back on the pillows as Adam entered the room with a few books. If he noticed the traces of tears he didn’t say anything, but he set the books on a stool beside her.
“Should you grow tired of doing nothing, here’s a few books you can read if you want.”
“Where are the . . . others?” She hesitated, wondering what to call Mr. and Mrs. Morgan.
Adam answered easily as he stepped across the room to put new logs on the fire. “Dad’s in his study, Sara is putting the little ones down for naps and,” he brushed the hearth with the brush, “I’m not sure where Mom is.” He stood up, looking down at the fire which was now blazing comfortably, dusted his hands on his pants and said casually, “Well, I’ve got to get more wood. Be back soon.”
With that he was gone and Amy was left to herself.
Picking up the first book, Amy opened it and began to read. If Adam’s idea when he brought the books was to help Amy not think, it worked for she was so lost in the story when he came with an armload of logs to add to the wood box, that she didn’t so much as glance over at him.
The afternoon passed by with Amy scarcely noticing, for after reading for a while, Sara came in and talked until the little ones were up from their naps. When Mrs. Morgan came to say that supper was ready, Amy looked surprised. Never had an afternoon in the hospital passed so quickly.
The evening, with the entire family gathered in the large living room around the blazing fire, talking and laughing together, was delightful to the newcomer who lay on the couch in silence taking it all in. This was something new, something that didn’t awaken any dim feelings of almost knowing yet not quite.
“Sara,” Mr. Morgan spoke during a lull in the conversation, “it is growing late, will you play our evening hymns for us?”
Sara nodded and rising from her chair, handed Jenny to Adam before sliding onto the bench before the baby grand which Amy had admired.
Everyone was rising and Amy wondered if she was expected to do the same.
“Don’t try to stand with the rest of us tonight, Dear,” Mrs. Morgan said quietly as Amy half rose. “We’ll bring you the hymn book if you want it, or you can just listen tonight.”
“May I just listen?” queried Amy, not feeling sure she could sing.
The couch was moved somewhat so Amy could look at the others. It made a lovely picture, everyone standing about the piano. Mr. Morgan, tall and broad shouldered with a little grey in his dark hair, holding Danny who had one arm wrapped lovingly about his neck. Beside them stood Mrs. Morgan. Such a look of peaceful sweetness was on her face that it was some time before Amy noticed anything or anyone else. Adam, she noticed, pulling her eyes from Mrs. Morgan, was taller than his father with lighter hair and the build of someone who had spent years outside in the elements. He was bending over, attempting to help straighten sheet music for Sara who sat on the piano bench, but he was not having much success for Jenny, who he was holding in one arm, kept grabbing Sara’s hair in a tight baby grasp.
Giving an involuntary smile, Amy turned her head to gaze again at the flickering flames dancing in the fireplace. There was something comforting yet at the same time half frightening about those tongues of fire and the glowing logs. What was it? She wanted to turn her eyes away, but they seemed held, fastened by an irresistible pull that she couldn’t break, locked on a memory which she couldn’t quite recall. A tightness crept about her throat, a shiver ran down her spine, her hands clenched; she couldn’t breathe! She had to get away!
It was only when the haunting melodies of the evening hymns softly filled the room that the tightness faded away, the shivers ceased, her hands relaxed, and as the dancing flames, under the influence of the quieting words being sung, returned to being once again a cozy fire, she drew a deep breath and lay back, exhausted.
When the last hymn was sung, the notes dying in the quiet room, Mr. Morgan offered up a prayer, not forgetting the newest addition to the household. Amy listened while a few tears trickled down her cheeks. She couldn’t remember anyone praying for her before. Quiet good nights were said and Sara and Adam, taking the little ones, disappeared from the room, and moments later Amy noticed them crossing the walkway up above.
“Amy,” Mrs. Morgan asked gently, coming over to the couch. “Do you think you feel up to walking a little ways to your bedroom? Or shall Mr. Morgan carry you?”
“I . . . I think I can make it,” Amy replied almost timidly. She had wondered where she would sleep. With the gentle help of Mrs. Morgan, Amy limped from the room, down a short hall and into a small but pleasant room.
What did you think?
Questions or Comments?
Any ideas of what happens next?