What's Wrong with Caleb? - Part 2

Hello Friday Fiction Fans,
We have a frost this morning, but it's not heavy and we wet our bushes so they wouldn't get killed. The sun is coming up in a clear sky and everything looks still and quite. After the strong winds we've had the last few days, no wind is really nice!

Don't blame me if I didn't get much written this week. :P I've only had two evenings so far that I could write and last evening I was visiting with the Graham Quartet. If there are any questions you would like answered, let me know and I'll ask. :)
But, just so you know, I did start writing TCR-6 on Tuesday! I didn't get very far, but I did start. If you have any ideas, suggestions or things you would like to see in the TCR books, let me know ASAP as I'm still looking for ideas for this book. Right now I have no idea when it will be finished as we are getting into the craziness of homeschool conferences and babysitting my nieces and nephews more and for longer times.
And have I mentioned that I've been busy designing covers for a certain two books? (Check the Read Another Page blog on Tuesday to see the finished results!) And now I have a collection of short stories that I'm putting together to give to all those who sign up on my e-mail list.

Here is the next part of this story. Like I said before, I had fun showing this emotion, so it is a bit overdone. :)

What's Wrong with Caleb?

Part 2

    Robert looked at his cousin with raised eyebrows. Then, stepping in, he pushed the door shut behind him. “Weren’t paying attention to someone pounding on your door? That’s the third time this has happened this week. Come on, Caleb, what’s going on?”
    Before he answered, Caleb reached around Robert and turned the lock on the door. “Come on in. Pizza’s about done.” He turned quickly and slammed his hip into the corner of a table he used to hold his briefcase. “Ow!” The exclamation escaped involuntarily and his hand went to his hip.
    “You okay?”
    “Yeah. I should move that thing.”
    The lights were on in the kitchen, but the curtains were drawn tightly shut, a fact that Robert noticed with a puzzled frown. His cousin rarely closed his curtains, even at night.
    Caleb noticed the frown and pulled two glasses from the cabinet. “The neighbors got a puppy and he howls if he sees light.” He gave a half hearted laugh. “Tough being a dog, I guess.” Having filled the glasses with ice water, he carried them over to the table. He could feel his hands trembling and rushed to set the glasses down before his cousin noticed. In his hurry he didn’t watch where he was going and half tripped over a chair.
    With an ejaculation of shock, Robert sprang from his seat, his shirt soaked with ice water.
    “I’m so sorry!” Caleb exclaimed, fumbling around for a towel. “That chair–I didn’t see it . . .” Running his fingers through his light hair, he stumbled over his words. “Should have dumped ‘em on me.”
    Looking up from a futile attempt to dry his shirt with another towel, Robert spoke. “What’s wrong with you, Caleb?”
    “Nothing. Just a little warm.” He could feel the heat of his face and turned quickly away. “The pizza. Stove–makes the kitchen hot. Go find one of my shirts.”
    “Huh! Have I shrunk?”
    Caleb knew he’d blundered again. His cousin was several sizes larger than he was and always had been. “Ah, um, I meant–never mind. You want to get the pizza? I’ll clean up the floor.”
    “Sure.”
    As he mopped up the water, Caleb tried to calm down. “Just take a deep breath. You’ve got this.”
    “You talking to me?”
    Caleb jumped. “What?”
    “Man, Caleb, what’s with you tonight? You’re as fidgety as Leah is when she’s been up to some mischief.” Robert brought two plates to the table and then carried over the pan of steaming pizza.
    After tossing the towel he had used across the room, Caleb sank into his chair and reached for his water glass. “Um, I should–”
    “Sit. I got this.” And Robert carried the glasses to the sink for refills. Returning to the table, he sat down and bowed his head. “Father, thank you for this food and this time. Bless both, I ask. And, Father, I don’t know what’s going on with my cousin, but help me know how to help him. Thank you. In Jesus name, Amen.”
    The kitchen was silent as the cousins focused on their supper. Only the ticking of the clock hanging on the wall broke the stillness.
    Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Tick, tock.
    “Caleb?”
    “Hmm.”
    “What’s really going on?”
    Not looking at his cousin, Caleb reached for another piece of pizza. “Nothing. I’m just hungry. Didn’t eat much lunch today. What about you? Did you actually talk to Shannon’s father?”
    “I did.”
    “And what did he say?”
    “He said he’d get back to me this weekend.”
    “Nervous?”
    “Some.”
    Tick, tock. Tick tock.
    Silence again pervaded the kitchen.
    “Caleb, are you going to tell me what’s going on, or am I going to have to pry it out of you?”
    “What’s to tell?”
    “I don’t know, that why I’m asking. You haven’t been yourself all week, and tonight is the limit!”
    “Actually the whole day was,” Caleb muttered, his mouth full of pizza. It was not his intent that Robert should hear him, much less understand him, but he did.
    “So, this entire day was off?”
    When he took a drink, his hand shook, splashing water down his front. “Guess I should go change my shirt.”
    “Nope. Nothing doing. Sit.” Robert ordered, catching Caleb’s arm and almost forcing him back into his seat. “You said you were hot. A little water won’t hurt you. It hasn’t hurt me.” And Robert glanced down at his own soaked shirt.
    “You’re right,” Caleb conceded. “Water doesn’t stain. Are you finished?”
    “No.”
    “Okay, I’ll just take care of the dishes and–”
    “I said I wasn’t done! Caleb, if you don’t loosen up and tell me what’s going on, I’m calling Dad.”
    “Sorry. Thought you said you were finished.”
    Robert glared in answer, his mouth full.
    Not feeling hungry, Caleb sat fidgeting, shifting around in his seat, picking up imaginary crumbs and putting them on his plate. He tugged at the neckline of his shirt and fumbled with it as though trying to find a button to undo. His eyes darted around the room, carefully avoiding one corner of the counter where the pile of mail still sat.

What is going on?

Are you more excited about the next Graham Quartet or TCR-6?

Will you be on Read Another Page on Tuesday?

I hope so because I can't wait to show you!

What's Wrong with Caleb? - Part 1

Oh, hello,
Is it Friday already? I was hoping it was just Thursday. But I guess it isn't. I feel like I lost a day this week. Hmm, I suppose I did as far as getting the things on my "to-do" list done. Since I was gone all day on Tuesday working as an Election Judge, there wasn't much chance to do anything else.

Yesterday I spent much of the day working on creating the actual cover for the new Graham Quartet book! It's exciting to see it coming together. I only have a little bit left and then have to finish up the inside before I can upload everything and order my proof copy. I'm hoping I can do that by this weekend. How would you all like to read an interview with the Graham Quartet?

Last Saturday evening I went to one of my friend's birthday party. It was a costume party and here's my outfit. Can you guess who I was? I'll give you a hint: I'm from a children's book.

  As much as I wanted to start work on TCR-6 this week, it hasn't happened. I never seem to be able to write the night before an election. (I also try to go to bed a little early since I have to get up at 4:30.) There is no way I can write while at the polls! (I tried it once and every single sentence I wrote had to be deleted.) I did write some on Wednesday night but that was on a blog story. Last night my grandpa and I were at a concert, so no writing then. Hopefully tonight and tomorrow night I can write.

This story was rather fun. Yes, it is a bit exaggerated, but I was trying something. I picked an emotion from my "Emotion Thesaurus" and wrote a short story focusing on one emotion. You're mission, should you choose to accept it, is to decide what emotion is being portrayed. You have three weeks to do it in. Have fun! :)

What's Wrong with Caleb?

Part 1

    Tick, tock. Tick, tock.
    “Ugh!” Pulling his pillow over his head, Caleb tried to muffle the sound of the clock. He had to get some sleep!
    Tick, tock. Tick, tock.
    It was no use. Finally, hurling the pillow across the room, he sat up and stared at the glowing red lights of his alarm clock. They stared back at him with a relentless gaze proclaiming that it was 4:27.
    With another groan, Caleb flung himself back down, forgetting he had no pillow. As his head thumped the mattress, he heard the bell in the church steeple ring the half hour. “My clock must be off. Or that bell is,” he muttered. He wished sleep would come to him, but after ten minutes of trying, he gave up.
    Leaving his bed unmade, he stumbled down the stairs of his small duplex and fumbled with the kitchen light switch. As light flooded the room, he blinked. “I gotta get a dimmer light. Or more sleep,” he thought, yawning and rubbing one hand over his unshaved chin.
    His eyes fell on a pile of letters shoved back on the counter. At the sight of them, he flinched, his shoulders tightened, and he could feel the hair on the back of his neck rise. Quickly he turned away. “Breakfast. Got to get something to eat.”
    Once breakfast, if a pop-tart and a glass of orange juice could be called such, was eaten, Caleb left his dishes in the sink and hurried from the kitchen. Dashing up the stairs two at a time, he stopped in his room. The bed wasn’t made, his dirty clothes were lying strewn on the floor, and the full laundry basket which held his freshly washed clothes, courtesy of his aunt, waited to be put away.
    Deciding that the bed should be made, he stepped across the room and pulled up the bottom sheet. “Lumps. Must be my socks. Yep.” And Caleb fished under the sheet and pulled out his socks. He looked about him. Should he toss them on the floor or– “The basket. I’ll just put the clothes away first.”
    He jerked open a drawer of his dresser. It was full, but he took no notice and squeezed and crammed the clean clothes in, shoving the drawer until it closed about two inches then tossing the basket to the floor.
    “Now what was I doing?” He looked about the room. “Uh, right, bed.”
    The bottom sheet was straightened before he hurried across the room to look out the window.
    Tick, tock. Tick, tock.
    Jerked back from his thoughts, Caleb returned to his bed making. But he seemed unable to stay focused. Half a dozen times he left the bed still unmade and walked to the window, another room, to the top of the stairs. At last, forgetting that his pillow still lay on the floor where he had tossed it, he disappeared downstairs.
    He tripped over a rug in the living room, knocked a lamp off the end table, and managed to grab the phone before it too landed on the floor. With a hand that trembled, he dialed a number.
    “Robert, it’s Caleb. Um, . . .” There was a long pause.
    “Caleb? You still there?”
    “Yeah. Uh, tonight, um, you want to come over for supper?”
    “What are you having?”
    “Uh, what do you want?”
    A chuckle came across the line. “Caleb, you don’t usually invite someone over for supper and then ask what they want. But, if it’ll help, pizza is always good.”
    “Right, pizza. Okay.” He hung up and stared at the opposite wall. He dropped the phone in his lap and wiped his moist palms on his jeans. He could hear the clock ticking.
    Ring-g-g!
    Starting as though the sound had been a shot, Caleb snatched the phone and pushed “talk.” His heart was pounding against his ribs.
    “Hello?” There was a quaver in his voice.
    “Caleb, are you all right?”
    “Yeah. The ring startled me.”
    “When are we eating?”
    “Let’s do six. Sorry, forgot to say. No, make that 5. Or–Oh, whenever you can come.”
    “All right.” The other voice was hesitant. “Caleb, do you want me to come over sooner? Or do you want to come over here?”
    “No, I’m good. Supper at six.”
    “All right. See you then.”

    Robert hurried up the steps two at a time and knocked on the door. There was no immediate answer and he knocked again, glancing about the dusky yard and watching the flashing, dancing lights of the fire flies. “Where is that guy?” he muttered to himself, opening the screen door and trying the doorknob. It was locked. Sighing with exasperation, Robert pounded on the door with his fist. “Caleb, open this door!”
    It was several minutes and many door poundings later before the door was unlocked and Caleb stood in the gloomy entryway his hair rumpled. “Sorry. Wasn’t paying attention.”
    Robert looked at his cousin with raised eyebrows. Then, stepping in, he pushed the door shut behind him. “Weren’t paying attention to someone pounding on your door? That’s the third time this has happened this week. Come on, Caleb, what’s going on?”

What do you think is going on?

Have any idea what emotion I'm writing about?

Will you be back next week?

A Change of Visitors - Part 5

Hello FFFs,
I see you came back. :) I hope you enjoy this last part of the story. Somehow though, I'm thinking that you are all going to want more. If that's so, be sure you leave a comment telling me so and I'll see what I can do.

Yesterday was one of those crazy days where I didn't get done the things I would normally get done but I got other things done. You see, I have a birthday party to attend tomorrow afternoon for a friend I've known since she was born. She's having a "book/movie costume party" and I was working on an apron I need for my character. Come back next week, and I just might show you my outfit. ;)

Not much writing this week. But I'm almost finished reading TCR-5. Any ideas for the next TCR book are wanted! I'll take anything really even if I won't promise to put everything in the book. :)

I've been having fun working on the cover for the new Graham Quartet mystery. And redoing the cover for the first one. I can't wait to get them finished so I can let you all see them! The new mystery has gone out to test readers and my Graham Quartet illustrator is working on the drawings. Pray that she will be able to get them done quickly as she has 3 more to do than the last time. (Yep, this book has three more chapters.)

Okay, here's the last part of this story. Enjoy!

A Change of Visitors

Part 5

    Dylan stared moodily out the window in the living room. The overcast sky and cold, misty day seemed to reflect his inner feelings and he sighed. He and Fern had been taken to the hospital to see their mom that morning; she had talked to them, but only for a short time. Then they had had to leave her there and come back to the Wood’s house. And the sheriff had talked to them, asking many questions. Fern had chattered about anything without regard to his nudges and the glares he had given her to make her stop. All he had managed to do, however, was make her mad, and she had yelled at him. After that the sheriff had decided to talk to them separately, and Dylan wondered what his sister had said. “It’d be just like her to blab everything about our life to complete strangers,” he muttered. “I wish she was the shy, timid kind of girl.”
    “Dylan, would you like some freshly baked cookies?” Mrs. Wood’s bright voice sounded from the doorway behind him and he turned.
    “Okay.”
    He followed her into the kitchen and found Fern seated on one of the high stools eagerly eating a warm chocolate chip cookie. It was obvious that she was enjoying it, for bits of chocolate were smeared about her mouth. When asked if he wanted a glass of milk, Dylan shook his head. “No, thanks.”
    “Dylan doesn’t like milk and cookies,” Fern piped up. “He never would drink any at home, and Mom used to say that–”
    “Be quiet,” Dylan hissed. He didn’t think he’d be able to stand much more of her free talk.
    “I can say anything I want to, old man.”
    “Fern, we don’t allow that sort of talk in this house. It isn’t kind,” reproved Autumn quietly, taking the last pan of cookies from the n and setting it on the counter.
    “Well, it’s true. Mom said he was a man and old before time, so there.” Fern folded her arms and stuck out her lower lip.
    Dylan didn’t say anything. He knew that even the slightest word from him would set Fern into another burst of name calling.
    “I don’t care if it is true,” Autumn said, and Dylan wondered if she was trying not to laugh. “It wasn’t kind.”
    “I can call him anything I want,” insisted the little girl. “He’s mean sometimes and–”
    Autumn interrupted. “Then you can’t have your second cookie.” And very calmly she took the other cookie from Fern’s plate.
    “You give me back my cookie!”
    Stuffing the last third of his second cookie in his mouth, Dylan dropped off his stool. He started toward the door, but paused. As soon as he could speak, he said, “You might as well give it back to her; she’ll cause a huge scene if you don’t.”
    But Autumn shook her head. “If she’s not going to talk sweetly, then she can’t have a cookie.”
    Dylan didn’t wait to see what the outcome would be but hurried from the room, his sister’s screams sounding in his ears. Mr. Wood came in the front door, glanced at him and then strode to the kitchen. With a sigh, Dylan climbed the stairs to his room. Life was different. Everything had changed since their car had broken down on that old road.
    Sitting disconsolately on his bed, Dylan leaned his elbows on his knees, propped his chin in his hands and stared at the window. The mist had changed into rain. Pattering drops splashed onto the window pane. He couldn’t hear Fern screaming any longer and wondered if she had stopped or if the rain had drowned out her voice.
    A knock on the open door startled him some time later. “May I come in?”
    It was Mr. Wood, and Dylan nodded.
    The army reserve man came and sat down on the bed next to him. “It’s kind of hard right now, isn’t it?”
    Dylan nodded without saying a word and the man went on.
    “Dylan, you don’t have to try and hide your mom’s past. Your mom told the sheriff and me all about it. There were some corrupt police in the town you lived in, and things were done that shouldn’t have been allowed. But things are different here. Sheriff Reese is an honest man, and the men on the force here are honorable. You don’t have to be afraid of hiding things.”
    A queer feeling came over Dylan and he shifted.
    Scott Wood placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder and went on. “That house where you and Fern were staying belongs to your mom. It was your great uncle’s farm, and he left it to her when he died.”
    “He did?” Dylan turned his head.
    “Yes.”
    “I don’t want to stay there!”
    Scott couldn’t keep back a smile. “I can’t say that I blame you much right now. But don’t worry, you and Fern are going to be staying right here until your mom is well and the house has been fixed up.”
    “Is Mom going to get well?”
    “The doctor said it may take a while, but he hopes she will be able to leave the hospital in a few weeks.. She suffered a seizure on her way back to the car that night. It might help her recovery if she didn’t have to worry about you and Fern being happy here. Do you think you would like to stay here?”
    There was a long silence as Dylan gazed about the room, stared out the window and then turned to look at Mr. Wood. “Yeah. I like it. But Fern won’t unless she gets her own way.”
    “You just leave Fern to us, okay?”
    Dylan nodded. He was glad to dump the care of his little sister onto broader, stronger shoulders. The silence lengthened and the darkness deepened into dusk.
    At last Scott seemed to rouse himself and asked, “Would you like to help me bring in some wood from the porch and get a fire going in the den?”
    Dylan nodded. He didn’t like just sitting around with nothing to do.

*

    While her hands were busy in the hot, sudsy water, Autumn listened to her husband's steady voice in the other room. She smiled to herself as she pictured the rapt faces of Dylan and Fern as they listened to the story. “I wonder how long we’ll get to have them here,” she mused. “Even after their mother is released from the hospital, I don’t think the house will be ready until some time in spring. Maybe we can persuade her to stay here too. She’ll need help after she leaves the hospital, and I think Fern is more than she can handle right now.” Turning on the water, she rinsed the mugs and spoons from their hot chocolate. “This is a perfect autumn evening and I think I’m going to enjoy our change of visitors, even if it will be more of a challenge.”

Did the ending satisfy you?

Are you tired of these characters now?

Or do you want to know more about them?

If you want to read more about Scott & Autumn, and Dylan, Fern and their mother, let me know. And tell me what you want to know. Maybe I'll get enough ideas to turn this into a longer story.

A Change of Visitors - Part 4

Hello, Friday Fiction Fans,
It's nice to see you are back. I hope you all had a good week. Was it busy? Crazy? Normal? Strange? Relaxed? Long and lazy? (If the last please share how you managed to have a full week like that!)

My week? Well, let me see.
Saturday was crazy busy with celebrating my brother's birthday and my oldest and youngest nephews birthdays with soccer, kick-ball, presents, sunshine, cake and ice cream, and lots of excitement and energy!
Sunday I worked in the nursery during Sunday School. Spent the entire afternoon reading. :) Now that was fun!
Monday and Tuesday were pretty normal–busy, projects to work on, writing to do, blog posts to get ready, etc.
Wednesday afternoon I had a 2 hour long election judge training for the presidential preference that is coming right up. It will be a busy year with four different elections that I'll be working as a Supervisory Judge for. 
Yesterday was fairly normal until supper time. Then all the kiddos came over for supper and for a few hours after.
Today should be normal. At least I hope it is, because tomorrow will not be normal. We'll have all the kiddos again only they'll be coming at 2:00 and won't be leaving until 9ish. 

Let me see, what writing have I been doing? Well, not much this week. I did get one short story/chapter of a longer story written. At least I now have some things to post. Instead of writing I'm reading TCR. Yeah, I thought it would be a good idea to actually reread the entire series before I started writing book 6. And you know what? I discovered St. John's first name! :) I didn't write everything like that down while writing the first book because I had no intention of writing a series. Now I need to know those kind of things.

But you didn't come to listen to me ramble, did you? Nope, I thought not. You want to find out more about Dylan and Fern, and about Autumn and Scott. Well, enjoy!

A Change of Visitors

Part 4

    In silence, Dylan gathered his dishes and carried them to the cheery kitchen. After selecting his cookies he stood uncertainly, wondering where he should eat them. Mrs. Wood solved the problem by setting glasses of milk on the end of the island and nodding to some high stools.
    “You can eat there and I’ll start cleaning up.” Quickly she disappeared from the room.
    This gave Dylan the opportunity he wanted. “Fern,” he whispered, “don’t tell things about Mom. She wouldn’t like it.”
    For answer Fern stuck her tongue out. “She wouldn’t care. Besides, it’s the truth.”
    “I don’t care. Don’t tell those things. You don’t want to make it hard for Mom, do you?”
    “It won’t make it hard. I think it will help. And you are just mean and horrid!” She shoved her brother and her voice grew louder. “I don’t like you. I wish you would have gotten lost and–”
    “Hey, that’s no way to talk.” Scott had entered the kitchen in time to hear the last words.
    Fern turned on him with fire in her dark eyes. “It is so! Dylan is just being mean! He said–”
    Scott rested his elbows on the counter and leaned down so his eyes were looking straight into Fern’s. “I don’t care what Dylan said right now. I want you to finish your cookies and let me talk.” He smiled but his voice had been firm.
    Dylan waited in silence, wondering how his sister would respond. When she didn’t say anything but took a bite of her cookie, he relaxed. At least she wasn’t going to get really mad. He looked at Mr. Wood.
    “There are a few–men–at the cabin, but they haven’t found any sign that your mom has been back. The car was found, and some other men are checking around there and between the house and the car. Do you know of any other place your mom might go? Do you know anyone around here?”
    Dylan shook his head.
    “Can you think of any reason she might not have come back to the house?”
    There were plenty of reasons, Dylan knew, but he didn’t want to say any of them. Not with Fern there. If he said anything, she’d tell more than she should. A long silence filled the kitchen until Autumn came back in.
    “Are we going to have two guests for the night?”
    Pushing himself off the counter, Scott nodded. “Yep, it looks like it.”
    Suddenly Fern burst into tears. “I want my mom!” She slid down from the chair and ran from the room. “I want my mom!”
    Dylan watched her with a sigh. “So much for that.”
    Scott looked at him sharply as his wife followed the weeping girl. “What do you mean, Dylan?”
    “I thought Fern was going to be good about this whole thing, but I guess not. She stuck to me like a leech at the house and only threatened to run off once, but as soon as someone else shows up she’s back to her old self.”
    Instead of answering right away, Scott strode to the doorway and watched his wife trying to quiet the nearly hysterical girl. Things were not going as easily as he had expected them to when he suggested they take the kids home until their mom could be located. Should he go help with Fern or talk to Dylan?
    As if in answer to that thought, Autumn picked up the still crying child and carried her towards the stairs, giving him a nod and a reassuring smile.

*

    Lying in the dark room under the warm blankets, Dylan yawned and stretched. He couldn’t remember ever sleeping in such a soft, comfortable bed. He tried to keep his eyes open; to think about what had happened, but he couldn’t. All he knew was that the responsibility of taking care of his little sister was off his shoulders, and he felt a sense of relief in knowing that so many others were out looking for their mom.

*

    Down in the den, before a crackling fire, Scott sat on the couch with Autumn curled up beside him, his arm about her shoulders.
    “That poor girl,” Autumn sighed. “She’s a mess. I’ve never seen such temper, grief, confusion, fear and delight in such a short space of time. I let her sleep with one of the stuffed animals in the middle room. You would have thought that I had given her the moon she was so pleased. But did you find out anything more from Dylan?”
    “Some. He obviously doesn’t want to talk much about his mom, but he didn’t hesitate to tell me her name and what she looks like. I called the sheriff after he was in bed. He promised the search was going to continue. It seems strange,” he said after a minute of silence.
    Autumn tipped her head back and looked up at him. “What does?”
    “That my brother and his family couldn’t make it this weekend and yet we ended up with guests anyway.”
    “God must have known we needed to be available for these children right now. I just wish their mom would be found.”
    “Let’s pray for her and the children, Autumn.”

*

    The sharp jangle of the phone woke Autumn some hours later. She blinked when Scott snapped on a small light. Quickly he lifted the receiver. “Hello? . . . She was? Where? When?” There was a long silence. “Yes, we can. . . . Okay, thanks, Sheriff. . . . Yep, we’ll be praying. Bye.”
    Hardly giving her husband a chance to replace the receiver, Autumn pushed herself up on one elbow and whispered, “What did he say? Was their mom found?”
    Dropping back onto his pillow, Scott fumbled for the light and then answered into the darkness which filled the room. “Yes, she was found. They took her to the hospital because she wasn’t responding. The sheriff said he’d be over in the morning to give us a report and talk with the kids. He didn’t say anything, but I have a feeling there’s more to this than–” A prolonged yawn interrupted his words.
    “Then let’s get some sleep. I don’t know when the kids will wake up.” Autumn waited for a reply from Scott, but when none came, she lay back down and stared into the darkness, her thoughts a prayer. “Lord, why did you send us to that house yesterday? What is it You want us to do besides giving these kids a few good meals and a roof over their heads? Thank you that their mother has been found and is able to get some help now. Please help her recover soon. And please, Father, show us what we are to do.”

So, what do you think now?

Do you still like the story?

Would you take Dylan and Fern in?