Alan's Farewell

 Good morning and happy Friday!

It looks like we'll have sunshine here today! Yay! It's been more cloudy this week than sunny. It's also supposed to be close to 70º instead of in the 50s. But spring is here. The trees are budding or blooming, depending on what kind of tree. Tiny leaves are showing on bushes and trees. Flowers are popping up. And the spring beauties are opening their delicate faces to the sun.

This was another busy week. I haven't gotten quite as much writing in this week as last week. Last week I ended with 10k words. Right now I'm at 7k. It might depend on how much I get written today and tomorrow. Both stories are still moving though the 4th of July story is picking up speed and "Phil Wood" seems to be slowing down a little.

KDWC opened its gates yesterday! Camp doesn't officially start until the 1st, but we are taking any sign-ups. Right now we have around 60 campers and 6 aunties. Plus Mary Poppins. ;) 

My youngest niece is turning one tomorrow so we'll be going over for her birthday party. I have to get her presents wrapped first. Her three loves are baby dolls, stuffed animals, and balls. Yes, she has 5 brothers. :)

Anyway, I thought I'd give you one more short story taken from my very first book. I did rewrite this story so it wasn't in first person with someone looking on. I hope you enjoy it!

 

Alan’s Farewell

    The evening sun was nearing the horizon as Alan McLean, attired in his Scottish garb with kilt, bray and sporran, climbed the hill to the cliffs overlooking the sea. His face wore a look of pain as he stopped near the edge and gazed about. It was harder than he thought it would be, this saying good-bye. Softly he began playing his much loved bagpipes which he carried over his shoulder. The notes wandered here and there as though unsure of how to find expression, growing louder with each moment, full of an unspoken yearning as they settled into “Amazing Grace” and filled the still air.
    As he played the familiar tune, Alan’s thoughts drifted back over the years. Leaving Scotland and settling here in Nova Scotia, Canada had been difficult, but the family had been together. Now he would be leaving for war, alone. Already Britain, France, Canada and others were fighting the German nation. And it all started, he recalled, with an archduke being killed. Part of Alan longed to stay at home fishing with his father and brother, but he knew the very freedoms they enjoyed were being threatened. That was why he had signed up to fight.
    He continued playing as he gazed out over the waters which reflected the sun’s evening glories. The sudden realization that tonight was his last night to stand here caused him to pause in the midst of the song and then begin a new one. As the haunting melody of “Auld Lang Syne” floated out over the water, the cliff, the trees, Alan tried to fix the image of the place in his mind. It had grown so dear to him. Pouring his very soul into every note, they swirled and dipped around him revealing the pain in his heart.
    Tomorrow all this would be beyond his sight. He dared not turn and look down the hill where the McLean home stood. The very thought of not seeing his brother, not feeling the kisses of his mother nor the handclasps of his father brought the tears to his eyes. Would he have the courage to say good-bye?
    His heart felt like lead and the notes from his pipes began to falter and break. Choking back the sob that rose in his throat, Alan tried to continue playing, but somehow the notes, which usually came so readily, refused to come. His shoulders began to shake and the tears to stream down his cheeks.
    “Och, my hame! My faither an’ maither, I cannae leave ye! My hert isna at war--!” Sobs shook his tall form, and he covered his face with his hand.
    All at once, the sounds of another piper continuing the broken song floated to his ears. Alan swallowed hard. He knew who it was but didn’t turn to welcome his father as he approached the cliff. Closing his eyes momentarily, Alan drew a long shaky breath and glanced beside him. Nothing was lacking in his father’s attire as a proud Scotsman.
    The very sight seemed to inspire Alan, for he began once more to play. Though he began softly, he couldn’t remain so, and soon the two pipers were sending the remainder of the song out on the wings of the evening breeze.
    Then Mr. McLean spoke. “Aye lad,” his strong voice was clear as he placed a hard, rough hand on his eldest son’s shoulder. “We’ll ne’er be foregettin’ ye. Donnae ye ken that?” Scanning the young face before him, he saw the traces of tears and rightly guessed the cause.
    Alan replied in a voice not quite steady, “Aye.”
    “Then donnae break yer mither’s hert with sic dreeful songs,” Mr. McLean chided gently. “Her een are upon ye frae oor hame, an’ it’s sair her hert will be if ye’re gang far to war wi’ out singin’ oor favorite hymn. Be ye able to sing?”
    There was a moment of silence. Alan gazed out over the waters. Straightening his shoulders he looked his father in the face. “Aye, wi’ David I am.” The words were clear and steady.
    Turning to gaze resolutely towards the McLean home, he watched his mother and brother climbing the hill towards him and burst into a lively march on his pipes. The sun was a flaming ball of fire, casting a golden light to tinge the purple and pink clouds. In the east, one or two stars were bravely peeking out of the dusky sky.
    All was hushed now. Even the pounding waves seemed subdued. In the expanse above, an eagle hung motionless, waiting. After kissing his mother, Alan gripped his brother’s hand, looking deeply into his eyes. David gazed back and a smile of brotherly love flashed between them. Mr. McLean had begun the melody. Full and touching floated the skirl of the pipes, only hushing its strength when Alan’s rich tenor and David’s perfect harmony began, blended as never before.

    “I am far frae my hame, an’ I’m weary aften whiles,
    For the longed-for hame-bringin’, an’ my Faither’s welcome smiles.
    An’ I’ll ne’er be fu’ content, until my een do see
    The Gowden gates o’ heav’n an’ my ain country.”

    As verse followed verse, the sun sank lower until the McLean family was left silhouetted against the glowing clouds of the western sky. There they remained until the last echoes of the hauntingly sweet notes had died away to be remembered in their hearts in the years to come.
    A thrill ran through Alan’s frame, and he gazed at his father. Whatever this war held for him, or for these dear ones waiting at home, they would be united again. If not here on earth, than in “oor ain countrie.” This was not a last farewell. One day they would be together again.
    “Aye,” Alan spoke aloud as his mother slipped her hand through his arm, “though mony years may pass before we see one another, someday we’ll a’ be in a countrie whaur we’ll ne’re part nae mair!”
 

Have you signed up for camp?

Has spring arrived at your home yet?

Do you like bagpipe music?

Two Chicken Stories

 Good morning, FFFs,

This has been a very busy writing week for me. Since I'm trying to write the 4th of July story for "A Very Bookish 4th of July" and still work on "Phil Wood", I've been writing 2k words or more a day this week. I try to get 1k on "Phil Wood" written in the morning or afternoon, then switch to "the 4th" in the later afternoon and after supper. This means I've already written 9k words this week! Since I normally write between 5-6k words a week with an occasional week where I get 8-9k, this is rather astonishing. But I'm really enjoying getting so much written.

I also started teaching writing classes again this week. Yesterday was my first classes. I had 5 students in one class and they were all new, which was rather fun. Then in the afternoon I had two older girls and we did a creative writing class. They are both going to write a short story. Both classes went well and were a lot of fun.

And guess what? Registration for KDWC is now open. We already have 40 campers signed up. The gates for camp open on the 25th, but camp itself doesn't start until the 1st. This will be a month long camp. If you're a writer and have never joined camp, maybe you should consider coming this time and seeing what it's like.

 Today I have two short stories for you. Since I'm celebrating the 10 year birthday of my first book, I thought I'd share two short stories from it with you today. These are both based on real events.

 

This first story is true. It was told to me by a friend. I only changed the names, time in history and place so as to fit in my book: Home Fires of the Great War

Time: April 1919. The Great War was over but many of the soldiers had yet to come home including the father of this family.

Place: A farm near Codell, Kansas

Family Info: The one telling the story is 17-year-old Emma. Her twin brother is Edmund. Emma is writing a letter to her cousin, Maria, who lives in Nova Scotia, Canada.

Nighty, the Rooster

         Oh, I must tell you about Evie. It would have been laughable if it were not so pitiable. We have, or rather did have, a black rooster whose name was Nighty. I believe Georgie named him, not that it matters. Nighty was mean. His favorite past time seemed to be terrorizing any person, with a few exceptions, who was outside. For some reason he never chased David, Edmund or Karl. Any of the rest of us were fair game as far as he was concerned. He was treacherous. If you turned squarely around on him and started walking toward him, he would turn tail and leave, but the moment your back was turned, he would be running straight for you. It got so bad that the younger ones wouldn’t go outside without one of the older boys. That rooster was the only one Kirsten couldn’t tame. Evie loves to be outside, but was terrified of Nighty. She would run screaming to the house or to the nearest person if he so much as looked at her. Finally Edmund had enough of it. One day he caught Nighty, who had just chased Evie inside, grabbed his legs and snapped his head against a fence post before tossing him behind the barn.

         When Evie heard the news she ran outside at once and shouted, “Nighty’s dead! Nighty’s dead!”

         Kirsten and Rosalie were much quieter upon hearing the news but also took immediate advantage and spent the rest of the day playing happily outside.

         A day or two later, Evie was outside playing and singing, “Nighty’s dead! Nighty’s dead!” I was in the kitchen with the older boys when a sudden, shrill, terrified scream came from outside! The boys sprang to their feet in an instant, knocking over their chairs as they did so.

         “Nighty’s comin’ af’er me!” Evie’s holler sent us all into action. At once we rushed for the door. Edmund was first. Leaping off the porch he sprinted across the yard and scooped up Evie in his arms. I stared from the safety of the porch. There indeed was Nighty. His head was hanging down at a grotesque angle from a broken neck, and he was staggering straight for Edmund.

         “That beast!” Edmund exclaimed. “Here, David, take Evie, and I’ll deal with him.” That was easier said than done, for Evie refused to let go of Edmund. Try as they might, they couldn’t get Evie to leave Edmund. Meanwhile the rooster was coming closer and closer. Evie’s screams again rent the air, and Edmund gave up to the inevitable and said, “One of you can do it, and make a good job of it!”

         David caught the luckless rooster and Karl grabbed a hatchet. In another minute, the rooster was without his head. Unlike the other butchering of chickens they do, the boys didn’t let go of this one for some minutes after his head was off. If you don’t know chickens, they run around like crazy for a little bit after their heads have been chopped off. Nighty would most certainly have headed straight for Edmund and Evie.

         Evie was still clinging in terror to Edmund’s neck and crying, saying over and over, “Nighty’s af’er me! He is!”

         “No, Evie,” Edmund soothed. “David has him, and Karl is chopping off his head. He won’t be after you any more.”

         “But he comes back!” Her face was buried against his neck while her legs were wrapped tightly around his waist. She was shaking and trembling.

         Mama and I hurried over, but even with our combined effort, it made no difference. Edmund was the only one she wanted then, and it took nearly a quarter of an hour for him to just get her calmed down enough to raise her head.

         He took her to see that Nighty was really dead, and then they watched as he was buried. Still, it was almost a full hour later before Evie would let go of Edmund’s neck. She refused to go outside alone for two days after that, and will never go anywhere near where Nighty is buried, probably fearing that he will somehow come out of the ground and chase her. She has regained most of her courage by now, though she still looks warily at the barn when she passes it. The other way she was affected is that she dislikes any and all chickens. No longer will she go with Kirsten to feed and gather the eggs. She wants nothing to do with them. I can’t say that I blame her, can you?

 

In the Nests

    It was a lovely spring morning on the farm. The older boys and Papa were out in the barn milking the cows. Emma had gone out to gather the eggs as Kirsten, who usually gathered them, was sick in bed. Emma enjoyed gathering eggs especially on such a pretty morning. Everything was still waking up, the grass was damp with the night’s dew, and a meadowlark sang loudly on a nearby fence rail. Emma’s thoughts were not on the eggs she was placing in her basket. A breeze tossed her dark hair and whipped her dress around her ankles. It was a perfect day.
    Emma had gathered almost a dozen eggs, when reaching into the next nest she felt something move! She let out a shriek and almost dropped her basket. Staring at the nest in horror she thought, “What have I just touched?” She didn’t dare put her hand in the nest again. On seeing a slight movement among the straw, she screamed once more just as Edmund, David, Karl and Papa arrived.
    “What happened?” they demanded a little breathlessly.
    “Something moved in that nest,” Emma shuddered, pointing with a trembling hand to the straw which was still moving slightly. David reached boldly in and dragged out a large black snake! Stifling another cry that rose to her lips, Emma looked away. How the boys laughed!
    “Emma,” Edmund laughed at his twin. “It was just a nice little black snake.”
    “I don’t care, he scared me!” Emma had a dread of snakes which her brothers thought ridiculous. “I don’t think I dare gather any more eggs.”
    After a little more teasing from the three boys and even some from Papa, Edmund stayed to help her. He put his hand into the next nest and exclaimed, “Oh!” in a startled voice.
    Emma gave a stifled squeal.
    “Oh, it was only an egg,” Edmund said with a teasing little grin.
    “You!” Emma exclaimed and gave him a slight push.
    When there were only three nests left, Edmund tried coaxing his twin to get the eggs again. Emma shivered and shook her head.
    “Look,” he reasoned reaching confidently into another nest, “there aren’t any more snakes.”
    Only two lone nests remained unchecked. “Come on, Emma,” he urged. “I’ll get these, and you gather from that last one.”
    Slowly, with great reluctance, Emma reached into the last nest. Immediately, she let out a piercing scream and jumped back in terror! There was another snake! Edmund doubled over with laughter, but Emma shrieked again as the snake poked his head out, his small red tongue flicking in and out and his black beady eyes gleaming. Edmund was of no help, for he was bent double with laughter while tears ran down his cheeks from his merriment. As the snake began to wriggle out of the nest, Emma’s scream rose in a crescendo louder, and she whirled around to run to the house. As she turned, she bumped into Karl.
    “Karl!” Emma implored clutching his arm frantically, “Do something!”
    For a moment, he looked at her, the snake, and Edmund. Striding over, he caught the snake, which really wasn’t very big, and without a moment’s hesitation dropped it down the back of Edmund’s shirt! The sight of his face made Emma stand still for a minute and watch. Edmund’s laughter stopped suddenly as he felt the snake wriggling against his skin. One look at Karl and he burst into uncontrollable laughter once more. Shaking with mirth he untucked his shirt and let the snake fall to the ground. At that Karl joined in the laughter. So Emma left the two of them to their merriment and their snakes and went inside. “See if I ever gather eggs again!” she thought as the boys’ laughter still rang out from inside the safe, quiet kitchen.

Have you ever found a snake in something?

Do you like stories that are from real life?

Are you going to be a part of KDWC this time?

Lawrence & Lenexa – Part 3

 Good morning, Faithful Friday Fiction Fans,

What a week! Things at the office have really picked up and we've gone from voting around 150 people a day to over 220 people. I haven't gotten a whole lot of filing done, but that's okay. Sometimes I can get a card or two filed while we wait for voters to finish before we can let others inside because our space is pretty small. I wasn't scheduled to work today, but things are so busy that I offered and they jumped at the extra help. I've never worked on a Friday before but I've heard it's crazy busy. And I thought yesterday was busy. ;) Thankfully, we've had a great deputy helping keep order in the halls, getting sample ballots for people as they wait so they vote faster, and helping entertain any little ones. And people said the wait is only about 10-20 minutes. Much better than a 2 hour or more wait at the polls on Election Day that people are expecting.

With all that going on, I don't feel like writing at all when I get home. I catch up on emails and messages I need to read at Camp, and other things. We are counting the days until the election is over. 

Anyway, you can be praying that things go well and smoothly. 

Here's the next part of my story. Enjoy!

 Lawrence and Lenexa

    Lawrence rose and picked up his backpack. “Sorry, Mom. I forgot I hadn’t changed.”
    Lenexa sat up. “Mom, can we do something together this weekend?”
    Mrs. Johnson glanced down at her watch. “Like what, Lenexa?”
    “Oh, I don’t know, have a picnic or go to the park. You know, something fun.”
    “I don’t see how we can fit one more thing into this weekend, Lenexa. Dad has a very important meeting with a client tomorrow at one. And you know that Sunday is my bridge club. But maybe you can play golf with your father then. But change quickly now. We are eating supper early tonight.” She stepped from doorway into the hall. “Lawrence.”
    “Yeah?” Lawrence called from behind the closed door of his room.
    Mrs. Johnson sighed. “I do wish you wouldn’t shout, son. We are eating supper early so don’t take a long time changing. And make sure you put on proper dinner clothing, not shorts and a T-shirt this evening.”
    “I won’t, Mom.”
    Lenexa opened the door of her room and stood still.
    “Lenexa Marie Elizabeth Johnson!” her mother exclaimed. “Surely you were not planning on wearing that to the dinner table!”
    Glancing down, Lenexa didn’t see anything amiss. “Why not? What’s wrong with it?”
    “Your slip is showing at least half an inch. Now either find a different slip, or put on a different dress. One that is long enough to look decent.”
    “Can I just wear it without the slip? It’s just for supper–”
    “Absolutely not. No child of mine is going to come to the table half undressed. Now hurry. Your father won’t want to be kept waiting.”
    Shutting the door, Lenexa hurried back to her closet. The trouble was she had been growing. Her dresses were looking shorter, and most of her slips were too small. Except the one she was wearing. After trying on three dresses and finding that the slip still showed. Lenexa was desperate. Her mother had called her twice, and the tone of her voice said her patience was nearly gone. Grabbing a couple of safety pins, Lenexa pulled up the waistband of the slip and folded it over, pinning it in place. It was difficult to pin the back evenly, and she finally gave up trying. “As long as it doesn’t show it should work.”
    In the hall, Mrs. Johnson eyed her daughter’s outfit carefully. “You do have a slip on, right?”
    “Yes, ma’am.”
    “Then let us go down to dinner. Mr. Edger and his wife are joining us for dessert, but you and Lawrence won’t be required to eat with us.”
    Lenexa merely nodded. Mr. Edger, a lawyer from the same firm where her father worked, was friendly when alone, but neither Lenexa nor her brother cared for his wife.

*

    Mounting the stairs to their rooms, the twins looked at each other and sighed. It had been a long evening. Supper had been all right though it was a bit rushed, for the Edgers were known to be early. They were early. A whole twenty minutes early. Mrs. Johnson had the table cleared away quickly even though Lawrence was still eating. After the twins had greeted their guests politely, they were excused to eat their dessert outside. There they had remained until it began to grow dark.
    “I’m glad Mrs. Cook let me eat something else after dessert,” Lawrence murmured to his sister. “I might have starved before breakfast tomorrow.”
    “You wouldn’t have starved, Larry,” Lenexa retorted with a grin. “But you might have been awfully hungry.” Stopping in the hall, she asked, “What are we going to do tomorrow?”
    “Sleep in. Then I don’t know what. I wish we had those papers to fill out for camp.”
    Lenexa sighed. “Yeah, me too. Well, I’m going to bed. Night, Larry.”
    “Good night, Lexi.”

*

    Saturday, Sunday, and then Monday finally dragged their slow, reluctant days away, and then it was Tuesday.
    Lenexa was late for breakfast and had to rush through her meal in order to leave for school on time. There was no time to talk with her brother until they were in the car, and even then she couldn’t very well bring up the subject that was foremost in her mind.
    All during school that morning Lenexa fought to stay focused. Catching her brother’s arm in the hall, she dragged him to the side and whispered, “Do you think she’s put it there yet?”
    Lawrence shrugged. “Maybe. Let’s go eat.” He started down the hall toward the stairs.
    Keeping step with him, Lenexa wasn’t ready to let the subject drop. “What if she gives the papers to Mom? Or forgets to bring them?”
    “If she forgets than we’ll have to wait until Saturday. If she gives them to Mom, well–” He waited for a few students to hurry ahead of them down the stairs. “If Mom gets them then I’m guessing we’ll either have to do some pretty fancy persuading and hope we can get Dad on our side, or we’ll just have to forget the whole thing, listen to our lecture, and go to our usual camp.”
    “Oh!” Lenexa moaned. She felt like sitting down on the stairs but knew she’d get a lecture if a teacher saw her.
    “Come on, Lex, buck up. We only have a few more hours before we know.” Lawrence didn’t feel as confident as he tried to sound. Though he wouldn’t admit it then, he was worried too.
    
    Somehow the twins managed to finish the school day without any reprimands for absentmindedness, and they met each other at the door. Lenexa’s face was eager and excited.
    “You look too eager, Lex,” Lawrence murmured, as they were swept along by the crowd. “Mom might notice.”
    “Well, I got an A+ on my last history paper, and school is almost over.”
    “Yeah, but don’t bring the end of school up or Mom’ll remember summer camp.”
    Instantly Lenexa’s face sobered. “Oh, yeah. There’s the car.”
    Scrambling into the back seat, the twins answered their mom’s usual “How was school today” question in their usual way. She made no mention of any summer camp, or of any note from Saundra. 

 

Have you ever helped with Elections?

Did you get any writing done this week?

Would you want to go to a new summer camp?

Lawrence & Lenexa – Part 2

 Hello,

How are you this Friday morning? It is, Friday, right? I hope so because I'm not going in to work. ;) And my nieces and nephews are here. Right now I'm typing this one handed since I'm cuddling my youngest nephew who wanted "BehBeh."

Work has been busier. We've been voting over 100 people a day this week.

The King's Daughters' Writing Camp has officially started. We have 81 people at camp so far. ;)

 

Lawrence and Lenexa

Part 2

    “What if . . .” Lawrence looked out the window, then down at the table, before glancing up at his sister. “What if we went somewhere else.”
    Lenexa’s eyes widened. “Larry,” she whispered as though afraid someone else would hear, “what do you mean?”
    “Well, when I went on that bike ride last Saturday with Saundra’s brothers, you know they came over when she came to clean–”
    Lenexa nodded quickly but said nothing.
    “We stopped down at the creek to take a break and got to talking. They mentioned that they go to some camp called Mountain View something-or-other. I don’t remember it all, but they were saying how much fun they had and how great it was. They even invited me to go with them.”
    Lenexa’s face fell. “Is it just a boy’s camp?”
    “No. They said you could come too. It’s some kind of Bible camp or something.”
    Lenexa turned back to her paper. “Well, it’s no use thinking about that. You know Mom would never let us go to a Bible camp.”
    “Dad might.”
    Folding her arms on the table, Lenexa leaned forward. “But we don’t even know where it is, what it is, when it is, or how to get there.”
    “I have a paper they gave me about it. I haven’t read it yet. I finished my homework and can go get it. You?”
    “Let me finish these last few questions, then I’ll be finished.” Quickly Lenexa bent over her paper and scribbled answers to the remaining three questions while Lawrence hurried from the room.
    He returned a moment later. Pausing, he quickly locked the door behind him before rushing back to the table. There were certain people in the house that he didn’t want surprising them, or any plans of attending a different camp would be dashed.
    For several minute the two heads bent over the paper. Every line was read. Lawrence got out the large atlas and looked up the town closest to the camp. That’s where they would be picking up campers who came in on a bus.
    “Wouldn’t this be a great place to spend two weeks?” he asked.
    Lenexa nodded. “But how can we get the forms to fill out? If we had those we could fill them out and get Daddy to sign them. He wouldn’t care or even notice probably, if we went to a different camp this year.”
    “Why don’t we ask Saundra when she’s here on Saturday.”
    “She’s not coming Saturday,” Lenexa said. “I overheard her telling Mrs. Hamstead that she had to clean tomorrow because of something else that was going on. Mrs. Hamstead wasn’t very happy.” She twisted a strand of hair around her finger and frowned. “And we’ll be in school.”
    “Maybe one of us could pretend to be sick.”
    Lenexa just looked at him.
    “Then again, Mom would probably call up Dr. Hathaway and it would all be over. Could we leave her a note?”
    Lenexa’s face brightened. “Of course! She cleans our rooms, and I know the perfect place to put a note where she’ll be sure to find it and no one else will notice. Come on, let’s get it written right now.”
    It took some time to agree on just what the note should say, but at last it was written. The twins gathered their books, stuffed them into their backpacks for the next day, and then Lenexa hurried to her room to put the note in its hiding place.

    The rest of the day passed as it usually did. The twins ate a dull supper sitting alone in the large dining room. “We should just eat in the kitchen,” grumbled Lawrence.
    Lenexa nodded with her mouth full. Often they had tried to get Mrs. Hamstead to agree to letting them eat in the kitchen with the cook, the gardener, and one of the maids who lived in the house, but she never would agree to it.
    “Your mother would never approve,” she always said. And by the tone of her voice, it was obvious that she didn’t approve either.
    “I wish Mrs. Hamstead would take a vacation again,” Lawrence grumbled. “Mrs. Cook didn’t mind us eating in there with them.”
    The Johnson’s cook really bore the last name of Cook, which greatly amused and delighted the twins. She and Saundra were their favorite members of the staff and the closest things the children had for friends in the large mansion.

*

    When they came home from school the next. day, Lawrence didn’t suggest a race to change clothes. Instead he followed his sister into her room. “Is it gone?” he whispered even though no one else was around.
    Lenexa looked around. “No–yes! She left a note!” Snatching it quickly, she opened it and read, “I should be able to get those papers for you when I come on Tuesday. My brothers will be excited if you both can attend camp with them this year. Saundra.”
    “Now we just have to wait until Tuesday.”
    “It feels like ages to wait,” Lenexa agreed, sinking down onto her bed. “Maybe Mom and Dad will be free to do something with us this weekend.”
    Dropping his backpack onto the floor, Lawrence sat down cross-legged beside it. “Like what?”
    “I don’t know. Go to the park or have a picnic. You know, something other kids do with their parents.” She shrugged.
    “It’d be fun, but I wouldn’t count on it. Maybe we can get someone to take us to the library tomorrow, and we can get some new books to read.”
    With a sigh, Lenexa fell backwards on her bed. “I suppose. But I get tired of reading all weekend, every weekend. I’d like–”
    “Lawrence Johnson!” Their mother’s voice in the doorway interrupted their talk. “How many times have I told you not to sit on the floor with your school clothes on? You’ll ruin them. And Lenexa, honey, lounging like that is a good way to give you back troubles later on in life.”

How was your week?

Are you doing Camp this time?

Do you want to read the next part of this story?

Lawrence & Lenexa – Part 1

 Good morning!

It's been a busy week for me. Not a lot of different things, but working almost full time at the County Clerk's office here in town for 7.5 hours each day has been different. ;) I've done a lot of filing, getting people registered to vote, and voting people. I've learned all kinds of things about elections and how things work in the office and behind the scenes. 

With work, I haven't had a lot of time to do other things. However, there is the Five Fall Favorites blog party going on! Today is the LAST day to enter the giveaway! Have you entered yet? If not, will you help us reach 60 people entered? That's just over 10 people. If you have entered, can you find 1 or 2 people you can get to enter?

I'm home until Tuesday, and boy, do I have a lot of things to do! Things to clean up, put away, take care of. Things to write, format, edit. Things to organize, tidy, figure out. Things to prepare, sign up for, create. Yep, I won't be just sitting around wondering what to do. ;)

Today's story is the very first part of my novel "Lawrence and Lenexa" (working title). Enjoy.

 

Lawrence & Lenexa

Part 1

    “Mrs. Hamstead will be picking you up today after school, remember?” Mrs. Johnson said, stopping her silver Cadillac in front of Biltmore Preparatory School where her two children attended. “And Dad and I have a dinner tonight.”
    Climbing from the car, Lawrence nodded. “Got it.”
    Lenexa gave a wave. “Bye, Mom.”
    As the silver Cadillac pulled out into traffic, the siblings glanced at each other with a shrug. “I don’t know why she bothered telling us they have a dinner,” Lawrence muttered, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. “They seem to always have a dinner, or a meeting, or something.”
    Beside him, Lenexa nodded and brushed back her light brownish-red hair. “Maybe we can do something then. After orchestra.” She shifted her violin case to the other hand.
    Together they walked up to the front doors of their school. They were almost the same height, although Lenexa was just over a quarter of an inch taller than her twin brother.Her bangs pulled back in a dark ribbon. Both wore their school uniforms with white shirts. Lawrence had on dark slacks while Lenexa wore her dark plaid, pleated skirt. They looked just like the dozens of other students arriving and were soon swallowed up in the crowd and swept into the stuffy, snobbish halls of Biltmore Prep leaving no time for further conversation.

*

    The sun was bright and the afternoon was warm, indicating the approach of summer and the longed for end of the school term. Mrs. Hamstead was waiting in the car when the twins finally emerged at the end of the school day. She was the Johnson’s housekeeper and rarely spoke to the children of the house unless necessity required it, for she didn’t like children. It was only in extreme circumstances that she would condescend to pick up the twins from their school.
    Today had been one of those days. With a grim face, she waited in silence until they had climbed into the back of the car and fastened their seat belts, and then, still without a word, she pulled away from the curb.
    Sensing tension, Lawrence ventured to roll his eyes, at his sister and Lenexa bit back a giggle. Both knew it would never do to get Mrs. Hamstead in a worse mood than she already was, so they kept silent and watched the landscape flash by the windows.
    The country atmosphere that surrounded the prep school gave way to high office buildings, bustling lanes of traffic, and occasionally the lights and sirens that signaled an accident. Mrs. Hamstead, though she wasn’t an enjoyable companion, was an excellent driver, and before long the majority of the traffic was left behind and the car turned onto a winding residential street. The houses were modest, single story affairs and Lenexa and Lawrence had often privately wondered what it would be like to live in a house that small. As they continued on, the houses grew larger, the lawns more spacious, and finally Mrs. Hamstead turned onto a long driveway and parked before the Johnson’s house.
    Large, grand, three-stories tall, this mansion was the home of Mr. Lawrence Lancaster Johnson III, attorney at law, his wife, Camilia Lenexa Johnson, and their son and daughter. It was also the working place of several “hired help” who cleaned, cooked, tended the yard, washed the cars, and maintained the appearance of the Johnson home in general.
    “See to it that you do your homework before you do anything else,” Mrs. Hamstead ordered, speaking suddenly as she parked the car.
    “Yes, ma’am,” chorused the twins before scrambling out of the car. They wanted to run into the house but knew that would only bring a scolding from the housekeeper, so they contented themselves with a brisk though dignified walk.
    Once inside, however, they dashed up the stairs to the second floor, down the hall and stopped before their rooms gasping for breath.
    “Race you in changing,” Lawrence challenged.
    “You have to let me put my violin down first,” Lenexa said, “or the new string might come loose again. Not that I would care very much, but my teacher would probably scold.”
    “Okay, but then you have to come back into the hall so we can start at the same time.”
    Lenexa grinned and hurrying into her room, carefully set her violin case right side up on the plush, cream couch. Then she ran back to the hall. “Ready, go!”
    The race was over in minutes with both children jerking open their bedroom doors within half a second of each other. This brought a laugh.
    “Now homework. Ugh,” Lawrence groaned. “I can’t wait until school is out!”
    “Me too.” Lenexa grabbed her backpack. “Let’s go to the play room and do our work there.”
    Her brother nodded, and they crossed the hall and entered the large room. Windows on two sides let in plenty of light while bookshelves lined most of one wall and the floor was thickly carpeted. This had been the room where the twins had spent much of their time when they were young. Even now the large closet held their favorite childhood toys, remnants of their monotonous life.
    Not thinking about the past, the twins were soon seated at a table near one of the windows with their homework spread out. Almost complete silence filled the large room for some time with only the turning of a page and the scratching of a pencil to disturb the stillness.
    “Lexie,” Lawrence said at last, fiddling with his pencil.
    “What?”
    “Summer’s coming.”
    “Yeah.” Lenexa looked up at her brother expectantly.
    “Where do you think we’ll go to camp?”
    “Same place as always.” Lenexa couldn’t keep back a sigh. “It’ll be boring as usual, and the snobs in the cabin will be just as annoying, and when we come home Mom and Dad will say, ‘Did you have fun?’ but won’t have time to listen to us say more than yes or no.”

Have you entered the FFF giveaway?

Have you ever been to Summer Camp?

What did you do this week?

Finding Joy - Seak Peek

Good morning Friday Fiction Fans,

I don't know about you, but I'm enjoying some cold winter weather with a little bit of snow on the ground. :) Not enough to do anything but look pretty, but it's here.

I'm actually getting this ready to post on Thursday afternoon because on Friday morning my sister and I will be heading over to my brother's house early, like before 7 AM early, to babysit all the kids except Nephew #4. They are taking him to a hospital a few hours away to see about his arm. Poor guy. He injured it back in October but after an x-ray were told it wasn't broken. It turns out, it is. And it's not healed yet. So . . . Please pray for him. He's almost 4. We'll be there until they get home. And no one knows when that will be.

I've had a lovely time actually getting to write this week! I'm so enjoying jumping back into this story. I have a feeling it's going to be longer than 60k words. You don't mind, do you? I didn't think so. Actually I have no idea how long this story is going to turn out. But I'm pretty sure I'm on the downhill side. Now, since I wasn't sure what to post today and didn't have time to go find one of my old stories to re-post, I decided to take the advise of a reader and drive you all crazy. Ready? I'm going to pull a section from my book "Finding Joy" and let you all tell me what you think.

Finding Joy

a snippet

    A little while later, as the family sat around on the tarp and had their breakfast of granola bars and slightly warm juice, Mr. and Mrs. Martin discussed where to start on the enormous task of cleaning. In the light of the morning sun, the place looked worse than the night before, and Paige was overwhelmed.
    “There are a few things that need done right away,” Zach remarked. “The bathroom needs cleaned and the kitchen should be scrubbed.”
    “But the kitchen is so big!” Paige looked around in dismay.
    “That’s why we’re going to start by cleaning the places where the fridge and the stove go. If we can get places for them, we’ll be able to enjoy cooked meals instead of just peanut butter sandwiches.”
    “I like peanut butter sandwiches,” Gina put in.
    “Would you like them breakfast, lunch, and dinner?”
    After thinking about it a moment, Gina slowly shook her head. “No. Let’s get the fridge and stove.”
    “I’m glad we brought cleaning supplies,” Paige remarked. “But I don’t think we have enough.”
    “Once we get the place for the kitchen appliances ready, I’ll go into town and pick them up, and I’ll buy more of whatever else we need at the same time.”
    Paige was about to speak, but a sudden harsh ringing shattered the stillness and made everyone jump.
    Gina’s eyes were as wide as saucers. “What’s that?” she gasped into a moment of quiet.
    The ring came again and Zach sprang up. “A telephone! I’ll buy ice cream for the person who finds it and answers it before they hang up.”
    Instantly Paige and Gina were on their feet. All three of them converged on a small hallway that led from the kitchen to the dining room. They hadn’t really noticed it before. There, hanging on the wall, was an old phone. Almost breathless, Zach picked up the receiver and said, “Hello?”
    Gina pressed close to her mom as they stood and listened to the one sided conversation.
    “Yes, it is. . . . We did. Thank you. . . . We were just talking about that. . . . Well, I was hoping to get places cleaned for them today and . . . I see. That would be very kind. I can’t pay but . . .” Zach smiled and gave a little chuckle. “Sure . . . I won’t turn down that kind of offer. And I’m sure my wife would appreciate it too.”
    Gina tugged at his arm. “Ask about a cat,” she whispered.
    “Um, my daughter wants to know if we can rent a cat for a few weeks. . . . Yeah, I’m talking feline here. She thought it would be a good way to get rid of the mice in the house. . . . No.”
    There was a longer pause this time, and Gina shifted from one foot to the other impatiently.
    “Yep. Thank you. We’ll see you later then. . . . Uh huh. Good bye.”
    As Zach replaced the receiver, making some remark about the phone being one with a cord, his wife and daughter, impatient to know who was on the phone, interrupted.
    “Who was that and what did they want?” Paige demanded. “Isn’t it awfully early to be calling strangers at this time of morning?”
    “Did they have a cat, Daddy?” questioned Gina. “Can we rent one?”
    Laughing, Zach held up his hands in surrender. “Hold it! I’ll confess everything if you’ll let me out of this narrow tunnel”
    “That’s what we can call this hall, Mom! We’ll call it the tunnel!” chortled Gina in glee. “Then we’ll have a hallway and a tunnel.”
    “Did you want to hear about that phone call?” Zach pretended to growl.
    Giving a skip, Gina landed on the tarp and sat down on her rolled up sleeping bag. “Yep.” And lifting her dark eyes, she stared right at her father until he laughed.
    “That was Mr. Davis. He’s the man that was mowing the fields here last year after his dad passed away. He’s letting us use one of his empty storage units in town for our furniture. Anyway, he was calling to see if we wanted him to bring out the stove and fridge. And his wife wanted to bring supper for us tonight, but it would have to go in the fridge and then be put in the oven later.”
    “So we have to get them today,” Paige said.
    “The cat, Daddy. Did they have a cat?”
    “He said he’d see what he could come up with.”
    “A cat?” Paige looked from her husband to her daughter in disbelief.
    Turning to her mom, Gina made haste to explain her idea of renting a cat just for a few days to get rid of the mice. “Wouldn’t you rather have one cat in the house for a few days than many mice for a long time?” she asked anxiously. She knew her mom disliked cats greatly.
    “I suppose so. But,” and Paige put up her hands as though to stop a flow of words, “can we please not talk about either one right now? We need to get to work.”
    “Right.” Zach gave a decided nod. “Can you pack up the food, Hon? Gina and I’ll take the sleeping bags and pillows back to the truck. They’ll stay cleaner that way,” he added seeing his wife’s puzzled expression. “We’ll take the tarp out too. I think it’ll be easier to work without trying to keep it clean.”

    Before long the Martin family were all at work. Gina had helped her dad open as many windows as they could so that the breeze would freshen the house. A few of the windows seemed stuck and these they didn’t spend time messing with. “We’ll work on them later,” Zach said.
    The water in the kitchen sink was clear and Paige filled a bucket with hot soapy water. They decided to all work in the kitchen, so that maybe the fridge and stove could be put in place when Mr. Davis brought them over. Cobwebs were swept from the ceiling, and then the floor was thoroughly swept. “I know it’ll just get dirty again,” Paige confessed, with an apologetic look on her face, when Zach raised an eyebrow, “but I just can’t stand to walk on such a dirty floor any longer!”
    “Go right ahead, Hon.” Zach gave her a quick kiss and handed Gina a rag. “Okay, Sunny Girl, let’s get at these walls.”

So, what did you think?

Do you think you'll enjoy more about the Martins?

You can see my small Pinterest board here.

Dylan's Story - Part 7

Happy Day-After-Thanksgiving!
(Or Black Friday if you prefer)
Got any big plans for shopping today? Any sales you just can't pass up? I purchased something on Wednesday that was on a "pre-Black Friday" sale. It was originally over $100.00 and I only paid $34.50 or it. :) I'm happy. :)
Speaking of sales, I managed to get two of my books on sale. The Graham Quartet kindle books are on sale. The first one if FREE, and the second is $.99. And, if you get or already have the first Graham Quartet book on your kindle (or phone or wherever you have the kindle copy), you can get the audio for only $1.99! It's perfect for Holiday traveling.

There is also a sale going on Indie Christian Books that you aren't going to want to miss! I can't recommend all the books because I haven't read them all, but I can recommend authors Sarah Holman, Amanda Tero, and Kate Willis. Check out their books! They have sales on the kindle books and on the paper books.

Well, enough about sales and things like that. I hope all of you American readers had a wonderful Thanksgiving. Did you have family over or did you go somewhere? My grandparents were here and my brother and his family came over to have Thanksgiving on Wednesday so they could go to her family's house for Thanksgiving Day. We rather like this tradition. That means that we can eat leftovers on Thanksgiving and do other things besides stay in the kitchen all day. Yesterday we got our entire yard raked! We have a large yard and a whole lot of trees! Now we have mountains of leaves down by the street. Anyone want to come play in them?

Okay, I have other things I need to get done before I head over to help my brother pull orders for his Black Friday sale at Light of Faith. Have a wonderful week! And enjoy this next part of:

Dylan's Story

Part 7

    Leaning over towards her, Scott said two words, “Fern, stop!” His voice was low but full of authority.
    To her brother’s astonishment, Fern’s cries stopped. She sniffed a few times and sat looking down at her plate.
    “Fern, you can either eat the eggs and piece of bacon now, or you may be excused from the table and eat them for lunch. But if you wait, they will be cold.”
    “Can I have more cinnamon roll?”
    “After you have eaten your eggs and bacon.”
    For a moment Fern looked at the army reserve man as though trying to see how far she could push. She must have realized that she had reached her limit, for her eyes fell again and she picked up her fork and scooped up a bite of eggs.
    No one said a word until Fern’s plate was empty, and then Autumn said softly, “Thank you.”
    “Can I have another cinnamon roll now?” the girl asked, looking at Mr. Wood.
    “I’ll give you half a one and then, if you are still hungry, you can have the other half.” Cutting the large sticky roll, Scott set half of it on Fern’s plate. “What about you, Dylan, still hungry?”
    Hesitating, Dylan looked at his empty plate, and then at the pan of rolls. They were really good–
    “Half a one?”
    Dylan nodded and held out his plate. “Please. These are the best I’ve ever had, Mrs. Wood.”
    “Why thank you, Dylan. With praise like that, I may have to make them more often.”

    After breakfast, before they went outside, Dylan managed to catch his younger sister in the hallway. “Fern,” he whispered, “did you make your bed and tidy your room?”
    “No. And I don’t have to. We’re not at home, you know.”
    “Of course we aren’t, but that just means we should make sure we keep our rooms neat and tidy. They aren’t really our rooms. You don’t want them to make us go back and live alone in that old cabin, do you?” He was pretty sure Mr. and Mrs. Wood would never send them back alone, but he hoped the thought of it would make Fern a little more responsible.
    Before Fern could reply, a voice called from downstairs. “Dylan, Fern, are you two about ready to go see the horses?”
    Ignoring her brother, Fern ran down the hall and disappeared down the stairs. With a sigh, Dylan followed more slowly. He couldn’t decide if it was worth the trouble to try and make his younger sister behave or not.
    “Something on your mind, Dylan?” Scott asked as the boy came down the stairs, his feet almost dragging. “If you don’t want to go see the horses, you don’t have to.”
    “Oh, I want to go. Mr. Wood–” He paused, hesitated, and frowned.
    “Suppose we change something in that sentence,” Scott said. “Suppose you call me Uncle Scott. Since you and Fern are probably going to be staying for a while, it might make things a bit easier. And I know my wife would enjoy being Aunt Autumn. Now, what did you want to say?”
    Dylan didn’t answer right away. He’d never had an uncle. At least not that he knew of. Would it make things easier? Pulling on his sweatshirt, he stepped outside, still in silence. It wasn’t until they were halfway across the yard that he spoke, trying out the new name. “Uncle Scott, Fern . . . well, she can be really sweet, but other times she’s just plain hard to get along with. Mom didn’t always make her keep her room clean or make her bed . . .” His words died away. How could he explain himself?
    “And you are worried that she might cause problems?” Scott looked down at the boy beside him.
    “Yes, sir.”
    “Well, you can stop worrying. Fern will get used to things around here in time, and we aren’t sick like your mom was. Give us a chance, all right?”
    Dylan nodded. He still wasn’t convinced his new aunt and uncle knew what they were getting into, but he didn’t know what else to say.

    Part way through the morning, the sun, which had persistently poked through the clouds every little while, disappeared altogether and the rain began to fall. Out in the stable, Scott stepped to the doorway and looked out. A biting wind was coming from the north and the sky was dark. Everywhere the brightly colored leaves were falling in showers from the trees, leaving the branches bare.
    “I don’t think this is going to let up any time soon,” Scott called back over his shoulder. He had to almost shout to be heard above the torrents of rain. “And the wind has shifted. We may be getting snow or ice before long.”
    At his words, Autumn placed an arm about Fern’s shoulders. She wasn’t ready for winter yet, and she wasn’t sure if the children even had winter coats, but her concern at the moment was how they were going to get back to the shelter of the house. “Stay here, children,” she told Dylan and Fern, pushing the girl over beside her brother. “I’ll be right back.”
    Quickly she hurried over to the door. “Scott, how are we going to get back to the house? We can’t just stay here until the rain stops, for that might not be for hours. We only have on our sweatshirts or jackets. I didn’t think winter would come so suddenly.”
    Scott gave a sigh. “I know. It might not get cold enough for ice and snow today, but that wind has a feel to it that I don’t quite like.” He was silent a moment. “You stay here with the kids. Make sure the horses have enough water and food for the day.”
    “Where are you going?” Autumn thought she knew, but she asked anyway.
    “I’ll make a run for the house and get the truck. Then I’ll come back and get you guys.”
    “Be careful.”
    “I will. And don’t let either of them go out in this rain! We don’t want them ending up in the hospital with pneumonia!”

Do you ever try to get younger siblings to be tidy?

Does it work?

Are you excited about Christmas coming?

Dylan's Story - Part 6

Hello FFFs,
Are you still around? Probably lurking in cyber space, right? 😉 I don't know if this story will be able to pull you out of hiding or not. We'll try it though.

This has been a good but busy week. I've gotten a lot of work done on the Bike Trip project I'm working on, and on listening to the audios of two of my books. I'm hoping to have both TCR-2 and "The Unexpected Request" on audio by Christmas. Wouldn't that be fun? Writing has rather taken a back seat this week. I wanted to write, but I haven't been reading enough to enable me to really write well. Though last night I did get 1,000 words written in 50 minutes. I haven't written that much all month! And, in case you are wondering, it was on a Christmas story. 😊


Have you all gotten winter weather yet? Yesterday it was in the low 80s and very windy. Today it's supposed to drop to the mid to low 40s. Such strange weather.

Now I'm going to let you read more of Dylan, Fern and the Woods. You can read part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4 and part 5 here.

Dylan's Story

Part 6

    The sun was peeking through the clouds when Dylan woke up the next morning. The house was still and quiet, and for a moment he lay blinking, trying to remember what day it was. Today was Saturday. Quickly scrambling from his bed, he hurried to the window. Sometime during the night or early morning the rain had stopped, but the ground was covered with puddles, and water still dripped from the branches of the trees when the wind shook them. A glance at the clock showed him that it was nearly eight o’clock.
    “I wonder if Fern is up yet,” he mused, getting dressed hurriedly and making his bed. After putting away his pajamas, Dylan picked up his shoes and tiptoed into the hall.
    The door to his sister’s room stood wide open and he peeked in. With a slight frown, he turned and headed for the stairs. The smell of bacon and–something sweet–he couldn’t tell what, was making his stomach rumble. On the bottom step he sat down and put on his shoes. He could hear his younger sister’s voice chattering in the kitchen.
    “Well, good morning, Dylan,” a voice sounded nearby.
    Dylan looked up. “Good morning, sir.” Quickly he tied the other shoe and stood up. “Is there anything I can do?”
    Scott Wood shook his head. “Not before breakfast. From the smell of things I’d say it was about ready. You hungry?”
    Dylan nodded.
    Just then Mrs. Wood stepped into the hall. “Breakfast is ready. Good morning, Dylan. You got up just in time, I see. Would you like orange juice, milk, or water?”

    Soon everyone was seated at the table. Dylan’s mouth watered at the sight of the skillet of scrambled eggs, the plate of bacon, and the pan of large cinnamon rolls from which the steam was still rising and the icing was melting. After the blessing had been asked, Scott began filling the plates.
    “I want that big one right there,” Fern told him, pointing to one of the largest rolls that sat in the middle of the pan.
    “Can you eat that much?” Scott asked, glancing at Dylan.
    “Her eyes are always bigger than her stomach,” he murmured.
    “I’ll tell you what,” Scott said, placing a slightly smaller cinnamon roll on the plate, “if you’re still hungry after you’ve eaten everything else, you can have more.” He scooped up some eggs. “Do you want a lot of eggs or a little bit?”
    Resting her elbows on the table, Fern shook her head. “I don’t want any. I just want the cinnamon roll.”
    Dylan frowned and cleared his throat, trying to get his sister to look at him. He wished she wouldn’t be so demanding and rude. He also knew what she would be like if all she ate was sugar for breakfast.
    Autumn’s quiet voice broke into the conversation. “Fern, I want you to eat a few eggs and a piece of bacon along with your cinnamon roll. You are going to need something substantial if you are going to go out and see the horses this morning.”
    But Fern’s lower lip came out. “I don’t like eggs, and I only want the cinnamon roll,” she said.
    Dylan saw the looks exchanged between Mr. and Mrs. Wood, though he couldn’t catch their meaning. So much for a nice start to the day. It seemed that no matter which way things went there would be trouble.
    Scott put a small helping of eggs and one piece of bacon on the plate and handed it to Fern. “It takes a lot of good food to make you able to help with the horses.” Then he quickly filled another plate and passed it down to his wife before turning to Dylan. “How hungry are you?”
    “Hungry.”
    Giving a chuckle, Scott heaped the plate and passed it over. “Think you can eat all that?”
    Eyeing the pile before him, Dylan picked up his fork. “I can sure try.”
    Several minutes passed as everyone focused on their breakfast. Then Fern broke the silence. “I want that other cinnamon roll now.”
    “You can have more after you finish what’s on your plate,” Scott told her calmly after a glance at her plate.
    “But I don’t like eggs,” whined the girl.
    “You do too,” Dylan whispered, glaring at his sister.
    She ignored him and repeated her statement, giving a sniff at the end for effect.
    To Dylan’s astonishment, neither Mr. Wood nor his wife seemed to even notice Fern’s complaint. Anxiously he watched his sister while continuing to eat. For a full minute Fern whimpered about not liking eggs, but when no one paid any attention to her, she folded her arms.
    “I want another cinnamon roll.”
    “You may have one as soon as you’ve finished the eggs and piece of bacon that are on your plate.” Mr. Wood took a bite of his crisp bacon. “Hmm. Autumn, is this from that smoked stuff we got last week?” he asked.
    His wife nodded. “I thought we should try it, and I think I like it better than what we have been getting.”
    “So do I. What do you think of it, Dylan?”
    With his mouth full, Dylan could only nod emphatically. He didn’t know what the other bacon had tasted like, but he knew what he was eating was better than any he had ever had.
    “Give me another cinnamon roll!”
    “Fern,” Mrs. Wood said, “you have been told you have to eat what’s on your plate first.”
    “I’m not going to!”
    “It will taste better warm.”
    “I won’t eat it!”
    “Then you may have it for lunch.”
    Nearly choking on his food, Dylan stared at the woman sitting calmly at the foot of the table. Was she crazy? Fern would never stand for something like that! Always before, Fern had been yielded to if she persisted long enough in what she wanted.
    The long moment of silence ended abruptly when Fern burst into loud crying.

Do you usually have to eat everything on your plate before seconds?

Do you want more of this story?

What kind of weather have you had lately?

HitH - My Song Shall be of Jesus - Part 4

Hello!
Wow! The elections are over and I'm still in shock by what happened. Not just the presidency, but we also got the US House and the Senate! And . . . If that weren't enough, Missouri made history! For the first time in the history of this state, we elected Republicans to every state office from Governor, to Treasurer, to Attorney General, and all the others. This has never happened before. And it was the title wave from conservative SW Missouri that overturned the liberal votes of Kansas City and St. Louis. Wow!
And, for those of you wondering, yes, we got to meet Ted Cruz and get a group picture with him. We also got to meet our new Governor elect and his wife and get a group picture with them. American Government Camp was great! I'm still really tired. On election day I was up at 4:30, at the polls by 5:20 and didn't leave the County Seat until 8:30. Then I went to the Republican HQ for the watch party and didn't leave there until after 1:00 and got to bed about 1:30. If I had stayed up 3 more hours I could have stayed up 24 hours. Ha! Just what I didn't want to do! :P

Now I'm trying to catch up on everything. I have messes to clean up, emails to reply to or send, a desk that is covered with all sorts of things, and I'd really like to just go back to bed. ;)

I hope you enjoy this next part of Hymns in the Hills.

My Song Shall be of Jesus

Part 4

    Ali jumped off the rock and brought Mattie back from her wanderings, offering her a small branch with a few green leaves to play with. “Ain’t any need fer ya ta help all the time. Weren’t nothin’ fer ya to do anyhow with the young’uns all sleepin’. Say, Belle, what’s yer home like, back in the city? I ain’t never been anywhere’s bigger’n the town. Is the city much bigger? Zeke said it is, but I kain’t see how he knows since he ain’t never been there.”
    “Oh, yes, the city is much bigger than the town. Why, there are hundreds of houses and streets. The main streets are busy with trolly cars and buggies. Some of the shops are so big that you could take all the children there and lose them in five minutes if you didn’t keep your eyes on them.” She laughed at the thought.
    “Ya ain’t joshin’ are ya?”
    “Not the least bit.” Then she began to describe the house she had lived in all her life; the green lawns around it, the flower gardens which had been her special care, and the shady trees. “We didn’t have as many trees as you have here though. And there weren’t as many hills either.”
    “Why did Aunt Lynn move away from here, I wonder,” Ali spoke quietly.
    “I don’t know for sure. I think she fell in love with Papa. But I don’t know where they met. I wish now I had asked her all about it. But you see I didn’t know I was going to be coming out here until just last week.”
    “Didn’t ya?”
    Belle shook her head. “No, Papa had been sick now and then, and the doctor said he needed a change. But he couldn’t leave his business right away, and they thought it best if I was somewhere else where they wouldn’t have to worry about me. Mama had written Aunt Lillian to see if I could come here, and I only found out when it was time to pack. It was all so sudden. You see, Papa got worse, and the doctor said he must leave even if his business wasn’t ready. So Uncle Archie said he’d take care of the business, I was packed off here, and Mama and Papa were to leave on the very next train.”
    “Do you miss ‘em?”
    Not trusting herself to speak, Belle only nodded.
    “I ain’t never been away from my family fer more’n a few hours,” confessed Ali. “An’ then it were jest at our cousins.”
    “There are more cousins?” Belle forgot her homesickness and stared.
    “Yep. Didn’t Aunt Lynn tell ya about Uncle Nate an’ Aunt Claire?”
    With a doubtful shake of the head, Belle replied slowly, “She talked about Uncle Nathan, but he wasn’t married.”
    Ali laughed merrily. “Maybe he weren’t married when she left, but he shore is now. Why they got most as many young’uns as we got. Only they ain’t got the older ones ta help. Sometimes Jess, Riss an’ me take turns goin’ over ta help Aunt Claire. I reckon I’ll ask Ma if’n we kain’t go over an’ see ‘em soon.”
    Dumbfounded by this news, Belle could only stare at Ali in silence. More cousins. And an aunt she knew nothing about. She wondered if her mama had known of Aunt Claire and had just forgotten to tell her. But then she hadn’t known about all the cousins either. She would certainly have a lot to write her parents about. Suddenly she frowned. “Ali, how do folks mail letters out here? Is there a postoffice?”
    “I ‘spect there’s one in town.”
    “Does anyone go to town very often?”
    Ali shrugged. “Sometimes Zeke an’ Ez go ‘cause they kin git work there, but it ain’t close enough fer the rest of us ta go much.”
    Belle could understand why.
    A shadow fell across the girls and they looked up. Zeke was standing there. “Ain’t ya comin’ ta supper?”
    “Ain’t no one said it were time,” Ali retorted, lifting Mattie and holding her out to her brother.
    “Humph,” Zeke grunted, swinging the little one to his broad shoulders. “Jess called ya twice.”
    Startled by this piece of news, the two girls scrambled to their feet and hurried down the sunny slope to the house with Zeke behind them.
    The rest of the family was already seated at the table when they entered, and Belle thought she caught a glare from Kade’s expressive eyes. “I’m so sorry we are late, Aunt Lillian, Uncle Benjamin,” she began. “Ali and I were talking and we didn’t hear a thing.”
    “I reckon once ain’t goin’ ta hurt, but pay more attention next time er ya might have ta eat when the food’s cold. If’n there’s any left.” Uncle Benjamin nodded to the empty places. “Ya still wantin’ ta say grace?” he asked Belle.
    “I will if you don’t want to, Uncle.”
    Uncle Benjamin motioned her to proceed and Belle did.
    Part way through the meal, Ali turned to her father. “Pa, Belle learned us a new song on the way ta church this mornin’.”
    “Did she?”
    “Yep. Learned us all. Then we sung it in church an’ the minister said we did fine.”
    “Well, I reckon we can listen to it after we eat an’ the dishes are cleaned up.”
    Ali took a few more bites before looking up again. “An’ Ma, kin Belle an’ me go over ta Aunt Claire’s this week? Belle said she ain’t known Uncle Nate were married.”
    “Aw, he’s always been married,” Kade protested. “I betcha she were jest makin’ it up.”
    “No, I wasn’t, Kade, really,” Belle insisted. “I don’t know if my mama knew Uncle Nathan had gotten married. If she did, she never mentioned it to me. I didn’t even know about all of you until I arrived.”
    Kade turned and eyed his cousin skeptically. “Honest?”
    Belle nodded. Then her eyes began to sparkle and a smile spread across her face. “I’m going to have such a lot to tell her and Papa in my letter.”

Have you ever missed the call to supper?

Did you get out and vote this week?

Next week I'll be posting some of "Dylan's Story." Will you be here?

HitH - My Song Shall be of Jesus - Part 3

And a lovely good morning FFFs!

My week has been busy! I've walked and walked and walked. Shouted and waved political signs on busy streets, stayed up later than normal, gotten up earlier than normal, knocked on strangers' houses, left literature about the Republican candidates, answered questions, and been very political, including meeting a few people I think you would like . . . And I'm not done yet. American Government Camp doesn't end until Wednesday! Yeah, I'll be really tired by then!

And, since this coming Tuesday is ELECTION DAY . . . Don't forget to go vote if you are old enough. If you are not old enough, make sure your parents and any older siblings go out and vote. I will once again be sitting all day long (for 13 hours) at a polling place on Tuesday. I'm hoping for a very busy day. Even if those kinds of days mean you hardly have time to eat, it's still much more fun than sitting around and wishing someone would come and vote. (I mean, only 1 or 2 voters an hour can get a little dull.)

I hope you enjoy this next part of Hymns in the Hills!

My Song Shall be of Jesus

Part 3

    “I do hope you will be able to make it each week. Why, Philip,” Mrs. Williamson added, turning to her husband and seizing his arm, “we could start a Sunday School.” She looked at the others. “We have wanted to start one, but there never seem to be enough children and young people who will come. Could you come and help us each week, do you think?”
    Belle looked eagerly from Zeke to Ez. She wanted to say they would come but wasn’t sure Uncle Benjamin would let them go or if Zeke and Ez would be willing to bring them. “Do you think we could?” she whispered, looking up at Ez.
    He shrugged.
    “We’ll have ta check with Pa,” Zeke finally said. “He ain’t home every Sunday an’ Ma’d get too tired with all the young’uns.”
    Mrs. Williamson opened her eyes wider. “Are there more of you than the seven right here?”
    “Reckon so,” Ali replied. “There’s Sade and Si, Tabby, Benny and Mattie.”
    “Couldn’t they come along too? We’d be glad to have all of you.”
    There was no immediate reply, and the silence began to grow uncomfortable until the minister said, “You don’t have to give any answer now. Chrissy is always ready to start something right away. But tell me, Zeke, just where do you live in the hills?”
    In a few short sentences, Zeke gave Mr. Williamson directions, adding, “It ain’t as easy as it seems. Now we’d best be goin’.” He looked around. “Where’s Kade an’ Rome?”
    Ez jerked his head in the direction of the sunny slope. There were the two younger boys, rolling down the hills, unmindful of their clean clothes.
    “Ain’t Ma goin’ ta give ‘em what fer,” Ali whispered to Belle as the girls, after saying good bye to the minister and his wife, walked over to the wagon.
    “Kade! Rome!” Zeke’s strong voice rang out on the quiet afternoon air. “If’n ya don’t aim ta walk back, ye’d best get ta the wagon.”

    They were halfway home before anyone broke the silence. “Belle,” Ali asked, “are all minister’s like that one?”
    Rubbing a thumb gently over the cover of her Bible, Belle shook her head. “No, they are all different. Like everyone is. Did you like him?”
    “Uh huh. Zeke, ya think he’ll come see us?”
    “Huh uh.”
    “But he asked fer directions.”
    Zeke shrugged.
    “I think he will.” Jess’s quiet voice interrupted anything Ali might have said.
    “Why ‘ud he want ta come ta our house fer?” demanded Kade.
    “Because ministers like to visit people.” Belle wasn’t sure why exactly, but she knew their minister back home visited folks.
    The wagon rumbled and creaked over a few holes before Ali said, “Reckon he’d be comin’ ta see if’n you an’ Rome ken behave at home like ya did in church. If’n ya can’t he–”
    “Ali–” Ez began.
    “Quit tryin’ ta pick a fight,” finished Zeke. “Kade an’ Rome did good taday.”
    Nothing else was said, but Belle could feel the pleasant mood had changed, leaving tension and ill will behind. Was there something she could say? No, but she could sing. Hoping that the others would join her, Belle began her song of the morning.

“My song shall be of Jesus,
His mercy crowns my days,
He fills my cup with blessings,
And tunes my heart to praise.”

    The late afternoon sun was filtering down through the leaves of the trees. Evening was coming, but for now all seemed hushed and still, as though nature had taken a repose in preparation for their evening concert. Up on a rock, in the shade of a great oak, sat Belle, silent. It was the first hour she had spent alone since her arrival two days ago. With a soft sigh, she leaned back against the tree and looked up. “I suppose I will get used to it,” she murmured to herself. “I wonder what Mama would say if she could see this place. It is lovely, the colors of the flowers, the different shapes of the tree leaves, and the hills and the sky. It’s all so quiet here when the children are somewhere else.” Her thoughts drifted to her absent parents. “I hope you can rest today, Mama,” she whispered. “But why couldn’t I have gone with you and Papa? I could have helped. Oh, Papa!” She sniffed and blinked rapidly, trying to keep back the tears. She wouldn’t cry. She had promised she would be brave.
    Softly she began to hum and after a few minutes her tears went back to their place.

“My song shall be of Jesus,
Whatever ill betide;
I’ll sing the grace that saves me,
And keeps me at His side.”

    Into the hush that followed her song, came the sound of shouting children. Turning her head, Belle saw her younger cousins racing about the yard after one another. Kade and Rome were waving sticks and soon Si and Benny had some too. The girls, seemingly oblivious to the sword fighting going on, raced here and there. Pulling her feet up, Belle clasped her hands around her knees and watched. There appeared to be children everywhere, and surely there were more than eight of them!
    For a time no one noticed Belle in her secluded place under the tree. She could watch the others in peace. But it didn’t last long. Ali soon caught a glimpse of her, and with Mattie slung on her hip, she tramped up the hillside.
    “Kin me’n Mattie join ya?”
    “Of course.” Belle scooted over to share the rock with her cousins. “What is everyone else doing?”
    Ali shrugged. “Don’t know. Pa’s gone an’ so are Ez an’ Zeke. I reckon Jess an’ Riss’ll be helpin’ Ma fix supper soon.”
    For a moment Belle was silent, watching the youngsters below them. “Should we help somewhere? I didn’t know what to do and it didn’t look like I was needed, so I just came out here. I’ve never been in a family this large before, but maybe I should have stayed to help . . .” her voice trailed off.

Do you think the minister will visit them?

Do you ever get overwhelmed by a crowd of younger children?

Are you looking forward to the next part of this story?

P.S. I wrote this post on Monday, so I couldn't exactly tell you who I had met because I wasn't sure just who I would actually get to meet, but Ted Cruz was going to be at a rally . . . But, if you want to know if I got to meet him, leave a comment and I'll tell you. :) After I return to "civilian life."

HitH - My Song Shall be of Jesus - Part 2

Good morning Faithful Friday Fiction Fans,

Do you have Indian summer weather, chilly autumn weather, early winter weather, or some of each? Ours has been on the warmer side. Not quite Indian summer, but some days have been pretty close. Today and tomorrow are supposed to be a high of 80º. And it's the end of October!!! Where are the frosts? We still have yet to have a frost. :P Maybe we'll get one before Thanksgiving. :P

I sure hope your week has gone well. I've been busy. (Aren't I always?) I have projects I'm trying to get done before next Wednesday when AGC (American Government Camp) starts. Then I'll have 8 days of late nights, early mornings, and busy days filled with door-to-door lit drops, sign waving (a personal favorite!), phone calls, interacting with campers, lots of politics and a Tuesday sitting at the polls all day long. So, you will get a post next Friday, but I'm going to be getting it ready ahead of time. :)

I'm afraid my writing has suffered this week. I just haven't been able to feel like writing. And, even when I've forced myself to write, I don't get as much done. Oh, well. Maybe I need a break.

I hope you enjoy this next part of Hymns in the Hills. I just love these characters and have quite a few more ideas for them, but I have to have time to write the story/book.

My Song Shall be of Jesus

Part 2

    Ez gave an answering nod, dropped over the side in one easy motion and then reached up to help Riss and Ali. Kade and Rome, disdaining a helping hand, jumped out and then stood still as though suddenly unsure and nervous, their eyes wide in wonder.
    The bell was ringing and a few folks hurried past the Russums, scarcely giving them a nod before quickly moving inside.
    “They must not know Uncle Benjamin’s family,” Belle thought, remembering the friendly greetings she and her parents always received around town. “If they don’t come to town much–”
    “Ya wantin’ ta go in?” Zeke’s question brought Belle’s mind back from its wanderings, and she nodded quickly.
    The bell was still sounding its melodic call when Zeke pulled open the door and Belle stepped through followed by her cousins. The room was bare, no carpeted floors or gas lights, but the windows were clean and the sun shone in brightly. Hesitating, Belle glanced around. Where were they to sit? Always before she had followed her father to their accustomed seat near the front, but he wasn’t here and there was no accustomed pew. Where did her uncle’s family sit when they did come to church? Stealing a glance at Ez, she could read nothing on his face. All the back rows were full and Belle, with a sudden shyness stealing over her, as heads began turning and dozens of strange eyes swept over her and her cousins, felt strangely out of place. She almost wished she hadn’t suggested they come, but she couldn’t bear the thought of not attending church when she was perfectly well and could go.
    Before her courage failed her completely, a line of the song she had been singing all morning came to her aid. “My song shall be of Jesus, When sitting at His feet.” She hadn’t come to church just because, she had come to sit at the feet of Jesus. With a soft smile, she lifted her head and met the gaze of the pastor up front. He was looking right at her with a kind smile and made a quiet motion of his hand to the empty rows near the front. Though her heart beat fast, Belle Standish, her Bible clutched in one hand while Ali clung to the other, marched up the aisle and slid into an empty pew.
    The bell stopped tolling, and a small boy began to pump the air for the organ while a pretty young lady played a few notes. Belle gave a soft gasp of pleasure and her smile grew wider. Stealing a glance at the faces of her cousins, she saw no recognition until the pastor began to sing.
“My song shall be of Jesus . . .”

    After church, Belle lingered with her cousins until most of the congregation had left the church. No one had come up and welcomed them, though a few nods of greeting were exchanged between Zeke and Ez and a few of the men.
    “Belle,” Ali whispered as they finally started down the aisle, “are folks allowed ta talk ta others after church?”
    “Yes. Why?”
    “Jest wonderin’ why no one talked ta us.”
    Belle had been wondering the same thing. “Perhaps they don’t know us and feel shy.”
    “Reckon they know Zeke and Ez,” Jess murmured behind them.
    To this Belle had no answer. It was strange that no one had welcomed them or even seemed glad they had come. They neared the door, and the pastor, who was waiting on the porch, turned to them with a smile. “Hello, I don’t remember seeing you here before. I’m Philip Williamson.” He held out his hand to Zeke.
    “Zeke Russum.”
    “I’m mighty glad you came out, Zeke. Do you live around here?”
    “Back in the hills a fair piece.”
    The pastor, hardly looking much older than the young man he was talking to, smiled again. “It must be beautiful out there this time of year.” His eyes wandered towards the rolling hills before them, for the church, situated on top of a rise, commanded a lovely view of hills, valley and sky. Turning back to Zeke he glanced at the others waiting around him. “These must be related to you. Siblings?”
    “Most.”
    At that Belle stepped forward and offered her hand. “I’m Belle Standish, their cousin.”
    “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Belle.” The minister’s eyes were warm and his smile contagious. “Do you live back in the hills too?”
    Belle realized that her dress, though plain and simple, was made in a more current style than those of Jess, Riss and Ali. “For a time. I only arrived on Friday.”
    “I see,” said the minister. “I’m glad you came. You helped with the singing immensely this morning. You all did.” His smile included the others.
    Ali, blunt and honest, said, “Only ‘cause Belle taught us the song on the way over. We ain’t never heard it ‘fore she sung it in the wagon.”
    “Then you have a fine teacher in your cousin, Miss–”
    “I’m Ali.”
    Mr. Williamson shook hands with her. “It’s a pleasure, Miss Ali.”
    One by one he greeted the others, shaking hands and treating each of them with as much respect and attention as Belle was used to in the city. As he stood talking to Zeke and Ez, the young woman who had played the organ came up on the porch with a winning smile. Turning to her, the minister said, “Chrissy, I’d like you to meet the Russums and their cousin, Belle Standish.” And then he proceeded to name each cousin with only a slight hesitation when he came to Kade and Rome.
    “Why, it took me all day to learn everyone’s name,” exclaimed Belle.
    The young woman laughed brightly. “My husband’s gift of learning names and faces often astonishes people. Do you all live here in town?”
    “No’m, we live back in the hills.” Zeke looked out in the direction they had come.

Do you talk to visitors at church?

Are you good at remembering names and matching faces?

What do you think will happen next?