Dr. Morgan - Part 11

Hello FFFs!
Oh the business of conferences and weddings. :) This weekend is a conference in Springfield. We're leaving tomorrow (Thursday) to set up. Then we have to leave earlier on Friday for the first day. That is why I'm getting this ready to post on Wednesday afternoon. Hope you don't mind too much. :)

I had a good birthday and it was fun to hear from three of you. My brother and his family came over for supper and dessert that night. As they were leaving, Doodle Bug kept saying "Ha Bir-day! Ha Bir-day!" It was really cute.

My best friends and I had a wonderful time at Silver Dollar City! It was so much fun to have just the three of us there. We didn't have to wait for anyone to ride rides, didn't have to meet up with anyone at certain times, could stop at whatever shops we wanted, spend whatever time wandering we wanted and could eat what and whenever we wanted. We have known each other for 24 years on the 23rd and have been best friends since shortly after we met. It also helps that we've lived just down the street from each other for over 20 years. :)

Writing. Well, I did manage to get a little written last night (Tuesday). Other than that, I haven't written for over a week. Too much going on to concentrate. Hopefully after the wedding is over next week, and the conference the following week, I can get back to it. Right now I have 7 stories or parts of stories started on NEO. I need to finish some. Hope you enjoy this next part of Dr. Morgan. I haven't written any of it for quite a while so if you have any questions or things you'd really like to know or think might be interesting, leave me a comment or drop me an e-mail. It just might be the spark I need to get the story really moving.

Part 11

    Back at the hospital, Amy was growing restless. She could now move about with crutches, and daily her anxiety to be out grew. She moved from room to room in silent impatience. Since her last talk with Dr. Morgan, she hadn’t mentioned any of her memories, but there were times when she would lie in bed or sit unmoving in her chair staring at nothing. Each such time would result in increased restlessness and Justin watched her with some anxiety.
    Standing in his office, Dr. Morgan looked out the window at the snow falling gently from a grey sky.
    “How long are you going to keep her here?”
    Dr. Morgan turned. His colleagues were grouped about his desk waiting. He shook his head. “I don’t know. If she had someone to help her, I’d release her today, but she can’t stay on her own, and since she hasn’t remembered anything, well . . .” he paused. Moving back to his desk he sank into his chair with a sigh.
    There was a silence in the office. The four doctors were somewhat baffled by this patient. Should she be released and allowed to try living on her own? Such a thought didn’t seem advisable, and everyone racked their brains for a solution to the problem.
    A knock sounded on the door.
    “Come in,” Dr. Morgan called.
    The door opened and Intern Philips stepped in. He glanced at Wright, Hollend and Douglas and then looked at Dr. Morgan.
    “Am I needed, Philips?”
    “I’m not sure, sir,” was the unexpected and somewhat hesitant reply. “It’s Amy.”
    “Is she ill?” The words were quick and Dr. Morgan was all attention.
    “No sir, but she saw her name on her chart and—” again he hesitated.
    “Come on, Philips, what happened? Is she remembering?”
    “She said her name wasn’t Jones, it was Smith.”
    Surprised glances were flashed between the doctors gathered and then Dr. Morgan asked slowly, “Did she say anything else?”
    Philips shook his head. “Not a word. And she said that as though she didn’t know how the wrong name got on the paper.”
    Justin’s mind was busy. Was anything coming back to this girl’s memory? Perhaps something could be found out about her if this new name was really the correct one. Would she remember other things? These and a hundred other thoughts all rushed through the doctor’s mind in a matter of seconds. Aloud he asked, “What is Amy doing now?”
    “Nurse Franklin is with her.”
    “Good. She’ll be all right for a little while then.” Nurse Franklin was a friendly but very dedicated old nurse. When the new hospital was about to open, she had asked if she might work there. This was granted gladly for she came highly recommended by Dr. Stern.
    “Thank you, Philips.”
    The young intern nodded and slipped from the room closing the door behind him.
    “Why don’t you see if Grace Franklin could take her home?” Dr. Hollend suggested.
    Justin shook his head. “No, she has two grandchildren living with her and doesn’t have time or room for another person, much less one in Amy’s condition.”
    Dr. Douglas spoke up, “I’d offer my home, but with three youngsters my wife is working too hard as it is. And our house is rather small.”
    A general chuckle went around the room for Dr. Douglas lived in crackerjack house that was bursting at the seams. There was scarcely any room for a friendly visit.
    “Well, it seems to me,” Dr. Wright leaned back in his chair, “that the only logical place for Amy to go would be where there is plenty of room, people who could help her, young ones who might wake memories and where her doctor goes quite often anyway.”
    “My parents’ house?”
    “Why not?”
   
    “Of course she can come here, Justin,” Mrs. Morgan exclaimed. “Why didn’t we think of it sooner. We have plenty of room and perhaps being with Danny and Jenny would awaken her forgotten memories.”
    The family was seated around the blazing open fire in the Morgan living room as they had been on that night over two months ago. The youngsters had been in bed for half an hour and now the older members were discussing Dr. Wright’s suggestion.
    Justin turned to his father. “Dad, what do you think?”
    Mr. Morgan nodded. “I agree with your mother. I think it would be a good idea. It is something I have thought of more than once but always wondered if perhaps her memory would come back before she was ready to leave the hospital.”
    “Can she come tomorrow, Just?” Sara questioned. “Which room should we give her, Mom? Should she be going up and down the stairs much?”
    Justin threw a pillow at her. “Hang on a second, Sara, you can plan where she’s staying later. But no, she shouldn’t be going up and down the stairs much. At least not yet. Give her a room downstairs. Adam,” he turned to his brother who had been quiet throughout the entire discussion, “What do you think of this?”
    “If we can help her, I don’t see why she shouldn’t come,” the reply was quiet and Adam’s face was sober. He was the most thoughtful and quiet of all the Morgan children. “Since God brought her to our door, it seems as though He wants us to help her.”
    A silence fell over the group sitting in the flickering glow of the firelight. Adam’s words had reminded them all that Amy’s coming had not been a mere accident. Why she had come and who she was, remained a mystery, but she was here and in need of a home.
    Mr. Morgan at last broke the silence. “Let her come as soon as you wish, Son.”
    “Thank you.” The words was simple but the tone expressed great relief.
    A log broke in two sending a shower of sparks up the chimney and the old clock on the mantle began striking the hour of ten in deep, slow tones.

Thoughts? Comments?

Questions?

Let me know!

Dr. Morgan - Part 10

Good Morning FFF,
I'm actually writing this on Thursday afternoon, because when this posts tomorrow, I'll be on my way with my two best friends to spend the day at Silver Dollar City! We are going to celebrate my birthday, have one last "adventure" before BF2 (Best Friend 2 - They're twins) gets married and moves to Canada and to celebrate the 24 years we've been friends. I'm sure we'll be having a wonderful time, but you can comment anyway. :)

In fact, since my birthday is on Monday, I'd really like a gift from all you readers. Would you be so kind as to "de-lurk" just this once? My sister had to tell me what "de-lurking" was. :) If you read this blog and have never or almost never left a comment, please leave a comment and tell me your name and what state you live in or what country if I have any international readers. :) I would really love it if you would do that for me. And those of you who comment now and then or regularly, you can comment too. :)

Now I don't have any more time. Enjoy!

Part 10

    “Dr. Morgan, Amy is awake.”
    Justin quickly put the cap on his pen and stood up. “Thanks.”
    Mounting the steps to the second floor, Dr. Morgan again wondered if his patient had remembered anything else that might help solve who she was and who the two young children were.
    Softly he entered Room 212 to find Amy staring out the window at the mountains. She didn’t move or turn her head as he came over and even his quiet “good morning” brought no response. His brows drew together in a puzzled frown and he placed fingers on her wrist all the while watching her face. Still no movement came.
    “Amy,” Dr. Morgan placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.
    With a sudden start, Amy’s head jerked around and she lifted startled eyes to the doctor, breathing rapidly. “Oh,” she gasped, pressing a hand over her racing heart. “You startled me!”
    “I’m sorry. That wasn’t my intention,” Justin’s words were soothing and apologetic but his face held a slight look of concern. “I spoke to you, but you didn’t answer. What were you thinking about?” Pulling up a chair, Dr. Morgan sat down.
    Amy drew a deep breath and relaxed. “I’m not sure. I—” She paused and bit her lip.
    Dr. Morgan waited silently. Was she remembering? He could only wait.
    At last she began again in a half dreamy way. “I got them out of something . . . something dark, or . . . or bad or I don’t know. And then we had to hurry. I don’t know why. But we had to keep moving, Danny, Jenny and I.” Her words came quicker. “It got dark and I couldn’t start a fire. I was scared.” Unconsciously she had gripped the edge of her blanket and now held it clenched in her hands. She stared at the opposite wall as though seeing on it bits of the scenes she was trying to recall.
    She was clearly agitated and confused, yet Dr. Morgan hesitated about trying to stop her talking, for though she may stop speaking about it, he knew she would still be thinking. So he continued silent yet watchful; ready to quiet his patient should he need to but hoping and praying she would be all right.
    “I don’t know how long we walked but it felt like years. I was afraid. What was I afraid of?” She turned to look at her silent listener before continuing, giving him no time to answer. “They cried. Poor things. I knew we were going to die. I couldn’t go on. Everything is blurred and I don’t know if it was a dream or reality. Then, just when I couldn’t go on anymore, I saw a light. I know I must have walked towards it, but I don’t remember it. I heard a dog bark and then I was here. And,” she added in a strangely calm voice, “I don’t know another single thing about me. It’s strange isn’t it, to live a life and then start all over again? Doctor, tell me honestly,” she gripped his hand tightly, “will I ever remember again?” Her dark eyes seemed to be searching the young doctor’s face for the truth.
    Justin had no choice. “I don’t know,” he answered quietly. “You may, or you may not. For now, don’t try. Focus on gaining your strength and getting well.”
    Her hand dropped from his and she lay still for several long minutes. “Doctor, I want to leave this place.”
    “This room?”
    Amy’s head nodded. “When can I go?”
    “I expect you’ll be out of here before Christmas,” was the easy answer, spoken in light tones though inwardly Justin was faced with a new problem. Where would this girl go when she was released from the hospital? She couldn’t be left on her own, could she?
    Almost as though reading his thoughts, Amy asked, “Where will I go when I leave? I don’t know if I have a home.”
    “Let’s cross that bridge when we come to it, shall we? We’ll pray about it and God will show the way.”
    Amy looked up at him. “Do you pray?”
    “Yes, I do.”
    Turning her face away without a word, Amy closed her eyes. She was tired.

    “You did right about not pushing her, Morgan,” Dr. Stern nodded his head. “Things like that can’t be forced. I know it’s difficult to wait and wonder about her and the little ones, but trying to force a mind to remember which doesn’t want to tends only to makes it worse.”
    The two doctors were sitting in Dr. Morgan’s office late that afternoon. Dr. Stern, coming home from a conference in a nearby town, had decided to stop by for a visit and Justin was relieved to see him.
    “It’s not that I thought there was something else to do,” he had said. “It’s just so baffling.”
    Smiling, the consulting physician had replied, “The human mind has baffled many older men than you for centuries and I suppose, always will.
    “By the way, you are looking brighter and more awake than when I last saw you.”
    “I was kicked out of the hospital for the night and sent home.”
    Dr. Stern chuckled. “Not a bad idea. I’ll remember that and try it on some of my colleagues. But I must be on my way. And as always, don’t hesitate to call if you want a second opinion.”
    “Thank you.”
    The two men shook hands and Dr. Stern departed, leaving Dr. Morgan sitting at his desk.

    The days passed by. The first of winter’s snows blanketed the mountains with a glistening covering of white; the air was cold, the wind biting. People tramped about in snowshoes, laughing and waiting for the snowplows to free the center of their small town. Farther up the mountain, in the Morgan cabin, Mr. Morgan and Adam set about shoveling snow while Sara, with a well bundled up Danny beside her, packed snow into a small snowman.

Comments? Questions?

Don't forget to leave a comment for my birthday

and de-lurk if you haven't already.

Dr. Morgan - Part 9

Good Morning Friday Fiction Fans,
Well, I think it's supposed to be spring, but we've had a flashback of winter the last day or two. There was even a chance of snow yesterday morning. But I didn't see any. ;) At least the sun is out this morning and it's supposed to be in the mid 50s. Tomorrow is supposed to be even warmer. Yay! I'm ready for spring. Except . . . I have to start mowing the yard. :P

Well, so far I've managed to write every evening this week. And TCR is moving along. Some times I want to just write TCR and get it finished, but other times I'm tired of it and want to write something else. It's a good thing I have more than one story going on at once. :)

What happened since I posted on Friday last week? Let's see.
As I mentioned last Friday, we were at the first homeschool conference of the year. It was fun and stayed busy. Several of my books sold, which was nice. I did a lot of wandering around and talking with other vendors on Friday and Saturday.
Sunday we headed to my grandparents' house and hung out and ate lunch. Grandpa and I got in a set of ping-pong. Now we're even this year. I've won 6 games and so has he. :) After lunch we headed home. It's always nice to get home again.
On Monday I did a lot of catching up. We also went to JoAnns and I got yarn for a new baby afghan I'm going to knit and S got stacks of very pretty fabric for orders.
Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday were all rather the same. I stayed home and got things done. :) I even worked on Travels of Priscilla and there are now two new posts up. So go check them out.

I wasn't sure what I was going to post today since I haven't written any more short stories and, though I've wanted to, I haven't written any poems either. That's when I realized that I hadn't posted a "Dr. Morgan" for quite some time. So I thought perhaps you wouldn't mind another part. :) I'd really like to know what people think of this story. My mom really likes it and wants it finished, but what about the rest of you?

Part 9

    The hot, home-cooked meal was a delight to Justin who hadn’t left the hospital long enough to eat anything except what was brought to him and that was usually cold or at least cool by the time he got around to eating it. The talk around the supper table, kept up by Sara and Adam, was about the two temporary additions to the family or of Heather, Timothy and their children. All mention of the hospital with its unknown patient was ignored, as was the subject of Justin’s return. It wasn’t until the meal was over and dishes were washed, when all the members of the family were relaxing around the fireplace that the subject was brought up.
    Justin began it. “Dad, I don’t know if I should stay the night.” He wore an anxious expression.
    “I think you should,” replied his father quietly from where he sat with Danny looking at a book on his lap.
    And Mrs. Morgan added, “It is only for a few hours, Son. You yourself said that Amy was doing better. You also said the staff at the hospital was qualified. Don’t you think they can function without you?”
    “When you put it that way, Mom, if I insisted on returning I’d sound like a . . . a . . .” he fumbled for the right word.
    “A politician,” Sara finished for him.
    Blinking in surprise, Justin glanced over at his brother. Did Adam know where she got that comparison?
    Sara saw the looks exchanged and added, as she removed a piece of paper from Jenny’s mouth, “Don’t most politicians think that they know everything and act like nothing can get done without them?”
    Her brothers broke into a laugh at that and even her parents chuckled. She certainly knew how to put things. When Justin could talk again, he assured her that now there was no way he was going back to the hospital before nine o’clock the next morning unless, he added, they called him.
    “Good,” Sara said, and stood up. “Won’t you play with me now?”
    With a yawn, Justin slowly arose from the couch. “If I can keep my eyes open enough to see the notes, I will.”
    Together they settled themselves as they use to do on the bench before the baby grand piano. After a quick scale or two, Justin declared he was ready and a lively waltz filled the room. Song followed song for some time; some lively and gay, some militant and grand, and some sweet and soothing. At last they stopped with a grand flourish.
    “Would one of you play while we all sing the evening hymns?” Mrs. Morgan asked into the hush which followed the final march.
    Sara slid off the bench quickly, saying quietly, “You play, Just.”
    Justin had no need of sheet music for he had played those hymns so often in the years gone by that they were a part of him. Striking a few chords while the family gathered about, he then let his rich tenor lead them all in song while his fingers roved about the ivory keys drawing forth the sweet tunes.

    “Day is dying in the west;
    Heaven is touching earth with rest:
    Wait and worship while the night
    Sets her evening lamps alight
    Through all the sky.”

    One hymn followed another with scarcely a pause between, for all knew them and they were always sung in the same order.

    “Abide with me: fast falls the even-tide;
    The darkness deepens; Lord, with me abide:
    When other helpers fail, and comforts flee,
    Help of the helpless, O abide with me!”

    Then the closing verse of the final hymn rang forth.

    “Be near to bless me when I wake,
    Ere thru the world my way I take;
    Abide with me till in Thy love
    I lose myself in heav’n above.”

    The hush which followed was broken by Mr. Morgan. “Let’s have our evening prayer before certain some ones head to bed.”

    Justin, feeling more tired than he thought he should be, soon followed Danny and Jenny to bed and before the clock struck nine, was so sound asleep that the noise Adam made coming to bed didn’t disturb his dreams.

    The air was chilly and clouds hung closely about the mountain tops. All around seemed hushed and shrouded in a damp, misty cloak which muted every sound. Pulling his coat tighter about himself, Justin drew in a lung full of the fresh, invigorating morning air. He felt rested, refreshed, ready for another day; the night away from the hospital had done him more good than he had thought possible. Now he was eager to get back.
    As he climbed into his truck and started the engine, his thoughts were on his patient. How had Amy slept? Had she been able to remember any more? Who was she anyway?
    Carefully driving down the rather steep mountain road, Justin forced his attention to his driving for, with the low clouds, seeing was difficult at any distance.

    “You look like a new man, Morgan,” Dr. Wright greeted Dr. Morgan with a hearty handshake. “Looks like my prescription worked.”
    Dr. Morgan smiled. “It sure did. I hadn’t realized I was so worn out. How are things?”
    “Slow. Haven’t had a single new patient since you left.”
    “And Amy?”
    Dr. Wright nodded towards the stairway where Philips was descending. “Ask him.”
    To his inquiry, intern Philips said that he had left Amy sleeping. She had slept most of the time since he had been gone. Yes, she had eaten a little; not much, but there was some improvement. No, she really hadn’t said much at all.
    “And how are Danny and Jenny doing, sir?” Philips wondered when he had finished his report on Amy.
    “They both appear to be doing just fine. They are both filling out and my sister said Jenny was starting to crawl. I don’t think we’ll have to worry about them. But I’d feel better if I knew who they were.”

Any questions, comments,

thoughts or ideas?

P.S. If you haven't entered a brand for Triple Creek Ranch, I'm still accepting them. :)

Changed Plans

Good Morning FFFs,
I hope you all had a good week. I'm here in a hotel room in KC. The first of the homeschool conventions starts this morning. We set up last evening and it certainly was great to have two of my blog readers there to help! Thanks Joseph and Christian!
 My week was kind of crazy.
Monday I was trying to get all the last minute things done before I left town.
Tuesday I got up at 3:45 because I was working the polls as an election judge and someone was picking me up at 5:00. I didn't get home until 8:00 pm. It wasn't as slow as I thought it would be. We ended up having 360 people come in to vote. We were told later that that was about 6 polling places worth. :)
Wednesday morning I had to pack because Mom, S and I were heading up to KC at 10:00. Did some shopping before we reached Grandma & Grandpa's.

This story was written with the same instructions I gave my class of writing students. They are all boys so the pictures that I drew for them to write about had to be something they would enjoy. I hope you all enjoy it. I know it's short, but I've been really busy with Triple Creek Ranch and "Project 12" and haven't had much chance to write anything else.

Changed Plans

    Why would anyone plan a wedding for such a perfect day, the two boys wondered sadly. Jason Harris and Silas Coffman had made their plans for this Saturday several days before. Since it was such perfect weather for baseball, and the summer games would be starting soon, the two friends had agreed to spend Saturday at the park practicing. Jason had hurried through his chores in record time, grabbed his bat and ball, hollered a quick good-bye to his mom and raced to the park. He was afraid he was late. Actually, he was a little early and did a few warm up laps around the field. Then he waited. Tossing the ball up and then catching it again, Jason kept glancing around in hopes that Silas would appear. At last he spied him, but something was wrong!
    “Hey, Si, what’s with the suit and tie?” Jason called, snatching up his bat and hurrying over to meet his friend.
    “I can’t play,” grumbled Silas, shoving a hand into his pocket.
    “Why not?”
    “Got a wedding to go to.”
    “Ah, man!” exclaimed Jason in disgust, “who would want to get married today when it is the perfect weather to play baseball?”
    Silas was equally glum and answered, “Yeah, I know. It’s some relative. I didn’t even know about it until I was getting ready to come out. Then Mom made me put this thing on,” and he pulled at his tie as though it were choking him. “I tried calling your house, but your mom said you had already gone out.”
    “Couldn’t you just not go?” Jason queried.
    Silas shook his head. “I already tried, but both Mom and Dad said I have to go.” He gave a long sigh and both boys fell silent, each gazing sadly at the other. A car horn sounded and Silas glanced around. “I have to go. Dad let me walk out here to tell you why I couldn’t play, but I guess they’re all ready to go now. Sorry I can’t stay.”
    “Me too. Bye.” Jason watched his friend hurry to the car and climb in. His day was ruined.

    Feeling lonely and sad, Jason slowly pushed the tire swing back and forth. After he had watched the Coffman car disappear down the street, Jason had looked about the park in hopes that someone else he knew would be there to play ball with him. No one had been. Forlornly, he had trudged across the grass to a large tire swing. Many times he had enjoyed swinging on that swing or climbing the rope and disappearing into the tree, but today was different. Today he had been going to play baseball and the plan hadn’t worked. Dropping his bat, he had listlessly climbed onto the swing.
    “Bother,” he muttered, “weddings shouldn’t be planned for such perfect weather. Everyone planning a wedding should know that. I don’t know anyone who is getting married, do I?” He thought hard. “Nope.” He couldn’t think of anyone. If he had he would have been sure to tell them not to plan it on a great day for baseball.
    For several minutes he just sat still and let the breeze shake the tree branch which in turn bounced the tire swing up and down. This was not how he had planned on spending his day.
    “If I go home, Mom will find more chores for me to do,” he said to himself, walking the swing over to the tree and then pushing off with his legs. The swing swung out and turned, coming back to the tree trunk where Jason pushed off again, harder this time.
    “I didn’t ask Silas how long the wedding was going to be. Maybe he’ll be back after lunch and we can practice this afternoon!” Then he remembered the few weddings he had been to. They had lasted for hours and hours. Often they didn’t get home until supper time. “I guess it’s no use waiting for him. Maybe I should just go home.” His feet dragged slowly in the dust.

    With a broad smile on his face, Jason hit the ball and listened to a delighted bark. He had been about to take his bat and go home, when his baseball rolled right to his feet. Blinking in surprise, Jason had glanced around to see a medium size dog, with tail wagging, waiting eagerly.
    “Well, hello fellow,” Jason greeted the dog. “Where did you come from?”
    The dog, evidently excited to be noticed, bounded over and jumped up on Jason, licking his face and whining. Then, as Jason pushed him down and stood up, the dog picked up the baseball and wagged his tail.
    “You want to play?” Jason asked.
    Excitedly dropping the ball once more, the dog barked.
    “Okay, let’s go!” Snatching up his bat and ball, Jason headed over to the wide, empty field at the edge of the park. Although the dog couldn’t pitch to him, Jason figured he could toss the ball and then hit it. Maybe the dog, who had brought him the ball to begin with, would bring it back. It was worth a try. Whack! Across the field the ball flew with the dog following in a mad dash. Jason grinned. This was going to be fun! Back the dog came with the ball in his mouth.
    “I ought to name you Fetch,” Jason noted as he ruffled up the dog’s ears and picked up the ball. Giving a few excited barks, Fetch backed up, tail wagging and eyes on the ball. To him, this was a delightful game as well. Whack!
    When a dinner bell rang out faintly across the air, Jason started in surprise. Could it really be lunch time already? “I didn’t know we’d been playing for so long, Fetch. Come on home with me, Boy,” and Jason shouldered his bat and patted his leg. To his delight, the dog trotted along beside him, carrying the baseball.

Did you like it?

I got all 5 dress-ups and all 6 sentence openers in each section.

P.S. The pictures are actually taken with my computer so they aren't very clear and they are mirrored from how I drew them. Hope you like them anyway. :)

An Addition?

Good Morning FFFs!
It's raining here right now, but it's not freezing. Yesterday it really felt like spring. It sounds like spring now with the rain pattering on the roof and not hearing the heat running. Spring! I don't know about you all, but I'm ready for spring weather, spring flowers, spring sunshine.

I've been keeping busy this week. Worked on projects and taught my last writing class until fall. I still have to grade their papers they turned in and get the last assignments back from them, but that's not much. I have been writing. After finishing up one story, I got back to work on TCR. One of these days I'll get it finished. :)

On Sunday we had snow and since all the other families at church except one decided not to drive to church, we ate lunch and hung out at Brother's house. Got to see and hold Baby. I even went outside with the kiddos and threw snowballs with them. I didn't stay out very long because I wasn't dressed for the really cold wind. :)
Monday came and I had quite a bit of catch-up to do and I had to draw three pictures for writing class. I know, drawing pictures for writing class seems a little strange, but one of the classes had to write a story about the pictures.
Tuesday was writing class day and we had people over nearly all afternoon.
Wednesday I spent the day in front of my sewing machine. I was working on a project that had to be done as soon as possible. We also were watching Goofball, Funny Boy and Doodle Bug.
Yesterday felt like Friday. I kept thinking it was Friday and discovered that one of the ladies at JoAnns thought it was Friday and a radio announcer kept thinking it was Friday. Did any of you think it was Friday?

Biggest NEWS: My book "The Lower Lights and Other Stories" is available for FREE download from Amazon! It's only available today and tomorrow so if you want to download it for free to your kindle, get it soon.

This story was one of the assignments I had given my older girls in writing class. They needed to work on conversation, and since it is easier if you  have a topic already picked for you, I chose one. Then I decided to write the same thing. I know it's short, but enjoy.

An Addition?

    It was family time in the Brown house. The children, Carlin and Owen, never knew what was going to happen during family time. Sometimes they played games, sometimes Mom or Dad would read and sometimes they would just talk. As they hurried into the living room, they noticed Mom was looking in a folder.
    “Hi, Mom,” Carlin grinned, “what are we going to do tonight?”
    Just then Mr. Brown entered the room. “I see everyone is here. Let’s all find seats.” As he spoke he sat down in his favorite chair while the children, Carlin on the couch and Owen in a chair, waited expectantly. “I see you have the folder, Mom,” Mr. Brown smiled as he reached out for it.
    Mom nodded, her eyes twinkling as she handed it to Dad.
    “Children,” Mr. Brown began, “for some time now your mother and I have been discussing the possibilities of adoption. We’ve mentioned it to you several times, but nothing has ever seemed to happen.”
    “Dad,” Carlin leaned forward, “are we going to adopt?”
    Dad grinned. “We hope to.”
    “Oh goody! A boy? A girl? Can we get more than one? Will they be from the U. S. or from another country and how old will they be?”
    “Whoa, Carlin!” Dad laughed. “One thing at a time. We did find out last week that there is a little girl named Melissa who needs a home right now.”
    “A girl!” squealed Carlin, and bounced on the couch.
    “Oh be quiet, Car,” growled Owen, rolling his eyes. “We certainly don’t need another girl.”
    “Are you saying you don’t think we should adopt her, Owen?” Mom asked softly.
    Owen shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I just never thought much about adopting when you mentioned it before. Now . . .” His voice trailed off and, kicking off his shoes, he wiggled around in the chair until his legs were over one of the arms. It was a favorite way for the nine-year-old to sit and think.
    There was a moment of silence. Then Carlin, the eager, vivacious, seven-year-old spoke up. “Tell us more about her, Dad.”
    “Well, here’s a picture.” He pulled out a snap shot of a dark, curly-haired baby who looked to be about ten-months-old.
    “Oh, Mommy, she looks like she’s going to cry! I wish we could get her tonight! But isn’t she cute?”
    Mrs. Brown chuckled. “She sure is, honey.” Then to Mr. Brown she added, “I think Carlin’s sold.”
    “Oh, I am! I’ll share my room and my dolls and things with her. And I’ll help feed and dress her and I’ll play with her, and—” she paused to catch her breath. “When is she coming?”
    There was a moment of hesitation. Mr. Brown was looking at his son who had remained unmoved during Carlin’s excited exhibition. “Owen,” he said at last, “you haven’t said what you think of it all.”
    Owen shrugged, but didn’t say a word.
    “That doesn’t tell me anything,” Mr. Brown observed quietly.
    “Here, Owen,” Carlin bounced up from the couch with the picture in her hand, “look at how cute Mel is.”
    “You already have a nickname for her?” asked Mrs. Brown.
    “Yep.” She shoved the picture before her brother’s face.
    Pushing her hand away, Owen grumbled, “I can’t see anything when you stick it in my face like that. That’s better.”
    “Well?” Carlin persisted as her brother just looked in silence. “Isn’t she just the cutest thing? And don’t you just want to hold her so she won’t cry?”
    “No!”
    “That’s not very nice,” Carlin snapped.
    “You’re the one who asked.”
    “All right, you two, simmer down.” Mr. Brown nodded back to the couch and Carlin returned to her seat. “Okay, Owen, give us your reasons for not wanting to adopt Melissa.”
    “I don’t know if I really have any, Dad. I guess it just came as a surprise and I . . . I guess I’m just not sure. That’s all.”
    “I can understand that. This was rather a surprise. It was to your mom and me too. But Owen, God tells us in His Word to take care of the orphans and that He sets the solitary in families. Have you thought that perhaps we are the family for this little girl?”
    Owen shook his head. “I never thought of that.” With a wink he added, “But she’s a girl.”
    “Maybe we can get a boy soon so you can share your room too,” Carlin giggled.
    Everyone laughed.
    Mr. Brown looked around the room. “Are we all in agreement? Should we adopt Melissa and make her a part of our family?”
    A chorus of “Yes!” was the answer to that question and Mr. and Mrs. Brown exchanged smiles. “Then let’s all spend some time praying about it and for our new family member.”


    Only two weeks later, little Melissa came to join the Brown family. To everyone’s surprise, Mel or Melis, as everyone was soon calling her, attached herself to Owen right from the start. If she was tired or grumpy, Owen was the person she wanted. To him she clung when something frightened her, and the first baby kisses she gave were to Owen. Carlin didn’t mind too much, for Mel liked her to play with her and seemed to enjoy it when Carlin sang her to sleep each night.
    After a few weeks, no one in the Brown family could imagine life without little Melissa. And together they eagerly watched the mail for news of a little boy that needed a home.

What did you think of it?

Would you have been for or against adopting?

Triple Creek Ranch - Part 33

Good Morning Friday Fiction Fans!
It's the third day of spring and we have sleet and snow on the ground. Not much, but enough to know it doesn't feel like spring outside. It snowed and sleeted quite a bit yesterday afternoon. We were just glad not much of it stuck. How about you? Did you get some late winter weather?

After writing for 10 evenings in a row, I got rather stuck. On everything. One evening I looked at each file on NEO and discovered a problem. I couldn't write on any of the seven stories I had started on it. One story I need to do some research since I've never lived on a ranch or watched a fall round-up. Story 2: I'll probably end up deleting this one since I've decided to change the situation. Story 3: I had a great starting description, but had no idea what what going to happen or why the person was doing what he was doing. Talked it over at the supper table and problem solved. Story 4: About half way through this story, but got stuck because I wasn't sure how to resolve the problem. A little more talking with the right people should fix it. Story 5: This is a Christmas story that I started late in December and just didn't get finished. It might stay on there until this December. :) Story 6: A story for "Project 12" that got stuck because I had other ideas thrown at me, but I realized they won't work, so it's back to the original story and it's now moving along. Story 7: Well, this one has been on for quite some time. I'm kind of stuck because I'm not sure where the story is going. I mean, I can make it just go, but there has to be some sort of plot line and I haven't come up with one yet.
     So there you have my writing update.
As for what I've been doing, not much. The four kiddos are coming over this morning to stay until nap time. I've been checking papers from my writing students, drawing and other little things. Not much going on.

I decided to give you a Triple Creek Ranch today and thought you might like to know what is happening with the story. I've decided that if I were to continue to write this like I had first thought, the book would probably be as large as Home Fires. So, I thought I'd cut it and make two books. But the question arose, how do I cut this book and make each one a "stand alone" book? Each one needs a plot line to string the story on. I wasn't sure I could do it, but after thinking and trying out an idea or two, I've come up with a way. :) That means that I'm working very hard to try to get this first book written and to test readers soon. BUT . . . I won't publish it until I get the second book nearly finished. I don't want to make you readers have to wait a year or two because I got distracted with some other book. :) As far as posting TCR, I'll keep posting it every once in a while. I'd hate to post all the first book but the last two parts. :) If you are wanting to know how long the first TCR is going to be, lets just say that right now is is more than 1/2 of The Unexpected Request and with the unwritten parts still to be done, I'm guessing it might be just a little shorter than that book, but I can't say for sure since I haven't written them. :)

But now, here is Triple Creek Ranch Part 33. Enjoy!

Part 33

    “I suppose you’ll just have to work harder on sewing your new dresses. Jenelle’s dresses don’t seem to have suffered from the care of the chickens.” Norman glanced critically at his wife’s dark blue dress. “Perhaps if you asked politely, Mrs. O’Connor or Jenelle would help you with the sewing. But, the chickens are now your responsibility and,” he added firmly in low tones, “I don’t want to hear of Jenelle having to take care of them because you forgot. Is that understood?”
    His sister’s only answer was a glare. She was learning that an argument with her brother didn’t usually get her what she wanted.

    The next few days were trying ones. More than once Mrs. Mavrich thanked God for her new help and sighed over the problem of her young sister. Orlena, not used to working, not even on such simple things as making her bed and hanging up her clothes, seemed determined to make life as miserable as she could for herself and those around her. She hated the chickens and, on her second day of gathering the eggs, when a hen pecked her hand drawing blood, she shrieked and flung the entire basket of eggs she had already gathered, out the door of the hen house. Of course every egg was smashed and it took some time before the chickens were calm enough to return to eating. Jenelle would have gathered the rest of the eggs that morning had not a grim faced Mrs. O’Connor marched a furious Orlena back outside to finish the job.
    “If she had been a brother instead of a sister—” Norman growled when he learned of it.
    “I know,” Jenelle tried to smile. “You would have taken a trip to the woodshed a long time ago.”
    Not only did Orlena object to the chickens but also to every other chore she was given. She did more complaining, pouting and criticizing then sewing and, had not Jenelle had wonderful patience, all progress on the new clothes would have halted.
    Previously, Jenelle had regularly slipped into Orlena’s room to straighten it up and make her bed; however, after a talk with Mrs. O’Connor, Jenelle carefully avoided Orlena’s room. She knew that if she were to enter it, she wouldn’t be able to leave without tidying up. Only Mrs. O’Connor and Orlena knew what state that room was in, until one morning nearly two weeks after the housekeeper’s arrival.
    Jenelle was in the dining room setting a pitcher of milk on the table when Orlena flung herself into the room.
    “Jenelle Mavrich!” she shouted, “You lazy, irresponsible, good for nothing, sister-in-law! How dare you treat me this way!”
    Opening her eyes in astonishment at the sudden outburst, Jenelle turned to the irate child. Her first thought was, “I hope Norman is still out in the barn,” then aloud she questioned, “What are you talking about, Orlena?”
    “Don’t try to sound so innocent,” Orlena fumed. “You know very well what is wrong. Just look at this dress!”
    Jenelle blinked and gazed with puzzled eyes at the lovely black dress. She didn’t see anything wrong with it except for some wrinkles, except for it being completely out of place on the ranch. With a shake of her head, Jenelle said patiently, “I still don’t know what is wrong. What is it about the dress that you want me to notice?”
    Her quiet voice irritated Orlena still further. “The wrinkles, you dumb person! You—”
    “Orlena Mavrich, what is it you are calling your sweet sister?” Mrs. O’Connor had entered the room and now stood with her hands on her hips and a frown on her face.
    Whirling on this new person, Orlena gave her a scathing look before retorting with fury, “You are just as dumb as my ‘sweet sister’ as you call her. You are both dumb, selfish, ignorant beasts! It’s your fault that I haven’t a decent thing to wear.”
    “What is wrong with the one you are wearing now,” ventured Jenelle.
    “Wrong with it!” Orlena’s voice rose with a shriek. “Wrong with it? It’s wrinkled! I already told you!”
    “If you would pick up your clothes and hang them up instead of leaving them lying around in heaps, they would not be wrinkled.” This calm fact from Mrs. O’Connor was spoken in a normal tone of voice.
    “I leave them? That is not my job. I am a guest and I consider myself insulted!”
    What was she to say to such a child, Jenelle wondered as Orlena’s voice continued. How do I stop her before Norman comes in? She sent up a swift, silent prayer for help and wisdom and then said softly, “Orlena, on this ranch, everyone picks up after themselves.”
    “Well, I don’t! You are just a mean, selfish, horrid, ill-bred—”
    “Orlena Mavrich! That is enough!”
    Instant silence flooded the room. Jenelle quaked inwardly, for she had never heard her husband speak in such a stern, furiously cold voice. The silence went on. No one dared speak. Stealing a quick glance at her husband, she saw his eyes locked with Orlena’s and noticed his clenched jaw. Oh, was there nothing she could do? Suddenly she felt as though she couldn’t breathe and gripping the table she sank onto a chair gasping for air.
    “Darling!” Norman was beside her in an instant. “I’ll carry you to your bed,” he offered, preparing to lift her.
    But Jenelle shook her head and pushed his arm away. “I’m all right, really. I just . . . Oh Norman, what can I do?” And the mistress of Triple Creek Ranch buried her face in her hands and burst into tears.
    For several long minutes Orlena just stood and stared. Never had she seen a grown person cry like that. And to think that Jenelle, of all people— She didn’t know what to think. Slowly, without a word, she turned around, moved past Mrs. O’Connor and made her way back to her own room. Was she the cause of Jenelle’s misery?

What did you think?

Any questions or comments?

A Slip on the Ice - Part 5

Good Morning FFFs,
The title of the last part of this story just doesn't seem to fit the weather right now. :) Here is it lovely outside, the flowers are blooming and the birds are singing. It was in the 70s yesterday and supposed to be in the 80s today. Spring has come!

It was a more relaxing week than it has been for a while. I have been able to write every evening this week. And I know many of you will be delighted to hear I've been working on TCR. However, there have been serious thinking about new and interesting ideas for this story in general and certain developments with this story that could hinder or enhance it. We'll see. But, more about that later.

The exciting news for this week is that "The Lower Lights and Other Stories" is now published!

It's on Amazon and in Kindle form. I'm not sure if Light of Faith has it up yet or not. We were rather busy yesterday, so it might not be up quite yet. You can also purchase it from my book page on this blog. I'd love to read your reviews of it and my other stories on Amazon or Light of Faith.



And now, the last of

A Slip on the Ice

Last time . . .

    “What did the judge say about coming to see me?” Mr. Ashwell demanded curtly.
    “Only that he thought it would be a good idea for me to come.”
    In thoughtful silence the old man ate the remains of his breakfast and Trenton waited quietly. After a full five minutes had passed, Mr. Ashwell turned to the lad. “Well, go on.”
    “I’m not sure what else to tell you, sir, except that I will work very hard and do my best to please.”
    “Do you smoke?”
    “No sir!”
    “Gamble?”
    “No sir.”
    “I suppose you don’t drink, play cards for fun or swear either?”
    “No sir.”
    Another pause. Then, another question came quickly, sharply, almost as though it came from unwilling lips. “What is your grandfather’s name?”
    Trenton blinked in surprise. He hadn’t expected a question like that though he answered readily enough. “Timothy Thomas, sir.”
    “Why were you named Trenton?”
    Thinking that this was the strangest interview for a job he’d ever heard of, the young man replied, “I was named after my father.”
    “And he?” persisted the questioner.
    “Father was named after my grandfather’s best friend. Grandfather has spoken of him often and always with fondness.”
    “What was his friend’s name?”
    “All I know is that Grandfather always speaks of him as Trenton or Trent and wishes he knew what became of him.”
    Reaching from his bed, Mr. Ashwell furiously rang a bell and when Felix appeared ordered, “Send for Judge Fristoe at once!”
    “Mr. Ashwell—” began the much bewildered and not a little apprehensive assistant.
    “At once, I said,” roared the old man. “And leave the lad with me,” he added as he caught Harrington’s nod to the youth. “Be quick, Harrington! Be quick.”

    Within thirty minutes both Judge Fristoe and Dr. Taylor had arrived. The doctor frowned when he saw his patient, and it was with some difficulty that Mr. Ashwell was at last persuaded to let Trenton leave the room, and this was only done after the young man had promised not to leave the house. Then the doctor and judge were shut up in the old man’s room while Harrington paced the hall outside and frowned at the long conference.
    At last Judge Fristoe came out in the hall. “Mr. Ashwell is resting now, Harrington and Dr. Taylor said he would remain with him for the time being. I have some important business to attend to right away but I shall return at the earliest opportunity.” Hurrying down the curving stairs, he pulled on his heavy coat and slipped out into the snowy morning leaving behind a very confused personal assistant.

    Trenton was coming down the hallway nearly seven hours after his dismissal from the bedroom when there was a knock on the front door. Knowing that Felix was occupied at the time, he hurried to open it. Two men stood on the porch waiting.
    “Judge Fristoe and . . . Grandpa?” Trenton’s surprise and amazement seemed to paralyze his limbs, for he simply stood there before the open door and stared.
    “Come Trent, let us in out of this cold,” his grandfather roused him.
    Still bewildered, Trenton moved aside and shut the door behind the two men who hastily shed their coats and hats and without another word hurried upstairs. Rubbing his eyes and giving his head a shake, Trenton stared at the now empty stairs and muttered, “I must be dreaming!”

    Mr. Ashwell gave a sigh and opened his eyes. It was early evening and there was a rosy light about the room, for the sun, though it had risen among clouds, now set in a clear western sky with a blaze of glory. For a moment he lay still trying to remember why he had been sleeping at this time of day. He felt confused and turned his head. To his surprise, a stranger was seated beside his bed watching him.
    “Who are you?” he demanded somewhat testily.
    “Trent!”
    The voice sounded strangely familiar and suddenly Mr. Ashwell half sat up. “Tim? Is it really you?”
    Neither man was very coherent for several minutes, but at last Timothy Thomas gently pushed his old friend back among the pillows. “Rest now Trent,” he directed softly wiping his own eyes with his handkerchief.
    “How did you get here?” Mr. Ashwell asked. “I was so afraid the lad was talking about someone else.”
    “It was the efforts of Judge Fristoe and Reverend Sadaro, Trent.” Then he added softly, “And it was an answer to my prayers!”
    “Your prayers?”
    Mr. Thomas nodded. “Yes, Trent. I’ve been praying every day since I last saw you that we would get to see each other once more. I had hoped at first that you might come to America and see me after you had finished your studies, but the years passed and your letters no longer came. I didn’t know what had become of you. Now let us thank God for keeping us all these years and reuniting us. Shall we?”
    For a moment Mr. Ashwell was still, then, with a voice that hesitated, he said, “Tim, I tried to be a Christian after you left. I tried to read my Bible and I even tried to pray, but I guess I never really wanted to. Perhaps I would have had you been there, but maybe not.” He sighed. “With you not there to keep me from them, I joined some of the other fellows at college and . . . well, my life hasn’t been one that a Christian would be proud of.”
    “Oh my friend, now I know why I have felt so often the need to pray for you. But Trent, don’t put off getting right with God any longer. You remember that prayer you made shortly after my father died?”
    Mr. Ashwell nodded.
    “Did you truely mean it?”
    “I thought I did, but—”
    “Trent,” Timothy placed his hard, work-worn hand tenderly on his friend’s arm, “it doesn’t matter if you didn’t mean it then, what matters is if you mean it now.”
    “Oh Tim, pray for me,” the gruff, old voice broke and Mr. Ashwell clasped the hand of his friend. “I want to follow Christ as you did.”
    Slipping to his knees beside the bed, Timothy Thomas poured out a prayer of thanksgiving and then, in slow, often faltering tones, Trenton Ashwell’s voice rose in prayer.

    In the days that followed, Mr. Ashwell soon resumed life in the business world where he found a place for young Trenton in one of his own offices. That young man soon gave evidence of a keen business mind and rapidly advanced to higher positions, being fully trusted by all who came in contact with him.
    Every week for over a year Mr. Ashwell and Mr. Thomas met together, for they had so much to talk over and to tell each other of the years of separation. The change in Mr. Ashwell was noticeable to all who knew him, and Felix Harrington often looked at those front steps of the large house and wondered what would have happened had Mr. Ashwell not slipped that snowy, winter day.

The End

What were your thoughts on the story?

Any questions or comments?