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?

Double Feature

 Good morning readers!

It's cold here this morning. 39º. Goodbye chiggers! The trees are really starting to turn now, and I'm thinking of sweaters, cozy sweatshirts, fires and s'mores, blankets, hot drinks, and good books. :)

This week was my first week back at work. I wasn't supposed to start until next week, but I got called and asked if I could come in a week early. This week I only worked 4 hours a day Mon–Thurs, but next week I'll go in at 9 and will work until 4:30. Lots of filing and getting people voted or registered. It's fun, but this week has felt long for me. Perhaps next week will go by faster.

On another note, Camp started! Well, we opened camp. This is the second KDWC (King's Daughters' Writing Camp) and we already have over 50 campers attending!

I got the proof copies for "Lake Wood," "Saving Miss Christmas," and "What Tommy Didn't Know." I can't wait to get them edited, and published so you all can read them!

Today I'm giving you two stories. One is especially for younger siblings. Can you guess which one? ;)

 

Mary was a Little Lamb

    Jane was lonely. This was the third day she had spent at Grandma and Grandpa’s, and now she was by herself. Grandpa was working on something in his study, and Grandma and Aunt Mercy were busy with some writing class that was coming up. Poor little Jane. Though she was only four, she had kept a smile on her face until she was outside. Now, however, her chin quivered and her lips trembled. Her big, bright blue eyes filled with tears. What could she do now that no one could play with her?
    For several minutes she sat and cried softly. Not only was she lonely, she missed her Mommy and Daddy who had gone on a trip. If only she had someone or something to play with. Her sad thoughts were interrupted by a bleat.
    Shaking back the mass of red curls which fell about her tear-stained face and clustered on her neck, Jane wiped away the tears and looked up. The nearby rail fence was before her, but it was the ebony creature lying down, silhouetted against the lush summer grass growing behind the fence which caught her eye.
    Skipping over to the fence Jane peered between the rails. Another bleat came from the black form and it stood up on wobbly legs. Jane gave an involuntary giggle, and the lamb, for so it was, turned to look at her. For several moments the young creatures gazed at each other in the bright sunshine while above their heads in the azure sky, small cream puffs of clouds danced and skipped in the breeze as though inviting the pair below to join them.
    The lamb seemed to accept the invitation for it gave a little skip on its slender legs. Jane giggled. The lamb came closer making friendly little noises. In an instant Jane had climbed the rough rail fence and stood looking at the lamb. A smile wreathed her tear-stained face. Here was a friend who could play with her! This lamb didn’t need to study or write and it certainly didn’t need to go on any trips. Reaching out a gentle hand, Jane stroked the woolly head. The lamb on its part nuzzled Jane’s skirt.
    “Okay, little lamb,” Jane told it, “let’s play tag.” With a laugh Jane turned and danced away calling over her shoulder, “You’re it.”
    Joyfully the lamb frolicked after Jane and butted her softly.
    “Now I’m it! You have to run!”
    And so the game continued, sometimes Jane chasing the lamb but more often than not, the lamb following Jane. At last both were worn out, and Jane sank to the grass to catch her breath. The lamb stood in front of her while Jane patted its dark coat. So intent were Jane and the lamb with each other, neither one noticed Grandma coming over with the camera.
    “Are you having fun, Jane?”
    Jane looked up and grinned. “Oh, Grandma! Mary can play tag with me! We love each other, don’t we?” Jane pulled the small thing close to her and kissed its nose. “Now I won’t ever be lonely again,” she added with a whisper in the little charcoal ear.
    “Baa” answered the lamb and folding its legs up, laid its woolly head in Jane’s lap and closed its eyes.
 

 

Two Dollars and a Knife

 Dear Michael,
    I have to tell you what happened on the 4th! When my family arrived at Grandpa’s, everyone else was already there dressed in colonial outfits like usual for the 4th. After greeting everyone, I wondered off towards the woods. I hadn’t gotten far when I noticed something on a tree several yards ahead. Drawing closer, I noticed two $1.00 bills pinned to the tree with a knife! I thought, “Grandpa doesn’t usually leave money on trees. Why is it here?” Thinking perhaps it was Dad’s or one of the uncles knifes, I ran to see. Nope, each still had their knife. Puzzled, I stood staring out the kitchen window. So lost in thought was I that I started when Grandpa dropped his hand on my shoulder asking, “What’re you up to Patrick?”
    “I’m. . . Grandpa, did you stick $2.00 on a tree with a knife?” I blurted the question out quickly. Grandpa looked astonished but shook his head suggesting I go look again to find out more. Needing no urging, I rushed outside, leapt off the porch and raced to the tree. Everything looked the same. As I closely examined the money and knife, I began to feel as though I was being watched! Slowly I turned my head, eyes scanning the trees and bushes. A sudden sneeze, whirled me around to see an older man.
    “Your last name Henry?” the man asked
    “Yes, sir.”
    “Take that knife and money to your grandfather. See what he says.”

    After another quick glance at the man, I obeyed. Hurrying as quickly as it was safe to, I reached the kitchen and opening the door called, “Grandpa! Where are you?”
    “Here.” His voice sounded from the living room.
    Stepping quickly in, I laid the knife and money in Grandpa’s lap. All was silent. Grandpa stared. His expression changing from bewilderment to disbelief and delight. Standing up suddenly, he exclaimed,
    “Corporal Klesingharper! Where is he?”
    Grandpa limped quickly to the back porch.
    “Klesingharper!” Grandpa’s shout brought everyone including the man I had seen. At sight of him, knife and money dropped from Grandpa’s hands as he started for the stairs. I hurried to his side knowing he wasn’t very good on steps. His hand trembled on my shoulder as we slowly descended the last step. Across the lawn, we met the stranger. After a long embrace, Grandpa, his voice chocked with emotion invited him in. So, together we walked back to the porch where the family all waited.
    To make a long story short. Grandpa and Corporal Klesingharper both fought on Guadalcanal in ‘42. They were great friends. Once Grandpa lent Corporal Klesingharper $2.00. He promising to repay him. Klesingharper became seriously injured and just before he was sent back to the States, Grandpa gave him his knife. They hadn’t seen or heard from each other since that time until the 4th. It was quite thrilling listening to their talk about Guadalcanal and the Solomon Islands.
                    Your Cousin,
                        Patrick

Which story did you enjoy most?

Was your week long or short?

Are you experiencing cooler fall weather?

Refreshing

 Good morning!

It's a quiet Friday morning here. There is some traffic on Broadway, but not much and it's pretty quiet. A few birds chirp, a cicada sings, and a faint breeze stirs the curtains. It's 61º right now though it is supposed to get into the low 80s today. Time to savor the quiet and calm. Have you ever wished you could bottle up the quiet of early morning so you could pull it out in the middle of a crazy day? I don't know where that thought came from, but it sounds nice. ;)

This week has not been a writing week. However, I did get my proof copies ordered of "Lake Wood," "What Tommy Didn't Know," and "Saving Miss Christmas." And if you are wondering, the last book is the title of this year's Christmas Collection. And the middle title is a New Years story. I posted it before, but added a new ending to it. :)

I've also been really working on updating my website! It needed it! So far I have the bookshelf updated, and all the pages with one book. I even added all 4 Woodbreak books. Yes, "Lake Wood" has a page now! I haven't gotten to the Short Stories page, the Christmas pages, or created a new Pocket book page. But I've made progress. You can check them out on Read Another Page.

Yesterday I got a phone call asking if I could start work next week instead of on the 6th of October. The County Clerk's office is crazy. People are coming in waves, the phones keep ringing, and the filing is stacking up way too high. So, I'll be going in for 4 hours each day next week Mon-Thurs.

Today's story is one I wrote and first published many years ago in 2011. There is so much going on right now with everything that I thought we could all use a reminder of who is in control.

 

Refreshing

    It was quite chilly when I crawled out of my sleeping bag and, unzipping my tent door, stepped out into the crisp morning. Everything was quiet and still. The brown grass at my feet crunched with each footstep. Stately, old pine trees stood guard on the bit of land which juts out into the aqua and teal lake where scarcely a ripple disturbs its placid face. Across from my camping site, on the other side of the lake, march row upon row of trees, up the mountainside, until the snow-covered cliffs halt most of them.
    I gave a sigh of contentment. This was the first time I had gotten to be alone for more than fifteen minutes since the whirl of things began. I don’t know when the whirl started exactly, it just seemed to creep up and then I was in the midst of it all. Now at last maybe I can get some much needed rest, to try to sort things out, to understand, to consider, to decide. Out here alone I hope to be able to find the peace and joy I had. Alone? No, not really. My Heavenly Father is here and that is all I need. It was His hand that guided through all: weddings and funerals, births and deaths, over-work and no work at all, excitement of courtships and heartache of breakups, tornadoes and earthquakes, political unrest and political victories; all combined to frazzle a mind already bewildered with the many decisions of everyday life.
    I think I’ll just sit here today by my campfire and let the quietude of the mountains and water calm my feelings as I read the dearest book in the world. How can I help but grow refreshed when the Author of each word and thought is my Lover and Friend, my Father, my Savior, my Jesus? If I knew Him not, I would surely be the most miserable of all persons.
    Some people thought my coming away into this wilderness alone was just a way of trying to escape from everything and hide. They were somewhat right. I am hiding from everything. But not as they think. My Hiding Place is the Rock in a weary land, the Shelter in storms, a Tower, a Shield, a Refuge. No, I don’t expect everything to be perfect when I return, but it will be okay.
    The sun on those snow covered peaks is glorious! The birds are singing above me, and I hear a squirrel chattering somewhere. Maybe I’ll go sit on that rock in the sun. No worries, no cares, no thought for tomorrow. Isn’t that how life is supposed to be? I can echo the psalmist when he penned the words, “Oh that I had wings like a dove, then would I fly away and be at rest.” But it wouldn’t be the same rest which the Shepherd gives to His sheep. On the whole, I am glad, thankful even, that I have a heart which can feel pain and joy, love and sorrow, and my Savior’s matchless, boundless, endless mercy, grace and love!

    My days alone here are ended. I’m going back to be ”in the world but not of it.” Peace and rest fill me as I go with my All-In-All.
 

Would you like some bottled up peace and quiet?
Did you go check out the Woodbreak pages?
Would you like to go camping?

At the Lighthouse – Part 2

 Hello!

This is late, I know. But I promise I have a good excuse. 

Last night I had gone to bed at the normal time around 9:40. But around 11:30 I was awakened sort of by hearing someone calling out. Then they shouted "Someone please help!" But it wasn't nearby, and while I could hear what sounded like some boards crashing, I wasn't fully awake.

Then I heard sirens. Not unusual since we live a few blocks from the Police station, the Fire station, and a few blocks farther from the METS station. However, these sirens turned down our street. My sister and I got up and looked out the windows. It was a fire truck, another fire vehicle, and a police car. We thought they were heading to Freddy's since he'd had a few heart attacks this year. As my sis headed back to bed, I noticed a strange orange/yellow glow behind Freddy's house.

"There's a fire!"

"Where?" Sis wanted to know. I told her and then we both headed to the back room to look out the windows. The house to the south of Freddy's was almost fully engulfed! Flames were shooting from the roof, the widows, the back. It was crazy! A police car parked in the middle of the road near our house to block traffic. It was an hour before they had most of it knocked down. There were still some stubborn parts that refused to die and kept flaming back up. But after an hour we decided to head back to bed since we really couldn't see much.

After all that excitement I wasn't tired and was having difficulty settling down. The flickering lights of the police car on our ceiling let me know that they were still there. Now and then I could hear voices. Around 1:30 the firemen started up a chainsaw to cut part of the wall away. And that make me wake up more again. I'm not sure when I went back to sleep, but it was probably around or after 2.

[If you want to see the news video, you can go here.]

So, we slept in some this morning. :)

This week I've not done much writing, but I did get two short stories ready to publish. One will be free when I send out my newsletter, so make sure you are subscribed to my Read Another Page newsletter. I've also been working on the Christmas play. It was approved, and now I just have to copy the play for each of the cast members.

But enough of that. Here's your story.

 

At the Lighthouse

Part 2

    Great was Mr. Sullivan’s astonishment when he was awakened and saw his only son standing before him. For several minutes he could only hold on to him and whisper, “Marshall, my son, my son.”
    “I’m home now, Father.”
    “But what about college?”
    The story of the unmailed letters was repeated and then the three reunited Sullivans fell to talking.
    It was growing late when suddenly Mr. Sullivan started up in his chair. “The light. I must go light it now.”
    Marshall rose at once saying, “No, Father, let me. Please, it will be like old times. Leigh can go with me to make sure I still remember how.” And, without giving his father time to object or protest, Marshall started for the stairs calling behind him just as he used to do when a boy, “I’ll race you to the top, Sis!”
    It wasn’t until the lights were lit and the brother and sister were standing on the balcony below the light, watching its beam flash far out to sea, that Marshall spoke his thoughts. “Father doesn’t look very well, Leigh. What’s wrong with him?”
    Leigh didn’t answer right away and her brother turned to look at her. “Has Dr. Armstrong seen him yet?”
    Leigh shook her head. “No, Papa won’t let me call him. I think he’s overworked and tired. He needs to get away from everything for a while and rest.”
    For a moment Marshall looked thoughtful, then he spoke. “Invite him for supper on Tuesday.”
    “Papa?”
    Marshall snorted, “Dr. Armstrong. I’d like to see him again. I’ll have to make sure I see all my old acquaintances, you know.” He smiled, and Leigh gave an answering smile in return. It was good to have Marshall home.

    Marshall hardly gave his father time to do anything other than relax in his chair, for he took complete charge of the light, laughing when his father protested and running up and down the steps declaring that it was keeping him in shape. Leigh watched with delight, for she saw that with Marshall home the two of them could run the light. Then she would grow grave. If only they could persuade their father to take a vacation.
    When Tuesday came, Marshall casually remarked at the breakfast table that he would like to see Dr. Armstrong again and Leigh said she would invite him to supper if that was all right. Mr. Sullivan nodded. Dr. Armstrong was a good friend and he would enjoy a chat with him himself.
    Supper was a pleasant affair with Marshall telling about life at college, and afterwards Mr. Sullivan and Dr. Armstrong settled themselves in armchairs in the living room while Marshall tended the light and Leigh washed the dishes. As soon as the light was lit, Marshall joined his sister in the kitchen remarking, “It looks like a storm is blowing in.”
    Leigh sighed, “Did you mention it to Papa?”
    “No.”
    “Well, if it comes Ted and Henry will be over.”
    Marshall stopped drying the plate in his hand and looked at Leigh with puzzled eyes. “The Larson boys?” he asked. “Why?”
    “All the men around here have been taking turns coming over when it storms, to help whenever they are needed, because Papa just can’t do it all anymore,” Leigh explained.
    “Well, I’m home now,” Marshall declared, “and this is my lighthouse.”
    His sister didn’t reply.

    There was a storm and, as Leigh had predicted, Ted and Henry came over. Both were glad to see Marshall again and left most of the work in his capable hands. Mr. Sullivan tried to help, but he tired so quickly that Dr. Armstrong, who had been there when the storm broke, insisted that he let the boys take care of things.

    “Marshall, Papa must have a rest,” Leigh repeated as the two of them strolled along the sandy shore. “Even Dr. Armstrong agrees with me.”
    “I know,” Marshall agreed. “You don’t have to convince me, it’s Father. Did you write Kathryn?”
    Leigh nodded. “I hope I hear from her soon. A few more such storms as we’ve had will send Papa to bed for a long time I’m afraid.”
    The brother and sister walked on in silence for several minutes before Leigh spoke once more. “Marshall.”
    “Hmm.”
    “If I ask you a question, will you give me an honest answer?” She had stopped and stood looking up into her younger brother’s eyes.
    “Of course I will,” he replied, wondering what was coming.
    “Do you want to spend the rest of your life living at a lighthouse and keeping the lights burning?”
    Marshall’s voice was quiet but firm when he answered, “Yes, Leigh, I do.”
    Smiling as though a weight had been lifted from her shoulders, Leigh said, “That is all I wanted to hear.”

    The letter came the next afternoon and even with its plea for a visit, it took Leigh’s passionate appeal to rest for her sake and Marshall’s keen logic and firm assurance that the light would shine every night before Mr. Sullivan was convinced that a trip away from his life at the lighthouse was for the best. But, at last all was settled.

    Standing at the door of the lighthouse, Leigh and Marshall waved good bye to their father as Dr. Armstrong drove him away to the train station. Leigh sighed, she would miss her father, but he must get a rest. Besides, she thought, glancing at her tall brother, Marshall was home and they would together, take care of the light until the rightful lighthouse keeper returned in health.
 

Did you enjoy the ending of this story?

Have you ever seen a house fire near you?

How was your week?

At the Lighthouse – Part 1

 Hello, Fiction Fans,

I do have a story for you today. I need to get some more written for this blog. I actually made a list of all the stories I had started or wanted to write but hadn't started yet. There are 15 titles on that list! And probably 6-8 of them would be blog stories if I can get them finished. Though I might decide to publish a few of them some day.

Speaking of publishing, I designed the cover for "Lake Wood" yesterday! I'm waiting for the synopsis to be written, and I have to format it, but then I can order the proof copy! Right now the scheduled release date is Nov. 10. If I can publish it sooner I will, but I don't know if I can.

This week I did a lot of work on the Christmas Play for church. I had one idea that I was planning on doing, but when I went to write it, it just wouldn't work. So . . . I brainstormed with my sister for a while and got nowhere except that I could have certain cast members different ages than I had first thought. My mom was able to give me a small idea for a message for this play. And then the ideas flooded in. I wrote 2k that evening and another 1k the next day and finished writing it. Yesterday my sister and I had fun picking the names for all the characters. Now it's time to format.

I also did some work getting ready for our next King's Daughters' Writing Camp. Doors open on October 1st.

I don't think there's anything else to say. Enjoy this first part of your story.

 

At the Lighthouse

Part 1

    Mr. Sullivan sighed and put one rough hand on his back after he shut the door of the stove which he had just lit while he grasped the back of a chair with the other. Straightening up was more of an effort than it used to be and he sank gratefully down in a chair before the stove, as the fresh logs caught fire with a sputter, and closed his tired eyes.
    The smell of fresh, hot coffee filled the little kitchen and the ticking of the clock on the shelf gave a happy sound to the peaceful morning scene.
    “Papa,” a gentle but sturdy voice sounded softly from the doorway. “Why don’t you go up to bed and get some rest. The others are still sleeping, and I can fix breakfast when they wake up. Please, Papa,” she urged, placing her hand on his rough one.
    Looking up into his daughter’s face, Mr. Sullivan smiled. She looked so much like her mother had, the same brown hair that neither curled nor frizzed, the golden brown eyes which showed every emotion in their clear depths, the lovely mouth seemingly curved into a constant smile and the hands and face darkened from hours in the sun. Leigh was her mother all over again and Ira Sullivan felt a lump rise in his throat.
    “Please, Papa, go to bed now,” Leigh begged. “The storm is over and the sun is coming up in a clear sky. I can take care of everything. Get some rest.”
    “All right,” the older man finally agreed. He was tired. Every muscle seemed to ache and it was with difficulty that he stood up. Gently his daughter helped him from the room and watched his slow progress up the winding stairs of the lighthouse to his room.
    “If only Marshall were home,” Leigh mused, opening the windows and breathing in the fresh sea air. “This job as lighthouse keeper is getting too hard for Papa. He isn’t as young as he used to be, before Mama died.” She busied herself about the lower rooms, opening the windows to let in the cool breeze before entering to the kitchen. “What he needs is a vacation,” she muttered, her thoughts returning to her tired father. “If only I could send him to visit Kathryn and John and the children. The rest would do him so much good and I know Kathryn would love to have him. Perhaps it would work. I think I’ll write to her today and send it when the post comes. But--” and here she paused recalling the one problem which had thwarted her plans many times before. Who would take care of the lighthouse? It couldn’t take care of itself nor could you just ask a neighbor to run over and light the lamps each evening. It had to be someone who knew lighthouses, someone who had grown up with one, who knew the responsibilities, the challenges, the dangers as well as the delights and pleasures of such work. Here her thoughts turned once again to her younger brother. Marshall knew all about lighthouses. He had helped alongside his father since he was strong enough to carry a lantern. But Marshall wasn’t there. He was away at college. That had been Mr. Sullivan’s dream: to have his son attend college.
    “Now Marshall is gone when Papa needs him the most,” Leigh sighed.
    Hearing movement in the room above her, she began to prepare breakfast for the crew of the small fishing vessel wrecked during last night’s storm and rescued by herself and her father. Her own troubled thoughts would have to wait.

    It was afternoon, clear, sunny and warm, when Leigh, leaving her father dozing in his favorite chair wandered forth from the lighthouse out into the sunshine, across the rough green grass on the hill down to the beach. The waves rolled in from the deep blue Atlantic ocean leaving white foam along the golden sands as they receded only to rush back the next minute and reclaim it. Washed up by higher tides were sea shells; some were broken but many lovely ones lay half buried on the shore.
    Wandering slowly along, stopping now and then to pick up an exceptionally lovely shell, Leigh at last took off her hat, pulled the pins from her hair and let the wind off the sea cool her face. She looked lovely standing there, her brown hair blowing behind her, her long dress simple but well made and fitting her perfectly from the plain collar down to the hem at the top of her boots. So she stood, silent and still, unaware that she was being observed until a manly shout caused her to start in surprise and whirl around.
    “Marshall!” she exclaimed, so astonished that she couldn’t have said anything else had she had time.
    She had no time, however, for a young man was racing down the slope and the next instant had her in his arms and lifted her off her feet to kiss her and laugh. “I thought I’d never get here. The train seemed to make twenty more stops than were on the schedule and then the stage had to make two other stops before it could drop me off. My luggage is out near the house. I looked in but Father was asleep and then I saw you out here and just had to come see you. You don’t know how good it is to be back again!” How fast the young man talked. “You haven’t got any idea of how lonesome I was for the sea. College was great fun, but I’m glad it’s over with.”
    Somehow Leigh managed to put in a few words, “Over with?”
    Crossing his arms, Marshall put on an aggrieved air, “Don’t you read anything out here?” he asked. “Fine sister you are not to even know you are looking at a college graduate. One who, I might add, was sixth in his class.”
    “Oh Marshall, I’m so proud of you, but why on earth didn’t you write and tell us?” Leigh demanded.
    “I did.”
    “I didn’t see any letters. Papa wouldn’t have hidden them . . .”
    The young man gave a sheepish grin and reached into his pocket. “I forgot to mail them.”
    “Marshall!”
    Then the two, the taller, broad shouldered, younger brother and the smaller, sturdy older sister laughed.
    “Come to the house now and see Father,” Leigh said at last after the laugh had subsided. “He will be delighted to see you again.” And she led the way across the sandy shore towards the lighthouse.
 

Have you ever been in a Christmas play before?

Are you excited for the next "Woodbreak" book?

Do you plan on doing the writing camp?

Zero Story

 Hi!

    I was going to get a story picked out and ready to post today, but then I left town and left my list behind. So . . . You'll have to wait until next week. Unless I find something. But since I'm at my grandparents' and will be heading home Friday morning, it's not likely. (I'm writing this Thursday late afternoon.)

    What has your week been like? Anything going on?

    Saturday was a busy writing day. I wrote almost 3k words and finally reached the end of "Lake Wood"! It was so exciting to finally reach it since I had tried before and then ended up needing to change things. This story is longer than either "Jim Wood" or "Anna Wood". Sorry. ;) Hope you won't mind too much.

    Sunday was a busy day! We had the usual Sunday School, and then I worked nursery for my sister. There was a baptism at the beginning of the service and 7 people were baptized. Then we had missionaries speak. After church we had a fellowship meal. (My sister was in charge of setting all the food up which is why she couldn't work nursery.) And combined with the meal we had a wedding shower for someone. Then we came home. I read. So nice. :)

    Monday was a see-how-much-we-can-get-done sort of day. I reread and edited the last 9,700+ words of "Lake Wood" and then transferred and printed it so my editor could read it whenever. I also did some other things.

    Tuesday my mom, sister, and I headed north to visit my grandparents. They are both in their 90s and still living at home. We hung out and visited.

    Wednesday it was in the 60s in the morning so Sis and I went walking before breakfast. It was nice to get outside. Spend most of the rest of the morning reading and relaxing. I wasn't letting myself even think about what things I needed to get done by certain times. :) We played our usual game of Dominoes after supper.

    Thursday was again in the 60s and we walked. There's a nice park a couple blocks from my grandparents' house and a walking/biking path to it and through it. There are always several people walking their dogs. Oh, I got to see the two owls that live in the neighborhood. You probably don't think of owls living in suburban neighborhoods, but these owls do. I helped Grandpa work outside in the afternoon for a little while and probably ended up with 25 mosquito bites or so. :P Oh well. I'm sure we'll be playing Dominoes after supper again. It's something we all enjoy.

    Speaking of Dominoes, do any of you lovely readers have the game of Dominoes (Double Fifteens)? If so, do you all play it? Would you be interested in testing out our instructions for the 8 variations we've created and perfected over the years we've played? I'd like to get them published so others can enjoy them, but I thought someone who hasn't played all these versions with us should try our instructions first. If you are interested, let me know.

How was your week?

Did you get any writing done?

Do you play Dominoes?

The Race Won by Inches

 Hello, Friday Fiction Fans,

    I've been busy. I've actually been getting something written every day so far this week and I'm oh, so close to reaching the end of "Lake Wood" (Woodbreak Book 3)! Pray that I can actually finish it before the end of the month because next month I have other things I HAVE to work on.

    Another thing I've been doing this week is blog posts! Since I know later this year is going to be super busy, I'm trying to get as many posts done and scheduled ahead of time for Read Another Page as possible. At least I have all the posts for the rest of the year figured out even if I still have to write them.  One set of posts I have been working on are my Five Fall Favorites. :) Stay tuned for more information on that.

    Let's see, what else did I do this week? Oh, I spent almost all day Tuesday helping my brother pack orders for Light of Faith. But I took a break after lunch and went swimming with my nieces and nephews in their pool. I haven't been swimming (sitting in a kitty pool with my nieces and nephews a few years ago doesn't count) since I was probably 8 or 9. It was fun and very nice to cool off from the heat of the day.

     Today's story is especially for any young siblings. It's a short story, a retelling of a famous fable. I wrote it many years ago, and when I went to find something to post, I thought I'd do this story. I think we can all learn a lesson from it. Don't you?

 

The Race Won By Inches

 

            One beautifully sunny morning, Cecil Centipede stopped to laugh at Inez Inch Worm slowly inching himself along the ground.

            “Ha, ha!” he jeered. “You are so slow! You can’t even make it across the sidewalk before I have crossed it ten times! You are the pokiest, loiteringest, slowest insect I have ever seen!” He continued to taunt as Inez humped along.

            Now Inez was growing irritated because Cecil Centipede kept bugging him day after day about his speed. That morning was the last Inez Inch Worm could tolerate.

            “Would you like to race?” he questioned, pausing half way across the sidewalk.

            “Race!” Cecil howled with laughter. “You’re not just slow, you’re stupid too. Ha, ha! Sure I’ll race. I’ll be at the finish line before you have even started! Ho, ho!” Cecil accepted the race as a joke because he thought it would be no contest.

 

            Well, the race was planned. Spencer Spider and Anthony Ant were finally chosen to act as the judges, and the race course was carefully chosen. The day of the race was perfect, not too hot or too cold.

            “Racers, take your places!” Anthony Ant bellowed. “On your mark, get set, GO!”

            The race had begun! Right from the start Cecil Centipede took the lead; his hundred legs working so fast that the onlookers could scarcely see them. Inez Inch Worm was soon left in the dust, slowly but steadily humping his way along the track.

            Cecil was gloating to himself as he ran of how easy this race was when all of a sudden one of his legs became tangled with another, and before he could stop, he fell. There he lay, his hundred legs all hopelessly tangled in one great big knot! How he squirmed. How he wriggled. But the more frantically he tried to free them, the more impossibly tangled they became. He comforted himself, however, with the thought that Inez was so far behind that he would never catch up.

            Inching down the track, Inez spied the tangled legs of Cecil off to one side. He decided not to say anything, but continued on his way one inch at a time. Before long the finish line was reached and cheers erupted on all sides.

            “Inez Inch Worm wins the race!” shouted Spencer Spider. “Three cheers for the winner!”

The exuberant cheers reached the ears of Cecil Centipede just as he finally succeeded in freeing the last of his legs. He leaped to his feet and raced to the finish line.

            “I demand a re-race!” he shouted indignantly, but no one heard him.

 

            Thus it was that inch by inch Inez the Inch Worm won the now famous and much talked of race.

 

The End

Are you eager for me to finish "Lake Wood"?

Are you more like Inez or Cecil in the story?

Do you have younger siblings to read this story to?