A Slip on the Ice - Part 2

Good morning FFFs,
Well, we got some winter. The ground is covered with 1-2 inches of tiny ice balls. I would have preferred snow instead of sleet, but at least it wasn't an ice storm! I went "sledding" yesterday with my best friends and most of their siblings. We only went down once since we didn't really want to end up in the creek which is at the bottom of the hill since we were sledding on ice not snow. This morning there are faint patches of blue sky showing through the thinning clouds and the sun is supposed to shine. It still isn't supposed to get very warm, but the sun will sure make things pretty!

This is a very busy weekend for us. It really started on Wednesday when my Grandparents came down. We had my brother and his family over for supper that night and those kiddos sure made Grandpa tired. :) Yesterday it was just Grandma & Grandpa over and I went sledding. Today we are going out for breakfast, then to my brother's house so Grandma & Grandpa can see the kiddos once more before they head back up to KC (KC got 10 inches of snow!). Then this evening S & I go over to Brother's to babysit the kids while J & M go to a shower for one of her sisters. It will be late so we'll be putting the kids to bed. Then tomorrow evening we'll be babysitting for some friends from church and it will be another late day. On Sunday it will be a welcome day of rest. Monday brings Goofball's birthday party at our house and going roller-skating which he loves, and then out for ice cream to finish the "party." And on Tuesday I have writing classes. Told you I was busy.

I wrote all of the "April" story for "Project 12" in two days. "February"'s story is not going so well. I haven't worked on TCR or anything else. Haven't had much time to write. Hopefully next week I'll have more time.

The proof copy of my newest book came! Right now it is at my friend's so she and her mom can read and proof the proof copy for me. :)

I think since it is cold and slippery, this story is quite appropriate. Enjoy!

Part 2

Last week . . .
    “Trenton!” The voice rang out across the fields startling a flock of crows and causing several of the cows to look up. Nothing else moved. “Trenton Ashwell!” The voice came again, more sternly this time. “I know you are there. You had better start home this minute before I tell your father!”
    On the shed roof near the house two young boys crouched, suppressing their merriment as the young woman moved closer to the fields. “Come on, Tim,” whispered the darker haired lad, “let’s slip down and be sitting at the table when she comes.”
    The other nodded and quickly the two lads slipped off the far side of the shed and hurried into the kitchen. Never had hands been washed more quickly before they slid into their seats; two innocent boys hungry for their supper.
    “I wonder where Father is?” the shorter of the two boys whispered. “Aunt Isabel may have to wait until after supper.” His grin was wide.
    Hardly had he quit speaking than his aunt’s voice was heard in the hall. “Really Mason, you must do something with that boy!”
    A deep voice asked with a sigh, “What’s he done this time?”
    “Done? Refused to come home from his play for dinner. I rang the bell and when he didn’t come, I went out and called him.”
    “Where is he?”
    “Out in the field with that preacher’s boy.”
    “I gave Trenton permission to play with the boy. Timothy Thomas is a good lad, Isabel, and I’d rather have him my son’s friend than some others.”
    “I didn’t say he wasn’t good,” came the somewhat heated reply. “I simply was telling you that your son is out there playing when he was told to come in! If he were my son—”
    The deep voice interrupted and moved closer to the dining room. “I know, Isabel. But he is not your son. I’ll go out to the fields and fetch him home after dinner.”
    “And?”
    “And he can go without his dinner if he chooses to skip it.”
    “Humph!”
    Whether or not the conversation would have continued, Trenton didn’t wait to find out. “Father, aren’t we going to eat?”
    Mr. Ashwell stepped quickly into the dining room with the aunt closely behind him. “Did you come in while we were talking?”
    “No sir,” Trenton grinned. “We were here while Aunt was still calling us.”
    “How— What—” blustered the aunt in confusion.
    “We weren’t in the fields, Aunty,” grinned Trenton. “But Father, may we eat now?”

* * * *

    “Mr. Ashwell!”
    The older man blinked and turned to glare at his assistant. “I’m not deaf, Harrington. Now who is that boy?”
    “Mr. Ashwell,” the doctor interjected firmly, “You must calm down or I shall send everyone from the room and give you a sedative so that you will rest.”
    “Humph! Nonsense, Taylor. I’m not excited, I simply want to know who that boy is and what he’s doing here.”
    “Be as quick as you can, lad,” Dr. Taylor said quietly to the young man. “Mr. Ashwell needs rest.”
    Nodding with complete understanding, Trenton Thomas moved beside the bed. When he spoke his voice was clear, his words concise. “My name is Trenton Thomas Jr., Sir, and I’ve come to see if you might be able to help me find work. I have several references and I’m willing to do just about anything.”
    “Why did you come to me?”
    “I was told to, Sir.”
    “By whom?” Mr. Ashwell demanded.
    “Reverend Sadaro, Mr. Clayton and Judge Fristoe.”
    For a moment Mr. Ashwell lay back among the pillows with a frown of thought on his face. The others about the bed watched him and hoped he would rest.
    Pushing himself up on one elbow, the old man peered into the boy’s face and questioned, “Why did they send you to me?”
    With a slight laugh the young man shrugged. “I’m not sure, Sir. I think you would have to ask them. But,” he added hastily as Mr. Ashwell was about to speak, “I can come back another day when you are feeling better, if you wish.”
    Then the doctor moved closer. “That would be a good idea, Mr. Ashwell.”
    But the man on the bed didn’t appear to hear him. “Harrington,” he ordered, falling back onto his pillows, “feed the boy and make sure he has a place to sleep. I want to see him first thing in the morning!”
    “Yes sir, I’ll attend to it.” Felix made haste to answer as he motioned the boy to leave the room.
    In a few minutes more, Mr. Ashwell was sleeping.
    Promising to stop by in the evening, Dr. Taylor took his leave. Mrs. Collins returned to her kitchen and Felix turned to Trenton. “Have you a place to sleep tonight?”
    “No sir. But I can go find a place. I’ll be back here before it is light out.” The youth’s sure manner in spite of the bitter weather outside raised the assistant’s opinion of him. Nevertheless, he refused to allow it.
    “There is no need for that, lad. You are to sleep in the room next to mine. Mrs. Collins will be expecting you for supper and Mr. Ashwell said to have you ready for him first thing in the morning. I couldn’t do that very well if you were off who knows where. Now, you go out to the kitchen and see if Mrs. Collins can find work for you to do while I go park the car in the garage.”

* * * *

    “Tim?”
    The young man standing beside the newly made grave turned slowly around, his eyes were dull, his face haggard by the sudden tragic event.
    Trenton Ashwell bit his lip. The words he wanted to say seemed so hollow and cold. Instead he simply put out his hand and gripped that of his friend with both of his. They were alone beside the grave now. All was still except for a few acorns falling from the nearby oak tree. Sunshine filtered through the leaves which were changing color.
    “He’s gone, Trent.” Tim moaned. “Gone.” His lips trembled and his eyes filled.
    Suddenly Trent pulled his friend close and put his arm about his shoulders. “Let it out, Tim. You can’t keep going like this.” Looking down at the flowers on the grave, Trent felt his own eyes fill with tears and he whispered hoarsely, “He was a good man! A God-fearing man.”
    It was those words that came from the heart of his friend which brought the tears of healing to the mourning son, and the strong, manly frame shook with silent sobs. The arm about his shoulders tightened and Tim could feel his friend’s wordless love.

Questions or Comments?

Will you be back for Part 3?

A Slip on the Ice - Part 1

Good Morning Friday Fiction Fans,
It's partly cloudy out an there's some light breezes blowing from the north. The sky is light but, since there are clouds on the horizon, there was no lovely sunrise. At least not here where I can see it. :) I'm sure there was somewhere this morning.
We had a bit of snow this week. One evening we had big, fat flakes falling and they were sticking. Alas, however, they were already starting to melt by morning and never got more than a dusting on the ground. I would so like one really good snowfall before spring comes. What about you? Do you like snow and cold? Or would you rather just skip to spring?

It was rather a busy week, though not much more than others. I taught writing classes on Tuesday and then went to the dentist on Wednesday. The days before were full of getting things on my list done. I'm really trying to get my next book "The Lower Lights and Other Stories" all together and uploaded so I can get the proof checked and order books before conference season starts again. S and I go babysit the kiddos this evening. That is always an adventure. :)

I find the poll I set up on the side of my blog to be quite interesting. Especially since someone clicked that they always comment and when that showed up, there were no comments. :P
     This story that you get Part 1 of, was supposed to be the first story for "Project 12" but when I was almost finished with it, I realized that the story didn't match the instructions. Therefore, I wrote another story. After giving them both to my best friend/photographer/illustrator for the book to read, she said she liked the second story best. So, now I'm going to let you all read this story. And for those of you wondering what "Project 12" is, let me tell you.
     I thought it would be fun to have a calendar with a story as well as a picture for each month. So one of my best friends and I are working on it. She is supplying the pictures for each month and I'm writing the stories. They will all be in a book when we're finished and we're hoping to also do a calendar. Another friend gave me instructions for 12 stories so that's what I'm using to write these stories.

But I have other things I need to get to work on, so I will end now and let you read Part 1 of

A Slip on the Ice

    Snow was falling heavily. Already the ground was covered with snow and the large, thick flakes continued to tumble from the heavy clouds overhead, promising to add several inches to what was already on the ground. A light but bitter wind blew with winter’s cunning, penetrating anything it could, seeking and finding cracks in walls and windows, discovering faces not sufficiently masked by scarves, sleeves which were too short, and holes in old shoes.
    A car, it’s top securely fastened to keep out the chilling white snow, drove carefully up to a large, three story, white house whose front steps were guarded by two fierce marble lions and stopped. Quickly the driver hurried out and around to assist someone out of the back seat. This figure, muffled carefully from head to toe and leaning on a cane, began to carefully make his way up the icy walk. The driver, dismissed by a wave of the hand, hesitated and watched the muffled form while ignoring the biting wind in his face. Suddenly he started forward with a slight cry. The figure had slipped and fallen before he reached the second step!
    The stately home’s front door opened as the young driver stooped over the figure. “Felix, is he much hurt?” It was obviously the housekeeper who hurried out with only a light shawl thrown over her shoulders.
    “I don’t know. He’s unconscious. Let me just carry him inside, Mrs. Collins, while you call for Doctor Taylor.” Gently the man was lifted in the strong arms of the driver and carried inside the house, up the stairs, and into a lavishly furnished bedroom.
    Soon he lay upon white pillows, still and nearly motionless except for his irregular breathing. With his wraps off, one could see that he was an older man; his hair and mustache grey and his face bearing the marks of many years. He appeared frail and thin and it was with an anxious face that Felix watched beside him until the housekeeper came.
    “The doctor is on his way,” she whispered.
    Felix nodded but hesitated to leave the bedside of the unconscious man.
    A ringing from the front door brought a surprised exclamation. “The doctor can’t be here already!” Felix hurried down the stairs and flung open the door.
    A young man, only barely out of boyhood, stood there. “Excuse me, but I saw the gentleman fall. Is there anything I can do to help?” He spoke respectfully, holding his hat in his hands.
    A rapid glance showed Felix much. The boy was as neat and tidy as he could be, though his clothes were too small and had been well worn and mended many times, his eyes were honest and his voice clear with the sound of a careful and thorough education. Beckoning him in, more to shut out the cold snow than because he needed him, Felix closed the door.
    “Thank you for your concern, but the doctor is on his way.”
    The young man nodded and stood twisting his hat uncertainly. At last he spoke with some hesitation. “This is Mr. Ashwell’s home, isn’t it?”
    Felix nodded. “Who are you and why do you ask?”
    “My name is Thomas, sir. Trenton Thomas Jr. I am looking for employment and was told that perhaps Mr. Ashwell could help me. I have references,” he added hastily, reaching into his jacket pocket. “Reverend Sadaro is an old friend of my mother.”
    Without a word, Felix took the papers and glanced over them. They were good references and Mr. Ashwell’s personal assistant, for so Felix was, took an immediate liking to the young man. “Tell me, Trenton, what do you know about Mr. Ashwell?”
    The young man shook his head. “Nothing, sir, except that he might help me. Is he much hurt?”
    Before any answer could be given, the doorbell sounded again and the doctor entered. Not wanting to leave the boy alone in the entry way, Felix instructed him to follow them upstairs.
    Pausing discreetly at the door of the bedroom, the young man waited. He was curious, who was this man he had been instructed to see? What was he like? That he was old, he was quite certain, though how he reached that conclusion, he wasn’t quite sure himself.
    The man on the bed was regaining consciousness as the doctor bent over him. “Doctor, what are you doing here?” The voice was rather weak, but demanding.
    “It was such a chilly day, I thought I would come pay a call,” was the cheery reply from the middle-aged doctor as he placed knowing fingers on his patient’s pulse.
    “Huh,” Mr. Ashwell grunted. “You did nothing of the sort. Quit fussing over me. I’m getting up.”
    “Indeed you are not,” quietly answered the doctor. “You managed to hit your head on those steps of yours and you will stay in bed the rest of the day.”
    “Rubbish! I will not!” Turning to the housekeeper he ordered, “See Dr. Taylor to the door, Mrs. Collins. Harrington—” He attempted to sit up, but was firmly pushed back down. “Bring me my cane.”
    “Calm yourself, Mr. Ashwell,” came the doctor’s soothing voice. “Excitement of this sort will keep you in bed for a week. Remember your heart.”
    “Oh bother my heart! I’m not going to lie here like a package of seeds waiting for spring planting. Let me up, I tell you.”
    In the doorway, Trenton smiled to himself. This man was acting worse than his neighbor’s grandfather had; indeed, he was more like his little sister when she was sick. In his interest he had unknowingly moved slightly into the room.
    Suddenly Mr. Ashwell caught sight of him. Leaving his complaining sentence half finished, he stared at him. “Who are you?” he demanded sharply.
    Before Felix could say a word, the young man came forward with an easy manner and a bright smile. “I’m Trenton Thomas Jr., sir.”

* * * *

    “Trenton!” The voice rang out across the fields startling a flock of crows and causing several of the cows to look up. Nothing else moved. “Trenton Ashwell!” The voice came again, more sternly this time. “I know you are there. You had better start home this minute before I tell your father!”

Will you be back?

Questions or comments so far?

Travels of Tracy - Winter

Good Morning FFFs,
I hope your week has been more relaxing and that you've gotten a lot accomplished! I did fairly well at the beginning, but I didn't get anything on my list done yesterday.

Here's my week.
We went to a wedding on Saturday. It was huge but really nice. One of the delightful things about weddings here is seeing friends you haven't seen sometimes for years! I really enjoyed visiting with different ones.
Sunday was usual.
Monday I got a good start on my list of things to do this week. I don't know about you, but I like to start out my week with getting a lot done. For some reason it seems to make the rest of the week productive.
When Tuesday arrived, I got more accomplished and finished grading all my writing students' papers. It is quite delightful to have them done already.
On Wednesday I got a lot done! I even read an entire book in the late afternoon and early evening while I was waiting for a project to upload. Don't worry, it was a fast paced, fairly short book. :) My project never did upload. My computer kept dropping the internet.
Then came yesterday. I didn't do a think I could cross off my list. But, one of my mom's friends came over to visit with her in the morning, then my brother dropped the kiddos off and I read stories and played, ate lunch and read more stories. I even made a pizza with Funny Boy. Well, let me clarify, he was the pizza. :) Then he wanted to make one with me. :D The kids didn't leave until after 2:00. I tried to upload the project again. No success. I had tried at least 5 or 6 times during the day, but it never would get finished. My grandpa came down last evening and he and I went to a concert. It was a quartet and they were charming. We heard "Quartet in E-flat Major" by Boccherini, (very delightful) "Quartet No. 6" by Bartok, (Intense, emotional and sad) and "Quartet in F Major" by Ravel. (soothing, enlivening, incredible)

You want to hear about my writing? Let me see. I finished a second try for the first story for "Project 12" but am wondering if I will have to try a third one. I started the second story for "Project 12," and then got tired of writing about them and started on TCR. I now have two TCR parts ready to transfer to the computer for printing and proofing. While I was writing TCR, I paused to think about how I should finish a sentence and all of a sudden, without the slightest inkling beforehand, a thought popped into my head. At first I thought it was rather interesting, then I shook my head and thought, "It just doesn't fit." But the idea persisted. So, switching to an empty file on NEO, I copied the last sentence and just let the idea start. It was nearly 200 words before I reached a pause. "It might be interesting," I mused. "But not for here. I think I'll save it for later." Then I went back and finished the sentence the way I was going to finish it.

This story was a fun, quick, write-it-all-in-one-evening story. Do any of you remember Tracy Linnet in "Ruined Shoes"? Well, my mom suggested that I keep the same character and her cat, but put them in a different setting. I finally did and here is the result. I have three more settings to put Tracy and her cat in, but they will be written later. I hope you enjoy this one.

Travels of Tracy - Winter

    “It’s a good thing Tad insisted I get snow tires put on before I tried driving to Grandma’s,” Tracy Linnet remarked. There was no reply, but Tracy didn’t expect one, for her companion who occupied the other front seat of her small, blue Road Runner, was Madalyn, a long-haired, yellow tabby and her almost constant companion.
    The sun was bright in the frosty blue sky and everywhere it could possibly lie, was snow. It was piled on bare branches and rail fences. Large evergreens stood weighted down with heaps of cold, white glitter. Everything looked cold and white.
    “How nice Grandma’s warm kitchen will be, won’t it, Lyn?” Tracy glanced over at her cat who purred from a soft little nest on one of Tracy’s college jackets.
    A sudden noise brought a worried frown to Tracy’s lips and a pucker to her forehead. The car gave a sporadic cough or two and then died.
    “Oh dear,” Tracy sighed, trying in vain to restart the little engine. “Lyn, what are we to do?” Picking up the cat, Tracy squinted about her at the snowy landscape, looking for a house or another car. Nothing but unbroken snow could she see until she saw the little covered bridge. As she peered at it, she thought she could see tracks leading either in or out of the bridge. Where they came from or where they were heading, she couldn’t make out from where she sat.
    “Lyn,” she rubbed her cheek softly against the furry motor that rumbled in her arms, “if you were bigger, you could run the car instead of the real engine, but you aren’t. What should we do? Should we sit here and hope someone comes along? That might not be until tomorrow.”
    Lyn yawned and flicked her tail.
    “That’s what I thought. It might be warm in here now with the sun shining, but it won’t be up many more hours and then it will be cold, and Tad would worry if he tried to call me at Grandma’s. Maybe there is a house on the other side of that bridge, hidden behind that pine tree. At least we can go to the bridge and take a look around.”
    Reaching back and picking up her warm coat from the seat behind her, Tracy managed to pull it on in the close confines of the car. Replacing her jaunty little cap at the correct angle on her head, she tied her scarf, pulled on her gloves and opened the door.
    “Come on Lyn,” she said, turning to scoop up the cat after she stepped out into the snow. “I’m not leaving you here alone.”
    Once the car door was shut and the keys were in her pocket, Tracy started forward. She was thankful her new, black GoGo boots came nearly to her knees because some of the drifts she was discovering were quite high. The wind was rather biting and Lyn meowed plaintively.
    “Oh, you poor thing,” murmured Tracy, unbuttoning her coat and tucking her beloved cat inside.
    Soon she came to a rail fence covered with snow. Most of this she brushed off before attempting to climb it. “I’m afraid these clothes weren’t designed for climbing fences,” she sighed as she heard the sound of tearing fabric. “Oh, brrr!” A bit of snow, knocked off the fence, had fallen down the top of her boot. “Perhaps I should have stayed in the car and waited for Tad to come along tomorrow.” Sadly she looked back across the fence at the bright blue car sitting so contentedly in the sunshine.
    Discovering that the footprints didn’t go farther than an unplowed road but returned again to the other side of the bridge, Tracy decided to follow them, but paused to read the sign above the bridge. “Please walk your horses across.” She gave a little laugh. “If I had a horse, I’d be happy to walk him if he just didn’t break down.”
    It was a neat old bridge and had Tracy not been anxious to find help, she would have stopped to admire it. As it was she trudged steadily on, feeling the nippy wind on her face, the rumbling purr of Lyn tucked snuggly in her coat, and the cold, wet snow in her boot.
    At last, rounding a bend in the road, she discovered to her great delight, a house. It wasn’t large, but there was smoke coming from its chimney and someone was outside with a snow shovel.
    “Hello,” Tracy called.
    The figure with the shovel turned around. “Hi! Where did you come from?”
    Tracy couldn’t help but laugh. The boyish figure and the blunt question reminded her of Tad’s younger brother. “I came from down the road. My car is stuck.”
    “In the snow?”
    “No, it just quit running.”
    “Hmm,” the boys pondered this while he leaned on his shovel. “Well, my brother’s at college and Dad’s still at work. Mom can mash potatoes and roast turkeys and bake the best tasting pies you ever had, but she’s no good with engines. Of course there’s Gramps. He can fix anything. Why don’t you come inside and I’ll ask him.”
    To this Tracy nodded agreement.
    “Mom!” the boy hollered as they stepped inside the warm house.
    A clear voice answered, “I’m in the kitchen, Dean.”
    At his beckon, Tracy followed Dean down the hall and into a snug little kitchen with cheery red walls. A pleasant faced woman turned from the sink.
    “Her car’s broke down. Got to see if Gramps’ll fix it.”
    Tracy blinked. The boy had spoken rapidly and then disappeared from the room.
    “Where did it break down?”
    “On the other side of the covered bridge.”
    “And you walked all this way in those shoes. You poor thing.”
    Lyn, disturbed from her nap, tried to stretch and Tracy unbuttoned her coat to let her out asking as she did so, “You don’t have a dog, do you?”
    “No.” The woman turned. “Well, so you carried your cat in your coat!”
    It was only a matter of minutes before Dean came back with Gramps.
    “Gramps’ll fix it.”
    “We’ll go in the truck,” Gramps said and Tracy quickly picked up Lyn, said a quick good-bye and hurried after the two figures.

    The ride in the truck was much quicker and to Tracy’s delight her car’s trouble was fixed in half an hour.
    “Well, Lyn,” she sighed when they were alone. “Here we are again. I wonder what Tad will say tomorrow when I tell him? Maybe I won’t tell him,” she decided. Then, reaching down and unzipping her boot, she pulled it off. Rummaging around in her bag on the back seat, she remarked to Lyn who was washing her face, “I’d rather drive with my slippers on than with a cold leg and foot.”

What did you think?

Comments or questions?

Suggestions for other travels for Tracy?
P.S. Please go to the top right of the page and answer the survey question that best fits you. Thanks.

"Letter"

Good Morning FFFs,
We have snow on the ground! Not more than about 1/4 of an inch, but it's pretty.
What a week! Have you ever had a week that you thought would be a little busy only to have it become crazy? I'm probably the only one who has experienced that, right? ;)
Saturday was pretty normal except that it was so nice out, that I went walking with my best friends.
On Sunday we had nearly everyone at church which hasn't happened yet this year. Families are finally getting well.
I thought Monday was going to be normal, but I ended up driving my mom and sister to JoAnns because my mom's knee started bothering her. That ended up taking about 2 hours of my morning which of course threw the rest of my day somewhat off.
Tuesday came along and with it a thunderstorm, cooler weather and writing classes. Busy. But I loved the thunderstorm!
Wednesday was very different. I went over to the N's house to surprise a young friend who had a birthday last week. I didn't come home until after 3:00. I had gone over about 9:00.
Yesterday, since Mom's knee was still bothering her, I had to drive her and Dad to the dentist. (Dad was having some work done and was under some kind of "don't remember" pill so he couldn't drive.) Then I had to drive Mom over later in the morning to pick him up, stop and get prescriptions filled and then head home. Needless to say, that took up most of my morning. I was also replying to my wonderful illustrator about illustrations for book #4! I'm hoping to have this book out before conference season starts. :) And oh wow! The illustrations are great!
So now it is Friday. We are going to clean the house and maybe I can get some other things done. Tomorrow we have a wedding to go to. :) It is the first of this year's weddings. :)

Since it appears that most of my readers, at least those who comment so I know someone read it, :) are really busy, I didn't think I should post TCR or Dr. Morgan. I wrote this "letter" back in 2003 maybe, when I was writing "pretend letters" with a friend. As you can see by the date of this letter, we were writing during the Civil War. Hope you enjoy it.

December 30th, 1864

Pineville, Texas

    . . .This December has been another quiet one without Papa. Ellen was asking what Christmas was like when Papa was home. Isn’t that sad that she doesn’t remember Papa being home for Christmas? . . .
    On the fifteenth, which was Maggie Beth’s birthday, the boys, Maggie Beth & Ellen went to the woods and found a beautiful little tree which they brought home. The boys set it up in the front room, and we decorated it with strings of popped corn and berries. Maggie Beth, Ellen, and I also had gathered several baskets of pine cones, and we hung them on the branches. Mama had Jonathan bring down an old trunk from the attic, and when it was opened, she took out a dozen beautiful silver candle holders for the tree along with twelve candles!
    “Mama!” I gasped, “Where did these come from?” I had never seen them before.
    Mama smiled. “They were my mother’s. She had three dozen of these, and each of her daughters was to receive a dozen on her wedding day.” A far away look came into Mama’s eyes, and we all quietly settled ourselves for the story we knew was coming. . . .

    “As you know, I was the baby of the family. A pet of my brothers and two sisters, and the delight of my darling Mother and Father. At sixteen I met your Papa. He was tall and handsome, strong and brave. He wasn’t rich, but he was honest and God-fearing. Mother loved him and felt he was the right man for her baby. Shortly after we became engaged, when I was seventeen, Mother became very ill. I wanted to put off the wedding until she was better, but she wouldn’t hear of it.  It was decided to have only the family there for the wedding because Mama was not strong enough for much. I remember going to her room the morning of my wedding. Mother was lying on her bed resting. I knelt at her bedside and let her clasp the pearls my Father had just given me around my neck. Her hands were white and thin, but her smile was bright. ‘Grace, darling,’ Mother said in her soft, gentle voice that had only grown gentler with her suffering. ‘I know I won’t be here on earth much longer. My Savior calls me. I’m not afraid to go. Don’t grieve for me, Dearest. I will wait for you to come to me with your husband and all your darling children. I know I can trust you to Henry and our Precious Lord! I leave you everything in the old blue trunk. Take it with your mother’s blessing.’ She kissed me then and smiled.”
    Here Mama’s voice broke, and Jonathan put his arm around her.
    In a few minutes Mama was able to go on. “That evening just before your Papa and I left for our honeymoon, Mother died in Father’s arms.”
    Ellen burst into tears and climbed into Mama’s lap to be comforted. Maggie Beth squeezed Jonathan’s hand, and I cuddled Robert, thinking of how hard Mama’s wedding day must have been. Even Peter lay perfectly still for once, beside the old blue trunk.
    Mama continued, “It was hard to get used to the idea that Mother was gone. I thought of the blue trunk during our honeymoon. When we got back home, I asked Father for it. He couldn’t remember where it was. Neither of my sisters could find it, so I wrote to my brothers asking about it. Charles, Jonathan, David, and Frank remembered the trunk but didn’t know where it was either. Caleb never received my letter, though I didn’t find that out until later. The thought of ever finding the old blue trunk with its gift from my Mother faded in my mind after Anna and Jonathan were born. When your Grandfather moved in with Uncle Caleb, and we moved out here, I forgot about it. That is until I received  a letter from Father. He said they had found the old blue trunk buried in Caleb’s attic. They knew it was all mine because they found a letter from Mother saying so. When Uncle Caleb brought his family out here for a visit four years ago, he also brought the chest. Only we were all so busy then that Papa & I decided to wait to open it until Christmas. But as you know, Papa left for the war in October and wasn’t here for Christmas, so I didn’t open it. I was wanting to wait for him. When Papa was home last year, he & I opened it one evening after all you children were in bed. I would have opened it last Christmas, but I was feeling so ill that I forgot, and so,” Mama smiled at us all, “let’s open it now.”
    At that, Peter sat up quickly, and Ellen slid off Mama’s lap. They were both eager to be the first to get something out of  Grandmother’s old blue trunk.
    “Wait!” Jonathan exclaimed. “If we all try to unpack this, something will get broken. Why don’t we let Mama unpack it while we watch.”
    Jonathan’s suggestion was carried out quickly . . . The room grew quiet as Mama began to take items out of the old blue trunk. If I tried to tell you everything that was in there, Christiana, this would be a very long letter. There were a few quilts and four pearl necklaces. Mama said she thinks they were her Grandmother’s!  There was one little box that Mama had never seen before. When she opened it, she began to cry. We all looked at her in amazement. She must have noticed our looks, for she smiled through her tears and showed us a beautiful ring.
    “Whose was it, Mama?” Maggie Beth asked.
    “Mine,” Mama said. “Mother  and Father gave it to me for my seventeenth birthday. The diamond in it is from a necklace that Mother’s mother gave her on her seventeenth birthday. I had lost it one night in the garden and never could find it. I was nearly heartbroken.” Mama smiled at the ring fondly.
    “Mama, what is that note peeking up from the lining?” Jonathan asked as he pointed to a little piece of paper.
    Mama pulled it out. It read,
    “My darling Grace, I found this ring in a rose that your Father brought me this morning. You must have dropped it by mistake. I think it must have been when you accepted Henry’s heart and hand and put his ring in this one’s place. Darling, we are so happy for you! I will put this ring in a safer place, so that when you are ready to give it to your own daughter, you might. May the Lord bless you and Henry, my darling. With all my love, Mother”
    Maggie Beth & I had tears in our eyes when Mama finished reading that letter. Peter was more inquisitive. “Did you really drop that ring, or did you put it in the rose on purpose?” Mama laughed a little. “I dropped it when I put on Papa’s ring, and then we couldn’t find this ring anywhere! We spent at least fifteen minutes looking all over the ground for it. Your papa was on his hands and knees searching. If it fell in the rose, that explains why we couldn’t find it. . . ."

 What did you think?

Triple Creek Ranch - Part 32

Hello Faithful Friday Fiction Fans,
It's cloudy here and cold. Yesterday it was in the 30s all day and cloudy. No snow. I wish :) but Dad needs to work on some roofs, so . . . Maybe we'll get snow later.

This week was rather busy. Or at least we had extra things going on.
On Saturday it was so nice out that I got to go walk with my best friends. That was great! We hadn't walked since before Thanksgiving!
Sunday we had a small group for church since several families were either sick or had people sick and one family was out of town.
It was great to have a normal Monday and I got a lot done! I like those kinds of days.
Tuesday was Salsa day here. My sis-in-law and the kids came over late morning and helped us make and can 13 quarts of salsa. I know, for those of you who have larger families or can in larger quantities, we hardly made any. Just remember it's for a family of four. :)
On Wednesday we went to Connie's to take some things, but decided once we arrived, not to bother. You see, Connie's is going out of business. We had been planning to stop our booth since it just wasn't worth it any longer and then got a phone call saying they had to close. Anyway, we discovered about 1/2 of the booths were either cleared out or being cleared out.
Then Wednesday evening we babysat the kiddos over here along with Sweet-Pea, J-J and Sweet-Heart.  It was a lively but fun evening. What else to you have when you have a 10 month old, a 1 1/2, an almost 2, an almost 3, a 3, a nearly 5 and a 6 year old? :D
Yesterday afternoon Dad took S and me in the truck to pack up our stuff at Connie's. We're now out and have stuff we have to sort through here.
Today we clean house and then this afternoon I'm going with my best friends to go buy shoes for BF1's wedding in May.

I've have been writing some. Mostly on "Project 12" this week. I'm trying to get the first story finished. Then I can go back to TCR and Dr. Morgan and other short stories. At least until I have to get the next story written for "Project 12."

Christian, I must commend your bravery! It seems as though the games I created were too much of a challenge for the rest of my readers for no one has played them. Or if they did, they didn't admit their status on the blog. :) But thank you, Christian for playing! And here is the story you requested. I hope you enjoy it.

Part 32

    He smiled in the dark at his own thinking. If Hardrich couldn’t run the ranch for a few days without Norman in the fields too, he would have to change a lot since he saw him a few hours ago. “I’ll stay here at least tomorrow and see how things go,” he decided. Then he turned over, closed his eyes and fell asleep.

    “Come, Miss Orlena.” Mrs. O’Connor entered the room to find Orlena awake. “The doctor said you were to be getting up this morning and breakfast will be ready in ten minutes.” She had bustled about as she spoke and opened the curtains so that the light of the early morning would enter.
    “Oh, I can’t get up this morning, Mrs. O’Connor,” Orlena objected, trying to look pitiful. “Perhaps by this afternoon I’ll have enough strength to get up for a time. I’ll sleep a little longer and then you or Jenelle can bring my breakfast.”
    “We’ll do no such thing.” Mrs. O’Connor turned to the bed and pulled the sheet off.
    “How dare you!” exclaimed Orlena, bouncing upright and glaring, seeming to forget in her anger that she was “still weak and sickly.”
    “The sheet needs washing. Your clothes are on the chair. You’d best be putting them on, for Norman and Jenelle will be waiting for us.”
    “Us?” Orlena repeated. “I will eat in the dining room, and you will eat in the kitchen. I refuse to eat with hired help.”
    “You won’t be eating anywhere unless you get dressed,” Mrs. O’Connor replied calmly.
    Orlena moved over to the chair. “You’ll have to help me get dressed, Mrs. O’Connor, or I’ll never be ready in time and then Norman will be angry at me.” She whimpered like a child afraid of his own shadow, but Mrs. O’Connor wasn’t deceived.
    “What you need, Child, is some sensible clothes you can dress yourself in without keeping your brother waiting.”
    The dress was soon on and Orlena sat down before her mirror and held out her brush to Mrs. O’Connor. “Now fix my hair,” she ordered. “Remember, I should have fourteen curls.”
    But Mrs. O’Connor was not going to cater to the young tyrant any longer. “Tis not likely I’ll be doing your hair for ye,” she exclaimed, letting her Irish tongue speak with it’s old lilt.  “I didn’t come to play nurse maid to ye when yer old enough to be doin’ it yerself. Tis time I was down helpin’ Mrs. Mavrich with the breakfast entirely!” And without so much as a by your leave, Mrs. O’Connor disappeared from the room.
    “How . . . how . . . how dare you!” Orlena spluttered. “Mrs. O’Connor!” she hollered. “You come back here this minute. Do you hear me?” She flung open her room door and shouted as she had never done even in her grandmother’s house. There she would have rung for another servant and then, when her grandmother was present, she would have pouted, whined, complained or cried until the one who had displeased her had been properly punished. “Mrs. O’Connor!” Never had the housekeeper dared to ignore her wishes before. She would speak to Norman about her.
    Leaning over the railing, staring down the stairs, Orlena was about to shout again when the door below opened and her brother appeared.
    “Good morning, Orlena,” Norman looked up to greet her pleasantly.
    For a brief moment, Orlena remained standing and stared down. Then she remembered what she was going to tell him and ordered, “Send Mrs. O’Connor to my room at once!”
    Norman’s eyebrows raised. “That wasn’t exactly a pleasant morning greeting,” he remarked, adding, “Mrs. O’Connor is busy helping Jenelle get breakfast on the table and I’m afraid can’t come now. Is there anything I can do?”
    Orlena glared down at him. “No!” she snapped and started to storm back to her room.
    “Breakfast will be in five minutes, Orlena,” Norman called after her.
    The sound of her door slamming was her only reply.
    “Hmm,” Norman scratched his head. “I wonder if she will come down this morning for breakfast? She certainly isn’t still sick in bed.” Shaking his head, he returned to the dining room to stand by the window and drum his fingers on the sill. “This could be an interesting day,” he mused.

    And so the day started. Orlena did come down for breakfast with a hurt look on her face and complained to her brother in a teary voice about Mrs. O’Connor’s rudeness.
    His only response was, “We don’t always get things our own way. Pass the butter, please, Orlena.”
    Orlena passed it, muttering under her breath.

    To Jenelle’s surprise Norman remained about the house all day. Not always inside, but being only out in the barn or in one of the outbuildings, he was often stepping inside for something. As for Mrs. O’Connor, Jenelle’s worries about her fitting in were wasted, for before the day was over Mrs. O’Connor felt like one of the family.
    “She fits in better than Orlena has yet,” Jenelle sighed to herself as she latched the chicken coop and prepared to follow her new housekeeper and Orlena back to the house.
    Norman, coming from the barn, fell into step beside his wife. “Have you explained the care of the chickens to Mrs. O’Connor and Orlena?”
    Jenelle nodded.
    “Good. Orlena,” he called, lengthening his stride a bit to catch up with his sister, “starting tomorrow the care of the chickens will be your responsibility.”
    Stopping short and wheeling around, Orlena stared at her brother. Surely he was joking! He didn’t really think that the granddaughter of Mrs. Marshall Mavrich would take care of chickens, did he? One look at his face, however, told her that he was not teasing. “I have nothing suitable to wear for such a despicable job,” she told him haughtily.
    If Orlena thought her lack of proper clothing would deter her brother and make him change his mind, she was sadly mistaken.

Have you any questions or comments?

Party Time!

Good Morning FFFs!
It looks like it's going to be a lovely day! I heard it was supposed to get into the 50s today. :) And the sun is shining, well, once it gets past the horizon it should be. :)

Since the 16th of this month marked the 4th anniversary of this blog, it's time for a party! I hope you all enjoy the games created just for you. We'll see who really knows my stories. :) For some questions it might be the process of elimination. But have fun. Enjoy yourself and then come back next week for another story.

See if you can get the answers correct in the five games I created just for you, my faithful Friday fiction fans. :)
If you get 24 - 31 answers correct you are an Expert and are qualified to give lectures about me and my work as well as know your way around the blog.
If you get 13 - 23 answers correct you are a Friend who is quite fond of this blog and familiar with my work though you can't recall all the details.
If you get 6 - 12 answers correct you are an Acquaintance who drops by now and then to see how I'm doing, recognizes my name when it comes up in conversations and even knows a story or two.
If you get 0 - 5 answers correct you are the New Kid on the Blog. Welcome, and I hope you'll stick around and enjoy yourself.


So, grab a paper and pen and have fun!
These games are to be played without looking at any other post on my blog. Or reading any published books of mine.

Game One

They Said What?

(Match the quote with the person who said it. The titles of the stories are after each name.)

A. "I have to live in a city."
B. "Was it the best one yet?"
C. "I think I'll take my flashlight into my sleeping bag this time."
D. "I tell you they're gone!"
E. "There's a guy selling hot dogs!"
F. "This is quite a night to be out, lad."
G. "Guys, it looks like we'll be here a while."
H. "I don't smell a thing."
I. "Dad, they have a flat tire!"
J. "I didn't know we had come so far."

1. Sarah Smith- Answered Prayers
2. Howard Bartell- The Storm
3. Rone- Alone
4. Chester Reginald Donavon- The Emancipation of Chester Reginald Donavon; Esquire
5. Reagan Rowe- My Best Thanksgiving
6. Professor Stovkewetsky- The Mysterious Solution
7. Mia Marley- Christmas Disaster
8. Jeff Hansen- Mystery at Random
9. Susanna Stanson- Home For Christmas
10. Jerry Wyatt- SWAT Team Adventure

Game Two

Who Am I?

(Match the description to the correct person. These are major and minor characters. Next, match the characters to the correct story title. To score this game, if you can match all three parts together you get on 1 point, if you can only match two, you get 1/2 a point.)

1. I fell out of a tree but didn't get hurt.
2. The rain soaked my shirt twice in one day!
3. I jumped in surprise and shock while doing my job.
4. I'm not sure I want to babysit again!
5. I look just like my brother and sister only I'm thin and pale.
6. I helped dig tunnels in the snow.
7. Living with my grandfather was not what I wanted!
8. I couldn't fix my flat tire.
9. My grandfather became excited by what I found.
10. I want to plan what to do in any situation that might arise.

A. Patrick Henry
B. Kerry
C. Nate Jones
D. News Reporter
E. Sammy
F. Bennett Marley
G. Tracy Linnet
H. William Croften
I. Miss Rachel
J. Tyrone

1. Toothpaste Trouble
2. Neglected and Forsaken
3. An Autumn Path
4. Alone
5. The Storm
6. A Christmas Disaster
7. Ruined Shoes
8. At the Foot of the Falls
9. Two Dollars and a Knife
10. Sergeant Wyatt: SWAT Team Adventure

Game Three

Weather Report

(Decide which of these stories fits the weather reported.)

*It snowed on Christmas Eve Day.
1. Christmas Delays     2. A Christmas Story     3. Home for Christmas     4. Worst and Best Christmas

* A storm is responsible for the creation of a clever solution of how to get home.
1. At the Mercy of the Storm     2. The Storm     3. Answered Prayers     4. Canoe Trip

* Temperatures reached the upper eighties during the day only to fall quite low by evening.
1. Lower Lights     2. The Medford's Independence Day     3. Sergeant Wyatt: SWAT Team Adventure     4. Lost in the Dunes

*An approaching snow storm hastened the work of the characters.
1. The Emancipation of Chester Reginald Donavon; Esquire     2. A Christmas Disaster     3. The Graham Quartet and the Lonely Cabin     4. A Western Christmas

*A summer day that is warm but not hot or humid.
1. A Promise     2. Mysterious Words     3. Neglected and Forsaken     4. At Last

Game Four

Doctor! Doctor!

(Match the correct Doctor with the story he belongs in. Take special care that you don't mix them or their patients might not recover!)

A. Dr. Armstrong
B. Dr. Black
C. Dr. Jack Fields
D. Dr. Fredrick Foster
E. Dr. French
F. Dr. Earl Friesen
G. Dr. Dave Quincey
H. Dr. Stern

1. Triple Creek Ranch
2. Christmas Delays
3. Home Fires of the Great War
4. Worst and Best Christmas
5. Fishing for a Little Peace & Quiet
6. At the Lighthouse
7. The Unexpected Request
8. Dr. Morgan

Game Five

Place Me

(Place the character or characters in the correct setting for their story. Be careful!)

1. Hannah Ward
2. Jessica Chang
3. Jones Family
4. Prof. Stovkewetsky
5. William Croften
6. Chad and Brooke Dancroft
7. Alexander Family
8. Rowe Family

A. "Xander Horse Farm," KY
B. A little town in Russia
C. "The Glen," a southern mansion
D. An apartment in New York
E. A southern island
F. West Texas
G. Animas Forks, CO
H. A hotel-like place by the sea

Once you have finished, go here to check you answers. Don't post your answers in the comments, only what you are. :) Have fun! I'm looking forward to seeing what everyone is.

So how did you do?

Are you an Expert, Friend, Acquaintance or a New Kid on the Blog?

Will you be back next week?

Triple Creek Ranch - Part 31

Good Morning FFFs!
It really feels like spring outside even if it is still January. Tomorrow evening it is supposed to get cold and we could get some ice, sleet or maybe snow. Winter again.

It was a lot of fun to get all your guesses. :) No one got close for how many books I had read. I surprised even myself with that number. Christian was the closest to the correct answer. His guess - 85. Right number - 109!!! Have I mentioned that I like to read?

And as for the number of books we have at home, not counting the cookbooks, song books, books on PaperBack Swap or the four boxes of books we have to get rid of, we have a lot. Angela, you were only one off! Our grand total for books in the house is 6004!
Thank you all for your guesses and I hope you enjoyed it. :) I did.

Wow! I thought that since I had written two more parts of TCR, I'd post one this morning. I wasn't sure which one I was ready to post so I went back to look. I had no idea that the last TCR that was posted was back in September! No wonder you want another one. Sorry.

Life has been busy, but not too much. Last Friday I went over to help a friend paint her new house and I'm heading back over there again today for a few hours. The only other thing of interest is that for the rest of today, my 3rd book, "Pirates of Rocky Crag Bay and Other Stories" is available for free download on Amazon! So, if you don't have a copy yet, know of people who might like to read it, or just want to share about it with friends, family or strangers, go right ahead, but do it soon! I've already had over 800 downloads!

But, I don't have much time now, so here is TCR! Enjoy!

Part 31

    “She is to get up tomorrow,” Dr. French said. “And see that she has something to do besides sit around all day. She’s not an invalid.” It was evening, and Jenelle and Mrs. O’Connor had followed the doctor down to the front room where Norman was waiting for them. “What that child needs now is some exercise, and you,” the doctor wheeled suddenly to Jenelle, “could do with less exercise and more rest.”
    “That is why Mrs. O’Connor is here, Doctor,” Norman answered, putting an arm about his wife. “She’ll see to it that Jenelle gets her rest when I’m out on the ranch.”
    “And that Orlena has things to do?” Doctor French shook his head and picked up his hat. “I hope you are a strong woman, Mrs. O’Connor, for I have a feeling Mr. Mavrich is handing you a full time job.”
    Mrs. O’Connor smiled, “I’m used to working. A sad thing it would be indeed if Margaret Patrick O’Connor had to sit and rock all the rest of her days. A sad thing entirely!” Now and then a bit of Mrs. O’Connor’s Irish upbringing would slip into her speech bringing a smile to Norman’s face.
    “Good!” was the emphatic reply of the doctor as he slapped on his hat. “Good evening.” And Dr. French took his leave.

    “I’ll just step up to settle Miss Orlena for the night before retiring myself.”
    “Oh, Mrs. O’Connor,” Jenelle protested, starting forward, but Norman held her back. “You’ve been busy ever since you arrived this morning; I can see to Orlena. You must be tired.”
    “And me just finished saying I didn’t want to be sitting down with folded hands,” exclaimed Mrs. O’Connor lifting her hands and looking from Norman to Jenelle.
    “Darling,” Norman chided softly, his grey eyes laughing, “you wouldn’t want Mrs. O’Connor’s first night here to be difficult, would you?”
    Jenelle turned her face to her husband’s with a look of surprise. “No, but—”
    “Then I think it would be best if you let her take care of my sister this evening.”
    For a moment she looked at him, then turned to look at the ranch’s latest addition, and her ready laugh bubbled out though it wasn’t as light as usual. “Of course,” she agreed. “You must have missed Orlena when Norman took her away. I’m just can’t seem to think for I’m so—”
    “Tired,” Norman contributed.
    Not waiting for anything further to be said, Mrs. O’Connor slipped from the room leaving the master of Triple Creek Ranch alone with his wife.
    After the door closed, Norman drew Jenelle over to the sofa and pulled her down beside him. For several minutes neither of them spoke.
    “Norman,” Jenelle said at last, her head resting comfortably on his shoulder, “what am I to do with Mrs. O’Connor? I don’t know how . . . I mean, I’ve never had anyone old enough to be my mother . . . Well, . . . Oh, Norman, why did you ask her to come?”
    There was the sound of tears in Jenelle’s voice and Norman looked down at the face half hidden on his shoulder and pulled her closer. “Sweetheart,” he whispered, “Mrs. O’Connor was the only real friend I had when I went to visit Grandmother. I knew she didn’t have any place to go after the house in town was rented, and you needed help. Darling, she knows what Orlena is like, she knows her moods, her attitudes and her whims. Mrs. O’Connor also knows how to cook and keep house. More important, she knows how to pray. You won’t have to tell her much except maybe how to take care of the chickens unless—” He paused in thought, tapped his fingers on his knee and then resumed. “Perhaps it would be good to give the chickens into my sister’s care.”
    Jenelle sat up suddenly, “Norman, she’s my chicken too!”
    “What?”
    “I . . . I mean, my sister,” Jenelle giggled, and Norman laughed.
    “All right, Dear, our sister,” Norman conceded when his laugh was over.
    Jenelle leaned back against his arm. “Norman, if Mrs. O’Connor is in charge of our sister, does the cooking, washing and keeping house, what is left for me? Shall I go out and work in the fields with you and the men? You know I can rope a cow and mend a fence.”
    “Not a chance.” Norman bent his head and kissed the tip of his wife’s nose. “You are to do whatever you feel like doing. If you wish to wash the clothes or cook or sew with Orlena, why do so, but if you are tired or feel a sick headache coming on, then you are to go to bed knowing that the house will continue to run smoothly. How does that sound, Sweet?”
    “Delightful. But I’m afraid it will take some getting used to.” Jenelle sighed softly and nestled in her husband’s arms.
    The clock on the mantel ticked the minutes slowly by, the only sound in the room, until Mr. and Mrs. Mavrich rose to kneel beside the sofa and spend some time in prayer.

    That night Norman lay awake for some time listening to Jenelle’s soft, even breathing beside him and staring into the dark, thinking. He knew Mrs. O’Connor would be a wonderful help to Jenelle and would settle in to the ways of the house easily, but he wasn’t so sure about Orlena’s actions. “I’m never sure how my young sister will act,” he sighed to himself. “She is puzzling and difficult.” Should he leave the adjusting and settling of everything, Jenelle, Mrs. O’Connor, Orlena and the work, to settle itself somehow, or should he try to help? Would he only add to the confusion he felt sure Orlena would cause if he tried to help? It would be easier for him if he let things work themselves out. “But perhaps I should stay,” he mused. “I might help Jenelle if I stayed here, but what about the work on the ranch?”

Thoughts? Questions?

Comments?

P.S. Don't forget to come back next week because it will be Party Time!