Lost in the Hotel - Part 2

Friday Felicitations,  Faithful Friday Fiction Fans!
 (Can you think of any more F words to include in that greeting? :) )

It's been another busy writing week. I'm loving this newly discovered ability to write more in a week than usual and the ability to keep the momentum going! I need to write 1,000 words today and I'll have written 8k every week this month! I'd say that was pretty good since I've NEVER written that much in one month! I'm planning on keeping my goal at 5k a week, at least for now, because conference season is coming up which means business. but I certainly won't be trying to only write 5k. I'd love to write 8k a week next month. Or 9k or more. :)

I've been working on finishing up some short (or longer) stories to post while I write TCR-5. I've got a good amount written now so . . . I'm hoping to start work on TCR-5 on Monday! I'd covet your prayers as I write. I've got so many ideas for these books that I'm going to have to do some figuring and decide what stories/events I can include in this book and what ones I should save for another one.

Update–I thought you might like to know that yesterday I approved the draft cover for "Gift from the Storm" (Dr. Morgan). Hopefully next Friday you can all see a preview of the front cover. :) Would you like that? I'm still hoping to have this finished by the beginning of April. We'll see how quickly my test readers can get it read and their reviews to me and then how quickly I can get the layout done and all the other little things. But at least you all don't have to wait for an illustrator. :)

Progress is being made on TCR-1 audio. I've approved the first 15 minutes and my producer said she thought she'd be able to move pretty quickly with the rest of it. I'll keep you updated.

But now, back the the final part of the hotel story. And remember, this really happened. The phone conversation you will read is what really took place though maybe not exactly word for word. Enjoy! And don't laugh too hard. :)

Lost in the Hotel

Part 2

    Thoughts of all the mystery books she had read came flooding through her mind and her vivid imagination pictured escaped convicts behind the next water heater, thieves creeping up behind her, or stumbling suddenly upon a secret gathering of men in the underworld of crime. No! She was getting carried away. “Perhaps everyone slept in this morning,” she told herself half aloud.
    On she went, trying to find a way out. Even had she wanted to, she knew she would never be able to find the door where she had entered. “I’m lost,” she told herself after wandering around for what felt like hours. “I’m really lost.”
    Finally, after more wanderings among water heaters and other strange things, Mrs. Blossom came to the largest laundry room she had ever seen. “Why, I could wash every article of clothing and bedding and rugs I own all at one time,” she chuckled gleefully, forgetting the horrors of the past. “I should have brought my laundry.”
    Then she remembered that she needed to get out of the basement.
    There seemed to be almost a labyrinth of washing machines and dryers, and before Mrs. Blossom was able to find her way out, her cell phone rang.
    A quick glance at the ID told her it was her husband. Finally someone who could help her!
    “Hello, Jerry?”
    The voice on the other end was deep and casual but it sounded so safe. “Gen, where are you?”
    “I don’t know. I’m lost somewhere in the hotel”
    “Where?”
    Mrs. Blossom frowned, “I think I’m in the basement, but I can’t get out!”
    “Well, I’m going to go eat breakfast.”
    “But, Jerry!” Mrs. Blossom wailed, “I’m lost!”
    There was a grunt on the other end. “I’m going to eat.”
    “Jerry! I really am lost!”
    Another grunt was the sympathizing answer, and then Mr. Blossom said, “You can find me at breakfast, I’m not waiting.”
    “But—“
    The line went dead and Mrs. Blossom stared down at her phone. “Oh, dear!” she sighed. Her husband wasn’t going to be any help. And it didn’t look like anyone else was going to come to her aid either. She would just have to find her way out “or die of starvation,” she reflected sadly, hearing a rumble in her stomach.
    Starting forward once again, Mrs. Blossom was delighted to discover an elevator. “At last, I can get out of this place!”
    There was a sign on it which said, “Employees Only” but Mrs. Blossom sniffed. “Why would you put a sign like that on an elevator down here? As if any normal person would want to explore your hidden rooms.”
    Pushing the button, she waited with a growing feeling of hunger.
    Ding
    The door opened and Mrs. Blossom heaved a sigh of relief as she stepped inside. She pressed the button for the first floor, the door closed, and she felt the familiar sensation of half suppressed movement.
    Ding
    When the door opened, she stepped eagerly into the hall. Only, this wasn’t a familiar hall. Where was she? No one was to be seen and she couldn’t get back on the elevator because the door had just closed and a special key was needed to operate it from this floo. “Oh, dear! she groaned, realizing that the elevator must have opened the back door instead of the front one.
    “I never thought of a different door opening,” she sighed. “Now what do I do?”
    She thought of calling her husband, but knew she’d get no more help than before. “If I knew the number for the front desk I’d call that and have them come find me. But I don’t know it.”
    The tantalizing smell of cooking bacon, sausages, omelets and waffles drifted down the hallway. Mrs. Blossom’s stomach rumbled louder.
    “There has to be a way out of here,” she muttered, growing hungrier and more frustrated by this hotel experience each minute. “I’ll just find it!”
    Attracted by the mouthwatering smells, she started down the corridor. The noise of clanking dishes was soon heard, along with the muffled sound of  voices.
    “Well, at least I can ask someone how to get out.” She continued walking. “I am getting my walk in. But it sure isn’t the scenery or fresh air I had envisioned. This is the most ridiculous hotel I’ve ever been in!” she fumed. “Who ever heard of stairway doors setting off alarms, or of no one in the laundry room, or elevators that don’t open into the right hallway?”
    At last a door was reached and, opening it, Mrs. Blossom found herself in the kitchen. No one seemed to notice her standing there uncertainly and she hated to interrupt anyone as they all looked so busy. Perhaps . . . ah, wasn’t that a door? It looked like it might lead to freedom!
    Without giving herself time to reconsider, Gen Blossom started across the kitchen, her eyes on the new door ahead. Then she was there. Where would it lead? Placing her hand on the cool metal surface, she took a deep breath and pushed.
    Mrs. Blossom’s eyes lit up and she heaved a great sigh of relief. She was out! This was the dining area and there, right before her, was her husband waiting in line for an omelet and a waffle.
    “Where did you come from?” Mr. Blossom asked her in a gruff but surprised manner.
    Stepping in line beside him, Mrs. Blossom replied, “I told you, I was lost!” She wasn’t sure he believed her, but he did look from her to the door and then back again before grunting, “Huh.”
    Mrs. Blossom has never again had the courage to venture down the stairway of a fancy hotel in search of an early morning walk. She has had her fill of shadowy basements, gurgling water pipes, labyrinth laundry rooms and secret hallways. She stays in the safe and known realms open for guests and never ventures off on explorations alone.

So, what did you think?

Did it make you want to wander alone in large hotels?

What would you have done in Mrs. Blossom's place?

Are you interested in seeing the cover for the new book?

Lost in the Hotel - Part 1

Hello FFFs,
It certainly is winter here right now. We've had snow on the ground since Sunday night! But I think we're supposed to get rain today. We'll see if we later end up with ice on everything.

I know, I know, you came back today hoping and expecting the next part of "Dr. Morgan." Well, I have some news for you. First, I have finished writing that book and am expecting to divide it into chapters today and get it to my test readers over the weekend. Second, that means you won't be reading any more parts of "Dr. Morgan" (now titled "Gift from the Storm") on this blog. :( So sorry, but I did warn you. But, . . .  Lest you groan and sigh thinking you'll have to wait for months to read the rest of it, I have someone who is going to do the cover and she is even kind enough to work on the front of it first so you all can see it even before I get the rest of what goes on the back to her. Weren't we nice? ;) And I'm not expecting my test readers to take very long reading this story. So, all that said, just to let you know, I'm hoping for the beginning of April to have it done. I'm not promising because I know how busy things get sometimes when you least expect it, but you can pray things all come together. :)

And on another note, I just received the first 15 minutes of TCR-1 Audio! I can't wait to go listen to it!

This month has been a busy one for writing. In January I wrote 5k each week or more. I don't think I ever reached 6k, but this month I've written 8k each week. This week I've gotten a little more than 6k written so far. If I can get 2 thousand more words written between today and tomorrow, I'll have my 3rd 8k week.
Perhaps you are wondering what I've been writing since "Dr. Morgan" or "Gift from the Storm" has been finished. Well, I finished this story for one. I finished another short story the next night and last night I was working on a "Ria and the Gang" story. :) I'm trying to replenish my stock of stories to post before I start in on TCR-5.

This story is based on a true experience by a friend of ours. She told us the story herself and, before I wrote it, I asked her to tell it to me again. I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. :) Names have been changed to protect the guilty. :P

Lost in the Hotel

Part 1

    It was early morning and Mrs. Blossom found herself wide awake. “This is odd,” she thought, after looking at the glowing numbers on the clock beside the bed. “I never wake up this early at a hotel.” Giving a sigh, she turned over and closed her eyes. The only sound to be heard was her husband’s soft snoring. It had been a long and busy last few days with traveling and meetings and more traveling and meetings. This was the only day Mr. and Mrs. Blossom had to relax before getting back on the road for a final few days of business before they at last reached home.
    Finding herself wide awake, Mrs. Blossom turned over again and stared into the blackness in the direction of the ceiling. “I could get up,” she thought. “I could get some laundry going. . . . There is a park right across the parking lot and I’m sure it would be a lovely place to walk before breakfast. I could use a good walk after all the sitting I have been doing.”
    Thoughts of all the things she could do if she got up flooded her mind, and the next minute she was slipping from her bed in an eagerness to get going.
    Her husband was still sleeping when she tiptoed from the room and out into the silent hall.
    “Everyone must still be sleeping,” she thought, gently closing her room door behind her. “Now, should I take the stairs or the elevator,” she mused. The elevator was all the way down the hall while the stairs were only two doors down. The Blossom’s room was on the seventh floor, but the thought of so many stairs didn’t bother Gen Blossom as long as she was going down.
    “I’ll be good and take the stairs,” she decided, turning to her right. “Then I won’t feel guilty about a big breakfast.” Her footsteps made no sound on the thick, soft carpet. “I like it when business pays for us to stay at such luxurious hotels. And I’m sure breakfast will be delightful. A brisk walk will give me a good appetite and I’ll be able to enjoy the meal to the fullest.”
    Upon reaching the stairway, Mrs. Blossom opened the door and saw a sign: No rooftop access. With a smile, she nodded. “That’s okay with me. I didn’t want to get to the roof anyway.”
    Descending the stairs, she noticed that at each level there was a sign exactly like the one she had first read. “I still don’t want to go to the roof. I am seeking a lower level of exit,” she chuckled softly. The mental image of herself on the roof of the hotel was humorous.
    Finally the first floor was reached and, giving a sigh of relief, Gen Blossom stepped over to the door and reached for the doorknob.
    “Emergency Exit Only. Alarm Will Sound.”
    The words of the sign on the door seemed to leap outward, and they startled Mrs. Blossom almost as much as an actual alarm would have done. Quickly she jerked her hand back. “What!” The exclamation came out loud and sounded strange in the silent stairwell as their echo bounced around. “This is the first floor, isn’t it? Yes. Then how am I supposed to reach the lobby or get outside?” Slowly Mrs. Blossom’s eyes traveled to the stairs. There were still more stairs going down. And then there were the stairs going up.
    “What if all the doors on the other floors say the same thing? Surely they couldn’t because I went through one on the seventh floor.” Gen Blossom thought a moment. “But I think it was already open. Or did I open it?” The more she thought, the more confused she became. “Oh, I don’t know!” she almost wailed. “I can’t climb all those stairs to find out!”
    That was when she decided that if the stairs went down, she would go down too. “Perhaps the hotel was built on a hill and this is the first floor but not the floor with the lobby,” she reasoned. “Maybe there is an exit, but it isn’t a main one so they marked it as emergency only. If that is the case, the lobby would be down one more floor.” With these hopeful thoughts in her mind, Mrs. Blossom started down. Her legs were tired of stairs, but she reached the bottom at last. There was a door, and there was no “Emergency Exit Only” sign. Instead a sign was posted which read, “Employees Only.”
    “Well, of all things!” Gen Blossom exclaimed, folding her arms and almost glaring at the sign. “I’ve never heard of a hotel that won’t let people out!” She glanced back up at the stairway where hundreds of stairs seemed watching and laughing at her fix.
    “I won’t do it. I just am not going to climb all those stairs. This sign doesn’t say anything about an alarm. And if they didn’t want me to go in, they should have provided a different way to get out or at least said there was no regular exit.” She reached out a hand. “I wonder if it is locked.”
    The doorknob turned at her touch and she pushed the door open. Stepping in, she let the door close behind her and turned to gaze about. “Wow!”
    She was in what appeared to be the basement. The floors were a cold cement, and up above were pipes running in every direction. Water heaters of immense sizes stood here and there, with pillars reaching up to the ceiling standing like giant pieces on a chess board. The lighting was dim and the shadows strange. Mrs. Blossom gave an involuntary shiver. This was certainly part of a hotel she had never been in before.
    Timidly she stepped forward, her footsteps sounding loud to her ears. Creaks, groans, gurgling noises and strange sounds came from above her and timidly she looked up and then off into the shadowy corners. What might be lurking behind that water heater? Had something just moved? It felt as though she was the only one alive in this strange world of pipes, water heaters and shadows.
    “There has got to be someone around,” she muttered, trying to keep up her courage. “I’ll soon find someone who will help me.”
    Thoughts of all the mystery books she had read came flooding through her mind and her vivid imagination pictured escaped convicts behind the next water heater, thieves creeping up behind her, or stumbling suddenly upon a secret gathering of men in the underworld of crime.

To be concluded next week.

What do you think?

Have you ever experienced a situation like this?

Dr. Morgan - Part 24

Hello Faithful Friday Fiction Fans,
I really, really am not sure how it could possibly be Friday again so soon, but everything says it is, so I guess I had better post. And yes, you may have another part of "Dr. Morgan." Just don't get too used to it because it will stop. I'm giving you warning right now. Once I get this book finished (I reach the end of the story) and have something else to post, you may have to wait to read the rest of it until, *gasp* it's published! However, before you start to panic, I will be offering a very special discount to all my blog readers who have been faithfully reading "Dr. Morgan."

Speaking of "Dr. Morgan," I have a hope that I can reach the end of the story this week. At this point I don't know if I can or not, but I keep hoping I can. I've already written my weeks quota of 5,000 words. And it sure has been fun because I finally got the "who's, what's, when's, where's and how's" that everyone has been longing to have answered. :) The thing I don't know about, it how much longer the end will be. Do you like longer or shorter books? I think I have a start on Part 60 right now which is as long as the 2nd TCR book.

And now, my biggest news of the week!
Triple Creek Ranch - Unbroken is being recorded! Yes, I listed it on ACX last week and on Sunday I had two auditions! After listening to them both, and having my sister listen to them, we knew that one voice wasn't quite right for the story. The other one was gracious enough to record a few other short parts to see if she fit and answered many questions. The end of the matter is that she accepted the offer I sent her and now has the book and is reading it. She also said she wanted to record the rest of the TCR books! How many of you enjoy listening to audio books while you travel or work on projects? I do! I'll let you know how things are going.

But you've waited long enough for this next part. (Unless you skip this part entirely and go directly to the story.) :)

Dr. Morgan

Part 24

    He looked across the room to his father. “I know you made inquiries in all the nearby towns, Dad, after they came, and in some of the nearby cities. But I thought it would be a good idea to actually talk to some of the folks there. I also wanted to check in some of the more out of the way places.”
    “Did you check the resort near Jackson?” Justin leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees.
    “Yep. No luck there. However, I did learn from a retired forest ranger something which might be of help.” Adam paused and poked at the fire. “About a week or so before Amy arrived here, there was an avalanche farther up in the back range. It was bad.” He stirred the fire before continuing. “Three hikers were lost. They only uncovered their bodies right before Thanksgiving.”
    A gasp came from Sara. “Do . . . do they know who they . . . were?”
    “Two of them were from out of state, the other was local. The ranger couldn’t give me any names, but suggested I check with the police in Jackson. I just haven’t had the chance to get there yet.”
    “You can use my truck if you need to, Adam,” Justin offered. “In fact, maybe I’ll just go with you.”
    “And leave the hospital?” Mrs. Morgan shook her head. “Don’t you have patients?”
    Justin gave a groan and leaned back. “Yeah, but I’m finding I don’t have much patience.”
    After Sara’s first question, she had fallen into a thoughtful silence and gave no answering sally to her brother’s last comment. Into the midst of the men’s talk about which truck Adam should use the following day, she said, “So, if they were related, and Amy managed to escape from it with the children, are they the only family? Or did the any surviving relatives think they were all killed in the slide?”
    “I suppose we won’t find the answer to that until we find out who the two people were.” Mr. Morgan replied quietly. “Why don’t we have a word of prayer for Adam’s venture and then get to bed. It is growing quite late.”

    Justin paced the limited floor space of his office, glancing down now and then at the time on his watch. Had Adam arrived in Jackson yet? Would he find the right people to talk to? Were those victims related to Amy? If they were, what a tragedy for all three! A new thought struck him. What if the two who had died had been the parents of Danny and Jenny? Could Amy be a cousin or maybe a step-sister? Why didn’t Adam call?
    “Morgan, what’s going on?”
    Justin halted his steps and looked towards the door. “Oh, good morning, Hollend. It’s nothing really. I’m just trying to make the time pass more quickly.”
    “For some particular reason?” Dr. Hollend stepped into the office and stood regarding his friend and fellow physician with a quizzical look.
    “Adam’s gone to Jackson.” He glanced at his watch again.
    “Christmas shopping?” Hollend’s casual tone had the effect he had planned.
    With a start Dr. Morgan looked back up and wet his lips. “No! He might have discovered something about Amy and the children.”
    “Really?” Dr. Hollend was all attention and Justin quickly told of Adam’s reason for making the long trip to the city. “That could turn into something, but, Morgan, what if it doesn’t? What if those two people had no connection with your trio, what then?”
    With a sigh, Justin gripped the back of his chair. “Then we’re back where we started.”
    “And if they are, or were, related, what are you going to do?”
    “Find out if there is any kin.”
    “Does Dr. Stern think her memory will come back?”
    “He doesn’t know. No one does with these things. But if it was an avalanche that sent her and the children to us, maybe the talk of it would trigger her memory.”
    For a moment both doctors were silent, thinking of the stranger with no remembrance of the past. Then Dr. Hollend spoke. His voice was low. “What a thing to remember suddenly. Morgan, is she a Christian?”
    Justin shrugged, his face grave. “I don’t know. She doesn’t know. But I have a feeling that whatever is keeping her from remembering is going to take faith and prayer to get through when she does remember.”
    “Then you don’t think it was just a simple thing like a bump on the head?”
    “No—from some of the things she said when she was sick and later mentioned, she had to get the children out of something dark or bad, but she couldn’t remember what.”
    “Well, my wife and I will keep praying for her. And all of you. But it’s time I made my rounds. Don’t wear the floorboards out, Morgan.” And with those parting words and a quick smile, Dr. Hollend disappeared down the hall.
    “I should get busy,” Justin muttered to himself, sitting down and pulling a file closer and flipping it open. “I do have work to do. But I wish I were in Jackson!”

    It was late afternoon. There had been no word from Adam and Justin felt as though he couldn’t wait any longer. “This is worse than Christmas mornings,” he complained to Dr. Hollend and Dr. Wright. “I’d wake up at three o’clock, often earlier, and I wasn’t allowed to wake anyone up until five-thirty! Those were the longest hours I ever spent until today.”
    “There’s no need of you staying around now,” Dr. Wright reminded him. “You’re off duty, you know.”
    “You’re right. Maybe a walk will calm me, not to mention make the time go by faster.” He picked up his coat and slipped his arms in. “Call me if you need me.”
    “Where will you be?”
    For a moment Dr. Morgan looked blank. “Um, either at my rooms or at Dad’s office. I’m not planning on going up to the cabin tonight unless I need to.”

So, what do you think?

Did you enjoy this part?

Do you want a copy of the finished book?

Do you listen to audio books?

P.S. If you have read any of the TCR books, I would really appreciate some reviews! There are still none on book 4. :) 

Dr. Morgan - Part 23

Good Morning Faithful Friday Fiction Fans!
And what a morning it is! The sun is coming up and it's supposed to be in the upper 60s today. I'm looking forward to getting outside for a bit later on.

I would have had this post up sooner, but I was listening to audio samples from someone who just contacted me about TCR-1. Yes, I finally got the first Triple Creek Ranch book listed on ACX yesterday and was praying for the right person to record it. We'll see what the audition sounds like. For those of you who are really hoping to be able to enjoy these books on audio, be praying. And those of you who aren't really into audio, can still pray too. :)

This week has been a good week for writing. Since just about everyone who voted has asked for "Dr. Morgan," that's what I worked on. I've been able to write every evening so far this week (except Sunday) and have already passed my 5k goal. In fact, I'm already at 6,617 words! And if I can write tonight and tomorrow night . . . :) I think I'm on the home stretch. When I get there, I always seem to be able to write faster and more at a time. Right now I'm about half way done with part 51. So, I'm guessing this book will be about as long as a TCR book. How does that sound? Keep praying.

And now the next part in this story. :)

Dr. Morgan

Part 23

    A few days passed and Amy seemed more content, more cheerful. Nothing had happened to upset or startle her and her smile was beginning to come readily when someone spoke to her. Though her leg was stronger, it still gave her twinges of pain now and then, at which times she was content to sit and read either to herself or to Danny who often demanded, “Read me!” When his demand wouldn’t work with Sara or Adam, he would dimple into a smile for Amy and say, “Read me peace.”
    Amy seemed unable to refuse his request and would read until her voice was gone or until the young tyrant felt the need for action and would run off.
    “Amy,” Sara chided one morning after Amy had read the same two stories to Danny ten times, “you spoil that boy. You can tell him no.”
    With a shake of her head, Amy turned to watch the sturdy figure drive his train recklessly down the track and into the tunnel. “Maybe I should, but I can’t seem to help it. I have a feeling of . . . well, I don’t know how to explain it. It’s almost like I’ve done the same thing hundreds of times before and it feels—right.”
    “You have read those books dozens of times at least. Aren’t you tired of the same ones? I am!” And Sara put the offending books back on the shelf. “I can’t stand to read the same one over and over like you do.”
    Amy didn’t reply. She knew she couldn’t make Sara understand the feeling she got from reading to Danny.
    The sudden barking of Captain out in the front caused both girls to turn and look out the large window. “That’s Justin’s truck! I wonder what he’s doing up here in the middle of the week?” Sara quickly stuffed the scarf she was knitting into a bag and disappeared down the hall with it.
    Still watching, Amy saw Adam come around the house and the two brothers stand talking. Neither had made a move towards the house before Sara came back.
    “The difficulties of making Christmas presents,” Sara remarked to Amy as she crossed the room to stand by the window, “is having to hide them every time that person shows up unexpectedly. Justin has always done that. Except,” she amended, “when he was in medical school. Here they come.”
    A few minutes later the brothers entered the room and Danny raced over to them shouting and waving his train. Tripping over his sturdy shoes, Justin caught him before he fell. “You wild Indian,” he laughed. “What do you have?”
    “Train!” Proudly Danny showed his engine by shoving it in Justin’s face. “Adam!” he shouted, squirming and wiggling in the arms that held him. “Play trains!”
    Setting the little tyke back on the floor, Justin laughed. “You’re in demand, brother.”
    “You’ll have to wait a few minutes, Danny,” Adam said in his calm, easy-going manner. “I have to fix the fire first.”
    At that, Danny forgot his train and ran over to watch. From the couch where she had been resting her leg, Amy looked on with a smile. Danny’s endless energy often left her tired, but it was a good tired, she decided. Suddenly she straightened.
    “Danny, no!”
    Amy’s words had been quick and firm. Danny jerked back his hand from the lovely glowing embers and turned to look at her. “Don’t touch,” was all she said, but Danny put his hands behind him and didn’t touch a thing until Adam was ready to play trains with him.
    “Well!” It was Sara’s surprised exclamation which broke the silence. “I thought you couldn’t say no to him. And I’ve never seen Danny obey so quickly when someone tells him no for the first or even the second time. How did you do it?”
    There was no reply from Amy for a moment. She herself was surprised and a little confused by the whole thing. She had never told Danny no in her life, had she? “I . . . I don’t know.”
    Justin must have read the look on her face, for when his sister started to say something else about it, he silenced her with a quiet, “Not now, Sare.” And it wasn’t until late that evening, after the little ones and Amy had retired to their beds that he brought it up again.
    “Adam, did you notice how quickly Danny obeyed Amy when she told him no?”
    “Yeah.”
    “I didn’t think Amy could tell Danny no.” Mrs. Morgan looked questioningly at her sons. “What happened?”
    Sara told the story quickly and added, “It reminded me of when Timothy tells Brandon not to touch something.”
    A log snapped and hissed in the fireplace. “Do you think it means anything, Justin?” Mr. Morgan turned from watching the flames to look at his elder son.
    “I’m not sure,” Justin began slowly. “It seems as though Danny knows he has to obey Amy, but that leaves the question of why.”
    “When they were out in the mountains?”
    “That doesn’t seem to fit, Sara,” Adam said slowly. “They might have been out there for days or a week, but the instant obedience seemed too engrained for so short a time.”
    “That leaves before they came to the mountains or at least before they got lost.” Sara tucked her feet up under her on the couch and folded her arms. “She isn’t their mother?”
    Justin shook his head. “No. If she was, Danny would have called her so, and Amy herself denied it. But she could be an older sister? A friend? A close relative?” With each suggestion, Justin looked around hoping for a nod or another suggestion.
    “I think I’d rule out friend.”
    “Why, Dad?”
    “How often do children obey a friend of the family as quickly as you said Danny obeyed Amy?"
    “Point taken. Sister? Relative?”
    “Probably a good guess. I did a little checking on Saturday,” Adam remarked.

What do you think is the right answer?

Did you enjoy this part?

What do you think Adam found out? 

Dr. Morgan - Part 22

Hello Friday Fiction Fans,
I'm not sure what's going on with my computer this morning, but I guess it wanted to sleep in because some things are being really slow. But I didn't think you'd want that to stop me from posting a new part of "Dr. Morgan." :)

We've had spring this week! Monday it was in the 60s and Tuesday it got to 74º! But there's a chance of snow tomorrow. :P Such silly weather.

This week has been busy with my grandparents coming down to see the new baby, a political meeting last night, trying to catch up on some things, writing, and cutting hundreds of flannel quilt squares for "Blanket Day" which is tomorrow. (Several girls from church are coming over and we are going to sew flannel ragged quilts for children in need.)

My writing has been going well. I think I can reach my weekly goal of 5,000 words this week. It has been fun to have a goal and to meet it each week. At least so far. If I can keep this up, I might be able to actually get the rest of "Dr. Morgan" written in just four more weeks. Should I try? I'm putting a poll up on the side and I hope you will all vote on what you think I should write next month.

And now, the next part of the story so many of you have been waiting for . . .

Dr. Morgan

Part 22

    The family was almost ready to sit down for supper when the front door opened and Adam’s voice was heard talking to Captain.
    “Hurry up, Adam,” Sara called, stepping from the kitchen into the hall. “Supper is ready.”
    “Be right there.”

    After supper the family gathered in the front room where Mr. Morgan, Adam and Sara helped Danny set up an elaborate train track for an old wooden train which used to be Justin’s. Firewood was stacked up for a mountain and a footstool became a tunnel. Jenny was also interested in the train building, but her interests lay more in the destruction of the tracks. At last Mrs. Morgan carried her off to the kitchen where she was allowed to play with the pots and pans.
    Amy, still pleased with her success in the cookie icing department, watched with interest the building of the tracks and at last suggested they use an old shoe box for a train shed. A box was quickly found and soon Amy was busy cutting out windows and a door which opened and shut. With this new addition Danny was pleased and spent at least ten minutes opening and shutting the door, driving his train in and out and looking through the windows.
    “Honey,” Mrs. Morgan said some time later, stepping into the room with Jenny in her arms, “do you know how late it is?”
    Glancing up at the clock on the mantel, Mr. Morgan looked astonished. “I had no idea it was so late. Well—“ He stood up and brushed his hands on his pant legs. “Let’s have an evening song, some prayer and then call it a night.”
    Only one song was sung that night and when Amy heard it was her favorite of the evening hymns, she shyly joined in.
    For some time after she had gone to her room, Amy sat in the chair beside the window and gazed up at the bright moon and twinkling stars. Everything was so quiet and peaceful. She thought back over the day and wondered if perhaps, just perhaps, it might be possible to live a life in the here and now instead of trying to force the past into a mind that didn’t want it. “Dr. Morgan said my memory might come back, but it won’t help to worry and fret over it. Well,” she sighed and rose slowly to her feet, “I’ll try to do what he said. But it won’t be easy, I’m afraid.”
    She crawled into bed, settling herself so that her face was in a pool of moonlight, drew a long, deep sigh, then relaxed and lay blinking in the soft glow until her eyes closed of themselves and she fell asleep.

    There was a change in the atmosphere of the Morgan home the following morning when Amy limped into the dining room. The table showed signs of breakfast, but no one was around. Had she slept longer that she thought? Had something happened? As the last idea entered her mind, her muscles tensed and she looked wildly around the room. Gasping for breath, she gripped the back of a chair.
    “Amy? What’s wrong? Here, sit down.” A chair was pulled out and Amy felt herself gently forced into it. It was then that she noticed Mr. Morgan’s concerned face looking anxiously down at her. “What is wrong, Amy?” he asked gently, seeing her start to relax.
    “I . . . I don’t know. I didn’t see anyone and . . . I thought something had happened, and I guess I panicked. I . . . I . . .” A shudder swept over her slight frame and she closed her eyes momentarily.
    Mr. Morgan placed a gentle hand on her arm. “Everything is just fine. Today is Sunday and the others are getting ready for church. Mom is going to stay here with you today as Justin has forbidden you to go out just yet.”
    A slight look of surprise swept over Amy’s face. “Sunday? I—“ The sentence broke off suddenly. She thought she heard the deep tones of the church bells ringing from the tower of the old stone . . . It was gone. The sound, the picture, she shook her head with a sigh. “It’s gone.” Her words were listless.
    “What’s gone, Amy?”
    “Church bells ringing, but the picture is gone.”
    Mr. Morgan frowned slightly. “You could picture the bells?”
    “No, I could hear them.” She put her hand to her head as though it ached. Why had the bells been ringing? Was it Sunday? Or were they ringing for— something else?
    The sound of steps and voices were heard on the walkway above and Danny cried down, “Hi Grandpa!”
    Mr. Morgan cheerily returned the greeting and then said softly, bending down so Amy could hear his voice, “I wouldn’t fret over it, Amy; they’ll ring again for you.”
    All was confusion for a few minutes before those headed for church were out the door leaving Mrs. Morgan and Amy alone. A hearty breakfast was fixed for Amy and she ate it without much enthusiasm and almost in complete silence. The echo of the bells seemed to repeat themselves over and over and over in her mind.
    It was a long morning for Amy with her usual distractions gone. Mrs. Morgan tried to interest her in talking, or reading and Amy did her best to appear interested, but it wasn’t until the others arrived back home that she was able, for a time, to forget the bells.
    “Amy,” Mrs. Morgan said, as Amy finished washing the last of the lunch dishes, “everyone takes a nap on Sunday afternoon. You seem tired today, why don’t you go ahead and lie down. Things will get lively later.”
    Nodding, Amy dried her hands and limped slowly from the kitchen, down the hall and into the cozy room she was growing to love. She felt worn out. But, as she closed her eyes, she heard the echoes.
    Dong. Dong. Dong.

Did you like it?

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Will you be back if I post another part next week?

A New Life - Part 4

Good Morning FFFs,
Life is busy. My new niece was just born Wednesday evening and her five older siblings spent Wednesday night here and almost all day yesterday. Pickle Puss was thrilled to have little sister after four brothers. This baby girl doesn't have a nickname yet as I've only seen and held her once, but don't worry, she'll get one. :) So, the last few days have been a little crazy. :)

My goal is to get 5,000 words written each week. (That equals 5 parts.) I didn't get anything written on Wednesday night, but last night I got 500 words written. If I can get the 5k written this week and next week, I'll have more than doubled the number of parts for "Dr. Morgan." :) Pretty fun, huh? Who knows, I may decide to keep working on this story and try to finish it before I start into TCR-5. What do you think? I've been so busy writing "Dr. Morgan" that I haven't gotten any other short stories written to post. I'd better get something written before too long or I won't have anything to post except "Dr. Morgan." :)

Now, I got a later start on this post than usual, so I'm going to keep it really short. I hope you enjoy this last part of . . .

A New Life

Part 4

 Last time . . .
    “Dear me, such trouble,” Mrs. Kouts shook her head. “Have you no idea where your husband might be notified? No? Well, then I see no other way but for you to pack your things and I’ll get two of my neighbors’ sons to bring them over to my rooms. Now don’t protest,” Mrs. Kouts ordered. “You are in no condition to even look for a new place right now and you certainly won’t be able to do much work in a short time. I’ve always thought I would enjoy a companion and you can help me with my sewing until you find a new place or your husband returns. Besides,” she added. “You wouldn’t want to be far away where Mr. McKinley couldn’t find you.”
    And so it came about that Mrs. McKinley was soon established in the pleasant rooms of Mrs. Kouts. It was only a few days after the move that Mary Mildred McKinley was placed in her mother’s arms for the first time.

* * * * *

    All those memories from the past, things I hadn’t thought of for months, came back to linger in my mind, putting up their heads at odd moments and interrupting my work. Some memories brought pleasure but others were painful. Such as the day Mrs. Kouts died, leaving me once again with no home; only this time I had a tiny baby and it was winter. Had it not been for the kindness of Mr. Carmichael who found me searching for work and insisted I come work here, I don’t know what would have become of Baby and me. Those were dark days, days it was hard to trust the promises of my heavenly Father, difficult to remember that He is faithful that promised, but He is faithful even when I doubt and my faith grows dim.
    It was several days after my walk home in the snow when Mr. Carmichael asked me to step into the library. The lamps had been lit, for the sun had hidden behind the western clouds early and the shadows were dark. Motioning me to a seat, Mr. Carmichael was silent until he had also seated himself in a chair before me.
    “Mary,” he began quietly, “is something bothering you? Are you happy here?”
    I must have looked startled for he added, “Mrs. Carmichael is growing worried about you. You haven’t been singing about your work and often you appear lost in deep thought.” There was concern in his voice and tears rose in my eyes.
    “I’m sorry if I troubled her. It’s . . . I . . .” I wasn’t sure how to tell it.
    Reaching out, he patted my arm. “Take your time, Mary,” he said quietly.
    I drew a deep breath and tried to collect my thoughts. “It’s memories, sir. They just keep coming to me, things that I haven’t thought of for months and some of them are hard. Oh, Mr. Carmichael, help me know what to do,” I begged. “My father doesn’t know how happy I was with Robert nor about Mary Mildred!”
    “Have you written to him?” It was a kindly put question but I began to cry.
    “I have tried, but they have all been sent back unopened! It is as though I have no father and Mother is dead.” I buried my face in my hands and wept. I don’t cry often, but this time I couldn’t help myself.
    “When my father and my mother forsake me, then the Lord will take me up.”
    Another promise. I looked up through my tears. The Lord had not forsaken me.
    “Let me have your father’s address,” Mr. Carmichael suggested, “and I will write to him and tell him all about you and that you and Baby are well.”
    I clasped my hands together. “Oh, would you? And might I put a little note in myself? He may not read it, but he may and it might comfort him.”
    To this my kind employer readily agreed.
    The note was harder to write than I had thought it would be. I apologized for leaving in anger the way I had and asked his forgiveness even if he never spoke to me again. I didn’t tell him of Robert’s disappearance for he would have no sympathy. Instead I told him of finding my Savior, of the wonderful promises that I had discovered in Mother’s Bible and of the prayers I offered for him every night. Then I mentioned Baby and signed it, “Your own daughter, Mary Louise.”
    The weeks of January passed by pleasantly for the most part. I enjoyed my new home, the work I was assigned was easy and there was time to take care of Baby. Everyone was pleasant and I learned so much from the godly influence of the Carmichael family. Even Miss Catherine, two years my junior, taught me more about the Book of promises than I had known before, while Mr. and Mrs. Carmichael instructed me in the ways of the One who made and never breaks those promises. Altogether the month was one of growth both spiritually and physically, for in that house on the corner I was never in want of food as I had often been in the previous half a year.
    It was the last day of January. A new snowfall during the night had blanketed the city with the freshest of white coverings. I was busy helping Cook when the doorbell rang. Hearing Miss Catherine’s feet descending the stairs, I knew she would answer the door. It was but a moment later when she called me.
    Hurriedly I dried my hands and went to answer the summons.
    “You have a visitor,” she whispered, pushing me down the hall.
    Wondering who could be calling on me, I moved forward and saw a gentleman standing with his back to me apparently studying a painting on the wall. “Good morning.”
    The man turned at the sound of my voice and exclaimed with outstretched arms, “Mary Lou!”
    “Robert!” I felt his arms tighten about me, felt his lips pressed against mine, heard those loved tones again and could only murmur, “For He is faithful that promised!”

    I couldn’t tell exactly what happened after that. The Carmichaels had to be introduced and Robert had to meet Mary Mildred. The story Robert told wasn’t long. He had become very ill and had gotten off at the wrong station. For weeks no one knew who he was and by the time he was well enough to write me, I had moved. When he came back he started searching. He discovered through neighbors that I had lived with Mrs. Kouts until she died, but after that no one had any idea what became of me. At last he swallowed his pride and went to my father. There it was discovered that the letter Mr. Carmichael had written had arrived but the day before. Father, Robert told me, was waiting at a hotel to see me. Could anything make me happier? There was one more thing to fill my cup to overflowing.
    It was while my Robert and I were sitting in the library alone before supper that he told me.
    “Mary Lou, I have found your God and He is mine. Oh, my Darling, let us walk with Him all the rest of our lives!”
    Tears of happiness streamed down my cheeks as I whispered, “For He is faithful that promised.”

And that ends our story.

What did you think of it?

Are you willing to read "Dr. Morgan next week?

Should I finish "Dr. Morgan" or work on TCR-5?

A New Life - Part 3

Hello Friday Fiction Fans!
The sun is coming up and it's looks like another beautiful day. Probably a little warmer than it was yesterday since it's supposed to be in the 50s today. Now if Baby Girl would just decide to come today or tomorrow the other kids could play outside. But we'll see. I think it's still supposed to be nice the beginning of next week too.

It's been a busy week. Not only were Mom and I working on cleaning out and organizing, I was busy contacting people about reviewing my audio, answering interview questions, going back and forth with a couple who want me to make them a queen size quilt, plus my writing. And, I was asked to be a judge for a writing contest and have been having fun reading the 33 stories that got entered in the age group I'm judging. :)

For those of you who are interested in "Dr. Morgan," :) I have been very busy working on it. Last week I got 5 parts written and this week I have more than 5 parts written. I was looking for some book on writing to read hoping maybe to find a few helpful tips or some marketing ideas. My kindle is a good thing to use for this sort of reading because I was able to read a few samples on Amazon. I tried one book, but it sure wasn't helpful. So I tried another book. Wow! This one has been great! Not only does the author give practical advice about writing, he offers ideas to improve your writing, suggestions on how to get more written and I haven't read the rest of it. :) I've been trying a few of the little tricks I learned from a suggested post (Kindle makes it easy to go read those linked posts.) and wow! This lady had gone from writing 2,000 words a day to 10,000 words a day in the same amount of time! Now, I wasn't going for that big of a jump, but every time I've used these tips, I've about doubled my word count. It sure was fun, but my brain was really tired! Now, just because I'm writing more, it doesn't mean you don't have to pray. This is a challenging story to write and I need all the prayer I can get.

Okay, that's it for today. I'll leave you with the next part of this January story. Enjoy!

A New Life

Part 3

Last time . . .
    Within an hour, clouds had covered the sky and a breeze began to blow. With a smile, Mary Louise McKinley whispered with a song in her heart, “Faithful is He that promised.”

* * * * *

    The quiet crying of Baby roused me from my sleep. Her needs were soon met and she lay in my arms wide awake.
    “Precious Darling,” I crooned, “even your coming was met by more promises. If only your father could see you.” I choked back a sob, for it was during these waking hours of the night that I felt the loneliest. After nearly four months of being without him, the longing to hear my husband’s voice again, to feel his arms about me, his kiss on my lips, to see his smile and bright, honest, blue eyes gazing with a tender love into mine, was often almost more than I could bear. At such times I would pull out my Bible and read until I felt comforted. That night was no different. After wrapping a blanket about Mary Mildred, I turn on the gas and,  pulling my warm dressing gown about me, I settled in the rocker with Baby in one arm and my Bible in my lap.
    I didn’t know where to read, so I opened it up at random and read: “For the Lord has called thee as a woman forsaken and grieved in spirit, a wife of youth, when thou wast refused, saith thy God. . . . With everlasting kindness will I have mercy on thee, saith the Lord thy Redeemer. . . . For the mountains shall depart, and the hills be removed; but my kindness shall not depart from thee, neither shall the covenant of my peace be removed, saith the Lord that hath mercy on thee.”
    Leaning back I began to rock. “Even more promises,” I murmured. Sometimes it was hard to trust, often it was hard to wait, but I never had to wait in vain. “He is faithful that promised. It is so true, Mary Mildred,” I whispered to the sweet baby cooing in my arms. “He is faithful, every time.”

* * * * *

    “I’m sorry ma’am,” the young man said, his face flushed and his voice apologetic. “You haven’t paid your rent last week or this and the owner of the place wants you out unless you pay.”
    It was the beginning of autumn. Already the cold nights had wrought changes; the trees had begun to exchange their summer dress of green for the brilliant and much admired dress of fall, large and small flocks of geese could be seen flying south while the last few summer flowers which had dared to bloom so late were gathered to be taken indoors and enjoyed. Mrs. McKinley didn’t notice any of those things, however, instead she stared at the young man before her. “But I don’t have money to pay right now. I’m expecting my husband back from a business trip any day now and then we can pay.”
    “Sorry,” the young man repeated. “Boss’s orders. If you don’t pay by the end of the week you’ll be thrown out.”
    “Oh what shall I do?” Mrs. McKinley moaned, a hand over her mouth as her visitor turned and moved away. “I scarcely have money to keep one room warm and food to eat. Robert, where are you? I need you. We need you,” she amended placing one hand on the front of her dress. “What am I to do?”
    For several minutes she stood in the doorway, leaning against the side and trying to think of a way to earn the needed rent money. At last, with a discouraged sigh, she turned and went into the house.
    Sitting down in the hard chair near the window, she picked up her sewing. The shop wouldn’t give her much more and soon she wouldn’t even be able to do that. “Isn’t there something I can do? Is there anyone I can ask to help me?” In her mind she went over her small list of acquaintances. She could think of no one. Tears began to gather and the sewing dropped from her hands.
    It wasn’t until after her cry was over that Mrs. McKinley glanced about the room to see if there was anything she might sell to pay the rent until Robert came home. As she did, her eyes fell upon her Bible. With a little cry, she started up, her sewing falling unheeded to the floor. “How could I forget?”
    Hugging the book to her heart, she knelt beside the bed. “Forgive me, Lord, for not coming to Thee right away.” Rising, the young wife sat down on the bed and turned the pages reading a verse here and one there until she read: “Leave thy fatherless children, I will preserve them alive; and let thy widows trust in me.” Gently she closed the book and sat for a minute. “I will trust in Thee,” she whispered. “Help me.”

    The following morning dawned bright and clear. A knock sounded on the door before Mrs. McKinley had gotten the meager breakfast things cleared away.
    “Good Morning, Mary Louise,” a cheery voice greeted when the door was opened. “I hope I’m not disturbing you calling this early. You see, I was hoping you had a bit of black thread I might have. I only need a small piece, but I have run out, and I haven’t time to go downtown.” It was one of Mrs. McKinley’s near neighbors, an older woman who rented a few rooms in a large house on the corner. She also took in mending and the two women had often exchanged greetings or offered advice.
    Mrs. McKinley produced the desired thread and Mrs. Kouts proceeded to sew on a button. Somehow, Mrs. McKinley was never quite sure how it came about, she found herself pouring out her troubles into the sympathetic ears of her visitor.
    “Dear me, such trouble,” Mrs. Kouts shook her head. “Have you no idea where your husband might be notified? No? Well, then I see no other way but for you to pack your things and I’ll get two of my neighbors’ sons to bring them over to my rooms."

What do you think happens next?

Next week is the final part.

Will you be back?