Provider - Part 1

 Good morning and happy June!

I have another story for you. This one was written back in March during KDWC, but I didn't get it edited until just a few weeks ago. A few names might be recognized if you are also a KDWCer. :)

Life has been busy here. April and May just flew by! I can't believe it's June already! Time to get ready for another month of writing camp soon. I'm trying to get back into a regular habit of writing. With so much going on, and publishing Kate & Kylie, and another novella (read my post this coming Tuesday on Read Another Page), and yard work, and music practice, and updating my website, and getting two of my books in the process of becoming audios, and reading, and . . . well, you get the picture, I've had a hard time really focusing on writing. But I have started working on a secret project and it's fun. But if you want to know what that is, you'll have to subscribe to my Read Another Page newsletter because I'll only be announcing it there.

Anyway, enjoy this first part!

 

 Provider

Part 1

    It was a dreary day. The clouds had hung low  all day and allowed no sunshine to peek into the dull room of the small apartment. It was a very small apartment. The living room, with two worn out chairs, a small bookshelf, and an old TV tray used as a table between the chairs, ran into the dining room and kitchen. No steps were needed when taking a pan of the stove and putting it in the sink across the room, for they were within reach off each other.
    A small, slightly wobbly card table sat in the corner of the dining room under a window on which the rain pattered and spit. It was here that Heidi sat trying to study in the light of a single bulb. It wasn’t exactly raining, but tiny droplets had been flung intermittently against the window for the past two hours. Even though the temperatures were hovering in the sixties, the girl at the table shivered and pulled her thin sweater closer.
    “If you ate more, maybe you wouldn’t be so cold.” The chiding voice of her brother echoed in her ears.
    Heidi frowned. Even though Joseph had only visited her for two days last week, his words still taunted her. She looked toward the cupboards as her stomach rumbled. “Maybe I should eat.”
    Reluctantly, she rose and looked in the cupboard that she called her pantry. It was almost bare. Some packs of ramen, an almost empty bag of beans and an almost equally empty bag of risc, a can of tuna, and two cans of chicken noodle soup were all that sat on the shelves. Her fridge was equally forlorn in its offerings.
    “Yeah, if I had more money to eat, I’d eat more, Joseph. Trouble is, I don’t have it.”
    Settling on a can of soup because she could study as it heated up, Heidi wearily got her meager supper ready.
    Study was not going well that evening. Nothing she read seemed to stay in her mind. Her supper was hot and helped warm her up, but it didn’t help her headache any.
    “Maybe the sun will come out tomorrow.” She rubbed her aching head and wondered if she should just go to bed and try studying in the morning.   
    “I think I will. Nothing is sticking tonight.”
    Just as Heidi, having gotten ready more slowly than usual, was about to climb into bed, she let out a moan. “The group project! How could I have forgotten that?”
    Wearily she pulled her backpack over, dug through the notebooks and folders until she found the right one, then settled on her bed for another hour or two of work.

    The weather the next morning was just as dreary, if not worse, for instead of just low clouds and intermittent sprinkles, it was drizzling, and the temperatures had dropped.
    Heidi ate her last egg and toasted the last dry piece of bread. She had one energy bar left. It would have to do for her lunch today.
    Before she left her tiny, dingy apartment, she bowed her head. “Dear Father, I need help. You know I don’t have money since I lost that temporary job and had that extra expense of needing to hire a tutor to get through that one class. I’ve tried to find work, but there isn’t anything in this tiny town. Not even at the fast food restaurants. Would you please help me? I read this morning that You are the Provider. You know I don’t know very much about being a Christian, Lord, but I’m trying to learn. Mrs. Almstead said every word in the Bible is true, so I guess that means You are a Provider. I just hope that means for me too. Well, I have to get to class, so please help me learn well. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.”
    Pulling her hood up, she stepped outside, locked the door behind her, and headed toward campus, her head bent against the damp and dreary drizzle.
    She reached her first class in time and settled down for the lecture. It was one of her favorites, and the material was easy for her to learn.

    By the time noon rolled around, Heidi was feeling light headed and more miserable than she had the evening before. The group project was quickly turning into a “Heidi do it all and everyone else will just argue and do nothing” project, and she wasn’t sure if she should talk to someone about it or not.
    Sitting down at a table in the dining hall, Heidi dug in her backpack and pulled out her energy bar and her water bottle. After bowing her head quickly and thanking the Lord for helping her get through the first part of the day and for something to eat, she took a long drink before opening the package of her energy bar.
    “Hey, are you Heidi Lincoln?” The bright voice belonged to a short girl with a blonde braid and friendly brown eyes.
    “Yes.”
    “Is this seat taken?” The girl sat down almost before Heidi had finished shaking her head. “Mrs. Almstead told me about you. Oh, I’m sorry, I’m Cynthia Grant, but most folks call me Thia.” The girl paused and bowed her head just a moment and then began eating her own lunch as she kept talking. “Aren’t you in Professor Nimms class? I thought I recognized you. Say, are you any good at English Lit? You are? You wouldn’t be willing to tutor me, would you? I’m going to flunk that class if I don’t get help.”
    “Uh, sure.”
    “Great!”
    “Thia!”
    Heidi looked up as three more girls approached the table.
    “Hey! Come join us!” Thia motioned to the empty chairs. “Girls, this is Heidi Lincoln. Heidi, meet Lyds, Cherry, and Ems. Well, those are their nicknames. They are really Lydia, Agape, and Hannah.”
    Heidi smiled and nodded to each one then turned to Thia. “How did–”
    “How did Agape become Cherry and Hannah become Ems? It’s easy really.”
    “So says the girl who comes up with nicknames for almost every person she meets,” Lyds laughed.
    “I can’t help it!” And Thia shrugged. “My mom is always calling people nicknames, and I learned it from her. But Agape is one of the Greek words for love, you know, and Charity is another, and thus she became Cherry.”
    Heidi smiled politely though she was still confused.
 

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Love's Embrace - Part 4

 Good morning!

    It's really foggy here this morning! Five of my nieces and nephews are going to be here all morning. We'll probably read books, build lego, and who knows what else.

Here is the final part of this story. Hard to believe it's the end of April! Well, I hope you enjoy it!

 

 Love's Embrace

Part 4

    “I’m sorry, Daddy,” seven-year-old Hope piped up.
    “Me too, Daddy,” echoed little Faith.
    “I’m glad you are sorry, girls.”
    There was silence in the room, and Lindsey wondered what was going on. She almost moved her arm but was afraid of what she might see if she did.
    Elliot spoke. “I’m sorry.”
    “And me.” It was five-year-old Nate.
    “Yeah. I’m sorry too, Dad. I guess I wasn’t thinking.” Hudson sighed.
    “I’m glad you are all sorry. But actions have consequences. I want you all to go up to your rooms right now. Faith and Nate, you two lie down for a rest. Hope, you can read if you want. Elliot and Hudson, I want you two to think about what you did and what you think would be a good consequence for your actions.”
    On the couch, Lindsey almost held her breath as the kids left the room. Would it be her turn?
    “Where was Mrs. Judd?” Aunt Joy asked.
    “Apparently,” Uncle Isaiah said, “she ate lunch and then forgot about the kids and went shopping. She got back just before we did and was confused by the police asking where she was. I don’t think she’s remembering very well now.”
    “Poor Mrs. Judd. I wonder if her children know.”
    A silence settled over the living room, and Lindsey braced herself for a harsh tongue lashing if not a punishment of some kind.
    “Linds,” Uncle Isaiah’s voice was soft and gentle, yet Lindsey cringed and kept her arm over her face as though to ward off any blows that might come. “I’m sorry.”
    Sorry? That wasn’t what she was expecting to hear. She moved her arm just a little and peeked out. Her uncle was standing near the edge of the couch, and his face was almost sad.
    He spoke again. “I’m sorry we didn’t ask someone to come in and stay with you all. It might have made Hudson and Elliot think before acting. I’m sorry we laid the responsibility on you.”
    Did he really mean that?
    “What happened was not your fault. We do not blame you at all. Okay?”
    “But–” She swallowed and then blurted out, “But I was in charge!” Then the tears came.
    “Oh, sweetie!” Aunt Joy pulled her into a hug and let her cry, talking softly to her.
    Lindsey had never cried before her aunt and uncle before. Only her pillow upstairs in her own room knew of the tears of fear and pain, of loneliness and the longing to let love embrace her. Now she sobbed in the comforting arms of someone who loved her. She felt another hand stroking her hair and somehow knew it was her uncle. He wasn’t angry at her. He wasn’t going to hurt her. Somehow that knowledge brought more tears until she could hardly breathe.
    “Shh, Lindsey. Breathe, honey, breathe. It’s okay. You’re safe. We aren’t mad at you. No one is going to hurt you. Isaiah, I think she’s having a panic attack!”
    Strong but gentle hands pulled her into a sitting posture and held her there. “Take a breath, Lindsey. Come on. You can do it. One breath at a time.”
    The voice was a lot like the fireman’s, and his words came back to her.
    Smell the roses. Inhale.
    Blow out the candle. Exhale.
    “That’s it, Linds. Do it again.”
    Roses.
    Candle.
    She could breathe. She just had to keep thinking about it. In. Out. Roses, Candle. It grew easier. She relaxed and then sniffed.
    Aunt Joy handed her a tissue, and she blew her nose.
    “Are you okay now?” Uncle Isaiah asked.
    She nodded, and he eased her back onto some pillows Aunt Joy tucked behind her. They cared. Maybe Mrs. Quivira was right.
    “Do you feel like telling us what happened today after we left?” Aunt Joy asked.
    “Can I have a drink first?”
    “Of course, sweetie! Isaiah, her water-bottle is on the floor by that chair. Thanks.”
    Lindsey took a drink. Her head hurt, but if she closed her eyes it wasn’t as bad. It would be better to tell everything now and be done with it. “The kids played until it was lunch time. We had sandwiches like you said.”
    “Did you make the sandwiches?”
    “Uh huh. They were really talkative at lunch, and I got a headache, so I let them all go play while I cleaned up.”
    “You are supposed to stay off that leg, honey,” Aunt Joy chided gently.
    “I sat on the stool to wash the dishes. Then I checked on the kids, and they were wound up. I didn’t see any phone then. I guess I should have just stayed in there instead of coming in here to read. I’m sorry.”
    “Lindsey,” Uncle Isaiah’s voice was firm. “Look at me.”
    Wincing, she obeyed.
    “You did nothing wrong.”
    “And if you had a headache,” Aunt Joy put in, “being in the same room with those five when they are wound up would not have helped. Even I wouldn’t have done it. Did your headache go away?”
    Lindsey closed her eyes again and murmured. “No.”
    “I’m going to get you some Tylenol, and you are going to rest.” Aunt Joy rose and slipped away.
    A moment later Lindsey felt a hand on her head and heard her uncle’s voice.
    “Lord, I ask that You would bring healing to Lindsey’s headache, and her knee. Help her know that You love her and that we love her too. Heal her heart from the hurt caused by fifteen years of anger and abuse. Let her find Your salvation. For Jesus’ sake. Amen.” He kissed her forehead and whispered, “I love you, Lindsey.” Then he rose and left the room.
    Aunt Joy arrived next, and after Lindsey had swallowed the pills and was settled on a pillow with a light blanket over her, she was left alone.
    The house was quiet except for the air conditioning. Her head throbbed, and for a time all she could do was try not to think of how it pounded. Gradually the pain eased, and Lindsey drifted into sleep thinking about her uncle’s prayer, and her aunt’s arms around her. Perhaps there was a chance for love to embrace her. Perhaps there were people who loved no matter what.

Did you enjoy this story?

Do you feel like April has flown by?

If I get another short story ready, do you want to read it?

Love's Embrace - Part 3

 Good morning!

I'm not sure how many of you are reading this story, but here's the next part. I hope you enjoy it.

Life continues to be busy for me. My birthday is tomorrow, but we're not doing much then. I was supposed to get together with some friends, but some were sick, so we postponed it. My best friend is still with her sister in Canada, so we'll do something after she gets home. Anyway, I won't keep you. Happy reading!

 

 Love's Embrace

Part 3

     “I’ll go check it out and talk to Beauford. You staying here?”
    “Yes.”
    Lindsey watched the man go without really seeing him. The other policeman had called her aunt and uncle? They would probably be mad at having their lunch interrupted. “He didn’t have to call them,” she whispered.
    “They’ll want to know, Lindsey. It will be okay. I promise. Now, I’m going to go find out what the other kids are doing. Are they supposed to do anything?”
    Leaning her head in her hand, Lindsey answered, “Aunt Joy said I could send them to take naps and have quiet time if they weren’t back by one-thirty.”
    “Well, it’s almost that, but . . . I’ll be back.”
    Left alone, Lindsey leaned her head back and closed her eyes, fighting the desire to cry. This was all a nightmare, right? Would she wake up soon and find she had only dreamed the sirens, the firemen and policemen? She had liked living here. It was so much nicer than with her dad and his many girlfriends.
    A car door shut. Her eyes flew open, and she looked out the window but didn’t see her uncle’s familiar blue car. Where they coming home? Why hadn’t she just gone into the play room even though she had a headache? Who got the phone? Surely it hadn’t been Hudson. He was eleven and knew better. They all did actually.
    A familiar blue car turned into the driveway. They were home. A feeling of panic rose up in her. She felt the card in her hand and with shaking fingers tucked it into her pocket, hoping that no one would notice it. She saw her uncle cross the yard and stop to talk to one of the police officers, and Lindsey felt like she couldn’t breathe. Her aunt was coming up onto the porch. She had to breathe! What was it the fireman had told her?
    Roses. Candles.
    She took a breath and blew it out.
    Aunt Joy stepped inside. “Lindsey! Are you okay? Where are the kids?”
    She didn’t sound mad.
    Lindsey was saved the trouble of answering, for Mrs. Quivira entered the living room and started talking.
    “They’re cleaning up in the back room. Everyone is fine. Lindsey is still a little shaken up from it all. She had a bit of a panic attack when the firetrucks and police arrived because she didn’t know they had called. She has the regular phone with her.”
    “They went into the office and got that phone?”
    Roses. Breathe in.
    Candles. Blow out.
    Lindsey tried not to think about the surprise and sternness of her aunt’s voice. She just had to breathe.
    “Sergeant Mulligan talked to them, but I’m sure he’s talking to Isaiah now. I don’t know where Mrs. Judd is.”
    “Thanks, Jessie. I’m thankful you weren’t working today and could come over.”
    “Me too. I’m going to head home now. Call if you need anything. I’m off until Friday.” Mrs. Quivira stepped over to Lindsey. “It’s going to be all right, I promise,” she said softly, patting the girl’s hand.
    Smell the roses.
    Blow out the candle.
    Lindsey focused on breathing as their neighbor left the house. She saw her stop in the yard and speak with Uncle Isaiah and the two policemen. Then she walked away.
    “I’ll be right back, Linds,” Aunt Joy said gently.
    Lindsey darted a glance after her before returning her gaze to the window. When would Uncle Isaiah come in? Would he be mad? She knew her dad would have blown a gasket had she called 9-1-1 for any reason. “But Uncle Isaiah is not like him,” she reminded herself.
    “Sweetheart, are you okay?” Aunt Joy had returned.
    Lindsey nodded.
    “You don’t look very okay. Your face is pale. Let me help you to the couch, and you can lie down. How is your knee?”
    “It hurts,” Lindsey admitted.
    Carefully, Aunt Joy helped her up and steadied her slow way to the couch, then helped her lie down, put a pillow under her knee and gently pushed her hair back from her face. “I’m sorry you had to deal with all this. Have you put any ice on your knee since we left?”
    “No.”
    “I’m going to get some ice for it.” There was no scolding.
    Flinging her arm over her face, Lindsey tried to block out the pain in her head and the worry in her heart. She heard the footsteps of the kids coming, but she didn’t move.
    The front screen door creaked open and then the storm door shut.
    Lindsey cringed.
    “All right, what happened?” Uncle’s voice was calm but firm. “Hudson?”
    “I didn’t mean to call, Dad.”
    “But you had the phone.”
    “It was on the shelf outside the office. I didn’t go in,” the boy protested.
    “So you just decided to play with it?”
    “Yeah.” Hudson sounded embarrassed. “We needed a phone and couldn’t find the one we usually have.”
    “It was lost, Daddy,” Elliot, who was nine, put in. “We looked for it.”
    “Does that give you permission to play with something you aren’t supposed to play with?”
    Aunt Joy settled a towel and an ice pack on Lindsey’s knee without a word.
    “Does it?” Uncle Isaiah’s voice was growing stern.
    “No, sir.” Hudson’s voice was low.
    “Because you decided to break the rules and play with the phone, you called 9-1-1 and then hung up on them, so they had to assume things were really bad and came racing here to help. They came out here and found nothing wrong. And by them coming, you frightened Lindsey, and the police had to call us home from a lunch with some people who are going to be gone for a long time.”

 

Has April been a busy month for you?

Do you want the next and final part of this story next week?

What do you like doing for your birthday?

Love's Embrace - Part 2

Busy this morning. Nieces and nephews are here. Enjoy this next part!

 

 Love's Embrace

Part 2

          “That’s better. No one was hurt. It wasn’t your fault. Okay?”
    Somehow, when she looked at him, Lindsey believed him. It wasn’t her fault. She nodded.
    “Good.” He stood up. “Do you need help going back inside?”
    She shook her head.
    “All right then. You take things easy.” He smiled at her and turned to speak to the police officer as Mrs. Quivira turned back to her.
    “Are you okay, Lindsey?”
    “I’m not hurt,” she whispered. She didn’t add, “yet,” but she thought it.
    “Then let’s get you back inside.” Mrs. Quivira handed Lindsey her crutches and helped her get balanced. “What did you do?” she asked, looking at the brace on her knee.
    “Fell at the park and sprained my knee.”
    “That doesn’t sound pleasant.”
    Carefully, Lindsey made her way back inside where the air was cool and easier to breathe. Sinking down into her chair, she lifted her leg and rested her foot on the stool, her eyes darting to the window as the last firetruck pulled away. She could hear a deep voice in the back room. The second police officer was still on the porch. Lindsey could see him talking on his phone.
    “Here, Lindsey,” Mrs. Quivira appeared at her side with a glass of water. “Take a drink; you still look rather pale.”
    Lindsey did as she was told.
    “Do you want to tell me what happened?” The off duty police officer pulled up a chair and sat down. “Where are your aunt and uncle?”
    “Out to lunch with some friends who were passing through. Mrs. Judd is next door and said she’d come over if I needed her. We ate lunch, and I had a headache, so I stayed in here while the kids went to the play room. I didn’t know they were going to call 9-1-1! I have the phone right there!” She pointed to the handset sitting innocently on a table within reach of the chair. Lindsey’s voice quivered. “It’s my fault.”
    “No it’s not, Lindsey. I’m sure your uncle and aunt will see that.” Something in the girl’s face must have expressed her worry and fear, for Mrs. Quivira laid a gentle hand on her arm and asked, “Are you afraid you’ll get blamed?”
    She nodded, her eyes on the floor.
    “Are you afraid they’ll hurt you?”
    Lindsey hesitated. In the six months she had lived with her aunt and uncle, they had never once laid a hand on her, nor had she ever heard them raise their voices in anger toward her or any of the kids. And yet, the fear of a sudden slap or of a beating for something that wasn’t really her fault lingered. She knew her uncle wasn’t anything like her dad, but it was hard to get past the many years of physical and emotional abuse. Silently she nodded.
    Mrs. Quivira gently rubbed her hand on Lindsey’s arm. “Have they ever hurt you before?”
    She shook her head and winced as the ache in her temples increased.
    “I have known Joy and Isaiah Hunt since before they got married, and I can tell you they aren’t the kind of people who would place the blame for this on you, but I know that’s not really the issue here. You have a fear that they will change like your dad did, aren't you?”
    Lindsey felt her chin quivering, and it was all she could do not to burst into tears as she gave a faint nod.
    “I thought so.” Mrs. Quivira reached into her pocket and pulled out a small case. From it she extracted a card. “I’m going to give you this card. It has my personal cell number on it. Do you have a phone of your own?”
    “Yes.” Her aunt and uncle had given her a phone shortly after she’d come to live with them. It could only call or text, but they had told her they wanted her to feel safe no matter where she was. She had their numbers programed into it, as well as the social worker who handled her case.
    “Then if something happens, and you are physically hurt by them, or feel like you are going to be, call me. Or text me if you don’t feel it is safe to talk. I promise I’ll come get you.”
    Taking the card, Lindsey looked at the numbers and nodded. She was still frightened, but it helped to know there was someone else she could call.
    “Quivira?”
    Mrs. Quivira turned her head. “Sgt. Mulligan. Did you read those kids the riot act?”
    The sergeant smiled slightly. “Not quite.”
    “Beauford is on the porch. He was calling the parents.”
    “Thanks.” He came over to the chair and looked down at Lindsey. “Are you all right?”
    Giving a timid nod, Lindsey clutched the card with Mrs. Quivira’s number in her hand.
    “Don’t worry. This wasn’t your fault. Kids have called 9-1-1 for years. I got sent to a house where a kid called 9-1-1 because she couldn’t tie her shoes and her mom was taking a nap.” He chuckled. “The mom had taught her daughter to call 9-1-1 if she ever needed help. She just forgot to say what kind of help to call about.” The police sergeant looked at Mrs. Quivira. “Did you find out where the parents are?”
    “Out to lunch with friends. Lady next door said she’d be home if the kids needed anything.” She frowned. “I wonder why she hasn’t come over.”
    “Which house?”
    “218.”
    “I’ll go check it out and talk to Beauford. You staying here?”
    “Yes.”

 

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How was your week?

Love's Embrace - Part 1

 Good morning!

Last month during KDWC I wrote a few short stories, my NEO ate a few of them, but this one wasn't eaten, and I thought I'd share it with you all this month since it is my birthday month. So, if anyone even looks at this anymore, enjoy!

 

 Love's Embrace

Part 1

     Sirens cut through the hot afternoon air. Lindsey looked up from her book to the nearby window. She couldn’t see the main street just two blocks away, but somehow she could never stop herself from looking anyway.
    The screaming sirens came closer and grew louder. They covered the sound of the air conditioner, the fans, and the kids playing in the other room.
    Lindsey leaned closer to the window, and her eyes grew wide. A firetruck, two police cars, and then another firetruck rolled down her street. What was going on? Where were they going? Gasping, she let her book fall unheeded to the floor and reached for her crutches as the emergency vehicles stopped in front of the house.
    The sudden silence was almost deafening as she carefully stood up and crutched her way to the door. Yes. They were coming to the house! What was going on? She could still hear the kids in the other room, and no one was screaming like they were hurt or in danger.
    Balancing carefully, she opened the door as a police officer stepped up to it with several firemen right behind him.
    “Did you call 9-1-1?” he asked.
    Wordlessly, Lindsey shook her head. “What happened?”
    “Someone called. It sounded like a child, and they were saying something about a fire. Are your parents home?”
    Lindsey felt her heart begin to pound. “But . . . but I had the phone.”
    “May we come in? We want to make sure no one is hurt and there really isn’t a fire.” At her nod, the police officer and several firemen came through the door.
    “The kids are back there.” She tried to point and almost lost her balance.
    “Whoa, careful there,” one of the firemen caught her shoulders and steadied her. “You okay?”
    She nodded, but her heart was pounding in her throat and making it hard to breathe. This was all a bad dream, right? The kids hadn’t called 9-1-1. She had the phone. Unless– She must have gasped, because the fireman and a second police officer turned to her at once.
    “What is it?” The officer looked at her keenly.
    “I think you should sit down.” And the fireman motioned to the chairs out on the porch. “It would be better if you were outside in case there is a fire.”
    Lindsey felt herself being helped to the porch and sank into the chair, her injured leg stretched out. It seemed harder to breathe out in the muggy air, and she struggled to get air into her lungs.
    A new voice broke in. “Lindsey? What is going on?”
    The officer looked up. “Quivira! What are you–”
    “I live two houses down and across the street.” The newcomer came over and placed a gentle hand on Lindsey’s shoulder. “I had my scanner off and just noticed the sirens. What’s going on?”
    “Someone called 9-1-1. Mentioned a fire and then hung up. Dispatch said they heard lots of commotion and kids voices.”
    “But I had the phone,” Lindsey gasped. “Unless–”
    “Unless what?” Mrs. Quivira, an off duty police officer, asked gently.
    “Unless they went into Uncle Isaiah’s office and got that phone. But we aren’t allowed in there without permission unless it is an emergency.” Panic was settling in, and Lindsey gripped the arms of the chair, her body beginning to shake.
    “Lindsey, I need you to take a breath for me.”
    Lindsey tried to do as the fireman said, but she couldn’t seem to. Her brain didn’t want to function, and she could only gasp at the air her lungs so desperately needed.
    “Come on, Lindsey. Take a breath like you are smelling the roses. That’s it. Now blow out the candle. Yes, just like that. Smell the roses and blow out the candle.” The fireman’s voice was calm and steady. “Smell the roses. Blow out the candle. That’s the way. Now again. Smell the roses. Blow out the candle.”
    Somehow, Lindsey managed to do as he said, and with each breath it became a little easier. Her heart ceased to pound quite so hard, and her brain began to function. Finally, she sagged back in the chair, her eyes closing for a moment.
    Heavy steps made her eyes fly open, and she sucked in a quick breath.
    “Steady,” Mrs. Quivira murmured, gently squeezing her shoulder. “It’s okay.”
    “False alarm,” one of the firemen reported. “Seems like the kids got ahold of another phone and while pretending there was a fire, accidentally called 9-1-1 and then hung up. I think they got scared. Sgt. Mulligan is giving them a lecture, but fire isn’t needed.” He paused and glanced toward the fireman who was still crouched before Lindsey’s chair.
    The man only said, “Let me make sure medical isn’t.”
    Feeling like everything was in slow motion, Lindsay watched Mrs. Quivira move a few feet away and stand talking in low tones to the officer. Strong but gentle fingers took hold of her wrist, and she slowly moved her eyes to the fireman crouched before her.
    “Feeling a little better?” he asked.
    Drawing a deep breath that only quivered a little, Lindsey nodded.
    “Are there any adults home?”
    Wordlessly, she shook her head and noticed that her headache had gotten worse. It was all her fault. If she had been in the room with the kids, perhaps she could have prevented it all from happening. What were Uncle Isaiah and Aunt Joy going to say? Her chin quivered, and her breathing felt tight.
    “Hey, everything is going to be all right.” The fireman’s voice was calm. “Don’t start to panic again. Smell the roses and then blow out the candle.”
    Lindsey did.
    “That’s better. No one was hurt. It wasn’t your fault. Okay?”

Have you ever had firetrucks or police show up at your house?

Did you ever accidentally call 9-1-1?

How have you been doing?

Life Update - February

 Hey!

 I don't have any story for you, just thought I'd pop in with a quick update on life.

I've been trying to write a lot but some days it just wasn't happening in January. I ended up with 21k words or something like that. My goal was to write my new "Another Homewood Christmas" story in January, but the 2023 Christmas Collection story wanted written first. So I did it. Now I'm working on the Homewood story. It's rather fun. :) And I think I know all the rest of the scenes I need to write. I just have to have time to write them.

Yesterday we suddenly decided that we needed to finish our "back room" and move my sister's office there because the room she's in now has such a slanted floor (our house was built around 1880s, so things aren't square) and it was causing her shoulder, back, and neck problems. So . . . I spent a lot of time today helping move things in the office, taking apart the old desk we had that we were getting ride of, moving things from the back room and vacuuming large rugs and putting them away. Our house upstairs reminds me of a few years ago when we gutted and redid several rooms downstairs. It's crowded and a mess. Thankfully, this "finishing" project isn't as involved.

We are going to put down flooring (we've just had plywood floors), and trim out the inside of the windows and put things back or in different places. But there are two large walk-in closets that will need flooring too, so it's not just one large room. But at least the floor if flat. The flooring shouldn't be hard.

So, my writing will have to wait until Monday.

 I'm also working on getting ready for our church's Widows' Valentine Luncheon on the 11th. Then we'll start a new year of ministry to the dear widow ladies. Our pen names this year will be musical terms. We have some fun ones, some pretty ones, and some that might not sound like names.

What else am I doing?

Oh, KDWC is coming up! I'm trying to get all the last minute things for that done that need done. 

Anyway, life is busy. It's certainly not dull. I hope you are all having a good week. Can you believe it's February? Strange how fast the days go by, doesn't it? Have you been writing anything? What special thing are you going to do to celebrate someone else for Valentine's Day? (Even if it's not on that day.) Let me know.

14 Years and . . .

 Good morning Faithful Friday Fiction Fans,

    Fourteen years ago I started this little blog. It was created as a place for me to share parts of my longer stories, my poems, and my short stories that I was writing as practice in different styles and techniques. I created it so that I wouldn't bug my friends by emailing them a new story every time I got one done. I could just post my story here and they could read it whenever they wanted. It took a few weeks for me to settle into my Friday schedule, but before long Fridays were the days that I would post.

    And somewhere along the line I began giving little updates about my life was well as a fiction story to read.

    So many of my published books got their start on this blog. And actually, many of them grew from one short post into much longer stories like:

• The Unexpected Request
• The Graham Quartet and the Mysterious Strangers
• Gift from the Storm
• Through the Tunnel
• Triple Creek Ranch - Unbroken
• Dylan's Story
• Kate and Kylie
  

And many shorter stories that ended up in collections.

    This blog has been a place where I could share all sorts of stories and writings and not worry about them being perfectly edited or finished. I could post short vignettes and scenes that I had no plans to ever publish. Readers could read them or not.

    Over the 14 years this blog has been going, there have been many turn overs. In the beginning my friends that I knew personally were pretty much the only ones who read it. That changed as they grew too busy, and new readers would come. Then those readers would grow up and get busy, and others would eventually take their place. There have been many times over the years when comments would become quiet and I would often wonder, "Is anyone even reading this? Should I keep going or stop?" But I never felt like abandoning it. Several times I would ask if I should stop the blog and I would get a flurry of comments begging me not to stop. Even when I had nothing new to post, I was told it was okay to repost my old stories. And so I did.

    However (you knew this was coming, didn't you?), over the last few months I have actually felt like perhaps this little blog is ready for retirement. I didn't want to. I struggled with the thought of actually not posting, and feeling guilty that all my quiet but faithful Friday fiction fans would be left without a new story each Friday. But I prayed and asked that I would know clearly if I should keep things going or not.

    The answer came clearer than I thought. After 14 years of always posting Friday morning, it had become a habit. But there came a Friday that I didn't even remember I should post until that evening! That was strange! I ALWAYS post Friday morning. And not a single reader commented on how late it was. And then came December when I like to post many times during the month. This December I couldn't seem to remember that I had a blog to post things on. Add to that, my average number of people who look at the blog (and this could be the same people coming to it multiple times) is less than 20 per post. Often it is closer to 10 per post.

    And so, I'm going to put this little reading room in retirement.

    Now, I'm not shutting it down. I might decide to post something now and then. Perhaps I'll write a short story and will want someplace to share it. Or maybe I'll want to share a snippet of a new story. But as for regular Friday posts, that's going to stop. I don't know if I'll bring this blog out of retirement and back to active service some time down the road, but for now, it is going to get a rest.

    And maybe this will give me more time to work on stories that are actually going to get published! Like Kate & Kylie, and the last Woodbreak books. And other things. So don't think I'm quitting writing! 

    With that, I'm going to bid you goodbye! Thank you for being wonderful readers, for enjoying my stories and parts of stories, and for the comments you've shared over the many years!

Do you have any writing plans?

Have you ever had to quit something you've done for years?

Do you read my Read Another Page blog?