See for yourself.
I have to admit that I was distracted by her dress. I think something a little more modest might have been more appropriate for this song. Something a bit longer and not skin tight, but maybe she couldn’t afford that many sequins.
I must admit that I prefer this version
or this one.
It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old…or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!
You never know when I might play a wild card on you!
and the book:
In Grandma’s Attic
AND
More Stories from Grandma’s Attic
David C. Cook (April 1, 2011)
***Special thanks to Karen Davis, Assistant Media Specialist, The B&B Media Group for sending me a review copy.***
Arleta Richardson grew up in a Chicago hotel under her grandmother’s care. As they sat overlooking the shores of Lake Michigan, her grandmother shared memories of her childhood on a Michigan farm. These treasured family stories became the basis for the Grandma’s Attic Series.
Remember when you were a child, when the entire world was new, and the smallest object a thing of wonder? Arleta Richardson remembered: the funny wearable wire contraption hidden in the dusty attic, the century-old schoolchild’s slate that belonged to Grandma, an ancient trunk filled with quilt pieces—each with its own special story—and the button basket, a miracle of mysteries. But best of all she remembered her remarkable grandmother who made magic of all she touched, bringing the past alive as only a born storyteller could.
So step inside the attic of Richardson’s grandmother. These stories will keep you laughing while teaching you valuable lessons. These marvelous tales faithfully recalled for the delight of young and old alike are a touchstone to another day when life was simpler, perhaps richer, and when the treasures of family life and love were passed from generation to generation by a child’s questions and the legends that followed enlarged our faith. These timeless stories were originally released in 1974 and then revised in 1999. They are being re-released with new artwork that will appeal to a new generation of girls.
Product Details:
In Grandma’s Attic:
List Price: $6.99
Reading level: Ages 9-12
Paperback: 144 pages
Publisher: David C. Cook (April 1, 2011)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 0781403790
ISBN-13: 978-0781403795
More Stories from Grandma’s Attic:
List Price: $6.99
Reading level: Ages 9-12
Paperback: 144 pages
Publisher: David C. Cook; 3 edition (April 1, 2011)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 9780781403801
ISBN-13: 978-0781403801
ASIN: 0781403804
ISLAND BREEZES
These books make me wish I could turn back the years so that I could listen to my grandmother tell me more stories.
Arleta’s grandmother, Mabel, had some really good stories. I’m sure her parents were glad when Mabel grew up more and quit getting into so much trouble.
These books are very enjoyable, both for children and for those of us who are only children in our memories.
AND NOW…THE FIRST CHAPTER:
Pride Goes Before a Fall
“Grandma, what is this?”
Grandma looked up from her work. “Good lands, child, where did you find that?”
“In the attic,” I replied. “What is it, Grandma?”
Grandma chuckled and answered, “That’s a hoop. The kind that ladies wore under their skirts when I was a little girl.”
“Did you ever wear one, Grandma?” I asked.
Grandma laughed. “Indeed I did,” she said. “In fact, I wore that very one.”
Here, I decided, must be a story. I pulled up the footstool and prepared to listen. Grandma looked at the old hoop fondly.
“I only wore it once,” she began. “But I kept it to remind me how painful pride can be.”
I was about eight years old when that hoop came into my life. For months I had been begging Ma to let me have a hoopskirt like the big girls wore. Of course that was out of the question. What would a little girl, not even out of calicoes, be doing with a hoopskirt? Nevertheless, I could envision myself walking haughtily to school with the hoopskirt and all the girls watching enviously as I took my seat in the front of the room.
This dream was shared by my best friend and seatmate, Sarah Jane. Together we spent many hours picturing ourselves as fashionable young ladies in ruffles and petticoats. But try as we would, we could not come up with a single plan for getting a hoopskirt of our very own.
Finally, one day in early spring, Sarah Jane met me at the school grounds with exciting news. An older cousin had come to their house to visit, and she had two old hoops that she didn’t want any longer. Sarah Jane and I could have them to play with, she said. Play with, indeed! Little did that cousin know that we didn’t want to play with them. Here was the answer to our dreams. All day, under cover of our books, Sarah Jane and I planned how we would wear those hoops to church on Sunday.
There was a small problem: How would I get that hoop into the house without Ma knowing about it? And how could either of us get out of the house with them on without anyone seeing us? It was finally decided that I would stop by Sarah Jane’s house on Sunday morning. We would have some excuse for walking to church, and after her family had left, we would put on our hoops and prepare to make a grand entrance at the church.
“Be sure to wear your fullest skirt,” Sarah Jane reminded me. “And be here early. They’re all sure to look at us this Sunday!”
If we had only known how true that would be! But of course, we were happily unaware of the disaster that lay ahead.
Sunday morning came at last, and I astonished my family by the speed with which I finished my chores and was ready to leave for church.
“I’m going with Sarah Jane this morning,” I announced, and set out quickly before anyone could protest.
All went according to plan. Sarah Jane’s family went on in the buggy, cautioning us to hurry and not be late for service. We did have a bit of trouble fastening the hoops around our waists and getting our skirts pulled down to cover them. But when we were finally ready, we agreed that there could not be two finer-looking young ladies in the county than us.
Quickly we set out for church, our hoopskirts swinging as we walked. Everyone had gone in when we arrived, so we were assured the grand entry we desired. Proudly, with small noses tipped up, we sauntered to the front of the church and took our seats.
Alas! No one had ever told us the hazards of sitting down in a hoopskirt without careful practice! The gasps we heard were not of admiration as we had anticipated—far from it! For when we sat down, those dreadful hoops flew straight up in the air! Our skirts covered our faces, and the startled minister was treated to the sight of two pairs of white pantalets and flying petticoats.
Sarah Jane and I were too startled to know how to disentangle ourselves, but our mothers were not. Ma quickly snatched me from the seat and marched me out the door.
The trip home was a silent one. My dread grew with each step. What terrible punishment would I receive at the hands of an embarrassed and upset parent? Although I didn’t dare look at her, I knew she was upset because she was shaking. It was to be many years before I learned that Ma was shaking from laughter, and not from anger!
Nevertheless, punishment was in order. My Sunday afternoon was spent with the big Bible and Pa’s concordance. My task was to copy each verse I could find that had to do with being proud. That day I was a sorry little girl who learned a lesson about pride going before a fall.
“And you were never proud again, Grandma?” I asked after she finished the story.
Grandma thought soberly for a moment. “Yes,” she replied. “I was proud again. Many times. It was not until I was a young lady and the Lord saved me that I had the pride taken from my heart. But many times when I am tempted to be proud, I remember that horrid hoopskirt and decide that a proud heart is an abomination to the Lord!”
***************************************
Chapter 1
The Nuisance in Ma’s Kitchen
When Grandma called from the backyard, I knew I was in for it. She was using her would-you-look-at-this voice, which usually meant I was responsible for something.
“What, Grandma?” I asked once I reached the spot where she was hanging up the washing.
“Would you look at this?” she asked. “I just went into the kitchen for more clothespins and came back out to find this.”
I looked where she was pointing. One of my kittens had crawled into the clothes basket and lay sound asleep on a clean sheet.
“If you’re going to have kittens around the house, you’ll have to keep an eye on them. Otherwise leave them in the barn where they belong. It’s hard enough to wash sheets once without doing them over again.”
Grandma headed toward the house with the soiled sheet, and I took the kitten back to the barn. But I didn’t agree that it belonged there. I would much rather have had the whole family of kittens in the house with me. Later I mentioned this to Grandma.
“I know,” she said. “I felt the same way when I was your age. If it had been up to me, I would have moved every animal on the place into the house every time it rained or snowed.”
“Didn’t your folks let any pets in the house?” I asked.
“Most of our animals weren’t pets,” Grandma admitted. “But there were a few times when they were allowed in. If an animal needed special care, it stayed in the kitchen. I really enjoyed those times, especially if it was one I could help with.”
“Tell me about one,” I said, encouraging her to tell me another story about her childhood.
“I remember one cold spring,” she began, “when Pa came in from the barn carrying a tiny goat.”
“I’m not sure we can save this one.” Pa held the baby goat up for us to see. “The nanny had twins last night, and she’ll only let one come near her. I’m afraid this one’s almost gone.”
Ma agreed and hurried to find an old blanket and a box for a bed. She opened the oven door, put the box on it, and gently took the little goat and laid it on the blanket. It didn’t move at all. It just lay there, barely breathing.
“Oh, Ma,” I said. “Do you think it will live? Shouldn’t we give it something to eat?”
“It’s too weak to eat right now,” Ma replied. “Let it rest and get warm. Then we’ll try to feed it.”
Fortunately it was Saturday, and I didn’t have to go to school. I sat on the floor next to the oven and watched the goat. Sometimes it seemed as though it had stopped breathing, and I would call Ma to look.
“It’s still alive,” she assured me. “It just isn’t strong enough to move yet. You wait there and watch if you want to, but don’t call me again unless it opens its eyes.”
When Pa and my brothers came in for dinner, Reuben stopped and looked down at the tiny animal. “Doesn’t look like much, does it?”
I burst into tears. “It does so!” I howled. “It looks just fine! Ma says it’s going to open its eyes. Don’t discourage it!”
Reuben backed off in surprise, and Pa came over to comfort me. “Now, Reuben wasn’t trying to harm that goat. He just meant that it doesn’t … look like a whole lot.”
I started to cry again, and Ma tried to soothe me. “Crying isn’t going to help that goat one bit,” she said. “When it gets stronger, it will want something to eat. I’ll put some milk on to heat while we have dinner.”
I couldn’t leave my post long enough to go to the table, so Ma let me hold my plate in my lap. I ate dinner watching the goat. Suddenly it quivered and opened its mouth. “It’s moving, Ma!” I shouted. “You’d better bring the milk!”
Ma soaked a rag in the milk, and I held it while the little goat sucked it greedily. By the time it had fallen asleep again, I was convinced that it would be just fine.
And it was! By evening the little goat was standing on its wobbly legs and began to baa loudly for more to eat. “Pa, maybe you’d better bring its box into my room,” I suggested at bedtime.
“Whatever for?” Pa asked. “It will keep warm right here by the stove. We’ll look after it during the night. Don’t worry.”
“And we aren’t bringing your bed out here,” Ma added, anticipating my next suggestion. “You’ll have enough to do, watching that goat during the day.”
Of course Ma was right. As the goat got stronger, he began to look for things to do. At first he was content to grab anything within reach and pull it. Dish towels, apron strings, and tablecloth corners all fascinated him. I kept busy trying to move things out of his way.
From the beginning the little goat took a special liking to Ma, but she was not flattered. “I can’t move six inches in this kitchen without stumbling over that animal,” she sputtered. “He can be sound asleep in his box one minute and sitting on my feet the next. I don’t know how much longer I can tolerate him in here.”
As it turned out, it wasn’t much longer. The next Monday, Ma prepared to do the washing in the washtub Pa had placed on two chairs near the woodpile. Ma always soaked the clothes in cold water first, then transferred them to the boiler on the stove.
I was in my room when I heard her shouting, “Now you put that down! Come back here!”
I ran to the kitchen door and watched as the goat circled the table with one of Pa’s shirts in his mouth. Ma was right behind him, but he managed to stay a few feet ahead of her.
“Step on the shirt, Ma!” I shouted as I ran into the room. “Then he’ll have to stop!”
I started around the table the other way, hoping to head him off. But the goat seemed to realize that he was outnumbered, for he suddenly turned and ran toward the chairs that held the washtub.
“Oh, no!” Ma cried. “Not that way!”
But it was too late! Tub, water, and clothes splashed to the floor. The goat danced stiff-legged through the soggy mess with a surprised look on his face.
“That’s enough!” Ma said. “I’ve had all I need of that goat. Take him out and tie him in the yard, Mabel. Then bring me the mop, please.”
I knew better than to say anything, but I was worried about what would happen to the goat. If he couldn’t come back in the kitchen, where would he sleep?
Pa had the answer to that. “He’ll go to the barn tonight.”
“But, Pa,” I protested, “he’s too little to sleep in the barn. Besides, he’ll think we don’t like him anymore!”
“He’ll think right,” Ma said. “He’s a menace, and he’s not staying in my kitchen another day.”
“But I like him,” I replied. “I feel sorry for him out there alone. If he has to sleep in the barn, let me go out and sleep with him!”
My two brothers looked at me in amazement.
“You?” Roy exclaimed. “You won’t even walk past the barn after dark, let alone go in!”
Everyone knew he was right. I had never been very brave about going outside after dark. But I was more concerned about the little goat than I was about myself.
“I don’t care,” I said stubbornly. “He’ll be scared out there, and he’s littler than I am.”
Ma didn’t say anything, probably because she thought I’d change my mind before dark. But I didn’t. When Pa started for the barn that evening, I was ready to go with him. Ma saw that I was determined, so she brought me a blanket.
“You’d better wrap up in this,” she said. “The hay is warm, but it’s pretty scratchy.”
I took the blanket and followed Pa and the goat out to the barn. The more I thought about the long, dark night, the less it seemed like a good idea, but I wasn’t going to give in or admit that I was afraid.
Pa found a good place for me to sleep. “This is nice and soft and out of the draft. You’ll be fine here.”
I rolled up in the blanket, hugging the goat close to me as I watched Pa check the animals. The light from the lantern cast long, scary shadows through the barn, and I thought about asking Pa if he would stay with me. I knew better, though, and all too soon he was ready to leave.
“Good night, Mabel. Sleep well,” he said as he closed the barn door behind him. I doubted that I would sleep at all. If it hadn’t been for the goat and my brothers who would laugh at me, I would have returned to the house at once. Instead I closed my eyes tightly and began to say my prayers. In a few moments the barn door opened, and Reuben’s voice called to me.
“Mabel,” he said, “it’s just me.” He came over to where I lay, and I saw that he had a blanket under his arm. “I thought I’d sleep out here tonight too. I haven’t slept in the barn for a long time. You don’t mind, do you?”
“Oh, no. That’s fine.” I turned over and fell asleep at once.
When I awoke in the morning, the goat and Reuben were both gone. Soon I found the goat curled up by his mother.
“Will you be sleeping in the barn again tonight?” Ma asked me at breakfast.
“No, I don’t think so,” I said. “I’ll take care of the goat during the day, but I guess his mother can watch him at night.”
Grandma laughed at the memory. “After I grew up, I told Reuben how grateful I was that he came out to stay with me. I wonder how my family ever put up with all my foolishness.”
Grandma went back into the house, and I wandered out to the barn to see the little kittens. I decided I wouldn’t be brave enough to spend the night there even if I had a big brother to keep me company!
One Woman – Fiercely Independent, A Loyal Friend, and Determined to Finish.
“Once you get your teeth in something you don’t let go, do you?” he said. “No sir, I don’t.” She kept her voice steady. “I plan to attend classes and participate at the Model School, with your permission.”
The Dawn of a Dream (ISBN: 978-0-8007-3334-6, April 2011, $14.99) introduces readers to the third book in Author Ann Shorey’s At Home In Beldon Grove series. Set in 1857, this story comes alive when newlywed Luellen O’Connell’s husband of just one month tells her he is leaving – and his reason leaves her completely astonished.
Determined to follow the dreams of her youth, Luellen sets out to obtain her teaching degree. But her wayward husband left something behind when he abandoned her. Can she overcome the odds and achieve her dream? Can she hide her secret, or will it crush her dreams? This is a story of one woman fighting against all odds but finding friends along the way who make the journey bearable.
Readers will journey with Luellen in this spellbinding story of a woman’s struggle to survive and make her dream come true in The Dawn of a Dream.
ISLAND BREEZES
And what a dream it is! For Luellen, a dream revisited in the midst of a nightmare.
She persevered through many obstacles on the road to fulfilling her dream of becoming a teacher. Now it looks as if she won’t make it after all. Family circumstances case her to leave Allenwood Normal abruptly near the end of her final term.
Will she ever achieve her dream? Be prepared to enjoy all the twist of fate in this book.
I’m hoping Ms. Shorey is working on a fourth book in the Beldon Grove series. If not, I’m really going to miss these people.
***A special thank you to Donna Hausler for providing a review copy.***
Ann Shorey is the author of The Edge of Light and The Promise of Morning. She has also published selections in the Cup of Comfort series and in Chicken Soup for the Grandma’s Soul. Shorey lives with her husband, Richard, in Oregon.
Revell, a division of Baker Publishing Group, offers practical books that bring the Christian faith to everyday life.? They publish resources from a variety of well-known brands and authors, including their partnership with MOPS (Mothers of Preschoolers) and Hungry Planet.
###
For more information, visit www.RevellBooks.com
Available April 2011 at your favorite bookseller from Revell, a division of Baker Publishing Group.
But in fact Christ has been raised from the dead, the first fruits of those who have died.
For since death came through a human being, the resurrection of the dead has also come through a human being;
for as all die in Adam, so all will be made alive in Christ.
1 Corinthians 15:20-22
This is a struggle I’ve been having since January 2nd of this year when a kid rammed into the back of my car while I was stopped at a traffic signal. That’s not my car, but you get the picture. This kid received a traffic ticket and I received a disability.
Even though I was wearing my seat belt, the right side of my body was thrown forward and then I was slammed back into the head rest. Think immediate whopper of a headache, mild confusion and pain – almost total body pain by the next day. Now I know what a whiplash injury feels like – pain from neck down to lower back and then some. I had some really nasty x-rays, but no fractures.
I thought if I did everything my doctor said to do and didn’t miss any treatments or physical therapy, I’d be back 100% and working in no time. That didn’t happen. I will have enough of a permanent disability that I will no longer be able to work any more nursing shifts.
This took me weeks to accept and even longer before I could go over to the mainland and turn in my resignation. So now I’m learning how to do the ordinary day to day living that I took for granted a few short months ago.
I’m learning to space standing activities and sitting down stuff. On days that I’m feeling really well, I have a tendency to forget that and over do. That sets me back for a few days, but I’m learning not to blow the next several days by pretending I can do everything on those good days.
I’ve found a very good way to explain to others just what my days are like. It’s called The Spoon Theory, and I found it here. It was written by a lady with lupus, and explains life from the viewpoint of someone with a chronic health condition.
As The Seed Awaits the Spring Sunshine, Harriet Kirk Hopes for A Brighter Tomorrow.
“Miss Kirk! Miss Kirk! Come look!” cried Eva…”They sprouted. Six of them.” She reached for Harriet’s hand and tugged. “Come look!”
Author Amanda Cabot takes readers back to Ladreville, Texas for the conclusion of the Texas Dreams series. Tomorrow’s Garden (ISBN: 978-0-8007-3326-1, April 2011 $14.99) is set in the 1850’s with authentic Texas essence and romance. Read as part of the series or as a stand alone title, readers will enjoy this story about Harriet Kirk and her love for family and dedication to their survival.
Leaving the past behind, Harriett Kirk moves her family to the Texas hill country for a new beginning. Becoming Ladreville’s new schoolteacher is just what Harriet needs–a chance to put the past behind her and give her younger siblings a brighter tomorrow. What she didn’t count on was meeting the handsome former Texas Ranger Lawrence Wood–or the way he slowly but surely claims her fragile heart. But can Harriet and Lawrence ever truly put the past behind them in order to find happiness?
Tomorrow’s Garden is a love story of overcoming powerful odds and grabbing hold of happiness. Readers will experience the Texas countryside come to life from the beautiful picturesque writing of Cabot in Tomorrow’s Garden.
ISLAND BREEZES
Harriet is constantly dealing with unruly children, both at home, and at school as she teaches. The new school teacher in Ladreville is trying to put her past behind her, and in doing so, has a way of upsetting others, especially the mayor/sheriff.
It’s quite a struggle for these two to get beyond their pasts and deal with a possible future. Neither one of them makes it easy.
Even though this is book three in the Texas Dreams series, it is a good stand alone book. I enjoyed watching as Harriet and Lawrence worked this relationship and the children became more manageable.
***Review copy provided by Donna Hausler.***
Amanda Cabot is an accomplished author under various pen names and a popular speaker. The author of Paper Roses and Scattered Petals, she is also a charter member of Romance Writers of America, the co-founder of its New Jersey chapter, a member of the ACFW, and an avid traveler. She lives in Wyoming.
Revell, a division of Baker Publishing Group, offers practical books that bring the Christian faith to everyday life.? They publish resources from a variety of well-known brands and authors, including their partnership with MOPS (Mothers of Preschoolers) and Hungry Planet.
###
For more information, visit www.RevellBooks.com.Available April 2011 at your favorite bookseller from Revell, a division of Baker Publishing Group.
It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old…or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!
You never know when I might play a wild card on you!
and Illustrated by
and the book:
David C. Cook (April 1, 2011)
***Special thanks to Audra Jennings, Senior Media Specialist, The B&B Media Group for sending me a review copy.***
Dan and Ali Morrow are parents of two wonderful daughters. When they’re not writing children’s books, they like to go on adventures around their Colorado home. They are the authors of That’s Where God Is (2010), their first children’s release.
Visit the authors’ website.
Cory Godbey illustrates, animates, and writes for Portland Studios, a creative firm dedicated to telling great stories and pursuing excellence in art.
He has contributed to projects such as Zune Arts, Flight graphic novel anthologies, and has worked with many major publishers.
Recently, Cory was accepted in the acclaimed Society of Illustrators Annual.
Cory seeks to tell stories with his work.
He also likes drawing monsters.
Visit the illustrator’swebsite.
Targeted to children four to eight, That’s When I Talk to God mirrors the day of the typical child, creating an opportunity for readers to put the practices in the story to use in their own lives. Through beautiful illustrations and an engaging, familiar character, readers can relate to That’s When I Talk to God. Children will learn to go to God with their fears, their joys, their questions, and their desires. They will also learn the hows, whens, and whys of praying to the Lord in a way they can easily apply to their own experiences. And adults will be reminded to communicate the benefit, simplicity, and beauty of prayer.
Product Details:
List Price: $12.99
Reading level: Ages 4-8
Hardcover: 36 pages
Publisher: David C. Cook (April 1, 2011)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 1434700186
ISBN-13: 978-1434700186
ISLAND BREEZES
I talk to God all the time. Maybe that’s why I never even considered that children might think prayer was only for mealtime or bedtime.
This book uses a day in the life of a child to teach that we can talk to God in many situations. It also teaches three ways God talks to us.
All I can say is, is I wish I had this book to share with my children when they were young.
AND NOW…THE FIRST FEW PAGES (Click on the pictures to enlarge them!):
I just read an interesting article on Frugal Cafe Blog Zone about Larry Elders’ interview with Bill Ayers. Here is a video with Sean Hannity and Mr. Elders.
You can listen to the full radio interview here.
The next day the great crowd that had come to the festival heard that Jesus was coming to Jerusalem.
So they took branches of palm trees and went out to meet him, shouting,
“Hosanna! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord – the King of Israel!”
Jesus found a young donkey and sat on it; as it is written:
“Do not be afraid, daughter of Zion.
Look, your king is coming, sitting on a donkey’s colt!”
John 12:12-15
It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old…or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!
You never know when I might play a wild card on you!
and the book:
The Journey (Kentucky Brothers)
Barbour Books (April 5, 2011)
***Special thanks to Sharon Farnell, Director, Faith Division, Planned Television Arts for sending me a review copy.***
Wanda E. Brunstetter is a bestselling author who enjoys writing Amish-themed, as well as historical novels. Descended from Anabaptists herself, Wanda became deeply interested in the Plain People when she married her husband, Richard who grew up in a Mennonite church in Pennsylvania. Wanda and her husband live in Washington State, but take every opportunity to visit their Amish friends in various communities across the country, gathering further information about the Amish way of life.
Visit the author’s website.
This is the first book of the new Kentucky Brothers Series by
Wanda Brunstetter. Discover along with Titus Fisher how life can begin anew in Christian County, Kentucky. Moving from Pennsylvania, finding rewarding work, and leaving a broken romance behind is the best decision Titus ever made. But is he ready to consider love again when he meets two women: one who seems perfectly suited for any Amish man and one who challenges long held ideas of the woman’s role. Who will Titus chose, and will it be the right choice?
Product Details:
List Price: $14.99
Paperback: 384 pages
Publisher: Barbour Books (April 5, 2011)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 1602606811
ISBN-13: 978-1602606814
ISLAND BREEZES
And what a journey it was. This was a journey across the miles to a place where another journey began – a journey out of confusion to self-confidence and deeper faith in our Lord.
It wasn’t easy for Titus to achieve this. He ended up fighting off cats, dogs and thieves. He also got caught in a triangle and had to decide which lady truly belonged in his life. Definitely not an easy decision for him.
I’m looking forward to the second book in the Kentucky Brothers series. I’m thinking I just might know which brother it showcases. But maybe not. That brother doesn’t live in Kentucky. Read this book and tell me who you think will be the next brother.
There’s also a yummy bonus recipe at the end. Just saying.
AND NOW…THE FIRST CHAPTER:
Titus Fisher liked horses, dogs, and shoofly pie. What he didn’t like was a cat that scratched, and a woman he couldn’t trust. Today he’d dealt with both.
Gritting his teeth, he grabbed his horse’s bridle and led him into the barn, wishing he hadn’t gotten out of bed that morning. The day had started on a sour note when Titus had come to the barn to feed the horses and accidentally stepped on one of Mom’s cats. Five of the irksome critters lived in the barn, and every one of them liked to bite and scratch. Whiskers, the smallest of the five, was the most aggressive. The crazy cat had been so miffed when Titus stepped on her tail that she’d clawed her way right up his leg, hissing and yowling as she went. When Titus had tried to push Whiskers off, she’d let him have it—leaving a nasty scratch on his leg.
Titus pulled up his pant leg and stared at the wound, still red and swollen. It reminded him of the time when he and his twin brother, Timothy, were six years old and had found a wild cat in the woodpile behind their barn. !e mangy critter had bitten Titus’s hand, and when the bite became infected, he’d started running a fever. Mom had taken him to the doctor’s, where he’d been given a tetanus shot and an antibiotic. Ever since then, he’d had an aversion to cats.
“In my opinion, except for catching mice, cats are pretty much worthless,” Titus mumbled as he guided his horse into one of the stalls. When he patted the horse’s ebony-colored flanks, the gelding whinnied and flipped his head around to nuzzle Titus’s hand. “Not like you, Lightning. You’re worth every dollar I paid for you. You’re dependable and trustworthy.” He grimaced. “Wish I could say the same for Phoebe Stoltzfus.”
Titus poured some oats into a bucket, and as his horse ate, he replayed the conversation he’d had with Phoebe on his way home from work that afternoon. . . .
“I’m not ready to join the church yet, and I’m too young to get married.” Phoebe flipped the strings of her head covering over her shoulders and blinked her blue eyes. “Why do you have to put so much pressure on me, Titus?”
“I–I’m not,” he stammered, “but I’ve been waiting a long time for you, and I’d thought that when I joined the church two years ago, you’d join, too.”
“I wasn’t ready then. I was only sixteen and had other things on my mind.”
“How well I know that. You were too busy runnin’ around with your friends and tryin’ out all sorts of worldly things.” Titus groaned. “Figured you’d have all that out of your system by now and would be ready to settle down.”
She shook her head. “Maybe in a few years I’ll be ready.”
“You said that two years ago.”
“Things have changed.” She placed her hand gently on his arm. “My friend Darlene Mast is planning a trip to Los Angeles, and she’s leaving in a few days, so—”
He held up his hand. “Please don’t tell me you want to go with her.”
“I think it would be fun, and I’ve always wanted to see the Pacific Ocean.” She looked up at him and smiled. “You’re full of adventure and like to try new things. Wouldn’t you like to see California?”
He shrugged. “Maybe someday, but not right now. What I want is for you to join the church this fall so we can get married.”
She shook her head. “I just told you—I’m not ready for that.”
“Will you ever be ready?”
“I don’t know.” She pushed a wisp of soft, auburn hair under her white organdy head covering and turned her gaze away from him. “I—I might not join the church. I might decide to go English.”
“Are you kidding?”
“No, I’m not. I don’t know if I want to be Amish.”
Titus’s jaw tightened as the reality of the situation set in. If Phoebe went to California, she might never come back. If she didn’t join the church, they couldn’t get married. Titus had been in love with Phoebe since he was seventeen years old, but she’d been four years younger than him, and their parents had disapproved. He’d waited patiently until Phoebe turned sixteen. Even then, his folks had been opposed to him courting her because she seemed so unsettled and ran with a wild bunch of kids.
Now Titus, at the age of twenty-two, still wasn’t sure he and Phoebe would ever get married. If she did go English, the only way they could marry would be if he broke his vow to the Amish church, which he did not want to do.
“Can we talk about this later?” he asked. “After you’ve had a chance to think about this some more?”
“There’s nothing to think about. I’m going to California.” She tipped her head and stared up at him. “If you don’t want to come, then I guess it’s over between us.”
“You can’t do this, Phoebe. Are you just going to give up on us like this?”
She shrugged.
“Don’t you love me anymore?”
“I–I’m not sure. Maybe we’re not meant to be together.”
Titus flinched. He felt like he’d been kicked in the stomach by one of his dad’s stubborn mules. He had a sinking feeling that once Phoebe left home she’d never come back. All his years of waiting for her had been for nothing.
Titus’s horse whinnied and nudged his hand, pulling his thoughts back to the present.
“Stop it, Lightning. I’m not in the mood.” Titus kicked at a bale of straw and winced when Lightning whipped his head around and bumped his sore leg.
Lightning whinnied again and stomped his hoof. Then he moved to the other end of his stall and turned his backside toward Titus.
“It’s all right, boy. I’m not mad at you.” Titus stepped up to the horse and reached out his hand. “I’m upset with Phoebe, that’s all.”
As though accepting his apology, Lightning nuzzled Titus’s neck.
Horses and dogs—that’s about all that ever held my interest until Phoebe came along, Titus thought. If there was only some way to get her out of my system. If I could just tell myself that I don’t care anymore.
Pembroke, Kentucky
As Suzanne Yoder stared out the living room window, a sense of discontentment welled in her soul. She enjoyed living in Christian County, especially in the spring when the flowers and trees began to bloom.
I wish I could be outside right now, tilling the garden or even mowing the lawn, she thought with regret. It was too nice to be stuck indoors, yet she knew she needed to work on the quilt she’d started several months ago for her friend Esther Beiler’s twenty-fourth birthday, which was less than a month away.
Suzanne’s gaze shifted from the garden to the woodshop, where her grandfather and twenty-year-old brother, Nelson, worked. Due to painful arthritis, Grandpa’s fingers didn’t work well anymore, so he’d recently decided to look for someone else to help Nelson in the shop. Someone younger and more able-bodied. Someone who knew the woodworking trade.
Grandpa wasn’t one to sit around or take life easy while others did all the work, but Mom had convinced him that he could still have a hand in the business by ordering supplies, waiting on customers, and keeping the books. Grandpa wasn’t happy about it, but at least he wouldn’t be sitting on the porch in his rocking chair all day, wishing he could be in the shop.
“I thought you were supposed to be working on Esther’s birthday present,” Mom said when she joined Suzanne in the living room.
“I was, but my eyes needed a break. I was thinking about going out to the woodshop to see if there’s anything I can do to help out.”
Mom’s dark eyebrows furrowed as she slowly shook her head. “You’ll never get that quilt done if you keep procrastinating, and there’s no need for you to run out to the woodshop, because I’m sure you and Nelson would only end up in a disagreement. You know how he feels about you hanging around the shop.”
Suzanne frowned. No one in the family understood her desire to be in the woodshop, where she could enjoy the distinctive odors of wood being cut, sanded, or stained. It was a shame nobody took her interest in woodworking seriously. Not long ago, Suzanne had borrowed some of Grandpa’s tools so she could make a few birdhouses and feeders to put in their yard. She’d never gotten any encouragement in making them, though. She guessed compared to the cabinets, doors, and storage sheds Grandpa and Nelson made, the birdhouses and feeders were insignificant.
Mom touched Suzanne’s shoulder. “I’m going to plant some peas and lettuce this afternoon, so if you think you’ve worked long enough on the quilt today, I could use your help.”
Suzanne didn’t have to be asked twice. Any chore she could do outdoors would be better than being inside, where it was warm and stuffy. “I’ll meet you outside as soon as I put away my quilting supplies,” she said.
“That’ll be fine.” Mom gave Suzanne’s arm a light tap and disappeared into the kitchen.
Suzanne glanced out the window once more and sighed as her gaze came to rest on the woodshop. “Guess I won’t make it out there today—except to take the men their lunch.”
Paradise, Pennsylvania
Titus left the barn and was about to head for the house, when a dark blue pickup rumbled up the driveway. He didn’t recognize the vehicle or the young English man with dark curly hair who opened the cab door and stepped out.
“Is this where Zach Fisher lives?” the man asked as he approached Titus.
“Sort of. My dad owns this place, and Zach and his family live in the house behind ours.” Titus pointed in that direction.
“Oh, I see. Is Zach at home?”
“Nope, not yet. He’s up in Blue Ball, painting the outside of the bowling alley. Probably won’t be home till sometime after six.”
The man extended his hand. “I’m Allen Walters. I knew Zach when he lived in Puyallup, Washington.”
“That was when he thought his name was Jimmy Scott, huh?”
“That’s right.”
“Zach’s my half brother. My twin brother, Timothy, and I were born during the time Zach was missing. He was about six or seven then, I think.”
“My mother and the woman Zach thought was his mother became good friends, so Zach and I kind of grew up together.”
“Zach’s mentioned that,” Titus said. “Sure is somethin’ the way he was kidnapped when he was a baby and never located his real family until he was twenty-one.”
“I really missed Zach after he left Washington, but I’m glad he found his way home.” Allen folded his arms and leaned against the side of his truck. “The last time I saw Zach was before he got married, and that was seven years ago. We’ve kept in touch through letters and phone calls, though.”
“Did Zach know you were coming?”
Allen shook his head. “He doesn’t know I’ve moved from Washington State to Kentucky either.”
“You’re welcome to hang around here until he gets home, because I’m sure he’ll be pleased to see you.”
“Thanks, I’ll do that.”
Just then, Titus’s mother stepped out of the house and started across the yard toward them, her slightly plump figure shuffling through the grass.
“This is my mother, Fannie Fisher.” Titus motioned to Allen. “Mom, this is Zach’s old friend, Allen Walters. He used to live in Washington.”
Mom’s brown eyes brightened as she shook Allen’s hand. “It’s nice to finally meet you. Zach’s told us a lot about you and your family.”
“He’s talked to me about his family here, too.”
“I explained to Allen that Zach’s still at work and said he’s welcome to stay here until Zach gets home.”
Mom bobbed her head. “Why don’t you stay for supper? I’ll invite Zach and his family to join us. I think it would be nice for you to meet his wife and children.”
“I’d like that,” Allen said with an enthusiastic nod.
“If you need a place to spend the night, you’re more than welcome to stay here.” Mom smiled. “Since Titus is our only son still living at home, we have more than enough room to accommodate guests.”
“I appreciate the offer, but I’ve already reserved a room at a hotel in Bird-in-Hand.”
“That’s fine, but the offer’s open if you change your mind.” Mom turned toward the house. “I’d better go back inside and get supper going.”
As Mom headed to the house, Titus motioned to a couple of wooden chairs sitting beneath the maple tree on their lawn. “Why don’t we take a seat?” he said to Allen. “I’m real interested in hearing why you moved to Kentucky.”
