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!
***Special thanks to Rick Roberson for sending me a review copy.***
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Dr. Fred Lybrand is a communicator and father of five who has been married for over 30 years and has the diverse combination of having formally studied law, speech communications, systems thinking, linguistics, writing, theology, marketing, structural dynamics, leadership/management and the human personality.
As the author of six books and a number of articles and co-founder of TrimTab Solutions (an energy industry consulting firm), Lybrand is currently focusing on the challenging puzzle of human productivity and high performance. The One Success Habit is his newest contribution to help individuals and organizations become more productive without yielding one ounce of being human. His client list includes the United States Air Force, State Farm Insurance, Valero, Chick-fil-A, Pioneer Natural Resources, Encana, Marathon Oil, Rose & Associates, Protrader, Burlington Resources, AcuFocus and Silver Creek Oil & Gas.
Organization, productivity and good habits all appear to be part of successful endeavors. However, many of us don’t know how to use these to reach our goals with true success. Dr. Fred Ray Lybrand, motivational speaker, writer and “human behavior expert,” with his newest release, The One Success Habit You Can’t Do Without (Kauffman Burgess Press, February 2013), continues with his warm, witty conversational advice that brings fresh clarity to the age old question of how to get organized…get moving…and shift our actions towards a new level of daily success. .
Are you a success? Do you even know the definition of success? It’s not necessarily having it all and doing it all.
Dr Lybrand gives us a very good definition of the word. You need to know what it is in order to know if you achieve it.
Now it’s time to learn the one success habit.
This book is small but mighty. It’s helped me look at my life and take time to define my success story. It certainly is easier to set meaningful and measurable goals when you know where you’re going. This book will help you get there.
AND NOW…THE FIRST CHAPTER:
What is Success to You?
A few years ago ‘de-motivator’ posters became all the rage. The idea was to send a message while offering a dark kind of comfort. Here are a couple of my favorite captions as best my memory serves;
If at first you don’t succeed…maybe failure is your thing
Perhaps your life is just to serve as a warning to others
The first had a dejected baseball player sitting on the bench, and the second had a half-sunken barge in the middle of the ocean. Almost immediately we all get the importance of success, but think a little deeper…
Why Does Success Matter?
On the surface, success matters because failure is so bad.
It does seem that most people operate with this kind of thought in the back of their minds somewhere. You know, it’s simple. If you don’t have money, friends, a lover, and stuff…life will be awful. Then again, I’ve worked with people over the years who fret over their money, are frustrated with their friends, want to get away from their lover, and are pretty bored with their stuff. In this kind of circumstance we find the first key to succeeding. Success is always relative. Success is always a ‘compared to what’ phenomenon. Success is driven by, and dies by, comparison. Are you a success? According to whom or according to what standard?
Honestly it just gets down to definitions.
Toward a Definition of Success
Clear definitions can solve all kinds of problems, especially conflicts.
Just definitions either prevent or put an end to disputes. -Emmons
Isn’t that true? Haven’t you seen an argument suddenly stop because someone said, “Oh, I thought you meant…” The debate was in full motion because the facts were not clear.
Now think about success. What is your definition of success? How will you know when you get there? On any particular project or subject matter, how can you know a single step to take unless you’ve defined what success for that thing will be?
It isn’t just for ‘big picture’ things either. The definition of success can matter for any item. How much money do you need to be a success? How much money do you need to be able to give away to be a success? Does it matter if the money is on paper, or do you need to be able to get to it? Change it to family—What does it mean to be a successful father, mother, or child? Is your children’s success a part of your definition of success? If they fail do you also fail?
Most of the time we have not done the most basic of things—we have not defined our terms. Here are a few ways to ask the question for your own benefit.
What does success mean to me?
When will I know I’m a success?
How will I know I am a success at home, the office, in friendships, in love, etc.?
Is there an area I have already succeeded in that I can learn from? What was my definition of success?
It is high-time you define success in order to know what you are doing and why you are doing it. If you fail to sit down and clarify your own definition of what it means to be a success, then you have no real way to organize your actions or know when you’ve arrived. That may be the reason you have never defined it…if you don’t define success, then you can never fail. Quite a strategy you have there, but there is one problem: Just because you never fail, it doesn’t mean you have succeeded! Having no enemies doesn’t mean you have lots of friends. You can still just be alone.
Thoreau’s point that most people die with the ‘song still in them’ comes to the essential point of definition. If you haven’t admitted you want to sing a song, or haven’t admitted that the song is a ballad—well, then the song will stay inside till you die. If you won’t start working on your definition of success, then quit reading this book and throw away your library on the subject. Nothing happens without a definition.
In many ways definition is more useful than vision. Defining a successful outcome of a meeting, a project, a business, or a life, can take care of the vision issue. Honestly, isn’t a definition of a successful outcome the real vision you need?
My Definition of Success
It seems only fair for me to give you my own definition of success.
Frankly, this definition is a composite of elements I’ve found to be crucial through the years. Parts may be plagiarized, but it isn’t intentional. In the history of the literature and the years of reflective reading, some of these things get so often quoted we think they are original with ourselves. If you show me who said what (from Epictetus to Napoleon Hill to Billy Graham), I’ll be glad to note the reference. In the meantime, here’s how I frame the word
SUCCESS:
Success is achieving what is meaningful to me through the use of my best talents; without violating the rights or freedom of others and without offending God.
Well, there is a lot here, so allow me to make a few comments on each part as it might relate to you.
• Achieving what is meaningful to me – Essentially this is about getting what you genuinely want or desire, but it considers how meaningful the accomplishment is to you as an individual. When you create a result that you want you are basically successful. Yet, we often don’t feel it because it wasn’t meaningful to begin with. The starting place is to let go of what everyone else is demanding (or you imagine they are demanding) in order to learn to be true to yourself. If it isn’t meaningful to you, then why create it?
• Through the use of my best talents – Maybe you can create the results you want through your
lesser talents, but I wouldn’t bet on you. ‘Nature’ has certainly designed you for something, or given you capacities to use in particular ways. These capacities need development in order to become skills. It is your love for the activity that allows the 10,000 hours you will invest to become a true master. Yet, even starting out, you are better than most people at certain things without much practice. These areas are where your talents live…and on balance, they are the means through which you will succeed.
• Without violating the rights or freedom of others – If you destroy people (or their property) on the way to success, you are still a big fat failure. Sorry for the moralizing, but that’s the way it goes. What goes around comes around. You will reap as you sow. The Golden Rule is true. Attempting to manipulate and control others is tantamount to lying and cheating, which on any plane is failure. The reason manipulation amounts to cheating is that you are effectively removing the other person’s choice when you manipulate…unless she can say, “No,” then her answer is never a legitimate, “Yes.”
• Without offending God – Now, this is clearly added because it is unique to me and my life
orientation. If you are an atheist, scratch this part. Then again, if you are an atheist you don’t think you can offend God since He doesn’t exist— so, you might as well leave it in! For the rest of us who believe in a Creator who is sovereign over all of His creation, it seems wise to take into consideration His standards. This doesn’t have to be a set of rules, but it does mean that at least on the level of conscience we would be wise to stay decent in His eyes.
Well, there’s my definition and you are welcome to borrow it, amend it, or toss it as you see fit. The reason I wrote it down was to create a context for my succeeding. What I pursue and how I feel about it really makes sense with this definition. The definition also helps me consider (or reject) possibilities that come my way.
Your Definition of Success
How about you? What is your definition of success?
Why not take a moment and write down something on a scrap of paper? If you don’t define success, how will you know if you ever make it? How will you know if the steps you are pursuing will get you to what you really want in succeeding?
Pardon the illustration, but I remember asking my father, “When did you first realize you were a man?” He thought for a moment and said, “It was when I went home from college and smoked in front of my parents.” Even as I write this I want to stress that I loved my dad and learned a mountain of valuable insights from him. However, on the definition of being ‘a man’, that’s about as silly as it comes. It certainly never organized his life like a better definition might have, and it certainly didn’t give me what I needed as to direction. My 4 sons all memorized a definition I heard from Robert Lewis during a trip to Little Rock. “A man is one who rejects passivity, accepts responsibility, leads courageously, and looks for the greater reward.”
It has been a joy to watch my sons all check, challenge, and cheer for one another as they’ve grown toward manhood. Definitions can make a huge difference.
Don’t underestimate the importance of working out your own definition of success; it will guide you toward wherever it points. Choose carefully, but choose now and improve it tomorrow.
The Need of the Moment
The need of the moment is for you to get started on a definition of success.
In a writing course (see it at www.advanced-writing- resources.com) I developed to help others overcome the same crippling fear of writing I had, I explain that writing occurs in three stages:
1. OK
2. Get Help
3. Make It Great
The idea is simply that most of us try to write something great from the moment we find pen and paper. The truth is that you can’t start with perfect.
You can start with OK, however. Honestly, can you write an “OK” definition of success? Your definition of success should be nothing fancy and nothing to publish; just something OK.
Can you write that kind of a definition? Of course you can, and then you can get help with it. Show it to a trusted friend or two and see what they would add or take away. Play with it over a few days or weeks. Read it aloud and see what you think. Your definition can be a living thing and may take new shapes over the years. Nonetheless, your definition will give you a starting place.
Of course, it would be easier just to copy my definition down on a 3×5 card and reflect on it. I may have already saved you the time and hassle. Regardless, please make sure it is your own definition because you ‘own’ it.
Now, having a great definition of success is still meaningless unless you finally embrace one thing…
A Story of Hope and Love Set Against the Backdrop of World War II
By Kim Vogel Sawyer
Lydia Eldredge longs to provide sanctuary for her young son, Nicky. But a constant threat comes from Nicky’s drug-addicted father, who wants the boy and seems willing to do whatever it takes to get him.
Dr. Micah Hatcher faithfully serves the immigrant population of Queens, New York. But under cover of darkness, he has a secret mission that challenges everything he thought he wanted out of life.
When Lydia and Micah’s paths cross, they are suddenly wrapped up in each other’s callings. Together, they seek a refuge of safety-for Nicky, for themselves, and for the needy people God puts into their lives. Amid turmoil and discord, can hope and love prevail?
ISLAND BREEZES
Lydia might have been doing only what her best friend wanted, but technically, her son was a kidnap victim. The boy’s father seems willing to do whatever he needs to get the boy in his hands.
Now Dr. Hatcher is involved, but Lydia isn’t sure she can trust him. But when she finally lets her heart get involved, she receives a card signed Micah and Justina.
She’s both hurt that he has another woman in his life, and angry that he didn’t even have enough class to let her know in person.
And yet, Micah is clueless as to why Lydia won’t answer her phone. Little does he know the drama that’s going on back in Boston.
There’s more than one person seeking sanctuary in this novel. Thank you Kim Vogel Sawyer for this great read.
***A special thank you to litfuse for providing a review copy.***
Kim Vogel Sawyer is the author of twenty-one novels, including several CBA and ECPA bestsellers. Her books have won the ACFW Book of the Year Award, the Gayle Wilson Award of Excellence, and the Inspirational Readers Choice Award. Kim is active in her church, where she leads women’s fellowship and participates in both voice and bell choirs. In her spare time, she enjoys drama, quilting, and calligraphy. Kim and her husband, Don, reside in central Kansas, and have three daughters and nine grandchildren.
To celebrate the release of Sweet SanctuaryKim Vogel Sawyer is giving away a Cupcake Club membership (monthly cupcake delivery!) from the amazing Magnolia Bakery in New York and hosting a Facebook Author Chat party {4/30}!
One “sweet” winner will receive:
Cupcakes from NYC’s Magnolia Bakery delivered to your door every month. (Eat them all yourself or share!)
Sweet Sanctuary by Kim Vogel Sawyer for you and four of your friends. (Start a book group — cupcakes and a “sweet” read!)
Enter today by clicking one of the icons below. But hurry, the giveaway ends on April 29th. Winner will be announced at the “Sweet Sanctuary” Author Chat Party on 4/30. Connect with Kim, get a sneak peek of her next book, try your hand at a trivia contest, and chat with readers just like yourself. There will also be fun giveaways – gift certificates, books, and more!
So grab your copy of Sweet Sanctuary and join Kim on the evening of April 30th for a chance to connect and make some new friends. (If you haven’t read the book – don’t let that stop you from coming!)
Don’t miss a moment of the fun, RSVP today. Tell your friends via FACEBOOK or TWITTER and increase your chances of winning. Hope to see you on the 30th!
A dusty stack of unopened love letters forces Bo and Mona Beth Miller to revisit a part of their past they’d rather leave buried–especially in the face of death. Only as they retrace history will they learn the truth about the shattered promise that threatens to come between them. But can their relationship endure the deception and sabotage they unearth, or will the experience compel them to trust more fully in the promises that never fail?
ISLAND BREEZES
If you’ve read the first three books in the Miller’s Creek series, you’re for sure going to want to read this book. If you haven’t read them, you’ll still want to read this one. Even though it’s a part of a series, it’s a good stand alone read.
But don’t start reading this book without a box of tissues handy. You’ll need a bunch of them. Don’t start with a box that is almost empty or you’ll have to stop reading long enough to open a new box like I did.
You learned in an earlier book how Bo and Mona Beth finally got together. This book tells you the story of their young love and why it never progressed to marriage sooner.
You’re going to figure out just how fitting the title of this book really is. I was too involved with the story to figure it out until the end when it smacked me in the face.
Now I have to read the first three books again. First I have to drink a couple gallons of water. I’m sure that’s how much my tear ducts poured out, and I don’t want to get dehydrated.
Cathy, please tell us there will be more Miller’s Creek novels. Even though I can’t live in Miller’s Creek, your books keep my heart there.
***A special thanks to Cathy Bryant for providing a review copy.***
The author of the inspirational and popular Miller’s Creek novels, Cathy Bryant writes heart-stirring stories of life-changing grace. Her first novel Texas Roads was a 2009 ACFW Genesis contest finalist and tells of one woman’s quest to find home. The second stand-alone novel in the series is A Path Less Traveled, which follows the theme of trusting God to direct our paths. The Way of Grace follows a flawed perfectionist whose fall from perfection lands her in an ocean of grace. Cathy currently resides in the Ozarks with her husband of over thirty years, but will soon make her home in the foothills of the Rockies. You can learn more about Cathy and her books at www.CatBryant.com.
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!
***Special thanks to Tyora Moody for sending me a review copy.***
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Tyora Moody is an author and entrepreneur. The second book in the Victory Gospel Series, When Memories Fade, will be released in April 2013. Her debut novel and the first book in the Victory Gospel Series, When Rain Falls, was released March 2012. Deep Fried Trouble, the first book in the Eugeena Patterson Mystery series will be released June 2013.
Tyora has coined her books as Soul-Searching Suspense. She is a member of Sisters in Crime and American Christian Fiction Writers. Tyora served as a judge for the Christy Awards for three years. She can be found online at TyoraMoody.com and Facebook.com/AuthorTyoraMoody.
SHORT BOOK DESCRIPTION:
How do I let go of my past to receive God’s future for me?
Angel Roberts has embraced her new faith, but past memories remain fresh. When her beloved grandmother suffers a stroke, Angel sets out to investigate a mystery that has created family tensions and lingered since she was five years old. What happened to her mother?
She teams up with investigative reporter, Wes Cade, a man obsessed with his Alzheimer stricken grandfather’s remaining memories. As Angel lets her guard down with Wes, his determination to get the story could push her to the edge. Is his interest in her or the story?
Angel must conquer her fears to find the truth. Unknown to her someone close is working feverishly to stop Angel from unlocking the truth of what really happened to her mother. Who will win?
Missing people – the memories may fade, but they never go away. Angel’s mother has been missing since Angel was five. Now another young woman is missing. Similarities between the two women finally has someone asking, “Is there a connection.?”
Angel and investigative reporter Wes Cade teamed up to find out what has happened to them.
Along the way, Angel and Wes begin feeling more than friendship, but Angel doesn’t trust him.
As Angel gets closer to the truth, she’s putting her life in danger. Is it really worth it since both women are probably dead.
Read it and decide.
AND NOW…THE FIRST CHAPTER:
PROLOGUE
She gripped the steering wheel in fear as she calculated every move he made. For the last hour, he held the gun in her direction. What if she jerked the car off the road? No. She wanted to live. Still the car accident had to be better than what he would do to her. She had no idea where they were going.
“Pull over, right up here.” He turned his hot breath on her. “Do it now.”
With as much ease as her trembling body allowed, she slowed the car and pulled to the side of the road. There hadn’t been another car for miles on this back road. The sun had disappeared as cloudy, dark gray skies loomed ahead.
He cocked the gun towards her chest. “Get out.”
Her hands felt ice-cold as she struggled to grasp the door handle.
“Come on,” he growled.
She yanked the door handle and scrambled out of the car to face her abductor.
The man waved the gun and yelled, “Start walking.”
Sticks and leaves crunched as they walked into the mass of trees. From a distance, she saw lightning streak across the sky. A cool breeze whipped through the trees but it brought no comfort. Her heart raced as if she had just run a marathon. She choked back a sob. He was going to kill her.
To think how much she had trusted him. It never would have crossed her mind that he would hurt her. More lightning split the sky followed by an intense rumble of thunder. The trees shook their limbs as if taunting her for being so naïve.
“Stop.”
She turned and noticed he’d cocked his head like he heard something. Was someone else out here?
He swung the gun an inch from her temple. “Get down.”
“What?”
“Get on your knees,” he snarled.
She fell on her knees, feeling the earth beneath her. Her heart lurched as the thunder roared like an angry lion above their heads. Big drops of rain began to crash around them. She shut her eyes tight not believing this was her fate. “Please, God help me,” she prayed fervently.
When she opened her eyes an answer laid near her, barely covered by leaves. She glanced up at him. His eyes had grown wilder as he paced around her. He seemed to be having a conversation, but she couldn’t understand a word he was saying. The rain was falling harder now, soaking her clothes. She peered down at the ground again. Why not? What did she have to lose? She had to do something.
She scooped the smooth rock from the muddy ground. Her dormant softball skills kicked in as she zoned in on his hand. Not waiting another second, she swung the rock with all her might.
The rock smacked him square on the hand and he dropped the gun. “No, you …”
She leapt forward like a track runner and headed into the trees. As she ran, the oddest memory of a Sunday School lesson entered her mind. The one about Lot’s wife. God told her not to look back, but she did and lost her life.
His voice bellowed behind her.
“Don’t look back,” She told herself as she ran. “Don’t. Look. Back.”
CHAPTER ONE
Charlotte, North Carolina, 2011
“We both know she’s dead.” Angel Roberts tightened her grip around the steering wheel, realizing too late, she’d destroyed a beautiful evening. A harsh silence sucked the air from inside the car.
After a minute, her grandmother responded softly, but firm. “Angel, I can never give up hope.”
Angel took her eyes off the road to peer at her grandmother’s face. A warmth of shame washed over Angel as she witnessed the pain in Fredricka Robert’s eyes. Why now? It was my birthday.
Less than fifteen minutes ago, Angel had driven away from Victory Gospel Church, still grateful for the love shown to her. A year ago, Angel would have never imagined herself regularly attending church, and definitely not Bible study. Tonight, the members of the Overcomers Women’s Ministry presented Angel with a surprise twenty-fifth birthday celebration. Angel had loaded the almost-eaten butter cream cake and birthday gifts into the back seat, not realizing her joy would be short-lived.
Angel slowed the car down as she approached the red light. All was well until her grandmother said, “You look so much like your mother when she was twenty-five.”
Despite confessing her faith in Christ nine months ago at Victory Gospel Church, Angel continued to struggle with resentment. It seemed like every year, Angel’s birthday turned into more of a memorial for her mother. There was this gap between Angel and her grandmother, where her mother should have been. Angel barely remembered the woman who disappeared twenty years ago.
The question that haunted Angel the most was the same one that brought her grandmother hope. What if her mother were alive? To Angel that meant Elisa Roberts had abandoned her daughter. That night after Angel’s fifth birthday party, her mother walked out and never returned. Elisa had provided no clue to where she was going or if she was going to meet someone. Just vanished. Foul play or on purpose. Surely, her grandmother didn’t want to hope in finding the woman who did the latter.
As she drove through the green light, Angel chided herself for getting angry with her grandmother. It was just her and Grams now. She cleared her throat, “Grams, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to blurt out we know my mother’s dead. We don’t really know.”
No response.
She glanced at her grandmother. Fredricka’s face was turned towards the passenger window. Not wanting to upset her grandmother anymore tonight, Angel became engrossed in her own thoughts. What Angel didn’t want was for Grams to find out what she was doing. She was on a mission to find out what or who led to her mother’s disappearance. Five years ago, she’d started working on a documentary of her mother’s life, before various circumstances led her off track. Now she was determined to complete the project. Anything to bring attention to her mother’s short-lived legacy.
Her grandparents had raised her, doing their best to keep memories of her mother alive. Even though she was young, Angel remembered her mother being sad all the time. Angel was born a few months after a devastating break-up between Angel’s mother and father. It didn’t help that her mother, a protégée, struggled to regain her footing in a once promising singing career while trying to raise Angel.
In many ways, Elisa showed signs of desperately wanting a new life or either ending the dismal life she had perceived she had. Reaching her own breaking point four years ago, Angel longed for a connection with her mother.
Angel maneuvered her grandfather’s old Buick into the driveway of the only place she called home. Her grandmother shuffled behind her as they made their way down the cobblestone walkway towards the front door. Once inside, Angel headed toward the kitchen to find a spot for the leftover cake inside the refrigerator. She had an urge to leave the cake out and eat the rest of it, but weariness invaded her body. She slammed the fridge door shut and turned around. “Whoa, Grams-” Her grandmother had managed to sneak up behind her. Angel didn’t remember hearing her walk in the kitchen.
Her grandmother sputtered, “Angel, we should have stopped by the store on the way home.”
Angel frowned. Maybe she had agitated her grandmother too much with her outburst in the car. “I can go back out, Grams. It’s not a problem. What do you need?”
“Aspirin.” Fredricka held her hand to head. “I’m not feeling well.”
Angel placed her hand on her grandmother’s shoulder. “Why don’t you lie down? I will bring you some aspirin. I’m sure we already have a bottle.”
Angel walked across the kitchen to the cabinet where they kept a medicine supply. She searched among the orange and white labeled bottles. There were so many bottles. A lot of the labels bore her deceased grandfather’s name. She really needed to work with Grams to throw away his old medicine. Finally, Angel saw a bottle of aspirin. “Here is the bottle.”Angel flipped the bottle in her hand to check the expiration date.
A forceful thump startled her. Angel turned around. “Grams!” she cried out. She ran over and knelt beside her grandmother on the linoleum floor.
The right side of her grandmother’s face twitched. “Ang…”
Before Angel could stop them, tears sprang to life, blurring her vision. “Grams, hang in there. You are going to be okay.”
Angel sprinted to the phone on the wall and with trembling fingers, she dialed 9-1-1. Oh God, please don’t take Grams yet.
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!
***Special thanks to Ginger Chen for sending me a review copy.***
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Jerry Eicher’s bestselling Amish fiction (more than 210,000 in combined sales) includes The Adams County Trilogy, the Hannah’s Heart books, and the Little Valley Series. After a traditional Amish childhood, Jerry taught for two terms in Amish and Mennonite schools in Ohio and Illinois. Since then he’s been involved in church renewal, preaching, and teaching Bible studies. Jerry lives with his wife, Tina, and their four children in Virginia.
In book two of Amish fiction author Jerry S. Eicher’s new series, Katie Raber’s journey of discovery continues after her mamm’s marriage to Jesse Mast. Drawn back from the Mennonite world briefly by the miracle of Mamm’s changed heart, Katie finds she can’t totally abandon her new Mennonite friends.
Product Details:List Price: $12.99
Paperback: 352 pages
Publisher: Harvest House Publishers (April 1, 2013)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 0736952535
ISBN-13: 978-0736952538
ISLAND BREEZES
Katie’s back and she’s still running with the Mennonites. She still feels more comfortable with them than with the Amish young people.
An added bonus is seeing Ben Stoll show up at one of their gatherings. He’s been the object of her affections for a long time, but Katie doesn’t believe the most popular boy would ever be interested in her.
But Ben did notice her and she finally allowed herself to fall in love with him. While Katie was in Europe with her Mennonite friends, something happened to smash Katie’s dreams.
This book will leave you wanting more of Katie’s story. I hope Mr. Eicher doesn’t keep us waiting long before we get to read the next book in the Emma Raber’s Daughter series.
AND NOW…THE FIRST CHAPTER:
Katie Raber awoke well before dawn in the stillness of the old Amish farmhouse. Something seemed wrong…unfamiliar. Where was she? The question raced through her mind. The familiar shape of her upstairs bedroom was gone. Where the dresser should have been there was a window, and where the dark outline of the dresser was there used to be a closet door. She sat up in bed, listening as a door banged downstairs. The sound was soon followed by the muffled voices of people stirring below. There was also a soft clatter of dishes being moved and Mamm’s voice being overlaid with the deeper tones of a man.
Katie lay back in bed and smiled. Of course! Mamm had married Jesse Mast last week. The wedding had been held at Bishop Jonas Miller’s place, with all the relatives and friends gathered for the great day. In the evening, the community youth had sung old hymns until after nine o’clock.
Today was the Friday after Thanksgiving, and the whole family was together for the first time since the wedding. They had given Mamm and Jesse some time alone, including Thanksgiving Day. The newlyweds hadn’t gone off on some honeymoon like an En–glisha couple would, so they were entitled to extra consideration—what with children from both sides of the families joining the new union and with a farm to take care of. Katie had also taken the week off from work at Byler’s Store and had spent Thanksgiving Day with her Mennonite friend Margaret.
Mabel, Jesse’s oldest daughter, had thrown a royal fit about being bossed around by Mamm last night when they’d all arrived after supper. And all Mamm had said was “It’s time for bed, children.” But thankfully Mabel had eventually calmed down. She’d been a wild card ever since Mamm had accepted Jesse’s offer of marriage. At first Mabel had refused to even consider Mamm as her new mamm. It wasn’t until Mamm was well into her engagement with Jesse before the feelings between Mamm and Mabel thawed out even a little. And even then Mabel gave in only after her daett brought great pressure to bear on her.
Katie took several deep breaths. The feelings of hope and joy that had been rushing over her at the memory of Mamm and Jesse saying their vows were fast disappearing. She really had to stop letting thoughts of Mabel’s bad attitude affect her this way. After all, this should be a wunderbah new beginning for all of them. For one thing, she would no longer be known as odd widow Emma Raber’s daughter, the strange girl with a yet stranger mamm. The wedding would surely change all of that.
Certainly Jesse and Mamm were persuaded things would turn out well for all of them. The past was behind them. Even Mamm’s past that had caused her to be thought strange by the Amish community—all because of that crush she’d once had on Daniel Kauffman, the most popular boy around when she’d been a teenager. Mamm had held on to her foolish hope that Daniel would return her affections right up to the moment he said his vows with Miriam Esh. Mamm had dashed out of the services and drove her buggy right past the couple and the astonished eyes of the bishop himself. She’d never lived down that action or gotten over the bitterness of the memory of Daniel.
Mamm had frozen her heart. In fact, she’d married Ezra without expecting she would ever again feel love for a man. When her heart had opened to Ezra after their daughter’s birth, it was made all the worse when he’d died suddenly. His early death had driven Mamm back into her shell. That Jesse Mast had been able to break through was a miracle indeed.
Now the joy was coming back. Katie belonged in this family—Jesse’s five children and her. Yah, it was still a little unfamiliar, just like the room she hadn’t recognized this morning. But she was here, and she was part of this family now. True, it didn’t seem quite right that she should have this room that had been Mabel’s. But Jesse had insisted. Katie was the eldest, so she deserved her own room. Katie dared not look at Mabel when he’d made that announcement.
At the wedding, everything had seemed to fall into place. There had been great love flowing from everybody. Mamm’s brothers from Lancaster had all taken time to speak with their niece, and they wished her well in her new life. “You’re a Mast now,” they’d teased, even though she really wasn’t. She was still a Raber. Mamm marrying Jesse wouldn’t change that. Only her own marriage would change her name.
That thought turned her mind to the dashing Ben Stoll, the boy she had her heart set on. He hadn’t paid her any attention at the wedding. He’d taken Tina Hochstetler to the table at the evening hymn singing. Katie had been left with no choice but to sit with her young cousin James, who lived in Lancaster. At sixteen, he was too scared to take a strange girl to the table. She mustn’t think about Ben now, Katie told herself. There were other boys in the world besides him, even though her heart would never be quite convinced of that. Maybe she could get over her crush on him if she tried hard enough. Mamm had found love beyond Daniel Kauffman, had she not?
Right now what she could be thankful for was that all of Jesse’s children—except Mabel—had accepted Mamm and her with open arms. The change had been slow at times. Mabel hadn’t been the only one of Jesse’s children unwilling at first to accept the idea of a new mamm keeping house for them. But they had eventually come around. And Mabel had also—sort of—after she’d been told by her daett to straighten out her attitude and accept Emma as her mamm.
Well, even if Mabel made trouble for her, Katie was still much better off than she had been before. She now knew what it felt like to be included in the Amish community and spoken to as if she were a normal human being. Of course, it hadn’t been just the wedding that had accomplished that. It had really started when she accepted an invitation to a Mennonite youth gathering. There she’d become friends with girls like Margaret Kargel and Sharon Watson. Both girls had come to Mamm’s wedding at her special invitation. They were the only Mennonites there besides Esther Kuntz, who worked at Byler’s Store with Katie.
Neither Jesse nor Mamm had any Mennonites in their immediate family. All the brothers and sisters on both sides of their families were Amish. That had made Katie’s relationship with the Mennonite girls a troublesome matter for Mamm. Jesse too seemed a bit concerned about it, though not as great as Mamm.
She would continue to leave that matter in Da Hah’s hands, Katie decided. Much gut had come out of her friendships with Margaret and Sharon. And Da Hah had blessed them in spite of Mamm’s fears. How that all made sense, Katie still didn’t know. And she might never know. It was enough that both Mamm and she were finding their way out of a life lived alone with closed-off hearts.
Back in the “old” days, Mamm had forbidden Katie from participating in the usual rumspringa the rest of the Amish young people in the community took part in. But to Mamm, rumspringa was a mild offense compared to attending Mennonite youth gatherings. But Katie had continued to go to them. She sighed and threw off the bedcovers. She knew Jesse and Mamm wanted her to stop attending, but she would have to see. Da Hah had been with her so far, and she would keep believing He would be in the future. It was true that living with Jesse and his family was going to be a great joy in its own right. Jesse had told her before Mamm’s wedding, “I love you, Katie. Just as much as I love Mabel and Carolyn or any of my boys. You’ll be living at my house as my own daughter.”
She was so thankful for that, and she appreciated the man from the bottom of her heart. That wasn’t something a person just walked away from. She now had the chance to grow up for a few years with a daett who cared about her. There might now be less reason for her to attend the Mennonite youth gatherings, though she would always keep up her friendships with Margaret and Sharon.
Katie walked over to the unfamiliar dresser. She opened the top drawer and ran her hands around the front edge. She found the matches and lit the kerosene lamp. The flickering flame had just caught when Jesse hollered up the stairs, “Time to get up, boys!”
Katie smiled at the sound. Mamm sometimes yelled up the stairs at home, but she’d never heard a man yell the morning wake-up call. It sounded gut. She pulled on her work dress as footsteps rushed past her bedroom door. She finished putting in the last pin and took the lamp with her as she stepped into the hallway. The light played on the walls as she found her way downstairs. No one was in the living room, so Katie peeked into the kitchen. Mamm had her back turned toward her as she worked over the stove.
“You should have called for me,” Katie told her.
Mamm turned around with a smile on her face. “Gut morning, Katie.”
“Gut morning to you.” Katie set the lamp on the kitchen table. “May I help with breakfast?”
A look of uncertainty replaced Mamm’s smile. “Perhaps we’d better wait until Mabel comes down before we get too far along. I don’t want to take over her kitchen on the first morning she’s here. Not without talking with her about it first.”
Katie sat on a kitchen chair. This was an unexpected turn of events, although she really shouldn’t be surprised now that she thought about it. Mamm had always been in charge at home, but now she was in another person’s kitchen—Mabel’s kitchen. “But you’re Jesse’s wife,” Katie protested. Everything has changed, she wanted to add, but she didn’t. Mamm looked troubled enough without adding undue pressure, and obviously everything hadn’t changed yet. There still would be bumps in the road. She could handle it.
Mamm was trying to smile. “Yah, I know. It takes some getting used to.”
“You should call Mabel,” Katie said. “She shouldn’t sleep in on the first morning we’re all together.”
Mamm lifted her head from the stove, seeming to ponder the suggestion for a moment. Then she went to the bottom of the stairs.
Yell loudly! Katie wanted to say. Wake the girl up!
“Mabel!” Mamm called up the stairs, her voice gentle.
Long moments passed, and Mamm looked ready to call again when the sound of a door opening came from upstairs.
“What do you want?” Mabel’s voice sounded irritated.
“I need your help in the kitchen,” Mamm said.
The door closed upstairs without an answer.
Katie watched Mamm’s face as she turned back and went to the stove.
Mamm glanced at Katie. “Perhaps you shouldn’t be in here when Mabel comes down.”
Katie looked away. Had she heard correctly? Mamm didn’t want her in the kitchen? Mamm must have seen the look on Katie’s face because she came over and gave Katie a quick hug. “It’s not what you think, Katie. I’m not rejecting you. It’s just that we must think about the larger picture right now. Mabel is used to running the household, and we need to give her an opportunity to adjust. It might be difficult enough for her with just me in here. And she might think ill of us if she finds you here too, both of us working in her kitchen. Especially because we didn’t take the time to call her before we started breakfast.”
Katie kept her eyes on the floor. What in the world was she supposed to do now? The pain was throbbing something awful in her heart. She’d never been told to leave the kitchen at home.
“Come on, Katie,” Mamm whispered. “We need to think about how Mabel will see things. If we’re both here, it will look like we’ve taken over.”
“Where am I supposed to go? What am I supposed to do?” Katie got to her feet.
Mamm looked around but didn’t offer a suggestion.
“I’ll slip outside for a bit,” Katie finally said, opening the washroom door. Already she could hear Mabel’s quick footsteps coming down the stairs. Katie walked past the faint outline of the washbasin and towel in the darkness, and then she stepped outside. She stood on the porch with her arms folded and looked up at the splash of stars still visible in the heavens. Toward the east, dawn was breaking, the light still hidden in part by the corner of the house. In the other direction, the barn windows were lit with the glow of gas lanterns as Jesse and his boys worked on their chores. Katie looked at the soft light spreading across the dark lawn for a long time as tears stung her eyes.
Not that long ago she would have been out in the barn with Mamm doing the few chores they had at their place. Their two cows, Molly and Bossy, had been brought over and would be milked along with Jesse’s herd. She wouldn’t be going to the barn again for chores anytime soon. Jesse and his boys would take care of the farm jobs. So much had changed, Katie thought. And so quickly. She hugged herself tightly as she heard faint sounds of laughter coming from inside the house. That was Mamm’s voice laughing with Mabel. They were hitting it off big, apparently. Katie felt shut out. How could this be happening with all the hope that had filled her heart only moments ago? Surely Mamm hadn’t planned on sending her out of the kitchen on the first day they were all here after the wedding. Katie told herself she needed to think the best possible thoughts right now or she was going to burst into tears and totally embarrass herself when she did go back inside.
Was all this part of Da Hah’s way? No doubt He was continuing to lead her on paths she was unfamiliar with. Instead of being bitter, she should be thankful that Mamm was adjusting so well in her new role as Jesse’s wife and as mamm to his five children—especially Mabel. Wasn’t Mabel the hard case? Any progress in that area was all the more reason to give thanks. In the end, Katie decided, she would fit in somewhere. Mamm wouldn’t forget her own daughter.
One thing was for sure. Mamm and she would never slip back into what they used to be. That was in the past—and would remain so. No more feelings of being passed over by everyone or going unnoticed in Amish youth gatherings. Some of that would still happen, but she now had her wonderful memories of the evenings spent with the Mennonite youth to counter the aloneness. Margaret and Sharon had accepted her so quickly, and she’d met many others who were friendly too. Even the Mennonite boys who played beside her at the volleyball games—young men she’d never met before—had taken the time to say a few words of greeting and inquire how she was doing. They were all nice people who had welcomed her into their homes and hearts.
She had them to go back to in addition to whatever new blessings Da Hah had waiting for her with her new, expanded family. Mabel was the thorn with the rose, but Katie didn’t wish to destroy the flower because of the pain that stung her hand. Nee, she would not. She took deep breaths of the cool morning air and gathered her courage to return inside.
Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but that very Spirit intercedes with sighs too deep for words.
And God, who searches the heart, know what is the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints according to the will of God.
Lucy Kendall returns from a tour of the Continent, her luggage filled with the latest fashions and a mind fired by inspiration. After tasting Europe’s best confections, she’s sure she’ll come up with a recipe that will save her father’s struggling candy business and reverse their fortunes. But she soon discovers that their biggest competitor, the cheat who swindled her father out of his prize recipe, has now hired a promotions manager-a cocky, handsome out-of-towner who gets under Lucy’s skin.
Charlie Clarke’s new role at Standard Manufacturing is the chance of a lifetime. He can put some rough times behind him and reconnect with the father he’s never known. The one thing he never counted on, however, was tenacious Lucy Kendall. She’s making his work life miserable…and making herself impossible for him to forget.
ISLAND BREEZES
What a sweet life! Or maybe not when your rival confectionary is determined to put you out of business.
It’s even worse when Lucy Kendall starts falling in love with the enemy who has become totally smitten with her. Maybe they could start working together instead of against each other.
Nope. Won’t work. There’s a problem with that. Charlie’s father swindled Lucy’s father out of a one-of-a-kind candy recipe as well as his first shop.
Charlie’s father is determined to run Mr. Kendall out of business again. If he does, Charlie loses. If he doesn’t, Charlie still loses, because of the bitterness Lucy and her father have over the stolen recipe.
Is it possible for Charlie and Lucy to come up with a win-win solution?
There are some books I just don’t want to end. This was one of them.
***A special thank you to litfuse for providing a review copy.***
Siri Mitchell is the author of nearly a dozen novels, among them the critically acclaimed Christy Award finalists “Chateau of Echoes” and “The Cubicle Next Door”. A graduate of the University of Washington with a degree in business, she has worked in many different levels of government. As military spouse, she has lived in places as varied as Tokyo and Paris. Siri currently lives in the DC-metro area.
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!
Story Plant, The; Reprint edition (January 8, 2013)
***Special thanks to Steven Manchester for sending me a review copy.***
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Steven Manchester is the published author of the #1 best seller, Twelve Months, as well as A Christmas Wish (the holiday prequel to Goodnight, Brian). He is also the author of Pressed Pennies, The Unexpected Storm: The Gulf War Legacy and Jacob Evans, as well as several books under the pseudonym, Steven Herberts. His work has appeared on NBC’s Today Show, CBS’s The Early Show, CNN’s American Morning and BET’s Nightly News. Recently, three of his short stories were selected “101 Best” for Chicken Soup for the Soul series.
Fate was working against little Brian Mauretti. The food that was meant to nourish him was poisoning him instead, and the doctors said the damage was devastating and absolute. Fate had written off Brian. But fate didn’t count on a woman as determined as Brian’s grandmother, Angela DiMartino – who everyone knew as Mama. Loving her grandson with everything she had, Mama endeavored to battle fate. Fate had no idea what it was in for.
An emotional tale about the strength of family bonds, unconditional love, and the perseverance to do our best with the challenging gifts we receive, Goodnight, Brian is an uplifting tribute to what happens when giving up is not an option.
Product Details:
List Price: $15.95
Paperback: 308 pages
Publisher: Story Plant, The; Reprint edition (January 8, 2013)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 1611880610
ISBN-13: 978-1611880618
ISLAND BREEZES
The DiMartino and Mauretti families are special in many ways. Brian triggered some of them. A heartbreaking disease process was begun in infant Brian secondary to the ingestion of the formula that was prescribed for him.
It was a struggle just living with Brian and trying to find out what was wrong with him. After he was diagnosed, other struggles began.
Mama Angela believes in miracles and she isn’t going to rest until Brian’s doctor has a reason to eat his words. Mama became the captain in her family of crusaders working on Brian’s behalf.
You will come to love Brian and Mama as you cheer them on towards their miracles. I wish I knew them in real life.
AND NOW…THE FIRST CHAPTER:
Winter 1976
Two streets from a choppy Narragansett Bay, Frank pulled the station wagon in front of his mother-in-law’s cottage and shut off the engine. Joan grabbed her swollen belly and turned to face the backseat. Ross wore a bulky snowsuit and was strapped in to an even bulkier car seat. “We’re at Mama’s house,” she announced to the small boy. From beneath a wool hat, he stared at her but never uttered a sound. Then—jumping into some choreographed fire drill—Frank grabbed the boy, Joan grabbed her worn purse and, braving the angry biting winds, they hurried for the front door.
Mama lived on the low end of a very affluent community; a row of summer cottages that had been winterized and converted into year-round dwellings. Her place started out as a tiny summer cottage, but had evolved into something much greater over the years. To combat the lack of space, there were three additions made to the house. Each one was smaller than the one before it, creating a telescopic effect. Long and narrow, the exterior was stained a weather-beaten white with teal blue shutters. It looked odd, but it was heaven—containing so much more than the massive houses that sat down near the shore.
The name HORIZON was carved into a wooden board and nailed to the front of the house. A brick pathway, now covered in salt and patches of black ice, led past a statue of St. Jude that welcomed all guests. As the front door flew open and a blast of heat spilled from the house, the distinct smells of sweet Italian sausages and fresh baked bread hit the young family.
Angela DiMartino—all 4’10” of her—stood in the doorway, waiting. She had a crop of curly gray hair that added at least two inches to her stature. With pencil-thin lips, her subtle smirk revealed her mischievous sense of humor. She was heavyset and well endowed, and wore her usual flowered smock. She smelled like a mix of garlic and dryer sheets. Her dark brown eyes, illuminated by a strong inner light, shined when she saw her grandson. After pinching Ross’ cheek, she turned her own cheek to the little boy and asked, “You gotta big smack for Mama?”
“Okay, but just a kiss,” he said, “No biting this time!” Tentatively, he kissed her cheek.
“I don’t bite,” she whispered in his ear, “I only nibble.” As she helped him off with his jacket, she gave his neck a loving chomp.
Tickled to laughter, he fled toward the living room.
Chuckling, she turned her attention to her daughter. “So when am I gonna be able to nibble on my new grandbaby?” she asked, rubbing Joan’s massive mid-section without permission. “You look like you’re ready to pop.”
“Soon…I hope,” Joan said, still trying to catch her breath from the short jaunt to the cottage.
After running her blotchy, gnarled hands over Joan’s belly one last time, Mama leaned into it—until she was an inch from it—and whispered, “Enough stalling already. It’s time to come home, little one.”
Joan exhaled deeply. “You’ve got that right,” she said.
In Mama’s cucina—the family hub—the obnoxious red wallpaper offset the worn linoleum. The kitchen table had a yellow Formica top, surrounded by five faux leather-bound chairs. While Joan contemplated sliding into one of them, Mama gestured that she take a seat. “Get off your feet, while I finish the gravy,” she said—above Dean Martin crooning in the background.
As Mama headed for the large pot of red sauce, Frank playfully teased her. “And that’s gonna be son number two, Ma,” he boasted, pointing toward Joan’s large belly.
“Well, isn’t that something, Frank,” the old lady teased, “already calling your unborn child a boy.”
“These genes are too strong to produce a girl,” he said.
“You may be right, Frank,” she said with a shrug. “The good Lord knows what He’s doing, and I suppose He’d never let you ruin a little girl.”
Joan laughed aloud. Frank shot her a look, but didn’t dare consider a comeback in front of her sharp-tongued mother. Instead, he stepped into his mother-in-law’s bedroom and dumped their coats onto her bed, careful not to disturb the trays of spinach pies that were covered with dish towels and cooling on top of a plastic tablecloth. As he turned to leave, he noticed a silver tray filled with pill bottles that sat on the nightstand. “So that’s what’s keeping her alive,” he snickered, and headed for the living room to be alone with the T.V.
While Mama worked away at the stove, Joan pointed at the hideous porcelain rooster—with wooden spoons sticking out of its head—sitting among the many bottles of olive oil and spices on the counter. “You need to throw that ugly thing out, Ma,” Joan said, “or donate it to the Salvation Army.”
Mama shook her head. “Can’t do it,” she said, with her back to her daughter. “He wakes me up every morning.”
“Yeah, right. You’ve gotten up every morning at five o’clock for as long as I can remember.”
“And you’ve never gotten up earlier than 6:00, so how could you have ever heard my rooster crow?”
They both laughed.
Mama turned from the stove to face her daughter. “So you think Ross is ready for a new brother or sister?” she asked, beginning their weekly tradition of getting caught up on every detail of each other’s lives.
“Well, we’ve definitely talked a lot about it.” Joan shrugged. “He’s become very clingy, but I have this sense…” She paused.
“Go on,” Mama said.
“It’s gonna sound strange, Ma, but it’s like he’s more protective of the baby than jealous.”
Mama smiled. “Now that doesn’t sound strange at all.” She nodded. “That just sounds like the love of a big brother to me.”
As if on cue, Ross walked into the kitchen and approached his mother. After giving her belly one quick rub, he headed back to the T.V.
“Well, isn’t that something,” Mama said.
Joan smiled proudly. “He watches over me like a hawk,” she whispered. “He’s always by my side, trying to pat my stomach or talk to the baby.”
Mama nodded again. “He’s going to be a good brother. The baby’s very lucky.”
There was a loud knock at the door. Mama wiped her hands on her apron and answered it. It was her son, Bob, and his wife Bev, along with their two daughters, Steph and Heidi. No sooner had the door opened when the girls shot through, excited to visit with their Aunt Joan’s big belly.
Steph had the dark eyes of a gypsy—Mama’s eyes—which lit up like Christmas when she smiled. With olive skin and full lips, she was beautiful. Her raven-black hair was curly and pulled back in a pony tail. Though her mom dressed her in frilly dresses, she hated it and everyone knew it.
At seven years old, Heidi was one year younger than Steph—almost to the day—but they could have easily passed for twins with their matching hair and eyes. Heidi was a bit heavier, with the olive skinned face of a Mediterranean angel. Unlike her big sister, she was a girlie-girl who loved to wear nice things—lacey dresses and ribbons in her hair.
Wrestling off their coats and hats, the girls paid their grandmother a respectful kiss before speaking gibberish to their unborn cousin. Bob waited in line to greet his mother with a peck on the cheek. Bev followed suit.
Once the usual greetings were exchanged, Mama headed to the living room to change albums. Within seconds, Frank Sinatra was singing Summer Wind and Mama was swinging Ross around in his first dance lesson. The living room walls were covered in dark wood paneling, but it was tough to tell. There were framed photos of family and friends covering every inch of the place. While their dead ancestors watched on, Ross squirmed and fidgeted, trying desperately to escape his grandmother’s arthritic grip. “Please, Mama,” he pleaded. “I’m too tired to dance.”
Without missing a step, she laughed so hard she nearly launched Frank from the worn gray armchair. She had a distinct laugh that started from her diaphragm and worked its way up until it escaped in a roar. It was larger than life and startled those who weren’t used to it. Frank looked up at her and shook his head. It was shocking to hear something so loud coming out of someone so tiny—not to mention, she was blocking the T.V.
The girls watched Ross and Mama’s dance and considered joining the pair. They decided against it when Heidi spotted two stained cardboard boxes—marked CHRISTMAS DECORATIONS—sitting off in the corner. She elbowed her sister and pointed toward the great find.
“Mama!” Steph gasped. “Christmas stuff?”
The old matriarch paused for a moment and smiled. “Mama starts decorating for Santa Claus next week,” she confirmed with a nod.
Ross took the opportunity to break free and hurry off to his mother to make sure she was okay. The girls quickly followed their young cousin.
While the women talked over each other at the kitchen table, Steph took a sip of Kool-Aid and spilled the red drink all over the front of her yellow dress. Bev rushed toward her. “I saw that, Steph! You did it on purpose,” she said through clenched teeth.
“No I didn’t, Ma,” Steph swore.
Concealing her smile, Mama hurried to the rescue. “It was an accident, Bev,” she testified and shot Steph a secret wink. “I’ll get some dry play clothes for her.”
In the safety of her grandmother’s bedroom, Steph threw on the faded pair of dungarees and long-sleeved shirt, while Mama handed her a warm spinach pie. “Mama, I didn’t…” Steph began.
The old woman placed a finger to her lips. “Shhhh… it’s fine. Just eat your pie before it gets cold.”
Finally comfortable, Steph smiled—and meant it.
Upon returning to the kitchen, Bev gawked at her clumsy daughter with a suspicious eye until Mama slapped her on the backside. “Let it go,” the old woman whispered. “There are greater tragedies—trust me.”
Halfway through a feast of cheese raviolis, sweet Italian sausages, meatballs and Mama’s famous spinach pies, Joan excused herself to go to the bathroom. Ross started to get up to join her. “Finish eating, honey,” Joan told him. “Mommy doesn’t need her helper right now, okay?”
He nodded and stuffed another bite of ravioli into his mouth.
Mama entertained the children by daydreaming aloud. “When you kids get a little bigger, you know that Mama’s going to take you to Italy, right?”
The adults exchanged skeptical grins. The kids, however, were hypnotized by her descriptive tales.
“Fall is the season of sagre, with food festivals throughout the province. During mid-September, they have a giant wine festival in the town square of Greve in Chianti. And in October, they gather all the grapes for winemaking. This is known as the vendemmia.”
“You like wine?” Steph asked between chews of bread.
“I sure do and Tuscany is world famous for its wines. Chianti is probably the best known, but they make every kind.”
“What kinds of food will we eat when we’re there?” Heidi chimed in, speaking just as fluently with her hands.
Mama clasped her hands together and took a deep breath. “Oh, just imagine tomatoes ripened under the Mediterranean sun, freshly picked basil, cold pressed extra virgin olive oil, black truffles and pecorino cheese…”
“Huh?” the girls wondered.
Mama smiled. “They have the most delicious ice cream in the world. It’s called gelato.”
“Gelato,” Ross repeated. “Gelato. Gelato. Gel…”
“That’s enough,” his dad warned. “Just finish your dinner.”
As Joan returned to the table and reclaimed her seat, Mama stood and announced, “I just finished two more photo albums that I want to show you guys.” She wasn’t two steps from the table when she turned back to the kids. “And we also need to plan our Christmas visit to Boston,” she added, and hurried off to retrieve her picture books.
For Frank, this was the perfect cue to excuse himself. Throwing his napkin into his empty plate, he looked at his brother-in-law, Bob. “Join me on the porch for a cigar and a game of pitch?”
Grinning, Bob stood and started for the porch.
Frank looked at Ross. “Want to join the men?”
Ross shook his head, and slid his chair a few inches closer to his mother.
“Suit yourself,” Frank muttered, and left the room.
Mama returned to the table and wasn’t even seated when Heidi and Steph dove right into the new photo albums, excited to hear whatever vivid stories their grandmother cared to share.
The afternoon whipped by and, after devouring a warm batch of Cornflake cookies and some cappuccinos, Mama interrupted the card game on the porch. With Joan and Bev in tow, she pointed to a spot out in the front yard. “That’s where the new baby’s tree will be planted in the spring…right between the girls’ trees and Ross’. This way, I can see all four of them when I’m sitting in Papa’s glider.”
~~~
Nausea and cold air that caused goose bumps on her arms yanked Joan from her sleep. She opened her eyes to obnoxious fluorescent lighting. Where am I? she wondered. It took a few moments. She could tell by the occasional moan that other women shared the maternity ward room, separated by white curtains that ran from the ceiling to the shiny linoleum floor. She coughed once and winced from the sharp pain in her abdomen and crotch. Her entire face felt dried out; her mouth, nose and throat were caked in dried mucous. She gagged again and looked up to find the young candy striper shoving a straw into her mouth. She sucked once and gagged some more. Her tongue was heavy with a metallic aftertaste and the nausea became worse. She tried to sit up, but it felt like a razor blade shot across her lower torso. She collapsed back into the pillows. “Where’s my…”
An older nurse approached and took the cup of water from the candy striper. She pointed the straw toward Joan’s lips. “Here, just take a small sip.”
Joan tried to sit again, this time ignoring the pain in trade for some relief from her desert-chapped throat.
“How do you feel?” the smiling nurse asked.
“Huh?”
“How are you feeling, Mrs. Mauretti?”
“My baby?” Both words came out in a rasp between sips.
“He’s fine, Mrs. Mauretti. You have a healthy baby boy.”
Joan smiled. “My husband? Has anyone..?”
“Yes. I believe he’s in the waiting room handing out cigars to anyone who will take one. I’ll send him in.”
“And my baby?”
“He’s with the pediatrician now. I’ll bring him in just as soon as they’re done.”
“Thank you.” She took another sip and gagged.
At two hours old, Brian Francis Mauretti was wheeled into Joan’s room. He wore a light blue knit cap and was wrapped tightly in a white receiving blanket with alternating pink and blue stripes. The nun lifted him out of the glass bassinette and gently placed him into his mother’s arms. Joan felt overwhelmed with joy. “Good morning, Brian,” she whispered and removed his soft cap. He had his dad’s black hair and plenty of it, but his head was cone-shaped. Before the nun left the two alone to bond, Joan looked up for an explanation.
“Oh, he’s fine…stubborn, but fine,” the nun teased. “Your son liked it so much in the birth canal that he stayed there for as long as he could. The doctor had to use forceps. His head will return to a normal shape within a day or two. No need to worry.”
“Thank you,” Joan said and kissed Brian on the point of his head.
As the kind woman departed, Joan unwrapped the tight swaddling and counted ten fingers and ten toes. She kissed each one. “Mommy’s been waiting a long time to meet you, Brian,” she whispered. The baby squinted to look at his mom. “And you have your brother’s chocolate brown eyes,” she said, excited over the new discovery.
The white curtain parted and her husband walked in, wearing a giant smile. “How’s my new boy?” Frank asked, swollen with pride.
“Perfect, Daddy.” She kissed Brian’s tiny face again. “Just perfect.” She patted the bed for Frank to sit. “Come meet your son.” Together, they smothered the newborn in hugs and sobs of joy.
Allowing his wife to rest, Frank cradled the boy in his arms and took a seat in the chair beside Joan’s bed. Searching his new son’s eyes, he told him, “Just wait ‘til your brother gets a look at you. We’re gonna go fishing together and play baseball and…”
It felt like seconds had passed when one of the meaner looking nuns entered the room to escort Frank out. “It’s time for you to go, Dad,” she announced. “Mom needs to feed your son and they need time to get to know each other.”
Frank’s puppy dog eyes pled for more time, but he had no shot. He was dealing with the maternity warden. Shrugging, he turned to Joan. “I’ll be back this afternoon,” he promised, and smiled. “Great job today, Mommy. I love you.”
Joan kissed him. “I love you, too. Can you please call my mom and let her know that she’s going to have to wait a little while longer for another little girl?”
He laughed. “Oh, don’t you worry about that. I plan to go by the cottage just as soon as I leave here and let her know in person,” he said with a grin, and headed for the door. As he reached it, he turned and smiled at the nun. She never smiled back.
Under the warden’s eye, Joan tried several times to get the baby to latch onto her nipple. He had difficulty, losing his grip each time. She shifted to get comfortable. It was no use. Her body throbbed in pain. Finally, the little one got the nipple positioned to where he wanted it and began to suckle. While he fed, Joan sighed in relief and rocked him back and forth. The nun continued her watch. Brian fed for three full minutes, but Joan was unsure whether he’d gotten enough. She questioned the old nun.
“Trust me, he’ll let you know if he’s still hungry. Is he your first?” the woman asked.
“No. We have another boy at home.”
“You didn’t nurse your first?”
“I did, but it’s been a while. I just want to make sure that I’m doing it right.”
“Give it a few feedings. It’ll come back to you. It’s been shown by many studies that breastfed infants are healthier. They can get the occasional cold, but they generally stay healthier.” For the first time, the woman smiled. And with an approving nod, she left Joan and Brian to figure out the rest together.
When Brian finished suckling, Joan placed him in her lap, unwrapped the receiving blanket again and took another inventory. Thrilled with the results, she quickly wrapped him back up and lifted him up until they were face-to-face. “I can’t wait to show you everything, Brian,” she whispered into the newborn’s ear. “You’re going to love it.” She kissed his plump, rosy cheek and then placed him on her chest to sing him his first lullaby.
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!
***Special thanks to Ginger Chen for sending me a review copy.***
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Sandra Robbins and her husband live in the small college town in Tennessee where she grew up. They count their four children and five grandchildren as the greatest blessings in their lives. Her published books include stories in historical romance and romantic suspense. When not writing or spending time with her family, Sandra enjoys reading, collecting flow blue china, and playing the piano.
In the second book in the Smoky Mountain Dreams series, acclaimed author Sandra Robbins spins a tender tale of God’s faithfulness throughout the generations.
Rani Martin, Simon and Anna’s only daughter, is a beautiful and spirited young woman living deep in the heart of the Smoky Mountains. She has plenty of ideas about the man she’ll marry someday, but none of them could have prepared her for the return of Matthew Jackson.
Matthew left Cades Cove as a child after his father’s death. Now he’s come back to build a new life for himself, and it’s his dearest wish that Rani be a part of that life. But the people of the Cove won’t let him forget the sins of his father, and Matthew can’t forget the darkness of his own past.
Is there a place for Matthew in the Cove? And can the light of Rani’s love overcome his pain?
Product Details:
List Price: $13.99
Paperback: 304 pages
Publisher: Harvest House Publishers (March 1, 2013)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 0736948864
ISBN-13: 978-0736948869
ISLAND BREEZES
It’s good to be back in Cades Cove. We get to catch up with Anna, Simon and Granny, but this story is about the next generation.
Rani is fiercely protective of their mountain and it’s trees. Any one who works for or is associated with the Little River logging company is suspect.
Matthew is deemed part of the enemy camp when as an adult he returns to his old home place. So why does Rani feel attracted to him?
She finds she can run, but she can’t hide. Will she finally give up and give in?
Cades Cove sounds like a place where I could lose my heart to the community and the mountains. Since I can’t physically go to the Cove, I hope Ms Robbins continues to bring the Cove to us.
AND NOW…THE FIRST CHAPTER:
Cades Cove, Tennessee
June, 1914
Rani Martin stared through the cabin window at the Smoky
Mountains rising above the valley she loved. Usually the sight of the foggy mists curling around the hills made her happy. But try as she might, she couldn’t find anything to cheer her up today.
There had to be something that would take away the misery gnawing in the pit of her stomach. Poppa always told her she could do anything she set her mind to, but she didn’t know how she could be happy about losing the best friend any girl could ever have.
After today, there would be no reason for her to visit this cabin. Tomorrow Josie Ferguson and her husband, Ted, would load their belongings in their wagon, take their baby, and do what many of their friends and neighbors had already done—move out of Cades Cove. Josie, the one she’d shared secrets with all her life, would be gone, and Rani would be left behind with only memories of her best friend since childhood.
She didn’t understand what any of the folks who’d left the Cove were thinking. How could they leave the most beautiful place on God’s good earth?
It was springtime, the best time of year in the Cove. The winter snow had melted and the mountain laurel was in bloom. It wouldn’t be long before rhododendrons dotted the mountainsides and azaleas reappeared on Gregory’s Bald. This year, however, Josie wouldn’t be with her to share the wonder of the Cove coming back to life after a hard winter.
To Rani the prospect of living anywhere except the mountain valley where she’d been born scared her. She’d had an opportunity to see what existed in the outside world when she spent a year attending school while living with Uncle Charles in Maryville. It had been enough to convince her that life wasn’t nearly as good anywhere else as it was in the Cove. But others didn’t share her thoughts, and they’d left. And now Josie was going too.
With a sigh she turned back to the task she’d abandoned moments ago, helping pack up the kitchen utensils. Her throat constricted as she pulled the cake plate she and her mother had given Josie from the kitchen cupboard. She wrapped her fingers around the pierced handles and stared down at the hand-painted red and yellow roses on the delicate china dish. She’d thought it the most beautiful plate she’d ever seen when she first spied it at the store in Pigeon Forge.
Tears filled her eyes, and she loosened her grip with one hand so she could trace the gold band on the fluted rim. “I can’t believe it’s been three years since your wedding.”
Josie Ferguson bit down on her lip and nodded. “Ted’s always said this was his favorite of all our wedding gifts. It reminds him of the molasses cake your mother let him and his sister help make the day George was born.”
“I’ve heard Mama tell that story so many times. But she has one about every baby she’s helped deliver.”
“She’s been a blessing to the women she’s helped birth their babies. Everybody loves Anna Martin.” Josie’s eyes grew wide. “And of course your father too. I don’t think I can ever love another pastor like I do your pa. I’ve listened to him on Sundays ever since I can remember.”
“But you won’t be there anymore.” Rani set the plate down on the table and glanced at the baskets and tubs scattered across the kitchen floor. Pots, pans, and cooking utensils protruded above their sides. The tears she’d been holding back poured down her face, and she covered her eyes with her fingers. “First my brother decides to spend the summer at Uncle Robert’s farm in Strawberry Plains instead of coming home from school, then my cousin Annie gets married and moves to Townsend. Now you’re going too. What will I do with all of you gone? I’m going to feel so alone.”
“No, you won’t.”
Rani dug her fists into her eyes to stop the tears and gritted her teeth. “Why couldn’t Stephen have come home when school was out at Milligan College instead of spending the summer on Uncle Robert’s farm?”
Josie propped her hands on her hips and tilted her head to one side. “You know why.”
“Yeah,” Rani sighed. “He didn’t want to hear Poppa talk to him all summer about following in his footsteps. I don’t know why Poppa can’t see that Stephen doesn’t feel led to preach even though he agreed to that year at Milligan College. He wants to go to medical school. Of course that’s what Mama wants too. I’m glad they don’t have that problem with me. I don’t want to live anywhere but right here in Cades Cove…even if I am going to be alone.”
Josie rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Like I said, you won’t be alone. You’ll have your ma and pa, and Stephen will be here for a visit in July.” Josie wrapped her arms around Rani’s shoulders and hugged her close. “I’m the one who’s going to be alone. I won’t know anybody over at Townsend. You know Ted never has taken to farming, and there’s nothing else for him in the Cove. His new job pays real good. They’re going to furnish us a house too.”
Rani drew back in shock and gaped at Josie. “House? Have you seen what that high and mighty Little River Logging Company calls houses? I went with Poppa to Townsend last month, and I couldn’t believe what the workers were living in. They call them setoff houses because they bring them in on railroad cars and set them off on the hillsides or even right next to the railroad. They’re nothing more than one-room shacks with tar paper roofs. When the lumber company gets through cutting all the trees in one place, they load the houses onto a train and ship them to the next spot for their workers.”
Josie’s lip trembled, and her forehead wrinkled. “I know.” Her voice was almost a whisper. “But what can I do, Rani? Ted is my husband. We have to go where he can find work.”
Rani gazed past Josie to the cradle in the next room. “I can’t stand to think about you living in one of those things, especially now since you have a baby. Can’t you convince Ted to stay in Cades Cove? This is the only life you know.”
Josie pulled the corner of her apron up and wiped her eyes. She took a deep breath. “We’ll be fine. I’ll come back to visit, and you can come to Townsend to see me.”
Rani snorted and shook her head. “No thanks. I have no desire to share a one-room setoff house with you and your husband, not to mention your baby. I can’t believe Ted would be so disloyal to the Cove to go work for a company that’s trying to destroy our mountains.”
“Are you accusing my husband of turning his back on his friends?” Josie’s eyes flared and grew dark with anger.
Rani had seen that look before and realized she’d gone too far. She really needed to follow her mother’s advice and not be so outspoken about the company she thought was using the Smokies as a quick way to make money. Her opinion of Little River Lumber differed from that of many who’d left to work for the logging company. Now she had sounded like she believed Ted to be a traitor to his friends.
She reached out and grasped Josie’s arm. “I’m sorry, Josie. I didn’t mean to criticize Ted. It’s just that I’ve been so upset over what Little River’s doing to our mountains. Colonel Townsend has bought 86,000 acres of forest land all the way from Tuckaleechee to Clingman’s Dome. I don’t care if he does own the company, he’s a foolish man. They’re cutting every tree in their path. If somebody doesn’t stop them, the Smokies will end up as barren hillsides.”
Josie waved her hand in dismissal. “As usual, you’re being overly dramatic. That’s not going to happen. Like I said before, they pay well, and we need the money. End of discussion.”
Rani opened her mouth to respond, but the set of Josie’s jaw told her it would be useless. With a sigh, she picked up the cake plate from the table and handed it to Josie. “I hope you’ll think of me every time you use this.”
Josie took the plate and clasped it in her hands like she held a priceless treasure. For the first time Rani caught a glimpse of fear in Josie’s eyes, and the truth struck her. Josie didn’t want to leave Cades Cove, but she had no choice.
“I will,” Josie whispered. “I wanted this to be the last thing I packed. After all, you’re my best friend.”
Rani burst into tears and threw her arms around Josie. “We’re more than best friends. I think of you as the sister I never had. ”
“Me too.” Josie pulled back and wiped at the corner of her eyes. “But you know we could really be sisters.”
Josie’s words shattered the mood of moments ago and swept all the sadness from Rani’s mind. She took a step backward and wagged her finger in Josie’s direction. “Oh no. Don’t start that again.”
“Why not? George is crazy about you. All he talks about is how he wants to marry you, and you won’t give him any encouragement. If you married him, we’d be family. Sisters-in-law.”
Rani couldn’t believe they were having this conversation again. “I’ve told you at least a hundred times that George is a good friend, but I don’t love him. Even if I did, I don’t think I’d marry him.”
A skeptical expression crossed Josie’s face. “What’s the matter? Isn’t he good looking enough for you?”
Rani’s mouth gaped open at the ridiculous suggestion. “Oh, Josie, you know I would never think that. The truth is George is the youngest child in his family, and he’s spoiled rotten. If he doesn’t get his way, he sulks for days. I wouldn’t want a husband that I have to coddle and give in to all the time.”
Josie dropped her gaze to the cake plate she held and wrapped a burlap sack around it before she tucked it in the side of one of the baskets. “I have to admit you’re right. As a matter of fact, Ted told me George had an awful argument with his pa the other night. It seems he’s upset because he’s going to be left behind in the Cove after we leave.”
Rani held up her hands in exasperation. “You see what I mean. George can only see what he wants. He doesn’t realize what a great opportunity he has to work with his father on one of the best farms in the Cove.”
“But, Rani, you know he’s in love with you. That ought to be enough to make him a good husband.”
“Maybe it would be for somebody else, but not for me. I’m just eighteen years old. I have plenty of time to think about getting married. When I do, it’s going to be because I love a man so much my heart aches when I’m away from him.”
Josie turned to Rani and propped her hands on her hips. “Yeah, you’ve always had those romantic ideas. I think it must come from all those stories about how hard it was for your pa to get your mother to marry him.” She leaned closer to Rani. “Well, for those of us who don’t have a great love like that happen in our lives, we have to settle for the next best thing. It’s not like there’s a lot of men to choose from in the Cove. Being married to George is better than ending up an old maid.”
Rani flinched at Josie’s words. She remembered how Josie had cried four years ago when Charlie Simmons left the Cove, bound for California. At the time she’d thought it was because he was Ted’s friend. Now she wasn’t so sure. “Is that what you did, Josie? You settled for the next best thing?”
Josie’s face drained of color, and she put her hand to her throat. “Rani, I didn’t mean…”
“What’s goin’ on in here?”
At the sound of her husband’s voice at the back door Josie’s body stiffened, and she glanced over her shoulder. Rani’s heart lurched at the lack of expression on Josie’s face. She might very well have been looking at a stranger who’d come to her door instead of her husband. “I need to check on the baby,” she said, and hurried from the kitchen.
Ted Ferguson frowned and gazed after his wife as she hurried into the next room. His eyes darkened, and the look in his eyes told Rani he longed for something he would never have from Josie. After a moment he took a deep breath and smiled at her. “You two havin’ another one of your friendly arguments?”
Rani forced a laugh from her throat and wiped her eyes. “No argument. We’re just a little emotional over the two of you leaving the Cove. It seems all my friends are taking off for different places. My family may be the only one left before long.”
Ted shook his head. “Naw, you won’t be. They’ll have to drag my pa out of the Cove to get him to leave. He says he intends to be buried at the church he’s gone to all his life.”
“That’s what my pa says too.” Rani picked up the empty basket sitting on the table. “I left you some fried chicken and a fresh loaf of bread that Mama sent. She thought you might get hungry on your way to Townsend tomorrow.”
“She always thinks about other folks. Tell her I’m mighty obliged, and I hope I see her soon.”
“I will.”
Ted followed Rani into the next room where Josie was holding her son. No one spoke for a moment, then Josie swallowed and handed the baby to Ted. “Take care of Jimmy a minute while I walk Rani out.”
As Rani stepped onto the front porch, she glanced down at her dog lying next to the door. She snapped her fingers, and he jumped to his feet. He shook his shaggy body, wagged his tail, and awaited her command. It was so easy to communicate with animals. Give them love, feed them well, and reward them for good behavior, and they’d do anything you asked. Too bad people weren’t like that.
Josie had a husband who did all that for her, but today Rani had discovered the secret Josie had kept so well hidden—she would never be able to return Ted’s love. Rani didn’t want to end up like that.
With a sigh, she reached down and stroked her dog’s head. “Good boy, Scout. You did what I said. Now let’s go home.”
With Scout at her heels, she and Josie walked to the road that ran in front of the cabin. As they neared the edge of the yard, Rani turned to Josie. “I’m going to miss you.”
“I’m going to miss you too. We’re leaving early in the morning. So I guess I won’t see you again. I hope you will come visit me in Townsend. We’ll make room.”
Rani nodded. “We’ll see. You take care of yourself. And Ted and little Jimmy too.”
Josie smiled, but Rani could see the tears she was fighting to control. “Goodbye, Rani.”
Rani started to speak, but the words froze in her throat. She pressed her lips together and hugged her friend before she turned and started the long walk home. Scout trotted along beside her, and she didn’t look back. She wanted to, but she didn’t think she could stand the sight of Josie watching her walk away.
She glanced down at the dog and smiled. “Well, Scout, it’s a two-mile walk home. Do you think you can make it?”
The dog stared up at her and yelped a reply without breaking his stride.
“I think I can too.”
She didn’t mind walking. It had always been her way of getting around the Cove, and it gave her time to think. Today she had a lot to mull over. Her discovery about Josie’s feelings that she had settled for the next best thing still bothered her. She’d never imagined that Josie might have been in love with someone else.
Now that she thought back to four years ago, she remembered Josie seeming happy all summer. At the time, all she would say was that she’d had her first kiss and was in love. Rani thought it had to be Ted because he had been in love with Josie for years. But it must have been Charlie Simmons, and things hadn’t worked out. And soon after Charlie’s departure from the Cove, Josie had agreed to marry Ted after putting him off for so long.
Today she had learned the truth. Josie had settled for something—someone—she didn’t want. How could she have done that? She must have thought she was doing the right thing, but she’d been wrong. And she was wrong about something else. Being an old maid wasn’t the worst thing that could happen to a woman. To Rani’s way of thinking, being married to someone you didn’t love was far worse.
She squared her shoulders, clenched her fists at her side, and looked down at Scout. “I promise you, Scout, I will never settle for second best, even if it means I never get married.”
From the moment he rode into Cades Cove a peace like he hadn’t experienced in years came over Matthew Jackson. He pulled his horse to a stop and breathed in the sweet scent of mountain laurel drifting on the air. It smelled like home. He was back where his heart had remained.
Had it really been twenty years since he left the Cove? He closed his eyes and tried to recall every memory of the days following the death of his drunkard father. Even now the thought of the life he, his mother, and his little brother had endured made the old anger he’d tried to bury resurface. With his father drunk most of the time, survival had been hard. But his mother had seen to it that there was always food on the table. Then their lives had taken a turn for the worse when a tavern brawl had ended with his father lying dead of a gunshot wound.
Matthew had been almost ten years old at the time, but overnight he became the man of the family. He’d turned to a newcomer in the Cove, Anna Prentiss. Of course she was Anna Martin now. But to him she’d always be the angel who’d found a place for his family to live and had seen they were taken care of.
He even remembered the last words he’d spoken to her the day they left the Cove. She stood beside the wagon loaded with his family’s few belongings, and he’d said, “I’ll be back here someday.” And now, thanks to the money he’d saved working for the Little River Company, he had returned with the deed to his old homestead in his pocket.
But would the people of the Cove welcome the return of Luke Jackson’s son? His father had been a troublemaker and a bully, not to mention an abuser of his wife and children. The sturdy mountain folks didn’t have time for a man who didn’t take care of his family. As his mother used to say, people have long memories, and he was sure they could recall every one of his father’s misdeeds. Now he was about to see if those memories had labeled him a ne’er-do-well like his father.
He could count on one hand the folks who would welcome him back. Simon and Anna Martin. Granny Lawson. They were the ones who made his childhood bearable, and he could hardly wait to see them. But first things first. He had to go to the place where he was born and fulfill a promise he’d made to his dying mother fifteen years ago.
He’d leaned close to her frail, fever-ridden body to catch her last words spoken in that familiar mountain twang: “When you git back to the Cove, see if????’n my mountain laurel bush is still there, the one yore pa planted for me when we was first married.”
After all the heartache his father had put her through, she still held to the memory of the early days of her marriage when she’d been so happy. Even now the thought of how her eyes had sparkled for a moment, reliving a happier time, made him feel as if a hammer had crushed his heart. His mother and little Eli, his brother. Gone too soon.
He cleared his throat and swiped at his eyes. No need to think about those things now. This was homecoming day, but it was different from what he’d dreamed about when he was a boy. He’d come back alone.
Straightening in the saddle, he spurred the horse forward and concentrated on the road twisting through the valley he loved. All around him were the sights and sounds he’d longed for, but he focused on getting home and seeing the place he’d left twenty years ago.
When he pulled the horse to a halt at what had once been the cabin where he’d lived, his heart dropped to the pit of his stomach. It was worse than he’d expected. The skeleton of a cabin sat near the tulip poplar tree he’d climbed as a boy—bigger now than he remembered. The house’s roof had long ago succumbed to the forces of nature and had caved in. A few timbers marked the spot where it had once been. Weeds grew across what had once been a yard.
Even in its best days the cabin hadn’t been much, but it could have been if his father had concentrated on making a life for his family instead of spending his time in a drunken stupor. The old hatred welled up in his heart, and he whispered the plea he’d prayed every day since he could remember. “God, don’t let me be like him. Make me a better man.”
The promise he’d made his mother flashed into his mind, and he climbed down from the horse and tied the reins to a sapling. Taking a deep breath to slow his racing heart, he headed around the side of the house. Had the mountain laurel plant survived the years?
His gaze drifted to his feet, and a warning flickered in his head. The weeds along what used to be a path had been trampled. Someone else had passed this way not long ago.
With hesitant steps, he inched forward. The knee-high weeds swished against his legs. He caught sight of his mother’s plant that now towered higher than his head, and he stopped in amazement. It wasn’t the bloom-covered bush that made his breath catch in his throat. It was a young woman who appeared unaware of his presence. With her arms outstretched and her face turned up to the sun, she whirled in circles in front of the mountain laurel bush while saying something in a language he didn’t understand.
Her bare feet hammered the hardened earth around the plant in a pounding rhythm. Pink blooms from the mountain laurel bush ringed the top of her head and several more protruded from the mass of black hair that reached below her shoulders.
She moved with the grace and elegance of a queen, and he thought he had never seen anyone more beautiful. He tried to speak, to alert her she wasn’t alone, but he felt as if he had come under her spell and had been forbidden to move.
Suddenly the air crackled with frantic barking, and a dog emerged from the other side of the bush. His hackles raised, he positioned himself between Matthew and the girl. She jerked to a stop and stared at him, wide-eyed. The dog snarled and inched forward.
Her dark eyes narrowed, and with one snap of her fingers she quieted the dog. She didn’t move, and her arched eyebrow told him his company wasn’t welcomed. “Stay back, mister, or I’ll sic my dog on you.”
He glanced down at the dog, whose body still bristled as if he was ready to attack. “I don’t mean you any harm, miss.”
“Then why did you sneak up on me?”
He shook his head. “I didn’t. I stopped when I heard your voice. What were you saying?”
“Just some words I learned from a Cherokee woman.” She frowned and glanced past him. “Are you alone?”
“I am. I just rode into the Cove from Townsend.”
Her body stiffened, and her lips curled into a sneer. “Townsend? Are you with the Little River Company?”
“I have been.”
“It figures.” She spit the words at him as if they were distasteful. “We get a lot of Little River workers checking out the Cove. You people are always searching for another stand of timber to cut down, aren’t you?” She bent down, grabbed her discarded shoes, and slipped them on her feet. Then with her arms rigid at her sides and her fists clenched, she took a step toward him. “Well, you can go back and tell your bosses we don’t sell our land and our trees to outsiders who want to clear cut their way through the Smokies.”
The defiant look in her eyes shot daggers at him, and they felt as if they poked deep holes in his heart. This girl’s words echoed the fierce pride shared by all the Cove residents for this valley, his valley, the place he called home. He wanted to tell her he agreed with her, that all he wanted was to live again among the people he remembered. Instead, other words emerged from his lips. “I worked for their railroad, not the logging company.”
She shook her head, and one of the blooms tumbled to the ground. Her eyes widened, and she glanced up as if she’d forgotten she wore a crown of flowers. A flush covered her cheeks, and she yanked the blossoms from her thick hair. “They’re the same to me. Maybe you didn’t cut our trees, but you carried them away.”
Matthew swallowed hard. There was something so familiar about this girl. Her brown eyes, dark complexion, and the high cheekbones reminded him of someone. It wasn’t possible he could have met her before. She probably hadn’t even been born when he had left the Cove. But still, there was something. He took a step closer, and the dog growled. With a smile he stopped and held up his hands. “I’m not coming closer.”
“Good.” She sniffed and snapped her fingers again. “Let’s go, Scout. It’s time we got home.”
He didn’t move as she strode past him, her head held high and her dog at her side. He turned and watched her disappear around the side of what had once been his home. Her straight back and determined stride reminded him of the spirited mountain women he’d known. They attacked the harsh life in the Cove and planted the seed of unyielding loyalty to the land in their children. Just like his mother had done with him.
Someone had instilled that same devotion in this girl. He hoped he’d get to meet the person who had done that, for he had just encountered the fierce mountain pride that had ruled his life. And it thrived in the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.
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!
Dr. Fred Lybrand is a communicator and father of five who has been married for over 30 years and has the diverse combination of having formally studied law, speech communications, systems thinking, linguistics, writing, theology, marketing, structural dynamics, leadership/management and the human personality.
Organization, productivity and good habits all appear to be part of successful endeavors. However, many of us don’t know how to use these to reach our goals with true success. Dr. Fred Ray Lybrand, motivational speaker, writer and “human behavior expert,” with his newest release, The One Success Habit You Can’t Do Without (Kauffman Burgess Press, February 2013), continues with his warm, witty conversational advice that brings fresh clarity to the age old question of how to get organized…get moving…and shift our actions towards a new level of daily success. .
