Judgment of the Immoral

July 14th, 2013

Scales of Justice

I wrote to you in my letter not to associate with sexually immoral persons – not at all meaning the immoral of this world, or the greedy and robbers, or idolaters, since you would then need to go out of the world.

But now I am writing to you not to associate with anyone who bears the name of brother or sister who is sexually immoral or greedy or is an idolater, reviler, drunkard, or robber. Do not even eat with such a one.

For what have I to do with judging those outside? Is it not those who are inside that you are to judge?

God will judge those outside. “Drive out the wicked person from among you.”

I Corinthians 5:9-13

Dog Sitters

July 12th, 2013

Dog Sitters

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By Rozsa Gaston

When Nicole and Tom Mays take a cruise to Bermuda, they arrange for their friends, Hint Daniels and Jack Whitby, who don’t know each other, to consecutively dog sit their schnoodle, Percy.

Hint is supposed to hand off Percy to Jack on day five of the ten days their friends are away. But at the handoff, things go wrong and the dog ends up running away. Neither is willing to tell their friends the bad news that Percy is missing so they spend the next five days together trying to find the schnoodle despite wildly different ideas on how to go about it. Their contrasting personalities clash and before long, they are as eager to kill each other as they are to find the dog. Unwilling to listen to each other, they both rely on Jack’s seven-year-old niece Marguerite, who advises them on how to find the dog.

Chaos ensues before Percy’s owners return. Nothing goes as planned, including Hint’s and Jack’s feelings for each other. By the time the schnoodle reappears, Hint and Jack are madly in love. Now it will just take the rest of their lives to learn how to live with each other.

ISLAND BREEZES

First Hint sits the dog for five days and then, manages to lose him. She did manage to find him, as well.

While in the process of handing little Percy over to the next sitter, he escapes once again.

Find him is not so easy this time. After Hint and Jack quit squabbling about the situation, they feam up to find the dog.

As they continue to look for Percy, they eventually get past the point of constant irritation with each other. That’s nice, but where’s that dog?

It’s getting right down to the wire and there’s still no Percy. How are they going to explain the missing dog when his owners return from their cruise in just a few hours?

***A special thank you to Opal Campbell and Astraea Press for providing a review copy.***

Read Chapter One

“Percy — come back!” Hint frantically rushed after the black-and-gray schnoodle, stumbling through twigs, branches, and brush. But Percy paid her no mind, intent on pursuing the small animal he’d spotted in the undergrowth. He’d rushed to investigate, pulling unexpectedly on his leash. Before she could tighten her grip, it had slipped from her hand.
“Percy, get back here now,” she commanded. She might as well have been shouting at the wind. He continued to dash madly after his prey.
She sped up, but the small dog moved quickly. After a minute, he was gone from sight. She shouted and called after him, hysteria raising her voice higher and higher. If she lost the dog, what would Nicole and Tom think? How could she explain it to them? But worse, how could she live with herself?
She’d been excited but also sad at having to say goodbye to her canine friend, almost unable to bear the thought of handing Percy off to Tom’s friend the next evening. But her flight to Punta Cana was at 2:15 p.m. the afternoon after that. Now she’d give anything just to catch him so she could turn him over to her replacement.
Clearly though, screaming and shouting weren’t having the desired effect. She sat down on a log.
Calm down then decide what to do next. She could call the police. But did police respond to lost dog emergencies? She could go back to the dog run and ask the other dog owners for help locating him. That would be the sensible thing to do. But her intuition told her to try one more time to find him all on her own. She sat still, taking even, long, deep breaths.
Don’t let your emotions get in the way, Hint. She heard her father’s voice as clearly as if he were sitting next to her. When she’d had a problem as a child, he always told her to break it down and parse it into manageable pieces.
She thought through why Percy had run off. He’d been attracted to the motion of some small animal ahead of them. He’d taken off after it. ‘A small animal,’ ‘ahead of them,’ ‘attracted to’—she couldn’t do much about any of those pieces, could she?
She went back over it again. ‘Attracted to…’ Percy had run off because he was attracted to something. If that were the case, then he could be attracted back to her. He loved her ministrations, as well as her voice when she called him ‘Snuggle Boy’ and other endearments. But he hadn’t responded to her yells. Could that be because the tone of voice she’d used hadn’t attracted him? Perhaps it had scared him off further.
She would try something different. She would be the object of Percy’s next attraction. By now, he’d either found the small animal or, more likely, lost it and was looking around for something else to catch his attention.
“Percy is my Snuggle Boy,” she began to sing softly to herself. “He’s the cutest Snuggle Boy I know. Boy, I’ve known some Snuggle Boys in my day, but none cuter than Percy.” She sang the song again, swaying back and forth on the dead tree limb she sat on.
The woods grew quiet. She listened briefly then sang the ditty again. Something rustled in the brush. Motionless, she held her breath. Whatever it is, pay it no mind.
Singing calmed her, so she started up again, closing her eyes. Halfway through her song, a joyful bark interrupted her.
“Percy! You came back. You’re my smart boy.” She opened her eyes and remained seated, smiling at him.
The dog ran to her and put his front paws on her knees. They snuggled as she groped for his leash. She found it and hooked it firmly around her wrist. She wasn’t taking any more chances — at least, not for the remaining hours she was guardian of the adorable eighteen-pound schnauzer-poodle mix now trying to lick her face.
Walking home briskly with Percy at her side, she marveled at how effective her final strategy had been. Wasn’t there a saying, “You attract more flies with honey than vinegar”? She’d been the honey. Somehow she’d known the dog would be there when she opened her eyes. She hadn’t lunged for him. She’d felt empowered by simply sitting there and letting him come to her.
An aphorism she had once heard but never fully understood popped into her head. Billy Wilder, the movie director, had purportedly counseled Marilyn Monroe for a scene they were filming, telling her, “Don’t just do something — stand there.” Now she understood what he had meant. Luring Percy back had given her an epiphany. She hadn’t gone after him. She’d made him want to come to her. It was a lesson she planned to apply in other areas of her life.

****

That same afternoon Jack Whitby left work fifteen minutes early. He would get off the train in Bronxville shortly before six then take his time walking over to Hint Daniel’s place to pick up Muttsly. Percy. Whatever.
He hoped his best friend’s dog wouldn’t try to sleep on his bed. Had Tom left one of his smelly running shirts for Percy to sleep on? Probably not. He would have, if he’d passed the dog off directly to Jack. But Tom’s wife’s friend had offered to dog-sit the first five days, which was fine with Jack, since he knew next to nothing about how to look after an animal himself. Unfortunately, Nicole’s friend was leaving town the following day, so Tom had asked Jack to take Percy the final five days of their cruise. He’d explained that the year before when they’d vacationed, they’d left the dog in a kennel, and the schnoodle had acted depressed and standoffish on their return. Jack had hesitated, but when Tom told him small dogs were welcome on Metro-North commuter trains, so he could just pick him up on his way home from work, he’d caved in. He’d call in the favor next time Tom had a few U.S. Open tickets left over from his firm’s client freebies slush fund.
The trip to Bronxville was over in less than half an hour. He exited the train in the company of dozens of prosperous-looking commuters, most of who were being met by spouses, children, or drivers.
He eyeballed the crowd. Not a bad place to live, but for a single person? Just what kind of social life did Nicole’s girlfriend have? Was she dating some sort of big shot? It looked as if they were all married, in this place.
He strolled down Pondfield Road, Bronxville’s main street. The number of high-end consumer goods in shop windows told him the town was populated by plenty of affluent females. They were either making good money themselves or sending their spouses off to bring home the bacon so they could fry it. Only they weren’t frying bacon, around here. They were buying expensive antiques, froo-ha lamps, and designer products. The linen baby clothes in one store window would all need ironing after being washed once. Who in the world would do that unless they had household help?
When his niece Marguerite had been a newborn, he’d babysat her a few times. She’d thrown up, pooped, drooled, and wet all over him at least once every thirty minutes. He couldn’t figure out why people wanted to have babies. They were disgusting.
Yet Marguerite had been so adorable after he’d burped her and she’d spit up all over his shirt. He didn’t really care about messes anyway, and her smile after the burp had been like the sun coming out. It was one of those conundrums he was happy he didn’t have to figure out quite yet.
Spying the hand-painted sign for Meadow Lane, he turned down the street and passed a few comfortably large, clapboard-framed houses, after which stood a charming, three-story apartment building with an Italianate tile roof. Number fifteen was marked over the building’s entryway — the address Hint Daniels had given him.
Inside the marble-floored foyer, he pressed the buzzer marked H. Daniels.
After a long pause, he buzzed again. No answer.
Annoyed, he glanced at his watch. Hadn’t they said after six on the twentieth? He pushed the button again, this time longer. The sound echoed through the empty foyer. Looking around, he spied some catalogs and magazines on the polished black granite counter, where the mailman had left mail too large to fit in the building residents’ mailboxes. Glancing at the items on top, he saw that H. Daniels subscribed to Other Worlds magazine. The cover featured an illustration of what looked like sci-fi and mythological creatures. Weird. Something one might expect a person with a name like ‘Hint’ to subscribe to.
He pressed her buzzer again, laying on it for several seconds. An elderly woman popped her head out of a door on the first floor. She gave him a dyspeptic look then slammed her door shut.
Jack ripped off a blank section of the train schedule he had taken out of his pocket and scribbled a short note with his cell phone number at the bottom: Hint I was here. Where were you? I thought we had agreed I’d pick up Percy this evening. Jack Whitby
The missive wasn’t particularly polite, but he wasn’t pleased to be inconvenienced like this. He walked rapidly back to the train station, not at all certain when the next train came through that would get him back to Pleasantville. As he waited on the platform, he wondered if Hint Daniels was some sort of ditsy artist. How could she blow off something as important as a pre-arranged pickup of their friends’ dog? Hadn’t he specifically said the twentieth? Tom had told him she was going to the Caribbean on the twenty-first. How would she get the dog to him in time to make her flight the following day, now that she’d screwed up the dog pickup? What a moron.
According to the posted schedule, the train was due to arrive at 6:45 p.m. He looked at his watch. Two minutes to go. Something about the watch face unsettled him. He checked it again: 6:44 now. Why was an alarm signal going off in his head? He studied his watch. Something didn’t seem right.
Then he noticed the date marker.
The nineteenth? He blinked, swallowing hard. He’d thought it was the twentieth. It had been his own mistake. Moron. Double moron. Heat from embarrassment leapt up his neck then covered his face.
Sprinting down the steps of the platform, he raced back to Hint Daniel’s apartment. If she arrived home and read the note before he retrieved it, she’d think he was an idiot. Surely she’d tell Nicole about his mistake. And if she spoke with either Tom or Nicole before they got back, Tom would never let him live down the mistake. He had to get to her place before she did.
Three minutes later, he reached the foyer of her building, panting like a madman. The inner door was just closing behind a large woman with a double baby stroller. Thankfully, the note was still there. He grabbed it, shredding it into bits as he hurriedly exited. He’d try to make the 7:15 p.m. train to Pleasantville. Jogging back to the station, he rounded the corner of Meadow Lane. There, five yards in front of him on the sidewalk, a woman leaned over a small gray and black dog. Was it Percy? He’d met the dog the summer before, but all he could remember was that he had been small and darkish. On the phone, Tom had described Percy as black, gray, and just under eighteen pounds. The dog in front of him fit all three points.
Jack jumped into the bushes, scrambling for cover behind a large oak tree. Trying to catch his breath, he prayed the woman now walking in his direction wouldn’t see him.
“What do you see? Is there a squirrel over there?” Her voice was light, melodic. It sounded as if she were humming when she spoke. “Come on, Snuggle Bunny. Let’s go home. You’re not going to catch that squirrel, no matter what you think. Let’s go, Snuggle Boy.”
He held his breath, in equal measure trying not to be seen and straining to hear what endearments the woman would next lavish on the dog. A strange and irrational longing for a female to speak to him like that stole over him. Embarrassed for more than one reason, he silently asked the oak tree he hid behind not to blow his cover.

****

Hint tried to hurry Percy past the large tree across the street from the park next to her building. He was barking wildly as if there were a squirrel aiming an acorn at his head. Hopefully, one day Percy would put aside his puppy dreams and figure out he was never going to catch a squirrel.
When she had been a child, she had frequently dreamt that she could fly. At some point, she conceded it would never happen. Letting out a long “hmmm,” she pondered the tragic gap between imagination and reality that occurred for humans. Was it the same for dogs?
“Dream on, boy. Don’t let anyone ever tell you that you can’t catch a squirrel. One day you will, Baby Boy. You’ll catch one.” She reached down and stroked the schnoodle’s silky ears.
A sound like a low groan seemed to emerge from the oak tree she had just passed. She glanced back at it. Was someone there?
She stared intently. The air was suddenly as still as a painting. Had the tree just weighed in on her thoughts? For all she knew, trees had frustrations just as humans and canines did. Perhaps they wanted to walk. She laughed softly at the thought. Her inspirations for work came from such ideas — the more fantastical, the better. In fact, the last big contract she landed had been based on a character she had come up with when she’d watched an inchworm hoist itself onto a maple leaf in early spring.
Percy licked her hand, interrupting her thoughts.
She picked him up and buried her nose in his soft fur. The dog squirmed in delight, burrowing deeper into her neck. She took pleasure in his happiness. Would the stranger she was passing him off to tomorrow take such good care of him?
As if in answer, the breeze picked up and ruffled the leaves on the trees. Change hovered in the air.
She shivered and hurried up the front path to her apartment building, still hugging Percy.

****

The following evening, Jack rang Hint Daniel’s buzzer at 6:15 p.m. He’d dodged a bullet the day before. Sweat rose on his brow just thinking about the woman staring at the tree he’d been hiding behind. Fortunately she’d been all wrapped up in the dog and hadn’t come closer to investigate.
The door buzzed, and he entered the inside hallway, wiping his forehead with the tail of his navy polo shirt.
“Up here on the second floor,” a woman called down in melodious tones. If a voice could dance, this one did.
He nimbly took the stairs two at a time to the second floor landing, where he was greeted by a barking Percy and the woman he’d seen the evening before.
Up close she was even more attractive than the slim, medium-tall figure he’d hidden from twenty-four hours earlier. Her hair was long and auburn, about six inches below shoulder length. He knew the color because his sister Bibi used an auburn tint on her hair and had explained to him what it meant: medium brown with hints of red when the light was right.
At that moment, the light was very right. He marveled at the fiery red hues framing her face as she swung around, motioning him to come in.
“Percy — calm down. This is your friend. Relax. It’s all right.”
“Hey, boy. It’s just me, Uncle Jack.” He vaguely remembered meeting the dog the summer before, when Tom had invited him over for a barbecue. He hadn’t paid much attention at the time. He’d been too distracted by the argument he’d had in the car on the way there with his ex-girlfriend, who had wanted to attend a social function at her club instead. He’d won the battle but lost the war.
Percy barked furiously then growled as he stepped over the threshold of the apartment.
“Percy, stop that. This is your new babysitter,” the woman scolded the dog as she picked him up and snuggled him against her chest. It appeared to have led a charmed life the past five days since Tom and Nicole had left.
Jack scanned the living room of her apartment, silently approving the mustard-toned couch and faded Oriental carpet patterned in burgundy, navy, and gold tones. She had good taste.
“Hi, I’m Hint Daniels.” She smiled but didn’t extend her hand, busy holding onto the squirming dog.
“Hi. Jack Whitby. How’s it going with Percy?”
“He’s been mostly a good boy.”
He watched as the side of her mouth twitched. What did she mean by ‘mostly?’ “What’s his schedule like? Do you walk him a lot?”
“I take him out about three times a day. We go out around eight o’clock, then midday, then one last walk in the evening.”
Jack flashed back to the day before. He’d been lucky not to have been spotted by her. There was no way he could have explained what he was doing outside her building a day before they were scheduled to meet.
“How long do you walk him?” he asked, drinking in her features. She was undeniably pretty, with a delicate nose and a small mouth curved like a Cupid’s bow.
“It depends, but usually a good half hour. Sometimes we go to the dog run.”
“Do you let him off the leash over there?”
“I have, but you might not want to do that unless you’re sure he’ll come back to you.”
“Do you want to take him for a walk now?” He wanted to spend a few more minutes in the company of this fine-boned, auburn-haired woman who subscribed to Other Worlds magazine. And that dancing voice. It was the polar opposite of the matter-of-fact, New York City–accented voices that surrounded him at work all day long. Her tailored burgundy suit jacket told him she was a professional. She looked as if she had just come from a client meeting. Either that or she just enjoyed dressing well.
“I’ve got to pack for my trip, but I’ll walk with you over to the train station, so he gets used to you with me around,” she agreed.
Jack was impressed by the fact that she hadn’t packed yet. Wasn’t waiting until the last minute to pack a guy thing to do?
“This one’s his rabies tag.” She fingered the dog tags on Percy’s collar as she clipped on his leash. “It has the name and phone number of his vet on it, so if anything happens, just call him.”
“Nothing will happen.” He squatted down to take a closer look at the tag. As he reached for it, his hand brushed against hers. It was small and warm, the fine bones like a bird’s. Quickly, she stood and reached for her keys and the bag of dog food and toys sitting on the counter.
She opened the door to the hallway, and Percy shot out like a cannonball. He barked excitedly.
“Whoa, boy. Slow down there.” Jack struggled to keep a firm grip on the leash.
“He loves his walk.” Hint smiled down at the schnoodle as she locked her door. A lock of hair curled behind her ear, pointing toward her profile. Her nose was straight and small, like the nose on the prairie girl doll he’d given his niece Marguerite for her last birthday.
Outside, the early evening was warm, the air scented with dogwood blossoms. A light breeze fluttered the leaves of the oak tree across the street from her building. Was the tree laughing at him for his missteps of the evening before? They strolled toward Pondfield Road and the shops on their way to the railroad station. Percy stopped every few yards to sniff trees, lampposts and sidewalk smells.
“What do you do when he… uh… takes care of business?” he asked.
“I bring a bag and clean it up. They’re pretty strict around here.” Her voice didn’t sound strict at all. It was filled with different tones that all seemed to be dancing with each other.
Jack looked around, noting flower window boxes and planters, well-trimmed lawns and carefully tended gardens. It wouldn’t do to kick doo-doo into the bushes in this town. An alarm would probably go off and a policeman appear out of nowhere with a summons.
“What if you forget to bring a bag?” he followed up.
“You won’t forget, because you’ve got the bag dispenser attached to his leash.”
“Is that what this is?” Jack examined the red object in the shape of a fire hydrant hanging from the leash handle. The edge of a small blue plastic bag hung out from one side.
“There’re bags rolled up on a roller inside the hydrant. I just put in a refill, so you’ve got enough bags in there to get you through the next five days.” Hint appeared to be scrutinizing him, perhaps unsure whether he would be careful to clean up after Percy or not. “Just be careful to pull out only one bag at a time. If you pull out more than one, you’ll have a hard time getting the extras back into the holder.”
“Why’s he going in circles?” Jack watched as the dog circled a spot on the lawn next to a doctor’s office.
“That’s the cue that he’s getting ready to… uh… perform his ablutions.”
“Nicely put.” He was impressed. She had good diction.
For the first time, she smiled at him. Her small mouth was shapely — it curved like the lips on a Greek comedy and tragedy mask, portending complexity. Was it just physiognomy, or did it signify something about her personality? He thought the latter, given the nuance of tones in her speaking voice, not to mention her taste in magazines.
Jack studied Percy as the dog circled. “Should I tighten my grip when he does that or loosen it?”
“Keep it loose,” Hint said. “Pretend you haven’t even noticed what he’s up to. If you try to rush him, he’ll get nervous. The only way he’ll get down to business is if you don’t hurry him.”
“Is that a metaphor for life?” Jack asked. Her explanation had seemed apt for a few other important life processes. He turned his face away so she couldn’t see the color he could feel creeping up his neck.
“You tell me. Is it?” She giggled.
Was she laughing at him? She had just put her finger on one of his biggest challenge areas: not rushing. It seemed women needed to take everything slowly, including the most important things. It looked as if canines needed to take things slowly, too.
Percy finally appeared to find the perfect spot over which he squatted and did a ridiculous-looking side to side dance step. Jack tried not to notice.
“What do you do that allows you to walk a dog three times a day? Do you work from home?” he asked her.
“Yes.” She narrowed her eyes at him until they looked like raisins. “I illustrate children’s, coloring, and sticker books.”
“Do you work for a publishing house?”
“Yes, but not just one. I’m freelance, so I work for a few different houses on a per-project basis,” she explained, brushing a strand of wavy hair behind her right ear.
“Wow. That sounds like fun. How do you get ideas for your characters?”
“That’s a good question.” She paused, lost in thought. “I spend a lot of time looking through art books, old fairytale books, magazines, art exhibits — I get ideas from nature, too.” She smiled wistfully. “Going on walks and looking at trees helps.”
“What kind of tree do you like best?” he asked, hoping it was an oak. His niece Marguerite had given names to the three largest trees in his backyard, the summer he’d moved in, three years earlier. The maple tree guarding the boundary of his yard was Sky; the chestnut tree in the middle, Monkey; and the tallest of them all was Prayer, an oak. When he’d asked her why she’d wanted to call it Prayer, she’d said it was because the tree looked like it was praying for the people in his house. Ever since then, he’d had a feeling oak trees were looking out for him.
At that moment, Percy finished his exertions, so Jack fumbled to unroll one of the plastic bags from its holder.
Hint reached to help him. As he held the container while she pulled off the bag, Percy spotted a squirrel and took off.
The leash yanked free from the bag dispenser in Jack’s hands. Both Hint and Jack called to Percy as he ran from them. The dog paid no mind and disappeared around the corner.
“Percy. Get back here. Come here now,” he shouted, chasing after the schnoodle.
“Don’t yell at him. You’ll scare him,” she ordered as she raced behind him. “Percy, come back. Come on, boy.”
This time, her musical voice struck Jack as sing-songish and lacking in authority. What dog would pay any attention to someone who called to it like that? She might as well be singing a lullaby.
Rounding the corner, he spotted Percy twenty yards ahead of him, wildly barking at a squirrel halfway up the oak tree he’d hidden behind the evening before. Jack ran toward the schnoodle. As he was right at the point of reaching down to grab the dog’s leash, the squirrel jumped into a neighboring tree branch, and Percy took off after him.
“Wait. That’s not how to catch him,” Hint scolded as she caught up. “You have to be gentle. Just wait for him to stop chasing the squirrel. Then he’ll come back.”
“What if he doesn’t? I’m not taking any chances. Percy — get back here now,” he boomed out in a deep baritone.
People on the sidewalk turned to see who was making all the noise.”Here, boy.” Hint squatted beside Jack, speaking to Percy in a soft, low voice. “Come on, boy. Come back to me. Come on, sweetie. Here, Percy.”
The dog showed no sign of responding. Instead, he ran across the street as the squirrel leapt from tree branch to telephone pole then ran across the wire to the next pole.
“Percy, get over here now,” Jack shouted, running across the street after the dog.
“Don’t chase him. You’ll only make it worse,” she yelled.
Jack realized the dog was unlikely to come to him, since they’d not had a chance to form a bond. But someone had to do something. He glanced back at Hint on the other side of the street. She was sitting on her heels, her eyes closed. Was she meditating or something? She was in another world, apparently. A fairyland, no doubt.
“Hey, what are you doing? We’ve got a dog to catch. Come on,” he yelled. Turning back to the direction Percy had gone, he couldn’t see the dog at all. Meanwhile, the shadows were getting long. Soon it would be dark.
“That’s not the way to catch him. Stop scaring him off,” she huffed, getting to her feet.
“Then what do you suggest? Sitting there and wishing he’ll return?” He couldn’t believe it. Why was this loon falling to pieces when they needed to catch the dog now?
“I’m not ‘making wishes,’ jerk.” She glared at him, her eyes blazing. “I’m attracting him back to me, when he finally realizes he isn’t going to catch his squirrel.”
“Right. While you’re sitting there, I’ll go chase him down.” He turned on his heel and stormed off, fuming at being called a jerk. Why couldn’t she help him instead of just sitting there… like a jerk?
“You aren’t going to catch him that way,” she called after him, her voice indignant. “He doesn’t know you. He won’t respond to you yelling at him.”
“Yeah? Then why aren’t you trying to catch him yourself? He’ll respond to you. Isn’t he your Snuggle Bunny? Get off your duff and find him,” he roared.
Hint’s face blanched. Immediately, he regretted his outburst. Why didn’t women play fair? She could call him a jerk, but he couldn’t yell at her? That was unfair.
Then why did he feel like a heel?

****

“How do you know that name? Who told you that?” she demanded, outraged.
How had Jack known one of her private nicknames for Percy? It was almost as if he had spied on them. Standing up, she put her hands on her hips. He’d blown her best strategy for catching the dog. Now all she could do was call to Percy and hope he’d respond. But her neighborhood was not his home, and once he’d turned a few corners, he might not know how to retrace his steps.
She ran down the street in the direction he’d gone, as much to find him as to get away from the boorish man behind her, who would only scare the schnoodle further.
Turning the corner of Meadow Lane and Kraft Avenue, she peered down the street toward the fire station. A few houses stood on the other side of the street, behind which a small creek meandered down to the dog run. The dense woods where he’d gotten away from her the day before were that way, as well as the railroad tracks. She shuddered to think what might happen if he attempted to cross them.
“Percy, come back to me. Come back.” Of course, her voice sounded stressed and anxious.
Nervously, she looked over her shoulder to make sure Jack was nowhere within earshot. She finally spotted his tall frame at the other end of the street. As she made him out in the burgeoning twilight, he called for the dog in a loud, angry voice — exactly the wrong tone to get the canine to come back.
“Percy, boy. Snuggle Boy, come back to me. Come back, boy,” she sang out, trying to counteract the bad karma Jack was sending out behind her.
She checked the cemetery behind the firehouse then jogged down to the dog run. There, a handful of dog owners stood quietly, enjoying the remains of the year’s final day of spring.
“Have you seen a small black and gray schnoodle? I’m trying to find my friend’s dog,” she explained to a man and woman watching a yellow Labrador play with a wheat-colored terrier.
“Haven’t seen him.”
“Sorry.”
Was he in the woods? Or down by the river? Either possibility bode ill. Over the next half hour, she searched both locations. It was dark by the time she made her way back to the dog run by way of the stream. Her heart was heavy, thinking of how poorly she’d looked after her friend’s dog. What should she do next?
Why had that jerk shown up in the first place, with no idea of how to handle a dog, never mind dog-sit one? He hadn’t even known what the doggy bag dispenser had been and had fumbled trying to get the bag out of it, losing his grip on Percy’s leash. What a cretin.
Then she thought back to the day before when she herself had lost her grip on the schnoodle’s leash. It could happen to anyone. The trick was to get the dog to want to come back to her. She’d succeeded earlier, but this time Jack had ruined her chances of luring Percy back with his harsh, loud voice and threatening height. The dog didn’t know him from Adam and wasn’t going to respond to a tall, strange male yelling at him.
“Hint, hey, is that you? Any sign of him?” Jack’s voice called down to her from the bridge above, connecting the dog run to the town’s soccer field. He no longer sounded harsh, just tired and slightly abashed.
“It’s me. No sign of him. I looked in the woods.” Where I lost him earlier today. “And asked folks at the dog run, but nobody’s seen him.”
“We’ve got to decide what to do. Who do you call for a lost dog? Is there a town dogcatcher or something?”
“We should probably call the police.”
“Do you know what their number is?”
“Not offhand, but the police station is down by town hall, a block away from my building.”
“Let’s drop by.” He took her arm to help her up the embankment.
She didn’t resist. Upon reaching the bridge, a pent-up sigh escaped her. Warm, stinging tears welled up behind her eyes. She blinked quickly, trying to regain her composure.
But the events of the day had been too much for her. A small, low sob escaped her lips as she stared into the dark, gurgling stream below.
“I know how you feel,” he said.
“No, you don’t,” she shot back.
“Yes, I do.” He put a tentative hand on her shoulder.
“I don’t know what to do next,” she whispered. Yes you do. Get on the plane, go to your conference, impress the artistic director with your portfolio, and get the contract. What she needed to do didn’t jibe with what needed to be done now. Tears of frustration and pity slid down her face at the thought of Percy outside alone all night long. She brushed them away.
“I don’t either,” he whispered back.
“That doesn’t help.”
“Yes it does.” His voice was firm.
“How so?” She shook his hand from her shoulder.
“We’re both in the same boat,” he offered.
“I don’t want to be in your boat,” she retorted.
“Two people can bail out a boat faster than one. We’ll figure this out.”
The hand was back on her shoulder, warm and firm. Despite herself, she felt comforted.
“I’m supposed to be packing to get on a plane, not bailing out a boat.” She thought bitterly of her scheduled meeting on Thursday with Derek Simpson of Story Tales Press. How could she go to Punta Cana with Percy missing? “What are Nicole and Tom going to say when they find out their dog’s missing?”
“They’re not going to find out. We’ll find him,” he reassured her.
“Sure we will,” she said without conviction, fresh tears welling up. She brushed them away, angrily wiping her face. “What if we don’t?”
“Ye of little faith,” he responded, surprising her. “Come on. Let’s go over to the police station and see if they can help.”
The hand on her shoulder moved to her upper arm as he propelled her in the direction of town. She wanted to shrug it off, but she couldn’t. The firmness of his grip was too comforting. Against her will, she relaxed into the warm, muscular fingers and allowed him to guide her in the dark.

Love Stays True

July 10th, 2013

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!

Today’s Wild Card author is:

 

Martha Rogers

 

and the book:

 

Love Stays True
Realms (May 7, 2013)
***Special thanks to Althea Thompson for sending me a review copy.***

 

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

 

Martha Rogers’ novel Not on the Menu debuted on May 1, 2007, as a part of Sugar and Grits, a novella collection with DiAnn Mills, Janice Thompson, and Kathleen Y’Barbo. Her series Winds Across the Prairie debuted in 2010 with Becoming Lucy, Morning for Dove, Finding Becky, and Caroline’s Choice. Her other credits include stories in anthologies with Wayne Holmes, Karen Holmes, and Debra White Smith; several articles in Christian magazines; devotionals in six books of devotions; and eight Bible studies. Martha served as editor of a monthly newsletter for the writer’s organization Inspirational Writers Alive! for six years and is the state president. She is also the director for the annual Texas Christian Writer’s Conference and is a member of American Christian Fiction Writers, for whom she writes a weekly devotional.

Visit the author’s website.

SHORT BOOK DESCRIPTION:

Can Sallie and Manfred overcome the distance that the war has put between them and find love?

In April 1865, the day following the surrender at Appomattox, Manfred McDaniel Whiteman and his brother, Edward, are released in an exchange of prisoners. They are given a few provisions, and they begin a long journey to their home in Bayou Sara, Louisiana.

At home Sallie Dyer is waiting word of her beloved Manfred. Though just a young girl when Manfred left, Sallie has grown into a caring young woman who is determined to wait for her love—despite her father’s worries that she is wasting her life on someone who may never come home.

On their journey Manfred and his brother encounter storms and thieves and are even thrown in jail. Will he make the journey home before someone else claims Sallie’s hand?

Product Details:

List Price: $11.33

PublisherRealms (May 7, 2013)

LanguageEnglish

ISBN-101621362361

ISBN-13978-1621362364

Product Dimensions8.2 x 5.5 x 0.8 inches

ISLAND BREEZES

The war between the States was a cruel was that adversely affected nearly everyone, both North and South.

It seems as though one of the cruelest things was the not knowing. Not knowing if you were going to be caught in the midst of a battle. Not knowing w3hat was to become of you when your home and all you owned was destroyed. Not knowing where all your family members were. Not knowing if the soldiers in your family were dead or alive.

Sally hadn’t heard from the man she loved and hoped to marry since she saw him briefly the previous year when he was home on furlough. She’s waited for four long years during this terrible time. Now her father has begun pressuring her to move on with life.

Manfred and his brother, Edwin, are freed from prison at the end of the war, but have a long and sometimes treacherous journey from Maryland to their home in Lousiana. All Manfred can think about is getting back home and marry Sally. He doesn’t know he might be too late.

Ms Rogers based this book on the love story of some of her ancestors. I’m looking forward to the second book in The Homeward Journey series. There’s a little teaser in the back of this book, but the second book isn’t due out until January 2014. Unfortunately, I want it now.

 

AND NOW…THE FIRST CHAPTER:

Point Lookout, Maryland, Monday, April 10, 1865Cold air chilled his arms, and a sharp object poked at his cheek. Manfred Whiteman reached down to pull a ragged blanket up over his arms and brushed away the straw scratching his face. A few moments later a sudden brightness aroused him again. His lids opened to a slit. Slivers of sunlight peeked through the tiny windows and dispersed the shadows of the night.He shut his eyes against the sun’s rays, but sleep would not return. He lay still in the quiet of the new morning and sensed a difference in the air that settled over him like a cloak of peace. Raising his head, he glanced around the room. The same familiar stench of wounds, dirty hay, unwashed bodies, and death permeated the air, but in it all the difference vibrated. Something had happened, he could sense it, but nothing unusual appeared in the confines of the prison barracks.

After being captured in the Battle of Nashville in December, he, his younger brother Edwin, and other prisoners had made the long march from Nashville to Louisville, Kentucky. From there they were transferred to Camp Chase in Ohio. Then, in the first week of February, they had been loaded onto trains like cattle and sent to Point Lookout, Maryland, a prison housing nearly fifty thousand men. Upon their arrival the captured soldiers had been stripped of everything personal, and as the days progressed, hundreds of men died. Manfred mourned the loss of friends but thanked the Lord every day for sparing his life, as well as the life of his brother.

Edwin lay sleeping on the pallet next to him, curled on his side as usual. Others still slept, their snores filling the air with sound. No use in trying to sleep now. Manfred’s stomach rumbled with hunger, but most likely the only breakfast would be hard tack or biscuit.

Several weeks ago an officer with the rank of general had visited. For some reason the general had asked Manfred about the one thing he would most like to have. When Manfred answered he wanted his Bible, the man had been somewhat taken aback. Still, he’d managed to find the Bible and Manfred’s journal, which he returned.

Manfred now pulled that worn journal from beneath his dirty mat. The almost ragged book, his lifeline for the past three years, fell open. Manfred wrote.

April 10, 1865

Three more died the night before last. The nearly full moon shining through the windows gave me light to see. I took one man’s shoes and left him with my holey wornout ones. He won’t need shoes, but I will. Took his socks and another man’s for me and Edwin. God, I never dreamed I would do such a thing, but we are desperately in need. Please forgive me. Help Edwin and me to get out of here and get home safely. I so desperately need to see Sallie and my family.

The scrape of wood against wood echoed in the room. Union soldiers, making their usual morning inspection, checked for any who may have died during the night. Manfred shoved the journal under his mat just before the door thudded against the wall and the guards’ shoes clomped on the wooden floors. He turned on his side once again to feign sleep. The blunt toe of the sergeant’s boot kicked Manfred’s hip and sent a sharp pain through his leg. He grunted in response and raised his head to let the sergeant know he was alive. When the man passed, Manfred sat up on his mat and stretched his legs out in front of him to relieve the usual early-morning stiffness.

Others awakened, and their groans filled the air as they rose to sit on their bedding. Manfred waited for breakfast, not knowing if he would even get rations this morning. The guards exited carrying the bodies of the souls who didn’t make it through the night.

Manfred voiced a silent prayer for the boys and their families who would receive the news of the death of their loved ones. He bit his lip. He and Edwin had to survive. They had too much life to live, but then so had the ones just taken away. What if God chose not to spare him or Edwin? No, he wouldn’t think of that. Instead he filled his mind with Scripture verses memorized as a child. God’s Word stored in his heart gave him the comfort and hope he needed to survive each day.

A little later the guards returned and ordered them to the part of the cookhouse where they would eat what the cooks passed off as food. Manfred accepted the cup of what the men called “slop water” coffee and a hard biscuit that would have to suffice until they brought a lunch of greasy water soup. Weeks ago the putrid smells of death, the filth in the camp, and the lousy food sickened him, but now he barely noticed.

Manfred managed to eat half his biscuit and drink a few sips from his cup then leaned toward the man on his right. “Here, James. You take the rest of mine. You need it more than I do.”

The man clasped a trembling hand around the cup and reached for the biscuit with his other. A few drops sloshed over the rim. “Thank you, Manfred. You’re a true friend.” He stuffed the biscuit into his mouth and lifted the cup to his lips to gulp down the last dregs of liquid. With a nod to Manfred, the young soldier returned the cup.

After they were sent back to their quarters, Manfred breathed deeply and almost choked on the rancid air. What he wouldn’t give for a bath, shave, and haircut. A good meal wouldn’t hurt anything either. His nose had mostly numbed itself to his body odor, but dirt and scum became more visible every day. When he had tried to wash his shirt, the brackish water left stains he couldn’t remove.

When would this nightmare come to an end? A question unanswered for these four long months of marching, fighting, and incarceration. Too many lay ill and dying. The end had to come soon.

He glanced once again at his brother, who cushioned his head on his crossed palms with his eyes closed. Manfred reached over to touch the boy’s shoulder. “You all right, little brother?”

Edwin didn’t open his eyes. “Yeah, I’m okay. Just hungry. I dreamed of home last night and Bessie’s cooking. When I close my eyes, I can see her and Momma in the kitchen, Bessie up to her elbows in flour making biscuits and Momma stirring the fire and making grits.”

“Shh, brother, you’re making me hungry too.” Manfred pulled what was left of his jacket tighter about his thin body. “We’ve been captive four months, but it seems a lifetime. Home, our parents, and Sallie may as well be a million miles away.”

Edwin sat up and pounded his fist into the straw. “Yeah, and sometimes I think we’ll never get back there.” He stretched his legs out on his mat, hugging what passed for a pillow. “I sure pray I’ll get to see Peggy again soon.”

Manfred positioned his body to sit squarely on his mat. “Soon as we’re home, I’m asking Mr. Dyer for Sallie’s hand in marriage, that is, if she still wants me. No telling who she’s met since I’ve been gone.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that if I were you, big brother. Sallie loves you.” He smacked his fist into the open palm of his other hand. “I just want to be out of here and out there where the action is, fighting with Lee. They told us the Yanks are fighting Lee in Virginny, and that’s just across the river. Lee has to beat them Yanks. We’ll be hearing about it any day now. I just know it.”

Manfred simply nodded. He didn’t agree with his brother, but Edwin cared more about the war than Manfred. At this point Manfred had resigned himself to waiting out the war.

If only he could somehow communicate with Sallie and let her know he was alive. Almost a year had passed since he’d seen her last summer and six months since he’d been able to send a letter to her or received one. From his Bible he removed her last letter and opened it, being careful to handle it as little as possible. Already small holes appeared in the creases from his folding it so often. She had written from her grandfather’s home last fall before he’d gone to Nashville. He prayed her family was safe there in St. Francisville, Louisiana. He’d been at Port Hudson, Louisiana, two years ago and would have been involved in that skirmish in May, but he’d been among the ones in the brigade deployed elsewhere in March. Major General had been sure he had enough soldiers to turn back the siege, but that had not been the case, and Port Hudson fell into Union hands in early July.

That battle took place too close to his hometown of Bayou Sara and had even damaged Grace Church up at St. Francisville. He’d seen the damage on his furlough home. His two older brothers had been captured at Port Hudson, and Manfred had no idea where they were now.

St. Francisville may have been spared, but it had been a close call for Sallie’s grandparents and the other citizens of the small town. He held the worn paper to his lips. With God’s help he’d get home and claim Sallie for his bride.

The hair on the back of his neck bristled, and goose bumps popped out on his arms. The foreboding feeling from earlier wouldn’t leave and swept over him now even stronger, as though he sat on the edge of something powerful looming in the day ahead.

St. Francisville, Louisiana

Sallie Dyer sat at her dressing table running a brush through her mass of tangled curls. Tears blurred her image in the mirror, and she grimaced as the bristles caught in another snarl. She dropped the brush onto her lap.

“Lettie, what am I to do? Not knowing about Manfred is too painful to bear.” She scrunched a handful of auburn hair against her head. “Nothing’s going right. I can’t even brush my hair. I hate the war and . . . ” Her voice trailed off, and she dropped her gaze to the floor then turned toward Lettie. “What am I to do?”

The housemaid clucked her tongue and fluffed the pillows on the walnut four-poster bed. “I don’t know, Miss Sallie. I hate the war too. Too many are dyin’ out there.”

Lettie’s skirt swished as she crossed the room. She picked up the discarded brush and began smoothing out the mass of curls. “You know, Miss Sallie, you have the prettiest red hair in all of Louisiana.”

Sallie lifted her tear-stained eyes and found Lettie’s reflection in the mirror staring back.

“You got to have courage. God is takin’ care of Mr. Manfred.”

“Oh, but the waiting is so hard.” Sallie swiped her fingers across her wet cheeks. In a letter last fall Manfred had written that he was headed to Nashville. Stories coming back from that area spoke of the volumes of soldiers killed at Franklin and then up at Nashville in December. Reports said the surviving young men had been taken prisoner, but no one knew to which prison.

“Lettie, do you truly believe Manfred will come home?”

“Yes, Miss Sallie, I do, and when he comes, you’ll be ready and waitin’.” In a few minutes Lettie’s skilled fingers had tamed the unruly ringlets and secured them with a silver clasp at Sallie’s neck.

“Thank you. I’m all out of sorts this morning. Here it is April, and I haven’t heard a word since November.” Her fears tumbled back into her mind. “Too many have died, and I don’t want Manfred . . . ” She couldn’t utter the words. Saying them might make them true.

She pressed her lips together and pushed a few stray tendrils from her face. She had to get her fears under control. She once believed God would give her the peace He promised, but no matter how hard she prayed, no answers came. God had abandoned her on that awful day last week when she had killed that young man. He hadn’t protected her that afternoon, and now her prayers fell on deaf ears.

Lettie secured the wayward strands with the others under the clips. “Now, Miss Sallie, I done told you we got to believe they’re alive and comin’ home. We can’t do nothin’ about the war. Your mama and grandma need you to be strong. When Mr. Manfred gets home, he’ll be courtin’ you right proper like. You’ll see.”

Lettie must be more concerned than she let on. She only slipped back to the dialect of her family when worried. Sallie turned and wrapped her arms around the dark-skinned girl’s thin waist. “I want to believe you, I really do, but it’s almost more than I can bear.”

After blinking her eyes to clear them, Sallie stared into the dark brown eyes of her friend. Lettie had been with Sallie since childhood, and they shared so much life with each other. If it had not been for Lettie and her mother, Sallie might never have regained her sanity after the incident in Mississippi that brought them all to St. Francisville.

A chill passed through her body at the memory of the day they had fled from their home. Sallie’s last act of defense would be one that would stay with her the rest of her life. Even now she could see the young soldier with the red oozing from his chest. It was the first time she’d ever seen a dead person, and now, only a week later, the image would not leave her, fresh as the day it happened.

The young servant’s brow furrowed, and she pursed her lips. “Are you thinking about what happened back home?”

How well Lettie knew her. Sallie sniffed and blinked away the tears.

“Then you best stop it. What you did had to be done, and we both know it. You saved all our lives.”

It didn’t matter that Lettie spoke true. The images of war could not be erased from Sallie’s mind. “I just want this war to end.”

“Well now, I want that too, but it’s all in God’s hands. But think how Mr. Charles and Mr. Henry got back from the war only a few weeks ago. Theo’s back home too, so you have to believe the other two will come home before long.”

True. Of the five Whiteman brothers, only Edwin and Manfred remained unaccounted for. Charles and Henry Whiteman had been taken prisoner at Port Hudson but exchanged and sent home. Even Theo now sat safe at home after his last escapade revealed him too young to be in the army. She must have hope for Manfred and Edwin.

Lettie lifted the edge of her white apron and patted Sallie’s cheeks dry. “There now, Miss Sallie. It’s all goin’ to be fine. It’ll all be over soon. I just know it. I feel it in my bones. Besides, Easter’s a comin’, and that means a new season, new life, and new hope.”

“You and Mama, the eternal optimists, but I love you for it. You always know how to make me feel better.” Sallie breathed deeply and reached for a green ribbon to secure in her hair.

She would get through this day just as she had all the ones since Manfred left. Then the memory of what she overheard between her father and mother last night drained away her determination. She peered up at Lettie. “I need to tell you something.” Sallie squeezed the hand now clasped in hers.

At Lettie’s solemn nod Sallie took a deep breath and revealed her worry. “Last night I couldn’t sleep, and I heard Papa come in from his trip back to Woodville. I sneaked downstairs to see him, but he was in the parlor talking to Grandpa.”

Sallie’s lips trembled. “Our house in Woodville is ruined. The Yanks ransacked the place and took all kinds of things from our home. Papa said they’d left it in shambles. Mama’s beautiful things. Oh, Lettie, it’s just terrible.” After Sallie and the other women had fled the land, Papa and her brothers stayed behind until the next day, then joined the rest of the family in St. Francisville. He’d gone back to Woodville a few days ago, a twenty-five mile journey, when he heard the Yankees had moved on north.

Lettie pressed her hand against her cheek, her eyes open wide. “Oh, I’m sorry. Your poor mama. It’s so sad. No wonder you’re feelin’ blue this morning.”

Sallie squeezed Lettie’s hand again and for the next few moments sat in silence. Lettie understood her better than anyone else. The servant girl knew her deepest secrets and could be trusted to keep them.

“You are such a comfort. I don’t know how I’d get through these days without you to share my worries.”

Lettie patted Sallie’s hand. “We’ve been together too long and been through too much for me not to be with you.” She stepped back. “Come, now, let’s get you dressed. Your family will be waitin’, and you know your grandpa doesn’t like cold eggs or tardy children, even if you are his favorite.”

That statement brought a bit of smile. She did love Grandpa Woodruff, but he could be gruff when the occasion arose. She hastened over to a bench by the bed and picked up a green and white print cotton dress. Lettie grasped it and slipped her arms up inside it, and Sallie held up her arms.

“I believe Mama invited the Whiteman family for supper one night soon. I’m anxious to speak to Manfred’s mother. Perhaps she’s heard from him.”

The dress billowed about her as Lettie placed it over Sallie’s shoulders. She pulled the bodice up over arms and let the full skirt fall down over her hips and the myriad number of petticoats. At least Mama and Grandma didn’t require her to wear a corset or hoops with her day dresses. Lettie’s nimble fingers went to work on the buttons lined up the back.

“I think you lost more weight, missy. This dress is looser than it was last week. You sure don’t even need your corset. You have to eat more.” She peered over Sallie’s shoulder into the mirror and shook her head.

Looking over her shoulder, Sallie smoothed the dress around her waist. She gathered the wrinkles from the excess fabric. “It is big, but I’m just not hungry.” At Lettie’s stern gaze she added, “But I’ll try to eat more.”

Lettie sniffed the air. “If that aroma coming from the kitchen is what I think it is, my mammy’s ham and eggs should do the trick. She’ll have biscuits and gravy too.”

Sallie nodded. “I promise I’ll eat some of everything this morning.” A promise she would try to keep, especially with her grandmother’s and Flora’s cooking being so delicious.

The two girls locked arms and walked down the stairs together. At the bottom Lettie headed for the kitchen to help her mother. Sallie forced a smile to her lips and went into the dining room to join her family for breakfast.

A Wedding for Julia

July 9th, 2013

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!

Today’s Wild Card author is:

 

Vannetta Chapman

 

and the book:

 

A Wedding for Julia
Harvest House Publishers (July 1, 2013)
***Special thanks to Ginger Chen for sending me a review copy.***

 

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

 

Vannetta Chapman has published more than 100 articles in Christian family magazines. She discovered her love for the Amish while researching her grandfather’s birthplace in Albion, Pennsylvania. Vannetta is a multi-award-winning member of Romance Writers of America. She was a teacher for 15 years and currently resides in the Texas Hill country. Her first two inspirational novels—A Simple Amish Christmas and Falling to Pieces—were Christian Book Distributors bestsellers.

Visit the author’s website.

SHORT BOOK DESCRIPTION:

Julia Beechy’s dream of opening a café is shattered when her mother says she must marry or move to live with distant family upon her mother’s imminent death. Caleb Zook thought he would never marry, but can he help this beautiful, sad woman? Is this God’s plan for his future?

Product Details:

List Price: $8.79

PublisherHarvest House Publishers (July 1, 2013)

LanguageEnglish

ISBN-100736946160

ISBN-13978-0736946162

ISLAND BREEZES

I really thought I was going to make it all the way through a book without needing tissues, but towards the end, the tear ducts began working.

I’m glad we got to go back to Pebble Creek and the friends we had already met there.

I’m sure Julia must have felt betrayed by her parents, but Caleb came along to help her out.

This story of their relationship and what became of it touched my heart. I really hope Ms Chapman plans to take us back to Pebble Creek again – maybe when Sharon returns in the spring.

AND NOW…THE FIRST CHAPTER:

ProloguePebble Creek, Wisconsin

March

Julia Beechy stood next to the open grave and prayed the wind would stop howling for one moment. Next to her, she could feel her mother trembling. Ada Beechy had turned seventy-eight the previous week, two days before Julia’s father had passed. It would have been perfectly acceptable for her mother to sit, especially in light of the mist, the cold, and the wind.

Ada Beechy had no intention of sitting.

But Julia did shuffle one step closer to her mother, so that their sleeves were touching, as the bishop began to read the words to the hymn Ada had requested—“Where the Roses Never Fade.” Ada had stared out the window of their kitchen, her attention completely focused on the rosebushes, which had yet to bud, while members from their church sat beside Jonathan’s body in the next room. She’d gazed at the bushes and made her request.

Bishop Atlee had nodded, ran his fingers through his beard, and said, “Of course.”

Julia tried to focus on the bishop’s words as the men—the pallbearers—covered the plain coffin with dirt. How many shovelfuls would it take? Would Bishop Atlee have to read the hymn twice? Why was she worrying about such things?

David King stepped back, and Julia realized they were finished. Bishop Atlee bowed his head, signaling it was time for them to silently pray the words from the passage in Matthew, chapter six, verses nine through thirteen—their Lord’s prayer. Julia’s mind formed the words, but her heart remained numb.

“Amen,” Bishop Atlee said, in a voice as gentle as her mother’s hand on her arm.

The large crowd began to move. Words of comfort flowed over and around her. There had been a steady coming and going of people through the house to view her father’s body for the entire three days. Julia had become used to her privacy as she cared for her parents alone. The large amounts of food and the people had surprised her. Some of them she saw at church, but others came from neighboring districts. Those she barely knew.

She and Ada turned to go, for their buggy was marked with a number one on the side. The white chalk against the black buggy caused Julia’s heart to twist. They had led the procession to the cemetery. They would lead the gathering of friends away from the graveside.

But Julia realized she wasn’t ready to leave.

She pulled back, needing to look one more time. Needing to swipe at her tears so she could read the words clearly.

Jonathan Beechy

11-3-1928

3-6-2012

83 years, 4 months, 3 days

Now she and her mother were alone.

Chapter 1

Tuesday morning, six months later

Julia glanced around the kitchen as she waited for her mother’s egg to boil. Everything was clean and orderly. Why wouldn’t it be? It was only the two of them. Except for the days when she baked, there was little to do. Julia was hoping that would change soon, and she meant to talk to Ada about it. Today would be a good day. She’d put it off long enough.

The water started to boil, and she began counting in her mind. Three minutes made for the perfect egg, at least for Ada it did. There were few things her mother could stomach on the days she wasn’t well, but a soft-boiled egg was one.

Julia walked around the kitchen as she counted, and that was when she noticed the calendar. She’d failed to flip the page to September. Where had the last six months gone?

Six months since her father had died.

Six months of Ada’s health continuing to fail.

Six months that Julia had continued to postpone her dream.

She flipped the page, smiled at the photograph of harvested hay, and vowed that today she would speak with her mother. Returning to the stove, she scooped out the egg with a spoon and placed it in a bowl of water to cool. Slicing a piece of bread from the fresh loaf she’d made yesterday, she laid it on a plate and added a dab of butter and apple preserves on the side. She set the plate on a tray, which already held a tall glass of fresh milk. Picking it all up, she turned to walk to her mother’s room and nearly dropped the tray when she saw Ada standing in the doorway.

“I’m not an invalid, and I don’t need to eat in my bedroom.”

She weighed a mere eighty-nine pounds. Julia had brought in the scale from the barn last week and confirmed her fears. Her mother was losing weight. She was also shrinking. Ada now stood a mere five foot four inches.

Why was it that the body shrank as it grew older? It was almost as if it needed to conserve its energy for more important things. Her mother had attempted to braid her hair and tuck it under her kapp, but the arthritis that crippled her hands made the task difficult. The result was snow-white hair sprouting in various directions and a kapp tipped slightly to the back of her head. She also hadn’t been able to correctly pin her dark green dress.

In spite of her appearance, the blue eyes behind her small glasses twinkled with good humor and complete clarity. Her mother’s health might be failing, but today her mind was sharp. Julia was grateful. Some days sporadic bouts of dementia robbed her even of that.

“Mamm, I don’t mind bringing it to you.”

Ada waved her hand, dismissing the notion. “When I’m too feeble to get out of bed, I’ll be praying the Lord sees fit to take me home.”

Julia didn’t think it was a good time to remind her she’d stayed in bed three days last week. Ada remembered well enough. She simply chose to ignore the bad days.

“Let me help you.”

Setting the tray on the kitchen table, Julia was relieved to see that at least her mother was using the cane Dr. Hanson had provided. He’d suggested a walker, but Ada had insisted “the Lord was her strength.” The cane was a compromise.

Julia inwardly winced as she looked at her mother’s hands. Some mornings the crippling arthritis was better than others. This morning her hands—wrinkled, and spotted with age—resembled claws. She wondered how her mother would be able to pick up the utensils to eat. She was tempted to offer to feed her, but the last time she’d suggested that had earned her a twenty-minute lecture on self-sufficiency.

Ada must have noticed her staring. Patting her daughter’s arm, she murmured, “I know the Lord is always with me. I will not be shaken, for He is right beside me.”

“Indeed.”

She bowed her head as her mother prayed over her breakfast. While Ada thanked God for her food, Julia prayed for strength and wisdom.

Was today the right day? And how best to broach the topic? Why were her palms sweating?

She waited until Ada had finished the egg and eaten half the bread. Some part of her wanted to believe that if her dream came true, Ada would improve. Another part knew it was only a matter of time until she’d be left alone in the big two-story house beside Pebble Creek.

“My baked goods have been selling well at Lydia and Aaron’s shop.”

“Ya. That’s wunderbaar.”

Julia nodded but vowed in her heart to push forward with her plan. She’d thought perhaps she should wait until her mother’s health improved, but after the visit with Doc Hanson last week, she knew that wasn’t going to happen. It was imperative she not wait until winter. The tourist crowds came during the summer and stayed through the fall foliage. If she was going to do this, she needed to do it now.

“Mamm, I’d like to expand my cooking business.”

“You don’t have a business.” Ada fumbled with the glass of milk, and they both reached to settle it. “You have a hobby.”

Rising and walking across the room, Julia fetched the herbal ointment the doctor had recommended. When she opened the jar, the smell of mint balm filled the kitchen. Pulling her mother’s left hand across the table, she worked the cream into the skin, rubbing gently with her fingers to massage the muscles until they were straightened.

“I’d like to make it a business, though.” She looked up, peering directly into her mother’s eyes.

Why was this so hard? Why was she so afraid Ada would say no?

She was thirty-seven years old, and she was still worried whether her mother would approve of her plans. “I’d like to open a café here in the house.”

Ada didn’t speak as Julia reached for her right hand and began rubbing the ointment into it. When she’d finished, her mother touched her cheek, leaving the faint scent of mint and summer.

“Dear Julia, how can you open a café in these rooms if you won’t be living here?” Behind the glasses were blue eyes filled with calmness, sadness, and determination.

“I don’t understand—”

“Do you think your dat and I would leave you here after we’ve gone on? Leave you alone?”

“But—”

“Nein, Julia. It wouldn’t be proper. It wouldn’t be right.”

“What…” Julia’s heart was racing so fast she felt as if she’d run from the creek. She didn’t know which question to ask first. “How…”

“We always hoped you might marry. Your father spoke to you about this on several occasions.”

“Ya, but—”

“I know your reasons, and I even understand them. The fact remains that you can’t live here alone once I’m gone, which according to Doc Hanson will be relatively soon.”

Julia jumped up from her chair, walked to the kitchen counter, and glanced outside. Her gaze fell on the rose bushes. They still held some of summer’s blooms—a deep, vibrant red.

“So you’re deciding I have to leave? Just like that? I have no say in it at all?” Her voice rose with each question.

“You’ll go to Pennsylvania. Back to live with my family.”

“I don’t even know those people.”

“They’re family, nonetheless. You’ve exchanged letters with them for years.”

“This is my home, mamm. You would kick me out of my home?”

Ada bowed her head. She didn’t speak for the space of nearly three minutes—long enough to boil another egg. When she looked up, her words were gentle, but they still made Julia want to scream. “God is our refuge and strength, dochder.”

“The Psalms are not the answer to this!”

“Always you can find the answers in Gotte’s Word.”

Julia closed her eyes and forced her emotions to calm down. When she looked at her mother again, she saw the same quiet, loving woman who had been beside her every day of her life. What she recognized, in her mother’s eyes, was kindness—and it confused her as much as the decree she had just issued.

“There’s no changing your mind?”

“Nein. The papers were drawn up before your dat passed. It’s why we agreed to sell the pastureland to Mr. and Mrs. Elliott. This home will be sold when I pass, and the money will be put in a trust for you, to help support you the rest of your life—”

“Support me.”

“On the condition you live in Pennsylvania with my family.”

“Why are you telling me this now?” Julia’s voice was a whisper. How could her life have taken such a catastrophic turn? When she’d slipped out of bed this morning, she never would have imagined that her days in this home, her days living beside Pebble Creek, were numbered.

It was true she hadn’t been overly social. She couldn’t remember the last singing she’d been to, but then she was not a girl. She was a woman.

Instead she’d waited. She’d done what a good daughter should do, followed all the rules, and waited. For what? So she could be turned out of her home. So she could be told once more what to do.

It wasn’t fair.

And she hadn’t seen it coming. She had never expected such an answer. She had never dreamed her mother and her father—she mustn’t forget he had agreed to this plan—would betray her this way.

No, she’d been busy designing a café in the bottom floor of their home. Where should she put the tables she would purchase from David King? What type of sign would best attract customers? What would be the best location for it? Should she advertise in the Budget? What design should she use for the menus?

None of those things mattered if she would be living in Pennsylvania.

“Why now?” she repeated.

“Why? Because you asked.” Her mother stood, gripped her cane, and shuffled out of the room.

Leaving Julia alone, staring out at the last of the crimson roses.

Faith Working in Love

July 7th, 2013

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Owe no one anything, except to love one another; for the one who loves another has fulfilled the law.

The commandments, “You shall not commit adultery; You shall not murder; You shall not steal; You shall not covet”; and any other commandment, are summed up in this word, “Love your neighbor as yourself.”

Love does no wrong to a neighbor; therefore, love is the fulfilling of the law.

Romans 13:8-10

Small Town Girl

July 6th, 2013

Small Town Girl
9780800721848
By Ann H. Gabhart

Bestselling author Ann Gabhart weaves a timeless story of love, sacrifice and longing that will grip the heart and stir the spirit.  In her gentle and textured style, Gabhart takes the reader back to a time when days moved slowly and life was simple.  A world that was about to change forever.

In the autumn of 1941, rumors of war whisper through Rosey Corner.  The town waits in anticipation as if holding its breath.  But for Kate Merritt, it seems life is letting out a prolonged sigh.  As Kate watches her sister marry the man Kate has loved since she was fifteen, her heart is silently breaking.  And even the attentions of handsome best man Jay Tanner can’t draw her interest.

Then suddenly, Pearl Harbor changes everything.  Kate’s friends are rushing to get married before the boys go off to war.  The newspapers talk of women making airplanes and bombs.  Everyone in town begins rolling bandages, planting victory gardens and collecting scrap metal.  Kate finds herself drawn to Jay in surprising ways, and when he enlists she can hardly breathe worrying about him getting killed.  Could she truly be in love with him?  And if she is, will she ever see him again?
Fans of Angel Sister will be thrilled to see Kate Merritt all grown up.  New readers will find that Gabhart tells a beautiful story that will touch their hearts and win their loyalty.

ISLAND BREEZES

It’s good to be back in Rosey Corner with the Merritts and their extended family.

Kate thinks she’s in love with her sister’s fiancé. That is, until his best man shows up.

It takes Uncle Graham and Jay awhile to break down the barriers to Kate’s hear.

But life is not all rosy in Rosey Corner. It seems to be a constant struggle as Jay tries to win Kate’s heart.

Both war and Kate’s lack of trust brings pain and isolation to the two. It looks as if their dreams are shattered.

And yes, you’ll need those tissues before you finish this book.

This is the second book set in Rosey Corner, but it is a good stand alone read. It’s been good to revisit this community and it’s inhabitants. I certainly hope Ms Gabhart takes us back there again.

***A special thank you to Donna Hausler for providing a review copy.***

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Ann H. Gabhart is the bestselling author of several novels, including Angel Sister, Words Spoken True, The Outsider, The Believer, The Seeker, The Blessed and The Gifted. She lives with her husband a mile from where she was born in rural Kentucky. Find out more at www.annhgabhart.com.

Revell, a division of Baker Publishing Group, offers practical books that bring the Christian faith to everyday life.  They publish resources from a variety of well-known brands and authors, including their partnership with MOPS (Mothers of Preschoolers) and Hungry Planet.

Available July 2013 at your favorite bookseller from Revell, a division of Baker Publishing Group.

The Way We Were

July 4th, 2013

american-flag-july-4th-woman-victorian-postcard

There’s an excellent post here about limited government. Please check it out and let me know what you think.

We The People

July 4th, 2013

constitution

Constitution for the United States of America

We the People of the United States, in Order to form a more perfect Union, establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common defence, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for the United States of America.

Article. I.

Section. 1. All legislative Powers herein granted shall be vested in a Congress of the United States, which shall consist of a Senate and House of Representatives.

Section. 2. The House of Representatives shall be composed of Members chosen every second Year by the People of the several States, and the Electors in each State shall have the Qualifications requisite for Electors of the most numerous Branch of the State Legislature.

No Person shall be a Representative who shall not have attained to the Age of twenty five Years, and been seven Years a Citizen of the United States, and who shall not, when elected, be an Inhabitant of that State in which he shall be chosen.

Representatives and direct Taxes shall be apportioned among the several States which may be included within this Union, according to their respective Numbers, which shall be determined by adding to the whole Number of free Persons, including those bound to Service for a Term of Years, and excluding Indians not taxed, three fifths of all other Persons [Modified by Amendment XIV]. The actual Enumeration shall be made within three Years after the first Meeting of the Congress of the United States, and within every subsequent Term of ten Years, in such Manner as they shall by Law direct. The Number of Representatives shall not exceed one for every thirty Thousand, but each State shall have at Least one Representative; and until such enumeration shall be made, the State of New Hampshire shall be entitled to chuse three, Massachusetts eight, Rhode-Island and Providence Plantations one, Connecticut five, New-York six, New Jersey four, Pennsylvania eight, Delaware one, Maryland six, Virginia ten, North Carolina five, South Carolina five, and Georgia three.

When vacancies happen in the Representation from any State, the Executive Authority thereof shall issue Writs of Election to fill such Vacancies.

The House of Representatives shall chuse their Speaker and other Officers; and shall have the sole Power of Impeachment.

Section. 3. The Senate of the United States shall be composed of two Senators from each State, chosen by the Legislature thereof [Modified by Amendment XVII], for six Years; and each Senator shall have one Vote.

Immediately after they shall be assembled in Consequence of the first Election, they shall be divided as equally as may be into three Classes. The Seats of the Senators of the first Class shall be vacated at the Expiration of the second Year, of the second Class at the Expiration of the fourth Year, and of the third Class at the Expiration of the sixth Year, so that one third may be chosen every second Year; and if Vacancies happen by Resignation, or otherwise, during the Recess of the Legislature of any State, the Executive thereof may make temporary Appointments until the next Meeting of the Legislature, which shall then fill such Vacancies [Modified by Amendment XVII].

No Person shall be a Senator who shall not have attained to the Age of thirty Years, and been nine Years a Citizen of the United States, and who shall not, when elected, be an Inhabitant of that State for which he shall be chosen.

The Vice President of the United States shall be President of the Senate, but shall have no Vote, unless they be equally divided.

The Senate shall chuse their other Officers, and also a President pro tempore, in the Absence of the Vice President, or when he shall exercise the Office of President of the United States.

The Senate shall have the sole Power to try all Impeachments. When sitting for that Purpose, they shall be on Oath or Affirmation. When the President of the United States is tried, the Chief Justice shall preside: And no Person shall be convicted without the Concurrence of two thirds of the Members present.

Judgment in Cases of Impeachment shall not extend further than to removal from Office, and disqualification to hold and enjoy any Office of honor, Trust or Profit under the United States: but the Party convicted shall nevertheless be liable and subject to Indictment, Trial, Judgment and Punishment, according to Law.

Section. 4. The Times, Places and Manner of holding Elections for Senators and Representatives, shall be prescribed in each State by the Legislature thereof; but the Congress may at any time by Law make or alter such Regulations, except as to the Places of chusing Senators.

The Congress shall assemble at least once in every Year, and such Meeting shall be on the first Monday in December [Modified by Amendment XX], unless they shall by Law appoint a different Day.

Section. 5. Each House shall be the Judge of the Elections, Returns and Qualifications of its own Members, and a Majority of each shall constitute a Quorum to do Business; but a smaller Number may adjourn from day to day, and may be authorized to compel the Attendance of absent Members, in such Manner, and under such Penalties as each House may provide.

Each House may determine the Rules of its Proceedings, punish its Members for disorderly Behaviour, and, with the Concurrence of two thirds, expel a Member.

Each House shall keep a Journal of its Proceedings, and from time to time publish the same, excepting such Parts as may in their Judgment require Secrecy; and the Yeas and Nays of the Members of either House on any question shall, at the Desire of one fifth of those Present, be entered on the Journal.

Neither House, during the Session of Congress, shall, without the Consent of the other, adjourn for more than three days, nor to any other Place than that in which the two Houses shall be sitting.

Section. 6. The Senators and Representatives shall receive a Compensation for their Services, to be ascertained by Law, and paid out of the Treasury of the United States. They shall in all Cases, except Treason, Felony and Breach of the Peace, be privileged from Arrest during their Attendance at the Session of their respective Houses, and in going to and returning from the same; and for any Speech or Debate in either House, they shall not be questioned in any other Place.

No Senator or Representative shall, during the Time for which he was elected, be appointed to any civil Office under the Authority of the United States, which shall have been created, or the Emoluments whereof shall have been encreased during such time; and no Person holding any Office under the United States, shall be a Member of either House during his Continuance in Office.

Section. 7. All Bills for raising Revenue shall originate in the House of Representatives; but the Senate may propose or concur with Amendments as on other Bills.

Every Bill which shall have passed the House of Representatives and the Senate, shall, before it become a Law, be presented to the President of the United States; If he approve he shall sign it, but if not he shall return it, with his Objections to that House in which it shall have originated, who shall enter the Objections at large on their Journal, and proceed to reconsider it. If after such Reconsideration two thirds of that House shall agree to pass the Bill, it shall be sent, together with the Objections, to the other House, by which it shall likewise be reconsidered, and if approved by two thirds of that House, it shall become a Law. But in all such Cases the Votes of both Houses shall be determined by yeas and Nays, and the Names of the Persons voting for and against the Bill shall be entered on the Journal of each House respectively. If any Bill shall not be returned by the President within ten Days (Sundays excepted) after it shall have been presented to him, the Same shall be a Law, in like Manner as if he had signed it, unless the Congress by their Adjournment prevent its Return, in which Case it shall not be a Law.

Every Order, Resolution, or Vote to which the Concurrence of the Senate and House of Representatives may be necessary (except on a question of Adjournment) shall be presented to the President of the United States; and before the Same shall take Effect, shall be approved by him, or being disapproved by him, shall be repassed by two thirds of the Senate and House of Representatives, according to the Rules and Limitations prescribed in the Case of a Bill.

Section. 8. The Congress shall have Power To lay and collect Taxes, Duties, Imposts and Excises, to pay the Debts and provide for the common Defence and general Welfare of the United States; but all Duties, Imposts and Excises shall be uniform throughout the United States;

To borrow Money on the credit of the United States;

To regulate Commerce with foreign Nations, and among the several States, and with the Indian Tribes;

To establish an uniform Rule of Naturalization, and uniform Laws on the subject of Bankruptcies throughout the United States;

To coin Money, regulate the Value thereof, and of foreign Coin, and fix the Standard of Weights and Measures;

To provide for the Punishment of counterfeiting the Securities and current Coin of the United States;

To establish Post Offices and post Roads;

To promote the Progress of Science and useful Arts, by securing for limited Times to Authors and Inventors the exclusive Right to their respective Writings and Discoveries;

To constitute Tribunals inferior to the supreme Court;

To define and punish Piracies and Felonies committed on the high Seas, and Offences against the Law of Nations;

To declare War, grant Letters of Marque and Reprisal, and make Rules concerning Captures on Land and Water;

To raise and support Armies, but no Appropriation of Money to that Use shall be for a longer Term than two Years;

To provide and maintain a Navy;

To make Rules for the Government and Regulation of the land and naval Forces;

To provide for calling forth the Militia to execute the Laws of the Union, suppress Insurrections and repel Invasions;

To provide for organizing, arming, and disciplining, the Militia, and for governing such Part of them as may be employed in the Service of the United States, reserving to the States respectively, the Appointment of the Officers, and the Authority of training the Militia according to the discipline prescribed by Congress;

To exercise exclusive Legislation in all Cases whatsoever, over such District (not exceeding ten Miles square) as may, by Cession of particular States, and the Acceptance of Congress, become the Seat of the Government of the United States, and to exercise like Authority over all Places purchased by the Consent of the Legislature of the State in which the Same shall be, for the Erection of Forts, Magazines, Arsenals, dock-Yards, and other needful Buildings; — And

To make all Laws which shall be necessary and proper for carrying into Execution the foregoing Powers, and all other Powers vested by this Constitution in the Government of the United States, or in any Department or Officer thereof.

Section. 9. The Migration or Importation of such Persons as any of the States now existing shall think proper to admit, shall not be prohibited by the Congress prior to the Year one thousand eight hundred and eight, but a Tax or duty may be imposed on such Importation, not exceeding ten dollars for each Person.

The Privilege of the Writ of Habeas Corpus shall not be suspended, unless when in Cases of Rebellion or Invasion the public Safety may require it.

No Bill of Attainder or ex post facto Law shall be passed.

No Capitation, or other direct, Tax shall be laid, unless in Proportion to the Census or Enumeration herein before directed to be taken.

No Tax or Duty shall be laid on Articles exported from any State.

No Preference shall be given by any Regulation of Commerce or Revenue to the Ports of one State over those of another; nor shall Vessels bound to, or from, one State, be obliged to enter, clear, or pay Duties in another.

No Money shall be drawn from the Treasury, but in Consequence of Appropriations made by Law; and a regular Statement and Account of the Receipts and Expenditures of all public Money shall be published from time to time.

No Title of Nobility shall be granted by the United States: And no Person holding any Office of Profit or Trust under them, shall, without the Consent of the Congress, accept of any present, Emolument, Office, or Title, of any kind whatever, from any King, Prince, or foreign State.

Section. 10. No State shall enter into any Treaty, Alliance, or Confederation; grant Letters of Marque and Reprisal; coin Money; emit Bills of Credit; make any Thing but gold and silver Coin a Tender in Payment of Debts; pass any Bill of Attainder, ex post facto Law, or Law impairing the Obligation of Contracts, or grant any Title of Nobility.

No State shall, without the Consent of the Congress, lay any Imposts or Duties on Imports or Exports, except what may be absolutely necessary for executing it’s inspection Laws; and the net Produce of all Duties and Imposts, laid by any State on Imports or Exports, shall be for the Use of the Treasury of the United States; and all such Laws shall be subject to the Revision and Controul of the Congress.

No State shall, without the Consent of Congress, lay any Duty of Tonnage, keep Troops, or Ships of War in time of Peace, enter into any Agreement or Compact with another State, or with a foreign Power, or engage in War, unless actually invaded, or in such imminent Danger as will not admit of delay.

Article. II.

Section. 1. The executive Power shall be vested in a President of the United States of America. He shall hold his Office during the Term of four Years, and, together with the Vice President, chosen for the same Term, be elected, as follows:

Each State shall appoint, in such Manner as the Legislature thereof may direct, a Number of Electors, equal to the whole Number of Senators and Representatives to which the State may be entitled in the Congress: but no Senator or Representative, or Person holding an Office of Trust or Profit under the United States, shall be appointed an Elector.

The Electors shall meet in their respective States, and vote by Ballot for two Persons, of whom one at least shall not be an Inhabitant of the same State with themselves. And they shall make a List of all the Persons voted for, and of the Number of Votes for each; which List they shall sign and certify, and transmit sealed to the Seat of the Government of the United States, directed to the President of the Senate. The President of the Senate shall, in the Presence of the Senate and House of Representatives, open all the Certificates, and the Votes shall then be counted. The Person having the greatest Number of Votes shall be the President, if such Number be a Majority of the whole Number of Electors appointed; and if there be more than one who have such Majority, and have an equal Number of Votes, then the House of Representatives shall immediately chuse by Ballot one of them for President; and if no Person have a Majority, then from the five highest on the List the said House shall in like Manner chuse the President. But in chusing the President, the Votes shall be taken by States, the Representation from each State having one Vote; a quorum for this Purpose shall consist of a Member or Members from two thirds of the States, and a Majority of all the States shall be necessary to a Choice. In every Case, after the Choice of the President, the Person having the greatest Number of Votes of the Electors shall be the Vice President. But if there should remain two or more who have equal Votes, the Senate shall chuse from them by Ballot the Vice President [Modified by Amendment XII].

The Congress may determine the Time of chusing the Electors, and the Day on which they shall give their Votes; which Day shall be the same throughout the United States.

No Person except a natural born Citizen, or a Citizen of the United States, at the time of the Adoption of this Constitution, shall be eligible to the Office of President; neither shall any Person be eligible to that Office who shall not have attained to the Age of thirty five Years, and been fourteen Years a Resident within the United States.

In Case of the Removal of the President from Office, or of his Death, Resignation, or Inability to discharge the Powers and Duties of the said Office, the Same shall devolve on the Vice President, and the Congress may by Law provide for the Case of Removal, Death, Resignation or Inability, both of the President and Vice President, declaring what Officer shall then act as President, and such Officer shall act accordingly, until the Disability be removed, or a President shall be elected [Modified by Amendment XXV].

The President shall, at stated Times, receive for his Services, a Compensation, which shall neither be increased nor diminished during the Period for which he shall have been elected, and he shall not receive within that Period any other Emolument from the United States, or any of them.

Before he enter on the Execution of his Office, he shall take the following Oath or Affirmation: — “I do solemnly swear (or affirm) that I will faithfully execute the Office of President of the United States, and will to the best of my Ability, preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States.”

Section. 2. The President shall be Commander in Chief of the Army and Navy of the United States, and of the Militia of the several States, when called into the actual Service of the United States; he may require the Opinion, in writing, of the principal Officer in each of the executive Departments, upon any Subject relating to the Duties of their respective Offices, and he shall have Power to grant Reprieves and Pardons for Offences against the United States, except in Cases of Impeachment.

He shall have Power, by and with the Advice and Consent of the Senate, to make Treaties, provided two thirds of the Senators present concur; and he shall nominate, and by and with the Advice and Consent of the Senate, shall appoint Ambassadors, other public Ministers and Consuls, Judges of the supreme Court, and all other Officers of the United States, whose Appointments are not herein otherwise provided for, and which shall be established by Law: but the Congress may by Law vest the Appointment of such inferior Officers, as they think proper, in the President alone, in the Courts of Law, or in the Heads of Departments.

The President shall have Power to fill up all Vacancies that may happen during the Recess of the Senate, by granting Commissions which shall expire at the End of their next Session.

Section. 3. He shall from time to time give to the Congress Information of the State of the Union, and recommend to their Consideration such Measures as he shall judge necessary and expedient; he may, on extraordinary Occasions, convene both Houses, or either of them, and in Case of Disagreement between them, with Respect to the Time of Adjournment, he may adjourn them to such Time as he shall think proper; he shall receive Ambassadors and other public Ministers; he shall take Care that the Laws be faithfully executed, and shall Commission all the Officers of the United States.

Section. 4. The President, Vice President and all civil Officers of the United States, shall be removed from Office on Impeachment for, and Conviction of, Treason, Bribery, or other high Crimes and Misdemeanors.

Article. III.

Section. 1. The judicial Power of the United States shall be vested in one supreme Court, and in such inferior Courts as the Congress may from time to time ordain and establish. The Judges, both of the supreme and inferior Courts, shall hold their Offices during good Behaviour, and shall, at stated Times, receive for their Services a Compensation, which shall not be diminished during their Continuance in Office.

Section. 2. The judicial Power shall extend to all Cases, in Law and Equity, arising under this Constitution, the Laws of the United States, and Treaties made, or which shall be made, under their Authority; — to all Cases affecting Ambassadors, other public Ministers and Consuls; — to all Cases of admiralty and maritime Jurisdiction; — to Controversies to which the United States shall be a Party; — to Controversies between two or more States; — between a State and Citizens of another State [Modified by Amendment XI]; — between Citizens of different States; — between Citizens of the same State claiming Lands under Grants of different States, and between a State, or the Citizens thereof, and foreign States, Citizens or Subjects.

In all Cases affecting Ambassadors, other public Ministers and Consuls, and those in which a State shall be Party, the supreme Court shall have original Jurisdiction. In all the other Cases before mentioned, the supreme Court shall have appellate Jurisdiction, both as to Law and Fact, with such Exceptions, and under such Regulations as the Congress shall make.

The Trial of all Crimes, except in Cases of Impeachment, shall be by Jury; and such Trial shall be held in the State where the said Crimes shall have been committed; but when not committed within any State, the Trial shall be at such Place or Places as the Congress may by Law have directed.

Section. 3. Treason against the United States shall consist only in levying War against them, or in adhering to their Enemies, giving them Aid and Comfort. No Person shall be convicted of Treason unless on the Testimony of two Witnesses to the same overt Act, or on Confession in open Court.

The Congress shall have Power to declare the Punishment of Treason, but no Attainder of Treason shall work Corruption of Blood, or Forfeiture except during the Life of the Person attainted.

Article. IV.

Section. 1. Full Faith and Credit shall be given in each State to the public Acts, Records, and judicial Proceedings of every other State. And the Congress may by general Laws prescribe the Manner in which such Acts, Records and Proceedings shall be proved, and the Effect thereof.

Section. 2. The Citizens of each State shall be entitled to all Privileges and Immunities of Citizens in the several States.

A Person charged in any State with Treason, Felony, or other Crime, who shall flee from Justice, and be found in another State, shall on Demand of the executive Authority of the State from which he fled, be delivered up, to be removed to the State having Jurisdiction of the Crime.

No Person held to Service or Labour in one State, under the Laws thereof, escaping into another, shall, in Consequence of any Law or Regulation therein, be discharged from such Service or Labour, but shall be delivered up on Claim of the Party to whom such Service or Labour may be due [Modified by Amendment XIII].

Section. 3. New States may be admitted by the Congress into this Union; but no new State shall be formed or erected within the Jurisdiction of any other State; nor any State be formed by the Junction of two or more States, or Parts of States, without the Consent of the Legislatures of the States concerned as well as of the Congress.

The Congress shall have Power to dispose of and make all needful Rules and Regulations respecting the Territory or other Property belonging to the United States; and nothing in this Constitution shall be so construed as to Prejudice any Claims of the United States, or of any particular State.

Section. 4. The United States shall guarantee to every State in this Union a Republican Form of Government, and shall protect each of them against Invasion; and on Application of the Legislature, or of the Executive (when the Legislature cannot be convened), against domestic Violence.

Article. V.

The Congress, whenever two thirds of both Houses shall deem it necessary, shall propose Amendments to this Constitution, or, on the Application of the Legislatures of two thirds of the several States, shall call a Convention for proposing Amendments, which, in either Case, shall be valid to all Intents and Purposes, as Part of this Constitution, when ratified by the Legislatures of three fourths of the several States, or by Conventions in three fourths thereof, as the one or the other Mode of Ratification may be proposed by the Congress; Provided that no Amendment which may be made prior to the Year One thousand eight hundred and eight shall in any Manner affect the first and fourth Clauses in the Ninth Section of the first Article; and that no State, without its Consent, shall be deprived of its equal Suffrage in the Senate [Possibly abrogated by Amendment XVII].

Article. VI.

All Debts contracted and Engagements entered into, before the Adoption of this Constitution, shall be as valid against the United States under this Constitution, as under the Confederation.

This Constitution, and the Laws of the United States which shall be made in Pursuance thereof; and all Treaties made, or which shall be made, under the Authority of the United States, shall be the supreme Law of the Land; and the Judges in every State shall be bound thereby, any Thing in the Constitution or Laws of any State to the Contrary notwithstanding.

The Senators and Representatives before mentioned, and the Members of the several State Legislatures, and all executive and judicial Officers, both of the United States and of the several States, shall be bound by Oath or Affirmation, to support this Constitution; but no religious Test shall ever be required as a Qualification to any Office or public Trust under the United States.

Article. VII.

The Ratification of the Conventions of nine States, shall be sufficient for the Establishment of this Constitution between the States so ratifying the Same.

The Word, “the,” being interlined between the seventh and eighth Lines of the first Page, The Word “Thirty” being partly written on an Erazure in the fifteenth Line of the first Page, The Words “is tried” being interlined between the thirty second and thirty third Lines of the first Page and the Word “the” being interlined between the forty third and forty fourth Lines of the second Page.

Attest William Jackson
Secretary

done in Convention by the Unanimous Consent of the States present the Seventeenth Day of September in the Year of our Lord one thousand seven hundred and Eighty seven and of the Independence of the United States of America the Twelfth In witness whereof We have hereunto subscribed our Names,

Go. WASHINGTON — Presidt.
and deputy from Virginia

New Hampshire {
JOHN LANGDON
NICHOLAS GILMAN
Massachusetts {
NATHANIEL GORHAM
RUFUS KING
Connecticut {
WM. SAML. JOHNSON
ROGER SHERMAN
New York . . . .
ALEXANDER HAMILTON
New Jersey {
WIL: LIVINGSTON
DAVID BREARLEY.
WM. PATERSON.
JONA: DAYTON
Pennsylvania {
B FRANKLIN
THOMAS MIFFLIN
ROBT MORRIS
GEO. CLYMER
THOS. FITZ SIMONS
JARED INGERSOLL
JAMES WILSON
GOUV MORRIS
Delaware {
GEO: READ
GUNNING BEDFORD jun
JOHN DICKINSON
RICHARD BASSETT
JACO: BROOM
Maryland {
JAMES MCHENRY
DAN OF ST THOS. JENIFER
DANL CARROLL
Virginia {
JOHN BLAIR
JAMES MADISON jr
North Carolina {
WM. BLOUNT
RICHD. DOBBS SPAIGHT
HU WILLIAMSON
South Carolina {
J. RUTLEDGE
CHARLES COTESWORTH PINCKNEY
CHARLES PINCKNEY
PIERCE BUTLER
Georgia {
WILLIAM FEW
ABR BALDWIN

In Convention Monday, September 17th, 1787.

Present

The States of

New Hampshire, Massachusetts, Connecticut, MR. Hamilton from New York, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Delaware, Maryland, Virginia, North Carolina, South Carolina and Georgia.

Resolved,

That the preceeding Constitution be laid before the United States in Congress assembled, and that it is the Opinion of this Convention, that it should afterwards be submitted to a Convention of Delegates, chosen in each State by the People thereof, under the Recommendation of its Legislature, for their Assent and Ratification; and that each Convention assenting to, and ratifying the Same, should give Notice thereof to the United States in Congress assembled. Resolved, That it is the Opinion of this Convention, that as soon as the Conventions of nine States shall have ratified this Constitution, the United States in Congress assembled should fix a Day on which Electors should be appointed by the States which have ratified the same, and a Day on which the Electors should assemble to vote for the President, and the Time and Place for commencing Proceedings under this Constitution. That after such Publication the Electors should be appointed, and the Senators and Representatives elected: That the Electors should meet on the Day fixed for the Election of the President, and should transmit their Votes certified, signed, sealed and directed, as the Constitution requires, to the Secretary of the United States in Congress assembled, that the Senators and Representatives should convene at the Time and Place assigned; that the Senators should appoint a President of the Senate, for the sole purpose of receiving, opening and counting the Votes for President; and, that after he shall be chosen, the Congress, together with the President, should, without Delay, proceed to execute this Constitution.

By the Unanimous Order of the Convention

Go. WASHINGTON — Presidt.
W. JACKSON Secretary.

Fearless

July 3rd, 2013

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!

Today’s Wild Card author is:

 

Mike Dellosso

 

and the book:

 

Fearless
Realms (May 7, 2013)
***Special thanks to Althea Thompson for sending me a review copy.***

 

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

 

Mike Dellosso is the author of numerous novels of suspense, including Darkness Follows, Darlington Woods, and Scream. He is an adjunct professor of writing at Lancaster Bible College and frequent contributor to Christian websites and newsletters. Mike is a member of the American Christian Fiction Writers association, the Christian Fiction Blog Alliance, the Relief Writer’s Network, and FaithWriters, and he plans to join International Thriller Writers. He earned his BA degree from Messiah College and his MBS from Master’s International School of Divinity. He lives in Hanover, PA, with his wife and daughters.

Visit the author’s website.

SHORT BOOK DESCRIPTION:

A child mysteriously appears in the lives of Jim and Amy Spencer. Will her presence be a blessing…or a curse?

When a nine-year-old girl named Louisa mysteriously appears in the middle of a house fire with no memory of how she got there or where she came from, Jim and Amy Spencer agree to take her in. Wrestling with the recent loss of their own child, Amy is hurt and angry while Jim is just trying to make it through each day and hold their marriage together.

For Jim, Louisa is the daughter he always wanted, but Amy isn’t as comfortable with her. The girl has a special gift, and soon that gift will unknowingly push them all into contact with a serial killer who has been terrorizing the small town of Virginia Mills. Only by uniting can Jim and Amy save themselves and Louisa before it’s too late.

Product Details:

List Price: $11.28

Publisher Realms (May 7, 2013)

Language English

ISBN-101621362418

ISBN-13978-1621362418

ISLAND BREEZES

What a strange child! Where on earth did she come from?

Some say Louisa is an angel. How else could a child just appear in a burning building and end up saving a life.

She ends up as a foster child in Jim and Amy’s home. This is especially difficult for Amy who is still grieving the loss of her baby.

Amy is not sure she wants this strange child in her home, especially after Louisa “helped” another child. Too soon half the town has turned into a mob wanting the child’s help.

On top of everything else, a serial killer is on the loose and the family is in danger.

This book will definitely keep you on the edge of your seat. You might think you’ve figured out the killer, but don’t count on it.

 

AND NOW…THE FIRST CHAPTER:

Jake Tucker coughed in a half sleep, a raspy, dry hack that burned in his lungs. He was dreaming of drowning, of being pulled into murky, dark waters by some unseen hand. Above, through ripples of water, he could see the sun, a blurry orb, disjointed like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle and fading quickly. His lungs tightened, felt as if they would burst. Water pressed around him. He flailed his arms and kicked his feet, but it did no good. He sank farther and farther away from the surface, away from that tiny wriggling light. He coughed again, and in his dream he could take the pressure in his chest no longer and sucked in a mouthful of water, welcoming the cold liquid and the death it would bring. It rushed down his windpipe and into his lungs. He tried to inhale again, tried to draw oxygen from the water, but he was paralyzed. Suffocating.Jake Tucker hacked, a forceful bark that brought up a wad of phlegm, and awoke. Thick, acrid smoke filled his living room. He’d fallen asleep on the sofa while watching the evening news and . . . and what? He’d been waiting for something. Something to cook. But what? Panic seized him.He rolled to the floor where he found a layer of cool, fresh air. Pulling it in through his nose, he coughed again, expelled soot and smoke from his lungs. The kitchen was engulfed in flames. Wicked things as tall as a man and angry, they clawed and licked at the doorway to the living room, blackened the jamb and molding. The linoleum peeled and melted, curled around the edges.

But what had he been cooking? What had caused the fire? Jake thought of heading for the front door, but there was something he needed to get, something he was forgetting. He drew in another breath and hacked again.

Yes, Jovie, his cat. He’d put her in the cellar but couldn’t remember why. The cellar door was in the kitchen, though, the kitchen that was now an inferno. But he couldn’t just leave her down there. She was family to him. Pushing to his knees then his feet, Jake pulled his T-shirt over his nose and mouth and stumbled through the smoke. He struck his knee on something hard. The coffee table. He was moving in the wrong direction.

The fire roared like a living beast hungry for the flesh of man, but it sounded like it was all around him. It was spreading fast, growing, gaining strength, sucking the oxygen from the air. Oxygen he so desperately needed. He wheezed, coughed. His eyes burned and watered. But still he felt his way through the gloom. Sweat droplets dotted his forehead and cheeks now, soaked his shirt. The temperature in the house rose exponentially, slowly baking him.

Over the raging flames he heard a low meow. Jovie. She was just on the other side of the door. If he could only make his way to her. He tried to follow the sound of her yowling but the smoke and fire were so disorienting he repeatedly came back to the same wall, the one with the family photos on it. His parents and grandparents. His siblings. Marta, his wife, his long-mourned wife. And Raymond, his son. Dear Raymond.

Jake leaned against the wall. His mind was slowing, trudging through mud. His chest felt like it was in a vise. Pressure grew around his lungs and heart, squeezing his ribs until they hurt. The pain, a deeply intense ache, radiated down his left arm and up into the left side of his neck and face.

“Raymond!” But Raymond couldn’t hear him. He was three thousand miles away in California. “Raymond, I’m sorry. Please.”

He coughed again and this time brought up some blood. The pressure in his chest worsened, like someone was standing on him. His left shoulder blade felt like it was being ripped from his back.

Still Jovie meowed, over and over, rhythmic, like seconds ticking off time on a clock. The charcoal smoke swelled around Jake; the heat built. He dropped to his knees and tried to crawl to the sound of Jovie’s cries. His eyes burned and watered so badly he couldn’t see a thing.

Raymond was on his mind, though. His son, Raymond. He’d never see him again. Never . . .

The eggs. Yes, that was it. He’d put eggs on the stove to boil then went to lie on the sofa and watch the eleven o’clock news. The pot must have burned dry and started the fire.

In one last moment of semi-clarity Jake Tucker almost laughed at the irony of it all. Done in by a pot of eggs.

He fell to his side and rolled onto his back. A ceiling of smoke hung above him like a phantom. Maybe it was a ghost; maybe it was the angel of death come to take him over to the other side where he could see Marta, hold her again, tell her face-to-face all the words he’d spoken to her photo over the past five years.

Somewhere in the distance but not too far Jovie still wailed. But her holler faded quickly as if she was on a boat drifting away into the fog, farther and farther away, so far that he could no longer hear her. Jovie.

The weight on his chest had increased, and his left arm had numbed. He couldn’t feel the left side of his face either.

Then the swirling smoke began to change colors, red and white and blue. It flashed and stuttered, red-red-white-blue, red-redwhite- blue. His mind fixated on it, on the colors, the rhythm. They must be the colors of heaven. The gates were opening and welcoming him home, bidding him come near and see his Marta.

Jake coughed again; his chest spasmed. Smoke was such an awful thing to inhale. He had to remember to turn the stove off next time. He still couldn’t remember why he’d put Jovie in the cellar. He couldn’t hear her anymore.

Something in the house cracked. Sounded like wood busting, splintering. A hideous sound. But he didn’t open his eyes. He was being pulled under, just like in his dream, but instead of fighting it he had succumbed to it. There was no way out now. This was how it was going to end. And how it would all begin.

Suddenly he felt a presence there with him and opened his eyes. A face materialized out of the smoke, hovered over him. Small, soft, white . . . the face of an angel. Blue eyes that seemed to glow from their own light. Hair the color of flax and pulled back off her face. A girl. A young girl, just a child. She smiled at him and placed her hand on his chest. Her smile was sweet and innocent, the smile of a child who’s never known the worst of this world. Oddly, in the midst of such chaos, such hellfire, she showed no signs of fear.

When she spoke, her voice was meek, the voice of all that is pure and right. “Mr. Tucker, you can’t go yet. Raymond needs you.”

Raymond. His son. His dear son. How did she know about Raymond?

“He loves you.” She smoothed his hair with her hand. “He needs his father.”

She had freckles across her nose, a spattering of them shaped like a butterfly.

“Tell Raymond you love him. Tell him how much you love him. Tell him you forgive him.”

Her hand lifted from his head, and she faded from view. She was an angel, had to have been. His time had arrived, and he was about to be ushered into eternity by this precious little angel.

In the distance, so far away, he heard a faint knocking, then more wood breaking. The house was falling apart around him, but he didn’t care anymore.

“Live, Mr. Tucker. Live. God has given you life.”

He heard his name. A man calling him. Muffled. Another angel. They were coming to get him, coming to give him eternal life. A strong hand wrapped around his ankle and pulled. Something went over his face, something cool. He was floating now, breathing in the clean, fresh air of the heavens. His chest no longer ached, and the numbness was gone in his arm and face. He felt new again. Whole. Young.

Threads of Love

July 2nd, 2013

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!

Today’s Wild Card author is:

 

Andrea Boeshaar

 

and the book:

 

Threads of Love
Realms (May 7, 2013)
***Special thanks to Althea Thompson for sending me a review copy.***

 

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

 

Andrea Kuhn Boeshaar is a certified Christian life coach and speaks at writers’ conferences and for women’s groups. She has taught workshops at such conferences as Write-to-Publish, American Christian Fiction Writers (ACFW), Oregon Christian Writers Conference, Mount Hermon Writers Conference, and many local writers conferences. Another of Andrea’s accomplishments is cofounder of the American Christian Fiction Writers (ACFW) organization. For many years she served on both its advisory board and as its CEO.

Visit the author’s website.

SHORT BOOK DESCRIPTION:

Emily Sundberg has her life all laid out. She has a respectable job as a teacher and an idea of whom she should marry. But does God have a better plan?

Emily Sundberg considers herself a proper young lady of the twentieth century. But a decade ago she behaved more like a tomboy. So when the neighbor’s grandson came to visit one summer when she was thirteen, they became fast friends. Emily even got her first kiss—quite by accident.

Unfortunately Jake Edgerton told all the boys something else. Rumors circulated, and Emily caved from embarrassment and guilt. Meanwhile Jake returned home to Fallon, Montana and she never saw or heard from him again.

Over the years Emily has worked hard to prove to her peers and the people of Manitowoc, Wisconsin that, despite past mistakes, she is an upstanding young woman, one worthy of being a schoolteacher—and possibly Andy Anderson’s wife. But even with the passing of time, Emily has never forgotten Jake and how he nearly ruined her life…

And now he’s a US deputy marshal and he’s back in town!

Product Details:

List Price: $11.28

PublisherRealms (May 7, 2013)

LanguageEnglish

ISBN-101621362396

ISBN-13978-1621362395

ISLAND BREEZES

Emily was not happy to see Jake show up in town. He ruined her life once, and now he was back to do it again.

Everyone else seemed to like Jake, but they didn’t know what she knew. Even Emily’s friend and fellow school teacher Iris seemed to be addle brained around him.

Iris talked Emily into taking a summer train trip out to the Pacific coast – a once in a life time dream trip.

Unfortunately, they end up on the same train as Jake who’s going back out west to his ranch. Iris manages to talk her way into an invitation to Jake’s ranch so that she can continue to pursue him. After all, her grandmother is pushing her to get married, and Jake’s a good looking man.

Both Emily and Jake are uncomfortable with this, but can’t seem to get out of the way as sparks fly.

Can there really be a happy ending here?

AND NOW…THE FIRST CHAPTER:

May 1902

Manitowoc, WisconsinAn explosion of shattering glass sounded from directly behind Emily Sundberg, and a thunderous weight crashed into her. The world spun, and then she fell hard and facedown on the dirty Franklin Street plank walk.

Breathe! Breathe! She struggled to inhale.

“Are you all right, ma’am?” A male voice spoke close to her ear. “I’m terribly sorry about knocking you over.”

He helped her sit, and a moment later a rush of sweet, springtime air filled Emily’s lungs. She let out a breath of relief.

“Are you hurt?”

“I . . . I don’t know.” Emily spit dirt from her mouth. Her left cheek began to throb. Her vision swam.

He steadied her, his arm around her shoulders. “Easy there.”

She took several deep breaths.

“Allow me to help you up and over to the bench. Like I said, I’m sorry ’bout knocking you over the way I did.”

Emily wiggled her toes inside her ivory-colored boots. Nothing broken. She moved her jaw. Despite the pain around her cheekbone, she seemed all right. Her hand moved to the back of her head. Her fat braid had come out of its pinning and her hat—her hat!

She pointed to the paved street seconds before a set of buggy wheels rolled over it, grinding the lovely creation into the paved road. Not once. But twice!

Emily moaned.

“Careful, now.” The man helped her to stand. “There’re shards of glass everywhere.”

Emily thanked God she hadn’t slammed her head into the nearby hitching post.

“Hooligans!” A woman’s voice rang out amidst the strangely silent street. It sounded like Mrs. Hopper’s. “Hooligans, ever’ one of ’em!”

Definitely Mrs. Hopper’s.

The man held Emily securely by her upper arms, and Emily’s gaze fell on his walnut-colored waistcoat. “You sure you’re not hurt?

“I–I don’t think so.”

“Well, I hope you can forgive me, ma’am.”

Emily’s gaze finally reached the man’s tanned and goldenwhiskered face. Shaggy blond hair framed his face and blood stained the corner of his mouth. In his canvas duster and matching trousers, the stranger looked out of place for Manitowoc, Wisconsin. But odd costumes weren’t totally uncommon, given the city’s lively port.

And yet, he seemed a bit familiar too . . .

“Unhand that girl, you hooligan!” Mrs. Hopper rushed forward and whacked the man on the shoulder with her cane.

He winced and released Emily. “I meant her no harm.” As Emily staggered backward slightly, the man caught her elbow. His velvety-brown gaze bore into hers as if to ask yet again if she’d been injured.

Funny how she guessed at his thoughts.

“I’m just shaken.” Emily glimpsed the remorse in his eyes before he bent and picked up the dark blue capelet that her grandmother, Bestamor, had knit for her. He gave it a shake before handing it over.

“And what about my hat?” Sadly she pointed again to the street.

The man collected its colorful but irreparably flattened remains.

“A travesty!” Mrs. Hopper’s age-lined face contorted in rage. “A travesty, I say!”

Travesty indeed! It had taken months for Emily to save for that fine bit of millinery with its silk ribbons, Chantilly lace, and pink roses on a velvet bandeau. Now Andy Anderson would never see it. She took the mangled remnants from the stranger’s hand. “I certainly hope you plan to reimburse me for this. I paid one dollar and fifty cents for it.”

“A dollar and a half? For a hat? I could buy a shoulder holster, cartridge belt, and ammunition for that sum.”

Unimpressed, Emily extended one hand of her torn netted glove. Another casualty.

Resignation softened his gaze before the man reached into his inside pocket and then placed two dollar bills into Emily’s outstretched palm. “This should more than cover it. Again, I apologize.”

“Thank you.” Emily smiled. “Apology accepted.” She folded the money and put it in her reticule, still attached to her wrist.

Mrs. Sylvia Hopper sniffed indignantly, but Emily caught the approving light in the older woman’s eyes. She’d known the elderly woman for a long while, as she had been Bestamor’s best friend back in Norway. She’d come to America just before Poppa was born, and now her granddaughter, Iris, was Emily’s best friend.

A small crowd pressed in on the boardwalk to gawk. Emily’s gaze moved to the man who lay sprawled out and unmoving several feet away.

She quickly turned away. “Is he dead?”

“Probably not.” The stranger bent and grabbed his hat that lay nearby and gave it a whack against his thigh. “My compliments. You took that tumble a far sight better than he did.”

“Who is he?”

“Name’s Wilcox. He’s wanted in five counties.”

Emily glanced at the motionless figure again. He didn’t look familiar.

“It’s actually amazing that you’re not out cold yourself. For a moment I feared I’d killed you.”

“And you could have killed her, you low-life hooligan!”

“Please, Mrs. Hopper . . . ” She glanced around, hating to be the subject of such a scene. “I’m fine. No need to worry.”

Muttering, the elderly woman walked to where several women stood a ways down on the boardwalk, holding parasols and whispering behind gloved fingers.

Emily felt suddenly unnerved. “I guess I’m sturdy for a woman. Even so, I haven’t taken a hit like that since my brothers jumped me and I fell off my horse. Those rascals pretended they were US marshals and I was one of the James Gang.” Emily moistened her lips, her gaze fixed on the handsome stranger. “They flung themselves at me from a tree limb. It’s a miracle we didn’t all break our necks. ”

A moment passed, and Emily wondered why this moment seemed sealed in time.

The man narrowed his gaze.

“Forgive my prattling.” She hadn’t meant to go on like that. “The fall must have shaken my tongue loose.”

Despite the injury to his mouth he grinned, and Emily could swear she’d seen that smile before.

“Both you fellas are paying for this damage to my front window!” Mr. Fransmuller stomped out of his restaurant and saloon. Emily knew him and his family, as young Hans had been in her class just the year before. “Look at what your brawl has done!”

Emily took note of the gaping hole where the two men had crashed through the window.

Mrs. Hopper limped over to the tavern owner. “There ought to be a law against such barbaric behavior in our town. Someone’s going to get killed. Why, Mr. Fransmuller, you should be ashamed, serving strong drink on a Thursday afternoon. Women aren’t safe to do their shopping in broad daylight anymore!”

“Just for the record, I wasn’t drinking,” said the familiar stranger. “Just playing cards is all.”

“And gambling, most likely.” Mrs. Hopper hurled another angry glare at him. “Gambling is a dirty sin.”

Fransmuller frowned and wiped his beefy hands on the black apron tied around his rounded belly. “Now, Mrs. Hopper, don’t start in on one of your holier-than-thou rants.”

“I beg your pardon?” Mrs. Hopper brought herself up to her full height of four feet nine inches. “How dare you speak to me in such a way, Mr. Fransmuller!”

“I’ve got a business to run, and I pay my taxes.” He threw a thumb over his shoulder. “But just look at my front window!” He gave a wag of his nearly bald head. “And you should see the saloon! One big mess!” Mr. Fransmuller marched up and stood toe to toe with the man beside Emily. “Who are you? I want your name. You’re paying for half the damages to my business!”

“Yes, sir.”

Emily watched as the stranger moved his duster to one side. She glimpsed the gun, discreetly haltered across his chest, before he produced his billfold and a silver badge. “Deputy Marshal John Alexander Kirk Edgerton at your service.” After a courteous dip forward, he counted out several large-sum bills. “Will this cover my portion of the damages?”

Emily gasped. Jake? Could it be?

Mr. Fransmuller stared at the money. “Yes. This will do.” He gave a nod of appeasement before walking away.

Mrs. Hopper moved down the boardwalk and continued her conversation with the other ladies.

“Jake?” Emily eked out his nickname, scarcely believing it was him. He was several inches taller, filled out some, and had grown whiskers since she last saw him ten years ago. “Jake Edgerton?”

His gaze slid to her and he smiled. “Well, well . . . Emily Sundberg.” He didn’t look surprised. Obviously he’d recognized her before she’d figured out his identity. “Look at you, all grown up—you even turned out pretty.”

“Hmph! Well, I see you haven’t changed!”

“It was a compliment.”

She bristled. It didn’t sound like a compliment. What’s more, she suddenly recalled that Jake was part of that US marshal stunt her brothers pulled.

Jake Edgerton was trouble. Trouble from the time they were thirteen and fifteen.

“So what are you doing in Manitowoc?”

“Attending my granddad’s funeral.”

Emily felt a sting of rebuke. “Oh, I–I’m sorry. I didn’t know he’d passed. I mean, I knew Mr. Ollie had been ill for a long while, but . . . ”

“Happened just last night.” Jake eyed her speculatively.

“I’m so sorry.”

“Me too.” He glanced away for a moment. “So what about you?” His gaze returned. “Married? Working at your family’s shipping business?”

“Neither. I’m a schoolteacher here in town. I only get home on Sundays.”

“A schoolteacher, eh?”

She nodded as the realization of Mr. Ollie’s death sunk in. A sweeping sadness prevailed. “Again, I’m sorry for your loss. Your grandfather was a good neighbor to our family.” She eyed the rugged man standing before her. Mr. Ollie spoke of him often, and Jake had been especially close to the old man. Oliver Stout, fondly called Mr. Ollie by Emily and her brothers, had been a respected attorney, one who’d boasted many times over the years that his only grandson would one day take over his law practice.

But it didn’t look that way. Not if Jake was a deputy marshal.

“I appreciate the condolences, Em.”

Such familiarity galled her. “So you’re a gambler as well as a lawman?” Emily could only imagine Mr. Ollie, weeping in heaven.

“I partake in a game of cards on occasion.”

“Family funerals being one of them?” She couldn’t squelch the quip.

Jake inhaled, but then seemed to think better of a reply. Instead, he guided her the rest of the way to the bench.

Emily tugged her capelet around her shoulders and sat. She eyed the crowd, praying no one would recognize her as Maple Street School’s third grade teacher or Agnes Sundberg’s niece or Jacob Dunbar’s cousin . . . or Captain Daniel Sundberg’s daughter. With so much family surrounding her in this town, Emily knew the odds were against her anonymity.

“Once again, I am terribly sorry you got in the middle of this whole mess.”

He couldn’t be sorrier than she!

Mr. Fransmuller began sweeping up glass and shooing people away from the scene when shrieks from across the street pierced the air.

Iris. She turned in time to see her best friend making an unladylike sprint from the department store.

“Emily! Emily Sundberg!”

Standing, she cringed. So much for hiding her identity.

Emily lifted a hand in a tiny wave. Iris spotted her and crossed the street. She held her hat in place on her head with one of her slender hands. In the other she clutched her wrapped purchases.

“What’s happened? Oh, my stars!” A pale blue dress hugged Iris’s wispy frame as she hurried toward Emily, while her wire-rim glasses slipped down her long nose. “I heard there was some barroom fight and you got trampled half to death. What would I do if I’d lost my very best frie—”

Iris’s gaze lit on Jake, and she slowed her steps. Giving him a timid smile, she let go of her hat and pushed up her glasses.

He touched the brim of his hat. “Ma’am.”

Iris leaned toward Emily. “Is he the one who ran you over?”

“That about sums it up. But I’m fine, so let’s finish our shopping, shall we?”

Iris didn’t budge. “Aren’t you going to introduce us?” She nudged Emily, who felt a new soreness in her rib cage.

Jake spoke up before she could. “US Deputy Marshal Jake Edgerton, ma’am.”

“Deputy marshal? How impressive.” Iris’s smile grew. “I’m Miss Iris Hopper and Emily’s best friend, going on eight years now. Right, Em?”

“Right.”

“My parents were killed in a horrible mud slide in South America where we were missionaries. I’ve lived with my grandmother ever since.” She pointed to where Mrs. Hopper still stood, recounting the event to an accumulating cluster of women.

“Sorry to hear of your loss.” Jake’s gaze, the color of the brandy he denied drinking, shifted to Emily. “As for Em and me, we go way back too.” A slow grin spread across his mouth. “Ain’t that right? And I must admit it’s been a pleasure, um, running into you today.”

Shut up, Jake. She looked down the block, wondering if he had any idea how much heartache he’d caused her over the years. Because of him and his big mouth, she’d spent half her life repairing her blemished reputation in this town. Worse, Jake never wrote back to her when she’d attempted to apologize for her part in the wrongdoing.

“How’re your brothers?” He gave a nostalgic wag of his head. “That summer I visited Granddad and met all of you Sundbergs was the best in all my life.”

“Eden and Zeb are fine. Just fine.” She couldn’t get herself to say any more. “We’re all fine.”

“Glad to hear it.”

“Emily’s never mentioned you.” Iris’s pointed features soured with her deep frown. She leaned closer to Emily. “I thought we told each other everything.”

“No? You never mentioned me, Em?” Jake’s dark eyes glinted with mischief.

Tried half my life to forget you! She clenched her jaw to keep back the retort and realized that it hurt too.

His expression changed. “Maybe you ought to see a doctor, Emily.”

She wished he hadn’t picked up on her wince. “No, I’m fine.”

“She always says that,” Iris tattled. “She’s always ‘fine.’”

“How far’s the doctor’s office from here?”

“I don’t need a doctor, Jake. But thanks, anyway.”

“Well, goodness, Em, you certainly did take the worst of it.” Iris brushed off the back of Emily’s capelet. “And, oh, my stars! Just look at your hat. It’s ruined.”

“Yes, I know. But Jake reimbursed me.”

“How thoughtful.” After a smile his way, Iris examined Emily’s face like she was one of her fourth graders. “I’m not mistaken a bruise is already forming on your left cheek.” Iris clucked her tongue. “You’ll be a sight at the Memorial Day Dance tomorrow night. But if you need to stay home now, I will too.”

“No. We’re still going.” Emily knew her friend looked forward to this community event that honored war veterans as much as she did. In addition, Andy Anderson would be there. Maybe if he saw her in the new dress Momma and Bestamor had sewn especially for the occasion, he’d finally notice her, and not just as Eden’s sister either.

“Andy won’t give you the time of day if you’re all banged up. You might as well stay home.”

Iris had spoken her thoughts. Sadness descended like a fog rolling in from off Lake Michigan. Emily fingered her sore cheek. She’d decided months ago that Andy would make a perfectly suitable husband. Would this ruin her chances of finally catching his eye?

“Might help if you go home and put a cold compress on it,” Jake suggested. “I’ll bet no one will be the wiser by tomorrow night.”

“Sure, that’s right,” Iris’s gaze softened. “Perhaps Andy won’t see any bruising. And we can cake on some of Granny’s concealing cream wherever necessary.”

Glimpsing Jake’s amused grin, Emily blushed. How could Iris speak about such personal things in front of him?

“Excuse me, but are you speaking of Andy Anderson by any chance?” Jake hiked his hat farther back on his head.

“Yes.” Again, Iris seemed happy to provide all the information.

However, the last thing Emily wanted was Jake Edgerton to get involved in her life. “We should be on our way, Iris. Let’s catch up with your granny.”

“Well, I’ll be . . . ” Jake leaned against a hitching post. “Andy Anderson . . . what’s that rascal doing these days?”

“Andy works over at the aluminum factory.” Iris pointed just beyond Jake’s left shoulder and toward where the large, thriving business was located. “He’s quite the lady’s man, but Em hopes to change all that.”

“Iris, really!” Emily gave her friend a stern look.

“Interesting.” Jake gazed off into the distance, his lips pursed as he kneaded his jaw. He seemed to mull over the information before looking back at Emily. “I wondered if I’d see Andy while I was in town.” His gaze focused on Iris. “Andy and I go way back too.”

Every muscle in Emily’s body tensed. If only Mr. Ollie could have waited just a week longer to pass from this world to the next. Her hopes ran high for the Memorial Day Dance tomorrow night, and it vexed her that Jake might have the power to destroy her welllaid plans.

“Emily is counting on Andy to ask her for a dance tomorrow night, but—”

“Iris!” Aghast, she gave her friend’s arm a jerk. “I’m sure Deputy Edgerton doesn’t care about such things.”

“Sure I do.” He straightened, still grinning. “And I’ll tell you what, Em, if Andy doesn’t dance with you, I’d be happy to.”

“Thank you, but I can’t possibly accept.” She tamped down the urge to scowl.

“It’s the least I can do.” After another charming smirk, he arched a brow. “What time’s the grand affair?”

“Aren’t you in mourning?” He just couldn’t show up.

“Of course I am.” Jake rolled one of his broad shoulders. “But I know Granddad fought in the Civil War, and I think he’d want me to attend.”

Iris happily divulged the details, and Emily wanted to scream.

“I’ll be there,” Jake said.

“How grand!” Iris adjusted her colorfully decorative hat. “Then, of course, you must save a dance for me.”

“Iris!” How could her friend be so bold?

Jake didn’t seem offended. “It’d be my honor, ma’am.” He smiled rather sheepishly.

Enough! Emily turned on her heel and strode down the walk, passing Mrs. Hopper and the other women. Her heels clicked hard on the weathered planks. While she walked faster than a lady should, if she didn’t hurry, she’d lose her composure here and now— and right in front of the man who’d nearly ruined her life!