One Woman. Two Men.
One stirs her pulse and the other her faith.
But who will win her heart?
Marceline Murphy is a gentle beauty with a well-founded aversion to rogues. But when two of Boston’s most notorious pursue her, she encounters a tug-of-war of the heart she isn’t expecting. Sam OâRourke is the childhood hero sheâs pined for, the brother of her best friend and a member of the large, boisterous family to which she longs to be a part. So when his best friend Patrick OâConnor joins in pursuit of her affections, the choice seems all too clear. Sam is from a family of faith and Patrick is not, two rogues whose wild ways clash head-on with Marcyâsâboth in her faith and in her heart.
While overseeing the Christmas play fundraiser for the St. Maryâs parish soup kitchenâA Light in the WindowâMarcy not only wrestles with her attraction to both men, but with her concern for their spiritual welfare. The play is based on the Irish custom of placing a candle in the window on Christmas Eve to welcome the Holy Family, and for Marcy, its message becomes deeply personal. Her grandmother Mima cautions her to guard her heart for the type of man who will respond to the “light in the window,” meaning the message of Christ in her heart. But when disaster strikes during the play, Marcy is destined to discover the truth of the playâs message first-hand when it becomes clear that although two men have professed their undying love, only one has truly responded to âthe light in the window.â
ISLAND BREEZES
The story of Marceline and Patrick canât be told without including Patrickâs best friend. Sam is the older brother of Marcyâs best friend Julie.
Marcyâs family just moved back to Boston after spending five years in New York, and Marcy discovered her attraction to Julieâs brother is still strong. Meanwhile, Julie has her eye on Patrick. Whatâs going to happen with these two womanizing bad boys?
Maybe youâd better have that box of tissues near while reading this. I certainly needed a few. Okay, a bunch.
Now I want to read the Daughters of Boston and Winds of Change series all over again.
***A special thank you to Julie Lessman for providing a review copy.***Â
About Julie Lessman in her own words:
Hello … Iâm Julie Lessman, an Inspirational Romance author with a passion for God and a passion for romance. Since the age of twelve, Iâve been in love with the idea of being âin love.â It happened the moment Scarlett seared Rhett with a look on the winding staircase of Twelve Oaks. Suddenly I was a goner, spellbound by the emotional ebb and flow of romantic relationships.
As an adult, I quickly learned that true romance is spiritual as well as physical and emotional. And one pass through the âSong of Solomonâ in the Bible told me that God was the biggest romantic of them all, deeply passionate in His love for each of us. Through my love affair with Him, I have discovered that romance can transcend to another dimension where romantic passion and spiritual passion merge, creating a 3-D love story: the hero, the heroine, and the God that brings them together. I hope you enjoy my stories … and may they bring you closer to the Fatherâs heart
Do you want to experience Jesus as real? When we look at Jesus’ life on earth, we see Him calling people to simply know Him. He made no demand on them to believe theological propositions. “Follow me” was the invitation which they accepted. They got to know and communicate with the real person. There is a big difference between believing something is true and experiencing it as real. This is the story of how Wally Armstrong learned to communicate with the real person of Jesus in his everyday life. Armstrong experiences Jesus up close and personal and introduces readers to the same experience. In a conversational manner, he explores what it is like to have a relationship with Jesus as if He is sitting right there next to us. He keeps an empty chair ready and imagines Jesus sitting beside him as they talk.
ISLAND BREEZES
It’s a small book that packs a big punch.
If you are a golfer of fan of golf, you’ve probably heard of Wally Armstrong. Golf is something I could take or leave – mostly leave – so I hadn’t heard of him before picking up this book.
Do you walk through your day with Jesus as your friend or do you spend your time just doing things to please Him? That’s not necessarily a bad thing, but you need the friendship of Jesus. It took Wally 36 years to discover that.
This book tells us how he let Jesus into his life as a friend.. Read Wally’s story and then decide whether you walk with Jesus as a friend.
***A special thanks to litfuse for providing a review copy.***
  Wally Armstrong is a professional golfer, teacher and dynamic life coach who has competed in over 300 PGA Tour events, including the British Open, the US Open, and the Masters, and was awarded a lifetime membership in the Tour. In his first Masters appearance, Wally finished in fifth place, setting a rookie record for the lowest tournament score of eight under par. As a golf instructor and clinician, Armstrong has taught golf all over the world and has produced more than twenty golf instructional videos and DVDs covering every area of the golf game. He is the author of seven books, including the bestselling In His Grip (with Jim Sheard and Billy Graham) and The Mulligan (with Ken Blanchard). He resides in Maitland, Florida, and has been married to his wife, Debbie, for forty-one years. Together, they have three children and seven grandchildren. Armstrong invites readers to visit his website, www.oldprobooks.com, for more insights about the wonderful opportunity each of us has to know Jesus as the real person that he is.
Find out more about Wally at http://www.wallyarmstronggolf.com/wallys-world/. http://ow.ly/erBu0
It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old…or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!
You never know when I might play a wild card on you!
***Special thanks to Althea Thompson for sending me a review copy.***
Â
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Â
Martha Rogersâs 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 YâBarbo. Her series Winds Across the Prairie debuted in 2010 with Becoming Lucy, Morning for Dove, Finding Becky, and Carolineâs 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 writerâs organization Inspirational Writers Alive! for six years and is the state president. She is also the director for the annual Texas Christian Writerâs Conference and is a member of American Christian Fiction Writers, for whom she writes a weekly devotional. Martha and her husband are active members of First Baptist Church.
Can Clayton Barlow prove he has changed his ways in time for Christmas?
It is October 1898, and Clayton Barlow has just returned home after serving time in prison for his part in a bank robbery. His family welcomes him, but the townspeople are skeptical. Bored with life in the small town but determined to make a new start, he goes to work with his father, hoping to regain the townâs trust.
Clayton recognizes the schoolteacher at the Prairie Grove School as his childhood friend, Merry Lee Warner, and old feelings surface. Still, he doubts that he could ever get a woman like Merry to love him.
As the townspeople prepare for Christmas, their suspicions about Clayton lead to trouble. Will the trusting heart of an unlikely new friend be enough to restore Claytonâs relationships with his neighbors and reunite him with God and Merry?
Product Details:
List Price: $13.99
Paperback: 304 pages
Publisher: Realms (September 4, 2012)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 1616388374
ISBN-13: 978-1616388379
ISLAND BREEZES
Once again Martha Rogers has given us another heart warming story in this Winds Across the Prairie holiday novel.
It has an interesting group of characters. One of whom is an ex-con who’s trying to stay out of jail and earn the respect and trust of the home town folks.
It’s not easy, especially when he realizes he is still in love with his childhood friend. It takes a lot to earn her trust again. It seems something happens every time she seems to be coming around.
Of course he’s not sure he wants to stir up any feelings in her. It sometimes seems unlikely they will ever get together with all the things that keep happening.
You won’t be able to get through the end without some of those tissues handy.
 AND NOW…THE FIRST CHAPTER:
Prairie Grove, Kansas, October 1898
Home for Thanksgiving and Christmas! Clayâs heart pumped blood through his veins at a
frantic pace. After serving five years for his part in a bank robbery, heâd be home for his two favorite holidays. The question looming in his soul was whether heâd be welcomed by anyone other than his parents.
The train hissed and steamed its way into the station with a blast of the whistle as Clay peered through the window. When the cars came to a screeching stop, he remained in his seat, fear gripping his heart. The conductor stopped in the aisle.
âSon, this is your stop. Time to get off.â
Clay willed himself to stand and make his way down the aisle. No one would be here to greet him since no one knew heâd be on the train. Heâd planned it all as a surprise, espe- cially for his mother. He stepped to the platform, gripping the handle of the small bag containing all his worldly possessions. Around him the trees wore their best fall colors in welcome, and as Clay made his way to the street in front of the depot, he drank in the sight heâd seen only in his dreams for the past five years.
The good citizens of Prairie Grove moved about on their way to one place or another, oblivious to his presence. The livery still stood close to the station with the post office nearby, and right next to it a new addition announced itself in gold letters. The telegraph office was now the Prairie Grove Telephone and Telegraph center. His hometown had grown more than he realized.
He spotted the hotel and the Red Garter Saloon a few blocks away, then he breathed deeply of the fresh smell of baking bread drifting from the bakery next to his fatherâs store. The green and yellow letters on the sign hanging in front welcomed customers to Barlowâs General Store, still the only mercantile in town. A slight breeze
sent the sign swinging with a creak he heard from his position near the depot. Dust whirls danced across the street where heâd once played with other boys his age.
By Christmas those streets would most likely be filled with snow, and snowball fights would be the game of the day at the school. His days at the red clapboard schoolhouse had been some of the happiest of life. He viewed the bell tower of the school at the end of the street and could almost hear the sound of it clanging in his memory.
Doubt lodged in Clayâs throat, but he kept walking to the store. When he stepped through the door, it could well have
been ten years ago when he helped Pa. He inhaled the familiar smells of coal oil, fresh ground coffee, fabric dye, and pepper- mint candy. Nothing had changed.
Then he spotted his ma. He observed her for a minute or two, savoring the sight of her graying hair and slight frame. She didnât move as fast as she once had, and she stopped to catch her breath after placing some items on a shelf.
From the corner of his eye he saw his father coming from the storeroom. A good five inches shorter than Clay, Paâs sturdy frame handled the box in his arms with ease. He turned to set the box on the counter, and Clay cringed the moment his father recognized him. The meeting he both dreaded and anticipated had come.
Pa didnât move from behind the counter. He simply stared for what seemed an eternity but in reality amounted to only seconds. His words barely reached Clayâs ears. âSon, youâve come home.â
At Clayâs nod his father stepped around the counter and called to Ma. âCora, our boy is home.â
A can clattered to the floor, and his mother turned with hands to her mouth. She hurried toward him and hugged him. âThank You, Lord, for bringing him home safe.â Tears glis- tened in her eyes. âIâve waited and waited for this moment to come.â She reached up and placed her hands on each side of his face then kissed his cheeks.
Heat rose in his face, but Maâs arms and kisses were the welcome heâd hoped for in the past few days of travel. His arms went around her thin frame. Sheâd lost a good deal of weight since the last time heâd seen her, and that bothered him more than his earlier observations.
He glanced up at his father. His graying hair had thinned some, and his eyes held both a welcome and uncertainty. Gaining Paâs trust would take time.
His parents stood in front of him and shook their heads. Pa wrapped his arm around Ma. âWeâve waited a long time for this day. Thank God you made it home.â
Clay didnât know what God had to do with anything, since it had been Pa who had turned Clay over to the authorities five years ago. The road back would be long and hard, but then thatâs no more than heâd expected.
Ma grabbed his hands. âAre you planning on staying here in Prairie Grove with us? Youâre not going to get mixed up with those . . . those . . . thieves again, are you?â
Before Clay could answer, Pa added his own sentiments. âIf you do decide to stay, I expect you to stay away from them. If you donât, you wonât be welcome here.â
Clay stiffened but kept his voice neutral. âI understand, Pa, but Iâm not going to get mixed up with Karlâs gang again. I would like to stay as long as youâll have me.â
Or until the townspeople ran him off. Two older women in the corner eyed him and whispered between themselves. The prodigal had returned, but not everyone welcomed him. He nodded to the ladies, who immediately turned their backs. So much for the townâs greeting.
âOf course we want you to live here with us,â Ma said, not even seeming to notice the ladies. âNow letâs go upstairs and get you settled in. I know youâre hungry. You always were, and I have supper almost ready.â She held onto his arm and led him to the stairway up to the living quarters above the store.
A voice calling his name stopped him at the bottom. He odded for his mother to go on up and turned to find an old riend, Jimmy Shanks, grinning from ear to ear. âIt is you, Clay Barlow.â The blond-headed young man reached out to grasp Clayâs hand.
âYeah, itâs me. I decided to come home, Jimmy.â He grasped the outstretched hand and blinked at the strength in the grasp.
âItâs James now, and Iâm married to Grace Ann Higgins.â Clay had to chuckle at that revelation. Grace Ann had run
away from Jimmy every time heâd tried to get close.
âSo, you finally got Grace Annâs attention. Iâm glad since you always liked her.â
âYouâll have to come out to the house for dinner some night so we can catch up on old times.â
âIâll think on that, Jimmy . . . James.â Not much to catch up on from his side since heâd been behind prison bars for five years. âAnd youâd better check with Grace Ann. She might not cotton to having an ex-con at her dinner table.â
James blinked. âDonât you worry none about that; weâll always be friends.â He stepped back and picked up his pur- chase. âHad to pick up some coal oil. With the days getting shorter, we need more of it.â
Clay walked with him to the door and stepped outside with James, who shook Clayâs hand once again. âIâm so glad youâre home. This is one Christmas your parents will be glad to celebrate.â With a grin and a salute he stepped down to the street and mounted his horse. âSee you around, Clay.â
If heâd stayed good friends with Jimmy instead of getting mixed up with Karl, things would have been much different. Still, the warm welcome from his old friend and the greeting from his parents lightened the load in Clayâs heart.
If Pa would have him, Clay wanted to work again in the tore. Being locked up with bad food, hard cots, little sunshine, and no privacy motivated him to stay out of trouble. Heâd had a lot of time to think in prison, and one thing remained sure and steadfast. Clayton Barlow would not end up behind bars ever again.
Merry Warner stepped onto the boardwalk up the street from the school where she taught. The wonderful aroma of cin- namon stopped her in front of the bakery. Cinnamon buns for breakfast in the morning would make up for her being late this afternoon. She hurried up to the counter where Mr. Brooks placed fresh pies into the case. On second thought, two pecan pies for supper tonight would be even better.
She grinned at the baker, who reminded her of the pictures sheâd seen of Santa Claus, right down to the white beard and rosy cheeks. âIâll have two of those pecan pies. Iâm sure Mama will appreciate them for supper tonight.â
âGood choice, Miss Warner. We had a good crop of pecans this year, so Mrs. Brooks is busy with recipes using the nuts.â Mr. Brooks placed each pie in a paper bag then tied the top closed with string. âThere, that should make them easier to carry.â
She plunked several coins onto the counter and picked up her purchase. âI hope she makes some of that pumpkin bread for the holidays.â
Mr. Brooks laughed. âOh, she will. Iâm sure of that. You have a nice evening now, and tell your ma I said hello.â
Merry nodded and hurried out to be on her way. She
stopped short when she spotted a man standing in front of the eneral store next door. A gasp escaped her lips, and her heart skipped a beat. He looked just like Clay Barlow, but Clay was in prison. Surely she would have heard if he had come home.
He turned, and his gaze locked with hers. Recognition shot through her with streaks of delight that dissipated almost as soon as they began. No one but Clay had eyes so dark a brown that they penetrated to her very soul.
How could Clay be out of prison already? Then she counted and realized five years had indeed passed since heâd gone away. When Grandma Collins had said she needed Mama and Papa to come back and take care of the orphanage at Holly Hill, Merryâs heart had been torn apart. She loved Barton Creek and wanted to stay there, but the memory of her years in Prairie Grove beckoned for her to return. One of those memories included Clay Barlow and the schoolgirl crush sheâd had on him before he got involved with Karl Laramieâs gang.
Shoving aside her misgivings, she gave in to her delight and ran up to hug Clay. âClay Barlow, itâs been too many years.â Heat filled her face, and she jumped back. She was no longer a sixteen-year-old girl but a young woman who should practice better manners befitting her age.
Clayâs eyes opened wide in surprise. âMerry?â
âYes. We moved back to Holly Hill last summer after Grandpa died. Iâm so glad youâre home.â
âIâm glad to be here too.â He stepped back. âIt . . . itâs nice to see you. I . . . I . . . â His voice trailed off, and he glanced over her shoulder. Without another word he bolted through the door to the store.
Merry stood with her mouth agape. How rude. Then she urned and saw three women staring at her with disapproval written all over them. Mrs. Pennyfeather, wife of the school superintendent, shook her head and frowned.
Heat rose in Merryâs face again. Theyâd seen her greeting Clay. No sense in trying to apologize. Mrs. Pennyfeather wouldnât listen anyway. Merry gathered up her pies and fled up the hill toward Holly Hill Home for Children. Along the way her thoughts whirled. She had never expected to see Clay again, figuring that heâd be too ashamed to come back to his hometown. What could his return mean?
She burst through the door then closed it and braced her- self against the smooth wood. Her heart pounded not only from the long walk but also from seeing Clay again.
Imogene and Eileen raced over to grab her around the waist. The blonde-haired ten-year-old-twins wore matching blue-and-white striped dresses with white pinafores over them.
Eileen eyed the bags in Merryâs hands. âYou went by the bakery. What did you bring?â She reached for one of the bags.
Merry held it high. âNot until after supper. Then weâll have pecan pie.â
Imogene jumped up and down, her pigtails bouncing on her shoulders. âThatâs my favorite. Oh, I love you, Merry.â The young girl wrapped her arms about Merryâs waist again.
Emmaline appeared with a stack of silverware in her hands. âItâs about time you got here. Mama Warner could use your help.â
Merry set the pie bags on a table near the door and unwound Imogeneâs arms. âIâm sorry Iâm late. I stayed at the school to prepare the lessons for tomorrow. Did you know we have ten different varieties of trees around our school building?â
Emmaline shook her head. âNo, and I donât care right now. Are you going to help me or not?â
âYes, Iâm on my way.â Merry removed her shawl and bonnet then hung them on a hook by the door in the entry hall. She picked up the pies and made her way to the kitchen. Emmaline plunked the silverware onto the table behind Merry. At thir- teen Emmaline had begun to rebel against doing so many chores around the home, but Mama could usually get her to cooperate.
Merry sighed and pushed open the swinging door into the kitchen. She kissed her motherâs plump cheek. âSorry Iâm late. I got detained at school.â
Mama ladled stew into bowls and set them on a tray. âI figured as much. Check the cornbread for me. Supperâs about ready.â
Grandma Collins opened up the bakery sacks. âPecan pieânow thatâs going to make for a good dessert. Thank you, Merry.â
âI figured since I was so late coming home, I might as well contribute something to the meal.â Merry opened the oven door and removed two pans of cornbread. She set them on the counter and reached up to the shelf to grab a plate for serving it. She turned one pan onto the counter then cut it into squares and arranged them on the plate.
âMama, did you know Clay Barlow came home?â
The ladle stopped, dripping stew back into the pot. Mama stood still for a few seconds, as did Grandma. âNo, I didnât. Has it been five years already?â She shook her head. âSuch promise that boy had before he got into so much trouble. Where did you see him?â
âOutside the store. Iâm . . . Iâm afraid I made a spectacle of myself. I ran up and hugged him because I was so glad to see him back. The problem is, Mrs. Pennyfeather and her friends saw the whole thing. They werenât too happy about it either.â
Mama laid the spoon aside and reached over to pat Merryâs shoulder. âIâm sure theyâll get over it. How did he seem?â
âI donât know. Embarrassed to see me, I guess. He didnât say much.â
Mama nodded sagely. âItâs been seven years since we moved away from Holly Hill and went to Barton Creek. You were only sixteen when you thought you were so in love with him. Being in prison changes a man, so he wonât be that same boy you liked so much back then.â
âI know, Mama. It just seems strange that he would be released and come home not long after we moved back home.â Grandma shook her head. âI donât know what
happened to that boy. I always liked him. Maybe heâs learned his lesson and will make something of himself yet.â
Papa chose that minute to swing open the back door and enter the kitchen with Henry and Kenny. The boysâ arms were filled with logs for the fire. Papa planted a kiss on Mamaâs fore- head then motioned to the boys, who had unloaded their wood into the bin near the stove. âLetâs get washed up and have some of Mamaâs stew.â
Merry finished piling the cornbread onto a plate and headed to the dining room with it. More talk with Mama and Grandma about Clay would have to wait until they were alone.
She settled in for dinner with her family. Although none of the children were actually her brothers or sisters, every one of them held that place in her heart after the few months sheâd been back here with them. Emmaline and Henry had lived at the orphanage the longest, with Kenny and Robert next, but those two had been babies when her family had left. The rest were new to her, but sheâd grown to love them quickly. Each one had their own tale of tragedy and loss.
Papa stood behind his chair and bowed his head to ask the blessing on the meal. Papa never varied his blessing, using the one his pa had taught him growing up. Merry only half listened to the familiar words until Papa took a new turn. âAnd Father, we ask thy blessings on young Clay Barlow. Guide him on the right path now that heâs served his time and come home. May we act and think kindly toward him. Amen.â
Merry swallowed hard and blinked her eyes. She lifted her gaze to her fatherâs and saw understanding in their blue depths. Around her the others clamored to know who Clay was and why Papa prayed for him. She bit her lip and bowed her head. No man or boy had claimed her heart like Clay. From the encounter this afternoon, she realized he still pos- sessed a piece of it, and she had no idea what to do with that revelation.
It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old…or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!
You never know when I might play a wild card on you!
***Special thanks to Ginger Chen for sending me a review copy.***
Â
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
BJ Hoffâs bestselling historical novels continue to cross the boundaries of religion, language, and culture to capture a worldwide reading audience. Her books include Song of Erin and American Anthem and such popular series as The Riverhaven Years, The Mountain Song Legacy, and The Emerald Ballad. Hoffâs stories, although set in the past, are always relevant to the present. Whether her characters move about in small country towns or metropolitan areas, reside in Amish settlements or in coal company houses, she creates communities where people can form relationships, raise families, pursue their faith, and experience the mountains and valleys of life. BJ and her husband make their home in Ohio.
Visit the author’s website.
SHORT BOOK DESCRIPTION:
In this third book in the Riverhaven Years trilogy young Gideon Kanagy faces a challenge and an unexpected romance. Meanwhile, Gideonâs sister, Rachel, and the “outsider” Jeremiah Gant add to the drama with their own dilemma and its repercussions for the entire Riverhaven community.
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Product Details:
List Price: $13.99
Paperback: 320 pages
Publisher: Harvest House Publishers (October 1, 2012)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 0736924205
ISBN-13: 978-0736924207
ISLAND BREEZES
I hope you like a little mystery mixed in with the love. You are going to be so surprised.
Rachel has two suitors – one Amish and one Englisch who hasn’t been allowed to convert to Amish.
These three characters will have you guessing and hoping as the world seems to be spinning out of control for the Amish community.
This book is set in Pennsylvania in 1856. It’s an enjoyable look at early Amish culture and history.
 AND NOW…THE FIRST CHAPTER:
?Prologue?
Too Many Long Nights
I feel like one who treads alone
Some banquet hall, deserted.
Thomas Moore
Amish settlement near Riverhaven, Ohio
November 1856
Rachel Brenneman had always liked to walk by the river at twilight.
There had been a time during the Peopleâs early years at Riverhaven when she gave no thought to walking alone, day or night. After she and Eli were married, the two of them liked to stroll along the bank of the Ohio in the evening, discussing their day, planning the workweek, dreaming of the future. After Eliâs death, however, Rachel no longer went out alone after dark, although sometimes she and her ten-year-old sister, Fannie, took a picnic lunch in the early afternoon and sat watching the fine big boats and smaller vessels that traveled the great Ohio to unknown places.
Now though, venturing away from the community no longer felt safe, even in the middle of the day. In truth, there was nowhere that felt safe, not after the deadly attack on Phoebe Esch and the other troubles recently visited upon the People. At night, especially, Rachel stayed inside, sitting alone in her bedroom with the window scarcely open in deference to the weather, which had recently turned cold.
November was a lonely month. Rachel still loved to listen to the river from insider her home, but the nighttime soundsâthe distant lapping of the water, the blast from a boatâs horn, the night creatures in communion with one anotherânever failed to set off a stirring of remembrance and an ache in her heart. Yet she couldnât resist sitting there night after night, watching and listening, trying not to let her memories struggle to the surface of her thoughts, trying not to let new hope ignite the ashes of her dreamsâŚ
Trying not to think of Jeremiah.
But how could she not think of him? How did a woman love a man, even if their love was forbidden, and not see his face in her mind or hear his voice in her ear or remember the imprint of his smile upon her thoughts?
Common sense seemed to tell her it should be easy to put the man out of her head. They couldnât be alone with each other. They couldnât even pass the time of day unless they were in the company of others. If they happened to meet by accident, they were expected to separate as quickly as possible.
Yet even with all the rules and restrictions that kept them apart, Jeremiah Gant was still a part of her life. He flowed through her heart and traced the current of her days as surely and completely as the Ohio flowed through the valley, winding its way through the land, coursing through the days and lives of Rachel and the other Plain people.
Lately, there had been talk of leaving. Two years and more of unrest and harassment and threatsâ?even deathâhad begun to wear on the Riverhaven Amish. It was rumored that talks were taking place among the church leaders, discussions of whether to remain in this once-peaceful valley that had become home to the entire community or to consider moving on.
There was no thought of fighting back, of seeking out the unknown adversaries and taking a stand against them. Even if the People could identify their tormenters, they would not confront them. The Amish were a people of nonresistance. They would not fight, not even to protect their own lives. It wasnât their way. To strike out at another individual under any circumstances was strictly against the Ordnung, the unwritten but strict code that guided how they were to live.
The only person Rachel had ever known to defy the rule against fighting, even in self-defense, was Eli, her deceased husband. Heâd gone against the Amish way when he defended Rachel against those who ambushed them on another November night, now four years gone. He had fought with desperation and all his strength, only to die at the hands of their attackers while allowing Rachel to escape.
She knew it was a grievous sin to have such a thought, but many had been the time she wished she could have died alongside Eli that terrible night rather than live through the grief-hollowed, barren days that followed his death. She had been totally devoted to Eli. Their marriage had been good, for they had been close friends as well as husband and wife. Rachel had thought she could never love another man after losing Eli.
And then Jeremiah Gant had come to Riverhaven, turning her life around, enabling her to love againâ?only to have that love forbidden. Even though Jeremiah had made it known he would willingly convert to the Amish faith, Bishop Graber refused to grant permission, once again leaving Rachel with a lost love and a broken heart.
Perhaps it would be better if they were to leave RiverhavenâŚleave the fear and the dread and the pain-filled memories behind.
Leave JeremiahâŚ
The thought stabbed her heart. Could she really face never seeing him again? Never again hear him say her name in that soft and special way he had of making it as tender as a touch? Never again see the smile that was meant for her alone?
In truth, it wasnât only Jeremiah she would miss if they were to leave this fertile Ohio valley. She loved the land, the gentle hills, the singing river. She had come here when she was still a child, come from another place that had never truly been home to her. Here in Riverhaven though, she had felt welcome and accepted. At peace. At home.
At least for a time. It was almost as if she had become a part of the land itself. Even the thought of leaving made her sad beyond telling.
She sighed, knowing she should stir and make ready for bed, even though she felt far too restless for sleep. Would this be another of too many nights when her thoughts tormented her, circling like birds of prey, evoking an uneasiness and anxiety that would give her no peace?
Finally she stood, securing the window to ward off the cold, even though she sensed that the chill snaking through her had little to do with the night air. All too familiar with this icy wind of loneliness, she knew there was no warmth that could ease its punishing sting.
It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old…or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!
You never know when I might play a wild card on you!
***Special thanks to Tracy Krauss for sending me a review copy.***
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Tracy Krauss is a prolific author with several romantic suspense novels and stage plays in print. She is also an artist, director and teacher. She holds a B.Ed degree from the University of Saskatchewan and, after raising four children, now resides in British Columbia, Canada.
Visit the author’s website.
SHORT BOOK DESCRIPTION:
Marshdale. Just a small farming community where nothing special happens. A perfect place to start over⌠or get lost. There is definitely more to this prairie town than meets the eye. Once the meeting place of aboriginal tribes for miles around, some say the land itself was cursed because of the peopleâs sin. But its history goes farther back than even indigenous oral history can trace and there is still a direct descendant who has been handed the truth, like it or not. Exactly what ties does the land have to the medicine of the ancients? Is it cursed, or is it all superstition?
Wind Over Marshdale is the story of the struggles within a small prairie town when hidden evil and ancient medicine resurface. Caught in the crossfire, new teacher Rachel Bosworth finds herself in love with two men at once. First, there is Thomas Lone Wolf, a Cree man whose blood lines run back to the days of ancient medicine but who has chosen to live as a Christian and faces prejudice from every side as he tries to expose the truth. Then there is Con McKinley, local farmer who has to face some demons of his own. Add to the mix a wayward minister seeking anonymity in the obscurity of the town; eccentric twin sisters â one heavily involved in the occult and the other a fundamentalist zealot; and a host of other âcharactersâ whose lives weave together unexpectedly for the final climax. This suspenseful story is one of human frailty – prejudice, cowardice, jealousy, and greed â magnified by powerful spiritual forces that have remained hidden for centuries, only to be broken in triumph by grace.
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Product Details:
List Price: $2.99
File Size: 556 KB
Publisher: Astraea Press (June 11, 2012)
Sold by: Amazon Digital Services, Inc.
Language: English
ASIN: B008ARYQPA
ISLAND BREEZES
Rachel escaped her past rotten relationship by moving to Marshfield and swearing off men.
But did she really? She’s met two men who stir her emotions, but still seems confused by their actions.
They’re both Christians. Rachel is not. Plus, she’s hot to trot right now and can’t figure out why these men aren’t jumping on that opportunity.
Then when one does jump she turns into an ice queen. Talk about sending mixed signals. The town of Marshdale might be small, but it does have it’s share of interesting characters.
As the secrets started coming out, I wondered if there would be any survivors. You’ll have to read this book to find out.
By the way, you’re going to need a few of those tissues before you finish this book.
 AND NOW…THE FIRST CHAPTER:
âAlas, sinful nation; people weighed down with iniquity. Offspring
of evil doers; sons who act corruptly. They have abandoned the
LordâŚthey have despised the Holy OneâŚ
Come now and let us reason together, says the Lord. Though your
sins be like scarlet, they will be as white as snow.â
Isaiah 1: 4 & 18 (NASB)
Chapter One
A whispered breath skimmed across the long prairie grass like a
giant invisible hand stroking the fur of a silken feline. The screech of an
eagle echoed through the valley as it dipped and glided above the river. The
rounded slopes of the bank rose above the swiftly flowing water while
small clumps of trees clustered nearby but for the most part the land
stretched uninterrupted toward the horizon.
In the distance, a faint rumbling could be heard. It began to shake
the earth as it drew nearer. A cloud of dust accompanied the approaching
mass. Hooves pounded. Nostrils dilated. Eyes reddened with fear. The
musky stench of sweat mixed with the heat and dust.
The huge beasts moved en masse toward the precipice. Thousands
of shaggy heads bobbed in unison as the herd of bison stampeded forward.
As if in slow motion, they continued on, up and over the sharp bank of the
river into the ravine below. One by one, they hurtled forward, oblivious to
the fate that awaited them, as they toppled headlong to their deaths.
Thomas shot up in bed, panting. The T-shirt he wore clung
to his body with sweat. It was not the first time the dream had
come to wake him.
He took a deep breath, disentangled himself from the sheets,
and rose to get a drink of water. No point going back to bed now.
He wouldnât sleep anyway. He padded down the narrow hallway,
passing the half closed doorways that sheltered his sleeping
children. Ducking to avoid hitting his head as he entered the tiny
kitchen, he paused for a moment to look at the expanse of
landscape beyond the window. Mostly flat, with a rise of gently
rolling hills in the distance, it was clothed with a carpet of rippling
grass except for the odd patch of dry fallow. Just like in the dream.
The early morning sunrise was just beginning to filter in,
reaching to shed some light in the shadowed corners of the room.
Thomas had managed to rent a house near the outskirts of town.
Correction. It wasnât exactly a house. The realtor called it a âdouble
wide.â Okay, it was a trailer, but it was the only property for rent in
Marshdale at the moment. At least, that was what the realtor had
said. It wasnât the nicest placeârather dingy if truth be toldâand it
was farther from school than Thomas would have liked, but it was
still within walking distance. Better than the overcrowded and
dilapidated homes heâd been used to as a child.
But that was another time. Another life.
He was here now, for better or for worse, and the people of
Marshdale would just have to accept it. He was Thomas Lone Wolf,
proud of his Cree ancestry, and determined to do something about
it. As a community liaison, heâd worked with dozens of indigenous
groups all over the western provinces trying to set up business
propositions. This time was different, though. It was personal.
With practiced fingers he undid his nighttime braid and
shook out his hair, which fell well past his shoulders. Even at forty,
there was no sign of graying or hair loss. It was straight, coarse and
black, just like his ancestorsâ – he was the perfect picture of a Cree
warrior.
Now that he was awake, he allowed himself to replay the
dream in his mind – at least the parts that he could remember. Like
most dreams, the initial clarity soon faded after just a few waking
moments. There were buffalo – always buffalo. And they seemed
bent on suicide, careening to their deaths before he could stop them
somehow.
He was going to start writing it down. The theme was too
familiar; the mixture of fear and power too real. Some people said
you dreamt in black and white. Thomas wasnât sure about that. He
knew there was blood in his dream – and lots of it. The redness of it
stood out in stark contrast to the muted prairie landscape. And the
stench. That unmistakable metallic scent filled his nostrils to such a
degree that he could almost swear he still smelled it. Almost. But
that was ridiculous and he pushed the memory of the coagulating
stains out of his mind.
With a sigh he turned back to the cupboards and started
readying the coffee. It would soon be time to wake the children and
get ready for work himself. Another grueling day of lobbying for
something that should be rightfully his to begin with. Reality didnât
stop for dreams.
****
Rachel Bosworth pulled her car over to the side of the road;
gravel crunching under her tires, and came to a rolling stop. She
put the car in park, pulled the emergency brake into place with a
jerk, and stepped out of the confined, yellow compact. She inhaled
a deep lungful of the late summer air, surveying the picture of
pastoral serenity below.
Marshdale. This was to be her new home. Surrounded by a
patchwork of gold and brown earth, it was an oasis of clustered
houses and well established trees cocooned in a desert of wide
open prairie landscape. Stretched out to the horizon, the summer
sky met with rounded hills.
âNot very big,â Rachelâs friend Sherri noted, joining her on
the outside of the vehicle. âYou sure youâre going to manage way
out here all by yourself?â
âI think itâs perfect,â Rachel said with a satisfied smile. âJust
the change I needed.â
âJust the escape, you mean,â Sherri teased.
âMaybe.â Rachel turned to her friend. âCome on, Sherri. Iâm
feeling scared enough as it is. This is a big move for me. Besides,
youâre the one who convinced me to move out west in the first
place.â
âYeah, I know. But I meant for you to move to Regina with
Dan and me, not out to some backwoods hole in the wall. They
probably donât even have cell service, for Peteâs sake!â
âIt canât be as bad as that. The hiring committee said
Marshdale was a totally modern town with all the basic amenities.â
âYeah? Letâs hope so,â Sherri quipped, shading her eyes
with her hand as she surveyed the town below them.
âCome on, Sherri. Youâre my best friend. I need you to be
excited for me. Tell me I made a good decision and that I wonât
regret it,â Rachel begged.
âYouâre right, kiddo.â Sherri put on her most encouraging
smile. âIt will be nice to see you more often, even if it is a two-hour
drive.â
Rachel nodded. âWhatâs a two-hour drive compared to
thousands of miles all the way back to Toronto?â
âWho knows? Maybe youâll meet some cute farmer and end
up getting married or something.â Sherri shrugged.
âNot interested in men right now, remember? I am here to
become the best kindergarten teacher Marshdale has ever seen.â
âSorry. That was insensitive of me. I know youâre still
hurting over Rotten Ronny.â
âWho?â Rachel asked, raising a brow.
âThatâs the spirit!â Sherri laughed. âWho needs men,
anyway?â
âBetter not let Dan hear you talking like that,â Rachel
warned with a chuckle of her own. âCome on. Letâs get going. I can
hardly wait to get my stuff unpacked.â
âI canât believe you brought so little stuff with you,â Sherri
observed, climbing into the passenger seat.
âI wanted to start fresh.â Rachel put the small standard
vehicle in gear and rolled forward. âBesides, moving a whole lot of
furniture and stuff seemed pointless. Iâve rented this really nice
little basement suite. Itâs fully furnished. And thatâs what youâre
here for, remember? I need your expert advice on what stuff I need
to buy in the city before school starts next week.â
âNow, shopping is one thing Iâm very good at.â
âI know.â Rachel nodded with a grin. âItâs why I brought
you along.â
âThanks. I thought it was for the company.â
âOf course. That too.â Rachel laughed. She sobered quickly
and glanced over at her friend. âThanks, Sherri. For everything.â
âWhat are you talking about?â Sherri waved a dismissive
hand. âIâd be some friend if I didnât come to your rescue when
called.â
âI mean about Ronald. I donât know how I would have
coped without you there.â
âI know, kid.â Sherri gave Rachelâs hand a squeeze. âThatâs
what friends are for. Besides, Iâll expect pay back someday, you
know.â
They were nearing the outskirts of the village. A large
carved sign by the side of the road read, âWelcome to Marshdale.â
âI bet people live more freely here,â Rachel stated. âItâs what
Iâm hoping for. The simple life.â
âPeople have problems wherever they go,â Sherri noted. âIt
may look all peaceful right now, but I bet they have their share of
troubles, just like everybody else.â
âYeah, like what? No cell service?â Rachel asked, the corner
of her mouth turning up.
âNow that would be tragic.â
âI know my life isnât suddenly going to become a bed of
roses,â Rachel admitted. âBut it just seems to me that country
living – the slower pace – has to do something to calm people.
Make them less artificial and – you know – less selfish.â
âWe can only hope,â Sherri shrugged. âNow come on,
girlfriend. Letâs find that basement suite of yours. If weâre going to
unpack, make a list, and get back to the city before dark, we better
get a move on.â
âRoger that.â Rachel nodded, glancing at the hand-– sketched
map that was on the dash. She made a left hand turn at the first
intersection.
****
The interior of the church was cool, quiet and dim. Just the
way Pastor Todd Bryant liked it. He sat on one of the upholstered
chairs in the sanctuary, allowing the viscosity of stillness to envelop
him like a silky smooth liquid.
Sometimes he wished he could stay in here forever, without
having to go out there. The recently refurbished sanctuary was a
peaceful place compared to the world just outside its double oak
doors. When he had come here just a year ago, he knew the
Marshdale Community Church would be a place of refuge; a place
to rest and strengthen his own weary spirit. A place to hide.
Modern and well kept, the Community Church had the
appearance of comfortable affluence – a testament to Godâs favor.
The folks who attended were proud of their commitment to the
Lordâs work in Marshdale and God had blessed them with material
prosperity. They required little actual input from the pastor. Just
keep the ship running smoothly, as instructed by the board, and
everything should be just fine.
Perfect. His less than amiable departure from his last church
had left him feeling just a bit shell-shocked. He needed a place to
hide out for a while. As long as he followed the programâŚ
****
Another soul sat alone, waiting. The room was dark, the
slatted shades drawn over the open window. The only light came
from three candles burning in their resting places on the pentagram
table top. The air was rich with the heady scent of incense
smoldering in the small, intricately designed brass burner. The
woman breathed deeply. Empty the mind. Allow the inner self to
emergeâŚ
A sudden breeze whipped into the room, announcing its
entrance with a slap of the wooden slats on the window frame. It
caressed the chimes hanging nearby before darting to tease the
three flames into a flickering dance.
She smiled. Yes. There was so much to share, to enrich the
lives in this town. There were many paths to enlightenment, but
ultimately they all ended one way. It was up to her to release this
narrow-minded and stiff-necked people to accept that.
Two beautiful brides. One unsuspecting groom. Three weeks to figure it all out.
Greta Olsen arrives in Central City, Colorado, as a mail-order bride, expecting to marry Jess Gifford, the man she’s come to know through his tender letters. But when she meets Cora Johnson, she discovers she’s not the only bride waiting at the train station for Jess.
Already shocked to find they must compete for Jess’s affection, the young women can hardly believe it when not Jess but his brother Zach picks them up from the station-and reveals that Jess knows nothing about any mail-order bride, let alone two. Will either bride make the match she hopes for?
Filled with surprises, misunderstandings, and tender romance, Twice Promised is the story of how two unlikely women become twice blessed.
ISLAND BREEZES
Two brides and one groom. Is this confusing or what? Just wait. It gets even more interesting when both brothers decide to each get married but can’t figure out which girl to pick.
Once Granny’s plan is set in motion, they begin courting the ladies in earnest.
Well, that is, until everyone seems to be falling in love with the wrong person. Then it really turns into a mess when no one wants to hurt any one else.
If they only knew. It gets even more interesting when they all try to figure out how to straighten it out.
***A special thank you to Donna Hausler for providing a review copy.”Â
Maggie Brendan is the author of the Heart of the West series and Deeply Devoted, which was a 2012 ICRA Award finalist. A member of the Authors Guild, Romance Writers of America, and Georgia Romance Writers, Maggie lives in Georgia. Visit her at www.MaggieBrendan.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 October 2012 at your favorite bookseller from Revell, a division of Baker Publishing Group.
“It is written in the prophets, ‘And they shall all be taught by God.’Â Everyone who has heard and learned from the Father comes to me.
Not that anyone has seen the Father except the one who is from God; he has seen the Father.
Very truly, I tell you, whoever believes has eternal life.
Your ancestors ate the manna in the wilderness, and they died.
This is the bread that comes down from heaven, so one may eat of it and not die.
I am the living bread that came down from heaven. Whoever eats of this bread will live forever; and the bread that I will give for the light of the world is my flesh.”
It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old…or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!
You never know when I might play a wild card on you!
***Special thanks to Karen Mueller Bryson for sending me a review copy.***
Â
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Dr. Karen Mueller Bryson is an award-winning/optioned screenwriter, produced playwright and published novelist. Karen has been writing since she learned to read and fell in love with books! When she’s not at her computer creating new stories, Karen enjoys spending time with her husband and their bloodhounds. Karen is the founder of Short on Time Books, fast-paced and fun novels for readers on the go. Karen is also an Associate Professor of Psychology and Human Services at Ottawa University.
Visit the author’s website.
SHORT BOOK DESCRIPTION:
After his momâs sudden death, Elliot White, a 16-year old musical savant with Aspergerâs Syndrome, is forced to leave his performing arts high school in New York City when he relocates to Winslow, Arizona to live with his eccentric aunt, and must attend a school with no music program.
You’ve got to really like Elliot. He’s different from the other kids. He has Asperger’s Syndrome, and is a determined young man.
He’s forced to leave his New York City performing arts school and orchestra. Where does he end up? In a podunk school in Arizona that doesn’t even have a band.
What’s Elliot to do? Music is his life so he tries to form a band. That’s not easy when it’s difficult to talk or be touched.
You’ll enjoy Elliot’s attempt to bring music to this small town. This book is part of the Short on Time Books series, so it’s a fast and easy, as well as enjoyable read.
 AND NOW…THE FIRST CHAPTER:
Sixteen-year-old Elliot White wriggles in an ill-fitting black suit and adjusts Buddy Holly-like glasses as he stares at a sign in front of him. It reads: Discount Funerals (Includes Free Lunch Buffet). Although it should be a somber occasion, all he can think about is his recital later in the afternoon. He finally gets to play the solo piece he has been painstakingly practicing for months. Why did his mom have to die right before his big show?
Elliotâs aunt, 38-year-old Amaryllis Long, adjusts the straps of her black sundress then straightens the substantial crucifix around her neck. Sheâs not sure sheâs ready to bury her only sisterâher only sibling. Now she is truly alone in the world. Well, except for Elliot. Amaryllis takes a deep breath, then grabs her nephew by the arm in an effort to lead him into the shabby funeral home.
Elliot flinches as soon as Amaryllis touches him. Touching is not something he prefers to engage in. The act feels painful and foreign. He avoids it whenever possible. Itâs one of the many things he avoids because they overwhelm his delicate sensory system.
Inside the funeral home, Elliot and Amaryllis take seats in two of the few folding chairs in the back of the small room. They both stare silently at the closed pine casket, which takes up most of the front part of the room. Finally, Elliot clears his throat. âI have to get back to school in one hour. I have a solo in the spring musical extravaganza.â
âYour mother always did have awful timing,â Amaryllis replies.
A short time later, Amaryllis and Elliot make their way into the auditorium of his elite performing arts high school. Itâs one of the best in New York City. Amaryllis feels very out of place amongst the instrument-toting teens and their well-dressed parents. She hasnât stepped foot in a high school since her own graduation twenty years ago. And she certainly doesnât make many trips out of the Arizona desert.
Amaryllis takes a seat in the packed audience and listens contently as the orchestra plays a rousing medley of classical favorites. In the middle of the final piece, Elliot, still in his funeral attire, stands and plays a stunning solo on his viola. She is amazed at the talent of her own flesh and blood. Although she hasnât seen him in at least 10 years, her only nephew holds a special place in her heart. And now that her sisterâs gone, Amaryllis will be his guardian and caretaker. She shudders slightly at the thought. What does she know about raising children? Or raising any living thing, for that matter. She canât even keep a houseplant alive.
At the conclusion of Elliotâs solo, the audience erupts in applause and gives the young musician a standing ovation. Elliot simply bows and takes his seat with the rest of the orchestra.
Once the performance is over, there was a small reception for Elliot in the schoolâs foyer. Elliot finds himself standing awkwardly under a sign, which reads: Farewell, Elliot, We Will Miss You. Next to Elliot is a small folding table with a punch bowl, papers cups and a small tray of butter cookies. Mr. Grubb, the schoolâs portly orchestra director, stands on the far side of the table, rubbing sweat from his brow with a handkerchief. Both Mr. Grubb and Elliot wait patiently for well-wishers but none are forthcoming. Finally, a little boy with a red Kool-Aid mustache runs up to the table and giggles. He snatches several cookies, shoves them into his mouth and dashes away. Mr. Grubb holds out some hope when a group of teens carrying instruments approaches and it looks like they might stop at the table, but the kids continue down the hallway laughing amongst themselves.
Mr. Grubb glances over at Elliot, who was now picking lint from his suit jacket. âWeâll certainly miss you,â he says warmly.
âI know,â Elliot responds without making eye contact.
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The next morning, Amaryllis and Elliot, each carrying several packing boxes, approach a shabby-looking brownstone row house with a FOR RENT sign in the front window.
When they enter the home, Amaryllis is shocked to find the living room in complete disarray. She was not aware of the extent of her sister, Irisâs, mental illness or the fact that she dealt with major depressive episodes for most of Elliotâs life. When Iris got depressed, she holed herself up in her bedroom, sometimes for days at a time, and Elliot was forced to fend for himself.
âYou can pack whateverâll fit in these boxes,â Amaryllis says matter-of-factly. âThe restâll have to go to Goodwill. The landlord, bless his soul, said heâd get some friends from church to help him clear the place out.â
Elliot merely grunts in response and heads into his bedroom. Amaryllis follows her nephew into his room, which sheâs surprised to see is immaculate. Itâs a bit of out of place compared to the chaos of the rest of the house.
Elliot immediately opens his desk drawer and fills the first box with sheet music that packs the bottom drawer.
âWhat is all that?â she asks.
âMy music,â he says and snorts.
Amaryllis raises an eyebrow.
Elliot continues, âI have to have my music.â
She watches curiously as he moves to his bookshelf, removes a miniature viola and carefully places it in his second box. She opens the small closet next to her and notes the few shirts and pants hanging there. âDonât you think we should pack these clothes?â
Elliot snorts in response. He grabs a framed photo of his mother and him and stares at it for a moment.
âSheâs in a better place,â Amaryllis says as she glances at the photo.
Elliot grunts again, then places the photo in his box.
On their way out of the house, a book lying on the sofa catches Amaryllisâs eye. Itâs titled Aspergerâs Disorder: A Beginnerâs Guide. She grabs the copy as they head out the door.
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They carry filled boxes toward her beater pick-up and load them in the truckâs cab. Amaryllis gets into the driverâs side and Elliot hops into the passengerâs seat. He places a black urn containing his motherâs ashes in his lap and the two began their trip across the country.
âSo, what did my sister tell you about me?â Amaryllis asks, trying to make conversation.
âMy mother? She never said a word about you,â he replies.
âNo surprise there.â
After an awkward moment of silence passes, she says, âYour mother mentioned something about Aspergerâs Syndrome.â
Elliot snorts in response.
âIs there anything I should be aware of?â Amaryllis knows even less about the disorder than she does about raising teenagers.
Elliot tugs nervously on his earlobe then says, âIâm not like everyone else.â
Amaryllis shrugs. âNeither am I.â
âAspiesâ brains are wired differently. We think differently than neurotypicals.â
âNeurotypicals?â
âThatâs everyone whoâs not on the autism spectrum. Which are most people.â
Amaryllis nods. She certainly understands what it feels like to not be like other people. Since she finally has Elliot talking, she tries another question. âArizona should be quite an adventure for you.â
âI donât like adventures,â Elliot replies flatly. He turns and looks out the window as the big open country passes by.
Amaryllis realizes the moment has passed and the conversation is now over.
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It takes several days, but the pair finally makes it to the Arizona border. Amaryllis gives a little hoot as her pick-up rambles past a sign that reads: Arizona – The Grand Canyon State. As they drive through the barren land of northern Arizona, Elliot watches as a lone tumbleweed blows by. His first time out of New York is not yet proving to be eventful.
âWe should be in Winslow in no time,â Amaryllis says, breaking the silence that has lasted since Colorado.
âEverything looks dead,â Elliot notes.
She chuckles. âWelcome to Arizona.â
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???
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As Amaryllisâs truck rambles down Second Street, she breathes a sigh of relief that they are finally back home. The tired old town of Winslow has seen better days, but its familiarity is a welcome site. As they drive past the âStandinâ on a Corner in Winslow, Arizonaâ site made famous by the Eagles, a haggard man with a collie walks by a life-sized male statue marking the place for tourists.
âThere it is,â Amaryllis says as she gazes out the window. âThe famous corner.â
When Elliot looks out the window, he sees the haggard manâs collie lift his leg on the statue. Elliot looks puzzled. âWhatâs so famous about that corner?â
âI guess youâve never heard of the Eagles.â
âThe birds of prey?â
âThe rock band,â Amaryllis replies, immediately feeling older. âStandinâ on the corner in Winslow, Arizona. That doesnât sound familiar to you?â
Elliot shakes his head.
âAnd you say youâre a musician,â she teases.
Elliot remains stoic and Amaryllis wonders if he is able to take a joke.
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???
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About ten miles out of town, Amaryllis pulls into the Desert Dream Trailer Park. Seven well-worn double-wides mark the otherwise desolate landscape. One of the double-wides also serves as a make-shift office. A sign over it reads: Welcome to your Desert Dream.
She pulls her truck up to her trailer and they hop out. They both take a much-needed stretch after the long ride.
âWe made it,â Amaryllis says.
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???
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Elliot just stares at the sight of his new home. Itâs a big step down from his motherâs row house.
âI know it doesnât look like much, but itâs paid for,â she says. âWe best get your stuff unpacked before nightfall.â
Inside, Elliot glances at the well-worn furniture. He notices religious iconography surrounding the roomâs centerpieceâa massive velvet Jesus painting. Even though his mother never took him to church, he loves to read about the worldâs major religions.
Amaryllis points to a small room off of the living area. âThatâll be your room. Used to be my sewing room.â
âWhere will you sew?â Elliot asks.
âAustinâs got some space for me.â
He looks puzzled. âAustin is one thousand twenty miles from here.â
She gives her nephew a huge grin. âNope, right next door.â
As if on cue, 45-year-old Austin Young, a burnt-out hippie, enters the double-wide. âDid someone mention my name?â
Amaryllis leans over to Elliot conspiratorially and says, âThe walls have ears. Donât say I didnât warn you.â
Elliot quickly glances around the small room looking for signs of ears on the walls. How could a wall have ears, he wonders? So far, Arizona is an extremely confusing place for him.
Austin puts out a hand for Elliot to shake, but the young man seems oblivious to the gesture and does not reciprocate. He tugs on his earlobe instead.
Austin tries another tactic. âHow was your trip?â he asks.
When he doesnât respond, Amaryllis pipes in, âTiring. Elliot must be exhausted.â
âIâm not tired,â Elliot interjects a little too loudly. âI slept for 22 of the 35 hours we traveled and I slept in both of the motels in which we stayed. Day one was a 14-hour trip with two gas breaks and a lunch break. Day two was similar. Today, we only had to travel for 7 hours.
âThatâs precise,â Austin says with a smile at Elliot. Then he says to Amaryllis, âYouâre welcome to come by my place for dinner. Iâll fire up the grill.â
âI think weâll take a rain check.â She pats her friendâs arm. âElliot has to get ready for school tomorrow.â
âGotcha. Dinnerâs an open invitation.â
âI know,â Amaryllis says, giving Austin a warm smile.
Austin heads for the door, but turns back before exiting. âIâve got a new recipe for chipotle steak sauce. Bet itâd taste awfully good with those baby potatoes you love so much.â
âGood night, Austin,â Amaryllis says as she lovingly nudges him out the door. She smiles as the door closes behind him.
âBased upon Kinsingerâs own childhood, itâs reminiscent of the Little House on the Prairie books.â âRomantic Times
Celebrate with Suzanne and Mary Ann by entering their contest and RSVPing to the âLife with Lilyâ Facebook Author Chat Party on 10/16!
Two fortunate winners will receive:
Either the new Kindle Fire or new Nook HD
Signed copy of Life with Lily for you and a young reader in your life.
Enter today by clicking one of the icons below. But hurry, the giveaway ends on October 15th. Winner will be announced at the Life with Lily Author Chat Facebook Party on 10/16. Connect with authors Suzanne Woods Fisher and Mary Ann Kinsinger for an evening of book chat, Q&A about Mary Annâs Amish childhood, trivia, and fun! There will also be gift certificates, books, and other fun prizes!
So grab your copy of Life with Lily and join Suzanne and Mary Ann on the evening of the October 16th for a chance to connect with the authors and make some new friends. (If you havenât read the books â donât let that stop you from coming!)
Don’t miss a moment of the fun, RSVP today. Tell your friends via FACEBOOK or TWITTER and increase your chances of winning. Hope to see you on the 16th!