“This country stands for the proposition that all men and women are created equal, that they havecertain inalienable rights. And what that means is that if you could build a church on a site, you could build a synagogue on a site, if you could build a Hindu temple on a site, then you should be able to build a mosque on the site.” Obama,on religious tolerance. Emphasis mine.
Huh? Excuse me? I’ve never heard that spin before. From Wikipedia:
“Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness” is one of the most famous phrases in the United States Declaration of Independence, and considered by some as part of one of the most well crafted, influential sentences in the history of the English language[1]. These three aspects are listed among the “unalienable rights” or sovereign rights of man. It is a paraphrasing of an earlier statement by English philosopher John Locke.
The full quotation is “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.”
*Please note that Obama chose to leave the Creator out of the quote.
You can read the full text of this document for yourself.
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 Karri James of Harvest House Publishers for sending me a review copy.***
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
As a boy, Jerry Eicher spent eight years in Honduras where his grandfather helped found an Amish community outreach. As an adult, Jerry taught for two terms in parochial Amish and Mennonite schools in Ohio and Illinois. He has been involved in church renewal for 14 years and has preached in churches and conducted weekend meetings of in-depth Bible teaching. Jerry lives with his wife, Tina, and their four children in Virginia.
List Price: $11.99
Paperback: 272 pages
Publisher: Harvest House Publishers (June 1, 2010)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 0736930442
ISBN-13: 978-0736930444
ISLAND BREEZES
It looks as if Hannah is still dreaming, but has decided it’s a good thing. She and her new husband settle in Montana. It’s just a little cabin back in the boonies, but it’s theirs.
One thing after another happens to this young couple, and it all makes for a very difficult time. Hannah wants to move back home to Indiana, but her husband insists that Montana is where the Lord wants them.
This is a book that I didn’t want to put down until I had read to the end. It definitely held my interest with all this couple’s struggles. You’ll have to read it and enjoy the subplots as well as the main story.
AND NOW…THE FIRST CHAPTER:
Hannah Byler awoke with a start. She sat up in bed and listened. The wind outside the small cabin stirred in the pine trees. The moon, already high in the sky when she and Jake went to bed, shone brightly through the log cabin window.
Beside her she heard Jake’s deep, even breathing. She had grown accustomed to the comforting sound in the few short months since they’d been married. She laid back down on the pillow. Perhaps it was just her imagination. There was no sound—nothing to indicate something might be wrong.
But her heart beat faster—and fearfully. Something was wrong—but what?
“Jake,” she whispered, her hand gently shaking his shoulder. “Jake, vagh uff.”
“What is it?” he asked groggily. He spoke louder than she wished he would at the moment.
“I don’t know,” she whispered again and hoped he would get the hint. “I think there’s something outside.”
Jake listened and sat up in bed with his arms braced on the mattress.
“I don’t hear anything,” he said, a little quieter this time. “There are all kinds of noises in the mountains at night.”
“I think something is outside,” she insisted.
They both were silent a moment, waiting and listening. Hannah half expected Jake to lower his head back to his pillow, tell her the fears were a bad dream, and go back to sleep. Instead he pushed back the covers and set his feet on the floor.
Just then a loud snuff outside the log wall stopped him. They both froze. Hannah didn’t recognize the sound. No animal she knew ever made such a noise.
“It sounds like a pig,” Jake said, his voice low. “What are pigs doing out here at nighttime?”
“It’s not a pig,” Hannah whispered back. No stray pig, even in the nighttime, could create such tension. “It’s something else.”
“But what?” Jake asked, the sound coming again, seemingly right against the log wall.
Hannah lay rigid, filled with an overpowering sense that something large and fierce stood outside.
“I’m going to go see what’s out there.” Jake had made up his mind, and Hannah made no objection.
Jake felt under the bed for his flashlight and then moved toward the door. Somehow Hannah found the courage to follow but stayed close to Jake.
Their steps made the wooden floor creak, the only sound to be heard.
Jake slowly pulled open the wooden front door, his flashlight piercing the darkness as he moved it slowly left and then right.
“Nothing here,” he said quietly and then stepped outside.
Hannah looked around Jake toward the edge of the porch. “It was around the corner,” she whispered.
Jake walked slowly toward the corner of the house, but Hannah stayed on the porch near the front door.
Jake stopped momentarily and then stepped around the corner of the house. Hannah could only see a low glow from the flashlight. In the distance by the light of the moon, the misty line of the Cabinet Mountains accented the utter ruggedness of this country. During the day, the sight still thrilled her, but now that same view loomed dangerously.
For the first time since they’d moved into the cabin after their wedding, Hannah wondered whether this place was a little too much for the two of them. Was a remote cabin, a mile off the main road and up this dirt path into the foothills of the Cabinet Mountains, really what she wanted?
“It’s a bear!” Jake’s voice came from around the corner. “Come take a look—quick—before it’s gone.”
“Gone,” she whispered.
“Come see!” Jake’s urgent voice came again.
Again Hannah found courage from somewhere. She stepped around the corner of the house and let her gaze follow the beam of Jake’s flashlight, which now pierced the edge of the clearing around their cabin. At the end of the beam, a furry long-haired bear—as large as the one she’d seen once at the zoo—stood looking back at them, its head raised and sniffing the air.
“It’s a grizzly,” Jake said, excitement in his voice. “See its hump?”
“Then why are we out here?” Hannah asked, nearly overcome with the urge to run and desperate for solid walls between her and this huge creature.
“The men at the lumberyard said there aren’t many around,” Jake said in her ear. “Mostly black bears down in this area.”
“Shouldn’t we be inside?” she asked the question another way, pulling on his arm. “It’s not going away.”
“It will leave sooner if we stay in sight rather than go inside,” he told her, his light playing on the creature whose head was still in the air and turned in their direction.
“Well, I’m going inside,” she said, her courage now wholly depleted.
“It’s going,” Jake announced, and so she paused. They watched, fascinated, as the great creature bobbed its head and disappeared into the woods.
“It’s gone,” Jake said, a bit disappointed. “That was a grizzly.”
They turned back to the cabin, Hannah following Jake’s lead. As they stepped onto the porch, Hannah considered their front door. Suddenly the solid slat door—so bulky before—now looked thin, an unlikely protection against the hulk that had just disappeared into the dark tree line.
“What if it comes back?” she asked.
“It won’t. It’s just passing through,” he assured her. “They don’t like humans. They’re wanderers anyway. It’ll probably not come this way again—ever.”
Not reassured, Hannah shut the door tightly behind them and pushed the latch firmly into place.
“Bears hang around,” she told him. “This one could come back.”
“Then we’ll deal with it. Maybe the game warden can help. I doubt it will return, though.” Jake was fast losing interest and ready for his bed again.
Jake snuggled under the covers, pulling them tight up to his chin. “These are cold nights,” he commented. “Winter’s just around the corner. I have to get some sleep.”
Hannah agreed and pulled her own covers up tight. Jake’s job on the logging crew involved hard manual labor that required a good night’s sleep. She didn’t begrudge him his desire for sleep.
“I sure hope it doesn’t come back,” she said finally.
“I doubt it will,” he muttered, but Hannah could tell he was already nearly asleep.
To the sounds of Jake’s breathing, she lay awake and unable to stop her thoughts. Home, where she had grown up in Indiana, now seemed far away, a hazy blur against the fast pace of the past few months.
What is Mom doing? she wondered. No doubt she’s comfortably asleep in their white two-story home, secure another night just like the night before and ready to face another day just like the day before.
Thoughts of her earlier summers in Montana—tending to Aunt Betty’s riding stable—pushed into her mind. This country had seemed so glorious then, and she had dreamed of her return.
The wedding had come first. She smiled in the darkness while she remembered the special day. After a flurry of letters and Jake’s visits as often as he could, Betty got her wish for a wedding in Montana. Hannah’s mother realized it was for the best. Because the plans for Hannah’s wedding to Sam Knepp ended in a disaster back home in Indiana, Roy and Kathy decided they couldn’t have the wedding there and possibly face that embarrassment again. Even Jake was in favor of the wedding in Montana—here where they had met.
Their hearts were in Montana now—close to the land and the small Amish community in the shadow of the Cabinet Mountains. But lately Hannah asked herself if living out here in the middle of nowhere was really for their best. Then she was thankful that at least she was with Jake—better here with Jake than anywhere else without him.
But as she lay in the darkness unable to sleep, she found herself wishing for close neighbors. She wished she could get up now and walk to the front door, knowing that someone else lived within calling distance—or at least within running distance if it came to that. Now, with a bear around, a night wanderer with mischief on his mind, there was nowhere to go. She shuddered.
She wondered if she could outrun a bear and reach a neighbor’s house. She pictured herself lifting her skirt for greater speed. How fast can bears run? Can they see well at night to scout out their prey?
Hannah shivered in the darkness and listened to Jake’s even breathing, wondering how he could sleep after what they had just seen. A grizzly! Jake had been sure it was a grizzly they’d heard sniffing around their cabin just outside their bedroom wall. Why was Jake not more alarmed? He had even seemed fascinated, as if it didn’t bother him at all.
She had always thought she was the courageous one, the one who wanted adventure. After all, she had come out to Montana on her own that first summer. The mountains had fascinated her, drawn her in, and given her strength. But tonight those same mountains had turned on her and given her a bear for a gift—a grizzly. Even the stately pine trees, with their whispers that soothed her before, now seemed to talk of dark things she knew nothing about, things too awful to say out loud.
She turned in the bed, hoping she wouldn’t disturb Jake. She thought of his job on the logging crew, really a job of last resort. Yes, at first it was a blessing because they needed the income, but now it had become more and more of a burden. Jake didn’t complain, but the burden was apparent in the stoop of his shoulders when he came home at night. It revealed itself in his descriptions of how he operated the cutter, navigated the steep slopes, and worked with logs that rolled down the sides of the mountains. She also heard it in his descriptions of Mr. Wesley, his boss. She had met Mr. Wesley once when he had stopped by the house to interview Jake for the job. He operated the largest timber company in Libby, and his huge, burly form matched his position, nearly filling their cabin door that day. She had been too glad Jake had gotten the job to worry much about Mr. Wesley, but after he left she was glad she wouldn’t see him every day.
Hannah shivered again, feeling the sharp chill that seeped into the log house—the same one that seemed so wonderful in summer. Winter would come soon to this strange land, and neither she nor Jake had ever been through one here.
Hannah willed herself to stop thinking. Now she knew for certain. There had been something she wanted to tell Jake but had wanted to wait until she was sure. Now on this night—the night the bear came—she was certain. The strangeness puzzled her. How could a bear’s unexpected visit and this wonderful news have anything to do with each other?
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 Karri James of Harvest House Publishers for sending me a review copy.***
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
As a boy, Jerry Eicher spent eight years in Honduras where his grandfather helped found an Amish community outreach. As an adult, Jerry taught for two terms in parochial Amish and Mennonite schools in Ohio and Illinois. He has been involved in church renewal for 14 years and has preached in churches and conducted weekend meetings of in-depth Bible teaching. Jerry lives with his wife, Tina, and their four children in Virginia.
List Price: $11.99
Paperback: 272 pages
Publisher: Harvest House Publishers (June 1, 2010)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 0736930450
ISBN-13: 978-0736930451
ISLAND BREEZES
Dreams. Good dreams. Bad dreams. Daydreams and nightmares. Hannah wants to escape from dreams, and thinks maybe a visit to her aunt in Montana for the summer will help.
She runs, but can’t stop the dreams. Maybe marriage to a young man with no dreams will help. Will she ever find an escape from these dreams?
AND NOW…THE FIRST CHAPTER:
Outside Hannah Miller’s upstairs window, springtime had come. The earth was finally awakening from what had been a worse than normal northern Indiana winter.
Breakfast was finished, and her mother would soon call from downstairs for help. Her cousins were coming to visit this evening, and there was a lot of work to do.
As she secured her dark hair beneath the head covering she wore for work, Hannah glanced down at the paper on which she had scribbled the words of the poem. Surely she had time for another quick read, and that would have to do. Her almost seventeen-year-old hands trembled as she held the writing in front of her.
The words of the poem by E.S. White, written in 1908, gripped her again.
A Ballad of Spring
It’s Spring, my Love.
Bowed down with care,
Your branches are stripped and bare.
Old Winter’s past.
Its snow and cold
Have melted long and lost their hold.
The earth it waited
With bated breath for something more,
For life renewed called from its core.
It opens wide its arms.
For strength, for vigor, for its best,
It stirs its creatures to their nests.
All around it lies the warmth
Because the sun has drawn near,
Touching, caressing, there and here.
Arise, it calls.
The pomegranates bloom.
They yell that life has room.
Will you come, my Dear,
Hold my hand, touch what I bring?
Because, my Love, it’s Spring.
Hannah paused as thoughts raced through her head. Can this be true? Is there really such a feeling? Is this something I could really feel…this thing called love?
Then, from downstairs she heard the urgent sound of her mother’s voice, “Hannah, time to start the day.”
“Yes, I’m coming,” she called as she quickly placed the poem on the dresser, smoothed the last wrinkles out of the bed covers, and then rushed out of her room and down the stairs.
“The wash needs to be started right away,” her mom said as she busied herself with the dishes in the kitchen sink.
“Yes, right away,” Hannah said. After making one last check for dirty clothes in the bedrooms, she made her way down to the basement. The sparse room seemed dingy and damp, in stark contrast to the fresh spring day she had seen from her upstairs window. She’d much rather be outside, but the laundry must be done.
Hannah ran the water into the tub from the attached hose. When the water reached the fill line, she turned off the water and tossed in the first load of dirty clothes. With a jerk on the starter rope, the old tub started vibrating. The motor changed its speed and sound as the center tumbler turned, dragging the load of pants and shirts through the water.
As Hannah reached inside the washer to check the progress, the memory of the poem returned to her. Then she thought of James back in seventh grade. His grin had been lopsided but cute. He was a sweet boy—his eyes always lit up whenever Hannah looked at him. Was that the first stirrings of whatever this thing called “love” was?
Surely not. Such ideas! If someone could read my thoughts… “A dumm-kopf, that’s what they’d say,” she spoke aloud, smiling at her youthful memory.
Her hand dodged the tumbler’s wrath, but still the tumbler caught a piece of cloth and whipped water in her direction.
Then her memory moved up to eighth grade. Sam Knepp. A thirteen-year-old girl just had to have someone to like. The other girls would have thought her a true dummkopf if she had no one. And so she had picked Sam at random. What other choice had there been? Sam sat across the aisle from her. He was sort of cute. He had freckles, red hair, and a good smile. But there was that horrible habit he had of opening his mouth when he was puzzled or surprised.
When Hannah told the other girls she liked Sam, they reacted with admiration. So she had made the right choice. Maybe she was not a dummkopf. Her friend Mary stuck up for her choice. Mary was blonde and sweet on Laverne, who was truly a wonder in the world of Amish eighth graders. He was easily the best-looking boy in the district. In fact Hannah would have picked Laverne had he not already been taken by Mary. For some reason, it didn’t bother her that Annie, who was in the sixth grade, had her attention on Sam; blushing every time he walked by, but saying nothing.
No, Hannah decided, Sam didn’t fit for her. Not really. Maybe Laverne would have been a good choice, but not as long as he was Mary’s choice. Hannah supposed even now that Laverne and Mary would soon be dating.
“Hannah,” her mother called from upstairs, “are you done yet?”
“Coming,” Hannah called out. “This old washer is going as fast as it can.”
“Well, hurry up. The clothing needs to be on the line soon. The sun is already well up.”
“Yes,” Hannah called out again, “I’ll get it out as soon as I can.”
Minutes later the cycle was finished, and Hannah quickly loaded the basket with the heavy wet laundry and made her way up the steps and out to the clothesline.
Outside, the glorious spring day greeted her brightly. Hannah turned her face skyward and almost lost her grip on the basket as she soaked in the warm sunshine. What a glorious spring it was going to be! It felt so good to be young and alive.
Hannah began pinning the wet clothes onto the line till they stretched out, heavy in the still morning air. Later the breeze would pick up and dry the clothes as they flapped in the wind. It was a beautiful sight to behold. Hannah hoped the wind would stay gentle until the last piece was fully dry, but with spring days, one was never sure. The wind could have a mind of its own.
She stood back and watched with approval the first of the wash begin to move slightly in the breeze. Yes, this is going to be a wonderful spring, she decided as she picked up the basket and turned to go back inside.
The sun was still out when the first buggies arrived for the evening’s family gathering. Two buggies came in, one right after the other, and then two more arrived fifteen minutes later. Among the guests were Ben and Susan Yoder—Susan was Hannah’s mom’s cousin. Also in attendance were Leroy and John, brothers on her dad’s side, and Mose, Leroy’s brother-in-law. Other people who were in some way connected to the Millers had also been invited. Having a few outside guests allowed for some spontaneity while maintaining some of the structures formed by the natural family. Sam Knepp came that night because one of the cousins had taken the notion to invite him.
It amused Hannah to see Sam again, having just thought of him that morning. She noticed that he still had that habit of occasionally allowing his mouth to drop open almost randomly.
After a hearty supper, all the young people went outside to play. Since so many younger children were involved, they had to choose a simple game. The game they chose was Wolf, which caused Hannah to consider whether or not she might be too old to join in. The game involved races run at full speed in the darkness. When all of the cousins and Sam announced they would play, Hannah decided to join in. After all, Sam and she were the same age. If he could play, so could she.
With that decided, the game was called to order, and the first “wolf”—her cousin Micah—was chosen. He picked the big tree beside the house for his home base, hollered loudly that the game had begun, and began to count. The children scattered to find hiding places before he counted to one hundred. Hannah decided to try to bluff the wolf by hiding just around the corner of the house.
At the count of a hundred, the wolf silently moved to the edge of the house, stuck his head around the corner, spotted Hannah, and howled with glee. He easily beat her back to the tree trunk.
“That was stupid of me,” Hannah muttered as she joined Micah at the tree.
“They try that on me all the time,” the wolf crowed in triumph. “Now let’s get the rest of them. You go around the house that way, and I’ll take the side you hid on.”
Hannah imitated the wolf’s trick, now that she was one herself, but the corner of the house produced no hidden sheep. The moon had already set by now, and the only light came from the stars. This corner of the house was particularly dark, absent of any light beams from the gas lanterns in the living room and kitchen.
Hannah felt her way along the house and, hearing a noise, she turned toward the front porch where she flushed someone out of the bush and found herself in a race back to the tree trunk. Hannah wasn’t sure who she was chasing, but that didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was who got to the tree first.
Just as she passed the corner of the house, Hannah’s world exploded into a deeper darkness than the evening around her. Sam, the one she had flushed from the bush, somehow collided with Hannah. He flew backward, and Hannah flew off into complete darkness in the other direction. Two other racers just missed her fallen body and dodged Sam who had now crawled slowly to a sitting position.
Young cousin Jonas, one of the children who had to jump to avoid Hannah’s body, immediately ran to the kitchen door, stuck his head in, and yelled in his loudest little-boy voice, “Someone bring a light! There’s been a hurt!”
Roy Miller, Hannah’s father, reacted first. He grabbed the kitchen lantern from its hook and ran outside.
“What’s going on?” he called from the porch, holding his lantern aloft, the light reaching out in a great circle.
“She’s hurt! Over here!” Sam called. He now rested on his left elbow and pointed toward Hannah’s still body.
As Roy approached, Sam slowly huddled closer to Hannah, both hands wrapped around his head. “Hannah,” he whispered, “are you hurt?”
By the light of Roy’s approaching lantern, Sam saw that Hannah was not moving. He took his hands off his head and gently pushed her arm but got no response. “You okay?” he asked again, tilting his head sideways to look down at her.
“Oh no, I hurt her!” Sam yelled as he jumped to his feet. He then stood speechless, his mouth wide open.
With the lantern in hand, Roy was now standing over the two young people. Glancing briefly at Sam, Roy reached for Hannah’s hand and then focused his attention on Hannah’s head, which had obviously taken the brunt of the hit as evidenced by a deep gash and wound to her left eye. Roy gently gathered Hannah in his arms and spoke to his brother, Leroy, standing beside him.
“Better take a look at Sam,” Roy said with a motion of his head toward the boy, and then he headed to the kitchen with Hannah.
Hannah’s mom met them at the door. “How bad is she hurt?” she asked, holding the kitchen door open.
“I don’t know,” Roy told her. “Let’s get her to the couch.”
Roy placed Hannah down gently and then stepped aside as Kathy got her first good look at Hannah’s head.
“We have to take her to the doctor—now,” Kathy said. “This looks serious.”
“Are you sure?” Roy said. “Is it that bad?”
“Roy, just look at her eye and that cut on her head!”
Roy, for the first time, carefully studied his daughter’s injury and then nodded. “Can someone run down to Mr. Bowen’s place and call for a driver?” he asked.
“I’ll go,” Ben said as he headed for the door.
Hannah had become alert enough to barely moan but nothing more.
Ben returned minutes later, a little breathless but with news. “Mr. Bowen said it wasn’t necessary to call for a ride. He’ll take her himself.”
“Da Hah be praised,” Roy said, worried about his daughter.
Old Mr. Bowen drove his car up to the front porch. Roy helped the groggy Hannah into the backseat.
“Why don’t you ride in the back with her?” Roy suggested to Kathy.
Kathy nodded, slid in next to Hannah, and held her upright against her own shoulder. With Roy in the front seat, Mr. Bowen pulled out of the driveway.
“Is she hurt badly?” Mr. Bowen asked.
“I can’t tell,” Roy said. “Her head seems to have…quite a gash in it. And her left eye doesn’t look normal.”
“I’ll get you there as fast as I can.” Mr. Bowen accelerated slowly on the gravel road and hung tightly onto the steering wheel. Once they reached the blacktop, he sped up considerably.
They reached Elkhart without incident, and Mr. Bowen pulled into the hospital parking lot. Roy quickly got out, opened the back door, and helped Hannah out of the car. He and Kathy took Hannah’s arms and made their way into the emergency room reception area.
The attending nurse took one look at Hannah, brought a wheelchair for her, and then took her to an examining room to wait for the doctor.
An hour later Roy and Kathy were seated in the waiting room.
“Did they say how bad she is?” Roy asked again.
“The nurse said she’ll be fine. That’s all she said,” Kathy repeated.
“Will she lose the eye?”
“No, surely not,” Kathy said, though with some uncertainty.
“We’ll just have to trust,” he said, attempting a smile and squeezing her hand.
“I’ll wait for you folks. Whatever time this takes,” Mr. Bowen assured them.
“That awful nice of you,” Kathy said. “We can call when we’re done. This could take much of the night.”
“The Mrs. understands,” Mr. Bowen said. “I don’t need much sleep myself anyway.”
“It’s still nice of you,” Kathy said with a smile as she took a seat beside Roy.
A few minutes later, the attending doctor walked into the waiting room and motioned for Hannah’s parents to follow him.
“I’m Dr. Benson,” he announced to the couple as they walked down the hall. “Your daughter is resting now. There isn’t much more we can do other than keep her under observation. We can’t let her sleep for a while, of course.”
“What happened?” Kathy asked.
“A bad concussion, that’s all, from what I can tell. The bone structure of her skull has actually been damaged where the impact occurred. That’s also what caused her left eye to protrude. We patched her up as best we could. Now nature will have to take its course. The eye, I believe, will return to normal now that we have taken the worst of the pressure off. We’d like to keep her here under observation for a day or two just to be sure.”
“Yes, of course,” Roy said. “I appreciate the prompt attention. She had us really worried. Will we be able to see her now?”
“Yes, the nurse will take you back. Do you have any questions?”
Roy and Kathy looked at each other, and Kathy said, “No, doctor, I don’t think so. Thank you for all you’ve done.”
The couple then followed the nurse into the elevator and two floors up.
Hannah lay in the bed, covered with white sheets and kept awake by a watchful nurse. The bed beside Hannah was occupied by another girl whose face was turned away from them. She moved slightly when they walked in but didn’t turn in their direction.
“You’re in good hands,” Kathy whispered and squeezed Hannah’s hand.
Hannah blinked slowly but made no other response.
“A little groggy,” the nurse said and smiled. “We gave her something for the pain.”
“We’d better leave, then, I suppose,” Kathy whispered. “They’ll take good care of you, Hannah. I’ll come back tomorrow first thing.”
Hannah nodded, and Kathy brushed her hand across her cheek.
At the doorway, Kathy glanced back quickly before she followed Roy out.
“She looked okay,” Roy assured her.
“But here—all night by herself.”
“They’ll watch her. You can come back in the morning. Half the night’s gone already the way it is.”
“I suppose so,” Kathy agreed.
Roy pushed the elevator button. They stepped inside when the doors opened and arrived at the waiting room to find Mr. Bowen had nodded off, his chin on his chest.
“We’re back,” Roy whispered into his ear.
He awoke with a start, grinned, and promptly bounced to his feet.
“How is she?” he asked as they walked outside.
“She’ll be okay,” Roy said, “but she’s staying for a day or two.”
“Sounds good for how she looked,” Mr. Bowen commented. “So let me get you folks home. I suppose you’re ready?”
“That we are,” Roy agreed.
Mr. Bowen drove slowly on the way home, taking his time around the curves. When he pulled into the Miller’s graveled driveway, he turned to Kathy in the backseat. “What’s your driver situation for tomorrow?”
“I have no one,” Kathy said, “and I have to go first thing in the morning, but I’ll call around from the pay phone.”
“No, just count on me as your driver until this is over,” Mr. Bowen said.
“That’s awfully nice of you,” Kathy said, “but we don’t to want to take advantage.”
“Think nothing of it,” Mr. Bowen assured her. “I’m more than glad to help out.”
Happy National Grilling Day, aka Labor Day. This day no longer commemorates anything except the obsession of a large majority of Americans gathering together around the family grill. Enjoy your day and have a burger for me.
There’s no grill on the island, but I think I’ll have to import one next spring. I do miss the flavor of food cooked on the grill.
The winner of this book is Julie Christine. Congratulations.
This is a nice little hardback book that would make a very nice gift. Go here to read my review. To enter leave a comment on that post telling me one of your favorite sayings. The deadline for entering is 11:59 on August 31, 2010. The random drawing will be Sept. 1. The winner will be posted on this site as well as being notified by me. Because of postage costs, I regretfully will have to limit this giveaway to U.S and Canada only.
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 Robert Parrish for sending me a review copy.***
ABOUT THE AUTHORS:
Glenn Greenstein is an ordained minister speaking in churches, homeless shelters and at Christian businessmen meetings. There he proclaims Heaven’s hope through the love of Jesus Christ by overcoming addictions, homosexuality, and recovery of wounded spirits. Glenn also provides hair artistry in North Carolina and Florida. He and his wife, Elaine, are the proud parents of a Down Syndrome son who was graduated from high school with honors.
Robert Parrish writes fiction, biofiction, advertising, marketing and training materials, in southwest Missouri. His first Christian romance novel, Without Spot or Wrinkle, appeared in 2001 and is now an ebook on http://biofiction.wordpress.com. Robert and his wife, Alicia, enjoy traveling and visiting their three grandchildren.
List Price: $22.00
Paperback: 316 pages
Publisher: American Book Publishing (August 5, 2010)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 1589826337
ISBN-13: 978-1589826335
ISLAND BREEZES
All I can say is that I’m very grateful to have been allowed to read David’s story. It took a lot of tissues to get through this book.
Thank you, David for your courage and your faith.
AND NOW…THE FIRST CHAPTER:
Chapter 1, “The Chase”
“Hi there, good-lookin’.”
Ruth laughed, tossing her long blonde hair over her bare shoulders. She was used to men making passes at her. After all, the Pussycat Club was well-known for its companionship opportunities. Right at the lower end of the footpath leading to Daytona Beach’s famed boardwalk, it was a volatile trysting place for sailors and their girls enjoying sparkling moonlight and pounding surf.
“Says you. At this club, band members can’t fraternize with employees. It’s the rule.” Always with new bands, someone had to explain the rules again and again.
“Yeah, but you know what they say about rules being made just to be broken. So how about bringing me a whiskey on the house?” Maybe because he was one of the best bass players in northeast Florida, Lee was more confident than other band members. Maybe the electric tingle of chasing yet another beauty propelled his advance. Maybe the trim black tuxedo and white ruffled shirt buoyed his self-assuredness.
“Another rule,” Ruth laughed again, “no house drinks for the band.” Her white teeth sparkled in the dim cigar and cigarette smoke.
“So why don’t you buy me one?”
“Me? I work here so other people can party. Let one of them buy you the whiskey.”
“But you’re the prettiest doll here. If you’ll buy now, I’ll buy dinner after the show. Deal?” Deal was Lee’s newest catch word. It made him sound like the music mogul he so desperately was expected to become.
* * *
Mogul or not, ‘deal’ worked for Ruth. When the club closed at two, she and Lee headed for Jimmie’s, the after-hours cabaret favored by the town’s most bodacious night prowlers.
“Who’s there?” the bouncer demanded at Lee’s knock on the steel door.
“Lee…Lee Goldberg and Ruth…from the Pussycat Club.”
“Ruth who?”
“Ruth, uh…?”
“McAllister,” Ruth supplied.
“Well, all right. Come in fast.” The steel door opened just enough to allow the pair inside, and then clicked shut quietly, menacingly, its four bolts sliding back into place in seconds.
“Hey, Fuzzy!” Lee waved at a fellow band leader as he and Ruth were shown to their table. Other musicians whistled at Ruth while two of the Beach’s best-known pot dealers greeted Lee from their favorite corner table.
“You know a lot of people here,” Ruth exclaimed as they were seated.
“Just some of the boys. Daytona Beach is a pretty good-sized town, but music guys are pretty tight. Sometimes I’m playing their bands, other times I’m leading a band. Depends on the gig.”
“What’ll ya have?” the bouncer-turned-waiter insisted.
“Whiskey for me, Black. Ruth?”
“I’d like a gin and tonic, please. Twist, not a squeeze.”
“Comin’ up.”
“So tell me about yourself, Ruth.” Lee leaned forward. “How long have you been at the Pussycat? A while, I’d guess, since you know all the rules about fraternizing and house drinks not for the band.” Usually getting a girl to talk about herself helped her relax, helped lower her defenses.
Ruth’s silvery laugh turned heads at other tables, making patrons smile with her. “I’ve been there about two years. Good tips. Better than cashiering on the boardwalk, but I work there, too. Helps raise my son and keeps my mother in scotch. I’m just glad she doesn’t drink Black Label like you do.”
“Black is better, smoother. So how old is your son and where’s his father?”
“Don’t be pushy,” Ruth said, giggling. “We’ve got the rest of the night to get to know each other.” Attention from handsome men was to be savored and made to last as long as possible.
“Really?” Lee leaned back. If he played his cards right… “Well, okay, so let me begin again…how old is your son?”
“Ross Thomas McAllister is ten and way too smart for his own good.”
“That’s quite a name for a young man. Maybe he’ll grow up to be a general or a politician someday.”
“Ross for his father, Thomas for my brother. In Ross’ mind, he’s already grown up. Man of the house, I guess, with two women around, so he has a lot of responsibility.”
“If I’m not moving too fast now, what happened to Ross’ father?”
“He didn’t have what it takes to be a parent and not much of what it takes to be a husband, either. There was way too much alcohol and too many beatings for Ross and me. He couldn’t hold a job, either. One night we had another fight and he just left. That was seven or eight years ago and we haven’t seen or heard from him since. Good riddance. Anyway, Mama moved in with us to help with the bills. Between her dress shop and me slinging drinks at the Pussycat, we’ve managed.”
“Here ya go.” The bouncer-waiter plopped icy glasses onto the table. “On your tab, Lee?”
“Sure, and another round in ten…fifteen minutes? Here.” Lee shoved a fiver into the bouncer-waiter’s fist, getting a quick smile in return.
“Here’s mud in your eye.” Lee touched his glass to Ruth’s and took a long drink. “Ah, good stuff! That first gulp is always the best.”
Ruth sipped her gin and tonic. “My turn to ask the questions. How’d you end up here in Daytona?”
“Why not? It’s a good party town that needs good bands and the Pussycat looks good on any musician’s resume. If you play that club for a few weeks or months, you can likely break into the Miami scene.”
“Miami? Why there? It’s dirty, it’s hot and it’s crowded.”
“Yeah, maybe, but its hotel circuit pays better ‘n here. Better weed, too.”
“Okay, okay,” Ruth laughed. “Later on Miami. How’d you learn to play the bass so well?”
Lee smiled at the compliment. Tonight was going to turn out all right, after all. “Played some in school, joined the Army and played fulltime in their band. Got out a few years ago and been playing jazz clubs here and in Orlando.”
Later Ruth would wish she’d never met Lee, but tonight was for fun, for romance, for affection. A little flirting, a few more drinks, and soon it would be daylight and time to go home to sleep away the mistakes.
* * *
“Ruth, you’re seeing too much of that Lee guy.” Isabell was in one of her moods.
“Oh, Mother, we’re just having fun.”
“Serious fun, if you ask me. It’s not right for Ross that you work every night ‘til two in the morning, then party ‘til sunrise.”
“You want me to bring Lee to the house, make him part of the family?”
“No, don’t ever do that. He’s not the kind of influence your father and I tried to be to you kids.”
“Yeah, some influence. Maybe if you and Daddy had had more ‘influence,’ as you call it, I wouldn’t have gotten pregnant with Ross.”
“Shush, he’ll hear you. All I’m saying is you and this Lee are headed for the same trouble as before. Worse yet, he’s Jewish and you know what the Good Book says about that.”
“Mother! Lee is a fine, gifted musician. He could probably lead bands in New York or Hollywood if he wanted to, but he likes me and he wants to stay here in Daytona Beach or maybe go to Miami.”
“You’d better not move to Miami, girl. That’s a sinful city down there and no place for you and Ross. Besides, the doctors who know how to treat your legs are right here in town.”
“Some fine job they’ve done. I can’t even walk without braces, one kneecap is fused and the other’s totally gone. How many times did that one guy have to re-break my legs? Six? Seven? Ten? And you call him a doctor? Horse doctor, maybe. You don’t know half the pain I suffered, or any of my pain living with braces. I can’t dance. I can’t roller skate anymore. Now I have to wear slacks or long skirts just to hide my ugliness. I’m ugly, so ugly no man will ever want me again.”
Ruth sobbed so hard her shoulders shook, tears splashing onto her cotton skirt.
“Baby…Ruth…please don’t cry, honey. You know I love you, and your son loves you very much. He always asks ‘when is Mommy coming home?’”
* * *
The next afternoon Lee came to the house, reassuring Ross and Isabell he truly cared for their mother and daughter. Sure, they partied at Jimmie’s or other after-hours clubs when the Pussycat closed, but it was just good times they were seeking, a little letting off steam after the stress of playing in the band and serving up drinks for other folks.
Isabell found herself unexpectedly charmed. “Why don’t you and Ruth come to the house after closing instead of spending all your money at those clubs?” she said. “We’re not strangers to music and booze and it would be good for Ross to have Ruth here and safer for you, too. You wouldn’t have to risk driving home with all that alcohol on your breath.”
Within two weeks Lee was spending every night at Ruth and Isabell’s place.
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 Cathy Hickling of Whitaker House for sending me a review copy.***
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Penny Zeller is the author of four books and numerous magazine articles in national and regional publications. She is an active volunteer in her community, serving as a women’s Bible study small-group leader and co-organizing a woman’s prayer group. Her passion is to use the gift of the written word that God has given her to glorify Him and to benefit His kingdom. When she’s not writing, Penny enjoys spending time with her family and camping, hiking, canoeing, and volleyball. She and her husband Lon reside in Wyoming with their two children.
List Price: $6.99
Paperback: 320 pages
Publisher: Whitaker House (September 1, 2010)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 1603742166
ISBN-13: 978-1603742160
ISLAND BREEZES
What a manipulative snob! Talk about cold hearted. She became a mail order bride in order to have someone finance her way out west, provide someplace for her to stay and help her find her run away sister. Plan not to like this one. She’s something else!
Plan to want to smack her for doing all that to such a nice guy – handsome ranch owner that he is.
Two sisters, both of whom got themselves into real messes and snobby Boston socialite parents. It’s difficult to see how this book can end without a lot of people getting hurt.
You’re going to need that box of tissues to get through the ending of this book. I’m certainly glad this is the first book in a series. I’m anxious to follow up with these people.
AND NOW…THE FIRST CHAPTER:
September 18, 1881
Boston, Massachusetts
Clutching the envelope that had just been delivered to her home, McKenzie Worthington walked into the parlor and closed the doors behind her. Sitting down, she ran her finger over the familiar, hasty penmanship on the outside of the envelope. There was no return address, but McKenzie already knew who had sent the letter. Bracing herself for the words on the pages within, she carefully opened the seal and unfolded the tattered, soiled piece of stationery.
My dearest sister McKenzie,
I write this letter with a heavy heart and a fearful spirit. I am convinced that Darius is not the man I thought him to be when I married him. He drinks almost continually, and when there is no more money to purchase his whiskey, he places the blame on me. He used all the money in my trousseau long ago, and we are constantly on the run to avoid the law. His threats are many if I dare turn him in to the local sheriff.
We are without food much of the time, but Darius always finds funds for his alcohol. All the money sent to me in the past, he has found a way to spend. I wish more than anything that I could find a way to leave this place and return home. However, Darius has threatened my life if I leave and has arranged for several of his friends at the saloon to keep an eye on me. One of his friends, Bulldog, lives nearby and watches my every move. He scares me to death, McKenzie.
Please, help me get away from Darius. He is such a mean man with a horrid temper. I fear for my life, at times. If Darius knew I was writing to you, I know he would kill me. I ask again that you please not tell Mother and Father the seriousness of my situation, since they will surely say that I deserve it for running away with Darius. But please come, and come quickly.
With much love,
Kaydie
When she had finished reading the letter, McKenzie clutched it to her chest. She could feel a tear threatening to fall, and she diverted her attention to the mantel above the fireplace. A large, three-foot-square oil painting hung proudly in the same place it had for the past ten years. McKenzie stared at the three people in the portrait and suddenly yearned for things to be as they had been then. Time had passed so quickly; the years of her childhood seemed barely a whisper in the conversation of life.
On the left-hand side of the painting, McKenzie’s younger sister, Kaydie, posed in her pink satin gown. Her long, blonde hair flowed over her shoulders, and her brown eyes seemed to hold a sparkle that McKenzie knew was long gone due to Kaydie’s present circumstances.
Sitting on a higher stool in the middle, McKenzie’s older sister, Peyton, emphasized her role as the eldest and most favored Worthington daughter. Beneath her dark, rolling locks, her large, green eyes held the look of arrogance and superiority that she continually flaunted over her less-preferred sisters.
On the right-hand side, her head tilted toward Kaydie’s, sat McKenzie, then fourteen years old. Her long, strawberry blonde hair was pinned up at the sides, and she wore her favorite turquoise gown. The smirk on McKenzie’s face had caused her mother great disturbance. “Proper ladies never smile in a portrait. Your father will be so disappointed,” her mother had scolded her. “We shall have to insist the painting be redone.”
The artist had been paid a reduced fee for failing to change McKenzie’s smile to a look of solemnity and had never been asked to paint any further portraits for the Worthington family. So, the portrait of Arthur and Florence Worthington’s daughters had never been repainted.
Once the servants had hung it above the mantel, there it had remained, serving as a memory in different ways to the different members of the Worthington household. To Peyton, it was a reminder that she was the eldest and the most obedient. To McKenzie and Kaydie, it was a reminder of enjoyable days past, when they would secretly embark on adventures that were considered unbecoming for young women from families of prestige and wealth. To McKenzie’s mother, the portrait was a disgrace because of McKenzie’s smirk, and to her father, it was the observance of a costly tradition that had been carried on from generation to generation.
McKenzie scanned the portrait again, her focus stopping on Kaydie’s face. Hang on, my dear Kaydie. I promise I will figure out a way to save you from Darius. Please don’t give up hope, she silently begged her sister. I don’t know how I will do it or when, only that I will. This much I promise you.
McKenzie sat for a moment longer in the quietness of the parlor. She recalled her parents’ disturbance when their youngest daughter had eloped with Darius Kraemer and moved West with him.
McKenzie’s mother had covered her mouth with her left hand and fanned herself with her right, clearly indicating her dismay at the situation. “I am so distraught by Kaydie’s marriage that I can barely manage day-to-day living,” she’d lamented.
“She never should have married a man so far beneath her. Now we’ll likely never hear from her again,” Peyton had said, sipping her tea. “Of course, Kaydie was always the one who thought she could do whatever she pleased and face the consequences later.” Peyton’s voice had done little to hide her smugness. “I would never do such a thing. Not only was it an unwise decision to marry someone without a pedigree and move far from civilization, but it has brought nothing but shame to the Worthington family. I can’t begin to count the number of times I’ve had to make up stories to explain her absence in order to preserve our family’s impeccable reputation.”
McKenzie had glared at her older sister. “Now, Peyton, not everyone can marry such a fine gentleman as Maxwell Adams,” she’d said with more than a hint of sarcasm, thinking of how grateful she was that she herself hadn’t married Maxwell, or anyone like him. While he was polite and treated Peyton well, he was also stuffy and prudish, and he seemed incapable of doing anything for himself. It had been Peyton who had secured his position at their father’s law office. Maxwell hadn’t even been able to apply for the job himself. In McKenzie’s opinion, Maxwell was a helpless, spineless, sorry excuse for a man.
“At least I am married,” Peyton had said, glaring at her sister, “unlike some people I know.” Peyton never missed an opportunity to rub in the fact that McKenzie, as an unmarried woman, was an oddity in a society that held marriage as the highest priority for women—marriage to a man from a wealthy family and with a thriving career, of course. The fact that Peyton had been successful on both accounts gave her an edge over a sister who in most other respects won the competition war.
“Now, girls, please. This bickering between the two of you must stop,” their mother had said, wringing her hands.
“You’re right, Mother. It is a shame that McKenzie doesn’t conduct herself in a manner more in line with our upbringing,” Peyton had said, smiling smugly at her mother.
McKenzie shook her head now and pictured her mother. With the exception of her long, gray-blonde hair and the age difference, she and Peyton could be twins. Her mother’s large, emerald eyes made her look as though she were in a constant state of surprise. Her pert, upturned nose further conveyed the air about her that she knew she was from one of the wealthier families in the Boston area, both by birth and by marriage.
“Marry a man of wealth, have children, attend social gatherings, and busy yourself with acceptable volunteer work” were the maxims McKenzie’s mother sought to instill in her daughters. Kaydie had managed to fulfill one of those wishes—she’d married. Yet, it had been in defiance of her parents’ desire, for Darius was hardly wealthy. Yes, they had met while doing volunteer work, but, based on what McKenzie knew now, it had probably been a ruse.
The chiming of the tall, mahogany clock in the corner brought McKenzie back to the present, and she again focused her attention on Kaydie’s predicament. She knew that mailing money to Kaydie to secure her fare to Boston would be impossible, as she had no access to any funds; the money in her dowry would be passed to her husband alone.
Poor Kaydie had thought her normally calm and complacent life would be so full of adventure when she’d agreed to marry the wayward Darius. He’d captured her heart and taken her from security and wealth to the dangerous, uncivilized Wild West. Granted, he was an attractive man with allure brimming in his erratic personality. He’d even said all the things Kaydie had longed to hear, making the men of Boston pale in comparison. Only after it was too late had Kaydie discovered that Darius made his living by swindling and robbing. When things didn’t go according to plan, he took out his fury, both verbal and physical, on Kaydie, essentially holding her hostage in her own marriage.
Now, Kaydie was suffering because she’d fallen in love with what had turned out to be a mere façade. Her dowry, which Darius had been after from the beginning, had been spent while Kaydie had been blinded by the love she’d thought she had found.
McKenzie had always been closest to Kaydie and knew that there must be a way to help her. Besides, she knew Kaydie would do the same if the situation were reversed. She reached up to twirl one of her tendrils between her finger and her thumb, as she habitually did when she was in deep thought. Not one to allow discouragement to defeat her, McKenzie knew she had to be the one to concoct a plan to rescue her sister. Kaydie’s life depended on it. No one else knew of the four letters Kaydie had mailed intermittently to McKenzie. McKenzie had been sworn to secrecy regarding Kaydie’s predicament, and, besides, her parents would no doubt have no shortage of words regarding their judgment of their youngest daughter’s poor choice. No one else knew the way her life had taken a turn for the worse. No one else knew of Kaydie’s desperation. McKenzie was the only one who knew and the only one who could help. But how would she afford the trip west? And, once she got there, where would she stay? Who would protect her while she searched potentially dangerous towns for her sister?
Just then, it came to her—an idea so crazy, she thought that it just might work.
“This country stands for the proposition that all men and women are created equal, that they have certain inalienable rights. And what that means is that if you could build a church on a site, you could build a synagogue on a site, if you could build a Hindu temple on a site, then you should be able to build a mosque on the site.”
