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!
Cecelia Dowdy is a world traveler who has been an avid reader for as long as she can remember. When she first read Christian fiction, she felt called to write for the genre.
She loves to read, write, and bake desserts in her spare time. She also loves spending time with her husband and her young son. Currently she resides with her family in Maryland.
List Price: $2.97
Publisher: Heartsong Presents (June 2009)
ISBN: 9781602603547
Binding: Mass Market
Pages: 176 pages
Â
You all know that I’m a fan of Cecelia Dowdy, and this book did not disappoint me. Ms Dowdy has a way of capturing my attention and pulling me in right from the beginning of the book. We all know that being a Christian doesn’t automatically make a person perfect, but we really don’t expect a church treasurer to disappear with a large chunk of the church’s money. Especially when his assistant ends up missing, too.Â
But this is what Karen’s fiance’ did. This story takes us through the course of Karen’s life as she tries to understand what happened and how she’s going to deal with it. On top of it all, she has to deal with her mother’s plumber, Keith, who’s intersted in getting to know her better.
This is a good story that holds you to the end. It also brings some of her friends from the first two books of this series into the story line. This interaction adds a nice touch. But this isn’t all. There’s a subplot that involves Keith’s brother.Â
You’ve got me hooked, Ms Dowdy. I’m waiting for Anna’s story now. I see enough characters to keep these Maryland weddings going for awhile.
Â
AND NOW…THE FIRST CHAPTER:
PROLOGUE
Karen burst through the church doors, tears streaming down her face. “Pastor Smith, I can’t believe Lionel is still missing!”
The reverend and his wife, Candace, pulled the hysterical woman into a hug, patting her back. After they released her, Candace stroked Karen’s hair. “Honey, thanks for coming as soon as we called. The police detective is in the boardroom, waiting to talk to you. Are you sure you’re up for this?”
Karen turned toward Candace, her trembling lips attempting a smile. “I’ll—I’ll do the best I can to—to answer his questions.”
The threesome began walking slowly down the hallway, toward the boardroom. A moment later, the pastor stopped outside a closed door, placing his hand on Karen’s shoulder. “Karen, Michelle is missing also.”
Karen gasped, stepping away from the pastor. “That. . .that can’t be true.”
He nodded. “Unfortunately, it is.” Speaking softly, he said, “The church leadership team is concerned for both her and Lionel’s welfare. We want to find them, but we can’t ignore what’s happened.”
Candace took her hand. “Honey, we have to do all we can to locate them. What if there was foul play involved? Don’t you want to make sure Lionel is safe?”
Tears rushed from Karen’s eyes, and she wiped the moisture away. Her head pounded as she leaned against the cool wall, the contact bringing relief to her heated skin.
“Are you okay?” asked Pastor Smith.
Pulling herself away from the wall, she silently prayed, God, give me strength. “I–I’m okay now.”
The pastor’s kind dark eyes offered comfort. “The detective is in here. We called you to be questioned first since you know Lionel so well.”
Karen glanced at Candace. “Nobody told the congregation exactly how much money Lionel may have stolen. We just know it was thousands of dollars. How much cash was
missing?”
The woman released Karen’s hand and looked at her husband, frowning. In a calm voice, the pastor paused before speaking. “Fifty thousand dollars.”
Karen’s head started spinning. With a muffled sob, Karen turned away, wiping her eyes. “Lord, please help me deal with this pain.”
“We’ll take this one day at a time,” Candace said. “The Lord will see us through.”
Karen looked back at the closed door, hesitating. “Is it okay if I go to the restroom be–before talking to the detective?”
“Of course,” Candace said with an understanding smile.
Leaving the couple, Karen walked to the bathroom, pushed the door open, and entered the room, desperately seeking a private moment with the Lord. Her heart skipped a beat when Tara Baker, the church secretary, dressed in an immaculate cream-colored suit and sporting stylish hair and polished fingernails, stepped out of the stall. Spotting Karen, her dark eyes widened.
Waves of pain floated through Karen’s head as she struggled to blot out the secretary’s words. Turning her focus to the Lord, she prayed, “God, please help me. Help us to find Lionel and Michelle. And keep them safe. Amen.”
Somewhat soothed, she rejoined the pastor and his wife. Pastor Smith gestured toward the now-open door. “Karen, I’m so sorry about this.”
Karen gave him a halfhearted smile then entered the room, praying for strength. The detective sat in a chair near the front of the room.
The minister spoke, his voice full of kindness, “Detective Ramsey, this is Karen Brown.”
“Good morning, Karen,” greeted the detective.
“Good morning,” Karen mumbled, taking a seat near the detective. She turned to her minister. “Can you stay here with me, Pastor Smith?”
The clergyman touched her arm, gazing at the detective. “Is that okay with you, detective?”
Ramsey shrugged, opening his notebook. “If she wants you to stay, that’s fine.”
Pastor Smith settled into the empty chair beside her.
The investigator asked his first question. “Do you know where Lionel is?”
“I. . .” She paused, chewing on her lower lip. “The day before the church announced he was fired, he told me he was going to go out of town to visit his cousin. I haven’t talked to him since, and th–that was two weeks ago.” She paused, gripping the arms of the chair. “I—I haven’t been able to contact him since he left.” She took a deep breath. “He won’t answer his cell phone. I figured he wanted some time alone and I would see him when he returned for his hearing.”
The detective looked up from the notes he was writing. “Where does his cousin live?”
As Ramsey’s questions went on and on, Karen felt overwhelmed with worry, fatigue, and nausea. Hot tears flowing down her cheeks, she prayed, Lord, will I ever feel normal again?
Her head pounded with pain, and she began rubbing her temples.
Pastor Smith touched her elbow. “Are you all right?”
“My head. . .hurts.”
“Detective, is it okay if we stop the questioning for a few minutes while I get Karen some aspirin?”
“I don’t mind at all,” said Ramsey.
Karen heard Pastor Smith’s retreating footsteps as she closed her eyes and rubbed her aching head. Her pain worsened as she leaned back into the chair. And then the world faded out.
I was out spending the week on the mainland when it was time to post this book on it’s WILD card tour, and didn’t finish reading it until yesterday.Â
City of the Dead is a compelling book. It has a strong plot, interesting characters and an undercurrent of suspense that draws you along from the beginning to the end. I like Ms Higley’s focus on one of the seven wonders of the world. I learned so much about the building of pyramids without feeling as if I were reading a textbook. It was expertly woven into the story line.
I am definitely looking forward to reading all the novels in her Seven Wonders series. Thank you, T.L. Higley. Keep writing, please
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!
New Leaf Publishing Group/New Leaf Press (March 10, 2009)
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Dr. Carl Werner received his undergraduate degree in biology with distinction at the University of Missouri, graduating summa cum laude. He received his doctorate in medicine at the age of 23. He was the recipient of the Norman D. Jones Science Award and is both the author of Evolution: The Grand Experiment book and executive producer of Evolution: The Grand Experiment video series.
List Price: $29.99
Hardcover: 274 pages
Publisher: New Leaf Publishing Group/New Leaf Press (March 10, 2009)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 0892216913
ISBN-13: 978-0892216918
AND NOW…THE FIRST CHAPTER:
Chapter 1 – The Bet That Would Change My Life
My lifelong interest in evolution began with an innocuous bet over dinner.
It is said to have a proper story, three essential components are required: a beginning, a middle and an end. While I will adequately provide you with a beginning (my story begins with a bet in medical school), and a middle (which leads to an incredible 30-year journey), I hesitate to say that my story has an “ending” for two reasons. First, I have more information I would eventually like to share with you, (Volumes III and IV of this series); and second, my version of an ending doesn’t really matter. As the author, I would prefer you write the ending. When you finish, you need to ask yourself: Has my perception of the past been changed?
Before I get into the specifics of how I became fascinated with the theory of evolution, you need to understand my background.
I was born in 1959 in a large Midwestern city and raised Catholic. I attended Catholic grade school and high school. Through my early years, I believed in the creation story, and the Bible stories of Adam and Eve, Noah, Moses, etc. I had no reason to doubt them and, of course, no one gave me any other options.
It was in my later high school years, between the ages of 15 and 17, that I found myself drifting away from my religious ideas and beliefs. This was my state of affairs when I was accepted to an accelerated college and medical school at the relatively young age of 17.
My first class in med school was physiology. Here, the professor taught us the evolutionary principle of “Ontogeny Recapitulates Phylogeny” created by Dr. Ernst Haeckel in the late 1800’s.
I had never heard of this concept and neither could I pronounce it. Fortunately, the professor had the class repeat the phrase “On-todge-en-knee Re-ca-pit-you-lates Fi-lodge-in-knee” over and over until we could say it smoothly and efficiently like a machine gun spitting out bullets at a thousand rounds per minute. He proceeded to explain what it meant: Prior to birth, animals retrace the history of evolution in their embryonic stages. For example, humans had their origin in a single-cell bacterium, which evolved into an invertebrate like a jellyfish, then a fish, then an amphibian, a reptile, a mammal, a monkey with a tail, and finally a tailless ape. He then showed us Dr. Haeckel’s drawings of human embryos in various phases of development, such as a single-cell fertilized egg (similar to a single-cell bacterium), an embryo with “gill slits” (similar to a fish with gills) and an embryo with a tail (similar to a monkey).
These drawings were extremely compelling to me, especially the “fact” that humans had gills and a tail. After this lecture, I found myself rapidly accepting evolution.
Years later, I learned that the drawings used to demonstrate Ontogeny were extremely inaccurate. When critics brought charges of extensive retouching and outrageous fudging in his famous embryo illustrations, Haeckel replied he was only trying to make them more accurate than the faulty specimens on which they were based.
Here are some of Haeckel’s errors: (1) Dr. Haeckel made the images of different animal embryos look similar even though the embryos do not appear this way in life; (2) Haeckel referred to neck pouches in the human embryo as “gill-arches,” yet there are no fish gills in the human embryo; and (3) Dr. Haeckel referred to the end of the vertebral column of the human embryo as “a tail” even though these vertebrae coincide with the sacrum and coccyx to which the pelvic organs are attached.
Sadly, I cast my vote for evolution in 1977 based on this faulty evidence. No one in my medical school told me that Haeckel’s drawings were shown to be inaccurate 80 years earlier. Even sadder is the fact that Haeckel’s drawings are still part of some medical school textbooks today.
“The accusation that Haeckel had fraudulently portrayed embryos in the latter part of the 19th century was an accusation that was raised at the time. Many of the medical textbooks today still duplicate the erroneous drawings that Haeckel had portrayed in the 19th century.” – Dr. Daniel Gasman, Professor of History, City University of New York (CUNY). Dr. Gasman is considered an expert on Haeckel.
Four Questions
One year later, in the middle of my sophomore year of college, I went out for pizza with a classmate. In my mind, it was just a social time to chew the fat. While eating dinner, we talked about our classes and friends. Then, for some unknown reason, my classmate began to ask some serious and pointed questions — questions that would forever change my life.
Q: What did I think about evolution?
A: I believe.
Q: What did I think about the problems with the fossil record which cast doubt on the theory of evolution?
A: I didn’t know there were “problems” with the fossil record.
Q: What did I think about the problems with the laws of physics in the big bang model?
A: I don’t know. I had never heard of “problems” with the laws of physics in the big bang theory.
My friend’s last question sunk me. It pertained to an area I was very familiar with, biochemistry.
Q: How could life begin if proteins do not form naturally?
I thought to myself: “He’s got me.” I had studied the chemical equations of proteins and aced them in class, but I had never applied them to the origin of life.
Let me explain.
The theory of evolution suggests that the very first form of life, a single-cell organism, formed spontaneously (or naturally) out of chemicals. But proteins, one of the necessary components for a single-cell organism, do not form naturally. How could life begin if proteins do not form naturally out of chemicals?
A seed of doubt entered my mind that day, and I felt a wave of emotion as I wondered, “Have I been duped into believing evolution?”
“The [physics] formulas we use [in the big bang theory] start giving answers that are nonsensical. We find total disaster. Everything breaks down, and we’re stuck.” — Dr. David Gross, recipient of the Nobel Prize in Physics in 2004. He is the Chair of Theoretical Physics at the University of California, Santa Barbara.
“But there’s always been a couple of problems with the big bang theory. First, when you squeeze the entire universe into an infinitesimally small, but stupendously dense package, at a certain point, our laws of physics simply break down. They just don’t make sense anymore.” — Dr. Brian Greene Professor of Mathematics and Physics at Columbia University.
“No one has ever seen or witnessed a protein molecule form naturally.” — Dr. Duane Gish opposes evolution. He received his Ph.D. in biochemistry from the University of California, Berkeley.
The Bet
Before I could gather an adequate response to the protein problem, my friend fired his last salvo. “Carl, I bet you can’t prove evolution.” I retorted, “That’s crazy. It has been proven!” But he had made his mark. His verbal shot lodged in my brain like a bullet. I thought to myself, “How could evolution be true if one cannot reconcile these important issues?”
His points concerning the formation of proteins and the laws of physics seemed believable, but I wasn’t quite sure I trusted my classmate’s lofty accusations that there were “problems” with the fossil record. How did he know? This was my med school buddy talking, not a paleontologist. He told me that nearly all the animal groups have missing links in their evolutionary history, despite finding millions and millions of fossils. How could this be? I had always assumed the so-called missing links (the fossils portraying one animal type changing into another, such as a dinosaur changing into a bird) are missing because the fossil record was poor. He pointed out the other logical possibility — that the proposed missing links never existed and that was why they had not been found. His reasoning seemed plausible. Still, I was not convinced. I am, by nature, skeptical. But because of the simplicity and eloquence of his arguments, I gave them some credence.
Now I was unnerved. How could there be such fundamental problems with the big bang theory, the origin of life, and the fossil record if evolution was true?
With this casual bet began the adventure of a lifetime, to prove evolution right or wrong. I decided I would review the evidence for the theory of evolution from top to bottom and then devise ways to test it. I felt up to the task because I had been afforded valuable experiences in science and experimentation. From all of these experiences, I learned how to apply the scientific method used to prove or disprove an idea.
By the time I accepted the bet in my sophomore year of college, I had been educated in chemistry, organic chemistry, biochemistry, genetics, anatomy, physiology, embryology, and biology. My intention was to study evolution in my free time and hopefully wrap this up in a few years. Little did I know it would take decades, studying and traveling, to arrive at a definitive answer.
Now most people would find it difficult to believe that someone would go on a lifelong quest stemming from an innocuous bet over dinner. Yet, this is all rather telling about me. I am an independent thinker and a seeker of truth. Over the last 30 years, I have to confess, there were times I wished that conversation had never happened. I would have led a “normal” life as an ER physician, with more time to enjoy my favorite sports of fishing and sailing. But the reality is you cannot go back and change the past.
I will give thanks to the Lord with my whole heart; I will tell of all your wonderful deeds. I will be glad and exult in you; I will sing praise to your name, O Most High.
But the Lord sits enthroned forever, he has established his throne for judgment. He judges the world with righteousness; he judges the peoples with equity.
The Lord is a stronghold for the oppressed, a stronghold in times of trouble. And those who know your name put their trust in you, for you, O Lord, have not forsaken those who seek you.
The nations have sunk in the pit that they made; in the net that they hid has their own foot been caught. The Lord has made himself known, he has executed judgment; the wicked are snared in the work of their own hands.
Rise up, O Lord! Do not let mortals prevail; let the nations be judged before you. Put them in fear, O lord, let the nations know that they are only human.
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!
Dr. Carl Werner received his undergraduate degree in biology with distinction at the University of Missouri, graduating summa cum laude. He received his doctorate in medicine at the age of 23. He was the recipient of the Norman D. Jones Science Award and is both the author of Evolution: The Grand Experiment book and executive producer of Evolution: The Grand Experiment video series.
List Price: $29.99
Hardcover: 262 pages
Publisher: New Leaf Publishing Group (October 8, 2007)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 0892216816
ISBN-13: 978-0892216819
AND NOW…THE FIRST CHAPTER:
The Origin of Life:
Two Opposing Views
What Are We to Believe?
How did life begin? One view is that an all-powerful God created the universe and all forms of life. Another view proposes that the universe began billions of years ago as a result of the big bang. Later, life in the form of a bacterium-like organism arose spontaneously from a mixture of chemicals. Subsequently, this single-cell organism slowly began to evolve into all modern life forms. A third view is that life evolved, but God formed the first living organism and then helped the process along.
The Origin of Life
How life came about has been the subject of debate for almost as long as mankind has existed. Did life originate as a result of the intervention by a supernatural deity? Or did life come about as a result of natural laws acting over time? Scientists continue to search for definitive answers to these questions.
The publication of Darwin’s theory of evolution in 1859 was a significant catalyst in propelling man’s search for a natural understanding of past and present life. Unraveling the mystery of how life began and how life may have changed over time has been the focus of many scientists. Since Darwin’s theory first made public, scientists have collected over 200 million fossils, described the structure of DNA, and identified how genes are passed on to the next generation. These major scientific developments provide us with relevant and thought-provoking information. They lead us to pause and examine our ideas in view of today’s ever-increasing and heated debate over the history of life on earth.
The purpose of this book is to address these important scientific discoveries and present the reader with rare and remarkable facts concerning the origin of life — from spontaneous generation, through Darwin’s ideas on evolution, to the present-day understanding of mutations and natural selection
Americans Are Split on Their Beliefs.
According to a Gallup poll taken in 2006, many Americans believe that God created man in the last 10,000 years. This is surprising given the fact that scientists have been teaching evolution for more than a century.
Do most Americans not believe the theory of evolution because it is implausible? Do they not believe evolution because of their religious views? Or, do they not believe in the theory because they are unfamiliar with its concepts?
What do you think?
(chart showing many Americans surveyed don’t believe Darwin’s theory)
Do You Believe in Evolution?
CON:
“No, I don’t believe in evolution at all. I think if you just look at the facts, it’s pretty clear, it just can’t be.”
“Did we come from monkeys? I don’t know. There is evidence for it, but there is also some stuff missing, so making that leap with a missing link there, I have some problems with that.”
“From what I’ve seen and heard, we have not evolved from apes for the simple fact that apes are still around. I mean, if we evolved from them, why are they still here?”
PRO:
“Yes, I do believe in the theory of evolution because I think that we had to come from some place and you know from ape to man to what we are today. I definitely believe in evolution.”
“I think it’s a very sad thing that we’re getting religious views mixed up with governmental involvement with education. I think it’s a sad comment on how people are trying to fix what they see as social problems in today’s world by falling back on religious dogma.”
Evolution: Scientists Can’t Agree
Ever since Darwin’s time there have been scientists who strongly disagree with the theory of evolution. But since the middle of the twentieth century, there have been a growing number of scientists who reject the theory of evolution based on the discovery of processes and structures of which Darwin was unaware. These scientists cite multiple “lines of evidence” that evolution did not occur, including gaps in the fossil record, problems with the big bang theory, the amazing complexity of even the simplest organisms, and the inability of scientist to explain the origin of life using natural laws.
Scientists who support evolution state that the evidence for the theory is clear and overwhelming. They offer observations of natural selection in action, the evolution of birds from dinosaurs, the evolution of man from apes, as some of the most convincing proofs for evolution.
Con: “Life could not have created itself. Theories on the origin of life, that is the evolutionary origin of life, are modern-day fantasies; they are fairy tales.” – Dr. Duane Gish, Biochemist, Institute for Creation Research.
Pro: “You really have to be blind or three days dead not to see the transitions among these. You have to not want to see it.” – Dr. Kevin Padian, Paleontologist, University of California, Berkeley.
Evolution and Education
Recent Gallup polls reveal that the majority of Americans want both evolution and creationism taught in public schools. This is somewhat surprising given the fact that the majority of scientists believe in evolution and dismiss supernatural creation theories as myths.
There are different reasons parents want both theories taught to their children. Some refer to a sense of fairness. They want their children to learn both sides of the issue and then decide for themselves.
The problem of how to teach students such a controversial topic is challenging for educators. Some fear that teaching two opposing theories would confuse the students while some believe this approach would encourage students to think critically and openly about the world around them. Others believe that creation is a religious idea and should not be taught in government schools.
(Poll asking, “Do you think creationism should be taught in public school science classes?” 54%, yes; 22% no; 24% unsure)
What Should Be Taught?
“I believe it is good for students to get a balance of both sides so that they can make up their minds for themselves without being forced into one way or another. I know that if I went to school and they taught all evolution, that I would feel somehow a little gypped.”
“I do feel that everyone is capable of making their own decisions, and I think that students, even at a young age, should be respected enough to be given various kinds of information, various amounts of information, and let to make their own decisions.?
“I really don’t have a problem with evolution being taught in the schools just so long as all the information is given and it is shown that it is not quite fact. And it needs to be very scientific in its presentation as far as listing its faults and its strengths. I think that science that only lists strengths, and not weaknesses, in not science at all.”
I just read a thought provoking post at The Babbling Brooks. It stated some disturbing comparisons. Obama promised us change. I think most people don’t have a clue as to just how much change he may have planned. Even with all he’s changed all ready, too many still don’t see the big picture of where we may be headed. Go read this post now.
It seems that some people do want Gitmo detainees in their back yard. Hardin, Montana has a state of the art prison sitting empty since it’s completion two years ago. The city borrowed $27 million in bonds to build the 464-bed Two Rivers Regional Correction Center, but it has yet to house a single prisoner.
The City Council unanimously supports moving the prisoners to this facility located in a town of 3,400. Hardin’s economic development director, Greg Smith, is looking at this being a way to boost employment here. “Believe it or not, it would even bring hope and opportunity.” Hardin is located in Montana’s poorest county.
Not everyone in Hardin feels that way. “Bottom line. I really don’t want Gitmo in my backyard,” said Rae Perkins, an unemployed mother of three who moved to Hardin to work at the prison.
I’ve found the ideal hotel for a seaman on a limited budget. It’s actually a good place for all travelers, but after spending ten years at sea, these hotels give me the “just like home” feeling. It’s the micro hotel and two examples are The Jane Hotel and The Pod Hotel
The Pod Hotel offers hip, convenient, and personalized accommodations for the frugal traveler. Formerly the Pickwick Arms, the Hotel is located in the heart of Manhattan’s Midtown East neighborhood, and is New York’s number one choice for visitors on a budget.
U.S. interest in the micro-hotel model has intensified as the economy weakens, said Bjorn Hanson, a hotel expert at New York University. Hotel developer Richard Born, who is involved with both The Jane and The Pod, said he and his partner have been approached by more than one national hotel chain looking at expanding the micro-hotel concept in the United States.
European micro-hotels owned by the easyHotel chain, saw a steady rise in demand that accelerated as the economy deteriorated, said commercial director Calum Russell.
Two more sites to find and book one of these hotels are Go Nomad and Yotel. Spend your money on sightseeing and fun stuff rather than your hotel. Hotel rooms are for sleeping, showering and changing your clothes.
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!
From her earliest childhood, there was nothing Tracy loved better than stepping into another world between the pages of a book. From dragons and knights, to the wonders of Narnia, that passion has never abated, and to Tracy, opening any novel is like stepping again through the wardrobe, into the thrilling unknown. With every book she writes, she wants to open a door like that, and invite readers to be transported with her into a place that captivates. She has traveled through Greece, Turkey, Egypt, Israel and Jordan to research her novels, and looks forward to more travel as the Seven Wonders series continues. It’s her hope that in escaping to the past with her, readers will feel they’ve walked through desert sands, explored ancient ruins, and met with the Redeeming God who is sovereign over the entire drama of human history.
List Price: $14.99
Paperback: 400 pages
Publisher: B&H Books (March 1, 2009)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 0805447318
ISBN-13: 978-0805447316
AND NOW…THE FIRST CHAPTER:
Prologue
In my dreams, it is often I who kills Amunet. Other nights it is Khufu, in one of his mad rages. And at other times it is a great mystery, destined to remain unknown long after the ka of each of us has crossed to the west.
Tonight, as I lay abed, my dreams reveal all the truth that I know.
Merit is there, like a beautiful lotus flower among the papyrus reeds.
“Hemi,” she whispers, using the shortened form of my name in the familiar way I long for. “We should join the others.”
The tufts of reeds that spring from the marsh’s edge wave around us, higher than our heads, our private thicket.
“They are occupied with the hunt,” I say.
A cloud of birds rises from the marsh in that moment, squawking their protest at being disturbed. Merit turns her head to the noise and I study the line of her jaw, the long curls that wave across her ear. I pull her close, my arms around her waist.
Her body is stiff at first, then melts against mine.
“Hemi, you must let me go.”
Some nights in my dreams I am a better man.
“Merit.” I bury my face in her hair, breathe in the spicy scent of her. “I cannot.”
I pull her into my kiss.
She resists. She pushes me away and her eyes flash accusation, but something else as well. Sorrow. Longing.
I reach for her again, wrapping my fingers around her wrist. She twists away from my grasp. I do not know what I might have done, but there is fear in her eyes. By the gods, I wish I could forget that fear.
She runs. What else could she do?
She runs along the old river bed, not yet swollen with the year’s Inundation, stagnant and marshy. She disappears among the papyrus. The sky is low and gray, an evil portent.
My anger roots me to the ground for several moments, but then the potential danger propels me to follow.
“Merit,” I call. “Come back. I am sorry!”
I weave slowly among the reeds, searching for the white flash of her dress, the bronze of her skin.
“Merit, it is not safe!”
Anger dissolves into concern. I cannot find her.
In the way of dreams, my feet are unnaturally heavy, as though I fight through alluvial mud to reach her. The first weighted drops fall from an unearthly sky.
And then she is there, at the base of the reeds. White dress dirtied, head turned unnaturally. Face in the water. My heart clutches in my chest. I lurch forward. Drop to my knees in the marsh mud. Push away the reeds. Reach for her.
It is not Merit.
It is Amunet.
“Amunet!” I wipe the mud and water from her face and shake her. Her eyes are open yet unfocused.
I am less of a man because, in that moment, I feel relief.
Relief that it is not Merit.
But what has happened to Amunet? Khufu insisted that our royal hunting party split apart to raise the birds, but we all knew that he wanted to be with Amunet. Now she is alone, and she has crossed to the west.
As I hold her lifeless body in my arms, I feel the great weight of choice fall upon my shoulders. The rain pours through an evil gash in the clouds.
Khufu is my friend. He is my cousin. He will soon wear the Double Crown of the Two Lands of Upper and Lower Egypt. And when Khufu is Pharaoh, I will be his grand vizier.
But it would seem that I hold our future in my hands now, as surely as I hold this girl’s body.
I lower Amunet to the mud again and awake, panting and sweating, in my bed. I roll from the mat, scramble for a pot, and retch. It is not the first time.
The sunlight is already burning through the high window in my bedchamber.
The past is gone. There is only the future.
And I have a pyramid to build.
1
In the fifth year of Khufu, the Golden Horus, Great in Victories, Chosen of Ra, as the pyramid rose in the desert like a burning torch to the sun god himself, I realized my mistake and knew that I had brought disorder.
“Foolishness!” Khons slapped a stone-roughened hand on the papyri unrolled on the basalt-black slab before us, and turned his back on the well-ordered charts to study the workforce on the plateau.
I refused to follow his gaze. Behind me, I knew, eight thousand men toiled, dragging quarry stones up ramps that snaked around my half-finished pyramid, and levering them into beautiful precision. Below them, intersecting lines of men advanced with the rhythm of drumbeats. They worked quickly but never fast enough.
My voice took on a hard edge. “Perhaps, Khons, if you spent more time listening and less blustering—”
“You speak to me of time?” The Overseer of Quarries whirled to face me, and the muscles in his jaw twitched like a donkey’s flank when a fly irritates. “Do you have any idea what these changes mean?” He waved a hand over my plans. “You were a naked baboon at Neferma’at’s knee when he and I were building the pyramids at Saqqara!”
This insult was well-worn, and I was sick of it. I stepped up to him, close enough to map every vein in his forehead. The desert air between us stilled with the tension. “You forget yourself, Khons. I may not be your elder, but I am grand vizier.”
“My good men,” Ded’e interrupted, his voice dripping honey as he smoothed long fingers over the soft papyrus. “Let us not quarrel like harem women over a simple change of design.”
“Simple!” Khons snorted. “Perhaps for you. Your farmers and bakers care not where Pharaoh’s burial chamber is located. But I will need to rework all the numbers for the Giza quarry. The timeline for the Aswan granite will be in chaos.” Khons turned on me. “The plans for the queen’s pyramid are later than grain in a drought year. A project of this magnitude must run like marble over the rollers. A change like this—you’re hurling a chunk of limestone into the Nile, and there will be ripples. Other deadlines will be missed—”
I held up a hand and waited to respond. I preferred to handle Khons and his fits of metaphor by giving us both time to cool. The sun hammered down on upon the building site, and I looked away, past the sands of death, toward the life-giving harbor and the fertile plain beyond. This year’s Inundation had not yet crested, but already the Nile’s green waters had swelled to the border of last year’s floodplain. When the waters receded in three months, leaving behind their rich silt deposits, the land would be black and fertile and planting would commence.
“Three months,” I said. In three months, most of my workforce would return to their farms to plant and till, leaving my pyramid unfinished, dependent on me to make it whole.
Khons grunted. “Exactly. No time for changes.”
Ded’e scanned the plateau, his fingers skimming his forehead to block the glare, though he had applied a careful line of kohl beneath his eyes today. “Where is Mentu? Did you not send a message, Hemiunu?”
I looked toward the workmen’s village, too far to make out anyone approaching by the road. Mentu-hotep also served as one of my chief overseers. These three answered directly to me, and under them commanded fifty supervisors, who in turn organized the twelve-thousand-man force. Nothing of this scale had ever been undertaken in the history of the Two Lands. In the history of man. We were building the Great Pyramid, the Horizon of the Pharaoh Khufu. A thousand years, nay, ten thousand years from now, my pyramid would still stand. And though a tomb for Pharaoh, it would also bear my name. A legacy in stone.
“Perhaps he thinks he can do as he wishes,” Khons said.
I ignored his petty implication that I played favorites among my staff. “Perhaps he is slow in getting started today.” I jabbed a finger at the plans again. “Look, Khons, the burial chamber’s relocation will mean that the inner core will require less stone, not more. I’ve redesigned the plans to show the king’s chamber beginning on Course Fifty. Between the corbelled ascending corridor, the burial chamber, five courses high, and the five relieving chambers that will be necessary above it, we will save 8,242 blocks.”
“Exactly 8,242? Are you certain?” De’de snorted. “I think you must stay up all night solving equations, eh, Hemi?”
I inclined my head to the pyramid, now one-fourth its finished height. “Look at it, De’de. See the way the sides angle at a setback of exactly 11:14. Look at the platform, level to an error less than the span of your little finger.” I turned on him. “Do you think such beauty happens by chance? No, it requires constant attention from one who would rather lose sleep than see it falter.”
“It’s blasphemy.” Khons’s voice was low. It was unwise to speak thus of the Favored One.
I exhaled and we hung over the plans, heads together. Khons smelled of sweat and dust, and sand caked the outer rim of his ear.
“It is for the best, Khons. You will see.”
If blasphemy were involved it was my doing and not Khufu’s? I had engineered the raising of the burial chamber above ground and, along with it, Khufu’s role as the earthly incarnation of the god Ra. It was for the good of Egypt, and now it must be carried forward. Hesitation, indecision—these were for weak men.
“Let the priests argue about religious matters,” I said. “I am a builder.”
Ded’e laughed. “Yes, you are like the pyramid, Hemi. All sharp angles and unforgiving measurements.”
I blinked at the observation, then smiled as though it pleased me.
Khons opened his mouth, no doubt to argue, but a shout from the worksite stopped him. We three turned to the pyramid, and I ground my teeth to see the workgangs falter in their measured march up the ramps. Some disorder near the top drew the attention of all. I squinted against the bright blue sky but saw only the brown figures of the workforce covering the stone.
“Cursed Mentu. Where is he?” Khons asked the question this time.
As Overseer for Operations, Mentu took charge of problems on the line. In his absence, I now stalked toward the site.
The Green Sea Gang had halted on the east-face ramp, their draglines still braced over their bare shoulders. Even from thirty cubits below I could see the ropy muscles stand out on the backs of a hundred men as they strained to hold the thirty-thousand-deben-weight block attached to the line. Their white skirts of this morning had long since tanned with dust, and their skin shone with afternoon sweat.
“Sokkwi! Get your men moving forward!” I shouted to the Green Sea Gang supervisor who should have been at the top.
There was no reply, so I strode up the ramp myself, multiplying in my mind the minutes of delay by the stones not raised. The workday might need extending.
Halfway up the rubble ramp, a scream like that of an antelope skewered by a hunter’s arrow ripped the air. I paused only a moment, the men’s eyes on me, then took to the rope-lashed ladder that leaned against the pyramid’s side. I felt the acacia wood strain under the pounding of my feet, and slowed only enough for safety. The ladder stretched to the next circuit of the ramp, and I scrambled from it, chest heaving, and sprinted through the double-line of laborers that snaked around the final ramp. Here the pyramid came to its end. Still so much to build.
Sokkwi, the gang supervisor, had his back to me when I reached the top. Several others clustered around him, bent to something on the stone. Chisels and drills lay scattered about.
“What is it? What’s happened?” The dry heat had stolen my breath, and the words panted out.
They broke apart to reveal a laborer, no more than eighteen years, on the ground, one leg pinned by a block half set in place. The boy’s eyes locked onto mine, as if to beg for mercy. “Move the stone!” I shouted to Sokkwi.
He scratched his chin. “It’s no good. The stone’s been dropped. We have nothing to—”
I jumped into the space open for the next stone, gripped the rising joint of the block that pinned the boy and yelled to a worker, larger than most. “You there! Help me slide this stone!”
He bent to thrust a shoulder against the stone. We strained against it like locusts pushing against a mountain. Sokkwi laid a hand upon my shoulder.
I rested a moment, and he inclined his head to the boy’s leg. Flesh had been torn down to muscle and bone. I reached for something to steady myself, but there was nothing at this height. The sight of blood, a weakness I had known since my youth, threatened to overcome me. I felt a warmth in my face and neck. I breathed slowly through my nose. No good for the men to see you swoon.
I knelt and placed a hand on the boy’s head, then spoke to Sokkwi. “How did this happen?”
He shrugged. “First time on the line.” He worked at something in his teeth with his tongue. “Doesn’t know the angles, I suppose.” Another shrug.
“What was he doing at the top then?” I searched the work area and the ramp below me again for Mentu. Anger churned my stomach.
The supervisor sighed and picked at his teeth with a fingernail. “Don’t ask me. I make sure the blocks climb those ramps and settle into place. That is all I do.”
How had Mentu had allowed this disaster? Justice, truth, and divine order—the ma’at—made Egypt great and made a man great. I did not like to see ma’at disturbed.
On the ramp, a woman pushed past the workers, shoving them aside in her haste to reach the top. She gained the flat area where we stood and paused, her breath huffing out in dry gasps. In her hands she held two jars, brimming with enough barley beer to allow the boy to feel fierce anger rather than beg for his own death. The surgeon came behind, readying his saw. The boy had a chance at life if the leg ended in a stump. Allowed to fester, the injury would surely kill him.
I masked my faintness with my anger and spun away.
“Mentu!” My yell carried past the lines below me, down into the desert below, perhaps to the quarry beyond. He should never have allowed so inexperienced a boy to place stones. Where had he been this morning when the gangs formed teams?
The men nearby were silent, but the work down on the plateau continued, heedless of the boy’s pain. The rhythmic ring of chisel on quarry stone punctuated the collective grunts of the quarry men, their chorus drifting across the desert, but Mentu did not answer the call.
Was he still in his bed? Mentu and I had spent last evening pouring wine and reminiscing late into the night about the days of our youth. Some of them anyway. Always one story never retold.
Another scream behind me. That woman had best get to pouring the barley beer. I could do nothing more here. I moved through the line of men, noting their nods of approval for the effort I’d made on behalf of one of their own.
When I reached the base and turned back toward the flat-topped black basalt stone where I conferred with Khons and Ded’e, I saw that another had joined them. My brother.
I slowed my steps, to allow that part of my heart to harden like mudbricks in the sun, then pushed forward.
They laughed together as I approached, the easy laugh of men comfortable with one another. My older brother leaned against the stone, his arms crossed in front of him. He stood upright when he saw me.
“Ahmose,” I said with a slight nod. “What brings you to the site?”
His smile turned to a smirk. “Just wanted to see how the project proceeds.”
“Hmm.” I focused my attention once more on the plans. The wind grabbed at the edges of the papyrus, and I used a stone cubit rod, thicker than my thumb, to weight it. “The three of us must recalculate stone transfer rates—”
“Khons seems to believe your changes are going to sink the project,” Ahmose said. He smiled, his perfect teeth gleaming against his dark skin.
The gods had favored Ahmose with beauty, charm, and a pleasing manner that made him well loved among the court. But I had been blessed with a strong mind and a stronger will. And I was grand vizier.
I lifted my eyes once more to the pyramid rising in perfect symmetry against the blue sky, and the thousands of men at my command. “The Horizon of Khufu will look down upon your children’s grandchildren, Ahmose,” I said. I leaned over my charts and braced my fingertips on the stone. “When you have long since sailed to the west, still it will stand.”
He bent beside me, his breath in my ear. “You always did believe you could do anything. Get away with anything.”
The animosity in his voice stiffened my shoulders.
“Khons, Ded’e, if you will.” I gestured to the charts. Khons snorted and clomped to my side. And Ded’e draped his forearms across the papyrus.
“It must be gratifying,” Ahmose whispered, “to command men so much more experienced than yourself.”
I turned on him, my smile tight. “And it must be disheartening to see your younger brother excel while you languish in a job bestowed only out of pity—”
A boy appeared, sparing me the indignity of exchanging blows with my brother. His sidelock identified him as a young prince, and I recognized him as the youngest of Henutsen, one of Khufu’s lesser wives.
“His Majesty Khufu, the king, Horus,” the boy said, “the strong bull, beloved by the goddess of truth—”
“Yes, yes. Life, Health, Strength!” I barked. “What does Khufu want?” I was in no mood for the string of titles.
The boy’s eyes widened and he dragged a foot through the sand. “My father commands the immediate presence of Grand Vizier Hemiunu before the throne.”
“Did he give a reason?”
The prince pulled on his lower lip. “He is very angry today.”
“Very well.” I waved him off and turned to Khons and Ded’e, rubbing the tension from my forehead. “We will continue later.”
The two overseers made their escape before Ahmose and I had a chance to go at it again. I flicked a glance in his direction, then rolled up my charts, keeping my breathing even.
Behind me Ahmose said, “Perhaps Khufu has finally seen his error in appointing you vizier.” Like a sharp poke in the kidneys when our mother wasn’t watching.
“Excuse me, Ahmose.” I pushed past him, my hands full of charts. “I have an important meeting.”
John Brown Jr., one of the original 29 Navajo code talkers, died at the age of 87 on May 20, 2009. Brown served in World War II with the U.S. Marines as one of the first of the Navajo Code Talkers, whose ranks eventually exceeded 400, from 1942 to 1945, performing a vital and unusual service.
Navajo Code Talkers took part in every assault the U.S. Marines conducted in the Pacific from 1942 to 1945. The Code Talker’s primary job was to talk and transmit information on tactics, troop movements, orders and other important battlefield information over telegraphs and radios in their native dialect, which totally confused the enemy.
As we pay tribute to those who served our country during times of war, remember to honor this select group of servicemen.
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!
