Communication - Part 2

 Hello again!

And here we are. Back with the last of this random story. Like I said, it's not a great story, but hopefully it's not terrible either. But it's something you can read if you want.

Communication

Part 2

    Shelby yanked up another stubborn weed from beside her steps. She really should do some sort of landscaping or something. After all she worked at a flower shop. Shouldn’t that be an indication of her love of plants and an extension of her lovely gardens at home?
    She gave a snort at the thought and stepped up on the edge of her steps to grab her water bottle off the porch.
    Right then two things happened. Someone with a voice very much like Bradley Mullins said her name, and her foot slipped off the side of the step.
    With a startled cry she fell. Pain shot up her leg and her wrist began throbbing from her effort to catch herself.
    “Shelby! Are you okay? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”
    She looked up. It was Bradley. He was crouched down beside her, his face concerned. Was this a dream? No, the pain was too real for it to be a dream. But what was he doing there? How did he know where she lived?
    “Shelby?”
    She blinked and focused. “Hi.”
    “Hi.” His dimples came out with his grin. “Do you have a first-aid kit somewhere?”
    “Why?”
    “Uh, you really scraped your leg on the step.”
    “Oh.” Is that why her leg hurt so much? She looked down and instantly felt faint. She didn’t do well with blood.
    “Don’t look at it. I don’t think it’s bad. First-Aid kit?” Bradley positioned his body so her leg was harder to see.
    “Under the kitchen sink.”
    “Right. Just close your eyes and catch your breath.” Then he was gone.
    Had he really been there? Trying not to look at her leg, Shelby slowly pulled her gloves off and rubbed her aching wrist. Why did she have to be so clumsy? It was a good thing tomorrow was Sunday so she could lay around the house all afternoon and get over this wild fancy that the man she had secretly loved for the last four years had come to see her.
    “Ouch!” The exclamation came involuntarily as she pressed on her wrist. “I need to get up,” she said. But she didn’t.
    The thud of her screen door made her start and her heart began to pound.
    “I grabbed an ice pack from your freezer.” Bradley knelt beside her. “Here, let me see your wrist.” His fingers were gentle as he felt it. “I’m not a doctor or even an EMT, but I don’t think it’s broken; it’s probably just strained.” In another moment he had the ice pack wrapped around her wrist. “There, hold that on and I’ll wash this scrape on your leg. No, don’t look at it!”
    She turned her face and squeezed her eyes shut.
    “It’s going to sting when I wash it,” Bradley said. “But it’s appears just a surface scrape.”
    Sucking in her breath as the antiseptic hit her injury, Shelby’s hand tightened on the ice pack on her wrist. “I don’t have flower beds,” she blurted out.
    “That’s all right.” Bradley’s voice was calm and conversational. “Not everyone has flower beds. My new house doesn’t have any.”
    “Your wife might want some.”
    “I’m not married. not even engaged. I took my cousin shopping for flowers for her garden the other day. She’s blind and can’t see the colors, but she can smell the flowers. Her husband will plant them for her.”
    “You’re cousin?” Shelby felt her heart skip a beat.
    “Yes.” His voice was quiet and his hands careful as he wrapped a light bandage around her leg. “That should do it. Want to sit on the steps?”
    Shelby nodded and let him help her up and over to the steps. He sat down on a lower step and looked up at her.
    “I got something in the mail that I don’t think I was supposed to get. I read it because I wasn’t sure at first and then I just didn’t stop.” He pulled an envelope from his pocket. “The envelope was addressed to me, but I’m not sure how you knew where my new address was.”
    Shelby’s eyes widened. “I . . . That . . . How . . .”
    “I’m not sure.”
    “I did address an envelope to you,” she found herself admitting. “I didn’t know you had moved back here when I did it. It was just my favorite house and I had already written your name thinking I’d write to you maybe. Someday . . .” Her voice trailed off as she stared at the envelope in his hands. “I was going to throw it way. But I didn’t mail it. I didn’t mail anything! I--” A low moan escaped her and she closed her eyes. She hadn’t done that, had she?
    “Shelby? Are you okay?” Concern etched Bradly’s voice. “Does something else hurt?”
    “My pride,” she whimpered. A soft sort of chuckle made her eyes pop open.
    “Did you perhaps write a letter to Hayley and maybe put it in the wrong envelope by accident?”
    “I think so.”
    “I’m glad you did.”
    Shelby stared. “What?”
    “I’m glad you did because I thought you ignored my letter to you and that you didn’t like me.”
    “Your what?” Shelby winced. She was starting to sound like a broken record.
    “I wrote to you after I moved asking if you’d be interested in writing to me while I was away. I never heard back so I assumed your answer was no. I think now my letter must have gotten lost in the mail. I should have written again, but I didn’t want to annoy you.” He looked up at her. “I’m sorry for reading what wasn’t mine, but at the same time I’m not sorry I did.”
    “Is that why you came over?” Shelby whispered.
    “Yes. After reading this letter I prayed and felt like I should come and talk to you in person. There was some miscommunication, or lack of any at all, that needed cleared up. I hope we can be friends now and see where that takes us.”
    She nodded not trusting herself to speak.
    Bradley gave a slight chuckle. “You know, Shel, I think I liked you the first time I ran into you in the cafeteria and knocked your tray of food out of your hands. I was really sorry about your food, but I noticed you. You didn’t get all mad at me.”
    “I was too shy to get mad,” Shelby admitted feeling the heat creep into her cheeks at the memory.
    “But you let me get you a new tray of food even if you never said a word.”
    There was a long silence. It wasn’t uncomfortable. A bird sang in the neighbor’s tree and a dog barked somewhere. The distant hum of traffic sounded like a white noise machine.
    “I liked you that day too,” Shelby admitted at last in a low whisper.
    “Would you like to have lunch with me tomorrow after church?”
    “Where?”
    “My parent’s house.”
    Shelby nodded.

What do you think happens next?
Why does Shelby call Hayley "B"?
And does Hayley come for a visit?

Communication - Part 1

Good morning!

 I have a story! It's a short story that I don't think is worth much. After not writing at all in April, and then editing and rewriting and such on another story, I needed something to just write because all my other stories were stuck. 

They are still stuck, come to think of it.

Anyway, I just grabbed the first words that came and started dumping them on NEO. And this is what came out. Well, here's the first part anyway. The last part will come next week.

Enjoy!

Or don't. I'm just tossing this story here because I wrote something.

 

Communication

Dear B,
    It’s all a mistake, you know. I’m not married. Probably never will be. Bradley never loved me. I know he didn’t. It’s a shame it took me five years to figure it out. I should have noticed the signs, paid attention to the things he said. He left, you know. Went to New Orleans with his uncle two years ago. I never heard from him since.
    I know, I know. You’re asking why on earth I didn’t tell you about all of this sooner. Well, I was still convinced he would come back. That he would write to me. Somehow I just couldn’t bring myself to admit the hard truth that Bradley Mullins and I would never say “I do.”
    Well, it’s time I admitted it and moved on with life.
    Oh, HayleyBee, I wish you weren’t living in far away Alaska! I know that’s still the U.S. but it might as well be China or South Africa for all the good it does me. I need to go get coffee with you and talk for about five hours straight. I know you are doing what you are supposed to be doing and of course that’s where your husband is anyway, so ignore my wishful thinking and pitiful selfishness and keep doing what God has called you to do.
    I’ll keep working here at Gardenia's Garden planting, watering, selling flowers for other people’s homes and gardens and try not to imagine what I would plant at that cute house on the corner with the red door and shutters. And don’t tell me I should buy the house even if it was for sale. That was supposed to be the house that Bradley and I shared. I don’t think I could live in it alone. Besides, it’s been sold. I’ve stopped driving by it. I take the other way to work.
    Just ignore me. I’m tired and miserable. Self-pity does make one feel so blue. And it’s dreary outside. Cold, wet, drizzly, and windy. If it would downright storm it would be better.
    What a pathetic and melancholy letter! I’m tempted to just rip it up and throw it away. I might after I finish it. Maybe it’s good to get the truth out in black and white. It finally forces me to face facts. There’s an alliteration for you, oh lover of words. Or almost one. Can it still be an alliteration if there are two small words between?
    I suppose I haven’t told you how I know Bradley and I were never meant to be together. It’s quite anti climatic, really. No, I didn’t hear he was married, or get invited to his wedding. I didn’t hear anything from or about him since he left. Until yesterday.
    I was working. The sun was shining yesterday and it was lovely. A perfect day to shop for flowers and plants for your garden or yard. I was watering the rose bushes when I saw him. Yes, Hayley, Bradley Mullins was shopping at my store. I would have recognized him anywhere. Besides, I heard him and I think I’ll always remember his voice. He was talking to a girl who wasn’t his sister.
    They were laughing about something, and picking out flowers. She asked his advice about plants around the porch. I don’t remember what he answered. No, I didn’t go up and say hi. I finished watering and then stayed away. But she had a ring on her finger and walked with her hand tucked in his arm. I don’t know if he had a ring, so they might have just been engaged and not married. Well, I’m not going to their wedding.
    What a dreary letter this is. You probably don’t even want to read it. If you are reading it, you are probably laughing at me. Go ahead. At least someone should be able to laugh even if I can’t yet. Perhaps some day I’ll laugh with you about this. Right now my heart is too sore and the hurt is too fresh. You’d think I’d have been smart enough to figure out that; that I was chasing a daydream, a figment of my imagination, a mirage. Hayley, I don’t think I’ll ever be smart enough to figure out life. Not like you have.
    Other than my life shattering news, life goes on as normal. I still live in my little duplex and ride my bike to work if it’s over thirty-five degrees and not raining. I still go to the nursing home twice a week and visit anyone who needs a visitor. Church is the same. No new families, no one even remotely close to my age has come since you left. Now quit telling me I need to make friends with people who aren’t my age! I’ve tried. I don’t belong. One, I don’t have kids. Two, I don’t have a boyfriend. Three, I don’t have any family to hang out with. Four, everyone else seems to be in one of those first three categories or they are kids.
    And now I’m going to make a box of mac and cheese and watch a movie. Such a stimulating evening lies ahead of me!
    Kiss those babies for me.
    Much love,
    ShelbyDoo

*

    Brad sat down on the front steps in the sunshine. His mind was spinning and he couldn’t quite wrap his mind around it all. He looked down at the letter in his hand. The envelope had his name and his new address on it. It was stamped and the return address was just a few streets from his new home. But the letter was not for him.
    He hadn’t intended to read it, but on catching sight of his name he was pulled in until he’d reached the end. The question now was, had Shelby meant to send that letter to him? Or had it been a mistake? He couldn’t imagine quiet, shy, Shelby mailing such a letter as that to him.
    “But why does she have my name and my new address on the envelope?” He studied the address again. Yes, they were in the same handwriting as the letter.
    Suddenly he frowned and looked back at the house behind him. Was this house the corner house with the red door she had mentioned in her letter? He wouldn’t call the door red. It was more of a dusty crimson.
    “What if I should walk over and talk to her?” he mused. “I should explain a few things while I’m at it. If she’d talk to me.”
    He continued to sit, his eyes on the sidewalk in front of him and prayed.
    At last he rose, locked his front door, tucked the letter into his pocket, and strode down the street. It was time to make amends for the years of silence.

Well? How bad was it?
How has your writing been coming?
Ever want to write and can't?

Mountain Village

 Deep in the heart of the mountains of France lies a village steeped in medieval lore. It is a little place; a tourist destination, yet so small it might be overlooked. Come with me now on a tour of this village.

We will start at the castle as it is the first thing that catches your eye when you arrive.

 

This castle is the main attraction. There are reenactors dressed as knights, minstrels, and even a king. Tours are given of the castle and there is even a gift shop where you can purchase fake but realistic weaponry. (The castle was designed and built by Nephew 1, Nephew 5, and myself.)

To the side of the castle and down the cliff sits the first cabin. I'm not sure if, Benjamin, the man in the tree was trimming it or taking a dare. And why is there a man doing pushups on the roof? I'm not sure on that.

 

 This is Kailyn's home. She seems to have some visitors. And look, there is a cat on the roof!

 

 

This is my house. Cute, isn't it? I built it, and here I live with my dog, Archie, my horse, and some chickens. Come and visit me when you get the chance!

 

 Just a man with his snowman.

 

If you look back into the woods, you will see a man practicing his archery new a smaller castle.

 

The cobblestone streets are for non motorized vehicles unless you are unloading your things at the inn. So you will find horses, cattle, and other animals roaming the streets. But what is happening near the castle?

 Wow! It looks like this quiet, little village does get some excitement after all! The police are taking down a robber! Did he steal from the castle? Or from one of the shops? I hope the police aren't hurt in this take down!

 

 Next comes the village blacksmith. I believe he is working on a sward. And yes, I did say that animals roamed the streets, didn't I? Here we have quite the herd of pigs. And even two sheep. Perhaps the smithy has tossed some food out for them.

 

 

Here's the flour mill.  Not much going on here. At least not from this angle.

 

 

 But if you look to your right a little you will find Thomas and Lucas with their herd of cattle coming down the street. It's quite the sight to see cattle wandering down the road.

 

 

In fact, it's such a novel thing, that Grant, his wife, and Kinsley, who just recently moved to the village to set up their candy shop, all came out to watch.

 

 

 Are you a Hallmark movie lover? This couple is! The man is trying to make it as much like a Hallmark movie as he can when he proposes to his girl. You can't see it, but there is a man on the roof of the inn with a portable radio playing music for the proposal. All that is missing is the falling snow. 

 

 

 I mentioned that the only motorized vehicles are when you unload at the inn as these two collage fellows are doing. Hey, look, there is a bonfire going on beside the inn. A great place to warm up.

 

 

Beside the inn is a small alleyway. Situated with tables and chairs, you can order your food from Tiny Bear's Café and eat outside. Just don't share your food with the chickens.

 

 

 Here's the front of the café. It's it cute? Don't you want to go enjoy a meal there? I wonder what sort of foods they serve. I'm not sure they'll have pizza, though I have heard stories of some people smuggling Italian pizza into the village. I'm not sure how much of what I hear is true.

 

 

 Next is the village clock tower! It's an imposing structure, but apparently it is being repaired right now. If you look closely you can see men at work. That doesn't seem to stop the visiting though!

 

 

 Nor the sale of hot drinks and sausages. Hungry? It sure smells good!

 

 

Oh, they are cooking them right here! No wonder if smells so good!

 

Next we have the village park. Or do they call it a green? I'm not sure. There's another snowman. I wonder if those two men built it or if they are just taking a break. It appears that one of them has been shopping at the castle.

 

 There is even a horse drawn sleigh you can sit in and get your picture taken as these kids are doing. I don't know if he gives rides or if it's just for photos. You can ask him if you want.

We have a long walk before us now as we are heading out of the village and into the mountains.

 

Here is the wood mill. If you look closely you can see the ox-cart filled with lumber. I believe that is the miller standing in the door talking with one of the lumbermen. (This mill was designed and built entirely by Nephew 3.)

 

 

 Near the mill is the lodge. It looks pretty quiet right now. Oh, look, a deer is looking around from the back. Can you see him? Be careful though because there is a pretty big cliff near the lodge.

 Here is the home of the police captain. I suppose he must be off today since he's not in town catching that thief. He and his wife have a lovely place.

This cheery, yellow house was built by Nephews 4 and 5. Isn't it cute? It looks like they are receiving some boxes today! 

And last of all we have the Sherlock Holmes Hotel. It's a pleasant place to stay with a small place to dine on the lowest level. You may notice the carriage beside it, that's because no cars are allowed nearby. You park and then either tramp through the snow, or ride in the carriage to reach your destination. The driver will also take you to the village if you want.

And that brings our tour to an end. What do you think? Have I convinced you to take a trip to our little village? Would you be staying at the hotel or the inn?

An Adventure - Part 3

 

 

 An Adventure
Part 3

    John laughed. “I like the sound of that, Randee!” He looked up ahead. “Except they are watching us at the moment. Come on, guys, let’s get going.”
    At last we were at the top. The view was great, but Tom and I were more interested in eating than in the view. Thankfully it didn’t take long to get the food out, and soon we were all eating. I don’t know why, but I’m always twice as hungry when we eat outside. But Mom and Aunt Angie must have remembered that for there was plenty of food. We didn’t even eat it all.
    Mom and Aunt Angie, with help from Lisa, packed up the coolers, and then Aunt Angie wanted to take pictures of us.
    “It’s the perfect time of day and year!” she begged. “And Jay will want to see them, you know he will, Shannon.”
    Mom gave in. Dad would want to see pictures of us, but it would have been even better if he had been there.
    Aunt Angie took a few individual shots, then some of all us kids, and then she began taking some of us with Mom. “Hmm, let’s change spots,” she said, after looking at her camera screen. “The lighting is just perfect from this angle.” Soon she had us positioned with our backs toward the path we came up. After arranging us just right, she snapped a couple pictures, then got down on her knees with her camera at a different angle. “All of you look at each other. Come on, I thought you liked each other!”
    This made us laugh.
    “Here,” Aunt Angie said, standing up, “what do you think of this one? I think it’s the best.”
    We all leaned in to look. It did look good. We were all laughing and–
    Suddenly Mom gave a gasp, almost shoved Lisa away, and sprang up.
    That’s when I noticed. There was another person in the picture. A man in army fatigues stood behind us, a huge smile on his face.
    “Dad!”
    I was a little late, for Mom was already in Dad’s arms.
    In a moment he was surrounded by all of us kids, and hugs, tears, laughter, and talk followed. Dad gave me a bear hug, and I fought back my tears. He was home!
    “Angie, did you know about this?” Mom demanded, clinging to Dad’s arm after the commotion had died down.
    “Yeah.” Aunt Angie didn’t look the least bit sorry. “It made some great photos. I was just afraid he wouldn’t arrive before the light was gone.” She came over and hugged dad. “Welcome home, brother.”
    “Thanks for setting it up, sis.” Dad winked at me. “I won’t have any more chances to surprise them.”
    “What do you mean?” I asked.
    Mom stared at Dad.
    “I’ve retired from the army.”
    “What?”
    “I’m home for good.”
    “Really?” Mom’s voice wasn’t quite steady.
    “Yep.” Dad kissed her.
    We gathered the coolers and blankets and headed down the path to the part of the park where the swings and climbing things were and spent half an hour running off steam. Bob, Joe, David, Tom, and I played freeze tag while Lisa sometimes joined us, and sometimes ran back to sit in Dad’s lap for a few minutes.
    “Bob, Joe, David!” Dad’s voice rang out across the park. “Tom, Randee! Load ‘em up!”
    There was a race to the car which Tom won. Bob, Joe, David, and Lisa scrambled into their seats while Tom and I helped make sure we had all the jackets, water bottles, coolers, and that Aunt Angie had her blankets back. Then we also climbed in. I didn’t ride shot gun. That’s where Mom rode, and Dad was behind the wheel.
    “Bob, Joe, David, you three buckled?” Dad asked.
    “Yes, sir.”
    The engine started, and Dad pulled out of the park onto the road. We were going home as a complete family. For good. I smiled in the darkness. It was good to have Dad home again. And I was actually looking forward to seeing the pictures Aunt Angie took of us on our best adventure.

An Adventure - Part 2

 Hey!

Glad you came back! I'm really busy with lots of filing and voting people. Not much time for anything else. Oh, and I'm grading papers and preparing to teach writing class again today. But I don't have to work on Monday, so a 3 day weekend will be wonderful! I already have a list of things I need to get done.

Anyway, enjoy this next part. 

 

An Adventure
Part 2

    Our shoes thudded on the wooden stairs. “What do you need, Mom?”
    Looking up from redoing one of Lisa’s pigtails, Mom glanced at us. It only takes Mom two seconds to know if we’ve cleaned up or not. “Those shirts look good on you boys. Carry out the two coolers to the suburban, please. Then make sure everyone has jackets. Oh, and Randee, will you check and see if the blankets got put back in?”
    “Sure, Mom.” I wanted to ask where we were going, but Mom never said until we were all in the vehicle and on our way. Maybe that was a ploy to keep anyone from trying to get out of whatever we were doing. I picked up the larger cooler and shoved the screen door open with my hip.
    Tom followed with the smaller one.
    “Hmm,” I said softly, “two coolers, jackets, and making sure the blankets are in the car. Think we’re going to be star gazing?”
    “Maybe. It might be rather fun.”
    “Well, it’s a clear night for it,” I said.
    Opening the back of the suburban, I checked for the two emergency blankets we always kept in the vehicle. Yep, they were there, rolled up and ready. Our last trip had ended with a sudden downpour, and we’d spread the blankets over the seats to ride home requiring us to hang them out to dry in the sun the next day.
    After loading the coolers, Tom and I found jackets for everyone and put them in the suburban too. Returning to the house, we waited in the kitchen with Lisa. She didn’t know where we were going either.
    Soon Mom and the boys joined us.
    “The dogs put up?” Mom asked. “Chickens taken care of?”
    “Yes, ma’am.”
    “Then let’s get going. Everyone grab your water bottles.” She pointed to the counter where they all stood neatly in a row.
    There was a rush, a clatter of boots and water bottles, and a few calls for “shot gun!”
    “Randee is riding shot gun,” Mom called over her shoulder as she pulled the kitchen door shut and made sure it was locked. “I might need him. You boys get in the back. Tom and Lisa in the middle.”
    It was where we usually rode, but now and then Mom would let someone else ride in the front with her.
    Seatbelts clicked into place and the engine started. The suburban wheels crunched on the gravel until we reached the road and turned onto the blacktop. Then it was time to ask.
    “Where are we going, Mom?” I asked.
    “Aunt Angie invited us to join her and John at a park they discovered. The directions are on the yellow paper, Randee. You’ll have to navigate for me once we get out on the highway.”
    I picked up the paper. Mom’s navigating skills weren’t the best, and after trying to use that fake person on her phone telling her where to go and getting her completely lost, she always goes to a map and plots out her route. Then Tom and I take turns being the navigator. Unless we’re just having an adventure, and then Tom and I have to figure out how to get us home again, which is kind of fun because we aren’t always sure.
    Of course, when Dad’s home no one needs a navigator of any kind. Dad just seems to know where things are. Even if he’s never been there before. He might look at a map for a couple minutes and then he’s never lost. And sometimes he doesn’t even need a map.
    The drive wasn’t short, and the younger ones played the alphabet game and the “I’m going to Argentina and I’m taking apples for my lunch” game. It got quite hilarious because of what they said they were bringing for their lunch. I gave Mom the right directions at the right time, and we found the hidden park right where Aunt Angie said it would be.
    We found Aunt Angie too. She had brought her fiancé, John, with her.
    “Hey, guys!” Aunt Angie greeted us, giving hugs freely and talking as she hugged. “We’ll have to take our food on a little hike. There’s a perfectly lovely spot up on the hill with a view of the river and the trees. And the trees are almost at their peak and look so pretty! You all did bring jackets, though, right? Good. There’s a picnic table up there. John, can you, Randee, and Tom get the food? Bob, Joe, David, get the blankets from my car. Yep, those are the ones. Shannon, we might have to help carry water bottles.”
    “Why’d you bring your camera?” Lisa asked.
    “I always bring my camera,” Aunt Angie replied. “I like taking pictures.”
    “The boys don’t like having their pictures taken,” Lisa reported.
    “Well, maybe they won’t mind if I take them.”
    Tom and I had lugged our coolers out of the suburban. I hadn’t known we’d have to carry them anywhere. Oh, well. We could manage.
    It turned out to be quite a climb to get to the picnic table Aunt Angie had in mind. Bob, Joe, and David didn’t have much trouble since all they carried were a few blankets. But Tom and I had to stop a few times. John did too.
    “We should have brought along a mule,” John said with a grin. “Or eaten supper at the cars and then hiked up here.”
    “We’ll be plenty hungry when we get there,” I replied. “Hey, maybe we should just lighten the load and eat something now.”
    John laughed. “I like the sound of that, Randee!” He looked up ahead. “Except they are watching us at the moment. Come on, guys, let’s get going.” 

Have you ever had a picnic at a new park?

Do you like knowing where you are going?

Or do you like being surprised?

An Adventure - Part 1

 Hello!

 Life is busy! I got called into work at the County Clerk's Office a week before I was scheduled to come in. Which means . . . I'm working the entire month of October! I thought I'd have this week to write, but so far I only wrote on Monday (started work Tuesday). I'm trying to get into a pattern for work, grading papers and preparing for the writing class I'm teaching, keeping up with emails, posting on Instagram, and other home things. So far I haven't gotten any pattern figured out yet. I've been doing lots and lots of filing so my shoulders, neck, and back are sore. 

Anyway, today's story is the first part of a 3 part story. I took the names, every one of them, from the ballot in August. I worked after the election helping certify the ballots which meant hand counting several hundred ballots and the boys names were all names that were in a row. We said them so many times we decided they must be a family. And that's how the story started.

 

An Adventure
Part 1

    “Bob, Joe, David!” Mom’s voice rang out from the house and across the large yard and into the trees beyond. “You boys get inside and clean up your room!”
    I looked at my younger brothers. “You seriously didn’t clean your room this morning, guys?”
    “We were going to–” Joe began.
    “Going to isn’t the same as getting it done,” I cut in. “Better go do it.”
    With groans and sighs, Bob, Joe, and David, ages ten, nine, and eight pushed out from our fort and trudged toward the house.
    “Tom, Randee!” Mom’s voice came again. “Better start on the chores and get the dogs put up.”
    “Coming, Mom!” I shouted back. “Let’s go, Tom. Come on, Lisa.” Tom was thirteen and I was fourteen. Lisa, our little tag-along sister, was almost six.
    It was Friday afternoon. We didn’t usually start chores this early, but maybe Mom thought it would take Tom and I longer since the three boys had to clean their room. Had it been some other job than our usual evening chores of taking care of the two horses, the chickens, and the dogs, I might have grumbled, but I like the animals.
    Leaving the shade of the trees, Tom and I jogged across the yard toward the barn with Lisa following like a shadow. As the only girl, and a rather cute one with brown pigtails, big brown eyes, and a few freckles over her nose, she was spoiled and teased and loved and bossed around by all of us boys. She stood it all pretty well and could give as well as she got most of the time. At least as well as someone her size and age could give. There were times when she’d pull the trump card and threaten to tell Mom if one of us wasn’t being nice, but she almost never did.
    “Lisa, I need you in the house!” Mom called again.
    I glanced over at Tom and gave a slight grin. If Lisa wasn’t around, we would get the chores done faster.
    “I’ve got the chickens,” Tom said, knowing that while I liked animals, putting the feathered fowls to bed was my least favorite job.
    “Thanks.” I jogged to the pasture and whistled for the horses. Since the weather was getting colder in the evenings, we’d started putting them in the barn for the night.
    It wasn’t until I was latching the gate of the dog’s kennel that it dawned on me just how early it was and how odd that we were doing chores already. And it wasn’t just the chores. We only put up the dogs if it was time for bed, company was coming over, or we were leaving.
    “Hey, Tom,” I called, striding over to my brother who had just finished taking care of the chickens. “Do you remember Mom saying anything about anyone coming over or us going somewhere?”
    Tom secured the door and shook his head. “Don’t remember anything. Why?”
    “It’s not even five-thirty, why did she tell us to put the dogs up?”
    He shrugged. Tom wasn’t much for talking if it wasn’t necessary.
    “Race you to the house.”
    Tom and I were even until the last few yard, then Tom pulled ahead. I can beat him in wrestling or anything to do with heavy lifting, but he always beats when it comes to speed.
    Inside the old farmhouse kitchen, we found Mom and Lisa bustling around packing a cooler.
    “Are we going somewhere, Mom?” I asked, eyeing the food already packed.
    “Yes.” She lifted her head and looked us both up and down. “Change your shirts and wash up. And check in on the boys, will you?”
    “Sure.” We left the kitchen and took the stairs to the second floor two at a time. Tom headed right to our room to change while I made a stop at the boy’s room. Funny to think that we all called Bob, Joe, and David “the boys” even though Tom and I are boys too. That’s just the way it was though.
    “Bob, Joe, David,” I scolded, finding them messing around instead of cleaning up. “Get this room cleaned up. Mom said we’re going somewhere tonight.”
    “Where, Randee?” David asked.
    “I don’t know. Mom didn’t say. Now get to work.” I waited a moment until I was sure they were actually working and then went to the room Tom and I shared. Tom was already buttoning a clean flannel shirt, and I grabbed one from the closet.
    “Where do you think we’re going?” Tom asked.
    “No telling. You know Mom.”
    Mom was always coming up with random things for us to do or places to go. Sometimes we’d take a picnic into the woods on our land, or drive to a local park. We’ve picked up trash in Grandma and Grandpa’s neighborhood before, and another time we drove two hours and went hiking at a state park and ate our supper in the parking lot. I used to think it was to take our minds off Dad being away on deployment, but we do random things when he’s home too. Maybe Mom just likes spontaneity.
    “Bob, Joe, David, your room had better be cleaned up in two minutes because I’m going to come check it,” Mom called up the stairs.
    I shared a grin with Tom. It was almost never just Bob, or Joe, or David. They were usually called together. It was almost as though they shared a joint name: Bob Joe David. Sometimes our last name of Manning was tagged onto the end if they were in trouble or about to be in trouble.
    Mom’s voice interrupted my thoughts as I tucked in my shirt. “Tom, Randee, I could use you down here.”
    Our shoes thudded on the wooden stairs. “What do you need, Mom?” 

 

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Returning to Rest - Part 2

 Good morning!

Happy Friday! I hope you had a good week. I've stayed busy. Writing, nieces and nephews over, Instagram posts, reading, editing, working on some things for writing camp, and knitting. No lack of things here. I finally sent off 11 cradle sets to Bridget's Cradles. Glad to finally get them done and mailed so they can be used.

 It's gotten hot again here. Feels like summer. Yesterday it was 98ª F. Ugh! I'm ready for cooler weather! I want to wear sweaters and flannel and long sleeves. But fall will come even here. 

I know a few things might look a little odd on my blog right now. That's because I have to create my own backgrounds since I can't find any that I can use anymore. I'm still working on trying to get things just right.

I hope you enjoy the rest of this story. Next month I should have another one for you.

 

Returning to Rest - Part 2

 

    Leaning forward, Francis shielded his face with his hand and sat still.
    “The Lord has dealt bountifully with you! Yes, with you who have wandered from His rest. With you who have strayed. With you who have betrayed your Lord by word or deed. And yes, even with you who have still refused His offer of salvation. But you say you don’t see His bounty. Are your sins pardoned in the blood of the Lamb? Did you deserve it? That’s mercy and grace. Did you earn it? No, that’s the Lord dealing bountifully with you! So return. Return and rest. Dine with the Master and rest your weary soul in him.”
    Francis didn’t hear any more. He closed his eyes and let the thought of the bountiful goodness of the Lord put to flight the doubts and fears, the worries and discouragements, the shame and feelings of defeat that had long resided in his mind and heart.
    A hand rested on his shoulder and he started.
    “I didn’t mean to startled you.” It was the young man who had coaxed him to come in.
    Sitting up, Francis realized that the service was over. “It’s okay.” He coughed. “I was just thinking. Thanks for letting me come in. I–” He coughed again and reached for his wet jacket. “I’d best be going.”
    “Where are you staying? Do you need a ride? It’s gotten dark, and it looks like we might be in for another storm.”
    Francis shook his head and stood, looking toward the open door. It was dark out. Where would he sleep?
    A man with gray around his temples and a tired but peaceful look about his eyes stopped beside the pew. “Will you introduce me to your friend, Westley?”
    The young man grinned. “I’d be happy to, Uncle, but it seems we were so interested in the singing and the service that it never occurred to me to exchange names.” He turned to Francis and held out his hand. “I’m Westley Moore.”
    “Francis Cartwright.” Francis shook the offered hand. “Thanks for inviting me in and,” he slid the jacket off his shoulders and handed it back, “for the use of that. Mine was a little wet.”
    “Glad you came in. Oh, Uncle Paul, this is Francis. Francis, my uncle, Paul Eastman. Otherwise known as Dr. East.”
    “East? West–”
    Dr. East laughed at Francis’ bewildered expression. “I know, my sister had a strange sense of humor. But she was determined that her son wouldn’t be a physician, so she refused to name him after me. Pleased to meet you.” He held out his hand.
    Recalled to the social duties he had so long been excluded from, Francis put his hand in the offered one. “Did her plan work?”
    “Perhaps. I think Westley is more interested in helping souls than bodies. Where are you staying?”
    Francis shrugged. “Don’t know yet.”
    “Have you had supper?” the doctor asked, eyeing him keenly.
    With a cough, Francis shook his head. “Supper costs money and money takes work and work hasn’t been found, though I’ve searched for it.”
    “Well, then,” Westley sounded eager, “you’ll not object if I press my claims on you and take you home to dinner.”
    “No, I–”
    “I wouldn’t object,” Dr. East said quietly. “Much more exposure to that cold and rain could land you in bed for weeks. That cough doesn’t sound good.”
    Westley turned toward a woman who was approaching. It was the one Francis had noticed playing the organ. “Mother, we have a relative who needs a good meal and a bed tonight. I invited him over. You don’t object, do you?”
    The woman addressed looked older than Dr. East, and her hair was liberally streaked with gray, but her cheeks were pink and she smiled. “Of course not. We always have room for one more. Or two. Paul, are you coming over?”
    Dr. East looked at his watch. “I’ll try to later, Dorcas. I need to stop by the Bridgeman’s and see how Laurel is doing.”
    “All right.” The woman turned to her son. “Are you ready, Westley?”
    “Just about. Oh, Mother, I’d like you to meet Francis Cartwright. Francis, my mother.”
    “Please to meet you, Mrs. Moore.”
    “Just call me Aunt Dorcas, Francis. If you are a relative, there’s no need to be formal.”
    “I’m not really a–”
    “Excuse me, Francis,” Westley interrupted, “but you are my brother, and that makes you a relative.” He looked at his mother. “I won’t be long, but I need to catch Mr. Ross a moment if I can.”
    Francis pulled on his still wet jacket and coughed.
    “That cough doesn’t sound good,” Mrs. Moore remarked. “Where have you been staying?”
    Francis shrugged. “Wherever I could find a place.”
    “That’s a good way to get sick. Oh, Rhoda,” Mrs. Moore turned quickly to another woman who was passing, “do you want me to pick you up for the sewing bee on Saturday?”
    Francis stood quietly in the back of the church and watched. Oh, to belong to a place like this. A place where one was welcomed as though returning home again. Home. What wouldn’t he give to be able to go home once more?
    A hand rested on his shoulder and a warm voice spoke.
    “My friend, I’m glad you came in tonight.”
    Francis turned and found the friendly face of the old minister beside him. “Thank you. I . . . Well, I wasn’t going to come in. Didn’t feel I had the right, for I had wandered away and denied my Lord, but Westley–”
    “Ah, Westley Moore is a servant of his Master. And what about you, my friend? Have you returned to your Lord?”
    Francis gave a faint nod. “Yes, sir. But I didn’t think . . . That is, I didn’t expect . . .” He floundered over his words and coughed. The minister waited silently, his hand still on Francis’s shoulder. “Well, I didn’t think there was a place for a sinner like me to have fellowship with the saints until glory.”
    “Ah, my friend,” the minister said with a smile, “our Lord forgives when we repent and turn from our wanderings and our sins. Are we better than our Lord?”
    His eyes on the floor, Francis shook his head. “No, sir. But other places–”
    “I’m sorry,” the minister said. “There are and probably will always be folks who forget about the log in their own eye. Have you a place to stay tonight?”
    “Yes, sir, he does!” Westley appeared beside them at that moment. “I’m taking him home.”
    The minister nodded. “That is good. By the way, Westley, I wasn’t expecting to see you here this evening. Weren’t you supposed to be helping in the city tonight?”
    “Yes, sir, but my truck wouldn’t start, and I knew if I took Mother’s car she wouldn’t be able to make it tonight. So I phoned someone to take my place there. I think the Lord was in that plan.” He cast a smiling look at Francis.
    Francis couldn’t say a word. He was overcome by the Lord’s goodness to a sheep who had strayed. He knew he would not have come into the church or heard the message the minister had shared if it hadn’t been for Westley’s persuasiveness. The Lord had dealt bountifully with him.
    “Westley, are you ready now?” Mrs. Moore asked.
    “Yes, Mother. Francis?”
    Francis nodded, and gripping his walking stick, limped from the pew.
    “What did you do to make you limp so much?” Westley asked, offering an arm to lean on.
    “Fell and twisted my knee. I’ll be okay.”
    “Well, Uncle will be over later this evening, I’m sure. He can take a look at it then. Here we are.”
    And before Francis could protest that he couldn’t afford a doctor, he found himself in car being driven toward a warm home and a hot supper. He didn’t know what would come in the morning, but for now he was going to rest in the bountiful goodness of his Lord.

 

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