The Bells of Christmas

The Bells of Christmas

 

Chapter One

 

 

             The tree looked so bare without the girls’ ornaments. Caroline had always planned to give them to Amy and Jennifer when they moved away. She just hadn’t figured they would both leave at the same time.

            Her job at the Cedarville public library and volunteer work had kept her plenty busy in the months since they’d moved, and she had the cats, Callie and Chrissie, who were usually good company; but tonight the house seemed even more empty than usual.

            “What do you think?” She glanced at the two matching tabbies who dozed on the sofa. They peered at her through slitted golden eyes. “Oh, you’re no help at all.”

            She gave the naked fir tree one more glance before going to the hall closet for her coat. Good thing Parrott’s Department store stayed open late these last weeks before Christmas. She’d walk over and pick up some new ornaments and then maybe stop in town for a bite to eat. Cooking for one was something else she wasn’t quite used to.

            Outside snow fell, drifting in lazy crystals to the already-covered ground. Caroline pulled her hood up tight against the cold December night and walked briskly to the main street of Cedarville. She passed a few folk on the way, each one nodding to her in greeting. Everyone in town knew Caroline Prescott, but did any of them know how lonely she felt tonight?

            In the department store she picked out a box of blue satin ornaments and another of glass silver-frosted. They looked plain compared to the special decorations she had selected for the girls every year, but they would have to do. Besides, what did it matter? She would be the only one to see the tree on Christmas morning.

            Harry’s Soup and Sandwich Shop offered good comfort food and welcomed Caroline in from the sharp air. Evening shoppers filled all the booths, so Caroline headed for the counter draped with green and red garland. She claimed the single seat available and piled her purse and package next to her.

            She didn’t have to look at the menu. Harry’s potato cheddar soup was her favorite and she ordered that with a small salad. While she waited, she watched a group of junior high students packed into a booth, laughing and talking and texting on their smart phones. She smiled wistfully. It seemed Amy and Jenny should still be that age, going off sledding and skating and bringing their friends home for hot chocolate and Caroline’s special holiday cookies.

             A silly lump swelled in her throat, but the sound of a package slipping to the floor followed by the tinkling of broken glass brought her abruptly around.

            “Oh Joey, look what you’ve done!” a child’s voice groaned.

            Caroline looked down at her package and then up at the two children standing together beside it. A boy of about six with one arm in his coat clung to the hand of a girl only slightly older. They both stared at Caroline with wide brown eyes.

            “I’m so sorry, ma’am,” the girl barely whispered. “My brother didn’t mean to hurt anything. He was just trying to put his coat on.”

            “It’s all right.” Caroline leaned down to pick up the package and inspect the damage.

            In the moment it took her to pluck the package from the floor, someone else joined the children in staring at her, a tall man in flannel shirt and jeans who raked back unruly hair with his fingers.

            “What happened, kids?” he asked with a resigned sigh.

            “Joey didn’t mean it,”  “It was an accident.”  The little girl and Caroline spoke together.

            The boy just looked down at his boots, tightening his grip on the girl’s hand. The man gave them both a stern frown which quickly softened.

            “Okay. Let’s just apologize to the lady and see what we owe her.”

            “It’s all right. Really.” Caroline tried to protest, but the man insisted she check the contents of the bag.

            Four of the frosted ornaments were shattered into little silver shards.

            “Let me pay you for them.” He withdrew his wallet from the back pocket of his jeans.

            “Not necessary.” Caroline pointed to the blue satin ornaments. “These are just fine and there are still six of the others left.”

            He looked skeptical about letting it go.

            “I only left them to finish up their ice cream while I paid the bill.” His hand rested on the boy’s head in a loving gesture. “Joey is really a good boy.” He seemed to be trying to reassure the boy as much as Caroline. His gaze lifted to hers. “Are you sure we can’t compensate?”

            Caroline’s order arrived just then. Before she could shake her head, he asked the waitress for her bill.

            “At least let me pay for your dinner.”

            There was no sense in arguing, and Caroline gracefully gave in.

            When the man walked away to the cashier, the children still stayed, the girl staring intently at Caroline.

            “Aren’t you the lady from the library? The story lady?” she finally asked.

            “Why yes, I am.” Caroline took in the girl’s solemn expression that was far too serious for a child her age. She remembered that serious little face. Hadn’t both children come to the library last Saturday for Story Hour?

            “I’m Mrs. Prescott,” she volunteered and recalled how the two had sat together listening quietly to the books Caroline read but hadn’t joined in any of the songs the other children had later sung. “Did you enjoy Story Hour?”

            “I’m Sharie Kendall,” the girl said softly. “I liked one book ‘specially. The one about the teddy bear that came to life.”

            “Then you should have your dad bring you to the library again so you can check it out.” Caroline loved to encourage young readers. She looked at the boy. “What about you, Joey? Did you have a favorite story?”

            “My brother doesn’t talk much,” Sharie supplied. “Only to me and Dad.”

            Their father had returned from the cashier, and Caroline lifted her gaze to his. Deep brown and serious as the boy’s, his eyes spoke of pain and confusion.

            “I’m sorry to hear that,” she said. “I didn’t have any little boys myself, but I always figured they should be noisy and boisterous.”

            The man nodded, as if he agreed with her, but offered no comment, said only, “Name’s Joshua Kendall. We just moved here a few weeks ago, so we don’t know too many folks yet. Nice to meet you, though we’re sorry about the circumstances.” He took Joey by the hand. “Well, let’s leave the lady to her dinner. Time we got home.”

            Before they walked away, Caroline slid from the stool and crouched down in front of both children.

            “It’s really okay about the ornaments. They’re easily replaceable. But how about you both do me a favor and come to the Christmas party we’re having at the library this Saturday? We’ll have more stories and some special surprises. Refreshments, too. Your dad is welcome to attend with you.” Something told Caroline this family didn’t include a mother. Perhaps that was the reason for the children’s solemn expressions.

            “Could we go, Daddy? I like the library.” Sharie waited for his answer.

            “The clinic is open till noon.” He drew both children close to him in a protective gesture Caroline found touching. “Thank you for not being upset about the ornaments,” he said to Caroline. “What time does the party start?”

            “One o’clock. I’ll look forward to seeing you there.”

            Even Joey gave her a shy wave when they left.

 

Good Intentions Gone Awry

 

I guess we all know how it goes. We have every good intention of doing something and then stuff happens and that intention falls by the wayside. Two weeks ago I had every good intention of posting here about our trip west, to share what I was seeing as well as keep a journal of sorts for myself. While I did keep some written notes in an old-fashioned notebook, writing on the blog just didn’t happen after that first post. Sketchy internet access was part of the problem. Mountains just aren’t conducive to finding reliable wifi. But most of the problem lay within me. Too busy taking pictures and soaking it all in, I just didn’t seem to be able to put into words the magnificence of our American West. (Plus, I was really tired at night!)

I’d been there before, many years ago, and the vast wonderful emptiness of it is something that stays with you forever. You never forget how the wind blows in your ears and the silence is something you can feel. The stars seem closer and the smell of sage is potent in the air. Whether looking out at the flatness of the plains or gazing up to the soaring mountain peaks, you just feel overwhelmed by the unique beauty that is this Big Country. A few things that I learned on the trip; the Snowy Mountains and the Big Horns are freakingly high. Togwatee Pass in the Bridger-Teton National Forest has an elevation of 9,584 feet. Jackson Hole has grown by leaps and bounds. The scars from the immense fire of 1988 still mar the otherwise beautiful Yellowstone. While standing at the Little Big Horn Battlefield, where so many died, you know it is a sacred place. Floating down the Snake River on a raft is a peaceful and lovely time.  Watching bison, pronghorn, and horses graze in pastures beneath the mountains does wonders for your soul.

A truth that I read somewhere along the way stays with me: “Our national parks and monuments are America at her best.”  From the craggy tips of the Grand Teton and Mt. Moran to the golden canyons of Yellowstone, to the wonder that is Devil’s Tower, our national parks and monuments are truly what is best about America. I sincerely hope that greed, mismanagement and lack of foresight never allow them to disappear from our land. It will be sad day if that happens.

One thing I love to do while on a trip like this is to stop at historical markers and museums along the way. Some of the places we visited this time were the Buffalo Bill Center of the West in Cody, WY, and the Wild Mustang Center in Buffalo.  I also discovered Buffalo is the setting for the Longmire books and that the author, Craig Johnson, lives “just down the road.” No trip through South Dakota is complete without a visit to the landmark that is Wall Drug, and while there I also went through The Wounded Knee Museum. It is, to say the least, a sobering experience. 

Visitor centers often offer museums and displays as well as a history of the area, and they are also great places to find books. These are the books I bought on this trip: The Spirit of Indian Women; Covered Wagon Women: Diaries and Letters from the Western Trails 1875-1883; Bedside Book of Bad Girls: Outlaw Women of the American West; The Log of a Cowboy: A Narrative of the Old Trail Days; Orphan Trains: Traveling West to a New Life; Bleed, Blister, and Purge: A History of Medicine and the American Frontier. Now I just have to purge a bookshelf to make room for them!

This is a scene of the Buffalo Valley and a Teton morning, before the peaks were covered up by clouds and snow. It will keep me inspired while I'm writing Tetons by Morning, the working title of my book-in-progress.

 

 

I’d like to thank the staff at the Heart Six Ranch in Moran, WY, for their hospitality and a good time, and for all those people with vision who sought to preserve the places in our country that are “America at her best.” My fond hope is that another trip west is in the not-too-distant future.

Westward We Go!

August 24, 2014

After driving nearly 700 miles the first day of our western trip, we stopped the first night in Grand Island, Nebraska, and today took a side trip to see Chimney Rock and the Scotts Bluff area in the panhandle area of the state. What amazing landscape. You would think you were on another planet how quickly it changed from nearly flat to these magnificent sculptures. In today's world of smartphones and the world at your fingertips, air-conditioned vehicles and speed limits of 80 mph, it's hard to imagine what the pioneers of the 1800s went through in traversing this country. How overwhelmed they must have felt when they first saw this land! I confess, I probably would not have done well as a pioneer. As much as I like to read about and travel the West, I'm pretty sure I would have stayed behind in my safe little town in the East and lived a very quiet life. But what adventures I might have missed! I'm glad I don't have that decision to make and that I can see all these wonders from the relative comfort of our truck.
Tomorrow, heading to Laramie and then north. Hoping to see the town of Centennial and maybe a wild horse sanctuary? Say tuned.

The Writing Process Blog Hop

Welcome to this week’s stop on the Writing Process Blog Hop! My friend and fellow author Margo Hoornstra tagged me to participate and share a little about how I write. You can see what Margo wrote on January 27^th about her writing process at http://www.margohoornstra.blogspot.com/.

Without further adieu, here is my take on the four questions each of us has answered.

1)      What am I working on? Some years ago, I had a number of short stories published in Woman’s World magazine. Currently, I’m working on updating those stories and putting them together in anthologies to publish on Amazon. I have two collections available for Kindle now, An Uncommon Prince and Other Short Stories and Sky of Magic. I'm hoping to have a third book ready shortly.

2)      How does my work differ from others of its genre? I would say the way these stories differ the most is that they are short stories rather than full length novels. They’re all romances and most have a theme of finding love in unexpected places.

3)      Why do I write what I do? Although I also write full length works, I like writing short stories because of the faster pace and because it takes less time to finish a story. My favorite part about writing romance of any length is the promise of a happy ending. While life is not always happy, we know and expect romance stories to end this way, and it gives the reader hope that it can be happy.

4)      How does my writing process work? I usually start out with a character, or two characters, and let them tell me their story. I’m not a total “pantser.” In longer works, I do like to write out a short synopsis of what I think will happen in the story before I begin it; but it’s not that detailed and I like to leave room for surprises to happen, for the characters to take the story in new directions. If I know too much ahead of time, it’s easy to lose interest. I’d rather find out as I write what is the real story. But I also like to have a bit of an outline to follow, just in case I get lost.

So that’s a little about how I write. If you’ve followed along on this blog hop, you’ve seen that it’s different for everyone and that there is no right way, only what works for you. Next week, be sure to check out the next stop on the Writing Process Blog Hop when Constance Bretes talks about her process at  http://conniebretes.weebly.com/connies-blog.html/. Connie has worked for the state of Michigan for over 35 years. About 5 years ago she decided to do something fun and started writing romance stories.  A member of Romance Writers of America and Mid-Michigan RWA, Connie is celebrating her first release--Delayed Justice--today from Beachwalk Press.

 

 

 

Some New Words for the Vocabulary (or My Not-So-Fond-Memories of the 2014 Polar Vortex)

In November, I wrote about words and how they affect our lives, and how we are always adding new words to our lexicon. We were barely a week into the New Year when we added two words that most of us had never really used together before—polar vortex. Of course we’d heard polar before and usually associated it with cold. Vortex, well that was a word most of us didn’t use in daily conversation, but we soon learned putting the two words together meant we were going through a cold—make that really cold—spell that hadn’t been felt in most of the country for about 20 years. Some folks thought it was an expression made up just for this brutal, bitter, bone-numbing weather we were having, but then meteorologists set us straight by showing us 65 year old textbooks, and there it was, polar vortex, a real weather phenomenon. Who knew? Well we soon did know what it meant, how it felt, and mostly that we didn’t want it to come back again.

I don’t mind cold weather, but this went beyond cold and into I-can’t-stay-out-here-another-minute-pushing-this-blankety-blank-snow-or-I’m-to-die mode. Fortunately, we never lost power but there were many who did, and so I didn’t want to complain. We had plenty of food and didn’t have to go out to work or do anything other than shovel snow for two days. The biggest problem came in letting our two dogs out. Cabin fever set in quickly and of course they felt it necessary to check and see if the weather had changed since the last time (10 minutes ago) they’d been out.  About the middle of the first day, they figured out their paws were going to freeze if they tried to stay out and plowing through snow up to their necks was not all that fun. Apparently they didn’t pass the word on to the cats and the more daring one made a midnight dash out the door (while I was pushing more snow to keep the doorway open) and under the backyard deck. After a few seconds of my pounding on the deck with my snow shovel to convince him this wasn’t time for fun and games and then resorting to going for the bag of cat treats to entice him back inside, Zombie decided himself that this probably wasn’t a good game to play, came scrambling out and was happy to go back into the warm house. I guess turning into a kitty Popsicle didn’t hold any appeal for him.

A few other fond memories of that week: The snow blower blades freezing up and having to drag the space heater into the garage to thaw it out. The sliding door freezing open and then shut. Wearing two pairs of gloves and still having numb fingers within minutes of being outside. Hearing the scientific explanation of polar vortex 30 times a day.

So now that we all know what it means and that it’s real and it’s become part of our vocabulary, we all hope it won’t come back for another visit this winter. But it is 11 degrees today, and I’ve heard it whispered that we might be in for another plunge into the deep freeze next week. At least this time we’ll know what we’re in for and those two words won’t make us wonder what on earth is going on. Of course we’ll still complain, it’s just human nature, and to be honest, I’m not sure I would want to trade places with the folks Down Under who, while we are dealing with the polar vortex, are experiencing 108 degrees. Doesn’t sound fun to me either.

Sweet Romance Christmas Giveaway--Final Hours!

The last story excerpt is from Summer Again, included in An Uncommon Prince and Other Short Stories, part of the e-book giveaway that ends tomorrow. You can still sign up here: http://tinyurl.com/khf7wfa

A carnival rolled into town for the weekend. Nicholas walked over to Shannon’s cottage and asked if they’d like to go to it with him.

“Do they have a merry-go-round?” Mindy asked. Nicholas nodded.

“Oh please, Mama, can we go?”

Shannon hesitated. She needed to shop for groceries. The cottage needed a thorough cleaning. She needed to work on her resume to submit to the community college. There were a million and one reasons why they shouldn’t spend the day with Nicholas, but one very good reason why they should. It would make Mindy happy.

“All right. Get your shoes on and grab the puppy’s leash. We might as well take him along.”

The carnival filled the town square and spilled out into the street. Shannon kept a tight hold of Mindy’s hand as they walked along. The smell of popcorn and cotton candy enticed them, but after at least a half dozen rides on the carousel, Shannon insisted they eat lunch first.

“I’m glad you joined me,” Nicholas said while they ate hot dogs. A breeze blew in off the lake, and he reached out to tuck Shannon’s hair away from her face. His hand lingered along her cheek.

Shannon felt a rush of warmth that had nothing to do with the noonday sun.

“One thing I never expected was to see you here. I didn’t know your dad still had the cottage.” His voice lowered, as if uncertain. “It’s been a lot of years. So why did you come back?”

Shannon crumpled the hot dog wrappers and finished her cola.

“Dad thought it would be good for Mindy and I to spend some time at the beach, before I enroll her in school and get a job.” She almost told him about Elliot; she probably should. But she couldn’t bring herself to talk about the man she’d married instead of Nicholas.

“You’ve moving back here?”

She nodded and wiped Mindy’s face with a paper napkin.

“Will your husband be joining you?”

Shannon could only murmur, “No, he won’t.”

As much as he ached to ask why, Nicholas knew it wouldn’t be fair in front of Mindy. It didn’t take much to sense that something was wrong, but he would find out later why Shannon and her daughter had come to the cottage alone.

Mindy yawned and dragged her feet on the way home. Nicholas carried her while Shannon toted the puppy and the giant stuffed bunny they’d won. At the cottage, they laid the child and the bunny both in her small bed while the puppy curled at Mindy’s feet. Nicholas touched the little girl’s tousled hair and felt a flash of resentment that Shannon’s child wasn’t his.

“I’ll make some coffee,” Shannon offered. “We can sit on the porch for a while.”

They sat in the old wooden Adirondack chairs. Nicholas drank his coffee and when the daylight was no more than a pink and blue glow on the lake’s horizon, he asked Shannon the question that had burned for years in his mind.

“Why didn’t you come to see me before I went to sea that last summer? I asked you, begged you. Why did you let your father come between us?”

Shannon looked away, unable to meet the old hurt that still shadowed his eyes.

“You went into the navy. I was leaving for the university. We both had our plans, and they didn’t seem to include each other.”

“But you knew I wanted you to wait for me. I told you and I emailed you and I wrote to you. Or did your father have you so brainwashed that I wasn’t good enough?”

A sudden anger flared up in her, anger at men and their often stupid need to prove themselves, despite the cost.

“Of course I wasn’t brainwashed! But I was young and so were you. I’m sorry you couldn’t understand. I guess maybe you still can’t.”

“And this Elliot Grayson you married. Did James approve of him?”

Shannon lifted her chin. “As a matter of fact, he did.” Her parents had both loved Elliot but that was before they’d known marrying Elliot would take her far away from them.

Shannon didn’t watch Nicholas leave but gathered up the cups and went inside.

Three days later the puppy disappeared.

Sweet Romance Christmas Giveaway--Last Two Days!

Tonight's excerpt is from the title story, "An Uncommon Prince."

They spent the morning clearing away the fallen branches that weren’t touching the downed lines. Chris was strong and not a bit afraid of manual labor. He worked on the greenhouse while Emily went in to fix lunch. It was hot, and with no fan running, the house  stifling. It would be better to sit on the porch and eat. Emily brought out sandwiches, a bag of potato chips, and two lukewarm sodas. Then she called her new handyman to eat.

 When they sat at the little round table on the porch, they both noticed the shadowy figure poised at the edge of the woods.

 “He’s been hanging around for the last hour or so,” Chris said. “I take it he’s not yours?”

 “No, he’s just a stray.” Emily watched the gaunt husky slip back into the cover of the trees. She was glad he’d made it through the storm, but the poor thing was probably starved again.

 It had been a while since anyone sat at the table with Emily. Usually, she propped a book up in front of her, but that would be unforgivably rude. She would just have to bury the tiny flutter of disquiet that threatened to balloon up inside of her. So she was sitting across the table from a nice-looking man. So he was going to sleep in her barn tonight. So she didn’t know him from Adam. She was used to dealing with older people so set in their ways they were practically concrete. Certainly she could manage to deal with a man nearly her own age.

Chris had washed in water from the creek and run wet fingers through his hair. When he sat across from her, Emily noticed the tiny drops of water sparkling against the rich cinnamon brown.
He ate with gusto, talking in between about the trip he was making across the country. “I’m just taking my time, wandering about. Going along the back roads.”

“Guess that’s how you happened by here.” Emily offered him another sandwich.

"Best way to see America and meet her people. It’s something I’ve always wanted to do. I decided not to wait till I’m too old.” He grinned and his eyes held Emily’s gaze for a moment. So blue, so very blue. She thought she could drown in them, but something was being held back, was hidden in their depths. She couldn’t tell what, but his carefree smile seemed almost forced.

Emily finished her sandwich and took the leftovers out to the barn. The husky was nowhere in sight.

 “He’ll be back,” she told Chris. “Sooner or later, he’ll trust me enough. I just have to give him some time.”

She noticed Chris watching her in a peculiar way, as if he wondered why the dog mattered to her at all. She really didn’t know herself, except she felt sorry for him. She knew all about being alone.

 “I have to go to work now.” She turned back to the house. “You can just go ahead with the windows on the greenhouse. I’ll be home around six.”

 Chris watched as she went into the house and came out with a black bag.

 “In case you’re wondering, I’m a public-health nurse,” Emily said. “Home care visits are part of my job. I have some people to check up on after the storm. A lot of them…don’t have anybody else. If you get thirsty, help yourself to whatever you can find. I’ll try to pick up something cold on the way home.”

 It seemed strange to have someone watching as she drove away and even stranger to have him waiting when she came home at half-past eight.

 “I was getting worried,” Chris said when she slid down from the truck seat. He’d been sitting on the porch steps, but he came to meet her and took the bag of groceries and the six-pack of beer from her hand. “You look tired. I fixed some supper. Hope you don’t mind.”

She didn’t. In fact, it felt good to have someone taking care of her for a change, even if he was just a stranger who would be gone in a few weeks.

 After they ate the meal cooked over Chris’s one-burner camp stove, they sat on the porch and drank the beer and watched purple evening shadows steal across the fields. Emily was tired, but it was nice to have someone to talk to instead of just the old dog.

 “My parents lived on this farm all their married lives. I didn’t come along until they were both in their forties. I guess they’d just about given up on ever having a family. As it was, all they got was me.”

 “Not such a bad deal.” Chris’s voice was nearly as soft as the country twilight. “I bet they were immensely proud.”

 Emily shrugged, uncomfortable when the talk centered on her.

 Chris let a space of silence lapse, as if he understood, then he asked, “Didn’t you ever feel trapped, living way out here with no one your own age around?”

 Emily wanted to shout no, but if the truth were told, at 18 she had felt more than ready to get away from home. Her parents had sensed it and they hadn’t held her back. “They made sure I went to college. I lived away for five years, but then the farm got to be too much for Dad. Who else did they have to depend on but me?”

 She smiled sleepily at Chris and tried to hold back a yawn, but her eyes simply wouldn’t stay focused. “Must be…the beer.”

 Chris stood up and ‘rousted the bedroll he’d stashed in the corner of the porch. “Good night, Emily,” he said softly and ambled off to the barn.

 It was surprising how quickly Emily got used to Chris being around. After so long living alone, she looked forward to pouring two cups of coffee in the morning. When she wasn’t making her nursing rounds, they worked outside together, and the farm began to take on a new spruced-up appearance. After five days the power came back on, and by the time one week turned into two, it was almost as if Chris had always been there. But when he tried to kiss her, she shied away like a wary doe.

 They were in the orchard and had stopped to drink lemonade from a thermos. The next thing Emily knew, Chris brushed a stray wisp of hair back from her face and carelessly leaned toward her, but his lips only had a chance to graze her cheek before she turned away, her heart thudding in her ears.

 She’d been wondering for days what it would be like to have Chris kiss her, but now that he almost had, fear and uncertainty plucked at her. For a man like Chris, it was no doubt just a moment’s pleasure, but for Emily…for Emily it could be the way to heartbreak.

 You’re acting like a fool, for heaven’s sake. The man only tried to kiss you.

 But it was hard to cope with feelings she had thought were left far behind, and she wasn’t prepared. Everything had been nice and predictable before that storm two weeks ago, nice and quiet with no surprises.

 Why did Chris Carter, a most uncommon prince, have to come along? She had nothing to offer him. She was a plain woman. He must be at least five years younger. She was too old for him, too old for romantic love, but telling herself took all night and far into the early morning.

 

Stop back tomorrow for the final excerpt from An Uncommon Prince and Other Short Stories, part of the Sweet Romance Christmas Giveaway. If you haven't yet signed up for a chance to win free e-books and gift certificates, click here: http://tinyurl.com/khf7wfa