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Remnants: A song from Kristi's heart to yours (from Miracle's Story)
(Almost ) 10th Anniversary edition. Free digital download through 3/2/18. After 3/2/18 $1.99.
Wouldn't it be Nice...
(Inspirational/love story/fiction)
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(Patriotic/Adventure/Young Adult fiction)
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(Patriotic/Adventure/Young Adult fiction)
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(Patriotic/Adventure/Young Adult Fiction)
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Part 1~2~3~ The Complete Trilogy of Miracle Flowers in one download for $1.99
(Patriotic/Adventure/Young Adult Fiction)
(inspirational missions/adventure/love story/fiction)
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(pre-civil rights era/inspirational/fiction)
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ENJOY THESE SNEAK PEEKS!
The Legend of the Magical Spectacles
(excerpt)
When I was finally brave enough to turn my back towards Stu I ran to catch up to my brothers. We walked a different path home than usual right by the old parsonage and church ready for demolition. It was then I noticed something I had never noticed before, a shed nestled in the high brush and overgrowth behind the old parsonage. It looked old and dilapidated with moss growing from it like hair from the roof, and with the small windows patched by tape or boarded up completely. How I had never noticed it before, I don’t know except that maybe in preparing for demolition some trees had been removed. The shed though, by what I could tell wasn’t marked for demolition and there were no signs reading “NO TRESPASSING.” I suppose you know what that means. Uh, huh, exactly. You’re thinking the same thing I’m thinking.
I let Ian and William get ahead of me again and decided to survey the area. I never meant to go in, but it intrigued me now more than ever after knowing my Great-Grandpa probably played there with his best friend, Jack, when they were boys. I decided just to take a peek, that’s all. I knew Mom would expect me home once she saw Ian and William run through the kitchen heading for the cookie jar. Without a doubt, their mere presence evoked terror throughout the house. I’m sure Mom secretly wished they were more like me. How could she not?
The shed was a bit smaller than Dad’s, and as I got near to it I tried to peer through a window but it was nearly impossible through all the cracks and layers of dust. So instead, I opened the door. There had once been a lock, I could tell, but there had been no use for one as the hinges were nearly broken off making the door lopsided and even more rickety. I proceeded to make my way in not quite sure what I would find. Once my eyes adjusted to the darkened room I scanned each corner. It was odd because I recognized some of the junk. Some had been arranged rather carefully while others had been scattered throughout the small area leaving a maze-like obstacle course on the hard-packed dirt floor. From what I could see, it was virtually all useless. As crafty as my dad was I dare to say he couldn’t even make use of any of it. And that says a lot!
There was a hole dug in the middle of the floor with rocks around it and bits of blackened wood inside signifying a recent fire. Above the hole in the ground was a hole in the roof. It was never meant to be there but the ceiling tiles were methodically arranged in a circular shape as some kind of make-shift shaft for an invisible chimney.
I tripped over empty liquor bottles, their contents probably consumed by Stu thus the reason behind the stench of his breath I had to endure through earlier. I looked around not touching anything until across the room I saw a shimmer out of the corner of my eye. The spectacles! I should have known the reason behind all of Stu’s questions. I started to make my way towards them when I heard that familiar squeaky wagon. It was Stu coming my way and there was no place to hide! The exit being the same as the entrance meant I had no escape. Before I could grab the spectacles I quickly spied a barrel bigger than me and just before I heard the door knob jiggle, I had a choice to make: Take a risk and go for the spectacles or dunk behind the barrel and wait it out. Now, if I had chosen to grab the spectacles I still would have had to encounter Stu in making my escape so I opted to hide and bide my time until my mind could contemplate a better idea.
I found it very hard to think as I held my breath watching him pull the wagon inside and heave the contents onto the floor making a loud bang and clatter. He muttered something to himself and making a seat for himself on an old wooden crate he grabbed for a bottle searching for some of its liquid contents. It angered him when out came but one lonesome drop. I took in another breath and accustomed myself to long shallow but quiet breaths making sure I couldn’t be seen or heard. Just then there was a squeak. Stu looked up towards the barrel and me, and at that instant a fat rat scampered by and Stu just threw the bottle at him. The bottle didn’t break but instead rattled and rolled until it stopped and rested beside me where I hid behind the barrel. Lucky for me Stu wasn’t concerned about the bottle or the rat anymore. And as for me, the rat didn’t scare me. If it hadn’t been for Stu being there I might’ve caught it and brought it home for a pet, that is if Mom let me keep it.
Stu went about organizing his garbage. How, I don’t know. It was all junk, but he seemed to have it prioritized. Apparently there was some measure of importance, and he seemed to know how he wanted things. Upon putting his gadgets away he came upon the spectacles. There they lay in clear view from me with me having no way to retrieve them, and now they were in Stu’s dirty stinky hands. He held them up peering through them and I heard him say, “Magic, huh. Hogwash.” He put the spectacles back down and as quickly as he did he picked them up again, but this time he looked as if to actually wear them and that’s when it happened. I blew it! I know you’re probably thinking I sneezed or did some dumb think like that. No, I didn’t sneeze but at that precise moment I moved my head to get a better look and my face went right through a platter size spider web. That didn’t faze me too much until I realized the spider was on the end of my nose, and looking at it cross-eyed it looked as big as a horse!
Now, I wouldn’t admit this to my brothers, but the scream that came out of my mouth was one I didn’t even recognize. I’m glad no one else heard because I sounded like a girl. It sure got Stu’s attention. I didn’t have time to think except to realize I really blew it.
“What are you doing in here?” he yelled.
“I d-d-d-don’t know,” I squeaked out in a whisper. “I didn’t know anyone lived here.”
Stu got up from his crate and cornered me where I was still hunched behind the barrel and still wiping the spider and it’s web from my face. “Do you always go around trespassing where you have no business?” His tone was still harsh but the volume decreased little by little. And then as if a light bulb went off in his head he looked at the spectacles then glared at me and said, “Or maybe you have business here after all.”
I got brave and asked, “What do you mean?”
“Are these what yer lookin’ for?”
I shook my head. My courage had left me and I couldn’t speak. I had no idea that the spectacles were in Stu’s shed. No idea that this was Stu’s shed. Not till now anyway. But I suppose Stu didn’t know that and being that he was suspicious of everybody meant he was suspicious of me too.
Stu came even closer. I could feel my knees shaking. “I gotta go,” I cried out with an edge of panic.
“Not so fast,” Stu said with a menacing look.
“I c-c-could scream,” I said trying to look him in the eye.
“Yeah. I s’pose you could. But…for how long with my hands wrapped around your scrawny neck?” Stu smiled but I couldn’t tell if it was a sinister smile or the result of sheer enjoyment of seeing me squirm.
I swallowed hard. I had no idea what trouble I had gotten myself into. I was no match for Stu. He was bigger and heavier…and more intimidating than me. But just a moment later is when he surprised me. “Don’t ya wanna see if these work?” he asked in a teasing manner dangling the spectacles in front of me.
I nodded.
“Okay, then,” he said. “Me first.”
He ever so slowly raised them to his face and peered in to them as he pushed them up on his nose.
“Just like I thought. Nuthin’.” He started to speak again and before he could get his words out his arms began flailing and he began screaming. Now he sounded like the girl. I didn’t know if this was an act for my benefit to put even more of a scare in me or if he was just plain crazy. His screams turned into words. “No! Get away from me!” He cried out, his arms still flailing in mid-air as if he was defending himself from something… or someone. He tripped over his wagon landing on the dirt floor with a thud. Now was my chance to run. I could get away. But then I’d never know about the magic of the spectacles or ever get them back. I edged myself closer to the door. I had a clear shot to freedom but my curiosity got the best of me. I had to know what Stu saw in those glasses. He continued screaming rolling around in the dirt. “Get ‘em off me! Get ‘em off me!”
I couldn’t get close enough to Stu to take the spectacles off his face, but then I realized he wasn’t talking about the spectacles at all. He could have easily raised his hands and knocked the spectacles off his face as easily as he was flailing his arms about. He shook his head fiercely while still slapping the air and began kicking one leg at a time. Anyone seeing his outrageous antics would have thought he was being swarmed by a hive full of killer bees.
Stu was nearly out of breath panting heavily when finally the spectacles fell to the ground. In his breathlessness he said nothing. He just stared at the spectacles lying on the dirt. I stood frozen in disbelief over what I just witnessed. How could these be the same spectacles Jack’s mother wore? How could something that had been so good become something so bad?
A Purpose Under Heaven
(Excerpt)
David went to the lumber mill and paid for the supplies scheduling a delivery to be made to Linnie’s place for the afternoon. He could start on the project before nightfall. He decided to get to work right away. He had made friends with the dogs, Max and Jack. Their constant presence kept him company for which he was thankful.
He had been working for a while when Rachel came by to tend the animals. She went about her business feeding them and making sure they had fresh water not even noticing David who was laying out some more wood.
“Well, hello there, young lady,” he said surprising her.
She nearly dropped her buckets and scolded him, “You shouldn’t be putting me to fright like that.”
“I’m sorry,” he said with a laugh. “Can’t believe you didn’t see me up here. I’ve been here the whole time.”
“What are you doing up there anyway?”
“Fixing the roof.”
“Does Aunt Linnie know you’re doing that?”
“No. Do you think she’d mind?”
“Well, no, but she didn’t say anything to me about you fixing her roof.”
“That makes two of us, ‘cause she didn’t say anything to me neither.”
“Then why are you doing it?”
“Because it needs to be done.”
“I guess that’s simple enough. It’s gonna be getting dark soon enough. Don’t you think you better be finishing up.”
“It’ll take me a few days at least. I’ve got some other jobs that got to be done for some folks in town tomorrow. But it’ll all get done. Just as long as it doesn’t rain it’ll be fine.” He paused a moment. “So you here to take care of the animals while she’s gone?”
“Yeah. I stop by in the morning and the afternoon to check on the critters and Papa comes to tend to the fields. Looks like he had to open the irrigation ditch today.”
“Yeah, it’s awful dry. We could use a good rain, but not before this roof is done.” He paused again as he sat on the edge of the gables letting his feet dangle. “So did Miss Evelyn tell you why she was leaving or when she might be back?”
“Nope. She did come by to say good-bye though. I miss her.”
“I miss her too,” said David not at all embarrassed by his admission.
“You like her, don’t you?”
“Very much.”
“She---” Rachel stopped and bit her tongue afraid of saying too much.
“She what?”
“I forgot what I was going to say.” She hung her head avoiding eye contact.
David smiled. He knew she was fibbing. So he said it for her. “She likes me too, huh?”
Rachel ignored the question and blushed. “I should hurry. Ma told me to check on the Millers too.”
“Oh, I can do that. You don’t need to hurry. Is that what you were going to say, Rachel? That Miss Evelyn likes me too?”
Knowing she was caught in her lie she nodded. “I don’t want to get in trouble, Mr. Hansen. Don’t say nothing, please.”
“I won’t. Did Miss Evelyn say anything else about me?”
Rachel nodded. “Not to me though, to my ma. Neither of them knew I heard. I really don’t want to get in trouble, Mr. Hansen. I shouldn’t be talking to you about Aunt Linnie.”
David felt sorry for her. Obviously torn by her loyalty, she was uncomfortable talking about the subject and it clearly showed.
“Say no more. I won’t ask you any more questions. But I tell you what, you can ask me anything anytime, okay?”
“Okay,” she smiled. “So why don’t you go to church?”
“Maybe I spoke too soon,” he thought. “Well, I can’t say it never did anything for me, I guess.”
“Do you believe in God?”
“I don’t know if I do or not. I guess I’ve never been able to figure out why bad things happen to good people or why God would just let them happen.”
“If things went just the way we wanted them to all the time every day of our lives we wouldn’t have need of faith, or God.”
“Did your papa tell you that?”
“I might have heard him say it before.”
“Well, I can’t argue with that.”
“Don’t you have faith?”
“Now, you’re asking me questions I’ve never even asked myself. I don’t know.”
“Well, when you got up that ladder there did you think it would hold you?”
“Well, yeah, I suppose.”
“Well, that’s faith. If you didn’t think it would hold you you wouldn’t have climbed it. And if I didn’t think my prayers would be heard I wouldn’t be praying ‘em. But I do. I know God hears them.”
“How? How do you know?”
“The same way I know the sun will come up in the morning.”
“You’ve got an answer for everything, don’t you?”
“So far.”
If Rachel weren’t so cute she would surely have gotten on David’s nerves by now. He just smiled and laughed at her candor.
“Billy says I talk too much,” she said reading his mind.
“Who’s Billy?”
“My brother.”
“Oh, I guess I haven’t met all your family yet.”
“Well, if you’d come to church you would.”
He smiled at her tenacity.
“Well?” she persisted.
“Well what?”
“Come to church. Please?”
“I’ll think about it.”
That wasn’t the yes she wanted but at least it wasn’t a no either. She dropped the subject giving Mr. Hansen a reprieve from her obstinacy. He was relieved when she excused herself to finish the chores she had come to do.
All the questions. He just assumed she was concerned about his soul. He had no idea her motive was to make him a church-going, God-loving, Bible-believing man before Linnie’s return…for Linnie’s return.
Casting Shadows
(Prologue)
My white knuckles gripped the pad of the steering wheel with ironclad intensity. Looking down at them I could hardly imagine they were my own hands. At the first spark of ignition all six cylinders of the engine roared, and once bearing down on the gas, all that I left behind was a streaking and fading plume of exhaust. With tears clouding my vision, the recent faceless words echoed deep from my soul over and over again, “Your parents and sister were involved in an accident. Amanda, you need to come to Memorial Hospital right away.”
My voice quivered in response as I was only able to choke out, “Are they going to be okay?” My question remained unanswered. The pause in response was short but intense, and then the words repeated, “Amanda, you need to come right away.”
Not even bothering to reply or hang up the phone, I let it dangle off the counter grabbing my purse and keys and running out the front door as I let it slam shut behind me. The drive seemed never ending as I dodged cars and eluded stoplights. A siren reverberated around me as the blue and red lights in the rear-view mirror flashed through the flow of traffic behind me.
My foot remained solidly fixed on the pedal almost as if I had no control of it all. The needle on the speedometer inched its way forward. Tears continued to cascade down my cheeks. The lights and noise of the siren persisted. Beyond all that, my heart beat wildly, like an untamed runaway horse stampeding aimlessly until despairingly succumbing to its eventual defeat.
Is that what panic is? I had never felt it this way before, not to the point of being emotionally and physically exhausted in what seemed to happen in a matter of a few short moments. I gasped for breath as if I had just finished running a marathon. A few short moments. That’s what it had been. My friend Casey had called barely five minutes before. I thought she had forgotten to tell me something when I answered the phone again. Party details, or as it was better known as: a “kegger” and bonfire at Campbell’s Pit. With Mom and Dad gone for the weekend moving my sister, Abby, into her dorm I could relish in the freedom of my wild behavior. I had begun to get a reputation as being the “fun” one (synonymous with crazy and stupid) at the parties. I had compromised my virtuosity on more than one occasion, only hearing stories of my antics, but rarely remembering any of them. My memories were more of waking up with my head in the toilet and the residue of vomit on my tangled curls and the stale cheap beer on my breath. Fun. At least that’s what everyone else called it. Only it was at my expense. Fun. Parading around wearing my bra on the outside of my clothes. The laugh was always on me. Fun. Pretending to laugh when I felt like crying.
And now I really was crying but for a different reason.
The sirens and lights continued. Wiping the overflowing tears with my sleeve, I had no intention on stopping until I reached Memorial, not even for the badge toting uniformed officer behind me. The officer sped up and drove by my side. He looked straight at me as he passed me with the hypnotic lights still flashing and the headache-inducing siren blaring. His speed increased, and as it did I watched the needle of my speedometer weasel its way even more forward. As the patrol car cleared the path of oncoming traffic and intersecting lanes, I continued to follow. It turned left. I turned left. It went straight. I went straight. Passing the square blue sign with the big white “H” I knew I would be there soon. My pilot car slowed to a stop at the entrance to the hospital parking lot, and as it did the officer stretched out his arm and motioned for me to go around him. I complied.
I parked the car erratically and raced to the automatic double doors stopping abruptly, afraid to go any further. What would await me? How could I possibly prepare myself for what I was about to face? What was I about to face? Although deep down inside I knew the answer to that, I wished for another outcome. The police officer put his hand on my shoulder startling me, even though I knew he was now standing there. It was Officer Clark. He knew me. The emergency personnel scanner resounded from his belt. His presence was not comforting. It meant only one thing, the very thing I could not bear to face.
My weeping became vocal, turning to hysteria. Office Clark spoke for me as he met the nurse at the emergency entrance. She avoided making eye contact with me and whispered something in Officer Clark’s ear. His response was somber. There was no jovial chitchat or the playful banter he was so prone to. His seriousness and quietness told me more than words ever could. He gave me his handkerchief and guided me to a quiet room. There were no monitors or blinking lights, just three gurneys with three forms under plain white sheets.
I collapsed to the floor, my legs unable to hold me, and I wretched involuntarily. Officer Clark’s compassionate hand once again settled on my shoulder as he knelt down beside me. “I’m so sorry,” is all he could say. Our eyes met and then a tear fell from his cheek as he looked away from me. Another nurse came into the room to say the doctor would be right in. She spoke in a soft soothing voice as if the three were sleeping and not to be disturbed. “I know you’ll need some time alone. It may be best to leave the sheets pulled forward. It might be too traumatic for you to see them like this.”
In my zombie-like state, I just nodded unable to speak and still snubbing from the sobs I tried to stifle. The doctor entered the room and introduced himself. “There was nothing we could do,” he said sympathetically. “The EMTs tried to get some vitals but the impact of the collision caused fatal internal injuries and they were dead on arrival. I’m sorry.”
Everybody was sorry. How did that bring them back? Sorry. What good did it do to be sorry?
Officer Clark lingered in the corner of the barren room. “I’ll be in the hall,” he said, and with that, the doctor followed him out.
My tears fell freely. “Mom,” I cried. “You can’t leave me. I need you.” I walked to her and pulled the sheet back to reveal her face still covered with shards of glass and blood splatter. It looked as if the nurse had tried to wipe her clean but gave up. “Mom,” I whispered. “Don’t leave me.” I stroked her hair and traced her face with my trembling hand. I kissed her forehead and smelt the fragrance of her hair. The product she used was distinct, just like her signature perfume. I memorized every feature the way I would want to remember it. “I hope I can be just like you some day.”
“Dad,” I said. “What will I ever do without you? You’re my protector. I’ve never trusted anyone like I trust you. I need you.” Dad had the biggest strongest hands of anyone I had ever known. If I had to be blindfolded and hold the hands of a hundred strangers, I would still be able to find the hands of my father. I couldn’t say goodbye without touching his caring hands. Pulling the sheet back to reveal his weathered face, I kissed his nose, and pulling the sheet back even further I gasped as I saw the open wound and his crushed chest cavity. Turning my eyes away, my tears gushed and I reached for his hand stroking it and picking it up so that I could feel mine in his one last time. One last time. There would be no more. Ever again. I laid my head on his and continued to sob.
Abby, only one year younger than me, had her whole life in front of her: sports, academics, college, Christian youth involvement, and life. I pulled the sheet back. She looked like she was sleeping. I stroked her arm. It was cold and pale. The bracelet I had given to her for her birthday dangled from her wrist.
“Abby,” I said. “You’re everything I’m not. I never told you how much I admire you. I never said how proud it made me feel to say ‘that’s my sister.’ And now you can’t hear me say it. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for every mean thing I ever did to you growing up.”
I’m sorry. These words seemed meaningless now. Although they meant everything to me, they meant nothing to her. She was gone forever.
If Yesterday Name Came
(excerpt)
The next week at school and another Sunday after watching Katherine go to the field where the big oak stood, Mike decided he would get to the bottom of it. He would ask Katherine out for a picnic on a sunny Sunday afternoon. After all, it was September. The lingering summer warmth penetrated the cloudless sky. It would be perfect for a pre-autumn picnic. And if she said no, then he would darn well find out why. He caught up with her on lunch break.
“Hi, Katherine,” he said. “How would you like to go on a picnic with me Sunday after church?”
“Sunday? After church?” she repeated as if maybe she had heard him wrong. “I’m afraid Sunday’s not a good day,” she answered fidgeting with her fingernails.
“Why’s that?” Mike knew why but he wanted to hear her say it.
“I’ve got other plans,” she answered.
“What?” He wasn’t about to give up.
She wanted to tell him it was none of his business. That wasn’t all she wanted to tell him.
“I’ve got to be somewhere,“ she politely answered him.
“That’s the same excuse you gave me last time.” His impatience showed.
“It’s no excuse.”
“Well, then can you tell me where it is you have to be?”
“If you must know--”
“Yes,” he interrupted sharply.
“I meet Samuel and his brother and sister at the field with the big oak across the railroad tracks every Sunday.”
There. She said it. She had omitted those facts before not because she was ashamed of her friendship with the Sanders. Far from it. In fact, quite the opposite. Pride welled up within her when she thought of Samuel, James, Ruthie and their mother.
Mike’s mouth tightened. “Is he your boyfriend? ‘Cause you better know right now that aint done around here.”
“What aint done around here?” She mocked his southern drawl, the only one she had come to detest with such ferocity.
Her sarcasm was evident to him and he said, “You’re not dumb. You know what I mean.”
“I know that since I moved here Samuel and his family are the nicest people I’ve met.”
“Black and white don’t mix. They only make gray. Our cultures are different
and--”
It was her turn to interrupt. “Then what you’re saying is that I should go back to where I came from. Because as far as I’m concerned our cultures are different. You eat funny food and you talk even funnier. You know, the strange thing is that in that way you and Samuel are more alike. But that is where it ends because in every other way Samuel is nothing like you. Don’t mistake me, Mike. Knowing you you’d take that as a compliment. No, the compliment goes to Samuel.”
Mike couldn’t believe his ears. This mild mannered sweet tempered girl spoke to him in a way no other girl had ever found the nerve to. It left him speechless. She eyed him up and down with complete disgust, and he felt his face grow red as she turned and left him there to face the stares of the other students, who by this time had figured out Mike had just been jilted.
Wouldn't It Be Nice...
(prologue)
“Woohoo! Would ya look at that?” Eddy yelled over to his buddies as they all watched Cody glide down the white frothy mountainside. “Betcha can’t top that, Nick! I think Cody’s got you beat!”
Nick looked at Cody, looked at Eddy, then looked at their buddies and with slivered eyes took on Eddy’s taunting dare. The rest of the guys knew that look. They’d seen it before. Nick never backed down from a challenge. He wouldn’t start now.
“He took the easy way. I can reach the bottom before Cody does,” said Nick with unbridled confidence.
“No way. There’s no freaking way!”
“You’re forgetting…I can do anything!”
“Okay, Mr. Invincible. You’re wasting valuable time. Show me!”
Without a word, Nick smiled, pulled his goggles over his eyes, and with his knees bent, dropped his board in a ready stance.
“Man, I can’t believe he really did it. There’s no way I would. I’m sorry. Call me a wimp if you want, but I want to walk outta here,” said Mike looking at Eddy after watching Nick take on the dare.
“Okay, you’re a wimp,” laughed Eddy. “Oh man, did you see that? He almost biffed it.”
The guys’ “oohs” and “ahs” were short-lived when shortly from their view they could see Nick approaching a dead end cliff apparently obstructed from his own view.
All they could do was watch as their friend tumbled hitting rock after jagged rock for what seemed like minutes before coming to a lifeless stop. A fun outing in the snow turned to frenzied panic as the group of teens witnessed the horror unfolding before their eyes.
The story below is for anyone who values life, but it is also for everyone that questions the value of their own.
Miracle Happened (Part One)
Chapter One
From Miracle’s journal:
My name is Miracle, but I don’t know who I am. The very world I thought I lived in and existed in is somehow across a great channel of time and space that I cannot go to. How can I explain it when I can’t begin to understand it myself? Is my reality even real? Today everything I thought to be real is not. This much is true, that I have a mother and three brothers and two sisters, and we live in a big old house on a fifty acre homestead in a place called Precinct V (five).
The day started out the same as every other day, at least since my great grandparents passed. They shared this home with us too until then. They’ve been gone a few months now. I miss them horribly. It is they that taught me while Mom went to the infirmary to work everyday, sometimes long days. Nanna taught me how to sew and to bake and cook, and Pappy taught my brothers how to plant and tend the fields, and they both taught us all how to care for the animals. Chickens, goats, lambs, pigs, and horses…and strays, namely one--Fat Cat, the best mouser ever.
My Uncle Buddy came over today. Actually he’s my great uncle. My mom has no brothers or sisters. He is the only visitor we ever get except for every other Sunday when the preacher comes. I overheard him talking to Mom when neither thought I was near. It wasn’t my intention to eavesdrop. In our house there are no secrets, or at least that is what I thought until today.
“Angela, what would happen to the children if something happened to you?” I heard my uncle ask.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Mom answered.
“But you have to. You have to at least think about it. I’m not getting any younger. You’ll have no family when I’m gone. Or at least none that will acknowledge your existence.”
My mom let out a long laborious sigh, and she put her head in her hands. I think she was crying. Her shoulders shook but she kept in any sound.
“Miracle needs papers. All of the children do, but at least if something were to happen to you she could continue on here.” Uncle Buddy paused for a moment before continuing. He lifted Mom’s face to look at his own and finally said, “The world you've created for them doesn't exist.”
“Maybe someday it will again.” I could see a tear crawl down Mom’s face like it had hands and knees, slowly and deliberately, and then she blinked and a curtain of them fell.
It was rare for Uncle Buddy to show emotion. Oh, he would laugh at a funny joke and compliment a tasty meal, but if one of us kids fell and scraped a knee or cried, he’d say something like, “That’ll teach you to do that again.” So in this extraordinary moment of compassion he bent down and patted Mom on the knee and said, “I’d like that too. To see the world the way it used to be, or at least our corner of it.”
Mom looked at him and tried to smile. I could tell it was an attempt at one anyway.
“Are you going to tell Miracle soon?” He asked.
I couldn’t help but want to listen more. Tell me what?
“Only when I have to,” she answered sounding defeated.
“She needs to know. She’s a young woman now. She’s bound to figure some things out on her own. I’ll see what I can do. About the papers.”
As soon as the words left his lips Mom pleaded, “No! That would be too dangerous. You’re the only family I have left and you can’t risk it. Aunt Dorene wouldn't allow it anyway.”
“Shhh. I know what I’m doing. Don’t worry about me. It will be curfew by the time I get home. I need to get going, but you think about what I said.”
Mom nodded, “Okay.” She hugged him, and he left.
That was that. I had no idea of what just transpired. I watched Mom as she watched Uncle Buddy leave. When he was gone she went out to the field past the border of trees that we’re never allowed beyond.
I checked on my brothers and sisters who were all safe and sound in their rooms getting ready for bed but not asleep yet. Following from a safe distance I watched as Mom knelt down at the tree line. It was near dusk, a late sunset on a July summer day.
My eyes scanned the top of the hill as it crested. I didn’t know what my eyes beheld. There must have been a total of twelve wooden crosses in rows of three with neatly displayed shrubs in between them. The crosses had words on them but none of them recognizable to me. None were my grandparents. Their bodies had been cremated in the Precinct, and Mom and all of us children had made special plaques with their names outside of their favorite garden spot on our property.
“Mom,” I said, finally with the courage to speak. “What’s wrong? And why have you been crying?”
She turned startled. “You’re not supposed to be up here.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I thought there was something wrong so I followed you. It’s okay if we’re both here together, isn’t it?”
Mom nodded. “It’s okay.”
I could finally read the names on the crosses. They weren’t common names like Paul, or John, or even pet names like Fluffy or Whiskers. They were declarations. “You are loved,” said one. “You are special,” said another.
“Mom,” I asked. “Who are these…?” I didn’t know how to finish because I didn’t know if they were even people.
“Babies…beautiful tiny babies.”
I looked at her, puzzled. I am the oldest. I never understood how my mother, a single lady, could show no signs of pregnancy even after I figured out the time line as I got older and there became more time difference between my youngest siblings and me. That was always a mystery to me. Whenever I brought up the subject, she would say I was delivered to her by angels, truly heaven sent. I never had a father. None of us did. Even my grandparents were able to skirt that one question. It became a game to them to see which one could outdo the others fabricated story of how I “bloomed from a rare rose shrub” or how a young peasant woman who had given up all her meager belongings to leave me in a golden basket as the “chosen one that would someday save the world from an evil king.” It became apparent that I was never going to get the answer I was looking for¾a truthful one.
“Why are they here?” I asked. I thought I would start with “why” first, and then continue with “how” and “when” later.
“They needed a proper burial.” Mom answered the question very matter-of-factly.
“But why here?”
“I couldn’t save them.” Mom’s expression was now somber and distant.
“Whose babies are these? They’re not yours.”
“I don’t know where to begin.”
“Start with that one there,” I said pointing to the most recent date on the cross.
“At the infirmary nurses are assigned different wards. Mine until five years ago was the neonatal unit. I cared for the newborns until they were able to leave the hospital with their mothers.”
“I still don’t understand though. Those babies,” I said pointing to the grave markers, “would have been given a proper burial by their birth mothers.”
Mom didn’t speak.
“You have to tell me, Mom. Why did you say you ‘couldn’t save them?”
“They were…aborted.”
I know what that word means. I don’t have a formal education, but I’ve been schooled by the best¾my grandparents and my mom. My vocabulary is very good.
“The pregnancy was stopped? But why? That’s wrong!” I said emphatically.
“But it’s legal.”
“But that doesn’t make it right.”
“Our government wants perfect people.”
“That’s crazy,” I said. “Nobody’s perfect. So they can just decide that because I don’t look a certain way that I’m useless?”
“You’re not useless. You have a purpose.”
Now I sat silent, not able to comprehend it all. Why?
Mom continued, “Sometimes it would be my duty to do the incinerator. It was forbidden to enter after the doctors, but one day I looked through the window on the door and saw in all the mountain of tiny limbs and fingers and toes, and one of them moved. I sneaked in and brought the live baby home. I continued doing so until my duties changed and I had no access to the neonatal ward or the incinerator.”
I looked at my mom now with a sudden realization that one of those babies she was talking about had been me!
“Extracted like a rotten tooth! Discarded like trash! I was never even born, was I?” I screamed, and then my rage turned into self-pity. My volume lowered as I almost whispered, “I was expelled, like a splinter in an infection. Nobody wanted me.”
“I wanted you,” said my mom caressing my cheek. “Like I never wanted anything else.”
The Legend of the Magical Spectacles
(excerpt)
When I was finally brave enough to turn my back towards Stu I ran to catch up to my brothers. We walked a different path home than usual right by the old parsonage and church ready for demolition. It was then I noticed something I had never noticed before, a shed nestled in the high brush and overgrowth behind the old parsonage. It looked old and dilapidated with moss growing from it like hair from the roof, and with the small windows patched by tape or boarded up completely. How I had never noticed it before, I don’t know except that maybe in preparing for demolition some trees had been removed. The shed though, by what I could tell wasn’t marked for demolition and there were no signs reading “NO TRESPASSING.” I suppose you know what that means. Uh, huh, exactly. You’re thinking the same thing I’m thinking.
I let Ian and William get ahead of me again and decided to survey the area. I never meant to go in, but it intrigued me now more than ever after knowing my Great-Grandpa probably played there with his best friend, Jack, when they were boys. I decided just to take a peek, that’s all. I knew Mom would expect me home once she saw Ian and William run through the kitchen heading for the cookie jar. Without a doubt, their mere presence evoked terror throughout the house. I’m sure Mom secretly wished they were more like me. How could she not?
The shed was a bit smaller than Dad’s, and as I got near to it I tried to peer through a window but it was nearly impossible through all the cracks and layers of dust. So instead, I opened the door. There had once been a lock, I could tell, but there had been no use for one as the hinges were nearly broken off making the door lopsided and even more rickety. I proceeded to make my way in not quite sure what I would find. Once my eyes adjusted to the darkened room I scanned each corner. It was odd because I recognized some of the junk. Some had been arranged rather carefully while others had been scattered throughout the small area leaving a maze-like obstacle course on the hard-packed dirt floor. From what I could see, it was virtually all useless. As crafty as my dad was I dare to say he couldn’t even make use of any of it. And that says a lot!
There was a hole dug in the middle of the floor with rocks around it and bits of blackened wood inside signifying a recent fire. Above the hole in the ground was a hole in the roof. It was never meant to be there but the ceiling tiles were methodically arranged in a circular shape as some kind of make-shift shaft for an invisible chimney.
I tripped over empty liquor bottles, their contents probably consumed by Stu thus the reason behind the stench of his breath I had to endure through earlier. I looked around not touching anything until across the room I saw a shimmer out of the corner of my eye. The spectacles! I should have known the reason behind all of Stu’s questions. I started to make my way towards them when I heard that familiar squeaky wagon. It was Stu coming my way and there was no place to hide! The exit being the same as the entrance meant I had no escape. Before I could grab the spectacles I quickly spied a barrel bigger than me and just before I heard the door knob jiggle, I had a choice to make: Take a risk and go for the spectacles or dunk behind the barrel and wait it out. Now, if I had chosen to grab the spectacles I still would have had to encounter Stu in making my escape so I opted to hide and bide my time until my mind could contemplate a better idea.
I found it very hard to think as I held my breath watching him pull the wagon inside and heave the contents onto the floor making a loud bang and clatter. He muttered something to himself and making a seat for himself on an old wooden crate he grabbed for a bottle searching for some of its liquid contents. It angered him when out came but one lonesome drop. I took in another breath and accustomed myself to long shallow but quiet breaths making sure I couldn’t be seen or heard. Just then there was a squeak. Stu looked up towards the barrel and me, and at that instant a fat rat scampered by and Stu just threw the bottle at him. The bottle didn’t break but instead rattled and rolled until it stopped and rested beside me where I hid behind the barrel. Lucky for me Stu wasn’t concerned about the bottle or the rat anymore. And as for me, the rat didn’t scare me. If it hadn’t been for Stu being there I might’ve caught it and brought it home for a pet, that is if Mom let me keep it.
Stu went about organizing his garbage. How, I don’t know. It was all junk, but he seemed to have it prioritized. Apparently there was some measure of importance, and he seemed to know how he wanted things. Upon putting his gadgets away he came upon the spectacles. There they lay in clear view from me with me having no way to retrieve them, and now they were in Stu’s dirty stinky hands. He held them up peering through them and I heard him say, “Magic, huh. Hogwash.” He put the spectacles back down and as quickly as he did he picked them up again, but this time he looked as if to actually wear them and that’s when it happened. I blew it! I know you’re probably thinking I sneezed or did some dumb think like that. No, I didn’t sneeze but at that precise moment I moved my head to get a better look and my face went right through a platter size spider web. That didn’t faze me too much until I realized the spider was on the end of my nose, and looking at it cross-eyed it looked as big as a horse!
Now, I wouldn’t admit this to my brothers, but the scream that came out of my mouth was one I didn’t even recognize. I’m glad no one else heard because I sounded like a girl. It sure got Stu’s attention. I didn’t have time to think except to realize I really blew it.
“What are you doing in here?” he yelled.
“I d-d-d-don’t know,” I squeaked out in a whisper. “I didn’t know anyone lived here.”
Stu got up from his crate and cornered me where I was still hunched behind the barrel and still wiping the spider and it’s web from my face. “Do you always go around trespassing where you have no business?” His tone was still harsh but the volume decreased little by little. And then as if a light bulb went off in his head he looked at the spectacles then glared at me and said, “Or maybe you have business here after all.”
I got brave and asked, “What do you mean?”
“Are these what yer lookin’ for?”
I shook my head. My courage had left me and I couldn’t speak. I had no idea that the spectacles were in Stu’s shed. No idea that this was Stu’s shed. Not till now anyway. But I suppose Stu didn’t know that and being that he was suspicious of everybody meant he was suspicious of me too.
Stu came even closer. I could feel my knees shaking. “I gotta go,” I cried out with an edge of panic.
“Not so fast,” Stu said with a menacing look.
“I c-c-could scream,” I said trying to look him in the eye.
“Yeah. I s’pose you could. But…for how long with my hands wrapped around your scrawny neck?” Stu smiled but I couldn’t tell if it was a sinister smile or the result of sheer enjoyment of seeing me squirm.
I swallowed hard. I had no idea what trouble I had gotten myself into. I was no match for Stu. He was bigger and heavier…and more intimidating than me. But just a moment later is when he surprised me. “Don’t ya wanna see if these work?” he asked in a teasing manner dangling the spectacles in front of me.
I nodded.
“Okay, then,” he said. “Me first.”
He ever so slowly raised them to his face and peered in to them as he pushed them up on his nose.
“Just like I thought. Nuthin’.” He started to speak again and before he could get his words out his arms began flailing and he began screaming. Now he sounded like the girl. I didn’t know if this was an act for my benefit to put even more of a scare in me or if he was just plain crazy. His screams turned into words. “No! Get away from me!” He cried out, his arms still flailing in mid-air as if he was defending himself from something… or someone. He tripped over his wagon landing on the dirt floor with a thud. Now was my chance to run. I could get away. But then I’d never know about the magic of the spectacles or ever get them back. I edged myself closer to the door. I had a clear shot to freedom but my curiosity got the best of me. I had to know what Stu saw in those glasses. He continued screaming rolling around in the dirt. “Get ‘em off me! Get ‘em off me!”
I couldn’t get close enough to Stu to take the spectacles off his face, but then I realized he wasn’t talking about the spectacles at all. He could have easily raised his hands and knocked the spectacles off his face as easily as he was flailing his arms about. He shook his head fiercely while still slapping the air and began kicking one leg at a time. Anyone seeing his outrageous antics would have thought he was being swarmed by a hive full of killer bees.
Stu was nearly out of breath panting heavily when finally the spectacles fell to the ground. In his breathlessness he said nothing. He just stared at the spectacles lying on the dirt. I stood frozen in disbelief over what I just witnessed. How could these be the same spectacles Jack’s mother wore? How could something that had been so good become something so bad?
A Purpose Under Heaven
(Excerpt)
David went to the lumber mill and paid for the supplies scheduling a delivery to be made to Linnie’s place for the afternoon. He could start on the project before nightfall. He decided to get to work right away. He had made friends with the dogs, Max and Jack. Their constant presence kept him company for which he was thankful.
He had been working for a while when Rachel came by to tend the animals. She went about her business feeding them and making sure they had fresh water not even noticing David who was laying out some more wood.
“Well, hello there, young lady,” he said surprising her.
She nearly dropped her buckets and scolded him, “You shouldn’t be putting me to fright like that.”
“I’m sorry,” he said with a laugh. “Can’t believe you didn’t see me up here. I’ve been here the whole time.”
“What are you doing up there anyway?”
“Fixing the roof.”
“Does Aunt Linnie know you’re doing that?”
“No. Do you think she’d mind?”
“Well, no, but she didn’t say anything to me about you fixing her roof.”
“That makes two of us, ‘cause she didn’t say anything to me neither.”
“Then why are you doing it?”
“Because it needs to be done.”
“I guess that’s simple enough. It’s gonna be getting dark soon enough. Don’t you think you better be finishing up.”
“It’ll take me a few days at least. I’ve got some other jobs that got to be done for some folks in town tomorrow. But it’ll all get done. Just as long as it doesn’t rain it’ll be fine.” He paused a moment. “So you here to take care of the animals while she’s gone?”
“Yeah. I stop by in the morning and the afternoon to check on the critters and Papa comes to tend to the fields. Looks like he had to open the irrigation ditch today.”
“Yeah, it’s awful dry. We could use a good rain, but not before this roof is done.” He paused again as he sat on the edge of the gables letting his feet dangle. “So did Miss Evelyn tell you why she was leaving or when she might be back?”
“Nope. She did come by to say good-bye though. I miss her.”
“I miss her too,” said David not at all embarrassed by his admission.
“You like her, don’t you?”
“Very much.”
“She---” Rachel stopped and bit her tongue afraid of saying too much.
“She what?”
“I forgot what I was going to say.” She hung her head avoiding eye contact.
David smiled. He knew she was fibbing. So he said it for her. “She likes me too, huh?”
Rachel ignored the question and blushed. “I should hurry. Ma told me to check on the Millers too.”
“Oh, I can do that. You don’t need to hurry. Is that what you were going to say, Rachel? That Miss Evelyn likes me too?”
Knowing she was caught in her lie she nodded. “I don’t want to get in trouble, Mr. Hansen. Don’t say nothing, please.”
“I won’t. Did Miss Evelyn say anything else about me?”
Rachel nodded. “Not to me though, to my ma. Neither of them knew I heard. I really don’t want to get in trouble, Mr. Hansen. I shouldn’t be talking to you about Aunt Linnie.”
David felt sorry for her. Obviously torn by her loyalty, she was uncomfortable talking about the subject and it clearly showed.
“Say no more. I won’t ask you any more questions. But I tell you what, you can ask me anything anytime, okay?”
“Okay,” she smiled. “So why don’t you go to church?”
“Maybe I spoke too soon,” he thought. “Well, I can’t say it never did anything for me, I guess.”
“Do you believe in God?”
“I don’t know if I do or not. I guess I’ve never been able to figure out why bad things happen to good people or why God would just let them happen.”
“If things went just the way we wanted them to all the time every day of our lives we wouldn’t have need of faith, or God.”
“Did your papa tell you that?”
“I might have heard him say it before.”
“Well, I can’t argue with that.”
“Don’t you have faith?”
“Now, you’re asking me questions I’ve never even asked myself. I don’t know.”
“Well, when you got up that ladder there did you think it would hold you?”
“Well, yeah, I suppose.”
“Well, that’s faith. If you didn’t think it would hold you you wouldn’t have climbed it. And if I didn’t think my prayers would be heard I wouldn’t be praying ‘em. But I do. I know God hears them.”
“How? How do you know?”
“The same way I know the sun will come up in the morning.”
“You’ve got an answer for everything, don’t you?”
“So far.”
If Rachel weren’t so cute she would surely have gotten on David’s nerves by now. He just smiled and laughed at her candor.
“Billy says I talk too much,” she said reading his mind.
“Who’s Billy?”
“My brother.”
“Oh, I guess I haven’t met all your family yet.”
“Well, if you’d come to church you would.”
He smiled at her tenacity.
“Well?” she persisted.
“Well what?”
“Come to church. Please?”
“I’ll think about it.”
That wasn’t the yes she wanted but at least it wasn’t a no either. She dropped the subject giving Mr. Hansen a reprieve from her obstinacy. He was relieved when she excused herself to finish the chores she had come to do.
All the questions. He just assumed she was concerned about his soul. He had no idea her motive was to make him a church-going, God-loving, Bible-believing man before Linnie’s return…for Linnie’s return.
Casting Shadows
(Prologue)
My white knuckles gripped the pad of the steering wheel with ironclad intensity. Looking down at them I could hardly imagine they were my own hands. At the first spark of ignition all six cylinders of the engine roared, and once bearing down on the gas, all that I left behind was a streaking and fading plume of exhaust. With tears clouding my vision, the recent faceless words echoed deep from my soul over and over again, “Your parents and sister were involved in an accident. Amanda, you need to come to Memorial Hospital right away.”
My voice quivered in response as I was only able to choke out, “Are they going to be okay?” My question remained unanswered. The pause in response was short but intense, and then the words repeated, “Amanda, you need to come right away.”
Not even bothering to reply or hang up the phone, I let it dangle off the counter grabbing my purse and keys and running out the front door as I let it slam shut behind me. The drive seemed never ending as I dodged cars and eluded stoplights. A siren reverberated around me as the blue and red lights in the rear-view mirror flashed through the flow of traffic behind me.
My foot remained solidly fixed on the pedal almost as if I had no control of it all. The needle on the speedometer inched its way forward. Tears continued to cascade down my cheeks. The lights and noise of the siren persisted. Beyond all that, my heart beat wildly, like an untamed runaway horse stampeding aimlessly until despairingly succumbing to its eventual defeat.
Is that what panic is? I had never felt it this way before, not to the point of being emotionally and physically exhausted in what seemed to happen in a matter of a few short moments. I gasped for breath as if I had just finished running a marathon. A few short moments. That’s what it had been. My friend Casey had called barely five minutes before. I thought she had forgotten to tell me something when I answered the phone again. Party details, or as it was better known as: a “kegger” and bonfire at Campbell’s Pit. With Mom and Dad gone for the weekend moving my sister, Abby, into her dorm I could relish in the freedom of my wild behavior. I had begun to get a reputation as being the “fun” one (synonymous with crazy and stupid) at the parties. I had compromised my virtuosity on more than one occasion, only hearing stories of my antics, but rarely remembering any of them. My memories were more of waking up with my head in the toilet and the residue of vomit on my tangled curls and the stale cheap beer on my breath. Fun. At least that’s what everyone else called it. Only it was at my expense. Fun. Parading around wearing my bra on the outside of my clothes. The laugh was always on me. Fun. Pretending to laugh when I felt like crying.
And now I really was crying but for a different reason.
The sirens and lights continued. Wiping the overflowing tears with my sleeve, I had no intention on stopping until I reached Memorial, not even for the badge toting uniformed officer behind me. The officer sped up and drove by my side. He looked straight at me as he passed me with the hypnotic lights still flashing and the headache-inducing siren blaring. His speed increased, and as it did I watched the needle of my speedometer weasel its way even more forward. As the patrol car cleared the path of oncoming traffic and intersecting lanes, I continued to follow. It turned left. I turned left. It went straight. I went straight. Passing the square blue sign with the big white “H” I knew I would be there soon. My pilot car slowed to a stop at the entrance to the hospital parking lot, and as it did the officer stretched out his arm and motioned for me to go around him. I complied.
I parked the car erratically and raced to the automatic double doors stopping abruptly, afraid to go any further. What would await me? How could I possibly prepare myself for what I was about to face? What was I about to face? Although deep down inside I knew the answer to that, I wished for another outcome. The police officer put his hand on my shoulder startling me, even though I knew he was now standing there. It was Officer Clark. He knew me. The emergency personnel scanner resounded from his belt. His presence was not comforting. It meant only one thing, the very thing I could not bear to face.
My weeping became vocal, turning to hysteria. Office Clark spoke for me as he met the nurse at the emergency entrance. She avoided making eye contact with me and whispered something in Officer Clark’s ear. His response was somber. There was no jovial chitchat or the playful banter he was so prone to. His seriousness and quietness told me more than words ever could. He gave me his handkerchief and guided me to a quiet room. There were no monitors or blinking lights, just three gurneys with three forms under plain white sheets.
I collapsed to the floor, my legs unable to hold me, and I wretched involuntarily. Officer Clark’s compassionate hand once again settled on my shoulder as he knelt down beside me. “I’m so sorry,” is all he could say. Our eyes met and then a tear fell from his cheek as he looked away from me. Another nurse came into the room to say the doctor would be right in. She spoke in a soft soothing voice as if the three were sleeping and not to be disturbed. “I know you’ll need some time alone. It may be best to leave the sheets pulled forward. It might be too traumatic for you to see them like this.”
In my zombie-like state, I just nodded unable to speak and still snubbing from the sobs I tried to stifle. The doctor entered the room and introduced himself. “There was nothing we could do,” he said sympathetically. “The EMTs tried to get some vitals but the impact of the collision caused fatal internal injuries and they were dead on arrival. I’m sorry.”
Everybody was sorry. How did that bring them back? Sorry. What good did it do to be sorry?
Officer Clark lingered in the corner of the barren room. “I’ll be in the hall,” he said, and with that, the doctor followed him out.
My tears fell freely. “Mom,” I cried. “You can’t leave me. I need you.” I walked to her and pulled the sheet back to reveal her face still covered with shards of glass and blood splatter. It looked as if the nurse had tried to wipe her clean but gave up. “Mom,” I whispered. “Don’t leave me.” I stroked her hair and traced her face with my trembling hand. I kissed her forehead and smelt the fragrance of her hair. The product she used was distinct, just like her signature perfume. I memorized every feature the way I would want to remember it. “I hope I can be just like you some day.”
“Dad,” I said. “What will I ever do without you? You’re my protector. I’ve never trusted anyone like I trust you. I need you.” Dad had the biggest strongest hands of anyone I had ever known. If I had to be blindfolded and hold the hands of a hundred strangers, I would still be able to find the hands of my father. I couldn’t say goodbye without touching his caring hands. Pulling the sheet back to reveal his weathered face, I kissed his nose, and pulling the sheet back even further I gasped as I saw the open wound and his crushed chest cavity. Turning my eyes away, my tears gushed and I reached for his hand stroking it and picking it up so that I could feel mine in his one last time. One last time. There would be no more. Ever again. I laid my head on his and continued to sob.
Abby, only one year younger than me, had her whole life in front of her: sports, academics, college, Christian youth involvement, and life. I pulled the sheet back. She looked like she was sleeping. I stroked her arm. It was cold and pale. The bracelet I had given to her for her birthday dangled from her wrist.
“Abby,” I said. “You’re everything I’m not. I never told you how much I admire you. I never said how proud it made me feel to say ‘that’s my sister.’ And now you can’t hear me say it. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for every mean thing I ever did to you growing up.”
I’m sorry. These words seemed meaningless now. Although they meant everything to me, they meant nothing to her. She was gone forever.
If Yesterday Name Came
(excerpt)
The next week at school and another Sunday after watching Katherine go to the field where the big oak stood, Mike decided he would get to the bottom of it. He would ask Katherine out for a picnic on a sunny Sunday afternoon. After all, it was September. The lingering summer warmth penetrated the cloudless sky. It would be perfect for a pre-autumn picnic. And if she said no, then he would darn well find out why. He caught up with her on lunch break.
“Hi, Katherine,” he said. “How would you like to go on a picnic with me Sunday after church?”
“Sunday? After church?” she repeated as if maybe she had heard him wrong. “I’m afraid Sunday’s not a good day,” she answered fidgeting with her fingernails.
“Why’s that?” Mike knew why but he wanted to hear her say it.
“I’ve got other plans,” she answered.
“What?” He wasn’t about to give up.
She wanted to tell him it was none of his business. That wasn’t all she wanted to tell him.
“I’ve got to be somewhere,“ she politely answered him.
“That’s the same excuse you gave me last time.” His impatience showed.
“It’s no excuse.”
“Well, then can you tell me where it is you have to be?”
“If you must know--”
“Yes,” he interrupted sharply.
“I meet Samuel and his brother and sister at the field with the big oak across the railroad tracks every Sunday.”
There. She said it. She had omitted those facts before not because she was ashamed of her friendship with the Sanders. Far from it. In fact, quite the opposite. Pride welled up within her when she thought of Samuel, James, Ruthie and their mother.
Mike’s mouth tightened. “Is he your boyfriend? ‘Cause you better know right now that aint done around here.”
“What aint done around here?” She mocked his southern drawl, the only one she had come to detest with such ferocity.
Her sarcasm was evident to him and he said, “You’re not dumb. You know what I mean.”
“I know that since I moved here Samuel and his family are the nicest people I’ve met.”
“Black and white don’t mix. They only make gray. Our cultures are different
and--”
It was her turn to interrupt. “Then what you’re saying is that I should go back to where I came from. Because as far as I’m concerned our cultures are different. You eat funny food and you talk even funnier. You know, the strange thing is that in that way you and Samuel are more alike. But that is where it ends because in every other way Samuel is nothing like you. Don’t mistake me, Mike. Knowing you you’d take that as a compliment. No, the compliment goes to Samuel.”
Mike couldn’t believe his ears. This mild mannered sweet tempered girl spoke to him in a way no other girl had ever found the nerve to. It left him speechless. She eyed him up and down with complete disgust, and he felt his face grow red as she turned and left him there to face the stares of the other students, who by this time had figured out Mike had just been jilted.
Wouldn't It Be Nice...
(prologue)
“Woohoo! Would ya look at that?” Eddy yelled over to his buddies as they all watched Cody glide down the white frothy mountainside. “Betcha can’t top that, Nick! I think Cody’s got you beat!”
Nick looked at Cody, looked at Eddy, then looked at their buddies and with slivered eyes took on Eddy’s taunting dare. The rest of the guys knew that look. They’d seen it before. Nick never backed down from a challenge. He wouldn’t start now.
“He took the easy way. I can reach the bottom before Cody does,” said Nick with unbridled confidence.
“No way. There’s no freaking way!”
“You’re forgetting…I can do anything!”
“Okay, Mr. Invincible. You’re wasting valuable time. Show me!”
Without a word, Nick smiled, pulled his goggles over his eyes, and with his knees bent, dropped his board in a ready stance.
“Man, I can’t believe he really did it. There’s no way I would. I’m sorry. Call me a wimp if you want, but I want to walk outta here,” said Mike looking at Eddy after watching Nick take on the dare.
“Okay, you’re a wimp,” laughed Eddy. “Oh man, did you see that? He almost biffed it.”
The guys’ “oohs” and “ahs” were short-lived when shortly from their view they could see Nick approaching a dead end cliff apparently obstructed from his own view.
All they could do was watch as their friend tumbled hitting rock after jagged rock for what seemed like minutes before coming to a lifeless stop. A fun outing in the snow turned to frenzied panic as the group of teens witnessed the horror unfolding before their eyes.
The story below is for anyone who values life, but it is also for everyone that questions the value of their own.
Miracle Happened (Part One)
Chapter One
From Miracle’s journal:
My name is Miracle, but I don’t know who I am. The very world I thought I lived in and existed in is somehow across a great channel of time and space that I cannot go to. How can I explain it when I can’t begin to understand it myself? Is my reality even real? Today everything I thought to be real is not. This much is true, that I have a mother and three brothers and two sisters, and we live in a big old house on a fifty acre homestead in a place called Precinct V (five).
The day started out the same as every other day, at least since my great grandparents passed. They shared this home with us too until then. They’ve been gone a few months now. I miss them horribly. It is they that taught me while Mom went to the infirmary to work everyday, sometimes long days. Nanna taught me how to sew and to bake and cook, and Pappy taught my brothers how to plant and tend the fields, and they both taught us all how to care for the animals. Chickens, goats, lambs, pigs, and horses…and strays, namely one--Fat Cat, the best mouser ever.
My Uncle Buddy came over today. Actually he’s my great uncle. My mom has no brothers or sisters. He is the only visitor we ever get except for every other Sunday when the preacher comes. I overheard him talking to Mom when neither thought I was near. It wasn’t my intention to eavesdrop. In our house there are no secrets, or at least that is what I thought until today.
“Angela, what would happen to the children if something happened to you?” I heard my uncle ask.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Mom answered.
“But you have to. You have to at least think about it. I’m not getting any younger. You’ll have no family when I’m gone. Or at least none that will acknowledge your existence.”
My mom let out a long laborious sigh, and she put her head in her hands. I think she was crying. Her shoulders shook but she kept in any sound.
“Miracle needs papers. All of the children do, but at least if something were to happen to you she could continue on here.” Uncle Buddy paused for a moment before continuing. He lifted Mom’s face to look at his own and finally said, “The world you've created for them doesn't exist.”
“Maybe someday it will again.” I could see a tear crawl down Mom’s face like it had hands and knees, slowly and deliberately, and then she blinked and a curtain of them fell.
It was rare for Uncle Buddy to show emotion. Oh, he would laugh at a funny joke and compliment a tasty meal, but if one of us kids fell and scraped a knee or cried, he’d say something like, “That’ll teach you to do that again.” So in this extraordinary moment of compassion he bent down and patted Mom on the knee and said, “I’d like that too. To see the world the way it used to be, or at least our corner of it.”
Mom looked at him and tried to smile. I could tell it was an attempt at one anyway.
“Are you going to tell Miracle soon?” He asked.
I couldn’t help but want to listen more. Tell me what?
“Only when I have to,” she answered sounding defeated.
“She needs to know. She’s a young woman now. She’s bound to figure some things out on her own. I’ll see what I can do. About the papers.”
As soon as the words left his lips Mom pleaded, “No! That would be too dangerous. You’re the only family I have left and you can’t risk it. Aunt Dorene wouldn't allow it anyway.”
“Shhh. I know what I’m doing. Don’t worry about me. It will be curfew by the time I get home. I need to get going, but you think about what I said.”
Mom nodded, “Okay.” She hugged him, and he left.
That was that. I had no idea of what just transpired. I watched Mom as she watched Uncle Buddy leave. When he was gone she went out to the field past the border of trees that we’re never allowed beyond.
I checked on my brothers and sisters who were all safe and sound in their rooms getting ready for bed but not asleep yet. Following from a safe distance I watched as Mom knelt down at the tree line. It was near dusk, a late sunset on a July summer day.
My eyes scanned the top of the hill as it crested. I didn’t know what my eyes beheld. There must have been a total of twelve wooden crosses in rows of three with neatly displayed shrubs in between them. The crosses had words on them but none of them recognizable to me. None were my grandparents. Their bodies had been cremated in the Precinct, and Mom and all of us children had made special plaques with their names outside of their favorite garden spot on our property.
“Mom,” I said, finally with the courage to speak. “What’s wrong? And why have you been crying?”
She turned startled. “You’re not supposed to be up here.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I thought there was something wrong so I followed you. It’s okay if we’re both here together, isn’t it?”
Mom nodded. “It’s okay.”
I could finally read the names on the crosses. They weren’t common names like Paul, or John, or even pet names like Fluffy or Whiskers. They were declarations. “You are loved,” said one. “You are special,” said another.
“Mom,” I asked. “Who are these…?” I didn’t know how to finish because I didn’t know if they were even people.
“Babies…beautiful tiny babies.”
I looked at her, puzzled. I am the oldest. I never understood how my mother, a single lady, could show no signs of pregnancy even after I figured out the time line as I got older and there became more time difference between my youngest siblings and me. That was always a mystery to me. Whenever I brought up the subject, she would say I was delivered to her by angels, truly heaven sent. I never had a father. None of us did. Even my grandparents were able to skirt that one question. It became a game to them to see which one could outdo the others fabricated story of how I “bloomed from a rare rose shrub” or how a young peasant woman who had given up all her meager belongings to leave me in a golden basket as the “chosen one that would someday save the world from an evil king.” It became apparent that I was never going to get the answer I was looking for¾a truthful one.
“Why are they here?” I asked. I thought I would start with “why” first, and then continue with “how” and “when” later.
“They needed a proper burial.” Mom answered the question very matter-of-factly.
“But why here?”
“I couldn’t save them.” Mom’s expression was now somber and distant.
“Whose babies are these? They’re not yours.”
“I don’t know where to begin.”
“Start with that one there,” I said pointing to the most recent date on the cross.
“At the infirmary nurses are assigned different wards. Mine until five years ago was the neonatal unit. I cared for the newborns until they were able to leave the hospital with their mothers.”
“I still don’t understand though. Those babies,” I said pointing to the grave markers, “would have been given a proper burial by their birth mothers.”
Mom didn’t speak.
“You have to tell me, Mom. Why did you say you ‘couldn’t save them?”
“They were…aborted.”
I know what that word means. I don’t have a formal education, but I’ve been schooled by the best¾my grandparents and my mom. My vocabulary is very good.
“The pregnancy was stopped? But why? That’s wrong!” I said emphatically.
“But it’s legal.”
“But that doesn’t make it right.”
“Our government wants perfect people.”
“That’s crazy,” I said. “Nobody’s perfect. So they can just decide that because I don’t look a certain way that I’m useless?”
“You’re not useless. You have a purpose.”
Now I sat silent, not able to comprehend it all. Why?
Mom continued, “Sometimes it would be my duty to do the incinerator. It was forbidden to enter after the doctors, but one day I looked through the window on the door and saw in all the mountain of tiny limbs and fingers and toes, and one of them moved. I sneaked in and brought the live baby home. I continued doing so until my duties changed and I had no access to the neonatal ward or the incinerator.”
I looked at my mom now with a sudden realization that one of those babies she was talking about had been me!
“Extracted like a rotten tooth! Discarded like trash! I was never even born, was I?” I screamed, and then my rage turned into self-pity. My volume lowered as I almost whispered, “I was expelled, like a splinter in an infection. Nobody wanted me.”
“I wanted you,” said my mom caressing my cheek. “Like I never wanted anything else.”
Miracle Flowers (Part Two)
Chapter One
From Miracle’s journal:
I busied myself helping my brothers and sisters get ready as we prepared for our first picnic at the beach. The girls’ excitement grew like an eruption in a volcano spilling over and covering everything in its path with no end of the flow in sight. This particular day I was the one responsible for the selection of their clothes. No mismatched fabrics or colors, or animals ears or whiskers, just two cute little girls dressed in simple and plain matching frocks made by me from the blue and white checkered kitchen curtains from days gone by. Ugly and boring by their standards, but unassuming and unpretentious to anyone else that otherwise might notice how very different they were. How very different we all were. The boys wore blue jeans and plaid shirts. They would easily blend in.
Matthew had brought me clothes left in his house by his sister. These clothes were of the finest quality and fabric. So different than what I was used to wearing or making. Not to diminish my sewing capabilities in any way, but we made do with what we had. If something didn’t fit or if it wasn’t worn out we would repurpose it. That’s what we did with Nanna and Pappy’s clothes after they passed away. That wasn’t out of necessity though. It was out of love. We each chose something special to us, and I made a new garment for each of the kids from the old garments. Then with a separate piece of fabric I cut out distinct shapes and embroidered it on each garment to wear like a badge of honor. It was a way to have a piece of Nanna and Pappy with us. I made a pillow cover for Mom from one of Nanna’s dresses. She slept with it every night. And I recovered the lamp shade on Mom’s nightstand from one of Pappy’s Sunday shirts and adorned the edges with strips from a suit tie.
I looked at the clothes in my hands again admiring them and holding them against me one by one as I looked into the mirror. With a little tucking in here and there by shortening the sleeves they would be a perfect fit. For now, I could make do with a quick fix using safety pins. After changing into them I admired myself in the mirror momentarily before making my debut. As I entered the living room where Matthew was, he looked up. I smiled and twirled.
“Well?” I hinted for a compliment. But I wouldn’t get one…yet.
“I don’t like it,” he said, and he was serious. He really didn’t like it. I could feel my smile disintegrate.
That’s when the compliment came.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I would never mean to hurt your feelings. It’s just with those clothes you look like all the other girls in the precinct. I liked how you dressed before. It makes you different. It makes you…you. I don’t want that to change. Does that make sense?”
“I guess so,” I said. “But I have to look like everyone else to blend in.”
“I know,” he agreed. “It’s to protect you. I can live with it.”
“It’s a small price to pay,” I said, finally able to give him a half-smile.
*****
I came down the stairs wearing my disguise, my hair pulled tightly into a ponytail and brushed with dark streaks, hiding most of the blond. Then there was the lotion Mom had rubbed on my face, making my skin five shades darker. Rachel and Hannah noticed right away.
“Miracle, why is your face dirty?” Rachel asked.
“It’s not. It’s sun-kissed. It’s supposed to look that way,” I answered back as I continued my way to the door.
With everyone ready and the food packed tightly in the cooler, Matthew and the boys loaded up Bruce’s car with the supplies. I had butterflies in my stomach as Bruce drove us in the car down our long driveway and onto the highway. I watched Mom smiling and looking happy like she hadn’t a care in the world. If Bruce and Mom weren’t worried and even Matthew, why was I? I had a conversation with myself thinking, what could go wrong? It’s just a picnic at the beach and an outing on a boat. No reason to be worried. So unlikely that Enforcers or Compass Party leaders would waste their time making trouble for families just enjoying a nice sunny day. Right? Right! I had finally convinced myself of that, and shelved all the doubts in my mind.
Since we all couldn’t fit into one car Matthew drove his car with the boys to keep him company. He followed behind his dad’s car with Mom, the girls, and myself.
We had passed a drab looking industrial area, a high scale residential area where I imagined Compass leaders living, and an agricultural area where there were huge greenhouses big enough to put an entire neighborhood in. I asked Mom about that. She said that’s where they raised the specialty foods that were unavailable due to the sanctions on the Compass Party. Certain foods were no longer obtainable as imports because of it so the Compass Party found a way around it. Like humans have DNA, the vegetation had something like it and in their scientific technology, with just a microscopic amount they could create a genetic copy.
Along the roadway were lighted signs bearing the message: “One Direction, One Destiny…The Future is now.” A flag with a broken compass, all sides pointing north, flashed across the huge screen. I remembered having seen similar signs the day I stowed away when Matthew saved me. One direction? One destiny? What did it mean exactly? Was it possible that the Compass Party controlled that too? A person’s destiny shouldn’t belong to a political party or to any group. A person’s destiny belongs to them, or at least it should.
The girls were oohing and aahing at the scenery that unfolded before us, like turning a page in a picture book anticipating what the next side page would hold. I hoped Matthew was describing to Michael the endless details of colors and textures and…water! We were nearing the boat docks and boardwalks. It was a nice day and people were out and about enjoying the water, enjoying the sun. As we neared, Mom asked for our attention.
“Whenever we’re in public you have to call me ‘Angela’. Do you understand?” she asked.
We all said yes, but Rachel and Hannah asked, “Why?” I wanted to know too.
“Well…you have to remember I’m not the only mom. If you said ‘mom’ around all these people you can only imagine all the women that would turn to look trying to see where their children were or if they were being talked to.”
That made sense to me but I knew there was more to it than that.
We unloaded our picnic supplies from the car and started for the dock where Bruce’s boat was moored. As we did a lady, if you could call her that, stopped and spoke to Mom. Hannah and Rachel were at Mom’s side. I had my back turned holding the containers of food, but I turned to look over my shoulder. Mom had instructed us not to stare at people, but I couldn’t help it. The lady didn’t notice me. She was too distracted by Hannah and Rachel. They were staring too. The woman looked to have painted her clothes onto her slender body. Although no flesh was showing every curve, every contour and every sculpted muscle was revealed through the sheer and elasticized fabric. Her face was plastic-looking like one of Hannah or Rachel’s dolls. Her mouth seemed unnatural as if painted on, and her hair was shiny, sleek, and straight, tied into a pony tail. That was the only appealing thing about the woman, but I wondered if it was even real.
“And who are these darlings?” the lady asked. I detected sarcasm in her voice as she looked at them with disdain. The girls held out their hands ready to shake hers. Mom had taught them and all of us manners. We had just never had much opportunity to use them. The lady’s body recoiled as if the girls were toxic and by touching them she would be contaminated.
“This is Hannah and this is Rachel,” answered Mom. There was alarm in her expression.
“And this is mmm…Angela,” said Rachel finally putting her hand down. I could see relief sweep over Mom’s face.
“Yes, I know,” the woman answered. She seemed almost annoyed.
“Are you here by yourself?” asked Mom, her attempt at making conversation.
“Of course. My kids are at Compass boarding school, and their father, well, he’s just a waste of space. I found out early on that if he can’t give me what I want, I’ll find someone else who can. Well, gotta keep my heart rate up.” Then she turned and jogged off.
As soon as she left, Hannah asked, “Who was that pretty lady?”
That pretty lady was a snake. But I kept my thought to myself. And I finally understood Mom’s cynical way of looking at people.
“She’s one of my supervisors at work,” answered Mom. “One of many. It always depends on what wing I’m working on. Supervisors have different shifts. The compensation pay is better. I’ve declined every chance for the position though. It’s not for me.”
“Mom, what did she mean when she called the man a ‘waste of space’?” Rachel asked.
“It’s just an expression, just a figure of speech. It means different things to different people, I suppose. I would never say any person is a ‘waste of space’. Things are a waste of space. People aren’t.”
*****
The boys emptied out of the car and met us along the dockside.
“Cute hat,” said Matthew winking at me.
“Mom made me wear it,” I replied. “She didn’t want me to get sunburned.” I was very fair-skinned underneath all the lotion, and it was a big floppy straw hat that shaded my face. A very feminine hat. I couldn’t imagine my brothers wearing it or Matthew, especially Matthew.
“Or to be recognized?” he asked.
“That too,” I admitted.
“It’s safe to say it will work. Can’t see much of anything under that wide brim.”
I just smiled. “Can I help you get anything out of the car?”
“No, I can do it. But you can come with me if you want.”
“Okay,” I said following him to the car.
He retrieved the last of the supplies. “This looks like a lot more stuff than just a picnic for the day,” I said inspecting his armload.
“It is. Dad wanted me to stock a few more things. You know, kind of take advantage of today’s outing. Can you push that button lock on the door before I shut it?”
“Yeah,” I said reaching inside the car. That’s when I noticed something on the front seat where the boxes had been. It was just a newspaper, but it was a Compass Party Pipeline Newspaper. Curiosity overwhelmed me. Mom had never let me see one.
“What’s the newspaper for?” I asked.
“To wrap the fish in,” he answered matter-of-factly.
“Oh.”
“Why?”
“Just curious…I’ve never seen one. I’d like to look at.”
“You can have it. There’s more in the trunk,” said Matthew.
“I can’t. Mom wouldn’t let me. The boys can read now, well except Michael since he can’t see, but I can’t take the chance of either of them reading anything that might scare them,” I confessed.
“She still doesn’t want you to know about, well…the rest of the world?”
I shook my head in response. “She said the Compass Party spreads propaganda and that there is no way of knowing what’s true and what isn’t.”
“Shhh,” Matthew admonished me. “Don’t say that out loud.”
I didn’t say anything after that.
Matthew continued on. “But she’s right,” he whispered. “There’s no way of knowing. I think you should see for yourself. I’m not saying to disobey her…but to defeat your enemy you first have to know your enemy.”
“Sounds like you’ve thought about this for a while,” I said.
“Yeah, ever since my sister left us for the Academy…and even more so since I met you. I can’t…never mind.”
“You can’t what?” I asked raising my eyebrows.
“I can’t imagine something bad ever happening to you,” he confessed.
“Or you,” I reciprocated. “I feel the same way.”
Matthew smiled at me and lifted my brim to see my eyes.
“I’m sorry about your sister,” I empathized.
“Thanks. Me too.” Changing the subject he asked, “Do you want to try catching a fish?”
I nodded enthusiastically. I never even noticed how much fun everyone else was having. I was too caught up in my own. Wrestling with a fish had never been something I thought I would enjoy, but I did.
Exhausted from the excitement, as much as I didn’t want the day to end, I was ready to be home. The kids were too. They fell asleep on the way home.
*****
The fish were slimy, smelly, and ugly. I remember Nanna and Pappy used to love eating fish. But it was always a rare occasion. We usually settled for chicken or pork from our little farm. Fish was quite a luxury. It didn’t matter what kind. It was never on the grocery list or in the budget. We would usually acquire it by trading. So when Matthew and Bruce showed us their final catch of the day, the maximum allowed, I knew what we would be having for dinner.
They gutted and skinned and filleted the fish at the marina prior to bringing us back home, and saved out the biggest one to give to Uncle Buddy. Mom had some dill weed and lemon pepper and lemon juice, and Bruce grilled it outside perfectly. As the fish was being prepared I was steaming the vegetables and warming the bread. Matthew helped me in the kitchen setting the table which was usually the girls’ job, but they were too busy playing outside. I liked it just being the two of us. Matthew set out the salt and pepper and butter and began looking in the cupboard and refrigerator.
“What are you looking for?” I asked.
“Tartar sauce.”
“We almost never eat fish, so we almost never have tartar sauce. We don’t have any,” I said.
“What? Fish with no tartar sauce? I guess I’ll live.”
“Your dad said it won’t be ready for a few more minutes. I’ll put something together,” I said. I grabbed the eggs and oil and the gallon-size jar and paddle.
“What are you doing?” asked Matthew.
“Making tartar sauce.”
“With eggs and oil?”
“Not everything comes from the commissary,” I answered. I whipped the eggs and oil, and Matthew watched as it thickened and whitened. Then I chopped some pickles and onions and grabbed more dill weed and lemon juice. I threw everything into the mix until it was creamy except for the small chunks of pickle and onion.
“You know,” said Matthew shyly, “you didn’t have to go to all that trouble.”
“It’s no trouble. You can’t have fish without tartar sauce after all.” I smiled at him.
“Thank you,” he said.
“You’re welcome.”
“You know…” Matthew stopped and hesitated.
“Do I know what?” I asked.
“Never mind.”
I scolded him. “You know one of these days I’m going to do that to you. I’m going to start to say something and you’ll ask me what it was that I meant to say, and then I’ll say ‘never mind’ and you’ll forever be curious. Forever.” I smiled teasingly.
“I guess that’s only fair. So you know…” he paused again.
“What do I know?” I stared at him urging him to continue.
“You’re nice to have around,” he smiled and his eyes fell to the floor.
It was simple endearing things like that that made me take notice of Matthew. My tongue knotted at the compliment and my heart melted.
*****
The fish dinner was tasty. Bruce had blended some lemon pepper and herbs together and grilled it until it was tender and flaky. After cleaning up the kitchen, Matthew offered to take out the garbage. It wouldn’t be long until the fish aroma became a pungent noxious one. I walked with Matthew outside and showed him where the garbage receptacle with wheels was, down near the shed where Mom parked her car. I watched as the contents of the can emptied into the larger bin. Newspapers dotted the surface. Words protruded from the pages. Bold headlines and then a name that caught my eye…the Ghost Girl. And then I closed the lid.
Chapter One
From Miracle’s journal:
I busied myself helping my brothers and sisters get ready as we prepared for our first picnic at the beach. The girls’ excitement grew like an eruption in a volcano spilling over and covering everything in its path with no end of the flow in sight. This particular day I was the one responsible for the selection of their clothes. No mismatched fabrics or colors, or animals ears or whiskers, just two cute little girls dressed in simple and plain matching frocks made by me from the blue and white checkered kitchen curtains from days gone by. Ugly and boring by their standards, but unassuming and unpretentious to anyone else that otherwise might notice how very different they were. How very different we all were. The boys wore blue jeans and plaid shirts. They would easily blend in.
Matthew had brought me clothes left in his house by his sister. These clothes were of the finest quality and fabric. So different than what I was used to wearing or making. Not to diminish my sewing capabilities in any way, but we made do with what we had. If something didn’t fit or if it wasn’t worn out we would repurpose it. That’s what we did with Nanna and Pappy’s clothes after they passed away. That wasn’t out of necessity though. It was out of love. We each chose something special to us, and I made a new garment for each of the kids from the old garments. Then with a separate piece of fabric I cut out distinct shapes and embroidered it on each garment to wear like a badge of honor. It was a way to have a piece of Nanna and Pappy with us. I made a pillow cover for Mom from one of Nanna’s dresses. She slept with it every night. And I recovered the lamp shade on Mom’s nightstand from one of Pappy’s Sunday shirts and adorned the edges with strips from a suit tie.
I looked at the clothes in my hands again admiring them and holding them against me one by one as I looked into the mirror. With a little tucking in here and there by shortening the sleeves they would be a perfect fit. For now, I could make do with a quick fix using safety pins. After changing into them I admired myself in the mirror momentarily before making my debut. As I entered the living room where Matthew was, he looked up. I smiled and twirled.
“Well?” I hinted for a compliment. But I wouldn’t get one…yet.
“I don’t like it,” he said, and he was serious. He really didn’t like it. I could feel my smile disintegrate.
That’s when the compliment came.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I would never mean to hurt your feelings. It’s just with those clothes you look like all the other girls in the precinct. I liked how you dressed before. It makes you different. It makes you…you. I don’t want that to change. Does that make sense?”
“I guess so,” I said. “But I have to look like everyone else to blend in.”
“I know,” he agreed. “It’s to protect you. I can live with it.”
“It’s a small price to pay,” I said, finally able to give him a half-smile.
*****
I came down the stairs wearing my disguise, my hair pulled tightly into a ponytail and brushed with dark streaks, hiding most of the blond. Then there was the lotion Mom had rubbed on my face, making my skin five shades darker. Rachel and Hannah noticed right away.
“Miracle, why is your face dirty?” Rachel asked.
“It’s not. It’s sun-kissed. It’s supposed to look that way,” I answered back as I continued my way to the door.
With everyone ready and the food packed tightly in the cooler, Matthew and the boys loaded up Bruce’s car with the supplies. I had butterflies in my stomach as Bruce drove us in the car down our long driveway and onto the highway. I watched Mom smiling and looking happy like she hadn’t a care in the world. If Bruce and Mom weren’t worried and even Matthew, why was I? I had a conversation with myself thinking, what could go wrong? It’s just a picnic at the beach and an outing on a boat. No reason to be worried. So unlikely that Enforcers or Compass Party leaders would waste their time making trouble for families just enjoying a nice sunny day. Right? Right! I had finally convinced myself of that, and shelved all the doubts in my mind.
Since we all couldn’t fit into one car Matthew drove his car with the boys to keep him company. He followed behind his dad’s car with Mom, the girls, and myself.
We had passed a drab looking industrial area, a high scale residential area where I imagined Compass leaders living, and an agricultural area where there were huge greenhouses big enough to put an entire neighborhood in. I asked Mom about that. She said that’s where they raised the specialty foods that were unavailable due to the sanctions on the Compass Party. Certain foods were no longer obtainable as imports because of it so the Compass Party found a way around it. Like humans have DNA, the vegetation had something like it and in their scientific technology, with just a microscopic amount they could create a genetic copy.
Along the roadway were lighted signs bearing the message: “One Direction, One Destiny…The Future is now.” A flag with a broken compass, all sides pointing north, flashed across the huge screen. I remembered having seen similar signs the day I stowed away when Matthew saved me. One direction? One destiny? What did it mean exactly? Was it possible that the Compass Party controlled that too? A person’s destiny shouldn’t belong to a political party or to any group. A person’s destiny belongs to them, or at least it should.
The girls were oohing and aahing at the scenery that unfolded before us, like turning a page in a picture book anticipating what the next side page would hold. I hoped Matthew was describing to Michael the endless details of colors and textures and…water! We were nearing the boat docks and boardwalks. It was a nice day and people were out and about enjoying the water, enjoying the sun. As we neared, Mom asked for our attention.
“Whenever we’re in public you have to call me ‘Angela’. Do you understand?” she asked.
We all said yes, but Rachel and Hannah asked, “Why?” I wanted to know too.
“Well…you have to remember I’m not the only mom. If you said ‘mom’ around all these people you can only imagine all the women that would turn to look trying to see where their children were or if they were being talked to.”
That made sense to me but I knew there was more to it than that.
We unloaded our picnic supplies from the car and started for the dock where Bruce’s boat was moored. As we did a lady, if you could call her that, stopped and spoke to Mom. Hannah and Rachel were at Mom’s side. I had my back turned holding the containers of food, but I turned to look over my shoulder. Mom had instructed us not to stare at people, but I couldn’t help it. The lady didn’t notice me. She was too distracted by Hannah and Rachel. They were staring too. The woman looked to have painted her clothes onto her slender body. Although no flesh was showing every curve, every contour and every sculpted muscle was revealed through the sheer and elasticized fabric. Her face was plastic-looking like one of Hannah or Rachel’s dolls. Her mouth seemed unnatural as if painted on, and her hair was shiny, sleek, and straight, tied into a pony tail. That was the only appealing thing about the woman, but I wondered if it was even real.
“And who are these darlings?” the lady asked. I detected sarcasm in her voice as she looked at them with disdain. The girls held out their hands ready to shake hers. Mom had taught them and all of us manners. We had just never had much opportunity to use them. The lady’s body recoiled as if the girls were toxic and by touching them she would be contaminated.
“This is Hannah and this is Rachel,” answered Mom. There was alarm in her expression.
“And this is mmm…Angela,” said Rachel finally putting her hand down. I could see relief sweep over Mom’s face.
“Yes, I know,” the woman answered. She seemed almost annoyed.
“Are you here by yourself?” asked Mom, her attempt at making conversation.
“Of course. My kids are at Compass boarding school, and their father, well, he’s just a waste of space. I found out early on that if he can’t give me what I want, I’ll find someone else who can. Well, gotta keep my heart rate up.” Then she turned and jogged off.
As soon as she left, Hannah asked, “Who was that pretty lady?”
That pretty lady was a snake. But I kept my thought to myself. And I finally understood Mom’s cynical way of looking at people.
“She’s one of my supervisors at work,” answered Mom. “One of many. It always depends on what wing I’m working on. Supervisors have different shifts. The compensation pay is better. I’ve declined every chance for the position though. It’s not for me.”
“Mom, what did she mean when she called the man a ‘waste of space’?” Rachel asked.
“It’s just an expression, just a figure of speech. It means different things to different people, I suppose. I would never say any person is a ‘waste of space’. Things are a waste of space. People aren’t.”
*****
The boys emptied out of the car and met us along the dockside.
“Cute hat,” said Matthew winking at me.
“Mom made me wear it,” I replied. “She didn’t want me to get sunburned.” I was very fair-skinned underneath all the lotion, and it was a big floppy straw hat that shaded my face. A very feminine hat. I couldn’t imagine my brothers wearing it or Matthew, especially Matthew.
“Or to be recognized?” he asked.
“That too,” I admitted.
“It’s safe to say it will work. Can’t see much of anything under that wide brim.”
I just smiled. “Can I help you get anything out of the car?”
“No, I can do it. But you can come with me if you want.”
“Okay,” I said following him to the car.
He retrieved the last of the supplies. “This looks like a lot more stuff than just a picnic for the day,” I said inspecting his armload.
“It is. Dad wanted me to stock a few more things. You know, kind of take advantage of today’s outing. Can you push that button lock on the door before I shut it?”
“Yeah,” I said reaching inside the car. That’s when I noticed something on the front seat where the boxes had been. It was just a newspaper, but it was a Compass Party Pipeline Newspaper. Curiosity overwhelmed me. Mom had never let me see one.
“What’s the newspaper for?” I asked.
“To wrap the fish in,” he answered matter-of-factly.
“Oh.”
“Why?”
“Just curious…I’ve never seen one. I’d like to look at.”
“You can have it. There’s more in the trunk,” said Matthew.
“I can’t. Mom wouldn’t let me. The boys can read now, well except Michael since he can’t see, but I can’t take the chance of either of them reading anything that might scare them,” I confessed.
“She still doesn’t want you to know about, well…the rest of the world?”
I shook my head in response. “She said the Compass Party spreads propaganda and that there is no way of knowing what’s true and what isn’t.”
“Shhh,” Matthew admonished me. “Don’t say that out loud.”
I didn’t say anything after that.
Matthew continued on. “But she’s right,” he whispered. “There’s no way of knowing. I think you should see for yourself. I’m not saying to disobey her…but to defeat your enemy you first have to know your enemy.”
“Sounds like you’ve thought about this for a while,” I said.
“Yeah, ever since my sister left us for the Academy…and even more so since I met you. I can’t…never mind.”
“You can’t what?” I asked raising my eyebrows.
“I can’t imagine something bad ever happening to you,” he confessed.
“Or you,” I reciprocated. “I feel the same way.”
Matthew smiled at me and lifted my brim to see my eyes.
“I’m sorry about your sister,” I empathized.
“Thanks. Me too.” Changing the subject he asked, “Do you want to try catching a fish?”
I nodded enthusiastically. I never even noticed how much fun everyone else was having. I was too caught up in my own. Wrestling with a fish had never been something I thought I would enjoy, but I did.
Exhausted from the excitement, as much as I didn’t want the day to end, I was ready to be home. The kids were too. They fell asleep on the way home.
*****
The fish were slimy, smelly, and ugly. I remember Nanna and Pappy used to love eating fish. But it was always a rare occasion. We usually settled for chicken or pork from our little farm. Fish was quite a luxury. It didn’t matter what kind. It was never on the grocery list or in the budget. We would usually acquire it by trading. So when Matthew and Bruce showed us their final catch of the day, the maximum allowed, I knew what we would be having for dinner.
They gutted and skinned and filleted the fish at the marina prior to bringing us back home, and saved out the biggest one to give to Uncle Buddy. Mom had some dill weed and lemon pepper and lemon juice, and Bruce grilled it outside perfectly. As the fish was being prepared I was steaming the vegetables and warming the bread. Matthew helped me in the kitchen setting the table which was usually the girls’ job, but they were too busy playing outside. I liked it just being the two of us. Matthew set out the salt and pepper and butter and began looking in the cupboard and refrigerator.
“What are you looking for?” I asked.
“Tartar sauce.”
“We almost never eat fish, so we almost never have tartar sauce. We don’t have any,” I said.
“What? Fish with no tartar sauce? I guess I’ll live.”
“Your dad said it won’t be ready for a few more minutes. I’ll put something together,” I said. I grabbed the eggs and oil and the gallon-size jar and paddle.
“What are you doing?” asked Matthew.
“Making tartar sauce.”
“With eggs and oil?”
“Not everything comes from the commissary,” I answered. I whipped the eggs and oil, and Matthew watched as it thickened and whitened. Then I chopped some pickles and onions and grabbed more dill weed and lemon juice. I threw everything into the mix until it was creamy except for the small chunks of pickle and onion.
“You know,” said Matthew shyly, “you didn’t have to go to all that trouble.”
“It’s no trouble. You can’t have fish without tartar sauce after all.” I smiled at him.
“Thank you,” he said.
“You’re welcome.”
“You know…” Matthew stopped and hesitated.
“Do I know what?” I asked.
“Never mind.”
I scolded him. “You know one of these days I’m going to do that to you. I’m going to start to say something and you’ll ask me what it was that I meant to say, and then I’ll say ‘never mind’ and you’ll forever be curious. Forever.” I smiled teasingly.
“I guess that’s only fair. So you know…” he paused again.
“What do I know?” I stared at him urging him to continue.
“You’re nice to have around,” he smiled and his eyes fell to the floor.
It was simple endearing things like that that made me take notice of Matthew. My tongue knotted at the compliment and my heart melted.
*****
The fish dinner was tasty. Bruce had blended some lemon pepper and herbs together and grilled it until it was tender and flaky. After cleaning up the kitchen, Matthew offered to take out the garbage. It wouldn’t be long until the fish aroma became a pungent noxious one. I walked with Matthew outside and showed him where the garbage receptacle with wheels was, down near the shed where Mom parked her car. I watched as the contents of the can emptied into the larger bin. Newspapers dotted the surface. Words protruded from the pages. Bold headlines and then a name that caught my eye…the Ghost Girl. And then I closed the lid.
Rise of the Ghost Girl (Part Three of Miracle Happened)
Chapter One
The phone echoed in the large tomb-like office until a man’s gruff voice growled with, “This is General Stone.” It was quiet while he listened to the other voice at the end of the line. “That is a problem. Send it to me. I’ll take care of it.” Click. Almost instantly papers ejected from a machine. A series of still photos, an article not yet disclosed to the public: A breach at the Compass Founders Monument Building. A breach, the first one known in nearly 70 years since the death of a nation and a birth of another: The Federation of United Loyalists.
The man with the chiseled chin turned his monitor on showing the video surveillance feed of the breach. He watched as the video displayed a petite young woman going under a fixed barricade made of a golden rope and walking directly to the museum piece grand piano. She moved without fear or hesitation, ignoring the signs, the cameras, and the officer behind the frosted glass partition. Then she did what no one had ever done before. Turning the volume up on the speaker, he watched intently at what she did next. She sat at the golden bench and played the Patriot’s Song. The general slammed the papers on the marble top desk with such force causing the officer in the next room to peek his head in the door.
“Is something wrong, Sir?” he asked with wide eyes from behind his thick glasses.
“Is something wrong! What do you think?” the graveled voice spewed. But before the man could give his reply he continued, “We have to find this girl.” He examined the photo, turning it from every angle. “She’s dangerous.”
The man’s features revealed no emotion. His face had long been set in stone with paths of deep vertical crevices where frowns had once traversed his face. If the man had ever smiled, there was no evidence of that now. Even the furrows on his forehead and brow were lasting reminders of a demanding life. Demands as a result of his own doing and that of his position as a leader of the Compass Party. He had to be sure to make examples out of other people to avoid his commander making an example out of him. His motto: Do unto others before they do unto you.
The man behind the glasses said nothing, contemplating his commander’s fierceness, even questioning as to why a seemingly harmless girl could be dangerous, yet he wouldn’t dare voice his thoughts. He watched as General Stone examined each of the papers. Finally, with a little courage he asked, “What did she do, Sir?”
The general asked, “Do you know the Patriot’s Song?”
“Yes, Sir. I mean, in the Academy we were taught it was never to be sung or played. Only a traitor would. That’s how I know it.”
“She’s a traitor. She played the Patriot’s Song…at the Founder’s Building,” said the General, as he replayed the news feed for the officer. “And you,” he said as he stood to his feet and looked down at the officer shorter than him, “are going to find her. I don’t care how. Just do it. And report back to me in 24 hours. Study the video feed and memorize every detail of these photos.”
“Yes, Sir,” he said as the general dismissed him. And then he thought to himself as he exited the man’s office, Why me?
General Stone was a hard one to make happy. No one could please him. The young officer wondered if possibly he might be the first to accomplish both.
After the officer disappeared from his sight, the general reached for the phone again. This time he placed the call. “Stone here. Do you have anything more for me on that fifty acre land acquisition?” Silence. “Why not? I gave that to you days ago. Stop wasting time!” More silence. “No more excuses! I want to see you in my office in thirty minutes!” The general slammed the phone down, just as he had with the papers.
Thirty minutes later a female officer knocked on his door. “What do you have for me?” he asked the female officer in the same tone he had spoken to her with on the phone.
“The land belongs to a woman by the name of Angela Flowers. She has no living family except for a great uncle and his family. She had no siblings, husband, or children. Her parents died when she was thirteen, and after that she was raised by her grandparents. They both died within months of each other this past year. The land had been theirs, and now it belongs to her,” she answered matter-of-factly, seemingly pleased with herself.
“And it took you almost a week to obtain that information? I want that property. Not tomorrow, not today…I wanted it yesterday,” said the general, glaring at the young woman.
“I understand, Sir…but--”
He halted her with one hand. “Stop. I don’t want excuses. I want results! Do I need to assign someone else for the project?”
“No, Sir. I have a plan, if you’ll allow me to finish,” she answered confidently.
The general let her speak.
“The woman, Angela Flowers, I believe has information. This information is knowledge of the Party’s mass grave site that if told to the wrong people, could jeopardize our acquisition. There’s no way of knowing if or who she’s shared it with. I have to tread very carefully as not to tip her off. It has to be very subtle.”
“So we eliminate her,” he replied impatiently.
“I’ve thought of that, Sir, but if she has shared the information and it appears she may have…if we make her disappear it could lead to--”
“I see where you’re going with this,” he said interrupting her. “Continue,” said the General wanting to hear more.
As she carried on he didn’t interrupt her even once. Finally, when she was finished he asked, “So you think we can scare her out of her property? Just like that?” The young woman thought his tone had softened some. Or at least hoped so.
“I do. She won’t see it coming. We’ll just make each move a step at a time, kind of subtle at first and then more frequently. She’ll think we suspect her of something. I’ve researched her health history through her medical records. I think she’ll break. Maybe to the point of paranoia. By the time we’re done, she’ll want nothing to do with her property…ever. She’ll walk away from it with no one to leave it to,” said the young woman sounding more confident than before.
The general paced the floor of his office contemplating what she had said. “It could work, I guess. Still, we’re talking time. Time we can’t get back.”
“It will pay off in the end,” she assured him.
“Maybe.” He seemed less confident. “I’ll give it some thought. You make it work or I’ll do things my way.”
“Yes, Sir,” she said. She didn’t like his ultimatum, but she admired his wisdom and experience. At the same time she knew, he at times, had been wrong. This was one of them.
Chapter One
The phone echoed in the large tomb-like office until a man’s gruff voice growled with, “This is General Stone.” It was quiet while he listened to the other voice at the end of the line. “That is a problem. Send it to me. I’ll take care of it.” Click. Almost instantly papers ejected from a machine. A series of still photos, an article not yet disclosed to the public: A breach at the Compass Founders Monument Building. A breach, the first one known in nearly 70 years since the death of a nation and a birth of another: The Federation of United Loyalists.
The man with the chiseled chin turned his monitor on showing the video surveillance feed of the breach. He watched as the video displayed a petite young woman going under a fixed barricade made of a golden rope and walking directly to the museum piece grand piano. She moved without fear or hesitation, ignoring the signs, the cameras, and the officer behind the frosted glass partition. Then she did what no one had ever done before. Turning the volume up on the speaker, he watched intently at what she did next. She sat at the golden bench and played the Patriot’s Song. The general slammed the papers on the marble top desk with such force causing the officer in the next room to peek his head in the door.
“Is something wrong, Sir?” he asked with wide eyes from behind his thick glasses.
“Is something wrong! What do you think?” the graveled voice spewed. But before the man could give his reply he continued, “We have to find this girl.” He examined the photo, turning it from every angle. “She’s dangerous.”
The man’s features revealed no emotion. His face had long been set in stone with paths of deep vertical crevices where frowns had once traversed his face. If the man had ever smiled, there was no evidence of that now. Even the furrows on his forehead and brow were lasting reminders of a demanding life. Demands as a result of his own doing and that of his position as a leader of the Compass Party. He had to be sure to make examples out of other people to avoid his commander making an example out of him. His motto: Do unto others before they do unto you.
The man behind the glasses said nothing, contemplating his commander’s fierceness, even questioning as to why a seemingly harmless girl could be dangerous, yet he wouldn’t dare voice his thoughts. He watched as General Stone examined each of the papers. Finally, with a little courage he asked, “What did she do, Sir?”
The general asked, “Do you know the Patriot’s Song?”
“Yes, Sir. I mean, in the Academy we were taught it was never to be sung or played. Only a traitor would. That’s how I know it.”
“She’s a traitor. She played the Patriot’s Song…at the Founder’s Building,” said the General, as he replayed the news feed for the officer. “And you,” he said as he stood to his feet and looked down at the officer shorter than him, “are going to find her. I don’t care how. Just do it. And report back to me in 24 hours. Study the video feed and memorize every detail of these photos.”
“Yes, Sir,” he said as the general dismissed him. And then he thought to himself as he exited the man’s office, Why me?
General Stone was a hard one to make happy. No one could please him. The young officer wondered if possibly he might be the first to accomplish both.
After the officer disappeared from his sight, the general reached for the phone again. This time he placed the call. “Stone here. Do you have anything more for me on that fifty acre land acquisition?” Silence. “Why not? I gave that to you days ago. Stop wasting time!” More silence. “No more excuses! I want to see you in my office in thirty minutes!” The general slammed the phone down, just as he had with the papers.
Thirty minutes later a female officer knocked on his door. “What do you have for me?” he asked the female officer in the same tone he had spoken to her with on the phone.
“The land belongs to a woman by the name of Angela Flowers. She has no living family except for a great uncle and his family. She had no siblings, husband, or children. Her parents died when she was thirteen, and after that she was raised by her grandparents. They both died within months of each other this past year. The land had been theirs, and now it belongs to her,” she answered matter-of-factly, seemingly pleased with herself.
“And it took you almost a week to obtain that information? I want that property. Not tomorrow, not today…I wanted it yesterday,” said the general, glaring at the young woman.
“I understand, Sir…but--”
He halted her with one hand. “Stop. I don’t want excuses. I want results! Do I need to assign someone else for the project?”
“No, Sir. I have a plan, if you’ll allow me to finish,” she answered confidently.
The general let her speak.
“The woman, Angela Flowers, I believe has information. This information is knowledge of the Party’s mass grave site that if told to the wrong people, could jeopardize our acquisition. There’s no way of knowing if or who she’s shared it with. I have to tread very carefully as not to tip her off. It has to be very subtle.”
“So we eliminate her,” he replied impatiently.
“I’ve thought of that, Sir, but if she has shared the information and it appears she may have…if we make her disappear it could lead to--”
“I see where you’re going with this,” he said interrupting her. “Continue,” said the General wanting to hear more.
As she carried on he didn’t interrupt her even once. Finally, when she was finished he asked, “So you think we can scare her out of her property? Just like that?” The young woman thought his tone had softened some. Or at least hoped so.
“I do. She won’t see it coming. We’ll just make each move a step at a time, kind of subtle at first and then more frequently. She’ll think we suspect her of something. I’ve researched her health history through her medical records. I think she’ll break. Maybe to the point of paranoia. By the time we’re done, she’ll want nothing to do with her property…ever. She’ll walk away from it with no one to leave it to,” said the young woman sounding more confident than before.
The general paced the floor of his office contemplating what she had said. “It could work, I guess. Still, we’re talking time. Time we can’t get back.”
“It will pay off in the end,” she assured him.
“Maybe.” He seemed less confident. “I’ll give it some thought. You make it work or I’ll do things my way.”
“Yes, Sir,” she said. She didn’t like his ultimatum, but she admired his wisdom and experience. At the same time she knew, he at times, had been wrong. This was one of them.
