Where was I? I had to look back at the last blog post to see which book I left off with. My dial up system isn’t working right. I’ve placed several calls to see why I get disconnected or not able to dial in. Each time I get a different person that thinks the problem is solved. In just a few minutes, I find out I still get cut off. So this morning I’m going to give posting a try before I call in for more advice on what to do Where next.
We went to Mt. Pleasant, Iowa on Friday at the start of the Old Thrashers Reunion. It’s always fun talking to other people and seeing what’s new for exhibits and all the stuff that isn’t new. Now that I’m hard at work on a new family book for my mother’s family I found items I took pictures of to use in my book just like I did last year for my husband’s family book. This one is going to be larger than the one I did last year. I’ve got a larger family to write about. Can’t use the tape recorder so have to call many of the relatives and take notes for an hour or two then try to figure out my handwriting later. It’s fun finding out stories that I didn’t know and I’m enjoying the family history.
One nice thing about getting in touch with relatives is I have expanded my customer base. Once they figured out I write books, they wanted to buy one and have come back for more. As long as they talk about me in their area that spreads my customer base.
A frost warning for Wednesday and Thursday night has me worrying about my flowers. I hate to take them in this early when they bloom the prettiest. I can set them back out after the cool front passes, but they need different containers for living in the house all winter. So no offense to the northern part of Iowa, but I’m hoping the frost stays there for a few weeks yet.
Today I’m talking about my book The County Seat Killer - book 3 of Amazing Gracie Mystery Series.
This story is about the retirement home residents, including Gracie and Melinda. They have to testify at a murder trial at the county seat. The story could be considered a continuation of book one The Neighbor Watchers, but each book has a beginning and an ending. I do make reference in most of the books about something that happened in another book. For those who read the books in order the references will be familiar. When I do a series I put the book number on the cover so it is easy to tell the book’s order in the series.
Synopsis
Though the county seat isn’t such a big city, it is larger than Locked Rock and filled with strangers. When she gets off the train, Gracie is uncomfortable right away. By the time she’s been in town a few days, she is wishing she was safe at home. A strange man keeps following her around town. When a woman is found dead, Gracie gets the feeling that was meant to be her. When she testifies at the trial, she refuses to give a list of Locked Rock men that was visiting the lady of the evening that was murdered across the street from Moser Mansion Rest Home. The judge has her jailed on contempt of court for not cooperating. Gracie hates it in jail, but the sheriff thinks it might be safer for her there than out on the streets until they find the killer that’s stalking her.
I was award first place in the Little Rock, Arkansas’s Arkansas Writers’ Conference Nuts and Jolts contest a few years back for one of the chapters in the book.
So find this book along with the other five in Kindle, Nook, Amazon paperback and in my online bookstore site http:www.booksbyfaybookstore. Find the first chapter in my blog on blogger at booksbyfay.com.blogspot.com/
Chapter 1
At the crack of dawn, chaotic noises funneled through the window pane from the alley below. The loud racket vibrated off the hotel room walls, making it seem like what ever was happening was taking place right in the room. One thud after another was followed by a horse’s shrill, frightened whinny.
Restless yet not quite awake, Gracie Evans, tossed one way then the other. Finally, she turned on her side to face the window. A man’s rough voice, venting angry curses, jarred her to her senses. She batted her eyes against the bright sunlight and swiped a thin strand of gray, wavy hair out of her face.
Gracie turned over to look on the other side the bed at Melinda Applegate. Her eyes were closed.
Under her breath, Gracie growled in her gruff voice, “What’s going on down there
anyway? A body cain’t sleep for all that racket.” Holding up the front of her cotton nightgown,
she sucked in a quick breath when her warm, bare feet touched the cold, wooden floor.
Feeling the mattress move, Melinda slurred softly through a yawn, “What could be the matter at this early hour?” She brushed one of her mass of gray curls out of her eyes and rose up on her elbow to watch Gracie at the window.
“A man in the alley is trying to control his skittish horse while he throws the hotel garbage in his wagon. Looks to me like the fellow’s making matters worse by getting hostile with the horse. If you was to ask me, that man’s not much good with horses. He’s not smart enough to realize the poor nag’s scared more by his voice than by the noise the garbage makes hitting the wagon bottom,” the elderly woman surmised in an expert tone.
The jittery critter pranced, jerking the wagon back and forth. The man had trouble hitting where he aimed when he threw the garbage at the wagon. Finally, he emptied the barrels and climbed up to the seat. With a loud curse, he gave a hard flick of the reins. The skittish horse moved forward with a dancing prance.
Now that the show was over, Gracie took the time to inspect another man, leaning against the back of the saloon. With one foot hiked up on the wall, he sat on his worn thin, scuffed, boot. If not a tramp then maybe a sharecropper. He wore faded jeans with jagged holes at the knees and a thread bare, reddish, flannel shirt. An indolent air was apparent about him as he reared back against the building with his thumbs stuck in his jean pockets. His head, hidden by a dusty, straw hat with the brim drooping, turned slightly as he watched the garbage collector leave the alley.
With as much noise as the collector and horse made, the sharecropper being able to sleep that close seemed like an impossible feat for sure. Besides as far as Gracie knew, only horses could stand and sleep. Maybe cows sometimes, but not men. One thing for certain, she couldn’t sleep for that noise, and she was way up on the second floor of the hotel. So how could that man doze off right down there near the racket? From the look of him, most likely he spent more time with his elbows propped on the bar than he did working on his farm. That might explain his hearing problem.
The man raised his head up. He peered from under his straw hat’s frayed brim at Gracie’s window. He stiffened when he spotted her observing him. In a matter of seconds, he straightened up and put both feet on the ground, seemly more alert. He lowered his head again, but not quick enough. Gracie caught the cold look on his face and the thin lip sneer his seeing her produced. He had the look of a man who had been weaned on sour pickles. Puzzled by his reaction, she reasoned that since the man didn’t know her, it must be women in general that he didn’t like. He turned his back to the hotel and moseyed away with a right sided limp down the alley as though he didn’t have a reason to hurry. All at once, the man stopped. He leaned forward, putting his hands on his knees. His shoulders shook as he barked a racking, dry, smoker’s cough. Once the coughing fit left him, he walked to the boardwalk and turned in the direction of the saloon.
A feeling of foreboding attacked Gracie as he disappeared from sight. She hated it when that warning of danger surged through her. More often than not something came of the threatening premonitions that overwhelmed her.
Trying to ignore the dreaded feeling of something terrible to come, she turned back to Melinda and complained, “Sometimes I get mad at that rooster of Sara Bullock’s when he crows so early across the street from the rest home. Right now that rooster would be easier to take then these city noises. I’ll be glad when we get back to Locked Rock and can sleep in our own beds.”
“For Heaven sake, we just got here yesterday afternoon. Give it a chance. The time will
fly by. You’ll see. We’re awake now so we might as well get dressed. Miss Molly will be knocking on our door before you know it to get us to go with her for breakfast.” Melinda said in her soft voice. She stood up and leaned over the other bed in the room. Gently, she shook the sleeping woman’s limp shoulder. “Time to wake up, Libby.”
“Beats me how you can sleep so sound, Libby,” groused Gracie. “There was a ruckus in the alley just now, and you didn’t even hear a thing.”
The bed covers stirred. Libby Hook groaned. She stretched and rubbed her eyes. “You’d get used to city noises if you’d lived in a big enough one for a while,” she snapped sassily.
“Ain’t gonna happen,” Gracie bristled back at her.
As Melinda predicted, in a short time a series of light knocks tapped on the door. Molly Moser Lang called, “Ladies, are you awake?”
“Who’s got the key?” Libby asked, pulling her dress down over her petticoat. Pinching a handful of material on both sides, she shook her skirt the rest of the way to the floor.
“I have,” Gracie said. Reaching over to the night table beside her, she picked up the key and tossed it to Libby. “Good catch.”
Wordlessly, Libby opened the door and stood back. She pushed hairpins farther into the dark gray bun rolled on the back of her neck while she waited for Molly and Moxie to enter.
“Come on in, Miss Molly,” called Melinda. She placed the comb she’d used on her short, gray curls back in her black, cloth bag and tightened the drawstrings.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, Gracie deftly whipped three, long, thinning strands of gray hair into a braid while she studied Melinda. The lady’s soft, cheerful voice always sounded too sugary for so early in the morning, but Gracie resisted the urge to say so. Melinda would just laugh at her. She’d say Gracie was all out of sorts because of being woke up so rudely. Now that
she had time to think about it, Gracie reckoned Melinda was probably right.
Molly hurried through the door. “Are you ladies ready? We best go down to the dining room before we go over to the courthouse.”
Molly’s short friend and permanently, visiting house guest, Moxie McEntire, slid from behind her. “Good morning to ye all,” she greeted. “Let’s go sample city fare for a change. Sure and it tis a fact, I’m ready to eat breakfast.”
“You’re always ready to eat,” groused Gracie, stabbing a hairpin through the two braids she’d crowned round the top of her head.
She straightened her shoulders and flexed her fingers in her lap. She was always glad when she had that chore done. Didn’t take very long holding her arms up in the air to start her shoulders aching. That worried her. How would she get her hair braided when she couldn’t do it herself. The sad thought struck her that maybe she wouldn’t. Her scrappy hair would fly about her face and shoulders, giving her a witchy look. That thought didn’t make her mood any better.
“Well! Sure and ye are a chipper songbird this very morning,” quipped Moxie.
Gracie narrowed her eyes at Moxie.
Before she had a chance to retort, Molly asked, “Is something wrong already? Golly Moses, we just got here?”
“Gracie just woke up on the wrong side of the bed,” Libby criticized.
“I see.” Molly gave that an instant of thought. She decided to put off asking what was the matter with Gracie that early in the morning. “Why don’t we discuss it over breakfast. I agree with Moxie. I’m starving. Let’s go eat.” She headed out the open door.
As the Moser ladies trouped down the hall, Gracie let her mind wonder to what was
ahead that day. She wanted to see justice done as far as Mavis Jordan was concerned. After all,
she did commit the murder of their neighbor, Rachel Simpson, across the street from them in Locked Rock, Iowa the summer before. That wicked woman deserved whatever punishment she received from the law. Actually, Gracie thought she’d look forward to coming to the county seat to testify at Mavis’s trial. After a long, winter, the idea of doing something different besides sitting in front of the parlor fireplace all day seemed exciting to her at the time, but sleeping in this fancy hotel and putting up with all the finery that went with it hadn’t entered her mind. She was definitely out of her element. Now that the time had come, all she wanted to do was head back to Locked Rock as soon as she could. She wanted to be in familiar surroundings, with people she knew and to sleep in her own bed. No other bed at night felt as good as a fellow’s own bed.
Walking behind the other ladies, Gracie descended on the wide, scarlet carpeted stairs to the lobby. She looked down over the women’s bobbing heads in front of her at the vast space. This county seat hotel, for sure, was grander than Molly Lang’s Moser Mansion Rest Home For Women. She never thought she’d see the day she’d be staying in a building fancier than that place.
Forked shadows flickered across the wall beside her. Out of the corner of her eyes, Gracie caught the movements. She stopped, placed a hand on the beefy, oak railing to steady herself and looked up. Above her dangled two enormous chandeliers trimmed with shimmering, crystal bells. The lighting glowed through the glass bells, reflecting prisms that played off the lobby’s dome shaped, gilded wood ceiling. The prisms danced in brilliant, pastel shades of a rainbow like one that dressed up the sky after a quick, spring shower.
An urge of another sort hit her. What she wouldn’t give to be out on her farm on an April morning after a spring shower settled the dust, smelling the crisp, cleansed air. Instead, she was stuck amid dressed up strangers scurrying who knows where with never a how you do to anyone. In the next second, Gracie consoled herself that she wasn’t missing much on the farm right then. So far the first of April hadn’t felt much like spring. The days stayed stubbornly cold and dreary with the threat of a late snowstorm in the air.
Gracie surveyed the lobby. She wondered when the last time was she had seen so many people in one place. Maybe it was at Molly and Orie’s wedding last October. Though it could have been that ill fated barn dance after the wedding that Molly made her go to. Plenty of people turned up there. Even Millard Sokol showed up. Gracie shook her head. She decided she best not think about that wedding dance and her old beau if she wanted to get over her bad mood any time soon.
The hotel bustled with wall to wall people. A line formed at the reception desk. Dressed in a black, broadcloth suit and white shirt, the same clerk, that helped Molly yesterday afternoon, accepted returned keys or handed them back out from the wooden pegs on the wall behind him to other people checking in. A nervous fellow, his eyes darted around the lobby, seeming to miss nothing that went on around him. All the while, he talked to the hotel guests as if they had his full attention.
Over in one corner, people waited in line for their turn to ride up in the bronze elevator. A load of passengers behind the barred door rose and slowly disappeared from sight. That wasn’t to Gracie’s liking to be packed tight like a mess of catfish on a stringer in that hot cage. Besides she’d rather be doing the moving on the stairs with some elbow room instead of riding in that elevator with a cavernous hole under her. The stairs felt safer to her.
Covered with a stack of newspapers, a shiny, mahogany table, with bowed legs and gilded clawed feet, set between two large, crimson sofas in the middle of the lobby. Both sofas were already filled with people, reading the Cedar Valley newspaper. Glancing over one woman’s shoulder as she past by, Gracie made out the bold headlines, “Mavis Jordan Trial Starts Today - April 8, 1904”.
Showing posts with label series. Show all posts
Showing posts with label series. Show all posts
Friday, September 16, 2011
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
Winning Essay Sparks Book's Main Character
This is my winning essay entered in an Iowa Health Care Association contest about a resident at the local nursing home where I worked. This woman made such an impression on me that I made her the main character, Gracie Evans, in my Amazing Gracie Mystery Series. Meet my Gracie Evans in this post and next week I'll post about the first book, Neighbor Watchers, in my mystery series.
A Lady For All Seasons
Her back, bent at the shoulders, makes her appear shorter than she really is. Her thinning, hair, pulled tautly back into a long, narrow braid that rests on the collar of her blouse, indicates she is a no frills person. But the first thing we notice when we enter her room is the pictures on her walls. As colorful as any rainbow after an April shower, each picture holds special memories for her. An artist's rendition of her with blushing skin and spring in her eyes hangs next to a black and white photograph that was taken in the summer of her life. It shows her dressed in a work shirt and jeans, holding a favorite cat, with their cheeks touching. The caption reads "...... And family."
Next to the pictures is a row of calendars. One calendar of spirited horses reminds her of her days as a farmer tending livestock, and another has pictures of songbirds with the bird of the month, a redheaded woodpecker. More times than she can count, she had heard one of those birds pecking away at a tree while she checked her cattle.
Another calendar has a larger than life, crimson rose looming over the days of the month. She looks at that rose and remembers how much she enjoyed working in her garden and flower beds. The next calendar is three cuddly kittens, looking mischievous enough to bounce out of the picture and chase each other around her room. She remembers her barn being full of cats. They were useful to catch mice, but to her, they were playful company. The last calendar has on it a beagle standing with one paw in the air, looking as if he might chase after a rabbit. He reminds her of a large, black dog named Major that she raised. He wasn't smart enough to be a stock dog, she said, but he was her dog.
She and I have a rural life in common. I see the seasons of her life within her when I talk to her about what it was like on the farm. She giggles a youth giggle, her head bobbing up and down, as I tell her about a sitting hen that pecked me. She shows a look of concern when I talk about a problem I have with my animals as she remembers the summer of her life when she was tending livestock. There is wisdom from the autumn of her years as she offers me advice gathered from her experience in farming.
As I talk to her, it makes me wonder when I see how quick her mind works what it would be like for me in the winter of my life. After helping take care of people with Alzheimer's disease, including my father, I question, "Will my mind go dormant like my father's did, or like the lady of all seasons, will I have my own rainbow with a pot full of memories at the end?"
Monday, July 25, 2011
My Iowa Miss Marple
In 2000, I wasn't thinking about writing a cozy, humorous mystery series. At the time, I was reading Agatha Christie's Miss Marple books and had seen a few old Miss Marple movies on television. So in this post I want to explain how the idea came to me to write about my Iowa Miss Marple.
I worked at the local nursing home as a CNA, taking care of residents who were about my parents age. While I helped the residents I talked to them about their past and enjoyed hearing their stories which were in many ways similar to my parents tales of the past decades. Some of the residents had characteristics that made them stand out. Their mannerisms would be easy to describe, the way they spoke and phrases they used while telling me stories. Since I loved mysteries it occurred to me, in one resident, I'd found a Miss Marple of sorts. She wasn't the soft spoken, genteel English woman in Agate Christie's books. Quite the opposite, but I, like the people in my books who had their doubts about being able to get along with Gracie Evans, grew to like her. My Gracie was outspoken to the point of being rude. She was brashly independent. Manners didn't have a place in her life then and never had before. She had been too busy trying to survive.
It wasn't long after my Gracie arrived at the nursing home that I realized she put up a good front to back people off. She didn't have visitors except for nieces and nephews that rarely came, and was a loner that preferred to stay in her room. Living alone the better part of her life without companionship was all she knew, and she'd tried to make us believe that she liked it that way. It occurred to me that the end of her life should be better than the rest of it had been. I wished to see her smile instead of barking at everyone. So I came up with ways over the few years she was with us to make her days easier. I encouraged her to tell me about her life. Upper most was her love of animals. I identified with that as I always have a sheep or goat story to tell. Each spring I bring my babies to the nursing home and visit from room to room. One time I took her picture bottle feeding my lamb. The look on her face was ecstatic as memories came back of calves she'd saved. So I entered the nursing home's Iowa Heath Care Association's essay contest with "A Woman For All Seasons" and entered the photo contest with "A Bottle Full Of Memories".
The contests were state wide for every nursing home in the association, and I've never considered myself lucky. What I did was give my Gracie something to think about. Every time I worked, she'd ask if I'd heard from the contests. Several months later, the second shift nurse took the call from IHCA. She hunted me up to tell me I'd won the contest. That was vague. I said, "Which one? Essay or photo?" The nurse just looked at me with a silly grin. I asked weakly, "Was it both?" Yes, I had won both. What excitement that created. A reception with the head of the Association present. I insisted for once my Gracie come out of her room since she was really the guest of honor. She did for me what she might not have for anyone else. She came to the reception. I gave her a big bouquet of flowers I'd raised, because I was pretty sure the flower shop variety wouldn't impress her. She seemed more tickled with the flowers than she did being the center of attention. Pictures were taken by a newspaper and the nursing home to display on the bulletin board. My essay was going to be in local papers. At the end of the reception, she asked me what time it was. When I said after eleven, she yelled that she was missing The Young And The Restless. She had to get to her room. On the way, I asked if she wasn't at least a little impressed by the newspaper stories. She replied, as if it was no big deal, that she'd been in the newspapers before. To prove it, she made me hunt up a box of mementos in the top of her closet. Sure enough years before a Des Moines Register reporter had interviewed her at her home about her pioneer lifestyle. Okay so she wasn't impressed, but I was just getting started. I'd picked up on her appreciation of country flowers. Until she passed away, in the seasons I had flowers, I kept a fresh bouquet in her room.
There were so many holidays she must have missed out when she was alone. Perhaps, she considered the holidays just another day and didn't mind but I minded. One of the relatives brought her candy. She wasn't used to eating candy so she stored the sacks in her closet. Food couldn't stay there very long. It was Halloween. Kids in costumes come to the nursing home that evening to trick or treat for the residents in the living room. The nurse gives out the candy. I asked my Gracie if we could use her candy for the kids if they came to her room. At first, she begrudgingly said they could only have one piece each. I set the bowls of candy on her bedside table near her. I must admit I was nervous. She just might give the kids a scary Halloween. She'd expressed once that she didn't have much use for children. Of course, that feeling came from trying to teach some very unruly boys in a one room school house when she was a young girl. The children came, and I took them to her room. They did the usual trick or treat. She checked out their costumes and said gruffly but softly, "There's the candy. Take all you want." Hooray! I had given her an evening to remember.
Christmas was next. The employees draw resident names and give them a small gift at breakfast so no one is left out. I wanted my Gracie to have an extra special gift from me. I make last name doilies all the time so I crocheted her a doily with her first name on it and wrapped it so the gift would feel like Christmas. Immediately, she had me hang it on the wall over her bed.
For Easter I gave her a music box that played "You Light Up My Life" with a revolving angel on it. I asked the other aides to wind the box at bed time. She often had trouble going to sleep. Maybe the music would be soothing, and the slowly revolving angel would help her doze off. It did for as long as the box lasted. One night, the spring in the box exploded. The angel literally flew straight up from the box and did a nose dive on the floor. The aide helping her came to tell me. I asked if she was upset. The aide said he had never seen her laugh and this once she laughed so hard she had tears rolling down her cheeks. The angel had a broken wing. The aide repaired it and replaced it on the box. The music was gone for good but she still had her angel and the memory of a sight she found so very funny. From that night came a short story I entered in a contest and was awarded fifth place - "The Angel That Flew".
Her birthday was in March. I doubt anyone had made anything special out of the day ever. So I threw her a birthday she wouldn't forget. I baked a cake, decorated it and placed it on a small table in her room with paper saucers and plastic forks. I penned a banner on the tablecloth with Happy Birthday on it. Around the nursing home and on her door, I posted flyers that cordially invited everyone to stop by her room, wish her a happy birthday and enjoy her cake. By now it was a treat for her to have the attention and a good snack for break times for us.
I broke the news to her one day that I was going to write a book and use her for my main character if she didn't mind, but I'd change her name to Gracie Evans. She perked up and had all kinds of questions. Was it going to be paperback? What kind of story was it? When would the book be finished? I didn't get the book done until after she passed away. I'd have liked her to see the book and hold it, but I tell myself she wouldn't have been as impressed with the story as she was with the idea that I thought she was good writing material. I just published the sixth book in my Amazing Gracie Mysteries series. When I'm writing a story all I have to do is think about my Gracie and what she would do or say next. Makes writing the books a fun experience for me.
So this post is an introduction to my Miss Marple in Iowa and how I came to know her so well. Before long, I'll post about how I came up with Gracie's friend in my stories. She was the total opposite of Gracie in real life just as my fictitious Melinda Applegate is in my books. Next week I'm going to post my Gracie's essay "A Woman For All Seasons".
Did I treat all the residents I took care of the same way in almost sixteen years I worked at the nursing home? I couldn't have treated the job as just a job. To enjoy what I did, I put the effort in where it was needed and felt gratified by the way their eyes lit up when they saw me coming. They knew I wouldn't just help them. I'd listen to their stories when they wanted to reminisce and their complaints. The lucky ones had relatives that came often and saw to their needs. My friendliness and help was all that was required. For others, I became the friend they needed. After two and a half years of retirement, I still visit the residents that know me at least once a month. Now I can take my time and really visit with them. I don't have to go answer a call light.
I worked at the local nursing home as a CNA, taking care of residents who were about my parents age. While I helped the residents I talked to them about their past and enjoyed hearing their stories which were in many ways similar to my parents tales of the past decades. Some of the residents had characteristics that made them stand out. Their mannerisms would be easy to describe, the way they spoke and phrases they used while telling me stories. Since I loved mysteries it occurred to me, in one resident, I'd found a Miss Marple of sorts. She wasn't the soft spoken, genteel English woman in Agate Christie's books. Quite the opposite, but I, like the people in my books who had their doubts about being able to get along with Gracie Evans, grew to like her. My Gracie was outspoken to the point of being rude. She was brashly independent. Manners didn't have a place in her life then and never had before. She had been too busy trying to survive.
It wasn't long after my Gracie arrived at the nursing home that I realized she put up a good front to back people off. She didn't have visitors except for nieces and nephews that rarely came, and was a loner that preferred to stay in her room. Living alone the better part of her life without companionship was all she knew, and she'd tried to make us believe that she liked it that way. It occurred to me that the end of her life should be better than the rest of it had been. I wished to see her smile instead of barking at everyone. So I came up with ways over the few years she was with us to make her days easier. I encouraged her to tell me about her life. Upper most was her love of animals. I identified with that as I always have a sheep or goat story to tell. Each spring I bring my babies to the nursing home and visit from room to room. One time I took her picture bottle feeding my lamb. The look on her face was ecstatic as memories came back of calves she'd saved. So I entered the nursing home's Iowa Heath Care Association's essay contest with "A Woman For All Seasons" and entered the photo contest with "A Bottle Full Of Memories".
The contests were state wide for every nursing home in the association, and I've never considered myself lucky. What I did was give my Gracie something to think about. Every time I worked, she'd ask if I'd heard from the contests. Several months later, the second shift nurse took the call from IHCA. She hunted me up to tell me I'd won the contest. That was vague. I said, "Which one? Essay or photo?" The nurse just looked at me with a silly grin. I asked weakly, "Was it both?" Yes, I had won both. What excitement that created. A reception with the head of the Association present. I insisted for once my Gracie come out of her room since she was really the guest of honor. She did for me what she might not have for anyone else. She came to the reception. I gave her a big bouquet of flowers I'd raised, because I was pretty sure the flower shop variety wouldn't impress her. She seemed more tickled with the flowers than she did being the center of attention. Pictures were taken by a newspaper and the nursing home to display on the bulletin board. My essay was going to be in local papers. At the end of the reception, she asked me what time it was. When I said after eleven, she yelled that she was missing The Young And The Restless. She had to get to her room. On the way, I asked if she wasn't at least a little impressed by the newspaper stories. She replied, as if it was no big deal, that she'd been in the newspapers before. To prove it, she made me hunt up a box of mementos in the top of her closet. Sure enough years before a Des Moines Register reporter had interviewed her at her home about her pioneer lifestyle. Okay so she wasn't impressed, but I was just getting started. I'd picked up on her appreciation of country flowers. Until she passed away, in the seasons I had flowers, I kept a fresh bouquet in her room.
There were so many holidays she must have missed out when she was alone. Perhaps, she considered the holidays just another day and didn't mind but I minded. One of the relatives brought her candy. She wasn't used to eating candy so she stored the sacks in her closet. Food couldn't stay there very long. It was Halloween. Kids in costumes come to the nursing home that evening to trick or treat for the residents in the living room. The nurse gives out the candy. I asked my Gracie if we could use her candy for the kids if they came to her room. At first, she begrudgingly said they could only have one piece each. I set the bowls of candy on her bedside table near her. I must admit I was nervous. She just might give the kids a scary Halloween. She'd expressed once that she didn't have much use for children. Of course, that feeling came from trying to teach some very unruly boys in a one room school house when she was a young girl. The children came, and I took them to her room. They did the usual trick or treat. She checked out their costumes and said gruffly but softly, "There's the candy. Take all you want." Hooray! I had given her an evening to remember.
Christmas was next. The employees draw resident names and give them a small gift at breakfast so no one is left out. I wanted my Gracie to have an extra special gift from me. I make last name doilies all the time so I crocheted her a doily with her first name on it and wrapped it so the gift would feel like Christmas. Immediately, she had me hang it on the wall over her bed.
For Easter I gave her a music box that played "You Light Up My Life" with a revolving angel on it. I asked the other aides to wind the box at bed time. She often had trouble going to sleep. Maybe the music would be soothing, and the slowly revolving angel would help her doze off. It did for as long as the box lasted. One night, the spring in the box exploded. The angel literally flew straight up from the box and did a nose dive on the floor. The aide helping her came to tell me. I asked if she was upset. The aide said he had never seen her laugh and this once she laughed so hard she had tears rolling down her cheeks. The angel had a broken wing. The aide repaired it and replaced it on the box. The music was gone for good but she still had her angel and the memory of a sight she found so very funny. From that night came a short story I entered in a contest and was awarded fifth place - "The Angel That Flew".
Her birthday was in March. I doubt anyone had made anything special out of the day ever. So I threw her a birthday she wouldn't forget. I baked a cake, decorated it and placed it on a small table in her room with paper saucers and plastic forks. I penned a banner on the tablecloth with Happy Birthday on it. Around the nursing home and on her door, I posted flyers that cordially invited everyone to stop by her room, wish her a happy birthday and enjoy her cake. By now it was a treat for her to have the attention and a good snack for break times for us.
I broke the news to her one day that I was going to write a book and use her for my main character if she didn't mind, but I'd change her name to Gracie Evans. She perked up and had all kinds of questions. Was it going to be paperback? What kind of story was it? When would the book be finished? I didn't get the book done until after she passed away. I'd have liked her to see the book and hold it, but I tell myself she wouldn't have been as impressed with the story as she was with the idea that I thought she was good writing material. I just published the sixth book in my Amazing Gracie Mysteries series. When I'm writing a story all I have to do is think about my Gracie and what she would do or say next. Makes writing the books a fun experience for me.
So this post is an introduction to my Miss Marple in Iowa and how I came to know her so well. Before long, I'll post about how I came up with Gracie's friend in my stories. She was the total opposite of Gracie in real life just as my fictitious Melinda Applegate is in my books. Next week I'm going to post my Gracie's essay "A Woman For All Seasons".
Did I treat all the residents I took care of the same way in almost sixteen years I worked at the nursing home? I couldn't have treated the job as just a job. To enjoy what I did, I put the effort in where it was needed and felt gratified by the way their eyes lit up when they saw me coming. They knew I wouldn't just help them. I'd listen to their stories when they wanted to reminisce and their complaints. The lucky ones had relatives that came often and saw to their needs. My friendliness and help was all that was required. For others, I became the friend they needed. After two and a half years of retirement, I still visit the residents that know me at least once a month. Now I can take my time and really visit with them. I don't have to go answer a call light.
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
The Rainbow's End-Amish Fiction With A Twist-Chapter 1
If you like Amish fiction, here's your chance to try a sample of one of my books in my Nurse Hal Amish series.
This week's blog post is the first chapter from the second book. The title is The Rainbow's End. The book can be bought in my online bookstore www.booksbyfaybookstore.weebly.com which includes my blog if you want a sample of the book. The ebook is in the Kindle store and B&N nook store.
Nurse Hallie Lindstrom is trying to figure out if she could belong to an Amish family. She's spending a lot of her free time at the Lapp farm. John is building a medical clinic on the side of his house so Nurse Hal can give health care to the Amish community.
One day Stella Strutt shows up to check out the medical clinic and goes away dissatisfied with Nurse Hal and her efforts. When very few Amish come for treatment, Hal discovers that Stella Strutt is telling everyone to stay away. Hal has to decide if she loves John Lapp and his family enough to find away to win over the Amish community.
esuoH eeffoC yellA avaJ. Those six inch black letters arched in a horseshoe shape on the cafe's large, plate glass window. Underneath them thick, wavy, painted fingers of steam rose out of a delicate, white, china coffee cup. The steam swirled its way up toward the letters. Hallie Lindstrom's eyes lit on the words as she slid into the red cushioned booth. She wondered how the owner came up with the name Java Alley Coffee House. Not that she found anything wrong with the name, but the cafe sat in the middle of a row of buildings just off Main Street. No alley near it except the back one that the delivery trucks used. Hal had never known that one or any other alley in Wickenburg, Iowa to have a name.
She ducked her head to peer under the advertising so she could look up and down the street. She glanced at her watch. Her boss, Barb Sloan, should have shown up by now. She said she would close the Home Health Office at noon and meet here for lunch. It was already 12:20. Doesn't take very long to drive across this small town. Not much traffic any time of day and especially not at noon when everyone stops to eat. Hal had other things to do after lunch. She hated wasting time waiting for Barb.
Impatiently, she leaned back and stared at the ceiling while she drummed the table with her fingers. A dark brown splotch on the ceiling tile at the fan's base indicated a roof leak. The fan blades turned hypnotically slow.
The air flow was just enough to keep a fly from lighting anywhere close to the blades. The insect was persistent, leaving and coming right back to try to light in the brown spot again.
Hal looked around the room. Coffee always smelled better to her than it tasted. The different scents coming from the dozen coffee pots lined up behind the counter co-mingled together – hazelnut, french vanilla, southern pecan, and a variety of other flavors. She was thinking she should get the waitress's attention and at least order a cup of coffee when she saw Barb hustling across the room.
"I just about gave up on you," Hal said.
Breathless from rushing, Barb pushed her straight, brown, shoulder length hair away from her face and wheezed, "Had a last minute prospective client come in the office. Slowed me down, but I'm here now. Let's order. The minute I get a whiff of this place I've got to have a cup of flavored coffee." Barb waved at a waitress.
Shirley Graham, age 60, hustled toward them. Her silvery blonde hairdo was plastered around her face by a red baseball cap adorned with a big white C on it. Dressed in a black turtle neck sweater covered by a pink cardigan with black slacks, she wore black, tied, sensible shoes. Her small cross earrings matched a cross dangling from a fragile, gold chain necklace.
No customer could accuse Shirley of having a favorite sports team. She had a variety of sports caps in colors to match many of her outfits. Older than most of the waitresses, she held her own at the job. Shirley had been working long enough to be appreciated by her customers.
Order book out in front of her and pen poised, she asked briskly, "How's the day going for you two ladies?"
Hal smiled. "We're fine."
"But starved and thirsty," added Barb.
"What can I get you, Sweetie?"
"I want a toasted cheese and ham sandwich and vanilla coffee," Barb ordered.
Shirley shifted her weight and peered down her nose at Hal. "I'll take the same except I want hazelnut coffee."
"Be back in a jiffy, ladies." Shirley wheeled and headed for the kitchen. The sway of her cross earrings caught the light and flashed as she walked, warning everyone to get out of her way. She had an order to fill.
Barb leaned her elbows on the table and concentrated on Hal. "Now while we're waiting for our food, fill me in on your love life. I've been dying to find out."
"Boy, you get right to the point. Nothing much to tell. This morning, John and some neighbors started building a clinic room on the side of the house. Soon Amish people can come to our home to let me treat them. I doubt I get much business, but it may be the best way I have of proving I can be a productive member of their society so I get accepted by the Amish community," Hal said honestly. "I have to be accepted. It would make it hard on John and his children if I'm not."
Barb had a perplexed look in her hazel eyes. "The pay won't be very good from Amish patients. You realize that?"
"I know that," Hal admitted. "In fact, there isn't any pay. I will just be doing my share to help others."
"In that case, don't you think you better keep working a full schedule for the Home Health Department? You're one of the best nurses I have. I hate the fact that you're cutting back."
Hal shook her head. "No, I can't be two places at once. The Amish community needs to know they can count on me being home in the afternoons."
"Here you go, Sweeties," Shirley said when she set the coffee cups in front of them.
Waiting until the waitress departed, Barb pushed her cup over and leaned on the table to ask,
"When's the wedding?"
As Hal fingered the rim of her steaming coffee, the scent of hazelnut rose from the cup. She didn't look up when she answered, "Don't know."
"I suppose you have been too busy to set a date?" Barb suggested, eying her.
"Not exactly."
Puzzlement crossed Barb's face. "Then what exactly?"
Hal sighed. "John hasn't brought the wedding up since he asked me to marry him," she admitted reluctantly.
"Don't you think you should bring it up to him? It takes lots of planning for a wedding. You need to know what your deadline is," Barb insisted.
"Perhaps I should."
Barb looked concerned. "Mr. Lapp hasn't changed his mind, has he? He isn't expecting you to just be a live in nurse among other things?"
"No!" Hal expelled adamantly. "I'm sure he wants to marry me."
"Good. Am I going to be invited to the wedding?"
Hal giggled. "I'll make sure you are."
"Keep in mind, maybe you don't need much notice, but I do. I have to get a new dress," Barb teased.
Laughing, Hal said, "Noted."
After lunch, Hal was on the outskirts of town and coming up to Earnie Long's repair garage and gas station. She decided to pull in and get a can of Cherry Coke. Earnie's feet were sticking out from under a car in the garage. Hal walked to the overhead door and said, "Hey, Earnie, it's Hal Lindstrom. I just want a can of pop. I can leave my money on the counter if you don't want to stop what you're doing."
Earnie, his receding strawberry red hairline smeared with grease, wheeled out from under the car on a trolley. He gave her an oil smudged smile. "Knock yourself out, my girl."
Hal grinned back at him. "Thanks."
The last business, she past was the Kent feed store. That place always seemed to do a good business. If you went by the amount of pickups in the parking lot. Outside of town was the tree nursery. From the look of the front lot, the nursery had just gotten in a new shipment to add to the choices that grew in the fields behind the building. In large black pots, a variety of skinny fruit trees, red buds, flowering cherries and maples had sparse, bare limbs reaching skyward. Colorado Blue Spruce, Douglas fir, and arborvitae, in various sizes mingled, with rose of sharon, honeysuckle and privet hedge shrubs.
Once Hal was on the highway, she took in the rolling hills of southern Iowa. Oaks, cottonwoods, dogwoods and plum limbs swelled with buds. Weeping willows had turned yellow green. The season's birth was everywhere. Newborn calves and lambs frolicked across the pastures along side their mothers. With the changing of the seasons, she felt an excitement and joy. It was so good to be able to enjoy the scenery not covered in a coating of white.
She traveled these country roads almost every day. As she watched the now familiar scenery she sped past, she had a comforting sense she was headed for home. A feeling she hadn't experienced since she left her parents farm near Titonka, Iowa.
She turned off the pavement onto the gravel and headed west. Her mind raced over the last few months. How quickly she became involved with the Lapp family. Suddenly, her conversation with Barb played over in her head. The questions Barb put to her worried her. Though she would never tell her friend that. Why hadn't John brought up a wedding date? When she was at the Lapp farm she certainly felt like part of the family. She was sure that John loved her enough to marry her. Almost sure anyway. Emma, Noah and Daniel had accepted her. She loved them as if they were her own children. She was sure the Lapp children felt the same way about her.
Never the less, this was not going to be an easy union with all the hurtles faced by an English woman marrying an Amish man. Hal knew nothing about Amish ways. She certainly hadn't made it easy on John to get used to her. From the moment they met, she'd made one mistake after another. Things that would have made any sane English man have enough doubts about her to cause him to back off. Heaven knows why John Lapp fell in love with her. However, she was certainly glad that he did, because she loved him with her whole heart.
Hal slowed down to turn into the Lapp driveway. Attached to the post below the mailbox was a sign she hadn't noticed before. Emma must have put it up that morning. It read, All things Are Open Before God.
A bare square of dirt in the lawn along side the ditch was noticeable now that the snow had melted. A row of gallon milk jugs had been stuck in the dirt. Hal made a mental note to ask Emma what that was all about. In front of the barn were two buggies with horses attached. Hal noted that all Amish horses were as alike as Amish clothes, always red with dark red manes and tails.
The sound of hammers drew her attention to the house. She marveled at how the new room was going up so fast. Two men, John and a boy, up on ladders, nailed the framework to the rafters. A heavy set farmer, short legged with a ruddy, round face, turned to look as she slowed down. The other man, about John's age, was tall and lanky. The boy was around Emma's age.
Out of the corner of her eyes, Hal saw a low flying, black and white blur spring out of the ditch and rush toward her car. Her heart pounded as she skid to a stop. Patches, the Lapp dog, reared up and put his front paws on the door. He peered in at her, whining a greeting. Giving the window a lick with his long, juicy tongue, he showed her he was glad to see her. Hal pressed hard on the button and lowered her spit smeared window. She snapped, "Patches, get down."
The dog did as he was told. He loped ahead of her up the driveway and sat down to wait for her. Hal hated that he had started coming out on the road to greet her. She wanted the Lapp children to continue to like her. Running over their dog would definitely put a damper on their feelings for her. Besides, she was fond of Patches. No way did she want something to happen to the feisty pet.
Hal started her car and slowly halted in front of the house. Her face flushed when she noticed the Amish men twisted on the ladders to watch her. It crossed her mind that it sure would be easier for her if she could morph herself into an Amish woman whenever she needed to and slip quietly by those men. First impressions were important right now. What the men saw was a curly, copper-red mop of hair on a bright blue eyed English woman clothed in a bright green blouse and blue jeans. Her buggy happened to be a gaudy, copper sedan. Nothing about her spelled demur or plain. Some time soon, she would have to tone down in order to get the Amish community's approval before John announced he was going to marry her. Maybe the way she looked was the reason for John's slowness to discuss their wedding. If it was, she wished he would say so instead of her having to drag it out of him.
Wagging his tail, Patches jumped on her and licked her chin the minute she stepped out of the car.
This week's blog post is the first chapter from the second book. The title is The Rainbow's End. The book can be bought in my online bookstore www.booksbyfaybookstore.weebly.com which includes my blog if you want a sample of the book. The ebook is in the Kindle store and B&N nook store.
Nurse Hallie Lindstrom is trying to figure out if she could belong to an Amish family. She's spending a lot of her free time at the Lapp farm. John is building a medical clinic on the side of his house so Nurse Hal can give health care to the Amish community.
One day Stella Strutt shows up to check out the medical clinic and goes away dissatisfied with Nurse Hal and her efforts. When very few Amish come for treatment, Hal discovers that Stella Strutt is telling everyone to stay away. Hal has to decide if she loves John Lapp and his family enough to find away to win over the Amish community.
esuoH eeffoC yellA avaJ. Those six inch black letters arched in a horseshoe shape on the cafe's large, plate glass window. Underneath them thick, wavy, painted fingers of steam rose out of a delicate, white, china coffee cup. The steam swirled its way up toward the letters. Hallie Lindstrom's eyes lit on the words as she slid into the red cushioned booth. She wondered how the owner came up with the name Java Alley Coffee House. Not that she found anything wrong with the name, but the cafe sat in the middle of a row of buildings just off Main Street. No alley near it except the back one that the delivery trucks used. Hal had never known that one or any other alley in Wickenburg, Iowa to have a name.
She ducked her head to peer under the advertising so she could look up and down the street. She glanced at her watch. Her boss, Barb Sloan, should have shown up by now. She said she would close the Home Health Office at noon and meet here for lunch. It was already 12:20. Doesn't take very long to drive across this small town. Not much traffic any time of day and especially not at noon when everyone stops to eat. Hal had other things to do after lunch. She hated wasting time waiting for Barb.
Impatiently, she leaned back and stared at the ceiling while she drummed the table with her fingers. A dark brown splotch on the ceiling tile at the fan's base indicated a roof leak. The fan blades turned hypnotically slow.
The air flow was just enough to keep a fly from lighting anywhere close to the blades. The insect was persistent, leaving and coming right back to try to light in the brown spot again.
Hal looked around the room. Coffee always smelled better to her than it tasted. The different scents coming from the dozen coffee pots lined up behind the counter co-mingled together – hazelnut, french vanilla, southern pecan, and a variety of other flavors. She was thinking she should get the waitress's attention and at least order a cup of coffee when she saw Barb hustling across the room.
"I just about gave up on you," Hal said.
Breathless from rushing, Barb pushed her straight, brown, shoulder length hair away from her face and wheezed, "Had a last minute prospective client come in the office. Slowed me down, but I'm here now. Let's order. The minute I get a whiff of this place I've got to have a cup of flavored coffee." Barb waved at a waitress.
Shirley Graham, age 60, hustled toward them. Her silvery blonde hairdo was plastered around her face by a red baseball cap adorned with a big white C on it. Dressed in a black turtle neck sweater covered by a pink cardigan with black slacks, she wore black, tied, sensible shoes. Her small cross earrings matched a cross dangling from a fragile, gold chain necklace.
No customer could accuse Shirley of having a favorite sports team. She had a variety of sports caps in colors to match many of her outfits. Older than most of the waitresses, she held her own at the job. Shirley had been working long enough to be appreciated by her customers.
Order book out in front of her and pen poised, she asked briskly, "How's the day going for you two ladies?"
Hal smiled. "We're fine."
"But starved and thirsty," added Barb.
"What can I get you, Sweetie?"
"I want a toasted cheese and ham sandwich and vanilla coffee," Barb ordered.
Shirley shifted her weight and peered down her nose at Hal. "I'll take the same except I want hazelnut coffee."
"Be back in a jiffy, ladies." Shirley wheeled and headed for the kitchen. The sway of her cross earrings caught the light and flashed as she walked, warning everyone to get out of her way. She had an order to fill.
Barb leaned her elbows on the table and concentrated on Hal. "Now while we're waiting for our food, fill me in on your love life. I've been dying to find out."
"Boy, you get right to the point. Nothing much to tell. This morning, John and some neighbors started building a clinic room on the side of the house. Soon Amish people can come to our home to let me treat them. I doubt I get much business, but it may be the best way I have of proving I can be a productive member of their society so I get accepted by the Amish community," Hal said honestly. "I have to be accepted. It would make it hard on John and his children if I'm not."
Barb had a perplexed look in her hazel eyes. "The pay won't be very good from Amish patients. You realize that?"
"I know that," Hal admitted. "In fact, there isn't any pay. I will just be doing my share to help others."
"In that case, don't you think you better keep working a full schedule for the Home Health Department? You're one of the best nurses I have. I hate the fact that you're cutting back."
Hal shook her head. "No, I can't be two places at once. The Amish community needs to know they can count on me being home in the afternoons."
"Here you go, Sweeties," Shirley said when she set the coffee cups in front of them.
Waiting until the waitress departed, Barb pushed her cup over and leaned on the table to ask,
"When's the wedding?"
As Hal fingered the rim of her steaming coffee, the scent of hazelnut rose from the cup. She didn't look up when she answered, "Don't know."
"I suppose you have been too busy to set a date?" Barb suggested, eying her.
"Not exactly."
Puzzlement crossed Barb's face. "Then what exactly?"
Hal sighed. "John hasn't brought the wedding up since he asked me to marry him," she admitted reluctantly.
"Don't you think you should bring it up to him? It takes lots of planning for a wedding. You need to know what your deadline is," Barb insisted.
"Perhaps I should."
Barb looked concerned. "Mr. Lapp hasn't changed his mind, has he? He isn't expecting you to just be a live in nurse among other things?"
"No!" Hal expelled adamantly. "I'm sure he wants to marry me."
"Good. Am I going to be invited to the wedding?"
Hal giggled. "I'll make sure you are."
"Keep in mind, maybe you don't need much notice, but I do. I have to get a new dress," Barb teased.
Laughing, Hal said, "Noted."
After lunch, Hal was on the outskirts of town and coming up to Earnie Long's repair garage and gas station. She decided to pull in and get a can of Cherry Coke. Earnie's feet were sticking out from under a car in the garage. Hal walked to the overhead door and said, "Hey, Earnie, it's Hal Lindstrom. I just want a can of pop. I can leave my money on the counter if you don't want to stop what you're doing."
Earnie, his receding strawberry red hairline smeared with grease, wheeled out from under the car on a trolley. He gave her an oil smudged smile. "Knock yourself out, my girl."
Hal grinned back at him. "Thanks."
The last business, she past was the Kent feed store. That place always seemed to do a good business. If you went by the amount of pickups in the parking lot. Outside of town was the tree nursery. From the look of the front lot, the nursery had just gotten in a new shipment to add to the choices that grew in the fields behind the building. In large black pots, a variety of skinny fruit trees, red buds, flowering cherries and maples had sparse, bare limbs reaching skyward. Colorado Blue Spruce, Douglas fir, and arborvitae, in various sizes mingled, with rose of sharon, honeysuckle and privet hedge shrubs.
Once Hal was on the highway, she took in the rolling hills of southern Iowa. Oaks, cottonwoods, dogwoods and plum limbs swelled with buds. Weeping willows had turned yellow green. The season's birth was everywhere. Newborn calves and lambs frolicked across the pastures along side their mothers. With the changing of the seasons, she felt an excitement and joy. It was so good to be able to enjoy the scenery not covered in a coating of white.
She traveled these country roads almost every day. As she watched the now familiar scenery she sped past, she had a comforting sense she was headed for home. A feeling she hadn't experienced since she left her parents farm near Titonka, Iowa.
She turned off the pavement onto the gravel and headed west. Her mind raced over the last few months. How quickly she became involved with the Lapp family. Suddenly, her conversation with Barb played over in her head. The questions Barb put to her worried her. Though she would never tell her friend that. Why hadn't John brought up a wedding date? When she was at the Lapp farm she certainly felt like part of the family. She was sure that John loved her enough to marry her. Almost sure anyway. Emma, Noah and Daniel had accepted her. She loved them as if they were her own children. She was sure the Lapp children felt the same way about her.
Never the less, this was not going to be an easy union with all the hurtles faced by an English woman marrying an Amish man. Hal knew nothing about Amish ways. She certainly hadn't made it easy on John to get used to her. From the moment they met, she'd made one mistake after another. Things that would have made any sane English man have enough doubts about her to cause him to back off. Heaven knows why John Lapp fell in love with her. However, she was certainly glad that he did, because she loved him with her whole heart.
Hal slowed down to turn into the Lapp driveway. Attached to the post below the mailbox was a sign she hadn't noticed before. Emma must have put it up that morning. It read, All things Are Open Before God.
A bare square of dirt in the lawn along side the ditch was noticeable now that the snow had melted. A row of gallon milk jugs had been stuck in the dirt. Hal made a mental note to ask Emma what that was all about. In front of the barn were two buggies with horses attached. Hal noted that all Amish horses were as alike as Amish clothes, always red with dark red manes and tails.
The sound of hammers drew her attention to the house. She marveled at how the new room was going up so fast. Two men, John and a boy, up on ladders, nailed the framework to the rafters. A heavy set farmer, short legged with a ruddy, round face, turned to look as she slowed down. The other man, about John's age, was tall and lanky. The boy was around Emma's age.
Out of the corner of her eyes, Hal saw a low flying, black and white blur spring out of the ditch and rush toward her car. Her heart pounded as she skid to a stop. Patches, the Lapp dog, reared up and put his front paws on the door. He peered in at her, whining a greeting. Giving the window a lick with his long, juicy tongue, he showed her he was glad to see her. Hal pressed hard on the button and lowered her spit smeared window. She snapped, "Patches, get down."
The dog did as he was told. He loped ahead of her up the driveway and sat down to wait for her. Hal hated that he had started coming out on the road to greet her. She wanted the Lapp children to continue to like her. Running over their dog would definitely put a damper on their feelings for her. Besides, she was fond of Patches. No way did she want something to happen to the feisty pet.
Hal started her car and slowly halted in front of the house. Her face flushed when she noticed the Amish men twisted on the ladders to watch her. It crossed her mind that it sure would be easier for her if she could morph herself into an Amish woman whenever she needed to and slip quietly by those men. First impressions were important right now. What the men saw was a curly, copper-red mop of hair on a bright blue eyed English woman clothed in a bright green blouse and blue jeans. Her buggy happened to be a gaudy, copper sedan. Nothing about her spelled demur or plain. Some time soon, she would have to tone down in order to get the Amish community's approval before John announced he was going to marry her. Maybe the way she looked was the reason for John's slowness to discuss their wedding. If it was, she wished he would say so instead of her having to drag it out of him.
Wagging his tail, Patches jumped on her and licked her chin the minute she stepped out of the car.
Worldly Temptations-Book 3 Nurse Hal Amish Series-Chapter 1
Here I go again with the next synopsis and first chapter of my Nurse Hal Amish series. This book is titled Worldly Temptations.
How would you like it if you were told you have to throw away your cell phone and sell your car? You probably wouldn't. You don't have worry because there is a telephone booth three miles away from your farm that resembles an outhouse. You can make business calls but not social calls to chat with a friend. That is reserved for visiting in person on church Sunday or in between Sundays. As for transportation in all kinds of weather, you will be able to ride in an enclosed buggy pulled by a red horse like everyone else.
If you grow up Amish, the phone booth and buggy are a given. If you're English, the Amish way of doing things take getting used to for a woman who falls in love with an Amish farmer. Hallie Lindstrom grew up on a dairy farm in northern Iowa. She loves country life, but that doesn't mean she knows how to hitch up a horse to a buggy. Getting up before daylight to work on the farm was something her father did, but Hal was young with boys on her mind in those days. Now she's learning what it takes to labor on an Amish farm with machinery that is horse drawn in between doing her part to contribute to the Amish community by running a health clinic.
When book two The Rainbow's End came out, I had quite a few emails telling me to hurry up and write another Nurse Hal book. In the next one, they hoped for a wedding between Hal and John. I complied. The bishop is a friend. He's convinced Hal will be an asset to the Amish as a nurse as well as a helpmate to John Lapp who has three motherless children. Even so, he is determined that Hal must follow the church's laws. That means no cell phone or car that would lead to worldly temptations. Letting her keep her phone and car could set a bad example for young Amish the bishop wants to keep in the fold. With that decree in mind, John and Hal marry. When Hal is told it's time for her worldly possessions to go, she refuses to give them up. That means Hal is in enough trouble to get her sent away before she's had a chance to get used to being Amish.
The Worldly Temptations cover picture was taken on a neighboring farm. All I had to do was add the buggies. Take a look at booksbyfaybookstore.weebly.com or Amazon.
Chapter 1
Bacon! Hal pulled the sheet off her chin, wrinkled her nose and sniffed. Greasy, stomach rolling, strong smelling bacon. Whether she liked it or not that's what she smelled. Hal pressed one hand against her crazily pitching, queasy stomach and used the other to pull the sheet up over her nose to try to block the stink.
Mom must be cooking breakfast. She blinked her eyes and rubbed them, trying to wake up. A peek from one eye at the window told her it was still dark outside. What was Mom doing up this early? She glanced at the clock beside the bed and groaned softly. Three scarlet numbers, four and two zeros glared at her.
Hal grabbed her bathrobe and slipped into it on the way to the kitchen. She put her hands on her hips and studied her stocky, gray haired mother's back as she stood in of the cookstove. "Mom, do you know what time it is? I'd hoped I could sleep in a little longer. We've got a lot of work to do today to get ready for my wedding tomorrow. What are you doing up this early?"
"From what your Aunt Tootie found in a book about the Amish at the library, they always get up early. We need to get a move on so we get to the farm fairly soon. We don't want the Lapp family to think we're lazy people. You might as well get used to getting out of bed before daylight," Nora Lindstrom chided.
"I don't think they get up this early," groaned Hal.
Nora forked the bacon from the skillet onto a plate. "You sure? Maybe we should ask John so you know for sure."
"No, don't bother," Hal said brusquely and changed the subject. "No breakfast for me, Mom. I don't think I could eat a bit,"
Nora focused a knowing smile on her daughter. "Didn't fix you any. This is for your dad. I'm not so old that I don't remember my wedding day. Didn't think you'd be able to eat much today or tomorrow until after the wedding is over. The coffee's done if you want a cup."
"Sure. That I need to wake me up," Hal said dryly. As she poured, she said, "Thanks, Mom, for helping me box up my things last night. It won't take long to clear out the apartment now. I know that was a chore you didn't expect as soon as you arrived yesterday. You had to be tired after that long drive from Titonka."
"Wasn't that big a job. I was glad to help." Nora broke two eggs into the hot greasy skillet.
"I cleaned out my closet before I went to bed and sacked my clothes to give Good Will. We can put them in the drop off box this morning on the way out of town," Hal said, staring off into space.
The sound in Hal's voice made Nora twist to study her. "You don't sound so all right about giving away your clothes."
"That is hard. I like my English clothes, but when I think about choosing between a fashion statement and a family, there's no contest," Hal said, sitting down at the table with her coffee. "I've one box of photo albums I'd like Dad to put in the car trunk so you don't go off without it. You might as well take the pictures home with you. I hate to throw them away."
"I get it that the Amish don't want pictures taken of them," Nora started. "But ----."
"They think when someone takes a picture of them that's stealing their soul. The bible says no graven images," Hal interrupted.
"I know all that, but you weren't Amish when those pictures were taken. I'd think you could at least take the small album with your grandparents, parents, aunts and uncles in it to your new home. Someday John's children and hopefully, some of your own would like to see what you looked like as a child and their ancestors."
"You think?" Hal said optimistically.
Her mother's head, brown hair feathered with gray, nodded. She had her attention on the eggs she was turning. "Can't see how it would be bad to have pictures of people who didn't believe the graven image scripture. John and his family should be broad minded enough to allow you your family pictures."
"You're right, Mom. I hate to give that album up. The school pictures, it doesn't really bother me to not ever see again. All right, I'll slip the small album in with the bedding and tuck it away in a drawer for the future. Thanks, Mom."
"You're welcome." Nora turned her head toward the hallway and yelled, "Jim, get out here and eat. Your breakfast is ready." The toaster banged. Two pieces of toast shot up. Further warning breakfast was about to be served whether Jim was ready or not. Nora buttered each slice before she scooted them on a plate beside the bacon and hard fried eggs.
Hal's father, his gray hair sticking out in all directions, shuffled down the hall. He plopped down at the table. Hal stared at the cholesterol, heart attack precursor filled plate Nora placed in front of her father. She made a mental note when her mother wasn't listening to remind him to go to the doctor for a physical once in awhile.
Jim winked at his wife and grinned at his daughter. "Well, how you feeling this morning, Hallie?"
"Not so hot," Hal conceded. She rubbed her stomach, feeling urpy now that she'd looked at and smelled his plate of food. She'd swear her mother deliberately waved it under her nose before she set the plate down.
"She's got wedding jitters," giggled Nora behind her hand to Jim.
"I have not. I'm just not hungry is all," snapped Hal, peevishly.
Jim shrugged his broad farmer shoulders. "Whatever you say, Daughter. But jitters are to be expected. If you was to have some, that is, it would be all right. By afternoon tomorrow you'll be feeling less nervous once the wedding is over. What time is the wedding buggy coming for us in the morning?"
Hal's eyebrows furrowed together as she set her cup down. "There isn't any wedding buggy. What made you think there was?"
"Tootie told your mother her Amish book said you'd have to arrive at the wedding in a buggy," Jim said before he crunched on a bacon strip.
"That might be if you were Amish, but you're not and you don't own a buggy. For your information, we're going to the Lapp farm in your car in the morning. You're driving because you are my father," informed Hal.
"I thought you couldn't ride in a car after today," he said with a puzzled look.
"I can so ride in one. I'm just not supposed to drive one including my own," Hal groaned, tapping the table with her fingers.
Nora poured a cup of coffee and sit down next to Hal. She perked up as an idea struck her. "When you're ready to sell your car, Dear, can your cousin, Cindy, buy it? Tootie's been looking for a car for her to drive to college this fall."
"I'm not selling my car," Hal barked.
Jim looked baffled. "I thought you just said you couldn't drive it. You might as well get rid of it. Not good for a car to never be run."
"I'm stalling while I try to think of a way around that," retorted Hal, tipping the cup for the last sip. "Listen, I'm going to go take a shower and get ready to leave. Emma will be bustling around, trying to do everything by herself." She darted a look at her mother. "We might as well be useful now that we're up."
"Does it matter what I wear to the wedding?" Her father asked, looking worried.
"A suit would be nice," Hal explained patiently.
"I brought that. What do Amish men wear?"
"Black suits and black hats with a white shirt," she answered.
"They wear hats! I just bought a white western hat. I have it with me," Jim said excitedly.
"Oh, please no! Not a white western hat!" Hal cried.
"Why not?"
"The Amish wear black felt hats or straw hats, but during the wedding or a church meeting, they won't have a hat on. To wear a white hat wouldn't do at all at the wedding and maybe never when you're visiting the Amish," Hal scolded.
Jim scratched a sideburn. The action reminded Hal of John when he couldn't figure out what to make of her way of thinking. Finally, he said quietly, "All right, I won't wear the hat, but I still don't see why not."
"Because I want John and his children to like you. That's why not. Mom, can you explain it to him?" Hal pleaded.
Nora sighed and patted her hand. "I'll try, dear, but I'm confused, too. I'm not so sure I understand all this myself. It seems to me from what you tell us Amish life may be entirely different from the way Tootie drilled it into us."
Hal showered and put on her pale green dress and white apron. After she pulled a wet comb through her copper red hair, she braided as much of it as she could. She wrapped the braid around her head before she clamped her white prayer cap down tight. When she studied her image in the mirror, Hal gave herself a disgusted look. She had to face it. With bright, frizzy hair like hers, nothing was going to keep her from looking like Harpo Marx with a bald spot.
At the same time as she chided herself, she knew she should feel lucky. No matter how she looked, John and the kids seemed to love her anyway. She was getting a good, understanding Plain husband and a ready made family of three kids. Dear fifteen year old Emma was a mother hen to everyone including her. Frankly, Hal didn't know how she would manage being a housewife or motherhood if Emma wasn't there to help her. Being a nurse was a breeze compare to what Amish housewives had to know.
John's oldest son, Noah, twelve years old going on thirty, was so serious, and ten year old Daniel, kept excitement and fun in all their lives with his mischievous nature.
Hal grabbed the garbage sack stuffed with clothes out of the corner and headed for the living room. Mom watched out the window as a blue jay lit on the bird feeder. Her father had the local news channel on. Both of them seemed to be patiently waiting on her.
"Ready, you guys?" Hal asked.
"My don't you look -----," Nora searched for the right word as she surveyed her daughter.
"Different, Mom?" Hal questioned edgily. "Is that the word?"
"No, I wouldn't have said that at all. You look nice," Nora replied.
"Sorry it took me so long to get ready. I couldn't do a thing with my hair this morning," Hal complained.
"Why don't you get it cut off today," Jim suggested.
"Can't," Hal said quickly. "Amish women don't cut their hair ever."
Nora frowned, "Seems like there is an awful lot of don't rules when you belong to this group."
"Group? Mom, this isn't some club I'm joining. I'm getting married, and I'm part of the Amish faith now," Hal said plaintively.
"I agree with your mother. Can't you just tell them you forgot about rule 347 and go get your hair cut this once before they can stop you," her dad said dryly.
"No, I can't."
"Are there any good things about being Amish?" Nora asked, wrinkling up her nose.
"Yes, you're getting a nice son-in-law, three sweet grandchildren and a happy daughter," Hal assured her.
Putting a stop to the subject, Hal dropped the clothes bag and rushed back to her bedroom. She placed the box of pictures she'd forgotten earlier under her arm, letting it rest on her hip. Hal returned to the living room and handed her father the bag then ushered her parents out the door. She glanced back long enough to scan the living room and what she could see through the door to the kitchen. John and the boys would help her move her things out of the apartment before the end of the month. The living room furniture was in better shape than John's so he was going to put those items in their living room. She was glad about that. The Lapp couch was in sad shape after all the years the children bounced on it.
Hal eyed the crystal stemmed lamp by her recliner. A breeze from the open door made the fringe on the end of the shade shutter. She liked that lamp, but it was electric. Not being able to keep that lamp meant good bye to one life and get used to another entirely different way of living. She hoped from tomorrow on her life would be all she wanted it to be, and that she'd prepared herself well enough to accept the drastic changes she faced.
Hal turned the key in the door lock and twisted around to find her mother watching her intently. "Are you sure, Hal, that this new life is really what you want?"
"I'm sure. I was just making a mental of list of my things that I could take to the farm." Hal sighed before she added, "I really like my crystal lamp, but it's electric. Suppose Cindy could use it in her college dorm?"
"Don't know, but if she doesn't want it I can find a place for the lamp," Nora said eagerly.
"All right, before you leave for home let's go for a walk through the apartment and anything with a cord that will fit in the car is yours," Hal said.
"You can change your mind," Nora suggested.
"No, I can't. This apartment is full of just stuff. I don't need stuff. I need John and the kids. I wouldn't back out on them. This new life is what I want, but sometimes I wonder if I'm up to the challenge of being Amish," Hal said.
"You can succeed at anything if you really want to. All you have to do is keep trying until you get it right," Nora said sagely.
"Is that all there is to it, Mom?"
"Being Amish is a new way of life for you. There are bound to be some mistakes made along the way, but your Amish family and friends will help you. Before you know it, you'll get the hang of it with John and the children by your side supporting you. I'm sure of it," Nora said, hugging her daughter.
The car window whine down. "Are you two coming? I won't get to the farm before John has the cows milked if you don't hurry."
An amber glow lit up the dark eastern sky as the top edge of the sun peeked above the apartment house across the street. Hal hated to say so out loud, but she feared her dad was right. The milking would be over before they got to the farm.
How would you like it if you were told you have to throw away your cell phone and sell your car? You probably wouldn't. You don't have worry because there is a telephone booth three miles away from your farm that resembles an outhouse. You can make business calls but not social calls to chat with a friend. That is reserved for visiting in person on church Sunday or in between Sundays. As for transportation in all kinds of weather, you will be able to ride in an enclosed buggy pulled by a red horse like everyone else.
If you grow up Amish, the phone booth and buggy are a given. If you're English, the Amish way of doing things take getting used to for a woman who falls in love with an Amish farmer. Hallie Lindstrom grew up on a dairy farm in northern Iowa. She loves country life, but that doesn't mean she knows how to hitch up a horse to a buggy. Getting up before daylight to work on the farm was something her father did, but Hal was young with boys on her mind in those days. Now she's learning what it takes to labor on an Amish farm with machinery that is horse drawn in between doing her part to contribute to the Amish community by running a health clinic.
When book two The Rainbow's End came out, I had quite a few emails telling me to hurry up and write another Nurse Hal book. In the next one, they hoped for a wedding between Hal and John. I complied. The bishop is a friend. He's convinced Hal will be an asset to the Amish as a nurse as well as a helpmate to John Lapp who has three motherless children. Even so, he is determined that Hal must follow the church's laws. That means no cell phone or car that would lead to worldly temptations. Letting her keep her phone and car could set a bad example for young Amish the bishop wants to keep in the fold. With that decree in mind, John and Hal marry. When Hal is told it's time for her worldly possessions to go, she refuses to give them up. That means Hal is in enough trouble to get her sent away before she's had a chance to get used to being Amish.
The Worldly Temptations cover picture was taken on a neighboring farm. All I had to do was add the buggies. Take a look at booksbyfaybookstore.weebly.com or Amazon.
Chapter 1
Bacon! Hal pulled the sheet off her chin, wrinkled her nose and sniffed. Greasy, stomach rolling, strong smelling bacon. Whether she liked it or not that's what she smelled. Hal pressed one hand against her crazily pitching, queasy stomach and used the other to pull the sheet up over her nose to try to block the stink.
Mom must be cooking breakfast. She blinked her eyes and rubbed them, trying to wake up. A peek from one eye at the window told her it was still dark outside. What was Mom doing up this early? She glanced at the clock beside the bed and groaned softly. Three scarlet numbers, four and two zeros glared at her.
Hal grabbed her bathrobe and slipped into it on the way to the kitchen. She put her hands on her hips and studied her stocky, gray haired mother's back as she stood in of the cookstove. "Mom, do you know what time it is? I'd hoped I could sleep in a little longer. We've got a lot of work to do today to get ready for my wedding tomorrow. What are you doing up this early?"
"From what your Aunt Tootie found in a book about the Amish at the library, they always get up early. We need to get a move on so we get to the farm fairly soon. We don't want the Lapp family to think we're lazy people. You might as well get used to getting out of bed before daylight," Nora Lindstrom chided.
"I don't think they get up this early," groaned Hal.
Nora forked the bacon from the skillet onto a plate. "You sure? Maybe we should ask John so you know for sure."
"No, don't bother," Hal said brusquely and changed the subject. "No breakfast for me, Mom. I don't think I could eat a bit,"
Nora focused a knowing smile on her daughter. "Didn't fix you any. This is for your dad. I'm not so old that I don't remember my wedding day. Didn't think you'd be able to eat much today or tomorrow until after the wedding is over. The coffee's done if you want a cup."
"Sure. That I need to wake me up," Hal said dryly. As she poured, she said, "Thanks, Mom, for helping me box up my things last night. It won't take long to clear out the apartment now. I know that was a chore you didn't expect as soon as you arrived yesterday. You had to be tired after that long drive from Titonka."
"Wasn't that big a job. I was glad to help." Nora broke two eggs into the hot greasy skillet.
"I cleaned out my closet before I went to bed and sacked my clothes to give Good Will. We can put them in the drop off box this morning on the way out of town," Hal said, staring off into space.
The sound in Hal's voice made Nora twist to study her. "You don't sound so all right about giving away your clothes."
"That is hard. I like my English clothes, but when I think about choosing between a fashion statement and a family, there's no contest," Hal said, sitting down at the table with her coffee. "I've one box of photo albums I'd like Dad to put in the car trunk so you don't go off without it. You might as well take the pictures home with you. I hate to throw them away."
"I get it that the Amish don't want pictures taken of them," Nora started. "But ----."
"They think when someone takes a picture of them that's stealing their soul. The bible says no graven images," Hal interrupted.
"I know all that, but you weren't Amish when those pictures were taken. I'd think you could at least take the small album with your grandparents, parents, aunts and uncles in it to your new home. Someday John's children and hopefully, some of your own would like to see what you looked like as a child and their ancestors."
"You think?" Hal said optimistically.
Her mother's head, brown hair feathered with gray, nodded. She had her attention on the eggs she was turning. "Can't see how it would be bad to have pictures of people who didn't believe the graven image scripture. John and his family should be broad minded enough to allow you your family pictures."
"You're right, Mom. I hate to give that album up. The school pictures, it doesn't really bother me to not ever see again. All right, I'll slip the small album in with the bedding and tuck it away in a drawer for the future. Thanks, Mom."
"You're welcome." Nora turned her head toward the hallway and yelled, "Jim, get out here and eat. Your breakfast is ready." The toaster banged. Two pieces of toast shot up. Further warning breakfast was about to be served whether Jim was ready or not. Nora buttered each slice before she scooted them on a plate beside the bacon and hard fried eggs.
Hal's father, his gray hair sticking out in all directions, shuffled down the hall. He plopped down at the table. Hal stared at the cholesterol, heart attack precursor filled plate Nora placed in front of her father. She made a mental note when her mother wasn't listening to remind him to go to the doctor for a physical once in awhile.
Jim winked at his wife and grinned at his daughter. "Well, how you feeling this morning, Hallie?"
"Not so hot," Hal conceded. She rubbed her stomach, feeling urpy now that she'd looked at and smelled his plate of food. She'd swear her mother deliberately waved it under her nose before she set the plate down.
"She's got wedding jitters," giggled Nora behind her hand to Jim.
"I have not. I'm just not hungry is all," snapped Hal, peevishly.
Jim shrugged his broad farmer shoulders. "Whatever you say, Daughter. But jitters are to be expected. If you was to have some, that is, it would be all right. By afternoon tomorrow you'll be feeling less nervous once the wedding is over. What time is the wedding buggy coming for us in the morning?"
Hal's eyebrows furrowed together as she set her cup down. "There isn't any wedding buggy. What made you think there was?"
"Tootie told your mother her Amish book said you'd have to arrive at the wedding in a buggy," Jim said before he crunched on a bacon strip.
"That might be if you were Amish, but you're not and you don't own a buggy. For your information, we're going to the Lapp farm in your car in the morning. You're driving because you are my father," informed Hal.
"I thought you couldn't ride in a car after today," he said with a puzzled look.
"I can so ride in one. I'm just not supposed to drive one including my own," Hal groaned, tapping the table with her fingers.
Nora poured a cup of coffee and sit down next to Hal. She perked up as an idea struck her. "When you're ready to sell your car, Dear, can your cousin, Cindy, buy it? Tootie's been looking for a car for her to drive to college this fall."
"I'm not selling my car," Hal barked.
Jim looked baffled. "I thought you just said you couldn't drive it. You might as well get rid of it. Not good for a car to never be run."
"I'm stalling while I try to think of a way around that," retorted Hal, tipping the cup for the last sip. "Listen, I'm going to go take a shower and get ready to leave. Emma will be bustling around, trying to do everything by herself." She darted a look at her mother. "We might as well be useful now that we're up."
"Does it matter what I wear to the wedding?" Her father asked, looking worried.
"A suit would be nice," Hal explained patiently.
"I brought that. What do Amish men wear?"
"Black suits and black hats with a white shirt," she answered.
"They wear hats! I just bought a white western hat. I have it with me," Jim said excitedly.
"Oh, please no! Not a white western hat!" Hal cried.
"Why not?"
"The Amish wear black felt hats or straw hats, but during the wedding or a church meeting, they won't have a hat on. To wear a white hat wouldn't do at all at the wedding and maybe never when you're visiting the Amish," Hal scolded.
Jim scratched a sideburn. The action reminded Hal of John when he couldn't figure out what to make of her way of thinking. Finally, he said quietly, "All right, I won't wear the hat, but I still don't see why not."
"Because I want John and his children to like you. That's why not. Mom, can you explain it to him?" Hal pleaded.
Nora sighed and patted her hand. "I'll try, dear, but I'm confused, too. I'm not so sure I understand all this myself. It seems to me from what you tell us Amish life may be entirely different from the way Tootie drilled it into us."
Hal showered and put on her pale green dress and white apron. After she pulled a wet comb through her copper red hair, she braided as much of it as she could. She wrapped the braid around her head before she clamped her white prayer cap down tight. When she studied her image in the mirror, Hal gave herself a disgusted look. She had to face it. With bright, frizzy hair like hers, nothing was going to keep her from looking like Harpo Marx with a bald spot.
At the same time as she chided herself, she knew she should feel lucky. No matter how she looked, John and the kids seemed to love her anyway. She was getting a good, understanding Plain husband and a ready made family of three kids. Dear fifteen year old Emma was a mother hen to everyone including her. Frankly, Hal didn't know how she would manage being a housewife or motherhood if Emma wasn't there to help her. Being a nurse was a breeze compare to what Amish housewives had to know.
John's oldest son, Noah, twelve years old going on thirty, was so serious, and ten year old Daniel, kept excitement and fun in all their lives with his mischievous nature.
Hal grabbed the garbage sack stuffed with clothes out of the corner and headed for the living room. Mom watched out the window as a blue jay lit on the bird feeder. Her father had the local news channel on. Both of them seemed to be patiently waiting on her.
"Ready, you guys?" Hal asked.
"My don't you look -----," Nora searched for the right word as she surveyed her daughter.
"Different, Mom?" Hal questioned edgily. "Is that the word?"
"No, I wouldn't have said that at all. You look nice," Nora replied.
"Sorry it took me so long to get ready. I couldn't do a thing with my hair this morning," Hal complained.
"Why don't you get it cut off today," Jim suggested.
"Can't," Hal said quickly. "Amish women don't cut their hair ever."
Nora frowned, "Seems like there is an awful lot of don't rules when you belong to this group."
"Group? Mom, this isn't some club I'm joining. I'm getting married, and I'm part of the Amish faith now," Hal said plaintively.
"I agree with your mother. Can't you just tell them you forgot about rule 347 and go get your hair cut this once before they can stop you," her dad said dryly.
"No, I can't."
"Are there any good things about being Amish?" Nora asked, wrinkling up her nose.
"Yes, you're getting a nice son-in-law, three sweet grandchildren and a happy daughter," Hal assured her.
Putting a stop to the subject, Hal dropped the clothes bag and rushed back to her bedroom. She placed the box of pictures she'd forgotten earlier under her arm, letting it rest on her hip. Hal returned to the living room and handed her father the bag then ushered her parents out the door. She glanced back long enough to scan the living room and what she could see through the door to the kitchen. John and the boys would help her move her things out of the apartment before the end of the month. The living room furniture was in better shape than John's so he was going to put those items in their living room. She was glad about that. The Lapp couch was in sad shape after all the years the children bounced on it.
Hal eyed the crystal stemmed lamp by her recliner. A breeze from the open door made the fringe on the end of the shade shutter. She liked that lamp, but it was electric. Not being able to keep that lamp meant good bye to one life and get used to another entirely different way of living. She hoped from tomorrow on her life would be all she wanted it to be, and that she'd prepared herself well enough to accept the drastic changes she faced.
Hal turned the key in the door lock and twisted around to find her mother watching her intently. "Are you sure, Hal, that this new life is really what you want?"
"I'm sure. I was just making a mental of list of my things that I could take to the farm." Hal sighed before she added, "I really like my crystal lamp, but it's electric. Suppose Cindy could use it in her college dorm?"
"Don't know, but if she doesn't want it I can find a place for the lamp," Nora said eagerly.
"All right, before you leave for home let's go for a walk through the apartment and anything with a cord that will fit in the car is yours," Hal said.
"You can change your mind," Nora suggested.
"No, I can't. This apartment is full of just stuff. I don't need stuff. I need John and the kids. I wouldn't back out on them. This new life is what I want, but sometimes I wonder if I'm up to the challenge of being Amish," Hal said.
"You can succeed at anything if you really want to. All you have to do is keep trying until you get it right," Nora said sagely.
"Is that all there is to it, Mom?"
"Being Amish is a new way of life for you. There are bound to be some mistakes made along the way, but your Amish family and friends will help you. Before you know it, you'll get the hang of it with John and the children by your side supporting you. I'm sure of it," Nora said, hugging her daughter.
The car window whine down. "Are you two coming? I won't get to the farm before John has the cows milked if you don't hurry."
An amber glow lit up the dark eastern sky as the top edge of the sun peeked above the apartment house across the street. Hal hated to say so out loud, but she feared her dad was right. The milking would be over before they got to the farm.
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Goshen College Amish & Mennonite Author List
Why am I interested? I write Amish fiction, and I'm on the list. After I self published I've always been on the lookout for free websites to promote my books. It was my worry that I'd write a book that doesn't sell after I hired a firm to promote for me. What works for me might not be the way most authors publish and sell their book. I've put my books in different author sites and blog posts, thinking that might take longer than paid advertising, but I wouldn't lose money. Besides, I can always work on another book at the same time. At the same time, I'm always looking for other sites I can submit to. That's why I put my name or book titles in google search often to see what has turned up on the Internet. Some of the links are where my books are sold and many of the google searches came from my promoting and blog posts. I like it when I find what I've done so far leads to a submission on google that I didn't submit. This information I found recently. The website is Center for Mennonite Writing
Ervin Beck, Professor Emeritus of English at Goshen College is editor of Journal of the Center and maintains the website. He wanted to write an article about serial fiction by and about Mennonites and Amish. He intended to make a list of authors and knew of eleven. So he sent his list to Joe Springer, Curator of Goshen College. The list of authors Professor Beck got back was about three times longer.
Professor Beck complied an informal bibliography containing a complete listing of authors, brief biographies, name of series, publishers, individual books and dates of publication which is listed on his website.
Guess what? The first two books in my Nurse Hal Among The Amish series had made Joe Sprinter's list. He's always on the look out for new authors and their Amish or Mennonite books so he keeps an up to date list. Information is in the Mennonite Historical Library list at Goshen College.
What didn't make the list was the stand alone titles such as Jodi Picoult's best selling Plain Truth. Since this is the first list he's posted some fiction series probably have been unintentionally omitted. Professor Beck says corrections and additions are welcome.
Later I checked again and found another list of Amish books on a Bethel College, Kansas site Mennonite Library & Archives complied by Barbara A. Thiesen. Joe Springer had helped her with the list and for 2007 - 2008 he had added my Amish book Christmas Traditions which isn't in the series and happens to be in the library. Actually, the main character in that book is in my Nurse Hal series but adding her to the series came as an after thought.
As the writer of Amish fiction, the lists were interesting to read. Of course, I was thrilled to find my name made both lists. It's an honor to be included. I was surprised since I'm new as an author and an Independent one. When I wrote the first Nurse Hal book I didn't think about starting a series. That idea came from the readers of the first book A Promise Is A Promise. They wanted me to keep writing about Nurse Hal. It's amazing how everything seems to fall into place for a reason. The powerful reach of the Internet doesn't hurt, either. That helps me pick up new readers interested in my books.
This is my latest Nurse Hal Among The Amish book number 3 Hal's Worldly Temptations sold on Amazon as paperback and kindle and in Nook
Ervin Beck, Professor Emeritus of English at Goshen College is editor of Journal of the Center and maintains the website. He wanted to write an article about serial fiction by and about Mennonites and Amish. He intended to make a list of authors and knew of eleven. So he sent his list to Joe Springer, Curator of Goshen College. The list of authors Professor Beck got back was about three times longer.
Professor Beck complied an informal bibliography containing a complete listing of authors, brief biographies, name of series, publishers, individual books and dates of publication which is listed on his website.
Guess what? The first two books in my Nurse Hal Among The Amish series had made Joe Sprinter's list. He's always on the look out for new authors and their Amish or Mennonite books so he keeps an up to date list. Information is in the Mennonite Historical Library list at Goshen College.
What didn't make the list was the stand alone titles such as Jodi Picoult's best selling Plain Truth. Since this is the first list he's posted some fiction series probably have been unintentionally omitted. Professor Beck says corrections and additions are welcome.
Later I checked again and found another list of Amish books on a Bethel College, Kansas site Mennonite Library & Archives complied by Barbara A. Thiesen. Joe Springer had helped her with the list and for 2007 - 2008 he had added my Amish book Christmas Traditions which isn't in the series and happens to be in the library. Actually, the main character in that book is in my Nurse Hal series but adding her to the series came as an after thought.
As the writer of Amish fiction, the lists were interesting to read. Of course, I was thrilled to find my name made both lists. It's an honor to be included. I was surprised since I'm new as an author and an Independent one. When I wrote the first Nurse Hal book I didn't think about starting a series. That idea came from the readers of the first book A Promise Is A Promise. They wanted me to keep writing about Nurse Hal. It's amazing how everything seems to fall into place for a reason. The powerful reach of the Internet doesn't hurt, either. That helps me pick up new readers interested in my books.
Monday, March 7, 2011
Third Book In Amish Series For Sale
My latest book is Hal's Worldly Temptations-book 3 in Nurse Hal Among The Amish series. ISBN 098245953X There's plenty of places to get a copy. Right now the book is in ebook form at Kindle and Nook but in the next week it will be a paperback at Amazon, and my bookstore www.booksbyfaybookstore.weebly.com and I'll put the book on ebay when I get my first shipment.
I'm always surprised by what readers like about my Nurse Hal character. She has become a bit of a rebel in the Amish community, because she has trouble conforming to their ways. For someone that is not housewife material and loves her possessions- a car and cell phone, giving in to learning what she needs to know to be considered Amish isn't easy.
Nurse Hal can't catch on fast enough to keep her from making mistakes. That's another reason readers like her. Some of her mistakes will make you laugh out loud like when she's learning to drive a buggy and can only make the horse go in circles which ties up two intersections. One person told me she can just read so many sad books then she has to read one of mine to get herself back in a good mood. Each humorous situation I put Nurse Hal in comes easy when I think about what would happen to me if I tried to go back a century and learn what she is expected to know.
I hope you like the picture on my book's cover. A cover catches the buyer's eyes if done right and helps sell the book. With Christmas Traditions I used clipart which had the side view of a young woman in a bonnet. With my Amish series, I decided not to use people on the cover as many other authors do. I realize the people they use are models, but since Amish don't believe in pictures taken of them I've used scenery instead. The first book A Promise is a Promise has a picture on it that I took south of Bloomfield, Ia on an Amish farm. The second book, The Rainbow's End picture is my front yard just after a storm, and I added a buggy. I had to since I never see one go by. On this latest book, the picture is from the neighbor's place west of me. He'd just painted his buildings red and was proud of the way they looked. I told him I'd probably turn his barn white. You should have heard him groan. So recently I informed him I left his barn alone on the book cover, but he now owns two horses instead of one and has several buggies sitting in his pasture. When someone helps me out in any way with my books I give them a copy. I'm thinking this book cover will make him laugh.
Here is what it says on the back of the book - Join the fun! You are invited to the wedding of John Lapp and Nurse Hal. Family and friends gathered to cook, clean and plan. Men put up a tent in the yard for guests. So put on your bonnet or felt hat, hitch up the buggy and take a ride by scenic pastures and rolling hills to Wickenburg, Iowa. Take a seat on a bench next to Hal's parents. They will be glad to explain the ceremony, because they came armed with facts from Aunt Tootie's book on Amish customs. You will find a few surprises. Little Daniel Lapp interrupts the bishop when he asks if anyone objects. Oh and Stella Strutt has some sort of fit. It will be the most talked about Amish wedding for years to come. Hal's life goes down hill from there for awhile. She refuses to give away her car and cell phone. Getting caught by Stella Strutt at the Old Thrasher's Reunion on a "joy ride" doesn't help her avoid punishment. Is Hal going to be sent away before she gets settled into her new home? Stick around after the wedding and find out, why don't you.
If you like Amish stories join my readers and try the Nurse Hal books. I hear the stories aren't quite like any other Amish stories you've read.
www.amazonauthorpagefayrisner.com
I'm always surprised by what readers like about my Nurse Hal character. She has become a bit of a rebel in the Amish community, because she has trouble conforming to their ways. For someone that is not housewife material and loves her possessions- a car and cell phone, giving in to learning what she needs to know to be considered Amish isn't easy.
Nurse Hal can't catch on fast enough to keep her from making mistakes. That's another reason readers like her. Some of her mistakes will make you laugh out loud like when she's learning to drive a buggy and can only make the horse go in circles which ties up two intersections. One person told me she can just read so many sad books then she has to read one of mine to get herself back in a good mood. Each humorous situation I put Nurse Hal in comes easy when I think about what would happen to me if I tried to go back a century and learn what she is expected to know.
I hope you like the picture on my book's cover. A cover catches the buyer's eyes if done right and helps sell the book. With Christmas Traditions I used clipart which had the side view of a young woman in a bonnet. With my Amish series, I decided not to use people on the cover as many other authors do. I realize the people they use are models, but since Amish don't believe in pictures taken of them I've used scenery instead. The first book A Promise is a Promise has a picture on it that I took south of Bloomfield, Ia on an Amish farm. The second book, The Rainbow's End picture is my front yard just after a storm, and I added a buggy. I had to since I never see one go by. On this latest book, the picture is from the neighbor's place west of me. He'd just painted his buildings red and was proud of the way they looked. I told him I'd probably turn his barn white. You should have heard him groan. So recently I informed him I left his barn alone on the book cover, but he now owns two horses instead of one and has several buggies sitting in his pasture. When someone helps me out in any way with my books I give them a copy. I'm thinking this book cover will make him laugh.
Here is what it says on the back of the book - Join the fun! You are invited to the wedding of John Lapp and Nurse Hal. Family and friends gathered to cook, clean and plan. Men put up a tent in the yard for guests. So put on your bonnet or felt hat, hitch up the buggy and take a ride by scenic pastures and rolling hills to Wickenburg, Iowa. Take a seat on a bench next to Hal's parents. They will be glad to explain the ceremony, because they came armed with facts from Aunt Tootie's book on Amish customs. You will find a few surprises. Little Daniel Lapp interrupts the bishop when he asks if anyone objects. Oh and Stella Strutt has some sort of fit. It will be the most talked about Amish wedding for years to come. Hal's life goes down hill from there for awhile. She refuses to give away her car and cell phone. Getting caught by Stella Strutt at the Old Thrasher's Reunion on a "joy ride" doesn't help her avoid punishment. Is Hal going to be sent away before she gets settled into her new home? Stick around after the wedding and find out, why don't you.
If you like Amish stories join my readers and try the Nurse Hal books. I hear the stories aren't quite like any other Amish stories you've read.
www.amazonauthorpagefayrisner.com
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)