FWC: Salty Like Blood by Harry Kraus, M.D.

It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old...or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!



You never know when I might play a wild card on you!

Today's Wild Card author is:

Harry Kraus, M.D.

and the book:

Salty Like Blood

Howard Books (March 24, 2009)

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Harry Kraus, M.D., is a board-certified surgeon whose contemporary fiction, including Stainless Steel Hearts, is flavored with medical realism. A bestselling author, he has also written two works of nonfiction. He currently lives with his family in Kenya, where he is serving as a full-time medical missionary.



Visit the author's website.



Product Details:



List Price: $13.99

Paperback: 352 pages

Publisher: Howard Books (March 24, 2009)

Language: English

ISBN-10: 1416577890

ISBN-13: 978-1416577898



AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:

Rachel and I tumbled into the tall grass at the bottom of the hill, having survived yet another Daddy-just-one-more sled ride from the edge of our front porch. I collapsed on my back, trying to find oxygen between gasps of laughter and looked up at the summer sky. My daughter, with limbs sprawled in a wide “X” and her head against my foot, shouted her delight toward the house. “We did it! We made it!”



Seconds before, airborne and soaring toward record distance, Rachel reached for an octave above the normal human voice range, squealing a note that rang on in my head and I suspected invited half the neighborhood’s canine population to play. I laughed and put my fingers in my ears, rolling them in an exaggerated twist as if she’d deafened me.



She moved to lay her head upon my chest and quieted herself there, listening to my racing heart.



I stroked her hair, inhaled the scent of mown grass, and nestled my head back into the tickle of green.



“Is it okay?” she asked.



“It’s okay.”



“It’s too fast,” she said, raising up and pushing a bony elbow into my gut.



“Oh so now you’re the doctor.”



She smiled. “Someday,” she said. “For now, you’re the doctor.”



“Don’t worry. I’m okay.” I scowled at my first-grader. “Really.”



We rested together, staring at the sky full of clouds of hippopotamus, horses, rockets—whatever Rachel imagined. Mostly I gasped and oohed. In a moment, I found myself blinking away tears, overwhelmed with the enormity of it all.



It was so ordinary. A summer Saturday morning without an agenda. It’s hard for me to describe beyond the sense I had of emerging, as if I’d been submerged for so long, and now, just to play and laugh and roll in the grass seemed a joy that would burst my heart. I smiled, taking it in, gulping in ordinary life as if I’d never have a chance again.



As Rachel chatted on with her running commentary of sky castles, fiery dragons and fairies, other images drifted through my mind, pictures of painful chapters that set my current joy into sharp contrast. Traveling with Joanne through the dark tunnel of post-partum depression. My mother’s battle with cancer. Memories of an intensive care unit visit while I was the too-young patient, watching my own heart monitor and wondering if life would be cut short.



Joanne’s voice swept me into the here and now. “What’s going on?”



I looked up to see her standing on the covered porch, eyeing a bottle of vegetable oil sitting on the white railing.



Rachel lifted her head. Her blond hair dotted with grass seed. “We’re sledding, Mommy.”



Joanne’s hands rested firmly on her hips. “It’s July, David.” She picked up the bottle. “And I’ve been looking for this.” She was serious, but her eyes betrayed her attempt at scolding me. Her happiness at my delight in our little Rachel couldn't be spoiled by my summer antics.



I exchanged a mischievous glance with Rachel. She betrayed me in a heartbeat. “It was Daddy’s idea.”



“Women!” I said, grabbing my daughter by the waist and swinging her around in a circle. “You always stick together!”



As I trudged up the hill with Rachel folded around my back, I grunted exaggerated puffs. “You’re getting so big.”



I set her on the top step and kissed her forehead. She started pulling away. “Wait.” I picked at the seeds in her hair.“You’ll need to brush this out.”



She opted for the shake-it-out method. “I’m a rock star.”



I smiled. My star. For Joanne and I, Rachel had been the glue that helped us stick together through a valley of misery.



Joanne reappeared carrying lemonade in tall, sweaty glasses. She handed me one and kissed me. She had thin lips to go with sharp, elegant features, dark eyes alight with mystery, and hair the color of caramel. She could have been a model before big lips became the rage.



I’d been to hell and back with Joanne, but the last six months, I’d sensed a real change in her. She seemed settled somehow. Content. More romantic toward me—like she had been back in my medical school days. Our relationship, once teetering on the precipice of divorce, was now solidly a safe distance from the edge. I’d seen significant pieces of my life’s puzzle fall together in the last few years. When the marriage one finally clicked into place, everything else brightened with it. It was as if I’d been living my life in black-and-white and someone just invented color.



I kissed her back, trying to discern her mood. There seemed a surface calm, but I sensed a deeper stirring. I’d become a champion at reading her. I knew the quiet of her bitterness, the bubbly way she prattled on when she felt guilty, and the aloofness that dared me to pursue her into bed. For a moment, our eyes met. It was only a flash, but in that instant, I felt the a foreboding that threatened my wonderful ordinary-life euphoria.



I took her hand. “What’s up?” She lowered her voice, but even at that volume, sharp irritation cut at the edges of her words, clipping them into little fragments.



“Your father.”



I raised my eyebrows in question.



“His neighbor called.”



I waited for more, but it seemed the silence only uncapped her annoyance. In a moment, she was on the verge of tears.



“He always does this. Every time we have plans, he has a crisis.”



Plans. The practice was dining at the country club tonight.



I started to protest, but she interrupted, pushing her finger against my lips. “You know they’re going to announce that you’ve made partner.”



I smiled. Partner. A year early. Just reward for the practice’s highest revenue-producer nine months in a row. Another puzzle piece in my wonderful life about to connect.



“Which neighbor?”



“That Somali family,” she said, flipping her hand in the air. “A woman. She has an accent. She said his place is a wreck. He’s ill.” She seemed to hesitate before adding. “He’s asking for you.”



It was my father’s way. The crab-fisherman wouldn’t pick up the phone and let me know he needed me. He sent word around the block and expected me to show. “Define ‘ill.’ ”



Joanne imitated the neighbor’s accent. “Mister Gus isn’t eating. He toilets in the bedroom.”



I groaned. Whatever the neighbor meant, I knew it couldn’t be good. I walked into the house to my study and picked up the phone. I was listening to the endless ringing on the other end when Joanne entered. “Not a good sign,” I said. “He doesn’t pick up.”



“What are we going to do?”



I looked at my wife. Petite. Strong. And so able to read my thoughts.



She threw up her hands. “We’re going to the shore,” she said. “Just like that.”



I nodded. I was predictable. Family first. We had to go.



She glared at me. I read the silence, loud and clear. That’s why I love you . . . and hate you.



“I’ll call Jim. The practice will understand.”



Joanne shook her head. “This is your night, David. The moment you’ve been waiting for. And you throw it away because of family.”



I couldn’t say anything. She had me pegged.



“I’ll see if Kristine will take Rachel for the weekend.”



“Let’s take her with us.”



Joanne’s face hardened. “With us? That place is so . . . “ She paused, apparently mulling over adjective options. “ . . . crusty.”



It was the gentlest description of several other options that came to mind.



“We’ll take care of the crisis and stay at that seaside bed and breakfast. It will be fun. A chance for her to see her grandfather.” I let a hopeful smile tease at the corners of my lips. “Even if he is crusty he does adore her.”



Joanne sighed in resignation. “Yes he does.” She tipped her glass against mine. “As long as we don’t have to sleep there,” she said, shivering as if that thought was horrifying. She gave me a don’t-even-try-to-cross-me look. “You’re driving.”



I walked out onto the porch and into the humidity we Virginians call “summer.” As I called for Rachel, I followed the border of the house, my prize lawn soft beneath my bare feet. From her perch on the back deck, my daughter ambushed me with open arms.



“Can we sled some more?”



I looked at the blue sky and my Southern Living home, and I pushed aside a fleeting presence. A ripple beneath the calm.



I’d been through too many hard times to trust the peace. Nothing this great can last forever.



“We’re going to Grandpa Conners’,” I said, trying my best to sound excited.



Rachel wrinkled her nose. To her, the shore meant stinky crabs and everything smelling fishy.



I poked her nose with a finger. “You’re too much like your mother.”



She poked me back. “You’re too much like your father.”



A sudden breeze lifted Rachel’s hair against my face. I stopped, looking east. In the distance, a small thundercloud hung over the horizon. Not today. I don’t want to travel the Chesapeake Bay Bridge-Tunnel in the rain.



My daughter squeezed my neck, bringing a smile to my face and pushing my anxieties aside. I nestled my face into her hair, trying to find an earlobe. She giggled and everything seemed right again.

WHAT I HAVE TO SAY:  I loved this book!!  This was a great story and an easy read.  Once again, I spent the entire book trying to figure it out, and once again, I was wrong....way wrong...would have never thought it to end the way it did!!!  LOVED IT!!

FWC: Yesterday's Embers by Deborah Raney

It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old...or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!



You never know when I might play a wild card on you!

Today's Wild Card author is:

Deborah Raney

and the book:

Yesterday’s Embers

Howard Books (March 24, 2009)

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Deborah Raney is the author of several novels, including Nest of Sparrows and the RITA Award-winning Beneath a Southern Sky. Her novel A Vow to Cherish was made into the highly acclaimed Worldwide Pictures film of the same name. She lives with her husband and four children in Kansas.



Visit the author's website.



Product Details:



List Price: $13.99

Paperback: 400 pages

Publisher: Howard Books (March 24, 2009)

Language: English

ISBN-10: 1416593098

ISBN-13: 978-1416593096



AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:

The parade of taillights smoldered crimson through the patchy fog hovering over Old Highway 40. Mickey Valdez tapped the brakes with the toe of her black dress pumps, trying to stay a respectable distance from the car in front of her.



The procession had left the church almost twenty minutes ago, but they were still barely two miles outside Clayburn’s city limits. The line of cars snaked up the hill––if you could call the road’s rolling incline that––and ahead of her, the red glow of brake lights dotted the highway, flickering off and on like so many fireflies. Cresting the rise, Mickey could barely make out the rows of pewter-colored gravestones poking through the mist beyond the wrought-iron gates of the Clayburn Cemetery.



She smoothed the skirt of her black crepe dress and tried to focus her thoughts on maneuvering the car, working not to let them stray to the funeral service she’d come from. But when the first hearse turned onto the cemetery’s gravel drive in front of her, she lost it. Her sobs came like dry heaves, producing no tears, and for once, she was glad to be in the car alone.



The line of cars came almost to a standstill as the second hearse crept through the gates.



The twin black Lincolns pulled to the side of the gravel lane, parking one behind the other near the plots where two fresh graves scarred the prairie. The drivers emerged from the hearses, walked in unison to the rear of their cars, and opened the curtained back doors. Mickey looked away. She couldn’t view those two caskets again.



When it came her turn to drive over the culvert under the high arch of the iron gates, she wanted desperately to keep on driving. To head west and never turn back. But Pete Truesdell stood in her way, directing traffic into the fenced-in graveyard. Mickey almost didn’t recognize Pete. He sported a rumpled navy double-breasted suit instead of his usual coveralls. How he could see through the tears welling in his eyes, Mickey didn’t know.



Her heart broke for the old man. She wondered if he was related to the family somehow. Seemed like everybody in Clayburn was related to at least one other family in town. Everybody but the Valdezes.



Pete waved the car in front of her through the gates and halted her with his other hand.



Maybe if she stayed in the car until the procession left the cemetery. She didn’t want to walk across the uneven sod. Didn’t want to risk the DeVore kids seeing her…risk breaking down in front of them. What would she say? What could anybody say to make what had happened be all right?



She didn’t know much about carbon monoxide poisoning, but she’d heard that Kaye and Rachel had simply drifted off to sleep, never knowing they would wake up in heaven. She wondered if Doug DeVore found any solace in that knowledge. Maybe it was a small comfort that his wife and daughter had left this earth together.



But on Thanksgiving Day? What was God thinking?



She’d never really gotten to know Kaye DeVore that well. They’d exchanged pleasantries whenever Kaye dropped the kids off at the daycare on her way to her job at the high school, but usually Doug was the one who delivered the children and picked them up at night when he got off work at Trevor Ashlock’s print shop in town.



The DeVore kids were usually the last to get picked up, especially during harvest when Doug worked overtime to keep his farm going. But Mickey had never minded staying late. It wasn’t like she had a family of her own waiting for her at home. And she loved those kids.



Especially Rachel. Sweet, angel-faced Rachel, whose eyes always seemed to hold a wisdom beyond her years. Mickey had practically mourned when Rachel started kindergarten and was only at the daycare for an hour or two after school. Now she forced herself to look at the tiny white coffin the pallbearers lifted from the second hearse. She could not make it real that the sunny six-year-old was gone.



Through the gates, she watched Doug climb from a black towncar. One at a time, he helped his children out behind him. Carrying the baby in one arm, he tried to stretch his free arm around the other four kids, as if he could shelter them from what had happened. How he could even stand up under the weight of such tragedy was more than Mickey could imagine. And yet, for one shameful, irrational moment, she envied his grief, and would have traded places with him if it meant she’d known a love worth grieving over, or been entrusted with a child of her own flesh and blood. She shook away the thoughts, disturbed by how long she’d let herself entertain them.



She dreaded facing Doug the next time he brought the kids to the daycare center. Maybe they wouldn’t come back. She’d heard that Kaye’s mother had cancelled her plans to winter in Florida like she usually did. Harriet Thomas would remain in Kansas and help Doug out, at least for a while. Wren Johanssen had been helping with the kids and house, too, when she could take time away from running Wren’s Nest, the little bed-and-breakfast on Main Street. Wren was like a second grandma to the kids. Thank goodness for that. Six kids had to be—



Mickey shuddered and corrected herself. Only five now. That had to be a handful for anyone. The DeVores had gone on vacation in the middle of April last year, and with their kids out for a week, the workload was lighter, but the daycare center had been deathly quiet.



Deathly. Even though she was alone in the car, Mickey cringed at her choice of words.



She started at the tap on the hood of her car and looked up to see Pete motioning her through the gates. She put the car in gear and inched over the bumpy culvert. There was no turning back now. She followed the car in front of her and parked behind it next to the fence bordering the east side of the cemetery.



A tall white tombstone in the distance caught her eye and a startling thought nudged her. The last time she’d been here for a funeral had also been the funeral of a mother and child. Trevor Ashlock’s wife, Amy, and their little boy. It would be five years come summer.



As if conjured by her thoughts, Trevor’s green pickup pulled in beside her. Mickey watched in her side mirror as he parked, then helped his young wife climb out of the passenger side. Meg walked with the gait of an obviously pregnant woman, and Trevor put a hand at the small of her back, guiding her over the uneven sod toward the funeral tent.



Mickey looked away. Seeing Trevor still brought a wave of sadness. Because of his profound loss, yes. But more selfishly, for her own loss. She’d fallen hard for him after Amy’s death—and had entertained hopes that he might feel the same about her. That she might be able to ease his grief. But he was too deep in grief to even notice her.



Then Meg Anders had moved to town and almost before Mickey knew what happened, Trevor was married. He and Meg seemed very much in love, and Mickey didn’t begrudge either of them an ounce of that happiness. But it didn’t mean she was immune to a pang of envy whenever she saw them together.



This day had to be doubly difficult for Trevor. It must be a comfort to Doug having Trevor here––someone who’d walked in his shoes and still somehow managed to get up the next morning––and the next and the next.



Again, she had to wonder what God was thinking. Where was He when these tragedies struck? How could He stand by and let these terrible things happen to good men…the best men she knew, next to her brothers? None of it made sense. And the only One she knew to turn to for answers had stood by and let it all happen.

WHAT I HAVE TO SAY:  I am still working on this one. It is one that I have had trouble getting into and have struggled with trying to get thru it.  Will update more when I finish reading.

Destination Disney: Epcot ~ Norway

This weeks topic is Norway.  It is one of the only countries in World Showcase that has a ride.  And, like all Disney ride, the 'marketeers' also designed this one where you come out right in the gift store!  My kiddos did try on the viking hats and we did snap a shot in front of the creature that is in the store. Other than the viking hats, I do not remember much about Norway.

FWC: Deadly Charm by Claudia Mair Burney

It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old...or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!



You never know when I might play a wild card on you!

Today's Wild Card author is:

Claudia Mair Burney

and the book:

Deadly Charm (Amanda Bell Brown Mystery Series, Book 3)

Howard Books (March 24, 2009)

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Claudia Mair Burney is the author of numerous novels and the popular Ragamuffin Diva blog. She lives with her husband and their seven children in Michigan.



Visit the author's website and blog.



Product Details:



List Price: $13.99

Paperback: 400 pages

Publisher: Howard Books (March 24, 2009)

Language: English

ISBN-10: 1416551956

ISBN-13: 978-1416551959



AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:

Rocky showed up at my apartment door with an offer that, in his words, I “no coulda refuse.” Or maybe those were Marlon Brando’s words. I couldn’t be sure. My blond, dreadlocked former pastor slash ex-boyfriend locked me into a stare with those big, brown puppy eyes. He’d puffed out his jowls to utter the Godfather’s most famous line, while grazing his cheek with the back of his fingers—an excruciatingly amiss imitation. I’ve seen newborn babies’ smiles more intimidating.



“You look more like a hamster than a mobster, Rock.”



“Hamsters are cool.”



“But less compelling, you must admit.”



Rocky grinned and wagged his finger at me, “Never underestimate the power of a furry little creature.” He twitched his nose and started making hamster noises.



“Amen!” I said.



I thought of my vicious, former pet sugar glider, Amos. Although he’d become my friend and hero, I had to give him away to another nocturnal creature—otherwise, I’d never sleep again. My husband’s best friend, Souldier, had taken the murderous marsupial. Now Amos happily shreds his drapes.



“Come on in, my not-so-furry friend,” I told Rocky, mostly so he would stop making weird rodent sounds.



I moved aside so he could enter my little slice of paradise: shabby chic meets Africa is what Jazz, my husband called it. Rocky loved my funky, eclectically furnished place, too. He just didn’t describe it as aptly as Jazz did.



Who was I kidding? Rocky didn’t do anything as aptly as Jazz did. I had lost them both six weeks ago, and now here was Rocky, surprising me by showing up at my door like unexpected grace.



“Welcome back, Rocky,” I said. I know how lame I sounded, but I wanted him to know I was glad he’d come no matter what the reason.



He muttered a shy, “Thanks.”



We stood in my foyer exchanging reticent glances until I got bold enough to take a long look at him. I’d missed him so. He wore a typical Rockyesque uniform underneath his white down jacket—khaki pants and a long-sleeved Batman T-shirt. A cupid earring dangled in his right ear. Every year about this time he wore it to remind me to come to the Saint Valentine’s Day feast.



Without thinking I blurted out. “I see you and Cupid are still advertising our—” I bit my tongue. There’d be no “our” Saint Valentine’s Day feast this year for prodigal Bell. “Sorry,” I muttered.



“No problem,” he rushed to say, and then an awful silence descended on us like a cold, grey fog.



When I was still a member of his church, aptly named the Rock House, I never missed the event. Rocky would tell stories of the historical Saint Valentine; we’d eat candy conversation hearts, listen to live music, and share abundant amounts of food and laughter. It was Rocky’s way of making sure the lonely hearts wouldn’t spend the evening alone. There with my church family, not only did I get heaps of love, I could give out some from my meager supply.



That and we always had a chocolate fountain.



What was I going to do now?



I tried not to think about the sting of Rocky kicking me out of his church. I didn’t want to think about anything that had happened six weeks ago. Still, I figured whatever brought him to my door had an olive branch attached to it, and whatever he asked, short of sin, I’d be willing to do to reconcile with him.



Rocky hung up his jacket, kicked out of his Birkenstocks, and headed over to my rose-colored velvet sofa and sat. I followed, plopping down beside him.



“So, what’s the offer, Godfather?”



He stared at me. “Did you gain weight?”



Because I know it’s rude to kill your loved ones, I let that one slide and gave him a polite smile, but I did grab a mudcloth throw pillow and cover my expanding waistline.



“So, what’s the offer, Rocky?”



He gushed in a most un-Godfatherly like way. “I want you to go to a meeting with me. It’s only going to be the way-coolest event you’ve been to in forever.”



I cuddled the pillow and eyed him cautiously. He didn’t mean the Valentine’s Day feast. I braced myself. Rocky’s idea of way cool could get scary. “Can you be a little more specific?”



He didn’t answer. Just reached out and touched my hand, rubbing his thumb across my knuckles. “I really missed you.”



Oh, man. That small gesture—him touching the hand nobody held anymore—that tiny movement had the effect of a pebble in a pond, creating ripples of unexpected sadness that circled out of my soul. Lord, have mercy. I didn’t fling myself at him, begging like a rhythm-and-blues singer for him to keep loving me, to not give up on me, but something in me wished I could.



I didn’t want to marry Rocky, or even date him. He had never been the love of my life. In that moment I simply wanted to banish the nearly incarnate loneliness that had been dogging my heels as a solemn, maddening companion, shuffling me through all those days with no best-friend Rocky.



And with no husband Jazz.



I gazed up at him with my own version of puppy eyes. “I missed you too, Rocky.”



We let a bit of silence sit between us on the sofa like a third and very quiet presence. Our heads hung low. Apparently we both still smarted over our mutual pain of separation.



Minutes passed, our hands still clasped together, but Rocky’s merciful presence soothed my dry soul patches like olive oil.



Thank God. Thank God for every kind soul I don’t deserve in my life who loves me anyway.



“Rocky.” I made my voice as soft and small as a baby’s blankie.



He turned to me, his face as open and vulnerable as that blankie’s little owner.



I squeezed his hand. “I’m so sorry I hurt you.”



Those puppy eyes shone with the compassion I knew like the backs of my freckled hands.



“I’m sorry for the things I did, too, babe. For the things I said that night.”



“Don’t call me babe.”



He chuckled. “Some things never change.” Again, those gentle peepers bore into me. “Why didn’t you tell me you married Jazz?”



“At the time I didn’t seem too clear on it myself. Things happened pretty fast, and the next thing I knew, I was a wife.” I paused, the weight of that statement shifting just a bit since Rocky had shown up to help bear my burden. “He’s mad at me.”



“Duh-uh. You were kissing your blond boy toy.” He nudged me with his tattooed arm. “What’s going on with the two of you now?”



“I’ve seen corpses on Carly’s autopsy tables more involved than our marriage.”



I wondered if I’d ever get over what I’d lost with Jazz.



“I can only imagine what his parents think of me. I guess they’d say I’m the nightmare that took his ex Kate’s place.”



He regarded me with the care and concern I’ve seen him lavish on the fortunate souls he counseled as a pastor. Rocky may be only twenty-seven years old, but he’d been a pastor for two years. Two good years. He didn’t have the life experience an older pastor would, but God had given him an extraordinary shepherd’s heart.



“You’re not a nightmare,” he said. “You jumped into a marriage with no spiritual or emotional preparation.”



Like I, the clinician, needed him to tell me that.



I sighed. “Yet another psychologist heal thyself thing.” I looked away from him, guilt gnawing at me. “Maybe Jazz and I just aren’t meant to be, Rocky.”



“Have you talked to him?”



I shrugged. “Just once. He came over for a few minutes on Christmas Eve. I let him know I wanted him in a way I knew he’d understand. And then I waited. He never came back.”



“Why didn’t you go to him?”



“The same reason I didn’t come to you. I wanted to give him some space to feel whatever he felt and then to decide on his own.”



“But, maybe he’s not like me, babe.”



“Ya, think? And don’t call me babe.”



“Maybe he needs you to help him decide. Like, some extra reassurance or something.”



“That’s crazy, Rock.”



“It’s not so crazy, babe.”



I took back every nice thing I’d just thought about him. What did he know? Yes, he pastors a church of more than two-hundred members. He did missions work. He had a shepherd’s heart. He took pastoral counseling classes in seminary, but, honestly! His voice sounded just like Patrick’s on Sponge Bob.



Rocky glared at me. “Babe. . . .”



“Don’t call me babe.”



“Babe! You gotta go to him.”



“But he yells. Sometimes he cusses like a fish wife.”



“What’s a fish wife?”



“I don’t know, but my great-grandmother used to say that and it stuck with me. Maybe only females cuss like fish wives. Maybe he cusses like the fish.” Now I sounded like Patrick!



“Fish don’t cuss.”



“Okay, I know I should have reassured him.”



He sighed. Looked at me with those eyes. Squeezed my hand. “Will you ever let anyone love you?”



“People love me, Rocky. My sister. My secretary. Sasha.”



“I have doubts about Sasha.”



I thought about that and chuckled with him. “You may be right. My mother has done a few things that make me wonder. Now I’m really depressed.”



“I want to see you happy.”



“I want to see you happy, too. Speaking of which, how are you and Elisa?”



He grinned, reddened, looked away.



“What? Did you marry her in six weeks? My goodness!” For the first time, I didn’t feel jealous that someone was interested in Rocky. Well, not much.



“No. I’m not married. I’m . . . .”



“You’re what?”



“She’s really special, but it hasn’t been that long since she left creepy cult dude. I’m not sure I should be involved.”



“How involved are you?”



“I’m involved, babe.”



“You’re in love?”



He wouldn’t say anything, but his goofy grin spoke for him.



“Rocky?”



He nudged me, “Cut it out, babe.”



So, Rocky was really in love. Wow. I always knew it would happen, but I didn’t realize I’d still have the teensiest bit of pain knowing he’d moved on from me for good. I could see a flower of astonishing beauty blossoming between them when I saw them together, even though it nearly killed me at the moment. But God knows Rocky deserved the biggest, juiciest love he could find. He needed to look beyond the non-existent us. And he still calls me babe.



“Just take it slow, Rock. Trust me. The cost of moving too fast is astronomical, even if you are in love.”



I could tell he didn’t feel comfortable talking to me about Elisa. I decided to let their love blossom without my tending, pruning, or pulling up weeds. I got back to the business at hand. “Are you ever going to tell me what your offer is?” I eased into the lush upholstery of my sofa.



Rocky’s face lit up. Honestly, if that guy had a tail to go with those puppy eyes, it’d be thumping my sofa with joy.



“It’s gonna be awesome, ba— I mean, Bell.”



Apparently our little chat about Elisa made him correct himself.



“You think everything is awesome, Rocky.”



“I don’t think everything is awesome.”



“You said my Love Bug is awesome. You said Switchfoot’s new CD is awesome. You said my new zillions braids are awesome, and you said the ice-cream at Cold Stone Creamery is awesome.” Okay, the ice-cream at Cold Stone happened to be awesome for real. Lately I’d craved it like the blind crave sight.



“But, babe . . . ”



There he goes again. Honestly! A holy war couldn’t make that man stop calling me babe.



He went on. “Those things are awesome.”



“God is awesome, Rock. Awesome meaning the subject inspires awe, as in reverence, respect, dread.”



“You reverence your tricked-out VW Beetle,” he said, “And I respect Switchfoot, especially Jon Foreman, and your way-cool, African-goddess hair inspired me to get dreads.”



I stared at him. Comments like these coming from Rocky tended to render me temporarily speechless.



He filled the silence with his proposal. “I want you to go see Ezekiel Thunder with me.”



My eyes widened. Electroshock therapy wouldn’t have given me such a jolt. “Ezekiel Thunder?” I screeched. I jerked up from my slouch. I’d heard the un-right reverend wanted to hit the comeback trail, taking his miracle crusade with him.



Rocky gave me a wicked grin and settled himself smugly into the soft folds of my sofa. He knew I’d left Thunder’s particular brand of Pentecostal fire many years ago and had no desire to go back.



Rocky bobble-head nodded, as if his physical movement would affect a change in my attitude.



“Stop all that nodding!”



“I’m just trying to encourage you.”



I did not feel encouraged.



“It’ll be fun,” he said, blasting me with the full puppy-eyes arsenal. Oh, those eyes. Powerful! Mesmerizing! Like a basket full of cocker spaniel puppies wearing red ribbons. I could feel myself weakening.



“Rocky, that meeting will torture me. It will torture you!”



“No, it won’t. Ezekiel is my friend.”



“Your friend?”



“He led me to Christ.”



“Ezekiel Thunder led you to Christ?”



“I told you I came to Christ at a Bible camp.”



“Yes? And?”



“It was a Sons of Thunder Bible camp. I’m a Thunder Kid!” He beamed with what I hoped wasn’t pride.



“You never told me that!”



Honestly! You think you know somebody! He was my ex-boyfriend for goodness’ sake. We’d talked about marriage. I couldn’t believe I had no idea he was close friends with the infamous Ezekiel Thunder!



“You can be kinda judgmental about guys like Ezekiel.” He went on. “I didn’t mean to upset you or trigger bad memories of your tongues-talking days.”



“Then don’t ask me to go see him.”



“He’s a different man. He and his family want to buy a house in Ann Arbor. He’s living at the Rock House house until one comes through for him. ”



“God forbid!”



“He needs support. People to show up and cheer him on.”



“Cheer him on? We should stop him!” Had Rocky forgotten that Ezekiel Thunder had fallen as hard as many of his televangelist contemporaries in the eighties—and for a tawdry little tryst with a young intern? May it never be!



“How hard would it be for you to sit there and listen? Maybe say a few prayers for him.”



“God bless you as you do that for him.”



“I was there for you, supporting Great Lakes Seminary when they were struggling and going to lose their building. I did it because of how much you love Mason May.”



“Rocky! That’s not even comparable. Mason is a fine theologian training good men and women for powerful, effective ministries. He’s not a snake-oil peddler.”



“It’s not snake oil. It’s miracle prosperity oil.”



I stared at him. He’d stunned me to silence once again. I waited for Rocky to fill the silence with testimonies about the healing properties of miracle prosperity oil. Thankfully, he refrained. But he didn’t look like he’d let me off the hook.



I tried to reason with him. “You shouldn’t ask me to do this. You’re Emergent, Rocky, not a dyed-in-the-wool charismatic.”



“You don’t like post-modern, post-denominational, Emergent folks either.”



“I like them more than Ezekiel Thunders.”



“What’s that thing you say about the Emergent Church?”



“This is not about the Emergent Church. I’d go to an Emergent meeting with you anytime. You name the place: Mars Hill, Ann Arbor Vineyard. How ‘bout Frontline Church? ”



He didn’t budge. “Come on, babe. He’s like a dad to me.”



“A dad?”



“You always say Mason is like a dad to you.”



“But Mason has a PhD. He doesn’t sell ‘miracle prosperity oil’.”



“Ezekiel doesn’t sell it, either. He gives it away for a love offering.”



“A considerable love offering, if I remember! It’s plain olive oil he’s pushing to gullible babes in the faith who don’t know any better. How can I support his money-lusting schemes?”



“Ummm. By going with me?” Hope burgeoned in his voice as if I hadn’t just accused his mentor of being a hustler.



“Did you hear what I said, Rock? Ezekiel Thunder is everything I walked away from.”



“You walked away from a lot more than that, babe. And you’ve been known to hang out with people with worse theology than his. People way more dangerous.”



He had a point.



“Rocky . . . .” I didn’t want to go. Please, God, don’t make me go.



“He’s changed, babe. Give him a chance. For me.”



The eyes again, and a smile with an invisible tail wag.



I grumbled.



He grinned.



I gave him a dramatic sigh. “What time are we leaving?”



“If you’re not busy, and you’re not, we can leave in a few hours. I’ll pick you up at six.”



“How do you know I don’t have plans?”



“Because you have antisocial tendencies.”



“Don’t hold back, Rock. What do you really think about me?”



“Don’t worry,” he said, ignoring my insolence. “You’re gonna fall in love with Ezekiel.”



I rolled my eyes. “Not likely.”



He put his face right in front of mine until we were eye to eye. “You are feeling veeeeeery tired. You’re getting sleepy. You’re going to enjoy yourself at the crusade.”



“No fair,” I said, “Those eyes of yours are potent hypnotizers.”



“You are going to love Ezekiel Thunder.”



“I am going to love Ezekiel Thunder.”



Rocky got out of my face. “You’ve gotta admit, babe. This will be safer than sleuthing.”



No, it won’t, a disembodied voice--also known as the still, small voice of God--informed me.



I tried to ignore it. Maybe this Spirit prompting was speaking figuratively.



Couldn’t ignore it.



What, Lord, am I some kind of trouble magnet?



Don’t answer that, God.



I started rationalizing immediately to take the edge off what I truly hoped was not a prophetic warning. Maybe I could fall in love with the guy and respect him. Maybe he could even heal the egg-sized growth on my lower abdomen that scared me to death each time I ran my index finger across it. Maybe I could even find the keys to unlock the little room inside my heart where all the Ezekiel Thunders I’ve ever known were locked. I’d stored them there to keep me safe from the particular brand of harm only they could inflict.



I could feel my defenses shoot up as if a rocket propelled them.



Fall in love with Ezekiel Thunder?



I wished.



I shouldn’t have wished. My great-grandmother and namesake Amanda Bell Brown use to say, “Be careful what you wish for, baby. You just might get it.”



She ain’t never lied.

WHAT I HAVE TO SAY: I am not sure I cared for this one.  I struggled with it all the way thru.  I can't quite put my finger on it, but for some reason, I didn't care for this one...

CFBA: Turning the Paige by Lauren Jensen Walker

This week, the



Christian Fiction Blog Alliance



is introducing



Turning The Paige



Zondervan (March 1, 2009)



by



Laura Jensen Walker






ABOUT THE AUTHOR:



Laura Jensen Walker is an award-winning writer, popular speaker, and breast-cancer survivor who loves to touch readers and audiences with the healing power of laughter.



Born in Racine, Wisconsin (home of Western Printing and Johnson’s Wax—maker of your favorite floor care products) Laura moved to Phoenix, Arizona when she was in high school. But not being a fan of blazing heat and knowing that Uncle Sam was looking for a few good women, she enlisted in the United States Air Force shortly after graduation and spent the next five years flying a typewriter through Europe.



By the time she was 23, Laura had climbed the Eiffel Tower, trod the steps of the Parthenon, skied (okay, snowplowed) in the Alps, rode in a gondola in Venice, and wept at the ovens of Dachau. She’d also learned how to fold her underwear into equal thirds, make a proper cup of English tea, and repel the amorous advances of a blind date by donning combat gear and a gas mask.



Laura is a former newspaper reporter and columnist with a degree in journalism who has written hundreds of articles on many subjects ranging from emu ranching and pigeon racing to goat-roping and cemetery board meetings. However, realizing that livestock and local government weren’t her passion, she switched to writing humor, which she calls a “total God-thing.”



Her lifelong dream of writing fiction came true in Spring 2005 with the release of her first chick lit novel, Dreaming in Black & White which won the Contemporary Fiction Book of the Year from American Christian Fiction Writers. Her sophomore novel, Dreaming in Technicolor was published in Fall 2005.



Laura’s third novel, Reconstructing Natalie, chosen as the Women of Faith Novel of the Year for 2006, is the funny and poignant story of a young, single woman who gets breast cancer and how her life is reconstructed as a result. This book was born out of Laura’s cancer speaking engagements where she started meeting younger and younger women stricken with this disease—some whose husbands had left them, and others who wondered what breast cancer would do to their dating life. She wanted to write a novel that would give voice to those women. Something real. And honest. And funny.



Because although cancer isn’t funny, humor is healing.



A popular speaker and teacher at writing conferences, Laura has also been a guest on hundreds of radio and TV shows around the country including the ABC Weekend News, The 700 Club, and The Jay Thomas Morning Show.



Another book in this series is Daring Chloe



She lives in Northern California with her Renaissance-man husband Michael, and Gracie, their piano playing dog





ABOUT THE BOOK



At 35, Paige Kelley is feeling very "in between." She's still working her temp job after two years, still not dating three years after her divorce, and still melting at every chubby-cheeked toddler she sees while her biological clock ticks ever louder. Paige even moves back home to help her ailing, high-maintenance mother.It's not exactly the life she'd dreamed of!



When her Getaway Girls book club members urge Paige to break free and get on with her life, she's afraid. How will her mother react? How can Paige honor her widowed mother and still pursue her own life? The answers come from a surprising source.

A trip to Scotland and a potential new love interest help launch an exciting new chapter in her life, and lead Paige to discover that God's plan for her promises to be more than she ever imagined.



This latest release in the Getaway Girls collection delivers a smart, funny, and warm account of one woman's challenge to reconcile who she is - a dutiful Christian daughter - with the woman she longs to be.



If you would like to read the first chapter of Turning The Paige, go HERE
WHAT I HAVE TO SAY:  Cute story!  Paige is a very normal, stuck in a trap kinda girl...love the way it ends!!  I also love the way the book club lives out the adventures they read about!

Just another day...

The kiddos worked hard on their Thursday school work today!  We headed out to do errands and Samantha took her notebook to work on her schoolwork.  We got quite a few errands done ~ we ran by the animal shelter, where my girl scouts are wanting to volunteer, so I could speak with someone about that.  We ran by the Girl Scout office and picked up a few copies of the latest newsletter - that my crew was pictured in!.  Since it was just Samantha and Riley, and no extras today, we ate lunch at Gadwalls!  YUM! 
Samantha didn't have piano this week, so we went on to guitar lessons for Riley.  Riley's lessons started out with some songs. He can play Amazing Grace, Our God is an Awesome God, Jesus Loves the Little Children, Do Lord and I'm a Believer (no, not a church song~ a Monkeys song, or as my kiddos say - a Shrek song).  Today's lesson turned more to music theory than playing and fun, and Riley seemed to catch right on!  He is learning more about where notes are and not just 'play the 4Th string'. After music lessons ~ we made our normal stop for some groceries and then the kiddos asked if we could stop and rent a game.  They still have birthday money and they agreed to pay for it.  Samantha came out with Bolt for Wii and Beverly Hills Chihuahua and Riley chose Emergency Heroes for Wii. 
Rog was home from work in time to take the kiddos to church, and then was heading to get us a pizza (neither of us were up to normal date night) he got called out with the fire department, so I read, alone, until time to go to church.  We finished up our study on Solomon tonight.  It has been a great lesson, and this last one was the best.  We studied Ephesians 6, putting on your armor.  We discussed that we needed to be suited up every day in order to go out into the world and all of the yuck that is out there.  There are two ladies in the study that work with atheist and that sprouted much discussion about how they need to wear their armor, but at the same time, let that light shine.  One lady brought up something that she had said to a nonbeliever at one time and I really liked it, I hope if I am every faced with the situation where I need to say it, I can.  She told the nonbeliever that if she was wrong in believing, there was no loss, but if he were wrong in not believing, he was in trouble.
Samantha brought a friend home tonight and she will stay with us tomorrow.  That was the reason Samantha worked so hard on her work this morning!  The girls are starting the movie she rented, Riley is watching Robots and I am off to bed to read!

CFBA: A Cousin's Promise by Wanda Brunsetter

This week, the


Christian Fiction Blog Alliance


is introducing


A Cousin's Promise


Barbour Books (March 1, 2009)


by


Wanda Brunstetter






ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Wanda enjoys writing about the Amish because they live a peaceful, simple life„Ÿsomething she says we all need in this day and age.



Using the knowledge her Amish friends have shared with her, Wanda has also produced several children’s titles in the Rachel Yoder„ŸAlways Trouble Somewhere series, an Amish cookbook, and a devotional collection entitled The Simpler Life, which was released in July 2008 and celebrates the virtues of the Amish lifestyle. Wanda and her husband are members of the fellowship of Christian Magicians.



Wanda is also a member of the North American Association of ventriloquists, American Christian Fiction Writers, and the Northwest Christian Writers Association. She lives in Washington State, where her husband pastors, but takes every opportunity to visit Amish settlements across the country.



Other books by Wanda are A Sister's Test, A Sister's Hope, and A Sister's Secret





ABOUT THE BOOK



Wayne Lambright who, crippled after a tragic accident, feels himself unworthy of her love; and Jake Beechy who, after having abandoned her to explore the English world, returns to renew their courtship.



Willkumm to the lush and lavish Amish country where Wanda Brunstetter's new romantic series, Indiana Cousins, begins with A Cousin's Promise. Loraine Miller finds herself torn between the love of two good men.



When a horrific accident cripples Wayne Lambright, he finds it difficult enough to take care of himself, much less Loraine Miller, his future bride. Will he sacrifice his happiness to give her a better life?



Having already been jilted once, Loraine is terrified of yet another rejection. But does she love Wayne enough to marry him, for better or worse? When her old boyfriend Jake Beechy returns from exploring the English world, he hopes Loraine will give him another chance.



How will God work to give Loraine the desires of her heart? To which man will she pledge her love and loyalty - for better or worse, until death they do part?



If you would like to read the first chapter of A Cousin's Promise, go HERE
WHAT I HAVE TO SAY: I have read other books by Wanda Brunstetter and I have enjoyed them all!  A Cousin's Promise was a good story, and an easy read.  It was one of those that you think you know how it will end, then you start having your doubts...read it to see if you are able to figure it out!!

Typical Thursday

Today was just another normal day.  It was chilly and rainy out, so we weren't able to go out to some friends and hang out with them.  The kiddos worked hard on their school work today.  We have been working on 2 digit multiplication, and it is kinda getting at Samantha.  Cursive is coming right along.  Riley has awesome hand writing - when he slows down and tries - and Samantha is much neater when she writes in cursive. 
After they were finished with school, and when public school let out, Goosey (my niece) came over to play with the kiddos for a while. They played outside and they played Wii. 
Rog borrowed my grandpa's boat from my uncle, so they spent some time making sure it was in running condition and clean.  I ran short on time for fixing dinner, so I had spaghetti sitting on the stove while we headed off to scouts!  While we were gone, Rog and Riley worked on the boat waiting us for to get home and have dinner.
Our Girl Scout meeting was a success!  We had lots of business issues that we were working on and we are in the process of making our way to Junior Scouts!
Dinner was yummy! I am off to watch one of the last ER's of ever!!

First Day of Spring

And it was chilly out!!
We had some company this morning ~ the kiddos had their cousins over for a while.  They finished their school work, then headed outside.  The 4 kiddos all played outside for a while, then they were in to play Indiana Jones on the Wii. I am still trying to clean up and straighten up in this office - it just keeps growing...
Grannie came to get Samantha and Riley and they went to lunch and I think a movie, then picked up Goosey from school.  The three of them played at Grannies until Chelle showed up here with all of them!
I had a big pot of Chicken and Dumplings on the stove, so the kiddos headed outside and played until dinner was ready.  We watched Howie Do It while the kiddos played Lego's.  I have heard a lot about Howie Do It and I wasn't impressed with it at all!!
I am off to check my emails and then head to bed to read and watch Jeff Dunham!  He can be ugly, but he is soo funny!

Destination Disney: Animal Kingdom ~ Africa

Animal Kingdom ~ our first park on our first day!  And of course, we headed straight to Africa!!  The one thing that is a do not miss of Africa is Kilimanjaro Safari ~ we really enjoyed this trail ride!  Both times we were there, we saw a variety of animals, ranging from a sweet baby elephant to a seriously large roaring lion!

We were only able to walk thru the Pangani Forest Trail once, but some of the animals on the trail were truly camera hams!
And, if I am not mistaken, you can ride the train to Rafiki's Planet Watch and the Conservation Station from Africa.  We had fun while we were there also ~ we met Jiminy Cricket, Pocohantas and Rafiki while we were there, we got to watch some veterinarians do something to some tree frogs and there is an Affection Section that is a petting area. 

FWC: Katt's in the Cradle: A secrets from Lulu's Cafe Novel by Christy Scannell

It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old...or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!



You never know when I might play a wild card on you!

Today's Wild Card author is:

Ginger Kolbaba



and



Christy Scannell

and the book:

Katt’s in the Cradle: A Secrets from Lulu's Cafe Novel

Howard Books (February 3, 2009)

ABOUT THE AUTHORs:

Ginger Kolbaba is editor of the award-winning Marriage Partnership magazine. An experienced columnist and public speaker, she lives in Chicago with her husband.



Visit the author's website.







Christy Scannell is a college instructor, freelance editor and accomplished writer who lives with her husband in San Diego.



Visit the author's website.





Product Details:



List Price: $13.99

Paperback: 320 pages

Publisher: Howard Books (February 3, 2009)

Language: English

ISBN-10: 1416543899

ISBN-13: 978-1416543893



AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:

Meet the Pastors’ Wives of Red River, Ohio



Lisa Barton is an at-home mom with two kids: Callie, sixteen, and Ricky, fourteen. Her husband, Joel, has pastored Red River Assembly of God for nearly five years. Lisa’s parents pastor the Assembly of God in nearby Cloverdale.



Felicia Lopez-Morrison’s husband, Dave, pastors the First Baptist Church. They have one child, Nicholas, who is five and in kindergarten. Once a high-powered public relations executive with a top national firm, Felicia now works from home for the company’s Midwestern clients. The Morrisons came to Red River three years ago from Los Angeles.



Mimi Plaisance is a former teacher who now stays home with her four children: Michaela, eleven; Mark, Jr. (MJ), nine; Megan, six; and Milo, fifteen months. Mark, her husband, is senior pastor of Trinity United Methodist Church.



Jennifer Shores is married to Sam, pastor of Red River Community Church, where she is the church secretary part-time. They have been married twelve years and have one adopted daughter, Carys, who is eleven months old.



Chapter 1



Lulu’s Café



Tuesday, March 18



12:05 p.m.





“I can’t believe it!” Felicia Lopez-Morrison waved as she ricocheted through the tables, heading toward her three friends seated in their usual booth in the back right-hand corner of Lulu’s.



“Did you hear the news?” she asked breathlessly, sliding into the seat next to Jennifer, who pushed her leather purse against the wall and scooched over to give Felicia room.



Mimi laughed. “You mean about the scandal?”



“Who hasn’t heard?” Jennifer leaned over and gave Felicia a side hug.



“When Dave told me, I thought he was kidding,” Felicia said. “Kitty hasn’t even been in the ground a year.”



Lisa nodded. “Well, Norm was probably just lonely. He needed the companionship.”



“Then buy a dog,” Jennifer suggested. “Of course,” she said, getting tickled, “then people would talk about dogs and a Katt living together!”



The women groaned.



“It would have to be for companionship.” Felicia shouldered Jennifer playfully. “He just met the woman. He couldn’t love her, could he?”



“From what I heard,” Mimi said matter-of-factly, “she’s more like a girl.”



“Ladies!” Lisa smiled but looked a little uncomfortable.



Jennifer knew Lisa was construing this turn as gossipy. Sweet Lisa, Jennifer thought, looking at her friend, seated across the table from her. Always taking the high road. You’d think after four years of us all being friends, we would have picked up some of her good traits.



“Well, well.” A loud, brassy voice interrupted Jennifer’s thoughts. Their plump, gruff-sounding waitress, Gracie, was standing over their table, pulling out the order pad from thewhite apron strapped around her ample thighs. “Glad to see little Miss Señora made it today.”



Felicia pulled back in mock offense. “Hey, I’m only five minutes late!”



“Yeah, yeah.” A slight smile crossed Gracie’s face. She jutted her chin out toward Felicia. “I’m likin’ you without all the high-and-mighty outfits and shoes and whatnot.”



Everyone at the table laughed. Felicia spread her arms in show and bowed her head, as if accepting a standing ovation. Gracie threw back her head and guffawed.



Felicia certainly had changed in the last year she’d been working from home, Jennifer recognized. Her silky black hair, once curled and neatly laying across the top of her shoulders, was now pulled back in a ponytail. And her high-powered business suits and designer shoes had been replaced by a black pair of jeans and a mauve hoodie sweater. Jennifer glanced under the table—Well, her boots are still designer, she thought good-naturedly.



“I like you girls.” Gracie pulled a pencil from behind her ear. “You’re always the highlight of my every-other-Tuesday.”



“Well, thank you, Gracie,” Mimi said. “And you’re ours.”



“All right, enough with the chitchat,” Gracie said. “Are we all having the regulars?”



“Yes, ma’am,” Jennifer and the others chimed in.



Gracie harrumphed. “I don’t know why I keep taking out my order pad and pen for you all. OK, PWs, I’ll be back with your drinks.”



Jennifer watched Gracie plod off to her next table of customers several booths toward the front of the café. Jennifer really liked their waitress—and knew her three friends did too. Underneath all Gracie’s gruffness lay a heart as big as an ocean. And it was Gracie who had given the women their official group nickname—the PWs.



When Jennifer, Mimi, Lisa, and Felicia had started secretly meeting at Lulu’s nearly three years before, Gracie had been their waitress. She’d overheard them talking about God and their churches, figured out that they were all pastors’ wives, and nicknamed them. She’d gotten a big kick out of the fact that the women—all hailing from the southwest Ohio town of Red River—would drive forty miles out of their way every other Tuesday to nosh and chat in this little nothing-special dive. Although the PWs never had explained to Gracie that they met that far from home to avoid nosy townsfolk and church members overhearing their business, their now-seventy-year-old waitress hadn’t taken too long to figure out what was going on.



Now Gracie ambled slowly behind the front counter to the rectangular opening between the restaurant and the kitchen. She pounded a bell sitting on the ledge and yelled, “Order in!”



Felicia unfolded her paper napkin and laid it on her lap. “I just can’t believe it,” she mused, shaking her head. “Norm Katt remarried. To a woman half his age.”



“Whom he just met,” Mimi reminded everyone.



Jennifer pulled her eyes from watching the cook grab their order ticket and start to read it. Gracie had interrupted a very important news-sharing moment, and Jennifer didn’t want to miss any of it.



“And did you hear her name?” Mimi asked.



“Allison.” Lisa shook her head, looking as if she were trying to suppress a laugh. “Ally.”



As if in chorus, the women said, “Ally Katt.”



“Does the man never learn?” Felicia laughed. “First, he marries Kitty. And now Ally.”



“Oh, if they have children!” Jennifer said. “They could name one Fraidy.”



Felicia nodded. “Twins, of course, would be named Siamese and Tiger.”



“Of course.” Jennifer smiled.



“You all are so terrible!” Lisa pushed back her thick, reddish-brown-highlighted hair and fluffed it.



Mimi sighed and patted Lisa on the arm. “Oh, we all know it’s just in fun. We really don’t mean anything by it, do we, ladies? But you do have to admit, it is funny.”



Lisa rolled her eyes and shook her head as if to say, You silly kids. “Has anybody seen her?”



“Not that I know of—I mean, except for their church,” Jennifer said. “I guess Norm and his new bride only came back to town a couple weeks ago.”



“Well,” Mimi said, “that kid’s got a tough act to follow. As much as Kitty drove us all crazy, her church adored her. Wonder how they’ll take to a new pastor’s wife?”



“I don’t know,” Lisa said. “But they’ll definitely talk. I hope she knows what she’s gotten herself into.”



“Did any of us know that when we married pastors?” Mimi asked.



Lisa smiled. “I guess not.”



“I sure didn’t!” Jennifer said, thinking back to when she and Sam married twelve years ago. She had been attending the church as a relatively new Christian when Sam arrived on the scene as pastor. “Being a church member and being a pastor’s wife are two entirely different things.”



“I didn’t marry a pastor,” Felicia said. “If you recall, I married a businessman, who decided several years into his career that he was called to be a pastor. I didn’t get that vote.”



Gracie walked toward them, carrying a tray of drinks. She set it down on the edge of their table. “I’m getting too old for this. Can you believe they still make me carry my own trays? And my shoulder all messed up from that fall back in December?”



Gracie had taken a tumble on some ice outside Lulu’s one evening after work several months back and hurt her shoulder and hip.



“Is that still bothering you, Gracie?” Felicia asked.



“I still go to therapy for it, but you know those doctors. You can’t trust ’em.” She handed Mimi a glass of milk and passed Lisa an iced tea. Felicia grabbed the remaining two glasses, each filled with Diet Coke, and handed one to Jennifer.



“Hey!” Gracie said. “You trying to deprive me of my hard-earned tip?”



“Sorry!” Felicia joked. “But you know I’m working from home now. I need all the money I can get.”



“Well, you’d better find a better table. These girls are tighter than a duck’s behind with their money.” She pulled four straws out of her right apron pocket and plopped them in the center of the table.



“I’ll be back.” She winked, then pulled up the tray against her chest and trudged away.



“Can you believe it’s been a year since Kitty died?” Lisa tore the paper off her straw and crumpled it before dipping the straw into her drink.



“I know,” Jennifer said. “I kind of miss her. All the snarky comments about how insignificant our churches were compared to hers. The patronizing tone. The condescending looks.”



“I’m serious!” Lisa said. “It was tragic.”



“I know.” Jennifer sipped her soda. “Believe me, I wish she hadn’t died. It wasn’t a piece of cake for me—going through that miscarriage and being considered a murder suspect in her death—all in the same weekend.” There I go again, making everything about me, she told herself and inwardly winced.



Felicia rubbed Jennifer’s back. That was sweet, Jennifer thought, realizing her friends remembered how difficult that time in her life had been. She’d wanted that baby so badly. And to suffer a miscarriage, have an all-out argument with Kitty, threaten her, then have her up and fall down a ravine and break her neck…. It had been devastating.



“Let’s be honest.” Mimi dabbed at a trace of milk at the corner of her mouth. “We didn’t like her. She didn’t deserve what happened to her. But life has been calmer and more sane and relaxing since she’s been—”



“It was a year ago yesterday,” Felicia said. “St. Patrick’s Day weekend. At the pastors’ wives’ retreat.”



“That reminds me!” Mimi brightened and reached under the table. She pulled up her large purse/diaper-bag and dug into its depths. In her hands appeared two shamrock-and-cross-covered eggs that were the brightest kelly green Jennifer had ever seen. She laid them on the table and reached back in, producing one more. “From Megan. She wanted me to make sure to give these to you. We combined two holidays in one—St. Patrick’s Day and Easter, since that’s this weekend.”



“Carys will like this.” Jennifer picked one up and set it on top of her purse.



“I wonder what she looks like?” Felicia took another of the eggs and placed it by her drink.



“Who?” Lisa asked.



“Norm’s new wife.”



“I wonder if she’ll come to the next pastors’ wives’ meeting at New Life next month?”



“I already called and invited her. She’s coming.” Lisa tore into a packet of sugar and dumped it into her tea.



The table fell silent as Jennifer, Mimi, and Felicia all stared open-mouthed at their friend.



“What?” Lisa asked.



She really doesn’t know, Jennifer realized.



“You’ve been holding out on us, girlfriend!” Mimi said.



“Spill it,” Felicia said.



“What? There’s nothing to tell, really.” Lisa fidgeted a little in her seat. “I called her last Friday. We didn’t talk that long. I just congratulated her on her wedding, welcomed her to Red River and to being a pastor’s wife, then invited her to next month’s meeting.” She looked around the table. “OK. She did sound young . . . and very perky. And . . . she giggled a lot.”



Jennifer, Felicia, and Mimi eyed each other knowingly. Yep, this is going to be a fun meeting next month. How in the world did Norm go from hard-edged, superior Kitty to an early twenties cheerleader?



“Wonder what Kitty would think?” Felicia asked.



Lisa shrugged. “I’d hope she’d be glad that Norm found someone who loves him and is going to take care of him.”



Before Jennifer could say anything, Gracie arrived with their food.



“All right, PWs, quit your yakking and help me unload this thing.” Gracie pulled the first plate off the tray and handed it to Mimi. Mimi looked at the tuna melt and strip of cantaloupe and passed it on to Lisa. Jennifer’s was next with her chicken strips and fries. Then Felicia took her Caesar salad. Last was Mimi’s hamburger.



They got their food situated, passing the ketchup and salt, then Felicia offered grace.



Mimi shoved a fry in her mouth and savored it. “I love Milo, but I gotta tell you, it’s nice to eat a full meal without messy little fingers showing up, grabbing something on my plate.”



Felicia poured the dressing over her salad. “I know what that’s like. Oh, the peace and quiet—and adult conversation!”



Jennifer smiled as she thought of eleven-month-old Carys doing that same thing. But her thoughts drifted back to Kitty and the week following her death. Jennifer had been considered—although not officially—a murder suspect and had had to endure the detectives following her around, treating her like a criminal, until they determined Kitty’s death had been an accident.



“Remember last year when those detectives were following me around?” Jennifer asked, trying to sound nonchalant.



With their mouths all full, the others could only nod and say, “Mmm-hmmm.”



“Well, it’s happening again. At least I think it is.”



“What?” Mimi half-choked and plopped her burger onto her plate. She pounded on her chest with her fist as if trying to move the meat down her esophagus. “Detectives are following you around?”



“I don’t know who it is. But I keep seeing this black town car everywhere I go. Just glimpses of it, really. But . . .” Jennifer knew the whole thing sounded crazy. And verbalizing it made it sound even more outlandish. Maybe I’m just making this up. “Never mind. It’s . . . probably nothing.” She tried to laugh it off. “Just my overactive imagination. You know, with all the sleep deprivation and everything.”



“Oh, yeah, I can relate,” Mimi said. But she tilted her head toward Jennifer. “You OK? I mean, if somebody is following you . . .”



“Why would somebody follow you?” Felicia asked.



“That’s just it.” Jennifer swirled her chicken strip in a sea of barbecue sauce. “I don’t know. I can’t think of one plausible explanation.”



“Maybe it’s a church member trying to dig up dirt on you.” Felicia smiled and patted Jennifer’s arm.



Jennifer laughed. “No, that would be Lisa with that problem.”



Lisa lifted her napkin to hide her face, then let it droop just below her eyes. Wide-eyed, she looked around the diner frantically. They all laughed, but Jennifer knew Lisa was trying to put up a good front. Lisa had lost fifteen pounds in the last six months, and the sparkle in her hazel eyes had lost its shine. Poor Lisa. God, take care of this situation at her church. They don’t deserve this. They’re good people.

“What’s going on with your church?” Jennifer asked, partly to take the focus from her, and partly because she hadn’t heard the update in a while.



Lisa dropped the napkin back to her lap and shrugged. “Same old, same old. At least Joel is still the pastor—though I don’t know for how much longer. He’s meeting with the head troublemaker next week to confront him.”



That’s not going to be easy. Although Jennifer and Sam had had their share of church member issues, they’d never gone through major conflict, as Lisa and her husband, Joel, were now. She ached for them.



Lisa continued. “I just wish . . . you know, if these people are so upset, why do they cause such trouble? Why not just leave? Why make it into a huge power struggle?”



“Because—” Mimi leaned over until her shoulder was touching Lisa’s—“and you should know this better than any of us, Miss Assemblies of God, this is called spiritual warfare. The enemy doesn’t want the church to be vibrant and powerful in the community. He’d rather take down a church from the inside out than have it succeed.”



“Oh, sure, look at it from a spiritual perspective, why don’t you?” Felicia smiled gently.



“It’s hard to do that, though, isn’t it?” Jennifer asked. “Especially when the hurt is so physical and emotional.”



“Well, sweetie, you know you’re in our prayers.” Mimi wrapped her arm around Lisa and squeezed.



Lisa just nodded and looked down. Jennifer could tell her friend was embarrassed, because she’d quickly wiped at her eyes.



“How are things in your life?” Jennifer asked Felicia, trying to take off some of the pressure from Lisa.



“Actually, can’t complain right now.” Felicia swirled around some more dressing in her salad but didn’t look anyone in the eyes. “My clients are happy. I mean, there are challenges working at home. Mostly because everybody thinks that since I’m home, I’m, you know, sitting around watching Dr. Phil and just waiting for someone to put me to good use.”



“Oh, yes.” Mimi laughed. “Been there. Everybody thinks that we live to serve, huh? OK, well, we do, actually—at least that’s what my kids tell me—but still!” She laughed again.



“So that’s been a bit of a challenge. But other than that, things are . . . good.” Felicia held up crossed fingers. “Enjoy the peace while I can, right?”



Jennifer waited to see if Felicia would say any more. She got the sense something else was going on with Felicia but knew her friend would speak up when the time was right.



Lisa must have thought the same, because she turned to Mimi. “And how about you? How’s Dad doing?”



“Awwk.” Mimi rolled her eyes. “As ornery as ever. One of the conditions for Dad staying with us is that he’s supposed to attend his AA meetings. He’s still attending, but he’s also still drinking. He does it on the sly, like he thinks we don’t notice. I don’t know what to do, honestly. We can’t kick him out; he’s got no place else to go.”



“Where’s your mom?” Felicia asked.



“She’s down in Kentucky, staying with her sister. She’s definitely not interested in taking him back. And I don’t blame her. Life with my father has never been easy. But when he ran off to California with that woman . . . I can’t say I’d take him back either, if he were my husband.”



“So instead,” Jennifer said, feeling a little bitter, “you, the daughter, have to take him in and parent him.”



Mimi half-chuckled. “Yep. My sister made it clear she wasn’t interested. So I’m it.”



“Doesn’t that tick you off?” Jennifer said.



“Sometimes, yes. But you know, I’m the responsible one.” She tucked her short, blond hair behind her ears—something she did whenever she was stressed or frustrated about something. “Plus, Mark and I have been trying to look at it from a spiritual perspective. He’s my dad—and he needs the Lord.”



Just like my mother. Jennifer tried to push the thought aside.



“Is he going to church with you yet?” Felicia asked.



“No, that’s one thing he refuses to do. But we keep working on him. It’s really cute to see Megan reprimanding him about not attending.”



Jennifer could picture Mimi’s precocious six-year-old giving her grandfather a lecture about loving Jesus and getting saved.



Gracie reappeared and dropped the check on the table. “Here’s your parting gift, ladies. Hope you have a good week and those preacher husbands of yours treat you all right.”



“Hey, how’s your sister doing, Gracie?” Lisa asked as Gracie started to turn away.



Gracie grimaced and a shadow crossed her face. Jennifer knew Gracie’s sister had been diagnosed with breast cancer a year ago and had gone through surgery and chemo.



“Not good. She just went to the doc last week. It’s back and vicious.”



“I thought she had it beat,” Jennifer said.



“We thought so too, but when she went in for a checkup, they found it. It’s in her bones and I don’t know where all.”



“Oh, Gracie, we’re so sorry.” Mimi touched Gracie’s hand. Gracie squeezed it and held on.



“Oh, Gracie,” Jennifer murmured.



“That’s terrible,” said Lisa.



Felicia just shook her head, her face heavy.



“I’m flying down there to Florida next week to be with her,” Gracie said. “So I guess I won’t see you next time.”



“We’ll be praying for your sister—and for you,” Lisa said.



Gracie nodded and let go of Mimi’s hand. “I know you will. If God hears anybody, I know it’s you four women. Pray hard, will ya? Maybe he’ll take pity on an old, crotchety woman and her sister.” She winked, then turned and walked slowly away.



Jennifer and the others looked at one another but didn’t say anything for a moment.



“I had no idea.” Felicia’s eyes followed Gracie as she tended to her other customers on the other side of the restaurant.



“She didn’t let on at all that something was up,” Mimi said, looking amazed at how well Gracie had covered up her pain.



“Maybe we should pray for her and her sister right now,” Lisa suggested.



Jennifer and the others agreed. There was no better time and place to pray.

WHAT I HAVE TO SAY:  This book arrived on my door step YESTERDAY!  I am soo sad that I wasn't able to read it and give a review on here!  I promise, as soon as I get it read, I will be back here to review it!