Week 12: MIRACLES AND DREAMS

Congratulations to Pam Zarate, winner of last week's featured book, STOLEN MIRACLES!


Miracles at Mills Landing Series, Book 3

1st Chapter:

The grinding whirr of landscaping trucks filled with rich, black mulch was a heartbeat to Jack Seaton’s soul. Loose soil, rich and musky with the scent of recent rain, made his blood rush with adrenaline. Nothing compared with the awakening that coursed through his veins as he watched the expanse of earth transform from bare to beautiful. Under his attentive eye and careful planning, where rocks once scattered there now breathed a community of upscale townhomes with a majestic mountain backdrop.

As trucks dumped mulch at the elaborate river-rock entrance sign, complete with working waterfall and a parade of crimson knock-out roses, Jack knew that nothing in life had ever—or would ever—trump the soaring feeling that overtook him.

Except for what he’d once experienced with Misty Larson. That had been an adrenaline rush/two-step swathed beneath the glow of a few months’ worth of full moons. But that dance, and the emotions that accompanied it, had ended more than half-a-decade ago—a lifetime ago—and were better left in the past. Jack had tucked away the memories along with the scent of Misty’s peaches and vanilla perfume and the melody of her laughter. She’d hurt him to the core…betrayed him in the worst possible way, and he couldn’t possibly forgive her—not ever.

“Hey, boss.” Mike, the stout senior foreman, loped over carrying an armload of letters. “I got mail call here, and today it’s a doozie.”

“That’s a load.” Jack grimaced at the mountain of bundled paper. So much for indulging in an early knock-off that afternoon. “It will probably take me hours to sort through.” He sighed and scratched the stubble that smattered his chin. No point in shaving to come to the job site. He’d spend the day on the phone or buried beneath a landslide of paperwork. “Toss it all on my desk. I’ll get to it later, when the landscapers are finished at the entrance.”

“This letter arrived special delivery. I had to sign for it.” Mike handed Jack a crisp manila envelope, the address personally hand lettered. It was a bit bulky, with the outline of a second envelope—or perhaps a square of cardboard—tucked inside. “It’s different from the rest—smells a bit odd, like a hint of sweet perfume. You got something going on, boss?”

“Nope.” The question, coming from anyone but Mike, would have offended Jack. But, after five-plus years working together, the two had forged a friendship that went beyond the jobsite. Mike was a stand-up guy whom Jack knew he could count on in any situation. “Nothing but a date with my pillow.”

“If you say so.” Mike shrugged and slapped the letter against his thigh before offering it up. “But, you might want to take a look.”

“Thanks.” Jack took the letter, distracted as one of the trucks inched dangerously close to a drop-off across the road. The driver was new and flirting with disaster. The road department had yet to come out and place guard rails. Jack had that at the top of the day’s To-Do list: hound the road department. The rails would have to come in before any of the new owners arrived.

Jack tucked the envelope into the pocket of his flannel shirt and started across the work field, motioning Mike to follow. “Do you see that drop-off at the entrance?”

“Sure do, boss.” Mike nodded as he fell into step. “Hard to miss that one.”

“Grab the specs and let’s take a look-see.” Jack lifted a hand to shield his eyes from the glaring sun. “It’s shaping up to be a problem.”

****

Misty glanced at the clock on the wall above the kitchen doorway and grimaced. She was due to fetch Allie from school in half-an-hour. Where had the day gone?

The laptop’s screen mocked her with a flash of graphics. She pushed away from the table and leaned back in the chair, rubbing

exhaustion from her weary eyes. This project was proving to be a bear, and doubt crept in that she’d manage to finish by the deadline she’d promised the client.

But, she had to finish. Her future—and Allie’s—depended on it. Spence Tucker, the new director of the expanding Mill’s Landing Parks and Rec department, could open doors Misty had only dreamed of crossing through.

If she nailed this job—on time.

Misty sighed and rolled kinks from her neck before slipping from the chair and padding over to the sink. One of the fringe benefits of managing her own Web-design agency was the ability to work from home…in her stocking feet and with her uncombed hair swept into a messy ponytail. Jeans and a T-shirt were optional—some work days slipped away before she even changed out of her pajamas or donned a hint of make-up.

Today was the exception. She’d dropped Allie at school, and then taken an early jog along the Landing to get the creative juices flowing. Inspiration had flared by the time she indulged in a quick shower. A trip down the electronic highway followed.

Until she hit a roadblock at the first turn. The photos Spence Tucker had sent were all wrong, and the layout left gaps. She needed more—better—soon.

Ugh. She refilled her coffee cup, added a splash of French-vanilla creamer, and took a moment to gaze through the bay window that swaddled the modest breakfast nook. Sunlight spilled across the yard beyond, spotlighting toys peeking through blades of grass that cried out to be mowed. The lawn would have to wait until tomorrow—she’d promised Allie a trip to the park after school. It would give her a chance to snap more photos of the walking trail and landscaping just coming into bloom. The trail snaked around the park and through the Landing. With a little luck, she’d capture the beauty she yearned to express through the Parks and Rec Website.

She fingered the buttons on the oversized flannel shirt she wore over a scoop-necked navy T-shirt. Patches of baby blue and soft yellow had faded from hundreds of washings, and one of the cuffs was missing its buttons. She wondered now why she hadn’t thrown it out—or burned it—years ago. The fabric, if she imagined hard enough, still carried the faint, wood-spice scent of Jack’s aftershave. Cotton caressed her pale skin like a gentle hug, just as Jack once had—before the breakup.

Maybe she kept the shirt—and still occasionally wore it—because of Allie. Despite the heartaches that Jack Seaton had caused, he’d given her Allie. Misty would be forever thankful to him for the gift of her daughter.

Misty glanced at a photo of Allie she’d tacked to the fridge. The child had Jack’s eyes…a swirl of wolf-gray with flecks of stonewashed blue that danced with a hint of mischief. Her rich black hair held Jack’s thick and wavy texture, as well. Misty was helpless when it came to restraining the mass with bows or elastic bands. She’d considered cutting it, but Allie loved the long locks. So, a headband worked best, Misty had learned through trial and error, and Allie had an arsenal to choose from.

Misty tore her gaze from the photo and her mind from the memories. She took a final sip of tepid coffee and then dumped what was left down the sink drain. The screensaver popped on, and a cluster of willows danced in a breeze, their shadows reflected along the water’s edge. Misty longed to be in the cool shade of the trees down at the Landing.

She forced the thought away and tried not to remember how she’d once waited there—foolishly—for Jack to come for her.

He never did.

Now there was way too much on her plate to waste time reminiscing—or wishing for something that was not meant to be. She’d moved on a long time ago.

Hadn’t she?

Disgusted with the thought, Misty gave the computer screen one last glance before closing the laptop. After jotting a few quick notes on a legal pad beside the computer, she tossed the pencil onto the table. The project could wait for later tonight—after Allie was in bed. Maybe then, her mind would be clear of Jack Seaton…and the nagging feeling that, despite all her blessings, something important in her life was missing.

Be sure to LEAVE YOUR COMMENT below to be entered in the drawing for this week's giveaway.

Purchase MIRACLES AND DREAMS:

Amazon Kindle

Nook Book

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Week 11: STOLEN MIRACLES

Congratulations to Deanna Dick, winner of last week's featured 1st -chapter book, MIRACLES AND MISCHIEF!
Miracles at Mills Landing, Book 2

1st Chapter:

Rebecca Gillespie gnawed the eraser end of a pencil as her attention wandered to the office window and a row of maples that lined the boulevard beyond. The street, which merely half an hour earlier had bustled with the traffic of people scurrying home from work, was now still. Trees swayed along a smattering of park benches, offering shade from late-afternoon sun. A gentle breeze drifted through the window, carrying the mild scent of changing leaves that signaled the end of lazy summer days. The cozy park beyond was quiet; parents had taken their children home for dinner.

The park and landing, which overlooked the sun-dappled Tennessee River, was one of the main reasons Rebecca had chosen this spot for her preschool—the scenery was stunning and tranquil, perfect for the safety of the children.

Other people’s children.

Stark realization stole Rebecca’s breath. She glanced at a calendar hanging on the wall above her desk. August thirty-first. Hard as she tried, she couldn’t blot out the coming month—September. Had it really been nearly five years since the accident that took her husband, Steve, as well as the child she’d carried? Rebecca’s fingers delved beneath her neat ponytail and ran the length of her hairline. A jagged scar hidden by layers of tamed curls was proof of the injuries she’d suffered and the fact that the daughter she’d longed for—that she’d been told had died that night—was really living somewhere in Mill’s Landing. Another family had claimed her for their own.

Rebecca leaned forward; reaching for a cup of coffee perched on the desk blotter. A delicate silver locket—two hearts intertwined—slipped from the collar of her blouse. As it dangled and swayed, she dismissed the coffee and slid the chain from her neck. Unclasping the locket, she gazed at its emptiness. A pang of frustration punctuated a wave of sadness, and Rebecca chastised herself before she was swept into the riptide. Why should she expect the locket to hold anything more than empty air? Her daughter was still missing—and in only a week or so, she’d celebrate her fifth birthday.

Rebecca opened her desk drawer and thumbed through countless folders until she found a familiar maroon-colored file. The riptide tugged mercilessly as she searched through documents for the letter she knew she’d find sandwiched between sheaves of legalese. Why she read it again now, she wasn’t sure. Maybe she was driven by the fact that someone else, somewhere here in Mill’s Landing, was preparing for a birthday celebration with her daughter—a birthday that should be hers to share. The very thought made Rebecca crazy with longing.

The note was written in a flourish of deliberate swirls on opaque taupe parchment folded into thirds. Rebecca’s belly tangled and her blood rushed at her temples as she scanned the words.

Dear Rebecca,

The oncologist has informed me that my time left here on earth is short, so I long to put my affairs in order before the fateful day claims my final breath.

That said, a weight presses heavily on my heart. I have wronged you grievously, my dear, and for my actions I deeply, regretfully apologize. The night that unspeakable automobile accident claimed Steven’s life and nearly yours, as well, holds veiled secrets that must, however painful, now be spoken.

You see, Rebecca, the night remains crystal clear in my memory—from the initial news of the accident to learning that my precious Steven, my only child, was gone to me forever. It was easy to blame you for his demise. I warned him not to get mixed up with you—and then to compound that error by marrying someone fathoms below his social class and bringing a child into the world!

I was consumed by grief and contempt those five months you lay in a coma. It’s true the doctors were forced to take your premature child by emergency Cesarean section. But the child was not stillborn, Rebecca. The opposite is quite true—you gave birth to a healthy, though somewhat premature, baby girl.

As you know, since you had no family to take charge of the situation, except for me, I held the power of attorney for both you and your child. In poor health myself, battling this awful disease, there was no way I could maintain the care of an infant. I had no choice but to place your daughter into a private adoption with a couple living in Mill’s Landing. Whether they still reside there, I have no idea.

I never imagined you would survive your injuries, fully restored to health. My dying wish is for you to have all the happiness you deserve. I hope the inheritance I’ve earmarked for you will help. Please accept the money and do something good with it…something that would make Steven proud. He would have liked that.

Finally, forgive me, Rebecca. I beseech you to pray for my soul.

Marilyn Gillespie

The letter slipped from Rebecca’s fingers, fluttering across the desk blotter. She brushed tears from her eyes and drew a tremulous breath. Despite countless readings of the note, she continued to struggle with making sense of such shattering words. So much hurt…all unnecessary. From the very start of her relationship with Steve, Rebecca had gone to great lengths to be pleasing to his overbearing mother. Yet, Marilyn had taken an immediate dislike to her, doing her best to destroy the love that Rebecca and Steve shared. Rebecca hadn’t spoken to her since the day Marilyn, still incensed over the marriage and subsequent pregnancy, had insinuated Rebecca was nothing more than a gold-digger, merely after the Gillespie family money. That day had come merely a week before the accident.

Marilyn’s gold-digging assumption was the furthest thing from the truth. Rebecca was still in graduate school when she’d fallen in love with Steve, and admittedly more than a bit naïve about the way the world worked, but she loved Steve, and he’d adored her. A handful of months into the marriage the pregnancy came unexpectedly, yet they both were thrilled with the prospect of becoming parents.

Now he was gone forever and their daughter was missing. How was it possible?

Rebecca crossed her arms over the desktop and settled her head as tears joined the painful memories. Once the initial shock and rage of the letter had worn off, Rebecca prayed for Marilyn’s soul as well as for healing in her own heart. She also used the inheritance Marilyn left to open Precious Miracles. She’d believed if she was patient, her daughter would eventually come home to her. But three long years had passed since she’d first read Marilyn’s confession. No matter which route Rebecca took, she always reached a dead end. Though it was beyond frustrating, she struggled to remain positive. What good would it do to allow anger and despair to devour her?

In her heart, Rebecca also believed that even in this most unbelievable mess, God had a plan. She held fast to that belief. Yet, on days such as this when the memories crept in and stole the light, each breath still sliced like a knife.

Maybe she was trying too hard. She’d spent nearly every waking hour either managing the preschool or searching for clues. Maybe it was time to ease up a bit and let God handle it. Her grandma used

to say, “When the going gets rough, Becca, remember God’s always there to listen.”

Rebecca eased back in the padded desk chair and lifted her gaze. She clasped her hands and drew a deep, cleansing breath as she offered a silent prayer.

Tell me, Lord…how much pain might I endure? Will I ever find my daughter? And, if I do find her, what happens next, Lord?

****

“Have you been to the doctor yet?” Cole Siebert loosened his tie with one hand while gripping the steering wheel of the SUV with his other. The handsfree phone device made it easy to navigate traffic while talking to his sister—so much better for multi-tasking. “What did he say, Patty?”

“The babies are doing fine right now, but he wants me to rest more the next several weeks.” Patty’s voice drifted over the line. “I’m glad you’re meeting the preschool director today. I’m pretty sure the doctor is going to put me on bed rest with the next visit.”

“Do you want me to head home now? I could put off the preschool appointment until next week.”

“Next week might be too late, Cole. My appointment is in a few days.”

“Oh, well…” She must have sensed the apprehension in his voice, his hesitation.  “You’ll be fine and so will Kimmy.”

“I’m not worried about me. I’m worried about you—“

“Don’t.” He could picture her waggling a finger at him, the way she’d become accustomed to as his older sister. “You know, I think this may be a blessing in disguise.”

“How so?”

“It’s time, Cole, for you and Kimmy to make your own way. Leaning on me is stifling your social life. You haven’t been out in months.”

“I’m not ready to date.”

“I didn’t say anything about dating. I’m talking about getting your life back. You have to plunge back in. Leah would want you to move on…to be happy again.”

“How can I be happy?” The very idea tugged at him. Leah had been his biggest fan. But now she was gone, and he felt like a sundae without the hot fudge. “It’s just not fair.”

“Maybe not, but it is what it is.”

“Oh, sis, I’m so sorry.” Guilt stabbed Cole. “I’ve been selfish.”

“You’ve been hurting…and human. But you need to be strong now. You can’t miss your appointment with the preschool director. You’re already late. Kimmy is depending on you.”

“Can’t she enroll in kindergarten?” He applied the left turn signal and blew around a corner. “She’ll be five next week.”

“No. She missed the age cut-off by two weeks.”

“And they don’t make exceptions, right?”

“No. Not even for big-shot attorneys like you. We’ve both tried.” Cole tapped the brake as the traffic light turned yellow. “What’s Kimmy doing now?”

“Dressing Buttercup to star in her latest play.”

“That poor cat.” Cole shook his head and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. A warm breeze rustled his hair as it whispered through the open driver’s window, carrying the musky scent of fallen leaves. “Give her a kiss for me, and tell her I’ll be home as soon as I can.”

“I will.”

“And sit down a bit. Put your feet up.”

“I’ll do that too if you promise to stop by the bakery to order Kimmy’s birthday cake after you leave the preschool.”

“Got it.” The light changed to green again. Cole hit the gas and crested a hill. He coasted through a second light before turning the corner. “Thanks, sis, for everything.”

“Make a good impression on that director, OK?” Patty urged. “And the sooner Kimmy can enroll and get started, the better. She needs someone to play with besides you, me, and the cat.”

“Soon she’ll have twin cousins, as well.”

“Yes, she will.”

Cole heard the happiness in his sister’s voice, which spurred him on. “But, in the meantime. I’ll do my best. I’m almost to the school. Traffic is thinning, thank goodness.” The clock on the dash flashed five forty-three. “Talk to you later, sis.”

Cole disconnected and tapped the gas pedal, pushing the speed limit slightly as he shifted lanes. The sun sank low on the horizon, casting a shimmer of magenta through maple trees that lined the boulevard. He was late for the appointment. Cole offered a silent prayer for the director’s understanding. The school had to work out for Kimmy…and for him. Patty had been more than gracious to help care for Kimmy the past several months while Cole returned to work following Leah’s passing. But Patty was right. The arrangement was never meant to be permanent, and she had sacrificed quite a bit to be there for him. It was time for her to take care of herself and her babies now, and for Cole to find his own way. So, Cole had phoned the preschool director—Rebecca somebody-or-other—that morning, and she’d agreed to meet with him at five this afternoon.  There was no more putting off the inevitable. Besides, Precious Miracles was the best of the best preschools in Mill’s Landing. Everyone said so, and even the Mill’s Landing Daily Journal had run a glowing feature story last month. Cole turned the corner, and the school came into view. The brick building, with its generous expanse of windows, beckoned. A powder blue sedan was parked near the rear of the lot.

Cole heaved a sigh. It was minutes before six, and maybe he’d blown the whole opportunity. How was he going to meet with the director and get Kimmy’s birthday cake ordered before the bakery closed at seven?

At the thought of Kimmy’s birthday, a wave of grief swept through Cole. The holiday was bittersweet, marking another first without his wife. She was only twenty-eight. Heart attacks weren’t supposed to happen to women who were young—to mothers with daughters who depended on them and husbands who adored them. Yet, it had. Leah was proof. Eleven months and Cole still struggled to find his footing through the loss. The world had become bland and colorless…whispers of gray punctuated by flurries of black. Yet the creeping phlox in an explosion of fuchsia blooming along the preschool entrance walkway told him there was color to enjoy—and plenty of it. He simply had to figure out how to move past the loss.

Like it or not, there was no turning back now.

Be sure to LEAVE YOUR COMMENT below to be entered into the drawing for this week's giveaway.

Purchase STOLEN MIRACLES:

Amazon Kindle

Nook Book

Pelican Book Group (ePub or Adobe PDF)