Shattered – Kate Kelly

Wow, time flies when you’re having fun. I haven’t posted anything since March 25 when I wrote about Ashlyn’s Radio. Then, I got busy working on my second round of revisions for my novel. I finished them yesterday morning – Yippee!

Now, it’s time to take a deep breath, relax and wait to hear back from my editor. I want to tell you about another genre I hadn’t read before. It’s quite strange this came about.

I was working on revisions when an author in the writers’ forum I belong to announced that her YA Paranormal was free on Amazon that weekend. I’d just read and enjoyed Ashlyn’s Radio so I decided to download hers as well. So, once I finished my revisions, I looked for the book I’d promise to read but couldn’t find it. Thinking I’d mistakenly deleted it from my e-reader, I went to Amazon, got it again and began to read.

It was a good book but after a while, I failed to see anything ‘paranormal’ about it so I emailed the author. She replied (keep in mind that I usually read/write Christian novels and she knew that):

“Renee-Ann, it wasn’t my book you decided to read. My book is a romantic suspense and quite spicy, I’m not sure you’d enjoy reading it…”

“Oops” was my initial reaction but I pressed on and finished it because the story line was great and I really wanted to know “Whodunit”.

Shattered by Kate Kelly is a great suspense – and yes, spicier than what I’m used to – but I must say that I enjoyed the story and I couldn’t wait to get to the end. Here’s the blurb:

Cowboy Jay Rawlings is a former detective who feels responsible for not being able to save his sister’s life and can’t leave the past behind. But when Tess MacLean – a woman he once loved – comes back to his ranch with a killer on her tail, Jay must now face his past and look to the future – one that might include Tess.

I like Kate’s style. The suspense begins within the first few pages and just keeps mounting. One moment I thought the villain was “this guy” because… but a few twists and turns lead me to think that it couldn’t be him therefore it must be… (Sorry no spoiler in this blog).

Kate Kelly knows how to tell a suspense story and keeps you guessing until the last pages. I’m not a speed reader and can’t get to the end fast enough. In a book like this, I want to cheat and skip to the last page. This book is a page turner and I hated to put it down. It is action packed and delivers a good punch. For those who like a spicy suspense romance, you’re in for a treat.

Now, if you were curious which Paranormal I’d promised to read: it’s called Pride’s Run by Cat Kalen.

Look at the two authors names: Kate Kelly… Cat Kalen… You’ve got to admit that there are similarities.

I did read Pride’s Run and it’s my next post.

Blessings everyone.

Renee-Ann

<><

Ashlyn’s Radio

I recently read a blog which talked about the importance for writers to read genres they don’t write about. Shortly afterward, I had a brief conversation with Me and Myself. You know the kind?

“There are so many genres out there,” I said to Myself. “I wouldn’t know where to start. Besides, I am sometimes quite picky about what I read. Suspense is – always has been – at the top of my list and that’s never going to change. That’s what I read and write. Romance, humour, and true stories are next on the list. but now, Paranormal? Vampires? Sci-Fi? Forget it, I never read them.”

“Why not?” Myself asked.

“I don’t know. I’m just not into that kind of stuff. It’s not my thing, I guess,” I replied.

“Oh?” Me Chimed in.  “But if you don’t read these genres, how in the world would you know that you’re not into that kind of stuff?” Me chimed in, eyebrows raised, and fingers drumming on the arm of the chair.

“Touché!” I said, defeated.

As an aspiring Christian suspense author, I belong to a writers’ group/forum where several of them are published. This gives me a lot of genres to choose from. So, I decided to try something new. Coincidentally, the week the above conversation took place, I read about a YA paranormal, co-written by one of the writers in the group.

Ashlyn’s Radio by Wilson Doherty (Norah Wilson and Heather Doherty). Here’s a blurb about it.

When her mother is institutionalized after a mental breakdown, Ashlyn Caverhill is forced to abandon Toronto, and the only life she’s ever known, to go live in Maine with the only relative she has: her grandmother.  At first, she finds it Prescott Junction… boring, except for the ghost train that goes through at night to claim lost souls; a rumour Ashlyn dismisses quickly. While Ashlyn refuses to believe in a train that comes to claim lost souls, several unexplained deaths near the tracks seem to suggest otherwise. When the antique radio in her grandmother’s basement comes to life and she’s told that the radio is a Caverhill curse, Ashlyn is forced to face reality and needs her two new friends’ help to ensure that her soul remains unclaimed.

I wasn’t sure what to expect when I started reading this book but I liked what I read. Once I started, it was hard to put down. Though I know the difference between fact and fiction, it still had me intrigued until the end, because there were several questions for which I wanted answers… answers that came in due time and not a moment before. I don’t want to give anything away, but will say that it had me shed a few tears – happy ones and sad ones – and the ending had me choked up.

So what else can I say about this book? Ashlyn’s Radio is light, yet ghostly, happy and sad, interesting, and delightful. For my first paranormal, I’d say I wasn’t disappointed.

The Centurion’s Wife, by Davis Bunn and Janette Oke

 

Lately I’ve been sharing not only about the books I’ve read, but those that touched me in a special way. And with Easter less than a month away, I thought it would be nice to share my thoughts on a wonderful novel I read recently, one that had a big impact on me.

The Centurion’s Wife by Davis Bunn and Janette Oke.

Set in the early Christian era, The Centurion’s Wife is a biblically based fiction account of the centurion whose servant Jesus healed before his death on the cross. It tells of Leah, Pilate’s niece and servant to his wife Procula. Leah’s hand in marriage is promised to Centurion Alban but she doesn’t want to marry. In fact, she pleads with her mistress, but to no avail. The wedding will take place, and that’s all there is to it.

Soon after Jesus’ body disappears from the tomb, Procula sends Leah to try to find out whether Jesus’ disciples are planning a revolt. She meets and befriends Mary Magdalene, Mary and Martha to name a few. Alban, however, tries to find the guards posted at Jesus’ tomb when the body disappeared. I don’t want to say too much more for fear I’ll give too much of it away, but suffice to say that somewhere in the middle of compelling story of faith and hope, Alban and Leah take you on a fantastic journey of mystery and later, love.

I’m convinced that both believers and non-believers alike will enjoy this book. It is thought-provoking, something I love in a book. I’ve read other books by Davis Bunn but it was the first I read of his novels co-authored by Janette Oke. After reading this one, I’m hooked and definitely want to read more.

To read more about Davis Bunn and Janette Oke, and the books they’ve written, individually and co-authored, visit their websites.

All Different Kinds of Free

 

 

 

Some say that you can tell a lot about a book by its cover. I used to wonder how true that was. But that was before I stumbled upon All Different Kinds of Free, a wonderful novel by Jessica McCann.

Two things caught my attention when I saw it for the first time: the person of colour and the word Free. I knew right away that it was a story about slavery. So I followed my instinct and I downloaded it before I even read the full blurb about it. I’m so glad I did (even though I had more than enough books in my e-reader to last me a lifetime . . . and then some).

What I didn’t know, however was that the main protagonist, Margaret Morgan, isn’t a fictitious character.

Margaret was a woman of colour, and a devoted wife and mother who lived in the 1800’s. But she was more than that: she was free, making a living as a seamstress. One night in 1837, a bounty hunter tears her family apart when he kidnapped her and the children, claiming she is a runaway slave, and forces her into slavery. No expects Margaret to fight back, but she does . . . with a vengeance, some might say, all the way up to the Supreme Court.

Inspired by a true story, McCann does a superb job retelling the account details of what little is known of the case Prigg v. Pennsylvania. One website put it this way:

“History books will have you believe the story Prigg v. Pennsylvania is important because it ended in controversy, and fanned the early sparks of Civil War. But this book will have you believe the story is important because it began with Margaret.”

When it comes to slavery, I haven’t read such a gripping historical novel since Alex Haley’s bestselling novel Roots. When this latter came out on television as a miniseries (now on video) back in 1977, I watched the saga unfold for 8 consecutive nights. It moved me in so many ways; it tore me apart; made me laugh and cry, but most of all, it gave me a profound love for these people. In fact, I even vowed that someday, I’d go to this beautiful land called Africa. I kept my promise, not once but twice. Anyone who’s been there knows that once just isn’t enough.

McCann’s novel moved me quite similarly, from the first page until the last. I’m certain it will move you too.

Mixed Genre? Why not?

What do you get when you mix action with lot of romance, a murder, suspense, and other little things? A great read packed with intrigue and bursting at the seam.

That’s what Barbara Phinney did with her latest novel, Souvenirs of a killer vacation. When Anna’s husband is found dead in a motor home, Anna becomes the prime suspect. Many things point to her being the killer. The police build a valid case against her with valid reasons. He’d verbally and emotionally abused her throughout their married life and she’d had enough. But would she go as far as killing him in order to get out of this marriage? Wouldn’t a divorce be enough? That’s for me to know, and for you to find out.

What I liked most about the book is that Phinney keeps the reader guessing. Is Anna the murderer? Or, was it the young man with whom her husband had an altercation? He knew her husband had a lot of money and this young man was, well, in need of some. Or better yet could it be . . . who would want him dead and why? There are many possibilities. And Phinney had me guessing for a while.

In the process of trying to clear her name, Anna finds herself falling for former Special Operations Commander, Brent Stirling . . . and he for her. While Anna claims that she didn’t kill her husband, Brent seems to be the only one who believes her. Or does he? Get the book. I highly recommend it and you won’t be disappointed.

A Sense of Community . . . Pay it Forward

Oh the good old days. As you read this, pause and think way back when. . .

Do you remember how everyone in the neighbourhood used to watch out for us kids? Heaven forbids if any of us “broke the rules”. Regardless of our age, chances were good that if our parents didn’t see catch us, they’d find out anyway because Mrs Jones, who lived a block away and knew our mother or knew we were Mary’s kid who lived next door to Mrs. Jones’ daughter’s best friend, caught us. Does that sound familiar?

We never locked our doors, yet never got robbed. Our parents were always there for the neighbours, and/or the kids, as were we. What happened in our neighbourhood happened to all of us, in a matter of speaking, and it affected everyone. If someone passed away, there were more than enough deep dish casseroles, sweet potato biscuits, and cookies and cakes at the church hall after the funeral to feed, well, the entire neighbourhood. And when a baby was born, the same thing happened. Except this time, there were more mounds of baby clothes than food. Does that sound familiar too?

Not everyone on the street owned a lawnmower and/or snow blower. Come to think of it actually, very few had a snow blower back then. Most had this great invention called a shovel. And we very seldom had to borrow (or ask, for that matter) because those who had these conveniences, offered to mow your lawn, or shovelled your driveway. You were never stuck.

What in the world happened to our sense of community? Why isn’t it like this anymore? Oh, correction . . . in some areas, it is.

I remember the story of a man named Frank, who took a heart attack. He wasn’t allowed to drive and his wife Annie never had her license. It was wonderful to see that sense of community because their families were quite a distance away. yet these two got more drives than they could count, people dropped in to see how they were doing, always asking if there was anything they could do. It was incredible.

Frank got the green light to drive again after ten weeks and, go figure, it wouldn’t start when it was time to go pick Annie up at work. He suggested she take a cab, not that they could afford it but . . . In passing, Annie mentioned to the cabbie that her husband’s car wouldn’t start. Out of the blue, the cabbie offered to help. Now I know that’s not unusual, many people still lend a hand, specially for the elderly. Grab the booster cable and off you go. Right?

But this young cabbie did more than that. When, after a boost, the car still didn’t start, he drove Frank to the gas station to fill up a jerry can, drove him back home, and made sure the car started. Then, he left without accepting a dime for lost fares. Fare he would have received had he not helped Frank. What an incredible story of a selfless act for a young couple. Oh, by the way, Frank was only 42 old when he had his heart attack.

Today, I chatted with our neighbour, a retired gentleman who we don’t see often enough. He’s the one who reminded me of neighbourly love and the good old days. He wished people were like they used to be and he misses that. Come to think of it, I do too.

Next time you get the chance to help a neighbour in need, a friend, or even a total stranger, don’t think twice. Just go for it. You’ll be glad you did. And someday, it will come back to you.

What goes around comes around.

THE WORLD OF ADDICTIONS

Everyone who follows my blog knows that when I read a book, if I’m impressed with it, I love to tell the world about it.

However, recently, I read one that, not only do I want to share with it you, I feel I “have” to because of the impact it had on me. It is Mylow Young’s Against the Gates of Hell: A Crack House Exodus.

The title is obvious, it deals with drugs, more specifically, crack cocaine. Amazingly written, Young brings his reader into the story with him when ‘showing’ what each character is going through. I say ‘showing’ because he’s not just telling you, he does a superb job writing in such a way that you can see what he says. That’s the kind of books I love to read. I like to see what’s going on, and to be carried away into the book with the other characters, just like watching a movie. I absolutely loved every word of this book.

On his website, I read the following: “This hope-filled story reveals the internal and external struggles of two men who find themselves in need of God’s grace, love and forgiveness as they fight for their lives against the very gates of hell.”

Part of the story is fictitious, but Young wrote this based on his own life experience, as he struggled with drugs more than half of his life. He states: “Some of the things happened just as you read them, while others were created or embellished through the imagination God blessed me with.”

Again, I strongly recommend this book. I couldn’t put it down and read every spare minute I could . . . and yes, for those who know me well, you know that I even read while walking on my treadmill. If I could describe it, I’d say it was both heart-warming and heart-wrenching. But I must add that it was also very educational.

You see, I’ve never done drugs (I very seldom take Tylenol for a headache!), so not only am I totally ignorant on the subject, I really have no idea what anyone on coke or any other drug deals with. To me it was unfathomable because I never experienced it. And now, although this is something I know I’ll never experience, I have a better understanding. I honestly never imagined what an addict goes through and this book helped me to gain that greater understanding, and better insight.

Someone very dear to my husband and I is on different drugs but my ignorance on the subject keeps me from saying exactly what kind they are. I think he’s on hash, but it could be it pot or weed for all I know. I guess he’s taking meth or was that mescaline? I’m not kidding, I really don’t know.

Until I read Mylow Young’s book, all I ever felt for this acquaintance of ours was resentment because he’s wasted a major part of his 50 years away yet complains he doesn’t have any money. As much as I hate to admit it, my response has always been the same (and not at all Christian-like, I’m sorry to say): “If he didn’t waste it on booze and drugs, he might have money.”

Today, I see him very differently and my resentment is gone. I see him as someone with a serious problem. Daily, I pray that he’ll someday overcome this addiction. Perhaps God will use me to talk to him about getting help, or perhaps He’ll put someone else in his path. Either way, I pray that this guy will find the help he needs, the help he deserves.

If there’s anyone in your family or circle of friends who’s battling addiction, read this book, and/or give it to them as a gift. It will change your outlook on the world of drug addiction. I know it certainly changed mine.

I’ve never walked in their shoes, so I’ll never be able to say I understand what they’re going through. But I can honestly say I now have a better understanding.

Kindness From One Neighbour to Another

In May 2010, we purchased a house, located directly behind a trio of apartment buildings. I remember our real estate agent’s hesitation about this house, wondering whether we wanted to live behind these apartments. I thought nothing of it since this is known as a quiet neighbourhood and good area near downtown.

Through the summer, we saw a woman sunbathing behind one of the buildings. Then one day, my husband told me that she was next to our shed. It didn’t bother me. I did however, have one concern: there was a hornet’s nest in the shed and until we removed the nest, I wanted her to be aware of their presence. So we told her.

Fast forward a few months. It is now Christmas Eve. As I sat here earlier, trying to catch up on email that started to pile up, I heard the snow crunch under footsteps on our front porch. I peeked out the office window and saw someone I didn’t recognize putting something in the mailbox. Still in my pyjamas, and hole-y knitted slippers on my feet (they are too comfortable to throw away… yes even with the small holes on the bottom), and snow on the porch, I asked hubby to retrieve whatever was in the mailbox. By now, the woman was gone. I had no idea who she was until I looked at the tiny envelope. It read:

To one neighbour to another: Merry Christmas.

I smiled, yet frowned. Who is this? Inside, there was a lovely note. The cover read: Christmas is a time to give thanks.

Inside, she wrote these kind words:

Hi,

I’m the senior lady who sometimes made use of the edge or your lawn. A grassy spot to place my lawn chair to catch the rays of sunshine – rather than seated on the concrete area of the apt bldg parking lot behind your house.

Anyways, I have re-located this Dec to another apt downtown with elevator and in the process of moving, I wanted to let you know that I appreciated your kindness. Blessings this season and in the New Year.

Former neighbour behind you on Main Street. N.

Well N, I wish I had gone out there to say hello. You’re more than welcome. I had no idea who was on the steps when I peeked out the window but now I do. Perhaps you have access to the internet, and who knows, you might read this. If you do, I say best wishes to you and yours this Christmas Season, and I pray that you find another comfortable spot to sunbathe next summer. And may  you also find the kindness you’ve just shown in this lovely note.

To everyone who’s reading this: May your Christmas be a blessed one, and may 2012 be filled with God’s many wonders. May you also experience the kindness of a stranger or a neighbour. Just remember to pay it forward.

Is There Ever A Good Time To Say Goodbye?

No! There’s never a good time to say goodbye. But around Christmas time? When everyone is getting ready to celebrate the birth of Christ?

Recently, we lost a dear friend to cancer. From the moment he was given 12 to 18 months, until the end, 4 1/2 years later, Terry lived each day to the fullest. At his funeral, knowing how I felt losing such a dear friend, I remember thinking how hard it must be for his family to lose their loved one so close to Christmastime. What I didn’t know was that our family would be in a similar situation just 2 1/2 weeks later.

Tuesday December 13, hubby and I were cleaning up the supper dishes when the phone rang. The voice at the other end was obviously very upset, and I didn’t understand a lot of what she said – let alone trying to figure out who she was – until I heard the words ‘Donald’s dead’.

What?!? was my first response. As she began speaking again, I recognized her as Laurie, my husband’s cousin.

Donald, my husband’s brother, was out hunting rabbit. Investigators, who ruled out foul play and suicide, would later tell us they believed Donald tripped and instinctively tried to steady himself. The gun went off, killing him instantly.

Like his brothers, and their father before them, my husband is an avid hunter; and this freak accident had me do a lot of thinking. First of all, I’m still in denial about Donald’s passing. I lost count how many times Tuesday evening, I prayed that this was a nightmare, that I would wake up and realize it was just that, a terrible dream. And woke, I did, several times through the night in fact, but it was still very real.

Right now, though, my heart goes out to my mother-in-law; I can’t imagine the thought of losing either of my children; as well it goes to my brother-in-law, Raymond, who found Donald. But more than anything, I ache deeply for my husband. I lost a brother too,  so I know the pain.

Perhaps it was the look of agony in my husband’s eyes when we first got the news that tears away at me. Perhaps it’s was the tears I knew he so wanted to shed but couldn’t. Perhaps, it’s not having the chance to say ‘I love you brother’, one more time… Whatever it was, it has me thinking.

- My brother died in a house fire. There was no time to say goodbye…
- 18 months later, my father died of sudden heart complications. There was no time to say goodbye…
- My father-in-law was scheduled for tests, but died suddenly the night before. There was no time to say goodbye…
- And now, Donald, a mere 200 yards from his mother’s house, and yet… no time to say goodbye.

The sudden passing of these people reminds me of the shortness of life. I penned these few words as they came to mind.

As you prepare to celebrate the birth of Christ
Think of the One who brought us hope and eternal life
Thank God for sending His Son to earth
Making His birth, His life, His death all it’s worth

As you fill the stockings with treats
And put presents under the tree
As you bake mom’s famous shortbread and pies
Cakes and the sweets and all your little heart desires

This Christmas, make time
Take that extra step
Go the extra mile
To enjoy the people in your life

There is no time like the present
Show them you care with a hug, a smile
Take the time to show
Let your loved ones know

Life is such an uncertainty. Live each day to its fullest. And tell someone you love them. Today.

May your Christmas be blessed And your New Year free of sorrow

Here are the words of a poem someone shared with me. The author is unknown but the words are so true.

If You’re Ever Going To Love Me

If you’re ever going to love me, love me now, while I can know,
All the sweet and tender feelings which from real affection flow.
Love me now, while I’m living; do not wait ’til I am gone
And chisel it in marble – warm love words on ice-cold stone.

If you’ve dear sweet thoughts about me, why not whisper them to me?
Don’t you know ‘twould make me happy and as glad as glad could be?
If you wait ’til I’m sleeping, never to waken here again,
There’ll be walls of earth between us and I couldn’t hear you then.

If you knew someone was thirsting for a drop of water sweet.
Would you be so slow to bring it? Would you step with laggard feet?
There are tender hearts all around us who are thirsting for our love;
Why withhold from them what nature makes them crave all else above?

I won’t need your kind caresses when the grass grows over my face;
I won’t crave your love or kisses in my last low resting place.
So, then, if you love me, if it’s just a little bit,
Let me know now while living; I can own and treasure it.

Shortlisted . . . Accomplishment or Failure.

In my last post, I mentioned I had entered my novel, Stella’s Plea, in a publishing contest. Two weeks ago, I received the email notification announcing the winners, one for fiction and another for non-fiction. No, I didn’t win but I asked people to rejoice with me just the same. Why?

I was shortlisted. But not only was my name in the shortlist, it was at the top of it. At first, I wasn’t sure what that meant. Were the names in a random order? They were not alphabetical, nor were the book titles. In that moment, I joked about it and simply chose to believe I would have won if there had been two fiction winners. Shortly afterward, I received another email confirming the reason my name was at the top: I was the first runner-up.

To some, getting this close to winning might feel like a disappointment or even a failure. The first reaction might be to give up; with thoughts like: “I tried, and didn’t win, let’s try something else.”

In my case, it was . . . hard to describe. I tend to be a perfectionist, and it seems like things are never good enough until someone tells me to leave it alone, it’s fine. Since Stella’s Plea is my first novel, in my mind it just wasn’t good enough to make it that far. I certainly  didn’t expect to win. I know; why bother entering with that kind of attitude??? The saying “there’s always room for improvement” comes to mind.

But I did make it this far, though not on my own. It’s thanks to the encouragement and support of so many people. I could have given up when I didn’t win last year’s contest, but I had my heart set on doing something with this story and people encouraged me to stick with it. I entered the same (revised) story in the same contest a second time. I admit I never realized how many edits go into this, but it was well worth it. I would do it all over if I had to because there is so much to gain.

Back in April, Stella MacLean edited/critiqued my full manuscript. I made several changes and sent it in to the contest. While waiting for the contest results, I decided I needed a new
set of eyes to go over these changes because mine just didn’t pick up all the typos which the spell-checker doesn’t pick up either, grammatical errors (my French tends to kick in when I least expect it and there are English expressions I don’t use properly), etc. Lee Carey, another author I met recently, became that new set of eyes, and worked with me for about 4 weeks.

Writing has become a wonderful journey, one that’s far from done, because now, it’s time to publish Stella’s Plea. Until now, the question was whether to self-publish as an e-book; or go with the original idea, a paperback with Steeple Hill (Love Inspired Suspense Series). The thought of having my very own paperback in my hand is a yearning I can’t shake. But, I vowed if I didn’t win, I would self-pub it. I hummed and hawed long enough about it, I have made my decision. I’m going with Smashwords (which will mean saving trees) and this also means I can use the beautiful cover Delle Jacobs designed for me.

When I think of all I’ve gained. . . the wonderful authors I’ve met, published and aspiring, face to face and online, the great conferences I’ve attended, the fun I’ve had, all that I’ve learned . . . Humm. . . Bottom line: I may not have won the publishing contest but in the end, I still came out a winner. Now that’s positive attitude.

Here is an excerpt of Stella’s Plea.

Chapter One

 Friday, June 1, 2007, 9:30 a.m.

Stella Briggs sat in her recliner, turning the pages of a magazine. Her mind wasn’t on the
pages in front of her however. It was on Alexis, her three-year-old daughter who lay on the sofa watching cartoons. She was still pale, but at last, the flu had run its course. After two days, the vomiting had stopped. She’d had her first full night’s sleep in a week. She’d even eaten a piece of toast this morning and kept it down.

Setting the magazine down, she walked to the sofa. She put her hand on Alexis’ forehead,
sighed with relief. The fever hadn’t returned. She cringed as terrible memories flashed through her mind and she wandered back to a year ago. She remembered how Alexis had fallen ill with meningitis, and how one moment she seemed fine, and the next she was convulsing with fever. Alexis had fought so hard for her life. Her daughter was a fighter, alright; there was no doubt about it. And she’d won the battle, though at a very high cost. Meningitis had robbed her of her hearing, and aphasia had taken her speech.

Stella could still hear the doctor’s words as she and her husband Don had sat across from a
big oak desk. She remembered the horrible feeling that had come with the words he’d spoken, without emotions. “While in many cases aphasia may go away following treatment, in Alexis’ case, the damage to the brain is permanent. Your daughter will never speak again.”

“No, not my baby,” she’d cried, gripping her husband’s arm, weeping. Both had been
devastated, and Don had been unable to comfort her. From then on, every time Alexis had a fever, Stella feared the worst. Thinking back, even though knew she wasn’t to blame for Alexis’ illness, nor for her hearing and speech loss, she couldn’t help it. She felt guilty.

Don, she thought with a smile on her face. She missed him so much. She’d been raising their daughter alone since he’d been deployed overseas. It would be another eight months before he came home and she couldn’t wait. It was at a time like this, when Alexis was ill, that she missed him the most. She needed his reassuring arms to comfort her, to say . . .

The phone startled her and brought her back to the confines of her living room.

“Hello?”
“Hi, it’s Joni. How’s Alexis this morning?” Stella could hear concern in her friend’s voice.
“She had a good’s night sleep and she kept her breakfast down.”
“Wonderful. I’m so glad to hear it.”
“I second that.”
“Listen, I’m going for a walk to the park with Kayla. Why don’t you two join us?”
“Oh my, not yet! She’s still so weak. I’m not sure she’s up to it.”
“The fresh air might do her good. It’s beautiful out there.”
Stella remembered hearing those same words from her mother.
“I don’t know Joni.”
“I won’t be staying long. We can always turn back if Alexis wants to come home.
“Well,” she sighed. “You may be right. Let me get her dressed. She’s still in her PJ’s.”
“Okay, we’ll be at your house in a bit.”
Stella squatted in front of the sofa and brushed a strand of hair from her daughter’s face.
“Do you want to go play outside with Kayla?”
Alexis shook her head, her face as expressionless as ever.
“You will feel better. Come.”

She took her arm and Alexis followed her to the bedroom where Stella helped her change her clothes, brushed her hair and smoothed sunscreen lotion on her arms and legs. She even put a dab on her nose, hoping to cheer her up. It didn’t work. Alexis just looked at her, a sombre look in her eyes.

“You will have fun with Kayla.”

Alexis shook her head again. For a moment, Stella wanted to change her mind and keep her home. What if Alexis starts getting sick again? They’d been cooped up in the house for a week, and both needed to go out.

“We’re just going for a little while. Come on!”

They walked back to the front door where Stella picked up Alexis’ hat and handed it to her.
Then, she opened the door and taking one last look at her daughter, she reached for her house key and locked the door on her way out. Lifting her face toward the sun, she filled her lungs with the fresh morning air, exhaled, and walked to the end of the driveway where Joni and Kayla were waiting.

><> <><

11:00 a.m.

It seemed like they hadn’t been at the park that long, yet when Stella looked at her watch,
she gasped. She couldn’t believe an hour had gone by already. The playground wasn’t as busy as it had been an hour ago.

Stella looked toward the structure where Alexis was playing with Kayla. It was a huge relief
to watch her daughter playing. It had been a long week.

“I can’t believe we’ve been here an hour already,” she told Joni. “I’m getting hungry, and I hate to pull Alexis away. She’s enjoying herself so much.”
“I know what you mean. It’s so nice to see colour in her cheeks though.”

Stella paused for a moment. Perhaps she could stay a while longer, for her daughter’s sake.
It wasn’t as though she was famished.

She watched as the two girls reached the top of the slide and looked in her direction, all
smiles. Kayla wrapped her arms around Alexis, and they waved before sliding down together. They giggled so hard, they were both gasping for breath by the time they reached the bottom of the slide.

“Yes, I hate to do this too. I don’t feel so guilty because chances are, they’re hungry too,” Joni chuckled. “Just two more turns,” she called out to Kayla. “It’s time to go home.”
“Okay Mommy.”
“I’m going to get Alexis,” Stella told Joni, as she rose and walked toward the structure.

A sudden feeling of uneasiness washed over her when she didn’t see her. It seemed just a moment ago, she’d been standing in the line-up of children waiting for their turn on the slide. Stella scanned the group of children. Alexis was not among them. Taking a quick glance toward the playhouse, she saw her daughter sticking her head out of the small window.

“Are you playing hide and seek?” she signed to Alexis, as relief washed over her.
Alexis nodded with a huge grin.
“It’s time to go home for lunch. Come.”

Alexis nodded again, pulled her head back in the playhouse and headed toward the ramp leading to the back of the structure while Stella walked back to the park bench.

“Thank you for calling me this morning. I was reluctant, I know, and you were right. I can see how much the fresh air is doing her good. She’s having a great time.”
“I’m glad you decided to come.”
“So am I. Are you ready?”
“Here comes Kayla. Where’s Alexis?”
Stella turned on her heels expecting to see Alexis trailing behind. She frowned and shook her head, grinning.
“I know she’s getting better when she gets in a playful mood like this.”

Laughing, Stella walked back toward the playhouse, this time on the opposite side to surprise her daughter. She sneaked up to the small window and listened, picturing Alexis trying to sit still.

“Boo!” She peeked in. The playhouse was vacant. She took a look around, she couldn’t see her.
“Come on Alexis.” She knew her daughter couldn’t hear. This was a habit she’d never been able to break. She turned to see Joni and Kayla walking toward her.
“I don’t see Alexis anywhere.” There was panic in her voice.
“She can’t be too far. I’ll go check the other structures.” Joni walked away without waiting for a response.

Stella ran back toward the slide where, moments ago, Alexis and Kayla were playing. She looked around, under, and over. There were no signs of her. She walked to a group of
parents and, describing her daughter, asked if they had seen her. No one had. She hurried to the other structures, she looked inside the playhouse again, the large tunnel slide, expecting to find her any moment. Each time, she felt her heart sink deeper in her chest when she didn’t. Combing her fingers through her hair, she felt panic setting in as she scanned the area once more.

Where in the world did she go?

A short distance away, Joni talked to a small group of children and walked back toward Stella. Frowning, Joni shook her head. “Kayla, did you see Alexis?”
“There.”

Stella gasped and dashed toward the bushes where Kayla was pointing. Even though Alexis was deaf, she shouted her name, over and over. Fear gripped her tighter with each passing second, making her breathing difficult. Thrusting the branches away, she flinched as her finger slid against the sharp edge of the branch. In an instinctive reaction, she brought it to her mouth, and spit when she tasted the blood. Stumbling, she managed to steady herself and pressed on. The sound of the babbling water on the other side of the wooded area brought horrific images to her mind. The mere thought that Alexis might have fallen in made her stomach turn over.

Oh no! No!!!

She came to the clearing, and stopped near the edge of the water. There was no sign of Alexis. Forcing air into her lungs, and with her heart pounding in her throat, she
screamed her name again. Joni caught up to her a moment later, out of breath,
carrying Kayla.

“We’ll find her, Stella. She can’t be too far.” Worried, they searched under bushes and in shrubs. There was no sign of the child.
“She can’t even scream for help!” Stella cried staring at the river. “What if she fell . . .?”
She couldn’t finish her sentence. Instead, she walked knee-deep in the cold water, flailing about.
“Alexis! Alexis!”
She walked up to Joni, and collapsed to the ground in utter anguish. Joni knelt beside her and wrapped her arm around her shoulders in comfort.
“I just called the police. They’re on the way. We’ll find her.”

><> <><

A small distance away, a woman pushed a stroller on the arched stone bridge. She
couldn’t believe that, of all the children in the park, he’d picked her. He’d chosen Alexis Briggs. Without stopping, she dropped something in the water and hurried across the bridge, the small apricot poodle following her.