Part Two- Look Higher by Lyn Cote
“Ellie Smith? We’re from the Mack and Middy Show--On the Road! You’ve been selected as this afternoon’s beauty makeover!”
“What?”
“Madge sent us a letter, submitting your name. Are you ready?”
Too stunned to speak, Ellie gawked, open mouthed.
“Turn off your computer! Let’s go!”
The next hours flew by. Ellie was shampooed, styled, manicured, made up and dressed.
Finally, center stage, she heard her name announced to a cheering audience. Mack and Middy showed the video taken at her office, then skillfully drew out facts about her. “Now,” Middy, a perky redhead, asked, “Do you have a special man in your life? What’ll he say when he sees the new you?”
Ellie moistened her lips and smiled shyly. “I doubt Ned’ll notice. He’s the absent-minded genius-type.”
“Oh, I think he’ll notice,” Mack chortled. The show swirled to its close.
Ellie thanked Mack and Middy. Then she was back in a white limo which dropped her off at the front of the plant once more.
When she stepped into the office, it was empty except for Madge who was waiting for her. “You look wonderful—“
“Why did you send in my name, Madge?”
“I wanted you to feel as beautiful outside as you are inside.”
“I’m numb, like a tornado has just blown me over.”
Madge did a little jig. “You’ll certainly make a splash at the party tonight!”
Bemused, Ellie didn't know what to think about the party.
After Madge left, Ellie retrieved her purse from her locked file cabinet. The warehouse door opened. Ellie stepped out into the aisle and nearly ran into Ned, a tall and thin engineer.
Ned’s eyes behind slightly cocked glasses opened wide. “Ellie?”
“What do you think?” Smiling, beginning to believe maybe she really looked a little beautiful, she twirled once like a little girl in a new dress.
“I…I…I….” Ned’s eyes glazed over, his mouth hung open. He looked like a dead mackerel. “You’re beautiful.” He sounded dumbfounded.
A thrill of pleasure zipped through her. “Thank you, Ned. It couldn’t come at a better time with the company party tonight. What do you think this new dress?” Ellie held out her flared black skirt.
Ned cleared his throat. “I’m not going with you tonight.”
“Not going? Why not?”
“I can’t go with you looking like that!”
Ellie frowned. “Like what?”
“Like a movie star!” “A what?” “Everyone will want to talk to you, not me. I really need to network tonight. I want that senior engineer position too much.”
“Ned, I can’t believe--”
Ned edged away. “This has thrown me off completely. I had everything planned.” He hurried to the door. It shut behind him with a swoosh.
He’s standing me up! Anger flared in her. Ellie stomped out and sped off in her car. She reached the hotel where the affair was being held and marched in.
Just inside the door of the banquet room, her anger deserted her. She couldn’t take another step. What if everyone thought her makeover ridiculous? She could already feel the humiliation.
“Ellie, you’re here.” Beaming down at her, Hugh took both her hands in his. “Mr. Hensley was just talking about that brilliant, money-saving proposal you sent him.” Smoothly, Hugh guided her to a knot of people she had worked with for years.
She received warm compliments on her appearance and her luck at winning a makeover. Ned came late, but amid all the people Hugh drew around her, Ned was easy to ignore.
Later when Hugh and she stood next to her car in the moonlight, she let her gaze linger on his kind face. “I don’t know when I’ve had a better time.”
“I enjoyed being with you. You look especially lovely tonight.” Her chin dipped. She thought of Madge’s words. Just because of Hugh’s handsome exterior, she had thought he couldn’t be interested in her and Hugh had asked her out even before her makeover.
“Ellie, I’ve always thought you were a diamond in the rough, but tonight you really shine.” Leaning down, he brushed her lips with his.
*** From their perch on the top of the hotel, two angels smiled down at the couple. “You did it, Magdelana.” Madge, really Magdelana, smiled. “Hugh deserved someone special. He’s been through so much.”
“Ellie’s perfect for him.” The other angel shook her head. “What did she ever see in Ned? What a lowlife.”
"That was the problem all right." Madge grinned beatifically. “Ellie wasn't looking high enough.”
So what do you think? Did I surprise you at the end? Do you look higher?
Showing posts with label Summer. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Summer. Show all posts
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Part One of "Look Higher," a Free Short Story
Look Higher by Lyn Cote, Part One
At mid-morning break, Ellie walked over to the desk nearest the door and cleared her throat politely.
“Taking up another collection, Ellie?” Madge, the plump, gray-haired temp secretary, teased cheerfully.
“The custodian’s wife had heart surgery. I thought a card and a check would help.”
Madge signed the brightly colored card and handed Ellie a five-dollar bill. “You’re a beautiful person, Ellie. You think of everyone.”
With an apologetic grin, Ellie shook her head. “This is the third time I’ve come around since you started two months ago. You’re probably hoping to get transferred.”
Madge didn't reply to this. Instead, she asked, “Is Ned taking you to lunch today?” Ellie nodded.
“Someplace special?”
Ellie shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Why not? You and Ned haven’t been dating for too long. He takes you for granted.” “We suit each other.”
“Don’t just settle for Ned. Don’t let him treat you like a pair of broken-in shoes—“ The ringing of Madge’s telephone interrupted.
Ellie waved good by and walked to her own desk. Mulling over Madge’s kind words. But ever since seventh grade when Ellie had beat the handsomest boy in the math class contest, she had accepted that she was bright, not pretty. Madge was sweet to call her a beautiful person. But in romance, a vast difference separated a beautiful “person” from a beautiful “woman."
With a sigh, she flipped on her computer. As the head of the parts department, she had another inventory to check. Time crawled by. The clock on the computer screen read 12:15. Ned should have come by now. Shaking her head at his absent-mindedness, she dialed his office number. No answer. She hung up and waited. Resting her chin on her hand, Ellie fought against the thoughts that Madge’s recent words had stirred up. Ned wasn’t anyone’s dream date, but people with his kind of brains often forgot things like lunch dates. She turned back to her computer. Might as well work till Ned appeared.
“Ned hasn’t shown. I thought as much,” Madge said. “I brought lunch for two.” “Really, Madge, Ned still might--”
“Then he should have to hunt for you.” Madge waved a lunch cooler in front of Ellie’s eyes. “Tuna on rye and homemade potato salad.”
“It’s my favorite lunch! How did you know?” Within moments, Ellie found herself out in summer warmth.
Madge chose a picnic table under the shade of a full, green maple. Lifting two sandwiches encased in neon pink plastic rectangles from her lunch-sized cooler, she handed one to Ellie, who sat across from her. “I also made angel food cake and strawberries last night.”
Momentarily, Ellie considered warning Madge she had no say about filling permanent positions. But with the sweet dessert awaiting her and the sparkling sunshine glinting on the windows nearby, Ellie found it impossible to talk business.
“Now we were discussing your fatal fascination with Ned—“
“Madge, please!” Ellie chuckled in spite of herself.
“Mind if I join you ladies?”
Recognizing the deep, liquid-honey voice, Ellie glanced up at Hugh Garner, the company's most successful salesman. Tall, dark and handsome didn’t come close to describing him, delicious him.
“A man at this table is just what we need,” Madge said.
Hugh slid his lithe frame onto the picnic table bench and opened a cooler similar to Madge’s.
“You packed a lunch?” Madge teased. “I thought you only did power lunches.”
So close to Hugh, Ellie forced herself to take a small bite of her tuna. Being around Hugh always made her nervous. Even when his wife died of leukemia last year, she hadn’t attended the funeral. What could she say to someone facing such a heart-breaking loss? Instead, she had ordered flowers and engineered the collection for the designated memorial fund.
“Power lunches are over-rated. A lunch outdoors on a beautiful day with two charming ladies, now that’s a lunch.” He smiled at Ellie, not just any smile.
She felt all the way to her toes. “You always seem so confident.” Ellie’s gaze drifted to his Kirk-Douglas chin.
“Salesmanship 101—always appear confident.”
Madge slid a piece of cake toward him. “Scuttlebutt says you’re about to bring in a nice, juicy contract.”
Ellie put down her sandwich. “Madge, how do you know so much?”
Madge forked up a bite of cake. “Am I right, Mr. Garner?”
“As a matter of fact, yes. Today I met with the president over bidding strategy.”
“That sounds so important,” Ellie said.
“Salesmanship is a complex science,” Madge added.
Hugh chuckled. “Thank you both, but it’s not a done deal yet—“ Hugh’s cell phone ran and he slipped it out of his suit jacket pocket. “That’s it for my picnic. I have a client to meet.” He quickly re-filled his cooler, stood up and smiled down at Ellie. “Maybe you’d have dinner with me sometime, Ellie?”
Ellie couldn't say a word in reply.
As he hurried off, he looked back and smiled at Ellie. His parting words had taken her breath away.
Madge said, “Hugh could be an interesting date.”
“He was just being polite.” Ellie toyed with her plastic fork.
“He didn’t have to ask you. I think he likes you.”
“I’m just an average small-town girl. Hugh's late wife was beautiful.”
“You’re missing what’s important.”
Ellie looked to Madge. “What’s that?”
“Every man has his own idea of what beauty is.”
Wryly, Ellie shook her head.
Back at her desk, the figures on the spreadsheet squiggled under Ellie’s gaze. She slipped off her glasses and rubbed her tired eyes. She dialed Ned’s number. “Hi, did you forget lunch?”
“I had lunch with the vice president,” Ned explained.
“I thought we were going out to lunch today!”
Ned snapped, “This lunch was important.”
“You could have called—“
“Ellie, one of the things I like about you is that you don’t go in for any of that feminine stuff. You take me like I am. Don't change that.”
Feeling hurt, she wanted to say men called other men when they break appointments, but that would be petty. Ned didn’t like pettiness either. “Ned, when will you pick me up tonight?”
“Yeah, the company thing. Right.” He hung up.
Ellie bit her lower lip.
A sudden flurry around the door made her stand up. Catching sight of a man wearing a cowboy hat over a ponytail and another with a large video camera threw her.
Madge leaped up and began waving at them. “She’s right back here.”
Ellie stared in dismay as the men headed for her.--
The conclusion on Thursday!
At mid-morning break, Ellie walked over to the desk nearest the door and cleared her throat politely.
“Taking up another collection, Ellie?” Madge, the plump, gray-haired temp secretary, teased cheerfully.
“The custodian’s wife had heart surgery. I thought a card and a check would help.”
Madge signed the brightly colored card and handed Ellie a five-dollar bill. “You’re a beautiful person, Ellie. You think of everyone.”
With an apologetic grin, Ellie shook her head. “This is the third time I’ve come around since you started two months ago. You’re probably hoping to get transferred.”
Madge didn't reply to this. Instead, she asked, “Is Ned taking you to lunch today?” Ellie nodded.
“Someplace special?”
Ellie shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Why not? You and Ned haven’t been dating for too long. He takes you for granted.” “We suit each other.”
“Don’t just settle for Ned. Don’t let him treat you like a pair of broken-in shoes—“ The ringing of Madge’s telephone interrupted.
Ellie waved good by and walked to her own desk. Mulling over Madge’s kind words. But ever since seventh grade when Ellie had beat the handsomest boy in the math class contest, she had accepted that she was bright, not pretty. Madge was sweet to call her a beautiful person. But in romance, a vast difference separated a beautiful “person” from a beautiful “woman."
With a sigh, she flipped on her computer. As the head of the parts department, she had another inventory to check. Time crawled by. The clock on the computer screen read 12:15. Ned should have come by now. Shaking her head at his absent-mindedness, she dialed his office number. No answer. She hung up and waited. Resting her chin on her hand, Ellie fought against the thoughts that Madge’s recent words had stirred up. Ned wasn’t anyone’s dream date, but people with his kind of brains often forgot things like lunch dates. She turned back to her computer. Might as well work till Ned appeared.
“Ned hasn’t shown. I thought as much,” Madge said. “I brought lunch for two.” “Really, Madge, Ned still might--”
“Then he should have to hunt for you.” Madge waved a lunch cooler in front of Ellie’s eyes. “Tuna on rye and homemade potato salad.”
“It’s my favorite lunch! How did you know?” Within moments, Ellie found herself out in summer warmth.
Madge chose a picnic table under the shade of a full, green maple. Lifting two sandwiches encased in neon pink plastic rectangles from her lunch-sized cooler, she handed one to Ellie, who sat across from her. “I also made angel food cake and strawberries last night.”
Momentarily, Ellie considered warning Madge she had no say about filling permanent positions. But with the sweet dessert awaiting her and the sparkling sunshine glinting on the windows nearby, Ellie found it impossible to talk business.
“Now we were discussing your fatal fascination with Ned—“
“Madge, please!” Ellie chuckled in spite of herself.
“Mind if I join you ladies?”
Recognizing the deep, liquid-honey voice, Ellie glanced up at Hugh Garner, the company's most successful salesman. Tall, dark and handsome didn’t come close to describing him, delicious him.
“A man at this table is just what we need,” Madge said.
Hugh slid his lithe frame onto the picnic table bench and opened a cooler similar to Madge’s.
“You packed a lunch?” Madge teased. “I thought you only did power lunches.”
So close to Hugh, Ellie forced herself to take a small bite of her tuna. Being around Hugh always made her nervous. Even when his wife died of leukemia last year, she hadn’t attended the funeral. What could she say to someone facing such a heart-breaking loss? Instead, she had ordered flowers and engineered the collection for the designated memorial fund.
“Power lunches are over-rated. A lunch outdoors on a beautiful day with two charming ladies, now that’s a lunch.” He smiled at Ellie, not just any smile.
She felt all the way to her toes. “You always seem so confident.” Ellie’s gaze drifted to his Kirk-Douglas chin.
“Salesmanship 101—always appear confident.”
Madge slid a piece of cake toward him. “Scuttlebutt says you’re about to bring in a nice, juicy contract.”
Ellie put down her sandwich. “Madge, how do you know so much?”
Madge forked up a bite of cake. “Am I right, Mr. Garner?”
“As a matter of fact, yes. Today I met with the president over bidding strategy.”
“That sounds so important,” Ellie said.
“Salesmanship is a complex science,” Madge added.
Hugh chuckled. “Thank you both, but it’s not a done deal yet—“ Hugh’s cell phone ran and he slipped it out of his suit jacket pocket. “That’s it for my picnic. I have a client to meet.” He quickly re-filled his cooler, stood up and smiled down at Ellie. “Maybe you’d have dinner with me sometime, Ellie?”
Ellie couldn't say a word in reply.
As he hurried off, he looked back and smiled at Ellie. His parting words had taken her breath away.
Madge said, “Hugh could be an interesting date.”
“He was just being polite.” Ellie toyed with her plastic fork.
“He didn’t have to ask you. I think he likes you.”
“I’m just an average small-town girl. Hugh's late wife was beautiful.”
“You’re missing what’s important.”
Ellie looked to Madge. “What’s that?”
“Every man has his own idea of what beauty is.”
Wryly, Ellie shook her head.
Back at her desk, the figures on the spreadsheet squiggled under Ellie’s gaze. She slipped off her glasses and rubbed her tired eyes. She dialed Ned’s number. “Hi, did you forget lunch?”
“I had lunch with the vice president,” Ned explained.
“I thought we were going out to lunch today!”
Ned snapped, “This lunch was important.”
“You could have called—“
“Ellie, one of the things I like about you is that you don’t go in for any of that feminine stuff. You take me like I am. Don't change that.”
Feeling hurt, she wanted to say men called other men when they break appointments, but that would be petty. Ned didn’t like pettiness either. “Ned, when will you pick me up tonight?”
“Yeah, the company thing. Right.” He hung up.
Ellie bit her lower lip.
A sudden flurry around the door made her stand up. Catching sight of a man wearing a cowboy hat over a ponytail and another with a large video camera threw her.
Madge leaped up and began waving at them. “She’s right back here.”
Ellie stared in dismay as the men headed for her.--
The conclusion on Thursday!
Monday, August 16, 2010
Another Summer Gift to Readers--Another Free Short Story
Please tell your friends and family. As another summer gift to my readers, I'm posting another of my short stories this week in two installments. It's titled: "Look Higher."
Part one will be posted on Tuesday August 17th and Part two on Thursday August 19th.
Hope you'll drop by.
And again invite your friends!
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Lyn Reviews Author Kim Vogel Sawyer's Latest
A Hopeful Heart by Kim Vogel SawyerMy rating: 4 of 5 stars
Kim Vogel Sawyer's classic mail order bride story takes wing and flies on its own! A delightful heroine and a mystery thrown in. A good summer afternoon by the pool read.
View all my reviews >>
Have any of you read any of Kim Vogel Sawyer's books? Remember leaving a comment and you're automatically entered into this month's drawing for an autographed copy of Her Abundant Joy.
Friday, July 24, 2009
Author Lyn Cote's Mom's Nameless Summer Recipe
I am a foodie and I married a foodie and we raised two foodies. My son is engaged to be married and he and his fiance are coming up to visit us at the lake this coming weekend. So I asked him what her favorite foods were so I would make what she liked. His reply; "She doesn't really have any favorites."
I'm afraid that there was a very pregnant pause. The thought that someone didn't have a favorite food dumbfounded me.
My favorite food is of course watermelon. Always has been, always will be. If you want a chunk of watermelon, my refrigerator is the place to go. We eat at least 1 a week. My brother and I used to go through 2 a week as kids!
For every celebration, our family has favorite foods. Also for every season we have favorite foods.
But my family was outclassed by my husband's clan.
I remember when I married my dh that I was a bit astounded that his family celebrated each birthday with not one, but two birthday cakes and with one or two kinds of ice cream. And then I figured out why!
The Cote family motto is "I'll have a little bit of each." I've threatened to cross stitch that and hang it on the wall of --where else?--our kitchen!
Well, I will love my new daughter-in-law even if she isn't a foodie. But she is marrying a Cote, so I think she'll have to get used to us foodies!
So here's one of my favorite summer desserts which was an original recipe by my mom. Therefore it doesn't have a fancy title. Maybe you'll post a suggested title for me.
Ingredients:
2 small packages of orange JELLO
1-2 cups vanilla ice cream
1/2 to 1 pint of fresh washed blueberries
1/2 cantaloupe, cubed or balled
Prepare JELLO according to package directions. Then while still warm, stir in ice cream, then berries, then melon. Chill and serve. If served as salad, plain. If served as dessert, top with whipped cream.
This is beautiful to the eye, takes advantage of some of the in season summer fruits and it's delicious.
So what should we call it? I need a name for it.
Friday, July 3, 2009
Reader Caroline G & Her Recipe for THE PERFECT PICNIC SANDWICH
Readers are starting to send me their summer recipes for our Yummy July! Here's one that I'm going to try soon. Here's Caroline:
"I was told this is called THE PERFECT PICNIC SANDWICH, and it is!
Easy to make the night before (better tasting).
Simply hollow out a loaf of your favorite bread — we used round crusty loaf — and fill it with a truly delicious filling.
The loaf can be transported to the picnic site in a cooler, then cut in wedges and served from a napkin lined basket.
We also tried it with roast pork and it was just as delicious but required a bit more mayo.
Servings:6-8
Ingredients:
1 load bread (crusty round works well, but a baguette does too)
1/2 cup (125 mL) mayonnaise or miracle whip (approx)
3 cups (750 mL) cubed cooked chicken
1 cup (250 mL) green grapes, halved
1/2 cup (125 mL) chopped celery
1/2 cup (125 mL) toasted sliced almonds
1/4 cup (50 mL) sliced green onions
Salt and pepper to taste
romaine_lettuce
1 sweet red pepper, slivered
Preparation:
Cut top off loaf. Hollow out bread, leaving 1/2-inch (1 cm) shell.
Mix together 1/3 cup (75 mL) of the mayonnaise, chicken, grapes, celery, almonds, onions, and salt and pepper to taste.
Brush the shell generously with remaining mayonnaise and line with lettuce.
Spoon about two-thirds of the chicken mixture into romaine-lined shell.
Layer slivered red pepper over salad; spoon remaining chicken mixture on top.
Replace bread top.
Wrap sandwich tightly in plastic and refrigerate until picnic time. Then eat!"
Thanks, Caroline. I luv it!--Lyn
"I was told this is called THE PERFECT PICNIC SANDWICH, and it is!
Easy to make the night before (better tasting).
Simply hollow out a loaf of your favorite bread — we used round crusty loaf — and fill it with a truly delicious filling.
The loaf can be transported to the picnic site in a cooler, then cut in wedges and served from a napkin lined basket.
We also tried it with roast pork and it was just as delicious but required a bit more mayo.
Servings:6-8
Ingredients:
1 load bread (crusty round works well, but a baguette does too)
1/2 cup (125 mL) mayonnaise or miracle whip (approx)
3 cups (750 mL) cubed cooked chicken
1 cup (250 mL) green grapes, halved
1/2 cup (125 mL) chopped celery
1/2 cup (125 mL) toasted sliced almonds
1/4 cup (50 mL) sliced green onions
Salt and pepper to taste
romaine_lettuce
1 sweet red pepper, slivered
Preparation:
Cut top off loaf. Hollow out bread, leaving 1/2-inch (1 cm) shell.
Mix together 1/3 cup (75 mL) of the mayonnaise, chicken, grapes, celery, almonds, onions, and salt and pepper to taste.
Brush the shell generously with remaining mayonnaise and line with lettuce.
Spoon about two-thirds of the chicken mixture into romaine-lined shell.
Layer slivered red pepper over salad; spoon remaining chicken mixture on top.
Replace bread top.
Wrap sandwich tightly in plastic and refrigerate until picnic time. Then eat!"
Thanks, Caroline. I luv it!--Lyn
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Author Cheryl St. John Kicks Off--Yummy July Recipes
July is the heart of summer and the time when families get together for picnics and cookouts. All of July, I'll be posting time-tested summer recipes from authors and readers. If you have a favorite summer recipe, drop by my website and click Contact and email me your recipe and how you got it. At the end of the month, I'll have a free downloadable collection of Yummy July Recipes!
A longtime writing friend Cheryl St. John has sent me this amazing and E-Z recipe.
"Cheryl's Easy Strawberry Shortcake
1 to 1 1/2 pints strawberries , cleaned and sliced angel food cake mix large package sugar-free strawberry Jell-o Cool Whip 9 x 13 baking pan, sprayed I buy the angel food cake mix that only takes water. I think it's Pillsbury. Other mixes require egg whites, but that one is so simple, that's why I like it. Bake it according to the directions, but bake it in a 9 x 13 pan sprayed with cooking spray.
While your cake is baking, clean and slice the strawberries. (I've also used frozen with excellent results.) While the cake is cooling, prepare the strawberry gelatin. I use crushed ice (cause it's on the door of my fridge and easy) added to the cold water to speed setting up. It will still be liquid. Add the strawberries and stir.
Use a large meat fork or a knife to poke holes all over the cake. Use the utensil to pull the sides away from the pan. Stab the cake well. The pour the strawberry and Jell-o mixture around the sides first. then over the top. You may have to use a big spoon to distribute the liquid and fruit evenly.
Cover cake and immediately refrigerate. It takes only a couple of hours to set up if you need it right away. I've made it at the last minute or the night before with perfect results.
Slice and serve with Cool Whip."
Thanks, Cheryl, I can't wait to try this one!--Lyn
Also note that Cheryl St. John has a new title out. If you look to the right column, you'll notice that you can subscribe to the new Love Inspired Historical romance book club. You'll get two free books and never miss another Love Inspired Historical romance!
THE PREACHER'S WIFE
Steeple Hill Love Inspired Historical June 2009
There was nothing remotely romantic about widowed father Samuel Hart's marriage proposal. Yet Josie Randolph said yes. The Lord had finally blessed the lonely widow with the family she'd always dreamed of. And she was deeply in love with the handsome preacher, whose high ideals inspired everyone. Surely during their long journey across the western plains to his new post her husband would grow to love her. Each mile brought them closer to home, yet drove them further apart. Samuel didn't seem ready to open his heart again. But Josie was determined to be not just the preacher's wife, but Samuel's wife.
An excerpt from The Preacher’s Wife, Cheryl St.John
READ CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER ONE
Durham, Nebraska, June 1869
Only her husband's physical body lay beneath the lush grass in the fenced-in cemetery behind the tiny white church. His spirit had gone on to be with the Lord, but her mother-in-law insisted that Sunday afternoons were for paying respects to the dead. Josephine Randolph knelt and pulled a fledgling weed from beside the flat piece of granite engraved with her husband's name.
Margaretta slipped a lace-edged hankie from the hidden pocket of her emerald-green dress and dabbed her eyes. "He was too young," she said for the thousandth time. "Too young to lose his life."
Josie nodded. It had been three years, and while she had mourned her husband's death and missed his company, there were no tears left. She had loved him. She had been a good wife. But in his affections she had always taken second place to her mother-in-law. She hastened to remind herself that losing a son or daughter was devastating. Margaretta had lost her only child. Of course the woman was still suffering.
"It would be easier if I could take comfort in the fact that he'd left behind a living legacy."
Knowing and dreading what was coming next, Josie got up and brushed her palms together.
Margaretta sniffed into her hankie. "Your inability to give me a grandchild is almost more than I can bear."
Josie turned her gaze to the countryside, spotted an orange and black butterfly and watched it flutter on the breeze as she steeled herself.
"A child would have been a part of him I could hold on to. If only right now I could be caring for a little boy or girl with Bram's features. I would have so loved to watch him grow. His child would have been such a comfort to me."
Josie wanted to cry, too. She wanted to rail at the woman who made her feel every inch as insignificant as her son had. Didn't Margaretta think a child would have been a comfort to her, as well? Didn't she know that Josie's loneliness was eating her up on the inside? Didn't she think Josie wanted more out of life than… than… this?
Momentarily, she closed her eyes against the painfully blue summer sky. She'd never wanted anything more than a family of her own. She'd spent her entire childhood waiting for her circuit-judge father to return home. The times he had, he'd spared her only meager attention before leaving again.
Because Bram Randolph had been a local newspaperman, she'd known he wouldn't be a traveler. She'd married him with the hope of a secure future. Time had proven Bram more concerned with the whims of Margaretta than the needs of his young wife, however. And that was the simple fact.
"You are coming to the house for dinner, aren't you?"
And be exposed to yet another opportunity for Margaretta to pursue her weekly harangue about Josie's barrenness? Josie opened her eyes. "I'm fixing a stew for Reverend Martin," she replied matter-of-factly. "I'll stay and keep him company."
"He seems to be recovering well." Margaretta smoothed the fingers of her beaded gloves. "Whatever you're doing must be working."
Josie managed a smile. "God's doing His part, too."
Margaretta gathered the hem of her voluminous skirt and walked across the thick spring grass toward the street.
Josie glanced down and read the headstone again. "Beloved son and husband." Not father. Sometimes she felt so incomplete, so alone. She hadn't given her husband children, and for that glaring inadequacy, Margaretta would never forgive her.
"Have a good afternoon!" she called after the woman.
Margaretta delivered a tepid wave and continued marching toward her home a few blocks away. Josie experienced the same relief she always did when her obligatory mourning session and weekly dressing-down was over. At least she'd had a good reason to forgo lengthening the torment by joining the woman for a meal. Margaretta's house had a cold, depressing atmosphere that matched the woman's attitude.
Josie glanced at the bright blue sky with a longing that was rising up so swift and strong that the ache took her breath away. She'd prayed for contentment, but she needed more than this. When she didn't keep busy enough, she daydreamed of impossible things.…
Taking a deep breath, Josie made her way with renewed purpose to the shaded two-story house beside the church. She climbed the back porch steps and let herself in. She'd started a stew earlier, and now checked the savory broth, adding water and salt.
"It's Josie!" she called, removing her bonnet and sweeping along the hallway toward the front of the house.
"Who else would be banging pans in my kitchen?" came the good-natured reply.
She found Reverend Martin in his study, seated where she'd left him, on an overstuffed chair with a plaid wool blanket tucked around his legs. He closed his Bible and removed his spectacles, setting both aside. Last March he'd fallen from the roof of the church while replacing shingles, and had broken several bones, including his collarbone and ribs. A particularly severe break in his leg had become infected, and he'd been bedridden with a fever for weeks. Eventually he'd recovered, and was only now able to move from his bed to the study. The town doctor said it would likely be several more weeks before he'd be strong enough to resume his duties.
She'd always considered him a mentor, but these past weeks had made them friends, as well. "The fire's died down," she said. "I'll get a few logs."
"I can't seem to get warm." He was paler and thinner than before the accident, and the change in such a vital, life-loving man was heartbreaking. The man was probably only in his late thirties, but these past weeks had taken a toll. Josie had dedicated herself to seeing him recover to his former self.
"The stew will warm you from the inside out," she assured him. She took two split logs from the box beside the fireplace and knelt to add them to the fire, then used the poker to adjust the wood until the flames caught and licked up around the sides. The bark snapped in the blaze. Warmth spread from the hearth to where the reverend was sitting.
"That's nice," he said with a grateful smile. "I barely have time to realize a need before you've seen to it."
"It's a privilege to help."
"And a help you are. I don't know what I would do without you."
"God would send someone. But I was available."
He chuckled. "You're a woman of great faith, Josie, but you count yourself a little short."
She seated herself on a nearby ottoman.
"A lot of people are available," he told her. "Few are willing."
She never doubted that God was taking care of the reverend. It was when she thought of her own needs that her confidence got a little shaky. "How about a game of checkers before dinner?" she asked.
He gave her a mock frown and flicked his hand as though shooing away a fly. "Do you think I enjoy your kings chasing my last disk around the board, delaying the inevitable?"
She laughed. "Oh, come now. You win sometimes."
"Only if you feel particularly sorry for me and deliberately pass up chances to jump. We need a new game, one I have a hope of winning."
"Based on chance, rather than skill, Reverend?"
"Didn't I see you and James setting up the board the other evening?"
James, a fatherless lad of about fourteen, came by a few times a week to split wood and perform a few other chores. Josie had quickly sensed that, because his mother worked evenings at the café, James was lonely. She'd offered to teach him the game. "You did. He's fast becoming an apt opponent."
The reverend's enormous calico leaped from its spot on the divan to run through the doorway into the nearest bedroom.
"Must be a caller," the reverend said.
Most everyone knocked at the back door and then walked in, but a rap sounded at the front. Josie and the reverend exchanged a puzzled glance before she got up.
A broad-shouldered man in a brown hat and buckskin jacket stood in the dappled sunlight that filtered through the leaves of the twin maple trees. She had a sudden, swift impression of troubled intensity as his gaze bored into hers.
"Good afternoon, sir," Josie greeted him.
He removed his hat, revealing thick chestnut hair in need of a cut. "Ma'am," he said in greeting. "I'm Samuel Hart. The preacher sent by the First Christian Alliance."
Behind him, three girls of varying ages waited in the street near a dusty team attached to a canvas-covered wagon.
His name registered immediately. "Of course! Come in."
He turned and summoned the girls, the fringe of his jacket swaying as he gestured. The girls she assumed were his daughters were wearing clean but wrinkled clothing, and their hair was neatly tucked beneath stiff-brimmed bonnets.
He handed her his hat, still warm from his head, and she laid it on the hall table before ushering the little troupe into the study. "The interim preacher is here," she said.
Samuel strode forward and shook the elder man's hand. His size and his sun-darkened face and hands made the reverend seem even sicklier in comparison. "Pleased to meet you, sir. These are my daughters. Elisabeth."
Elisabeth was the tallest and oldest, with blue eyes and a full face. Her weary smile was hesitant.
"Abigail." The middle daughter had hair a paler blond than the other two, blue eyes, a narrow face and a prominent chin.
"And Anna." The youngest of the trio possessed wide hazel eyes and a charming smattering of freckles.
A look of confusion wrinkled Reverend Martin's brow. "Josie, didn't the letters say that Samuel was traveling with his wife and family?"
Josie had recalled the same thing. Before she could answer, Samuel Hart said, "My wife died on the way."
The snapping fire was the only sound for a moment.
Anna slipped her hand into Abigail's and the three girls huddled closer, their expressions somber, the pain of their loss evident.
"I'm deeply sorry," Reverend Martin said.
Samuel nodded curtly, the subject apparently closed.
"This is Josephine Randolph." The reverend indicated Josie with a nod. "God sent her to me. She cooks, takes care of the house, does my laundry—she even handled my bills and mail while I was laid up."
"Pleased to make your acquaintance, ma'am."
It was inappropriate that she should notice his well-defined cheekbones or his recently shaved, firm, square chin, but she had. Even his deep, rich voice arrested her attention. But his eyes…she'd never seen so much suffering in a person's eyes, and the sight carved a confusing ache inside her chest.
Samuel turned his gaze to look pointedly at his daughters.
One at a time, they said, "Pleased to meet you."
Glad for the distraction, she said, "You've arrived just in time for dinner. I trust you're hungry. Would you like to help me make biscuits?"
" I would," Abigail said with a bright smile.
Watching his daughters' hesitation and discomfort pained Sam. He hoped the pretty young woman's friendly welcome made this day a trifle easier than the rest. The past weeks had been grueling, both physically and emotionally. "All of you will help Mrs. Randolph," he called after them.
Over her shoulder, Anna cast him a wide-eyed glance, her expression so much like his late wife's that it made his breath hitch in his chest.
Reverend Martin indicated the settee. "Have a seat."
A longtime writing friend Cheryl St. John has sent me this amazing and E-Z recipe.
"Cheryl's Easy Strawberry Shortcake
1 to 1 1/2 pints strawberries , cleaned and sliced angel food cake mix large package sugar-free strawberry Jell-o Cool Whip 9 x 13 baking pan, sprayed I buy the angel food cake mix that only takes water. I think it's Pillsbury. Other mixes require egg whites, but that one is so simple, that's why I like it. Bake it according to the directions, but bake it in a 9 x 13 pan sprayed with cooking spray.
While your cake is baking, clean and slice the strawberries. (I've also used frozen with excellent results.) While the cake is cooling, prepare the strawberry gelatin. I use crushed ice (cause it's on the door of my fridge and easy) added to the cold water to speed setting up. It will still be liquid. Add the strawberries and stir.
Use a large meat fork or a knife to poke holes all over the cake. Use the utensil to pull the sides away from the pan. Stab the cake well. The pour the strawberry and Jell-o mixture around the sides first. then over the top. You may have to use a big spoon to distribute the liquid and fruit evenly.
Cover cake and immediately refrigerate. It takes only a couple of hours to set up if you need it right away. I've made it at the last minute or the night before with perfect results.
Slice and serve with Cool Whip."
Thanks, Cheryl, I can't wait to try this one!--Lyn
Also note that Cheryl St. John has a new title out. If you look to the right column, you'll notice that you can subscribe to the new Love Inspired Historical romance book club. You'll get two free books and never miss another Love Inspired Historical romance!
THE PREACHER'S WIFE
Steeple Hill Love Inspired Historical June 2009
There was nothing remotely romantic about widowed father Samuel Hart's marriage proposal. Yet Josie Randolph said yes. The Lord had finally blessed the lonely widow with the family she'd always dreamed of. And she was deeply in love with the handsome preacher, whose high ideals inspired everyone. Surely during their long journey across the western plains to his new post her husband would grow to love her. Each mile brought them closer to home, yet drove them further apart. Samuel didn't seem ready to open his heart again. But Josie was determined to be not just the preacher's wife, but Samuel's wife.
An excerpt from The Preacher’s Wife, Cheryl St.John
READ CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER ONE
Durham, Nebraska, June 1869
Only her husband's physical body lay beneath the lush grass in the fenced-in cemetery behind the tiny white church. His spirit had gone on to be with the Lord, but her mother-in-law insisted that Sunday afternoons were for paying respects to the dead. Josephine Randolph knelt and pulled a fledgling weed from beside the flat piece of granite engraved with her husband's name.
Margaretta slipped a lace-edged hankie from the hidden pocket of her emerald-green dress and dabbed her eyes. "He was too young," she said for the thousandth time. "Too young to lose his life."
Josie nodded. It had been three years, and while she had mourned her husband's death and missed his company, there were no tears left. She had loved him. She had been a good wife. But in his affections she had always taken second place to her mother-in-law. She hastened to remind herself that losing a son or daughter was devastating. Margaretta had lost her only child. Of course the woman was still suffering.
"It would be easier if I could take comfort in the fact that he'd left behind a living legacy."
Knowing and dreading what was coming next, Josie got up and brushed her palms together.
Margaretta sniffed into her hankie. "Your inability to give me a grandchild is almost more than I can bear."
Josie turned her gaze to the countryside, spotted an orange and black butterfly and watched it flutter on the breeze as she steeled herself.
"A child would have been a part of him I could hold on to. If only right now I could be caring for a little boy or girl with Bram's features. I would have so loved to watch him grow. His child would have been such a comfort to me."
Josie wanted to cry, too. She wanted to rail at the woman who made her feel every inch as insignificant as her son had. Didn't Margaretta think a child would have been a comfort to her, as well? Didn't she know that Josie's loneliness was eating her up on the inside? Didn't she think Josie wanted more out of life than… than… this?
Momentarily, she closed her eyes against the painfully blue summer sky. She'd never wanted anything more than a family of her own. She'd spent her entire childhood waiting for her circuit-judge father to return home. The times he had, he'd spared her only meager attention before leaving again.
Because Bram Randolph had been a local newspaperman, she'd known he wouldn't be a traveler. She'd married him with the hope of a secure future. Time had proven Bram more concerned with the whims of Margaretta than the needs of his young wife, however. And that was the simple fact.
"You are coming to the house for dinner, aren't you?"
And be exposed to yet another opportunity for Margaretta to pursue her weekly harangue about Josie's barrenness? Josie opened her eyes. "I'm fixing a stew for Reverend Martin," she replied matter-of-factly. "I'll stay and keep him company."
"He seems to be recovering well." Margaretta smoothed the fingers of her beaded gloves. "Whatever you're doing must be working."
Josie managed a smile. "God's doing His part, too."
Margaretta gathered the hem of her voluminous skirt and walked across the thick spring grass toward the street.
Josie glanced down and read the headstone again. "Beloved son and husband." Not father. Sometimes she felt so incomplete, so alone. She hadn't given her husband children, and for that glaring inadequacy, Margaretta would never forgive her.
"Have a good afternoon!" she called after the woman.
Margaretta delivered a tepid wave and continued marching toward her home a few blocks away. Josie experienced the same relief she always did when her obligatory mourning session and weekly dressing-down was over. At least she'd had a good reason to forgo lengthening the torment by joining the woman for a meal. Margaretta's house had a cold, depressing atmosphere that matched the woman's attitude.
Josie glanced at the bright blue sky with a longing that was rising up so swift and strong that the ache took her breath away. She'd prayed for contentment, but she needed more than this. When she didn't keep busy enough, she daydreamed of impossible things.…
Taking a deep breath, Josie made her way with renewed purpose to the shaded two-story house beside the church. She climbed the back porch steps and let herself in. She'd started a stew earlier, and now checked the savory broth, adding water and salt.
"It's Josie!" she called, removing her bonnet and sweeping along the hallway toward the front of the house.
"Who else would be banging pans in my kitchen?" came the good-natured reply.
She found Reverend Martin in his study, seated where she'd left him, on an overstuffed chair with a plaid wool blanket tucked around his legs. He closed his Bible and removed his spectacles, setting both aside. Last March he'd fallen from the roof of the church while replacing shingles, and had broken several bones, including his collarbone and ribs. A particularly severe break in his leg had become infected, and he'd been bedridden with a fever for weeks. Eventually he'd recovered, and was only now able to move from his bed to the study. The town doctor said it would likely be several more weeks before he'd be strong enough to resume his duties.
She'd always considered him a mentor, but these past weeks had made them friends, as well. "The fire's died down," she said. "I'll get a few logs."
"I can't seem to get warm." He was paler and thinner than before the accident, and the change in such a vital, life-loving man was heartbreaking. The man was probably only in his late thirties, but these past weeks had taken a toll. Josie had dedicated herself to seeing him recover to his former self.
"The stew will warm you from the inside out," she assured him. She took two split logs from the box beside the fireplace and knelt to add them to the fire, then used the poker to adjust the wood until the flames caught and licked up around the sides. The bark snapped in the blaze. Warmth spread from the hearth to where the reverend was sitting.
"That's nice," he said with a grateful smile. "I barely have time to realize a need before you've seen to it."
"It's a privilege to help."
"And a help you are. I don't know what I would do without you."
"God would send someone. But I was available."
He chuckled. "You're a woman of great faith, Josie, but you count yourself a little short."
She seated herself on a nearby ottoman.
"A lot of people are available," he told her. "Few are willing."
She never doubted that God was taking care of the reverend. It was when she thought of her own needs that her confidence got a little shaky. "How about a game of checkers before dinner?" she asked.
He gave her a mock frown and flicked his hand as though shooing away a fly. "Do you think I enjoy your kings chasing my last disk around the board, delaying the inevitable?"
She laughed. "Oh, come now. You win sometimes."
"Only if you feel particularly sorry for me and deliberately pass up chances to jump. We need a new game, one I have a hope of winning."
"Based on chance, rather than skill, Reverend?"
"Didn't I see you and James setting up the board the other evening?"
James, a fatherless lad of about fourteen, came by a few times a week to split wood and perform a few other chores. Josie had quickly sensed that, because his mother worked evenings at the café, James was lonely. She'd offered to teach him the game. "You did. He's fast becoming an apt opponent."
The reverend's enormous calico leaped from its spot on the divan to run through the doorway into the nearest bedroom.
"Must be a caller," the reverend said.
Most everyone knocked at the back door and then walked in, but a rap sounded at the front. Josie and the reverend exchanged a puzzled glance before she got up.
A broad-shouldered man in a brown hat and buckskin jacket stood in the dappled sunlight that filtered through the leaves of the twin maple trees. She had a sudden, swift impression of troubled intensity as his gaze bored into hers.
"Good afternoon, sir," Josie greeted him.
He removed his hat, revealing thick chestnut hair in need of a cut. "Ma'am," he said in greeting. "I'm Samuel Hart. The preacher sent by the First Christian Alliance."
Behind him, three girls of varying ages waited in the street near a dusty team attached to a canvas-covered wagon.
His name registered immediately. "Of course! Come in."
He turned and summoned the girls, the fringe of his jacket swaying as he gestured. The girls she assumed were his daughters were wearing clean but wrinkled clothing, and their hair was neatly tucked beneath stiff-brimmed bonnets.
He handed her his hat, still warm from his head, and she laid it on the hall table before ushering the little troupe into the study. "The interim preacher is here," she said.
Samuel strode forward and shook the elder man's hand. His size and his sun-darkened face and hands made the reverend seem even sicklier in comparison. "Pleased to meet you, sir. These are my daughters. Elisabeth."
Elisabeth was the tallest and oldest, with blue eyes and a full face. Her weary smile was hesitant.
"Abigail." The middle daughter had hair a paler blond than the other two, blue eyes, a narrow face and a prominent chin.
"And Anna." The youngest of the trio possessed wide hazel eyes and a charming smattering of freckles.
A look of confusion wrinkled Reverend Martin's brow. "Josie, didn't the letters say that Samuel was traveling with his wife and family?"
Josie had recalled the same thing. Before she could answer, Samuel Hart said, "My wife died on the way."
The snapping fire was the only sound for a moment.
Anna slipped her hand into Abigail's and the three girls huddled closer, their expressions somber, the pain of their loss evident.
"I'm deeply sorry," Reverend Martin said.
Samuel nodded curtly, the subject apparently closed.
"This is Josephine Randolph." The reverend indicated Josie with a nod. "God sent her to me. She cooks, takes care of the house, does my laundry—she even handled my bills and mail while I was laid up."
"Pleased to make your acquaintance, ma'am."
It was inappropriate that she should notice his well-defined cheekbones or his recently shaved, firm, square chin, but she had. Even his deep, rich voice arrested her attention. But his eyes…she'd never seen so much suffering in a person's eyes, and the sight carved a confusing ache inside her chest.
Samuel turned his gaze to look pointedly at his daughters.
One at a time, they said, "Pleased to meet you."
Glad for the distraction, she said, "You've arrived just in time for dinner. I trust you're hungry. Would you like to help me make biscuits?"
" I would," Abigail said with a bright smile.
Watching his daughters' hesitation and discomfort pained Sam. He hoped the pretty young woman's friendly welcome made this day a trifle easier than the rest. The past weeks had been grueling, both physically and emotionally. "All of you will help Mrs. Randolph," he called after them.
Over her shoulder, Anna cast him a wide-eyed glance, her expression so much like his late wife's that it made his breath hitch in his chest.
Reverend Martin indicated the settee. "Have a seat."
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Don't Miss Yummy July Recipes!
Every woman has a story and a Recipe. Share yours.
The kitchen has always been the heart of any home. For centuries women reigned supreme there, nurturing their families not just with food but with love.
Throughout the month of July, drop by my blog and read stories of strong women and the summer dishes they favored and they left behind for their families.
Again, readers are invited to submit stories and recipes OR just favorite summer recipes.
And between July 1st-July 31st, be sure to request a PDF format collection of these special recipes available in August.
Please let your friends know about my blog. My hope is that it will be an inspiration to every woman.
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