Travel Up North for Alaskan Mountain Murder by Sarah Varland - A Love Inspired Suspense

 She’d driven the familiar curving road in silence, appreciating the sweeping views of Turnagain Arm and the mountains that guarded it, even as her chest tightened at the idea of being this close to Raven Pass. To home. To Jake Stone.

Cassie climbed back into the car, shut the door and pulled out of the driveway, checked her rearview as she navigated back onto Raven Pass’s main road. There. Behind her on the side of the road. Hadn’t she seen that gray car before? It had been behind her on the highway earlier. And hadn’t they stopped for gas when she’d stopped in Girdwood, just fifteen miles or so back? And now they were in Raven Pass too, right here near her aunt’s house? She took a deep breath, felt her heartbeat slow and steady as she braced herself for a crisis. Cassie had many faults, she was well aware of them, but when something went wrong, it was like her mind buckled down, readied itself for battle. It was what had made her want to be a doctor all those years ago, the suggestion she could use that skill to help people. If only she’d gotten the chance. But life was too short to waste on regrets. And besides, she wouldn’t trade Will for all the degrees and dreams in the world. Jake would tell her that God had a way of redeeming situations and turning challenges into blessings. He’d always said things like that when they were dating, spoken of God like He cared about her. Cassie? She’d never been sure. Out on the road, she put the rental car back in Drive and headed forward, toward Jake’s house, her eyes flitting between the road in front of her and the rearview mirror. The gray car followed. Cassie swallowed hard, increased her speed as the other car did the same. She led the car back out of town, onto the Seward Highway. Her eyes went once again to Will’s sleeping face. She’d do anything to protect her son. But what if it wasn’t enough? She couldn’t lose him. Please, God. She fumbled with the words. Jake had tried to introduce her to the God he loved, but Cassie had never quite understood. How could Jake talk to God as though He were right there, a friend, and not a far-off Being who created the world and existed somewhere far away. Still, it was worth a try. Hopefully that would count for something and if He was there as Jake insisted He was, He’d help her somehow. The car edged closer and Cassie reached for her cell, which was sitting on the dashboard. She’d not bothered to sync it to the rental’s Bluetooth system when she’d picked up the vehicle. Keeping her eyes on the road, she wrapped her fingers around the slick, cool phone. It slid from her hand to the floorboard. She glanced down, looked back up again in time to swerve back right and miss the truck she’d almost hit head-on in the attempt to get her phone. She’d have to call the police later. Right now she was on her own. There were no turnoffs that were a good place for losing the tail, not unless she could drive around Girdwood and lose him in one of the neighborhoods filled with houses and vacation cabins. Otherwise her option was to drive on the dangerous Seward Highway all the way back to Anchorage with him on her tail. Some of the curves of the road hugged rock cliffs on one side, where the mountain itself had been blasted to build the highway, and the ocean on the other. It wasn’t a risk she was willing to take. She’d have to try to lose him. Cassie turned right onto the Alyeska Highway, a generous name for the two-lane road that led to the resort town of Girdwood, the town nearest to Raven Pass, and pushed the engine as far over the limit as she dared. Drawing someone’s attention with her speed could help her, but on the other hand, this was a town where many people walked and rode their bikes and she didn’t want to risk hitting anyone. Even this late at night people could be out, though it seemed hardly anyone was. No matter how many turns down obscure neighborhood roads she made, Cassie couldn’t shake the tail. And she couldn’t make out any of the driver’s facial features either. This had to stop. Every minute that swept by her heart beat faster and she felt her body temperature rising. She only had so much longer to be able to hold it together. She’d go back to Raven Pass, to the police department there. She should have thought of that in the first place. She’d just been so determined to try to lose her tail. All she could do was try to make better decisions now, and that started with finding a police department. Since Girdwood had no department of its own, Raven Pass was her best bet. She needed to go back. Pressing the gas pedal hard and gripping the steering wheel like she had NASCAR aspirations, she drove hard, back toward town. She’d just made it past the Welcome to Raven Pass sign when the gray car accelerated, and Cassie hit the gas but braced herself for impact in case she’d reacted too slowly. She had. The crash was an instant of crunching metal and pain in Cassie’s head, and the car threatened to spin out as she fought the wheel for control. After seconds that seemed like minutes, she won, and the sedan slowed to a stop on the side of the road. She was grateful it hadn’t been a hard enough jolt for the airbag to deploy. There were no other vehicles in sight, probably because she’d had the brilliant idea to come to town right after her flight got in, which meant it was just past midnight, not exactly the prime traffic time of day. She should have spent the night at a hotel in Anchorage and waited until day to head to Raven Pass, but then how could she have known she’d be followed? Run off the road? Cassie twisted in her seat to look in the back, thankful to see that Will looked uninjured. He was awake, his eyes wide, his cheek still marked with wrinkles from being pressed against the booster seat, an image that turned her heart upside down with sheer love. She had to keep him safe. “Did we get in a wreck?” he asked, his eyes wide, voice wavering. If only she had the time to reassure him fully, but the door of the gray car behind them was opening. And she had no choice but to run. “Listen, baby,” she said as she unbuckled his seat, “when I open your door, I need you to run as fast as you can, okay? We’re going into the trees there.” She motioned with her finger toward the dark spruce woods. Memories fought to surface—hiking the woods with Jake, finding places where they could talk—and not talk—without interruption. Would the memories always feel so suffocating? She’d felt numb in Florida. Up here though, she felt everything as deeply as ever. Every ounce of love she’d ever had for him, the regret at her rash decision to leave town. But time couldn’t be turned back. And right now her focus was keeping her son—and herself—safe. “Ready?” she asked him, taking a deep breath. “Ready, Mom.” His little voice was confident. Trusting. Please, God, don’t let me let him down. She tried another prayer, remembering the way Jake had talked to God. “Go!” She threw her door open, then quickly yanked his wide, and they both took off into the woods. “Hey!” her attacker yelled—the voice was male, but she didn’t notice any more than that in her hurry to escape—but they didn’t turn around. Instead they ran, straight for the path Cassie remembered, which would take them to town—where it came out she couldn’t remember, but someone would help her. It was a tight-knit community, where you could count on your neighbors. And hopefully find safety. They ran until Will started to lag and then Cassie picked him up, his head resting on her shoulder as she pushed herself as fast as she could with a sixty-pound boy draped across her. Ignoring the burn in her legs, the sharp pain in her lungs as she gasped for breath after breath, exhaustion and adrenaline fighting for dominance, Cassie closed the gap between where she was and town, glancing back now and then to see if she was being pursued. Once she’d seen someone, large and tall, dressed in dark clothes with a ski mask, and since then she’d pushed her pace harder. As the woods grew thicker, her pace slowed by necessity, and she stepped off the trail, staying close enough to it that she knew where she was—at least she thought so—but hoping her pursuer wouldn’t be able to find her, even if he did catch up. The path she made through the trees was tight but it worked, twisting around large stalks of the thorn-laden devil’s club plant. The darkness of the woods grew thicker as she approached Fourteen-Mile River. The main trail had a bridge, but since she’d been avoiding that path, she’d have to run through the river and soak her legs. Better than being caught by whoever had been after her. She splashed through the water, the icy cold like a thousand needles in her skin as she ran. Not far now, maybe a quarter of a mile till the path would end. She just needed to figure out where she was going to come out in relation to town, and plot her path to the police station. Or just find the first house and ask for help and a phone to call the police. She’d decide which when she got there. Cassie glanced back one more time, saw the tall man dressed in dirty jeans and a jacket, a ski mask on his head. He was closer now than he had been, and she could see a large gun in his right hand. Any doubts about whether she was justified in running, about whether or not her aunt had disappeared naturally, fled from her mind. Something was going on in Raven Pass, something that had put her aunt, and now Cassie and her son, in danger. She was fueled by adrenaline now, keenly aware that it would fade soon and then she’d be at his mercy. Cassie was determined not to let it happen. So she kept running, pushing through the last bit of crowded forest onto a gravel path, lifting her eyes to look straight at the house in front of her. Light green with dark green trim. An octagonal window above the front door on the second story. She’d run straight to Jake Stone’s old house. Just like old times, like she could still count on him to sweep her into his solid arms and tell her everything was going to be okay. Those days were long gone, and Jake had surely moved out of his parents’ old home, but she needed help, and needed it now. She felt convinced whoever was after her wouldn’t hesitate to snatch her even from here, on the edges of town where someone could see. Why else would he have worn a mask to conceal his identity? She needed to get inside that house. Call the police. Sort this out. So she didn’t hesitate any longer. She sprinted across the street, and threw open the door, just like she would have without hesitation seven years ago—when the Stones had treated her like part of the family, when it had been assumed she and Jake would follow through on their engagement and maybe one day live in this adorable house in Raven Pass. Back before everything blew up. And Cassie had been left holding the fuse. She could only pray his parents had forgiven her, but even if they hadn’t, they were decent people. They would keep her safe, she was sure of it. She shut the door hard behind her and locked it, then set a wide-eyed Will down beside her. “Are we okay, Mom?” he asked in a shaky voice. “We will be, sweetie. Stay right here, okay?” Cassie moved toward the kitchen, hoping they still had a landline. And ran straight into a solid person. Tall. Much, much too solid to be Jake’s dad. And found herself looking right into the sky blue eyes of the man whose heart she’d broken seven years ago. Jake Stone. “Cassie?” Jake barely managed to sputter out her name, the one he hadn’t spoken aloud more than a handful of times in years. He’d imagined what it would be like to see her once more, maybe even let himself have the slightest daydream about her being against his chest like this again. But deep down he’d known the latter would never happen, and the former probably wouldn’t either. He’d heard her aunt was missing and he’d let himself wonder if Cassie would come but hadn’t really thought she would. Now she was in his house. And there was a little boy standing beside her. A little boy who looked... Jake swallowed hard. Seven? Six? She hadn’t said a word to him about the boy yet, but Jake saw his eyes in the boy’s face, saw his own childhood expression mirrored. “What are you doing here?” He put his hands on her upper arms, gently, and stepped back, looked her over. Her brown-sugar hair was tangled around her face, which was red, like she’d been exercising. “My aunt is gone. I’m in town because of that, but when I went to her house the door was open and I don’t know why. Someone followed me here.” Cassie turned quickly, looked behind her though nothing was back there. “And you ran here...?” “I didn’t come here on purpose.” Her cheeks reddened further. “Listen.” She cleared her throat, her tone switching to the all-business one she used when she was uncomfortable. “I’m sorry to have bothered you, but I went to my aunt’s house and the door was open, and there was a car and they followed me and ran me off the road...” She glanced back again. “They chased me through the woods, even through Fourteen-Mile River when I crossed it. I needed to get help and this was the first house I saw. I’m sorry, but please. Don’t send us away yet, not until the police come.” Jake felt his defenses rise, his shoulders tense. She’d hurt him, sure, probably more than anyone realized. He glanced at the small boy beside her who still hadn’t said a word. Swallowed hard. Either way, this was another layer to the hurt. Had she cheated on him? Or... It wasn’t outside the realm of possibility that they could have made a son together. Jake had had good intentions, had his standards and his plans to wait until they were married but it had grown harder and he hadn’t resisted temptation as well as he should have. Cassie didn’t share his level of faith, and had said she loved him and that was what had mattered. But still, whether she believed in God or not, it had been his job to keep their relationship on track. He’d failed her. Had that been the beginning of the end?

~~~

God was giving him time to accept the news of his paternity before he delved into the reasons Cassie had hidden it from him, let alone left him. He hiked along without talking anymore, but he kept watching Will. The kid pressed on with admirable determination. It didn’t sound like this was the kind of thing he was used to, but he was doing a good job. It was hard to picture a son of his being raised away from these mountains that surrounded Raven Pass, but Will fit right in here. Was Cassie planning to just leave when the search was over? And what, have Will fly up in the summers to visit him? He didn’t want to be a summer-vacation dad. He wanted to be a real one, starting today. God, help me because I’m not even sure I know how. His dad was amazing, so it wasn’t that Jake lacked for inspiration. He just wasn’t sure how to put it into play in his own life. A son was obviously top priority over things like work. But he still had a job and needed to do it well. How would that all fit together? One day at a time. He took a deep breath, looked around them. Cassie was still ahead with Adriana, and Babe was sniffing, working the area like he’d seen the dog do so many times before. He’d been skeptical at one point at the idea of trusting an animal as a full-on teammate, but Babe had proven it was worth it. More than, really. He looked behind him. Piper and Caleb were deep in conversation but their eyes scanned back and forth over the terrain, looking for any aberrations in the landscape that could indicate a struggle, or someone taking the wrong path. Ellie and Levi brought up the rear. Help us find her, God. “What are your thoughts on this?” Levi’s voice asked him only a few minutes later. He must have hiked up ahead of Piper and Caleb. “On Mabel’s disappearance?” Levi nodded. “It seemed reasonable to believe it was an accident until Cassie showed up and things started happening. At this point...” Jake trailed off. No need to voice what he was thinking, but Levi seemed to understand. Their chances of finding the woman alive were slim. Jake had seen Cassie’s eyes, knew the hope there that she’d tried to temper. He hoped she could bear up under the storm he feared was coming. “I agree.” Levi nodded and Jake turned to his friend, confused about why Levi had been so ready to accept Cassie’s help to show them Mabel’s preferred hiking routes. “So why these trails? This is where she hiked, but you don’t think she disappeared while hiking.” “I didn’t say that.” Levi said the words slowly. “I don’t think she disappeared of her own volition. Or even by accident. But that doesn’t mean it wasn’t around here. According to Cassie, her aunt hiked every day and told her niece about these trails often. Someone watching her would know her routine, and be aware of the best places to attack.” “What you’re saying makes sense, just not for Raven Pass.” Jake shook his head. “The man showing up last night was strange enough for this town, but you’re saying it may not even have been a crime of opportunity. That someone might actually have targeted an older woman and done some kind of harm to her?” Levi didn’t answer right away. Jake respected the fact that as law enforcement, his friend had lines he couldn’t cross, things he couldn’t share with him. But he knew from that look that Levi had reason to believe his assumptions were correct. He hadn’t found the body, or he would have told Jake and he wouldn’t have them all out there. What did he know then that they didn’t? “We found forensic evidence at the house.” “You know who it was?” “No.” Levi shook his head. “Unless someone has committed a crime, or has some other kind of exception that would make their fingerprints stay in the system, their prints may not be available to match immediately.” “But there are prints.” Levi nodded. “She had friends though. Surely that explains it.” “Mabel had a .44, like any good Alaskan.” Quite the non sequitur, but okay. Jake nodded. “There are prints on the safe that match the prints on the door and around the house in other places.” Jake didn’t want to consider his next question, or the ones that followed. “And the weapon?” “Missing.”

~~~

Cassie hadn't been home for years, mainly because she'd never figured out how to deal with sharing the fact that she had become pregnant soon after she had left and couldn't bring herself to try to explain all the thoughts that had first led to her leaving--her home with her aunt and her relationship with Jake...

Please don’t let him find me. Another prayer. She didn’t have time to analyze why praying seemed so natural here. She felt less alone somehow, which was interesting since she wasn’t even sure what she believed about God.

But she had received notification as next of kin that her aunt was missing... So Cassie realized that, even hesitantly, she would have to go and work to find her!

What she didn't know was that Jake Stone led the local Rescue Team for the area and that there was no way she could not be part of the team searching for her. Levi, the local police representative would also be there, so there wouldn't be time when she would be alone with him. Still, the situation was tense for both of them...

Hoping was starting to hurt Cassie more than it helped. No one told you that there was a blackness underneath hope that was nothing more than positive thinking. Was that why Jake put his hope in something more, in trusting God instead of just thinking and wishing for the best?

Cassie and Jack had become involved, even though Jake was very committed to serving God... Cassie's background was bereft of early church involvement so had never developed an understanding of even the concept of praying or talking to somebody she couldn't see... What she knew had been learned while dating Jake, so that, when even Jake had allowed their relationship to go too far one day, Cassie was left with...the...result... But she had already left Alaska, relocatd and settled in with a new job and, then, caring for her son, Will...

Couldn’t the God of the universe have stopped the shots in the first place, rather than just protecting them through it? For that matter, why had He let her aunt disappear if He was really in charge and could change things like that?

There was no reason for Cassie to think there was any reason to think that the search would include anything but hopefuly finding her aunt, still alive, but hurt in the mountains that she had hiked in daily. But...on the very first night, she was followed by a man with a mask over his face and a gun... And, when she had arrived at her aunt's home, where she thought she would stay, the door was wide open and it was clear that somebody had been broken... Later to be confirmed that this was the second time the house had been broken into... The police told her she could not plan on staying there since there was obviously more to her aunt's disappearance than was thought earlier...

God, I don’t know how You’re going to work this out. Can You fix this kind of pain? No, I’m sorry, Lord, I know You can. But will You? Jake heard nothing in reply.

Yes, she and Will were forced to bunk in Jake's homeplace, now occupied by only Jake since his parents had moved in their retirement years... The days grew tenser, of course... But, in the evenings they did begin to share and talk about the past. Will then quickly let it be know that he planned on being Will's father and they would have to plan to have that happen. Neither were interested in sharing parenting by Will moving back and forth...

It was another time she wished she could pray. But she still couldn’t reconcile Jake’s faith with the evil she’d had such a firsthand view of lately. How could both exist? Evil go on unchecked?

The danger became more violent... When, interestingly, Cassie was so afraid that she found herself praying for help, so much so that it began to feel natural... And, then, as it often happens, Cassie began to feel His Presence...

She’d already been in his house too long and she couldn’t deal with the growing tangle of confusing feelings inside her, the guilt tormenting her. God, forgive me. I should have told him about Will sooner. A third prayer to a God she had never been sure existed. Cassie wanted to sort those feelings out later, figure out why it was starting to feel natural. She wished she could talk to Jake about it.

As far as the why for the danger, all you need to do is think about why, historically, many people started moving to Alaska... and you'll have the answer...

While the mystery was not really surprising, there was considerable action when contact was actually made by those following Cassie and she was kidnapped, just as her aunt apparently had been at an earlier time... The difference was that nobody had known her aunt had been taken... Now, an entire Rescue Team, including a dog team member, the police and the town were all aware when they could not find Cassie! 

Exciting while heartwarming as readers watch as a young boy learns he has a father, right there, and immediately is able to call him... Dad... Enjoy!

GABixlerReviews

Mixed Blessings by Cathy Marie Hake is, indeed, Love Inspired~

 “As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord.” Clearly, yesterday’s lunchtime prayer wasn’t a mere ritual. Marie lived her faith. Good thing she does. Only God will be able to solve this for us...

“Ricky and I will have lunch with you and Luke.” She looked at her son—her biological son—and whispered, “I didn’t know it was going to be this hard.” The housekeeper’s arrival cut short Peter’s response. The aproned woman pushed in an elegant, inlaid wood tea cart laden with four china plates and beverages. She proceeded to set the small trestle table over by the window with linen napkins. Marie thought she must be hallucinating. It looked like someone had clipped this scene straight from a soap opera. She glanced at Peter and Luke. Neither of them paid any attention to the housekeeper. Marie gulped. A very ordinary woman who lived an average middle-class life, she knew she was in way over her head. Peter nudged Luke toward the table, then plucked Ricky out of Marie’s arms. “We’ll have to get you a booster seat just like Luke’s. Today, you’ll sit on my lap.” Marie hesitantly took the seat Peter pulled out for her, then looked at Ricky. He’d curled his fingers around Peter’s collar and grinned up at him, so she couldn’t very well protest, even though her heart twisted at the sight of them together. You knew you’d have to learn to share him. She daintily settled her napkin in her lap, then reached over to take Ricky’s outstretched hand. She cast a wary look at Peter. He took Luke’s hand. “Do you normally say grace, too?” She nodded. Too. That one word relaxed her a bit. At least they held some common ground. Building bridges between their families would be easier if they shared a foundation of faith. Luke and Ricky singsonged, “God is great, God is good…” in a sweet duet, and Peter’s voice quickly blended with them. Marie finally caught up and added, “Amen!” Peter’s intense stare made Marie shift in her seat. “What?” “If you’re upset about missing church, you can attend ours.” She broke eye contact and picked up her sandwich. “I’m so confused.” She put down the sandwich without taking a bite. “I’m torn between needing to stay and needing to go.” “Staying is only right. There’s no question. You can’t tease me with one short hour of being with my—” he paused and shot a quick look at Luke, then back at Ricky. His voice vibrated with restrained emotion “—With my flesh and blood, then snatch him away!” Despair flooded her. “I care for my sister. She was injured in an accident.” He frowned. Marie wasn’t sure whether it was from vexation that she didn’t accede to his wishes at once or concern for Sandy. “How is she managing without you today?” “She’s at the rehab facility. One of our church family is picking her up. He’ll keep her company at home until I get there.” “Surely he can watch her overnight.” Marie winced. “The gentleman involved isn’t exactly versed in giving her the particular type of care she’ll require.” “That’s not a problem. We’ll call and arrange for a private nurse to stay with her tonight. You can’t leave.” “Mr. Hallock,” she paused and watched as Peter playfully stuck an olive on Ricky’s thumb. Both of their faces lit with glee. Cuddling Ricky closer, Peter grabbed another olive and did the same to Luke. All three of them laughed. If it’s so cute, why do I want to cry? Peter looked at her and raised his brows. “What were you going to say?” “I know I said it before,” she whispered, “but this is even harder than I thought it was going to be.” His smile faded. “We have to work together, Marie…for their sakes.” “I know.” He shook his head. “It’s so hard to believe. We’ve got a lot to do.” He accepted a carrot from Ricky. “First off, I—” “I think,” she interrupted, “we’d be wise to not make any immediate decisions. It’s going to be complicated. Can’t we please have today to just share our sons?” “That would be easier if you’d change your plan to flit out of here.” She tried to calm down with a sip of iced tea, but it didn’t help. Her hand shook as she set the crystal goblet back down on the table. “Mr. Hallock—” “Peter. It seems crazy to be formal when we’re going to be sharing kids.” Marie dipped her head in acknowledgment. “Peter, I learned about this a week ago. The first day, I was in shock. You’re that way now. I’m falling apart, and you’re acting like nothing is wrong. In a day or two, the reality will hit you full force.” “So you’re dropping a bomb, listening to it tick for a few minutes, then running before it detonates?” She granted him a wobbly smile. His words were clever, but the reality hurt too much. Her eyes burned and her nose tingled with suppressed tears. “Hey,” he said softly, “I’m sorry. That joke was in poor taste. I think you were incredibly brave to come here. I don’t know what I would have done.” “I admit, I’m frazzled. I prayed all of the way here, but my focus was on the boys.” She shrugged. “I’m not ready to think about all of the consequences or plot a future course.” “Okay. We’ll just concentrate on the guys today.” Marie didn’t eat much. Her nerves were strung too tight. Nothing seemed to fit past the big ball in her throat. By the end of lunch, Luke started rubbing his eyes. Marie looked at Peter. “Would you mind if I tucked him in for his nap?” He rubbed his chin on Ricky’s crown. “How ’bout if we let Ricky nap a while, too?” “He naps well in his car seat. It might be easier if we slip out while they’re sleepy. If you’re free next weekend, why don’t you and Luke come for a visit?” “Nothing is more important than this, Marie. We have to make a pact that the boys come first. I’ll clear my calendar and jump through whatever hoops I have to.” Peter sat on the couch and held Ricky while Marie tucked in Luke by herself. Those few moments she spent alone with Jack’s little son were bittersweet. Even after he’d fallen asleep, she held him close to her heart. Finally, she whispered a prayer over him, slipped him onto his bed and covered him with a satin-edged baby blanket. One kiss wasn’t enough. The second and third were just as precious. She knew she had to leave. It felt like a giant was reaching in and tearing her heart from her breast. Each step she took from his room and down the hall took monumental effort. Peter rose from the couch as she reentered the playroom. Ricky lay in his arms like a boneless cat. He’d fallen asleep, just like Luke. “I’ll carry him out for you.” She blinked back tears and reached out. “My arms feel too empty. Please—” To her relief, Peter relinquished Ricky. Peter’s face was pale and taut. Marie suspected his composure was starting to crack. Part of her wanted to stay so he wouldn’t have to bear the anguish alone, but she had no emotional reserves and couldn’t do anything to lessen the impact of this disaster. Left alone, he’d at least keep his dignity. She made it to the front door, but Peter pressed a hand to the oak panel, blocking her exit. “Marie—” “Peter, you have to let us go.” His troubled gaze held her captive. “For now—but things are far from resolved.” Marie nodded. Ricky stirred and lifted his head. Marie shrank as Peter completely closed the few inches between them. Back pressed against the wall, she gulped and her eyes widened. Then his head dipped. “Bye-bye, tiger. You’re a wonderful boy. I was so happy to meet you. I’ll see you again, soon.” He spoke the words very softly, very tenderly, before he kissed Ricky’s cheek and rumpled his hair. Genuine affection glowed in his eyes. His sweetness to her son meant the world—until he whispered to her, “You take good care of him until I can.”

The phone rang as Marie crossed the threshold. Too tired to care, Marie let go of Ricky’s hand and smiled wearily at her sister. “I don’t know how people commute long distances to work.” Sandy gave her a sympathetic look, then glanced at the still-jangling phone and made a wry face. “You’d better answer that. Some guy named Peter has been calling every fifteen minutes for the last two hours. He’s frantic.” “Great.” Marie rubbed her aching back as she headed for the phone. “Hello?” “Marie! It’s eight forty-seven! You’ve been driving long past dark. What took you so long? Was there a problem?” Her purse strap slid down from her shoulder, and Marie let her bag drop onto the battered, white kitchen counter with a muffled thump. Shoving her hair back from her forehead, she sighed, “We’re fine.” “What took you so long?” Peter’s voice sounded ragged with concern, but Marie didn’t want to think about him or his feelings at the moment. His parting words kept echoing in her head. You take good care of him until I can. All the way home, she’d worried that Peter meant to try to take Ricky away. She’d been so absorbed, she’d failed to look at the gauges and run out of gas. “I said, we’re fine.” “Thank heavens! Marie, your car is leaking oil. I saw a pool of fresh oil right where you were parked. I worried you broke down or something.” “We made it home in one piece.” “Good!” His sigh of relief flowed over the line. Marie cleared her throat. “When I stopped to get gas, my license and cards were in the wrong places in my wallet.” The line went silent. “Mr. Hallock? I believe an answer is in order.” She could hear his steps as he paced back and forth on a hard surface someplace. The silence told her he was considering several possible explanations. That fact irked her. She wanted the truth. “While you were in my house,” he said in a well-modulated tone, “the security officer did a search of the car and your purse. He copied your identification and put it back.” I wanted him to be honest—but I also hoped he’d be honorable. Fatigue gave way to anger. “I’m so mad, I could spit nails! How dare you do such a thing!”

~~~

When a book immediately says "Love Inspired," any reader is going to assume love will be the ending, so I kept that in mind, even though it was not a journey full of joy that occured in this wonderful book, Mixed Blessings, by Cathy Marie Hake... In fact, it starts with major heartbreak...

Marie Cadant had already been through personal pain when her husband, a cop, was killed on the job... Needless to say, when another major event occurred soon thereafter, she was upset, to say the least, because she believed that her baby was not hers--that there had been an accidental switch at the hospital... And since there was no way to prove it, she was out to deal with the issue herself!

Diligently doing needed research, she had discovered a possible individual who could have her and her late husband's son... At the same time, she had grown to love the little boy she had taken home from the hospital when released... They had grown close and she knew that she would not be able to give up contact with him either... But could another family adjust to such a situation?

Let's just say that the first contact was very disturbing, especially when the possible father saw her child, who was identical to him! But, at the same time, when Marie saw his little boy, she knew right away that he was her husband's child as well. Two boys could not have looked more like their father... At least there was no dispute about whether a mistake had indeed been made.

But Marie became concerned almost immediately. She realized that the man was extremely rich, which was quite different from her life. Further, immediately he began to act authoritatively as if he would be dealing with all issues to get this mistake corrected... NOT! Marie was a mother, most of all, and she planned to ensure both of these boys were in her life, no matter what this rich man tried.

But, no matter what each of the parents was thinking, the two little boys were almost instant friends as if they realized that a connection was meant to be...

Finally the two parents (yes, the father was divorced), decided to allow time for everybody to get acquainted by visiting at each other homes... Sounds ok from the father's standpoint who had help to run his very large and modern home. But Marie was making do even though the local cops were helping her as much as possible since her husband's death. Automatically, the money availability was quickly noticed with offers from the rich to give to the poor--car, etc... Marie was soon feeling distressed, and in fear that the man would try to take both of the boys, using financial care as a reason for legal action... But at least both of them were willing to work toward an agreeable solution...

“You knew I hummed in the shower?” He chortled softly. “Yep. Sunday mornings, getting ready for church. It always struck my funny bone when you chose a hymn that said something about water or a fount or the ocean.”

He paced back and forth with long, impatient strides, then walked to Ricky’s bedroom door. Bracing an arm against the doorsill, he looked at his son, then drew in a deep breath. Without turning around, he said, “We’ll compromise. I’ll split the cost with you.” “No, I can rework my budget.” He pivoted sharply and snapped, “I don’t want you to!” Glowering at him, Marie said, “This isn’t about what you want. This happens to be you trying to impinge on my private life.” His lips parted, then closed for a second. He came closer and rumbled, “Marie, this isn’t about money—it’s about keeping you, Ricky and Sandy safe.” “No, it isn’t. Clearly you have vast funds and I don’t, but I’m not going to allow you to do anything financial.” Peter groaned. “I’m not trying to buy my way into your lives.” “It feels like you are,” she admitted all too promptly. “Then I’ll ask you to forgive me, Marie. I don’t know what more to say.” “I believe in forgiveness, Peter, but I also know I have to exercise common sense and wisdom. I don’t know you at all, and I don’t know just how much trust I can put in you. People with wealth are inclined to try to buy their way out of problems or patch things up with money, but there are some things in life that don’t have a price tag.” “I only want to take care of a few car repairs!” “This time,” she said. “But then where do I draw the line? It’s a subtle form of control, and I’d be a fool to even think of it. I won’t tolerate you tossing your money at me as if I were a charity case or a poor relation. Am I clear on that issue?” His face stayed grim. “Will you at least go to the guy my man recommended? It’s probably something minor, but mechanics see a woman like you coming and a cash register in the back of their brains starts chinging. At least we’ll know he’ll be honest.” He’d scrawled the mechanic’s name and address on a piece of paper and held it out to her. Marie let out a rueful laugh. “If Ricky or Luke end up half as stubborn as you, I’m going to wear my knees flat, praying for patience!” “Then we’ll match,” he countered as he pressed the paper into her hands. She fingered the slip. “I guess we’ll see you Saturday.” He tilted her face up to his. “No, Marie. Friday evening. The nice part about flying is that you’ll be able to spend more time with us. My secretary will make the flight arrangements. She’ll call you with the details and have the tickets waiting at the counter. Her name is Paulette.” She gave him a tentative smile. “We’ll see you Friday.” Friday, Peter could hardly wait for them to get off the plane, yet a long trail of passengers came toward the baggage-claim area and Marie still didn’t appear. Did she chicken out? He’d wanted to call her every single day this week—both to talk to his little son and to reinforce how much he anticipated their visit. It took all of his self-restraint to phone only twice. Did I push too much? Did I act too casual so she decided it wasn’t important? Luke rode his shoulders to keep from being mowed over by travelers. Just about the time Peter decided to ask one of the passengers if they’d seen Marie, Ricky and Sandy on the plane, they came into sight. Marie held Ricky in her arms and walked behind Sandy’s wheelchair. Peter’s heart sped up another notch. “There they are!” Luke clapped his hands and shouted, “Ricky! Ricky! Marie!” Peter watched Marie’s reaction as he jogged toward them. The time he’d spent using the photos and teaching Luke to recognize Ricky and Marie had paid off in spades. Marie stopped in her tracks. Her breath caught and tears glossed her eyes. Peter swept Luke into Sandy’s lap. “Give Auntie Sandy a big hug, Luke.” Luke wound his arms around Sandy as Peter gathered Ricky and Marie together in one, all-encompassing hug. He gave Ricky an extra squeeze, then smiled at Marie. “Luke recognized you from the picture. I got the film developed and have been showing your photos to him all week. Smart kid, huh?” “Luke takes after his aunt,” Sandy declared as she hugged her nephew. “At least in the brains department. He certainly took after you with his looks, Marie.” “Here, Marie. I’ll take him.” Peter eagerly curled his hands around Ricky’s ribs and tugged. “This little monster is too heavy for you to carry!” Marie relinquished him and turned to get Luke. “Then I’ll take Luke.” Sandy shook her head. “Nothing doing, sis. It’s my turn to hold him. Besides, he weighs more than Ricky, and you still have a gigantic bruise from the lab drawing your blood.” Peter looked at the dark purple splotch at the bend in Marie’s arm and frowned. “That looks sore. Luke bruised, too—but not like that.” She tugged at her sleeve to cover the mark. “Ricky wasn’t happy at all about getting stuck. How did Luke do?” “I bribed him with ice cream,” Peter confessed. He noted how Marie redirected the focus to the boys. She wasn’t one to want to be the center of attention. He didn’t let on how seeing her held almost as much appeal as seeing Ricky. Instead, he directed them toward the baggage carousel and let the boys start up some nonsensical chatter. The boys continued to prattle to one another the whole ride home. During one of the phone calls, Peter mentioned he’d gotten a car seat for Ricky, so Marie didn’t need to lug one along. On the ride home, Peter pointed out a few sights and pulled into his drive. “Wow. Marie told me you lived in a nice place, but she didn’t say it was a mansion!” Sandy gawked at it. Peter grinned at her. “I hope you’ll be comfortable here...” 

“Just for us. God gave us a blanket of stars.” “Just for us?” “Absolutely.” He turned his head and winked at her. “He whispers His love on the wind, too.” “Mmm,” she hummed. “I like that.”

And of course you can guess how the story ends... But it's a lovely read--heartwarming and inspirational... Enjoy this one!

GABixlerReviews

For Every Love: Three Romances by Nadine C. Keels - With... Soundtrack Featuring Classical Jazz!

 

Wow! I've just binge-read all three books in the trilogy, For Every Love. Actually, I read each book and immediately wanted to download the next one...and the next... But I wanted to spotlight that these three novels have also been captured in a set! Your Choice!

Soundtrack, If You Will
♥
I’m not the only author who often has a theme song or two that accompanies my writing. The music for each one of my stories is usually an original composition, heard exclusively via my remarkable humming (please hold your applause). But for Love Unfeigned, I, full of nostalgia, reached back for the smooth sounds of some standard and classic jazz I became familiar with during my childhood. Here are the songs that most inspired the romance between Lorraine and Isaiah. Taking a listen definitely brings the mood(s) of the story to another degree of life…

“Sweet Lorraine”
♥

“Dancing on the Ceiling”
♥
Admittedly made me a little teary–twice–as I wrote about Lorraine’s “Boy.” Performed by the legendary Ella Fitzgerald.

Girls mostly played with girls, and boys mostly played with boys. Even being as girly as I was, with my dolls and flowery tea sets at home, I wasn’t one you would usually find in a big group of other girls during recess at school. However, I did play with a girl in my third grade class, Sara, more than I did with anyone else. Auburn-haired, heavily-freckled, faithful Sara could be trusted for jump rope, for plenty of laughter, and for the trading of a fair share of secrets. I regarded her as my best friend, and whenever one of us did happen to be found in a larger bunch of girls on the playground, the other was sure to be there. Unless, of course, she or I was absent from school that day. Nevertheless, I wasn’t opposed to playing with boys every so often. They proved to be the best competition for me at wall ball. I was hailed as the best girl Wall Baller in all of third grade, and when I started running out of boys my age to beat, a classmate suggested that I should try to play with some of the bigger kids. I considered it, looking to Sara to see if she thought it was a good idea. When she only shrugged, I told her, “I’ll do it tomorrow, if you come with me.” I was nervous the first time Sara and I went to get in a different wall ball line with fourth and fifth graders. Earl, my fourth grade virtual twin, poked his kinkily-curled raven head out of the front of the line to smile at me. “What’re you doing over here, Raindrop?” he called down the line. “I’m here to play, Early,” I called back. “And I’m here to watch,” Sara piped up, eager to justify her young presence in this older crowd. A boy I recognized to be from Earl’s class shook his head. “She can’t play with us. We’ll kill her.” He pointed back at me with his thumb. “Earl, man, get your sister.” “Nobody’s gonna kill her,” my brother asserted. “If she wants to play, she can play. She’s pretty good, anyway.” “Psh.” The boy looked back at me with a mischievous grin, which was gleaming with braces on his teeth. “Maybe pretty good for an itty-bitty.” I judged that I wasn’t much smaller than the boy talking, and I obviously wasn’t much younger, but I felt disproportionately embarrassed because I thought the boy was cute. I had a thing for braces. I wasn’t sure which side of chance I was on when I actually got the opportunity to contend against him at the wall, but I played what might have been my scrappiest round of wall ball up to that point in my playground career, the bright beads on my many, swinging black braids clicking soundly together as I ran, jumped, and pounded at that bouncy yellow sphere with a resolute fist. I didn’t defeat every kid I faced that day, but I did win the respect of the entire line by beating Braces Boy. “Well, Lori, you shut him up, at least,” Sara congratulated me once I was out of the game, when I’d been trumped by my last opponent. I looked over to see that Braces Boy had abandoned the wall ball line to go join a group of kids over at one of the tetherball rings. I felt vindicated, silently agreeing with Sara as I got back in line, but it wasn’t many days later that I found out Sara and I hadn’t been completely right. That Friday after school, I was out along the side of the driveway of my house, squatting in a patch of soil, rocks, and plants to watch the activity of my favorite colony of ants there when Earl arrived back home from a neighborhood trip he’d taken on his bike. Pulling into the driveway with him, also on a bike, was Braces Boy. “Hey, Itty-Bitty,” Braces greeted me. “What’re you doing over there in the dirt?” “She’s babysitting her ants,” Earl told him as they dismounted their bikes to lean them against the driveway fence. I rose from my squatting position. “I’m not ‘in’ the dirt,” I informed Braces Boy. I was ridiculously glad to see him and was just as determined not to show him so. “And don’t call me Itty-Bitty.” Braces grinned. “Touchy. Mad that I let you win in wall ball at school?” “You didn’t let me win, I hammered you,” I said, wiping my hands across my jeans and stepping out of the soil patch. “Hammered me, my foot,” Braces guffawed, his hands going into the pockets of his own jeans. “I wouldn’t be caught dead trying hard against a lil’ third grade chick. What do I look like?” What did he look like? I wasn’t about to tell him that he looked like the very glory of boyhood, standing there: dark brown hair that avoided being a mess but didn’t appear to care more than it had to, with a shock of it falling over his forehead; skin, somewhere between the colors of almond butter and cinnamon, that was thoroughly acquainted with the sun’s rays; thick, dark eyebrows; and that irresistible sparkle of metal in his mouth, impishly flaunting itself now, for my benefit. That is, I wasn’t about to tell him how cute he looked. I shrugged. “Well. If trying looks stupider than losing, then it is a good thing you lost.” Earl broke out laughing at that. “I didn’t lose,” Braces argued the point. “I let you win.” “Aw, give it up,” Earl chided his buddy, giving Braces a push on the shoulder. “You said you were thirsty. Let’s get some juice and get out of here.” Earl and Braces turned and headed into the house, and I was again squatting by the ant colony...

~~~

With these latest reads by Nadine C. Keels, she is now  proclaimed to be on my favorite author list! With all the chaos going on these days, I've needed to turn to Christian fiction to regain strength and belief in God's love for all of us. Keels has done it well with this trilogy that includes tragedy, rejection, renewal, and just plain fun to close out the trilogy.

Love Unfeigned begins in the early years of our two main characters. In my past readings, there has not been too many books that begins the narrative in their childhoods. Whether the author remembered her early life--or whether or not I have forgotten most of mine, or because of my life with a single parent, I had no relationships to those drawn by this prolific, caring author. For me, coming from a small town where there were not so many students in our schools, I enjoyed the experience of watching the relationships at that early age.

Lorraine and Isiah are the two main characters who begin and continue some type of relationship into higher grades in school and then ultimately are physically split due to their choices for higher ed. I was "wondering" through most of the book as each chapter was titled "Me." I immediately started wondering...why... And then, my anticipation began for something to happen. I must say that I need to just stop at this point. I've already said too much, but readers will discover a mystery within this book. One that can only be solved by one person. And it's not the reader!

Proceeding on to the next book will start with the relationship between Lorraine and another high school classmate...

~
“With You on My Mind”
♥
It’s amazing how we can sing such songs with a smile, but, alas, we do. *Sigh.* More Nat King Cole and oh-so-needful tenor saxophones to help, well, tell it right.
~

The sound of a human body banging into a row of lockers and the resulting barrage of laughter somewhere down the hall from the school commons made me grimace. With fleeting annoyance, I rehearsed to myself how stupid the whole concept of Freshman Day was. The stupidity would only compound when its participants would carry on in the school’s central areas, where faculty members were more likely to see it all and break it up. Still, my annoyance disappeared as my focus was absorbed back into the book in my hands. Midmorning break between classes gave a guy like me just enough time to get a meaningful portion of a chapter in, and I’d rather not waste that limited time minding other guys’ business. Even now, as a high school sophomore, the first Friday of the school year wasn’t any special day for me, aside from how I would Thank God It was Friday as much as anybody would. The fact that it was designated as the first Freshman Day of the year by tradition didn’t change my life any, except for the additional noise the day brought along with it. There wasn’t one freshman or another I was interested in hunting down and beating up any more than any sophomores last year had been interested in hunting me down. Freshman Day was a time for popular ninth grade males and incoming frosh athletes to run away scared from popular and athletic males in tenth grade (and from a few semi-popular and unexceptional athletes in the junior class who didn’t quite understand that they should’ve retired from Freshman Day involvement and looked that much cornier still chasing down youngbloods to roughen up). No sophomore idols or jocks on the prowl for younger meat would’ve cared anything about a skinny-ish, baby-faced, ultra studious-type dude whom nobody who was anybody had heard much of. Names like mine and those of my friends weren’t really heard until they were announced at the school’s quarterly academic awards assemblies. While most students found those assemblies boring, some of the folks who hadn’t cared before would take note of the names and/or faces of classmates walking up to the stage in the auditorium to accept their awards. Those names and/or faces would be duly filed away in the minds of students who wanted to know which people might have the best homework assignments to copy from. Not that I resented it when classmates who hadn’t finished their work asked to copy off of mine. It didn’t exactly do my ego damage to know when other people knew there was something I was good at, and the cooler a guy truly was, the cooler he took it when I’d turn down his request to see my work before the start of class. So, no, Freshman Day didn’t entail special activity for me or for the others with me in our row of three guys and three girls lining one wall of the commons during break, using the time for extra reading or studying. We would save our talking for lunchtime, and besides the jotting of notes or the flipping of pages, the only real movement that would happen along our row in the commons would be the passing down of a communal bag of potato chips or crackers or something. It went without saying that at least one of us always brought along a snack to share with the group. On this first Friday of my sophomore year, I barely looked up to receive an open bag of cheese puffs from Dennis, who’d been my main sidekick since he and I met each other back in middle school. I wouldn’t have looked up again after the Freshman Day commotion that went tearing in and out of the commons at that moment if the noise hadn’t been accompanied by the muffled sound of a female yelp. My eyes jumped upward to peer into the crowd of students milling around, some of them apparently laughing about the stampede that had flown past, others just talking and laughing in general. Scanning toward the direction I thought I’d heard the yelp from, it took me a minute to identify who must’ve been its issuer: a girl standing alone, pushing herself away from the wall she’d likely been shoved against. She had an open cup of chocolate pudding in her hand, and some pudding was smeared over her mouth and cheek. I sucked my teeth. “Idiots,” I muttered, handing the cheese puffs back to Dennis. “What?” Dennis inquired, adjusting the glasses on his face as he looked up from his own reading. “They pushed her” was the only explanation I gave as I shut my book, hoisted my backpack by the straps over my shoulders, and made my way through the throng over to the girl in the pudding predicament. “Good morning. I’m sorry,” I greeted her with an apology to get her attention, and her eyes widened when she turned and realized I was talking to her. “I’m sorry.” Her eyes whipped up and down over me, perhaps to determine if I’d been a part of the passing commotion or not. “Sorry for what?” she asked. I recognized her, a girl new to the school who was the only other sophomore in my chemistry class, a class that was otherwise full of juniors. “Sorry they ran into you like that,” I clarified, briefly bending to the floor to pick up the plastic spoon I assumed she’d been about to use. “Folks need to watch where they’re going.” She held up her cup of pudding with an embarrassed but droll look. “My fault for trying to lick the lid. Wasn’t paying attention,” she declared, the lid in question sticking straight up where it was still partially attached to the cup. “Here,” I said, stowing my book under my arm and digging into a pocket of my jeans, finding it empty, and then digging into the opposite pocket. I pulled out a folded handkerchief, extending it to her. She gazed down at the handkerchief before looking back up at me. “Guys really carry those things around?” One of my shoulders rose and dropped. “I do.” She appeared skeptical, her eyes narrowing in thought. “I know I’ve seen you somewhere.” “Third period chemistry. I’m Arthur Simmons. You’ll have to remind me of your name, Miss…?” Her skepticism clearly deepened. “Miss?” I nodded. “Certainly not ‘Mrs.’ already,” I answered, then stopped to check, “Are you?” After blinking in disbelief at me, she finally replied, “Alexis. Alexis Prescott.” “Oh, right. Miss Alexis. Yeah, we’re in the same chemistry class. Here,” I repeated, jiggling the handkerchief. She slowly shook her head, releasing a nervous giggle without a smile as she waved my offer away with her free hand. “Oh, that’s all right. I don’t want to get it dirty. I’ll go clean up in the restroom.” It was my turn for my eyes to whip up and down over her, noting the light brown skin of her plump face; her kinky chestnut curls wrangled into a frizzy puff of a low ponytail; and the dull, shapeless dress curtained over her pudgy body. They weren’t things I’d say about her, but I knew plenty of other kids around here would start asking each other if anyone else saw “the frumpy fat girl with food all over her face” if she didn’t hurry up and resolve this. I would know. I’d been taking both good-natured ribbing and enough mean-spirited guff from other kids about my looks ever since my adolescent arms and feet had first lengthened out way before the rest of my body had gotten the memo about a growth spurt. Even now, two weeks away from turning sixteen, not all of my lanky self had caught up with the rest of me yet. I took a step closer to Alexis, lowering my voice. “Well, sure, you can go rinse off the stickiness after, but you don’t have to walk all the way there like…” I slid the handkerchief into her hand. “Hang on to it if you want. I’ve got more.” She stared at me a second longer, and then she threw her shoulders back, making her backpack bounce behind her. “Hm.” She handed me her cup of pudding, saying, “Well. If you wouldn’t mind holding that for me then, sir,” and with a dramatic flourish, she flung my proffered square of cloth open and began dabbing it daintily over her mouth. “I thank thee, Mr. Arthur, for the lending of thy blessed kerchief to this damsel in distress.”

~~~

During the first book, although Lorraine and Isaiah had become close friends as a response to Isaiah and Lorraine's brother, Earl, being close. Isaiah had even started going to church with the family. When it came time for college decisions, since Earl and Isaiah were both a year ahead of Lorraine, Lorraine realized that there would also be a big change for her own life. After all, both boys were her only close friends, other than Sara, her best female friend. But while Lorraine was involved during that time (the first book), one young man had become so attracted to Lorraine that he could only see her as somebody he wanted in his life--even then as a life partner... So, while the first book is written from the point of view of Lorraine, the second is from the point of view of Arthur Simmons... Who is somewhat of a nerd, or, more a male student who is not involved in sports... You know him. I know him. He is one of those you come to know when he starts receiving academic awards... He's a nice guy who, on the first day back to school, sees a young girl who looks lost and stops to help her and make sure she begins to feel comfortable in her first time in a new location.

But while he was busy getting back into the routine, he was also listening for anybody who mentioned Lorraine--or maybe even catch a glimpse of her in the halls or at lunch. And when he'd gained enough courage, he began to ask Lorraine if he could call her... For a long time, she would never exactly say 'no" but just not at that time, mentioning she had just come out of an ongoing relationship.

This book mainly focuses on a group of students, all of who were readers, good at something and had grown up together from grade school. More specifically, Arthur was a major part of this group, but his limited interaction with Lorraine was separate and apart of how this group functioned, mostly going to events as a group, as opposed to individual dating... But because of interests and his first contact with Alexis, the lost freshman who he invited to sit with his group for lunch, Arthur began to spend time studying and interacting with Alexis more than the other girls in the group. So, even though there were insinuations by some of his friends, he still held out hope for getting with Lorraine... 

~
“Too Young”
♥
Hey…there’s the proverbial “they” who tell you this and that about love–but, this time, really, who are “they”? Even more Nat King Cole, folks.

“Welp. We might as well, ’Telle.” With that suggestion directed her way and the accompanying hand held out to her, Chantelle Jackson let her gaze move from the proffered hand and up into the eyes of Dennis Lawson. Those brown eyes sparkled down at her from behind a pair of black-framed glasses. Eyes that were full of life and so much…fun. Chantelle resisted the niggling urge to let a sigh loose. Fun. Here she was, the maid of honor sitting at the now nearly empty head table at the Saturday evening wedding reception of two of her best friends. The halter neck, garnet red gown she had on was one of the most elegant garments that had ever graced her wide-shouldered, gently curved form, the flow of fabric accommodating her few extra pounds in such a way that she’d had no need for extra shapewear or the extra effort to avoid breathing all day. She’d recently forgone her usual abundance of long braids to wear only her thick, natural hair for a while, and today she wore a flower above her ear, adding a burst of color to her dark billow of hair. It was the closest she would come to wearing a tiara on this occasion, since she wasn’t the bride, but the blossom in her hair still made her feel queenly. That is, she’d felt queenly for most of the day. Queenly and vibrant and full of anticipation, going about her bridesmaid duties with a light step in her fine dress, on the lookout for the potential moment when she’d know that Dennis had taken notice. There he was, the best man at the wedding reception of two of their best friends, the jacket of his black tuxedo presently missing as he stood there in a garnet cummerbund and matching bowtie that flashed in red against the white of his shirt. His black hair was styled in a fresh buzz cut with a hint of waves on top. He looked smart and snazzy, the essence of his usual swagger there. Swagger he wore like no other geek-at-heart on the planet could. Chantelle had wanted this swaggering and smart geek-at-heart to take notice of her today, in a way he apparently hadn’t in any of the previous years of their decade-long friendship. Perhaps Chantelle had put too much trust in her hopeless yet hopeful romanticism, imagining that, regardless of the fact that Dennis had seen her all dressed up before, the special love in the air at the nuptials of Alexis Prescott—now Alexis Simmons—and Arthur Simmons would influence Dennis and finally give him ideas. Ideas that would lead to something more intimate than the fun in his eyes. But, nope. Couples had joined the bride and groom out on the floor to dance to the jazzy Christmas music from the live band playing in the reception hall, led by Arthur’s older brother, a vocalist who also played the guitar. (Leave it to Alexis and Arthur to choose a Yuletide theme for their spring wedding, a choice that only those two lovebirds fully understood. Yes, the new Mr. and Mrs. were their own kind of geeks too, bless their hearts.) Chantelle had done most of her hostessing, Dennis had delivered the main reception speech and proposed the toast, and the two of them were now free to join the others out on the floor, but there was no humble and gentlemanly “May I have this dance?” from Dennis. There wasn’t a dashing request tinged with longing, a “Would you do me the honor?” to the maid of honor. Instead, Dennis suggested that Chantelle dance with him because they were here, there was music, and other people were dancing, so, welp, the two of them might as well. At that moment, Chantelle no longer felt so queenly. She felt comfortable, like the effortless, trouble-free, comfortable choice to be Dennis’s dance partner at a party. Granted, her twinge of disappointment wasn’t a particularly comfortable one, but that wasn’t anyone’s business but her own. No use letting on. Chantelle remained seated at the table and smiled a mild challenge up at Dennis until she meant both the challenge and the smile. “Don’t know if I can manage it, best man. Been a long day. My puppies are yipping.” Dennis didn’t back away. “One hundred percent your fault.” He dropped his outstretched hand and surprised Chantelle by getting down, kneeling near her chair. Gasp! Dennis was getting down on one knee on an evening when so much love was in the air. As Chantelle certainly hadn’t imagined quite this far, she could hardly control the spinning of her wits for a second. But it was only a second, as the outdated language that scrambled through her imagination involved a gentleman asking for a lady’s hand, not a gentleman asking for a lady’s foot. Or, as Dennis ordered her more so than he asked her: “Gimme your foot.” Chantelle shifted her sitting position, scooting her yipping puppies away from him. “Beg your pardon?” “Your foot. Give it here. And give the other one here too, while you’re at it. Chop-chop.” Chantelle didn’t chop-chop. She took her time before scooting back in Dennis’s direction, and he waited until she tugged her skirt to lift the hem of her gown above her ankle and curiously lifted one of her feet a degree from the floor. Belying his brash bossiness, Dennis’s touch was tender as he began to remove one of Chantelle’s high-heeled shoes. “If you would opt for less torturous ways to decorate your feet than all of these restrictive straps attached to stilts that wreak havoc on your arches,” Dennis scolded, grinning as he did so, “your precious pups wouldn’t yip so much.” Chantelle wiggled her toes with the relief of it all once she was free from the painful prettiness of her shoes, and after Dennis stowed the heels away under the table, he stood back up, holding his hand out to Chantelle. She accepted it this time, staring down at their fingers coming together, Dennis’s skin a deeper brown than hers, although the sun would slow-toast her into a darker tone as spring moved into summer. “Humph. ‘We might as well,’” Chantelle repeated with a shake of her head once she and Dennis were out on the dance floor, gliding and swaying to the spirit of Christmas. “Sometimes I wonder if you’ve got a single romantic cell in that brain of yours.” “No need to wonder about my brain cells. I’ve got romance coming out of my ears.” Dennis nodded toward the newlyweds, over there in the center of the floor. “Those two wouldn’t have jumped the broom today if it wasn’t for me. You know I’m the one who told Arthur to go for it in the first place, last year. He would’ve let Lexi get away otherwise.” “Beg your pardon again, but I was the first one who said something about Arthur and Alexis getting together, back in high school. Remember? He resisted it then because he thought it was weird, the idea of dating a friend.” Chantelle’s voice slowly lowered as the end of her commentary slipped from her mouth. Dating a friend. “He wouldn’t have thought it was weird if he hadn’t been distracted by that other what’s-her-name at the time,” Dennis scoffed, as if he couldn’t very well recall what’s-her-name’s name. “Folks who date should be friends, if they can help it.” Chantelle’s eyebrows flew up. “You think so?” she blurted before her voice was ready, giving her words a wobble. If Dennis heard the wobble, he didn’t show it. “Absolutely.” He shrugged a nonchalant shoulder. “I mean, who’d want to date an enemy? It’s already a hassle going out with somebody you like. Why make it even harder on yourself by going out with somebody you can’t stand?” In spite of herself, Chantelle laughed. “Enemies become lovers all the time. Opposites attract, and all that. Besides, from where I’m standing, dating has never looked like much of a hassle for you, Romeo.” “Ah. That’s the mark of a master, Chantelephone. Masters of an art make it look easy to folks on the outside looking in.” Dennis pulled her nearer to him, until they were virtually cheek to cheek. “And don’t call me Romeo. He only got—like, what?—two seconds of bliss with his Juliet before everything tumbled downhill and crashed. That won’t be me.” “Oh, no, never you. Never the master.” A chortle bounced in Chantelle’s throat. “Now, I would pick apart what your deluded definition of ‘master’ must be in this case, but I prefer to save my breath about rational stuff for people with sense.” “Yeah? Well, if you’ve been saving your breath with me all these years, you’ve sure been doing a yakety-yak-yakkin’ job of it.” “Says you. But you’ve no idea how much breath I’ve saved, Jawbone.” Chantelle might have come up with more of a reply than that, but the feel of Dennis’s chin barely grazing her temple quieted her for a few heartbeats. She didn’t even flinch at the trace of stubble that had crept onto his clean-shaven face over the course of the day, as her increasing relaxation left no room for flinching. And regarding relaxation… “I’ve gotta say, though,” Chantelle spoke up, “you did quite a job today, keeping Arthur relaxed. Weddings look so dreamy in movies, but whenever I’m at the real thing, the bride floats and cries and/or smiles her way down the aisle, caught up in the happiest day of her life, while the groom is up there clenching his hands and sweating buckets, looking a nanosecond away from passing out. Arthur looked great, though. You must have fed him a steady stream of your bad jokes in the hours beforehand to keep him laughing—at you.” Dennis chuckled. “I can neither confirm nor deny that. But I think only a single guy knows just how daunting the prospect of taking on a whole, entire, real-life wife can be. So I reminded Arthur how careful a planner he is, that he wouldn’t have asked for Alexis if he wasn’t ready to take care of her. I told him not to forget that she’ll be taking care of him just as much.” He paused to spin Chantelle to the music before he gathered her back to him. “I’m sure you had a lot of encouraging yakety-yak for Lexi.” Chantelle smiled at that. “Any encouragement might have drifted right on past her. She was already in raptures, mostly just needed someone to keep her from sailing off on a glorious cloud with her veil on backwards.” That brought another chuckle from Dennis before he sent Chantelle into a second spin and then tucked her in close. Chantelle’s insides leapt. Oh, goodness. This man hadn’t any business being such a rhythmic and soulful dance companion for her if none of the romance coming out of his ears had anything to do with her. Chantelle’s eyelids lowered as she melted into the music and her dance companion’s familiarity, breathing in the scent of aquatic cologne blended with living Dennis. She’d partnered with him enough times since high school to be aware of how he’d subtly changed over the years. His transition from adolescence to manhood hadn’t turned him into a hulking mountain of muscle, but Chantelle was fine with not feeling like she was tucked against something that had been chiseled from a block of granite. Dennis was warm and emanating with verve. He wasn’t too wide for her to get her hold a good ways around him whenever they hugged, but the strength about him didn’t have to come in bulk for her to feel it, for her to know good and well that she was in the arms of a man. This man. The problem was, at some point after their high school days had ended to give way to their college days and beyond, moments like these and plenty of others Chantelle shared with Dennis had been contributing to her ever-intensifying notion that this man might be the only one for her. After high school, the two of them attended the same university in a big city an hour away from their hometown. Chantelle went out with her share of guys, and Dennis did his own dating around, but even while that was happening, Chantelle’s friendship with Dennis deepened in college. Chantelle liked to think that she and Dennis became a new “home” for each other during that phase of their lives. Sure, the two of them still poked and joked and jabbed at each other as much as they ever had, but there was far more to what had grown between them, only growing stronger after they’d graduated and come back to town, reuniting with people they knew and loved, people like Alexis and Arthur. Chantelle lifted her eyelids to peer thoughtfully over Dennis’s shoulder, through other dancing wedding guests and party members, and over at the bride and groom. Alexis and Arthur had officially become a couple a year ago, after their friendship had survived a period of separation. The hopeless and hopeful romantic in Chantelle had been hoping for those two friends of hers even at times when she hadn’t been at liberty to say so, and she’d been rooting aloud for them ever since they’d announced they were an item. The way they overcame serious personal obstacles to be together made them such an inspiration to Chantelle. This time, when the niggling urge came to her, she did let a sigh loose, though not too heavily, not wanting Dennis to ask what was the matter. Would Chantelle still be entertaining what she’d come to feel for Dennis if she hadn’t been watching Alexis and Arthur’s journey? Had something impressionable in Chantelle gotten the inclination to copy what was working out beautifully for two lovebirds who were close to her, even though Dennis had given no indication of a desire to pursue anything further than friendship with her? Dear Lord. Help. “Are your puppies all right?” Jarred out of her reflections, Chantelle couldn’t process Dennis’s question near her ear right away. She stalled. “What?” “I heard that sigh.” Dennis’s hand at her back gave her a reassuring pat. “We can go sit back down if this is painful.” A delicate smile tugged at Chantelle’s lips. Yes, this could indeed be painful. Talking and swaying with Dennis in an atmosphere of matrimonial celebration, springtime’s promise, and jazzy Yuletide warmth could be downright agonizing if she thought about it too hard. So she wasn’t going to think about it too hard. At least, she’d stop it for now and save the hard thinking for whenever she’d chronicle this night in her journal. “Hey,” she said. “You told me we might as well, didn’t you? Yes? Great. So you’re stuck with this.” She went so far as to snicker. “You’re in dawdle mode. Such wonderful live music in here, and you haven’t even dipped me yet.” Drawing back a little to look up into the sparkling eyes behind those black-framed glasses, Chantelle tightened her hold on her dance companion’s hand and shoulder, issuing a soft and saucy order. “Chop-chop, best man.” To his credit, Dennis didn’t challenge her or take his time. With an indulgent grin at her, he chop-chopped, and Chantelle basked in being so securely held and smoothly dipped into the spirit of Christmas. 

~~~ 

The final book in the trilogy updates readers on the interaction of the group of Arthur's friends, minus Lorraine. (She was not a member of the small group of friends routinely interacting) As the two books end, the third begins with the time period when all of them have reached high school graduation or college. A number of those friends had moved away, got married or were now involved with new activities. 

Arthur had found his partner and there were only two individuals remaining... I'm glad they were kept for the closing book. It is fun. it is frustrating. And it is a perfect example of friends becoming more than...

Chantelle and Dennis had always seemed to be the last chosen...for bowling, for dancing... They were the last two who would normally wind up dancing with each other... Now the pairing was even more visible. Arthur and Alexis were already dating and everybody else had left the area or were in committed relationships. 

Dennis had always played the "ladies man" so that Chantelle had no reason to assume he cared for her...like...that... And Dennis had some problems with self-confidence, even though he played the clown and was often dating a lot, but the girls loved his company and none had ever seemed to go further... Perhaps it was because Dennis wasn't really trying... until now... And both Chantelle and Dennis realized that something just had to be done to move their lives forward... 

Each of these books can be read separately. But I promise you that you, the reader, will not experience the full impact of the overall story being told by this excellent writer/author. Nadine has the capacity to consider the ramifications of all things related to the Christian life of her characters. And she makes it a part of the narrative.

As the cast of characters are growing up, they are in church, they are studying scripture and having assignments for youth study... So that, when each was considering their lives, the faith component was very much a part of everything. So, than, when tragedy strikes in book 1, everything that happened thereafter seems to flow from that story of Lorraine and Isiah. 

And when Lorraine and Arthur had made their own analysis of their friendship, it allowed both to begin to consider their own options... Seriously, I figured that this was going to be a series of each being separated and moving on to find true love. But, even then, the author understands that isn't really how life is, is it? Friends in school? Sometimes they make it through into adult life. Most don't. And that's ok. Because we must all follow our own path...

But for teens, in particular, it is a very tough time. And it may be even worse these days as "texting" is the chosen method of communication. How, I wonder, do our children ever get to really know who and what their friends really are, related to, even, basic moral issues... Keels' choice to start the various relationships early in life allows her characters to learn about their, for instance, involvement in church as well as learning personal interests of each other and allowing each to share and receive important feedback on what their futures may encompass.

Me? I like this writer on a personal level. I've gotten to know her on line... But, it is through her books that I have formed a closer awareness of the writer. Nadine Keets talks the talk and writes the words, based upon her Christian faith and attention to how that affects all other parts of her, and others', lives. In doing so, she is fulfilling her desire to share what she knows and instill encouragement, courage, and love, even when joy is not a daily occurrence, or even an ongoing emotion. 

Share her words with your teenagers. And read them yourself as parents so you may also understand what things may be affecting your children's lives! The Trilogy is Highly recommended...

In addition to the jazz, I must include some Georg Friedrich Händel, in honor of the Northwestern Philharmonic’s wonderful holiday performance at Larkspur Hall. (Were you there?) Ladies and gentlemen: the “Overture” of Handel’s Messiah.

♥

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