Presenting WV Author, Salvatore Buttaci!

Happy Friday, y'all, and thank you so much for joining me here on the blog. Today, let me introduce you to WV writer, Salvatore Buttaci!

Shannon: What part of WV are you from? Do you still live there?

Salvatore: I am not originally from West Virginia. I visited Crab Orchard, WV, back in 1957 and fell in love with the state. In fact, I made one of my few predictions that came true: "I'm gonna move here someday!" Of course, my older brother laughed. I was only 16. What did I know! Nearly 50 years later I married my pen pal from Yukon, WV, and brought her to Lodi, New Jersey, where I was living. In 2007, only 11 years later, I retired from nearly 30 years of teaching, and the two of us moved to Princeton, West Virginia.

Shannon: I've been to Princeton. How long have you known you wanted to be a writer?

Salvatore: Since I was about nine. It sounded like a fun way to spend my life. To be sure, I also wanted to be a pilot, a priest, a trial lawyer, a newspaperman, among a list of other vocations. I believe a poem I wrote for my mother got me started. My father told everyone about that dumb poem. "My son's another Dante!" he told them. Remember, I was nine. I bought into that and never stopped writing.

Shannon: Children are very impressionable. :) So, who or what inspires you the most?

Salvatore: That's easier asked than answered. I believe writing is a gift God gave me and the only way I know how to say thank you is to pray and write everyday. Of course, my wife Sharon inspires me because love does that to writers. It gives us a reason to release those awesome feelings we take into ourselves. I am also inspired by all the things and people I observe who I feel should become part of my poem or story or novel: captured forever, saved in those pages even after they leave this world for the next. Finally, I am inspired by great writers like Dickens, Dostoievski, Sandburg, Vallejo--so many geniuses I call my heroes.

Shannon: How many books have you written? How many are published?

Salvatore: I self-published my first book back in 1974. A book of poems. In all I've self-published perhaps ten of them, mostly poetry and a few prose. In fact, one of them, A Family of Sicilians...is still selling since I first published it in 1998. It's available at lulu.com and Barnes and Noble as a Nook book.

Pudding House Publications in Ohio, the largest small press in America, published my Greatest Hits: 1970-2000, and added it to their Greatest Hits Series of American Poets. Two more of my poetry chapbooks were published as well: Boy on a Swing (Big Table Publishing) and What I Learned from the Spaniard (Middle Island Press).

Cyber-wit Publications in India published Two Can Play This Game... (co-authored by the poet Paul Juszcyk) and A Dusting of Star Fall: Love Poems, which I wrote to and for my Sharon.

My two flash-fiction collections, published by All Things That Matter Press and available at Amazon.com, are entitled Flashing My Shorts and 200 Shorts.

Shannon: Wow, you've done some writing! Do you like to read as much as you like to write?

Salvatore: I have always been an avid reader, beginning with the comic books of the 1950s and Classic Illustrated Comics which introduced me to classic literature. Unlike Sharon who reads one book at a time and usually completes it in a day or two, I have the weird habit of reading about eight books, a few pages from each. It makes each book last and luckily--so far!--I know where I left off in each book.

Shannon: :) I've done that on occasion; read more than one book at the same time. Do you have a favorite author?

Salvatore: I have many favorites, but as for the writers of today, I enjoy John Sanford, Alan Folsom, and Jeffrey Archer. 

Shannon: What other hobbies/interests do you have?

Salvatore: Taking walks with Sharon, playing poker, water painting.

Shannon: What advice would you give to all those aspiring writers out there?

Salvatore: If you really want to be a writer, be willing to learn the writer's craft, read extensively, hone your observation skills, ignore destructive criticism, build up your self confidence, write everyday, and be unafraid of sharing your writings with editors and publishers.

Shannon: Good advice. Any other thoughts or comments?

Salvatore: If anyone is interested in ordering my books, they can click on any of these sites:

200 Shorts 

Kindle Edition:   http://www.amazon.com/200-Shorts-ebook/dp/B004YWKI8O/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1318289667&sr=1-1 

Print Edition: http://www.amazon.com/200-Shorts-Salvatore-Buttaci/dp/0984639241/ref=tmm_pap_title_0?ie=UTF8&qid=1318289667&sr=1-1 

 

Nook Book:  http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/200-shorts-salvatore-buttaci/1104027163?ean=2940012786968&itm=1&usri=200%2bshorts 

Flashing My Shorts 

Print Edition: http://tinyurl.com/6772fps     

Kindle Edition:  http://tinyurl.com/5vkhd9r    

A Family of Sicilians

Print Edition: http://www.lulu.com/spotlight/ButtaciPublishing2008 

Nook Book: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/A-Family-of-Sicilians--Stories-and-Poems?keyword=A+Family+of+Sicilians%3A+Stories+and+Poems&store=ebook 

Shannon: Thank you Sal for joining me today and allowing me to interview you. It was a pleasure.

And, thanks to all you faithful readers out there for joining me, as well. Y'all be sure and have a wonderful, safe weekend, and I'll catch ya back here on Monday!

No, Don't Make Me Kill It!

Have you ever created something that you knew was horrible? Maybe, you are a writer, maybe a painter, maybe a musician, maybe a chef. Whatever your craft, I'm sure some of your creations are outstanding and some are not. Okay, so maybe you succeed every time, but I, for one do not.

I was going through some files on my hard drive the other day, and I came across several stories that I had started. The dates on them range back to 1997, if you can believe it. :) Some are as short as a half a page, while others are about 70 pages. But, mostly they are anywhere from 2 to 35 pages. Some of them sounds so good, I can't believe I wrote them. Others…well, I can tell from the get-go, they will never see the printed page. It's not that the ideas are bad; they just have no clear direction, no real conflict. So, what am I going to do about them? Absolutely nothing.

"But, Shannon, they are just taking up space. If you aren't going to work on them, get rid of them!"

I say, "No way!"

Those stories, the good ones and the bad ones are my babies, and I'm not about to kill them. Not to say that I have never trashed a manuscript, because I have. Back before I used a computer, I had to trash those really bad stories, because the mountains of braille paper would have taken over. I wouldn't have minded this, but my mom was a stickler for a clean room, and braille paper stacked all over the place did not promote a clean room.

Y'all should have seen me, when I learned that data could be stored on a disk and kept practically forever. I was like a kid in a candy store. Any brailled story I had went on to that first 3-1/2 inch floppy disk with my name on it. I spent countless hours in the computer lab, just transcribing my stories in to WordPerfect 5.1. lol That old computer was a 286 with dos on it. Now, my hard drive is so big, I can't remember the numbers, I'm surfing the world wide web countless times a day, and there is so much stuff saved on my Mac that it takes a long time to get through it all. Look at me now! Ha!

Sometimes, I find myself thinking that if i could take all the good parts from each unfinished manuscript, I might end up with a really great story. :) Of course, with characters being different, plots, times and places not being the same, I can't do that. However, I can take note of what works and what doesn't and try to incorporate those ideas in to something new. I guess to put it in simpler terms, I can learn from my mistakes and try again. Practice makes perfect, or at least that's what they say.

How about y'all? Any darlings you need to kill? lol

Be sure to come back Friday. I am interviewing WV writer, Salvatore Buttaci. Until then, keep smiling. Remember that song, "Smilers never lose and frowners never win. So, let the son shine in. Face it with a grin. Open up your heart, and let the son shine in." :)

FaceBook, and the Simple Things in Life

It's been a week since my surgery, and I have to admit it's hard getting back in the swing of things. Of course, it doesn't help that I picked up a cold from the girls. Life goes on, though; dishes need washed, laundry needs doing, kids need fed… Y'all know what I mean. :)

So, here it is Monday again, and I'm blogging from the hip, so to speak. I didn't know what I was going to write about, when I began this post, and I still don't know. Yet, as I type, certain things come to my mind. So, here goes nothing. lol

I really enjoy FaceBook. Yeah, sure, I'm nosey; I like to check everyone's status and see what they are up to, but I also like to update my own. It's sad that the only way you can keep up with your family, anymore is FB, but it's the way it is. If you don't have internet, chances are you are going to miss something vital happening in your family or friends' lives, and in turn, they will miss what's happening in yours. FaceBook is where I learn about my family's visits to the hospital. It's where I learn who is single and who is in a relationship. It's where folks post pics of family, friends and events. It's where prayer requests are asked and received. It's a great way to promote yourself if you write, sing, blog, paint, take pictures, sell stuff, or if you just want to be seen. FaceBook is all the rage…and yet, I am more lonely for friends than I have ever been in my entire life. I find myself wishing some friends and I could take a walk and chat like we used to. I miss having friends over for dinner, like I did when I lived in Romney. I miss sharing a good laugh over something silly.

Since I'm talking about FaceBook…y'all want to know what kinds of statuses I "like" the most? I like the ones that are positive. I like the ones that praise the Lord, the ones that make me laugh, the ones that uplift my heart and not bring it down. Statuses where folks talk about mundane things and how they are loving it.

Yesterday, I saw on there that one of you were eating chicken nuggets and tater tots and watching football. I clicked "like". Last week, one of you talked about shopping with your mom, and I clicked "like". Some of you talk about cooking for your families, and I always "like" those, too. You talk about cleaning your carpets while your man takes the kids to the park, about needing prayer for your families, about your kids doing well playing ball, about having birthday parties, spending time at grandparents' houses, something funny your kids said, somewhere special you got to eat out at, and everything in between. And, I notice a trend; y'all are just enjoying the simple things in life.

Here's something else, I pray for you. You who say in your status that your having a hard time making it through this long Monday, I say a little prayer for you. Those of you who say you've been up all night with a sick kid? I know what you're going through, and I remember how I feel when it happens to me, so I pray for you. You ask for prayer for your brother? I pray. You ask for prayer for your son? I pray. Sounds corny, but it's the truth. I care about all of you, but more than that, God cares for you, and I want you to know that.

So, to wrap up today's post, remember, next time you're on FB, I'll see your post. :) Thanks so much for reading.

What did you think of today's post? What about Friday's post? Did you go check out Peggy's website?

Y'all take care and be sure to come back on Wednesday. Come back on Friday, too, cause I have another interview lined up. Friday's entry will feature WV writer, Salvatore Buttaci.

Presenting First Time Novelist, Peggy Hoy!

From international drug lords, to country preachers; from hopelessness to faith in Christ, "Classified" by first-time novelist, Peggy Hoy, has it all. Not your run-of-the-mill Christian fiction, this book will keep you on your toes from beginning to end. Just when ou think you know what is going to happen, Hoy surprises you with something new. I literally did not want to put it down, and I stayed up all night to finish it. With characters so real they seem to pop out at you from the pages, and with action so fast paced and real, you will soon find yourself in Hoy's world, laughing, grieving, and living right alongside her characters. This book is funny and sad, full of suspense and joy, and the message of God's love pours out through every word. "Classified" is a must read! I highly reccomend it.

Shannon: So, Peggy, what was your motivation for writing "Classified?"

Peggy: That's funny. It was a whim, actually, that evolved into so much more. I say it really started as a whim because I was turning forty and wanted to see if I could accomplish something. I joked that I was setting out to write the Great American Novel. Of course, like I said, after a while, I found that I truly had a desire to glorify the Lord in the story. When I set my heart to that, it all fell in place and I found the help I needed to finally finish something I started. 

Shannon: Did you base your characters on real life people?

Peggy: I didn't start out to, but as my characters developed, I found that some of the personality traits in my characters - especially Ranson Hilliard - were found in a couple of men I knew. There are a couple other people who helped inspire Amy, but just bits and pieces. Sam, however is a totally fictitious character. 

Shannon: Well, I have to say, Sam is my favorite character. :) So, is there a sequel? Can you tell us what we can expect?

Peggy: There is a sequel called "Closest Enemies" which continues to develop the first characters to be introduced and introduces a few more. You can expect kidnapping, fraud, counterfeiting and of course some more tender moments and life-changing events to add some spice. There is also a third book which wraps everything up in a neat little bow, I hope anyway! It's got murder and an all too-real terrorism plot.

Shannon: Wow! I can't wait. It sounds like you have a lot planned. When did you first realize you wanted to write books?

Peggy: I've always wanted to. Like I said, I've never been able to actually get it all to come together.

Shannon: I'm curious, and I know everyone else is, too; who or what inspires you the most?

Peggy: There are a million things that inspire me. It can be something as simple as a phrase I catch from someone telling about an event that happened to them, a picture I see or even a song. I'll be honest, too. You inspire me! I love talking to you about my work because you always have positive feedback, and since you had blazed the entire book publishing and printing trail for me, it made it much easier not to worry about the little hangups and just write!

Shannon: Well, thank you. Truthfully, you inspire me, too. "Classified" seemed to come to you so easy. It almost seems like you did quite of bit of reading to study your craft. Do you like to read as much as you like to write?

Peggy: I love to read when I'm not writing. When I'm writing, I don't want to read anything because it might inadvertantly cause me to write something about what I've read. I read my Bible, but I limit my reading to that while I'm writing. When I'm not writing, I'd love to find some Christian books which aren't so, well frankly, sappy. 

Shannon: I know what you mean. Do you have a favorite author?

Peggy: I like to read after Debi Pearl for devotionals and marriage and child training guidance for non-fiction. As for fiction, before I was convicted for reading so much profanity, my favorite author was Diana Gabaldon with her Outlander series. For Christian fiction, I like Frank Peretti, but I like him much better when he writes alone and not with someone else.  Also there is this local author named Shannon Wells who does a pretty good job, too, and I'm not just saying that because of the interview!

Shannon: Awe, you're too sweet. :) I think you're a pretty good writer, too. So, do you have any favorite books out there?

Peggy: I like This Present Darkness and Piercing the Darkness by Frank Peretti, and some of his other works, but I woulndn't read and re-read them. 

Shannon: Besides writing, what other hobbies do you enjoy?

Peggy: I sing with my family in a bluegrass gospel group and we travel all over the country doing that. I like to sew quilts and I enjoy helping families learn how to begin homeschooling.

Shannon: You are a busy lady. lol How do you find time to write between singing engagements, home school, and all the traveling you do with your family?

Peggy: I have no idea! Honestly, I don't know where the time was stuffed in there. I stayed up a few nights, but my body isn't used to that and shut down without my permission most of the time. I never write when I'm at a meeting, either, because I want to focus on the ministry and pray for the services without hindrance of thinking about a plot during preaching!  As far as homeschooling goes, it was Sarah's senior year and Logan didn't need me much either, so I guess that's where it happened. When I got started I would write probably sixty to eighty pages at a time, though. God was really good to give it to me like that!

Shannon: I notice your book is published by Father's House Publishing. I do not think anyone has heard of that publisher before. Can you tell us more about it?

Peggy: Father's House Publishing is my brainchild. As I looked for a publisher, I found that it was very expensive, first off. Secondly, I found that all the Christian publishers I could find were not all that picky about what they published or what version of the Bible the works featured. I stand strongly on the final authority of the King James Bible, and was convicted about having a company who promoted other bibles put their signature on my books. So I was led to start my own publishing company for the sole purpose of not having my name associated with any company who does not honor the Word of God exclusively in the King James Bible. I found that it not only eased my spirit, it cost me a whole lot less to do it myself than to go with an established publisher. I could have published for free through some other companies on line, but again, their name would be on my work. 

Shannon: What advice would you give to all those aspiring authors out there?

Peggy: Keep it real. Even if it's fiction, you can make it believable! I know that junk sells, but I don't know how some of those authors actually rest at night knowing they put out so much trash! It's like cheese puffs, all air and no good stuff! Stay away from cliche phrases and leave some things to the readers' imaginations. It's not necessary to describe every little detail. Last but not least, write, write, write! 

Shannon: Sound advice! Is there anything else you would like to share?

Peggy: Thank you for the opportunity to share some information with you about "Classified" and Father's House Publishing! I appreciate your interest, and look forward to working with you in the future!

Shannon: No, Peggy, the pleasure was all mine. Thank you!

So, there y'all have it! "Classified by Peggy Hoy can be purchased from the publisher's website

www.fhpublish.com

It costs $10 plush $3 for shipping and handling and Father's House Publishing accepts payments through PayPal.

Peggy mentioned her family's singing group. She sings with her husband, Ron, her daughter Sarah and her son Logan. The whole family is sincere, and their spirit filled singing blesses me everytime I hear it. They play their own instruments; no sound tracks for these folks. :) Check out the Hoy Family's website at

www.hoyfamily.net

Thank you for joining me today! Y'all have a wonderful weekend, and I'll catch ya on Monday!

Packing A Spiritual Bag

A week before my surgery, I had to go to the hospital for some pre op testing. At the end of the visit, I asked the nurse if I should bring anything on the day of the surgery, like paperwork. She said that the only things I needed to bring, were the things I wanted to have with me during my hospital stay, like slippers, robe, tooth paste and tooth brush...stuff like that.

So, the night before the surgery, I packed a bag with the few items I thought I might want. I packed a tooth brush, some tooth paste, a comb, some deodorant, the charger for my phone, my mp3 player and earbuds and some extra socks and under things. As it turned out, I didn't use the mp3 player or earbuds, but most of the other stuff got used. But, that bag of stuff got me to thinking.

What if we had to pack a spiritual bag to take to the hospital? If we did, what would we put in it? Ever thought of that before? Well, let's think about it. Hospitals are not the funnest places to be, but we've all had to be there or will be there at some point in our lives. So, if we are packing a spiritual bag, here is what I thought might go in it.

1. a huge package of patience, 'cause there's lots of others at a hospital in more need of help than me
2. a big package of humility, 'cause after all, I'm there because I am the one in need of help
3. a satchel of thanksgiving, 'cause everyone needs to hear "thank you" every now and then
4. a bag of smiles, 'cause when you smile, it makes everyone else wan to smile, too
5. a container of friendliness, 'cause no one needs a friend like the night nurse who empties your cath bag. lol
6. a box of forgiveness, "cause even professionals make mistakes
and last but not least,
7. a heapin' helpin' of Christ-like charity, 'cause after all, isn't witnessing the point?

How about you? What would you pack in your spiritual bag? Would you add to this list? Take away from it?

BTW, I'm home from the hospital and doing all right. Tired and sore, but promised y'all a blog post, so here ya go. Be sure and come back Friday! I'll be featuring a new author, Peggy Hoy and her first book, "Classified"!

I Can't Even Walk Without You Holding My Hand

Sometimes, I stop and take a look at where I am, and I think, "Wow! How did I get here?"

I'm talking figuratively…sort of. lol Seriously, though, it's good to stop and take a good look at our lives. Are we at the place we planned to be? Are we doing what we thought we would always do?

Back when I was thirteen in 1992, I went to a retreat at Camp Whitney in WV. We put items in individual plastic baggies and put them in a time capsule. Our plan at the time was to open it in the year 2000. The funny part of this is, 2000 seemed so very far away; now it's in the past.

A lot has happened to me since the year 2000, and I think I can say with all honesty, I'm not the same person I used to be; I am more. That girl's dreams and aspirations are not different from my current reality; they are broader.

When I was in elementary school, my teachers had a hard time getting me to do my school work rather than write stories. I wrote stories all the time, and about anything I could think of. Now, I am a published author.

When I was six-years-old, I received a tambourin as a birthday present. I recorded myself playing and singing. My right leg even got sore from banging that noisy thing against it. Ha! Now, I play piano, sing and even have a couple of CD's out. Wow!

I am the oldest of four girls. My sisters are 3-1/2 years younger, 10 years younger and 15 years younger than I am. I remember carrying my sister Veronica around, as if she were my own. Mom worked evenings, I was in high school, and during those long winter evenings, while rocking my sister, I remember dreaming of children of my own. I wanted babies to sing to, babies to rock, babies to love, and a Christian home. Now, I am happily married with two rotten, little girls of my own. I sang to them as babies, and I sing to them now. Amazing!

As a teenager who was blind, I used to wonder if I would ever meet nice guys. Every blind woman who was married, my mom said their husbands were ugly. That wasn't nice of her to say that, but that's how she felt. I remember begging God in my prayers, "Oh, God, please, please, please, don't let me meet an ugly man!" lol Now, i have a husband, who I think is the handsomest man in the world. And, I don't care whether anyone's mom likes the way he looks. :)

I used to wonder if I would ever have a home of my own, if I would ever be able to cook and clean for myself...you get my drift. Now, today, I have all of these things, but there's one thing I have learned that you might not be expecting; I don't do it on my own.

Nope, I can't be kind to my husband and children on my own. I can't write books, sing and play piano, take a walk down the street, all by myself. Now, don't y'all go thinking Terry does most of the work around here. I changed more diapers than he, I wash more dishes than he, and I do more laundry, too. Of course, since he likes to cook, I let him. lol No, I don't get help from anyone down here; I rely on my heavenly father, and He has never let me down.

When it came time to change the first nasty diaper, I literally prayed for God to show me how. When my first baby threw up all over herself, the high chair and the kitchen floor, I stood in the middle of the mess and cried out in the quiet of my house, "Oh, God, I need you! I do not know how to clean this up! Please, God, help!!!"

It's that way with everything, and I plan to keep it so. God showed me how to care for the babies. God showed me how to clean up their messes, and it's God who keeps reminding me, that I can do nothing without Him. After all, doesn't the Word say that He is the vine, and we are the branches? In another place, it says that if God be for us, who can be against us? And, yet another place, it tells us to cast our cares upon Him, for He cares for us. With such wonderful reminders of His love and willingness to be our very present help in time of trouble, how is it that we go astray?

How about you? Where has God brought you from since 2000?

Be sure and come back Wednesday. Not sure what I'll write about; having surgery and I'm not sure when I'll get to come back home, but I will blog. Also, be sure and come back Friday. I'm interviewing a new author, Peggy Hoy, reviewing her book, and you just have to be here.

Friday's Fiction Times 4

Yep! The title says it all. A friend suggested I blog about my newest book, but, as you are about to find out, there isn't one new book; there are four works in progress (WIP's).

Now, before y'all go to reading, there's something I want you to keep in mind; none of these have been edited, and they are works in progress, which means, what you read today might not show up in the final product.

So, without further adieu,  here's something for you faithful folks to read.

*****

Wild Heart number 3

As the last notes of the verse sounded in the tiny cubical, she met Colbey's gaze and knew it was over; Mr. Saunders had passed.

Colbey closed the unseeing eyes, folded the lifeless hands over the silent chest, and helped Katie spread a sheet over the body before speaking.

Touching a hand to her shoulder, he said, "It's nearly dawn, and we both have been here since yesterday morning.  Come have coffee with me before I take you home."

"I don't think that is a good idea," she said, an all to familiar ache squeezing her heart.

Rubbing a tired hand across his eyes, Colbey sighed.

"No, I guess it isn't."

"There should be some coffee in the lounge, though, and Mrs. Pemberton brought in some homemade doughnuts last night."

Colbey looked in to her eyes, and Katie knew what he was unable to ask. She mustered up a smile for him and nodded; she would never mention the invitation, again.

The lounge was quiet, the coffee hot, and there was a couple of doughnuts left in the box. Leaning back in an old, overstuffed chair, Katie took a long drink of coffee, allowing it to warm the inside of her mouth before swallowing. What she had to tell Colbey was not going to be easy, especially after the night they had had, but it needed to be said.

"Colbey?"

When he looked up, she took a deep breath and just blurted it out.

"I'm leaving New York."

There was a dazed look in his eyes, and it took him a full minute to realize she was serious.

He sat his coffee cup down with such force that some of the dark liquid splashed out on to the table, but he paid no attention.

"Leaving? But...but why? I thought... Well, I thought you liked it here ."

"I do like it here, but it's time for me to go home. The folks are having a time of it, what with the drought and the economy like it is. I've... I've learned a lot, and I've enjoyed it, but it's time for me to leave."

For a moment, Colbey's mouth moved, but no sound came out. Katie's heart ached at the desperation on his face, but there was nothing she could do about it; he had made his choice and they both had to live with it.

"I leave on tomorrow morning's train. I know it's sudden, but..."

"Sudden? You're right, it's sudden! I mean, sure an extra pair of hands would help out at home, but your folks would never hold it against you, if you stayed. You know that!"

"Yes, I know."

"Then, why, Katie?"

"You know why, Colbey."

Just like that, the truth, wrong as it was, lay between them. And, as if she could be conjured up by thoughts alone, the door to the lounge banged open and, Camille Lockhart stormed through the portal like a whirlwind.

*****

Trace and Adison's story

Tightening his embrace until she leaned back against him, Trace enjoyed the feel of her in his arms.  Her scent, a mix between sunblock and grape soda, wafted around him, and he felt like this moment would last a lifetime.

In silence, he and the woman he loved watched  as brilliant shades of every color in the rainbow began exploding above them. When there came a pause in the show of fire works, he pulled loose the tie that held her braid in place, and then ran his fingers through her silky hair until his hands were tangled in it.

Leaning forward, he nuzzled her ear and whispered, "I've been waiting to be alone with you all day."

"Me, too," she said, and he could hear the smile in her voice.

"I love you," he whispered.

She did not answer right away, but sat still in his arms, watching the display above.

When the last shower of stars faded in the night sky, he felt her turn her head until her lips brushed his ear.

So soft he almost missed it, she said, "I love you, too."

He tried to hold on to her, but even as his arms tightened, her warm body faded until he felt nothing.

"Adison!  Adison!  Where are you, baby?"

Her face was so vivid in his mind's eye, the feel of her had been so real, but he could no longer see her on the river bank.  Then, he knew; she was not at the river; she was just ahead of him, guiding him as he ran toward safety.

No! No! This wasn't right!

But, he could not deny what his eyes told him; she was there, urging him one way and then another, as bullets rained all around.

He heard her voice then, that distinct alto that was hers alone, and it was reassuring him that she would show him the way out.

In the end, she had done as she had promised; gotten him out.

All of a sudden, his eyes flew open, and he tried to sit up.  Knifing pain coarsed through his head, and he fell back against the pillow. It took all his concentration to keep from passing out. It was several minutes before he could focus once more on his surroundings.

He lay flat on his back, looking up at the ceiling. He was in the hospital, he knew, and all around him were sounds of a busy day: a woman's voice calling for a Jill to report to the nurse's station, an AT&T commercial playing on a nearby television, and nearer still, the sound of someone quietly weeping.

Something lay over his nose and mouth, and if he crossed his eyes, he could just see the out line of an oxygen mask.  He tried to lift a hand to remove it, but his hands would not obey.

Why did he feel so weighted down?

It came back to him, then, what his sister had said to him in one of those odd, lucid moments he had before the dreams came.

A spinal cord injury, she had said.

But, what exactly did that mean, and why the oxygen mask?  Was he still unable to breathe on his own?

Taking an experimental breath, he ran his tongue along the inside of his mouth and felt no foreign objects there.  His chest felt a little tight, but other than that he was definitely breathing on his own.

Thank you God.

*****

A Place Called Home

"You did what?"

"Ah, Krissy, don't be angry. It's for your own good."

"Says who?"

"Says me."

"You might be ten minutes older than me, but that don't make you my boss!"

"Don't shout, Krissy. Please."

Guilt and sorrow, swift and sure pierced Kristi's heart.

"I'm sorry, Kial. I didn't mean to shout. It's just that...well, you surprised me so. Now, why don't you let me get that tonic the doctor left for you."

"I don't want any medicine; I want you to sit down and hear me out."

"But, this is insane! I can't leave you and go on a fool-hearty trip like that! Why, what would I do if I get there and your perfect plan backfires? What if he decides he didn't want a wife after all? I'd be out on the streets, worse off than I am now."

"Sit down and listen...please, Krissy?"

Dropping in to the straight backed chair near the bed, Kristi sighed.

"Okay, I'm listening."

"It's a good idea, Siss," he said.

Kristi saw the earnestness in his blue eys so like their father's. Kial was pale with dark circles beneath his eyes. It was evident he had lost sleep, all because of this crazy idea of his.

But, marry a man she didn't even know? On the otherside of the country?

"Mr. Quade needs a wife. He says he is a Christian, so you wouldn't be mistreated. He has a prosperous ranch, so you wouldn't have to go without. He needs a woman to keep house and take care of his daughter, and you can do all of that. I know you're a good cook, you always wanted a home of your own, and you managed to hold on to this old place despite yankee troops and four years of war."

Kristi wondered what he would think of her housekeeping abilities, if he knew just how she had managed to hold on to the old homeplace. But, he did not know...would never know. The man he planned on giving her to did not know either, but he would find out, sooner or later. She could not allow that to happen. It was her secret, hers, God's and the yankee captain's with the steel gray eyes.

*****

Found

Thankful the rain had stopped, Britney concentrated on the ground beneath her and tried not to think about the stealthy noises she kept hearing ahead of her. The way was slippery, but there were enough tree roots to brace herself against as she struggled upward. The very real possibility that she was heading in to danger, made her feel sick to her stomach, but what choice did she have except to go on? Maybe, the noise ahead had been a rabbit, or a dog or cat.

Probably not; a dog would have barked...unless..."

Oh, Lord,, please don't let there be any cujos out here!

No matter what lay ahead, it was better to face a living thing from whom she might be abel to escape than the dark waters of the stream below that absolutely terrified her. She had not always been afraid of water, but ever since that long ago day when her world had turned upside down, she could not bare the thought of being in water above her knees. Her lack of sight only made it worse.

Pausing against a pine tree, she stood to her feet and listened. There was the sound of the rain as it moved off in to the distance, the breeze as it rustled the trees, but she heard nothing more. The way the wind in the trees sounded, she knew she was nearing the edge of the tree line, simply because there was no rustling ahead of her, only behind. She reached out a foot to check the ground immediately ahead. Realizing it was too steep to walk, she got down on her knees again and went forward, hoping to find a place where she could rest.

After several moments of crawling in the wet grass and mud, her left hand brushed against an outcropping of rock that for a few feet was straight up and down before leveling off. With her right foot braced against the sloping ground, she hoisted her left knee up and using it for leverage, pulled her other leg up on to the rock ledge. Then, she froze, fear running like ice water through her veins.

All at once, she knew she was not alone. The rock beneath her hands was dry and warm to the touch, whereas everything else was soaking wet from the rain.

Someone was there;she could hear him breathe.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she kept her head down. The sting of tears made her feel helpless, something she prided herself on not being.

The woman was a mess; Trey could see that right off. The only thing she wore that was not covered in mud was her backpack.

Funny, her backpack looked like the one that he had bought for...

Leaning to the side, he reached out and adjusted the backpack, looking for the monogram he knew would be there. Sure enough, there it was.

How on earth had she gotten here?

"P…Please, don't hurt me. I…I didn't s…see a thing."

The pleading in her voice tore at his heart. She still didn't know who he was. But, there was no forgetting that red hair or the slope of her cheek. In what felt like another lifetime, Trey had known this woman as well as he had known himself.

He watched as she scrubbed her palms on her jeans, then shoved her wet hair behind her shoulders. At sight of her face, his breath caught in his throat. It was her, all right, Britney, his ex-wife, the one to whom he owed so much.

A splattering of mud ran down her left cheek, and her nose was running. Tears were gathering in the corners of her eyes, and there were bits of leaves and twigs trapped in the mane of her hair. Something was different, though, something about her eyes. They were still a vivid green, big and clear, still rimmed by lashes other women only dreamed of having. But, for some reason, she would not meet his gaze. It felt like she saw him, but there was no recognition, no emotion at all. A shaft of afternoon sunlight fell across her face, right in to her eyes, but she did not react. Her pupils did not contract, she did not blink or turn away.

Reality, cold and painful slammed in to him then; she was blind.

*****

So, which was your favorite? Any questions? Suggestions? Comments? Come on, y'all, let's talk!

Have a fabulous weekend, and be sure to come back next Friday, for sure. I'm reviewing a new book, interviewing the author, and you are going to love it! Until Monday, remember that when you have time on your hands, put them together and pray. More good things are wrought by prayer, than this world dreams of. BTW, that quote came off an old shirt I used to wear. :)