© 2020 - no cookies - no tracking - our server is in Britain
photo Lynette Riley
© 2020 - no cookies - no tracking - our server is in Britain
. . . moving, heartwarming novel, set against the backdrop of World
War II England and America . . . a tale rich in emotion, drama and
intrigue. . . . don’t miss When Valleys Bloom Again – Dr. MaryAnn
Diorio, author of The Italian Chronicles
. . . Pat Jeanne Davis weaves a story of young people challenged
through difficult times and still finding happiness. An intriguing debut
novel of separation and duplicity, love and loss. – Terri Wangard, author
of Promise For Tomorrow series
contents 2020
. . . a charming story of how love is tested by social prejudices, the
separation of war, and intrigue. The historical details establish
authenticity. – Johnnie Alexander, author of the best-selling novel, Where
Treasure Hides
background photo courtesy Diane Scale 2018
Print and e-book from Amazon.com and most Amazon
sites
Also from . . .
Barnes&Noble U.S. - online and in stores
Foyles U.K. - online only
Waterstones U.K. - store order (print on demand)
Indigo Canada - online only
McNallyRobinson Canada - online only
Print only, worldwide from bookdepository.com
. . . a charming story of
how love is tested by
social prejudices, the
separation of war, and
intrigue. The historical
details establish
authenticity. – Johnnie
Alexander, author of the
best-selling novel, Where
Treasure Hides
. . . Pat Jeanne Davis weaves a story
of young people challenged through
difficult times and still finding
happiness. An intriguing debut
novel of separation and duplicity,
love and loss. – Terri Wangard,
author of Promise For Tomorrow
series
© contents 2020
Print and e-book from Amazon.com
and most Amazon sites
Print only from Barnes&Noble
online and in store
Print only from bookdepository.com
a selection of Pat’s articles and short stories
Love in Bloom
Kate pulled her long, brown hair into a ponytail and looked out on the yard of her new home where robins
hopped about, snatching up a meal. The sun shone brightly, announcing the approach of spring. Finally! She
visualized a row of multicolored flowers bordering her driveway.
Not Impossible
— With God
During the early years of our marriage, my husband, John, and I realized the chance of a pregnancy was small,
since I was now 40 . . .
Not Just Another Day
Another week! For a moment Carol felt somewhat disheartened as she contemplated the day ahead and all the
things that had to be done. She gazed at the calendar hanging on the wall. She’d bought one with a large box
for each date so she could write down what had to be done on any particular day. But it seemed each day
blurred into the next and wasn’t much different from yesterday or the day before.
Put The Kettle On!
“When I ask my husband, ‘What do you want to drink?’ He will always respond, ‘A hot cup of tea’” . . .
Reconnecting With Family
“How good it’d be to get my father’s family together,” was just a chance remark . . .
Secret Admirer
Trudi crossed the living room to the window and pulled back the heavy drapes. She swiped the sleeve of her
terry robe down the misty pane and gazed out. “Ray’s out of town for another day, but he’s already extended
the deadline for my proposal. Snow or no snow, tomorrow is the deadline.”
The Christmas Bazaar
“It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas.” The words coming from a radio rang in Melanie’s ear. She walked
toward her spot through a crowded room, hauling a large metal table. Today was the annual Christmas bazaar,
and Mel was there to sign copies of a book series containing a few of her stories, but there was no “carol ringing
within her heart.”
published articles, essays, and short stories (print and/or online)
A Woman Saved (U.S.)
Running To Feel God’s Pleasure (Autumn-Winter, 2016-17)
Bethlehem Writers Roundtable (U.S.)
A Fresh Start (Summer 2017)
Bible Advocate (U.S.)
Parental Guidance Required (Sept. 2009, p. 14, pdf)
After the Storm (Nov.-Dec. 2016)
Brave Hearts (U.S.)
Mother’s Home – A Haven (Summer 2005) (print only)
Carole Marie (U.S.)
Guest Post: The Write Time is Now (Oct. 16, 2011)
Christian Fiction Online Magazine (U.S.)
Only Yards Apart
I Can See Clearly Now (2010)
Northwest Baby and Child (U.S.)
Doubly Blessed (May 2004) (print only)
A Baby For Me, Too (April 2006) (print only)
Renewed and Ready (U.S.)
Spread Your Wings – But Be Careful (May 2009) (print only)
Ruby for Women (U.S.) (site defunct - 2019)
Red Letter Day (Sept. 2017)
Spread Your Wings (May 2017)
Love in Bloom (April 2017)
No Bells Ringing (Dec. 2016)
The Lookout (U.S.)
The Lookout Essay: A Deeper Appreciation of America (July 2016)
Bring Back The Wonder Of Childhood (Feb. 2006) (print only)
The Over 50 Writer (U.S.)
It’s Never Too Late (February 2016)
Woman Alive (U.K.)
Just Your Age Alone (March 2004) (print only)
Woman’s Touch (U.S.)
Using Parental Supervision (Oct. 2006) (print only)
© Contents 2020
Welcome . . .
a selection of Pat’s articles and short stories
Love in Bloom
Kate pulled her long, brown hair into a ponytail and looked out
on the yard of her new home where robins hopped about,
snatching up a meal. The sun shone brightly, announcing the
approach of spring. Finally! She visualized a row of multicolored
flowers bordering her driveway.
Not Impossible
— With God
During the early years of our marriage, my husband, John, and
I realized the chance of a pregnancy was small, since I was now
40 . . .
Not Just Another Day
Another week! For a moment Carol felt somewhat disheartened
as she contemplated the day ahead and all the things that had
to be done. She gazed at the calendar hanging on the wall.
She’d bought one with a large box for each date so she could
write down what had to be done on any particular day. But it
seemed each day blurred into the next and wasn’t much
different from yesterday or the day before.
Put The Kettle On!
“When I ask my husband, ‘What do you want to drink?’ He will
always respond, ‘A hot cup of tea’” . . .
Reconnecting With Family
“How good it’d be to get my father’s family together,” was just a
chance remark . . .
Secret Admirer
Trudi crossed the living room to the window and pulled back the
heavy drapes. She swiped the sleeve of her terry robe down the
misty pane and gazed out. “Ray’s out of town for another day,
but he’s already extended the deadline for my proposal. Snow
or no snow, tomorrow is the deadline.”
The Christmas Bazaar
“It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas.” The words coming
from a radio rang in Melanie’s ear. She walked toward her spot
through a crowded room, hauling a large metal table. Today
was the annual Christmas bazaar, and Mel was there to sign
copies of a book series containing a few of her stories, but there
was no “carol ringing within her heart.”
published articles, essays, and short stories
(print and/or online)
A Woman Saved (U.S.)
Running To Feel God’s Pleasure (Autumn-Winter, 2016-
17)
Bethlehem Writers Roundtable (U.S.)
A Fresh Start (Summer 2017)
Bible Advocate (U.S.)
Parental Guidance Required (Sept. 2009, p. 14, pdf)
After the Storm (Nov.-Dec. 2016)
Brave Hearts (U.S.)
Mother’s Home – A Haven (Summer 2005) (print only)
Carole Marie (U.S.)
Guest Post: The Write Time is Now (Oct. 16, 2011)
Christian Fiction Online Magazine (U.S.)
Only Yards Apart
I Can See Clearly Now (2010)
Northwest Baby and Child (U.S.)
Doubly Blessed (May 2004) (print only)
A Baby For Me, Too (April 2006) (print only)
Renewed and Ready (U.S.)
Spread Your Wings – But Be Careful (May 2009) (print
only)
Ruby for Women (U.S.) (site defunct - 2019)
Red Letter Day (Sept. 2017)
Spread Your Wings (May 2017)
Love in Bloom (April 2017)
No Bells Ringing (Dec. 2016)
The Lookout (U.S.)
The Lookout Essay: A Deeper Appreciation of America
(July 2016)
Bring Back The Wonder Of Childhood (Feb. 2006) (print
only)
The Over 50 Writer (U.S.)
It’s Never Too Late (February 2016)
Woman Alive (U.K.)
Just Your Age Alone (March 2004) (print only)
Woman’s Touch (U.S.)
Using Parental Supervision (Oct. 2006) (print only)
© Contents 2020
Research is a large part of any historical novel. Readers want to know
how I went about conducting research for this novel. I read books and saw
many films set in the World War II era. On trips to England with my British
husband I combined visiting family there with research for my story. I
visited an actual air raid shelter in Stockport, Imperial War Museum in
Manchester, Duxford Aerodrome in Cambridgeshire, the Churchill War
Rooms in London, and Chatsworth House in Devonshire. I also interviewed veterans of WWII in
both the UK and the US.
The opening for my WWII inspirational romance was conceived after reading a
biography on the life of Kathleen Kennedy, daughter of Joseph P. Kennedy, the
United States Ambassador to the United Kingdom. He and his family were living in
London when Britain declared war. Kathleen Kennedy’s story intrigued me. She was
forced by her father to return to the US for her safety. Kathleen had made many
friends while living in London and was determined to return some day. She even-
tually did go back, served in the British Red Cross, and married William Cavendish
who was in line to become the next Duke of Devonshire. Sadly, he died in battle a few months after
their marriage. I based my protagonist, Abby Stapleton, loosely on Kathleen Kennedy’s situation at the
outbreak of war in 1939. However, in this story Abby is the American-born daughter of a British diplomat. Her father
sends her back to the US to escape impending war. She too vows to return to London.
The banner photo is of the “old man of Coniston,” a scene of natural beauty in the Lake District,
a large national park in north-west England. The Coniston area is popular with boaters and hikers and
is a magnet for visitors. It’s legendary for the writers, artists, and other influential people who have
called this picturesque place home. It was on Coniston Water, in 1967, that Donald Campbell lost his
life when his rocket-powered speedboat, Bluebird K7, crashed during his attempt to break the world
water-speed record. When our sons were little I would read them the charming tales by Beatrix
Potter. Many of the creatures she observed on her property in the “Lakes” she incorporated into her
stories. Along with her talents in writing and art, she worked tirelessly to preserve the stunning
beauty of the area; on her death she bequeathed 4,000 acres to The National Trust.
Q&A
© Contents 2020
2015 Finalist, Aspiring Authors Writing Contest
2014 Finalist, Westbow Press New Look Writing Contest
2014 Semi-Finalist, ACFW Genesis Historical Category
2013 Semi-Finalist, ACFW Genesis Historical Category
Pat writes historical inspirational romance imbued with hope in troubled times. She has a keen
interest in twentieth-century American and British history, particularly the period of World War II. Pat’s father-
in-law served in the British Eighth Army during the war. When Valleys Bloom Again is her debut novel set in
that era. She is a member of the American Christian Fiction Writers and Historical Novel Society. Pat lives in
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania with her English husband, John. They have two grown sons.
Coniston Water
viewed from
Brantwood, John
Ruskin’s Home
Welcome . . .
about
© Contents 2020
Pat writes historical inspirational romance imbued with
hope in troubled times. She has a keen interest in twentieth-
century American and British history, particularly the period of
World War II. Pat’s father-in-law served in the British Eighth
Army during the war. When Valleys Bloom Again is her debut
novel set in that era. She is a member of the American Christian
Fiction Writers and Historical Novel Society. Pat lives in
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania with her English husband, John. They
have two grown sons.
2015 Finalist, Aspiring Authors Writing Contest
2014 Finalist, Westbow Press New Look Writing Contest
2014 Semi-Finalist, ACFW Genesis Historical Category
2013 Semi-Finalist, ACFW Genesis Historical Category
Research is a large part of any historical novel. Readers
want to know how I went about conducting research for this
novel. I read books and saw many films set in the World War II
era. On trips to England with my British husband I combined
visiting family there with research for my story. I visited an
actual air raid shelter in Stockport, Imperial War Museum in
Manchester, Duxford Aerodrome in Cambridgeshire, the
Churchill War Rooms in London, and Chatsworth House in
Devonshire. I also interviewed veterans of WWII in both the UK
and the US.
The opening for my WWII inspirational romance was
conceived after reading a biography on the life of Kathleen
Kennedy, daughter of Joseph P. Kennedy, the United States
Ambassador to the United Kingdom. He and his family were
living in London when Britain declared war. Kathleen Kennedy’s
story intrigued me. She was forced by her father to return to the
US for her safety. Kathleen had made many friends while living
in London and was determined to return some day. She
eventually did go back, served in the British Red Cross, and
married William Cavendish who was in line to become the next
Duke of Devonshire. Sadly, he died in battle a few months after
their marriage. I based my protagonist, Abby Stapleton, loosely
on Kathleen Kennedy’s situation at the outbreak of war in 1939.
However, in this story Abby is the American-born daughter of a
British diplomat. Her father sends her back to the US to escape
impending war. She too vows to return to London.
The banner photo is of the “old man of Coniston,” a scene
of natural beauty in the Lake District, a large national park in
north-west England. The Coniston area is popular with boaters
and hikers and is a magnet for visitors. It’s legendary for the
writers, artists, and other influential people who have called this
picturesque place home. It was on Coniston Water, in 1967, that
Donald Campbell lost his life when his rocket-powered
speedboat, Bluebird K7, crashed during his attempt to break the
world water-speed record. When our sons were little I would
read them the charming tales by Beatrix Potter. Many of the
creatures she observed on her property in the “Lakes” she
incorporated into her stories. Along with her talents in writing
and art, she worked tirelessly to preserve the stunning beauty
of the area; on her death she bequeathed 4,000 acres to The
National Trust.
Q&A
Readers want to know . . .
What is your favorite Bible verse?
“And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them
who are the called according to His purpose” (Romans 8:28). I receive such reassurance
from this Bible verse.
In When Valleys Bloom Again, my heroine, Abby, frequently reminds herself of this
promise in God’s Word after she is uprooted from London in 1939, due to the impending
war and forced to return to a country far from her family and the life she’s become
accustomed to.
How do you choose your characters’ names?
At times from a book I read, a film or documentary I watched, or maybe someone I’ve
known. In my debut novel for a character, I used my great-grandfather’s full name, but
added an “e” on the end of his surname. He immigrated to the United States, as had
Uncle Will, the loveable secondary character in my novel. A cousin of mine said she nearly
fell out of her chair when she saw our great-grandfather’s name in my novel, but was
delighted to see him in the story.
Would you rather research, write, or revise?
More than writing or revising my story I enjoyed doing research for When Valleys Bloom
Again. I talked with some who lived through the WWII era and also had the opportunity to
ask questions of veterans in the U.S. and U.K., then in their mid-90’s, who were willing to
share their experiences and their photographs. I enjoyed traveling to distant and
unfamiliar places. I visited “living” museums in England where people went about their
tasks in clothing that would’ve been worn during the 1940’s. The guides were always
helpful and eager to share what they had learned. I’m happy when I uncover an extra
special tidbit of information that will enhance my story.
On one research trip, I went into the largest purpose-built civilian air raid shelter in
England that was extended to accommodate 6,500 people during the Second World War.
The Stockport Air Raid Shelter is a network of underground tunnels, a mile long, carved
out of the sandstone hills on which the city stands. These refuges offered not only
protection but a way of life for whole families. This underground world is still intact today
as it was during the war years, and provided me an opportunity to understand the raw
realities of life during the Blitz. I came away with a deep admiration for my husband’s
family and for numerous others who struggled to live with only the basic amenities in such
depressing and stressful surroundings.
Tea with favorite literary character?
Atticus Finch, from To Kill a Mockingbird. The integrity of Atticus is shown in the way he
raises his children to respect all people and his willingness to talk with them about the
injustices they see around them. Atticus shows courage when he agrees to defend a black
man charged with a heinous crime. This lawyer stands tall against the abuse and threats
against him and his family from his racist community and eventually proves in court that
his client is innocent.
In When Valleys Bloom Again, one of my characters is a lawyer. However, unlike Atticus
Finch, my Henri entertains deep prejudices, he’s shrewd and a manipulator.
© Contents 2020
Readers want to know . . .
What is your favorite Bible verse?
“And we know that all things work together for
good to them that love God, to them who are the
called according to His purpose” (Romans 8:28). I
receive such reassurance from this Bible verse.
In When Valleys Bloom Again, my heroine, Abby,
frequently reminds herself of this promise in God’s
Word after she is uprooted from London in 1939, due
to the impending war and forced to return to a country
far from her family and the life she’s become
accustomed to.
How do you choose your characters’ names?
At times from a book I read, a film or documentary
I watched, or maybe someone I’ve known. In my debut
novel for a character, I used my great-grandfather’s full
name, but added an “e” on the end of his surname. He
immigrated to the United States, as had Uncle Will, the
loveable secondary character in my novel. A cousin of
mine said she nearly fell out of her chair when she saw
our great-grandfather’s name in my novel, but was
delighted to see him in the story.
Would you rather research, write, or revise?
More than writing or revising my story I enjoyed
doing research for When Valleys Bloom Again. I talked
with some who lived through the WWII era and also
had the opportunity to ask questions of veterans in the
U.S. and U.K., then in their mid-90’s, who were willing
to share their experiences and their photographs. I
enjoyed traveling to distant and unfamiliar places. I
visited “living” museums in England where people went
about their tasks in clothing that would’ve been worn
during the 1940’s. The guides were always helpful and
eager to share what they had learned. I’m happy when
I uncover an extra special tidbit of information that will
enhance my story.
On one research trip, I went into the largest purpose-
built civilian air raid shelter in England that was
extended to accommodate 6,500 people during the
Second World War. The Stockport Air Raid Shelter is a
network of underground tunnels, a mile long, carved
out of the sandstone hills on which the city stands.
These refuges offered not only protection but a way of
life for whole families. This underground world is still
intact today as it was during the war years, and
provided me an opportunity to understand the raw
realities of life during the Blitz. I came away with a
deep admiration for my husband’s family and for
numerous others who struggled to live with only the
basic amenities in such depressing and stressful
surroundings.
Tea with favorite literary character?
Atticus Finch, from To Kill a Mockingbird. The
integrity of Atticus is shown in the way he raises his
children to respect all people and his willingness to talk
with them about the injustices they see around them.
Atticus shows courage when he agrees to defend a
black man charged with a heinous crime. This lawyer
stands tall against the abuse and threats against him
and his family from his racist community and
eventually proves in court that his client is innocent.
In When Valleys Bloom Again, one of my characters is
a lawyer. However, unlike Atticus Finch, my Henri
entertains deep prejudices, he’s shrewd and a
manipulator.
© Contents 2020
Love in Bloom
Kate pulled her long, brown hair into a ponytail and looked out on the yard of her new home
where robins hopped about, snatching up a meal. The sun shone brightly, announcing the
approach of spring. Finally! She visualized a row of multicolored flowers bordering her driveway.
She squelched a sigh. Had she made the right decision to move so far away from family
and friends? At the time, a new position seemed too good an opportunity to pass up. A change
had been long overdue, Kate reasoned. And not having a special someone in her life provided further cause to accept the
offer. Still, the cold winter had lasted far too long, and she missed the familiar faces back home.
Kate stepped away from the window. With a full schedule next week, Saturday was the only time she had to return
to Freddy’s Garden Center. Perhaps the promised shipment of flowers had arrived. She grabbed her car keys.
When Kate entered the nursery, she spotted a figure working at a metal counter surrounded by plants and pots. As
she approached, he turned and fixed his blue eyes on her for what seemed like minutes. “Back so soon?” he asked,
grinning.
“You’re the one I saw two weeks ago.”
He rubbed his chin. “You came back just to see me.”
Kate flashed a smile. “Can you help me choose flowers for my yard?”
He laughed, revealing straight white teeth. “I’m your man.” He slapped his palms together to dislodge the dirt. “The
name’s Fred.”
She took his big hand in hers, intrigued by his friendly manner. “Kate.”
“Let’s see. You told me you’d moved from the West Coast and wanted flowers that bloomed a long time and didn’t
need much care.”
“You remembered.”
Fred gestured for her to follow him. “That’s my job,” he said over his shoulder. “Another supply came in yesterday.
You’re in luck.”
They moved down rows of wooden tables overflowing with tulips and daffodils. Kate felt like a schoolgirl on a field
trip as she half-ran to keep up, then nearly crashed into him when he stopped and turned around.
“I moved from the Midwest to be closer to my eleven-year-old son and opened this garden center a year ago,” he
said.
Surprised by Fred’s revelation, Kate’s eyes drifted to the bare space on his ring finger. Why hadn’t she done more
with her hair and put on a little makeup before coming out this morning? She met his gaze. “It sounds like you’ve been
transplanted like these flowers.”
A ghost of a smile crept over his face. “Like yourself.”
Kate nodded. “Came here six months ago after accepting a new position.”
Hyacinths scattered blue, purple, and pink around her. She drew in the sweet fragrance and listened to chimes
swaying in a warm breeze.
Fred selected a tray of flowers with little faces. His hand caressed the petals as if they were friends. “Pansies provide
a variety of colors that last for months.” He moved to the next table. “The lush blooms on these begonias are hardy as
well.”
“I’ll take both.”
He picked up a large white bag. “You’ll need potting soil. I’ll get my son to take these to check-out and to your car.
That’s him over there.” Fred motioned for his son.
“Well, what do you know,” Kate said as the boy approached. “Billy is in my class!”
Billy’s eyes widened in recognition. “Miss Haley!”
Fred wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. “I finally get to meet the Miss Haley.”
Billy kicked a stone with the toe of his shoe. A sheepish grin spread across his face.
Kate scrambled for something to say to break the awkward silence. “Lucky you, working here with Dad.”
He looked at his father before taking the flowers and bag. “Yep, I know.”
Fred tousled his son’s blond hair. “I’m the lucky one.”
After Billy left, Fred turned to Kate, pulling his baseball cap forward over his dark, curly hair. “He wasn’t exaggerating
when he said you’re pretty.”
Kate managed a smile and lowered her head, feeling her cheeks grow warm.
“And he’s always going on about how you make science come alive.”
“Happy to hear that.” She laughed. “I wish I had that much success with plants.” Or with men.
Fred laughed too. “You’ll need these.” As he handed her a trowel and gardening gloves, their hands touched. Did he
feel the same attraction?
Fred shifted his feet. “Take this slip up front and tell them I said to give you a gardening book.” He cleared his threat
before speaking again. “If you need any further help, I’m your man.”
“Thanks.” Of course he was her man. Kate recalled her first trip here. Fred answered every question, even the ones
she quickly thought up just so she could look into those captivating blue eyes while he answered.
He started walking toward another customer.
“I want to put in some other things,” Kate called after him.
He headed back to where she stood. Her pulse quickened.
“What do you have in mind?”
Kate shrugged. “I need some suggestions.”
“Maybe some shrubs,” he said. “If you like, I could stop by next Saturday, take a look at your yard and give you a
few ideas.”
“Sounds good. I’ll keep an eye out.” Kate’s casual tone masked the excitement within. Her heart surged with the
wonder of spring and the prospect of a fresh start.
“Write your address here. If you have no one to put them in, just remember, I’m your man. And don’t worry about
not having a green thumb.” He winked. “I’ll teach you what you need to know.”
Kate craned her neck to keep him in view as he walked off. Fred glanced back and their eyes met, leaving her with a
promise of good things to come.
__________
This short story appeared in the Splickety Magazine issue of Spring 2014.
© Contents 2020
Love in Bloom
Kate pulled her long, brown hair into a ponytail and looked
out on the yard of her new home where robins hopped about,
snatching up a meal. The sun shone brightly, announcing the
approach of spring. Finally! She visualized a row of
multicolored flowers bordering her driveway.
She squelched a sigh. Had she made the right decision to
move so far away from family and friends? At the time, a new
position seemed too good an opportunity to pass up. A change
had been long overdue, Kate reasoned. And not having a
special someone in her life provided further cause to accept the
offer. Still, the cold winter had lasted far too long, and she
missed the familiar faces back home.
Kate stepped away from the window. With a full schedule
next week, Saturday was the only time she had to return to
Freddy’s Garden Center. Perhaps the promised shipment of
flowers had arrived. She grabbed her car keys.
When Kate entered the nursery, she spotted a figure
working at a metal counter surrounded by plants and pots. As
she approached, he turned and fixed his blue eyes on her for
what seemed like minutes. “Back so soon?” he asked, grinning.
“You’re the one I saw two weeks ago.”
He rubbed his chin. “You came back just to see me.”
Kate flashed a smile. “Can you help me choose flowers for
my yard?”
He laughed, revealing straight white teeth. “I’m your
man.” He slapped his palms together to dislodge the dirt. “The
name’s Fred.”
She took his big hand in hers, intrigued by his friendly
manner. “Kate.”
“Let’s see. You told me you’d moved from the West Coast
and wanted flowers that bloomed a long time and didn’t need
much care.”
“You remembered.”
Fred gestured for her to follow him. “That’s my job,” he
said over his shoulder. “Another supply came in yesterday.
You’re in luck.”
They moved down rows of wooden tables overflowing with
tulips and daffodils. Kate felt like a schoolgirl on a field trip as
she half-ran to keep up, then nearly crashed into him when he
stopped and turned around.
“I moved from the Midwest to be closer to my eleven-
year-old son and opened this garden center a year ago,” he
said.
Surprised by Fred’s revelation, Kate’s eyes drifted to the
bare space on his ring finger. Why hadn’t she done more with
her hair and put on a little makeup before coming out this
morning? She met his gaze. “It sounds like you’ve been
transplanted like these flowers.”
A ghost of a smile crept over his face. “Like yourself.”
Kate nodded. “Came here six months ago after accepting
a new position.”
Hyacinths scattered blue, purple, and pink around her.
She drew in the sweet fragrance and listened to chimes
swaying in a warm breeze.
Fred selected a tray of flowers with little faces. His hand
caressed the petals as if they were friends. “Pansies provide a
variety of colors that last for months.” He moved to the next
table. “The lush blooms on these begonias are hardy as well.”
“I’ll take both.”
He picked up a large white bag. “You’ll need potting soil.
I’ll get my son to take these to check-out and to your car.
That’s him over there.” Fred motioned for his son.
“Well, what do you know,” Kate said as the boy
approached. “Billy is in my class!”
Billy’s eyes widened in recognition. “Miss Haley!”
Fred wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. “I
finally get to meet the Miss Haley.”
Billy kicked a stone with the toe of his shoe. A sheepish
grin spread across his face.
Kate scrambled for something to say to break the
awkward silence. “Lucky you, working here with Dad.”
He looked at his father before taking the flowers and bag.
“Yep, I know.”
Fred tousled his son’s blond hair. “I’m the lucky one.”
After Billy left, Fred turned to Kate, pulling his baseball
cap forward over his dark, curly hair. “He wasn’t exaggerating
when he said you’re pretty.”
Kate managed a smile and lowered her head, feeling her
cheeks grow warm.
“And he’s always going on about how you make science
come alive.”
“Happy to hear that.” She laughed. “I wish I had that
much success with plants.” Or with men.
Fred laughed too. “You’ll need these.” As he handed her a
trowel and gardening gloves, their hands touched. Did he feel
the same attraction?
Fred shifted his feet. “Take this slip up front and tell them
I said to give you a gardening book.” He cleared his threat
before speaking again. “If you need any further help, I’m your
man.”
“Thanks.” Of course he was her man. Kate recalled her
first trip here. Fred answered every question, even the ones
she quickly thought up just so she could look into those
captivating blue eyes while he answered.
He started walking toward another customer.
“I want to put in some other things,” Kate called after
him.
He headed back to where she stood. Her pulse quickened.
“What do you have in mind?”
Kate shrugged. “I need some suggestions.”
“Maybe some shrubs,” he said. “If you like, I could stop
by next Saturday, take a look at your yard and give you a few
ideas.”
“Sounds good. I’ll keep an eye out.” Kate’s casual tone
masked the excitement within. Her heart surged with the
wonder of spring and the prospect of a fresh start.
“Write your address here. If you have no one to put them
in, just remember, I’m your man. And don’t worry about not
having a green thumb.” He winked. “I’ll teach you what you
need to know.”
Kate craned her neck to keep him in view as he walked
off. Fred glanced back and their eyes met, leaving her with a
promise of good things to come.
__________
This short story appeared in the Splickety Magazine issue of
Spring 2014.
© Contents 2020
Not Impossible — With God
During the early years of our marriage, my husband John and I realized the chance of a pregnancy was small since I was now
forty. This situation was further complicated by a chronic condition thought to be responsible for my infertility.
“It’s not utterly impossible but it’s extremely improbable you’ll become pregnant. You might wish to consider an adoption,” my
gynecologist suggested. She gave us all the information on an upcoming adoption seminar.
At first, John and I weren’t certain this was what we wanted to do, but we attended the seminar. Then we became very enthusi-
astic about this way of gaining our family. Since we were well above the age limit for an agency adoption, we retained an
attorney who specialized in private independent adoption.
I did much networking at the hospital where I worked. While letting others know of our desire to adopt, I found I was far less
timid than I had expected. Still, one-and-a-half years elapsed with no real adoption prospects. Nevertheless, we were still
determined and hopeful and continued to get the word out. We always relied on the promise in Proverbs 3:6: “In all your ways
acknowledge Him, and He will make your paths straight.”
Then on an impulse one afternoon I called the physician who had suggested adoption. She might be of further help, I thought. I
was told she had relocated and was now practicing in another part of our state. This didn’t discourage me. My determination
amazed me.
“What’s her number?” I asked. The desire to have a family was intense. And having come this far, I was unwilling to stop now.
I promptly dialed her new number and was informed she was with a patient. I left my name and telephone number. When she
returned my call she had no clue as to the reason for the contact, but she did remember us.
I explained and assured her that we’d completed all the requirements for a private adoption. She promised to let us know if she
could be of further assistance. We had established yet another source for an independent adoption. When will we be successful?
I wondered.
The answer to this question came in ten days when a separate telephone reserved for adoption only rang. “Jeanne, I have a
baby for you.” My former doctor was calling from her home. I was just too excited to say anything. My heart jumped. John sat
me down in a chair.
She went on to explain. “The very afternoon you called my office, a young girl and her mother kept an appointment. Tests
taken then, later showed she was pregnant.” She continued, “The birth mother felt she would be unable to give her baby a good
life and she soon made the decision to find a Christian home for her baby. After I told her about you, she decided she would like
you to raise this child. The timing of your call that day was a remarkable coincidence.”
But was it “God’s Hand” or was it “the long arm of coincidence?” I knew this wasn’t merely a quirky chance happening. God
truly directed my path when I made that call. And we could provide for this child exactly what his birth mother wanted — a
loving, nurturing Christian home for a much wanted baby.
It was an overcast early spring morning when we were awakened by that life-altering telephone call at 6 a.m.
“It’s a boy! He’s beautiful.” It was the voice of the baby’s grandmother.
Although it was a dreary and rainy day — for us the sun had broken through the clouds — we
took little notice. John and I couldn’t get to the hospital fast enough. We’d been waiting for this
moment for a long time, but never gave up hope.
I was first to hold him. You’re meant to be my son, I thought as I picked him up in my arms.
Yes, he was beautiful.
Now, after many conversations over the telephone, we met the young woman who was giving him to us to be his parents and
we met her mother. My husband and I were so grateful to her, to God, and to all involved in making this possible. John and I
brought our baby home in three days. With our son Johnny, my husband and I felt our family was complete.
Then a year later in the spring I thought, I must have the flu. But does it last so long? I considered the chance I might be preg-
nant. Impossible! I was 48 years old and infertile!
Finally, I told John, “I think I might be pregnant.” Yet even as I said this I found it impossible to believe.
“Your pregnancy test is positive!” said my primary care physician with obvious excitement in her voice.
After the initial surprise and joy, I couldn’t help but wonder, “How will I cope with two babies at my age? Will the baby be
healthy?”
My pregnancy was a smooth one although the baby was in breech position until delivery. Joshua was delivered full-term by C-
Section.
“This is truly a miracle baby!” my obstetrician exclaimed when she entered my hospital room. “One for the records, for sure.
Just your age alone makes it extraordinary.”
Eventually I wrote to the gynecologist who had helped with our adoption, informing her of the new addition. A few months later
while talking with her over the telephone, it became apparent she had misunderstood my letter when she said, “You’ve adopted
another child, right?” It took some moments to convince her I had given birth.
“Impossible!” was her stunned, gleeful reaction.
Today our two sons are in elementary school. When some days are rough and I feel the demands of being a parent, I recall
when God responded to the desire of our hearts in a special way, and I remember — all things are possible with God!
_______________
Published in Chicken Soup for the Soul Bible (companion story), March 2004. Web version published at Adoption-net.co.uk
(defunct)
Images courtesy of Pixabay
© Contents 2020
Welcome
. . .
Not Impossible — With God
During the early years of
our marriage, my husband
John and I realized the chance
of a pregnancy was small
since I was now forty. This
situation was further compli-
cated by a chronic condition
thought to be responsible for
my infertility.
“It’s not utterly impossible but it’s extremely improbable you’ll
become pregnant. You might wish to consider an adoption,” my
gynecologist suggested. She gave us all the information on an
upcoming adoption seminar.
At first, John and I weren’t certain this was what we wanted to
do, but we attended the seminar. Then we became very enthusi-
astic about this way of gaining our family. Since we were well
above the age limit for an agency adoption, we retained an
attorney who specialized in private independent adoption.
I did much networking at the hospital where I worked. While let-
ting others know of our desire to adopt, I found I was far less
timid than I had expected. Still, one-and-a-half years elapsed
with no real adoption prospects. Nevertheless, we were still
determined and hopeful and continued to get the word out. We
always relied on the promise in Proverbs 3:6: “In all your ways
acknowledge Him, and He will make your paths straight.”
Then on an impulse one afternoon I called the physician who had
suggested adoption. She might be of further help, I thought. I
was told she had relocated and was now practicing in another
part of our state. This didn’t discourage me. My determination
amazed me.
“What’s her number?” I asked. The desire to have a family was
intense. And having come this far, I was unwilling to stop now.
I promptly dialed her new number and was informed she was
with a patient. I left my name and telephone number. When she
returned my call she had no clue as to the reason for the con-
tact, but she did remember us.
I explained and assured her that we’d completed all the require-
ments for a private adoption. She promised to let us know if she
could be of further assistance. We had established yet another
source for an independent adoption. When will we be successful?
I wondered.
The answer to this question came in ten days when a separate
telephone reserved for adoption only rang. “Jeanne, I have a
baby for you.” My former doctor was calling from her home. I
was just too excited to say anything. My heart jumped. John sat
me down in a chair.
She went on to explain. “The very afternoon you called my
office, a young girl and her mother kept an appointment. Tests
taken then, later showed she was pregnant.” She continued,
“The birth mother felt she would be unable to give her baby a
good life and she soon made the decision to find a Christian
home for her baby. After I told her about you, she decided she
would like you to raise this child. The timing of your call that day
was a remarkable coincidence.”
But was it “God’s Hand” or was it “the long arm of coincidence?”
I knew this wasn’t merely a quirky chance happening. God truly
directed my path when I made that call. And we could provide
for this child exactly what his birth mother wanted — a loving,
nurturing Christian home for a much wanted baby.
It was an overcast early spring morning when we were awak-
ened by that life-altering telephone call at 6 a.m.
“It’s a boy! He’s beautiful.” It
was the voice of the baby’s
grandmother.
Although it was a dreary and
rainy day — for us the sun had
broken through the clouds —
we took little notice. John and I
couldn’t get to the hospital fast
enough. We’d been waiting for this moment for a long time, but
never gave up hope.
I was first to hold him. You’re meant to be my son, I thought as
I picked him up in my arms. Yes, he was beautiful.
Now, after many conversations over the telephone, we met the
young woman who was giving him to us to be his parents and
we met her mother. My husband and I were so grateful to her,
to God, and to all involved in making this possible. John and I
brought our baby home in three days. With our son Johnny, my
husband and I felt our family was complete.
Then a year later in the spring I thought, I must have the flu.
But does it last so long? I considered the chance I might be
pregnant. Impossible! I was 48 years old and infertile!
Finally, I told John, “I think I might be pregnant.” Yet even as I
said this I found it impossible to believe.
“Your pregnancy test is positive!” said my primary care physician
with obvious excitement in her voice.
After the initial surprise and joy, I couldn’t help but wonder,
“How will I cope with two babies at my age? Will the baby be
healthy?”
My pregnancy was a smooth one although the baby was in
breech position until delivery. Joshua was delivered full-term by
C-Section.
“This is truly a miracle baby!” my obstetrician exclaimed when
she entered my hospital room. “One for the records, for sure.
Just your age alone makes it extraordinary.”
Eventually I wrote to the gynecologist who had helped with our
adoption, informing her of the new addition. A few months later
while talking with her over the telephone, it became apparent
she had misunderstood my letter when she said, “You’ve
adopted another child, right?” It took some moments to con-
vince her I had given birth.
“Impossible!” was her stunned, gleeful reaction.
Today our two sons are in elementary school. When some days
are rough and I feel the demands of being a parent, I recall
when God responded to the desire of our hearts in a special way,
and I remember — all things are possible with God!
_______________
Published in Chicken Soup for the Soul Bible (companion story),
March 2004. Web version published at Adoption-net.co.uk
(defunct)
Images courtesy of Pixabay
© Contents 2020
Not Just Another Day
Another week! For a moment Carol felt somewhat disheartened as she contemplated the day ahead and all the things that had
to be done. She gazed at the calendar hanging on the wall. She’d bought one with a large box for each date so she could write
down what had to be done on any particular day. But it seemed each day blurred into the next and wasn’t much different from
yesterday or the day before. She shrugged off the feeling of being overwhelmed, tightened the band around her long, blond hair
and opened the fridge.
Time to get Annie, Susie, and Alex off to school, get ready for work and drop off John’s and her shirts at the cleaners. John
would pick them up later. Then after work, she’d stop at the bank to sign the loan papers for the kitchen renovations and then
tackle all the tasks awaiting her at home. Maybe she needed to learn to say no once in a while. It was crazy to agree to join the
PTA, too. Even weekends seemed to be an endless round of sports, dancing or music lessons, and birthday parties. Not that she
minded — she loved the hustle and bustle of family life.
She and John were so fortunate. They had four healthy children, a beautiful home, jobs they loved, and most importantly a
stable, happy marriage. Still, it felt as though they were like those cliched ships that passed in the night. There was so little time
to spend together.
She finished packing lunches as her sixteen-year-old entered the kitchen. Carol wrapped her arms around her daughter.
“Good morning.”
“Anything special happening this weekend, Mom?”
“Just the usual kids’ stuff, you know.”
A loud noise from above and Carol headed for the stairs. “See you later, Katie. Love you.”
* * *
John boarded the bus and looked out the window. Life was busy with both of them trying to juggle work and children. He
hoped for a promotion with a salary increase that’d help with the kitchen renovations. The extra hours at work were helping the
finances but not family life. He couldn’t remember the last time he and Carol had time alone.
He flipped open his laptop. Maybe he was exaggerating, but sometimes it seemed as though they were passing strangers.
And even when together, half the time they were so tired that conversation was sacrificed in favor of cuddling up on the sofa with
a DVD. While he wouldn’t change anything, occasionally he felt nostalgic for those long-ago days when it was just Carol and him.
John looked down at his ringing cell phone and frowned. He had expected it to be his boss. Instead it was his daughter.
“Hi, Katie. No. Nothing planned this weekend.” His phone beeped. His boss was trying to reach him. “Sorry. I’ve got to take
this call. I’ll see you later.”
* * *
Carol put the car in the garage, mentally running through the to-do list on today’s calendar.
Thankfully this Friday nobody had after-school activities. That meant she could start baking. She frowned. Why had she agreed to
bake four-dozen assorted cookies for tomorrow’s PTA fundraiser?
She opened the front door, her hands full with groceries and drew in the aroma. The unmistakable smell of — cookies? Carol
rushed into the kitchen and watched as her daughter took a
cookie sheet from the oven. “Katie?”
“Hi, Mom.” Kate looked up, grinning.
Then a pair of strong arms lovingly wrapped around Carol’s waist. Turning, she looked up into John’s smiling face with those
adorable laugh lines at the corners of his brown eyes. “Why are you home this early?”
He gave a low chuckle. “Because our daughter reminded me about something.”
“I don’t understand.”
“What day is it, Mom?” Kate asked.
“Friday. So?”
“But what Friday?” Kate prompted. “Friday the . . .”
Carol glanced at the calendar, the box filled with her day’s to-do list and then to the date. Her eyes widened. “It’s our
anniversary!”
“Happy Anniversary,” John said, bending down to kiss her. “I forgot, too.”
“I realized you both did,” Katie said, sampling a cookie. “I’m taking the kiddos to dinner and a movie and then we’re
spending the night at Nana’s. We’ll be back tomorrow night.”
“But —” Carol began.
“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of the cookies.”
Carol laughed. “Looks like it’s settled. She pecked her daughter on the cheek. “You’re such a sweetie.”
Later, after the house was emptied, Carol and John looked at each other across the kitchen table.
“I’m so sorry I forgot our anniversary, Hon.”
“Me, too.” Carol sipped her coffee. “I’ve felt recently that we are — ”
“Not spending enough time with each other?” John finished.
Carol nodded. “The kids are fantastic. But do you remember when we first got married?”
John took her hand into his. “We’d happily spend hours just us two doing nothing special.”
Carol went over to the calendar on the wall. “And I promise I’ll start scheduling our time together.” She wrote “John and
Carol time” over the weekend dates before turning to her husband. “So what shall we do? Dinner? Movies? Day trip tomorrow?”
“I know the perfect thing.” He walked across the room and took the pen out of her hand.
“What?”
“We’re going to do absolutely nothing.”
Carol thought about his suggestion for a moment then hugged him tight. “What a fantastic idea. Happy Anniversary,
sweetheart!”
© Contents 2020
Welcome . . .
Not Just Another Day
Another week! For a moment Carol felt somewhat
disheartened as she contemplated the day ahead and all the
things that had to be done. She gazed at the calendar hanging
on the wall. She’d bought one with a large box for each date so
she could write down what had to be done on any particular day.
But it seemed each day blurred into the next and wasn’t much
different from yesterday or the day before. She shrugged off the
feeling of being overwhelmed, tightened the band around her
long, blond hair and opened the fridge.
Time to get Annie, Susie, and Alex off to school, get ready
for work and drop off John’s and her shirts at the cleaners. John
would pick them up later. Then after work, she’d stop at the
bank to sign the loan papers for the kitchen renovations and
then tackle all the tasks awaiting her at home. Maybe she
needed to learn to say no once in a while. It was crazy to agree
to join the PTA, too. Even weekends seemed to be an endless
round of sports, dancing or music lessons, and birthday parties.
Not that she minded — she loved the hustle and bustle of family
life.
She and John were so fortunate. They had four healthy
children, a beautiful home, jobs they loved, and most
importantly a stable, happy marriage. Still, it felt as though they
were like those cliched ships that passed in the night. There was
so little time to spend together.
She finished packing lunches as her sixteen-year-old
entered the kitchen. Carol wrapped her arms around her
daughter. “Good morning.”
“Anything special happening this weekend, Mom?”
“Just the usual kids’ stuff, you know.”
A loud noise from above and Carol headed for the stairs.
“See you later, Katie. Love you.”
* * *
John boarded the bus and looked out the window. Life was
busy with both of them trying to juggle work and children. He
hoped for a promotion with a salary increase that’d help with the
kitchen renovations. The extra hours at work were helping the
finances but not family life. He couldn’t remember the last time
he and Carol had time alone.
He flipped open his laptop. Maybe he was exaggerating,
but sometimes it seemed as though they were passing
strangers. And even when together, half the time they were so
tired that conversation was sacrificed in favor of cuddling up on
the sofa with a DVD. While he wouldn’t change anything,
occasionally he felt nostalgic for those long-ago days when it
was just Carol and him.
John looked down at his ringing cell phone and frowned. He
had expected it to be his boss. Instead it was his daughter.
“Hi, Katie. No. Nothing planned this weekend.” His phone
beeped. His boss was trying to reach him. “Sorry. I’ve got to
take this call. I’ll see you later.”
* * *
Carol put the car in the garage, mentally running through
the to-do list on today’s calendar.
Thankfully this Friday nobody had after-school activities. That
meant she could start baking. She frowned. Why had she agreed
to bake four-dozen assorted cookies for tomorrow’s PTA
fundraiser?
She opened the front door, her hands full with groceries
and drew in the aroma. The unmistakable smell of — cookies?
Carol rushed into the kitchen and watched as her daughter took
a
cookie sheet from the oven. “Katie?”
“Hi, Mom.” Kate looked up, grinning.
Then a pair of strong arms lovingly wrapped around Carol’s
waist. Turning, she looked up into John’s smiling face with those
adorable laugh lines at the corners of his brown eyes. “Why are
you home this early?”
He gave a low chuckle. “Because our daughter reminded
me about something.”
“I don’t understand.”
“What day is it, Mom?” Kate asked.
“Friday. So?”
“But what Friday?” Kate prompted. “Friday the . . .”
Carol glanced at the calendar, the box filled with her day’s
to-do list and then to the date. Her eyes widened. “It’s our
anniversary!”
“Happy Anniversary,” John said, bending down to kiss her.
“I forgot, too.”
“I realized you both did,” Katie said, sampling a cookie.
“I’m taking the kiddos to dinner and a movie and then we’re
spending the night at Nana’s. We’ll be back tomorrow night.”
“But —” Carol began.
“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of the cookies.”
Carol laughed. “Looks like it’s settled. She pecked her
daughter on the cheek. “You’re such a sweetie.”
Later, after the house was emptied, Carol and John looked
at each other across the kitchen table.
“I’m so sorry I forgot our anniversary, Hon.”
“Me, too.” Carol sipped her coffee. “I’ve felt recently that
we are — ”
“Not spending enough time with each other?” John
finished.
Carol nodded. “The kids are fantastic. But do you
remember when we first got married?”
John took her hand into his. “We’d happily spend hours
just us two doing nothing special.”
Carol went over to the calendar on the wall. “And I promise
I’ll start scheduling our time together.” She wrote “John and
Carol time” over the weekend dates before turning to her
husband. “So what shall we do? Dinner? Movies? Day trip
tomorrow?”
“I know the perfect thing.” He walked across the room and
took the pen out of her hand.
“What?”
“We’re going to do absolutely nothing.”
Carol thought about his suggestion for a moment then
hugged him tight. “What a fantastic idea. Happy Anniversary,
sweetheart!”
© Contents 2018
Put the Kettle On!
When I ask my husband, “What do you want to drink?” He will always respond, “A hot cup
of tea.” It brings comfort and is the cup that cheers. John has lived in the United States over
40 years, but tea remains his choice — preferably very hot.
In Scotland and the north of England, the evening meal takes its name after the beverage.
And there is “afternoon tea” around 3:30 for those at leisure, with finger sandwiches, cakes,
scones, crumpets, clotted cream and, of course, tea. The more dainty the china, the better.
The preparation of tea is an elaborate ritual and taken quite seriously. No teabags, please. Water in the kettle
needs to come to a rolling boil. First rinse out the china teapot with hot water, then place the loose tea in and
add very hot water and stir. Brew for at least five minutes. Of course, while tea is brewing, the
pot is covered with a “cosy.” Whether one places the cream and sugar in the cup first or last is
optional.
For John and most English folk at home and abroad, tea will never be eclipsed as a beverage. It
is quite simply a part of their lifestyle and culture. This is particularly so for the older genera-
tion. Tea is affectionately called the “cuppa” or “elevens” or “rosy lee [rhymes with tea].” When
visiting our English friends abroad, we’re always greeted with, “I’ll put the kettle on.”
* * *
On the tradition of tea-drinking, from teamuse.com
also, from Brenda Coulter’s site, Teatime at Brenda’s House
Yorkshire Tea Cakes
2lb strong plain flour
4ozs lard
2 teaspoons salt
1 pint lukewarm milk
1 egg
1oz fresh yeast
4ozs sugar
4ozs currants
Grease baking trays.
Rub lard into flour and salt.
Dissolve yeast and sugar in the lukewarm milk.
Add to flour together with beaten egg.
Knead to a soft dough (about 5-10 minutes).
Fold in currants.
Put in bowl.
Cover with cloth and put in warm place until double in size.
Knead gently.
Divide and roll into 4-inch rounds.
Place on baking tray.
Prick with fork.
Leave for 30 minutes to rise, setting oven to 425 degrees F (or Mark 7, UK).
Bake 15-20 minutes.
Cool on wire tray.
Ginger Biscuits
8ozs self-rising flour
4ozs hard margarine
1 teaspoon bicarbonate of soda
1 level teaspoon ground ginger
4ozs caster (4x, or powdered) sugar
2 good tablespoons golden syrup (light corn syrup)
Grease baking trays.
Set oven to 375 degrees F (or Mark 5, UK).
Rub fat into flour, ground ginger and bicarbonate of soda.
Add sugar and warmed syrup.
Mix well to a stiff consistency.
Roll into balls the size of a walnut, with floured hands.
Place on trays with room to spread and flatten with a fork.
Bake for 10 minutes.
Remove from trays while hot and place on cooling trays.
© Contents 2020
Welcome . . .
Put the Kettle On!
When I ask my husband, “What do
you want to drink?” He will always
respond, “A hot cup of tea.” It brings
comfort and is the cup that cheers.
John has lived in the United States
over 40 years, but tea remains his
choice — preferably very hot.
In Scotland and the north of England,
the evening meal takes its name after the beverage.
And there is “afternoon tea” around 3:30 for those at
leisure, with finger sandwiches, cakes, scones, crum-
pets, clotted cream and, of course, tea. The more
dainty the china, the better.
The preparation of tea is an elaborate ritual and taken
quite seriously. No teabags, please. Water in the kettle
needs to come to a rolling boil. First rinse out the china
teapot with hot water, then place the loose tea in and
add very hot water and stir. Brew for at least five
minutes. Of course, while tea is brewing, the pot is cov-
ered with a “cosy.” Whether one places the cream and
sugar in the cup first or last is optional.
For John and most English folk at home and abroad, tea
will never be eclipsed as a beverage. It is quite simply a
part of their lifestyle and culture. This is particularly so
for the older generation. Tea is affectionately called the
“cuppa” or “elevens” or “rosy lee [rhymes with tea].”
When visiting our English friends abroad, we’re always
greeted with, “I’ll put the kettle on.”
* * *
On the tradition of tea-drinking, from teamuse.com
also, from Brenda Coulter’s site, Teatime at Brenda’s
House
Yorkshire Tea Cakes
2lb strong plain flour
4ozs lard
2 teaspoons salt
1 pint lukewarm milk
1 egg
1oz fresh yeast
4ozs sugar
4ozs currants
Grease baking trays.
Rub lard into flour and salt.
Dissolve yeast and sugar in the lukewarm milk.
Add to flour together with beaten egg.
Knead to a soft dough (about 5-10 minutes).
Fold in currants.
Put in bowl.
Cover with cloth and put in warm place until double
in size.
Knead gently.
Divide and roll into 4-inch rounds.
Place on baking tray.
Prick with fork.
Leave for 30 minutes to rise, setting oven to 425
degrees F (or Mark 7, UK).
Bake 15-20 minutes.
Cool on wire tray.
Ginger Biscuits
8ozs self-rising flour
4ozs hard margarine
1 teaspoon bicarbonate of soda
1 level teaspoon ground ginger
4ozs caster (4x, or powdered) sugar
2 good tablespoons golden syrup (light corn syrup)
Grease baking trays.
Set oven to 375 degrees F (or Mark 5, UK).
Rub fat into flour, ground ginger and bicarbonate of
soda.
Add sugar and warmed syrup.
Mix well to a stiff consistency.
Roll into balls the size of a walnut, with floured
hands.
Place on trays with room to spread and flatten with
a fork.
Bake for 10 minutes.
Remove from trays while hot and place on cooling
trays.
© Contents 2020
Reconnecting With Family — Finding Our Roots
“How good it’d be to get my father’s family together,” was just a chance remark made by me to my
husband John. But it was enough to motivate him to initiate plans for our first reunion. An event which
reminds me of the sense of continuity and the feeling of security that my close and extended family
provide. It became a special day for many reasons.
My great-grandparents and their three sons — one of whom was my grandfather Thomas — emigrated
from Britain in 1887 to an established English community in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Now their descendants would all come
together for the first time here. This day had further significance for me since my husband also emigrated from England to the
City of Brotherly Love and our two young boys, John and Joshua, are Anglo-American.
How many of my relatives are still living? I wondered. I remembered my dad had a cousin who owned a real estate agency. I was
amazed and pleased to find his name still in the telephone directory. Francis was 80 years old and still working from his office.
“You’re Tom’s daughter,” he said. Your father and I were buddies as boys. I’ll have to tell my brother Ralph about you.” Francis
went on to share some of his memories of my father with me.
“Your Aunt Jane will be able to tell you where her children are living and where your Uncle Bill’s daughter can be reached. Wait a
minute and I’ll give you her telephone number.”
“Let’s get together,” I said. This was a good starting point.
I reached Aunt Jane, now 90 years old, at her nursing home.
“You’re my brother Tom’s daughter. You were only a baby when I saw you last. I will come to the reunion,” she told me.
Through Francis and Aunt Jane I was able to locate many more family members. So with great excite-
ment I sent out the invitations to relatives scattered near and far. The idea was received with much
appreciation and enthusiasm.
The day began sunny and warm with a refreshing breeze — a perfect May day for such an outing. John
raised the “Union Jack” alongside “Old Glory” on the pavilion we had rented for this special Memorial
Day event in a nearby state park in Flourtown. Close to 100 family members including many children
came out. A few of our clan were unable to be with us due to their age and illness.
My brother and his wife arrived from Arizona. Their children and grandchildren who live nearby also
came. So together with myself, John and our two sons, we represented my father Thomas’s side of the family.
When everyone had arrived and names placed in our book as a record, then our day began with a benediction by my second
cousin Francis. It was obvious he found it an honor to be called upon. His voice shook with emotion. I felt touched by the
moment.
After the picnic lunch, the older children and most of the men-folk played baseball or horseshoes, hiked, flew kites or went fishing
in a nearby creek, while the women socialized. Towards evening, a barbecue was provided. The younger children were delighted
with activities and games with prizes.
For me the most meaningful part of this day was meeting family for the first time and reconnecting with others. At our gathering
that day I met my father’s sister Jane for the first time. Until our telephone conversation Aunt Jane was only a name I had heard.
As she was leaving, Aunt Jane took my hand and with tears said,
“You and your husband have reunited our family after all these years. Thank you.” I was deeply gratified to hear this. We had
many long conversations during her last few months.
Prior to this day I had spoken only on the telephone with my cousin Millie. I learned she and her husband were doing our family
genealogy research. Millie had gone to the actual location of the search in England.
At our gathering she told of her discoveries while tracing our family’s roots. She displaying a genealogy chart she had prepared
and requested help from us in completing our individual portion for the family tree. Much of the information was obtained from a
family Bible of 1847 and records provided by the Mormon Church. Now our sons can trace their lineage back to England on both
their parent’s side.
An unexpected surprise came at our reunion when my father’s half-sister Mary produced the missing information necessary for
Millie to continue the genealogical search. Aunt Mary had brought along to the reunion some of my grandfather Thomas’s hand-
written records—an invaluable genealogical treasure trove!
“This is great!” announced Millie. “Just what we need!”
“Do you think you could go to the county records office in Gloucestershire when you are in England this summer?” Millie asked
me.
I felt so excited to be asked to help in the search for our roots. This would be my family’s first trip back to my husband’s home-
land since the birth of our sons ten years ago.
I realize my husband gets homesick and misses his folks in England. I was happy to hear him remark, “It’s wonderful to have
such a large family here in the U.S.”
To preserve and celebrate our history Millie and I are collecting personal and family stories, background information and photos
on living and deceased members of our family for inclusion in our soon-to-be published history book. It has been a challenge for
us to sort out oral family history from documented facts. We have discovered many things about our clan while gathering their
stories for this project. I learned that my grandfather served as Speaker of the House in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania.
Today Millie and I are making slow and deliberate progress with tracing our roots. We travel to the source to examine microfiche
of the original parish records and search Bishops’ Transcripts, census returns and probate records in county record offices
throughout the U.K. The Internet is useful in helping us gather our genealogical research. Although she and I have encountered
obstacles along the way and feel frustration at times, nevertheless we are excited about the prospects.
When will I find my great-great-grandfather’s baptismal certificate?”
I asked my husband after spending many hours in family records offices while on vacation each summer.
It was an exciting moment for me to locate my great-great-grandmother’s baptismal certificate in a parish register, to sit in
Tewkesbury Abbey where she was baptized, and to walk through the Medieval town in which she spent her childhood. And later
on to find their marriage certificate in a parish register in Wales. Recently I visited the cemetery in Wales where some of our
ancestors are buried. We hope eventually to find the missing information on our elusive great-great-grandfather to enable us in
our further search for our roots. Some day we may even locate members of our clan living in the U.K. An added bonus has been
that I have a closer connection to England through on-site research so that when I return to Britain I feel more at home in my
husband’s native land, too.
Since that first get-together I have recommitted to visiting regularly with my relatives. Another reunion is in the works. John and
I realize now the importance of family ties and reconnecting through reunions strengthens the bonds we treasure.
“Why did we wait so long?” I keep asking my family.
_________
An excerpt of this article was published in Reunions magazine, February-March, 2005 and Positively Woman (e-zine), November
2004.
© Contents 2020
Reconnecting With Family —
Finding Our Roots
“How good it’d be to get my father’s
family together,” was just a chance
remark made by me to my husband
John. But it was enough to motivate him to initiate plans for our
first reunion. An event which reminds me of the sense of conti-
nuity and the feeling of security that my close and extended
family provide. It became a special day for many reasons.
My great-grandparents and their three sons — one of whom was
my grandfather Thomas — emigrated from Britain in 1887 to an
established English community in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.
Now their descendants would all come together for the first time
here. This day had further significance for me since my husband
also emigrated from England to the City of Brotherly Love and
our two young boys, John and Joshua, are Anglo-American.
How many of my relatives are still living? I wondered. I remem-
bered my dad had a cousin who owned a real estate agency. I
was amazed and pleased to find his name still in the telephone
directory. Francis was 80 years old and still working from his
office.
“You’re Tom’s daughter,” he said. Your father and I were bud-
dies as boys. I’ll have to tell my brother Ralph about you.”
Francis went on to share some of his memories of my father
with me.
“Your Aunt Jane will be able to tell you where her children are
living and where your Uncle Bill’s daughter can be reached. Wait
a minute and I’ll give you her telephone number.”
“Let’s get together,” I said. This was a good starting point.
I reached Aunt Jane, now 90 years old, at her nursing home.
“You’re my brother Tom’s daughter. You were only a baby when
I saw you last. I will come to the reunion,” she told me.
Through Francis and Aunt Jane I was able to locate many more
family members. So with great excitement I sent out the invita-
tions to relatives scattered near and far. The idea was received
with much appreciation and enthusiasm.
The day began sunny and warm with a refreshing breeze — a
perfect May day for such an outing. John raised the “Union Jack”
alongside “Old Glory” on the pavilion we had rented for this spe-
cial Memorial Day event in a nearby state park in Flourtown.
Close to 100 family members including many children came out.
A few of our clan were unable to be with us due to their age and
illness.
My brother and his wife arrived from Arizona. Their children and
grandchildren who live nearby also came. So together with
myself, John and our two sons, we represented my father
Thomas’s side of the family.
When everyone had arrived and names placed in our book as a
record, then our day began with a benediction by my second
cousin Francis. It was obvious he found it an honor to be called
upon. His voice shook with emotion. I felt touched by the
moment.
After the picnic lunch, the older children and most of the men-
folk played baseball or horseshoes, hiked, flew kites or went
fishing in a nearby creek, while the women socialized. Towards
evening, a barbecue was provided. The younger children were
delighted with activities and games with prizes.
For me the most meaningful part of this day was meeting family
for the first time and reconnecting with others. At our gathering
that day I met my father’s sister Jane for the first time. Until
our telephone conversation Aunt Jane was only a name I had
heard.
As she was leaving, Aunt Jane took my hand and with tears
said,
“You and your husband have reunited our family after all these
years. Thank you.” I was deeply gratified to hear this. We had
many long conversations during her last few months.
Prior to this day I had spoken only on the telephone with my
cousin Millie. I learned she and her husband were doing our
family genealogy research. Millie had gone to the actual location
of the search in England.
At our gathering she told of her discoveries while tracing our
family’s roots. She displaying a genealogy chart she had pre-
pared and requested help from us in completing our individual
portion for the family tree. Much of the information was
obtained from a family Bible of 1847 and records provided by
the Mormon Church. Now our sons can trace their lineage back
to England on both their parent’s side.
An unexpected surprise came at our reunion when my father’s
half-sister Mary produced the missing information necessary for
Millie to continue the genealogical search. Aunt Mary had
brought along to the reunion some of my grandfather Thomas’s
handwritten records—an invaluable genealogical treasure trove!
“This is great!” announced Millie. “Just what we need!”
“Do you think you could go to the county records office in
Gloucestershire when you are in England this summer?” Millie
asked me.
I felt so excited to be asked to help in the search for our roots.
This would be my family’s first trip back to my husband’s home-
land since the birth of our sons ten years ago.
I realize my husband gets homesick and misses his folks in Eng-
land. I was happy to hear him remark, “It’s wonderful to have
such a large family here in the U.S.”
To preserve and celebrate our history Millie and I are collecting
personal and family stories, background information and photos
on living and deceased members of our family for inclusion in
our soon-to-be published history book. It has been a challenge
for us to sort out oral family history from documented facts. We
have discovered many things about our clan while gathering
their stories for this project. I learned that my grandfather
served as Speaker of the House in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania.
Today Millie and I are making slow and deliberate progress with
tracing our roots. We travel to the source to examine microfiche
of the original parish records and search Bishops’ Transcripts,
census returns and probate records in county record offices
throughout the U.K. The Internet is useful in helping us gather
our genealogical research. Although she and I have encountered
obstacles along the way and feel frustration at times, neverthe-
less we are excited about the prospects.
When will I find my great-great-grandfather’s baptismal certifi-
cate?”
I asked my husband after spending many hours in family
records offices while on vacation each summer.
It was an exciting moment for me to locate my great-great-
grandmother’s baptismal certificate in a parish register, to sit in
Tewkesbury Abbey where she was baptized, and to walk
through the Medieval town in which she spent her childhood.
And later on to find their marriage certificate in a parish register
in Wales. Recently I visited the cemetery in Wales where some
of our ancestors are buried. We hope eventually to find the
missing information on our elusive great-great-grandfather to
enable us in our further search for our roots. Some day we may
even locate members of our clan living in the U.K. An added
bonus has been that I have a closer connection to England
through on-site research so that when I return to Britain I feel
more at home in my husband’s native land, too.
Since that first get-together I have recommitted to visiting reg-
ularly with my relatives. Another reunion is in the works. John
and I realize now the importance of family ties and reconnecting
through reunions strengthens the bonds we treasure.
“Why did we wait so long?” I keep asking my family.
_________
An excerpt of this article was published in Reunions magazine,
February-March, 2005 and Positively Woman (e-zine),
November 2004.
© Contents 2020
Secret Admirer
“Maybe your secret admirer will shovel you out of our driveway again tomorrow.”
Trudi laughed at her mother’s words. “An admirer! Me? That’s as likely as a snow angel com-
ing to my aid.”
Trudi crossed the living room to the window and pulled back the heavy drapes. She swiped
the sleeve of her terry robe down the misty pane and gazed out. “Ray’s out of town for another
day, but he’s already extended the deadline for my proposal. Snow or no snow, tomorrow is the
deadline.”
She watched large flakes drift down against the street light. Ray was not only a wonderful
boss but one of those rare single men with whom she had much in common. She smiled. Even the
same birthday. If only he could see her as someone more than a co-worker. Trudi dropped into a
chair at the kitchen table.
Her mother leaned across and touched her arm, as though reading her thoughts. “You know
what they say, dear, about good things coming to those who wait.” She patted her daughter’s hand
in beat with her usual advice – “Don’t give up hope.”
“Thanks, Mom.” She wanted to believe in that promise. But how much longer before Ray noticed her? Trudi stood and
gave her a hug. “Need to turn in now if I’m going to get up an hour earlier.”
Next morning Trudi rolled over, opened one eye and hit the alarm button. Six o’clock! She pulled the covers over her
head, then remembered why she’d set the alarm so early. Hoisting herself out of bed, she walked to the window and pre-
pared herself mentally for the job outside. She opened the blind and saw a man with his back toward her shoveling the last
of the snow cover from the driveway. She must find out about him, but for now she must get to work.
When Trudi arrived at the indoor garage at work, the place was empty except for another vehicle. As she pulled along-
side the car, she spotted a snow shovel in the back seat, its broad blade glistening wet.
The driver — wearing a black pea jacket, white scarf and black earmuffs — got out as she approached and walked
over. “Looks like we’re the first to arrive.”
Haven’t seen him before.
The stranger extended his hand. “Name’s Ben. Yesterday was my first on the job.”
“Trudi. Personnel,” she said, releasing her hand from his. “Some snow!”
“Yeah, sure is. Any trouble getting out of your driveway?”
“No. Thanks to a kind stranger who shoveled me out.”
Ben blew on his hands and rubbed them together. “Freezing isn’t it? Look, I’m off to grab some coffee. Can I buy you
one?”
“No thanks . . . Ben. Gotta get upstairs.” She had a full day ahead of her.
He smiled. “Maybe another time soon.”
Ben held the door open and they entered the lobby. Before she could ask him what floor he worked on, he’d ducked
into the coffee shop.
Trudi entered the elevator and punched the button for the top floor. She dropped her proposal on the secretary’s desk.
Fingers crossed, she hoped Ray would be proud of her efforts.
Her heart flip-flopped when she saw Ray at his desk the next day.
“Have a minute?” He gestured to a chair. “Our boss e-mailed me last night to say he’s impressed with your work,” he
said, grinning. “You put a lot into it, Trudi, and it’s paid off.”
Her knees went weak just as she was about to sit. “That’s a relief,” she said, managing some self-restraint.
He drew his chair closer to hers. “You’ve scored with management, you know.”
But have I scored with you, too? Is the waiting over?
“I think you’re in line for a change of status.”
“You mean a job promotion?” What she longed for was a change of status with him.
“Yes, a promotion.” Ray edged closer and locked his sapphire blue eyes with hers. “This calls for celebration.” He
placed an arm over the back of her seat. “Er, could we go out tomorrow evening?” he whispered.
Could they ever!
“Sounds good,” Trudi said, her tone masking the excitement she felt.
Then she saw Ben’s tall frame in the doorway. He knocked and walked into the office. “You wanted to see me, Boss?”
“Terrific! Tomorrow night,” Ray said. Then he turned to Ben. “You’re here sooner than I expected.”
Ben cleared his throat and shuffled his feet. “I can come back.”
Ray leaned back in his chair. “Trudi, this is Ben. He will be working with me for a while.”
She nodded. “We introduced ourselves yesterday. Welcome aboard.”
Ben smiled. “Thanks.”
Trudi got up. “If there’s nothing more for now?” She had only until tomorrow evening to wait
for the something more. Hadn’t Mom told her good things happen to those who wait.
As she moved closer to the door, Trudi heard the new hire say, “She’s my new neighbor, and I planned to get to know
her. I would’ve shoveled her out even if you hadn’t asked me.” He laughed. “I didn’t even get to buy her a cup of coffee and
you get to take her out.”
Trudi grinned and kept on walking. In a roundabout way she’d already thanked Ben in the parking lot. A snow angel
could come in all disguises — even that of a new neighbor. Ben may have dug her out, but he was only a courier for her
admirer.
_________
This article appeared in Ruby for Women Magazine, March 2017.
Image courtesy of Pixabay
© Contents 2020
Welcome . . .
Secret Admirer
“Maybe your secret admirer will shovel you out of our
driveway again tomorrow.”
Trudi laughed at her mother’s words. “An admirer! Me?
That’s as likely as a snow angel coming to my aid.”
Trudi crossed the living room to the window and pulled
back the heavy drapes. She swiped the sleeve of her terry robe
down the misty pane and gazed out. “Ray’s out of town for
another day, but he’s already extended the deadline for my pro-
posal. Snow or no snow, tomorrow is the deadline.”
She watched large flakes drift down against the street
light. Ray was not only a wonderful boss but one of those rare
single men with whom she had much in common. She smiled.
Even the same birthday. If only he could see her as someone
more than a co-worker. Trudi dropped into a chair at the kitchen
table.
Her mother leaned across and touched her arm, as though
reading her thoughts. “You know what they say, dear, about
good things coming to those who wait.” She patted her daugh-
ter’s hand in beat with her usual advice – “Don’t give up hope.”
“Thanks, Mom.” She wanted to believe in that promise. But
how much longer before Ray noticed her? Trudi stood and gave
her a hug. “Need to turn in now if I’m going to get up an hour
earlier.”
Next morning Trudi rolled over, opened one eye and hit the
alarm button. Six o’clock! She pulled the covers over her head,
then remembered why she’d set the alarm so early. Hoisting
herself out of bed, she walked to the window and prepared her-
self mentally for the job outside. She opened the blind and saw
a man with his back toward her shoveling the last of the snow
cover from the driveway. She must find out about him, but for
now she must get to work.
When Trudi arrived at the indoor garage at work, the place
was empty except for another vehicle. As she pulled alongside
the car, she spotted a snow shovel in the back seat, its broad
blade glistening wet.
The driver — wearing a black pea jacket, white scarf and
black earmuffs — got out as she approached and walked over.
“Looks like we’re the first to arrive.”
Haven’t seen him before.
The stranger extended his hand. “Name’s Ben. Yesterday
was my first on the job.”
“Trudi. Personnel,” she said, releasing her hand from his.
“Some snow!”
“Yeah, sure is. Any trouble getting out of your driveway?”
“No. Thanks to a kind stranger who shoveled me out.”
Ben blew on his hands and rubbed them together. “Freez-
ing isn’t it? Look, I’m off to grab some coffee. Can I buy you
one?”
“No thanks . . . Ben. Gotta get upstairs.” She had a full
day ahead of her.
He smiled. “Maybe another time soon.”
Ben held the door open and they entered the lobby. Before
she could ask him what floor he worked on, he’d ducked into
the coffee shop.
Trudi entered the elevator and punched the button for the
top floor. She dropped her proposal on the secretary’s desk. Fin-
gers crossed, she hoped Ray would be proud of her efforts.
Her heart flip-flopped when she saw Ray at his desk the
next day.
“Have a minute?” He gestured to a chair. “Our boss e-
mailed me last night to say he’s impressed with your work,” he
said, grinning. “You put a lot into it, Trudi, and it’s paid off.”
Her knees went weak just as she was about to sit. “That’s
a relief,” she said, managing some self-restraint.
He drew his chair closer to hers. “You’ve scored with man-
agement, you know.”
But have I scored with you, too? Is the waiting over?
“I think you’re in line for a change of status.”
“You mean a job promotion?” What she longed for was a
change of status with him.
“Yes, a promotion.” Ray edged closer and locked his sap-
phire blue eyes with hers. “This calls for celebration.” He placed
an arm over the back of her seat. “Er, could we go out tomorrow
evening?” he whispered.
Could they ever!
“Sounds good,” Trudi said, her tone masking the excite-
ment she felt.
Then she saw Ben’s tall frame in the doorway. He knocked
and walked into the office. “You wanted to see me, Boss?”
“Terrific! Tomorrow night,” Ray said. Then he turned to
Ben. “You’re here sooner than I expected.”
Ben cleared his throat and shuffled his feet. “I can come
back.”
Ray leaned back in his chair. “Trudi, this is Ben. He will be
working with me for a while.”
She nodded. “We introduced ourselves yesterday. Welcome
aboard.”
Ben smiled. “Thanks.”
Trudi got up. “If there’s nothing more for now?” She had
only until tomorrow evening to wait
for the something more. Hadn’t Mom told her good things hap-
pen to those who wait.
As she moved closer to the door, Trudi heard the new hire
say, “She’s my new neighbor, and I planned to get to know her.
I would’ve shoveled her out even if you hadn’t asked me.” He
laughed. “I didn’t even get to buy her a cup of coffee and you
get to take her out.”
Trudi grinned and kept on walking. In a roundabout way
she’d already thanked Ben in the parking lot. A snow angel
could come in all disguises — even that of a new neighbor. Ben
may have dug her out, but he was only a courier for her
admirer.
_________
This article appeared in Ruby for Women Magazine, March 2017.
Image courtesy of Pixabay
© Contents 2020
The Christmas Bazaar
“It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas.”
The words coming from a radio rang in Melanie’s ear. She walked toward her spot through a crowded room,
hauling a large metal table. Today was the annual Christmas bazaar, and Mel was there to sign copies of a book
series containing a few of her stories, but there was no “carol ringing within her heart.”
Thirty-five years old, single, and no prospects in sight. Mel heaved a sigh, feeling like the last person who should be writing
inspirational stories called All in Good Time or Wait and See.
As she struggled to unfold the table, her hand caught a sharp edge, and the table crashed to the floor. An icy knot grew in
Melanie’s stomach as blood pulsed to the surface of her finger.
Great. Blood-smeared books are just what I need now.
“Let me help with that,” came a deep, masculine voice from behind Mel.
She whirled around and saw a handsome, smiling face. “Would you mind?” Pulling a tissue from her bag, she wrapped it
around her finger.
He grabbed the table in both hands. “That’s what I’m here for.” He placed it upright against a wall decorated with a colorful
wreath. “Will that do?”
Mel mustered a smile. “Thank you.” The aroma of brewed coffee filled the air, and she felt a little less anxious.
He looked at her hand and motioned toward a corridor. “The restroom’s at the far end if you want to run cold water over
that. I’ll get peroxide and a Band-Aid. Coffee?”
Mel walked toward the long hallway. “Please,” she called over her shoulder.
When she returned, the stranger opened an adhesive bandage and placed it lightly around her ring finger.
He extended his hand. “Sorry. The name’s Jake.” He gestured to the large poster with her name and the word “author” in
bold lettering. “And you’re Melanie.”
Mel took his big warm hand in her own and glanced over the eye-catching display he’d made with the books. “I didn’t expect
you to do all this, too.”
“No problem.” As Jake surveyed her stack of books, his gaze fixed on Inspiration for Singles. He cleared his throat. “So
you’re donating your proceeds to a Christmas fund at Northern Home?”
Mel nodded. “Towards gifts for those who have nowhere to go over the holiday.”
Vendors were setting up tables around them and music blared from a speaker. “I do some writing as well,” he shouted over
the noise.
“Always nice to meet an —” But before she could finish speaking, an elderly lady rushed
up to Jake.
“Wonderful to see you here on a Saturday morning, Pastor Jake,” she said, taking his
arm.
“Good morning, Phyllis. Interested in buying one of these books to raise money for a
worthy cause this author supports?” he said, flashing a big smile.
Jake was a Godsend — an answer to her prayer for help this morning. “It’ll make Christmas a little brighter for some child,”
she managed to say, her gloomy mood lifting.
“Your name will be listed as a contributor,” Jake added.
“What’ve you got?” The prospective reader scanned the titles before picking one up. “I’ll take Christmas Miracles.” She
glanced at Jake, then leaned close to Mel and whispered. “We’re very fond of our pastor. It’s surprising someone hasn’t snatched
him up before now.” Phyllis smiled, waved and shuffled off before Mel could respond. Mel felt her cheeks grow warm.
A thick silence hung between the two despite the rising tide of holiday clamor. “So you’re a writer and the pastor here?” Mel
said without looking directly at Jake.
“Well . . . I have a weekly column in the local paper.”
“What do you write?”
Jake rubbed the back of his neck and gave a low chuckle. “I give advice to singles.”
Mel’s eyes dropped down to his left hand. No wedding ring. Before she could say anything, he was called away. Was Phyllis
trying to spark her interest?
Over the next hour, several shoppers stopped by Mel’s book table. She answered questions and made a few sales, but she
couldn’t help thinking about Jake.
Then, there he was, standing in front of her again, wearing a smile and holding a cup of coffee for her.
Mel held out one of her books. “Let me give you this as a thank you for coming to my rescue.” She handed him Inspiration
for Singles — the one he’d eyed earlier.
“That might be useful for my singles group,” he said, shifting his feet. “We meet here on Monday.” His grin widened. “Love to
have you join us.”
“Thank you. Would you like me to sign your copy?”
His blue eyes fixed on hers. “Please put your number down, too. You know where I can be found, but I don’t know about
you. And read my column next week in The Review.” He winked. “It’s about anticipating the unexpected.”
As she handed her book back to him, their hands touched. Did he feel the same attraction?
Less than a week until Christmas. Mel’s heart surged with hope. Was Jake the answer to another prayer of hers? Outside
Christmas bells were ringing and this time they rang within her heart, too.
____________
This short story appeared in the Splickety Magazine issue of December 2013.
© Contents 2020
Welcome . . .
The Christmas Bazaar
“It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas.”
The words coming from a radio rang in Melanie’s ear. She
walked toward her spot through a crowded room, hauling a
large metal table. Today was the annual Christmas bazaar, and
Mel was there to sign copies of a book series containing a few
of her stories, but there was no “carol ringing within her heart.”
Thirty-five years old, single, and no prospects in sight. Mel
heaved a sigh, feeling like the last person who should be writing
inspirational stories called All in Good Time or Wait and See.
As she struggled to unfold the table, her hand caught a
sharp edge, and the table crashed to the floor. An icy knot grew
in Melanie’s stomach as blood pulsed to the surface of her
finger.
Great. Blood-smeared books are just what I need now.
“Let me help with that,” came a deep, masculine voice
from behind Mel.
She whirled around and saw a handsome, smiling face.
“Would you mind?” Pulling a tissue from her bag, she wrapped
it around her finger.
He grabbed the table in both hands. “That’s what I’m here
for.” He placed it upright against a wall decorated with a colorful
wreath. “Will that do?”
Mel mustered a smile. “Thank you.” The aroma of brewed
coffee filled the air, and she felt a little less anxious.
He looked at her hand and motioned toward a corridor.
“The restroom’s at the far end if you want to run cold water
over that. I’ll get peroxide and a Band-Aid. Coffee?”
Mel walked toward the long hallway. “Please,” she called
over her shoulder.
When she returned, the stranger opened an adhesive ban-
dage and placed it lightly around her ring finger.
He extended his hand. “Sorry. The name’s Jake.” He ges-
tured to the large poster with her name and the word “author”
in bold lettering. “And you’re Melanie.”
Mel took his big warm hand in her own and glanced over
the eye-catching display he’d made with the books. “I didn’t
expect you to do all this, too.”
“No problem.” As Jake surveyed her stack of books, his
gaze fixed on Inspiration for Singles. He cleared his throat. “So
you’re donating your proceeds to a Christmas fund at Northern
Home?”
Mel nodded. “Towards gifts for those who have nowhere to
go over the holiday.”
Vendors were setting up tables around them and music
blared from a speaker. “I do some writing as well,” he shouted
over the noise.
“Always nice to meet an —” But before she could finish
speaking, an elderly lady rushed up to Jake.
“Wonderful to see you here on a Saturday morning, Pas-
tor Jake,” she said, taking his arm.
“Good morning, Phyllis. Interested in buying one of these
books to raise money for a worthy cause this author supports?”
he said, flashing a big smile.
Jake was a Godsend — an answer to her prayer for help
this morning. “It’ll make Christmas a little brighter for some
child,” she managed to say, her gloomy mood lifting.
“Your name will be listed as a contributor,” Jake added.
“What’ve you got?” The prospective reader scanned the
titles before picking one up. “I’ll take Christmas Miracles.” She
glanced at Jake, then leaned close to Mel and whispered. “We’re
very fond of our pastor. It’s surprising someone hasn’t snatched
him up before now.” Phyllis smiled, waved and shuffled off
before Mel could respond. Mel felt her cheeks grow warm.
A thick silence hung between the two despite the rising
tide of holiday clamor. “So you’re a writer and the pastor here?”
Mel said without looking directly at Jake.
“Well . . . I have a weekly column in the local paper.”
“What do you write?”
Jake rubbed the back of his neck and gave a low chuckle.
“I give advice to singles.”
Mel’s eyes dropped down to his left hand. No wedding
ring. Before she could say anything, he was called away. Was
Phyllis trying to spark her interest?
Over the next hour, several shoppers stopped by Mel’s
book table. She answered questions and made a few sales, but
she couldn’t help thinking about Jake.
Then, there he was, standing in front of her again, wear-
ing a smile and holding a cup of coffee for her.
Mel held out one of her books. “Let me give you this as a
thank you for coming to my rescue.” She handed him Inspira-
tion for Singles — the one he’d eyed earlier.
“That might be useful for my singles group,” he said, shift-
ing his feet. “We meet here on Monday.” His grin widened.
“Love to have you join us.”
“Thank you. Would you like me to sign your copy?”
His blue eyes fixed on hers. “Please put your number
down, too. You know where I can be found, but I don’t know
about you. And read my column next week in The Review.” He
winked. “It’s about anticipating the unexpected.”
As she handed her book back to him, their hands touched.
Did he feel the same attraction?
Less than a week until Christmas. Mel’s heart surged with
hope. Was Jake the answer to another prayer of hers? Outside
Christmas bells were ringing and this time they rang within her
heart, too.
____________
This short story appeared in the Splickety Magazine issue of
December 2013.
© Contents 2020
© Contents 2020
EVENTS
I will be speaking and/or signing copies of my novel,
When Valleys Bloom Again,
at the following locations.
Saturday, July 27, 10:00 a.m. to 2:00 p.m.
Signing copies of When Valleys Bloom Again
($10.00, cash or check)
Annual Hospitalizd Veterans Tribute and Concert
Gorgas Park (Roxborough Section of Philadelphia)
6300 Ridge Avenue
Philadelphia, PA 19128
Saturday, September 7, 9:00 a.m. to 3:00 p.m.
Rain Date - Sunday, September 8
Signing copies of When Valleys Bloom Again
($10.00, cash or check)
Annual Freedoms Foundation Valley Forge Chapter
Tribute to Veterans Car Show
1601 Valley Forge Road
Phoenixville, PA 19460
Contact - Amy Braccia 267-767-9809
Saturday, September 14, 1:00 p.m. to 4:00 p.m.
Signing copies of When Valleys Bloom Again
Barnes&Noble
Main Street at Exton
301 Main Street
Exton, PA 19431
610-524-0103
Sunday, September 29, 11:00 a.m. to 3:00 p.m.
Signing copies of When Valleys Bloom Again
($10.00, cash or check)
Westtown Day Fair
Oakbourne Mansion & Park
1014 South Concord Road
West Chester, PA 19382
Saturday, October 5, 10:00 a.m. to 4:00 p.m.
Signing copies of When Valleys Bloom Again
($10.00, cash or check)
Collingswood Book Festival
Downtown Collingswood
771 Haddon Avenue
Collingswood, NJ 08108
Saturday, October 12, noon to dusk
($10.00, cash or check)
Community Harvest Festival
Curtis Arboretum
1250 W. Church Road
Wyncote, PA 19095
Wednesday, October 16, 7:00 p.m.
Lynn Trimborn, President of The Roxborough Manayunk Wissahickon Historical Society,
cordially invites members, prospective members, and guests,
when Pat Jeanne Davis will speak about her experience and research
while writing her novel, When Valleys Bloom Again, at The Center of Journey’s Way,
403 Rector St. (between Mitchell and Pechin Sts.),
Roxborough, Philadelphia
Admission is free.
Light refreshments will be served.
Pat will be happy to sign a copy of her book (available at the meeting) for attendees.
Saturday, November 2, 11:00 a.m. - 3:00 p.m.
($10.00, cash or check)
Hockessin Art & Book FairHockessin Community Recreation Center (PAL)
7259 Lancaster Pike
Hockessin, Delaware
Photos from Event Saturday, November 9, 10:00 a.m. - 2:00 p.m.($10.00, cash or check)
Holiday Craft Fair West Whiteland Township Building 101 Commerce Drive Exton, PA 19341 Photos from Event Sunday, November 17, noon to 5:00 p.m.($10.00, cash or check)
Southeastern PA Veterans Center Craft Show
1 Veterans Drive Spring City, PA 19475 484-949-582 Photos from Event Monday, December 2, 6:30 p.m. to 8:30 p.m.($10.00, cash or check)
Soroptomist International of Roxborough, PA
Monthly Meeting and Christmas Party The Center at Journey’s Way 403 Rector St. (between Mitchell and Pechin Sts.), Roxborough, PA 19128 Photos from Event Saturday, December 7, 10:00 a.m. to 2:00 p.m.($10.00, cash or check)
Advent Lutheran Church Craft Fair
1601 Green Lane West Chester, PA 19382 610-436-0807 Photos from Event Sunday, December 15, 1:00 p.m. to 3:00 p.m. Signing books purchased at store counter Barnes&Noble The Metroplex Plymouth Meeting, PA 19462 610-567-2900 Photos from Event I would love to meet you! ARCHIVED BLOG APPEARANCES February 2019 2/1 - Lighthouse-Academy Blogspot 2/3 - Hope-Inspired Stories 2/5 - Among the Reads 2/6 – Reading is my SuperPower 2/14 – Stitches Thru Time 2/20 – Whispers in Purple 2/22 – Seekerville 2/26 – Julie Arduini Blog March 2019 3/4 – HiStory Thru the Ages 3/7 – Sara Foust Blog April 2019 4/1 – June Foster Blog 4/4 – History, Mystery and Faith Blog 4/12 – Inkslinger 4/12 – Snark & Sensibility Blog 4/24 – Catherine Castle Blog May 2019 5/10 – The Over 50 Writer June 6/6 - HIStory Thru The Ages 6/11 - Lena Nelson Dooley’s Blog July 7/12 - Linda Wood Rondeau’s Blog 7/17 - Kimberly Byrd’s Blog 7/18 - Candace West Posey’s Blog August 8/5 - Trish Perry’s Blog 8/6 - Liz Tolsma’s Blog 8/8 - Linda Shenton Matchett’s Blog 8/9 - Seriously Write Blogspot 8/23 - Shannon Taylor Vannatter’s Inkslinger Blog September 9/29 - Patti’s Porch October 10/2-16 - Let’s Chat November 11/11 - Anglotopia Magazine Website 11/12 Shannon Taylor Vannatter’s Inkslinger Blog 11/14 - History, Mystery and Faith Blog
© Contents 2020
EVENTS
I will be speaking and/or signing copies of my
novel,
When Valleys Bloom Again,
at the following locations.
Saturday, June 22, 10:30 a.m. to 2:30 p.m.
Book Signing Only
West Chester Public Library
415 North Church Road
West Chester, PA 19380
610-696-1721
Saturday, July 27, 10:00 a.m. to 2:00 p.m.
Signing copies of When Valleys Bloom Again
($10.00, cash or check)
Annual Hospitalizd Veterans Tribute and Concert
Gorgas Park (Roxborough Section of Philadelphia)
6300 Ridge Avenue
Philadelphia, PA 19128
Saturday, September 7, 9:00 a.m. to 3:00 p.m.
Rain Date - Sunday, September 8
Signing copies of When Valleys Bloom Again
($10.00, cash or check)
Annual Freedoms Foundation Valley Forge Chapter
Tribute to Veterans Car Show
1601 Valley Forge Road
Phoenixville, PA 19460
Contact - Amy Braccia 267-767-9809
Saturday, September 14, 1:00 p.m. to 4:00 p.m.
Signing copies of When Valleys Bloom Again
Barnes&Noble
Main Street at Exton
301 Main Street
Exton, PA 19431
610-524-0103
Sunday, September 29, 11:00 a.m. to 3:00 p.m.
Signing copies of When Valleys Bloom Again
($10.00, cash or check)
Westtown Day Fair
Oakbourne Mansion & Park
1014 South Concord Road
West Chester, PA 19382
Saturday, October 5, 10:00 a.m. to 4:00 p.m.
Signing copies of When Valleys Bloom Again
($10.00, cash or check)
Collingswood Book Festival
Downtown Collingswood
771 Haddon Avenue
Collingswood, NJ 08108
Saturday, October 12, noon to dusk
($10.00, cash or check)
Community Harvest Festival
Curtis Arboretum
1250 W. Church Road
Wyncote, PA 19095
Wednesday, October 16, 7:00 p.m.
Lynn Trimborn, President of The Roxborough
Manayunk Wissahickon Historical Society,
cordially invites members, prospective members, and
guests, when Pat Jeanne Davis will speak about her
experience and research while writing her novel, When
Valleys Bloom Again, at The Center of Journey’s Way,
403 Rector St. (between Mitchell and Pechin Sts.),
Roxborough, Philadelphia
Admission is free.
Light refreshments will be served.
Pat will be happy to sign a copy of her book (available at the
meeting) for attendees.
Saturday, November 2, 11:00 a.m. - 3:00 p.m.
($10.00, cash or check)
Hockessin Art & Book FairHockessin Community Recreation Center (PAL)
7259 Lancaster Pike
Hockessin, Delaware
Photos from Event Saturday, November 9, 10:00 a.m. - 2:00 p.m.($10.00, cash or check)
Holiday Craft Fair West Whiteland Township Building 101 Commerce Drive Exton, PA 19341 Photos from Event Sunday, November 17, noon to 5:00 p.m. ($10.00, cash or check) Southeastern PA Veterans Center Craft Show 1 Veterans Drive Spring City, PA 19475 484-949-582 Photos from Event Monday, December 2, 6:30 p.m. to 8:30 p.m.($10.00, cash or check)
Soroptomist International of Roxborough, PA
Monthly Meeting and Christmas Party The Center at Journey’s Way 403 Rector St. (between Mitchell and Pechin Sts.), Roxborough, PA 19128 Photos from Event Saturday, December 7, 10:00 a.m. to 2:00 p.m.($10.00, cash or check)
Advent Lutheran Church Craft Fair
1601 Green Lane West Chester, PA 19382 610-436-0807 Photos from Event Sunday, December 15, 1:00 p.m. to 3:00 p.m. Signing books purchased at store counter Barnes&Noble The Metroplex Plymouth Meeting, PA 19462 610-567-2900 Photos from Event I would love to meet you! ARCHIVED BLOG APPEARANCES February 2019 2/1 - Lighthouse-Academy Blogspot 2/3 - Hope-Inspired Stories 2/5 - Among the Reads 2/6 – Reading is my SuperPower 2/14 – Stitches Thru Time 2/20 – Whispers in Purple 2/22 – Seekerville 2/26 – Julie Arduini Blog March 2019 3/4 – HiStory Thru the Ages 3/7 – Sara Foust Blog April 2019 4/1 – June Foster Blog 4/4 – History, Mystery and Faith Blog 4/12 – Inkslinger 4/12 – Snark & Sensibility Blog 4/24 – Catherine Castle Blog May 2019 5/10 – The Over 50 Writer June 6/6 - HIStory Thru The Ages 6/11 - Lena Nelson Dooley’s Blog July 7/12 - Linda Wood Rondeau’s Blog 7/17 - Kimberly Byrd’s Blog 7/18 - Candace West Posey’s Blog August 8/5 - Trish Perry’s Blog 8/6 - Liz Tolsma’s Blog 8/8 - Linda Shenton Matchett’s Blog 8/9 - Seriously Write Blogspot 8/23 - Shannon Taylor Vannatter’s Inkslinger Blog September 9/29 - Patti’s Porch October 10/2-16 - Let’s Chat November 11/11 - Anglotopia Magazine Website 11/12 Shannon Taylor Vannatter’s Inkslinger Blog 11/14 - History, Mystery and Faith Blog
