 This month we Quills are sharing what we think are some of the best things about the fall Season. Come, join us! Please be sure to follow the links of my fellow Quills. Autumn is a lovely time of year. In my neck of the woods, it is also that time when we prepare ourselves mentally and physically for the bitter cold months to come. As the temps begin to fall and the nights grow colder, we add more layers of clothing, turn the thermostat up—and attend to some of our favorite things about this time of year. Here are five of mine ...  1. It’s time to start putting fires into the fireplace again. What a cozy environment! Of course, this means having the chimneysweep out, as well. My cleaning is scheduled and I can hardly wait to start my first fire of the season.  2. The changing colors. What is not to love about looking out and seeing God’s wondrous creation turn from fresh greens that have grown weary over the months, to golden yellows, fire-like oranges, and intense reds. The best part is looking up through the branches for a glimpse of the unique blue of an autumn sky. I always enjoy watching my island home change from week to week.  3. October it a difficult month when it comes to “bills coming due.” In addition to the standard costs, there is the second half of the property tax to pay and my home insurance and one of my life insurance payments come due. This year I’m adding an unintended payment for my new double ovens. I would have hoped for more years out of the unit I purchased and installed when I revamped my kitchen a decade or so ago, but I’m told I actually got an unexpectedly long life out of them. So, while the cost is something I’m not thrilled to have to take on (in October of all months), I guess that’s life. The best part of the new unit though? French doors on the upper oven—which I’m sure I’ll appreciate more and more as the years go on. Oh, will that be nice!  I’m excited about getting the new unit delivered and installed (particularly since I am currently without an oven at all), so that I can start filling the house with glorious fall scents once again, like those of baking bread among other things—which is another great thing about autumn. (Pictured above: my new ovens. Pictured here: one of my absolute favorite breads, which is my Pepper, Chili, Cumin, and Cheese, Bread. I've added the recipe for you at the end. Do enjoy.)  4. Thanksgiving. This might well be my favorite holiday of the year. Having a heart filled with gratitude acts as good insurance against all sorts of troubles, and this holiday is a good reminder to be grateful at all times.  5. I already told the kids to start their holiday lists. Hopefully, they don’t share the same items with others who ask for lists from them, because I have a terrible habit of going down their lists and (barring something extraordinary!) ordering whatever they have there. (Somehow, they still seem surprised at the number of packages under the tree and at what's inside each when they start opening.) In truth, I don’t get much joy from going out in the cold to shop, so I do nearly all my shopping online these days. As the packages begin to arrive, I get to enjoy an extended holiday season. I even started a wish list of my own this year, to avoid that awkward moment when the kids ask me what’s on my list and I can’t think of a thing—because I am in need of nothing but to see them and to spend time with them. And that brings me to what is sure to be the best part of this holiday season—my first grandchild’s first Thanksgiving and Christmas. I am truly blessed. My Pepper, Chili, Cumin, and Cheese Bread5 to 6 cups flour (roughly) 2 packages dry yeast (4-1/2 teaspoons) 3 tablespoons sugar (or less, if you prefer) 2 teaspoons salt 2 teaspoons freshly ground black pepper 2 teaspoons cumin 2 teaspoons chili seasoning - I used Trader Joe’s which is a mix of chili pepper, cumin, garlic and oregano. (For the pepper, cumin and chili, if you like, add more, but I probably would not go beyond an extra teaspoon of each, as I wouldn’t want it to get overpowering.) 2 cups warm water (120° to 130° degrees) 2 tablespoons avocado oil (or shortening, if you like) 2 to 2-1/2 cups shredded cheese (I used a finely shredded blend of Cheddar, Monterey Jack, Asadero and Queso Blanco. A more coarsely grated cheese would leave small fissures of yellow—which would be great if that’s your preference.) Makes 2 loafs about 8”X4”. Blend 2 cups flour, the yeast, sugar, salt, pepper, cumin and chili. (The cheese doesn’t come until after the first rise.) Add the hot water and oil. With a mixer, blend all, then beat on med-high for 3 minutes. (This is a rather unusual step for bread, but it works so I won’t mess with it. I suspect it may account, at least in part, for the quick rise.) Stir in the next 2 to 2/12 cups flour, 1/2 cup or so at a time. (I only need just 5 cups total, including for kneading, but humidity and temp can play into that.) When you can work with the dough, turn it out on a floured work surface and knead for 8-10 minutes. (This is a sturdy, dense dough.) Place the kneaded ball in a lightly greased or buttered bowl. Let rise until double—about 45 minutes. It’s ready when, if you poke your finger in it, the dent remains. Punch the dough down, move to a very lightly floured work surface. Work in the cheese. You will actually have to knead the cheese in, a half cup or so at a time, as the dough doesn’t want to accept it. When ready, split the dough in half and shape two loaves. Put in greased bread pans and cover with wax paper until risen sufficiently (to the top of the pan or so) —about an hour. You don't want your oven too hot because of the cheese, which on the outside of the bread, can get quite brown. I go 350° for 45-ish minutes. The bread crust is a deep brown, but be prepared to cover with foil while baking if it starts to get too dark (after about the first 30 minutes). The loaves are done when you can turn them out and hear a hard hollow sound when you tap on the bottom. Because the crust is quite firm, I butter the top so it is easier to slice, later. Cool before slicing. (I know it’s hard, but as with any bread, if you don’t want to end up with goo inside for the next few slices, it is highly advised.) This bread is GREAT toasted for sandwiches, makes terrific grilled cheese-type sandwiches, too, and is fabulous for avocado bread. (I toast, butter, lightly garlic salt it, and then top with sliced avocado.) Let me know if you try it and if so, what you think! I wonder what PS. Broaddus, author of A Hero's Curse, will list as his five favorite things about fall. His list is sure to come complete with his signature humor. Let's see then.  There are so many things I love about fall. And it’s more than fall, really. It all starts with Indian Summer, my favorite time of the year. Where I grew up in the high desert mountains of the West late August kicked off Indian Summer. The monsoon season would finally settle the dust that had hung in the air since March. Cool, crisp mornings refreshed the land and the soul. The days would be warm and, well, perfect, extending through the first part of October. And finally, Robin Lythgoe, author of As the Crow Flies.
Check back for more from Robin! In the meantime, you'll find her site here.
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Autumn is essentially upon us, and we Quills come to you with our latest! This month, we are sharing thoughts about our work space. I'll start so as to get things going. Then please be sure to follow the links for more from my fellow Quills. In truth, I cannot complain about not having enough room. After 30+ years of raising children, my husband and I are now alone in our home. While I would not use “large” as a word to describe it, even with children in the house we had significantly more room than my family of ten (Mom, Dad, and their eight daughters) had when I grew up. In those days, up to four shared a single bedroom, and there was but one bathroom for the entire clan. I’ve been blessed in that the circumstances in which I raised my children were significantly better—and yet, I was always at a loss for finding space for one thing in particular. That one thing was: me. A few years back, when we were down to a single child with us at home, I tried to claim some space on the main living level. I reasoned, since my husband had his own 40X60 outbuilding for all his hobbies, that so too, ought I have some space. I tried that for awhile, but it was too busy, as he came and went through my claimed space several times daily. About that time, my daughter-in-law came to stay with us for a year while her husband (my son) was deployed. After they put most of their things in storage, we moved her into our lower walkout level so that she would have her own study, bedroom, living space, kitchenette and bath. It was such a joy to have her! I wouldn’t change that opportunity for anything. But then, shortly after she left ... I decided to take the level over for myself.  My space is currently in a state of craziness—as I’m using it as a staging point for going through all sorts of things in storage (to determine what to give away, what might be worth selling, and what I may still need to store for my children, not all of whom have a place to call their own as yet). Even so, for the first time in many years, I now have space for my work and my writing, for relaxing and reading, where I can set out a yoga mat so that I can stop to use it as and when I choose, and possibly in the future, even to do some crafting. And when I need a break, I now step out to my own little patio to enjoy the garden I prepared there this year, and to watch the birds at the feeders. I’m enjoying having an area to call my own these days. What, you ask, is the best thing of all? That’s easy: limited interruptions. How about you? Do you have space to call your own? I have a lot of updating to do in my writing space, but for now, I'm going to turn my attention to what my fellow Quills are doing. Robin, how are things there for you?  I am one of those wildly lucky people who can claim an entire room for her writing space. With a population of one at my house, the quiet and privacy isn’t important anymore, but there is something to be said for having space dedicated to one’s dream. If only the room was the right color… Thank you, Robin! Now, to P.S. Broaddus. Parker? Scribblings, scritchings and scratchings. My writing desk is situated in the study, against the far wall, just right for catching the morning sun. It's perhaps the one, sometimes, semi-quiet place in our small farmhouse complete with five kids. Other than the back corner of the hot water heater closet. Thanks to all for stopping by. Until next time!
It has been a hectic time of late for we Quills, but this month we are back with more of our favorites - and we hope yours - FLASH FICTION! P.S. Broaddus chose our picture prompt this time. Take a look!  Now that is one busy picture! Entitled Epic Journey, it is the work of Volkanyenen. As promised, we have three new stories for you, each based on the this picture prompt. I'll set mine out, then follow up with P.S. Broaddus's story, and finally, with Robin Lythgoe's tale. Are you ready? Here we go! The Screaming Wilds |
 | (I do hope you can forgive anything out of sorts here. In any case, these are pics of my kitchen. You'll notice above the cupboards, presents and lights. They are not real presents; only decorations, but this has become a tradition we all look forward to seeing!) |  |
I remember that each Christmas, the local theater put on a free movie for all the kids to see. It was never anything you’d expect, like a Disney film, for example. But the novelty of seeing a movie at all was the thing of which memories were made. (I only recall having seen the following movies in theater in all my childhood years: Bambi; Yours, Mine and Ours (when I was invited for a friend’s birthday); and The Sound of Music (when a teacher of mine invited a few students to join her).) After the Christmas movie, we kids would crowd around to get to the Santa, who had for each child, one of those little stockings of netting that had hard candy treats in it. That entire day was like magic to all of us kids.
(There is one thing I need not worry about this Christmas, or really any Christmas, and that is, that it will be a white one. Here's a shot from out a back door.)
Each Christmas one of our neighbors sent a box of treats over. All I remember were the small chocolates, wrapped separately. Considering there were ten (yes, TEN!) in our household, there were few treats per person, indeed. As to Christmas presents, we girls each typically received a single item from my parents. Truth be told, I only remember one of us ever receiving something that was actually on her Christmas list. (You know the list I’m talking about. It was the one, pages long, that listed pretty much everything in the Sears Christmas catalog.) Still, the homemade pajamas we received were excitement enough.
Notwithstanding the scarcity of treats and gifts back in the day, I have extremely fond memories of Christmas. Perhaps it was the lack overall that made each treat that much sweeter, each gift that much more appreciated. Consequently, the things that stand out are my memories of visiting grandparents after a drive there to see houses lit up with Christmas lights, time with our cousins, meals with rice pudding and lefse (neither of which I actually eat!), and of gift opening—after dinner and all the clean-up was done. It was exciting, but never so much that we lost the true magic of Christmas, or that we lost sight of its meaning as a season to reflect on God’s gift to us, to give unto others (and not necessarily to receive), and to gather with family and loved ones.
With the world out of sorts in 2020, I’m unsure what this Christmas will bring for my family. Currently, the plan is that our daughter will be home from Pittsburgh to see the rest of us here. I hope everyone stays well and healthy in the meantime so that we can do that. Time will tell. In the meantime, I pray that you all stay safe, and healthy, and happy—and good (so that Santa can come visit you, of course!).
Merry Christmas, all! Happy Holidays!
Notwithstanding the scarcity of treats and gifts back in the day, I have extremely fond memories of Christmas. Perhaps it was the lack overall that made each treat that much sweeter, each gift that much more appreciated. Consequently, the things that stand out are my memories of visiting grandparents after a drive there to see houses lit up with Christmas lights, time with our cousins, meals with rice pudding and lefse (neither of which I actually eat!), and of gift opening—after dinner and all the clean-up was done. It was exciting, but never so much that we lost the true magic of Christmas, or that we lost sight of its meaning as a season to reflect on God’s gift to us, to give unto others (and not necessarily to receive), and to gather with family and loved ones.
With the world out of sorts in 2020, I’m unsure what this Christmas will bring for my family. Currently, the plan is that our daughter will be home from Pittsburgh to see the rest of us here. I hope everyone stays well and healthy in the meantime so that we can do that. Time will tell. In the meantime, I pray that you all stay safe, and healthy, and happy—and good (so that Santa can come visit you, of course!).
Merry Christmas, all! Happy Holidays!
Yes, 2020 will surely go down as one of at the most difficult years of all time. There's no surprise there. Our lives have been in turmoil from the outset, and as we are nearing its end, things are not looking any more stable, particularly since today is a Friday and the 13th of the month! So what better time than now to escape, even if only for a few minutes? Here's your chance with our latest flash fiction stories.
This time, P.S. Broaddus, author of A Hero's Curse, chose our prompt.
This time, P.S. Broaddus, author of A Hero's Curse, chose our prompt.
The artist of this beauteous piece, entitled, "Golden Fish," is Laura Diehl, found online, here.
As you all know, I consistently challenge myself to come in under 1000 words for my flash fiction. This time, I'm running at roughly 575 words. I look forward to hearing what you think.
He Needed Her
by Patricia Reding
Copyright Patricia Reding 2020
Crimson waxy leaves glistened in the waning sunlight, chattering amongst themselves as a cool breeze moved through. In the distance, the cat-like cries of black-tailed gulls sounded out.
Kaida flitted down the garden path toward the sea. On reaching the water’s edge, she came to a sudden halt. Before her and a short distance from shore, tiptoeing from one semi-submerged rock to another, an egret meandered. On sight of her, he spread his snowy white wings, then took to flight, joining the mewing gulls in their happy airborne ballet. Kaida grinned at the bird’s gangly legs that seemingly dragged behind, but then quickly turned serious once more. She had to get back to KanaRyu as quickly as possible. He needed her.
Spotting her boat hidden in the nearby rushes, Kaida ran to it and then dragged it toward the water. While its bow still rested on the sandy shore, she tied her lure to its curled end, knowing full well that once at sea, she could not do so without capsizing. When through, she pushed the boat out until water surrounded her. Then she jumped aboard before catching the wind in her sail.
Short minutes later, as she rounded the tip of the peninsula that she called home, the sun sank below the western horizon, while the moon began its ascent in the east. Now came the part Kaida found the most difficult—waiting, as the hours passed, while her lure filled up with needed moonlight. Still, she remained focused. For KanaRyu’s sake, she dared not fall asleep and miss the moment. He needed her.
Finally, as the moon began to set, Kaida’s lure reached its full capacity. Immediately, it began to glow and to sing. Soon, its golden light spread across the water, while its music filled the air. The calming sound reminded Kaida of when her grandmother played her end-blown flute.
When the light and sound surrounded her, Kaida threw her bait out, then watched as the fish approached the dragon-scales, ate, and then swam to her hand. The minutes passed quickly as she worked. Finally, thrilled with her catch, she turned her sail toward home.
Kaida flitted down the garden path toward the sea. On reaching the water’s edge, she came to a sudden halt. Before her and a short distance from shore, tiptoeing from one semi-submerged rock to another, an egret meandered. On sight of her, he spread his snowy white wings, then took to flight, joining the mewing gulls in their happy airborne ballet. Kaida grinned at the bird’s gangly legs that seemingly dragged behind, but then quickly turned serious once more. She had to get back to KanaRyu as quickly as possible. He needed her.
Spotting her boat hidden in the nearby rushes, Kaida ran to it and then dragged it toward the water. While its bow still rested on the sandy shore, she tied her lure to its curled end, knowing full well that once at sea, she could not do so without capsizing. When through, she pushed the boat out until water surrounded her. Then she jumped aboard before catching the wind in her sail.
Short minutes later, as she rounded the tip of the peninsula that she called home, the sun sank below the western horizon, while the moon began its ascent in the east. Now came the part Kaida found the most difficult—waiting, as the hours passed, while her lure filled up with needed moonlight. Still, she remained focused. For KanaRyu’s sake, she dared not fall asleep and miss the moment. He needed her.
Finally, as the moon began to set, Kaida’s lure reached its full capacity. Immediately, it began to glow and to sing. Soon, its golden light spread across the water, while its music filled the air. The calming sound reminded Kaida of when her grandmother played her end-blown flute.
When the light and sound surrounded her, Kaida threw her bait out, then watched as the fish approached the dragon-scales, ate, and then swam to her hand. The minutes passed quickly as she worked. Finally, thrilled with her catch, she turned her sail toward home.
As the pink of dawn lightened the sky, Kaida rushed back up the path, toward the tea house sitting in the center of the garden. Grandmother had not been happy about Kaida’s bringing home a pet, and had only reluctantly—and temporarily—agreed to give up her quiet space to house him until he grew too large. But two things Grandmother had vehemently refused: to feed him, or to gather what was necessary to restore his magic energy, as and when necessary. That was Kaida’s job, and Kaida well knew that in that regard, KanaRyu needed her.
She pulled the door open, stepped inside, then bowed.
“A minute later may have been too late,” KanaRyu whispered, slowly opening his steely blue eye, “as my magic was sorely depleted when last I ventured out.”
“I’m sorry!” Kaida cried. “But I made, indeed, a wondrous catch! So many were willing to sacrifice for you and for the sake of your dragon magic!” She emptied before him, her pouch of the gold pieces that the fish she caught had become—the very gold KanaRyu has asked her to gather, the gold he needed to survive, the gold for which she knew he needed her.
Kaida’s heart swelled as he sniffed, then smiled, his scales glowing in appreciation and anticipation.
She pulled the door open, stepped inside, then bowed.
“A minute later may have been too late,” KanaRyu whispered, slowly opening his steely blue eye, “as my magic was sorely depleted when last I ventured out.”
“I’m sorry!” Kaida cried. “But I made, indeed, a wondrous catch! So many were willing to sacrifice for you and for the sake of your dragon magic!” She emptied before him, her pouch of the gold pieces that the fish she caught had become—the very gold KanaRyu has asked her to gather, the gold he needed to survive, the gold for which she knew he needed her.
Kaida’s heart swelled as he sniffed, then smiled, his scales glowing in appreciation and anticipation.
I hope you enjoyed that quick tale!
Parker is temporarily delayed, but I will be sure to bring you his tale when it becomes available. Parker?
Parker is temporarily delayed, but I will be sure to bring you his tale when it becomes available. Parker?
Light Out of Darkness
by P.S. Broaddus
Copyright P.S. Broaddus 2020
Akari knew Grandfather’s stories. The stories of creation–of the sun and moon and wind. Of Amaterasu, the sun goddess, of how she put her light into the darkness of the sea and brought forth life. Or Akari’s favorite, of how the goddess hid from her brother in a cave. Akari knew how the sun goddess felt. Sometimes she wanted to hide from her brothers too.
Grandfather’s face would grow serious, and his white eyebrows seemed to grow even bushier and more wild than usual when he told of Yomi, the land of the dead—but then his eyes would crinkle with laughter as he told of how the gods tried to get Amaterasu to leave her cave and give light to the world once again. “It is light that gives life.”
“Light, and love,” Grandmother interjected.
Grandfather’s face would grow serious, and his white eyebrows seemed to grow even bushier and more wild than usual when he told of Yomi, the land of the dead—but then his eyes would crinkle with laughter as he told of how the gods tried to get Amaterasu to leave her cave and give light to the world once again. “It is light that gives life.”
“Light, and love,” Grandmother interjected.
(Be sure to follow the link for the rest of the story ...
Thank you, Parker!
Robin? I can't wait.
Thank you, Parker!
Robin? I can't wait.
Golden Girl
by Robin Lythgoe
Copyright Robin Lythgoe 2020
The third plank in from the window was the one that squeaked, and Mashika avoided it as she climbed carefully through the window, shrouded in summer’s warm shadows. Getting caught sneaking back into the house after hours was not a good idea. Light came from downstairs in the kitchen. Someone was still up. She held her breath, and after a moment she heard voices speaking. Mama and Papa were still awake.
“There’s no choice," Papa was saying. “We’ll start tomorrow night.”
“There’s no choice," Papa was saying. “We’ll start tomorrow night.”
This lovely October day, as I look out to see leaves raining down from the trees in my yard, I am turning my attention to my portion of our post for A Drift of Quills this month. Our subject? We are each to tell something about one of our supporting characters. I thought it would be fun to hear from my fellow Quills first.
P.S. Broaddus, author of A Hero's Curse, is up first. Parker?
The supporting character I’d like to throw a spotlight on today is from my upcoming novel and work-in-progress, “The McGalliard Street Gate.” It’s a fast-paced, action-adventure novel about two brothers, Mikey and Lucas, aimed at 2nd, 3rd, & 4th graders that’s a fabulous explosionary mashup of Jurassic Park and The Hardy Boys. (You might recall I did a character sketch of “Doc” from the same story a couple of months ago. Can you tell I’m excited?)
Today, I want to introduce you to Jim Braxton, a retired Orlando chief-of-police ...
Today, I want to introduce you to Jim Braxton, a retired Orlando chief-of-police ...
Thank you so much, Parker!
Robin Lythgoe, author of As the Crow Flies, always has something wonderful to share. Robin?
Robin Lythgoe, author of As the Crow Flies, always has something wonderful to share. Robin?
I am neck deep in the writing of Crow’s Nest, another novel about the best thief in all the glittering empire. (According to himself.) Crow is a little bit of an attention hog, so today I want to cast some light on one of his supporting characters: Girl.
First, I promise you that “Girl” is not her real name. Second, I promise that you’ll find out what that is in the new book. And that’s it for spoilers today! But how did she come by such an awful moniker?
First, I promise you that “Girl” is not her real name. Second, I promise that you’ll find out what that is in the new book. And that’s it for spoilers today! But how did she come by such an awful moniker?
Thank you, Robin! And now, for my turn.
It is a bit difficult to choose, but this time around, I will go with Velia.
Velia is an Oathtaker who I first introduced in Book One of The Oathtaker Series. Her unique magical powers include the power to discern truths from falsehoods, and the power to take on the pain of another. She also has limited ability to communicate with animals. Some might recall that when Velia told Lilith of that power in Book One, Lilith thought that meant that Velia might have a keen ability to understand the brutish soldiers from Chiran who were then at Lilith’s beck and call.
Velia and Mara, along with Basha, all Oathtakers, are particularly good friends. This grouping was a natural creation for me since my own best friendships have typically come in threes over the years. As I’ve experienced personally, these three able to speak truth to one another and to share their pains with one another. Of them, Velia laughs most readily and wholeheartedly. She is also one of the few who can set Mara right—and she doesn’t hesitate to do so, when needed.
We authors are often reminded to "show" and not to "tell" our readers things, so I thought I might do the same when discussing Velia. You see, in Volume Four, currently in the works, it is Velia who is able to force Mara to face some difficult truths. Here is an exchange (as yet unedited) when Mara resists the efforts of others to provide her with some much needed assistance:
Velia is an Oathtaker who I first introduced in Book One of The Oathtaker Series. Her unique magical powers include the power to discern truths from falsehoods, and the power to take on the pain of another. She also has limited ability to communicate with animals. Some might recall that when Velia told Lilith of that power in Book One, Lilith thought that meant that Velia might have a keen ability to understand the brutish soldiers from Chiran who were then at Lilith’s beck and call.
Velia and Mara, along with Basha, all Oathtakers, are particularly good friends. This grouping was a natural creation for me since my own best friendships have typically come in threes over the years. As I’ve experienced personally, these three able to speak truth to one another and to share their pains with one another. Of them, Velia laughs most readily and wholeheartedly. She is also one of the few who can set Mara right—and she doesn’t hesitate to do so, when needed.
We authors are often reminded to "show" and not to "tell" our readers things, so I thought I might do the same when discussing Velia. You see, in Volume Four, currently in the works, it is Velia who is able to force Mara to face some difficult truths. Here is an exchange (as yet unedited) when Mara resists the efforts of others to provide her with some much needed assistance:
This will pass. In the meantime, you need to let those who love you, help you.”
“I don’t need any help.”
“Yes, my friend, you do,” Velia, now serious, scolded. “What’s more, your friends and loved ones need to help you. They want to help you. One of the most important things you could ever give is the gift of allowing others the experience of giving back to you. Since you are someone who so rarely needs anything, they aren’t likely to have many opportunities.” She held her friend’s gaze. “This happens to be one of them. So let them do things for you. Let them give to you. Let them serve you. It will be good for everyone! Believe it or not, you are not the only person who has ever found herself at something less than her best—if only for a time.”
Mara made a face at her.
“Make all the faces you like, but you know I’m right.”
Sighing, Mara wiped her tears away. “I suppose that sounds like goods advice.”
“It should,” Velia agreed. “Do you know where I got it from?”
“No.”
“You.”
Ouch. Huh?
 | (If I had to say what Velia looks like, I might choose something like this pic here. |
Later, and at a time when Dixon is away, Mara awakens from a disturbing dream. Concerned it might be prophetic, she rushes to visit Velia. The following (as yet unedited) is a rather lengthy conversation between the two of them. However, I chose to share it because it shows how these two relate:
“Now, you were saying,” she prodded as she set the tray on the table, sat down, and then took up the pot of tea.
“It was awful.”
“Tell me.” Velia poured two mugs, one of which was missing its handle. She set the intact one before her friend, then wrapped her hands around the other as she leaned in to listen.
“Well . . .” Mara untied the holder that kept Jesse tight to her frontside. “You see, I was away. I don’t know where. But Jesse needed me. I could hear him crying.” She paused, swallowing hard, then started again in a rush. “In my dream I knew where he was and I knew he was hungry, and I knew I had to get to him, and I knew how far away it was, and I knew—”
“Slow down,” Velia said, patting Mara’s arm. “Have some tea and then start again.”
Mara tested the temperature of her drink with a tentative sip. Setting the mug back down, her hands shaking, she looked up at her friend.
“Velia, he was so hungry and he was crying so hard. But I couldn’t get to him. I—” Suddenly, she went silent. Her eyes narrowed. She pulled back. “You’re smiling. You’re not taking this seriously! Something is going to happen to Jesse, I just know it.”
Velia nodded. “Yes, I am smiling, but I’m also taking this seriously. And yes, something probably is going to happen to Jesse—but I don’t think it’s what you think it is.”
Mara stood as if to go. “Sometimes I wonder why I bother with you!” she huffed.
Velia grabbed her arm. “Well you do—bother with me, as you say. And you do it for the same reason that I bother with you, and that Lucy bothers with you, and that Basha bothers with you. It’s the same reason that Dixon does, and that Nina has for all these years. It’s also the same reason that the twins do, and that—”
“What are you talking about?” Mara snapped, pulling her arm free.
“Mara, you come to me for the same reason I go to you in times of need. It’s because I know that with you, I will get the truth along with a bit of wisdom, just like you know that with me, you will get the same.”
“Oh really,” Mara sneered. “And just what is this truth you’re alluding to that you seem to find so . . . amusing?”
Velia pointed at the chair across from her. “If you want to know, you’ll have to sit back down.”
In a huff, Mara sat. Then balancing Jesse face down across her lap, she folded her arms and glared at her friend.
“So,” Velia said, her brow raised, “you say that Jesse needed you.”
“It was a prophecy, Velia, I just know it was.”
Velia nodded. “Perhaps.” She took up one of the rolls, broke a piece off, and then ate it. “Mara, you know that at any given time, there are not many things we know about the future. And as I’ve heard you tell others over the years, that is a good thing.”
“It would kill us,” Mara interrupted. “If someone knew all the pain he’d go through in his future, he couldn’t stand it. Thankfully, the horrors we face in this life are spread out over time. But can you imagine knowing about them, fearing them, experiencing them, feeling them, all at once, over and over, day after day, before they even happen? Yes, I truly believe it would kill us.” She paused. “And that’s why I would never, ever, go to a fortune teller!” Her brow furrowed as she added, “Most of them are frauds anyway.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” Velia said, patting her hand. “Still, there is one thing we do know about the future, and that is that good things will happen—and that bad things will happen.”
Mara rolled her eyes and shook her head. “That’s what you have for me, Velia? That’s the wisdom you have to share with me? The truth that I came to you for? Seriously? Is that the best you can do?”
“Yes, it is.” Velia took Mara’s hand. “Look, the Good One just blessed you with your dream, and now I’m going to tell you how.”
Mara pulled her hand away and glared once more.
“My dear friend,” Velia began, “your dream was a blessing.” She tore off another piece of roll. A warm, citrusy scent rose in the air. Then she placed another roll on a plate and set it down before Mara. “Look, you will not always be there for Jesse. That would be, to put it simply, impossible. There will be times you will be called away. There will be times you will allow him to try out his wings in a manner that will take him out from under your protection. You will need to do that, Mara, if he’s to grow up. And after all, that’s what you will want him to do. Ultimately, you want him to become a man.”
Mara scowled and rolled her eyes once more.
“Not too soon, for sure,” Velia continued. “But over time, your job will be to help him to grow up so that he will be prepared to leave you. For that to happen, he’ll need to experience some of the dangers out there without your protecting him all the time.”
A heavy teardrop rolled down Mara’s cheek. “But he’s just a baby, Velia. My baby. One I never thought I’d have! And he’s already been through so much.”
Velia smiled. “And he will go through so much more on this journey we call ‘life.’ You may as well admit it now—and you might as well prepare for it now. There will be times Jesse will need help when you will not be there. There will be times when perhaps you cannot be there. It is a fact of life—and it is one that you are well to take note of right here and right now before you try to manage every little tiny aspect of his life, to shield him from every possible or conceivable danger, however remote. You would smother him.” Pausing, she grinned and leaned in as though to share a secret. “Not to mention that you’d make the rest of us a bit crazy in the process. And of course, you’d be doing exactly what you warn others against. That is, you would be protecting him so intensely, you would keep him a baby for too long.”
Mara looked down, sighed, then glanced back up. “You think that’s all there is to this? That my dream was some acknowledgement of the way things are now?”
“I’m certain of it.”
Nodding, Mara bit her lip. Then, “I’m so embarrassed,” she whispered. She grinned ever so slightly.
“Whyever would you be?” Velia chuckled. “Mara, life is far too difficult to figure out every little thing on our own. We all need some help from time to time. Now, it’s true that some need a bit less aid than others. That’s probably why you and Basha and I are such great pals. We are all strong and capable women who rarely need much from others. But even strong and capable women can’t go it alone.”
Mara sat quietly for a long moment, taking in Velia’s words. “Did you ever have a dream like that?”
Velia chuckled. “Oh, yes!”
Mara leaned in. “Seriously?”
“Seriously. It was one of the things I was most surprised about when my firstborn came. I’d been responsible for the life and safety of a member of the Select in years prior. As you know, I’d even sworn to help you to protect the twins before I had any children of my own. But I’d never had dreams like the ones I had when Aden came. I still have one of them from time to time. I have fewer these days for sure, but every once in awhile . . .” She paused, then continued. “I just accept it as Ehyeh’s way of reassuring me that I’m doing everything I can, and that some things are out of my control. Then my dreams keep me from beating myself up.”
“What do you mean?”
“They help me to keep things in perspective, to stay constantly aware that I’m not perfect. I acknowledge that I’m sure to make parental mistakes along the way. You see, my job as a parent—as much as it is to protect and to teach my children—is to learn to let go of them. It’s one of those fine lines a parent walks: protect but don’t smother; provide but don’t spoil; release but don’t abandon. So, life goes on and things happen—and sometimes those things are not pleasant.”
Mara nodded, then sighed audibly. “Honestly, sometimes I don’t know what I’d do without you—especially now that Dixon is away.”
We could all use a friend like Velia from time to time. One who knows us well enough to know when we need a dose of truth along with a bit of compassion. Do you think? Have you a friend like that?
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AuthorCheck out Patricia's blog articles, interviews of other authors and book reviews here. |
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