A Sweet September Read

 If you're anything like me, your summer was a flurry of fun, but now that September's here, you're ready to hunker at home with a stack of good books. I returned home after a week of playing with my sisters, and my return flight was the sort of adventure that if it was written in a book no one would believe it.

On Friday night, I got a text from Allegiant Airlines telling me that my flight from Santa Ana to Provo on the 19th had been delayed. This seemed irrelevant since that flight happened a week before. I got a second text saying my flight from Provo to Santa Ana had been delayed, but they didn’t give me any time. I went online and saw they were still selling tickets for my 1:20 flight, so I called them. Waited on hold for about two hours. They told me that the flight had been delayed until Sunday at 9 a.m. 

On Saturday morning, I got up and packed my bag—even though I believed I would be leaving on Sunday morning. (That was miracle number one.) I drove my sister to the Salt Lake City airport. While I was at the curb putting in directions for a return to my sister-in-law’s house, I got a text from Allegiant telling me that my flight was now leaving at 11:15. This was miracle number two, because if the text had come a minute later, I wouldn't have seen it until I reached my sister-in-law's house and that would have been too late.)

It was 10 a.m. Flying down the freeway, I called my sister because I had her cooler in my rental car. I had to fill my car with gas and return it to the location that was 4 miles from the Provo airport and catch an Uber. I didn’t think I could do it. I would have to live without my suitcase. The biggest snafu was what to do with my sister’s cooler. I would have to ditch it and buy her a new one. I called her and she suggested she pick up my bag from my sister-in-law's (thank goodness I had packed!) meet me at the car drop-off, and drive me to the airport.

Miracle number three. My sister got my call. Her phone had broken, and she didn't know it, but several people had tried to call her that day without success.

Now we were both racing down the freeway. Thanks to my sister and her somewhat working phone, I made it to the airport at 11:04. The flight left at 11:15. Thanks to kind people escorting me through TSA, I made my flight. (That was the biggest miracle of all.) I had my bag, and I didn’t have to buy my sister a new cooler.

I call these experiences--these moments where I feel like heaven is holding my hand and conspiring in my favor--heaven helps.

How about you? Has heaven been working in your favor recently?

I'm going to ask Heaven to help me again this week. I'm finally going to do something I've been thinking about for over a year--start reading my books, a chapter at a time, on YouTube. A friend and I will be challenging each other. Is there one of my books you'd like to hear? Let me know because I'm dithering about which one to start off.

 

Are you looking for something to read?

I have a suggestion:

 

Thank you to all my early readers! If you were an early reader and have your review burning a hole in your pocket, you can post it now HERE.

Here's an excerpt from my new release:

My grandparents lived in a Victorian Home on twenty acres ten miles southeast of Bellingham. My grandfather had inherited the house and property from his parents. His father had also been a doctor, back in the era when house calls were the norm, and great great-grandmother had been a botanist. Her greenhouse still stood, even though it hadn’t been used for anything other than growing poinsettias for as long as I could remember and locals still called the property the Whiting Farm, even though the livestock was a distant memory.

Piper rode with me to my grandparents, Caden, in his Jeep. Trailing after my grandpa’s slow-moving Mercedes, I felt like I was stuck in the middle of a funeral procession.

“Tell me about the party last night,” Piper demanded.

Never one to kiss and tell, I debated for only half a second before confiding. “I don’t know what to think,” I admitted.

“And you didn’t get a chance to talk?”

“No, I got tangled up in a matchmaking scheme.”

Piper laughed. “What does that mean?”

When I told her about Mr. Gerard and Brit, her expression immediately sobered. “Oh, that’s so sad.”

“I know. After Mr. Gerard fell asleep, Brit and I stayed up until after midnight talking. He doesn’t think his grandfather will ever accept his partner. It’s causing them all a lot of pain.”

“Okay, that’s tragic, but I don’t know Brit. Tell me more about Caden.”

I flexed my fingers around the steering wheel. “You know he’s in love with brother’s fiancée, right?”

“No!” Piper looked skeptical. “I don’t believe it.”

“It’s true.”

“Did he tell you that?”

“He had told me he was in love with someone and when I saw him watching her sing at the party, I knew. He’s surprisingly easy to read.”

“Then why was he kissing you?”

“The D.J. told him to.”

Piper snorted. “That’s the lamest excuse I’ve ever heard. He wouldn’t have kissed you unless he wanted to.”

“Of course, he wanted to. Doesn’t everyone want to kiss? But that doesn’t mean it meant anything to him.”

“So, you have two men joining your grandparents for dinner. Are you interested in either of them?”

I tick-tocked my head side to side, asking myself the same question. “I’m not good at this sort of thing. I thought I was going to marry Kyle and look how that turned out.”

“Do you still love him?”

“Yes, but in a different sort of way than I used to. It’s like Cretan.”

“Your dog?” Piper chirped.

I nodded. “I loved him, but I no longer cry over him. I remember him with fondness and a quiet ache, but his death doesn’t sting the way it used to.”

“I should hope not. You’ve had Buster for years now.”

“Two years. And Kyle’s been gone for about as long.” I smiled as a thought occurred to me. “I might miss Cretan more than Kyle.”

“Let’s not tell that to Kyle.”

“Or maybe we should.”

Dr. Mitchell climbed from his BMW when Grandpa’s Mercedes pulled down the long driveway.

“Here we go,” Piper said, sounding like someone who was about to climb on a roller coaster.

*CADEN

How had I gotten involved in this parade of cars? All I wanted to do was talk to Sadie. Alone. I needed to speak to her face to face. What I needed to say couldn’t be said via text or over the phone.

Why not? What did I need to say? That the kiss had been a mistake?

Had it?

My thoughts drifted to Simone and then Alex. Was it fair to kiss Sadie, or anyone, for that matter, when my heart belonged to Simone? And was it possible that the reason I wanted to speak to Sadie in person was because there might be a chance we kiss again?

I followed Sadie’s car down a long driveway and rounded a hill. A Victorian farmhouse nestled in a valley at the base of the foothills came into view. A BMW was parked by the front porch, and when we approached, a tall blonde man about my own age climbed out.

Was this Dr. Mitchell? Why had I thought he’d be Mr. Whiting’s peer? My heart and thoughts stuttered. Had Grandpa Whiting invited Doc Mitchell because he was playing matchmaker? My temperature spiked.

Sadie and Piper pulled behind the BMW, leaving me wondering where I was supposed to park. Grandpa Whiting pointed to a clearing near a gnarled apple tree. I followed his direction. By the time I joined the others, first Sadie and then Piper was hugging Doc Mitchell.

I disliked him already.

A pink Cadillac pulled down the driveway and parked beside me. A gray-haired woman dressed in a brightly colored patchwork caftan slammed out of the car. She ran an appraising gaze over me, making me feel like an animal at the fair. “And who are you?”

“Caden Haywood, ma’am.”

She slapped my arm. “Don’t ma’am me. In fact, don’t ma’am anyone. No one likes to be reminded that they’re old.”

“Sorry, ma—” I caught myself. “Mrs. Wendell, right?”

“Aw, I see my reputation has proceeded me.” She eyed me. “What did they have to say about me, huh?”

“Well, there was some discussion on whether or not you were bringing your dog.”

Mrs. Wendell snorted. “Why would that even come up? Everyone knows I don’t go anywhere without Horatio.”

“So, where is he?”

“Napping. He always falls asleep in the car.” Mrs. Wendell opened the passenger door, and softly called out, “Wakie, wakie, love bug. We’re here.” She pulled a tiny fur ball out of the backseat.

Horatio blinked open his eyes and glared at me as if he knew I was a veterinarian and my kind was responsible for administering vaccinations.

Mrs. Wendell crooked her elbow at me. “Walk us inside, young Haywood?”

I obliged and took her arm. We were several paces behind Sadie, Piper, and Doc Mitchell.

“Now, tell me what you’re doing here?” Mrs. Wendell demanded.

“I was invited.”

“Of course, you were.” Mrs. Wendell chuckled. “So, Gayle and Claude are trying to marry off their granddaughter.”

“I don’t know if that’s—”

“What else could it be?” Mrs. Wendell asked.

“I don’t know. The pleasure of my company?”

The chuckle turned into a throaty laugh. “Aw, the arrogance of youth.”

“Do you know why you were invited?” I countered.

“Of course, I do.” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “I’m fabulously rich, so I’m a good person to know if you’re running a charity—and Gayle is always trying to raise money for some worthy cause.” She raised her voice to a normal volume. “Besides, I’m terrific company. Witty. Outspoken. Intelligent.”

Aw, the arrogance of age, I thought, but did not say. Together, we slowly crossed the lawn and climbed the porch steps.

Sadie held the door open for us. “Thanks for coming,” she said.

“We had nothing else happening,” Mrs. Wendell said.

I wondered if I was included in her statement, then realized she meant herself and Horatio.

“Where’s Buster?” I asked Sadie. I had so many other questions, but this seemed like the safest.

“At my mom’s,” Sadie told me. “He’ll be coming with me to Jordan Trails tonight though.”

Thinking of Sadie becoming my neighbor again, I immediately brightened. “He didn’t want to hang with Horatio?”

“I’m sure he did,” Sadie said, “but he wasn’t invited.”

“That pleasure is only afforded to Horatio,” Mrs. Wendell announced.

The spacious living room had large windows overlooking the valley and a fireplace flanked by built-in bookshelves. Two wingback chairs stood beside the hearth across from a plush sofa. The table was set for seven in the adjacent dining room.

“Mr. Haywood, it looks as if you’ve met Margo,” Mr. Whiting said.

“Yes.” I nodded at her.

“And this is Kevin Mitchell,” Mr. Whiting waved at the man standing too close to Sadie. “His father was a cardiac surgeon. We worked together for years.”

Dinner was awkward with Mrs. Wendell dominating the conversation that revolved around the deplorable traffic in downtown Ivan. Piper, Mrs. Wendell, Horatio, and I sat on one side of the table, and Mrs. Whiting, Sadie, and Mitchell on the other. Mr. Whiting sat at the head like a king holding court.

Watching Sadie without being able to talk to her alone was killing me.

“Three doctors at the table,” Mrs. Wendell announced over our soup. “We should be safe enough.”

“Two doctors,” Doc Mitchell said.

“Caden is a veterinarian,” Sadie said.

“Then the only one who should be relieved is Horatio.” Doc Mitchell pointed his spoon at the dog occupying a spare chair.

Did he intend for that to be a joke? Because it wasn’t very funny. Of course, Doc Mitchell didn’t look like the witty type.

“Where did you go to school?” Doc Mitchell asked me.

“Western University.”

“And you?”

“University of Washington.”

“Where your father was a trustee,” Mr. Whiting put in as if he wanted to add to the list of Doc Mitchell’s recommendations.

“Dad got you in, did he?” Mrs. Wendell asked.

Doc Mitchell flushed and mumbled something before ladling in a spoonful of soup.

Both Mr. and Mrs. Whiting flushed while Sadie and Piper looked embarrassed.

“Don’t mind me,” Mrs. Wendell said, “I always like to talk to the elephant in the room.”

Was she now calling Mitchell an elephant?

Mrs. Wendell planted her elbows on the table and folded her hands above her soup. “There’s no sin in taking full advantage of all the gifts God has to offer. In fact, I think that’s what we’re supposed to do. That’s what makes us wise and profitable servants.”

“Are we going to have a scriptural discussion?” Mr. Whiting asked with a disapproving scowl.

“Why not? It’s the Sabbath, is it not?” The gleam in Mrs. Wendell’s eye told me she was ready for banter. “You know, religion is the last taboo.”

“What does that mean?” Mr. Whiting blustered.

“It’s the one thing no one has the gumption to talk about,” Mrs. Wendell said. “Everyone and anyone are willing to talk about sex, and any old bore doesn’t mind sharing their complete medical history, but no one wants to talk about religion.”

“Maybe because they hold their faith close to their hearts, and they don’t want to be mocked for their beliefs,” Sadie said.

“Yes,” Mrs. Whiting said, giving her granddaughter an approving and loving glance, “Jesus said not to cast your pearls before swine.”

Mrs. Wendell straightened in her chair and looked down her nose at Mrs. Whiting. “Are you calling me a swine?”

Mrs. Whiting put down her spoon and immediately looked contrite. “Of course not, dear Margo. I would never—”

Mrs. Wendell laughed. “I’m just joshing you. I know you value my pocketbook too much to ever insult me.”

“Margo!” Sadie’s grandmother gasped and placed her hand over her heart as if she could keep it from breaking.

Mrs. Wendell laughed harder. “Joshing, remember?”

“I should hope so,” Mrs. Whiting said. “We’ve been friends for a long time.”

I wondered if either of the women had ever heard the term frenemy.

 Finally, after dessert had been served and Mrs. Whiting suggested the young people take a tour of the greenhouse, I hoped to get Sadie alone.

“Take Horatio with you, will you?” Mrs. Wendell suggested. “He could use a good scamper.”

Horatio’s ears perked.

“Does he have a leash?” Sadie and the dog exchanged long looks.

“He won’t need one.” Mrs. Wendell braced her hands on the table and hoisted herself to her feet. “He’s a very obedient dog.” She waddled over with Horatio cradled in her arms.

I was so eager to get Sadie alone, that I willingly took the dog.

Sadie, Mitchell, and Piper also stood. Well, we weren’t quite alone, but at least we were out from under Sadie’s grandparents’ scrutiny, and away from Mrs. Wendell’s hostile banter.

“Sadie will show you all the way,” Mrs. Whiting said.

After tucking Horatio under my arm, I followed Sadie through the French doors, and out onto a stone patio overlooking the long stretch of green lawn. The afternoon sun glinted off the greenhouse. The poinsettia looked like a smudge of red through the glass walls. Mitchell and Piper trooped after me.

A bunny darted through a boxwood hedge. Horatio twisted in my arms and bounced free.

“Oh no!” Piper cried.

Despite wearing a dress and heels, Sadie plunged into the hedge. “I’ll get him!”

A large bird circled over our heads and cast a shadow on the lawn.

Mitchell went after Sadie, leaving Piper and I exchanging glances on the patio.

Seconds later, Sadie screamed.

I darted into the hedge and came out on the other side.

“What happened?” Piper, still on the patio, called out.

“An eagle!” Sadie pointed a quivering finger at a bird with Horatio caught in its beak sailing above us. The dog’s legs circled as if he was dog-paddling through the air.

Mitchell darted about the lawn with his arms stretched open, obviously hoping to catch the dog should the eagle have a change of heart.

I stooped to the ground, selected a baseball-sized rock from the garden bed, and hefted it at the eagle. It landed true. The eagle jolted, shrieked, dropped Horatio, and winged away.

Mitchell tripped over his feet, trying to place himself in Horatio’s path. Piper sprinted across the lawn, bowled into him, and the two of them landed in a tangled heap on the ground. Sadie and I both ran to try and catch the falling dog.

I ripped off my jacket, created a safety net, and gently pushed Sadie to the side. She stumbled at the impact and grabbed my waist just as Horatio landed with a thud in my jacket. He lay there, stunned, his breath coming out in huffs. Sadie fell and Doc Mitchell took her hand to pull her to her feet. Jealousy flashed through me, but I zeroed my attention back to the dog.

“He’ll be okay.” I predicted, hoping I was right. After wrapping him up in my jacket and holding him close, I could feel his thumping heart beating against my chest.

“You’re a hero,” Piper said. She had grass stains on her hands, her curls had sprung from her hair clip, and she’d ripped her tights.

Mitchell didn’t look a lot better, but he was grinning and slapping me on the back.

Sadie stared at me with wonder in her eyes. “You saved his life.”

Mitchell shot a look over his shoulder. “Are we going to tell the Wendell woman?”

“We have to,” Piper said.

“Do we?” Sadie asked.

“He’s bleeding,” Mitchell pointed out. “I have a bag in my car.”

“Do you have antibiotics?” I asked.

He shook his head.

“I do.” I knew it wasn’t a contest over who was the best medicine man, but I strode to my truck, feeling as if I’d just won.