Post Christmas

Christmas is over and I'm ready to take down the tree and pack everything away right down to the last candle and twinkling light. Someone said, "Wait until Monday!"

Huh? Bad idea. I'm getting my hair done on Monday! Oh, but he's going back to work, so that makes sense. I don't think he wants to climb the ladder and hand down 5000 sentimental little ornaments dangling from wires. So, it looks like I'm undecorating on Tuesday, the same day the electrician is coming to fix the electrical wiring on the porches which went awry way back 7 years ago when we had our basement finished. Our dislexic building crew did something to mess them up. My hubby rescued the game room lighting when something sparked and shorted after they finished, which possibly saved the whole house from burning down, but our porch problems weren't discovered until many months after the contractor and his crew left and Christmas time arrived. Anyway, no outlets on the porches means no Christmas lights unless we run a series of long extension cords. This year we hung cute stuff, but never lit it up. The ice melting things on the roof and in the rain gutters got all the power. Funny that we're fixing the wiring issue after the lights come down. Silly us!

 

This little cutie lights up my life. He's attached to his little snow leopard named Snowy. One day soon he'll lose him and never notice. It will be a sad day of growing up. I snap more pictures than necessary so we can remember this sweet time in all of our lives.

Life changes in many ways. 2013 is ending. I've never been superstitious, but the whole 13 at the end of a wonderful 20 has felt a little ominous. This past year has been our most unlucky year ever--for one thing, meeting our out of pocket insurance deductible (A LOT of MONEY!) on unexpected life-altering events for both my husband and I, and changing our entire calendar of upcoming events--like the vacations we never took. We've experienced a lot of pain and inconvenience along the way, yet we're looking forward to 2014 and our future.

A special thank you to all of our wonderful family and friends who have helped us through our trials this year. Thanks to our wonderful son and his wife for keeping tabs on us and helping keep our spirits high. Thanks to our son who lives at home still for his many hours of taking over many of our normal responsibilities when we couldn't. Thanks to those who called, visited, brought meals and treats and sent cards and flowers. Thanks to my sweet sister-in-law who came by and took me to breakfast--my first real outing in many weeks after my surgery. Thanks to my hair stylist who met my needs. Thanks to a sweet friend that I hadn't seen for a long time who I chanced to meet one day in the store who had the same surgery a year before and encouraged me. Thanks to the people who watched my Grands when I couldn't and were so thoughtful about their needs. Thanks to everyone who didn't tell me how awful I looked those first few weeks when I felt much worse than I appeared. Thanks to my mom who drove to my house for a visit. That was a huge feat for her, and I appreciated it more than she'll ever know. Thank you to a nurse who found me a Dr. Pepper while I was in the hospital, when all they had at the nursing station was Coke. Thanks to my husband who never broke down and cried in front of me. Thanks to my grandkids who lived with me and needed care which helped me get up and function and heal quicker than I otherwise might have. Thanks to my tiniest little Grand who daringly climbed up on the table and obediently lay down on a blanket and held still so I could move him into position and change his diaper when I couldn't lift him or bend over for many, many weeks. Thanks to chemists who combined the necessary ingredients to make a pain pill smaller than the tip of a match head, and thanks to my doctor who chose that pill specifically for his patients who could hardly swallow and desperately needed it. Thanks to my husband who shopped around and bought me a really good reacher, grabber type tool so I could be sort of useful when I couldn't bend or lift. It was so satisfying to pull clothes from the washer to put into the dryer, and from the dryer to fold, and to pick toys up from the floor, and not feel totally useless or helpless when I basically was. Thanks to God for healing me quickly and taking the pain from me faster than normal. Thanks to my husband for enduring two painful unexpected surgeries following mine, and working hard to heal himself and regain his independence. 

2013 was a record breaking year for me in learning. I learned about aging in a way I never expected, or at least many years before I expected through expereince. I hope the many things I've learned will remain with me and turn into wisdom, understanding, love and goodness.

During my life I've realized that every experience offers something valuable, but during and after some experiences, we have to search long and hard to discover what that might be. May 2014 bring me more learning and experiences, but of a happier and healthier note!

May your new year bring many good things to you!

Happy New Year, almost!

It's almost 2014! Happy New Year, a little early!

I'm a list-making, calendar-checking person. It's in my blood and probably won't ever change. Sometimes it's all worth it, but at other times...

I had a bad day last week and actually chucked my little day planner across the room and declared, "I give up!" Of course, the next day I retrieved it and started over and actually crossed something off and felt like a hero, or useful, or accomplished, or successful or whatever...

I've kept a Day-Planner long enough that I've had many times when I drop some or all of the balls I'm juggling. I've had lot's of "Oops!" along the way.
 

This was an oops on the kitchen floor this week--one of those times when nothing felt like it was happening in slow motion, except the clean up part. I had to post this photo because it made me laugh. It startled the auto-pilot mode right out of me! 

Be assured: 

CRISIS + TIME = HUMOR

Back to goals: I always start on my New Year's resolutions in the fall. By mid-December I've got perfection planned. Usually I've looked through previous yearly goals and realized they were excellent, and I decide to give them another go. I love it when I think I did them pretty well and can kick them up a notch.

With everything that happened to me and my husband in 2013 I won't be jotting "hike to the top of a mountain" on my 2014 goal list, and I know I won't choose a 5k to run. But every year I level my magnifying glass over the family budget and work to squeeze a vacation out of it. I'll exercise in 2014, but I'll be focusing on how to upgrade my fitness according to my unexpected limitations. I've already handed my hubby a list of "house plans" which are really options he can help me choose from as I "reconfigure" and decorate our house. I do this every 2-3 years, and the finished projects so far have been incredible.

I might share some of my 2014 goals later, but be assured writing will be on the list--through sharing another book and blogging. I'll also whip up a few new recipes, sew something cute or useful, and visit all of my Grands (I'm looking forward to meeting the new little one on it's way). I'll plant my little spinach patch, organize something and do a myriad of other things.

I hope you're planning a good year for yourself, too! 

Christmas 2013

When I wasn't looking a little polar bear crawled out of a treasure chest and decorated my house with all things Christmas!

Not really. I played traffic director as my hubby and son pulled boxes out of the garage "attic" and brought them inside. I peeked under lids and chose which ones would actually be used, and which might not get opened.

I started out with good intentions: 2 trees, tons of lights, a million decorations and Christmas in every corner. You know, I slimmed the plans down, and that's just fine.

I love Christmas--twinkling lights, carols of Jesus, stars, shepherds, a little drummer boy and Santa. I crave Christmas aromas: sugar cookies, gingerbread, ham and turkey, sweet rolls, etc. I love candles and nativities and man made snowdrifts around ceramic villages. I soak it all in and love it! But this year, one tree is enough. 

So, I basically promised another novel, but it's definitely not going to happen before Christmas is packed away again. I've got cookies to frost, stories to read to my little grands, parties to host and attend, and stockings to hang...

Merry Christmas!

Sneak Peek (Another Novel on it's Way?!?)

Sneak Peek today--there possibly may be another novel on it's way...

There are many decisions to make in life, and this is an important one for me: 

Do I, or do I not post another novel?

Before I make up my mind, I'm treating everyone to a snapshot of my backyard last January after a beautiful blizzard. My cute little flamingos have flown away since then, which is a sad loss. I know I'll replace them, but how soon is the question. I'm hoping this environment they cheerfully endured--mountains of frozen fluff--will return soon, but I won't adopt a new flock until after the ground thaws in 2014.

So, onto the pressing question: should I post another novel?

Sure, why not?

I know you're hoping for another adventure with Jenn Washington, but that's not the one I'm going to post right away. 

Instead, I'll let you meet one of my favorite characters: Francesca.

So, here's the heads up so you know what you're getting into:

I'm LDS. That's short for being a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, kind of a nickname. Also, we're called Mormons. And I'm a member who loves Jesus Christ, etc., so I'm about as mainstream as we get. That being said, this is LDS fiction. It centers around LDS characters. It's not preachy, if that's your concern, but it is human, if you're wondering about that too. Human meaning, people are people and no matter who you are, you have choices to make and consequences will follow. So, if you're not Mormon or LDS or don't know any Mormons or LDS, then you'll be introduced to us through my fiction, meaning, my own made up, conceived in my head, fictional story. If you're Mormon, it will flow as naturally as a Sunday morning. If you're not, and you're curious enough to read my novel, you'll find some terms make you scratch your head a little and say, "huh?" Don't worry, I'll help you out in advance:
Church: This is once a week on Sunday and it's a 3-hour block of 3 different meetings. Yep, we go every week! Sacrament meeting is followed by Sunday School, where youth boys and girls (ages 12 - 18) are in a scripture learning class together, then they split and boys and girls go to their own classes. Boys head to a priesthood class, and girls head off to young women's classes.
Mutual: Also called Young Men's and Young Women's. This is a weeknight activity for youth ages 12 - high school graduation. Sometimes the young men and young women join in activities together to serve, play, learn, etc., and sometimes they are with their own girl's or boy's group.
Seminary: this is a class held during the week day for youth ages 9th grade through graduation (that's 4 years) for learning the scriptures and gospel teachings. It covers the 4 main texts of LDS scripture: Old Testament, New Testament, Book or Mormon, Doctrine and Covenants. In Utah and some other areas where there are a ton of Mormons or LDS youth, some schools allow "release time" and students can take the class in a seminary building built close to the school campus. They are "released" from school and just walk across the parking lot, or street or whatever divides the school property from the seminary building where they take a class, and then they return to school. In areas where there is no "release time" option, most students take the class at a church building an hour (yes, 1 hour) before they go to school in the morning. So, if you figure out the timing for a class and traveling, you get the idea of how early that can be! (Some kids take home study courses because the option of going early isn't available.) In this book, the setting is Utah, so the seminary building is located adjacent to the high school.
Mission: This is what every young man is expected to serve for 2 full years at his own expense, and many young women serve for 18 months. Recently, a little over 1 year ago, the age requirement was lowered from serving at/after age 19 for young men to age 18 or high school graduation. For young women it lowered from age 21 to 19. That's a huge difference! At the time this novel was written the ages were 19 & 21. So, this is an "oldies" story now. (See, a good reason to post it!)
Standards: This is a huge category, but I'll just touch on a few: Dating after age 16 and not before is encouraged. No smoking. No drinking coffee, tea, or alcohol. No drug use. Modest clothing (skip skimpy, low cut, too tight, too short, nothing revealing, no vulgar pictures or sayings, no strappy tops for girls, etc.). No swearing. No stupidity. No Sex before marriage, in fact, keep the kissing down to basically zippo or only slightly more. Hand holding is okay. See, this is stuff the "world out there" considers 'Huh? You don't...?' (They often act as if they think teenage years should be: have fun, do anything, rebel, stir up trouble, don't let mom and dad know, etc.) We call the standards living straight, clean, pure and obedient.  Anyway, you've got the idea.

Okay, that's enough of that for now. The rest can be easily figured out as you read the book.

DETAILS: I posted my last novel one chapter at a time. This time around I'm planning on posting about 5 chapters or so at a time. Because I'm working with 2 'working copies,' it may take me a few days to get them ready. (Wish me luck and speed!) And with not one, but two holidays coming up, it may take me a bit of time to get this ball rolling. (Okay, I'm already rethinking my plan. I just checked and chapter 1 is 15 pages, thankfully double spaced. That is nothing like my last novel! And I'm dealing with 160,263 words in one draft and 44,586 in the other? Something is happening here... Hummm...) Like I said, wish me speed and happiness as I try figuring this out!

Come back if you're interested, because I'm about to introduce you to Francesca...and she is nothing like Jenn from Secrets at Midnight.

Hide - N - Seek

Hide - N - Seek

As a kid I loved those pictures where you have to find certain things. You know, like the "I Spy" books today, or "Where's Waldo." But as a kid it was generally find the ski pole (that looks kind of like a tree trunk) or the button (that looks like the center of a flower).

So here's the challenge: In the photo below, find the squash. 

Spaghetti squash, to be exact.

Keep looking.

Keep looking.

Keep looking!

Okay, give up? I liquified it with my immersion blender and poured it into a batch of bread. There's a little  more than 1/3 cup per loaf. And the taste and texture are amazing. 

See this little Grand? 

She's eating her veggies at the moment and enjoying it. 

Yes, I'm sneaky!

Life is Perfect, You Know!

Life is Perfect, you know!

Running:

I had the most awesome run yesterday. I chose my favorite 3 miles out, 3 miles back route. I walked the entire 3 miles out--and the weather was perfect. The fierce winds had abated and Mr. Sun controlled the skies again. It was incredible. And then I began my return segment. At the 1 mile from home mark I felt an endorphin high like none other I could remember. "This is the life! A perfect life!" my mind exclaimed. And it was. I had just run 2 miles home--2 miles! And had one more mile to go. And I did it because my body just couldn't walk anymore. So I had run. When I realized it--I was running, and running with ease, and the fact that my hubby might drive by that very spot at any moment on his way home from work, I resumed walking. It took tremendous effort. More self-control than imagined. My legs, lungs and heart were begging to continue running like little children who had spied a bag of candy just before dinner and couldn't stop begging and pleading and promising and whining. But guilty me ruled, so I walked. Walking, and getting my red face back to refreshing pink would mean avoiding a very long and angry lecture and my weak justifications in reply.

And then I woke up.

This was not the first time I dreamed about running. I've done it while awake and asleep. I seriously doubt it will be the last time, In fact, I hope not.

Writing:

I read blogs. Some are short, some longer. I've got a favorite "pretty me up" blog I follow, and then I often catch up on funny mom blogs (I can relate, although I'm "raising" Grands now, not my own little offspring). I read about organizing ups and downs and chicken farming, religion and other obscure topics. For entertainment. And education. And to laugh.

And I write my own blogs. This one began as running and writing, but I'm planning on expanding it. My other blog is private and has covered my ordinary, regular life. Since my running has stopped and writing took a vacation and might not return (wish I was still in Hawaii sometimes, or Europe, or Canada, or Mexico, or San Diego, or...) this blog may end up exposing the circles of my life--my silly side, the serious me, my put on an apron and cook up a storm side, and my camera happy snap a pic side.

For today, I'm sharing my perfect side:

 

My backyard doubles as a nature preserve. I feed all kinds of critters that migrate through, but only because I planted most of the salad bowl and didn't know what they didn't like back then. And since I got the bestest little point and click camera a little over a year ago, I've documented a large portion of my wild friends. Perfectly... Hey! Don't move so fast, beautiful, magnificent buck!

My adorable Grands have learned that when I whip out the camera it's time for perfect posing. They love to see themselves plastered all over the fridge. I take 10 times as many shots as most people. I just wish I could remember to take 20 times as many. So much for perfect again--and sticking this happy little guy on the fridge this week...

My little Grand is attached to his toys. Literally. There's always one hanging from his hand. Always! If anyone has this "Mousky" toy (it's a run on name for Mike and Wazousky) they know it has an annoying voice that makes snide comments. Just pull his leg and they begin. Dang, but being accidentally left outside through 3 rainstorms didn't kill his vocal chords!

This little Grand discovered the fine art of Dump & Run. But this time she didn't run, but climbed. "Help, help! Help me," she called from a wire shelf. My son and I came running to her aid and then stopped and laughed before we grabbed our cameras. Then we laughed and clicked and basically watched her figure out her own rescue. Yep, kids have got to learn the in's and out's of life's messes.

And finally, just to prove I have a wonderfully perfect life, here's a photo of the tasty filling for the tuna cheese swirls I whipped up for supper and planned to blog in mouth-watering full color. Hmm, the lighting is off. And I forgot to photograph the finished product. My husband renamed them Spinners. They were yummy and quickly consumed, so all was not lost.

That sums up a week of photos and success stories. 

And because Mousky was found, my Grand's eyes actually do open (I even taught him how to wink this week), the buck returned the next day (with his head behind the corner of the house this time as he nibbled on the last of the hollyhock stalks when the camera emerged), and my sweet Granddaughter helped sort a mountain of toys into boxes and bins, I guess my life is perfect. (Except I hit some key on accident and fatally killed my photo borders. Totally killed. I can't even put a colored line under them anymore. So sad...)

But that's okay. Life is still perfect, you know!

About the Author of SECRETS at MIDNIGHT

About the Author:

 

Leona Palmer Haag

Writing Stuff:

• I have no clue what the word succinct means, and I often prove it. 
• I wrote and illustrated my first novel at age 11. My soul critic gave it 2 thumbs down. I tried to revise the llama's tail, but couldn't fix the crayon marks. It never occurred to me that might not be the problem.
• I figured out what plot meant at age 13. I sure could have used the definition earlier and saved the poor llama.
• I had the worlds worst English teacher in 11th grade. She gave me D's and C-'s! Out of revenge I wrote a killer paper.
• I got an A+ on that killer paper. One of the only four papers which, in her own words, were worth reading. Which she did to the entire class, but not until after she'd yelled at us for a solid 20 minutes and made all of us feel like failures not only in her class, but in life. 
• (Teachers could get away with that kind of thing back when I was young.)
• I didn't have to rewrite my paper. Or any others. I knew I could write, and I did, rescuing my semester grade. 
• I sure wish I still had that paper.

Other Stuff:

• I'm married to Mr. Fix It who loves having me hand him projects
• I'm mom to 5 kids, and Grammie to 14 cute little Grands.
• I live in "My Happy Little Village"  which has no stop lights, bars, post office, library, and no more than 5 roads in and out of town.
• My Happy Little Village has foxes, coyotes, deer, elk, moose, skunks, bobcats and other wildlife, most of which I've seen or heard wandering through my yard.
• My cat fell victim to one of the above more fierce creatures. 
• I used to run--a favorite activity until my neck underwent spontaneous breakage. 
• My doctors called my "broken neck" degenerative vertebrae and halted my running career.
• I still love my genetic progenitors. 
• I hope my kids and Grands forgive me for passing my "lesser genes" along unintentionally.
• So, I don't run. Period.
• I am attempting to learn how to walk and love it. Good luck with that, I sarcastically and enthusiastically coach myself at regular intervals.

More other Stuff:

• I'm a firm believer in positive thinking/acting. 
• Therefore I have nearly 100 formal rejection letters and many informal ones: ie: "If you don't hear from us, assume correctly that we're not interested in your manuscript."
• I'm still a positive thinker/acter.
• I rely heavily on spell check.
• I rely heavily on my computer and my computer savvy kids.
• I know where my delete key is and I'm unashamed to use it.
• I bake bread and cookies, pizza and lasagna.
• I sew. 
• I unpick. I have a sewing unpicker tool and I'm not ashamed to use it.
• I love my family.
• I love my home.
• I love my car.
• My favorite color is green, especially in nature. Or money. Or both.
• I have a science degree from Weber State University.
• I've worked mostly in sales positions, and mostly sales centering on furniture.
• Oops, I've mostly worked as a seamstress: sewing, creating, designing and selling upholstered furniture. 
• No, I will not critique your sofa when I enter your house. But I may take a second look at your antique sideboard, but you may not notice that.
• I used to love painting the rooms in my house. I've retired from painting I keep telling myself, to no avail.
• I love flowers and trees. (Remember, I love green.)
• I hike, bike, boat--wait, some of those are now said in the past tense. I still can't turn my head enough to the side to assure safety or comfort on my mountain bike.
• I help my kids with their kids.
• I dislike messes, therefore, I clean up messes.
• I dislike noise, but I endure noise and I create noise.
• I like order. I'm never ashamed to have someone open my kitchen drawers.
• I love vacations: Beaches, mountains, prairies, cabins, luxury hotels, history places and all kinds of play places.
• I'm terrified of bears and mountain lions.
• I love birds.
• I love writing.
• I mostly write chick-lit, with a little romance and fun wit. Secrets at Midnight (shared in previous posts) was my first "cozy murder." I much prefer chick-lit without firearms.
• I'm a Mormon. "I know it. I live it. I love it."
• Some of my novels reflect my Mormon culture.
• I've written one fairy tale, and that's maybe my favorite of all he books I've written--ever!
• I've got a very rough first draft of historical fiction sitting around somewhere. It will take a lot of research and hard work--which means time--to polish it up. (My characters are a little lack-luster, mostly, and I've got to breath life into them.)
• Characters: I enjoy developing them as much and maybe more than anything else. That and providing a setting. I work the plot around those sometimes.
• I love using a thesaurus. And a dictionary. I don't know every word or what they mean, but I love words.
• I love paper. I hoard paper. But I'm not a hoarder, so I don't have a ton of it, despite my love affair. It's complicated...
• I've worked as a copy writer. So fun! (Yes, another dream job!) 
• I was accused of "painting a mustache on my baby" by a writer whose work I edited, because it was my job to make sure bad writing never made it past me.
• That baby looked nice after I "put on a mustache." It stayed. lucky little cutie!
• Moral of the story: Never yell at your editor and tell her off and then expect her to erase her mustache, especially if  you're writing about furniture and haven't got a clue what a "shelter magazine" is and you've just told your editor you couldn't find one in the library--and you looked! (Tee,hee,hee,hee!)
• I'm nice. Very, very nice.
• I never fired a copy writer under me. I wanted to fire someone else once (not a copy writer), but didn't.
• See, I'm nice.
• I love earrings. It was my huge possession of self control that prevented me from posting pictures of earrings as I posted my novel Secrets at Midnight.
• I like Chocolate. It used to be love, but since my neck surgery all bitter and sour tastes have been enhanced and you know, Chocolate is bitter and sour now. So sad!
• That's enough. You know me better than I know myself now.
• Please leave me feedback on Secrets at Midnight. I'd like to know if  you enjoyed the book and whether you'd like more of that type of work. I have written a sequel already, and yes, Jenn gets in over her pretty little head again. Her daughter is dragged along because--have you ever met a mom of a cute little toddler who leaves her beloved kid behind? I haven't, and if I did, I'd doubt the mom's devotion and her sanity.
• Thanks for dropping by. Let me know if you're interested in seeing more of my novels posted on my blog.

~~ Leona

 

My Novel: Chapter 65 (THE END)

Chapter 65

Sunshine and Daisies

Secrets at Midnight

Leona Palmer Haag

Chapter 65

Checking on Katie, Jenn found her sleeping with the teddy bear Matt and Monica had given her after they’d returned from their crazy adventure. It had her name embroidered on one paw, and $1,000,000 on the other. “I’d do it again, and pay twice that much—out of my own pocket—for her. And you,” Matt had explained. If Katie didn’t love it so much she’d throw the reminder away. Which reminded her—the kitchen trash needed hauling out.

Nick paid the babysitter—Linda Jo’s daughter—and walked her out to her car. When he returned Jenn nodded toward the kitchen trash. He took a hint and hefted the bag over his lean shoulder and headed out the back door where the handle easily worked because he’d replaced it.

Jenn surveyed the clean kitchen, checked to make sure the front room was perfect, then headed to her bedroom and flipped on a lamp. She pulled her nightie from the closet shelf and slipped into it. Turing, she found Nick leaning against the doorway watching her. “You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah. Katie’s sleeping—everything’s fine.” Seeing his face, her gut flip-flopped and she froze. “Something’s wrong.”

He shrugged and pulled off his shirt and tossed it in the hamper. As he reached for his sleep pants she grabbed his arm. “What’s wrong?”

He pulled her into his arms and his embrace tightened. “I saw the newspaper in the trashcan.”

Jenn had never thrown anything away separately or individually—until that stupid newspaper. All household trash collected in the kitchen trash until hauled out in one massive load. It never occurred to her that Nick would glance inside the can and notice something unusual. But then, wasn’t he trained to notice everything?

“The reporter got every detail,” she sarcastically said. “And I don’t want to talk about it.”

He gently stroked her cheek. “The office provides therapy. There are support groups. I’ll ask for information about it.”

“I just wish I knew why my yard?” She sighed in frustration. “No support group can tell me why Adams killed his girlfriend and hid her behind my trash.”

Nick pressed a finger to her lips. “We may never know why. If he could talk, he’d probably lie. Sometimes—most of the time—we don’t get all the answer. Some mysteries remain mysteries. Real life is like that—full of spaces and gaps remain open no matter how hard we try to close them.”

“Someone has to know why he did it.”

“Someone probably does, and if we find them, we’ll know too.”

“Find him.”

Nick rocked her back and forth. “Baby, it’s simple only in the movies—every twist, plot, and turn is revealed before the final credits. For now we assume his girlfriend wasn’t involved—except romantically. Hopefully later we’ll learn more—maybe she witnessed something he wanted kept secret. In the meantime, don’t let it worry you.”

“What about Natalie’s fingernail?”

“Adams planted it—after receiving it from his connection—we assume.”

She shivered, fearing nothing had ended permanently. “Will we—you—be targeted again?” 

“Very unlikely.”

Pulling slightly away, Jenn said, “You have no idea how much courage it took to throw that paper away. I went in the middle of the day, taking Katie with me, in case you’re wondering. She’s kind of a little, helpless bodyguard, don’t you think?”

He smiled. “I’m proud of you. It’s tough doing hard things. You were smart to pick good moral support—someone trusted.”

“Yeah, a baby. As you can see, I’m working through this, and I’ll survive, but I never want anything even remotely similar happening again.”

He tenderly kissed her before scooping her off her feet and swinging her in a dizzying circle. He dumped her on the bed. “Baby, you’re awesome, and I promise you’ll never go through that experience again.”

“You do realize that because you really don’t sell life insurance, something similar might happen, don’t you?”

“Odds are against it. Now, Monica’s a different story. She’ll meet a handsome stranger in Columbia and Matt will rush off to save her. As for us, we live in Dallas where nothing threatens, except tornadoes.” He kissed her long and passionately.

When they parted Jenn traced a thin red scar on the side of Nick's neck with her fingertip—his only physical evidence from their ordeal. He closed his eyes during the caress. She nuzzled his evening beard and relishing the subtle scent of his cologne. “How much longer will I have you?”

His lips halted on her throat. “You’ll always have me, although I fly out on Tuesday. I promise I won’t be long.”

Jenn pushed away unwanted images: Katie grasped in her arms because that was the only way to save her, newspaper headlines containing her name, Matt showing up with a box loaded with weapons instead of tools, and Nick searching the help wanted section for a desk job. She grasped reality—Nick—in her arms.

End Chapter 65

Thank you for sharing this journey with me. Sorry about all the typos. If you'd like to know more about me and my other manuscripts, check out my next post.  ~~Leona 

My Novel: Chapter 64

Chapter 64

Every day comes to a close, and so does every novel. But the impact of a day may never end in a life, and the hidden messages of a novel may do the same. 

I hope I've given you more than a story.

Secrets at Midnight

Leona Palmer Haag

Chapter 64

Monica looked ravishing in a little black dress and sparkling diamond earrings dangling against her neck. Jenn always felt diluted next to her. “Jenn, ” Monica said. “I'm amazed you and Katie didn't fall to your deaths on that mountain—or scream loud enough to wake the dead.” She swirled her wine glass and smiled—taunting?

“Don't needle her,” Matt scolded.

Monica laughed. “She can’t invent punishment severe enough to scare me.” Then she sobered. “Thanks for saving my husband's life. Men think they’re heroes, but usually it's a woman who saves the bacon.”

Jenn laughed and lifted her wine glass. “To the men who bring home the bacon—and to the women who save it when all they want is to spend it.”

Nick joined in the toast, laughing, but beneath the table he grabbed Jenn’s knee before whispering in her ear, “Do you mind how I earn it?”

Lifting her glass again, Jenn said, “And here’s luck to Nick in his job hunt. May he soon be selling shoes or insurance.” The others laughed, but she alone sipped wine.

Matt lifted his ice water. “To our partnerships, friendships and marriages—may they continue.” Everyone lifted their glasses.

As Monica lowered her Merlot she turned to Matt. “Sweetheart, you’re missing out.”

“Not really,” he said, lifting his ice water higher. “It’s between me and God. I’m not incredible all on my own, so to keep my super powers, I pray and keep promises.”

“And I spend Sunday mornings alone,” Monica pouted.

In a different setting at another time Jenn might have called Matt a snob and self-righteous for mentioning religion and abandoning alcohol, but not tonight. The changes hinted the old, sane, capable, pre-Monica Matt was returning.

Monica said, “Sorry about bringing up shop-talk Jenn, but you might be interested in knowing Natalie is enjoying physical therapy and will fully  recover. She’ll never thank you personally, I’m sure, but she is grateful to you.”

“I’ll never give a drugged woman a loaded weapon again,” Jenn said.

Matt burst out laughing. “Sure you will. You’ve got more good gut-instinct than anyone I know. Follow that gut or brains or conscience or whatever it is that prompts you and things will always work out.”

Jenn pointed at the kid who had hauled her around in a wagon when little, and hauled her around the country when grown. “Next time—and there won’t be a next time, and don’t forget it—don’t try to follow your off-kilter gut if I’m in tow. No more dust-infested cabins—got that? Remember, I love electricity, hot baths and luxury—and having Nick nearby.”

Matt lifted his ice water. “To no more running and hiding.”

Everyone lifted their drinks and laughed. As glasses lowered, Matt said, “Thanks for the new car, Jenn.”

“How else could you keep up with Monica?”

“Hers is still faster, but she likes being chased,” he replied.

Conversation drifted from cars to basketball, leaving work—the office and everything it meant—behind. As they left the restaurant that evening Matt unconsciously rubbed his side where a chunk of metal from the blast had sliced him open. Visions returned to Jenn of Nick pushing her down next to him as he lay half dead near the hanger. She had pressed her palms firmly against his side to hold back a dark sticky tide that dripped between her fingers. Nick’ shirt was his only bandaging.

Like a phantom, Kevin Curtis had stood up, scaring her to death, before he stumbled a few feet and collapsed again. He curled up and died for good—although she didn’t know until later that he actually hadn’t. Natalie, another corpse that fateful night, had moaned. Bare-chested, Nick looked like a shadow of death as he bent over her and breathed life. When she revived again he rasped through smoke-scorched lungs, “The office is sending help.”

But Katie was worse off than them all. She sat in a puddle from an overflowing diaper and howled above the fire's roar with tears streaming down her cheeks in charcoal rivers. She witnessed death, destruction and fire because her parent’s couldn’t prevent it.

Monica’s voice returned Jenn to the present as they reached their cars and Nick held her door open for her. “Now that we’re back to our boring normal lives, should I teach you jungle survival, Jenn?”

Jenn shook her head. “It's my turn to torture you. Have you ever preserved peaches? They stain fake fingernails.”

Monica grimaced.

For once Jenn hit the bull’s eye dead on! “Be at my home on Friday at 9:00 am. The office might need you, but Marshall owes me a favor for not killing his entire staff, so I’ll cash in if you try to make excuses.”

Monica’s head slightly nodded. “I’ll take a break from work between 9:00 to 9:15.”

End Chapter 64