Running:
I've run up a few mountains. Because I live at nearly 5000 feet elevation I assume I can run just about anywhere. I had that allusion until I decided to run up the canyon leading to Cedar Breaks, Utah. Piece of cake, I thought until I'd been pounding the pavement for about 10 minutes and couldn't seem to suck in enough oxygen. After 37 minutes of straight uphill I turned around. It took all day to recover. I got home and my dear friend, Google, informed me I was running somewhere between 7500 - 8500 elevation. That helped my wounded pride.
Writing:
When critiquing someone's work, remember what it feels like to be critiqued. In my opinion here are some of the most important B's: Be honest. Dishonesty won't help them improve. If they switch POV's mid sentence, let them know, don't say, "I like it," keep silent about the problem and hope they figure it out. Be nice. Keep comments focused on the work, not personal. Example: "I've noticed your MC seems to be shifting a lot between anger and passive behavior," rather than "make up your mind about who your MC really is. You never get it right. Can't you see that all of your characters are acting psycho? Read your own work and get it taken care of before you..." You get the idea. Be positive. Mention the points you like, not just the glaring errors. Be concise. Circle a word or phrase and make a comment in the margin about it. For example, "you've used this word 3 times already in the paragraph," or "Spell check," or "I can feel the suspense building. Great job!" Be unhasty: If it's a personal thing, be less hasty to comment. Example: "I have no clue why you've given Sarah that name. I think it's overused. How about calling her Jane?" It's tough enough getting your own manuscript looking good, and when given the opportunity to help another author, be supportive and as professional as possible.
I love my grandkids--all 14 of them.
They are the cutest and smartest and funnest and everythingest! But sometimes this is what I get out of them when I whip out my camera. And why not? They love life and want to share something more than just their sweetness. Sometimes that's what I want to do too. But being mature...
Secrets at Midnight
Leona Palmer Haag
Chapter 36
Darkness brought
blindness, stopping Matt’s footsteps and halting the hunt. A dangling rope, an
abandoned climbing harness and a stray Cheerio had kept him moving forward,
always amazed when he didn’t find Jenn and Katie behind the next tree. Making good
time with a baby on her back, Jenn had either hiked all the previous night,
which he doubted, or she felt an urgency to keep moving. He hustled to catch
up, watching for footprints. Most were visible, without any attempt to conceal
the path, but a few times she’d stepped lightly and he’d backtracked to find
her route.
The day had been
long—a lifetime tucked into twenty-four hours. He’d awakened early encased in a
foreboding mood. Jenn had mentioned feeling someone watching her and being
spooked. He knew no one had neared the area, but he couldn’t shake the feeling
of doom hanging over them as dawn streaked the sky. He’d crawled from bed to
scout their surroundings.
Nothing. Just as he’d
suspected. No one had been within five miles of the place in years. Jenn’s bad
feeling was only that, and unfortunately for him, she’d passed it along. He
should have known better than to let her words influence him. But gut feelings
did strange things. One had propelled a woman and her child over a cliff, and
another had knocked him off course in route to Oregon.
Stupid feelings.
If he’d stayed on
track, Jenn would be tucked safely inside a safe house and he would have found
Monica by now.
Under the glimmer of
starlight, Matt sat under a tree and pulled off his boots, shook out sand grains
annoying him like crazy, and replaced them. He studied the blackness—trees
drooping shadows to hide unknown menaces. Jenn was in a similar place, perhaps
no more than a hundred yards away. He’d find her in the morning—hopefully not
strewn in pieces announcing a bear’s feast.
Matt settled down for
the night. His eyes shut, blocking out millions of stars, but his mind wouldn’t
stop replaying the day. After confirming the area was safe, he’d gone to the
blind, eaten a couple granola bars and an orange, pulled out a powerful pair of
field glasses he’d found under the cabin, and examined the far reaches
surrounding them.
Nothing moved.
Not a sound.
No surprise there.
For at least an hour
he had plied the glasses. Still nothing. But with the passing of dawn’s chill
and first light scattering over mountain tops, he’d felt something seep into
his bones—danger. Not knowing what form it took made him anxious.
Turning the glasses
toward the cabin he had thought about Jenn—was she fixing pancakes? Maybe she’d
found something new to clean, although he couldn't imagine what she might have
missed. The cabin lay hidden from view. He lowered his field glasses and
surveyed nearby surroundings, every nerve alert, then raised the glasses again
and examined the mountainside.
Unchanged.
He had desperately
wanted to doze off during the monotony, but he’d remained alert—listening and
ready. The night before he’d only slept in brief snatches, interrupted by the
springs in Jenn’s bed shifting as she tossed and turned. Outside an owl had
perched nearby and hooted. Mice feet skittered. The night had been alive with
sound, but nothing alarming.
Now, exhausted and too
tired to think clearly, he couldn’t sleep. His mind ranged back to key events
and he snapped puzzle pieces together: his cell phone died after Jenn tried to
contact someone. He had tried charging it, but failed. It appeared disabled,
but how would she know the required steps?
Matt wondered if she’d
spoken to or received a text message from someone. She’d tossed it aside,
practically cussing it, before heading to bed. The action hadn’t struck him as
out of character until the day fell apart—one trauma after another.
In the blind he’d
pulled out the phone again and examined it, looking for a tracking devise he
might know nothing about. Nothing. He’d shoved it into his pack—useless piece
of junk that couldn’t possible help him anymore.
Gnats had attacked his
neck, and several flew up his nose. He’d blown them out. In the blind, with
only a partial roof overhead, the sun had shifted across the sky and he’d moved
with the shade. Hours had dragged by, and still, not a speck of dust stirred on
the mountain.
A doe had wandered
into the meadow and sniffed the air. Like him, she stayed attuned to danger.
Another doe joined the first, leading a fawn. They wandered off, never
suspecting him. He wondered if he should abandon his post for an early lunch.
Maybe after eating he’d announce it was time to leave. Jenn would jump and
squeal and kiss him before racing out to the Jeep.
They’d stay in a
motel, shower and eat out. He’d order steak smothered in grilled onions.
Hating what the cabin
was doing to his relationship with Jenn—no hating what the whole situation had
done to them—he wanted to return to Dallas, but instinct told him to hide.
An internal battle
raged. Hide. Return to Texas. Hide.
Long ago he’d been a
praying man—back before he’d lost Rebecca—when life still held hope. This kind
of decision would have been made between him and God while on his knees. The
day her breath halted his prayers had fallen around his feet and shattered.
He’d stashed his faith inside her coffin and buried it.
For years, losing Rebecca
and their unborn child felt like payback for his sins. Long ago there had been
a time when he’d felt impressed—there was no better word to describe it—to call
Jenn just to check on her. But following through concerned him. Hadn’t he
proposed to her and been rejected—thanks to his religion? He’d spouted his
convictions enough—beliefs of God and right and wrong—that he suspected she’d
harangue him to repent and stop trying to seduce a married woman. He’d
explained adultery to her once, and she’d argued that avoiding it was common
sense to keep a happy marriage, not a commandment from some mysterious being.
She’d tell him his phone call was the first step toward an unholy liaison.
He never called,
shoving his overprotective feelings for her aside. And forever afterward he had
felt Gary’s brutality killed Jenn’s daughter—all because he neglectedfollowing
through with an impression. Later, at the peak of his life, accounting time in
God’s court arrived. The gavel fell, pronouncing Matt’s guilt and condemning
Rebecca and their baby to death.
While he stayed on his
feet physically, his world collapsed. He had walked away from his faith,
religion and shed many values—proving if God played hardball, he could too.
In the hunter’s blind
that morning he had relived the most horrible moments of his life and
discovered himself back at the beginning—Jenn and her daughter in danger—with
his gut begging him to do one thing, and reasoning shouting at him to do
something else.
He had pulled his
knees up to his chest, rested the field glasses on them and scanned the area.
Nothing had changed. Knowing he was alone, he had closed his eyes, raised his
face to greet the sun and said, “God, years ago I failed her. I don’t want to
do it again—it’s a hard thing to live with—and memories like that don’t die,
they only grow worse. I’m just a man, nothing special, and can blow it without
realizing it until after it’s too late—as I’ve proved in the past. Please
intervene this time because I’m too weak and human to do much.”
Nothing happened. No
bolt of lightning blazed from the sky to burn a message into the meadow. No
wind carried a whispered voice giving directions. No deep-down soul-stirring
inspiration came.
Nothing.
Silence from heaven.
And that’s all he
really deserved after the sins he’d committed his whole life.
He had thought prayer
was never enough, no matter how direct or sincere, but gave it another
shot—attaching an addendum. “I’d appreciate your help, but if that’s asking too
much—I’m not really worthy of any grace—I’ll work my tail off and do the best I
can. Please forgive me of my past and help me with the future.”
After his feeble
request he had contemplated a hundred different thoughts ranging from cleaning
his gun, to the best way to clean a deer, to the best way to clean house when
he got back to the office, to the best way to talk someone into doing
something—whether Jenn or God. But, if he knew that trick, he’d have answers to
everything—Monica’s location, who put a body in Jenn’s yard, and if continuing
on to Portland or heading to Texas was right.
Matt pulled his
glasses back to his eyes, blinked drowsiness away and saw—a puff of dust.
Mercy, murder or
someone lost was on the road.
Never moving faster,
Matt jumped from the blind and ran, intent on reaching Jenn before trouble.
“Open up!” he shouted as he broke into the clearing surrounding the cabin. His
shoulder smashed into the bolted door and his fists pounded. The sounds
reverberated through the forest.
Jenn didn’t answer so
he headed for the emergency exit he’d discovered. If Jenn were in the shower it
might be another towel moment and he'd earn a bullet. “Grab a towel and don’t
kill me!” he had shouted, once he had entered the cabin.
Silence.
Emptiness.
He had bolted up the
stairs and down, to the decks and back to the front room. Jenn and Katie had
vanished! For a moment dizzy sickness engulfed him. He’d misunderstood—he’d
seen dust leaving the area, not entering. Under his nose, he’d lost them—on
foot without the Jeep!
He caught his breath
and canvassed the cabin. No gun. No ammo. A missing box of cereal. Bananas
gone. No diaper bag, but one soggy diaper on the foot of the bed upstairs. He
opened the closets, but found nothing, only junk and coats hanging on hooks. No
woman. No baby.
Coats on hooks. She
wasn’t exploring the cellar, but hiding. He yanked the closet door open,
finding the coats undisturbed, and stopped. Jenn wouldn't go into the dark
without leaving an open door behind her. He shut the closet again, his eyes
darting around vacancy. She was somewhere else. But something drew him back to
the closet. He opened the door again and gently pulled the concealed cellar
door open. “Jenn?”
Silence.
He paused at the top
of the ladder, his mind reeling until he pinned down something concrete. Jenn
used the phone, then hid. She had chosen to go where eyes couldn't see her—his
eyes. She had fled from him. She must
have received a message that he was dangerous. But who held enough power to
make her hide?
Nicholas Washington.
She trusted no one more than her husband.
Anger seethed through
him. Nick had defected—his own partner. His next step would be to eliminate
him—using Jenn.
An urgency to find
Jenn and Katie took over—to save them from Nick. And to save Jenn from carrying
out his plans.
Grasping the top rung
of the ladder Matt said, “Don't shoot. I'm coming down. I'd like to live.” He
stepped onto the top rung, anticipating a slug in his chest. Nothing. No
shuffling, stirring or whimpering. Dead silence. Hair crawled on the back of
his neck. He took another step, clinging tightly to the rungs, expecting to be
blown off. If she killed him, he'd forgive her, but never forgive himself for
not protecting her from another lousy husband.
At the bottom, Matt
stepped onto hard-packed dirt. “Jenn?” His eyes adjusted and he looked around
for the hiding spot, finding nothing—until a faint glimmer caught his attention—light
prying through a thin crack.
The tiny door easily
swung inward. Scuffled footprints outside were recent, covered by leaves
plucked off undergrowth. Very intentional. They edged toward the ravine, the
only escape route. Too big to go through the opening, Matt raced up the ladder
and onto the back deck. He looked down the drop-off. A few inches of visible
rope verified his suspicion. Other than that, the remaining rope lay carefully
hidden.
A rumble joined the
sound of the breeze sifting through pine boughs—signaling an approaching
vehicle. Matt raided the kitchen for nonperishable food and shoved it into his
pack. He entered the closet and disappeared behind the hidden door, carefully
securing the coats on the hooks. He jumped to the ground below and stumbled
across the littered floor. After kicking out the tiny door and several boards,
he scrambled through the ragged opening. He reached back and pulled the canoe
in front of the gaping hole. Sliding over loose rocks, he halted at the edge of
the ravine.
Jenn had tied a proper
knot—thank goodness. He slipped over the edge and began his descent, hiding the
rope better than she had and hoping no one discovered their route.
Hand over hand, Matt
lowered himself, wondering when he'd step on broken bodies, but each ledge was
empty. The further he went, the more he marveled at the rope's length and
Jenn's skill. Monica had only given her one brief lesson, and thankfully Jenn
had a great memory—or mothering instincts had prevailed.
The rope ran out. Matt
was about to drop to a ledge when he heard a noise above. He hung, sweat
sliding down his arms. His hands began to slip and one foot hold gave way. A
rock tumbled a few feet and stopped. He slid to the end of the rope, grasped a
root and swung to a narrow ledge, landing with a soft thud.
He heard nothing
above—no shouts of discovery.
Assessing the
situation, he realized Jenn had never been on this ledge. She must have stopped
on a higher one—a wise choice—or reached the end of the rope and fallen to the
bottom of the ravine—a deadly mistake. With his back planted against the steep
cliff wall, he sucked in deep breaths and pushed aside grief and anger—his
world crashing again—and being too late to prevent it.
A sparkle a hundred
feet to his left and a dozen feet above him revealed the answer—discarded
climbing gear.
The hardest part of
the day had been making his way to her trail. Afterward, it had been easy
following her markings. As the day progressed, the overhead sun had swung high,
scorching him as he tracked the woman and child, then it pushed out ever
lengthening shadows. Always he had wondered where he’d find the mother and
daughter—under the next tree?
The kid he had picked
up and patched many times—but not enough—would be waiting with a gun, and he’d
be helpless.
But night had found
her first.
In the morning he’d learn
if he was too late to save her.
End Chapter 36
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