Sarah woke with a start. She lay in the semi-darkness of the motel room wondering what had wakened her. It hadn’t been a nightmare this time – she was all too familiar with the pounding heart and the cold gripping fear that always came when she woke from those dreams. No, this was actually a gentle comforting waking, and Sarah breathed a happy little sigh. She was no closer to answers than she had been the day before, but she was filled with an unusual peace.

She thought about her evening with Uncle Will and the solid goodness he had exuded. Sitting across from her in Holly’s Diner he had reached over and taken her hand. “Sarah,” he had said, “It’s no coincidence that we’re both here at the same time. I believe the good Lord wants us to team up and get through this together, and really find some answers we both need. But we’re going to make sure we pray about every step we take, okay?” With that he had solemnly begun a simple prayer, asking for God’s guidance and direction and ending with a prayer for ‘peace that passeth understanding.’ Sarah smiled into the darkness, thinking of Uncle Will’s quaint King James phraseology. “That must be what I feel though,” she reflected, “the peace that passeth understanding. I sure don’t understand why I’d feel peace with my whole world turned upside down and that witch living in grandma’s house!”

She reached over and flipped on the bedside lamp, and once again picked up the small black bible. She hardly even knew where to start. She turned the pages at random, finally tossing the book aside in frustration.

She snapped the light off once more and stared at the opposite wall where a blinking neon light shining through the mini-blinds made a striped pattern brighten and grow dim. Bright and dim. Bright and dim. Like a pulse. She could faintly hear music coming from the cocktail lounge across the parking lot and it occurred to her that she might take a walk over and have a drink. Maybe that would help her sleep. But she remained motionless. It really was nice to just lie here and be still. Be still. And from somewhere deep in her memory Sarah remembered the words “Be still, and know that I am God.” Be still….

And the next thing Sarah knew the blinking light was glorious brightness forcing its way through the cracks of the blinds. She was awake and completely rested as she crossed the room to open the blinds and welcome the day. She looked at the alarm clock – 8:35! She and Will had arranged to meet back at Holly’s at nine o’clock. She’d better get moving!

Twenty minutes later, dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt, Sarah stood at the bathroom mirror putting on some lipstick when a small red flashing light on the bedside telephone caught her eye. She had a message! The phone must have rung while she was in the shower. It was probably Uncle Will wondering where she was.

But the voice was not Will Barton’s. “Hello, Sarah. It’s Jon. I know you said you needed some space, but I miss you, Honey, and I…well I can’t really talk about it on this machine, but I…something has happened and I want to talk about it with you. I’ll call you after awhile. Or you can call me…”

What in the world? That was not like Jonathan. Besides she hadn’t told him where she’d be staying. She hadn’t even known where she’d be staying, she thought ruefully. But in a small town like Hillbrook it was a simple matter to call the one or two motels and inquire. She wondered what would have been important enough for Jonathan to set aside his normal reserve and call looking for her after she’d made it clear that she wanted time alone. Well she couldn’t think about it now. She was late already. She stood indecisively for a moment, and then quickly dialed Jonathan’s number. The faraway ring sounded once, twice… Sarah pushed the button down with her finger, replaced the receiver and hurried out to her car.

Uncle Will grinned broadly, as he waved Sarah into the booth, brushing aside her breathless apology for her tardiness. “I’ve already ordered, and here’s Lucy with your coffee.” He paused as the pretty young waitress set a cup of steaming coffee in front of Sarah, “We’re having pancakes with blackberry syrup…. Remember?”

“Oh Uncle Will! I do remember. We used to have blackberry pancakes all the time when I lived with you.” Sarah felt sharp tears prick at her eyes. This man was so very dear! “Aunt Leona never would have any because she was always on a diet, and you said it was okay ‘cause you could eat enough for both of you!”

They laughed together and Will shook his head. “Poor Leona. She kept such a tight rein on herself. I always tried to get her to lighten up a little but…” Will stopped suddenly, as if realizing that nothing would be gained by being critical of his absent wife.

Between bites of pancakes dripping with butter and blackberry syrup, Will filled Sarah in on the course his life had taken over the last few years. “After your Aunt Leona left I just about went crazy,” he admitted, “I couldn’t work. I could hardly think straight. Fortunately I had quite a few articles I’d written and filed away, so the syndicate used those, and they really cut me a lot of slack. They even republished some of my earlier columns… I kept hoping she’d come back. I prayed she’d come back. But then when the divorce papers were served to me I knew it was for real. She didn’t want anything, Sarah. She just wanted to be free to do her art. Maybe I should have split our community property with her, sent it to her in care of her lawyer or something…but I was mad – you know, honey? I didn’t even know where she was! So I got the money and she got her freedom. Then I got back to work, and I have to say the Lord has really blessed me. The syndication is over two hundred now and they’ve published a book of my articles that’s actually selling pretty well.”

Sarah remembered how excited they’d been when Uncle Will’s syndicated column had reached 50. “Wow, that’s great, Uncle Will! Maybe you’ll be as famous as Will Rogers someday! I always said you reminded me of him!”

“Well, the Lord’s blessed me, that’s for sure.” He affirmed, “But I’d give it all up and be poor again if I could go back to what Leona and I had in those early years – ” He broke off suddenly, staring out the window. “Well I’ll be…” he stared out the window as a heavy set woman disappeared into the bank just across the street. “Come on, Honey. I think we’re onto something.”

Setting a twenty dollar bill on the table, Will took Sarah’s elbow and guided her to his car. “Here, why don’t you put this on,” he handed her a baseball cap from the rear seat, “and do you have some sunglasses?”

Sarah giggled. “I feel like a spy, Uncle Will! What’s going on?” Will grinned as he sat low in the driver’s seat, the engine now running, the car poised to pull out of the driveway.

“Ve vill follow ze suspect,” he intoned as Agnes emerged from the bank and got back into her car.

They continued the lighthearted chatter and silliness as they drove down the highway, staying a discreet behind Agnes’ big touring car. “There’s the old swimming hole.” Will pointed off the right of the highway.

“Oh yeah…Grandma never wanted me to come down here when I lived with her,” Sarah remembered, “but Aunt Leona said she and her friends came here all the time during the summer. They called it their swimming hole but I think it was really their gossip hole.” She laughed. “It didn’t sound like they swam very much. Aunt Leona said it was a certain group of girls from the town and some from farther out in the country – they all got together and talked and played down here in their secret place. And most of the girls would sit on their little handmade quilts. Aunt Leona said quilting wasn’t her strong point, but she said my mother loved to quilt. Mother was a real homebody. Aunt Leona said she did everything well.”

Sarah knew she was babbling, but she continued. “My mother didn’t come down here as often as Aunt Leona, I guess, but she did come sometimes. Aunt Leona said they all liked it when mother came ‘cause she watched all the smaller kids – told them about nature and bible stories and just showed them interesting little things. She must have been an angel!” Sarah stopped short, tears stinging her green eyes.

Will chuckled. “An angel. Yep – I guess that’s what young Michael Kent thought too when he decided that rafting down the river was a good pastime for a summer afternoon! I had my first job at the Texaco station down there by the bridge where the river narrows. That’s where Mike always pulled his canoe out. I was new here in Hillbrook, and he was one of the first kids I met. That was the same summer young Cammie Fitzgerald drowned and – ”

“Wait a minute!” Sarah interrupted, “Fitzgerald? I knew that Cammie girl drowned down here. That’s why Grandma didn’t like me to come down and play by the river. But I don’t think I ever knew her last name was Fitzgerald. It was the Fitzgerald Foundation that funded Aunt Leona’s drama scholarship. Any connection?”

“Oh yes. Geoffrey Fitzgerald was a great patron of the arts. Every year he gave one of the graduating seniors a full scholarship to a fine arts college. It was a memorial to his daughter, Cammie.

“She was several years older than Leona, I think, and very active in drama at the high school and even back when she was junior high. It was her daddy that got the Festival Theatre folk to open up auditions so the junior high students could try out. That little Cammie gal sure didn’t like it though when Leona got the lead part in “Hamlet” when she was only twelve. I guess that was the first time Cammie ever tried out and didn’t get the lead. After that Leona always got the leads, all through high school.

“You know she almost had to give up that Ophelia part…I guess she’d already committed to a full time babysitting job that summer before she was chosen for that part in the play. She said her mom was going to make her keep that commitment and then Agnes took the babysitting job to help her out. Leona just about worshipped old Agnes for that!” Uncle Will smiled ruefully. “She said if Agnes hadn’t helped her out like that, her acting career would have ended before it began.” He shook his head sadly, “I don’t know that that wouldn’t have been better all then way around.”

Sarah reached over to give her uncle’s hand a shy little squeeze. They drove in silence for some miles, enjoying the rural beauty of the countryside around Hillbrook Township. Gazing sidelong at Uncle Will’s face, Sarah could easily guess his painful train of thought. In a wave of courageous charity she encouraged him to speak. “Tell me about how she was, Uncle Will. Aunt Leona, I mean.”

“Well, of course the first time I saw your Aunt was that summer the Festival Theatre began their outdoor Shakespeare plays. We’ve were talking about it back there. Leona was a most striking “Ophelia.” Such a transformation took place in that girl when she stepped on the stage.

“All the world’s as stage.” murmured Sarah.

Uncle Will glanced at her quickly and smiled. “I’m afraid I was a bit like Prince Hamlet myself in those early days, Sarah! I remember I wrote her a most extravagant love letter, bidding her to ‘doubt that the stars were fire and to doubt that the sun did move, to doubt truth to be a liar, but never to doubt my love!’” I made it my business to read up on what she was interested in, but that Shakespeare stuff was sure a bit to bite off for a fifteen year old kid! We were only kids. She was only twelve but she knew just what she wanted, and I was only fifteen. But I knew I wanted her!”

Sarah stared uncomfortably out the window, wishing she hadn’t allowed the conversation down this path, but Will continued as if lost in the memory. “I followed her to New York 6 years later when she went to Steadwyk Acadamy. I enrolled at the State College and spent time with her when she had time to give me. Then Lois and Mike were killed and Agnes left so suddenly for Europe.

“You know, I believe she’s going to the airport!” Sarah interrupted suddenly.

“I think you’re right,” confirmed Will as they followed the car now leaving the main road. “What do you make of that?” They pulled the car to the side of the road and watched silently as Agnes pulled her car into the lot marked “long term parking.”

“Uncle Will!” Sarah cried. “I can’t believe it’s you! After all these years. You’re here too!” Tears flooded her eyes and softly cascaded down her cheeks.

“My goodness, girl, you’re the spittin’ image of your mother! I would have known you anywhere! Those enchanting green eyes run rampant in the Tucker women. And I guess I know firsthand the charms you Tucker women possess!”

“Well, Uncle Will, I’ve definitely got Tucker blood, but I’d like to believe that I’ve got some of my father’s looks and traits too. I guess you can understand, after being married to my Aunt Leona for so many years, how I dread any inherited traits from that Tucker woman!” Sarah was busy trying to wipe her tears away with the back of her hand. She smiled as she did so, because she was beginning to feel that now was the perfect time for repairing broken family ties. Surely her uncle wouldn’t be hugging her if he held anything against her.

“Hey, let’s sit down! I’m hungry as an ox! We can catch up as we eat.” Sarah’s Uncle Will maneuvered the two of them back to the table he had been sitting at. “I’ve already ordered. Here, let’s get a menu for you.” He waved to the waitress, who seemed to be on quite familiar terms with her uncle. “Sue, could you bring a menu for my niece, Sarah – Sarah Kent.” After the waitress exchanged pleasantries with Sarah and took her order, the two long lost relatives looked at each other and began to speak simultaneously. “I’m sorry. You go first.” The always polite uncle offered.

“Well I really don’t know where to start,” Sarah hesitated, “I’m at a point of my life where I need some answers. I really need to know who I am and why my life ended up being such a roller coaster ride. I came back here to Hillbrook to search. Search for grandma and my father’s family. I’ve got to make some sense out of my life, Uncle Will. I need to know who I am and who I want to be. I hate to be melodramatic, and hopefully I don’t sound like some lost soul to you…”

As her uncle sincerely shook his head, Sarah continued. “I drove out to Grandma Rose’s old farmhouse. I don’t know what I expected, but I was horrified when I saw Agnes come to the door. I never thought in a million years that she would be living in Grandma’s house! Of all people! Agnes. I know now that she was the cause of so much pain and wrongdoing. Why is she there?”

“That’s a long story,” began Will, “Apparently, when your grandmother moved away she left her house and property with a neighbor to manage. She told him she would return in a few years and he could keep whatever rental money the place brought in. In return, he would make sure it was properly maintained and let out. Your grandmother never told anyone where she was going and no one was ever able to find her whereabouts after the neighbor died. The property was turned over to the courts, and your Aunt Leona was given the deed to it after the seven year waiting period. Now this all happened while you were living with us. I think your grandmother was so heartsick after Leona took you away that she just went away herself. Well then, since she was never heard from or found during those seven years, the house was Leona’s to do with as she pleased. So of course Agnes moved in. Gossip has it that Leona gave it to her, but I happen to know that’s not true.”

Her Uncle Will paused briefly while he decided whether or not he wanted to explain his feelings. He took a deep breath and continued. I was a little hopeful that Leona might move back to Hillbrook and live in the old home place. I don’t know if you can understand this, Sarah, but I still love Leona. Even with all her selfishness and lack of integrity, I love that woman. I made a commitment to love and care for her through good times and hard times. I meant that.” After a long pause he added, “I don’t believe she would have ever turned against me if it hadn’t been for Agnes’ meddling. Agnes seemed to have some hold on your Aunt Leona, Sarah. Somehow I think it has something to do with something that happened when they were kids. Still, I love her.”

“I’m sorry, Uncle,” Sarah interrupted, “but I can’t understand that. I never want to see my aunt Leona again. This morning when I was standing there in front of the farmhouse, I realized how much my grandmother meant to me. Aunt Leona, through her constant slanders, turned my heart against Grandma Rose. For too, too many years I believed the lies that Leona and Agnes fed me about my grandmother. What would Grandma think about the way I turned out? It was Sarah’s turn for a silent pause. Her facial expression revealed to her uncle that she was hurting and struggling against painful memories that he could only guess at.

“Here, I am thirty-one years old,” thought Sarah, “What kind of person have I become, Grandma? I’m afraid you’d be awfully unhappy with the wildness of my life. I’m like that morning glory vine you talked about. I guess you’d say I needed some cutting and pruning to put my life back on the right.”

Uncle Will brought Sarah back to the present. “You know, darlin’, I never once thought you meant those hateful words you said to me that day I was forced to leave.”

“Oh Uncle, I was tricked into saying those things. Agnes convinced me that you and Leona would get back together if I made you feel sorry for taking sides with me. I was a pawn in her hand! She knew just how to manipulate all of us. I didn’t mean a word I said to you that awful day. You can’t imagine how many times I have wished I could take those words back. I was afraid you’d never understand or forgive me for them.

Her uncle’s face slowly spread into a warm smile. I felt like a father to you for those few short years we lived together. I knew how you were being torn apart after you were taken from your grandmother when you were nine. You must have heard your aunt and I quarrel about who you were best off with. I pleaded with her to send you back to Rose…only problem was, by then we couldn’t find her. And I loved you.”

“You were a father to me, the only one I ever knew.” Sarah was beaming at the man across the table in a way that felt so right. The feeling this provoked in Will was one that all men are born to desire – he had wanted to protect and nurture her when she was young, and now, even though she had matured into a woman, he still wanted to protect and defend her. He had never had children of his own and yet God had provided this little girl for him to love and father.

“You and Grandma were the only ones I knew, without a doubt, truly loved me. With both of you I felt safe and secure.” Sarah’s tears began to flow once again. This time, however, she didn’t think she’d ever be able to stop them.

Her uncle slid into the seat next to her and put his arm around her. “It’s okay, honey. It’s going to be okay.”

___________________________

Back in the motel room, Sarah changed into the nightgown she had packed. She was exhausted! Emotionally drained. Who would have known it was going to be such a day?! After many minutes of splashing cold water onto her tear stained face, she tiredly made her way to the motel bed and crawled under the covers. She shivered from the coldness and the strangeness of the sheets that she drew up over her. She lay there going over the events of the day. The peace she had hoped to capture by coming back to Hillbrook still eluded her, but the accidental reuniting with her uncle was the beginning of a healing process. And the healing felt good.

Still she couldn’t accept the fact that Will loved Leona after all she had put him through. What had he said? “I made a commitment to love and care for her.” A commitment…what did that really mean? Would Jonathan keep such a commitment if she turned out to be an unlovable wife? She might not even know how to be a good wife.

So many questions still to be answered. On the top of the list in Sarah’s heart was ‘Where did you go, Grandma?’

She rose from the bed and dug through her suitcase, retrieved the small black bible, and promised herself that she’d start reading it tomorrow. Surely some of Grandma’s love had originated from this book. Who knows what she might gain from the book that her grandmother seemed to build her life on. It was worth a try. As she drifted off to sleep she was repeating softly in her mind, “I need you, Grandma…I need you…”

To be continued…

If you’re new to “Paladini Potpie” or haven’t visited in awhile you might want to read about Jane Jardscg and how this Novel Adventure came to be.

Sarah hated conflict. She always had. Yet here she was face to face with Agnes, the woman who had altered the course of her childhood. The woman whose lies and deception had caused her to be abruptly uprooted from her loving happy home with Grandma Rose. There had even been whispered rumors that her manipulations may have even led to the death of Sarah’s young parents.
She couldn’t say for sure how long she had been standing there, her mouth open, her mind racing. Sarah had traveled to her childhood home for one reason only – to find healing, and with that healing to find peace. She had hoped that by returning to this cherished farmhouse she could find the answers for which her heart so desperately longed.

She had brought her long forgotten birthday bible with her. The one Grandma had so lovingly given her that last year they were together. Sarah had hoped that perhaps by sitting once more in Grandma’s wing chair and reading her own version of Grandma’s softly worn black leather bible, she could uncover the secret to the peace that had pervaded her grandmother’s difficult life.

It had only been two short weeks since Jonathan had asked her to marry him. The question had come as no surprise to her. They had been friends for so long, their lives becoming ever more entwined. But the weight of the commitment had staggered her. Her hesitations drove them apart, and she spent days avoiding him. Sarah recalled the hurt and confusion in his eyes, and the memory broke her heart again. She had no reassuring explanations to offer him, just the desperate plea, “Jonathan, I need to go home.”

But where was her home? Until now Sarah had thought it was here at Grandma’s farmhouse…her heart had brought her here, her prayers had brought her here. But now, standing before her was Agnes…

Sarah shrank back, away from the door, away from Agnes, away from the painful memories. She stepped back and ran across the verandah and down the wooden steps. She could hear the hollow pounding of her heart. Tears began streaming down her cheeks and sobs choked the air from her throat. She reached the car, fumbled for the keys, started the engine, and bumped down the long driveway in a cloud of dust. Squinting through her tears, Sarah stared into the rear view window at Grandma’s porch, only to see Agnes standing where Grandma had once stood.

She looked away and continued down the long dusty road. The road she had ventured on just this morning, so eager, so full of hope and expectations. Her shoulders drooped with disappointment and her heart hurt with the pain of the long forgotten memories Agnes’ face had awakened.

Sarah did not have the energy or the understanding to begin the long journey back, so she decided to drive though town and find a place to stay. At any other time she would have paused to become reacquainted with the small town, relishing its old-fashioned appeal. But not today. The experience of the morning clouded her eyes and dulled her senses. She remembered seeing a “motel” sign earlier that morning. Sarah was relieved to see the “NO” remained unlit beside the red “VACANCY” announcement.

Pulling up to the guest entrance, she left the car running and numbly went to check in. Once inside the room she threw herself on the bed and escaped into the vacancy of sleep.

Later, awakening to a darkened room and a lonely feeling in her heart, Sarah became aware of the emptiness of her stomach. She sat up, determined to break out of the darkness and despair.

Driving down the quiet, softly lit streets, she found an appealing diner in the older, familiar part of town. Sarah entered the diner and waited to be seated. It was then that she saw him.

At first she wasn’t sure – it had been so long and his head was turned slightly away from her view. Then she saw his beloved profile and she knew. Her heart pounded and her cheeks flushed. She was not ready, not now, not yet. She looked down, but it was too late. He had already turned and their eyes had met. He stood and smiled and she moved toward him. He opened his arms and she walked in. It all came flooding back – so many memories, so much feeling. His tenderness overwhelmed her.

As his warmth and strength enveloped her, Sarah knew it was here that she belonged. It was here she felt at home.

To be continued…

If you’re new to “Paladini Potpie” or haven’t visited in awhile you might want to read about Jane Jardscg and how this Novel Adventure came to be.

Lois and Leona had been the last to reach the assemblage of girls. “Hullo Agnes! Hullo Margaret. Patricia! Hello Violet!” Leona exclaimed, joy burgeoning from within at the sight of all these promising prospects. Her plan must work. There was a flurry of excited squeals and uncontrollable giggles as the final two participants melted into the revelry. “How do you do, Cammie?’ Leona finally inquired with reticence.

“Simply delightful, thank you. It was a lovely idea to begin our swim hole assembly early,” Cammie acknowledged.

“Our?” Leona muttered under her breath, “Who invited you anyway?”

“Oh yes! Coming today was an exquisite notion!” Violet chimed in.

Some of the girls had gathered with the attachment of their younger sisters and brothers, without whom they would not have been allowed to attend. After they had all exchanged affectionate greetings they gathered their bundles and walked over to their favorite retreat. They spread out hand-stitched quilts along the bank of the swimming hole in the same secret spot that had been their tradition. It was warm in the sun-dappled shadows. They could look our and see the current flowing swiftly beyond the cove.

Gradually the reminiscing began. A few of these girls lived on ranches several miles out of town and did not attend school with the others. They were starved for information concering their friends and there was an insatiable hunger for gossip concerning mutual acquaintances in the town. The girls conveyed stories of their occupation during the long, cold, dreary winter, and each one tried to outdo the one before. Voices would interrupt and talk over others as the volume and pitch began to rise. After awhile the girls began to break up into groups of two or three of the very dearest friends. Some strolled about deeply in conversation.

Up to this point Lois felt alone. These were all the friends of Leona, and she felt left out of the gossip and intimacies being shared. Now, in her loneliness she turned to the youngest members of the group. She would always turn her mind toward things that were productive and helpful instead of dwelling on the disappointments and discouragements that the world seemed to pour out onto a life. She gathered the younger children and led them on a hunt for buried treasure through the peach orchard, singing and dancing as they went along the way. The peach trees did not blossom as early as the almonds, so there was no interference from the busy bees.

Lois was content. Something deep in her spirit always made her long to be outdoors in the presence of creation. She would listen to the world of sky and water and trees. She allowed God’s creation to change her – to make her life profoundly more simple and satisfying.

Cammie sat in the midst of three girls, bewitching them with her deceptively coy smile, enchanting stories and supercilious flattery. Her bright blue eyes and golden blond hair made her dizzyingly beautiful. She was dressed in a casual frock of vanilla cream linen with the palest of pink satin piping.

“As if anyone would wear linen to a swim hole!” Leona thought, eyeing her scathingly.

Cammie lived on the north side of town, past St. Paul’s. It was an auspicious neighborhood, pervaded with opulence and self-indulgence. Her home was one of white limestone, elaborate and ornate and reminiscent of Europe. Her father, on the crest of his fortune, had decided to settle here and become and important man in this small town. Cammie had been raised to regard herself with prestige and distinction. It was an honor to be affiliated with “Cam” and her repertoire of friends was extensive.

This was the first year she had been cast in any part less than the lead of the school Festival Theatre, and it was repugnant to her that Leona had been chosen for the part. Clearly the superior talent and competency were hers. She felt contempt at the decision, and would repudiate any claim to her rightful due! Even as she sat there with her bright smile, Cammie was calculating her jealous retribution. All at once it became clear what she meant to do. There was only one thing to do – only one course in which there was dignity. And what was more important than dignity?

Unexpectedly a deep voice bellowed from the river, “Hello ladies!” It was a young man in a canoe, paddling against the rapidly moving river water. He was obviously struggling across the current, but his strength and determination persevered, and he glided toward the girls with a modest, toothy grin. It was Lois who recognized him first, and she was pleased he had happened upon this secret meeting. She had always enjoyed the pastor’s son, Michael, since they had met at six years old.

“How are you?” He addressed Lois.

“I’m doing well, thank you,” she smiled, “Where are you going?”

“The day is so fine that I decided I would paddle from the O’Connells’ down to the bridge. I love the renewal of the countryside in the spring!” He didn’t approach the shore too closely. The now apparent number of girls was intimidating, and propriety was a significant concern to him. Pleasantly, but with some diffidence, he greeted the other girls and inquired if they were enjoying the glorious spring afternoon. After exchanging a few more pleasantries, he bid them good day and drifted out of the cove and off again down the river.

Watching till he was out of sight Lois suddenly realized the sun was sinking low on the horizon. It was getting late, she announced, and time to start home. Leona was in a heated discussion with Violet and Agnes and too umbrage at her sister’s abrupt proclamation.

To be continued…

If you’re new to “Paladini Potpie” or haven’t visited in awhile you might want to read about Jane Jardscg and how this Novel Adventure came to be.

I can’t let the school down,” was her repeated thought as she staggered home to obey the command of her mother. “What will I do?” she thought. “I’ve asked Jane, Dana and Corrie. I’m running out of ideas. Lois can’t do it. If I can’t get anyone to cover for me, the school might replace me with – ” Her thoughts were interrupted by her mother’s voice calling her to set the table for the evening meal.

The next day at school Leona was anxious as she attended her classes, hardly able to focus on her school work. She was torn with thoughts of trying to find someone to watch the McKenzie daughters and fulfilling the greatest desire she had ever had. To be chosen for the school Festival Theatre was one thing, but to be chosen for the lead part! The thought consumed her. She had been in school plays before during the summer, but she always got little parts while “one other” always got the lead. Now it was her turn and she would do anything to keep it that way. Her rival wouldn’t get the lead this time even if it meant that she herself didn’t get it.

Before serving dinner Rose kept her time of solitude, and felt an intense desire to pray. She leaned forward in her wing chair in a posture of prayer, folded her hands and closed her eyes to pray to her Father who knew all things. “Thank you, Father, for this time. I come to you and commit this evening to you and ask for your wisdom and discernment. You’re so good, Lord. Thank you for my husband, and Lois and Leona,

Thank you, Lord, for what you’re teaching us each individually. I pray for the wisdom that only You can give. Prepare Patrick and me to handle anything that might come our way with the girls. In Jesus’ name, Amen.”

After this needed prayer Rose felt the presence of the Lord in such a powerful way. He poured His love for her family into her heart as she served the evening meal. This was a task that could seem hum-drum, but now she did it with great anticipation and the joy of the Lord.

Rose knew that dinner was the time when her gathered family would share the happenings of the day. So significant was this time that she protected it from outside distractions so that each family member could come and lay burdens down and they would all listen. She wanted it to be a time of refuge, no matter what had taken place that day. The room was invitingly arranged with its round table covered with a bright spring colored tablecloth and soft yellow napkins to match. The Irish limestone vase held a variety of fresh wildflowers. Rose gazed at Patrick on her left and the girls, Lois and Leona, completing the circle around the table.

Lois was of the mind to be just like her mother. She, as the elder of the two girls, wanted to be done with school, marry, and care for her little ones as he mother always had. Lois watched her mother and learned from her so she could take on those “keeper of the home” responsibilities her mother had instilled in her.

Leona ate quietly, her mind filled with the unaccomplished task of finding a replacement for her commitment to Mrs. McKenzie. Her insatiable ambition to achieve and be better than the next “Susie on the block” was driving her to a plan that would bring great satisfaction and, she thought, would resolve the situation. “It has to work. It just has to,” she thought. She ate the amount of Irish stew and sod bread served her, and answered when spoke to. When there was a lull in the conversation and her bowl was clean she respectfully asked to be excused. Her father, noticing some restlessness in her, released her from any more binding conversation, noting to himself that he must speak to her before she shut her eyes for the night.

As Patrick and Rose got up from dinner, expecting Lois to clean the table, they ventured into the parlor to talk over what they thought might be a future problem with Leona. Rose shared about her prayer time earlier, and how she thought the Lord might be preparing them for a daughter who might need her reins pulled in a little tighter in order to be trained in the right way to go.

Upstairs Leona sat on the rocker her papa had made. She rocked for a few minutes when she suddenly thought of a group of girls she had met last summer at the swimming hole, and how they had become so close that they shared their deepest secrets. Their first meeting would be coming up soon, and that’s where she would find a replacement to help Mrs. McKenzie! Some of them were responsible. Yes, that was a strong quality and important to her. There were a few of the girls who showed a lack of character, but she knew if she found someone responsible it would go over well with Mrs. McKenzie and papa and mother. And then she’d be free!

Her first step was to call Fran and ask if they could begin their summer swim hole times earlier so they could have an extended time together. Fran was of the same mind as Leona, so they agreed to call their acquaintances and meet the next day at the swim hole. “It’s set!” thought Leona, “This plan has to work! Surely one of those girls will want a summer job.”

Later that evening as she was climbing into bed, Leona heard heavy footsteps climbing the stairs. She knew it was her papa and nervousness swelled up in her. She wondered what they might talk about before he kissed her good night.

“Well, my sweet cookie, are we already tucked in and ready to call this a day? You were so quiet at supper. I wondered if you want to share what’s going on in your world these days? Mother said you’ve been chosen to play the lead part in this summer’s Festival Theatre. I’m so pleased. She also said you are hard at work to find someone to replace your commitment to Mrs. McKenzie. Any luck, my sweet?

“Oh papa, you know how I long to be Ophelia, and if I don’t get someone to cover for me, well then, well…” Oh she couldn’t tell papa the real truth – that she didn’t want Cammie to get the lead. She knew that Papa would lovingly reprove her for being self-centered and spiteful. “After tomorrow I should know if I have someone, Papa. Remember my friends who met last summer down at the swim hole? Well tomorrow we’ll start our summer gatherings and I’ll find someone there. I know I will!”

“Okay, Leona, but it’s still a little early for swimming. I want to remind you that the swift currents of the river are much stronger now than they will be later in the summer due to the snow melting up above us. I’d like you to ask Lois to go with you and help watch any younger children. Please stay on the shore this time and plan your swim times for later. I love you, Cookie, and I want to protect you.”

“Thank you, Papa. I’ll ask Lois to come along and we’ll stay on the bank.”

Friday passed quickly and school was over in no time. Leona had asked Lois to meet her by the oak tree in front of the school so they could walk to the swim hole together. The walk seemed long and the warm breeze reminded them that spring would soon draw into summer. Approaching an almond orchard, they knew the swim hole was close. They crossed the road to avoid a swarm of bees busy about their work. Turning down a dirt lane that separated the almond and peach orchards, they could hear the rushing water of the river and smell the sweetness of the orchards.

They saw the group of girls up ahead, and as they drew near Leona could hardly believe her eyes. Was that Cammie in the middle of the crowd of girls? She saw Agnes and Fran and Catherine and others. But Cammie? Who had invited Cammie?

She continued walking mechanically toward the group of girls, and as she drew near she stumbled on some rocks that lay hidden under the soft river dirt. As she stumbled, Lois tried to grab her arm, but she fell to the ground, landing first on her knees, then her chest. “Leona! Are you alright?!”

Leona began to get up, dusting the soft dirt off her front and spitting the grit out of her mouth. The crowd of girls, being about ten, circled around her in concern. “I’m okay. I’m okay.” She repeated as she dusted off her shaded, embarrassed face, and lifted her head with dignity. “Pride comes before a fall…” the voice whispered in her mind. She turned the thought aside and ventured toward her plan.

To be continued…

If you’re new to “Paladini Potpie” or haven’t visited in awhile you might want to read about Jane Jardscg and how this Novel Adventure came to be.

The evening had called and it was time to pull the lovingly worn, but decidedly proud, faded brown velvet curtains. The sitting parlour was bathed in an inviting amber glow from the evening lamp, and a solitary candle stood lit on the fireplace mantle. It was Rose’s favourite room. In this room she was surrounded by the pleasantries that make life your own. The shining silver tea set rested contentedly on the well-oiled dark oak sideboard. A lace table runner covered the piano, which had been imported from Italy, and handed down by a beloved godmother. The inviting wing chair sat a gaze beyond the window, where she could look out on the sparsely wooded hillside sloping down to the road. Through the green mist of newborn spring foliage she could just catch a glimpse of the barn of a neighboring farm.

Rose came to this room often, and sat in the stillness of the twilight before the whole household arrived home from their various wanderings. She sought a certain solitude whenever she entered the parlour; not only a rest for her weary body, but a respite from all that sought to distract her soul. It was in these needful respites that she often let her hand fall and rest on the black leather Bible that sat on the ornate book rest near her wing chair. As if in an invisible transfusion, she often gained the refreshing she needed by simply resting her hand on that unopened book. A young child looking up would see her lips form the very words of scripture that were ingrained on the tablets of her heart.

It was during this blessed time of repose that a loud obtrusive slamming of the front door shook her out of her reverie. “Mummy, Mummy, where are you?”

“Right here, dear, in the sitting parlour,” Rose replied. A warm smile welcomed the eager little girl of 12 who hurriedly pushed open the parlour door.

Straining in the dim light of the room, the little girl walked confidently toward her mother. “Guess what happened to me today!” she proudly exclaimed. “You will never guess!” The mother gazed at her child, beaming at the vitality of life that shone brightly in her intense green eyes. He auburn hair was pulled back in a tight schoolgirl braid. “I was chosen to play the lead part in the school Festival Theatre! I will be playing Ophelia, the most romantic of leads! I will play her part with every centimeter and core of my being! I am Ophelia!” A dramatic fluttering of the hands completed the transformation that was occurring in the little girl
A contented smile wove its way across the mother’s face. “I am so proud of you, Leona, but remember that you promised to help care for Mrs. McKenzie’s two daughters in the afternoons this summer. I hope this doesn’t interfere with your commitment to them.”

“Oh no!” gasped Leona, “I can’t let the school down!” Rehearsals are every day until the play opens. I just can’t watch Mrs. McKenzie’s daughters.”

The mother’s knowing gaze lingered on her forlorn daughter. “Well dear, sometimes we have to choose the harder part. Obedience and integrity sometimes come at a great cost and the cost is mostly to us.” The girl leapt up. After patting down her starched school uniform, she proudly announced, “You’re right, Mother, so I guess Mrs. McKenzie will be needing some help from me in finding a replacement. I had better start by asking Jane across the way.” In a flash she disappeared out the parlous door.

“Leona, be back in five minutes,” called her mother. A sober pall fell on Rose’s heart. She sat back in the wing chair, her hand falling once again on the worn bible. An oft repeated prayer formed on the grateful lips of the mother even as a cry was uttered forth, “She has much to learn, Lord.”

To be continued…

If you are new to “The Paladini Potpie” or have not visited in awhile you might want to read about Jane Jardscg and how this Novel Adventure came to be.

She didn’t realize she had been holding her breath. Now as she turned off the ignition she exhaled slowly. Incredibly, she had forgotten the morning glories! As she gazed at the low rambling farmhouse before her, she felt a thrill of pleasure. The wall of the building was a mass of glowing green and bright jewel colors. A slight breeze shivered across the expanse of heart-shaped leaves, sending a ripple right into her heart.

She was nine years old, sitting on that verandah, dangling skinny legs and idly bumping her heels against the old brick of the foundation. She examined the vines, intrigued by the way each little tendril eagerly reached out to grasp and hold on as its blossom turned a bright trusting face toward the sun.

She shook her head now, as she opened the door of the rental car and stepped out onto the rutted gravel driveway. She was glad she had arrived in the morning to see the bright blossoms open, and so full of hope. She remembered now, that it had always made her vaguely sad to see the lovely flowers withdraw into themselves as evening approached. Having begun this day with hope, the blossoms seemed, like open arms, to welcome her home. Home? Was this a homecoming? Could one really come home?

Again the breeze seemed to send a cold shiver into her heart. She resolutely shook her head once more, and closed the car door. She urged her mind back through the tangle of confusion and pain. Leaning her elbow on the roof of the car, and idly twisting a strand of hair, she stood lost in thought. How long had it been? Her mind drifted back 20 years…

…The driveway was a sea of mud; even the steadfast morning glories seemed beaten down and defeated in the storm of heaven’s tears as the little girl pressed her wet face against the car window and sobbed. She watched the farmhouse until it disappeared from sight.

She hadn’t seen her grandmother since that day. Grandma Rose, who raised her for nearly ten years after the sudden tragic death of her parents…Her own grandmother – but the years had blurred the memory of her face just as so many small evil slanders had blurred the memory of Grandma Rose’s gentle goodness.

“Oh Grandma,” she sighed aloud. Cupping her cheek in her hand, she stared sightlessly at the whispering wall of green. “Are you still here? Or did you go back to Ireland like they said? Grandma, are you even still alive?”

Then, for the first time in years, she remembered. With sudden clarity she saw her grandmother’s hands cutting back strands of the vines, which left unchecked would have quickly grown to cover the windows of the farmhouse.

Grandma tucked one of the little vines back in among its brothers. Then she gently but firmly tugged on another grasping tendril, encouraging it to hold onto the strong wire trellis Papa had attached to the house years earlier. “We train them,” Grandma explained, “and then they naturally go where they are supposed to go. If we don’t cut them or tie them back a wee bit when they start to go like this, why, they just go wild.” She snipped off a obstinate tendril, frowning slightly. “It happens faster than you expect – and when they begin to go wild like that. Then we have to do some serious cutting to put them right.”

The mist cleared a little more and she saw her grandmother’s ageless and wise face. It was surprisingly unlined, except for the multitude of tiny wrinkles at the corners of her eyes, giving evidence of a ready humor and sense of fun.

Grandma Rose laughed a bit ruefully, bringing her story to its moral conclusion. “Young folks are a lot like that too, my girl,” she said, “I’ve see them go both ways. But you know the Lord tells us to train up a child in the way she should go and when she’s grown up she’ll not depart from that training.”

Standing on the rutted driveway now, she sighed with a violent shudder. “Oh Grandma,” she whispered aloud, “I have so many loose tendrils trying to grasp onto God-only-knows-what! I don’t even know if I can find that trellis if I try!”

She remembered the anger in Aunt Leona’s eyes that stormy afternoon; the violent words flung at her grandmother, and the older woman’s steady unperturbed gaze. A few belongings had been hastily stuffed in a brown paper bag, and she could still feel Aunt Leona’s urgent tug forcing her out the door and toward the waiting car.

The car sped down the driveway sending up a spray of muddy water behind it – the muddy water splashed up to mingle with the torrent of fresh drops that poured from a glowering sky.

She knew now, that her own innocent tears, fresh from eyes unaccustomed to crying, had mingled in some way that morning, with the tears of her grandmother who had lived long years in a dirt covered world. Grandma Rose had lived in sorrow as hopefully as the morning glories, which daily turned their trusting faces to the Giver of Light.

She caught herself up sharply. Enough of the melancholy reverie! Just walk up to the door and knock! You know what you came here for.

Assuming the bravado that had carried her for so many miles of hard years, she strode across the gravel driveway. Without a glance at the morning glories she mounted the wooden steps to cross the verandah and knock boldly on the rickety wooden frame of the screen door. There was a sound of rustling from inside the house, and a creak as the inner door opened.

She was not prepared for the face that appeared dimly through the screen. She stared with astonishment into the cold hard eyes which boldly met her own. “Agnes!’ she managed to choke out. The name was something like a strangled shriek. “What are you doing here?”

To be continued…

If you are new to “The Paladini Potpie” or have not visited in awhile you might want to read about Jane Jardscg and how this Novel Adventure came to be.