Not rain nor snow nor tropical storm Bill can keep dedicated critiquers from their appointed times! Jane and Peg braved the drippy weather yesterday and slogged through the rain to my front door. We missed Nancy and Helen but Helen sent word that she has had two more devotionals accepted by a periodical and Nancy had a great radio interview Wednesday. I hope they can join us next time.
The Critters never fail to cheer me up and put a spring to my step. For inspiration, they are better than a box of new pencils and just as sharp! Gathered around the hundred year old table with coffee cups and cookies close at hand, those cozy critiquers certainly brightened a cloudy day.
Jane, who has been traveling out west on a fabulous vacation brought back lovely pictures and interesting videos. She has posted many of these on her Facebook page. Her travels included the Grand Canyon, Bryce Canyon, Sedona, Arizona, and Zion National Park in Utah.
She survived the switchbacks at high elevations (Mark is a good driver) and two long and dark tunnels through the mountains.
Jane also made the acquaintance of a personable and intelligent raven. Did he quoth, “Nevermore”? Jane didn’t say but never fear, that raven is going to live forever in the pages of Jane’s books. His name is Poe. His antics are many and endearing. I can hardly wait to read about Poe the Raven.
Peg is definitely feeling well again. Once more, coffee tastes good and her interest in cozy mysteries is alive and robust. She mentioned two series by authors she greatly enjoys. Barbara Ross writes about a clambake business in Maine. I am going to delve into this series soon.
Another writer, Blaize Clement was one of Peg’s favorites. Sadly, Blaize passed away but her son John is continuing with his mother’s cozy mysteries. You’ll find these books on Amazon: Blaize Clement and John Clement.
And, these ladies being my trusted and discerning sounding board, I read the beginning of the brand new Darcy and Flora mystery and asked their opinions. They gave me some very helpful suggestions. As I’ve said many times, every writer needs a critique group. I don’t know what I’d do without the Cozy Critters.
Would you like to read just a smidgen of the fourth Darcy and Flora mother and daughter cozy? Well, here ’tis!
As Mom and I sat in the swing on the front porch of our new house, watching twilight slip toward us over the western hills, I had no idea that before this warm night ended, the peaceful evening would be shattered into a million pieces.
Surrounding trees crowded close against the yard, nodding as if in agreement with a soft breeze blowing through. Above those trees, stars glittered like tiny pinpricks in the floor of Heaven.
In July, the whippoorwills were quiet, busy with their babies, but owls and frogs were in fine voice.
“You know, Darcy, I’m sorry I dragged my feet so long about a new house,” Mom said. “This is a wonderful place. I feel like I’ve come home.”
Cradling my coffee cup in my hands, I nodded. “It seems as if Granny Grace should pop out of the door any minute and tell us we’d better come inside and get ready for bed.”
Mom laughed. “Yes, she was an early-to-bed, early-to-rise person.”
Something rustled in the sumac thicket beyond the yard. Jethro, who lay in the swing beside me, raised his head. A small night animal must be prowling around. We would have to get used to raccoons, skunks, and groundhogs sharing our yard. Lee Creek, below the hill, drew many forest dwellers.
“Go back to sleep,” I told my drowsy cat. “You are safe. All the big, bad creatures will leave you alone if you stay in your own domain.”
Mom arose and stretched. “I guess it’s the night air—something is making me as sleepy as Jethro. I’m going to turn in.”
“It’s such a pleasant evening, I’ll stay out a while longer. Hopefully, I won’t doze off in this porch swing.”
Mom chuckled. “If you do, you’ll wake up when you hit the floor. Looks like lightning way off in the distance. May be just heat lightning, though.”
“You know what Granny always said. ‘It doesn’t rain nights in July’.”
“For every old saying, there’s at least a dozen exceptions,” Mom answered as she opened the screen door. “Good night now.”
Pushing the swing with my toe, I closed my eyes and thought about the events that brought me to this evening. When I returned to my hometown, a little more than a year ago, I simply wanted to heal from Jake’s death. Little by little, I was dealing with the loss of my husband. And, although I found it hard to admit, my heart knew that sheriff Grant Hendley was the main reason I felt nearly normal again.
“Grant,” I murmured. What would I say when he asked me to marry him? I knew that he would but, in all fairness to Grant, what should my answer be? Would I feel disloyal to Jake? Could I fully love Grant if I was still in love with a memory?
“I won’t cross that bridge until I get to it,” I told Jethro. He opened one eye and flexed his claws.
Jethro had adapted to this new house amazingly well—a small thing, true, but just another sign to me that the decision to move to my grandparents’ old home site was the right one.
Years ago, the house where Granny Grace and Grandpa George lived had burned. The old orchard had not been damaged, thank the Lord and come spring, the apple trees should bear fruit. Just beyond the orchard was an ancient graveyard, not Goshen where my grandparents and father were buried but an old, forgotten graveyard. In the distance, moonlight glittered on a few of the leaning headstones but that one unmarked grave with a dreadful secret was not visible from the porch.
Even though discovering the grave had opened secret pages of my family’s history, I was grateful for the light it shown on our past. In all the years I knew her, Granny Grace said nothing about that grave nor about the story that went with it.
A rumble in the distance jarred me out of my reverie. An old saying was about to be dispelled because that was certainly thunder and the lightning Mom saw earlier flashed ever nearer.
Jethro had heard or felt the approaching storm and now waited impatiently for me at the front door.
I held the door open and he darted inside. “Rain will give us a good night’s sleep,” I told him. I didn’t know how wrong I was.
To read how Darcy and Flora happened to be in their new home and to find out what secret the old graveyard held, be sure to read the third Darcy and Flora cozy, Best Left Buried.
You’ll find all three of the Darcy and Flora mysteries here: http://pen-l.com/Mystery.html
Or here: http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss_2?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=blanche+day+manos
Another gettin’ place: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/blanche-day-manos?store=allproducts&keyword=blanche+day+manos
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