Lost and Found in Midian, Montana

Please enjoy the first chapter of my work-in-progress, Lost and Found in Midian, Montana. This is the manuscript that I am actively pitching to agents and publishers. Tell me what you think in the comments, or on Facebook and be sure to subscribe to my newsletter for updates and giveaways!

The soundtrack to Shane Olson’s demise was fitting for the nation’s most promising up-and-coming pastor. Awkward greetings bounced unanswered off his enflamed face as he crossed the threshold of Crosspointe, the church he had shepherded for five years. At the Welcome booth, a coffee urn sputtered its last drops in the cup of the children’s director, who watched through fearful eyes as Shane demanded, “Where’s Jonah?” Just like the car radio during the frantic drive from his house, the soothing worship song from the foyer’s speaker system tried to reason with him. He raced past petrified church members with whom he had helped through various hardships. Prayers against infertility, addiction, bankruptcy and lust echoed in his memory with each bewildered face he passed.

Ignoring the screams of the Holy Spirit in his head, Shane burst through the doors of the sanctuary. Above the pews that he bathed in prayer prior to every church service, the air was thick with tension. His breath heaved, as Sunday afternoon gossip slithered between the congregants, forming a steady, serpentine hiss.

On the stage, a guitar, which had two hours earlier strummed about mercy and grace, protested with a clamor as an elder callously removed it from its rightful place. The motorized whirring of the descending white screen promised to educate those in the pews, although instead of offering scripture, the screens were expected to show all the reasons why Shane needed to be removed from his position. He was too rogue, too direct, too progressive and too transparent. His biggest flaw, though, was having everything his closest friend had always wanted.

Standing at the podium, Jonah Tanner, the best man at his wedding, cleared his throat and stretched his neck, ready to complete his betrayal.

“Jonah!” Shane yelled, surprised at the gruff sound of his own voice.

Jonah, sporting a smug grin, extended a Machiavellian handshake as Shane bounded up the church steps. Using his momentum, Shane swung his fist towards his friend’s face, cracking the cheekbone. Screaming pain entered his knuckles and traveled up to his shoulder. Jonah stumbled and fell on his side in front of the piano. Consumed by the rage that he had long buried under spiritual disciplines and prayer, Shane launched himself on top of Jonah. Shane no longer heard anything. The furious pounding of blood in his ears drowned the Holy Spirit’s voice as he ravaged the man who had stolen everything he loved in this life: his job, his church, his reputation, and his wife.  

God, why? Haven’t I been faithful? Haven’t I loved her unconditionally as you have loved the church? Tristan is the only girl I’ve ever loved.

The sight of her laying in their bed, twenty minutes earlier, wearing the satin slip he had given her for their seventh anniversary had seared into his mind. She had been startled to see her husband in the doorway, mere moments after her lover had left her side. Fire engulfed his insides, raging up his throat and out his eyes. When hands finally separated the two men, Shane saw his wife standing over her lover’s blood-soaked face. Her eyes shone curiously at Shane. Was it shame for her own actions?  Pity, perhaps, at her husband’s miserable state? No. It was disgust.

God, what have I done?

He had to turn away and found himself facing his church family, looking on in horror. It was then that he noticed the dozens of cellphones, recording his downfall—sheep, offering up their loving shepherd to the wolves.

***

In one moment, the world as you know it can end. It was a truth of which Ryann Ashcroft was reminded as she pressed her back against the icy stone, eighteen hundred miles away from the Crosspointe church stage.  

The newspaper had predicted the first snowfall of the season for that evening and the morose clouds hovering above the Gallatin mountains seemed keen to obey. A cold breeze glided over the hills, startling the fallen leaves into a scurry. Shivers pulsed through her, seizing her bad shoulder so that she didn’t know where the physical pain ended and the sorrow began. She swallowed down the sob threatening to choke her. She gasped, but the thin air didn’t satisfy her burning lungs and she collapsed onto the blanket of grass. One tear, then another. They felt hot upon release and quickly cooled as they rolled down her temple and into her hair. Foregoing her usual façade of confidence and gloss, she wept, just like the night she lost him. She imagined that the tears, which now salted the grass and dried leaves, instead soaked into his shirt as she lay with him on their bed. Her chest constricted. The memory of their final moments only caused her to ache more.

Lord, I still miss him every day.

The thought which haunted her was knowing it was her fault he was gone. She had made one mistake, but that mistake led to more consequences than anyone should have to endure. Six long years of consequences which fettered her soul and shackled her foreseeable future.

I’m so sorry. I’d give anything to take that night back. I’d give anything for a second chance.

The sorrow was heavy. She felt herself sinking into the ground, the grass reaching its blades around her. Rolling onto her back, she folded her hands across her chest, released her breath and watched it rise to join the grey clouds in the sky, content to allow the ground to swallow her whole. A peregrine soared overhead, seeking sustenance for its journey south. She pitied the mouse or songbird who would lose its life so that the falcon would live.  They had no choice in the matter. She still did.

Give me a chance for redemption. Give me a purpose, even if it requires sacrifice.  

She set her eyes on an aspen branch above her. One single golden-brown leaf stubbornly remained despite the wind that whipped it back and forth. Does it know that its fate is sealed? Does it care? Either way, she applauded its efforts. She admired that kind of resilience.

Lord, I’ll need your strength to endure.

The breeze weakened and a warmth overtook her. She sat up and brushed away the red wisps of hair, matted to her tear-soaked skin.  With a composed breath, she urged herself to face the marble stone. Her fingers traced the grooves, waltzing up and down in lines and curves: Beloved Husband.

“I love you, Matthew,” she whispered, before standing tall and brushing off her jeans. Ryann thought she heard footsteps, crushing the October leaves. She perused the field of headstones. The only other figure she could see was the concrete angel in the center, the peregrine falcon perched atop her head, watching Ryann. She felt uneasy and hurried towards the parking lot, careful not to step on the grass directly in front of each stone. The smallest one drew her attention every visit. Fresh flowers and a small, pink teddy bear leaned against it. Little Annie Lawrence. Ryann had gone to school with her parents. It was hard to believe that the same river that flowed peacefully past her cabin at her parents’ resort had taken the toddler’s life. She shuddered. They weren't like her. They did nothing to deserve their tragedy.

Out of sight, an engine roared to life. It stopped Ryann cold. Dread filled her stomach and spread through her body. She was a fool to think she was ever truly alone. Sullivan Ashcroft wouldn’t allow that, especially not today, October 22nd. She and Vann would be bound forever due to the events of this day six years ago-- her 21^st birthday and the day Matthew died.

Ryann pulled open the door of her old Jeep. Before she could climb inside, the flapping of wings startled her. The falcon ascended towards the clouds with the pink teddy bear clutched in its talons. A knot formed in her stomach at his choice of prey, but the feeling soon gave way to a strange sympathy for the predator that she could not explain.

Lord, give me strength.

All the Past We Leave Behind: Prologue

*The following is the prologue to my novel formerly titled The Long Way Off

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“Bring the fattened calf and kill it. Let’s have a feast and celebrate. For this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found. So they began to celebrate.” Luke 15:23-24

On the day when the last iris petal kissed the grass, the slaughtering of Elizabeth Matthews’ fattened calf occurred at an old stone church across the world from where her wayward journey began. Devoid of biblical fanfare, there were no party guests to share in the feast. In fact, the only witnesses were the petrified wooden pews with their everlasting crevasses trapping the whispered prayers of both the faithful and unfaithful for centuries. Beneath her face-cradling hands, tiny starbursts darkened the dusty stones as each salty tear carried away the grief and shame that prodigal living cruelly imbues until the time of redemption.

The feast’s celebratory music had been replaced by the call of a petite yellow-breasted bird in the rafters, a rising ra-ta-tat-tat like she used to hear a mile outside the stadium on Autumn Saturdays. She pondered the meaning of the blue tit’s song. Was it a prayer of humble repentance mimicking those who, once suffused in the beauty of Monet’s gardens, found their souls frightfully revolting?  Was it a hymn absorbed after a lifetime living above the worshipful voices of the Église Sainte-Radegonde de Giverny? Was it the bird’s call to her long-lost love who still haunted the hollow of her bones without invitation? Or was it a jester’s taunt, unimpressed by a common American girl traveling across land and sea to forget whom she left behind?

The celebration’s only dancing was the waltz between the Father and his beloved daughter, not unlike the one she had futilely imagined at her wedding. Each graceful step was a benediction of the gospel displayed in her life. Beneath his shoulders, encircled by his loving arms, she now saw through the myth that a prodigal child is ever able to escape the love and mercy of the Father. The Lord had always been there, watching her in her foolish stubbornness protecting her when she didn’t care enough to protect herself, loving her unconditionally as she desperately tested just how wide and far and deep his love is.

Light illuminated the stained glass to her right. She imagined her own life depicted in the careful coordination of colored glass. All the tragedy, betrayal, temptation and fear that had ruled her began to quake. One by one, fragmented shards of crimson, emerald, and cobalt fell to the ground. The old has gone, the new has come.

Elizabeth, with only tears of joy remaining on her lightly freckled skin, arose taller than she had stood upon entering the church. The blue tit held its call as it listened to the creaking pew and the soft pats of Elizabeth’s feet against the limestone like a patient counselor allowing words to slowly drip from the client’s tongue. When the girl with a Midwestern accent and the loose curls dislodged the thick wooden door, a fresh breeze replaced the dank, musty air and her lungs rejoiced along with her soul.

On the threshold, she pulled out the ring Brian had given her almost four years ago. She turned the ring between her fingers slightly, allowing the sun’s rays to frolic across the precious stone. It was an artifact. Like those in a museum, it told a story. Her story.

An older woman hobbled up the crooked steps. In her eight months working at the Old Hotel Baudy, Elizabeth had come to know her as Henriette. Widowed thirty-two years, she prayed at the church every day at noon. Elizabeth grasped her small hand and uncurled her spindly fingers in a gentle manner consistent with her every encounter. In Henriette’s palm, she placed the ring, knowing it could feed her for a full year. She descended the steps before Henriette had finished thanking her. The ring wasn’t meant for her. If she was honest with herself, she knew it wasn’t the day she had accepted it from Brian, even before she first saw the green eyes that were so instrumental in piercing holes in her painstakingly preserved mirage of a joyful life.

Daniel. She felt an all too familiar pang of longing pierce beneath her sternum. Time and redemption could not quell his lingering presence.  

Isn’t it exhilarating and perhaps even a little frightening how our whole world can change with just one choice? To fight or to surrender. To love or to discard. To stay or to return.

Daniel had spoken like the true prodigal that he was. Even now, years later, Elizabeth was still mesmerized by those words and the courage that birthed them. She could still see his eyes dancing to the impassioned rhythm of his voice. Maybe she and Daniel weren’t so different after all.

Ra-ta-tat-tat. Elizabeth turned her eyes back to the steeple, shielding her eyes. The blue tit appeared from under the eave. She paused a moment, cocked her head in Elizabeth’s direction and repeated her call before soaring away from the Church of Giverny, disappearing into the brilliance of the noonday sun.

The Holy Spirit whispered into Elizabeth’s soul and her chin gave a slight, worshipful nod. She twisted a curl around her finger and pulled it taut. When it sprung back into place in front of her ear, her lips curved in an incredulous smirk, as she prepared to return to the town she had once so desperately fled. In that moment, she debated whether she should hope for life in Neverell, Ohio and its inhabitants to be different or completely the same. Regardless, she knew she could rely on the unconditional companionship of her Savior and it was all the assurance she needed to face her past.

If you enjoyed this, the full manuscript is available for you to read as long as you don't mind that it is a work in progress! Follow me on facebook to find out more!

The Long Way Off, A Novel: Chapter 1

The Long Way Off

Chapter 1

“You are perfectly ordinary. That might be what I love most about you, Liz,” he explained. “You are just a normal girl. I don’t have to worry about you chasing after some big dream someday. You don’t have plans to backpack around Europe or devote your life to curing cancer or anything like that. I know that every day when I come home from work, you’ll be there waiting for me. And I won’t have to worry about another guy trying to steal you away. They can go after those other girls—”

“How is everything?” the waitress asked over her shoulder as she carried a tray of food for another table.

“It’s great. Thanks,” Brian smiled at the waitress. “Like her. The guy who marries her is always going to have to be watching to see if someone else is trying to woo her away.”

Elizabeth stared blankly at him. Flashing only brief moments of a courtesy smile. She pushed her spaghetti around with her fork. It was delicious; this restaurant definitely lived up to the hype surrounding its opening. She just didn’t have much of an appetite. It had been a long day.

“The thing is: life with you will be comfortable and easy. Just what I’ve always imagined. It is like God made you to perfectly fit into my life.”

Elizabeth smiled down at her plate. It was a compliment, she told herself. That had been her goal, after all; to perfectly fit somewhere. She had spent the past three years doing everything in her power to make his life better. She was available when he had time for her. She encouraged him in his studies and his ministry. She stood by his side when he received awards for his scholarship and kissed his cheek after a great speech. She fit the mold precisely. In return for her efforts, she was invited to holiday dinners, vacations, and special occasions with his family. She had someone to sit with at funerals, weddings, and the dinner table. She wasn’t alone and there is a lot to be said for that.

Yet something wasn’t sitting right.

“Well, I have to use the restroom. Excuse me.” He nodded his head, checking a message on his phone.

“Sure,” he said without looking up. “Hey, Seth and the guys say ‘congratulations.’“ He chuckled as his thumbs typed a response.

She pushed back her chair as she stood. The industrial-style heavy metal chair scraped against the stained concrete and made a wretched screech. Brian almost dropped his phone at the noise. Several people nearby turned to see who had dared to ruin their meal. A girl, one of those beautiful girls that men would fight over, sneered in her direction. She rolled her big, heavily lashed eyes and turned back towards her date.

That was the first time she saw him. He was watching Elizabeth as she absorbed the glares of her fellow restaurant-goers. She fidgeted in the center of attention; it was her least favorite place to be. He waited for her to meet his gaze. When she did, they held eye contact. Even though he was fifteen yards away, she could see his striking green eyes. He was very handsome. A great counterpart to the beautiful girl at his table, she thought.

“Jeez,” Brian exclaimed, still looking down at his phone. “Did you leave a rut in the concrete? Maybe you should have ordered that salad instead.”

Elizabeth gave an embarrassed smile as she carefully lifted the chair and placed it under the table. She pivoted on her heels and took a step, nearly colliding with one of the servers. The man fluidly lifted a tray of drinks up and over her, saving them both from causing another scene.

“Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t….” she fumbled for words. People kept watching her.

“Man, Liz. People are going to think you are drunk because of your clumsiness. Great testimony,” Brian joked, shaking his head as he raised his water glass in the air and looked around, as if engaged in an awkward toast with all the disapproving customers.

Elizabeth didn’t respond. Like a magnet her eyes went back to the man on the date. He was staring at Brian with a look of disdain. When he turned his focus back to her, his green eyes didn’t cast a look of frustration or annoyance. Rather, they were steady and unwavering. He lifted the corner of his mouth in a smirk. With a small flick of his chin upwards, it seemed like he was trying to inspire confidence in her.

Trying to take his cue, she straightened and smoothed her dress. She mimicked his smirk and after checking for other servers, she walked confidently yet quickly to the restroom, bypassing tables and restaurant patrons who had already forgotten about her existence. She was content to be invisible again.

She did a double-take in the restroom hallway. This new restaurant was apparently too modern for typical Men and Women labels for their restrooms. Rather, they had abstract drawings signifying each. Thoroughly confused, she stood for a moment trying to decipher the symbols.

“Women’s is right there.” It was the server with whom she had almost collided. He walked briskly past her to the kitchen, the empty tray swinging in his hand.

“Thank you,” she tried to say but he was already gone. Just then two teenage girls, dressed as if they had just finished walking the stage at Fashion Week, pushed their way through the bathroom door, giggling uncontrollably.

“Oh. My. Goodness. Who does that?” one girl laughed to her friend.

Elizabeth let them pass. She recognized them from the high school where she did ministry. They obviously didn’t recognize her, or even see her. They let the heavy door slam in front of Elizabeth. Invisibility has its down sides.

She stepped into the seemingly vacant restroom. It was the first time all day that she had been alone.  Although she was an introvert, she didn’t often like to be alone. Most of her life, she had been alone. She felt more comfortable in large groups. She liked the noise and the feeling of being included, even if it was a facade. Today was a day of lots of noise and a lot of people, yet she felt lonely all the same. Groups of people seemed to talk about her rather than to her. When it came to actual conversation, she preferred small groups and one-on-one conversations. It was in those situations that God could use her to help others. As far as she knew, that was her purpose in life.

As she walked to the sink and mirror, she heard the sobs. In the stall next to the vanity a girl was crying quietly, but everything echoed loudly in this bathroom with its cold, stainless steel and mirrored walls. Elizabeth resisted the desire to call out to the girl. She probably needs the solitude as much as I do right now, she pondered.

Elizabeth braced herself against the sink, closed her eyes and took a deep breath trying to steady her whole being. It reminded her of the time she went on a carnival ride with her grandpa. It spun around and the force pushed her back against the wall and held her there.  At seven years old, she wasn’t strong enough to move her body against the centrifugal force so she just endured. Laughter swirled around her, yet she just closed her eyes and waited for it to end. Her grandpa reached over and held her hand. When the ride ended, he continued to hold her hand as she dizzily walked off of the ride. He helped to steady her. She wished he was there to hold her hand right now. The sink was cold and hard, a poor replacement for a warm hand.

She opened her eyes when she heard the stall door open. The girl walked to the sink next to her. She was wearing the signature white top and black slacks that all the servers wore. Her name tag said, “Grace.” She looked familiar. She thought she might have seen her at church before. Grace adopted the same stance as Elizabeth, flattening her palms against the sink, arms taught as if they were the only things keeping her upright. Her shoulders drooped and she was just staring at herself in the mirror, the tears still streaming out of her swollen eyes and down her wet, red cheeks.

Elizabeth washed her hands thoroughly, more to wash away her discomfort than germs. She could sense Grace shift her eyes to her reflection in the mirror. Elizabeth kept looking down at the water as it splashed off her hands and spiraled down the drain. Finally, she turned off the water and turned to grab a paper towel from the basket sitting between the two sinks. Her hand collided with Grace’s hand as she also reached for a towel.

“Oh, I’m sorry. You go first.” Elizabeth conceded.

“Thank you.” She blotted her cheeks and blew her nose loudly. “I’m quite a sight.”

Elizabeth didn’t know what to say.

“Ugh…even my hair is a wreck.” Grace proceeded to pull out the bobby pins that had secured her long auburn locks into a messy bun. One of the pins fell from her shaky hands to the floor. Elizabeth bent down to pick it up and placed it on the sink next to the others.

“Are you okay?” she managed to squeak out.

Fresh tears appeared and the waitress squeezed her eyes tight.

“Some guys are just jerks!” she erupted. “They think they can use a girl to get what they want and then just throw her out like, like trash!” Her face turned to a scowl at the final word.

Elizabeth thought for a moment.

“Look, Grace…” she motioned to her name tag. “I don’t know you but I can promise that you are worth much more than this. No guy should treat you like that.”

“I am so dumb. I thought he really liked me, you know?”

“One day you’ll meet someone who treats you how you deserve,” Elizabeth offered.

“Well, it looks like you already found yours.” She nodded towards the large diamond ring on her left hand, trying to lighten the mood. “Dang, girl! How do you hold your hand up? Does he have a brother?”

They both chuckled. The girl wrapped one last tendril around the bun and secured it with a pin.

“Thanks for making me feel better. I’m sorry for making a scene. My manager is probably writing my pink slip right now.”

“No, you don’t have to apologize. I would do the same,” Elizabeth hesitated at the door. “God bless you, Grace.”

Returning to the table, she wondered how much to explain to Brian.

“Took you long enough. I already paid the bill. Are you ready to go?” He yawned and pulled his hands through his sandy blond hair and up into a stretch. “I’m tired. This has been a long day.”

“Um, sure.” As she pulled her purse out from under the table, she saw the broken-hearted redhead walking proudly and defiantly from the kitchen, past the bathroom doors with a glass of red wine in her hand. She brushed past Elizabeth and whispered, “Watch this.”

Elizabeth turned to see her walk up to the table with the blond and the man with green eyes. Grace stood over him and loud enough for the whole restaurant to hear, proclaimed, “I’m worth more than this!”

At that, she poured the glass of wine on the front of his freshly pressed, stark white shirt. There was a gasp across the restaurant. The two teenage girls howled in laughter. One of the hostesses clapped approvingly. A manager near the bar yelled, “Grace!” The blond at the table jumped up.

Grace turned and assuredly sauntered to the kitchen, throwing Elizabeth a sly smile as she passed. The manager wavered between following her to demand her apron or helping his customer attempt to soak up the merlot.

“Do you know her?” Brian asked. Elizabeth didn’t hear him though. She was caught in a stare with the man with the green eyes and burgundy-streaked shirt. The smirk remained, even as his date berated him with questions and demanded their meal be paid for out of that “maniac’s check.” Elizabeth couldn’t help but smile back at the ridiculousness of the situation and his ability to remain cool and calm under these circumstances. Brian grabbed her arm and led her to the door. 

Walking through the front doors, the quiet of the city street welcomed them. The students for the fall semester wouldn’t start arriving until tomorrow. After the commotion of the restaurant, it felt peaceful; a nice end to a chaotic “best day of her life.” At least that is what others might call it. It hadn’t been a bad day by any means. There had been many worse days in her life. She was happy, of course, but she hoped that this was not the pinnacle of her life. If it truly was the best day of her life up until this point, then she chose to be cautiously optimistic that it would not remain so.

They walked to the car parked down the city block. The air was thick and warm. In the flow of the streetlights she saw the end-of-summer bugs swarm above their heads.

“That’s what I was talking about,” Brian began.

“What were you talking about?” Elizabeth smiled at him, proud of having such a man of integrity to marry. She couldn’t imagine him treating a woman the way the man in the restaurant had treated Grace. She wrapped her arm around his.

He continued, “Pretty girls cause so much drama. It makes me all the more thankful for you.” He playfully squeezed her close to him.

Her smile melted away. She looked down at her newly ornamented finger. She thought it might take her whole life to get used to the weight of it. She splayed her fingers out in front of her to get another look at it. In the scurry of the actual proposal, then the gathering of friends, and then dinner, she hadn’t really taken the time to examine the massive diamond. Standing at the stoplight waiting to cross the street, the stone reflected the green light. Her thoughts went back to the man with the green eyes at the restaurant.

**If you liked this chapter and would like access to the entire novel, contact me and I will add you to the facebook group!

For Nick: The Adventures of Lucky Haskins, Chapter 1

Join me on my first venture into the world of fictionalized writing! This tongue-in-cheek story is dedicated to good friends of mine. I hope it blesses and entertains you, Nick and Nikki, and everyone who reads it!

 

The Adventures of Lucky Haskins

For Lucky Haskins, no day is ordinary and nothing is ever set in stone. Follow the journey of one man who has the power to change history but not always the wisdom to know when he should.

Click the link to read more --->The Adventures of Lucky Haskins, Chapter 1