#1 803 words
While drying off, I catch my reflection again. At least my face is no longer smeared with makeup. I brush my auburn hair the best I can, which takes time since it’s well down my back. Michael bugged me about the time I wasted on my hair, but I prefer it long. After returning to the bedroom, I put on cut-offs and my favorite shirt. It was my father’s and all I have left of his. It’s old and several buttons are missing so it might reveal more than it should. Not that anyone is here to see. I could parade around nude.
Might have to, since my budget didn’t allow much for clothes. While packing, I’d thought this would change since Michael would have an income here. Now, though, what I have must last even longer.
My suitcase is open where I left it, with the boxes from Boston off to the side. They contain everything I own. Might as well sort out my meager belongings. It’s all on me, and will be from now on. What else do I have to fill my time? The tears start again.
Since there isn’t much, it doesn’t take long to unpack. It’s a good thing I have so few clothes since there isn’t much in the way of drawer space in the four-drawer scarred wooden dresser. In the kitchen, I find the basics, but knowing how to cook would help. Three frozen dinners are in the freezer, so I won’t starve right away. When I discover there’s coffee, I get my old coffee maker going and soon have a cup poured. I amble through to the living room, desperate not to let the drabness affect me.
With few choices, I flop on the musty couch and contemplate what is next. Michael’s letter on the floor in front of me doesn’t help. The tears are stinging my eyes again when I hear a knock. Before I can get up, there’s another. After setting my cup on the bare coffee table, I hurry to the front door and open it. A man stands outside the porch door. He waves, smiling. The icy air making itself known makes me conscious of my missing buttons. I grab my coat and open the porch door, finding to my amazement a cowboy, complete with hat, boots, and a heavy coat I think they call a duster. I didn’t know cowboys still exist.
I motion him into the enclosed porch and he steps in, removing his hat and releasing his mid-length light brown hair with its lighter blond highlights. He’s much taller than my five-six, and even though he’s wearing a heavy coat, appears more than fit. “Afternoon. I’m Jason Withers. My grandmother sent brownies to welcome you to the neighborhood.”
“Neighborhood? I have neighbors?”
He chuckles. “She’s the closest and lives over the hill. She wanted to welcome you, but she’s not real mobile and asked me to bring these by,” he says, holding out a covered plate.
“Oh! Well, thank you. I’m Jazmine. Jazmine Strake,” I tell him, taking the plate. “You say your grandmother lives nearby? Do you live with her?”
He smiles. “No! She’d think I was trying to take care of her.”
“Well, it was nice of you to bring this by. I’ll return the plate as soon as I can.” That is a farewell. I’m hoping he’ll leave.
“No hurry, take your time. I understand you’re here alone?”
I’m not sure if he’s trying to make conversation or what, but he seems nice. “Yes, the original plans didn’t work out.”
“I heard they offered your friend a better position.”
How small is this community? Does everyone know? “Would you like some coffee and brownies?” Why did I ask that?
“No, I shouldn’t come in, but thank you, I enjoyed meeting you. Let me give you this. It’s my number, in case you need anything.”
As I glance at the card, I’m startled by his title. “Doctor? You’re a doctor?” I pause, appalled at my tone. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like it sounded.”
“No problem. I’m not the type of doctor you’re thinking. I’m a DVM, Doctor of Veterinarian Medicine. A large animal vet. You can still call me though, if you need something.”
“Well, thank you. I might take you up on it.”
“You should. Again, welcome.”
He turns to leave and I half expect a horse to be close by, but no. Instead, there’s a monstrosity of a truck out front. I’ve never seen a pickup that big. Not that I’ve seen that many. His name on the door with the words “Veterinarian Services” along with his phone number makes me snicker. I guess everyone has his number. He backs out and gives a wave before making the turn onto the road.
#2 869 words
He gives a sort of snort and turns to me. “Are you forgetting something?”
“I don’t think so. You said we needed to wait until the stallion is awake and eating. You can open the gates, and we can start back. Can’t we?”
“Are you forgetting we’re low on fuel?”
“Not at all. You said it was fine since it never used the gas. We’re okay, right?”
“Not quite. Yes, you never used the gasoline, but we’re thirty miles from anyone who might have diesel and at least forty miles from a fuel station.”
“Okay, what’s the problem?”
“The tank with the diesel has less than an eighth. I doubt we’d get ten miles with this rough terrain. The engine might be fine, but we have no fuel to get anywhere. The diesel in the other is mixed with gasoline so it’s useless.”
“Wait…you mean we’re stuck out here?” I almost scream. This can’t be. “There’s nowhere to get gas?”
“Except we don’t need gas, we need diesel. We have plenty of gas. Twelve gallons of the stuff, wasn’t it?” He must think his smirk is cute.
“Hold it. I’ve got my cell. I’ll call someone and have them bring us diesel.”
“That would be great.”
Is he snickering? With a glare his way, I select the phone app.
“You might want to check for a connection before you bother dialing,” he says with obvious sarcasm.
I check, and there’s nothing. Not even one bar. “There’s no connection! How can this be?”
“Might be because the closest cell tower is, oh, I don’t know, forty miles from here.” Again, with his snicker. He sits watching the horses like there’s nothing to worry about.
“You’re not concerned we’re in the middle of nowhere with no phone connection and no gas?”
“Again, we have plenty of gas.” He sits back and pulls his hat down over his eyes. Why is he so smug?
“Fine, no diesel! Happy now?” I huff. “What are you going to do?” I demand.
“Well, I could walk to the nearest ranch and hope they’re home and have diesel. That could take several hours.”
“You mean leave me here alone in this wilderness?” I shake my head vehemently. “Not on your life, buster.”
“You go then. Take the trail back to the road. Hang a right and follow it until you reach a ranch. Can’t be much over thirty miles. I’d stay on the road and go soon, because we’re losing daylight.” His hat is still covering his eyes.
“Are you crazy?” I’m on the edge of panic when I get an idea. “You can ride a horse to the ranch and they can drive you back.” I know there’s always a solution. You must remain calm and consider your options—like they teach so well at Harvard.
“One of those horses?” He’s pointing to the corral.
“Yes, they appear sturdy enough. They run wild all the time. I bet they’re in excellent shape.”
“I’m sure they are. For wild horses—emphasis on wild. As in, they’ve never been ridden. They’ve never even seen a saddle or a bridle, let alone worn them, which matters little since we have neither. Believe me, no one is riding one of those horses tonight.”
With his comedy routine complete, we revert to sitting in silence. Two can play the silent treatment game. After a while, Jason gets out and opens both gates. Several of the horses are quick moving to the other corral. He hurries back to the truck.
“Shut the door!” I tell him. “You’re letting in the cold air.”
“Wow, for someone who caused all this, you sure are bossy.”
I can’t believe he said that. “You’re saying this is my fault?”
“Um, yeah. You put in the gasoline.”
“And who let me take a truck low on gas…I mean diesel?” How can he blame this on me?
“The one who knew he had half a tank of diesel.”
“Right, half a tank. In a truck getting ten miles per gallon. Not even enough for a hundred miles when we’re close to a hundred fifty miles from home.” The audacity of him accusing me.
“Yes, a hundred miles’ worth, and we’re forty miles from the fuel station. We could make it twice, but someone put gasoline in the tank, so now it’s worthless except for starting forest fires.”
“You mean the extra tank you never mentioned, or that the truck needed diesel, I might add. No, sir, this is not my fault. It’s all on you.” This ends the conversation.
“I’m sorry, I thought they covered reading at Harvard.” Seems he didn’t get the hint. “It says it on the flap you opened to get to the cap, beside the cap you removed to pump the fuel, and believe it or not, even on the cap itself. We should write Ford and let them know about their lack of explicit markings.”
“Great, you agree, it wasn’t my fault. Now we’re getting somewhere.” I’m glad he’s coming to his senses. “Now, how are you getting us out of here?” When I glance over, he’s snickering—again—which gets louder, and soon, he’s in borderline hysterics. “You find this funny?”
#3 616 words
My major task is to sort through the old files I still need to transfer. After what feels like five minutes later—although it’s been several hours—it’s time to get Sadie. I stop in the restroom to check my hair and straighten several creases in my skirt before heading out. Thanks to the parking area being kept clear of snow, the heels don’t cause any problems as I walk to the SUV.
Sadie is waiting when I turn into her drive.
“Good morning.” she says, getting into her seat.
“Good morning to you!”
“I like your hair. The style frames your face well.”
I’m amazed how happy this makes me. “Thought I’d do it a little different.”
“I’ll admit, it’s different. Now, Paisley Shawl?”
“Is there any other place?”
“I can already taste the Portobello fries.”
“We’re on the way.”
We chat while I drive and find ourselves in Glenrock in no time. I stop in front of the hotel where the restaurant is. I don’t usually use the valet parking, but I make an exception. The valet helps Sadie out, and I hand him the keys. Once inside, I help her remove her coat and hang it on the rack, then do the same with mine. Now we’re ready for lunch.
She motions to my outfit. “Oh, my. Is that new?”
“No, I got it when I finished college.”
“Well, it’s perfect on you. Even beyond perfect.”
“Thank you. I like it.”
“Those heels complement the outfit. You chose an excellent day for it.” She turns to the server who’s appeared to greet us. “Sam, my usual table please.”
“What do you mean? Why is this an excellent day?”
“Because we’re here. Why else?”
I’m not sure that is what she meant. The server hands us our menus, and another is filling our water glasses while we choose what we want to eat. The menus are on the large side, but I enjoy perusing the offerings. The sound of a familiar female voice makes me realize not being able to see over the top of one’s menu isn’t always an outstanding thing.
“Sadie, I didn’t expect to see you today. Did you come with Jason?” The insincere words belong to Jill. I feel her gaze burning through my menu, desperate to get a glimpse of the person behind it. As I lower my menu, her hopeful expression changes when she recognizes my eyes are peering over the top, not Jason’s.
“No, I’m with Jazmine. We’re making an afternoon of it. Are you expecting Jason?”
Jill looks at me. “Well, yes, Jason and I have a lunch date. We’re discussing plans for the Spring Rodeo Days with the mayor. Have you seen him?” She breaks her glare at me and turns to Sadie, smiling.
Sadie glances at her with an innocent expression. “Seen whom? The mayor?”
Even I know Jill didn’t mean the mayor.
“No, Sadie. Have you seen Jason? I hope something dreadful doesn’t keep him from coming like the last time. We so enjoy our times together.” It’s slight, but I’m sure she curled her upper lip at me. “You have a pleasant lunch, Sadie,” she says. Turning on her heel and with her chin in the air, Jill struts off to the far side of the room.
“Did you know she would be here?” I ask.
“Now, dear, how would I know?”
She has her ever-innocent expression, which I’ve learned is anything but. “Sadie, what are you up to?”
“Lunch, dear. Didn’t we come here for lunch?”
“Yes, and you better hope it’s nothing more.”
“You’re the one who invited me. What else could it be?”
Again, I recognize her innocent smile.
#4 909 words
Deliberation complete, I slip on my boots and parka, and grab my scarf. I arrive a few minutes later and, sure enough, Andi’s truck is in its usual spot, alone. I park Boris around back so no one will know I’m here and head straight for the puppies. When I get in, Bob is trying to hoist himself out of his box. Giggling, I rush to grab him before he hurts himself. Then I spot Andi’s note.
Jazmine, the bottles are in the fridge. Call me if you need me. Now, whatever you do, don’t give Stanley any Mt. Dew. He drove me nuts last night with his dish. He kept pushing it off the counter and making a racket. I’m glad it’s made of metal. I told him he gets no more until he learns to behave. No Mt. Dew!
She is one hard taskmaster. I get the bottles out and start the feeding. Bob’s done so fast it’s comical. He settles while I rub his stomach and finish with Mindy. I trade her for Lindy, who latches onto the bottle like no one has fed her for days.
Once she finishes, I rub her tummy for a few minutes. As I put her in the box, I hear a noise from elsewhere in the clinic. Thinking it’s Andi or Jake, I turn my attention back to the sleeping puppies.
Seconds later, I hear Jason’s voice. “You can play with them for a few minutes. I’ve got to check a few things, then we need to leave.”
I remember how I’m dressed. This must be a cruel nightmare. What did he mean by “we” anyway? I get my answer when the door opens, and Tyler pops his head through.
“Jazmine? Hey, Dad, Jazmine’s here!” he calls out before I can stop him.
“What? Why would she be here?” Jason says, walking through the door. All I can do is smile. “I should have known. You know that’s Andi’s job?” He ushers Tyler to the box and gives him silent permission to pet the puppies. Tyler’s face is a picture.
“I was free, so I came to help. It turns out it’s a great thing I did. Andi got little sleep last night thanks to your exterminator.”
“What was Stanley doing?” Before I can answer, Jason raises his hand. “No, let me guess. He was knocking his water dish onto the floor, trying to get her attention. Am I right? It seems he’s started this ever since a certain someone started giving him extra Mountain Dew. Care to guess who?”
“I don’t have the foggiest idea. I’m sure whoever is doing that is only compensating for how terrible others treat him.”
“You always seem to have an answer.” He shakes his head and lifts Bob by the scruff of his neck. This does not go over well with Bob, and I hear a growl of protest—well, more of a loud squeak.
“He doesn’t enjoy being lifted by the scruff. He prefers cuddling.”
“I think I know how to lift a dog.”
“Terri said they’re not dogs,” Tyler states. “She said they’re Dachshunds and don’t enjoy being called dogs.”
“You’re all going to be the death of me. I need to check the test results. Tyler, stay here. I’ll be right back.” Jason hands Bob to me. Delighted to be away from the nasty man, Bob crawls under my hand and rolls on his back.
Tyler and I busy ourselves with the puppies until Jason returns. After he tells him it’s time to go, Tyler is off like a shot, leaving Jason to put the girls back in their box. He tells me goodbye and reminds me not to stay long.
As he leaves, I breathe a sigh of relief, thankful I could stay seated the entire time so he couldn’t see what I was wearing. Jason cracks the door open, popping his head through. “I like your grunge look. Kind of reminds me of the first time we met. This shirt has too many buttons though.” It’s obvious he’s pleased with himself, and he chuckles, closing the door.
With Bob on my lap, I can’t run after him. Besides, it would make things worse. I stay seated and try to think how to get even.
Andi comes in and is laughing before the door shuts. “I was right. You came. I knew it. Did I hear someone else?”
“Jason was here to check something, and he let Tyler play with the puppies.”
“How long you going to hang out?”
This sparks an idea. “Depends. What do you have going on today?”
“Nothing for now. I have studying to do, but it can wait. Why?”
“Care to help me with something?” I know I have a mischievous grin.
“Something I can get in trouble for?”
“Maybe, but not much. You’ll never know until you try.”
“Sounds fun.”
After I explain what I have in mind, she’s excited, and we struggle to contain our enthusiasm. I tell her to bring the box, and she’s right behind me while I carry Bob.
It takes hours to get everything set how I want, but it’s worth it. Andi is an enormous help and has excellent ideas. We take a break for the puppies’ evening feed and order a pizza for us, then are back at it. It’s late when I complete the finishing touches and carry the puppies to the kennel room.
Teasers
#1 For New Yorker and Harvard Grad Jazmine, the journey from blissful to shattered was only a 4-hour flight. The soulmate, she supported through medical school and came to join, has moved on, abandoning her in this small Wyoming town. Now she needs a job, and to forget. Not to mention a reason to live. The town’s welcome helps, but is it enough to risk relighting her flame of hope? Is happiness only ever going to be an unreachable dream?
#2Abandoned in a small Wyoming town by the soul mate she supported through medical school, New Yorker and Harvard Grad Jazmine needs a job, a reason to live, and to forget. Having his own damaged heart from the death of his wife, Jason understands her pain. Jazmine is growing to be comfortable in this small community, when another crushing blow hits. Jazmine wants to run, but is the offer made by another enough to stay and risk relighting her flame of hope?
#3All beginnings have endings, but some endings bring beginnings. Blissful in Boston, to shattered in Wyoming and it was only a 4-hour flight. What will it take for Jazmine to risk relighting her flame of hope?
#4Everything is going great as Jazmine’s plane arrives from Boston. The ride through the Wyoming countryside, and arriving at the small depressing isolated house threatens to over come her, but she perseveres. She’s here with her soul-mate. The man she helped put through medical school. Their plan is working just as she imagined it. Her life will finally be filled with the happiness she always dreamt about. Then she’s handed the letter.
#5 Standing in the dismal rental house she struggles to fight off the depression. Having moved from Boston to Wyoming to be with the love of her life, everything should be great for this NYC girl, right? But then she opens the letter. He’s gone. She’s alone.
In 1977, I was a young airman stationed in Omaha, Nebraska. After calling all the grandparents, I headed to the room where my wife was after giving birth to our first son.
I found her crying and she shared a nurse said the baby was not well and might die. I rushed out to find anyone who could tell me what was going on. That evening, they moved our son from the base hospital to the University of Nebraska Medical Center Neonatal ICU.
Later, I stood beside his isolette, watching him on the respirator, with multiple IVs and leads attached. They did not know what was wrong or what was going to happen. All I could think of was what my Grandma Josie always told me when things were looking bad, ‘It’s okay. God’s in charge.’
Somehow, I found the strength that night to turn it over to God. I knew I couldn’t handle it on my own. Thus began six months of highs and lows as he endured surgeries, tests, and experimental treatments as they dealt with his issues. Several times, we were told it wasn’t good.
My faith in God had never been tested more in my brief life, or since. Three days after he was born, a doctor took us aside to tell us there wasn’t any hope. He realized we were Christians and suggested we pray for help to deal with his death. I told him I wasn’t praying that. I wasn’t ready to give up on my son, or on God.
During this time, I found the inspirational fiction book, Not My Will by Francena Arnold. My wife and I read it and it helped me to stay strong and deal with everything.
At six months, our son came home. He still required special care, but they felt we could provide this at home. He was home two weeks when he passed away late one night. I did CPR until the para-medics arrived and they took over and we followed them to the emergency room. But he never revived.
As I held and comforted my wife, I felt the comfort of God holding me. He let me know it was okay. I’ll never understand why, but I knew it was time for our son to go. Later, his primary doctor shared how much they had learned while treating the rare issues he had and how this would help save others. He specifically mentioned a child near Chicago who would now probably live because of our son.
One day short of a year from his death, my wife gave birth to our second son. We named him Chad after the character in the book. Then, 23 months later, son number three came along. They have filled our lives with blessings.
But I never forgot that book by Francena Arnold and how much it helped me. I always wanted to do something similar for others.
I’ve taught Bible studies, preached in mission churches overseas and Stateside, worked with youth groups, helped build church buildings, and even drove the church bus. I’ve shared about my son whenever I could, but always felt there was something more.
A few years back, I took the plunge and, using my experience with the Department of Defense and the U.S. Intelligence Agencies, started writing novels. But while I was working on these, a character appeared who had suffered many traumatic events in their life, and while their inner strength allowed them to move forward, each time it got harder to see any chance at happiness.
When Jazmine came to me, she was 25. She had been born into the lap of luxury in New York City with a life full of promise most could only imagine. But when she was five-years-old, her mother was killed. Her life was never the same. From this point forward, the world would tease her with a glimpse at happiness, only to snatch it away.
Now, once again, she was on the cusp of the overflowing happiness she had always dreamed of having. As she stood in a dismal small house in rural Wyoming, life again tore her happiness away, shattering what she felt was her last chance. She had reached her limit. She was ready to give up.
I thought about what it would take for someone in Jazmine’s place to rekindle their hope of happiness. To take another chance and risk their badly damaged heart in the hope of finding joy. One thing Jazmine had never experienced was the knowledge of a loving God, and the faith, He will take care of you. Just as when I stood by my son’s isolette, I knew He was her only hope.
Thus began the story of Jazmine’s journey from when she feels her life is ending. She sees in others a powerful belief in a God she doubted even existed. But is it enough for her to risk her battered and scarred heart again? Is there really a chance for someone to have a new beginning? Will she learn and accept that with God, there is always hope?
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