Hope

By Suzanne D. Lonn

Family dynamics are explored through the themes of adoption, obsessive compulsive disorders, and salvation.

Although many members of the family in The Game of Hearts, Suzannes first novel about adoption, are deceased, this sequel picks up where that book ended. Two families are blended together as they face issues of distrust and OCD. Salvation heals the hurts of the past and opens opportunities for the future. The book ends with a surprising revelation.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Feb 19, 2014
• ISBN: 9781490826035

Suzanne D. Lonn

“I love old people,” Suzanne Lonn often says, and she has captured their beauty, humor, and sadness in her novel, Mixed Nuts. Drawing from her friendships with senior citizens, and now as one herself, Suzanne weaves a story that shows her understanding of the older generations. A former English teacher and now a part-time librarian, Suzanne loves words and books. She achieved success with her first novel, The Game of Hearts, and has published songs, poetry, and magazine articles. Suzanne and her husband are retired in Wilbur, Washington. Her other passion is her three granddaughters. Granddaughter Julia, age thirteen, illustrated Mixed Nuts.

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Copyright © 2014 Suzanne Lonn.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Scriptures taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version®, NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide. www.zondervan.com The NIV and New International Version are trademarks registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office by Biblica, Inc.™ All rights reserved.

All Scripture quotations in this publications are from The Message. Copyright (c) by Eugene H. Peterson 1993, 1994, 1995, 1996, 2000, 2001, 2002. Used by permission of NavPress Publishing Group.

Author Credits: The Game of Hearts; Mixed Nuts

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ISBN: 978-1-4908-2604-2 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4908-2605-9 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4908-2603-5 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2014902690

WestBow Press rev. date: 02/17/2014

Contents

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Dedication

Adoption, obsessive compulsive disorder, and salvation make up the story of Hope. While it’s wonderful to be chosen by an earthly family and reared with love, and I know from experience, there is nothing greater on earth or in heaven than being God’s adopted heir. I know that from experience, too. There is no greater love, and it’s the most wonderful adoption of them all!

This book of hope is dedicated to my college friend and roommate, Carolyn Munson Hatler. Because she knew I needed to be adopted by the Lord Jesus Christ, she led me to Campus Crusade for Christ counselors on the Washington Sate University Campus in the spring of 1966. Carolyn, I thank you from the bottom of my heart, and praise God for you daily. Your love and encouragement changed my life.

Praise be to God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! In His great mercy He has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead. (1 Peter 1:3)

Prologue

Joy and sadness walk together arm in arm. They travel down the uncertain pathways of life, shuffling through pristine forests or sidewalks of skittering leaves and the litter of human beings. They lean into each other through winds of change, through sunshine and through shadows. Sitting together in church pews at worship or mourning loved ones at good-bye memorials, joy and sadness huddle together, trying to celebrate the good times or to gain comfort from each other. They mingle with other crowds of feelings – anger, mistrust, forgiveness, love. In all of life’s situations, joy and sadness travel together through the hallways and chambers of the heart. They stop, turn to each other and look into each others eyes. Sadness whispers, with tears streaming down her face, Is this all there is?

Joy answers, smiling, No, my friend, we always have hope!

Chapter 1

What is more pleasant than the tie of host and guest?

Aeschylus

Wheatland, Washington, 1987

A nd that was the beginning of the end. The time for a new, joyful life and the solving of a mystery had just blown up in Katie’s face. Did I step on a land mine? Is this what the ultimate disappointment and sorrow feels like? And what about trust? Silent questions vied for answers and danced around the kitchen table like two boxers waiting to land a knockout punch. So many mysteries and lies! What did I do to deserve these lies? The back door slammed and jolted Katie back to the here and now.

Oops, sorry, didn’t mean to slam the door, Paul apologized, as he saw his wife seated at the kitchen table of their bed and breakfast establishment and shaking her head. His hands were full of baby peas fresh from their vegetable garden. What’s wrong? I said I was sorry. Oh, Hon, you’re shaking all over! He dumped the pea pods in the sink and turned to face his wife. Her unsteady hands thrust some rustling papers at him.

J – j – just look at – at this, Katie stammered. She sat down, enveloped in sadness, anger, and disbelief. Joy and sadness were no longer walking arm-in-arm. They were battling each other in a terrible jousting war in Katie’s troubled heart. She ran her fingers through her salt and pepper hair as she shook her head.

What are you talking about? Paul asked, as he scanned what appeared to be an important document. Oh, my gosh, it’s your official birth certificate! Did this come today? He had brought the mail in earlier and tossed it on the table. Katie paid the bills and the ads didn’t interest him, so he rarely bothered with the mail, but this, he could see, was Katie’s life, summed up on two sheets of paper. He read aloud the most shocking words of the document:

"Mother… Amanda Wentworth Shaw.

Father… Michael David Shaw."

He put a hand on her shoulder. Oh, Katie, was all he could say, as he looked at the daggers of anger and disappointment that shot through her beautiful hazel eyes.

Katie stood up. I’m going to bed. She waved a hand in the direction of the living room, where the very two people mentioned on her birth certificate waited. Make them some popcorn and let them entertain themselves. They seem to know how to do it! She tossed her glasses on the table. Tell them I have a headache. She stumbled out of the kitchen and down the hall to the comfort of the master bedroom. Paul would handle it. He’d been good at handling things for all of their twenty-two years of marriage.

He didn’t know whether to follow her or give her some space. His heart ached for her. The answers that she had wondered and waited so long for were far from what she expected. She was so patient and even-tempered, and those were the things Paul admired the most about his wife. Sure, they’d had their share of joys and sorrows in their personal lives and in running Katie’s Bed and Breakfast, but Katie was always the one who lifted him up with love and words of hope. Now it was Paul’s turn to do the same for Katie. Just handle it, Paul, he said quietly to himself, as he washed the pea pods and put them in a Tupperware container in the fridge. Just handle it.

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As she lay on their king-sized bed with only a top sheet over her, Katie thought about her search for truth. She’d spent years wondering about her adoption. Roots, background, and genealogy were all foreign concepts to Katie. All she knew was that Margie Wentworth, a spinster all her life, had adopted her when she was an infant. Single women adopting babies was unheard of in the 1940’s. No one would tell her anything else, and her search for the truth became an obsession as Katie grew older.

Margie had been a wonderful mother. Maybe some didn’t think so – especially Aunt Amanda – but Aunt Amanda was critical of everyone and everything. Others said there had never been a more loved child in Wheatland, and Katie had known and felt that love. That was why she put off her search until Margie had passed away. She didn’t want to hurt the one who had chosen her, taught her so much, and loved her so completely.

A few weeks ago Katie had made the decision to finally search for her parents, to find the truth that would set her free. She needed to fill the emptiness in her heart that ran deeper than the lowest depths of the ocean, the absence so hollow that friendships and relationships could not fill the void.

Time had neither soothed the emotions nor healed the loneliness bred by uncertainty. Katie felt that the secrecy about her past was like a band aid, a protection over lies to cover open wounds. She’d never heard the gossip and rumors, but she imaged that people talked in a small town in the 1940’s. Party lines had sizzled, she felt sure.

Katie hoped that the search for truth would be an easy journey. She’d tearfully watched reunions on Oprah, thinking, that will never happen to me. She’d been warned that she might be disappointed. Her parents could be very ill. They might even be gone from this earth, but she had to take the chance. She had to know who she really was.

Now the ghosts of the past that had once flitted mysteriously up and down the staircase and in and out of the dark closets of the Wentworth home had taken human form. The dirty linen, yellowed with age and moth-eaten with deception, was airing out on the clothesline for all the world to see. Hidden secrets, padlocked with missing keys, were now suddenly thrown open to reveal the hurt and pain of silent wounds. Truths were revealed as Katie’s human heart was stripped to bare-nakedness.

Good old Aunt Amanda, a sister to the woman, who had raised Katie from infancy, was Katie’s real mother. Michael Shaw, Amanda’s former brother-in-law was Katie’s dad. There had to be some mistake! Aunt Amanda had supposedly just put Katie in touch with her real mother, Gracie Ensler. Aunt Amanda’s friend and private investigator, Julia Jamison had made those arrangements. Ah, yes, Aunt Amanda the great arranger, with her connections in Spokane. What a liar!

Katie and Gracie had talked on the phone and met in Spokane, What a disappointment that had been! Any preconceived mental images and hopes Katie might have had for a wonderful reunion had been dashed. They didn’t look alike, they didn’t act alike, and although Gracie was pleasant enough, something was just not right. Gracie was tall. Katie was only five feet three inches tall. Katie had fought a weight problem all her life. Gracie looked like she’d always been a beanpole. A large, bulbous nose dominated Gracie’s face, whereas Katie’s was more of a snub nose. Gracie had blue eyes; Katie’s were hazel. Nothing fit. Gracie hadn’t even asked for Katie’s phone number when the women parted.

After their meeting, Katie had tried to put it all in perspective. Gracie was probably nervous and embarrassed about giving a child up. Katie told herself that the next time would be better. She was probably the spitting image of her dad, whoever he was. When Katie had asked Gracie, Gracie had quickly changed the subject.

Katie had settled on these thoughts and believed they were true.

Perspectives can sure change in a hurry, Katie thought, as the smell of popcorn made her stomach roll like the ocean waves. Aunt Amanda and Michael Shaw, my parents, are sitting in my living room, eating my popcorn. She rolled off the bed and stared into the dresser mirror as she said aloud. "Well, they aren’t going to be living in sin in my bed and breakfast! Obviously, they’ve done enough of that, and here I am, living proof! I hope they choke on that popcorn. She glanced at the bedroom door. No wait! I need answers and I need them now," she continued aloud.

Another trip to the bathroom, purged the anger and bile. She was ready for battle, but as she staggered back down the hallway toward the kitchen, she ran into Paul.

They’re gone!

What? You kicked them out before I got any real answers? Katie grabbed Paul’s arm for support as they hurried back to the kitchen.

No, I made the popcorn just like you do, all buttery and salty. I got two small bowls, and the napkins, and took them into the living room on a tray, but they were gone!

Well, sure, they probably went upstairs to her room or his, – although at their ages, I doubt if it will result in a baby sister or brother for me. Katie’s blunt and sarcastic remarks were surprising and embarrassing, even for Paul to hear and especially from his wife’s mouth.

No,they’re gone. They left. I checked their rooms. Michael’s car is gone, too.

Katie plopped down at the kitchen table. Well, good riddance, I guess, although I wanted to face them together and get some answers. I wonder how they happened to be here at the same time. And why did they leave? I wonder where they went.

Shouldn’t be too hard to find them. Michael left his business card on the table by the front door, and underneath it was this short note from Amanda.

Chapter 2

"How much time he gains who does not look

to see what his neighbor says or does or thinks,

but only at what he does himself, to make it just and holy."

Marcus Aurelius Antoninus

M innie Seemore put the last dirty spoon in the dishwasher, but in her hurry to begin her nightly ritual, she forgot to turn it on. Oh well, shoot, I’ll do it later, she muttered, as she shuffled her ample and arthritic body from the kitchen through the large living room. She waved her Kleenex at her husband as she passed in front of his recliner, but Tim was already sound asleep after the big evening meal. His bifocals adorned his bald head, and the newspaper was sliding from his lap, but Minnie didn’t have time to retrieve it. Unusual, because she was obsessively neat, but she was on a mission.

When Tim and Minnie moved to Wheatland from Renton two years ago to retire, they purchased a large custom home known to the locals as The Bird’s Eye View on the north bluff in Wheatland, and, with its panoramic picture windows, it was aptly named. In fact, it was a home that was way too big for just two people, but it gave Minnie the privacy that she cherished for her own peace of mind, and yet afforded the viewing of others that filled a gap in her life. She didn’t like being too close to people, so they could meddle in her life, but she liked to know what was going on in theirs. From Minnie’s vantage point at the south end of the living room, she could see the entire town of Wheatland, and with her high-powered binoculars, it was like reading the fine print on the city map. She had remarked to Tim, Why, I can see the peas on Jake McCullen’s plate clear across town on the south hill!

Oh yes, and there’s his wife, plucking four, long, white chin hairs, Tim had teased. "These telescopes are giving me a headache," Tim added, as he handed back the binoculars, swearing that he’d never use them again. And he never had. He had been too busy setting up his chiropractor’s business anyway to meddle in his wife’s nosiness. In fact, once they arrived in Wheatland, he decided not to retire. Minnie told those she met that he was an adjustor, leading them to believe he was in the insurance business, but once his shingle went up downtown, the residents realized they could get their backs lined up.

It didn’t take long for Doctor Tim to build a clientele, join the Lions Club, and find some other men in their late sixties to perfect their golf game together. Minnie’s verbal resume was a short one-liner – a stay-at-home wife – and when welcomed by the friendly folk in Wheatland to play bridge, golf, or shop at Tupperware parties, she was too busy, too sick, too involved, but with what, nobody really knew. She did have some issues with her health, so she was content to perch at her aerie. Rumor had it that she was a bird-watcher, but soon the town folk decided she was watching them.

Would you look at that! she exclaimed, as she settled into her window seat and peered through her spy glasses. Tim shifted in his chair, but didn’t wake up. He had perfected his selective hearing whether awake or asleep. It’s gone, Minnie continued on. The car is gone!

While the meatloaf was cooking just an hour ago, she had trained her glasses on the bed and breakfast just down the hill, where a silver Honda with Western Washington license plates was parked out in front. She hadn’t seen the man with the camera case park the car or go in and out, but she had observed Amanda Shaw enter the front door with a small overnight bag. Odd, because she was family and Minnie knew that Aunt Amanda always went to the back door. She’d picked up that little tidbit by listening and careful observation, and so the front door entrance by a family member had piqued Minnie’s interest all throughout the whole meatloaf dinner and the cleaning up process.

Now, not only was the car gone, but the lights were off, not only inside the bed and breakfast, but outside, as well. Only the solar- powered decorative lights lit the front sidewalk. Katie always turned the warm, inviting, front desk lamp on in the late afternoon, even though the springtime darkness wouldn’t arrive for several hours. Strange way to run a business, Minnie thought, as she watched for some movement, but mostly she was disappointed that there was nothing to observe. If only we’d had a frozen pot pie tonight instead of all those dishes, I could have gotten in here to see what was going on, she lamented to herself. Well, I can always get the car out and drive around town and try to find the Honda. She loved to look in lighted windows at night and see what people were doing. Like a moth that came out at night to flit around a light, Minnie came to life after dark. She thought she was virtually invisible as she slowly maneuvered her small black Jetta through the streets of Wheatland several times a week. She had no routine, no fixed route, or schedule – just an uncontrollable urge to snoop. She really believed that nobody noticed her, even though her top speed was ten mph, and often she’d stop right out in front of a house to crane her neck to see what was going on inside. Little did she know that the local hardware store, The Grain Bin, had sold out of dimmer switches several times since Minnie came to town, while others closed their curtains as soon as the last drop of sunshine breached their front windows.

We just can’t call the cops; she really isn’t a peeping Tom; the poor old soul is harmless; she probably thinks we don’t see her! The residents of the town gossiped, but they left her alone. Tim tried his best to keep her company in the evenings, but sometimes his after-dinner naps ran overtime, and she’d sneak right by him and out the door. She was never gone long. Even at the speed of a turtle, how long could it take to traverse the streets of Wheatland, population nine hundred and fifty? The longest escape period had been one hour, and Tim had slept right through her absence.

Tonight, with a silver Honda with an unknown driver missing from the darkened bed and breakfast and the mystery of Amanda’s front-door entrance with a bag, Minnie’s excitement was at a fever pitch. In her hurry, she forgot her driver’s license, but, oh well, she decided. She usually carried it although it had expired. At least Tim kept the insurance paid up.

Minnie preferred the elegant white Cadillac with its leather seats, heated in winter, with a wonderful stereo system that made Tony Bennett sound like he was sitting right next to her, but that was Doctor Tim’s car. In reality, the black Jetta with its darkened windows was better for Minnie’s sleuthing, as it crawled through the streets and snugged the corners of Wheatland, and as she backed out of the gravel driveway, her mission was to find that silver Honda. This was her best self-imposed assignment ever!

Minnie bounced down the rather steep, graveled hill from her house on the bluff to where the pavement took over at the corner of Taft and Rock Streets right by the bed and breakfast. She crawled to a stop. The place was dark except for one dim light in the northwest corner of the building.

Hmm, Minnie thought, maybe that’s their bedroom. She urged the car a little further on, and then, impulsively, turned right and headed down the alley. Well, this is a first, she exclaimed happily out loud. I’ve never checked out alleys! She stopped right in front of the alley gate and peered up the sidewalk that led to the back porch. Nothing going on there, she said with disappointment, as she crept down the alley and past the vacant lot. I’ll just have to canvas the whole town until I find that car.

She headed downtown, turning right onto Main Street, and then left at the Shell station, over the railroad tracks, around the corner, and up the hill to the south side of town. She drove slowly, looking for deer, as she left the downtown area. In the last few years, deer were an increasing nuisance as they moved into town, foraging through yards and gardens, and running across the roadways in front of cars. Minnie had heard that Patsy Cordill had hit one right out in front of Randy’s Grocery, so that right there proved that deer can’t read the signs and don’t stay within the Watch for Deer signs. That was one of the great mysteries of life that Minnie had been pondering lately, along with the one as to how her coffee pot knows to stop brewing while she is pouring a cup, but as soon as she is finished, it goes right back to brewing. Amazing newfangled inventions!!

Minnie wasn’t stupid. Far be it! Being a mother and working off and on for Dr. Tim as his professional office manager (she didn’t like the term receptionist) had kept her mind active and sharp for many years, but since she had retired and moved to Wheatland, she’d had the time to ponder on things that had never entered her mind before. She became reclusive and fearful – never wanting the new acquaintances to know her secrets. She kept busy cleaning the bathroom and kitchen for hours.

I must concentrate, she told herself as she drove the town, stopping, craning her neck, peeking in windows, and slowly moving on to the next block. With no luck finding the Honda on the south side, Minnie began her drive on the north side, to no avail either. "Well, I’ll drag the gut, as Tim says," she remarked, as she lowered her window for better viewing. There were three vehicles parked in front of The Last Hurrah Bar and Grill, but one was a jeep and the other two were pickups. She sped up and continued west on Main Street, but the only other car in sight was the local cop, who was parked in front of the Shell station, waiting for some tourist to speed through town, not even realizing that it was a town. Minnie turned on her blinker to impress him; she rarely bothered with them because if they didn’t turn off automatically, they’d be on for blocks, and then she’d worry and check and recheck.

She stopped out in front of the bed and breakfast. Shadowy, dimly lit, not very welcoming, open for business or not – she really couldn’t figure out what was going on. She could hardly wait to get up the hill and home to survey it from all angles. Oh, I hope Tim hasn’t closed things up for the night, she muttered, as she pulled into the garage. Her own house was pitch black, except for the light over the stove, and Tim was nowhere to be found. That worried her, and she was torn between searching for him and scoping out the house down the hill.

Just then Tim’s deep voice boomed from the sliding glass patio door. Where have you been, dear? Did you see anything exciting tonight? He had a flashlight in his right hand and a manual in his left. Seeing Minnie’s frown and the way she looked at him with her head cocked on one side, he chose to explain himself before she delved into her nighttime antics. Oh, this, he explained as he waved the manual around. I just had to check out the sprinkler system. It’s been coming on at the oddest times, and I forgot to do it earlier. Come on. Let’s sit down. I want to talk to you about the phone call that you missed – a phone call from Hope."

Their daughter had always been a priority, but right at the moment, Minnie had a more urgent mission, and she just had to get to the living room windows. So, she left Tim perched precariously on a bar stool in the dimly lit kitchen. There was more of Tim than there was sitting space. Minnie rumbled into the other room. Much to her dismay, Tim had closed the curtains. She yanked on the drapery cord like it was a life-line, and in some strange way for Minnie, it was just that. However, her curiosity was not assuaged in any way; the bed and breakfast was just as mysterious from her vantage point as it was from all the angles she’d seen on her nighttime drive. She was so disappointed!

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Little did Minnie know, nor did anybody, that the silver Honda was tucked away in Amanda’s huge garage behind her apartment downtown, and Amanda and Michael were planning their old age future. Over a few glasses of Chablis, they finalized Amanda’s permanent move to Seattle. On the one hand, she hated moving away from Katie, her daughter, but on the other hand, she thought it was for the best. With her arrangements of Katie’s pseudo-mother in Spokane, Amanda had done her duty to make Katie happy, or so she thought, and now it was her turn to finish out her retirement in happiness with Michael in a senior condo complex with meals served and housekeeping services. Finally with Michael!

Let’s take all we can and get out of town early in the morning, Michael suggested. We can come back later for the rest. I’m thinking like maybe leaving at five a.m.

Amanda agreed with the departure time, but thought they could take it all and not come back.

This is only the fifth of the month, and my lease is up on the thirty first, but who cares. A lot of what I really need and want to keep is already in Seattle, so all we have to do is load your Honda and away we go! Oh, I feel almost young again, or – maybe for the first time.

Michael laughed, Oh, I think you’ve felt young and full of life before, in every sense of the word.

"I get your drift, Michael. Yes, I’ve definitely been full of life, and we have our daughter to prove it. I’ve watched her mature into a fine woman, and I have to say I take some credit for that. I was constantly aware of what was going on with her, and I actually advised Margie on how to be a mother. She was such a weak creature and had no concept of motherhood. Amanda’s old critical nature reared its ugly head again. So I was the positive force in Katie’s life. All of this was from a respectable distance, of course. Right down the hill." Her pride was smothering the room.

I always wondered, Mandy, is Katie the reason you didn’t want to move out to the farm with Robert, or didn’t you want to be married at all? Michael asked.

Guess it’s time for true confessions, Amanda sheepishly admitted. I don’t know why I even got married, except I wanted to get away from Mother Wentworth and Margie. Can you even imagine me living the rest of my life with those two old biddies? I guess I loved Robert, at first, or maybe I was just in love with being in love, so it was the respectable thing to do, but, you know as well as I do that I never really wanted to be a farmer’s wife. Can you imagine me being tied down to feeding those stupid chickens twice a day or helping a dirty old cow give birth? Not me! I’m a city girl!

Michael agreed with her every word because he too was a free spirit. He loved his parents, Ed and Belle Shaw, and he was sad that they were gone now. He knew he hurt them innumerable times with his quick visits to the farm and his urgency to get on with life, all under the guise of photography – catching scenes when the light was right, hurrying to film an event, a portrait appointment – whatever excuse to free him from their cloying, smothering, super- religious, but well-intended ways. I just couldn’t stand it either, Mandy, and, of course, I loved your arrangement here – your apartment with the big-city life of Wheatland and our times together, although they were too few. Way too few.

Oh yeah, the big city of Wheatland with all its entertainment, which was one theater, the Marquee Lights. Now its closed and has become a post office. But I was free to run into Spokane.

Or over the mountain to see me, Michael interjected. Speaking of which, we’d better catch some zzzz’s if we’re leaving early, don’t you think? We want to leave when the light is right. I might get some great shots of the sunrise, he said, as he winked his aging hazel eyes at Amanda.

Amanda agreed, and as she turned off the lights and rechecked the lock on the door before joining Michael in the bedroom, she glanced around her apartment, her home for all the years of her married and divorced life. She couldn’t help but feel a twinge of sadness. It was there that she and Michael had fallen in love, and the result was their beautiful daughter, Katie. You are mine – ours – and always will be, she whispered, as she looked lovingly at the small photo she kept in her purse. Not Margie’s or Gracie’s, but MINE! Little did she know that Katie, just that day, had found the truth. Amanda’s secrets and lies had been exposed! But then there was Michael’s other little secret, the secret he had kept from everyone – even from Amanda.

Chapter 3

"The years go by too quickly to waste them

in silent prisons of hate."

Karen Kingsbury

K atie scowled at Paul as he reached into his jean’s pocket to retrieve the leavings of Amanda and Michael: a business card and a short note. A short note from Amanda? She owes me volumes of explanation,