Trying to Pull Off a Miracle

By Jaclyn Tracey

Periwinkle Douglas had always been told she was special, so much so that she was placed in a special needs classroom. She had no idea how special until one day her mundane life got flipped upside down when a sleigh of eight reindeer took her back to her future.

• Language: English
• Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
• Release date: Jan 8, 2019
• ISBN: 9781509224388

Jaclyn Tracey

Jaclyn Tracey's life began in merry old England on an American Air Force Base, giving her dual citizenship to both beautiful countries. She grew up in Saratoga Springs, NY, where she married her best friend. They were blessed with two beautiful children, and four unbelievable grandees who have her heart. Jaclyn is a retired Registered Nurse. January 1, 05', Jaclyn sat down and began writing Eden's Black Rose, after the Boston Red Socks won the World Series. She figured if they could win the series, she could write a book. She's grateful it didn't take 86 years to get published! Since then she's added a YA book and also written a children's book.

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Trying to Pull Off a Miracle

by

Jaclyn Tracey

Timeless, Book 1

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

Trying to Pull Off a Miracle

COPYRIGHT © 2018 by Jaclyn Tracey

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

Contact Information: [e-mail]

Cover work created by Rebecca Poole:

Web page: http://www.dreams2media.com

Inside Chapter Illustrations by Michelle McIlroy facebook.com/michelle.mcilroy.754 artworkarchive.com/artwork/michelle-mcilroy

The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

PO Box 708

Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

Publishing History

First Poppies Publishing Edition, 2019

Print ISBN 978-1-5092-2439-5

Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-2438-8

Timeless, Book 1

Published in the United States of America

Dedication

Carol Capone, without you this book would not exist. You exemplify the true meaning of friendship, and paying it forward. Saying a simple thank you for your inspiration, and encouragement seems so trite, yet it has never been more heartfelt. Love you lady.

Rich Nash and Hudson The Railroad Puppy, your plight to educate the world on the beauty and intelligence of Pit Bulls is so admirable, needed and close to my heart. Hopefully there will be a day when dogs can be dogs, without labels or stigmatisms that literally can wipe out a breed. And people who abuse any animal will be the ones on an endangered list.

And to my family, your patience and support is deeply appreciated. Love you guys more. Thank you for taking the time to edit this for me. It’s one way to get you to read it… sadly, the only way…

~ Chapter One ~

Periwinkle Douglas, Peri for short—unless trouble found her—and it usually did, didn’t have a whole lot going on for her. Today though, she had high hopes it might be different. A little excitement would be a nice change of pace. Mix up the mundane, another word for boring, her father always said. Half under her bed searching for her shoes which weren’t there; Peri winced, covering her ears with her hands when she heard her father’s voice hit new octaves. Loud noises freaked her out. How could someone be so loud so early? No shoes, but she did snag a mini candy bar for later. Later being once she got the wrapper off.

Periwinkle Liliana, we are going to be late—again.

Probably not going to be a different day after all. Her father dropped the full-blown first and middle name. As if the first name didn’t make her cringe on its own.

Scrambling backwards on all fours to get out from under the scariest place on earth, her bed, Peri stood up and decided she had more dust bunnies on her knees then Lucky Charms probably had marshmallows in their yummy cereal. To make things worse her hair looked like she plugged her finger into an electrical socket. If she touched someone surely they’d get zapped. A devilish little smirk found her face. Peri sprinted towards her father with her finger extended.

On contact a spark arched between them and he yelped, Periwinkle, not funny.

Peri saw him laughing regardless. Sorry, Papa, she signed with her fingers to him.

You do not appear sorry, Missy. Out of nowhere her father produced a squirt bottle filled with water and chased her down the hallway laughing as he spritzed her wild curly locks.

Her father may have been old, but he never grew up. He was Peri’s best friend.

Truth be known, he was her only friend.

At a whopping eight years old Peri unfortunately happened to be the smallest girl in school, the scrawniest, absolutely the least graceful, completely the most misunderstood, without a doubt always the very last one picked for any teams in gym class—even one of the kids that had asthma and couldn’t walk to the bathroom without sounding like the fire alarm going off, or turning a nasty shade of blue got picked before her, but she didn’t care.

Much.

Well, maybe a little, but not enough to fret over. Unless she thought about it, which she didn’t.

Much.

Okay, maybe it bothered her a little.

And lastly she happened to be the only kid in the school with a tattoo of an old fashioned skeleton key with the end shaped like a heart—on her left middle finger. She had zero recollection of how it got there. Needless to say show-and-tell won her no favors from the teacher, but it did get a lot of laughs from her classmates when they asked her to show it off. Peri didn’t understand why everyone went into fits of hysterics when she proudly hoisted her middle finger high in the air for the world to see until the principal explained it to her. Peri was slightly put out after this. The other kids didn’t want to see her pretty inked finger, but instead wanted to get her in trouble, and it worked.

More than once.

Peri and the principal, Mister Santi, were sort of on a first name basis. Unfortunately, he knew her first and middle name very well. He wasn’t a scary man at all, in fact he reminded Peri of Santa Clause. They could be twins for all she knew. He had a big belly, a neatly combed beard and huge blue eyes. And his laugh? Ho-ho-ho, into the dunce’s cap you go, was his signature line. Principals!

One day she vowed she would rise above all the other kids in her class to show them who she really was… ya know, once she figured it out.

So until then, she clumsily danced and twirled through her childproofed apartment because she really was that much of a klutz, wearing a deep purple tutu as she sought out her light green ballet slippers adorned with tiny lavender roses covering the toe. The shoes were a gift from her dance instructor, a real ballerina, Katie. The toe shoes were so beautiful it seemed a shame not to wear them.

Pfft! Peri figured it would be an insult not to show them off, especially since she would never go through with the dance recital at the end of the year. It was one thing to pretend to be a princess prima ballerina; her bucket list didn’t include being proven wrong.

You have gym today, Peri. Not dance. Sneakers, not slippers. Hurry up, Princess, we’ll be late.

Peri heard her father’s voice reprimanding her for her choice in footwear, but did she give a hoot? She silently ignored her father’s plea to wear something a wee more practical. Sneakers and tiaras clashed worse than peanut butter and bologna, her father’s favorite sandwich. Even after saying this she watched as he reached on top of the fridge, and pulled off the shoes she’d wasted her last fifteen minutes looking for. So this is his fault they were running late!

Men! She’d been enlightened at a very tender age men made no sense.

All most finished lacing the silky green ribbons around her ankles, Peri added her finishing touch of a knot even a sailor wouldn’t be able to undo. Hopefully she could! One last must-have before blasting out the door to catch her father—her tiara—the one with the prettiest, real-super sparkly crystals ever. The headpiece had been her mother’s, and Peri never took it off. Her father told her it held magic. His favorite line, Ya gotta believe. That’s my mantra, and I’m sticking with it.

She had to look up the word mantra… seemed he repeated things a lot. His other was, Periwinkle you are the most beautiful princess I have ever seen.

One could see why it was easy for Peri to have it in her head she had been switched at birth, that she should have been a princess, but from a different era. One of these days she would find a time machine and venture back to a period when guys might have worn as much, if not more lace than ladies, but were still able to run countries wearing silly white wigs, and shut down a room full of bullies with either a gavel or a guillotine.

Peri adored the clothing of Victorian times: Ruffles, frilly lace with shiny baubles embroidered into the material, silly hats probably one feather short of an entire bird pooping on their head, fancy gloves with pearl buttons all the way up the arm and parasols.

Everyone should have one. Sunburns were nothing short of torture. She’d been burnt once. It was enough. She was not fond of her father peeling away her dead, crispy skin like she was a rotten banana and then being slathered with Aloe Vera lotion. She felt like an extra in a movie that busted ghosts after they slimed people.

For the record, I’m only allowing you to wear your outfit today because it’s unusually warm for this time of year.

And you can’t say no to me. Peri signed with her fingers.

Her father’s gentle smirk said she was right. Holding her father, Sam’s hand, Peri and he tottered along Nelson Avenue pointing at different homes, oohing and ahhing at the inviting curbside appeal each home offered while dreaming of their own palace instead of the small one bedroom flat they lived in. She had the bedroom, her father the couch. Their daydreams lasted oh—about a minute until Peri upped the pace so they had to skip along the sidewalk while the pointed ends of her parasol jabbed her father in his side with every step. The two even stopped long enough to play a game of hopscotch chalked into the path. Sam’s long legs proved not to be an advantage to the small pastel colored lopsided boxes.

Peri tapped her father’s arm to get his attention. She signed, Remember, Papa, left foot is the even number, and right foot is odd.

Pfft! her father teased. Child’s play. Watch and learn, little one. Learn from the master.