The Stranger: A Rookie's Daughter

By Eleanor Lee Gustaw

Written with the identical warmth and poise as "The Stranger," the detectives face tumultuous challenges when an impending double homicide threatens Detective Tyanna Norquist's life. Here, she learns the value of completely trusting God, eventually finding peace amidst this storm.

• Language: English
• Publisher: EC Publishing LLC
• Release date: Aug 4, 2020
• ISBN: 9781970160277

Eleanor Lee Gustaw

The background setting of The Stranger relates to Eleanor's passionate love of Nature where she resides in a small, rural Manitoba town bordered by spacious woods. She acquired a love for reading long before she could read, and writing became second nature at an early age. The lovely poise of characters portrays a fluent thread of life's realism, poetically nurtured to Eleanor's deep intensity of highest excellence in mastering the art of articulative creative scenes signature to her unique style of writing. Loving animals has added a sweet portrait to the story, as well as publishing her first non-fiction book, A Patience Beloved. She's also published several short stories and poems in American Poetry Anthologies and local papers. The Stranger has been a personal triumph, where the power of love, faith, and family brings the scenes to life in unusual ways within the trust in knowing God's love is always present.

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Copyright © 2020 by Eleanor Lee Gustaw.

ISBN 9781970160277 Ebook

ISBN 9781970160093 Paperback

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below through mail or email with the subject line Attention: Publication Permission.

Scripture taken from the King James Version (KJV).

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Printed in the United States of America

CONTENTS

Dedication

Acknowledgements

Author’s Note

Chapter 1 Assignment Unaware

Chapter 2 Romancing the Moon

Chapter 3 Whimsical Moments

Chapter 4 The Lemon Tree Crook

Chapter 5 Passport to Crime

Chapter 6 A Journalist’s Gift

Chapter 7 The Discord of Revenge

Chapter 8 Meadow’s Ode

Chapter 9 A Keg of Dynamite

Chapter 10 Letters from the Heart

Chapter 11 Amidst the Thorns

Chapter 12 Mr. Orcs

Chapter 13 Answer Without a Question

Chapter 14 Following a Lead

Chapter 15 Across the Way

Chapter 16 A Gift of Yore

Chapter 17 Where Roses Bloom

DEDICATION

This story is dedicated to my awesome Father God, to His Son, Jesus Christ, and the teacher of my faith, the Holy Spirit, who guides my heart and thou ghts.

To my mother, Bernice, whose love is always as a beautiful day, where butterflies flitter high upon the currents of the lofty breeze, and where the encouragement and faith in her trust in my work has marked the strength to persevere even when my days are darkest. I shall always hold you in highest esteem to the love you so beautifully give to me and the gifts of blessings that come because of the faith you continue to support within my work. For always being here for me, my heartfelt thanks to you shall never be enough. I am indebted to everything you are, within everything I am, within the creative gifts God has given to me as an author. Thank you for being both a mother and friend to me through it all!

To my lovely Senior Marketing Executive, Bill Johnson, whose unwavering faith and encouragement in my work gave me the strength to press forward even when there were times I wanted to throw it out the window!

Through the amazing worth that came from a gang-related scene in that long-ago night’s dream, to the creative core of The Stranger, I continued to strive for the highest excellence as Bill continued to inspire me to be all that I could be, and more than I ever thought I would! It was from this essence of which I drew my strength as I leaned on God and the hard-dedicated work that brings beauty to the scenes.

To the talents of his wonderful faith and trust in the prowess of my writing, I shall always reflect on the beautiful path of rich memories we have shared within the inscription that The Stranger came to be and the sequel that ultimately followed, inspiring me to go further than I ever could have imagined! Within such gifted worth of aspired fortitude of blessing, I shall always treasure the gift of your wondrously quiescent presence, Bill, and everything you have always very graciously given to me for the furtherance of my work.

Thank you for believing in me and seeing what I couldn’t see toward the encouraging influence you have lent to me in so many various ways. It’s a privileged joy and honor to share our identical passions in everything we love within this writing. To everything which God has blessed through that incredible dream that held the worth of heaven in its pages, you touch my life with honor as we serve our God most High within the talents in His divine blessing, today, and in the days to come!

And as always, to my beloved friend, Miss Marty Cooper, whose support and friendship in my work has blessed me in beautifully wondrous ways!

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

To my wonderful team at The Copy Collective Press , thank you for believing in my work and everything you’ve so beautifully created to this breathless joy more wonderful than my soul could ever have imag ined!

To my mother, Bernice, for always being here for me, even when my writing momentarily took me away from other duties, and you lovingly said, Don’t feel guilty using your talent for God. These words became a pillar of strength, knowing that, sometimes when God calls us, we need to abandon our plans for His!

To Ann Gil, a special friend, who is a precious gift of blessing and inspiration!

A special thank you to Bill Johnson, my Senior Marketing Executive. To this wonderful journey we’ve shared within our heart’s passion, thank you for the positive influence and joy you are to me in so many ways! As you once wrote to me, Our friendship is a gem and I shall ever thank the Lord for leading me to you, you shall also always be my gem in everything God brought to us! Within this special gift of time we’ve shared, I shall always cherish the blessing of our friendship, Bill, and the journey I took with you with your sister. Here, I shall ever hold its memories in my heart forever, where, like the beautifully enticing fragrance of the wild rose, you came as this faithfully lovely blessing to all our work encompassed!

To Pamela Fiset, for your kind assistance in guiding me with my work and the friendship we have shared along the way.

To Carlie Ross, my Senior Fulfillment Officer and Manager, a special thank you for all the hard work you’ve diligently provided within A Rookie’s Daughter. For the dreams dreamed; we have come to find them all, more perfect to everything I strove for! You once penned me the most beautiful note: You are an amazing woman and you never cease to amaze me. Carlie, for adding beauty to my work, and always to everything, this is very mutual within the blessings we’ve shared along the way!

Through the years, the special friendship we have come to know means more and more to me, where the breath of the roses enticing fragrance lives ever on!

To Maria Danes, my Senior Fulfillment Officer, your tireless efforts have always gratefully held unquestionable faith in my writing, where your perceptive strength of talent is amazing to each tiny detail! You’re as a precious jewel, a rose of breathless, wondrous beauty that fragrances the hearts of those blessed to know your lovely spirit!

To Ethel Leach, my Finance Manager, for your selfless gift in moving my work forward, and sharing your heart with mine, especially A Rookie’s Daughter and Hope’s Lantern. I’m overwhelmed by everything you’ve put into these projects; our long-awaited treasures!

Beautiful and sacredly precious, I shall always cherish your heart in this! Along with Carlie Ross and Maria Danes, you’re a part of Heaven’s gift to the loveliness from which these blessings came to inspire my heart by God’s perfect grace in time.

Ethel, you’re an exquisite blessing: beautiful, gracious, and lovely in every way! Thank you with all my heart for being the wonderful person you are, for believing in me, and in the gifts God has entrusted to me as His author! I’m honored to be your friend!

Writ upon my heart to all that God placed within my soul, the fluent beauty of the story has carried me to everything that God impressed within every word created for the glory of His Name, and where all honor is given to my Lord!

AUTHOR’S NOTE

One day, as I rested in the early morning hours, the foundational sentence set the background to the second chapter of A Rookie’s Daughter as I thought of the beautiful moon scenes I’ve been privileged to personally enjoy. I had already created the first page of the novel months earlier, but it wasn’t until this scene came alive that morning within my mind’s eye, that I felt ready to write a gain.

The perfect, flawless wonder of this scene began to arise and stir within my spirit; the deep, inky blue sky bathed in unsurpassed radiance, to a full moon that hung suspended in space by a precise order of God’s omnipotent hand.

Setting the earlier scenes of The Stranger, it wasn’t hard to picture the beauty surrounding the Ashtons’ yard that swept undeniably to the indelibly solid depth of enchanting lilt in creating specific scenes where the material holds a huge ground of wealth to draw from, lending details of interchangeable stage, working well to suit the individual desired perspectives, whilst keeping the original intact.

It’s my heart’s deepest prayer - always - that as we journey through A Rookie’s Daughter, the gift of God’s divine presence will be ever near each heart, drawing us all closer to His wonderful creation, but most of all, to the Creator who gave His life for us, that we might have life abundant and free in Him forever on.

The Author wrote the poems included within A Rookie’s Daughter.

Blessings,

Author Eleanor Lee Gustaw

CHAPTER 1

Assignment Unaware

As a rookie cop, I experienced the newly fresh joy of seeing this same experience play out in my beloved daughter’s life. Now, years after her rookie year, Tyanna was as strong in her faith as she was in her job as a police officer. Like her brother, Alexander, she thrived on the work a police officer embodied, and like us all: me, her brother, and her father, the greatest reward of it was in seeing lives changed to a better way, where we were pleased to be a part of the incredibly viable Elite team as counsellors to the Special Victims Unit , as well as teaching in schools, police academies, and universi ties.

There were countless wayward souls and like Tyanna, we immersed our hearts to fulfilling the assignments, but more importantly, we immersed our hearts to fulfilling the joy of new life that shone from eyes that were once walking down the wayward path, now renewed to life in hope, where many surrendered their lives to Jesus Christ.

As I pondered the gift that we held within our very being to exemplify the positive changes that were always waiting on the other side of the door, I couldn’t help but smile. But on this day, these thoughts melted away as I wandered amongst the flowers with my beloved Gene.

My long, raven hair gently lifted to the warm, summer winds as I lightly advanced down the steps of the porch, where I joined my husband in the garden admiring the flower blossoms as we leisurely strolled along the paths.

Aren’t the colors gorgeous? Gene asked, taking my hand in his.

They sure are pretty, I happily exclaimed. Everything is lush and full … just look at the stalks on the cosmos, will you?

Rich filigree, like finest of lace, all in green, reached high toward the sunlight branching out from thick, sturdy stalks. The color schemes were pleasing to the eyes filling out with tones mixed in whites, pinks, and deep mauves.

Looking across the patch, colors blended in adorning patterns of oranges, reds, blues, and yellows.

Kissing me, I murmured, Lunch is ready, darling.

That sounds good, Thea, Gene answered. I think I’m hungrier than I thought!

We enjoyed the lunch and rested after the dishes were washed.

Not realizing I had fallen asleep, I glanced at the clock on the night table. Three o’clock! My goodness! I exclaimed to myself. Gene had already gotten up while I napped, and slipping into my sandals, I found him back in the garden.

Gene, I lightly scolded. Why didn’t you wake me? The Wards will be here in just a couple of hours and I need to get supper preparations started.

Seeing the concern in my eyes, he softly laughed. Relax, Thea. I’ll help. Come sit with me a while.

I considered, then joined him as we wandered to the lilacs, sitting side by side on the bench.

Looking beyond to the meadow, Gene exhorted, Such beauty everywhere, my darling. How picturesque the land is! I couldn’t help but agree.

The wind softly stirred, and it felt wonderfully comforting against my face, almost like an old friend. That brought me back to reality and I quickly arose, giving Gene a start. The Wards! Gene, I think we’d better head back! Supper won’t cook itself you know!

Laughing, Gene arose, and leaned in to kiss me. I suppose we should, he declared. Taking my hand, we enjoyed the lovely walk back to the house.

It didn’t take as long to prepare the meal with Gene at my side. He was always so graciously cordial, never second-guessing or questioning my decisions in the kitchen. It must be the Norwegian in you, he laughingly joked. Me, I’m just an Englishman with a bit of Irish.

Well, that might be, I returned, but the handsomest I’ve ever had the pleasure to meet my acquaintance, I teased back.

Drawing me to himself, Gene’s answer lay in the lingering kiss of sweetness that had always been a gift of immeasurable blessing.

I love you, darling, I whispered when I could breathe again.

I love you, too, my rose petal, he said.

Moments later the doorbell chimed, and Zach Ward and his lovely wife, Greta, stood on the other side of the door. We welcomed them with open hearts, enjoying the good food, and the wonderful companionship that went right along beside it.

It was always a joy to be in the Wards’ presence! Zach was doing very well, continuing his work at the university, teaching young, eager students the benefits of the diversities of horticulture implications, where his first love would always hold a special fondness to the flowers he so adored. Within this specialty, he enthusiastically opened young minds, sharing everything he had learned from his boyhood.

Zach was such a wonderful teacher and many of the students were anxious to get into his classes. His delightful enthusiasm had students flocking to his classes, studying hard, enjoying the lessons so much so that they hardly ever considered it work at all! His good nature and beautiful heart were held strong, enjoying both his love of teaching and the value he placed to each, individual student.

I think of it more as sharing what I love with a friend rather than teaching, Zach confessed. It’s a part of me from deep within my heart.

Greta worked part time, continuing to teach students at the university about crops within her specialty. Like her husband, Zach, she shared the identical platform of teaching, loving what she taught, knowing how vital the food source was within that core scope. Her gentle way made learning a privileged gift where her students were better people because of the heart of joy she likewise held.

The Wards have two beautiful daughters as well as a son. The girls were lovely with auburn hair, now at ages ten and twelve. Hannah, the eldest, liked the wide, open spaces of the land and was a free spirit who loved nature and everything it embraced. She, like Autumn, held a heart for animals that was tenderly sweet and loving, endearing a lilt of grace that glowed within the presence of it all. Seven-year-old Peter Ward was ambitious and full of energy and life just like his pa. He also loved nature, but music held an interest toward different instruments, especially the violin. Taking lessons at this young age was a blessing.

Pa, he said, I want to be a musikin, finding it difficult to correctly pronounce. You know - … he continued, pausing.

Before Peter could add more, Zach put his hand on his shoulder and quietly answered, correcting him, The word is ‘musician,’ son! But try as he might, Peter just couldn’t resolve the correct pronunciation!

We laughed when Zach shared this with us, but we knew that down the road, with gentle, patient, loving guidance, Peter would become all that he dreamed.

After a delicious meal of meatballs and spaghetti, mandarin salad, hot biscuits, and peaches for dessert, we relaxed around the table. The children soon became restless and I suggested that we take a walk to the meadow.

I’m sure the children will enjoy it, I enthused, pushing back my chair.

Greta picked up the leftover dishes of food that were closest to her, and I gathered the rest in my hands. Let’s just leave the dirty dishes, I said, and have that walk.

Laughing softly, Greta helped put the food in the fridge after I covered it with wrap, and we stepped out into the glorious sunshine. The children skipped ahead of us. When we arrived at the meadow, they all stopped short, and I wondered why for a moment. Then, like them, I had my answer. Off to the left, a mother doe with her baby fawn cautiously paused only yards from where we stood. Admiring their beauty, the silence was broken as Hannah suddenly burst out, Look how beautiful they are! squealing in delight. Briefly, they remained still, as if frozen to the spot, then without warning, the doe quickly called to her baby, and within seconds, they were lost to view as they ran along the tree line, where the edge of the meadow abruptly ended. There, they silently entered the woods like a whisper in the night.

Enthralled, the girls could scarcely believe what they had just seen. They began to chatter in excited tones. Peter, on the other hand, seemed mesmerized in contemplative thought. Finally, his thoughts were expressed in wisdom far beyond his years. Music, Mom, he said. Such beautiful music.

Turning to her son, Greta asked, Music?

Yes, Mom. Couldn’t you hear the music of the deer?

I’m afraid I don’t quite understand, Peter, she answered.

"The quiet beauty, the pause, the breathtaking moments of that lingering wonderment. They didn’t just run off, Mom, they were as intrigued as us. Then when Hannah talked, they still stood in our presence, questioning what to do. The mother called to her baby, then they gracefully ran ahead across the meadow. That is the music of their presence, Mom, and one day I’m going to write the notes for it."

We stood aback, Greta and I, marveling at the incredible thought behind this little boy’s thinking. He held a special gift within his heart, and like Greta, tears misted in my eyes as we understood better the enormous gift this truly is.

Taking his hand as Greta knelt before her son, she hugged him, tears streaming down her face.

Why do you cry? he asked.

Because I’m happy, darling, she said, kissing his beautiful, black hair.

Happy – now that’s music, too! Peter enthused, hugging her back.

We enjoyed our walk to the edge of the meadow, peering through the immense, open spaces. Across the meadow here, a partial view of Anne and Tommy Fieldings’ home could be seen, although it was mostly hidden from view. Appreciating the lovely sight, Greta and I moved in for a closer look when an idea suddenly struck me, and I couldn’t help but laugh.

What’s so funny, Thea? Greta asked.

Oh, nothing, I said. Why none of us ever thought of this before though, I just don’t know!

Thought of what?

Why, about building an accessible bridge from their place to ours at the meadow’s edge. This spot was lovely! Poplars and maples bending branches low to the edge of the creek, the water tripping over stones beneath its wide expanse, and the sun that filtered its welcoming warmth, dappling light upon the leaves as it streamed in pleasure across the creek, and far into the meadow to embrace a tranquil scene of picturesque beauty.

Goodness, that’s right! Greta enthused, catching on. I thought you were done having Zach build footbridges and such for you, Thea! she giggled with a musical lilt, recalling how Clara and I had proposed a footbridge and patio on our property some years back.

I did, too! I smiled. But don’t you think that’s a grand idea?

Indeed, I do! she said with fervor.

I’ll call Anne in the morning, I gently spoke, and propose this suggestion. I’ll talk with Gene, too, and perhaps Zach could help with the building, or maybe even he and Richard could work on this together. Anyway, I’ll see what Gene thinks before I talk with Anne, but I’m more than certain that she’ll love the idea, as will her Tommy.

The Wards stayed on until the sunset painted the sky in glorious deepening hues of mauves, purples, and blues. We hugged goodnight. Gene and I happily did the dishes. We got tired and went to bed, where the new morning greeted the world in the gifts of all that awaited us within God’s loving, gracious hands.

I didn’t have the opportunity to express what was on my mind until mid-morning.

How about a walk? I asked Gene with a twinkle in my eyes.

A walk? Now? he quizzically asked. Momentarily at a loss for words, an impish smile suddenly lighted Gene’s face. You’re up to something, Thea! I can see it in your eyes!

I didn’t know my eyes talked! I mused, bursting into laughter.

Taking my arm, we exited the house.

Suppose you share your secret with me, darling. Just where are we going?

Well, I began, carefully finding my words, I thought we might enjoy the meadow about now.

The meadow?

Why, certainly! I exclaimed.

I suppose so, Gene commented in monotone, but with an edge of amused smile.

Gene, it’s just that … Hesitating, I looked directly into his lovely, blue eyes. Well, you’ll soon see, or should I say, you won’t, but will!

Such a riddle, Gene scoffed good-naturedly.

Minutes later we stood at the meadow, taking in the full circumference of view. Flowers dotted the woodland in an airy, yet thick posture of wild lilies, cone-flowers, small groupings of lady slippers, forget-me-nots, and a delightful sprinkling of white blossoms that were generously scattered hitherto amongst the field as far as one could see. The whole aura was pleasant as buds nestled in-between the grasses, awakening to the new day,