Herbal Blessings: A Gardening Novel with Herbal Recipes

By Carolee Snyder

Follow the continuing story of the people of Heartland, the Little Town Thats All Heart! Its the fourth season at Joyful Heart, Callie Gardener Franklins herb farm located in central Indiana, and shes discovering that being married to a high-profile husband means lots of changes for both her and the farm she loves. As she struggles to keep her business afloat in a challenging economy, dangerous threats surface that impact every facet of her world. At the same time, her friends face their own problems and opportunities. In times like these, Callie finds it takes real effort to remember to count her blessings

Meanwhile, Morgan Wright campaigns for political office and artist LouAnn Crow confronts difficult times. Romance blooms for some and disappointment awaits others. There are fresh additions to Joyful Hearts staff, new adventures for trucker Suz Stone, Mike Shipley (the sweetest UPS driver in the Midwest) and the rest of the Heartland community. Celebrate as the population booms, good triumphs over evil, the gardens flourish, and the blessings of herbs enhance everyones lives.

Herbal Blessings chronicles not only Callies life and another season of growing, harvesting, and using herbs, but also the joys of country life and nature. It is filled with fascinating herbal lore and helpful gardening information. As in the three previous books in the series, it features cultural information on twelve important herbs. And, completing the menu, it includes over seventy tempting original recipes for desserts and other herbal treats!

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Mar 12, 2014
• ISBN: 9781491869895

Carolee Snyder

Herbal Blessings is the fourth novel by author and professional herb grower, Carolee Snyder. She began her herb farm in southern Indiana in 1978, relocating to central Indiana in 1992 where she currently grows a field of lavender and multiple display gardens. In addition to writing and gardening, she raised a family, hosted a radio show for eight years, and traveled extensively to visit gardens throughout the United States and Europe. When she’s not at the farm or inventing recipes in the kitchen, she travels across the country speaking about her beloved herbs. She is a member of the International Herb Association, the Herb Society of America, Garden Writers of America, the Royal Horticultural Society, and various other horticultural associations. Visit her at www.caroleesherbfarm.com.

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AuthorHouse™ LLC

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© 2014 Carolee Snyder. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 03/04/2014

ISBN: 978-1-4918-6990-1 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4918-6991-8 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4918-6989-5 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2014904021

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and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

Dedication

Chapter 1 January

Chapter 2 February

Chapter 3 March

Chapter 4 April

Chapter 5 May

Chapter 6 June

Chapter 7 July

Chapter 8 August

Chapter 9 September

Chapter 10 October

Chapter 11 November

Chapter 12 December

Herbal Desserts

Recipe Index

Novels by Carolee Snyder

Herbal Beginnings 2008

Herbal Choices 2010

Herbal Passions 2012

Herbal Blessings 2014

Non Fiction Booklets

Thyme & Thyme Again

Midwest Herb Growers Guide

A Fairy Herbal and Garden Enchantments

Dear Reader,

This is the final installment of the adventures at Joyful Heart, at least in this format. Herbal Blessings chronicles Callie’s fourth season as the owner of a central Indiana herb farm. It’s a fictional tale, but it reflects many of my own experiences as a grower and business owner, and life in nearly any small town in the Midwest.

While my dear black lab, Wicca, passed away on Christmas Eve, she continues to live on in Callie’s life. My friend, Beth, is real and she really does make the world’s best doughnuts, and is a courageous cancer survivor. All other characters and employees are fictional. However, many historic and garden locations mentioned in the book are real. The Limberlost and the gardens Callie visits in France do exist and are well worth a visit.

The dessert recipes in this book complete the menu that began with appetizers and cocktails in Herbal Beginnings, soups and salads in Herbal Choices, and main dishes in Herbal Passions. All of the recipes are the result of inspiration gathered while I work in my gardens, where the scents and flavors of the herbs compel me to experiment in my kitchen.

The gardening and cultural information used in the book is based on years of experience growing in central Indiana, which is in Zone 5. You can feel comfortable following the guidelines, techniques, and planting times that Callie uses if you live in a similar zone.

As always, never use any plant as food or tea or in bath or skin products unless it is positively identified correctly. Avoid plants that have been grown with harmful chemicals. While the herbs mentioned in this book and their uses are based on centuries of folklore, no medical advice is intended, nor should usage for medical conditions be attempted without the supervision of a medical professional. The use of any herb should be in moderation.

Traveling to meet many of you has been so interesting. Writing has enriched my life in so many ways. Gardening and using herbs will always be a passion that compels me to keep learning and growing, and hopefully writing as well. I hope my stories and recipes inspire you to grow these special plants, and to harvest their many herbal blessings for yourself.

Carolee

Dedication

To all of those who have courageously fought cancer, you have my admiration.

To my family, for their love, support, and patience.

And most of all, to my husband David, the magic man, who makes the wretched computer behave and good things happen.

Chapter 1

JANUARY

The snow stopped during the night leaving a pristine blanket of white that gently covered Bradford County. Callie jumped from bed, momentarily forgot that her arm was in a sling and gave a small yelp of pain. Her husband awoke in an instant, concern filling his handsome face.

Are you okay, Sweetheart?

I’m fine. I just forgot about my arm when I got up, she said, leaning over to give him a kiss. You can stay in bed, but I need to get started on my list. It’s going to be a full day.

No, I’ll get up, too, he laughed, throwing off the covers. Maybe there’s something I can do to help, although I have no talent for flower arranging. Callie couldn’t help giving his muscular body a lingering look as he stretched. Rafe Franklin was a fine specimen of mankind, and she was blessed that he was hers. She watched as he strode to the tall windows and stood hands-on-hips surveying the estate. It’s a beautiful day for a wedding! Just look at the sunshine on that snow!

Callie joined him at the window, leaning against his chest. Yes, it’s a winter wonderland, but not too deep to hinder travel. Morgan and Samantha will have a perfect day.

I’ll make the tea and toast, he offered, kissing the top of her head. I’ll bring up a tray when it’s ready.

Thanks, love, Callie smiled, returning his kiss before she hurried to the walk-in closet. Pulling jeans and a sweater on was a bit of a struggle with her injured arm, making her grimace as she remembered the bullet that had caused the wound. Everyone said she was lucky that it had not been a few inches to the right or it could have hit her heart. It still made her a little shaky to think that Rafe’s trusted assistant, Alexis Forrest, had tried to kill her just before Christmas. Callie had lost their baby, not from the gunshot wound, but from anaphylactic shock brought on by bee stings. Alexis had thrown a jar of honeybees in her face, knowing that Callie was highly allergic to them. Shaking her head, Callie bit her lip and took a deep breath. Don’t think about the past. Think about this happy, happy day! She hurriedly brushed her waist-length dark blonde hair and let it hang loose. It was too hard to braid it, or pull it into a tight chignon on her neck with only one arm.

Two of her best friends were getting married today, and Callie, as the owner of Joyful Heart Herbs, had designed all the floral arrangements. Most of the work was finished, but the fresh white roses that she’d conditioned overnight still needed to be trimmed, placed in water tubes and put into each arrangement. She had plenty of time, since the wedding wasn’t until evening, but her injuries sapped some of her normal stamina, and the sling slowed her down, too. She planned to get the flowers finished, delivered to the church and placed properly, and still have time to take a short rest before she donned the matron of honor’s dress for the wedding.

The roses were in buckets of water in the room she called the herbal pantry. She kept it cooler than the rest of the house to help keep the herbs she stored there from deteriorating. Parallel rows of dried herb bunches hung across the ceiling. Shelves surrounding the room held jars of dried herbs, tinctures, salves, crocks of potpourris, and boxes of floral supplies. One wall of shelves was filled with precious herb and garden-related books. A desk angled across one corner of the room with her grandmother’s rocking chair near a south-facing window whose sill was lined with potted herbs. The large rectangular work table in the center was currently covered with the bride’s bouquet, the three bouquets for the bridesmaids, four boutonnieres, and sixty small herb and flower nosegays that would first be tied with ribbons to the pews for the wedding and later moved to the reception to decorate the guests’ tables. Samantha had selected fragrant green herbs and ferny tansy leaves, small gold yarrow blooms, stalks of fragrant lavender, little clusters of babies’ breath and deep purple statice. All of that material had been grown, harvested, and dried at Joyful Heart except the white roses, which had been delivered last night by the local florist, Floral & Hardy.

Callie selected Rimsky-Korsakov’s Snow Maiden as the morning’s work music. The rich, lively notes of the opera danced around the room just as the snowflakes had swirled outside last night. She smiled and hummed as she filled small green tubes with water, using a large syringe that made the job easy. Once each tube was full, she placed it upright in a holder. When they were all finished, she began sorting the roses, inhaling their light fragrance that mixed with the aroma of the herbs in the room. The four smallest roses would not get tubes, because they would become boutonnieres. The remaining stems were each clipped and inserted into a water-filled tube, the bloom size determining where it would be used and therefore its stem length. Small blooms were destined for nosegays, next larger were bouquets, and the largest would accent the two stately altar arrangements. She had barely begun when Rafe entered the room, carrying a tray that contained a teapot, cups and saucers, small plates, a pot of her homemade gooseberry jam, and a dainty porcelain rack filled with buttery toast. He carefully placed it on the end of the table, pausing to watch his wife’s skillful fingers.

Stop for a moment and eat while the toast is hot, he advised, pulling up a chair and kissing the top of her head. I’m going to shower. Do you want those big boxes brought up from the garage?

That would be helpful, she smiled, but there’s no hurry. You can get them after your shower. She watched him for a moment, tempted to join him, but then remembered that after losing the baby, her doctors instructed her to allow at least three months for her body to heal. She sighed, spreading jam onto a slice of toast and pouring fragrant Earl Grey tea into a cup. It would be a long three months.

By lunchtime, she was at the church trying to tie the small nosegays to the pews, which was not an easy task with her arm in a sling. Rafe offered to help, but he was an unacceptable bow-maker, and she was relieved when her friend, LouAnn Crow glided down the aisle. LouAnn was one of Callie’s closest friends in Heartland, a talented artist who had painted the beautiful road sign announcing the entrance to Joyful Heart, the lovely floral sales counter used at the barn shop, and also the portrait of Callie that hung in Rafe’s office.

Great day for a wedding, she called. I figured you’d be trying to do this yourself even though I told you I’d come to help. She kneeled down and took over the task, forming pretty bows with ease around the tiny bouquets. I love these little gold yarrow flowers. I should grow some in my garden.

Yes, you should, Callie smiled, settling on a pew to rest a moment. The big ones in the large arrangements are the ‘Parker’ variety, but these little ones are called ‘Sweet Nancy.’

Cute, LouAnn stated, standing to survey her work. Pass inspection?

Perfect! Callie assured her. Only twenty-nine more pews to go. While you finish this, I’ll put the roses in the altar arrangements. I can do that with one hand!

The two women worked silently in the old church. Sunbeams streamed through the colorful stained glass windows. The smell of the lavender flowers in the bouquets mingled with the scent of Christmas greens in the windowsills and furniture polish. Morgan’s mother, Grace, and his Aunt Estelle had spent days polishing every inch of each pew, railing, and floor. The sanctuary sparkled and every light fixture gleamed. The old pipe organ in the front had not looked so good in a hundred years.

By two o’clock everything was in place. The evergreen wreaths on the front doors that had served throughout the Christmas season had new bows of wide gold ribbon and sprigs of white babies’ breath as did similar wreaths on each restroom door and the doors to the reception hall. The fresh roses for the outdoor wreaths would not be added until the last minute since it was cold outside. They were concealed in a bucket behind a door. LouAnn had scissors in her pocket to quickly snip the ribbons off the nosegays decorating the pews as soon as the last guest left the sanctuary, and she’d take them to the reception to decorate the remaining tables. Callie checked every detail again and again. She wanted this wedding to be perfect for her friends.

Go home and take a nap, LouAnn advised, taking Callie’s elbow and steering her toward the door. She smiled at Callie’s security guard, Joker, who spoke into his radio and then checked outside the door before he allowed the women to step out to the waiting black sedan. LouAnn gave her a hug and waved as she scurried to her old van. Callie slid into the sedan’s backseat and leaned her head against the leather upholstery. The chief of her security team, Gus Gustafson was behind the wheel.

Let’s go home, Gus, she sighed tiredly. She knew without looking that Joker would follow in an inconspicuous SUV, and another team vehicle would be ahead. Since her marriage last August, she’d become accustomed to constant security, although she still didn’t like it. Rafe Franklin was a multi-millionaire, and he’d patiently explained that powerful people often made enemies, and unscrupulous people were tempted to kidnap the wives of the wealthy for ransom. He could cite several examples, including Indiana’s own Gail Cook. The list he rattled off had surprised Callie, until Rafe pointed out that most incidents were kept out of the news for fear of spreading the idea to other would-be criminals. He knew because security teams shared information on the tactics used. After two attempts on her life, she finally accepted the necessity of constant vigilance. It wasn’t the life she’d pictured, but Rafe was insistent. He’d lost his first wife and child to violence and was determined to protect Callie from harm. The fact that his valued personal assistant, who had been intricately involved in all of his business ventures for nearly fifteen years, had almost succeeded in Callie’s demise was still hard for him to accept.

The sedan stopped smoothly in front of their large home, which Rafe called Stone Manor. The exterior was made of natural stone with dark gray trim and a gray slate roof. From the front it was deceptively small, but its U shape allowed for many rooms. One leg of the U was a five-car garage complete with an underground security bunker, rows of monitors, and a huge loft above that held the team’s living quarters. The U enclosed three lovely stone patios that were partially divided by thrusting V’s of glass windows that Callie thought resembled the prow of a ship. The center patio was viewed from the living room, with its large stone fireplace and earth-toned furniture. Outside, low plants began at the edge of the stone patio, transitioning to slightly higher varieties of perennials, colorful annuals and bulbs during the growing season. Beyond that border was a perfect lawn covering in-ground cisterns that caught rainwater from the roof. The lawn ended with a series of terraced gardens that dropped gradually to the very bottom of a ravine. Each terrace was planted with a mixture of plants in shades of Callie’s favorite colors: apricot, yellow, and orange, with levels connected by beautiful stone stairways. At the very bottom, a stream-fed creek meandered through the wooded area, where a small waterfall that she had designed splashed soothingly. The kitchen’s cozy patio allowed the couple intimate dining for breakfast or simple suppers. Long rectangular stone beds that contained culinary herbs lined the edges. The third patio opened off the elegant dining room. It was large enough for entertaining and had a muddler’s garden near the outdoor bar, and a state-of-the-art built-in grill. Fragrant plants, especially those with evening scent, surrounded the area.

Callie had difficulty believing that she now lived in Stone Manor. Before her marriage, she had a comfortable old farmhouse, just across from her farm, Joyful Heart Herbs. The house had been filled with antiques passed down from her grandmother, garage sale finds, and thrift shop treasures. Unfortunately, it had burned during last year’s drought, and almost daily, she still discovered items that had been lost in the fire.

We’ll need to return to the church at five o’clock, she told the driver.

We’ll be ready, Gus smiled, opening the door for her and escorting her into the house.

Two ecstatic labs greeted her at the door. Hello, you two! What have you been up to since I left? She knelt to hug Wicca, the black lab that she’d rescued just before moving to Heartland. Wicca had been her constant companion for over three years and was the darling of every customer at the herb farm. The chocolate lab, Boomer, was a more recent addition to the family. Joker had pulled some strings to reunite with the explosives-sniffing dog that had been his partner in the military. He’d easily persuaded the Franklins’ that the dog would be a valuable addition to the security team. Joker taught Callie the hand signals to command the dog, and Boomer had saved Callie’s life by subduing Alexis when she’d attacked. The dog’s quick response to Callie’s hand signal had made the gunshot go awry and allowed Gus to get her to the hospital in time. Although Callie had lost her own child, she was filled with the anticipation of Wicca’s puppies that would arrive after the first of February. She rubbed the lab’s swelling belly, a wave of jealousy washing over her. Boomer pushed his head into Callie’s lap, begging for his share of attention, nearly knocking her over in the process.

Oh, I’m not forgetting you, Boomer, she said, hugging him firmly. You’re my hero! I’ll never forget your bravery when you came to my rescue! And you two are going to make beautiful puppies. She and Rafe had already decided that the pups would eventually be donated to be Wounded Warrior service dogs or rescue dogs, whichever each personality fit best.

All finished? Rafe asked, striding down the hallway from his office, pulling her up gently and greeting her with a careful embrace and a kiss.

All but the very last minute things, she smiled wearily in response. Did you accomplish a lot today? Rafe had returned to his workload after LouAnn had arrived. Callie noticed a crop of new lines around his eyes, the result of working impossible hours.

I’ve asked one of my lawyers to step into Alex’s position temporarily, but it will be a challenge for a few weeks, he sighed, running his hand through his black hair in a familiar gesture he used when tired or worried. Alex was an integral part of every aspect of my business. She was handling the negotiations with Dragoski, the personnel changes, the end-of-year paperwork, plus all the committees and social engagements that I avoided. It’s a big job and until I fill the position, I’m going to have to take over most of it.

Is that your way of warning me that our long-postponed honeymoon is on the back burner again? she teased.

Would you be terribly disappointed? he grimaced, holding her at arms’ length so he could look into her eyes.

I don’t need a honeymoon, she smiled, but I was looking forward to some uninterrupted time with my husband. Do you realize how hectic our lives have been since we married last August?

Totally aware, he said solemnly. Between your farm and my business, we’ve had more time apart than together. Let’s try to do a better job of scheduling.

Speaking of scheduling, I’ve scheduled a short nap before the wedding and if I’m going to make it through the ceremony I need one, she yawned. I think my body is using a lot of energy to heal. I can’t believe how tired I am.

Well, you were up a dawn, he said, scooping her into his arms and easily carrying her up the stairway toward the master suite. What time shall I call you?

Four o’clock, she said. We need to leave at five.

That’s going to be a short nap, he warned. You’d better go right to sleep.

I doubt that will be a problem, she yawned again.

It’s a lovely wedding, Callie thought as she held Sam’s bouquet while the couple exchanged rings and vows. The fragrance of the herbs she’d incorporated into the bouquet soothed her: rosemary for remembrance, lavender for devotion, sage for wisdom, basil for fidelity, mint for prosperity, and marjoram for joy. She watched as Morgan Wright, the deputy who had guarded her for a few weeks her first summer at the farm, pledged to love, honor, and cherish his bride. He stood proudly, only needing a cane for support. It was a miracle that Morgan was even alive after being shot by drug dealers. When he’d finally regained consciousness, Samantha Laffingwell had become his physical therapist, and she’d done an amazing job. With her help, he had transformed from an invalid to the solid candidate for state legislature that he was now. They made a perfect couple, and Callie prayed that they would have years of happiness, although that was in question. Morgan’s damaged lung would never recover sufficiently to allow full breathing, which curtailed his current activity, and could become worse in the future.

I now pronounce you man and wife, the minister proclaimed. May I be the first to introduce Mr. and Mrs. Morgan Wright! The guests applauded, the organist pumped furiously on the pedals, and the couple beamed as they walked down the aisle to the foyer. As matron of honor, Callie took the best man’s arm and followed the happy couple, smiling at her friend Sandy as they passed her pew. Sandy was a reporter for the Heartland Banner, the local newspaper which Rafe owned, and wife of the best man, Sheriff Pudge Newton. She and Philip, better known as Pudge, had a three-month old son, Trey, who slept soundly in Sandy’s arms despite the applause and the energetic organ.

Once in the foyer, Callie adjusted the curving train on Sam’s gown, took her place in the reception line and prepared to smile and greet the hundreds of guests in attendance, which were many more than had been invited. She suspected the same thing had happened today that had occurred at the couple’s engagement party. The town of Heartland was a close-knit community. Everyone had watched Morgan grow up, breathed a sigh of relief when he returned from a tour of duty as a Marine in Iraq to become the county’s deputy sheriff, and felt a wave of pride when he became a state trooper. The three hundred invitations to their engagement party had swelled to over five hundred attendees, and today the church had been standing room only. Callie smiled, confident that Dinah, of Dinah’s Diner, who had also grown up in Bradford County, had planned accordingly. There were probably a dozen sheet cakes and gallons of punch in reserve, not to mention enough food hidden in the fellowship kitchen to feed an army.

The evening passed in a blur of happiness. Although Callie declined participating in many of the traditional wedding reception dances such as YMCA, she nodded an acceptance as Rafe raised a questioning eyebrow when the band began a dreamy arrangement of You Light Up My Life. They circled the dance floor slowly, Rafe being careful to protect her arm from nearby dancers. She rested her head gratefully on his chest, breathing in his fragrance and allowing her body to relax. As soon as Samantha threw her bouquet, and she and Morgan departed for their honeymoon, a brief stay in Morgan’s Aunt Estelle’s house in Tucson, Callie’s duties as matron of honor were over.

Is it permissible for us to escape yet? Rafe whispered in her ear.

Totally, she smiled. He nodded to Joker, who was dancing with Callie’s friend, Suz Stone, and to Gus, who was standing near the kitchen door. By the time Rafe and Callie had said their good-byes and gathered their coats, the black sedan was waiting by the curb.

When Callie awoke the next morning Wicca was still sleeping on the floor beside the bed, but Rafe had already left. She rolled over onto his pillow and sighed. He’d told her last night on the way home that he had a full day of phone calls and preparations for his trip to the New York office. She stretched and padded to the shower, noticing that Wicca still slept.

Becoming a mother is tiring work, she smiled, watching the dog’s side rise and fall with each breath. Once she was dressed, she sauntered to the kitchen and put on a kettle of water for tea. She was an admitted tea-aholic. She loved blending the herbs she grew into beneficial, flavorful teas. Today she needed something uplifting, so she picked a few lemon balm, marjoram, and rosemary leaves from the pots in the windowsill and put them into a teapot. Soon the gray skies that produced the beautiful snowfalls would take their toll, and the plants would stop growing. At that point, she’d switch to the jars of dried herbs in her pantry. She popped slices of store-bought whole grain bread into the toaster. Just as soon as this sling is off, I’m baking bread, she grumbled, adjusting the straps, and wondering if she could manage a batch of scones since they wouldn’t require kneading. But she thought of trying to hold the bowl while she stirred, felt the ache in her arm from all the floral work she’d done yesterday, and decided toast would do.

She carried one item at a time to the small lady’s desk that Rafe had given her at Christmas. It was a beautiful antique, and although not large enough to hold her computer and all the work for her business like the desk upstairs in the herbal pantry, it was a charming place to do small tasks that required hand script. She pulled a new journal and a lovely old pen filled with green ink from the drawer. She’d purchased the pen and bottle of ink at a specialty shop in Arezzo the summer before last, but had never used it. Once she saw the lovely desk, she’d decided now was the time, and this year’s journal would be the first task.

The journal was a tradition she’d started in junior high school, beginning it on each New Year’s Day. She was a day late because of the wedding, but that was acceptable. Each year she began a new journal, and she attempted to write entries daily, even if they consisted only of a few notes on the weather, or what she’d accomplished that day. Sometimes an entry was a sentence or two; sometimes it was pages and pages. The journals helped keep things in perspective. Writing was like spilling all one’s problems and dreams to a trusted friend. It also reminded her to send birthday or anniversary cards, submit tax forms, and to make dentist and doctor appointments.

She wrote the year at the top of the first page in big letters. All of the journals began the same way. It was a tradition that she saw no reason to break. The first page always listed the major events of the past year, using a rating system of arrows pointing up for good things, arrows pointing down for disappointments or failed goals. She sat thoughtfully, turning the pen in her fingers before beginning the first line in a careful script. Before starting Joyful Heart Herbs, she’d taught cursive writing to her fourth graders, and took more than a little pride in her penmanship. Entries were made somewhat chronologically, rather than by importance.

Completed the third season of Joyful Heart Herbs, despite economy (arrow up)

Morgan recovered (arrows up)

Still writing a column for the Heartland Banner (arrow up)

Hired new employees—Sly (arrows down!); Tiara (arrow up); the Leaf sisters, Fern and Ivy (arrows up); Morgan’s Aunt Estelle (arrows up)

Toured historic gardens in England with Cousin Eve (arrows up!)

Lost my farmhouse in a fire (arrows down)

Married my wonderful Rafe Franklin (big row of arrows up)

Built a dream barn at the farm (arrows up)

Got chickens. (arrow up)

Attacked by hit men hired by Alexis! (arrows down)

Planted a lavender field (arrow up)

Designed & supervised installation of terrace gardens at Stone Manor (arrows up)

Sandy & Pudge have a baby boy (arrow up)

Morgan & Samantha Laffingwell were married (arrow up)

Wicca is expecting five puppies! (arrows up)

The farm barely broke even…economy slumped, drought (arrows down)

Alexis threw bees & shot me; I lost our baby (a row of arrows down)

She shook herself, glanced at the list, and was relieved to see that there were more arrows up than down. It didn’t look like much progress had been made at Joyful Heart, considering the long hours she had worked and the money she had spent. She had not added a single garden, although she’d expanded the Cook’s Garden a bit, beefed up other gardens with more flowering shrubs and perennials, and begun planting a field of lavender varieties. She had held some new events, and the new barn had quadrupled the shop area as well as allowed space for a real classroom. That should count as a major accomplishment. Sandy’s new public relations business had brought Joyful Heart lots of publicity, which had probably saved the farm. Between the drought and the stagnant economy, other businesses in the area had closed their doors. At least Joyful Heart would be able to open its doors again in mid-March, when gardeners were beginning to feel the blood stirring in their fingers. Although Rafe was more than willing to throw money at the farm, Callie was determined that her business be self-sustaining. Her pride would not allow it to be otherwise.

The next page was always for a New Year’s Resolution. Her first year at the farm she’d chosen Be courageous, but cautious. That year, she’d been robbed three times, physically assaulted, found marijuana in her greenhouse, her father had died, and her ex-fiancé, Daniel, had returned. She had certainly needed to be both courageous and cautious. The next year’s resolution was Make good choices, and it had proved prophetic. It had turned out to be a year of hard decisions, and dealing with the choices she’d made in her life and for her farm. Last year’s resolution was Live with Passion! and it had served her well. She’d been giving this year’s resolution a lot of thought over the past few days. Count Your Blessings! kept coming to mind, so she penned it across the second page.

The next page was traditionally a list of books she hoped to read in the coming year. A decade ago it listed classics, biographies, historical novels, and best-selling fiction. Once she became addicted to growing and using herbs, the list evolved to herbals, garden books, and horticultural texts on propagating and growing. Fifty-two books had been the original goal, which she hadn’t met since college, but it was a worthy goal and there was never a problem finding fifty-two titles that sounded promising. Finding enough time to read since she’d moved to the farm had been challenging though, especially while she wrote her own book, Herbal Beginnings. The only books she’d read last year were research for her trip to England. That lovely trip had only happened because her cousin Eve was temporarily living in Norwich, which greatly reduced the costs. Callie needed more time to read, but she’d found owning an herb farm was much more time-consuming than she’d ever dreamed. Rafe had been encouraging her to hire an assistant so she’d have more free time. She smiled, thinking that was certainly a case of the pot calling the kettle black. He needed to hire an entire team of assistants! She sighed, and decided maybe it was time to break tradition and forget about listing books that she’d never have time to read. However leaving it empty felt like giving up, so she began listing a few titles: The French Country Garden, Renoir’s Garden by Derek Fell, In the French Kitchen Garden, by Georgeanne Brennan, and Louisa Jones’ two books, Provence, A Country Almanac, and Gardens in Provence.

Hmmm, there seems to be a theme here, she chuckled, turning to the next page.

Goals for this Year soon flowed across the top. She hadn’t been doing very well with her goals the past couple of years either. Priorities at the farm seemed to shift and pull at her intentions. Last year, she’d only set four: Be profitable; spend more time with my mother; be a better friend; find new employees.

To be honest, Callie didn’t think she’d made much progress on the first three goals, so she wrote them down again. The fourth, find new employees had had mixed results. First she’d hired Sherry Lynn Yoder, whose nickname, Sly, should have been a warning. After teaching her everything she could, Callie had been stunned when Sly had quit, opening a rival herb farm nearby on the highway. Callie groaned, recalling how she’d allowed the woman access to her computer, her list of sources, her seeding schedule, and all the other critical business folders that had taken her years to perfect.

Well, live and learn! she told herself grimly, forcing her mind to review the other hires, which were much better. Tiara Crown was last season’s second hire and while she really had little interest in gardening or plants, she was excellent in the shop. As a former beauty queen contestant, she’d been a tremendous help with photographers who came to shoot the farm’s gardens, and an even bigger asset when it came to Callie’s wardrobe and make-up for those shoots. Now, each time Callie dressed for a speech or a book signing, she thanked Tiara for her acute sense of style and her gift for choosing colors and styles that were flattering to Callie’s thin frame. With Tiara’s help, Callie had never looked more professional, or prettier.

Or, maybe that can be attributed to love, Callie thought with a smile, gazing at the photo of Rafe on the table beside her. She sighed dreamily and returned to the journal. Callie had known Tiara was not content working at the farm and hated getting dirt under her perfectly manicured nails, so she hadn’t been surprised when the young woman began taking over some assignments at the newspaper when Sandy went on maternity leave. Now Tiara worked full-time as a reporter for the Heartland Banner, creating a need this coming season at Joyful Heart for a replacement who was artistically-inclined to do shop displays, liked to play store, answer phones, and could help with the watering and weeding if necessary.

Morgan’s Aunt Estelle had been a surprise hire. She’d been staying with her sister during Morgan’s recovery, but chafed at idleness. She missed her small garden in Tucson, and was delighted last spring to help prepare for Fairy Days. It had begun as a temporary arrangement, but Estelle had worked part-time through October. As an experienced gardener, she was a huge asset, but she would not be returning for the coming season. Callie would have to hire a replacement for her as well.

Fortunately, the delightful Leaf sisters, who reminded Callie of the Baldwin sisters on The Walton’s television show, would be returning part-time. They were avid gardeners, skilled in many homesteading crafts and they dressed in homemade outfits like Tasha Tudor. They’d already expressed their eagerness to begin transplanting as soon as Callie needed them in the greenhouse. Although they only worked part-time, since their own homestead and farm animals demanded much of their time, the sisters were valuable and the customers loved them.

After she’d been shot, the Leaf sisters had packed up the holiday inventory in both the Cottage and barn shops. Of course, the leftover spring inventory, stored in the farmhouse, had burned in the fire along with cherished family possessions and many other farm supplies. Callie needed to attend the major Gift Marts in Atlanta this month, especially since she had not gone last year. She wondered how Gus would react to that!

Her thoughts were interrupted by the chime of her cell phone. Callie put aside her pen and answered, Callie Gardener Franklin.

Aunt Estelle here, the familiar voice boomed. How are you feeling today, dear?

A bit tired, Callie admitted, but I’d love some company if you’re still coming to tea.

You know I wouldn’t miss the opportunity for tea, and to see your home, Estelle chuckled. "I’m driving Grace’s Cherokee. Morgan’s little sports car is not so great in snow, so alert your crew. I’ll be there about two, if that’s acceptable."

Perfect, Callie replied enthusiastically. But, I’m not back to baking yet, so don’t expect anything fancy.

With all the leftover wedding food in this house, I don’t need anything to eat, the older woman stated. Shall I bring cake? We have mountains.

That would be terrific. Dinah’s cake was amazing, wasn’t it? Do you have any of the marmalade layers left?

I’m sure there are, Estelle chuckled. I’ll just have to do a bit of searching. See you at two.

After she hung up, Callie rang Gus to let him know when Estelle would be arriving, so he could open the gates. Then she put her plate in the sink and refilled her teacup. It was a clear, crisp January day and she’d like to take a walk, but the slippery steps that led to the woods below might be too tricky for a one-armed woman. She should go to the farm to check on the seedling flats, since she’d been too busy with the wedding to go yesterday. And the chickens would need feeding. She’d only been there once since she got out of the hospital, and there were probably dozens of things she could do. Besides, she was feeling antsy. She’d told Fern and Ivy not to come to the farm when it snowed heavily. They seldom took their ancient truck out of the garage unless the roads were perfectly clear. She rang Gus again, told Rafe where she was going, and whistled for the dogs. She had plenty of time before Estelle arrived.

The farm was eerily silent. The pristine snow-covered parking lot had not been marred with tire tracks until the big sedan and SUV pulled in close to the barn. Joker jumped out and opened the sedan door releasing the dogs, who bounded happily into the snow. While Boomer raced along the perimeters, sniffing for any intruder or anything that might have been thrown over the fence, Wicca took a more leisurely pace as she checked for rabbits and squirrels who might be invading the gardens. When Gus was satisfied with the monitor readings, he opened the sedan door for Callie and Joker unlocked the barn and entered first. Once inside, she checked the answering machine but there was nothing important. The displays looked dismal, with large areas totally empty. All of the seasonal décor and inventory was packed in boxes labeled Christmas! and stacked by the stairway. She picked up her clipboard and headed to the greenhouse, which smelled of rich soil and plants. Wicca followed her inside and immediately curled up beneath the workbench for a nap. Gus sat in the barn loft, watching his monitors, while Joker and Boomer checked the Cottage and shade house.

Callie cherished time alone with her plants. She removed her coat, already feeling too warm, although the greenhouse temperature was not high this time of year. Even the bit of weak sunshine today was enough to warm the space so that the furnaces could rest. They’d chug tonight though, when the outdoor temperature would fall into the teens. She inhaled deeply, savoring the aroma of growing plants, potting soil, and a mixture of fragrant herbs. Her first chore was to sprinkle food into the hens’ feeder and refill the water bottle. The portable chicken house had been moved into the greenhouse for the winter, where the warmer temperatures would encourage better egg production. The five hens had begun clucking excitedly as soon as she’d entered the greenhouse. Now they glared at her suspiciously, first with one eye and then the other.

Oh, come on, girls, Callie scolded. I haven’t been gone that long. Surely you remember me! She plucked a few parsley leaves from a nearby plant and sprinkled them into their pen. The Americanas, Rosemary, Savory, and Betony scurried to snatch up the curly green tidbits. They were thin-bodied, golden with black tails. They laid gorgeous turquoise, green, and gold eggs, although Callie had yet to determine which hen laid what color. Thyme and Sage were Barred Rocks that produced beautiful brown eggs. This breed was heavier than the Americanas, with striped black and white plumage. The lone rooster, Elvis Parsley, was also a Barred Rock. He was much taller and more muscular than the hens. His comb and wattles were bright red, and his melodic crowing was worthy of The King. She picked a few more parsley leaves for the hens, and was rewarded when they began to sing contentedly. Callie gathered the five eggs, wondering when the hens would become broody and want to sit on their eggs until they hatched. She’d ask Fern and Ivy, who were sure to know.

She was amazed at how much the baby violas and pansies had grown in her absence. They already needed to be transplanted. As she strolled down the aisles she observed that many of the seedling flats of perennials were big enough to need their own pots, too. She checked the seeding journal, but all the varieties that should be planted had already been done, right on schedule. Fern and Ivy had followed her lists exactly. Rows of carefully labeled seedling flats filled one aisle, and Ivy’s meticulous handwritten notes that could almost pass for type noted the flat number and date for each variety. Fern and Ivy were not only terrific employees, they’d become Callie’s friends, too. She looked forward to spending sunny days ahead in the greenhouse with the quirky sisters.

She walked up and down the aisles, putting color-coded sticks in the flats that were ready to transplant, did a bit of spot watering, and made a list of needed supplies. There was plenty of potting soil. Rafe had convinced her that it was better to purchase a half-semi load of potting soil than make weekly trips to the south side of Indianapolis. With the price of gas, she’d saved a lot of money by purchasing in bulk. She’d also ordered all the flats and pots she’d estimated would be required for the season, and they were piled on pallets outside the workroom, covered securely with a tarp to protect them from the elements. Fortunately, Rafe had saved her expensive label printer last August, pushing it into the truck just as they fled from the fire, but she needed to order more labels. She made more notes on her clipboard and put on her coat. She wanted a little time in her Cottage.

Joker stood outside the door and nodded as she approached. Are you sure you’re ready to go in there? Her beloved Cottage had been the site of Alex’s attack, and as much as she hated to relive the incident, she wanted to reclaim the snug little building. We removed all the bees. Fern and Ivy did some cleaning after Pudge’s crew was finished, he told her.

I need to do this, she smiled crookedly. It was cold inside, since no one had built a fire in the woodstove. She walked slowly around the little building, touching this item and that. Everything in it was herb-related, since they’d moved the fairy items and other categories into the barn displays. Since the large sales counter had also been moved to the barn, that space was now filled with a smaller sales counter and with additional tables where customers could enjoy complimentary refreshments. Someone had removed all the linen tablecloths and put the empty centerpiece vases in a tidy row on the counter. She sat on one of the kitchen chairs and surveyed the room, allowing the memory of the attack to surface. She peered at the spot where she’d fallen, but all traces of blood were scrubbed away. She closed her eyes and again heard the hatred in Alexis’s voice, remembered watching the pulse beat in her throat as the woman had recounted the details of the devious plan that had caused the accident, killing Rafe’s wife and son. Alex loved Rafe and she’d been determined to remove Callie from his life, too. This accident had only been foiled by Boomer. A few more minutes, and Callie’s allergic reaction to the bee stings would have killed her. She absently rubbed her arm, reliving the flash of sound and pain when the gun went off. Alexis had planned to let the bees do the killing, but when Boomer jumped on Alexis’s back and grabbed her arm in his jaws, the gun had exploded. That was all Callie could remember. By then, her throat was swelling closed. Her heart had pounded so hard it thundered in her ears. Her next memory was hearing Rafe’s voice and realizing she was in the hospital.

She drew a few deep breaths, looking around the Cottage again. She let her eyes dwell on the lovely wreaths, the beautiful dishes with herbal motifs, and the wavy glass in the old windows. She loved this little building, and she would not let Alex or her wicked actions diminish that love. She squeezed a stem of lavender that had fallen from a nearby rack, inhaling its soothing fragrance. This is my sanctuary. Mine! Callie stated firmly. During the next waning moon, she’d do a cleansing ritual, but she felt more peaceful already. She sat quietly, willing the lingering fear from her mind, willing her heart to beat normally, taking deep breaths until Joker tapped softly on the door.

We need to leave if you want to be home before Estelle arrives, he reminded her.

I’m ready, she smiled. Let’s get the dogs.

Well, this is quite the hacienda! Estelle exclaimed, pulling off a heavy coat, scarf and mittens. Plenty of room to spread out!

Yes, Callie agreed, hanging the items in the hall closet. Let me give you the short tour. Not surprisingly, they lingered in the herbal pantry, where Estelle studied the labels on rows of jars.

Well, if the economy implodes, you’ll have your own little pharmacy here, Estelle observed.

I just know the basics, Callie shrugged. I’m not a medical professional by any terms, but I can manage the simple stuff. This was my grandmother’s rocker. And that little table was made from the base of her old treadle sewing machine. Flint found it after the fire, and Bob Spencer made it into a table for me.

Bob Spencer? Is that the man who made your little henhouse? Estelle squinted in thought. I used to go to school with a Bob Spencer. I wonder if it’s the same fellow.

Tall, stocky, rather quiet, gray hair and glasses, Callie described.

Well, he didn’t have gray hair in my day, Estelle laughed. If it’s the same one, we went to the prom together, but I lost track of him after I left for college and met my husband.

That’s easy to do. Maybe you should look him up before you leave town, Callie said with a grin. The water should be hot by now. Do you want to pick a tea?

Estelle studied the row of interesting jars and selected one that read ‘Summer Fruits & Herbs.’ This one looks good. What’s in it?

Dried apples, dried peaches, crushed rose hips, dried elderberries, lemon rind and a bit of green tea.

I’m going to miss all your tea concoctions when I’m back in Tucson, Estelle sighed.

We’ll just pack up a selection for you to take with you, Callie offered. Now, where’s that cake?

Once they were settled in front of the fire, cups in hand, the two women exchanged observations about the wedding, the various characters that attended, Dinah’s sumptuous buffet, and bits of gossip they’d heard during the event.

Sandy’s baby is a little doll, Estelle said, and then nearly choked on her tea as she realized there was probably a better topic. Oh, I’m so sorry, Callie.

It’s alright, Callie said soothingly, patting her friend’s hand. I’m adjusting. You know, it was so early that my pregnancy didn’t really seem real. I’d just started having some morning sickness and feeling tired. Miscarriage happens to lots of women. It’s not the end of the world.

Certainly not, Estelle agreed with a smile of relief. And the doctors aren’t concerned that you’re so allergic to bees?

Not as long as I don’t get stung during pregnancy, Callie explained. As long as I’ve already been consistently taking my allergy shots before I get pregnant, I can continue them throughout the pregnancy without any problems to me or a baby.

Don’t be surprised if Rafe moves you to Antarctica, or someplace else without bees the next time, Estelle teased, sipped her tea, and then became serious. That man loves you. He could hardly bear seeing you in that hospital. He really blamed himself for not protecting you.

I don’t know what else he could have done, Callie stated, shaking her head. We have the best security team in the country, the most up-to-date sensors, and monitors that pick up an ant crossing the floor.

Yes, I saw how thorough they were when I arrived. You’d think I might have been hiding a hacksaw in the cake, Estelle laughed. It is a little intimidating to visit you.

And you were expected and only given the quick once-over. The guys know you from your work at the farm. Imagine if you were a stranger that arrived unannounced! Callie laughed.

I’d be toast, right?

Well, you’d probably be cuffed and facing an Uzi or two while you waited for Pudge to haul you off to jail, Callie quipped. So, when are you heading back to Tucson?

When the honeymooners return, Estelle smiled, sipping her tea. It’s working out well. They get an inexpensive vacation in a warm, sunny place that Samantha’s never visited, and I get to spend a bit more one-on-one time with my sister. I have to admit that I’m more than ready to go back home, though. This cold weather is just too much for me anymore, and the garden centers in Tucson will be gearing up. You should see all the rows of flowers. People think we only grow cactus, but we grow lots of colorful plants. My favorite is Mesquite Valley Growers. Their garden center wins lots of national awards and they have a cat rescue program. It’s wonderful to see the various kitties snoozing between the flower pots. Oh, speaking of flowers, I totally forgot. I ordered some succulents that you don’t have. There’s a grower on the edge of Tucson that’s a friend of mine. He says he’s happy to ship, if you want more. I know you wanted to plant more troughs this spring, and these are just darling.

Wonderful! Callie exclaimed. You know I can’t resist a new plant. Shall I come and get them?

No, I’ll drop them off at the farm before I leave town, Estelle offered. Now, speaking of leaving, I imagine Grace is wondering if I’ve forgotten she needs her car to return a lot of Dinah’s platters yet this afternoon. I really should be going, but I’ve certainly enjoyed our visit.

Come anytime, Callie said. In fact, I was hoping to pick your brain. You’re so good at coming up with display themes and workshop ideas, and I’m sorely in need of both. I don’t know if it’s the aftermath of the surgery or what, but I just can’t seem to concentrate on my business.

I’d be happy to come over and brainstorm, Estelle offered. And, I’ll give it some serious thought in the meantime, she promised as she pulled on her coat.

I’m really, really going to miss you, Callie said, wiping her eyes and giving the older woman a one-armed hug.

Now don’t fuss, Estelle sniffed, wiping her own eyes. I’ll be back periodically. You know I’ll be here when Morgan and Sam give me a niece or nephew someday, and I’ll be back to see Grace. I might even come back during the campaign. Maybe I can go door to door and sing my nephew’s praises. We’ll be seeing one another often, Callie.

I’m counting on that, Callie said, hugging her again.

It hadn’t been easy to convince Rafe that the trip to the huge Gift Marts in Atlanta was necessary. He’d suggested hiring a professional shopper, but Callie eventually convinced him that she needed to see trends, colors, displays, and vendors personally in order to make good decisions. Plus, she’d have an opportunity to visit with her favorite cousin, Eve. So, he sent his chief of security, Larson, to Atlanta to make preliminary arrangements. After a thorough check, Larson decided that staying with Eve would actually be less of a security risk than at a hotel, and Eve was willing to cope with strangers in her house. So, the dates were set and on a gray windy morning, Callie buckled her seatbelt in Rafe’s jet, accompanied by Gus, Joker and Boomer. She couldn’t help being excited. Going to a city was always an adventure, and the Gift Marts were such an amazing experience. She couldn’t wait to see what new items she could find for her shops and to feel the energy that the shows generated. She’d already made appointments at the showrooms carrying her favorite lines. Rafe had made her promise to pace herself. She had not regained her normal strength, and her arm was still in a sling, so one of the team would have to carry her briefcase and all of the catalogs and invoices that she would accumulate each day. She began to page through the two-inch thick show catalog, and was amazed when Gus told her they were ready to land. The trip had literally flown by!

Look at you! Eve teased. That’s quite an outfit! Tiara has made major improvements in your wardrobe. You look almost civilized!

Just trying to emulate my sophisticated cousin, Callie laughed, hugging the petite redhead. Eve, this is Gus, and Joker, and Boomer. Guys, this is my favorite cousin and supreme businesswoman, Eve. Handshakes were exchanged, and Eve knelt to give Boomer a hug.

So, this is the hero who saved your life, Eve said, rubbing the dog’s ears and looking him straight in the eyes. You may sleep anywhere in the house you want, boy! You’ve earned lots of perks. Boomer thumped his tail and grinned. Speaking of sleeping, it may be a little cramped. I don’t have the kind of space you are accustomed to.

We’ll be fine, Callie assured her, taking her arm and walking toward the waiting sedan.

By the way, Eve whispered, I like having a chauffeur, and Larson’s quite a hunk. Quiet though. He barely said a word on the way here.

Most of the team members are quiet, Callie replied. After a while, you barely notice them lurking in the shadows.

Right! Eve chuckled, except the testosterone practically ripples through the air. How can you miss that?

I’m a happily married woman, Callie grinned, I only notice my husband’s ripples.

Lucky you, Eve murmured as they slid into the back seat. Larson and Gus sat in the front. Joker and Boomer followed in an SUV. Another dark car led the way and soon they arrived in the quiet suburb where Eve lived. A team member greeted them and watched as the others carried luggage into the house. Joker took Boomer on a tour of the property, which didn’t take long since the area was small.

I’ll put the kettle on for tea and then I’ll show the men to their room, Eve began.

You just visit with Mrs. Franklin, Larson interrupted. I’ll show the men the layout. With that, half the team disappeared upstairs.

Has Larson explained everything to you? Callie asked once they were settled in Eve’s comfortable living room sipping a fragrant tea.

Pretty much, Eve shrugged, tucking her legs beneath her. One man and Boomer stay at the house at all times so no one can plant anything while we’re all gone. Gus and Joker go with you, along with un-named men that we’ll probably never see. One man goes with me, just in case my proximity draws unsavory attention. I don’t tell anyone your plans, and I don’t mess with any of the electronics they installed. Is that everything?

One man always stays with the vehicles, so no one can tamper with them, Callie added, and the key word is vigilance. If you notice anything odd, anything at all, you let them know. Did they give you a radio?

I’m fully operational, Eve laughed. Do you feel like the First Lady, or something?

Rafe says I should think of it like that, having lots of security and people to make things go smoothly, Callie chuckled, but without worrying about making mistakes that the press pool jumps on. I’m starting to get used to it.

And flying here on a private jet was certainly better than a commercial flight, Eve observed. Coming into your own hangar, without having to collect your luggage and take the train or a taxi. I could sure get used to that!

It was nice, Callie grinned, stretching her legs. Now, tell me all you’ve been doing. I see you’ve added another wall of bookshelves.

You know I share your love of books, Eve smiled. It’s the one thing I do to relax, especially when I’m on a business trip. Sadly, I don’t have time to knit anymore with the new promotion.

That’s a shame. You have such a talent for it, Callie told her, reaching over to inspect one of Eve’s afghans draped artfully on the sofa.

So, how’s the arm, Cuz?

Healing nicely, Callie said, moving it tentatively. Maybe two more weeks in the cast. The bullet cracked the bone and damaged the bicep, but it should all be back to normal by the time I need to garden.

You were lucky, Eve said softly. Are you okay? I mean, really okay?

I’m okay, Cuz, Callie assured her. We come from tough pioneer stock, remember?

The Gift Marts were more crowded than they had been during her last trip. Probably the improving economy, Callie thought as she and Gus wove their way from one showroom to another. After electing a president with a strong business background, the country seemed to have breathed a big sigh of relief and rolled up its sleeves. She knew several Bradford county stores that had closed during the recession were making