Mary Elisabeth Quigley Is Listening to the Sunrise

By Linda Eighmy

Mary Elisabeth Quigley Is Listening to the Sunrise–she has to, she’s blind. But don’t feel sorry for Quig, as her best friend Neil calls her. She loves listening to the start of the new day in the river town she calls home, especially when she and her dad sit on the old porch swing trying to guess the exact moment it happens. She can almost feel and taste that instant as birds begin to sing and rabbits burrow through the grass.

Then one day, after a talk with her brothers about their father’s single life, Mary Elisabeth has one of her brilliant ideas, that of finding a girlfriend for their dad. And with an idea like that, what’s a girl to do? Well she asks the Lord to help her, then recruits her best friend Neil into her latest scheme. Ah, but the new girlfriend for Mary Elisabeth’s father can’t be just any ol’ single lady. She has to like kids, baseball, be funny and able to handle the craziness that sometimes goes on in the Quigley household. Oh, and she must not attempt to turn Mary Elisabeth into a dress-wearing, curly-haired, girly-girl like her Aunt Susan does.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Archway Publishing
• Release date: Mar 8, 2022
• ISBN: 9781665716789

Linda Eighmy

Linda Eighmy, author of children’s and romance stories, is the proud grandmother to seven and great-grandmother to three children. She has always believed children should be the heroes of their own stories. Books hold such power; they draw kids in, create new worlds, and offer new possibilities. Through reading, children are encouraged to solve the problem, find the treasure, and be that hero.

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Copyright © 2022 Linda Eighmy.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used

or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or

mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or

by any information storage retrieval system without the

written permission of the author except in the case of brief

quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents,

organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the

products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Archway Publishing

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expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do

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models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

ISBN: 978-1-6657-1679-6 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-6657-1677-2 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-6657-1678-9 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2021925640

Archway Publishing rev. date: 2/7/2022

Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

About the Author

For each child who has touched my life in their

own special way—and those I have yet to meet.

My wish is that you always hold onto your

joy and see the possibilities in your life.

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Prologue

Almost dawn …

Mary Elisabeth?

Oh, Daddy. You scared me!

Sorry, honey. You all right? He grabbed the swing chain above my head.

Oh, yeah, Daddy. I’m fine. Just thinkin’. I do some of my best thinkin’ here.

Why aren’t you in bed? It’s only six or so, Squeak. The sun’s not even up. What can you be thinking about at this hour?

I shrugged, pulling my blanket tighter. Stuff.

And you’re freezing to death too. Scoot over. The back of his fingers swatted lightly at my shoulder, so I scooted, tangling the covers around my feet even more.

Here. Daddy lifted me up and rearranged the blanket, then set me back on the swing, his arm scooping me into his side. He felt good—warm and solid. I burrowed into him and soaked in grown-up body heat. He cupped the back of my head with his warm palm.

So, what are you thinking about, Miss Quigley? Everything in general or something in particular?

I shook my head and laughed. Just stuff, Daddy. After a minute, I finally asked him, Daddy, do you hear how quiet it is?

Uh huh. It’s so quiet I can hear your heartbeat.

No, not that. Can you listen to the quiet? Hear the night sounds?

What night sounds? What should I be listening to? He pushed the swing harder with his foot.

Stop, Daddy. Don’t push. The chains creak.

Oh, OK. He stopped our momentum.

If we swing, we can’t hear it.

Oh. His lips touched my ear, and then he whispered, Squeak, can I ask again what we’re listening to?

I kept my eyes closed as I gripped his T-shirt with my free hand. Then I lowered my voice. To the sunrise, Daddy. We have to be really, really quiet. There can’t be any extra sounds. I’m not even sure that it sounds the same as when I’m here or when I’m not here—I mean with me breathing and making other noises. I lifted a shoulder. I guess that sounds dumb.

Hum, the sunrise. I see. His fingers stopped combing my hair. Squeak, now that I think about it, it isn’t dumb. I believe listening to the sunrise is an excellent thing to do. Did you know that?

I wasn’t sure I knew what he meant. Uh, no, Daddy, no I didn’t, but can you just listen, ok?

Yep … quiet.

Daddy must be the most patient man in the universe. Seconds moved along without words. Then the seconds stretched into minutes. When I thought the dawn was almost here, I told him in my quietest voice, Listen now, ’cause just as the sun rises, the sounds change. I’m trying to find exactly when that is, the minute nighttime is over and the day starts. See?

Oh, yes, I see.

I whispered even softer. Listen now.

So, we listened. A dove cooed, and the air hummed with a soft, breezy melody.

Doves have a softer coo just a few seconds before it’s mornin’.

Well … He waited a full minute. They sure do.

After the sun comes up, birds fly around faster and faster, and they chatter louder, and then the rabbits wake up and start nibbling on clover and hopping around. Squirrels skitter up and down the trees. You can hear them jumpin’ from tree to tree and onto the roof too. Other animals come out and, oh all sorts of stuff. Besides the animals, there are more cars on the road. Even the tires on the road sound slushier. I lowered my voice to the tiniest whisper I could, the way I had when I was six or so. And the buoy bells marking the channel ring faster. I think it’s ’cause the fishing boats are going out and making waves, so the buoys rock faster.

I think you’re right, honey. Fancy that. All that going on, and I never thought of the sounds changing. Daddy squeezed my shoulder, and we held onto each other as we listened.

Then it happened. The sun rose, and in one second, the air filled with sound. Birds sang like they were happy, so I knew the sun was finally full up over the horizon. It wasn’t the first time I’d sat there before dawn, bundled up against the cold and listening for the sun to rise.

It’s up, huh? Boy, Daddy, I love the changes when the sun comes up.

You’re right, Squeak. It’s up. I think the air even smells sweeter. Everything does change once the sun comes up. His hand was on top of my head again.

I thought about the smells in the air and smiled. You’re right, Daddy. The air smells sweeter when the sun rises. Maybe the flowers get warmer, so they smell better. I reached up and kissed his cheek, snuggling against him one more time before we had to go in.

Chapter 1

Jo B.’s elbow slammed me in the gut with fifteen-year-old force. I knew it was Jo B.’s elbow ’cause it was skinnier and pointier than the others. Air whooshed out of me, and I nearly retched. It was hard to tell who was who, what with legs and arms tangled up that way, so I grabbed for hair—anyone’s—and yanked backward with all my might. A finger and thumb circling my wrist pressed down. I released thick, silky locks and began screaming about several tortures I planned for the owner of the hand when I felt the pressure of boy bodies being lifted off me and heard the scrape of shoes, size 10 to be exact, near my left ear. Daddy. Oh no. We were done for. We’ve had it. Simple as that. Dead in the water. I kept my eyes closed.

Ok, ok.

Feet scuffled around me, and I felt a knee.

His voice got granite hard, the way it always did when he was getting really mad. I said enough already. Get cleaned up for supper, and stop pounding on your sister.

She asked for it. She took—

Daddy musta put on his I told you face and glared, ’cause all I heard for a minute or so was heavy breathing.

Mumbled voices, turning away from me, shuffled around my prone body. I heard Jo B. say under his breath, She got a book of mine. She was in my room again.

Daddy asked in his sarcastic making-fun-of-sorta tone, Did she read it, Jo?

No, Jo B. answered, sounding defensive, but it doesn’t matter that she can’t see to read it. She should keep her cotton-pickin’ hands off my stuff and stay outta my room.

Hmm, must be some book there, Jo.

Dead silence. Daddy knew. Jo B. and me, and anyone with half an ear could tell Daddy knew that the book in question was the one Jo B. kept under his mattress in the center of the bed. The one he wrote in at night. The one he wrote in about girlfriends and stuff.

But you’re right, Jo B. She needs to stay out of your room and have respect for your things. I’ll talk to her.

Fat lotta good that’ll do, Jo B. mumbled.

Daddy didn’t say any more, but six heavy boy feet shuffled away and clomped up the stairs, and blessed silence filled the room. At least for a second or two it was quiet.

Ok, miss. I was hauled up and set on my feet. Daddy crouched down and began dusting me off, front and back, and combing his hands through my hair. He wet-thumbed a smudge from my forehead.

Will you please stop torturing your brother and go get cleaned up for supper?

But, Daddy, I didn’t mean … I tried the equivalent of batting my lashes.

Daddy snorted in disbelief. He had a very convincing snort. Mary Elisabeth, who are you trying to kid? Now go on, get washed up, and leave Jo B. alone. He’s … Squeak, he’s … Daddy sat down on the floor and pulled me onto his cross-legged lap. "Jo B.’s growing into a man, and a man needs his private times and private