The Veranda

By Bettie MacIntyre

A book of short stories set in the lush Green Mountains of Vermont. In the quaint village of Bristol, Lois grew up riding her mare Bessey over Plank Road, through the hayfields to Hogback Mountain. She would lay against her, write poems about nature and her love of God. The stories in this book explore her adventures into womanhood.

With motherhood, the veranda became a place of tranquility. In the evening, sitting in her green slatted rocker, she would read poems to her children, which established a tradition of lasting memories for them. Her poems expressed the depths of her inner soul.

Lois ministered to the homeless, and was an 11th hour Pastor for the Hospice. She visited the Veterans Hospital and sat through many long nights with lonely veterans crying in pain. She would say it gave them comfort to have a grandmother holding their hand. She would say it gave them comfort to have a grandmother hold their hand.

The Veranda honors a selfless woman whom I am proud to call my mother. God love her.

Bettie MacIntyre

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bettie MacIntyre
• Release date: Mar 26, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005524494

Bettie MacIntyre

I have lived most of my life in New England, but my heart will always remain in Vermont. I accomplished all that I wanted with in my career, but as my vocation, I love to write, and have been drafting short stories and poems from childhood. After taking early retirement, I put pen to paper and gave birth to the scrapes of stories and poems filed away, and The Hollow was born. It is a metaphorical story of a naïve country girl from the foothills of Vermont. I say metaphorical, but I will let you decide. I’ll give you a clue—Bettie I. MacIntyre.

Book preview

THE VERANDA

By

Bettie MacIntyre

Smashwords Edition

Copyright: Bettie MacIntyre ©2022

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews. This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, and events are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to real persons, places, or events is coincidental.

Note:

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. It may not be re-sold or given

away to other person. If you would like to share this book with another person, please

purchase an additional copy for each person you’d like to share it with. Thank you for

respecting the work of this author.

Books by Bettie MacIntyre

The Hollow

Clara

Contact: www.bettiemacintyre.com

Dedication

To my mother, Lois!

Short stories and poems of Lois, Bessey, her horse, love of God, and the sacrifices she made against her father’s wishes, marrying the man she loved.

Table of Contents

Ackowledgments

Introduction

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

About the Author

Other Books by Bettie MacIntyre

Acknowledgments

First, I want to thank my mother for giving me the gift of her beautiful poetry and writings. I am fortunate to have saved her precious stories, prose, and odes. I jotted down her tales throughout her life, journaled, and placed them in folders for safekeeping. I finally pulled the folder from my file cabinet and sorted through her many stories. Lois, my mother, always dreamed of having her poems published. I decided to become my mother’s dream-maker. In addition: Thank you to my dad for being my father and the man who loved my mother unconditionally. He alone made her complete. Together they were wonderful parents to four girls. Our mother glowed when she was around him. They were a happy couple, and a love story, of example. We girls were lucky to have had parents who loved each other and their girls. I read an excerpt from one of my mother's writings. It said, We were young, but we did well together to raise our four girls.

I want to thank a few members of my writing group from the Bristol, CT Senior Center, ‘Writing Group/My Story.’ Putting the short stories together has been an emotional effort. I couldn’t have appropriately transposed many of these stories without their assistance. The words from my mother's old scrapes of paper and poems, then writing them into the proper text, were more challenging than I initially thought. I especially want to thank Steve V., Bruce B., Rich S. An excellent trio became my go-to for advice, and I am grateful for their assistance.

My friend Deb Silon continues to urge and encourage my efforts. Her love of poetry has sparked her rhythmic writing soul—a great friend and reader who finds tidbits in a story that needs proper arrangement.

I thank my mentor extraordinaire, Stefan Vučak. He is a famous author of multiple novels, and also my proofreader and advisor. Due to Stefan’s counsel, today, I am a published author.

www.stefanvucak.com

Laura Shinn, my cover artist, is one person who can take a blank paper and turn it into a work of art. I thank her for her creations of beauty. I couldn’t have beautiful cover art without her.

www.laurashinn.yolasite.com

Introduction

When I was young, my memories vividly reflect evenings rocking on the Veranda with my mother and two of my three sisters. At that time, my youngest sister had not been born.

I lived with my grandparent in the Hollow in Bristol, VT, during World War II. At the onset of the War, my parents took my older sister Patty, a nineteen-month-old, and moved to Connecticut. My parents went to work in Bristol for the War effort. They returned after the war to Bristol, Vermont, and purchased a lovely Victorian-style home in the town proper. I continued to live with my gram, as she had become the only mother I knew at that time. I loved to visit my uptown family on weekends. Staying overnight was always an event, and the Veranda was memorable and remained a cherished memory.

After dinner dishes, our mother would hang her apron on the hook Dad had provided next to the sink. It became our queue, and we would scurry out to the green slatted porch rockers. Our mother had another child when they returned home to Vermont. We were now three girls—my eldest sister Patty, myself, and now sweet Sally Mae. Sally would sit on my lap and rock with me. Our mother somehow found time to draft a poem during her busy day. Our bedtime story was a verse or two that she had composed while doing chores.

We children sat in the green slatted rockers. Our mother would reach over with her arms and push both our rockers in unison. When we were in the same rhythm, she read us the daily poem she had lovingly written. Before she finished, Sally Mae would fall asleep, and when my mother closed the booklet, she carried her up the winding staircase and around the banister to the far end bedroom. I climbed under the covers holding Sally Mae while saying my nighttime prayers and Mother listened. Amen

As the years went on and we girls grew into young ladies, I’d make notes of my chats with our mother and the fond memories. I realized as I matured how much of my mother I had inherited. My memories were delightful and filled with happiness. Mother continued to write her short stories,