Know Wonder

By Patsie McCandless

Wonder is the beginning of everything.

"Jesse! Leave me alone!" Gemma screamed, "Just GO!"

Jesse's chest jolted as if stung by a hornet, and his heart wailed, "What's happened to Gemma? Where is her Light?"

An eight-year-old orphan, Jesse had been having a wonderful year with his grandmother, Gemma, at Windy Hill Farm on an isl

• Language: English
• Publisher: Light On Publications
• Release date: Oct 5, 2023
• ISBN: 9781732506664

Patsie McCandless

A speaker, artist, author, musician, educator, mother and grandmother, Patsie McCandless grew up on a rural island in Rhode Island, where she taught sailing, took a ferry to school, and eventually taught primary school for thirty years. Patsie is also an award-winning artist in cut paper (PaperSolo.com). She exhibits in International Miniature shows, and her PaperSolo artwork series is in the permanent collection of the St. Petersburg Opera Company in Florida.A special gift led her to a monastery on the Hudson River in upstate New York for a writing retreat with Madeleine L'Engle, and she has not stopped writing since. In addition, Patsie's great-great grandmother is Margarethe Grimm (1824 - 1908). Family lore has always passed along the suggestion that she is related to the Brothers Grimm - which is a fairytale of a place to be as an author. This is the third book in the inspiring Becoming Jesse series, winner of multiple prestigious awards: Mom's Choice Gold Medal Award, the Family Choice Award, the Zamiz Press Book Cover Image Award, and a Finalist Award from The Wishing Shelf Book Awards (UK). She and her husband live near Philadelphia, PA and enjoy the everyday magic of their children and grandchildren. To learn more about Patsie and her United Nations Presentation, TEDx talk, Light lessons Blog, as well as her writing and art, please visit PatsieMcCandless.com.

Book preview

Prologue

There will come a time when you know wonder.

And you will look with wonder

at that which is before you.

Here we are! Immersed in Light! The Light of Love! So so much Love! No end to Love, here in the Great Illuminations. Some call it Heaven. God’s home. Or the Universe. The Hereafter. Nirvana. Paradise. Many names. Same thing. Same Divine Light. We are all born with this Light.

I am Jane, Jesse’s mother. Here with me in the Great Illuminations are Jesse’s father—my love-adore husband, James—and another love-adore, Jesse’s grandmother, Dearie. We send this beautiful, loving, Divine Light to our darling Jesse in every moment of every day. Heaven knows he needs it now more than ever.

Jesse was born, an orphan, at the stroke of midnight, New Year’s Eve 1947, with fireworks bursting over New York City! He was raised by Dearie, and his uncle Conor, and Dearie’s oldest and dearest friend, Mac. Jesse knows that he truly is the stuff of stars. The wonder of our Divine Light. And he knows how to shine-shine-shine it out all over.

In Jesse’s first book, Becoming Jesse, he learns, day-by-day, over a whole year, about his Light, and how to shine it on the many puzzles James and I left behind—especially my mother, Jessica. He called her his ‘disappeared’ grandmother, until he discovered that she lives on her island, at Windy Hill Farm.

Jesse’s second book, The Secrets of Windy Hill, is his story of the journey he takes from New York City to find Jessica. When he finds her on Windy Hill Farm, he renames her ‘Gemma’ — for the gem that she truly is. And in Jesse’s brillish way, he again puzzles out astonishing secrets to fulfill his heart’s desire of having his own family.

For all that, The Secrets of Windy Hill ended with Jesse’s many questions: his pocketknife that he found digging in Mac’s garden—how could it have once belonged to Gemma? Did Gemma really live in Mac’s apartment building? Why did she say that she did—and she didn’t—live there? What happened to Gemma’s Papa, and her uncle Trevor? And what about her husband, Daniel?

In this, Jesse’s third book, Know Wonder, he learns the answers that explain Gemma’s past life. And he learns how the past keeps popping itself into his life now. Amidst the bewilderments and surprises that Jesse uncovers, he must learn to cope when people and things don’t go his way, when life turns out differently than he expected.

I grew up on our island farm, Windy Hill, with my mother, Jessica, Jesse’s ‘Gemma’—whom I cherish, for I know her moments of Love and Light.

But I also know how my mother can become overwhelmed and tangled up in her troubles, weary of everyday duties, worn thin with the heart-breaking loss of her beloveds, and paralyzed in her crippling grief.

She is lonely, resentful of a life that she feels is abysmally unfair.

Worst of all, Gemma doesn’t see how her dreadful feelings make her so frightfully unforgiving. Yes, my mother can be cruel. She was taught by an expert. And she doesn’t see the terrible cost to her heart—to her Light—to Jesse.

Jesse’s darlings, his Uncle Conor and Aunt Amanda, are not with him. They are away, in Boston, performing in their theater. So you see, right now, Jesse is alone with Gemma on Windy Hill Farm, and he is feeling the brunt of Gemma’s burdens and her broken heart. He is baffled and ragged. How can Jesse bring Love and Light back to his cheerless grandmother?

The answer to that question is why we are here. From the Great Illuminations we are sending our darling boy this pure shining Light and Love. To help Jesse remember that he is still an amazing puzzle solver and a grand treasure hunter; and to keep his heart true, with his Light on. Yes, to help Jesse KNOW WONDER.

NOTE

Jesse uses many Imaginator words which he and his grandmother, Dearie created, and he knows many Imaginator people. If you need help with Jesse’s unfamiliar words or people, look in the end of this book for the Glossary of Imaginator People and the Glossary of Imaginator Words.

Map of Nocanitug Island, ElizabethtownMemory Fizzes

Oh, the power of our words.

Not Now

G emma! Guess what day it is! Jesse cheered at his grandmother. It’s June 1st, 1955! I’ve been here at Windy Hill a whole year!

Gemma closed her eyes and her shoulders quivered. Not now, Jesse. She bowed her head, covering her eyes with her fingers.

Jesse persisted, I just–

NOT NOW, Jesse!

He took a step toward her. Gemma, can I … help y–

JESSE! Her voice cracked. Leave me … alone!

But …

Gemma pulled off her wedding ring and hurled it across the room, screaming, Just GO!

Backing away, Jesse turned. He ran. His eyes flooding with tears. He bolted out the kitchen door with Ellie-cat dashing after him, running beside him, under the blossoming cherry tree, past the Carriage House, where the dogs, Sadie and Red, popped up. They all ran. Across the grass, down the slope, around the end of the barn. Wheeling around the chicken coop, Jesse reached the heavy wooden gate, pulled on the scallop-shell latch, and yanked it open, slamming it behind him—oblivious to the cat and dogs left behind, scratching and barking at the gate.

Jesse fled. His ears filled with Gemma’s scream: Just GO! He ran on the grassy road, beside the stone wall at the pasture. The goats and cows raised their heads, chewing, staring at Jesse … running, his feet pounding with his heart, running to the hilltop.

Though sturdy and fit for all his eight-and-a-half years, Jesse’s long legs and feet slipped and slid down the steep hill. Down. All the way down. To the beach. He bent over, trying to catch his breath, but a sob bawled through his throat, and he choked, with tears pelting the sand and a jagged breath sucking at his lungs.

He fell, weeping, onto the rough, grey sand, and lay there. His eyes shut, squeezing out his tears, his cries trading spaces with his breath. Sobbing. Whimpering. Slowly, quieting. In the soft breeze he thought he heard the haunting call of a bird. The loon: loo-loooo-loo.

Opening his eyes, he saw the waves lapping at the shore and their catboat, Scallop Bay Dancer, rocking at the mooring. A seagull sat on the bow, and it set Jesse to remembering. He thought back to last summer, sitting on the catboat with Gemma and Uncle Conor and Aunt Amanda. Rocking with the gentle waves. Storytelling. Singing. Laughing.

He stood up, hearing only the whispering breeze, murmeling through his yearning to be on board the catboat. He looked to the dinghy leaning against the boathouse and trudged toward it. But he stopped. Jesse had not learned how to use the oars. He wasn’t even sure how to put the oars in the oarlocks. Gemma always did that. Jesse could not row the dinghy out to the catboat.

Collapsing on the beach again, he sobbed miserably, and at the same time, sucked in a puff of sand. Choking and spitting and swiping at his mouth, he sat up and hung his head on his knees, rocking back-and-forth. Wondering. He rolled over on his side. There, in his pocket he felt his smooth white stone. Dearie’s stone. Dearie … his love-adore grandmother, who had died at Christmas a year ago. The stone had been her treasured possession. He pulled it out and spoke out loud: Dearie! What can I do? Gemma doesn’t want me near. Where can I go?

He looked up to the sky. Blue. So clear blue. He looked at the sparkling bay. South, to Big Bear Island. North, to the Elizabethtown Bridge … and the boathouse. Our boathouse, he thought, hopefully. The top floor. But he sighed, I don’t have the key.

Dearie’s stone rolled in his fingers. He peered at the stonework of the boathouse foundation, extending up to the top porch. Maybe … I can climb up? He stood up and inspected the stones of the boathouse wall. I can, he told himself. I can do it.

Hand over hand, foothold after foothold, Jesse scaled the stonework. At the top porch corner, with his arms pulling, his feet pushing, he grabbed the railing and slung himself over, onto the porch.

The tall cedar chest sat at one end of the porch, and the wide porch swing hung at the other end. It rocked lazily in the breeze and Jesse sat on it, feeling the soothing sway, almost like the catboat. There were no comfy pillows to be had, as the cedar chest had been emptied when they closed up for winter last year. Also, the windows and doors to the inside of the boathouse were still shuttered tight.

Rocking back and forth, Jesse sat on the broad swing. He gazed at the bay waters, with the catboat rocking there. The catboat—it was his favorite place to be. Well, one of my favorite places. I love everything at Windy Hill. And I love Gemma. And Gemma loves m-m …. Jesse’s eyes flooded again. And his thoughts flooded with them.

I’ve been at Windy Hill a whole year. It’s been so … he sighed, so wonder-lush. But … what happened? Why is Gemma so unhappy? Why did she throw away her wedding ring?

Remembering

Stretching out on the swing, Jesse felt his knife in his other pocket. He pulled it out and remembered, My knife … I never knew—till last year—it once belonged to Gemma.

Memory-fizzes bubbled in Jesse’s thoughts: Out sailing in the catboat with Gemma and Uncle Conor and Aunt Amanda. Gemma told us her shiveral story. It all really started with my knife.

He flashed back to Gemma’s unsettling story … just a year ago … . The catboat smoothly sailed with the wind and tide and Gemma revealed her story like opening a book.

When I was 10, after World War I, Papa brought me this little orange-bone knife with the silver butterfly design.

She looked up. Yes. Your knife, Jesse. And like you, I carried my knife—this knife—with me everywhere. Used it for everything. Though I had to hide it from Grandmother Avery. But she died when I was 17 and–

Ding Dong! The witch is dead! Amanda sang with her Southern accent drawling out a laugh.

Conor and Jesse gaspered.

Gemma put her head in her hands, swaying back and forth. But she was laughing! Oh, you have no idea how true it was! She exhaled a long breath. I was free! Free! No more domineering Avery. She sniggled, "The first thing I did was cut my hair into a fashionable ‘bob’! Oh, I was 17, and prepared to take on the world! And I did!

I went to Bryn Mawr College for a most educational first year. But then I received the opportunity to act in a musical in New York City. And that is how I met my darling Daniel. Yes, I moved to New York City. Yes, in the very same location as Mac’s apartment house. And yes, the very same Mac we all know. But it was 1929.

Jesse’s Uncle Conor leaned forward. We O’Neils moved to Mac’s apartments in 1939. And, Jesse, you were born there in 1947.

Amanda hugged Jesse and drawled, Which is when I lived there. An’ I first saw you—baby Jesse—snuggled in that dresser drawer! You, with your irresistible turquoise eyes!

Jesse beamed, Just like Gemma’s eyes!

Touching Jesse’s cheek, Amanda crooned, I fell head-over-heels in love with you, Jesse!

And we didn’t know till now, Jesse burst, that you and Gemma are really sisters—and you’re my Aunt Amanda!

Gemma smiled brightly. Amanda Wynne! Famous movie actress! My sister! Gemma’s voice lowered and held a hint of envy—even bitterness. You, Amanda, are living the stage and film career I thought was to be mine.

Amanda’s voice quavered as she slowly said, Each in our own Once-upon-a-time.

Gemma echoed, "Once-upon-a-time … yes. It was a fairy-tale beginning. Daniel and I were so in love. We spent the spring and summer in perfect bliss. And our successes came so quickly. We were in a Broadway show together, then I began rehearsals for a new show opening in late autumn. Then, Daniel won a movie contract in Hollywood. In a whirlwind, we decided to marry in October.

"But schedules changed, and suddenly, my beloved Daniel had to leave for Hollywood the day after our wedding!

In Grand Central Station I waved good-bye to dear Uncle Trevor, and darling Papa, and finally, my precious Daniel, whispering to me, ‘Good-bye my starry-eyed sapphire! I’ll be loving you. Always.’

Jesse smiled, That’s the song you sing. A lot!

Yes. It is our love song. But that is another tale. Silent for a moment, she whistered, How I yearned to be in Daniel’s arms forever! But I was left running down the train-track, waving, blowing him kisses. I should never have let him go, never let any of them go.

Her eyes frowned into her memory. I exited Grand Central onto 42nd Street straight into pure pandemonium. It was late October 1929. Yes, the stock market had crashed.

What does that mean? Jesse quizzeled. What did it crash into?

The ‘crash’ is simply an expression. What it meant was that businesses everywhere failed. The city was in shock. And as the day wore on, I discovered how terrible it was. My theater closed. I had no job. My bank closed. I had no money. I was 19 years old. Alone. Penniless in a city of chaos.

Ohhh. That sounds terrible, Jesse murmeled.

"Yes. It was. Terrible. As night fell, I returned to Mac’s apartments, and went up to the rooftop. Mac and Bridget were there, watching the rise of the full moon … the moon, rising in all its glory, utterly oblivious to the troubles and travails of the day.

But I was tired and went down to the rooms I shared on the 5th floor, at the top of the apartments. We called it the Girls’ Room. But my bed was taken! Another actress had already moved in. Weary, I went to our parlor couch, emptied my jacket pockets onto the table—including my little knife—and wrapped my coat about me. I dropped onto the couch and kissed my Daniel’s beautiful wedding ring—a turquoise sapphire—chosen, as Daniel said, to match my eyes.

Where is it? Jesse asked. Your ring?

Gemma startled. I, well, I do not wear it. What with farm work and woodworking. Her voice dropped, And it only reminded me that Daniel did not come back to me.

Amanda drawled a gentle tease, Well, dear sister, I have got to see your weddin’ ring! Promise me you’ll share it with us the instant we get back to the house!

Gemma smiled at Amanda’s puffery and answered, It shall be done. Then she took a plump breath and continued, I reclined on the parlor couch, lost in love, and I simply drifted into a deep sleep. Her face shadowed. Then the nightmare began.

Nightmare

"A nightmare! Oh Gemma!" Jesse moved closer to her, and she hugged him.

Yes, a real-live nightmare. Mac’s cat, Pharoah, was pawing at me, and I awoke. To a smoke-filled room. With the strangest clapping sound in my ears, I crawled to the fire escape window. When I opened it, Pharoah leapt out! And in that moment, there was a tremendous WHOOSH! An EXPLOSION!

The catboat filled with gasps looking for an explanation, and with a gulp, Gemma obliged.

"Blazing flames licked the floor, the walls! Everywhere! My sleeping couch was a conflagration! And the heat! An inferno!

"I tumbled through the window onto the fire escape, but even there, the heat was extreme. Backing away, I clambered down the metal steps. Following that odd clapping.

"I could see Mac and Bridget pulling people out of the building. People screaming.

"Smoke billowing! Terror everywhere! Yet, that clapping-clapping. Guiding me. Down. Out. Away from the fire.

The fire-escape ended above the first floor of the building. I needed to dangle myself down and jump. But I was paralyzed. I simply could not move. The clapping grew louder.

Gemma paused. I know this sounds bizarre, but nevertheless, I know what I saw. Behind me was a large potted fern, and … a baby! A beautiful baby sitting there, clapping for me! Bright eyes. Beautiful smile. Serene countenance. You may hardly believe this, but I heard the baby exclaim, ‘Jump! Let go! Jump!’

Jesse burst, I believe you, Gemma! I do!

Gemma glimmered, Yes. And I did as the baby entreated me. I let go! I jumped!

Then what? Jesse cried out.

The baby was gone. The back alley was filled with smoke, and suddenly, above me, the air exploded! The roof caved in! Splinters and sparks and all manner of wreckage filled the air! Raining down into the courtyard!

My knife! Jesse exclaimed. That’s how my knife got buried, down in the courtyard— where I dug it up!

Yes, she acknowledged. That is what must have occurred. She wagged her head. "Oh, it was a dangerous place to be. Yet, I knew I was safe. The baby had led me to safety. I felt an overwhelming blessing gushing through me.

"I stood up, walked through the cave of smoke, into the alley, down the street, one foot in front of the other. I did not know where I was going. Until I arrived back at Daniel’s apartment. I thought, without any