Forget-Me Not

By Lois Jean Lee

Dana Allison Tessier is a thirty-something woman depressed over the loss of an opportunity to open an extension office for Walk the Life Headhunters Agency and the recent death of her Aunt Meg, her only living family.

Her best friend, Amy Bickerton, reminds her of the promise to “let go and let God.” God calls her to quit her job, sell her home, and find where He’s leading her. Amy reminds her to keep her eyes and ears open to His calling.

Dana is summoned for jury duty.

The book opens at a truck stop, Bobbie-Jo’s Truck Stop. A waitress asks her to share her table because Dana has the only other place to sit. A tall, good-looking man, Jerrod, sits down. He makes small talk. She talks for a while before leaving.

Dana travels through each village and town, looking for the place God is wanting her to be. She gets tired of not finding that special place. She settles down in a town, rents a room, finds a job in a card shop, and makes friends that stay in her life for the rest of her life. Certain events occur that she feels are from God telling her this isn’t where she belongs. She turns around and heads home. The adventure doesn’t end there. Read the rest of Dana’s story and find out how her life turns for the better.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Mar 15, 2024
• ISBN: 9798888326770

Book preview

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Forget-Me Not

Lois Jean Lee

ISBN 979-8-88832-676-3 (paperback)

ISBN 979-8-88832-677-0 (digital)

Copyright © 2024 by Lois Jean Lee

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

Christian Faith Publishing

832 Park Avenue

Meadville, PA 16335

www.christianfaithpublishing.com

All biblical citations were taken from the King James Version of the Holy Bible unless otherwise indicated.

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Acknowledgments

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

16

O Lord, You have examined me and know me.

When I sit down or stand up You know it;

You discern my thoughts from afar.

You observe my walking and reclining,

and are familiar with all my ways.

There is not a word on my tongue

but that You, O Lord, know it well.

You hedge me before and behind;

You lay Your hand upon me.

It is beyond my knowledge;

it is a mystery; I cannot fathom it.

Where can I escape from Your spirit?

Where can I flee from Your presence?

If I ascend to heaven, You are there;

if I descend to Sheol, You are there too.

If I take wing with the dawn

to come to rest on the western horizon,

even there Your hand will be guiding me,

Your right hand will be holding me fast.

If I say, "Surely darkness will conceal me,

night is as light as day;

darkness and light are the same.

It was You who crated my conscience,

You fashioned me in my mother's womb

I praise You,

for I am awesomely, wondrously made;

Your work is wonderful;

I know it very well.

My frame was not concealed from You

when I was shaped in a hidden place,

knit together in the recesses of the earth.

Your eyes saw my unformed limbs;

they were all recorded in Your book;

in due time they were formed,

to the very last one of them.

How weighty Your thoughts seem to me, O God,

how great their number!

I count them—they exceed the grains of sand;

I end—but am still with You…

Examine me, O God, and know my mind;

probe me and know my thoughts.

See if I have vexatious ways,

and guide me in ways everlasting.

—Psalm 139:1–18, 23–24, The Jewish Study Bible, Tanakh Translation (Oxford University Press)

About the Author

Acknowledgments

I have wonderful friends who encouraged me to write and get published after years of not pursuing my dream. I thank them for their encouragement. The following people are those wonderful friends: Roz; Cathy V.; Patty and Mark; Betty; Diane and Dom; Myrna and Harry; my sister, Peggy, and brother-in-law, Jerry; and, of course, my wonderful husband Jack.

In memory of the following people: Lorraine and Walt Gravrock, Carla Kueck Bagley, and Dottie Kueck.

1

I watch, and am as a sparrow alone upon the house top.

—Psalm 102:7

Bobbi Jo's Truck Stop at the Bay was crowded and noisy. Country western music from the jukebox played in the distance over loud conversations. The sign read: Please wait to be seated. No waitress was in sight. Dana Tessier stood and enjoyed the company of strangers. She browsed slowly through the crowd. She made eye contact with a variety of individuals. Where were they from? Where were they going? Someone laughed loudly. She turned. Maybe she'll get in on the drollery. A woman, probably in her early twenties, was with a man much older than she. He whispered something in her ear. She laughed. The woman glanced toward Dana. Dana smiled, but the young woman looked through her. She turned away, embarrassed for intruding.

It was tricky making out the back wall. The room was filled with smoke. Her clothes and hair were going to have the stench of cigarettes. Must not be a no smoking law in this county. The hostess led Dana to a table in the middle of the room. After about ten minutes, the waitress arrived. She fanned her face with the menu. Sorry. Not typically busy for this weeknight. One?

Yes.

The special is— The harried waitress rattled off a list that went unheard.

A Rueben, steak fries, and a glass of ice water will be fine.

The waitress wrote out the order, collected the menu, smiled, and walked away.

Dana tapped her foot to the beat of the music. She looked over to the young woman and her boyfriend. They were leaving arm in arm. The young woman continued to laugh.

In a few minutes, the waitress brought her food. I brought vinegar…wasn't sure… If you need anything, let me know. My name's Becky. She hurried off.

The slices of corn beef were thick and juicy, hot and delicious. The steak fries were the best she ever had. They were served with little cups of Thousand Island dressing and tartar sauce on the side—the way she liked. The water glass had a thick wedge of lemon teetering on the rim. She squeezed the lemon and dropped the peel into the glass. She sipped. Her thirst was quenched.

The tap on the shoulder caused her to jerk. She whirled around. The waitress stood in front of her. I hate to ask you, but it's really busy. You have an extra place at the table. I wonder if you'd mind— The waitress turned and pointed to a tall, well-built, cowboy type.

He smiled and tipped his hat in his hand. He sat before she had the option to object.

The waitress was gone. She left the menu on the table.

Thanks. He pulled his chair in and got comfortable. He reached out his hand. Hi, I'm Jerrod— A grin formed ear to ear. He had vibrant twinkling green eyes.

Dana.

Hello, Dana. Are you from around here or passing through?

Passing through.

What a coincidence. So am I. East or west?

Pardon?

East or west? Are you going east or west?

Well, um, west… I mean east.

Oh, too bad. I'm going west. Business, you know. We might have had some time together.

Too bad. Listen, I have to go. It's been nice talking with you. She opened her purse and counted out money for a tip.

Stay awhile. I haven't had the company of someone as beautiful as you in…wow, I can't remember when.

She sat down.

The waitress came for his order.

I'll have what she had.

The waitress was off.

Finish your fries. They look too good to waste. You might not get any that good again.

She ate one more.

Run into any bad weather? he asked, stealing a fry from her plate.

No. It's been pleasant so far.

I hear a bad one's coming our way in a day or so. You take care of yourself.

Listen, I'd love to sit and chitchat, but I have to get going.

On a tight schedule, are you?

Yes, very tight schedule.

I don't want to hinder you. They say more accidents are caused by people rushing needlessly. Better to be late and alive than dead and never make it.

Right. She frowned at him. Not quite sure what to make of the last few minutes. She stood, clasped her purse and the bill.

Oh, this is on me. I need to repay you somehow.

But… I couldn't—

Okay, you can pay the tip. How's that?

That sounds fine. She ran toward the door. She looked back. He waved and smiled. Robot-like, she did the same. She fled out the door.

The fresh cool night air felt invigorating. The sky was replete with stars. Orion was quite visible on this clear night. She walked to her car, pulled out of the parking lot, and continued her journey.

About five miles down the road, she spotted a cheap motel—Herb's Home Away from Home. She pulled in, paid for a room, located it, and flopped on the bed. She fell asleep before changing her clothes or taking a shower. The stench of cigarette smoke will have to wait until morning.

2

Fear not for I am with thee.

—Isaiah 43:5

Six months earlier. Where it all began.

The doorbell rang seven or eight times, followed by pounding on the door. Dana pulled herself from the purple aster tapestry wing chair. She dragged her dalmatian slippers across the hardwood living room floor, into her kitchen. She peeked through the curtain. Her best friend, Amy Catherine Bickerton, stood on the other side of the door. Dana slowly unlocked the door. She slowly opened the inner door.

Amy finished its movement with one quick shove. She looked from the back to the front of the house. What are you doing? Amy asked. She slammed the door behind her.

Dana tightened the belt of her powder blue terry cloth bathrobe. She stepped backward up the steps, into the kitchen. What do you mean? She pulled down each sleeve, covering her hands.

What is going on? asked Amy. She pushed past Dana, walked to the middle of the kitchen. You don't answer your phone. It takes some…some…written act from Congress to get in here. Why? She flung her hands in the air. And you're still in your pajamas. She opened the bathrobe to expose pink flannel pajamas. Look at your hair. She brushed her hand down the side of Dana's head. When's the last time you combed this mop?

Dana slowly pulled her hand to her shoulder-length silver hair and twirled it around her left index finger. What's wrong with my hair? I like it like this… I'm taking the day off.

Amy latched onto her shoulder and spun her around to face the clock. Taking the day off? Do you see what time it is?

Dana drew her eyes to the teapot-shaped clock on the wall over the stove.

It's two o'clock.

It's two o'clock, Amy echoed. I ask you again. What is going on?

Dana's brown eyes were red and swollen from crying. I don't know what you're talking about. She wiped her nose with the sleeve of her bathrobe.

How long have we known each other? Fifth grade? What did Miss Mulligan always say?

Be prepared.

"That's right. She always said, ‘Be like a Boy Scout. Be prepared.' Do you think you're prepared? What about a fire or an earthquake or something? Are you ready? What about going out into the street looking like this? I don't think so…and what about Aunt Meg?