*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
“So…what do you like to
do?” Ellie gripped the steering wheel, the left-hand blinker filling the
silence where the girl should have spoken. She tapped the wheel with her
forefinger and waited for the light to turn. And waited. And…waited.
This did not bode well.
“I don’t do free time.” Cassie picked at a loose thread
on her jeans and quickly gave a snapping jerk. She twisted the thread around
her forefinger.
“Okay. What would you do if you had free time?”
She shrugged and stared out the window.
The light turned green. Finally. Ellie stomped the gas a
bit more than necessary and accelerated through the light. Three blocks. Just three blocks and they
would be home and she could call her sister. She should have called her in the
first place when she agreed to watch the girl. Angie would have ideas of what
she could do with her.
“My sister lives a few blocks down from me. She has twin
girls.” She heard the smile in her own voice when she mentioned her nieces and
glanced over at the girl.
“Good for you.” Her breath fogged the window.
“You know Cassie, I know what it feels like to be
abandoned by someone you love.”
“Why, your mom leave too?”
“No, my husband died.”
Cassie looked her direction, her eyes wide.
“We were only married a few years.” Ellie slapped the
right hand signal.
“What did he die from?” Her voice was a whisper.
“Cancer. By the time we found out it was too late.”
“I’m sorry.”
Ellie pulled into her driveway, pushing the button to
open the garage door. “Me too.”
“What did you do?”
Ellie turned the key in the ignition and faced Cassie.
“What do you mean?”
“What did you do to God?”
“I…I haven’t really talked to…God.” Not since Mark died.
“I haven’t either.” The car door popped and echoed in the
still of the garage. “What’s the point, right? I mean, it doesn’t seem like He really
cares.”
The pre-teen jumped from the car and slung her backpack
over her shoulder, shutting the door before Ellie could respond. And she wanted
to. She wanted to call the girl back and tell her He did care. That trusting
God did matter. But the words were like pebbles in a narrow-mouth jar. Falling
to the bottom and sinking out of reach. She would only sound like a hypocrite.
 |
| Photo Credit Microsoft Office |
Cassie thumped the glass of her closed driver’s window
with the back of her forefinger. “Can we go in? I need to use the bathroom.”
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
I'd love for you, as readers and writers, to share a snapshot of what you are currently reading (or writing) this Friday. We're all about books around here....don't be shy. ;-) Happy Friday and thanks for stopping by!
Very nice, Casey! :) Love your snapshot. I'm 50 pages away from an edit, before new rounds begin! Have a great weekend!
ReplyDeleteALMOST there, Jessica! Keep it up. :D
DeleteYou have a talent:) I want to know what else happens! Just post the whole book lol
ReplyDeleteLOL, Courtney. Thank you. :)
DeleteGreat snapshot! I'm intrigued. :) Here's a snapshot of what I'm working on:
ReplyDeleteThe outlaw quickly galloped up to the stagecoach door before Kathryn could remove the priceless cameo. Her hand stilled when she saw the rider. He wore a leather holster around his slender waist, with a pistol nestled inside and a weathered cowboy hat lay low on his forehead. His skin was rough and tanned with deep creases around his marble blue eyes. His sharp gaze scanned the inside of the coach and stopped on Kathryn.
“What is the meaning of this?” Mr. Chutney demanded.
The outlaw raised his brows and whistled a low, soft sound. “No need to get upset, Mister. You’ll be on your way…” his gaze traveled up the length of Kathryn's body, “as soon as I get what I want.”
Her breath caught in her throat. What did he want?
Mr. Chutney straightened at the nonchalant dismissal. Droplets of sweat cascaded down his temples and ran into his tight collar. “I demand that you allow us to proceed. We are on a tight schedule and you, sir, are holding us up.”
The outlaw’s horse pranced under him. “How do you do, ma’am?”
Kathryn held herself rigid, unable to meet his eyes. The small stagecoach had become like an oven without a breeze. Her black mourning gown only made the heat more unbearable. Should she acknowledge his greeting or ignore him? A loud thud sounded from the top of the stagecoach.
“Keep it down up there!” The outlaw barked. He looked back to Kathryn. “What’s your name, pretty lady? We don’t see women like you out here often.”
Should she answer his question? Kathryn looked to Mr. Chutney, who nodded his head.
“Miss Westbrook.” She responded, clasping her hands in her lap. Another thud resounded on the roof. Were those dirty men going through her personal things now? There wasn’t anything of great value, but it was all she had left.
“Miss Westbrook.” He said her name slowly. His eyes rested on the cameo at her throat, one corner of his mouth rose in a half smile. He tilted his head in Chutney’s direction, “Seems you have a bodyguard here.” Then, for the first time he glanced at Anne, sitting deathly still in the corner, her blue eyes shaded under the wide brim of her sensible bonnet. “I like to see good looking women.”
Mr. Chutney cleared his throat.
The man at the window smiled at Kathryn again. “How would you like to join me on a little ride, pretty lady?”
Hello Gabrielle! Oh, what a good excerpt, I'm so glad you shared it. So glad you took part in the fun. :D
DeleteThanks so much for sharing part of your story with us! What a treat :)
ReplyDeleteI'm glad you liked it, Faye. :-))
DeleteNice, Casey! I'm intrigued to keep reading.
ReplyDeleteWow, the ultimate compliment, thanks Katy Lee. I so love this story. It's been a blast to write.
DeleteVery nice, Casey! I like it! Keep up the great work! :)
ReplyDeleteI'm getting ready to start A Love Forbidden by Kathleen Morgan.
Have a great weekend!
Learning little by little! Adding it by layers. Hope you're weekend (and read) was awesome!
DeleteCongrats on beating your personal deadline, Casey! Your story sounds awesome, my friend. Looking forward to one day owning a copy! ;-)
ReplyDeletePraying you have a beautiful week in Jesus!
Blessings,
Amanda