One thing I noticed during my brief travel tenure is that people seem fascinated with the weather in different parts of the country. One question I could count on at every conference (or even every conference call): what's the weather like where you're at?

I thought my interest in the weather was unique, but apparently it isn't. Even people on social media are interested in hearing about what the weather is like where other people are at. It's interesting, too, to see the northern lights from friends in Alaska, or to see sunny desert scenes from Arizona and New Mexico in February or March, when the weather here is struggling to make the winter/spring transition (it was even more interesting to see it for myself when I had a conference in Arizona in early March a couple of years ago). I had an interesting conversation with a group of people in January about the biggest coats we owned, and how we determined when it was time to get them out (they were amused because it was 40 degrees in northern Virginia, and I was bundled up in my warmest clothes while they though it wasn't that bad - obviously, I was the only southerner present). And let's not forget the culture shock of the perpetual 55-60 degree days in San Francisco, regardless of the season. I went from 90 degrees here to 55 degrees there a week after Labor Day. That was the worst nosebleed I ever had (bad transition if you have sensitive sinuses!). I've been advised to go there in January - March if I ever return, because it's actually warmer than most of the country that time of year.

Weather is interesting, because it reminds us of the variation in the world. Today, for example, is unseasonably cool here. It's raining and 80 degrees, which feels more like late September or October than the end of August. Our normal here for this time of year is highs in the 90's and lows in the 70's. And yes, we are keeping an eye on the tropics. You do that when you live in a coastal state. We've been watching the Atlantic with great interest the past couple of weeks. Maybe that's why I had a dream about being stuck at Charlotte-Douglas Airport in a tropical storm last night. I've never actually been in an airport during a storm. I've seen plenty of tropical storms (I survived Hurricane Hugo in 1989!), and I've been in that airport plenty. Maybe it's because somebody made the comment to me last week about planning to travel soon, and hoping a tropical storm didn't ruin or postpone the trip. Who knows where the mind pulls the fragments of images that make our dreams? But then again, I've been thinking all day that it would make a great setting for a story.

I remember my high school psychology teacher telling us that the weather is a popular topic of conversation and interest because it's the only non-controversial topic we have to discuss. The only thing you can disagree on is whether you like it or hate it, but in the end, it is what it is, and people don't have strong feelings about it. I disagree. I think weather is a popular topic because it shows the variation in the world. So much of how we live is based on it, and it really is a foundation of who we are and how we live.

That's all today. Take care, and have a great week.

Bye!

Indie Author Summer rolls on with Classified as Crime, by Valerie Goldsilk. The year is 1987, and Hong Kong is jittery as they stand one decade before being handed over to China. Detective-Inspector Scrimple, though, isn’t worried. All he wants is to get through his tenure in Hong Kong as quickly and painlessly as possible and return to England, or anywhere that life is more familiar.  

Scrimple’s life is turned inside out when the dead body of a prominent of an expatriate is found in a garbage room. After investigating, he returns home to find a nightclub hostess sleeping in his bed, which sends him on a whirlwind adventure through Hong Kong nightlife, crossing with Triad bosses, and unpleasant discoveries about his friends, and betrayal by his colleagues.  

Classified as Crime is a classic whodunit mystery novel set in a part of the world that’s mysterious to us. I like that it takes me to a new, unfamiliar place and describes it well enough that I can imagine being in 1987 Hong Kong, even though I’ve never traveled to the East. Goldsilk has a great capacity to paint the setting vividly enough that I can see, hear, and smell the surroundings. Likewise, the characters are well developed. Anybody that’s suffered from job burnout can relate to Scrimple’s intense desire to get through the day so he can escape back into his own little world where life is safe and simple, along with his confusion and shock at being thrust into an adventure that he doesn’t desire. The plot is well paced and intricately detailed enough to give the story fullness without overloading it with too many subplots or details. All in all, it’s a well written and well balanced novel. Good setting, good characters, good plot – who could ask for anything more? 

I was skeptical about reading a novel that takes place in the past, which usually isn’t my thing. I’m glad I listened to the little voice telling me to give this novel a chance, because it pleasantly surprised me. I enjoyed this book! My only disappointment is that it ends rather abruptly, but then again, I don’t suppose there was much left to say once the loose ends were tied up – maybe.  

I recommend Classified as Crime to people who love mystery and suspense novels. It’s a great read!

Being authentic means being the best “you” that you can be. It’s about being honest with yourself and with others about your knowledge, preferences, and gifts without being obnoxious. Authenticity means you have enough confidence in who you are that you have the love, grace, and discernment to be yourself and to allow others that same privilege. 

Many people think being authentic means being in the spotlight all the time. They believe it means being sassy, rude, or obnoxious. Nothing could be further from the truth because, in fact, these traits are usually masks others wear to hide their true selves rather than to unlock their full potential. Authentic people usually try to avoid the spotlight because they’re too busy attending to their own business, and they don’t want everybody watching their every move. Their glow comes from the joy within, not from drama without. People notice them not because they’re grabbing the spotlight, but because they aren’t, and yet they still seem to exude a confidence and magnetism that draws others in, even if they aren’t trying to. And they’re glad to help you along the path to finding your authenticity if you’re willing to get past your fear ask.
 

Being your true self isn’t hard. The problem is that we have a remarkable capacity to deceive ourselves into believing what we want to be true. We trick ourselves into believing we’re bound by expectations.  Once we break through them, there’s no stopping us, and here’s the secret weapon to doing that:

You can do anything you want. 

That’s right, you always have a choice. You’re also responsible for bearing the consequences of your choices. The key to being your best self is to establish a habit of making good choices that align with your morals, priorities, and goals. Here’s an example: Every weekday, I drive by a Burger King on my way home from work. I love burgers, but I also love the fact that I’ve lost 15 pounds, and would like to stay in shape. I can have a burger any time I want, but it’s not in line with my greater goal to keep the weight off. So I make a choice that I can have a burger every now and then, but most of the time, I make different choices because I’d rather keep the weight off than have a burger and fries.


It sounds like a small thing, but such reasoning can build up a new. Start with today, and repeat the process every day until making active choices consistent with your values and goals becomes a habit. 

In closing, I’d like to recommend three books that I’ve found inspirational and helpful on my path to become a happier, healthier person: The Secret and The Power, by Rhonda Byrne; and How to Succeed at Being Yourself, by Joyce Meyer. There are many others, but this is a good place to start in the popular (and sometimes overwhelming) subgenre of Self Help books.  

Being authentic isn’t rocket science or brain surgery. It’s pretty simple, actually. Just be the best “you” that you can be, and you’re well on your way to breaking forth your light on the world. 

That’s all today. Take care, and have a great week/weekend. 

Bye!

 

The first step to being authentic is to accept that you’re a real human being. You thought I was going to say “know yourself,” didn’t you? Actually, that’s step 2. You have to accept what’s real before you can know and appreciate what makes you unique.

Celebrities and the media inundate us with images of perfection that they want us to believe we should strive for. They want us to believe that the way they look, feel, and believe are the way that everybody should if they’re “normal.” The thing is, they’re actually the fiction, and we live in reality. Real people don’t have 2-4 hours a day to work out with professional trainers. They don’t have maids, chefs, and lawn services to keep their home looking perfect and fully stocked at all times. They don’t have nannies for the kids, financial advisors to pay the bills, or a team of advisors to tell them what they should do in every situation. 

Real people are responsible for thinking and doing for themselves. They’re responsible for making the best decisions, and for dealing with the rewards and consequences of those decisions. We live our only the Holy Spirit to guide us. And really, that’s the best advisor we can have. More voices confuse you, anyway. Eventually, people disagree. They change their minds. Circumstances change. The unexpected happens. Then what? How do you deal unless you’re used to thinking and doing for yourself? Only Spiritual guidance is equipped to handle the shifts and turns of life in this world. 

Life isn’t perfect, and neither are people. Real people live with limited time, limited finances, and limited options. We have schedules and budgets and priorities and preferences. The sooner we get comfortable with some fat, some mess, some disorganization, then the sooner we find peace in the imperfection that makes up everyday life.

Finding peace is really the key. Once you come to terms with the reality of your life, then you learn to not only make the best of it, but to grow where you’re planted. Your “normal” can be better if you  commit to doing the best with what you’ve got. And as you do that, you discover yourself, and find the boldness to express it as you live with the blessings you’ve got. 

Don’t strive for unattainable goals. We’ve seen the mighty fall too many times to be fooled into believing those media images of perfection are real. Live the life you have, and you’re one step closer to knowing who you truly are. 

That’s all today. Take care, and have a wonderful week/weekend.

Bye!

One thing about being authentic is that it challenges people. Having the confidence to be yourself forces people to look inward to find their own. It leads people to think; to search within themselves; and to seek truth. It opens their eyes. It challenges paradigms, and the world needs that. It frees them to break the chains of fear that bind them to things that aren’t right for them. Or it can royally piss them off which, more often than not, is the case. Fear is a huge motivator, and most people are bound by it; especially when it comes to things they don’t understand.

I’m turning 40 next week, and one thing that still amazes me is how scared people are of what others think. I thought the search for identity was something limited to twenty-somethings, but boy was I wrong. I see people in their 30’s and 40’s scared to post anything on social media for fear of negative responses. I see people in their 50’s that defer to everybody they know, nearly breaking themselves to make everybody happy. I see senior citizens that don’t know who they are because they’ve spent their entire life shifting who they are to please others. I’ve seen people of all ages freak out because their preferences change, and the fact that they changed their mind about something nearly broke them. Being yourself has been a goal and purpose in my life since I decided to major in psychology in college, and the older I get, the more I see that this is the biggest challenge we face as human beings.

I’m not saying we need to convert to an anarchic society. Societal norms exist to help us to live together with as much harmony as possible. I know my jokes about being a hermit aren’t reality, and so should you. No man is an island, and we should be gracious and respectful of one another. Relationships are a critical necessity in this world. HOWEVER, there’s plenty of room within those norms to be yourself without hurting others. Much like the ancient Israelites, we’ve taken good guidelines and tacked things to them that aren’t important.  Laws are vital to health and safety. “Please” and “thank you” are necessary. Don’t yell fire in a crowded theater is common sense. No selfies at funerals is respectful to those that mourn. Not wearing white between Labor Day and Easter is meaningless. You have to use discernment to know what’s real and what we’ve made up for selfish or irrelevant purposes.

I’m not saying we need to start a revolution. Life isn’t a Cheech and Chong movie. What I am saying is that the confidence to be true to ourselves not only makes us happy, but it should inspire others. Inspiration, however, can be good or bad. You hope that it will lead them on that pathway with joy, but being challenged can also make people angry. That doesn’t mean that they don’t need it. In fact, they need it the most!

If everybody loves you; if everybody agrees with you; if you never find yourself maligned, misunderstood, or mistreated; then you’re doing it wrong. Authentic people find joy in what makes them unique, and realize that it challenges others to find their own freedom. The goal is the destination of being the best “you” that you were created to be. It’s up to each individual whether the journey is joyful or painful.

That’s all today. Take care, and have a great week.

Bye!

Indie Author summer continues with today’s review of Lacuna, by David Adams. This is a scifi novel, and is Book 1 of The Lacuna Series.  

Earth is rocked by an alarming alien attack on Tehran, Sydney, and Beijing that kills five million people. The only message given for the attack: never again attempt to develop this kind of technology. It can only mean one thing – the “jump drives” in development to allow man to travel faster than the speed of light through various points in space. Chinese Naval Captain Melissa Liao survives the attack on Sidney, and is given command of one of three great warships to fight these “demons” that have committed this unprovoked attack on Earth. Her mission is simple: find out who the attackers are, why they attacked, and stop them from attacking again.  

Lacuna is a well written and fast paced novel. I especially like the female protagonist, Melissa Liao, who is a strong, capable, intelligent woman.  Best of all, she’s likable. I wouldn’t mind working under her command, because she is a determined and inspiring leader. In fact, most of the characters in this novel are people you can well relate to, even Summer Rowe, the intelligent yet foul mouthed (and often annoying) Engineer. They have their quirks, but when it comes right down to it, these characters have character and deliver.  

The plot is also intriguing. The combination of new technology combined with an alien threat is a fascinating mixture that keeps you wondering if humanity will succeed in getting their ships launched before the aliens return – and holding your breath when they show up much sooner than expected. The book is fast paced, but not so fast that you get exhausted, or that it’s difficult to keep up. In fact, the pacing of the story is perfect. There’s plenty of suspense, mixed with slower parts that show plot and character development that prepare you for the next suspenseful moment.

I enjoyed Lacuna, and will consider a return to the series once my Indie Author Summer is complete. The next book on my Indie Author Summer list is Classified as Crime, a mystery novel by Valerie Goldsilk.

Disappointment is something we all deal with. Sometimes, it’s obvious: the plans fall through, we’re betrayed, the illness leads to death instead of healing, or things don’t work out the way we hoped. Other times, it’s less obvious. This is usually due to changes, and as we adapt, we find that there are lost blessings mixed in with the new opportunities that are on the horizon.

That’s where I find myself, and it’s confusing. Although I’ve been through much bigger changes than I’ve seen over the past six months, I’ve been surprised to find disappointment rattling around amongst my hope for the present and future. Intellectually, I see the necessity of the changes. They make sense and needed to be done, and I’m glad the “powers that be” had the wisdom to know and act on it. It’s also made my life much less stressful, for which I’m endlessly grateful. In fact, I’ve taken advantage of the release of stress to attempt personal improvements. If things are going to change, I thought, then let’s do it right. Let’s take advantage of the new and make it the best it can be. The Lord permitted it, so there’s opportunity here that I need to act on. The advice to “do what’s in front of you” has been coming to me over and over these past months, so that’s exactly what I’ve done. It’s the small, everyday things that build you up to the bigger blessings to come. That’s why attending to your daily tasks with diligence is so important: it’s using the present to build the future.

Well enough, because we live by faith. Then the melancholy set it, and I didn’t know why. It took some soul searching (and a couple of vicious bacterial infections) to realize the source of it: there are people that I won’t be working with anymore, and I’ll miss them. There are also experiences I won’t have again, and changes to relationships with others due to my new role. I see the blessings that have passed, and while I didn’t know the last time would be the last time, I’m glad that I made the best of it while I had it. That’s a lesson I learned during my last major life change: enjoy what you have now, because it can go away in the blink of an eye. I blinked, and there goes a few things that meant more to me than I realized. I’m glad I was wise enough to put that into practice quickly.

There’s also the disappointment that change was necessary again. You hope that the last time was the last time. That this is the Promised Land you’ve been seeking, and it’s going to stick. But alas, that’s not the nature of the world we live in. Change is a constant, and even though I know that intellectually, accepting it on an emotional level is something else.  The thing that makes it confusing is that you tend to ask yourself “what went wrong with the way things were before?” If something was wrong, you can have faith that the Lord will reveal it and show you how to make it right. But sometimes, the answer is that nothing was wrong. Change doesn’t always mean that somebody was in error. In fact, it may happen because things are right, and it’s necessary to keep them on the best path. When you deal with preparation for things you can’t see, there’s always the confusion that comes from faith and doubt battling over what’s going on, and what it all means.

I trust the “big picture.” Nearly forty years of experience on planet Earth has taught me that God’s ways are better than mine, and I trust him much more than I trust myself!  I believe the Lord permitted this because the changes are necessary for now and for preparing everybody for the future, which will be good if we walk in faith. I know that when something is taken, it’s to make room for a better blessing to come. Still, the loss leaves you with an emptiness that’s hard to reconcile with a present that you’re adjusting to and a future that you can’t see. I described in in Splinter as being a tin can with a paper clip rattling around inside. Hope opens you to accept that better things will fill that space, but that bit of loss is making a lot of noise.

The key to dealing effectively is being honest about having mixed emotions. It’s natural to mourn for blessings lost, but it doesn’t mean I’m ungrateful for the good coming out of the changes I’ve faced these past few months. I must take time to mourn what has passed so I can let it go, and fully appreciate what I have and what is to come. It doesn’t mean I have doubt – it means there were things that blessed me, that I loved and learned from them, and that they contributed to making me a better person. I’ll miss those people, those things, and those experiences, but I’m glad I had them and that I enjoyed those blessings to the fullest.  Yes, I feel empty in some ways, but I trust that the Lord has a purpose and is bring me to life again. In my experience, the life He brings is greater than the life that left, which leads me to another emotion: excitement for the future. That’s what hope is all about!

That’s all today. Take care, and have a great rest of the week.

Bye!

Indie Author Summer enters it's final month with a look from the lighter side. Today's review is Posts from the Perch, by Becca Brandes.

Meet Frederico Suave Brandes, a charismatic, charming feathered friend from Tuscon, Arizona. Posts from the Perch is a cheerful peek into life with the joys of a sun conure. The stories of Fred's antics, combined with pictures and Facebook posts, are guaranteed to make you smile, and to open your eyes to the joys of sun conures. This is a wonderful, short book that I highly recommend, especially to anybody that has or is considering a sun conure as an avian companion. Becca Brandes does a wonderful job of capturing the joy and delight of having a bird in your life.

Stay tuned for the final 3 books for Indie Author Summer: Lacuna, by David Adams, Classified as Crime, by Valerie Goldsilk, and the highly acclaimed Wool, by Hugh Howey.

Today, I’d like to share some random musings that I’ve had as I continue to heal from my ear infection. Getting sick and healing can bring you some interesting revelations, as I will reveal here:   

1.       I’m endlessly grateful that Rick and I are healing. His cysts were benign, and our sinus/ear mess is clearing up. It’s taking time, but it’s happening. Plus, I’ve learned that I’m not allergic to penicillin – it’s that we don’t always play well together, but that seems to have improved. Thanks be to God!  

2.       Mind your own business before it wallops you up the backside and forces you to mind it. Seriously, one thing I've learned over the past year or so is that the fewer opinions I have, the happier I am. And the first step to rectifying this is to attend to your own affairs and let everybody else attend to theirs. You get in trouble when you start getting in other peoples' business and neglect your own.   

3.       If anybody thinks you’re weird, they need to take a look in the mirror. Everybody has some weird in them. Don’t fear your own. They envy your confidence at being yourself without fear or anxiety. Too many people are scared of themselves and specifically, what makes them different from others. I don’t understand why this is. If we are fearfully and wonderfully made, then shouldn’t we appreciate what makes every individual unique? And yet, society doesn’t. We all have unique knowledge, skills, and abilities to contribute to the world. What’s wrong with appreciating that in ourselves and others?  

4.       The Lord teaches us patience in ways that speak to us. I said two entries ago that there are lessons you learn from illness and injury that you don’t learn other places – that’s true for me, but I’m coming to realize that if we are unique, then unique things speak those lessons to each of us. For me, it’s through physical ailments. In others, I’ve seen it come through personal circumstances, relationships, work issues, life ruts, constant change, (seemingly) insurmountable odds, financial difficulties, or patiently enduring others who are dealing with illness or issues of their own (which is a lot easier when you MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS). I may get sick a lot, but my life is peaceful compared to others who never get sick, but struggle with constant drama or circumstances frustrating them all of the time. Everybody gets those lessons – it’s just in whatever way speaks humility to the soul.  

5.       I love Windows 10. I tell you not to fear it, because it is wonderfully designed. My laptop runs like a brand new machine. Block out an evening to install it because it takes a while, but it’s well worth it.  

So there’s my wisdom for the week. I hope you find some light of inspiration in it. Next time, Indie Author Summer continues with a review of Posts From the Perch.  

That’s all today. Take care, and have a great week.   

Bye!

And so you shall have it. I've shared this prologue before, but today I'm giving you a revised version of it and the first chapter. Enjoy!

Prologue

There’s no way to mask the fact that people die in hospitals. They do it every day, and no amount of disinfectant can wash away the overbearing sense of loss that permeate them. Souls enter and leave the world in hospitals every day with such regularity that it’s nothing more than another day at work for those employed in these places.

It’s different when it’s someone you know. It’s not just another death. This time, it’s Uncle Carson. 

Kalea blew out a long sigh as she fanned herself in the stifling room. “Why is it so hot in here?”

No reply. Just the shallow hiss of the air conditioner and Uncle Carson’s rattled breathing. The same as the last two hours. A useless air conditioner that wouldn’t go below eighty degrees, and that awful death rattle. The nurse called her Aunt Molly and cousin, Brandon, out of the room for a “conversation” five minutes ago, leaving her alone to watch Uncle Carson just in case – of what? Maybe he could still hear, but if his demise was inevitable to everybody else, then surely it was inevitable to him. He was the one stuck in the bed. He was the one hooked to machines. He was the one rattling. She heard a muffled sob escape her aunt in the hallway.

“Geeze!” she hissed, dropping her shoes on the floor and pulling the splint off her left leg. “It’s a hundred degrees outside, and this sprained ankle is so swollen that it’s almost the size of the pumpkins you used to grow. Remember the pumpkins?”

No response. So much for reminiscing over the good times.

Kalea leaned back in the chair, propping her foot on the edge of the bed. “I’m sorry, Uncle Carson. I’m sorry the cure came too late.” She raised her water bottle in a mock salute. “Here’s to the world’s worst timing.”

Rattling – from the air conditioner and from Uncle Carson.

Kalea sat the bottle on the table and leaned back in the chair. “This is crap,” she pressed her hand over her head where she felt a migraine coming on. Great, one more problem. Her uncle was dying because the nanotech that could have reconnected his neural pathways was put on the medical market too late to help him. She was hobbling around on a sprained ankle because she couldn’t afford the same tech that could have healed this running injury in a matter of hours. And now her head hurt, and her medication was in her office, forgotten in the “your only uncle is dying” haste of picking up Brandon at the airport and rushing here, just to sit and wait. She pressed harder, trying to press out pain, the rattle, her aunt’s sobs in the hallway; the murmur of Brandon’s voice; all of it.

Kalea groaned as she squinted at the late afternoon summer sunshine streaming through the window. She reminded herself that whatever chaos reigned in here, the world was going on as normal out there, and she’d be part of it again as soon as they got through this. Whatever happened to Uncle Carson, tomorrow would come and they would make it through that day, and the next, and everyday after that, until they faced this moment themselves.

That was the chaplin’s logic an hour ago.

“Uncle Carson,” she said, studying his thin frame, “Mom and Dad are on the way. Remember that I told you Mom has a job teaching the advanced physics class at the University of Tennessee for the fall semester? They’re living in the mountain cabin until the semester is over. She’ll sing in the church choir at Christmas, just like you always like to hear.”

More rattling. Kalea fanned her shirt, pulling it away from the sweat. “You always loved hearing her sing The Canticle of the Turning. She’ll do it again this year. She’s probably singing it already for Dad all the time. He laughs about how she sings a Christmas song year round.”

Kalea thought she heard him stir, but couldn’t perceive movement. She looked away toward the evening sun shifting through the window. “I can’t sing as like she can, but I remember it. I remember you favorite verse, too. It’s the third one, isn’t it?” She closed her eyes and sang.

“From the halls of power to the fortress tower,

Not a stone will be left on stone.

Let the king beware, for your justice tears

Every tyrant from his throne.

The hungry, poor shall weep no more,

For the food they can never earn;

There are tables spread, every mouth be fed,

For the world is about to turn.”

Kalea relaxed, sinking in the chair.  Peace seeped into her; a quietness that told her that everything would be alright. Tomorrow may not come for Uncle Carson, but it would for everybody else, and they would go on.

A hand grabbed Kalea’s ankle. She jumped, her brown eyes widening to see Uncle Carson sitting up in the bed, his hand holding her sprained ankle.

“Kalea?”

Kalea tried to pull back her foot, but his grip tightened. She whined.

“Kalea, it’s going to be alright.”

 “What?“

Uncle Carson smiled, his own brown eyes glinting in the late afternoon sunlight. “We’ve been chosen.”

Kalea stopped fighting his iron grip on her ankle for a moment. “For what?”

Uncle Carson’s stared at her with a strange glimmer in his eyes. “You’re right. The world is about to turn.”

Kalea resumed her struggle, pulling harder on her ankle. A shock went through her as she jerked free from his grip, leaped out of the chair, and dashed out of the door. She ran down the hall to the nurses station where her aunt and Brandon retreated with the nurses, her left  foot leaving bloody prints on the linolium. They stopped as they saw her approach, her long, brown hair flying behind her. Brandon hurried to meet her, catching her in his arms. “Kalea, what is it?”

Kalea gasped, staring at Brandon. “He’s awake.”

Aunt Molly turned from the nurse she was talking to, her eyes wide. “What did you say?”

“Uncle Carson is awake!”

“That’s impossible,” the nurse pushed past them. They followed her to Uncle Carson’s room,  where they found him sitting up and calmly removing the morphine IV drip from his arm. He smiled at them.

“Hello everybody. Isn’t it a beautiful day?”

Aunt Molly and Brandon rushed to Uncle Carson, engulfing him in a hug.

The nurse pushed her hair out of her face, her shaky arm exposing a phoenix tattoo. “I don’t understand.”

Aunt Molly looked up from her embrace, tears dripping down her cheek. “It’s a miracle!”

Kalea sagged against the wall, smearing the blood trickling from her leg where Uncle Carson’s fingernails dug into her flesh to stain more of the wall and floor. “The world is about to turn.”
 
 Chapter 1

Kalea rushed in the restaurant, pushing down her hair in a futile attempt to smooth out the damage from the hard hat she had to wear on her last job inspection. There’s nothing like mid-August heat in Columbia, South Carolina, to undo hair and makeup. She pulled herself as straight as she could at five feet tall as she approached the greeter. “I’m here to meet Brandon Kerner.”

The greeter stared at Kalea with wide, green eyes. “You’re Kalea Kerner. You’re the ‘miracle girl!’”

Kalea took a deep breath, trying to keep her face from getting any redder than it already was from the heat. “I think you have me confused with my uncle, Carson. He’s the one that came back from the dead.”



“But he healed your sprained ankle, didn’t he?”

“Kalea!” Brandon swept past the greeter with his tall, lanky frame to hug her. “I’m glad you made it. Come on, our table is back here.”

Kalea followed Brandon to the back of the restaurant, where he led her to a table next to a window. “Thanks for the save.”

“Does that happen a lot?” he stared at her with concern in her brown eyes. Everybody swore the “Kerner kids,” as they had been called since they were babies, all looked alike. Kalea and Brandon’s fathers were brothers, and all of the children in the family had dark brown hair and eyes. Brandon was lucky to have some height to him, at a lanky six feet tall. Kalea and Annaliese, Brandon’s sister, were short. They were lucky to grow up together on the two hundred acre family estate that housed their families just outside of Columbia, but jobs had taken Brandon and his sister out of state.

“It’s better than the doomsday crowds. There was a group of them gathered outside the last school I inspected.” Kalea shrugged. “I guess it’s better to be the ‘miracle girl’ than the herald of the end times.” She sighed as she laid down her menu. “Actually, it’s irritating. I’m not the one that came back from the dead.”

“He wasn’t dead. And you were the one that walked in the room limping on a swollen ankle, and ran out healed two hours later.”

“I know. Leave it to me to make a bloody dash down the hall of a hospital in plain view of a security camera.”  She had been heralded as one of the youngest business owners in the State of South Carolina at age thirty six, after taking over the Presidency of Kerner Electrical and Mechanical Engineering, just a month ago. Her father had started the firm when she was five years old, and she took over as President when he retired last spring.  It had been her claim to fame, until that footage of her mad dash down a hospital hall trumped her professional integrity.

Brandon waved it off. “They’ll move on soon.”

“I don’t know. I hear there have been more cases like that in the past week. I was the only one stupid enough to get caught on video.”

“You’re also the only one not talking to the media. What gives?”

Kalea paused as the waiter appeared to take their orders. She smiled as he walked away with their menus, hoping the interruption was enough to change the subject. “So, when do you go back to Houston?”

Brandon stared at her. “Tomorrow, and you never answered my question. You haven’t been back around since Dad recovered, and you won’t talk about it. What’s going on with you?”

Kalea took a sip of her water. “Nothing, I’m just busy. I’ve missed a lot of work since Uncle Carson went in the home a couple of months ago after his fall. You and Annaliese aren’t here, and Mom and Dad have been at the mountain house in Gatlinburg since Mom agreed to teach summer and fall classes at the University of Tennessee. I’ve been the only one here to help out on a regular basis all summer.”

“I realize that, and I’m grateful. It’s not fair that you have to play the role of the daughter since  Annaliese is too sucked in her own little world up there in D.C. She’s married to a Congressman, for goodness sakes. It seems she would be able to break away for her dying father.”

Kalea pointed at Brandon. “Ah, but as you just pointed out, he isn’t dying anymore. Don’t be so hard on her. I know she’s busy with her psychiatry practice, too.”

“But you’re a business owner now too, and you made time for Dad.”

“I’ve also known my partners most of my life. We have personal connections. Annaliese moved up there with no connections, and had to build everything up herself. I had it easy compared to her.” Kalea took another drink of water. She was shocked to find her glass empty already. “Good grief, doing those two school inspections this morning must have dehydrated me more than I realized.” She raised her hand to motion for the waiter, who nodded and brought a refill.

Brandon’s brow scrunched. “I thought you weren’t doing inspections until your ankle healed.”

She smiled. “It did, remember? Everybody that watches any national news stream knows that.”

Brandon shrugged. “I thought you might take some more time to make sure you’re really healed. Don’t sprains usually take six to eight weeks to heal?”

“They do.”

“When did you sprain it?”

“Two weeks ago.”

Brandon raised an eyebrow. “It’s already ok for you to do inspections?”

Kalea sighed. “Look, it hasn’t hurt since Uncle Carson grabbed it. I don’t know what happened. My doctor thought it might have been adrenaline. You weren’t in the room when he grabbed me. Nobody was, and there were no cameras in there. Nobody has any idea what it was like to have a dying person sit up and grab you.”

“I understand you’re traumatized, but don’t you care that Dad recovered?”

“Traumatized?” Kalea said, indignant. She crossed her arms. “I’ve never been so insulted in my life. Of course I care! I’m the one that’s had a front row seat to watching him slip away with Alzheimer’s for the past seven years while you were at you fancy job with the Space Exploration Society that your larger than life sister with the husband in Congress got for you.”

“Alright, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply that you don’t care.”

“I know you and Annaliese are busy with your jobs and families and lives, but I am too. We’re all busy professionals, but just because I’m not married doesn’t mean that I don’t have a life. I run a business, I run the property committee at church, and I run marathons. Well, when my ankle cooperates, that is.”

 “It’s no secret that you’ve been avoiding us. You’ve been avoiding everybody.”

“That’s not true. I talk to Mom and Dad at least twice a week, and Annaliese called me last night.”

Brandon raised an eyebrow as the waiter brought their food. “Really? What did she say?”

“She’s the only person outside of the media and doomsday hounds that sincerely asked me how I’m doing. It was nice for somebody to care about me for a change, and not a disease or a story.” Kalea stared at Brandon. “You haven’t talked to her?”

“Only for five minutes when Dad woke up. Mom’s talked to her a couple of times since then, but never for long. All she says to us is that her schedule is full and she’s trying to clear it so she can come home.”

They sat in silence for a moment, Kalea munching on her salad and Brandon cutting his steak. Finally, Kalea spoke up. “I don’t mean to be dismissive, but this is overwhelming. It’s easier for me to dive into my work and daily routine than to bat off calls and emails looking for another sound bite. I’m embarrassed by that video. I hoped I could ignore it and it would go away, but now I’m not so sure. Have you seen these news stories breaking since they started running that video a couple of days ago?”

“I’ve been too busy getting Dad moved back home and settled in to watch the Internet streams.” Brandon paused. “He wants to see you. One of the national networks is sending a reporter to interview him for a special on Friday, and everybody is hoping that you will come.”

Kalea raised an eyebrow. “Come, as in to watch him do it?”

“No, come as in you’ll be interviewed with him.”

Kalea laid her fork down and leaned back in her chair, laughing. “So that’s why you wanted to take me out to lunch. You wanted something from me.”

“The family is asking, Kalea. It’s just one interview. Who knows, maybe talking to them will get everybody off your back. You’ll be able to go back to being a logical electrical engineer, running your business and complaining about deadlines and the jerks giving you headaches in no time. And Dad does want to see you. He’s asked about you every day since he woke up.”

“I know, and I meant to go by sooner, but you know how it is.” Kalea sighed. “What time on Friday?”

“They’ll be there at five o’clock to set up. Mom has a cleaning service coming to fix up the place. The interview starts at eight.”

Kalea raised an eyebrow. “It’s going to be a live stream?”

“Of course.”

Kalea took another drink of water and wiped her mouth. “Fine, I’ll do it, if it’s the only way to put this to rest and let us go back to our boring lives.”

“Thank you, Kalea. And that’s not the reason I asked you to lunch. I wanted to see you. I’m concerned about you. You’re my cousin and like another sister to me.” He tilted his head. “You never did answer my first question. How are you?”

Kalea crumpled her napkin in her hand. “Frankly, Brandon, I’m scared.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”