A book signing? Really?

It took me 25, long, insecure years to finally get the courage to publish.  Actually these books, these stories were formulating in my head long before that.  I just didn't think anyone would want to read my little books.  I couldn't even get my husband to read them!  To be fair he didn't read novels for the last 10 years of his life because of his many health challenges.  In addition, how many men do you know that want to read a book about gushy, mushy, romance? 

I had heard tales of authors claiming that their writing was driven by the voice of the characters they had created.  I thought that it was a charming idea, but let's face it, a little wacky.  AND THEN, Celeste.  I know very well that one of the first rules in writing is WRITE WHAT YOU KNOW!  I work earnestly to fulfill this standard.  When your story is filled with the passionate joy of words arriving and then being spread across paper, those words need to be from your experience right?

So I begin to write Celeste.  Let's see, oh I think I'll make the character from France.  That's the idea!  Her Father has followed a long generational line of Master Vintner's.  In France his chance of ever becoming Master of his OWN vineyard is zero to none.  He wishes to travel with his family to the reputedly fertile fields of Oregon to develop his own line of wines.

The family immigrate by ship.  While on board all of Celeste's family die.  Innocent at 14 she barely can speak English.  When she arrives at her families destination she has nowhere to go and nobody that she knows.  She is trapped into sexual slavery.

For those who know me, does that sound like something from my life?  I can joyfully announce, NOPE!  I have never faced those types of challenges.  I pray that I never will.

I was so startled by the first several chapters that I wrote that I put them away.  I didn't want to think about any of that awful stuff.  I am a firmly avowed "Happy ever after," sort of writer.  (Yes I DO know that life doesn't always seem to follow that pattern.  That is just when you are looking at life as a finite set of parameters.  When you open your mind to the possibility of eternity I firmly believe there WILL BE a "Happy Ever After."  The book "Celeste", didn't even seem like it COULD have a "Happy Ever After."

One week later I was watching a documentary with my husband.  (We loved watching them together).  I was stunned to find out that sexual slavery is at an all time high in our world today!  People are actually paid to troll the streets of America looking for unsupervised children that are easy prey.  HORRIFYING!  They also target the mentally challenged.  Even though their bodies have grown into adults, their minds are and always will be childlike.

I don't believe in focusing on fear.  I prefer the practice of faith.  Faith in God, in family, in the fact that this evening the sun will go down, but in the morning the sun will rise again.  Yet it is ever so important that we are educated about the subject of human bondage and sexual slavery.  It simply is no longer wise to leave our unsupervised children in the front yard to play.  Either we must be with them, or they must be in the backyard.  One story told about a child being two aisles away from his parents.  That was all it took for this predator to sexually abuse the child.

Children are our future!  Where would be if Mozart did not mature into his music?  How about Einstein and his mind boggling discoveries.  None of us knows what untold greatness the children in this world possess.  I forgot to mention one of the greatest losses this world would have known.  My beloved parents.  They were humble, but they were powerful.  They spent their money and lives serving others.

It takes only one heart-stopping-tragedy-engendering second to snatch a small child.  Please, watch over our children.  When I'm in a public place with children giggling and playing all over in front of me, I watch ever so carefully.  There will be nobody kidnapped when I'm around!

After watching that documentary I got my Celeste manuscript out and went back to writing.  I am now a believer that you can become so invested in a character that you feel as though they are writing the book.  Oh not some creepy "channeling" sort of way.  I do know that these people are fictional.   If I start to talk to you about these people as though they ARE alive, please stage an intervention and get me immediate help!

This book signing day has been an extremely long time in coming.  I never believed that it actually would.  (I'm working on that insecurity thing of mine).  So tomorrow I will be sitting in a comfy chair smiling brightly and hopefully signing many books.  What a thrill to have written two books.  I have a third novel coming out in the next several months.

My mind is filled with untold stories, and songs.  What a joy it is to create!

Celeste's Journal

Eric was with me for the weekend.  He's such a serious, thoughtful lad.  He's very protective of me, and of his younger brother Jamie.  One day he and Jamie were crossing the road.  A man came galloping into town on a horse.  He was traveling so quickly that he would have run down Jamie.  Jamie was frozen with fear.  Eric simply scooped Jamie up and moved him out of the way.

Blake, Red, and I were all startled at Eric's selflessness.  It's very unusual for a child his age to think of his brother's life first and his second.  I have no doubt that he will grow up to become an amazing man.

I'm often surprised by the maturity of Eric's questions.  Today he asked, "Maman, where did we live before we were born?  Did we come from Heaven?  If we did, what is Heaven?"

I responded, "Those are all excellent questions Eric.  Have you asked your Papa these questions?"

"He's always too busy. 

"Well your Father is a very important man Eric.  He has lots of responsibilities to accomplish each and every day."

"I know.  I just wish that maybe he could count me as one of the tasks that he marks off a list everyday.  I love my Papa, so much.  I would like to go fishing with him sometimes."

Celeste smiled.  "Did you know that I'm an excellent fisher?  I used to go fishing with my brother when we were young.  We never came home empty handed."

"Really Maman?  Would you take me fishing?"

"I have no appointments after 1 this afternoon.  Let's make a sign for the window, "Gone Fishing," lock the place up and go."

Suddenly Eric looked sad.  "I don't have a fishing pole."

I laughed, "Neither do I.  It's a good thing that I know how to make a fishing pole from a stick, and some string.  There are lots and lots of juicy worms where I like to fish.  Carter's Creek is a great place to fish.  With that tiny stream running into it there are lots and lots of fish."

We had a wonderful afternoon.  We caught some beautiful fish.  We took them home and cooked them.  I'm pretty sure that fresh fish are the most delicious food in the world!  I'm going to have a chat with Blake.  He needs to know how Eric feels.  Childhood is so short, and so precious, Blake really doesn't want to miss it!

Celeste Journal

I hold Jamie ever so close to my heart as I rock him.  He is boldly fighting sleep.  His eyelids began to droop downwards, but then he pulls them open again.  I begin to sing to him.  Little songs ma mere sang to me.  Tender verses about safety and love.

Jamie is so beautiful.  His hair is thick and black.  His eyes are a much darker brown than his Father's or Brother's.  Their brown is golden, like the syrup from a maple tree.  Sometimes when you look deep into Jamie's eyes you feel that there is no bottom to them.

His hair is so soft.  It feels as if you are stroking silk.  His lips are perfectly proportioned.  A perfect Cupid's bow is centered in his top lip.  Many people thought Jamie was a girl for the first two years of his life.  I wouldn't call him handsome.  I'd call him beautiful.  His skin is the loveliest shade of almond.  I have never seen  more perfect features on a male, adult, or child.  Even though I'm only  his "Foster" Mother I suppose that I might be a bit partial.  On the other hand he IS beautiful!

I wish that I could have met Sarah, Jamie's Mother when she was alive.  She was going to be, "The Leader of the People."  Her people, her heritage, readied her to lead the People.  The People was the name of her tribe of Indians.  She told Blake that her people had come long ago from Jerusalem to the new world.  In the Bible God calls those that follow Him, "The Chosen People."  Sarah said that along the many years the "Chosen," part was dropped from their tribal name.

She was betrothed at the tender age of ten to a handsome young man named Vanque.  He was two years older than Sarah.

When Vanque grew up he became the Leader of the Protector's.  The Protector's were not Warriors in the typical sense of the word.  In Sarah's life the Protector's had never waged war with other people.  They protected by teaching about planting, fishing, and hunting.  They also taught people about caring for their bodies.  They also showed by example the importance of worshiping the Great Spirit.  (Their name for God).  So the Protector's were a composite of hunter-gatherers, wise men, and doctors.  They had excellent battle skills that they never quit practicing, even though nobody in their lifetime had ever needed those skills. 

I must have thought about Sarah too much.  One night I dreamed that she came to me.  She was so lovely.  Looking at her I understood more about why Jamie is so beautiful.  She said, "Celeste, woman who Mothers my birth child Jamie, and my child of the heart Eric, I wish to honor and thank you.

"You need to know that I'm watching over you and over our children.  Please continue to love them.  You have the heart of a Protector.  You are fierce when you need to be, and gentle when you need to be.  In addition you are close to the Great Spirit.  I know that you pray to him often.  Sometimes I am close listening when you pray out loud."

"Please do not give up on Blake's love.  I am afraid that he will take a very long time to heal and marry you.  Be patient with Blake.  He is a very good man, and he needs a very good woman.  You are a very good woman.  It is an odd thing to try and find a new wife for your husband.  I will always love him.  On the other hand, he is so lonely.  He needs you, and you need him.  So again, be patient, please."

"I know that for most humans it can be difficult to believe that we live after death.  It's especially difficult to believe that we can visit the living after we are dead.  Knowing that, I'm leaving behind a tiny thing that will help you remember and believe."  Sarah leaned down.  Brushing hair away from Celeste's head she kissed the very highest point of her forehead.  "There, now you will remember.  Remember this Angel Kiss that I am leaving for you is very sacred.  It will always help you remember that there are angels watching over you and the family that we share.  I love you Celeste."

The dream was over.  I remember awakening feeling groggy as though I had not slept long the night before.  At first, I didn't remember the dream.

After I had dressed, made coffee and was sitting in a chair in my kitchen, the dream came flooding back.  Quickly I walked into the shop.  There is a large mirror that I placed on the wall.  Slowly I lifted my hair.  There was the faintest outline of a lip print.  I lowered myself into the nearest chair.  Sarah's ghostly visit couldn't have been real, could it?
 
 

Book Signing for Celeste

Two times before I have arranged to have a book signing for Beth, Women of the Drifting Anchor Ranch, and now my newest publication, Celeste, Women of the Drifting Anchor Ranch.  First my beloved Mama passed away so I had to postpone.  Then the owner of my venue became ill and had to close her store for several months.

The old saying is, "The third time is the charm."  So here we go, third time, and it WILL be charming!  Aunt Addy's Country Home, October 25, 2014, from 10 a.m. until 5 p.m.  The address is 58 N. Main, Farmington, UT  84025.  Both books will be on sale that day.  If you live in or around the area, please join us.

Aunt Addy's is a gift store.  So while you purchase my book you can do some Christmas shopping.  The shop is a charming home from the 1800's.  In the room that used to be the kitchen you can see a remarkable DIY project.  There are beautiful wood floors in all the rooms.  In this room a former owner painted the floor to look like tiles.  It's very well, done, charming.

Aunt Addy's is a consignment shop.  Many of the gifts that you purchase there are home made.  This is a marvelous way of supporting local craftsmen/women.  There is a gift for almost everyone within it's humble walls.  The best part?  The prices are quite reasonable.  So, come one, come all!  It's a book signing party!

Celeste's Journal

A week has passed since THE NIGHTMARE.  I have done my best to keep busy, busy, busy...too busy to let the past have purchase in my thoughts.  I stayed at the ranch this weekend to watch the children.  Red and Blake went on a business trip to Portland.

It was pure joy to awaken in the morning and race into the boys rooms.  I stood to watch the sleep slowly creep from their eyes.  I then awaken them fully with hugs and tickles.  The awakening process quickly turns into full scale battle.  Pillows are flung and bashed about.  Finally, finally, after much rejoicing and enjoying, I encourage the boys to wash up, and get dressed.

I take my own advice and dress for the day.  Next I race to the kitchen.  I relish the simply tasks of morning.  I make coffee for me, and hot cocoa for the boys.  I made a Quiche last night.  I start a fire in the stove.  The Quiche simply needs to be warmed in the oven.  It is filled with the most luscious things, bacon, ham, eggs, cheese, and some asparagus that I grew in my very own garden.

In the midst of this joy I could hear Mama's voice in my head telling me to pray.  Softly I say out loud, "I'm sorry to disappoint you Mama but I can't.  I still believe that God is either a hateful being, who rains down pain and destruction on whoever he randomly wishes.  At the very least God is high in his Heavens where he simply does not care about the small tragedies of the earth below."

Pushing those negative ideas aside I call out to the boys, "Breakfast!"

I can't believe how quickly their small legs can move.  Soon they join me in the kitchen.  I don't even have to ask them to set the table.  They quickly, quietly go about this routine morning task.

When the table is set and the food steaming in front of us I say, "Well, dig in boys." 

Eric's rich brown eyes look at me with shock.  "Maman, we can't eat without thanking God!"

In my head I counted to five slowly.  It is never my desire to cause these beloved boys to harbor MY bitter thoughts.  I counted to five to slow down my tongue that wished to rattle and prattle about God and his cruel ways.

When I knew that I was calm and in control of myself I said, "Eric, I'm sorry.  Maman DID forget.  Would you say grace?"  I figured that my little lie was better than the truth in this case.  I hadn't forgotten.  I hoped that the boys would forget. 

Every time that I hear a prayer it feels as though a tight little twist happens somewhere in the vicinity of my heart.  God allowed my entire family to die.  I was alone, and God allowed Madame Le Rouge to inflict evil on me.  I don't know if I can ever let myself feel vulnerable to God again!

Yet I felt a tender warmth as Eric, with his childish voice said, "Oh Father in Heaven, it's a new day.  Please come with us in this day.  Please let Maman know that we love her.  Thank thee Lord for sending us a new Maman. Oh, and bless this yummy food that Maman made for us.  We pray in Jesus name, Amen."

Jamie and I said, "Amen," at the same moment and then smiled at each other across the table.

I write this after the boys have gone to sleep for the night.  They were busy, busy, busy boys today.  Mostly I ran after them, and with them.  We went on a picnic.  There is a beautiful meadow not far from the the ranch house.  The weather was perfect.  Jamie gave a beautiful prayer of grace over this meal.

I was humbled at the notion that Jamie, little, tiny Jamie could, and did pray.  I had helped the boy's say their night time prayers many times.  These prayers were different than their simple night time verses, "Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep, if I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take..."  Then they would continue with, "God bless..." 

I try to be a good Maman to these boys even though usually it is from a distance.  At the same time I know that these boys give me much more than I ever give them. 

I wish that I could pray.  If I could I would pray for this beautiful family.  What a gift they are in my life.  I simply can no longer imagine life without each and every one of them.  Even Red has a strong place in my heart.  He is my brother.  He does not take the place of the dear brother I lost, he is altogether a different brother.

Blake, oh I sigh as I write his name.  He is not handsome as most would see him.  His features are slightly rough, a tad uneven.  His eyes are piercing.  Honestly, when he gazes at me sometimes I feel that he can see into my soul and read my thoughts.  That is most uncomfortable when my thoughts are, "I wish Blake could let go of the past and love me.  Marry me."  I don't want him to read THOSE thoughts.

Well, I needs must sleep.  There are not many hours left in the night and I need my rest to enable me to keep up with my energetic, frenetic boys!  Good night.

Celeste's Journal

I heard some poor woman screaming.  I wanted to wake up and go to her, comfort her, give her courage.  The more and more I awakened, the more I realized that the screaming was coming from my own mouth.  Then I remembered.  The dream...THE NIGHTMARE!

I haven't had THE NIGHTMARE for a very long time.  I was hopeful that I might NEVER have that night terror again.  The darkness of my life experience has cast a long, bitter shadow over my happiness.  What good, decent man will ever wish to marry me?

I was just fourteen years young.  I was so innocent of human reproduction.  I had seen animals in our farm in France.  I had no idea that humans also participated in similar experiences.  Mama had barely explained to me that women had a time of menses every month.  I had no idea how that could connect to the sexual, or even what sexual was.

I try hard not to remember his bloated, evil, face.  I don't want to remember his name.  There was nothing left of light or goodness in that man.  I had been dressed up like the village virgin given to a dragon as a sacrifice.  I didn't know that was why Madame LeRouge had me dressed in a lovely white dress.  I didn't understand why my hair was carefully brushed, and then curled in soft curls.  All that I knew was that Madame LeRouge would not let me leave.  She had locked me in to a room in the supposed "Boarding House." 

She had initially told me that her place was a Boarding House.  I suppose it was in a way.  I was allowed to board there.  The payment was my body.

Locked into a room I had pounded my hands bloody beating on the door.  When I tried to climb out of  the window I discovered that it had been nailed in such a way that the shutter could not be opened.

I heard a key turn in the lock of the door.  An older man came in the room.  At a glance I knew that he was evil.  Lust filled his eyes.  There was nothing human, nothing caring, left in those eyes.  They seemed to be the eyes that the Devil himself would have.  Perhaps it was the Devil looking through the man's evil eyes, and his evil purpose.

He began to undress me.  I resisted vigorously.  He backhand slapped me so hard that I tasted blood.  I didn't know until later that he had knocked one of my bottom teeth loose.  That calmed me for a moment because I was dazed.  Quickly I came back from my shock.  I kicked, I screamed, I bit, I fought.  This only seemed to excite him. 

I will not go any further with the horror of that night, that still reaches to me in nightmares.  Suffice it to say that when he left the room I was no longer a virgin.  I was beaten, bloodied, and almost unconscious. 

Emmy, Madame's illegitimate daughter came to me.  She is one of the only ones in this place of evil left with a soul.  She gently washed me all over.  Then she called Tallelujah to help.  The Big Ugly One that works for Madame took off the dress, and underclothing, that were now ripped and bloody.  Then Emmy and the Big Ugly put a nightie on me that was soft and warm as a baby chick.  That was good because I began to shake.  I have never felt so cold in all of my life.

Emmy gently, so gently brushed my hair.  Then she rubbed my head with some sort of soft oil.  It smelled how I imagine soft would smell.  Next she braided my hair in one single braid. 

Tallelujah gave me something in a small cup and told me to drink it.  I didn't even ask what it was.  It tasted vile.  It felt good going down.  I felt a fiery warmth flooding my body.  My anguish seemed dulled by this liquid.  It wasn't that I didn't hurt anymore.  I hurt everywhere.  I just didn't really care, about much of anything.

I had been sobbing the entire time they worked on me.  Emmy now climbed into bed with me.  She told Tallelujah to climb in on the other side.  They snuggled me warm between them.  At first I protested.  Human contact seemed dark and evil after my rape.  Soon their warmth, and the warmth of the liquid smoothed me into unconsciousness.

How I long for a time when the evil of that night will have no more power to take my peace.  It no longer impacts my conscious mind, but my unconscious mind seems as vulnerable to that darkness as I was that dreadful night.

I have thought that I should never write about that place of horror.  I don't want anyone to ever know what it was like.  Yet somehow writing about it, even though it forces me to re-live it, also takes some of the venom away from my soul.  After writing about it, I realize that I will overcome.  There will come a time when I no longer dream that pain, or only dream about it very rarely.

What a blessing it would be to awaken from that dream to the loving arms of a man.  Ironic, since it was the evil arms of other men that took my peace of mind.  Yet, just from knowing Blake Calkin, I remember that there are other types of men.  Kind men, that would NEVER cause harm or pain. 

Celeste's Journal

Eric and Jamie were with me today and then stayed with me overnight.  Red will come and get them tomorrow.  I adore these boys.  I feel as though they are mine.  I simply could not love them more. 

Eric is growing so quickly!  I can't seem to keep pants long enough for him.  I sew him new trousers about every two months.  I leave the hem incredibly thick so that I can keep unrolling them as he grows...and he still grows out of them in two months! 

I asked Red what he was feeding the boys. 

He laughed and said, "I don't know if I should tell you.  If I reveal my secret we may have a superhuman growth of humans!  What kind of a world would it be if all people were as tall as Blake Calkin?" 

I laughed at him.  Blake is very tall.  He's six feet four inches, and our world is not built for anyone that tall.  He has taught himself basic carpentry because he simply could not find chairs or tables to purchase that were tall enough for him. 

Blake also learned some basic upholstering because in his words, "When I'm finished with my work day I need something soft to sit in."

I believe Blake could do absolutely anything that he wanted to do! 

That is the end of my journal for tonight.  A wild thunder and lightning storm has rolled into our little town, and both of the boys are now clinging fiercely to me!