The Anticipation of Christmas

Dear Readers,

Thank you so much for your support this past year, just knowing that you are all out there reading my blog means a lot to me.

Christmas time is nearing and already the songs can be heard in store's and shop's around our wonderful towns of Chilliwack and Rosedale. It is hard to be sad at a time like this, isn't it? Our families are near us and we get to spend time together amid the hustle and bustle of every day life. Already the Christmas treats are coming out, people are happy all around and life just seems a little bit easier now that this special season has come.

I wish you all a most blessed Christmas and Happy New Year!

Synopsis:The Wild Rose County Series/Book Two: Blinding Love

Four years following his family's devastating loss, Nathan McGuiver has established a new sawmill company. Things seem to be looking up for them all, that is, until news hits the town of Rosedale about the war in Europe and Nate is requested to help Britain along with many more Canadian soldiers.

Bianca Cook, the daughter of his father's archrival, will not admit her unfailing feelings for him. And so, when he leaves to the war, she begins to write to him anonymously and their relationship begins to blossom. However, when he returns from the war blind from the gases, she tries to help him in any way she can. Will he ever find out that the woman who wrote to him for so long, and the little nursemaid who cared so patiently for him, were one and the same?

Chapter One Continued

* * * * *

"Aah, get away from me!"

Mitch jumped up from his bed. Isabella scream sounded as if she was terribly scared. He took hold of the fire poker from his room and went to her room to find out what was going on. Grunts and squeels were coming from inside and her door was weide open. When he got to the doorway, Mitch first peeked around to scope out the situation. A greasy elderly man with a long beard and frizzy hair was trying to pull Isabella toward the open window. She bit his arm and he screamed out in pain and then threw her against the wall.

"Listen to me, woman!" He commanded, "You belong to me! You will do as I say!"

Angrily, Mitch stormed into the room, the fire poker held high above his head, "Let her go!"

The knobby hands secured around Isabella's arm tightened and her captivator pulled her in front of him. "She's mine and she belongs with me. I bought her fair and square."

"You bought her? Don't you think that this young woman should have a say in her own life?" Mitch growled, slowly walking towards them.

"This has nothin' to do with ye, mister. Just let us go and you won't get hurt." The man wobbled drunkenly as he spoke, clenching Isabella tight against him.

Isabella bit down hard on his arm again and he yelped out in pain, immediately releasing her from his grasp.

"Get behind me, Isabella!" Mitch ordered as he ran for the man who has holding onto his arm in pain.

Once he was sure Isabella was safe, Mitch took hold of the man and pulled him out of the room by the collar of his filthy shirt. "You are going to stay away from Miss Isabella and if I ever see you again, you will not be this lucky."

Mitch threw the old man out of the front door and watched him stumble over a stone and fall down clumsily. He stood up and muttered aloud, clearly angry at the nights occurances. But, he backed off into the brush and Mitch waited until he could no longer see the figure in the darkness.

After closing the door behind him, he turned around to find Isabella standing in his shirt in the kitchen. She looked pale and exhausted and her eyes were puffy from crying.

"Are you alright, miss?" he asked, walking towards her with concern in his eyes.

She nodded, clutching the shirt to her self-consciously, "Thank you for that, he was very angry."

"He will never bother you again. I will see to it." He brushed away a tear from her cheek and smiled, "Now, why don't you go on back to bed? You need a good few hours of rest yet."

Isabella whispered goodnight and crept back to her room to sleep. Would she be able to even fall asleep after what had just happened?

The Love of a Mountain Man

Chapter One

High up in the Cascade Mountains, above the luscious Fraser Valley in British Columbia, a lone man sat on the roof of his newly built log home. It had taken him five years to build and now as he sat watching the sun set as he drank coffee from a battered tin mug, Mitch Van Duren sighed with contentment. He had dreamt of this moment for a very long time and now that it had arrived, it felt surreal.

Five years ago, when he had started the project with the little money he had, Mitch's family had thought he was absolutely crazy to build a home by himself. But it was his dream and he did give up on it. He had always been considered a loner, but when his best friend, Jason Lafferty, died in a stagecoach accident, which Mitch had been driving, he withdrew completely. All his time was spent up in the mountains with only the wild animals for company and an occasional delivery man.

Mitch designed his home so that it overlooked the valley below and the Fraser River which wound its way throughout the lush forests. He had cut down the trees in front of the foundation and used them as lumber for his home. Shipments for glass windows, bath tub and other indoor plumbing took months to arrive so they were the last to be put in. Altogether, his home had five bedrooms, two bathrooms, a large kitchen, diningroom and a livingroom which overlooked the valley. Of course, it all lacked a woman's touch but he wasn't in any hurry to marry.

Beside his home, Mitch had constructed a shed which he would use to make furniture. He had learnt carpentry from his Uncle James, his father's poor younger brother. James van Duren had always seemed more of a father to him, mainly because whenever Mitch's parents went on business trips, he would be sent to his Uncle's farm. The time there was spent fishing, working on the farm and, of course, constructing things with his Uncle. So, it was natural for him to want to build things for a living. His father, Charles, had been livid when Mitch confessed his dreams of carpentry. Charles had always wanted him to be a banker or a lawyer, but Mitch needed the fresh mountain air to survive. He could not handle office work, to him it seemed like being held in jail.

As the sun set in the west, Mitch finished the last drop of his coffee and than made his way down the roof to the ladder he had set up. Just as he was blowing out the lanterns in the kitchen and heading off to bed, a loud knock sounded at the front door. Groaning, he lit the lantern once again and carried it with him to the door.

Outside stood a young woman, barefooted and clothed in a dress much to short and wide for her tall body. Her brown hair hung in knots around her pale face and her blue eyes looked at him in fright.

"What's the matter?" he asked gruffly, looking around to see if anyone was with her.

Her voice shook as she spoke, "You have to hide me, sir, he's after me and I know this time he'll kill me."

Mitch frowned, "Who is after you?"

"Please..." she started to cry and her body began to shake uncontrollably, "help me."

Unsure of what to do, Mitch sighed and then gestured for her to come in. "Go into the livingroom and we'll talk. Would you like some coffee?"

The young woman nodded as she hobbled past him on blistered feet. Clearly she had been through some rough times.

In the kitchen, Mitch got out a mug and poured in the last of the coffee. Then he sliced up some bread and cheese and went back into the livingroom. After setting the tray down on the table, he handed her the coffee and settled in a chair across from her.

"My name is Mitch van Duren, I live here alone. I won't hurt you, just tell me what is wrong." He leaned forward and watched her carefully as she wrapped her hands around the mug and took a long sip of the warm liquid.

"You can call me Izzie or Isabella. I live down the mountain a ways with my Pa."

"Is he the one who is after you?"

Isabella shook her head, "No, but he might as well be."

Mitch frowned and then gave her a questioning gaze, "What do you mean by that?"

"My Pa couldn't pay the rent on our place so he promised old man Talher that he could have me as payment."

"What?" Mitch scoffed in disbelief. "He is selling you like a horse?"

She nodded as tears began to fill her eyes once more. "When he came to ge me the first time I hit him over the head with a cast iron pan. But now he came back and is very angry with me."

In shock, Mitch watched her cry and then he sighed, "Well, you are going to stay the night and get some rest. Tomorrow a woman is coming to work for me as my housekeeper. However, I still need a cook. Can you cook?"

"I've been cooking nigh on twelve years now," she replied curtly, wiping the tears from her eyes.

He nodded, "Good, we'll do a week's trial and then I'll make my decision. But for now, you could probably do with a hot bath and a warm bed, am I right?"

She smiled softly, "Thank you, Mr. van Duren. You are most certainly the answer to my prayers."

Mitch blushed but said nothing and led her to the bathroom where he showed her how to work the taps. Then, he brought her one of his shirts to sleep in and gestured to the bedroomshe could use. Once he was satisfied that she had everything she needed, Mitch went to his own room and got ready for bed.

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Our Old Family Home

A home protects us with its walls
And keeps us warm when winter falls
But most of all it’s filled with love
That God has given us from above.

Our old family home protected life
And put its wooden arms around a man and wife.
It has echoed a child’s laugh and its stumbling feet
And comforted the family with its retreat.

Throughout the years it helped to raise,
Twelve children who recall the days
Their parents taught them right from wrong
The Ten Commandments and hymns of song.

These lessons were given under one roof
To lead us on the path of truth
To give us all the hopes and dreams
That a life of happiness gleams

We all have fought in our own despair
But in our home we received the care
For a mother’s love is soft and kind
And a father’s gentleness is hard to find.

We all will miss our childhood place
For memories fill each room and space.
But the home is not only where memories are tied,
It is mostly the people living inside.

By Wilma van Oort

My Favorite Poem

The House with Nobody in It

Whenever I walk to Suffern along the Erie track
I go by a poor old farmhouse with its shingles broken and black.
I suppose I've passed it a hundred times, but I always stop for a minute
And look at the house, the tragic house, the house with nobody in it.

I never have seen a haunted house, but I hear there are such things;
That they hold the talk of spirits, their mirth and sorrowings.
I know this house isn't haunted, and I wish it were, I do;
For it wouldn't be so lonely if it had a ghost or two.

This house on the road to Suffern needs a dozen panes of glass,
And somebody ought to weed the walk and take a scythe to the grass.
It needs new paint and shingles, and the vines should be trimmed and tied;
But what it needs the most of all is some people living inside.

If I had a lot of money and all my debts were paid
I'd put a gang of men to work with brush and saw and spade.
I'd buy that place and fix it up the way it used to be
And I'd find some people who wanted a home and give it to them for free.

Now, a new house standing empty, with staring window and door,
Looks idle, perhaps, and foolish, like a hat on its block in the store.
But there's nothing mournful about it; it cannot be sade and lone
For the lack of something within it that it has never known.

But a house that has done what houses should do,
a house that has sheltered life,
That has put its loving wooden arms around a man and his wife,
A house that has echoed a baby's laugh and held up his stumbling feet,
Is the saddest sight, when it's left alone, that every your eyes could meet.

So whenever I go to Suffern along the Erie track
I never go by the empty house without stopping and looking back,
Yet it hurts me to look at the crumbling roof and the shutters fallen apart,
For I can't help thinking the poor old house is a house with a broken heart.

by Joyce Kilmer

Well, I am back! I was busy moving and getting settled in my new home so I didn't have the internet connected right away. I have decided to post a little excerpt of my new novel to give all you readers a taste of what is coming.

Today I was invited to the Orange County Christian Writers Conference. I would love to go, but as I don't have the money I don't know if that will happen. If I do get the chance to go, I will most certainly have a great experience and it would help my career a lot.

There will be:
- 2 continuing three-part workshops taught by published professionals
- The top editor for the world's largest devotional publisher will be offering inside secrets of success.
- The Editor of one of the nations largest and longest published Christian magazines teaches writing, the personal profile and magazine writing. He will also meet with writers seeking representation!!
-Three fascinating and inspiring keynote speakers will teach and inspire.
-There will be a continental breakfast, catered lunch and ONE private 15 minute consult with conference speakers which is included inthe registration price.
- A Career boosting and spiritually uplifting schedule of workshops and lectures.

Wow, I really want to go. If only I lived a little bit closer!!!

I hope you enjoy this little teaser, its almost completed so it should be out before summer. Please excuse the formatting.

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Chapter One
England - February 1911

Doctor Caleb Brooks gazed down the long dark hall of Bethlem Royal Hospital near Crayden, England; much was on his mind. He had agreed to his friend's proposition of taking extra shifts at the psychiatry hospital to obtain much needed credits. Dolton Grey, his friend and classmate at the Oxford University, had not told him he would be working six hour shifts before going to class in the morning. After the homework, he only had about four hours of sleep a night.

He was an exceptionally fine figured man, with dark hair and chocolate brown eyes that bore right down into the very soul of those in contact with him. He held the attention of every individual when he entered a room. However, he was a quiet man and secluded himself in his estate whenever possible. Dolton always wondered how his bedside manner could be so friendly and caring when naturally he rarely spoke a single word.

The sudden sound of weepiong caused the doctor to come back to the present. A low buzzing sound from the blinking lights in the hall caused him to strain to hear where the crying was coming from. Cal made his way quietly down the corridor, stopping to look through the small window in each door at the patients.

It was very unusual to hear any sound at night for the patients usually fell asleep immediately after their bedtime medications. At the second last door on the left hand side, Cal saw a young woman sitting up on her cot, her back against the wall and her body swaying back and forth as she wept.

Cal unhooked the keys from his belt and unlocked the door to her room, watching as she looked up at the sound of the opening door. Inside, he pulled the corner chair towards the bed and settled down comfortably to calm her down.

"Is everything alright, Miss Badeau?" he asked, urging her to look at him. She was a beautiful girl with blonde hair, green eyes speckled with yellow and a pale complexion. Camille, as he read on her chart, was admitted to the hospital nearly three months before. Her brother had claimed she attempted suicide and had run off when he tried to get her help. She had been found living in an old castle ruyin and was admitted into the Bethlem Royal Hospital.

The young woman before him sniffled, "Certainly not, Doctor Brooks. I have been kept in this building against my will, diagnosed with schizophrenia, and denied my right to plead my own case."

Cal tapped his pen gainst the folder before him, a thoughtful expression on his face, "I see. I do suppose you may state your side of the story to me if you would like. Perhaps it shall take the tension away long enough for you to catch some sleep. What say?"

"Truly, Doctor Brooks?" she asked, a sudden relief showing in her eyes.

"Yes, yes," he leaned back and gestured toward her with a small smile, "Now, start at the very beginning."

She nodded and folded her legs in cross-legged fashion. "Four years ago, our parents suddenly passed away when their carriage overturned on a steep narrow road along the seaside cliffs near our home. The family business in horse training, worth more than a million per year, was passed on to my brother and I to be divided equally. The one rule we were given in the will was to never sell Debonair, my mother's prize racing horse."

Cal watched the tears come to the girl's eyes and fought the urge to take her into his arms.

"One day, I went into the barn to take one of the horses out riding when I overheard Marcus and another gentleman discussing Debonair. As soon as I heard the man's offer and my dear brother agreeing to the man's price, I flew out of my hiding place and straight to Debonair's stable. I quickly saddled her and rode off, my heart pounding." Camille paused for a moment as she wiped the tears from her eyes. "I was not going to allo my parents only wish to be broken."

"Is that when you fled to the ruins to hide?"

She nodded, "Yes, I lived there for nearly a month before my brother and his hoodlums dragged me here. I am not insane, sir. I just wanted my parents' wish to be granted."

"I understand completely, dear, I would have done the same. However, I just cannot understand how the physicians here would have admitted you when you have a clean bill of health."

She sighed and tucked a strand of golden hair behind her ear, "My brother is a very persuasive person, I am positive he gave a large donation in order for my admittance."

Cal frowned, that did not seem right; since when did a person's independence not matter? "Let me think about this for a bit, Miss Badeau. I will get back to you on the subject in the morning."

"Alright. I believe I am getting tired now. Talking about my worries did indeed help!" she yawned as she spoke and climbed beneath the covers.

He said goodnight and then left the room. It was now time for his break and he needed to prepare some sort fo plan to help out Miss Badeau.

That morning at breakfast, Caleb entered the dining hall with an energized jump in his step. He had wonderful news to share with Camille and he was hoping she was awake and free to talk to him.

Camille was sitting with two other women at a corner table. She was smiling and laughing about something they were discussing and he did not want to interupt. However, his shift was almost done and he needed some rest before his class in the after noon so he wandered over to where she sat.

"Miss Badeau, can you come with me to the conference room please? I would like a word.

She followed him to the small room at the far end of the dining hall and took a seat at the long oak table in the center. Caleb could not help but stare at her in the light; she was a very striking woman and she seemed to be at peace now.

Cal settled down beside her and crossed his legs at the ankle. "Did you sleep well last night?"

"Yes, I did. Thank you."

"I have spoke to Doctor Fitzgerald about the situation and we have decided that you can leave if I take you on as my ward."
"Really?" Camille smiled, "That sounds wonerful, but are you sure you want the responsibility? I do not want to put you in danger; my brother is not a nice man."

Laughing, Cal took her hand in his, "I have many men working at my estate that can provide security. You have nothing to worry about, my dear."

After discussing the plans with him, Camille returned to her room to pack up the few belongings she had with her and then they went out to the carriage. The trip to the estate was a quiet one. Although she wanted to speak to him, Cal was not in the mood to talk for the long hours had nearly driven him to exhaustion.

The Brooks Manor was massive; the main house was three storey's high with beautiful vines climbing up onto the patio's above, and acres of immaculate gardens surrounded it. As soon as they came up the drive, Cal could feel the tension ease from his shoulders, and as he watched Camille's face he knew that she was experiencing the same sensation.

The carriage came to a stop in front of the building and he spoke to hsi friend and driver, Trensky, about cooling off the horses and feeding them. Camille looked through the side window at the red haired man with twinkling eyes speaking to Caleb and her heart sped up. Cal turned then and gestured for Camille to follow him. He helped her out the carriage before assisting her up the steps and through the massive double doors.

"Dottie, are you hear my dear?" he questioned loudly into the empty entrance, his eyes never leaving Camille as she looked around the room in amazement.

An elderly woman in a black dress and white apron entered the room from a side door. "Yes, Mr. Caleb, would you like breakfast?"

He smiled at her eagerness to feed him. "I will eat in my room Dottie, but first I would like to introduce you to my new ward, Miss Camille Badeau."

As they shook hands, Cal took off his overcoat and hat and hung them on a rack near the entrance. "Will you be kind enough to show Camille to the large guestroom? Also give her a tour of the estate and ask Trensky to let her have one of the horses. It might be suitable to get Lady Janine over to have some clothing made for her as well."

Dottie smiled and wrapped an arm around Camille. "Yes sir, it sounds like we shall have a very busy day. But you had better get some rest before your classes this afternoon; I will wake you at the appropriate time."

Caleb nodded and watched the two women leave the room smiling and laughing as they went. He knew that the days to come were going to be very exciting and strange; it had been a very long time since he had another woman in the home. His sister Anne had moved out four years ago when she married and Camille was the first ward he had ever taken on. Cal sighed and then went up the stairs to his quarters where he changed into his bed clothes, ate a hearty breakfast and then climbed under the covers for some much needed sleep.