by Paula Mowery
Chelsea knelt in front of Laura. When her hands finally stopped, she kissed her cheek and signed, “Cookies and milk in the kitchen.”
Laura raced off.
Her father shook his head. “Laura’s hands haven’t stopped since we picked her up from preschool.” He chuckled. “I caught something about play dough.”
“Yep. She made play dough out of peanut butter. She played with it and then ate it.” Chelsea laughed. “Thanks for picking her up.”
“How’s this little slugger doing?” Her father nodded toward the baby.
“Timothy is doing well. He’s a big eater. Much more than Laura ever was. He’s getting to be chunky.”
Her mother kept her gaze on the baby in her arms. “Oh, that’s all right. He’ll run all that off when he gets mobile, right, Timothy?”
“Come on back to the kitchen. I better check on Laura.” Chelsea led the way and pulled out stools at the counter for her parents.
Laura held up a half-eaten cookie in one hand and rubbed her stomach with the other, showing her pleasure in the treat. She signed, “Daddy favorite.”
Chelsea nodded.
Laura finished the snack and gulped down the last of her milk. She swiped her mouth with a napkin. She signed, “Mommy, play?”
Chelsea replied in sign and voice for her parent’s sake. “Yes. You can play in the den. I’m coming in a minute.”
“Thank you,” Laura signed and squeezed her mother in a quick hug.
Chelsea hoped she’d always be as loving as she was right now.
“Whew. I believe this little one needs a diaper change.” Her mother’s nose wrinkled.
“Here, let me...”
Her mother stood. “No. I know where the changing table is and I still remember how.” She flashed a smile. “Be right back.”
What an alteration had occurred in her mother. Chelsea still teared up at the transformation and the positive difference in their relationship.
“So, how much longer until you have to return to work, or have you decided not to?” Her father crossed his arms over his chest.
“I did consider taking my husband up on his offer for me to stay home. With Dr. Tarwater fully retired, Kevin has the full practice now. But, I can’t ignore how God led me to finish my education and be able to work with the deaf kids. I’m fortunate to be in a school system that will allow the job-share. Mrs. Robins and I work well together. I’ll work the morning shift, starting in three weeks. That leaves my afternoon for the kids. At least for now, that’s what God has commissioned me to do.”
“I’m proud of you.” Her father’s voice cracked and he cleared his throat.
Chelsea wrapped her arms around his neck. “Daddy, you don’t know how much I appreciate you saying that. Thank you.” She pushed back. “How about staying for supper?”
Her father stroked his chin. “Can I play until then?” He grinned.
She giggled. “Yes, you may.”
He scurried off toward the den.
Warm arms encircled her from behind and she snuggled back against her husband’s chest.
“Surprise.” Kevin nuzzled her neck. “Finished early on this Friday.”
“Mmm, I’m glad.”
Small arms wrapped around her legs. Kevin stepped back and scooped up Laura. She signed, “Daddy. Favorite cookie.”
Kevin raised his brows and smiled. He signed, “You my favorite.”
Laura giggled and pointed to Chelsea.
Kevin nodded and signed, “Yes. Mommy my favorite.” He looked at Chelsea and winked.
Chelsea’s legs turned to noodles. Some things never changed.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Paula Mowery is a published author, acquisitions editor, and speaker. Her first two published works were The Blessing Seer and Be The Blessing from Pelican Book Group. Both are women’s fiction, and their themes have been the topics of speaking engagements. Be The Blessing won the Selah Award in 2014 in the novella category. In November of 2013, her first romance released in the anthology, Brave New Century, from Prism Book Group. This book went to number five on Amazon’s bestseller category, historical Christian romance. Legacy and Love was her first solo romance and was a finalist in the Carolyn Readers Choice Awards in 2015.
Reviewers of her writing characterize it as “thundering with emotion.” Her articles have appeared in Woman’s World, the Christian Online Magazine, and the multi-author devotional blog, Full Flavored Living. She wrote a section for Join the Insanity by Rhonda Rhea. She has devotionals included in several collaborative books.
As an acquisitions editor for Prism Book Group, Paula particularly looks for romance stories with Christian values at its core. She’s especially attracted to those manuscripts that leave the reader mulling over the story long after turning the last page.
Having been an avid reader of Christian fiction, she now puts that love to use by writing book reviews. She is a member of ACFW and is on the author interview team. She was a member of the 2014 and 2015 Blue Ridge Mountains Christian Writers Conference faculty.
Paula is a pastor’s wife and mom to a college student. She homeschooled her daughter through all twelve years, and they both lived to tell about it. Before educating her daughter at home, she was an English teacher in public school.
You can follow Paula at www.facebook.com/pages/Paula-Mowery/175869562589187. Learn more about Paula at her blog at www.paulamowery.blogspot.com or enjoy her monthly columns on www.christianonlinemagazine.com. You can also check out her blog for Christian writers at www.ccwcu.blogspot.com.
Please enjoy this excerpt from Navy Blues,
the next book in Prism’s Love Is series.
“Stop! I’ve changed my mind,” I wanted to shriek. I hated this part more than anything.
Instead, I shuffled with fifty other passengers, each overloaded with carry-ons, toward the tunneled ramp which led to our plane. The first embarking of an eight-hour puddle hop—Honolulu to San Diego to Phoenix to Dallas-Fort Worth Metroplex. The only route back home available on a moment’s notice.
I probably looked a fright after an hour of non-stop crying. The airline clerk took my boarding pass with a sympathetic lip-tuck once she saw my swollen, red eyes and runny nose. So much for my romantic three-day weekend in Hawaii. Fate, or maybe God, dictated otherwise.
“Thanks.” The word squeaked from my throat. I blinked back more tears from working their way up from my heart. Sideswipes of life came fast and furious without warning. And this had been a doozy.
“Excuse me. Pardon me.” I huffed out the sentences in between residual sniffles. Inching down the aisle, my designer carry-on bag thrust in front of my abdomen, I snail-paced after the other travelers. Shuffle. Stop. Shuffle. Stop, as each ahead of me found their designated too-narrow-for-most-human-bodies place in economy class. Ah. At last, row fourteen.
A quick glance at the ticket confirmed my assigned seat. The man behind me rammed his briefcase into my left kidney. He grumbled. “Sorry.”
I nodded in reply as I pivoted to toss my carry-on in the bin above my head before scooting sideways to my tackily-upholstered, cushioned cocoon, complete with safety belt, drop-down tray and ear phones. I leaned back as far as possible in my upright position and detached myself from the chaos stirred by the rest of passengers in Group B. A two minute lull ensued as the din level diminished to one couple two aisles up and over whispering in soft tones and the flight attendants clamoring in the tiny onboard kitchen.
But, as soon as I had steadied my breath, the remaining on-boarding mob invaded the brief tranquility. The aisle-tango continued in front of me until each found places for their belongings, and then their rear-ends in the narrow seats. I scrunched further into number 14E—a window seat in a row of only two—glad to not be participating in the oncoming melee of humanity. I craned to check who my assigned traveling companion might be, praying it wouldn’t be someone hugely overweight, with bad breath, or a strong body odor.
A thirty-something man, w
ith a soft smile and tired eyes, plopped into 14D. He gave me a slight nod and leaned his back into the cushion with a deep, closed-eye puff of his cheeks. He wore casual, buckskin colored shorts and a hunter green and off-white striped collared knit shirt, displaying the proverbial little embroidered alligator. A left hand, sporting a simple gold band, gripped the armrest between us. Married, clean-cut, wants quiet. Okay, I can deal with that.
Just as I mouthed a thanks to God, an eardrum-stabbing wail occurred two rows back. “Why can’t Daddy sit with meeeee?”
The man huffed and twisted toward the sound. “Because the airlines said Daddy’s seat is here. You stay with Mommy.”
The child’s whining persisted as people jabbed and jostled through the claustrophobic cabin. It would be a full flight. My temples began to pulse.
One baritone voice pierced the din. “I’ll trade with you.”
I turned to see sandy hair, a chiseled jaw, and piercing blue eyes on the face of a military man. He held his boarding pass in one hand and a khaki duffle bag in the other. It matched his uniform. The Naval emblem on his brass belt buckle glimmered in the late afternoon light as it streamed through the airplane’s portal. Well, this was Hawaii. A bunch of the men onboard wore Navy fatigues. He was being transferred like the rest of them, no doubt.
“Really?” The father lost half of the worry lines on his forehead. “Thanks.”
The sailor hoisted his duffle and a briefcase into the compartment above us and shrugged. “No problem. A seat is a seat.” His eyes dropped to scan me. I pulled my skirt over my knees and shifted my gaze to the tarmac beyond the double-paned oval window.
From the outer edge of my vision, I saw the two exchange positions. In mid-movement, they shook hands. The Navy man smiled. “You should be with your family, man. It’s only right.”
He sat down, adjusted his position to dig the seat belt out from the cushion, and then leaned into my space to click it. The insignia on his left collar resembled a gold tree with a green stone in it. On the right, perched a silver maple leaf. Even though my father was in the Naval Reserves most of my early childhood, I never mastered deciphering rank and emblems. I did remember those two meant he was an officer of some sort and, by the khakis he wore, he’d been out to sea.
I shot him a semi-warm grin. “That was nice of you to do that, um, Lieutenant, is it?”
“Actually, it’s Doctor.”
My mouth formed a small “O.”
He whispered in my direction. “And it was a purely selfish act. Why would I want to sit next to his kid while she blubbered the whole trip?”
My mouth readied to spill my thoughts about his brash remark, until I saw his wink. Instead, I inched my lips to the right in a fake chuckle. “Very funny.”
“I had you. Admit it.” Those crystal blue pools twinkled with mirth. He extended his hand. “Name’s Ryan MacKenzie. Lieutenant in the Navy, for another 48 hours or so.”
I kept mine in my lap and nodded. “Emma West. My friends call me Em.”
“M? For mystery woman?” The sides of his mouth curled upward. His attention briefly focused on my left hand. It was bare, though it had yet to feel that way to me.
“Hardly.” The words croaked from my throat. I placed my right hand on top and blinked the tears back into my eyes. The white mark around my ring finger where the sun had not hit for four years screamed my plight—rejected for another, not good enough.
The warmth and strength of his fingers covered mine. Soft. Clean nails. Surgeon’s hands. He whispered, “Sorry. Forgive my crassness.”
I bobbed my head, and as quickly as the sensation came, it left as he released his touch. Something inside me wanted to grab it back. But that would be ridiculous. I didn’t even know the guy.
The flight attendant’s polished voice came over the speakers as the plane jerked, shoving our backs into the upholstered foam seats. “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome aboard Flight 1251 from Honolulu to San Diego.”
Thank goodness. Perfect timing to interrupt this non-conversation.
The tarmac outside moved backward as her rehearsed spiel began. I grabbed the plastic directions from the pocket in front of me and pretended to read it. In my peripheral vision, I noticed he turned to study me. I shoved a strand of hair behind my ear and flipped the card over. The guys in the seats behind us chattered loudly, intermixed with chuckles. One of them bumped my chair.
My traveling companion’s bodyweight shifted. “Shut it. That’s an order. The attendant’s giving info that might save lives, you know. This lady next to me is trying to hear her.”
Two male responses sounded in unison. “Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”
Officer—er, Doctor—MacKenzie gave me a sugary smile and picked up his instruction card. His ring finger wasn’t wrapped in gold either. My nostrils widened to take in my sigh. Something told me it was going to be a long trip.
Navy Blues will release May 2016.
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