by Paula Mowery
He leveled his gaze at me. “You know, she was proud of you.”
“I’m not sure what she had to be proud of.” I bit my bottom lip, warding off a quiver of sadness and regret.
“She always bragged about you and showed me recent pictures of you. I think she was trying to do a little matchmaking.” Chase winked at me with a wide grin on his face.
I rolled my eyes and shook my head at the thought. “I know she told me she was proud of me, but I guess I thought that was just the grandmother in her. That’s what they’re supposed to do.”
“She was proud of your character and rightfully so. You held onto your faith through it all. That’s strength.”
I was undeserving of any compliments on my character or faith. “I suppose I feel I’ve been made for more.” My eyes suddenly misted over.
“I think you have. You just have to discover it.”
I swallowed and nodded. Was Chase right? Was there a purpose God would entrust to me, not for fame, but, like Granny, for his glory? What other goal was worthy anyway? Even though I found a true monetary inheritance in Granny’s Word, she would still say the greatest inheritance was the words from the Bible itself. My eyes suddenly widened, and my mouth flew open.
“What? What is it?” Chase’s tone evidenced concern.
“I think I know where the manuscript is. Let’s go!” I took Chase’s hand and practically dragged him to the car. I fidgeted in the passenger’s seat. It seemed to take extra-long to get back to the house. Finally we pulled into the driveway, and I rushed through the front door. Chase followed without a word. I approached the coffee table in the living room. There it was. The big family Bible. “Wait right here.”
I rushed to retrieve the will letter Granny had written. Sure enough as I reread it there was the clue. My final words and your inheritance. The money was only one of the things Granny had left to me. The other was also hidden in the Word. I knelt before the heirloom Bible and slowly opened the cover. There was an envelope with my name on it and a computer disk. “Right in front of my eyes the whole time.”
I held the disk up to Chase. He smiled and took it. I sat down in the favorite chair and began to read.
Dear Alex (and Chase)…
I looked up at Chase and smiled, showing him his name on the letter.
Finding the inheritance means you know my secret. I hope you don’t think me devious. I had to support my little family in some way. Many in my situation have to resort to procuring employment at Wal-Mart and such. God blessed me beyond belief when I could actually make money by spinning my tales in writing. I told the Lord it was never about fame so that is why the pen name. He gave me the ideas and the imagination, and I wrote it down. After hearing the effects of that first book, salvations and rededications, I was “hooked” as one might say. The very thought that my imagination-born stories could encourage another in their walk with the Lord pushed me to continue all these years. With this letter is the last in the series. The end of the story, if you will. My life’s story has come to an end and now I get to bask in the glory. Not mine, but His. I do hope I might meet some of the people I encouraged when they get here—my inheritance, laid up in heaven where nothing can ever touch it. I draw from a quote I once saw on a plaque,“Life is God’s novel, but you must let Him write it.” My precious Alex, let Him write the story of your life. It will be a beautiful one.
I love you,
Granny Olivia (aka Alexa Livingston)
I sat with tears streaming down my cheeks. Chase’s cheeks were wet as well. He crossed to me and lifted me to my feet. He wrapped his arms around me, and I returned the embrace. We clung to each other for several moments. The emotions within me were varied. I grieved the loss of Granny. I cried from a hope deep inside. I cried from gratefulness to God. As we pulled away from one another, Chase placed his hands gently on the sides of my face, holding my head in his hands. A tingling sensation rushed down my body. I trembled at his intimate touch. His breath was warm against my cheek as he moved closer and kissed my lips ever so slightly. We were awakened from the dreamy moment by the ringing of the phone. Reluctantly, I moved away from Chase to answer it, leaving him in the living room alone.
“Honey, this is Millie. Is everything okay? Have you found what you were looking for?”
“Oh, yes.” I did think I’d found what I was looking for.
“What, dear?”
“Sorry, Millie, we were able to find what we had been searching for. Thank you.” I didn’t want to be rude to Millie, but I wanted to return to the living room to see if I was right. Had I found what I was looking for? Not the manuscript…but more.
I hurried back toward the living room. “Sorry, that was Millie...” I froze when I saw Chase holding a journal in his hands.
He held the book up, shaking it in my direction. His eyes were wide. “Is this another of your grandmother’s stories? It’s really good. I think we could work with this.” He glanced around the room. “She probably has a lot of these around that we could go through. Maybe her story isn’t complete after all.”
In his excitement, I couldn’t bring myself to tell him that the journal was mine. I wasn’t sure why.
“What a day! It’s getting late. I better get back to the hotel so we both can crash. See you tomorrow morning?”
I nodded, and he kissed me lightly on the mouth again. After seeing him out, I leaned against the front door, thinking about this day. Granny had written that life is God’s novel. Was God writing Chase into the story of my life? I meandered toward the bedroom. The only problem with that plotline was that I was a small-town girl who would never fit into a bustling New York City. Chase was probably used to that lifestyle. Granny’s house stood near the picturesque mountains and had proven to be home for me. Living here was part of God’s plan for my life.
Chase now had what he had been looking for—the manuscript. He needed to fly back and get it published. He would forget about me. He didn’t have time in his busy schedule for someone so messed up. My heart ached at the thought. Why had I let myself fall for a guy I couldn’t have? When would I get that beautiful story Granny spoke of in her letter?
I slid between the covers of the four-poster bed. My emotions pushed my pen through my journal at a rapid speed. By the time I closed my eyes to sleep it was two in the morning. I had to write, for it was as if God whispered an outline into my ear, and I had to put it down before it blew away. Just before falling asleep I realized the outline was the story of Granny Olivia’s life. It had to be written. Her readers needed to know who Alexa Livingston really was. They needed to know she loved them even though she never laid eyes on their precious faces. Well, the readers might never read this story, but I had to write it.
CHAPTER TEN
Chase hated to leave Alex, but he feared his emotions would get the best of him. He needed to think without the distraction of her precious face. He had no choice. He had to return to New York with the manuscript. Even now his heart was still back at Miss Olivia’s house with Alex. However, did Alex feel the same about him? They had met mere days ago. Her feelings might not match his. He contemplated his feelings for her. It felt like love, but would he recognize that should it happen? Maybe this was a simple fascination. Still the fact loomed. He had to return to New York. He had responsibilities. He settled on intense prayer about his feelings while away from Alex. Possibly a conversation with his mom could help sort his feelings. That would be his game plan, even though leaving Alex would prove painful.
He popped the manuscript disk into his laptop and began reading. He shook his head and sighed. Miss Olivia could sure make words dance.
After reading the first chapter, there were no editor’s marks to be made. What a loss to the writing world. He recalled the journal he had found back at the house. He would encourage Alex to set aside any other story remnants she might find as she went through Miss Olivia’s things. There was a chance this manuscript didn’t have to be the last story Alexa Livingston told
.
* * *
My slumber ended with a knock echoing up the stairs. I rolled over and moaned. Suddenly I realized the sun was up and the knocking must have been Chase. I leapt from the bed and sprinted down the stairs. I squinted upon opening the door. When my eyes began to adjust, Chase was looking me over and grinning, eyebrows raised.
“Did I wake you?” His voice was full of sarcasm.
I looked down at my crumpled pajamas and back to him. “Nope, it’s a new look,” I shot back with an equal amount of sarcasm.
We both broke forth in laughter.
I stepped to the side and motioned. “Come in. I’m sorry. I know I look like a total train wreck.”
“If a train wreck can be adorable, then I agree.”
My ears blazed hot. I propped my hand on my hip. “Adorable, please. This? You can’t be serious. Maybe you need your eyes checked.”
“Nope.” His expression softened, and I was swept into his arms. He kissed me and then stepped back. “My eyesight is fine.”
I was having trouble catching my breath.
“But, seriously, did you have trouble sleeping? I crashed.”
“I guess…a little trouble.”
His brow knitted. “Why?”
“Well, I had to do something before I could fall asleep.”
“Did you look through more of your granny’s things?” Chase shoved his hands into his jeans pockets and glanced around.
“No. I had to write something.”
“Oh?”
“Do you believe in epiphanies? You know, like God telling you something that you have to write down?”
He tilted his head. “I suppose. Remember, I’m not a writer. I just edit.”
“Well, God just wouldn’t let me go to sleep until I had written down an outline.”
“An outline?” His brow crinkled.
“Yeah. An outline for a story about Granny Olivia’s life.”
“Maybe this writing thing is in the genes, huh?” He adjusted my pajama collar. His lack of sincerity flustered me. “Oh, by the way, if you find any more of those journals your granny left behind, let me know. The one I picked up last night probably has other parts that go with it because it was more like the middle of the story.”
I nodded. I still couldn’t bring myself to tell him the journal he had read from last evening was mine.
“Now you need to get dressed. I’m taking you to breakfast. My plane leaves for New York at noon.”
His tone evidenced an excitement to return to New York. But, New York was his home. He was probably glad to be returning there.
“You sit. I’ll hurry.”
“I’m good. I have some calls to make and some texts and emails to send.” He pulled out his phone, meandered to the couch, and plopped down. “Need to let everyone know I’m coming back with the manuscript.”
When he mentioned the manuscript his face lit up. He had accomplished his mission. In a way, I wished we hadn’t found the disk so soon. Now I only had until noon before Chase would leave me for his real life. My demeanor was sure to show the sadness I was feeling.
The ride to the restaurant was quiet. As we sat across from each other at the diner, the silence hung heavy.
“Hey, you seem down or distracted. What’s wrong?” Chase’s head tilted to one side, and his eyes probed mine.
I shrugged. “I don’t know.” I picked at the food on my plate with my fork.
Chase lifted my chin with his fingertips. “Come back with me to New York.”
My jaw dropped. I never expected him to ask me that. My mind was fuzzy for a moment. I shook my head. “I would never fit in there.”
“How would you know? You’ve never been there with me.” His eyes widened, and his face took on an expectant expression.
A heaviness spread through my chest. “But you have a life there and work.”
Chase glanced at his watch. “I wish I had more time, but I do have to get back with this book of your granny’s. Can I call you?”
“Of course.”
I fought a painful lump in my throat that threatened to burst forth as tears. I barely heard what Chase was chattering on about. He was excited about finding the book before it was found by someone else or stolen. I was glad we had found it as well. Granny’s last book deserved to be printed. I truly was happy to know her readers would have the end of the story. My feelings had no connection to any of that. I had allowed myself to enjoy Chase’s company way too much. I hadn’t thought ahead when I had allowed myself to fall for him. Now I was paying for the fact that he must leave. This was inevitable. I had blocked out that thought until now.
Chase walked me to the door. He appeared sad to go. He kissed me, lingering on my lips. Finally, he glanced at his watch again and sighed. “I’ve got to go or I’ll miss my flight. I’ll be in touch.” He sprinted down the walk and jumped into his rental car. He waved and I returned his wave with a feeble one of my own.
His car disappeared down the street. I moved in slow motion into the house. The silence was deafening. I plopped into my favorite chair in the living room. I wouldn’t hear from Chase personally again. Just his signature on the royalty checks. It was fun while it lasted.
* * *
The more miles between he and Alex, the heavier Chase’s heart became. Certainly, he was glad to find the manuscript, but that excitement was dampened because he had to leave her. Finally back in his own apartment, he struggled for at least some degree of comfort. His home had never felt so empty, nor had the New York noise seemed so accentuated. He closed his eyes imagining what Alex might be doing right now. Her face wasn’t difficult to conjure in his mind’s eye. He could picture her sitting in that chair in the living room or even standing at the kitchen counter making pancakes.
Had she thought of him since his departure? Would she consider coming to New York to visit? She might enjoy being here for the debut of Miss Olivia’s book. Surely he could convince her to come for that, even if she didn’t want to come for him. He hoped some part of her might come just to see him. Whatever it took, Chase had to see Alex again. In fact, he craved the sound of her voice before he could think of trying to go to sleep tonight. He pulled out his cell phone and scrolled down to her number. His finger hovered above the button. Was he being too pushy? He definitely didn’t want to push her away or seem too eager. Finally, he pushed the send button with as much courage as he could muster.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
I moseyed into the study and reached into the closet to retrieve another journal.
Granny, I’m not sure I can do your story justice, but I feel I’m supposed to try. Actually, I have to write it. It won’t leave me alone.
I sat down at Granny’s writing desk. Words began to flow. My hand could hardly keep up. The next time I chanced to look at the clock across the room, evening had come. I put my pencil down and stretched. I carried my journal and pencil into the kitchen where I popped some popcorn and grabbed a diet soda. I juggled it all up the stairs to the bedroom. I changed into my pajamas and propped myself in the bed. I alternated between crunching on my snack and continuing my writing. My cell phone buzzed, breaking the silence, and I jumped.
“Hello?”
“What are you doing?”
It was Chase. My breath caught momentarily in my throat. He had called! I wanted to do a little happy dance, but I calmed myself. “I’m eating popcorn in bed.”
“Do you have on those adorable pajamas you had on the other day?”
I giggled. “I wouldn’t call them adorable, comfortable maybe, but not adorable.”
“Matter of opinion.”
“Are you home?”
“Yeah, but I miss you, Alex. Will you at least come to New York for the debut of your granny’s book?” His voice held a bit of a whine.
I bit my bottom lip. “Maybe.”
“Maybe?”
“I’m not sure I would fit in there. I guess I see why Granny Olivia stayed incognito. I do better that way too.”
“Please come for me.” There was a long silence and then he spoke again. “Think about it, okay? I’ll be in touch.”
“Okay. Thank you for calling.”
“You’re welcome. And, Alex, I...Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.”
As I put my phone on the bedside table, I was still in shock Chase had called. He said he missed me. But, did he just miss me casually as a friend? I missed him. More than casually. Could we have begun a serious relationship in the short amount of time he was here? Was I slipping into my hopeless romantic act? After the mess that was my first marriage, I wasn’t sure how to do this thing called love. Did I even know what love was? I wanted to know and experience it, but it might be too late for me.
My journal beckoned again, and I continued to write Granny’s story. My hand began to ache, and I reluctantly stopped for the night. As I placed my journal and pencil on the bedside table, the framed picture of Granny and me caught my eye.
“Granny, is this how the writing came to you?”
I wished she were here. I had so many questions I would ask her, knowing what I knew now. Wait, why not take a trip to the bookstore? Why hadn’t I thought of that before? I needed to read Granny’s books. I was so anxious to find and read her books I could barely go to sleep.
The next morning I sprang from the bed. I showered and dressed and headed to a little bookstore I had seen on the other side of town. I purchased every book the store had that had been penned by Granny.
The beautiful fall day compelled me to sit on the screened-in porch. I opened the cover of the first book and dove in. By the second sentence I found myself transported into the world of the story. With each page I turned I found goose bumps on my arms or misty eyes or sometimes even a chuckle. No wonder she was a bestselling author.
When I took a break to make a sandwich, I grabbed some loose leaf paper. I needed to take some notes on the writing techniques I noticed in Granny’s book. Late that evening I finished the first book. I had scrawled several pages of notes. I stared at the book’s cover. Where might I find Granny’s rough drafts? She was inclined to write in longhand and then have someone else type. One place I hadn’t explored yet was the attic.
