Seeking peace in Idaho's
mountains, Maggie first shoots a stranger, then saves his life. She's pulled
into danger, passion, occult secrets; a world where no one is who she thought.
Once in awhile, experts suggest it's good to put out an excerpt as a way to give readers a taste of your writing. All of my books on Kindle offer the first chapter as such a sample, but I thought it'd be fun to pick a scene to stand alone. I can't say it's a favorite. I like them all, but it's one I particularly relate to and think readers here might also.
In this simple scene from Sky Daughter more is revealed as to who Maggie is, what she is learning about the life she has chosen and who her grandmother had been. That it's about gardening is a bonus.
In this simple scene from Sky Daughter more is revealed as to who Maggie is, what she is learning about the life she has chosen and who her grandmother had been. That it's about gardening is a bonus.
************************
In
the kitchen, Maggie picked up the flats of plants she had optimistically grown
from seed. The first little plants had gone outside too soon and had their
leaves blackened by a late frost, but she could protect these no longer. Most
likely the deer would eat them before they got settled in, but she would give
them a chance, a moment in the sun.
Planting was part of the heritage of
her grandmother. The urge to continue the cycle of growth, of planting and
sowing ran strongly through her veins. After so much loss, so many aborted
opportunities and lives, she had a need to see life reach fruition.
Working in the sun-warmed soil, Maggie
put everything from her mind except weeding carefully around the lavender
plants, loosening the soil by the rosemary. She hummed as she worked, then came
words about planting and releasing to grow. As quickly as the words came to
her, they were gone. She sighed. The song would’ve never satisfied her managers
anyway.
She dug a hole for one of the
marigolds, threw in a bit of fertilizer and then tamped the soil back around
the tender plant. Planting meant a belief in the future, a desire for improving
the present, and a reaching back to the past. It encompassed all of life to sow
it with the hope of someday reaping.
She sat in the garden when she had
finished, feeling the warmth of the sun on her skin, the coolness of the soil
beneath her knees. Why were tears running down her cheeks?
Maggie
girl. The words seemed almost real. She closed her eyes as she again heard
her grandmother’s voice, seemingly could almost smell the blend of soap and the
fragrance of herbs that was so much a part of every memory she had about her.
She could feel the touch of that precious hand on her shoulder, soothing and
giving her subtle energy. God, she missed that woman. She remembered her
grandmother’s tall form as she would walk across the mountain, calling to
Maggie and taking her with her into the woods, teaching her about the woods
plants, which ones healed, which ones could be used for a fever, which ones
poisoned.
When had she forgotten the names,
forgotten those words? She had been taught so much and it seemed it was all
gone. She remembered one of the many conversations.
‘Dream, Sky
Daughter, dream of the future and of all that will be.’
‘Grandma, I
don’t remember my dreams.’
‘You must try
harder. Dreams are the spirits speaking to you. They are your power.’
‘Mama says
they’re not.’
‘Your mama
had to follow her path and you must follow yours. They are not the same.’
‘How do you
know?’
‘I know and
you will too when the time comes.’
‘How?’
Her
grandmother just smiled. ‘You will.’
‘You could
tell me now.’
‘No one
should tell another their path, Sky Daughter, but someday you will know yours.’
Maggie felt tears running down her
cheeks and wiped the back of her hands across her eyes, to brush them away. “I
miss you so. I thought you’d be here to teach me, to always tell me. Why did
you have to go?”
A hummingbird buzzed her, warning her
off from the area, letting her know she was intruding on protected ground.
Somewhere nearby was probably its nest. It was operating by instinct as she had
found herself doing with Reuben.
She looked toward the forest. She
tried to force a change in reality, to go back in time, to see those, who had
gone, come walking toward her. They would be laughing and talking about how
much fun they would have had on a picnic at the falls. Her childish voice would
be raised in excitement as it had been in those days of feeling so protected
and loved.
She waited, but all she could hear was
the sound of a raven calling from higher up the mountain, the angry scream of a
hawk, and the soothing tweets of smaller birds in nearby bushes. Never again
would her loved ones be with her, and she had to face that reality.
