Writing a novel has been fun. The first draft is finished, but there’s still lots of work to do. I’ve reached the point where I can see light at the end of the tunnel . . . better than light, I see ‘The End’.:-)
I think it’s a good story. I like my characters, they’ve become real to me. I never know what they will say or how they’ll react to a situation until I sit down to write. My daughter will ask me what so-and-so-is going to do about something that’s come up—she laughs when I say, “I don’t have a clue.” I laugh too, because I really don’t know until I start writing.
“But you’re writing it, you have to know!” she says. Not true. Of course I have a basic idea, but not the words. But, back to the story.
Lauren Ashby’s (protagonist ) dream of living in the country has finally come true. She’s rented a cottage while searching for the perfect house for her home and studio. She finds it, and that’s when her troubles start. The scene I’m sharing here takes place after Lauren hikes across a field and through some woods to see the house close-up. A disturbing encounter doesn’t frighten her away, instead she becomes intrigued, and determined to learn about the house. . . .
* * *
The red Mazda suddenly materialized in Lauren’s rear view mirror. It dogged her around the narrow, twisting highway. Approaching her turn off she flipped on the turn signal and eased her foot from the accelerator, preparing to maneuver to the shoulder of the country road. The driver in the sports car hung tight, ignoring the flashing signal.
“Come on, back off. Can’t you see I’m stopping!” Before she’d halfway cleared her lane, the sleek sports car nosed into the no-passing zone. Lauren held her breath—the car roared past. A little girl peered out of the back side window as the car blasted ahead. Lauren glimpsed wide dark eyes.
“Irresponsible person!” The red car disappeared around the next curve. Irresponsible! The word stirred memories, its sting remembered from when it had been directed at her in the past.
She closed her eyes and gripped the steering wheel. This was not the time for looking back. Lauren breathed deep and turned her attention to the rugged field next to where she’d parked. A glance at the small dog on the seat beside her brought a softening to her mouth. Gently she brushed her hand over Winslow, a small, black and white terrier. She smiled at his inquisitive expression.
Lauren opened her door to the brisk spring air and waded through the dew-wet grass to the passenger side and swung the door open for Winslow. Eager to get going he jumped to the ground and buried up to his belly in the grass and looked up at Lauren. She shook her head and smiled, reaching for the bottle of water on the seat, she slid it into the holder at her waist. “Ready?” She loved his excitement.
Rusted barbed wire clung to fence posts that barely stood. She easily worked her body between the sagging wires. Years of undergrowth slowed her progress across the field. Winslow ran a few feet ahead exploring the new sights and smells. Half an hour later, paused at the edge of the woods, she gulped fresh air into her city lungs. Recalling the morning she’d rounded the steep curve before the last stretch into Valley Ridge—the first time she spotted the high peak of a roofline. It danced and shimmered in the distant treetops as the early morning sun flickered over it. Lauren slowed the Range Rover.
Odd, she’d never noticed it before.
After that morning, she obsessed over the house hidden in the woods. The last curve automatically signaled Lauren to slow and search for signs of a driveway or private entrance. Nothing, not even a cow trail to indicate a way to the house . . .
She does find the house and she falls in love at first sight. It’s perfect for her home and art studio.
But the owner turns out to be a problem, a thorn in her side . . . and the real story begins there.
Be safe, keep God in your plans,