Bonus Scene 2 – The Restorer’s Son

Bonus Scenes, The Restorer's Son

The Restorer’s Son Bonus Scene –

in which Jake peeks into Susan’s journal and finds more than he was expecting.

–>

After Chapter 5
Jake:
Good grief. What was the big deal? It wasn’t like the attic held state secrets, or that I’d mess up some fancy rug clumping around in my dirty tennis shoes. Mom and Dad weren’t even around, so it wouldn’t hurt anyone if I popped upstairs to see the new room. I might even find my baseball-card shoebox that had disappeared after one of Mom’s cleaning binges.
Throwing a quick glance over my shoulder, I scrambled up the ladder. I got the whole deal about how she needed some privacy once in awhile. Jon and Anne were into everything. I had to barricade my door to keep them out of my stuff. I’d only take a quick look around and she’d never know.
The reality was more boring than I’d expected. A few bins and boxes and a dusty old chair. The notebook looked new, though. Probably a journal. Mom had talked about starting one.
I stepped closer. Had she written about me? I’d overheard her once on the phone complaining to a friend about how hard it was to be a parent. The words had startled me. Sure, my three younger siblings were a handful, but did she really see me as a burden? Those years of doctors and hospitals . . . I’d never really thought about how it felt from her side. I was busy dealing with the experience from my end. And now that I was getting ready for college, what was she thinking of me? Did she believe I was ready? Did she think I’d be a success? 
I picked up the book. Just one quick peek and I’d put it right back. If she had written something about me, I had a right to know, right?
Instead of juicy info, I found some boring notes about her Bible study. I turned a page and grinned. She’d drawn a pencil sketch. Cool. I didn’t know she could draw. On a whim, I scrawled a little note inside. Sure, it gave away my trespassing, but she’d laugh when she saw it. She had a good sense of humor . . . most days. 
I dropped the journal and ducked to search deeper under the eaves. My missing shoebox could be tucked back in the shadows. 
A prickle danced across my skin, an uncomfortable sensation like an electric razor. The hum built and vibrated inside my skull. Maybe Dad had made a mistake wiring the lights. I glanced down to be sure I wasn’t standing on any metal ductwork. Something electrical was buzzing, but I couldn’t figure out why it resonated so powerfully in my body. I shook my head a few times and stumbled forward, wincing against the rising ache behind my eyeballs. I grabbed my head as if to keep it from exploding and squeezed my eyes shut. Lightning sparkled across the insides of my eyelids. Was I having a stroke or something? 
A sudden whoosh of air engulfed me, along with a small pop of pressure releasing, as if I’d pushed my way through a particularly stubborn revolving door. I pulled my hands away from my face but saw only darkness. Flailing my arms in all directions, I couldn’t find the rafters or boxes or my way back to the ladder. Did strokes cause blindness? I stumbled a few steps and finally found a hard surface. Something solid and round, like a twisting beam, spiraled upward beyond what I could touch. Impossible. The attic roof wasn’t that high. My legs went rubbery, and I stumbled a few steps. Come on, Jake, keep breathing.
Panic built with each gasp. I tried for a slow deep breath, and inhaled an unfamiliar spicy scent, a combination of pine and cinnamon and fresh-cut grass. “Help?” My voice carried in thin, open air. I couldn’t ignore the evidence any longer. I wasn’t in the attic.
I moaned and clung to the beam that felt like a tree trunk. I couldn’t be too far from home. Maybe the nature reserve near our house? Someone would find me eventually. With the decision to hold on and wait for help, the rushing pulse of my heartbeat steadied.
A snuffling noise to my left threw my heart into a gallop again. Wolf? Coyote? Bobcat? Whatever outdoor wilderness I’d found myself in, did it hold predators? I couldn’t just stand here, blind, disoriented, waiting to be attacked. A gravelly growl to my right raised the hairs on my neck. I pushed off from the trunk and moved away from the sounds. The uneven ground underfoot further convinced me that I was outside somewhere. For hours I stumbled aimlessly, in total blackness, terrified that the world had disappeared and I was completely and forever alone. Each time I’d sink to the ground to rest, some strange sound would propel me forward again. 
 After what seemed like years, my straining eyes caught the contour of hills. Was my vision returning? A few minutes later, I stared at the sky and realized dawn was breaking. I wasn’t blind. I’d just been stumbling around in the night—but a night like I’d never seen before. No moon or stars, no distant city lights.
With the relief of being able to see, a hint of wonder swelled under my ribs. A smooth, rolling, gray-green golf course stretched out from the clump of trees. In the distance, tall white towers rose above a strange curvy wall with a gray, featureless sky overhead. I choked back a laugh. It looked just like a scene from one of my video games. I glanced up nervously, expecting some animated dragon to swoop toward me. 
Man, oh, man. Back when I had chemo, they’d warned me of some strange side effects, but could hallucinations show up all these years later? Where was I? And more importantly, what was I supposed to do next?
After swallowing hard, I coaxed my lungs to work again. I took a few more steps, cautiously testing a small circle of earth around me. Would lava creatures burst through the nearby rocks and attack? If I stepped in the wrong place, would quicksand swallow me into the ground? 
I was thinking like a video game again. My gaze trailed to the city in the distance. If this were a video game, the logical next step would be to head toward the city, collecting coins and tokens to boost my score. Unfortunately, I didn’t see either. But if I stood near the empty grove much longer, I’d probably grow roots and turn into one of the weird twisty-trunked trees. Gingerly testing each step, I finally decided the odd, mossy ground would remain firm, so I broke into a jog toward the city. I only hoped this hallucination didn’t mean the cancer was back, or that it had spread to my brain.
—
The rest of Jake’s adventure is found in The Restorer’s Son. 
Blessings!


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Sneak Peek – The Deliverer

The Deliverer
One morning a melody woke me, drifting in from the sliver of window above my head. A long-whistle trilled and skipped through a playful chorus. My soul rose up in answer.

There was a time,

A time rich with days,

Before sad and lonely songs were sung.

There was a day,

A day rich with time,

Before men fought and beetles stung
—Linette in The Deliverer by Sharon Hinck


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Words that Don’t Fall

Devotional Musings

This week I read something striking in I Samuel 3:19-21.

“The Lord was with Samuel as he grew up, and he let none of his words fall to the ground.”

I loved that! I have to confess I tend to babble. That’s why I write novels instead of short stories. And a LOT of my words deserve to fall to the ground. I process my thoughts by talking and writing, and it takes time to whittle them down to the ones that count. But how exciting to know that God can make sure that the words that matter — spoken or written — can accomplish their work and NOT fall to the ground. The chapter ends by saying, “And Samuel’s word came to all Israel.”

That was a time before printing presses, cellphones, and websites. Yet God was able to spread the words that He gave Samuel throughout the tribes. For those of us in the field of writing, isn’t it a comfort to know He can bring our words wherever He likes?

Lord, let the worthless words drop away and disappear on a puff of wind like chaff. Let the words that come from You endure and spread. Amen!

Speaking of words, my quarterly ezine that I send to my Book Buddies is coming out soon. If you aren’t already a Book Buddy, you can sign up at my website. You’ll be asked to confirm and “opt in” – and your email will never be used for other purposes. That way you won’t miss any insider info that I share. 🙂

Blessings!
Sharon

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Watered Tree

Devotional Musings, Prayer

“And he shall be like a tree planted by the rivers of water, that bringeth forth his fruit in his season; his leaf also shall not wither; and whatsoever he doeth shall prosper.” Psalm 1:3 (KJV)

Lord, may our roots rest deeply in Your mercy, and may we drink of Your grace each day. Please produce fruit in our lives. Amen.


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Bonus Scene 1 – The Restorer’s Son

Bonus Scenes

Today, I’m sharing a glimpse of Tagatha’s life in Lyric.

The Restorer’s Son – by Sharon Hinck

Bonus Scene

After Chapter 3
Tagatha:

I shoved our door open with one arm, holding baby Luc against my hip with the other.

My husband looked up from a wooden puzzle he was doing with our daughter. “Wow, that was quick. You usually spend half the day at the wool store.”

I set Luc on the floor and pushed my hair out of my face. “Didn’t even get there. Guess who I ran into?”

Jameth stood, rubbing a sore spot on his lower back. “Do I get a clue? Your parents can’t be pried out of Braide Wood when it isn’t a Feast day. Other family?”

“Mm. Sort of.”

“Not Tristan, then? All right, I give up. Who did you run into?”

“Kieran. And he was bleeding. Looked like he’d lost a sword fight or something. I told him he should come here so we could help him out, but he was in a hurry.”

Jameth turned away to hide a wince—and not the kind of wince that came from the backache he’d picked up unloading a recent shipment of stone from Terramin.
I stepped around the puzzle pieces. “What?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“That face you made.”

“You don’t like my face?” Grinning, he wandered into our kitchen alcove and scooped the last of the morning’s clavo into a mug.

With one eye on our children, I followed him. “You know I like your face just fine. And all the rest of you.”

His broad shoulders squared and he winked at me over the mug as he raised it. After all this time, he still made my breath catch. In spite of my mother’s horror at our move to Lyric, we’d created a beautiful life here. Still, I’d felt the weight of her disappointment last time she’d visited. She believed I’d abandoned Braide Wood, with all the history and traditions that wove our family together.

I sank onto the bench by our table and ran my hand over the golden wood. Of course I missed Braide Wood—the smooth, twining branches, the scent of pine, and the laughter and stories around a crowded dinner table. I shook my head. I still loved our clan, but I also loved the excitement of Lyric. Most of all, I loved Jameth. And he needed to be in Lyric for his trading business.

“Glad you like all the rest of me.” Jameth patted his ample stomach. “You feed me so well, there’s more of me to like every day.” He took a drink and his face puckered at the bitterness of stale, over-steeped clavo.

“That’s the face. That’s the one you made when I told you I’d seen Kieran.”

He choked out a laugh. “You could be right.”

I should never have told him about my childhood crush. I’d tagged along with Tristan and Kieran for years, so it was only natural my romantic dreams latched on to him briefly . . . as they had with several of the boys in Braide Wood. Silly, looking back on it, but perfectly natural. I snickered. What a disaster that pairing would have been.

I rose from the table, took Jameth’s mug, dumped it out, and started a fresh batch of clavo. “I just wanted to help. He looked like he was in trouble.”

Jameth snorted. “What else is new?”

We walked back to the main room where are children were playing. “I know, but Tristan would want us to look out for him.” I shrugged. “Nothing I can do now. I better get to the shop.”

Jameth gathered up baby Luc and handed him to me, then hoisted our daughter onto his shoulders. “Make it quick. I can’t bring Tamara to my meeting with the Sandor traders today.” Our daughter tilted her curly head and grinned from the high perch.

Luc squirmed and bleated with that half-giggle-but-I’ll-start-crying-in-a-moment sound that he had perfected. I bounced him a few times. “I’ll hurry. Thanks for watching Tamara. I can’t choose yarn colors with both of them tearing the store apart.” The shop spun caradoc wool into the softest textures and dyed so many beautiful shades. Luc was outgrowing his sweater, and I wanted to three-peg a new one in the exact shade of green that glowed from the trees in Braide wood at first light.

Jameth grinned. “I know. But last time I thought you’d gotten lost in there.” He bent to plant a quick kiss on my lips. Tamara giggled and tilted forward, planting sticky fingers in my hair.

I untangled her and gave my husband a playful shove. “I didn’t hear you complain when I finished your new tunic.” Luc squawked again. “Sure you don’t want to watch them both? I would finish faster.”

“Ha! Luc’s my secret weapon. He won’t let you dally.”

I tossed my hair back and marched down the street to my favorite store. I found myself looking about for Kieran. Maybe I’d ask Tristan about him next time Tristan and Kendra came to Lyric for a gathering. Right now I had more important things to think about. If I got some extra green wool, I could add a trim to the tunic I’d started for Jameth. The color would bring out the flecks in his hazel eyes. Breathing a prayer of thanks to the One for bringing Jameth and I together, I giggled as I slid open the door to the yarn shop.

—
I hope you’ve been enjoying the bonus scenes from The Sword of Lyric series! Three of the books are in paperback and ebook,  and the fourth, The Deliverer,  is available to preorder for the July release.

Sharon Hinck


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How Long?

Devotional Musings, Prayer

“Be merciful to me, Lord, for I am faint; O Lord, heal me, for my bones are in agony. My soul is in anguish. How long, O Lord, how long?” Psalm 6:2-3 (NIV)

Have you ever cried out the words of the psalmist? Perhaps you are in that place today. Here is my prayer for you:

Dear Lord, I thank You for hearing us, and loving us. Please work swiftly in the lives of those who are in pain. Grant healing. And as we wait for Your timing and Your purposes to unfold, I pray that You would grant us strength to endure, as well as unexpected comfort and consolation. Amen.

Blessings!
Sharon Hinck

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