The Living Room (5 page)

Jeff was asleep by the time Amy brushed her teeth. Her husband could lose consciousness faster than a newborn infant with a stomach full of milk. Amy crawled under the covers and stared at the ceiling. At least Jeff didn’t snore. Natalie had confided that her husband, Luke, snored so loudly it sounded like someone trying to break into the house.

Amy pulled the sheet up to her chin. One solution to their financial pressures would be speedy completion of another novel. The advance for a third book, if the publisher decided to exercise the option contained in the contract, would add enough money to the family budget to take some of the stress off Jeff. And it would help Amy feel like a contributing member of the family.

Amy calculated how quickly she could complete the first draft of a book. She didn’t write as fast as some novelists who could crank out several thousand words in a single writing session. A productive day for her was a thousand words, and her contract required a book of at least 90,000 words.
A
Great
and
Precious
Promise
and
The
Everlasting
Arms
were each around 110,000 words. Amy liked longer novels and believed if readers enjoyed the world of the story and the characters who lived there, they would appreciate a few extra chapters. Multiple e-mails from women who raved about
A
Great
and
Precious
Promise
and begged for a sequel confirmed Amy’s opinion. But she knew she couldn’t average a thousand words each and every day. There were plenty of weekends when family activities kept her from turning on her computer at all. Other days she might write for several hours and then review what she’d written and realize it had no chance of ending up in the final version of the story. Cecilia had suggested she cut several long scenes from her first two novels because the passages didn’t advance the main plot and would be skimmed by most readers. The possibility that readers might not bother to slow down and consider the words Amy had slaved over for hours, if not days, made her sick to her stomach.

Jeff grunted and rolled onto his back. In the best-case scenario, it would take at least five months for Amy to complete the first draft of
a new book. That would be two months faster than it took her to finish
The
Everlasting
Arms
. However, turning in the first draft was just the initial step. The editorial process would take another three or four months. Only after the final version was approved would a check be issued. And that could happen only if Dave Coley decided the book was worth publishing at all.

Amy shut her eyes and commanded her mind to slow down. Being a writer wasn’t supposed to be a grinding job. When she’d worked for the law firm she never lay in bed at night worrying about job security or fretting over whether she’d be paid on Friday. Becoming a novelist was supposed to be the path to freedom. She loved the solitude of the attic, but if her writing career was chained to the financial demands of life, it would be a deathblow to creativity.

All Amy’s calculations about how long it would take to write another novel were meaningless if she didn’t have an idea for a story in the first place. Cecilia had nixed the possibility for a sequel to
A
Great
and
Precious
Promise
, and
The
Everlasting
Arms
didn’t lend itself to another book with the same characters. Rick and Kelli had suffered enough. They deserved to live out their fictional lives in peace and quiet and raise healthy, happy babies.

Amy slipped out of bed, knelt down, and prayed that God would give her the idea for a new book. And do it soon.

four

A
my sipped a cappuccino. She loved the complex smells of different coffees brewing and the relaxed atmosphere of the local coffee shop, but she allowed herself only one or two visits a week. It was hard to justify paying as much for a single cup of coffee as a pound cost at the grocery store.

While waiting for Natalie, she glanced down at a copy of the local newspaper an earlier customer had abandoned. A headline at the bottom of the first page caught her eye: “Local World War II Hero Dies.”

Before she read the first line of the article, Amy guessed whom it was about. Sure enough, Sanford “Sonny” Dominick had passed away at the age of eighty-four from complications associated with pneumonia. The reporter summarized the basic facts about the son of a textile worker who worked as a crop duster before volunteering for the US Air Force during World War II. Dominick survived in the jungles of Burma for two weeks after the airplane he piloted developed mechanical problems and had to make an emergency crash landing in a dry riverbed. He and one other crew member, who’d suffered a broken arm, were alone deep in enemy territory. Dominick set the man’s bone, and they followed the riverbed for four days before going cross-country for eleven more days. In the process they avoided numerous Japanese patrols and survived by eating insects, tree roots, and raw fish Dominick caught in a trap made from twigs and baited
with grubworms. Megan saw a model of the fish trap when she was in elementary school and told Amy all about it.

Upon returning home to Cross Plains, the war hero went into business and became a multimillionaire who went through almost as many wives as he had millions. Mr. Phillips was Mr. Dominick’s lawyer, and Amy had met the tall, white-haired man with the colorful personality on several occasions. Even though he was very charming and garrulous, there was always an underlying pathos that touched Amy enough that she started praying for him. She finished the article and placed the paper on an empty chair. Sonny Dominick’s medals and millions wouldn’t be relevant wherever he was today.

While she watched people come into the shop and order drinks, Amy thought again about a visit she’d made the previous night to the living room. It had been a time of needed encouragement after the stress related to Jeff’s job and the family finances. Nothing came out of the dream about another book; however, the experience ended with an unusual twist. As Amy felt herself being pulled away from the room, a quick series of images raced past her eyes. It happened so fast that she couldn’t remember the pictures, and that left Amy puzzled. As she took a drink of coffee, she tried to revisit the scene and slow down the slide show, but it remained a blur. Amy lowered her cup as her petite friend with short black hair and sparkling dark eyes came into the store and rushed over to the table.

“Sorry I’m late,” Natalie said in her Midwestern accent. “I’m driving car pool this week and had to wait on Braxton Green. It’s a good thing being tardy won’t get you kicked out of kindergarten.”

“That’s okay. I’ve enjoyed relaxing and watching the people. I’ve been busy this morning, too. I mopped the kitchen floor after Megan and Ian left for the bus stop.”

“Already? I’m impressed.”

Natalie slipped off her coat and draped it over a chair. She had two sons. Ben was a second grader at Broad Street Christian School, and Noah was in kindergarten. There was no bus service to the private school.

“I went through the same thing when Ian and Dallas were in kindergarten together at Broad Street,” Amy said. “Being on time is tough for Kim and her kids.”

“Yeah, but Braxton is the cutest little guy. Every time I hear that lisp in his voice, it makes me want to give him a hug and pinch his cheeks.”

“Is Kim still putting product on his hair?”

“Oh yeah. It was spiked up a couple of inches when he got in the car. Noah wanted to touch it, but I wouldn’t let him unbuckle his seat belt.”

Natalie went to the counter to order. Amy drank either a cappuccino or a morning blend of regular coffee if she needed an unflavored jolt of caffeine, but Natalie experimented with different drinks. In a couple of minutes she returned with a clear glass mug filled with light brown liquid topped with foam and unidentifiable sprinkles.

“What is it today?” Amy asked.

“Cinnamon dolce latte.”

“A coffee candy bar.”

Natalie took a sip. “Yep. No afternoon chocolate for me.”

Amy and Natalie were sitting at a table for two in the back corner. They sipped their drinks and watched an older couple enter. The man was wearing a black beret and had a thin mustache. The woman’s gray hair was covered with a colorful scarf.

“You should put that couple in your next novel,” Natalie said in a low voice. “I’m sure they have a story to tell. I mean, how did a man who wears a beret and sports a French mustache end up in a town in eastern North Carolina? And his wife looks like she has a lot of flair.”

“She sure does.” Amy stared at the couple for a moment. “Natalie, how do you know they’re married? They could be reuniting forty years after first falling in love. They met years ago at a French coffee shop a lot like this place. He was working in Marseilles, and she was an American college student traveling across Europe with a friend. They both ordered a latte and an apricot pastry and realized they had something in common. A halting conversation began. She was limited
by two semesters of college French, and he spoke broken English, but they communicated in the way that mattered most—the affairs of the heart. Their first conversation led to long, romantic walks along the Mediterranean. Then an emergency call from home forced the girl to leave without telling him good-bye. They eventually married other people, but now those spouses are dead, and they’ve found each other again. The question is—can the flame of love that burned brightly so long ago be brought back to life?”

The torrent of Amy’s words suddenly stopped.

“Keep going,” Natalie said, leaning forward on her elbows. “I’d read that book.”

“You know how it works with me.” Amy smiled and shook her head. “I can get a running start with ideas like that, but they always hit a wall.”

“It’s still a cool beginning.”

Amy touched her heart. “I need something that starts in here. Otherwise I know I’d be wasting my time.”

Both women took a sip of their drinks.

“Yeah,” Natalie said. “
A
Great
and
Precious
Promise
wasn’t just a story. It was like a testimony. I thought about Ann Marie and Landon for weeks after I finished the book, and not just because we’re friends. Most people would have placed all the blame for their problems on Landon, which makes sense, but the scene between them was so much more powerful because Ann Marie realized the speck in her eye could be just as blinding as the log in his. It made me think about my relationship with Luke. There are so many self-righteous women who need to—” Natalie suddenly paused. “I’d better quit preaching.”

“I like your preaching,” Amy said with a smile. “And what you’re saying means the world to me. Even though the characters are made up, their stories can still help real people. That’s why I write.”

“Oh, and I’ll never read the word ‘covenant’ again without thinking about the book. It gave me chills when you explained what it meant in the Old Testament.” Natalie leaned in closer. “And I can’t
wait to get a signed copy of
The
Everlasting
Arms
. It was cruel to only let me take a peek at a couple of chapters.”

“I wasn’t trying to be mean,” Amy apologized. “I wanted to make sure that I wasn’t getting off track with the part about the old boyfriend—”

“I’m kidding,” Natalie interrupted. “It’s just neat for me to sit here and realize that my best friend is a published author.”

“Who’s making about half as much writing books as she did typing pleadings at Jones, Barrington, and Phillips.” Amy sighed.

She told Natalie about the paltry royalty check and the possibility that Megan might have to stop taking dance lessons in January. She didn’t feel comfortable mentioning the health insurance crisis without Jeff’s permission. Natalie listened sympathetically.

“And I feel like I’m slowly losing contact with Megan,” Amy said. “I know part of it has to do with her age, but that doesn’t make it any easier.”

“You and Megan are both so talented. I’d think seeing you follow your dream would encourage her to believe that the same thing is possible for her.”

“It hasn’t worked that way. Last night she wanted to know why it’s more important for the family to sacrifice so I can write than it is for her to dance.”

“Wow.” Natalie’s eyes widened. “I never could have cooked up such a sophisticated argument to use with my mom. But Megan is so smart that she intimidates me. She’s just like you. I mean, she makes straight A’s without trying.”

“Maybe, but she’s much more outgoing. And I don’t have any personal experience from my teenage years to draw on in relating to her. I was the quiet, obedient second child trying to make up for the trouble my older brother gave my parents.”

“I can’t help you out there. I was the spoiled only child.”

“No you weren’t.”

“Until Jesus changed me.”

Amy looked at her friend and felt her emotions rise to the surface.
There was such genuine sweetness in Natalie that it nourished Amy’s soul every time the two women got together.

“Did I say something wrong?” Natalie asked.

“No.” Amy shook her head. “You always help me remember what’s really important.”

They stayed at their table and lingered after their coffee cups were empty.

“Noah was so excited this morning,” Natalie said, reaching for her purse. “His class is going on a field trip to the fire station this afternoon.”