Faith'S Lesson

Anne Radcliff

Description

By turns lyrical and touching, set amid a landscape of beauty, Faiths Lesson - The Chronicles of Barrows Hollow takes the reader on travels with a turn-of-the-century New England heroine. Armed with tenacious self-reliance and wit, bolstered by faith and values, the young girl finds herself in a world of circumstance quite unlike that of her own. Struggling with her stirring feelings for a suitor of means and privilege, Faith is forced to confront her past, her roots, and her truest test of priority in life. Lost family members and seemingly lost hope converge to lead Faith to her most important decision. Faiths Lesson captures the readers imagination as the struggles, hopes, and dreams of a young girl and the feverish progress of her years have become a series of vignettes, as though they were a recollection of a dream. Nothing remains now of those times, save a majestic memory. As this narrative recollects, you are invited to share those memories, which until now have remained safe in the hallowed quiets of Barrows Hollow.

Informations

• Publié par: Inspiring Voices
• Date de parution: 28 février 2014
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781462409174
• Langue: English

Extrait

Faith’s Lesson
The Chronicles of Barrow’s Hollow
 

 
“Many can brook the weather that love not the wind”
—WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE
Anne Radcliff


 
Copyright © 2014 Anne Radcliff.
Cover image provided by Brad Lethaby.
 
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
 
Inspiring Voices books may be ordered through booksellers or by contacting:
 
Inspiring Voices
1663 Liberty Drive
Bloomington, IN 47403
www.inspiringvoices.com
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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.
 
ISBN: 978-1-4624-0916-7 (sc)
ISBN: 978-1-4624-0917-4 (e)
 
Library of Congress Control Number: 2014903807
 
 
Inspiring Voices rev. date: 02/25/2014

CONTENTS
Acknowledgments
 
Chapter One : The Winds Begin
Chapter Two : Faith Meets The Wind
Chapter Three : Golden Moments Carried On A Breeze
Chapter Four : A Proposal In The Air
Chapter Five : A Waft Of Blue Blush Recollections
Chapter Six : A Wind In The Hollow
Chapter Seven : A Billowing Journey Begins
Chapter Eight : No Wind Can Blow Away
Chapter Nine : The Long-Winded Roommate
Chapter Ten : A Current Of Prospects And Prickles
Chapter Eleven : A Higher Wind
Chapter Twelve : A Blustering Encounter
Chapter Thirteen : Lost In The Wind
Chapter Fourteen : A Cold Mistral
Chapter Fifteen : Into Thin Air
Chapter Sixteen : A Bracing Encounter
Chapter Seventeen : Lessons In A Whirlwind
Chapter Eighteen : A Breath In The Art Shoppe
Chapter Nineteen : A Break In The Wind
Chapter Twenty : The Peal Of Wedding Bells Aloft In The Hollow
Chapter Twenty-One : The Professor’s Puff
Chapter Twenty-Two : A Birthday Drifts Away
Chapter Twenty-Three : The Air Thickens
Chapter Twenty-Four : Another Proposal In The Atmosphere
Chapter Twenty-Five : News Arrives In A Gale
Chapter Twenty-Six : A Windstorm Within
Chapter Twenty-Seven : Breaths Of Fresh Air
Chapter Twenty-Eight : The Tempest Of Loss And Renewal
Chapter Twenty-Nine : A Gusty Get-Together
Chapter Thirty : Lifted On A Zephyr
Chapter Thirty-One : Voices In The Wind
Chapter Thirty-Two : A Leavening Breeze

 
For my Mom, who always had faith in me;
 
and for Becky, who encouraged me to have faith in myself…
 
and above all, in glory to God, from whom all faith derives.

Acknowledgments
This little tale finds its way to readers thanks to the many people who have profoundly blessed me with their support, comradeship, and encourage ment.
My deepest thanks to Marya Kopacz, my faithful childhood chum and enduring friend, for her innocent heart, filled with dreams of the possible; Anne Koberstein, my dear teacher, for igniting my lamp of learning and for her guidance, direction, and sagacity; Leah Griffith, for her boundless and unremitting optimism; Drs. John M. Ferretti and Silvia M. Ferretti, for affording me the opportunity to follow my purpose; Brad Lethaby (cover artist)—the John Singer Sargent of our time—for his inestimable talent matched only by his kind heart; and Inspiring Voices, my publisher, for taking a chance on a writer who wholly eschews dystopian th emes.
To each of them, I owe an enormous debt of grati tude.

CHAPTER ONE
The Winds Begin
She spotted his eyes before she saw the knife; and she realized immediately from his fearsome countenance that his distorted heart, ripped open by anger and disgrace, was out for revenge. Negotiating for her own life, she whispered to the desperate man in reassuring and calming tones. “You don’t want to do this. Let me call someone to take you home.” The man with the knife shook his head stubbornly, his maddened eyes flashed and defiance overtook him. He lifted his arm, knife in hand, not allowing her a further moment to dissuade him.
The seconds that ensued found Faith’s senses spinning uncontrollably. Her mind flashed to her grandmother at home, to her writing, and to the meaning that she found in words. For a fleeting instant, she thought about Archie, her basset hound, restlessly anticipating his daily treat when she walked through the door at the end of the day. Images raced through her mind in nonsensical o rder.
Her thoughts rushed to the scolding admonitions that she would hear for letting this sort of thing happen. “Faith, how many times have I told you not to be in places alone?” She could hear the warning aphorism of her grandmother’s “better safe than sorry” remonstration. Then there were her best friends who had been part of her major life events, from her first romance gone awry, through journalism school, her marriage and the birth of her child, and onto the surprise 40th birthday party that they had just thrown for her in the back room of Barrow’s Coffee Shop. Their faces, wrung dry from worry, wrenched her heart. She could already hear their pained entreaties, “please don’t leave us, Faith; stay with us.” The very last vision that she managed as the searing blade altered her life forever was that of Cameron: would she see him a gain?

T he day started like any other day. How could she have known that this day was to be so very different? Precisely one hour before she was due in court to cover the highly publicized Finch murder trial, Faith sat inflexibly at her writing table, focusing intently upon a large manila-colored package; anticipation and trepidation intermingling uncomfortably in the gap between her throat and her heart. Her psyche was filled with misgivings and thoughts shot through her mind with logic assuring her that what she viewed before her was either a delusion carried forth by the fatigue of writing or a jest in the worst possible of t aste.
Mechanically plowing through a barrage of telephone messages scribbled upon little pink slips that represented the latest updates about the trial, this Friday was beginning like most. She had depleted the full week of its energy reviewing the case. She had been at her desk in the office for almost two hours already and it was just 8:00 a.m. Before she had put her first cup of coffee to her lips, the battle flags were raised and the din of journalistic madness commenced anew.
The calls would start well before Beth arrived. Faith would answer them, trying to mimic the spirited enthusiasm of her secretary. There were no signs of white flags in the distance and Faith knew that she would be soldiering on through yet another weekend barricaded in her office, researching new stories and outlining investigative rep orts.
In the interim, between penning notes about Mrs. Pembridge and her husband’s alleged dalliance with their daughter’s gymnastics coach and querying Mr. MacCallum about his wife’s newly found interest in their farm hand, Faith noticed an odd manila package on her desk.
A streak of broad calligraphy on the front of the envelope displayed the words “faith-healer”. One hand-sketched star was carefully drawn just below her name; perchance an unforgettable reminiscence of sunnier moments in Faith’s earlier days. Faith immediately recalled Cameron, for only he had called her “faith-healer” as a moniker of affection. He would often tell her that she was his “faith-healer” because she believed in him, no matter the circumstance or the challenge—that because she believed in him, he could do anything; and that her faith in him would heal him in his most trying of times. He pinned to her the name “faith-healer” with all the love in his heart. Could anyone else know this private sign?
Through all of their years together, Faith never had tired of hearing the way in which he spoke that phrase. It was only her dear Cameron who had ever drawn little stars on every mailing or letter he had sent to her. Every bouquet of roses bore a card with a star, scribbled on love notes, and inscribed in books; and even on his wedding gift to her—a beautiful photo album, was the telltale star…Cameron’s calling card.
How preposterous, she mused. “Get hold of yourself and just unseal it,” she ordered herself. Faith was not one who came undone easily. It had been a long while since that had happened to her; but Faith realized that she was still vulnerable. She pulled apart the flap of the envelope to reveal a package of photos. She gasped in disbelief, and she was almost amused at her remarkable reaction as she thumbed through the stack of familiar photographs. Examining the pictures for particulars, she sat bolt upright in her seat; a cold spur ran up her spine like ice on a burn. Her eyes fell upon a photograph of her adorable pouting Anna riding the yellow horse at the carousel. Faith recalled it instantly. Anna always wanted to ride the blue horse, but it was always taken. The photos depicted a time in her life that Faith thought long over…something that she had been burying in a graveyard of memory. The package was filled with her reminiscences, something so personal to her. Attached to the last photograph in the stack was an index card with an instruction neatly typed across the thick yellow cardstock: “Meet me at the br idge.”
By this time, Faith had bounded out of her chair infuriated that someone would send to her something so cruel. Faith was cert