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Communities
Four Book Giveaway – You Don’t Want to Miss This!
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Today I’m hosting a giveaway for Kevin of No Debt Plan. He had a few books on hand that he didn’t need anymore, and thought it would be more fun to give them away, than just to donate them. So here’s your opportunity to win 4 books! Included are:
- The Wedding by Nicholas Sparks (Kevin’s wife’s book, in case you were wondering)
- The Guardian by Nicholas Sparks (also his wife’s book)
- The Purpose Driven Life by Rick Warren (I loved this book!)
- Lady in Waiting: Developing Your Love Relationships by Debby Jones (Though he didn’t say it, I think this book belonged to Kevin’s wife, as well)
To enter, just leave a comment on this post. Make sure you enter a valid email address in the comment form, as that’s how I’ll contact the winner. I will need to pass the winner’s address on to Kevin, so he can ship the books (via media mail).
This contest is open to residents of the U.S. only, due to shipping costs. I’ll close comments next Friday at noon and draw a winner with a random number generator. I think I covered everything. Good luck! And make sure to drop by No Debt Plan to thank Kevin for the great giveaway!
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CFBA: The Hunted by Mike Dellosso
This week, the
Christian Fiction Blog Alliance
is introducing
(Realms - June 3, 2008)
by
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Born in Baltimore, Maryland, Mike now lives in Hanover, Pennsylvania, with his wife, Jen, and their three daughters. He writes a monthly column for Writer . . .Interrupted. He was a newspaper correspondent/columnist for over three years and has published several articles for The Candle of Prayer inspirational booklets. Mike also has edited and contributed to numerous Christian-themed Web sites and e-newsletters.
Mike is a member of the American Christian Fiction Writers, the Christian Fiction Blog Alliance, the Relief Writer’s Network, and International Thriller Writers. He received his BA degree in sports exercise and medicine from Messiah College and his MBS degree in theology from Master’s Graduate School of Divinity.
You can read a great interview with Mike, over here on TitleTrakk.
ABOUT THE BOOK:
A town’s deadly secret will drive one man to the edge of his faith…
After learning of the disappearance of his nephew, Joe Saunders returns to his childhood home of Dark Hills to aid in the search effort. When Caleb is found, badly mauled and clinging to life, Joe embarks on a mission to find the beast responsible. But the more Joe delves into the fabric of his old hometown, the more he realizes Dark Hills has a dark secret, shrouded for three generations in a deadly code of silence.
As Joe unravels the truth behind a series of unexplained animal attacks, murder, and corruption at the highest level of law enforcement, he is led to a final showdown where he must entrust his very life into God’s hands. Will his young faith be strong ehough to battle the demonic forces of The Hunted.
If you would like to read the first chapter, go HERE.
Mike Dellosso could very well be the next Frank Peretti-if you liked The Oath and Monster, you are going to love The Hunted.
–C.J. Darlington, Cofounder and book editor, Titletrakk.com
A spine-tingling tale of hidden secrets, buried hopes, and second chances. A story best read with all the lights on and an extra flashlight–just in case!
–Amy Wallace, author of Ransomed Dreams
Mike Dellosso’s pins-and-needles thriller hurtles the reader down a dark and twisted path. I dare you to take this one home!
–Jill Elizabeth Nelson, author of the To Catch a Thief suspense series
With hints of Frank Peretti and Stephen King, The Hunted is a chilling debut."
–Creston Mapes, author of Nobody
A vicious enemy, a family secret, a thirst for revenge, and a need for reconciliation all drive The Hunted from intriguing beginning to thrilling conclusion."
–Kathryn Mackel, author of Vanished
Read this someplace safe as you experience the incredibly descriptive world of The Hunted. And sleep with the lights on.
–Austin Boyd, author of Mars Hill Classified trilogy
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Non-FIRST: Exposing Darwinism’s Weakest Link by Kenneth Poppe
It’s June 15th, time for the Non~FIRST blog tour!(Join our alliance! Click the button!) Every 15th, we will featuring an author and his/her latest non~fiction book’s FIRST chapter!
The feature author is:
and his book:
Exposing Darwinism’s Weakest Link: Why Evolution Can’t Explain Human Existence
Harvest House Publishers (March 1, 2008)
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
A career biology instructor, Kenneth Poppe holds a doctorate in education and taught in secondary schools for more than 25 years. He is now senior consultant with the International Foundation for Science Education by Design (www.ifsed.org). In addition to working in teacher education and assisting in DNA research of stream ecology, he has authored Reclaiming Science from Darwinism.
Product Details:
List Price: $14.99
Paperback: 304 pages
Publisher: Harvest House Publishers (March 1, 2008)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 0736921257
ISBN-13: 978-0736921251
AND NOW…THE FIRST CHAPTER:
The majority is not trying to establish a religion or to teach it—it is trying to protect itself from the effort of an insolent minority to force irreligion upon the children under the guise of teaching science.
—WILLIAM JENNINGS BRYAN
BRYAN WAS THE ATTORNEY FOR THE PROSECUTION AT THE 1925 “SCOPES MONKEY TRIAL” IN DAYTON, TENNESSEE THAT MADE EVOLUTION A HOUSEHOLD TERM. THE ABOVE WORDS ARE FROM HIS
WRITTEN CLOSING STATEMENT, WHICH WAS NEVER READ IN COURT. 
1
EXAMINING YOUR FAMILY TREE
A Monkey for an Uncle?
Consider your biological father. He is responsible for half of the genetic codes that shaped your body, and probably some of your personality as well. Now consider his father, your grandfather. If typical, I would guess at least a couple of your body traits are more grandpa’s than dad’s—having somehow skipped a generation. And how about your great-grandfather? Were you lucky enough to know him, even if just like me, through those vague and shifting memories as a very
small boy? Dare I throw in a great-great-grandfather—in my case known only through legend and those grainy black-and-white photos of a roughly dressed man beside a horse and buggy?
Consider that when your great-great-grandfather was your age, for surely he once was, he could try to reconstruct his lineage just as you have done. What names and faces would he have recalled? And if you could piece great-great-granddad’s and your recollections together, that would create a timeline taking you back eight generations—perhaps 250 years or so! Where would you find your ancestors then? In my case, I’m told, the Hamburg, Germany, area. And would my ancestors then be traced to the nomadic Gaelic stock that inhabited Western Europe before formal countries were established there? And then to where? Ancient Phoenicians, Sumerians, Egyptians? And how about yours?
Now to get to the main point. If you kept traveling back in time in this manner, generation after generation, where would you end up? Where would your dad’s ancestors have been living 1000 years ago? 2500 to 5000 years ago? And so on? Those who believe in strict Darwinism would say an extended family schematic would show your ancestors going back several million years ago where they first evolved on the African continent. And on this reverse journey you would see slowly reappearing total body hair, steadily shrinking brains, increasingly sloping foreheads and jaw protrusions, and extending arms whose knuckles would eventually be dragging the ground, assisting a clumsy, bent-over gait. In other words, strict evolutionists say if you could backtrack your family tree for, say, 5 million years, your ancestors would now be closer in appearance to a chimp than a human. And if you continued farther back in time, the coccyx bone at the bottom of your pelvis would extend into a prehensile tail, and the reappearing grasping toes on your feet would send you back to swinging in the trees from whence you came some 10 to 15 million years ago.
Stop and ponder your supposed family tree in this way—a videotape in rewind. Is this really how it went down? Did humans come from monkeys? (Often a Darwinist will answer no to this question by saying it wasn’t a direct path of evolution. But monkeys have to be on the path before apes, right? And apes would have to be on the path before humanoids, right? So it most absolutely is, in theory, “monkey to man”—no matter how crooked the line.) Now if this isn’t the truth, what’s the alternative? Unless you consult primitive worship superstitions, I’ve stated before that the world’s five major religions give you one origin—Genesis—and it includes a tantalizing tale of an innocent man Adam and his companion woman, Eve, in a pristine garden. But for so many, that’s a fairy tale of bigger proportions than monkeys becoming humans. So what is the truth?
Here’s my response. Regardless of which religious view(s) might supply the answer(s), I will stand firmly on this:
There is absolutely no scientific support for the
monkey-to-man scenario—absolutely none.
On the contrary, science, and even philosophy, validate the title of this book and its overriding message as stated a few pages ago.
Either-Or
If there is an alternative answer to the totally unscientific view that monkeys slowly turned into people, ostensibly it is one of the religious variety. But before we tackle the idea, let me first share the concept I find continually bubbling up from the origins cauldron: Almost every major issue concludes with just two choices—either it could have happened this way, or it couldn’t. So grab a writing instrument and check your choice of one of two for each of the ten statements below.
It Could It Couldn’t
Happen Happen
_______ ______ 1. The most violent accidental explosion ever, the big bang, was sufficiently self-appointed to create the largest and most fine-tuned object ever known, the universe.
_______ ______ 2. The sheer number of planets in the universe, and the number of years these planets have existed, give us a mathematical chance that at least one would become a fully interactive biological world—ours—by accident.
_______ ______ 3. Blind luck had the ability to construct the approximately 80,000 different life-required protein chains of specifically sequenced amino acids (from an “alphabet” of 20 different amino-acid choices)—even those proteins 10,000 amino acids long.
_______ ______ 4. The RNA/DNA molecules, containing information equivalent to all the books in 20 standard libraries, suddenly appeared by chance in the “primordial soup” before the first cell was a reality.
_______ ______ 5. Almost as soon as Earth’s conditions permitted, a functional cell appeared, selfprepared with a wide array of metabolizing and reproductive mechanisms.
_______ ______ 6. A half billion years ago, in the blink of an evolutionary eye, the Cambrian explosion self-generated the completely interactive gene pool of all 32 animal phyla with complex organ systems. Once complex life didn’t exist, then it was all there.
_______ ______ 7. After the Cambrian explosion, random scramblings of genetic information kept producing improved genetic codes. This allowed life to surge forward as animals kept giving rise to improved offspring with which, suddenly
or eventually, they could not mate.
_______ ______ 8. These accidental genetic surges adequately explain a whole host of large-scale advances— for example, straight bones in fins turning into jointed bones in legs, reptile scales turning into bird feathers, photosensitive cells turning into eyes, births from amniotic eggs turning into births from a placenta, and chordates like cows or hippos going back into the ocean to become whales.
_______ ______ 9. While animals randomly surged forward within 32 phyla from sponges to mammals, plants accomplished a similar advance in complexity from moss to cacti, but did it in only 8 steps, often called divisions instead of phyla.
And central to this book:
_______ ______ 10. Primates like monkeys left the trees and kept getting bigger, stronger, and smarter. About 5 million years of natural selection was sufficient time for hominids to adapt to walking on their hind legs, learn to use tools,
fashion clothes to wear, master fire, develop first spoken and then written communication, and finally organize societies in cave homes among maple groves that eventually became cottage homes on Maple Street.
So how did you score on this checklist? The two most extreme scores would be to have all ten checks in the right column of “it couldn’t happen”—like me—or all ten checks on the left column of “it could happen.” Of course, you realize that one single check in the right column dooms Darwinism to immediate failure. All it takes is one legitimate “couldn’t” check in this either-or set-up and natural evolution has no chance to produce me the writer, or you the reader. If you can, actually imagine trying to agree with all ten statements as checked on the left, and I’ll wager you’ll feel the full weight of the folly of “self-made” life. Therefore, if you find evolution insufficient in even one instance, you need to consider a bigger-than-science connection— unless, of course, you want to remain apathetic. So, if evolution or apathy is not the answer, I suggest you begin a quest to come to grips with the “God” who engineered this miracle.
Rejecting statement #10 above reflects this chapter’s opening rejection of the idea that all our ancestral lines slowly become more stooped and stupider as we observe the reverse of totally natural processes. If the world generally rejected that notion and stood on the “God alternative” with confidence, it would dramatically change the debate on the other nine statements. And yet if monkeys are not our uncles then how do you explain human origin? How do you explain the master plan of God the Designer?
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CFBA: I Heart Bloomberg by Melody Carlson
This week, the
Christian Fiction Blog Alliance
is introducing
David C. Cook (April 1, 2008)
by
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Melody Carlson is the best-selling author of more than 100 books for adults, children, and teens, including three of her latest, These Boots Weren’t Made For Walking, A Mile In My Flip-Flops, and Mixed Bags. She and her husband, the parents of two grown sons, make their home near the Cascade Mountains in Central Oregon. Melody is a full-time writer as well as an avid gardener, biker, skier, and hiker.
Favorite Bible verse: John 3:16 - "For God so loved the world that He gave his only begotten son that whosoever believes in Him shall not perish but have everlasting life." It’s the “whosoever” part that gets me. That’s who I write for – “whosoever” and to me that means everyone and anyone.
Carlson, author of more than 100 books, begins her 86 Bloomberg Place series with I Heart Bloomberg that functions mostly to set up future storylines. Three women rent rooms at 86 Bloomberg Place.
ABOUT THE BOOK
Kendall’s managed to wrangle her grandmother’s house-free and clear-except for the rules. No male roommates. But that’s ok, with the right ad she’ll pull in some girls, their rent and if she’s lucky, she won’t have to go to work any time soon.
For their part, Anna, Lelani, and Megan all have their reasons for wanting to move in: Anna has got to get out from under her overprotective parents; Lelani can’t take another day in her aunt’s tiny crackerbox house overflowing with toddlers and Megan needs a place free of her current roommate from Hades.
Though they come with assorted extra baggage filled with broken hearts and dreams, they will discover they also have a vast array of hidden strengths. And they struggle to become the women they want to be, they’ll find new hope and maybe even Kendall will learn a thing or two about life, love and the true meaning of friendship.
If you would like to read the first chapter, go HERE
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Wild Card: A Sister’s Hope by Wanda E. Brunstetter
It is time to play a Wild Card! Every now and then, a book that I have chosen to read is going to pop up as a FIRST Wild Card Tour. Get dealt into the game! (Just click the button!) Wild Card Tours feature an author and his/her book’s FIRST chapter!
You never know when I might play a wild card on you!
Today’s Wild Card author is:
and her book:
Barbour Publishing, Inc (July 1, 2008)
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Fascinated by the Amish people during the years of visiting her husband’s family in Pennsylvania, WANDA E. BRUNSTETTER combined her interest with her writing and now has eleven novels about the Amish in print, along with numerous other stories and ministry booklets. She lives in Washington State, where her husband is a pastor, but takes every opportunity to visit Amish settlements throughout the states.
Visit her at her website.
AND NOW…THE FIRST CHAPTER:
Be of good courage,
and he shall strengthen your heart,
all ye that hope in the LORD.
PSALM 31:24
——
Chapter 1 
Ar-ou-ou! Ar-ou-ou!
Piercing howls roused Martha Hostettler from her sleep, and she rolled over in bed.
Ar-ou-ou! Ar-ou-ou!
There it was again. That couldn’t be Polly. The beagle had a high-pitched howl, not deep and penetrating. Polly’s mate, Beau, must be making that awful noise.
Martha turned on the flashlight she kept on the nightstand and pointed the light at her battery-operated clock. It was three o’clock. None of Martha’s dogs ever barked or howled during the night unless something was amiss. Could Heidi have had her pups? The sheltie wasn’t due for another week or so. Maybe Beau had sensed what was going on and wanted to let Martha know.
She shook her head, trying to clear away the cobwebs of sleep. That’s ridiculous. Beau might be able to sense that Heidi’s having a problem, but I doubt he’s smart enough to let me know. Something else must have disturbed the dog.
Martha thought of the day she’d found her sheltie Fritz tied to a tree. One of his legs had also been tied up, and a bowl of water had been placed just out of his reach. Another time, Martha had found one of her puppies in the yard with its neck broken. She had wondered if whoever had been vandalizing her family’s property and attacking them in other ways could have been responsible for the puppy’s death.
A tremor shot through her body. What if someone was in the barn right now? What if they planned to hurt one of her dogs?
She pushed the covers aside and jumped out of bed. Dashing across the room, she slipped into her bathrobe, stepped into her sneakers, grabbed the flashlight, and rushed out of her room.
When Martha stepped outside, she shivered as a chilly breeze rustled the leaves. Martha hurried across the yard. As she approached the barn, she tipped her head and listened. Beau had stopped howling. The dog could have been spooked by one of the horses on the other side of the barn. She was probably worried for nothing.
Holding the flashlight with one hand and grasping the handle of the door with the other, Martha stepped into the barn. Clunk! Splat! Something cool and wet hit the top of her head. The sticky liquid dripped down her face and oozed onto her neck.
Martha aimed the flashlight at the front of her robe and groaned. She was covered in white paint! She flashed a beam of light upward and gasped. A bucket connected to a piece of rope had been suspended above the barn door. Someone had deliberately set this up! Was it a prank by some unruly kids? Or could this be another attack?
She reached for a cardboard box on a nearby shelf and fumbled around until she located a clean rag. She blotted the paint from her face the best she could. The ammonia smell identified the paint as latex. At least it would clean up with soap and warm water.
Martha hurried to her dog kennels in the back of the barn. Relief swept over her when she saw that all of the dogs—Polly, Beau, Fritz, and Heidi—were okay. And Heidi still hadn’t delivered her pups.
When Martha reached through the wire fencing and patted Beau on the head, he looked up at her and whined.
“Go back to sleep, boy. Everything’s fine.”
But it wasn’t fine. Someone had sneaked into their barn and rigged up the bucket. How long ago had it been done? Could they still be in the barn?
Martha swept the barn with her flashlight but saw no one. Satisfied that nothing else seemed to have been disturbed, she hurried outside. Glancing down, she noticed an empty pack of cigarettes on the ground.
Rustling sounded in the distance. She aimed her flashlight toward the field of dried corn behind their house. A man was running through the fields. She sucked in her breath. It was hard to tell much from this distance in the dark, but it looked like he wore a straw hat, the kind Amish men used.
Martha shuddered. If I tell Dad about seeing the man, he’ll think it was Luke. For some time, her father had suspected Luke of attacking their family, but she was convinced Luke was innocent. At least, she hoped he was.
Martha hurried to the house and headed straight for the shower. She needed to get the paint washed off. She needed time to think.
When she stepped out of the bathroom a short time later and saw a man standing in the hallway, her breath caught. “Dad! What are you doing here? I. . .I didn’t think anyone else was up.”
“The sound of the shower running woke me.” He frowned and pointed to her clothes lying on the floor outside the bathroom. “I’ve heard of folks sleepwalking during the night, but I never knew anyone who liked to paint in their sleep.”
“I wasn’t. I—”
“What’s going on?” Mom asked as she joined them in front of the bathroom door.
Martha quickly explained what had happened in the barn.
“Ach!” Mom gasped. “Was this another attack?”
“I. . .I don’t know,” Martha stammered. “It’s hard to say.”
Dad looked over at Martha, his brows furrowing. “Did you see anyone?”
“I. . .uh. . .thought I saw someone running across the field, but
I didn’t get a good enough look to tell who it was.”
Ruth showed up on the scene, rubbing her eyes and yawning. “It’s the middle of the night. What’s everyone doing out of bed?”
Martha recounted her story again and ended by saying, “I’m sorry I woke everyone.”
“We needed to know what happened.” Mom slipped her arm around Martha’s waist. “It’s not safe for you to go to the barn during the night.”
“I just wanted to check on my hund. Besides, it’s not right that we can’t feel safe on our own property.” Martha looked at Dad. “Will you let the sheriff know about this?”
“What’s the point? Sheriff Osborn hasn’t done a thing to prevent any of the attacks from happening. It’s not likely he’ll start now.” Dad shrugged. “What’s done is done. Notifying the sheriff won’t change a thing.”
As Luke Friesen headed down the road in his open buggy, the pungent smell of horseflesh filled his senses. Despite the fact that he owned a pickup truck he kept hidden in the woods because his folks wouldn’t approve of it, Luke preferred horse and buggy transportation. He’d only bought the pickup because some of his Amish friends, who were also going through their running-around years, owned a vehicle. Luke figured it was expected of him. Besides, having the truck gave him the freedom to travel wherever he wanted. And it gave him an in with Rod and Tim, the English fellows he’d been hanging around for a time. Luke’s folks didn’t approve of his rowdy English friends, and they’d been after him to settle down and join the Amish church for some time. But he wasn’t ready. Some things he wanted to do, he couldn’t do as a member of the church. Besides, there was no point in joining the church when he wasn’t ready to get married. He would consider it if and when he found the right woman.
A vision of Martha Hostettler flashed across Luke’s mind. She was spunky and daring—the complete opposite of her sister, Ruth, who never liked to take chances and had seemed so subdued during the time they’d been courting. Under the right circumstances, Luke might consider courting Martha.
Luke gritted his teeth as he thought about the way Martha’s father, Roman, had fired him for being late to work a few years ago, and how, after the Hostettlers had come under attack, Roman had pointed a finger at Luke. Even though Luke had denied having anything to do with the attacks, Roman had given him the cold shoulder ever since. If the man had any idea Luke was interested in his youngest daughter, Luke was sure he and Martha would both be in trouble.
At least I have a job working for John Peterson. Guess that’s something to be grateful for. Luke snapped the reins to get the horse moving faster. If I’m not careful, I’ll end up being late for work because I’m allowing my horse to plod along while I think about someone I can’t have.
The buggy jolted and leaned to the right. “Whoa! Steady, boy.” He pulled back on the reins and grimaced when he saw his left buggy wheel roll onto the opposite side of the road. Good thing there were no cars going by at the moment.
Luke guided the horse and buggy to the shoulder of the road, jumped down, and sprinted over to the buggy wheel. “Great,” he muttered. “Now I will be late for work.”
Luke lugged the wheel over to his buggy and spent the next several minutes looking for the nut that had come off. When he couldn’t find it, he reached into his toolbox in the back of the buggy and took out another nut. He’d just squatted down in front of the buggy to set the wheel in place, when Sheriff Osborn’s car pulled up behind him.
“Looks like you lost a wheel,” the sheriff said as he sauntered over to Luke
.“That’s what happened, all right.” Luke grimaced. “It’s gonna make me late for work.”
“Need any help?”
“Sure, I’d appreciate that.” Luke’s nose twitched as Sheriff Osborn knelt on the ground next to the buggy wheel. The sheriff’s clothes reeked of cigarette smoke, which made Luke think the man was either a heavy smoker or had recently been around someone who smoked.
“Are you still working for John Peterson?” the sheriff asked as he helped Luke lift the wheel and set it in place.
Luke nodded. “Sure am.”
“Do you like working for John better than you did Roman?”
“John’s a good boss—always patient and fair with me,” Luke said without really answering the sheriff’s question. “Of course I don’t know how he’ll react to me being late today.”
“I’m sure he’ll understand when you tell him what happened with your buggy wheel.”
“I appreciate your help,” Luke said once the wheel had been securely fastened.
Sheriff Osborn reached into his pocket, pulled out a pack of gum, and popped a piece into his mouth. “No problem. Glad I came along when I did. If you’d had to fix the wheel yourself, you’d be even later for work.” He turned toward his car. “Guess I’d better get back to the business at hand. I got a report that there have been too many cars going over the speed limit on this stretch of road, so I figured I’d better nip it in the bud.”
Luke shuffled his feet a few times, trying to think of the best way to say what was on his mind.
“You’re looking kind of thoughtful there,” Sheriff Osborn said as he chomped on his wad of gum. “Have you got something on your mind?”
“I. . .uh. . .was wondering if you’ve had any leads on who’s behind the attacks against the Hostettlers.”
“Nope, sure don’t. As far as I know, there haven’t been any more attacks at their place in some time.” The sheriff stuck another piece of gum in his mouth. “I might have caught the culprit responsible for the attacks if Roman had let me know about them sooner.” He kicked a pebble with the toe of his boot. “From what I understand, it’s not against the Amish religion to notify the police, so I can’t figure out why Roman kept quiet about most of those attacks.”
Luke shrugged. “I guess he figured it was best to turn the other cheek and not involve the law unless it became absolutely necessary.”
“You’re probably right.” The sheriff turned toward his car again. “I’d better be on my way and let you get to work. Wouldn’t want to see you lose your job on my account.” He waved as he climbed into his car.
Luke checked the wheel over once more for good measure, gave his horse a quick pat, and stepped into his buggy.
When he arrived at John’s shop, he found John sitting behind his desk, talking on the phone. Figuring it best not to disturb him, Luke hurried to the back room to put away his lunch box. When he returned, John was off the phone.
“Sorry for being late,” Luke apologized. “One of my buggy wheels fell off, and I had to stop and fix it.”
“Of course you did.” John smiled. “Your being late’s not a problem. Some things happen that we can’t control.”
Luke wiped the sweat from his forehead as he drew in a quick breath. “I appreciate your understanding. I was afraid you might fire me the way Roman did when I worked for him.”
A deep wrinkle formed above John’s slightly crooked nose. “No one should be punished for something that isn’t his fault.”
Luke nodded. Working for John was sure easier than working for Roman had been. Nothing had ever seemed to be good enough for that man. Every time Luke had an idea about how something should be done, Roman had vetoed it.
“What would you like me to do this morning?” Luke asked as he moved toward John’s desk.
John motioned to several cabinet doors stacked against the wall. “You can begin sanding those while I go over to Kiem Lumber to pick up some supplies.”
He stood. “I shouldn’t be gone long. If any customers show up, go ahead and write up the orders.”
Luke nodded. It felt good to have John’s trust. Roman never trusted him. He grimaced. Why do I keep comparing John to Roman, and why can’t
I stop thinking about how things used to be when I worked for Roman?
When John left the shop, Luke began working on the doors. John’s beagle, Flo, who’d been lying on an old rug near John’s desk, ambled over to Luke with a pathetic whine.
He bent down, and the dog licked his hand. “You don’t miss John already, do you, girl? Are you craving some attention?”
The dog responded with a low whimper then flopped on the floor a few feet from where Luke stood.
As Luke plucked a piece of sandpaper, he thought about Martha and wondered how her dog business was doing. She’d sold Flo to John because the dog was barren, and she’d used the money to buy another dog she hoped to use for breeding purposes.
Luke wished he felt free to stop by the Hostettlers’ to see Martha, but he knew if Roman saw him talking to her, he wouldn’t like it. Luke and Roman would probably end up having words. He thought too highly of Martha to cause trouble between her and her dad. Luke figured it was best if he stayed away from the Hostettler place. Besides, there were other things he needed to do today.
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