Whispers in Wyoming
Dreams of Sweetwater River
Volume 3 of the Whispers in Wyoming Series
Lisa M. Prysock
The remedy for a broken heart is the love, grace, and generosity of God. When that’s not enough, He increases the dosage.
Other Titles by Lisa M. Prysock
To Find a Duchess, an Inspirational Regency Romance
The Victorian Christian Heritage Series
Hannah’s Garden: a Turn of the Century Love Story, Volume 1
Abigail’s Melody, Volume 2
The Lydia Collection (May be read in any order)
The Redemption of Lady Georgiana
Protecting Miss Jenna
Persecution & Providence
Arise Warrior Princess, a 30 Day Devotional Challenge
The Shoemaker, an Old-Fashioned Regency Christmas Story
Brides of Grace Hill Series
Geneva, Garden of Joy, Volume 1
Copyright
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means- electronic, mechanical, digital, photocopy, recording or any other—except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the prior permission of the author.
Dreams of Sweetwater River
Copyright © 2017 by Lisa M. Prysock
All rights reserved.
Cover Design formatting by Lisa M. Prysock; front cover image contributed by cover artist Erin Dameron-Hill. Clip art and illustrations used are public domain and illustrations by the author noted by initials LP or by Lisa Prysock, if any. Any internet links, addresses, or contact information in this book are not guaranteed for the life of the book. Interior text edited by Rachel Skatvold.
For information or to contact the publisher or author: Lisa Prysock, 7318 Autumn Bent Way, Crestwood, Kentucky 40014, USA
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to events or locales, is entirely coincidental.
This work is cataloged in the Library of Congress.
Unless paraphrased, otherwise noted or indicated, all Scripture quotations are from the King James Version of the Bible.
Dreams of Sweetwater River
Copyright © 2017 by Lisa M. Prysock
All rights reserved.
ISBN:
ISBN-13: 978-1979245593
ISBN-10: 1979245592
Dedication
This book is dedicated to Barry & MaryAnn!
Acknowledgments
Thank you Paul & Kelly for your daily encouragement!
Table of Contents
Other Titles by Lisa M. Prysock
Copyright
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Author Note
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Epilogue Appendix A
Epilogue Appendix B
About the Author
Notes for the Reader
Power Verses
Author Note
Dear Readers,
There was a time in life when my faith and trust in God were in shards. If you have ever found yourself in that place, you may genuinely appreciate this story. If not, know you are doubly blessed. Somehow, the lovingkindness, mercy, and grace of the Lord found me and put all things to right again.
The testing of our faith requires endurance. Though it can be trying, don’t give up! He is faithful and just to reward the one who seeks Him and endures with longsuffering and patience. You’ll find a triple blessing on the other side of the testing.
Lisa
Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own. Matthew 6:34, NIV
Chapter 1
The Very Rotten Really Bad Day
She had barely noticed spring blossom or the season turning to warmer weather during the month of May. Although it had been a terrible day on the heels of heartbreak and loss when Jill Michaels decided to turn the lives of her family upside down, it would not prove to be a regrettable decision. In retrospect, maybe her decision had been a factor in turning their world right side up…
“Jill, I’m sorry to bother you again, but you’ll need to come and pick up Zachary right away.”
She cringed on the other side of the line. It was the third time in less than two months Cheryl Andrews, secretary to the Assistant Principal, had called. Jill was now on a first name basis with her.
“I’ll be there as soon as possible. What’s he done this time, Cheryl?” She squeezed her eyes shut and braced for the worst.
“There’s been another fist fight. I’m sorry, but the principal said I should warn you now… he’s been suspended. We have a really strict policy about fighting.”
Her shoulders sank and she covered her eyes with a weary hand. “Oh, no! I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
The call ended and Jill tossed the cell phone onto her desk calendar. She swiveled in her leather chair to take in the view of the Hudson River from the windows in her west side Manhattan office. She barely noticed how serene the river looked today.
If she hurried, she might make it to the Empire Connection at Penn Station in time for the next departure. From there, the Hudson rail would carry her to the Newburgh ferry at Beacon station in about an hour; one reason why she usually worked from her home office one or two days a week.
The commute could be draining on the best of days, but she did enjoy the time to read and collect her thoughts. At the Beacon station, Jill would cross the river on the ten minute ferry ride and arrive in the parking lot where she parked her shimmery, red Jeep Wrangler. Alex had said she’d look beautiful in a red jeep when they’d purchased it. From the parking lot by the ferry, it was a short drive to Zach’s elementary school.
Working in the city and living in the suburbs of New York had been the best of both worlds, until the strain of being a single parent began to show. If only Alex were here. He would know exactly what to say to help a struggling fifth grader.
Thankfully, she didn’t have to answer to a boss like most of the others who worked in the same fifteen-story office building. A successful freelance columnist and travel critic, she paid for her own office and determined her own hours at will. Before she could gather her Dooney & Bourke purse and shove the phone inside next to her car keys, the phone rang again. Only it wasn’t her cell phone ringing. This time, it was her office phone. She swirled her chair back around to pick up the receiver. She pressed the speaker button and replaced the receiver on the phone cradle.
“Jill Michaels speaking,” she answered, drumming her fingers softly on the desk calendar in front of her. “May I help you?”
“Hello, Mrs. Michaels?” the voice said through the speaker phone. “This is Miss Blake, your daughter’s math teacher…”
“Yes, Miss Blake… how is Jackie doing?” She held her breath waiting for a response.
“Well, that’s why I called.” Miss Blake cleared her throat and then continued, “Is everything all right at home? I know it’s not like Jackie, but I caught her
cheating on the fractions test this afternoon. She has been assigned detention for the remainder of the week and will need picked up from school each day, beginning today.”
Jill looked up at the ceiling and shook her head, fighting to blink back tears. Clearly, finishing her column this afternoon would have to wait until well after dinner. There would be frank discussions on the agenda as well. She managed to sit up straight and choke out a response while shutting her laptop down. “Miss Blake, you’re right, this doesn’t sound like my daughter at all. I didn’t realize she was struggling with fractions. She never said a word about the test scheduled for today. I’ll have a talk with her this evening. What time should I pick her up from school?”
“Detention is over by four o’clock,” Miss Blake answered. “Would it help if I sent home a few extra work sheets on fractions?”
“Yes, thank you. I’ll be there at about four o’clock.” Jill hit the disconnect button on the speaker phone. Standing, she slid the laptop into the padded briefcase on the floor beside her desk. She flew out the double doors of her office so fast the strap of her cross-body purse caught on the silver door knob. She untangled it, passed by the receptionist’s empty desk, and headed for the elevator. It had probably been a bad idea to allow her receptionist to have Tuesday afternoons off if today was any indication of how things were going to go.
As the elevator descended, nervous thoughts about what was happening in her own life and the lives of her children raced through her mind. If only Alex were here, she wouldn’t be in this predicament alone. She reminded herself he wasn’t coming back from the grave; not now, not ever.
A West Point graduate, Major Alexander Michaels had been on track for a promising military career in the Army. Combined with his promotions, recommendations from senior level staff, three years in charge of an artillery support unit, and two years in Afghanistan fighting terrorists, he would have had the experience needed to return to West Point; not as a cadet, but an entry level, battlefield experienced teacher.
She swiped at a tear threatening to spill out of the corner of one of her eyes and tilted her chin up. Three years of remorse over Alex wouldn’t change the fact Afghanistan had stolen the life of her husband. It was time to accept the fact her children were fatherless and she, a widow. Jill buttoned one button of the navy blue blazer and inspected the tips of her Manolo Blahnik pumps peeking out from beneath her long, navy blue skirt.
In the nick of time, she boarded the Hudson line and dropped into an empty seat. Crossing one knee over the other, she rummaged around in her small, navy purse with the New York Yankee’s emblem pattern until she found her phone. Sure enough, Eddie had texted. Mrs. Edna Gilmore, housekeeper extraordinaire, had sent this message:
Picked up Savannah for you because the teacher called reporting she is running a low fever. I think it’s a mild case of the flu. Temperature of 101 degrees… Making chicken noodle soup now and gave her two chewable aspirin.
What next? Thank goodness for Eddie! What would she do without her help? She texted back:
Thank you, Eddie!
Behold, I send you forth as sheep in the midst of wolves: be ye therefore wise as serpents, and harmless as doves. Matthew 10:16
Chapter 2
The Annoying Schlep
As if things couldn’t get any worse, an annoying schlep sat down in the seat beside her who put her in the mind of a mad scientist, stalker, professional disco dancer, or possibly a con artist. He was a lanky fellow who may not have combed his hair in any number of years. He wore long sideburns and flaps of hair on the sides of his long face slicked back with goopy gel. The top of his hair was excessively frizzy and worn bouffant style, flipped back like Elvis Presley. A rodent might have set up housekeeping in there.
Three gold bracelets on one hairy wrist and a flamboyant, gaudy watch on the other rendered her speechless. He wore a wrinkled, pink shirt with a sharply pointed collar. One too many buttons open at the neck of the shirt revealed more than she wanted to view beneath a tweed jacket, paired with white carpenter pants. Hideous, cheap cologne permeated the vicinity as he propped one ankle over his other knee revealing a horror of red, possibly faux alligator leather, zipped, ankle boots... with platform, clunky heels.
There were a few things about New York which caused her alarm; namely being trapped on a train next to the odd fellow. A secondary cause for alarm—if the odd fellow spoke…
He not only spoke, but reached inside the tweed jacket and pulled out a drooping rose. Offering the rose, he cleared his throat, pushed black-rimmed glasses back on the bridge of his nose, and leaned closer. “Would you care to have dinner with me? I find you the most exquisite woman in all of New York!”
Great! Now she had been asked out on a date by a frightening schlep! Jill mustered every bit of steel nerve she had within and firmly replied, “No.” She stood up, gripping the back of the seats in front of them. “Excuse me.”
At this hour, there were a number of empty seats. Thankful for two business men in suits reading newspapers tossing the stranger long stares, she managed to navigate around the gator shoes into the aisle. She made her way to the front of the train car and chose a seat next to an elderly lady reading a book.
“Is this seat taken?” Jill inquired intrepidly.
“It’s all yours, honey!” The elderly lady patted the empty seat and gave her a warm smile.
Jill breathed a sigh of thanksgiving and sat down. “Thanks!”
The elderly silver-haired woman leaned over and tossed a wry look over her shoulder toward the schlep. “I sometimes have to anoint myself with holy oil after some of the encounters on these train rides to and from the city,” she whispered.
Jill couldn’t help but chuckle at the remark. She wasn’t a praying woman anymore, but deep within her, she supposed there was a cry for help that had gone unanswered for so long she’d just slowly given up… or resigned herself to waiting. In any case, the woman was just trying to be friendly. She’d found a rare gem on the busy streets of New York. Here strangers so often kept to themselves for self-preservation.
She turned to her side to look more closely at the elderly lady. “Do you go into the city often?”
“Only to babysit my granddaughters twice a week until their mom gets home from work,” she replied. “They’re ages three and four, so next year I’ll just have one when the oldest begins school.”
“I see,” Jill responded. “It must be nice to live close enough to see your grandbabies.”
“Oh yes! We have a wonderful time together going to the zoo, the library, and the park. Sometimes we go shopping together. I read a lot to them. We’ve even taken a few ferry rides up the Hudson. I have one of those family memberships to the zoo… we pack a picnic lunch and do that an awful lot. We go all over. We have a grand time and make many happy memories together.”
“That’s so nice…” Jill breathed, recalling how many times her mother had pleaded with her to move back to Wyoming.
“I enjoy it and so do they,” the grandmother replied and returned to reading her book.
The tension in her body drained away when the lanky schlep exited the train at the next stop and the journey toward Cornwall-on-the-Hudson continued through a few tunnels and over a few more bridges. Slowly relaxing, Jill’s mind wandered to the letters inside her purse from Mother and Aunt Meredith imploring her to return to Wyoming. Mother had written she was missing the joy of watching her only grandchildren grow up. Aunt Meredith, jovial as ever, mentioned there were plenty of eligible cowboys to marry, regardless of the fact Jill wasn’t remotely interested in a husband. She still loved Alex so much she couldn’t imagine anyone else taking his place at her side. It had been three years since Alex had passed. She had been trying to manage things on her own ever since.
In spite of a few strange characters city life had to offer, she’d fallen in love with New York and her life with Alex. If she returned home, Mother would expect her faith to be intact. Nothing could be further from
the truth. There had been the little voice reminding her she had to do things on her own ever since she’d given up on trusting God. If He wasn’t going to protect her, she had to protect herself. She wasn’t even sure if she believed He existed anymore. If there was a God, He didn’t seem to care about her.
Maybe she could admit to needing a little help from family. It would be nice for her children to get to know their maternal grandmother and great aunt. She had to admit, Alex would be pleased for his children to get to know his parents back in Wyoming, too. She picked up the third letter in her purse from her mother-in-law, Joan Michaels, and scanned it for the tenth time. Jill and the kids were her only remaining connection to her son. For years, she had treated Jill as if she had stolen him; as if the United States Army and ultimately, infidels in Afghanistan hadn’t already done so. Surprisingly, even Joan had finally written about how much she wished they would move back west.
She swept her golden-brown hair to one side of her shoulders. Her weekly column, Jill’s Journeys, continued to do so well it was generally snapped up by every newspaper on the east coast and then some. Maybe it was time to move back home to Wyoming. Perhaps she could write about the West instead of the usual New York and east coast restaurants, hotels, food, antique shops, and unusual things to do... all subjects her readers had come to count on and expect from her. Maybe, just maybe, she might even be able to finish the book she’d been writing… and try one of those delicious burgers she sometimes craved from her hometown of Lander.
Dreams of Sweetwater River (Whispers In Wyoming Book 3) Page 1