Crispens Point - Book 1 of the Blackberry County Chronicles

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by JoHannah Reardon


  “Were you real wild in high school?”

  Charlotte hated this part of the story. “I guess so. I’m ashamed of it now. I broke my parents’ hearts and messed my own life up for quite a long time. I learned all my lessons the hard way. But God is good, and He gave me a whole new start. I have a great life now.”

  Lisa seemed satisfied with this answer, and they continued to chat about smaller things. She particularly was excited to hear that Charlotte had been adopted too. They talked about all the things they had in common.

  When it was time for them to leave, Lisa asked, “Can I visit her sometime, Mom?”

  “Sure, honey. We’ll work out a time this summer.”

  “I’d like that.”

  “I’d like that too,” Charlotte agreed.

  As they started to walk out the door, Lisa yelled, “Wait!” She ran up to Charlotte and threw her arms around her. The tears that Charlotte had been holding back flowed freely now.

  In the car, Gordon said, “I don’t see how that could have gone any better.”

  “I don’t either. It surpassed my best imaginations.”

  “It was fun for me. Being around Lisa was like getting to see you as a little girl. I couldn’t believe how much she looks like you.”

  “She truly does,” Charlotte laughed. “I could hardly believe it myself.”

  They sunk into an easy silence. After driving awhile, Gordon pulled off at a scenic spot. “Let’s get out and stretch for a minute.”

  They climbed out and Gordon said, “Look, there’s a little creek flowing though the trees. Why don’t we walk in there?”

  Holding hands, they followed the creek for quite a while, startling a muskrat and scaring some geese away. “Now that we’ve gotten rid of the crowd,” Gordon joked, “I can tell you why I brought you here.” He took both her hands and looked into her eyes so tenderly that Charlotte’s knees felt weak. “I know this is sudden, but I meant what I said back at the house. There’s no one else for me but you. Will you marry me?”

  Charlotte threw her arms around him. “Of course I will. I don’t see how I could live without you.”

  Gordon smiled and kissed her for the first time. As she melted into his arms, she felt certain that all the creatures of the wood fell silent.

  The church took the news pretty well. There were a few who thought the pastor was a bit flighty with his marriage proposals, but on the whole everyone liked Charlotte so much that they accepted it quite nicely.

  They told the Donahues first. “I knew it. I knew it. Didn’t I tell you right away that they were right for each other?” Mrs. Donahue looked at her husband with superiority.

  “You did indeed, and I thought you were batty. But I’ll concede when I’m wrong. I couldn’t be happier for you both,” and he extended his hand to shake with Gordon, then gave Charlotte a hug.

  When their son, Mort, found out, his only comment was, “I didn’t know romance writers got married!” In response, Gordon good naturedly wrestled him to the ground.

  Charlotte made a point to tell Mrs. Bartholomew right away. “Well, it’s about time,” she declared. “I was afraid that Mustard and I would have to hit you over the head or something.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Why, I knew from the very beginning that you were in love with him. Every time I mentioned him, you got all moony like. I couldn’t understand what was keeping you two apart.”

  “It does take two, you know.”

  “Exactly. He was just as in love with you as you were with him.”

  Charlotte put her hands on her hips. “Now, how could you possibly know that?”

  “Well, my first tip-off was when the young pastor spent that tornado outside your house in the bushes.”

  “What?” Charlotte looked as shocked as if she’d told her that leprechauns popped out of the ground.

  “Yep. That whole storm he was there. I couldn’t figure it out other than he wanted to be near you.”

  Charlotte’s eyes teared up again. She was tired of crying, but she couldn’t seem to stop the tears of joy. It felt like a time of rain after a long drought. Fortunately Mrs. B continued as if nothing had happened, “The bad thing is that you won’t be my neighbor any more. I’ll miss you something fierce.”

  Charlotte put her arms around her. “I’ll only be a few blocks away. You and Mustard and welcome anytime.”

  Mrs. Bartholomew hugged her back, not wanting to let go. “You’ve been the best neighbor ever. I don’t know what we would have done without you.”

  The wedding day came a few months later. Charlotte’s mother was there with her blonde-tinted wig, along with Lyla and her baby. When Lyla heard the news she said, “Hey, there’s hope for me. Some stories do have happy endings.”

  Mrs. Bartholomew was there with Mustard. He had a new collar in honor of the celebration. Misty and her friends as well as all the high school girls helped serve at the reception.

  Cherry and her parents were there. Cherry hugged Charlotte fiercely and whispered. “I’m so happy for you. Nothing so wonderful will ever happen to me!”

  Charlotte hugged her back just as ferociously. “Darling Cherry. Just be patient.”

  Then she laughed as Cherry gave her a look of suspicion and said, “Easy for you to say!”

  Janice was her matron of honor and Lisa her bridesmaid. She’d been to Charlotte’s home three different weekends since their first meeting. They got along like long lost friends. The church had a little more trouble accepting Lisa, but soon her sparkling personality won them over. And Charlotte’s work with the teenagers had new power as she warned them about the pain of rebelliousness.

  When Gordon saw Charlotte walking down the aisle toward him, his heart leapt back to the moment a few months before when he saw her walking down this same aisle. He could hardly believe that this time, he was the groom. As they turned to make their sacred vows in front of these many witnesses, he thought she was the purest, sweetest woman he’d ever known.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  JoHannah Reardon blogs at johannahreardon.com. If you enjoyed this book, please give it a positive review. Also, check out the other books in the Blackberry County Chronicles:

  Blackberry County Chronicles: Cherry Cobbler—Book 2, Prince Crossing—Book 3

  Distant Shores Series: Redbud Corner—Book 1, Journey to Omwana—Book 2, Gathering Bittersweet—Book 3

  Children’s Fiction: The Crumbling Brick

  Family Devotional: Proverbs for Kids

  Devotional: Undone by Majesty and Mystery

  Do you want to know what happens to Cherry? Following is a preview of her story from the book, Cherry Cobbler:

  “Where’s Papa going with that ax?” That’s how the book Charlotte’s Web begins. You know, the story where the spider saves Wilbur the pig from becoming bacon. I used to cry whenever I read that book as a child. Every time the pig cried, I cried too. Maybe it was because I was rather plump myself and identified too strongly with the main character.

  At any rate, that’s kind of how I feel now. Just like Wilbur, blubbering because he’s about to become someone’s breakfast. Not that I’m physically in danger. Not at all. I’m plugging away quite well as far as that goes. No threats on my life, no fatal diseases. In fact, I escaped without even a cold when everyone else called in sick to work. No, my problems are more of the social nature.

  Now don’t get me wrong. I’m a likeable individual with lots of friends, always the first person to get invited to a party. I often end up in the middle of the room with a crowd gathered around as I tell jokes and generally keep everyone from giving up and going home. Some of my friends plan their parties around me the way they’d plan around a magician or singer they’d invited. So my problem is not being popular. I really am. The trouble is that I’m getting to an age where I want to settle down. I’m twenty-eight years old. If you are any older than that, I’m sure you think I’m quite young. If you are under nineteen, it probably sound
s close to death. I don’t feel young or close to death, just tired of the carefree single life. There’s nothing I’d like more than staying home with my man for a video and some popcorn.

  Okay, now it’s out. It’s the man part I’m missing. I know. These days women are supposed to be independent. They’re not supposed to need men. At least that’s the message I got as I slogged my way through college. But you know what? Even if we don’t need them, they’re kind of nice to have around. There are moments at work when I’d trade seven emotional females for one levelheaded male.

  I work as a secretary at a garden center. Excuse me, as an administrative assistant. I think everyone gives workers fancy titles these days so they won’t have to give them a raise. At least that’s what my mom says. When I told her I’d been hired as an administrative assistant, I said it all hoity-toity like it was something important, but she said, “Hrmph. Your dad and I worked all those years to put you through college so you could be a secretary?” Fancy titles never fool Mom.

  I went to college just thirty miles away from my home in Crispens Point, the exact center of Blackberry County. I just couldn’t seem to go farther. I didn’t want to stay in my small hometown, but I didn’t want to distance myself too much either. So, I left Crispens Point but stayed in Blackberry County.

  I went to college to become a teacher. It sounded nice; put together exceptionally motivating lesson plans, give the kids lots of hugs, be a hero. Yeah, right! I just about got killed during student teaching. Those kids saw right through me. I don’t know what I was thinking. I never even liked babysitting.

  So after graduating, I stuck my teaching certificate in a drawer and haven’t seen it since. I got a job at the garden center. I’d pulled weeds during college to make some extra cash. They liked me there and I could still hang around my college buddies. But now most of them are gone and I’m still here, looking for more meaning than filing forms and making phone calls.

  The good part about staying around is that I stayed involved in my church. I’m from a small town originally, so when I first went to Faith Church, I thought I’d died and gone to heaven. There were people galore, great music, a bazillion programs, and lots of eligible college men running around. I felt certain that I’d find The One at any turn. Ten years later, that idea is growing a little thin.

  Don’t misunderstand me. I still love Faith Church. I go to a Bible study every week, show up at every women’s event the church sponsors, and faithfully attend anything that has to do with food, always my weakness. I even volunteer in the nursery once in a while, which gives credence to the verse that says “I can do everything through him who gives me strength.” But the number of available men has dwindled considerably. Those college men look like my kid brother to me, and the older men look like my dad. The only men in my age range who aren’t tied down have been married several times already, or are spending most of their evenings at Alcoholics Anonymous. I’m glad they’re at church, but I try not to spend too much time talking to them.

  Not that they notice me either. I’m not bad looking. I have dark brown hair that used to be shoulder length but is now cut short in what my mom used to call a pixie cut. I still battle my weight, although I’m not huge. Size sixteen is only slightly above average from everything I’ve read. I’m not too tall, in fact I’m kind of on the short side, which I’ve traditionally blamed my weight on. You know, I don’t weigh too much; I’m just not tall enough. I try to keep up on the latest fashions although I’ve got to admit I’ve gotten behind a bit on that lately. So why don’t they notice me? I’ve asked myself that question for years.

  Do you know I haven’t had even one real boyfriend? Well, unless you count Jordan in seventh and eighth grade. Those years were glorious for me. When everyone else was getting braces and glasses, I suddenly slimmed down for about eighteen months and blossomed. The trouble was, I didn’t quit blossoming in ninth grade and I outsized Jordan by a good bit. That’s when I became a size sixteen. I guess I could be proud of the fact that I’m the same size as when I was fourteen. Not too many women can say that. The odds have to work in my favor sometime.

  There are occasions when I get frustrated about my standards. I decided years ago that I would only marry a man who loved God with all his heart. It really wasn’t too hard a decision to make. After all, it wasn’t like I was turning down men left and right. Our youth pastor talked about how important it was that we marry someone like-minded on the subject of God, and the one thing I knew was that I loved God. So I began to eliminate potential mates right there and then. And do you know what? I eliminated them all! I couldn’t find one guy who loved God as much as I did, until I went to college. Then there were plenty at Faith Church, but no one asked me out. I fell in love at least three times and none of those guys even knew I existed, which probably calls into question the nature of my love. Anyway, I adjusted to this state of affairs pretty well for the last ten years, until Todd started coming to the Bible study I attend.

  Todd fits my profile of the perfect man. He’s thirty-two, 5’10”, sandy brown hair, large, rugged build, and spent the last ten years as a missionary to Nigeria. How cool is that! He returned from the mission field because he was lonely and tired and needed a break. Well, I know someone who can help at least with the first part of that problem!

  So why, do you ask, am I so blue? Because Todd has never been more than polite to me—and I’ve already decided that I want to marry him and help him reach Africa for Christ! Oh man, it’s going to be a tough Bible study from now on.

  Oh, one other thing. My name is Cherry. Now why would a parent do a thing like that?

 


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