by Gina Holmes
Between Uncle Craig and his wife, Cowpa, Uncle Ted, and my late great-grandmother Mama Peg, I had never wanted for love or attention.
“His back is bothering him again,” she said.
I tried to concentrate on the rest of the conversation, but my mind drifted off to the Noah’s ark wallpaper border I still needed to add to the nursery. After a period of perhaps seconds, possibly minutes, I heard my name and it jostled me back to the conversation.
“You’re doing it again, Bella.”
“I was listening.”
“Isabella Rose.”
“Don’t say my name like that.”
She laughed. “Then don’t give me cause to. So did you finally finish her journal?”
“Yes,” I said. “Just before you called.”
“I imagine it was bittersweet.” I detected a tinge of jealousy in her tone. I appreciated that she tried to hide it, but being a mother-to-be myself, I understood. Though Lindsey had raised me from the age of six and was the woman I loved most in the world, she had never been Mommy. That role was reserved for the woman who bore, cradled, and nursed me—Genevieve Paige Lucas. My mother.
When Lindsey and I finally said good-bye, I hung up and glanced out the window at the same lake I had tried to cross all those years ago. Beside it grew three apple trees, one planted by my grandmother, one by Mama Peg, and the other by my mother before she died. One day, there would be a fourth.
But not just yet. I rubbed my growing belly. I had a few streams to ford in my lifetime before I could even think about crossing an ocean.
About the Author
Gina Holmes began her career in 1998, penning articles and short stories. In 2005 she founded the influential literary blog Novel Journey. She holds degrees in science and nursing and currently resides with her husband and children in southern Virginia. To learn more about her, visit www.ginaholmes.com or www.noveljourney.blogspot.com.
A Conversation with the Author
Your blog, www.noveljourney.blogspot.com, grew out of your own journey to become a published author. How many books had you written before Crossing Oceans? How long has your “novel journey” taken?
Thanks for mentioning Novel Journey. It has been a labor of love, not just for me but for the whole Novel Journey team. It’s a great place for readers to discover new authors and for writers to connect and learn. And unlike most things in life, it’s a completely free resource. It really is the Novel Journey team’s desire to spread the word about the tremendous choices and talent available today in the realm of Christian fiction, so forgive us if we unashamedly plug it. We’d love the whole world to discover the great Christian novelists there are to choose from—Francine Rivers, Charles Martin, Lisa Samson, Claudia Mair Burney, Frank Peretti, and on and on.
But to answer the question you actually asked, I’ve written four books that haven’t been published before this one, Crossing Oceans, was contracted.
I’ve been writing toward the goal of publication for something like ten years. I’ve had lots of rejections and near misses along the way, but I’m so grateful for all of it. Crossing Oceans is my best piece of writing to date and a story I’m so very proud to debut with.
How did the idea for Crossing Oceans come to you?
I’m not exactly sure where the idea came from, but when I write, I’m usually working out something in my personal life, past or present. Often it’s not until the story is done that I figure out exactly what. I think with Crossing Oceans, it probably was my relationship with my parents. They divorced when I was a baby. For the first years of my life, I was with my mother, and then when I was in second grade, I went to live with my father. I know what it’s like to be torn, like Isabella, between two families who don’t always like each other but who all love the child they share. Then again, maybe I wasn’t working out anything! Maybe I just fell asleep watching something about a dying mother and woke up thinking I had a brilliant idea.
How much of Jenny did you draw from yourself?
Friends could probably be more objective in answering this question than I am. The honest answer would be maybe a little, maybe a lot. Each of the characters is drawn from parts of me, the good guys and the bad. I’ve got enough attributes and flaws to go around! Mostly the characters are their own creations, though. They borrow a little from me, a little from others, and take on their own personas as well. It’s a combination.
Probably the one who’s most based on myself is Bella. She’s the glue that brings the two families together. I’ve always been a mediator type of person. I think most middle children probably are. However, I was more like Eeyore as a child than Isabella’s sunshiny self.
All of your as-yet-unpublished novels were written in a completely different genre—thriller/suspense. Crossing Oceans is quite a departure. Do you prefer or find your voice more easily in one or the other?
I grew up reading suspense, so naturally that’s what I thought I should write. I did okay with it and got some recognition in a contest and came close to getting contracted, but ultimately none of those suspense novels ever sold. Then I started reading some really amazing novels outside the suspense genre, and it was like another world opened up to me. It was no longer a thriller I longed to write, but a story that would change lives the way the books I read had changed mine. When I started Crossing Oceans, I presented it along with a suspense novel I was working on to my agent, Chip MacGregor. I asked which one he thought suited me better. He told me both were good, but that Crossing Oceans seemed more like my true voice, or something to that effect. It turned out to be a turning point and absolutely the right advice. I’m now writing what comes naturally and absolutely loving it. Chip’s a genius.
As you reviewed novels and talked to a lot of novelists who have had varying degrees of commercial success, was there ever a “dark night of the soul” where you decided this wasn’t what you thought it was going to be, wasn’t worth pursuing?
Not worth pursuing? No way! There are so many worthy stories to tell, and it’s my burning desire to do that. Not to say that I didn’t have fleeting moments of despair along the way, particularly when I came close to getting a contract only to see it fall through at the last minute. But those moments really were fleeting, and I knew God’s timing would be perfect . . . and it was.
King Solomon wrote, “My child, let me give you some further advice: Be careful, for writing books is endless, and much study wears you out” (Ecclesiastes 12:12). What’s your perspective on the flood of new books you see each season?
Honestly, I’d rather see two books released that are fantastic than a hundred that are just okay. There are great books that often don’t get the attention they deserve because they’re buried in an avalanche of new releases. Of course, tastes in literature are as different as in clothing, food, and anything else. One of my dearest friends has raved about books I thought were just okay and vice versa. So who’s to say which two books are the great ones?
Do you ever find your Christian worldview a challenge to convey in your writing or as you communicate with other novelists in the industry?
It’s not difficult to convey in my writing, I don’t think. At least not today. Hey, I’m a sinner. I wish I wasn’t and I try not to be, but I always seem to fall short. It’s the same for my characters. The thing with me and them is we get back up, dust ourselves off, and try to do better next time. My faith, in all its imperfection, isn’t lip service. It’s who I am. What I believe. That comes out in my conversations, my choice of clothing, music, friends, and in my writing. It’s very natural for me.
As far as other novelists go, I guess it’s not a challenge. I’m a Christian and not everyone’s going to agree with what I do, what I write, or what I believe, and that doesn’t matter. My mother said when I turned forty, I would stop caring so much what people thought and really start being who I am. I’m almost there, and as usual, she was right. I would say that in my personal life, everyone who truly knows me is well aware that I’m a Chris
tian. I don’t hide it in my professional life either.
Finish this sentence: “I will know that I have totally arrived as a novelist when . . .”
I don’t think any of us ever “totally arrive” at anything. I’m a good mom, but have I arrived as a mother? No, I’m still learning and growing and trying to do better. It’s the same with being a novelist. If I win a Pulitzer, that would be great—okay, really, really, really great!—but that still won’t mean I’ve arrived. I’d still need to be learning and trying my best to improve with each book. I think once people start telling themselves they’ve “arrived,” they start getting lazy and proud. Ultimately they become less than what they could have been had they remained hungry to improve. Only when I’m entering heaven’s gates will I finally allow myself to say, “Now, I’ve arrived!”
Discussion Questions
1. At the beginning of the book, everyone in Jenny’s family is hurting. What are some of the things that have happened to bring them to this state? In what ways have they brought about their own suffering or made it worse than it had to be?
2. How does Jenny’s return home change the family dynamics? She didn’t really want to go home, but she felt she had no other options. Do you agree? What would you have done in her situation?
3. Was Jenny right to keep Isabella’s existence a secret from David? How might things have been different if David had known about Isabella from the start?
4. After making a snide remark to her father, Jenny wonders, “Why was I waving a red cape before this bull instead of the white flag I’d intended?” Why is it so hard to break long-standing relational habits, even when we realize they are hurting us or someone we love? Have you faced a similar situation with a family member or a close friend? How did you handle it, or how do you wish you had handled it?
5. Jenny’s father has held Dr. Preston responsible for his wife’s death for years. Is his anger justified? Have you or someone in your family experienced something similar to this? How did you or they respond?
6. While standing in David’s yard preparing to tell him about Isabella, Jenny puts her hand out to catch flowers fluttering to the ground. Not one lands on her open palm. Instead they land on David. What do you think the author might have been trying to symbolize here?
7. After Jenny tells her father she is dying, she reflects, “For the first time in my life I knew—really knew—that my father loved me.” Why is Jenny unconvinced before this of her father’s love? Is there someone you love who, like Jenny, might not be aware of your love? What might you do to change that perception?
8. Despite her father’s desperation, Jenny makes the difficult decision not to seek treatment for her cancer. Do you think that was the right thing for her to do? What factored into her decision? Have you ever known anyone who had to make a similar decision?
9. Do you think the loss of Jenny’s mother made Jenny’s diagnosis easier or more difficult for Jenny to handle? for her father to handle?
10. When David comes to pick up Isabella, he stops in the driveway and honks as he used to when he and Jenny were dating. Jenny tells us, “For the first time, I understood why the gesture used to infuriate my father.” What are some things you see differently as a parent, or simply as an adult, than you did as a child?
11. Describe the way Jenny’s feelings for David change. Do you think she was ever really in love with him?
12. If you were in Lindsey’s position, how would you have reacted to Jenny’s return? What would have been the most difficult thing for you to come to terms with?
13. Craig is a true friend to Jenny and wishes to be more. Do you think he was right to ask Jenny to marry him? Should she have said yes even sooner than she did, or was she right to put him off?
14. Jenny’s mother’s epitaph is a far cry from that of the woman who lost four children. How do you suppose these differing views manifested themselves in each woman’s life? Have you ever considered what you’d want your epitaph to say?
15. Have you ever had to communicate something life-altering to a child Isabella’s age? What did you find was the best way to do that?
16. Jenny ultimately decides to move in with David and Lindsey, against her own wishes, because she sees it as a chance to be a hero to her little girl. Was she right? Would you have made the same decision? What are some of the things to consider when weighing our own needs and desires against those of the people we love, especially those who are dependent on us?
17. Jenny is predisposed to dislike Lindsey because of her jealousy. When does Jenny’s impression of Lindsey begin to change? What causes the change? What relationships do you have in which your initial impression of someone gradually changed for the better? Why did it change? Do you have any relationships in which you are letting jealousy or other negative feelings prevent you from seeing the person’s true worth?
18. Jenny seems to have a peace about dying. Would you have the same peace? Why or why not?
19. Jenny has an advantage over most in that she has time to spiritually prepare for her impending death. How would you minister to someone in the same situation?
20. If you knew you had only a few months to live, what would you most want to accomplish?
“Kyra . . . may I call you Kyra?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Do you understand why you’re here?” After casting her a sideways glance, he walked to the window and yanked on the end of a yellowed shade.
Kyra took a deep breath. “I guess someone thinks I’m crazy.”
He took a seat across from her, retrieved a small bottle from his shirt pocket, and unscrewed the tiny cap. “Around here, crazy is a four-letter word.” He tilted his head back and squeezed several drops into each eye.
She waited for him to recap the bottle and slide it back into his pocket before answering. “I’m not . . . you know, cra—insane, I mean.”
His tearing, gray eyes reminded her of two frozen ponds just beginning to thaw. “I hope you don’t think me too forward, but I need to assess your current state of mind. Please tell me what happened to bring you here.”
And just like that, she found herself once again broken and bleeding in the emotional holocaust of yesterday. The crash. Flashing lights from an ambulance. Uncontrollable sobs. “Please, I just want to go home.”
Interlocking his hands, he leaned his elbows on his knees, causing his tie to fall forward. He grabbed the end of it and tossed it over his shoulder. “I’m sure our staff has explained that we need to hold you at least forty-eight hours to determine your competency.”
The oddness of the way he now wore the tie unsettled her. “Have I been committed?”
He pressed his lips together in a pause that seemed deliberately dramatic. “Not yet.”
Not yet? Kyra buried her face in her hands. They still smelled of the orange she’d been peeling when Benjamin had called. She grimaced and pulled away.
“Kyra. I need you to focus on me.”
She alternated her tired gaze between him and her wringing hands. Her nails wore a coat of pink that couldn’t more than a few days old. When in her grief had she had the wherewithal to do that? Who dealt with her husband’s death by getting a manicure? Shaking her head, she snapped herself out of it. Now wasn’t the time to zone out.
Sitting up, she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and squarely met his gaze. “It’s only been a few days, Doctor . . .”
“Hershing.”
She nodded acknowledgment of his name. A perfectly sane response. “. . . since my husband died. Then my son leaves home to join this godforsaken war. Of course I was hysterical. How do grieving widows normally act?”
His neutral expression flashed with surprise. “You think your husband’s dead.” It wasn’t a question but a statement.
He didn’t know. She slumped back in her chair and let her hands fall to her side. No wonder he pegged her for nuts. “Yes, he passed away.” She tried to remember precisely how long it had been. Two days? A week? The fog inside her head wouldn’
t clear long enough to recall.
Dr. Hershing waited for her to sort her thoughts. After a moment, he licked his thin lips. “Tell me about Benjamin. He’s just gone off to boot camp, I hear.”
Her heart ached at the mention of his name. Having her baby leave her to join the Marines hurt every bit, and in some ways more, than the news Eric had died. Though she would never admit that to anyone but herself.
She reached to her neck, tracing her fingers over the bare skin where her pearls often hung. The pearls Eric had bought her their last anniversary, practically throwing the fancy box at her as he ran off to meet an unhappy client.
“Don’t try them on yet,” he said as he flipped his cell phone closed. “I’ll put them on you when I get home.” By the time he returned, she was sound asleep. Or so she let him believe.
“I know you want to go home.” The doctor’s voice jarred her. “In order for that to occur, I have to be sure you’re not a threat to yourself or others. That you’re well.”
Forget the past. Concentrate on now. That’s what a well person would do.
“Before I can ascertain your current frame of mind, I have to know what’s going on. I need to know why you ran your car off the road and why you kept repeating that you wanted to die.”
She had nothing to hide. She’d lost it. So what? Once he knew why, he’d understand. She ran her tongue over her teeth, tasting the chalky toothpaste the nurse had given her to use that morning. “First Eric, then Benjamin. I thought I was prepared for him to join the Marines. He wanted it so badly. And I wanted it for him.”
Her gaze darted to the watercolor hanging askew behind his desk. “Well, I thought I wanted it. I wanted to want it, I guess.”