I moved from the foot of the bed to stand by Promise’s side.
“Hey, it’s Dorothea,” I said.
“I was so scared,” Promise said, eyes turned to me.
“It breaks my heart.” I looked at her face. “You were all alone.”
“No, I wasn’t. Jesus held me.” She blinked her eyes. “He held me until it was over.”
“Did it take away your fear?” Lola asked.
Promise nodded. “He loves me, Lola.”
“Yes,” Lola said, smiling. “He does. So very much.”
“I was trying to come home.” She spoke with urgency. “But my pimp found me.”
“Do you remember his name?” Lola asked.
“No. I can’t remember.” Promise closed her eyes. “Listen, no matter what happens, I’ll be okay. I know where I’m goin’.”
I looked up at Lola. She held her eyes closed.
“I love you, Promise,” I said.
“I’m finally gonna have a good life,” she said.
Promise slept. Lola, Kristi, and I sat in the room for hours. I held her hand, rubbing it with my thumb. The doctor came in and out. A police officer stopped by. Nurses checked her IV and monitors.
I fell asleep, holding her hand, my head on the edge of her bed. Suddenly, a rush of nurses entered the room. They pushed me gently out of the way. A long, flat noise rang out. The heartbeat monitor no longer sounded its beep.
Promise was gone.
Cora - 63
I had a dream. I was eleven years old and wore a bright pink dress. My hair fell in sausage curls around my round, freckled face. I sobbed and smiled at the same time.
Cans full of paint sat all around me. Different colors. Green. Orange. Blue. Yellow. They filled the living room of the mountain shack. I stuck my hands in the cans and covered my hair and face and body with layers of paint. The more I spread across myself, the less recognizable I became. A glob of ugly color, misshapen and stiff.
Suddenly, Jesus walked near me. I couldn’t see His face or robe. I just saw a shape that glowed. I knew it was Him, though. He used His fingers to break off the paint. Little paint chips fell away and onto the floor. Soon, discarded color mounded all around my feet.
And after all the paint chips had been pulled away, there stood the adult me. I looked like myself, but more alive, more radiant. It took Jesus breaking all the layers off to see the glory of what God created me to be.
With all that weight stripped away I began to run alongside Jesus.
Dot – 64
One morning, a few days after Promise’s funeral, as I got my coffee, I heard a knock on the door. Lola answered it. Her giggle filled the house.
“Dorothea,” she called. “You will want to come out here.”
I walked to the doorway. Paul stood on the curb next to our old minivan.
“I drove it all the way from Lansing,” he said. “And no black smoke or anything.”
“No way.” I stepped out to the porch. “I’d totally forgotten about that junker.”
“Not me.” He smiled. “If it weren’t for this van, I wouldn’t have gotten you back in my life.”
“That’s so cheesy, Paul.”
“Would you like to go for a ride?”
“I would love that.”
He held the door open for me. When he started the engine it still rattled a little, but nothing like before.
“Are you hungry?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Well, good. I just happen to know a great place to go for breakfast.”
He drove me to his parents’ house. The dining room was set up like a fancy restaurant. A bottle of soda chilled in a bucket and candlelight flickered from the center of the table.
“This is fun,” I said. “But I feel kind of underdressed.”
“You’re beautiful anyway.”
“You’re too sweet.”
“Have a seat. I’m going to bring out our food.”
“Did you cook?”
“No. Our moms did.”
He brought two plates with steaming piles of omelets and toast.
“That looks so good.”
“Your mom said this was always one of your favorites.” He put a plate in front of me. “Sourdough even.”
After we finished eating, our moms brought out brownies and ice cream.
“For breakfast?” I asked.
“Why not?” Paul said. “We’re young, right?”
“Thanks, Mom,” I said.
“It’s been my great joy,” she said, kissing me on the forehead.
“Now we’ll leave the two of you alone for a little while,” Kristi said, winking at Paul.
Once they were back in the kitchen, Paul looked at me.
“Yes?” I asked.
“Dot, are you ready?”
“For what?”
“For a relationship?”
“Well, I think I might be.” I blushed. “But the question is, are you ready?”
“I am.”
“So, you’re my boyfriend now?”
“Yup.”
“What happens now?” I asked. “I mean, when we’re done with our dessert.”
“Do you want to watch a movie? Or we could go cruising in the awesome van.”
I laughed. “I think a movie would be nice.”
“Me, too.”
“How about we let our moms watch it with us?”
“That’s a good idea.” He smiled. “Can I hold your hand, though?”
“Probably.”
The four of us watched a movie in the living room. About halfway into it, Paul’s dad came home.
I sat between Paul and my mom. They both held my hands. I felt safe and loved. And I had a place to belong.
Cora – 65
And so it was. A beautiful life of joy and redemption from the Father of Lights who is the giver of all good and perfect gifts. He, the Giver of my amazing family.
Sometimes, just sometimes, life does come together in a pretty bow. I believe that God enjoys a happy ending. After all, who came up with the idea of heaven?
Our lives aren’t over yet. We all still have a lot of pain ahead of us. We will lose people we love. We will have our hearts broken. We will still sin. Every one of us will suffer nights of sorrow. And we may never fully understand why our lives turn out in those ways. The deaths of Steven and Pete may always leave me with questions. I may mourn them for all the nights of my life.
But joy will always come in the morning. God still has so much love and beauty to show us.
He still has a lot of paint chips to peel away so that we can see who we truly are, His dearly loved children.
Acknowledgments
A novel written without the support of family, friends, and mentors is a very lonely novel, indeed. Paint Chips has been a collaborative effort. And for that, I am much blessed.
Many thanks to my family. To my mom, who taught me the value of creativity and believed in my abilities when others doubted. To my dad, who passed on the writing gene and the love of story. My siblings: Ginger, Sam, and Betsy, who not only tolerated, but believed in the big dreams of their baby sister.
God provided mentors throughout my life to encourage me to write my words. What a gift I’ve had. Thanks to Belinda Lund Bjarki, for expecting so much more of me than I thought possible. To Sharon Somerville, for pushing me to try new things in my writing. To George Brown, for the small notes on my papers, telling me that I had a novel in me. For the opportunities to read, write, and live in the beauty of literature. To the six beautiful women at Novel Matters: Bonnie Grove, Patti Hill, Kathleen Popa, Latayne C. Scott, Sharon K. Souza, and Debbie Fuller Thomas. Thank you for the ideas, the discussions, the encouragement, and the friendship. To Ann Byle, for believing in my writing.
To the brave few who read Paint Chips in the early stages. Brian Criner, Rob and Cheryl Meyer, Bill and Joanna Leep. Thank you for believing in it even then.
To Amelia Rhodes, for pushing me. For not accep
ting my excuses. Thank you for sharing the dream with me.
To Michelle Reinhold, for going word by word through a very rough draft. Your red pen is precise and kind. Thank you, friend.
To Irene Kraegal, for a psychologist’s perspective on mental health. You helped me approach my characters with more sensitivity and dignity.
To my critique group, Kava Writers Collective, for making me better over cups of coffee and rum dots.
Writers need cheerleaders. And I have a peppy squad. Kristi West, Jessie Heninger, Holly Becker, Darcie Apple, Carrie Leazenby, Megan Sayer, Kathi Hanson, Jen Gusey, Karon Hawley, Liz Ferguson, Kim Cooper, Sarah Schneider, Annette Deaton, and so many more. You girls may never know how much this novel rode on the backs of your encouragement and prayers.
To Hedy Clayton for praying for a publisher. Thanks to WhiteFire Publishing for giving this novel a home. To Dina Sleiman for believing enough to become the champion of Paint Chips. Thank you, Dina, for the kind and skilled edits. David and Roseanna White, for taking a risk on my gritty novel. It means the world to me.
Love, kisses, and hugs to my three. Elise Marie, Austin Thomas, and Timothy Spence. One day you will understand why I spend so much time making books. I do it for you three. To impart a little beauty in the muck of the world. So that you can see God even when things seem so dark.
I have a great love in this life. He is the steady to my spastic. The calm to my chaos. Jeff, you are my favorite. I would never have attempted a novel without your confidence in me.
And to the One who looks, without fear, into the storms of my life. Thank You for calming every single one of them. The glory is all to You.
Author’s Note
The average age of a prostituted person in the United States is 13 years old. That is not a choice. It is a crime. Sex trafficking is real. It affects those from every race, gender, socio-economic demographic, and level of education. Thankfully, the character of “Lola” is not just imaginary. Men and women all over the globe have dedicated their lives to the rescue and rehabilitation of the survivors of sex trafficking. They also battle to prevent it from ever happening. They utilize their talents and resources to lend a voice and a hand to those who have been exploited.
To learn more about sex trafficking, visit The Polaris Project (www.polarisproject.org) or The Salvation Army (www.salvationarmyusa.org) websites. Also, call The National Trafficking Tip Line for more information (1-888-3737-888).
Discussion Questions
1. How did Cora’s relationship with God change throughout the book? What seemed to be the turning point? Have you experienced significant change in your relationship to God? How has that transformed your life?
2. Cora and Dot had very different fathers. How did this impact each of their lives?
3. How does the paint chips theme run throughout the book? What does it symbolize? What could be a symbol for the way you relate to life?
4. Steven was the foundation of the Schmidt family. Then Pete took that role. How did both of them keep their family together? What happened after each was gone? Is there someone that is the foundation of your family? How can you make sure your family doesn’t crumble after they are gone?
5. Cora finds herself following a pattern of behavior learned from her mother. What does she do that her mother had done? How does she respond when she realizes it? How does she defy the pattern when she rescues Dot from her father? Do you find yourself falling into tendencies learned from a parent? Are they good or negative? How would you break the negative ones?
6. Both Cora and Dot retell their stories. They find a trusted friend with whom to share. How did the retelling help them each to heal? Who is a trusted friend with whom you share the depth of your life? How does their confidence help you to heal?
7. How did Stewart’s suicide transform Cora? Did the change happen in that moment with the small voice? Has a single event ever had a dramatic influence over your life? How did you change?
8. How did Cora react to the urgency of leaving the state mental hospital? What were her concerns? Why would Lisa offer to assist her? How would you respond if in Cora’s situation? Or in Lisa’s?
9. How did Cora’s relationship with her sister flow through the book? What did you think about the sacrificial love that Cora received from her sister? Were you surprised by the final outcome?
10. At the end Cora says, “Sometimes, just sometimes, life does come together in a pretty bow. I believe that God enjoys a happy ending. After all, who came up with the idea of heaven?” How does this make you feel? Have you had happy endings? Things that came together, just right, at the end? What about a time when the ending was less than happy? How did you overcome that?
11. The very end of the novel reads, “He still has a lot of paint chips to peel away so that we can see who we truly are, His dearly loved children.” What were the paint chips that needed peeling in the lives of the characters of this story? How did that sloughing help them? Do you have paint chips that need to be removed? What are they? How would your life be different without them?
Other Titles
If you enjoyed Paint Chips,
you may also enjoy these other novels from WhiteFire Publishing.
The Good Girl
by Christy Barritt
What’s a good girl to do when life goes bad?
Jasmine
by April McGowan
She survived her past...but can she face it?
Sailing out of Darkness
by Normandie Fischer
Love conquers all? Maybe for some people
Paint Chips Page 27