Faux Pas (A Road's End Mishap Book 2)

by Deborah Dee Harper

  I clasped my hands and bowed my head. “Heavenly Father, thank You for bringing us through this stressful time. Thank You for your protection, guidance, intervention, love, wisdom, and glory. Thank You for softening the hearts of both Jonathan and Stuart. Thank You that Mandy, Jonathan, and Tanner are now a family; that President Rogers has peace in his heart and the desire to do Your will in his leading of our government. Thank You that violence was averted, that lives were saved, that our country will be taken in the right direction by this worthy man who has You in his heart once again. Please, Lord, guide me in ways to help Senator Austin find you before it’s too late. In Your precious Son’s name, I pray. Amen.”

  I opened my eyes and looked to my right. President Rogers stood at the end of my pew.

  “May I join you, Hugh?”

  “Certainly, Mr. ... uh, Stu. Gee whiz, it’s hard to remember that.”

  “You’ll get used to it. I have a feeling we’re going to be fast friends, you know.”

  “Really? I’m flattered.”

  “Flattered? Why on earth for?”

  “Well, let’s face it,” I said. “You have a lot of people to choose from.”

  “Not really,” he said, sitting down next to me. “Lots of people, of course, but not real friends. Acquaintances. Let’s put it that way. Sounds better than leeches.”

  I laughed aloud, and we sat there for a minute or so in silence.

  “Thanks for the prayer.”

  “You’re welcome. Any time. It’s my specialty, you know.”

  This time he grinned. “Will you pray for me during my re-election campaign?”

  I looked at him, surprised. “You’ve decided to run again? That’s great.”

  “Well, we’ll see what happens. I owe the American people a huge apology. They might accept it. They might not.”

  “Oh, I think they will. They know a good man when they see one, and they’ll know sincerity when they hear it.”

  “Hope so. At any rate, I’m going to give it a whirl.” He looked down at his hands loosely clasped between his knees. “I have a favor to ask, though.”

  “Oh? Anything, Stu. Anything at all.”

  “Can I come back?”

  “To Road’s End? Good grief, why not? We’d love to have you—any time you feel like it. You want me to give you a call when Sadie leaves town for a couple of days?”

  He chuckled. “A day or so ago, I would have readily agreed. But to be honest, she’s one of the reasons I want to return as often as I can get away from Washington. People like Sadie keep me real, keep me honest and humble. Keep me in my place.”

  “Well, there’s no getting a big head around Sadie, that’s for sure. She could keep anybody humble.” I thought about that for a second. “Well, maybe not Ruby Mae.”

  He nodded his head, smiled, and said, “You’re right. Definitely not Ruby Mae.”

  More silence. Then, “We’ve got quite a fight on our hands, don’t we?”

  “We certainly do,” I said. “Every day of our lives.”

  “Are you worried, Hugh? About the fight, I mean?”

  “Nope,” I said. “Look at last night. That tornado didn’t dissipate randomly. That was divine. Just goes to show we can’t lose. The war’s already been won. The victory is His. We’re fighting the battle, but the outcome’s been decided. We win.”

  The president excused himself a few minutes later. I lingered long enough to check the doors and tidy up my office. Just as I was ready to leave, I looked up to see my beautiful wife in the doorway.

  “Busy?”

  “Never. Come on in.”

  “No, let’s take a walk. Okay with you?”

  Five minutes later we were walking hand in hand around the cemetery. There was just enough twilight left to see where we walked. She leaned over to pull a few weeds here and there. I swatted mosquitoes.

  “We’ve had some good days recently, haven’t we?” she said.

  I snorted. “You could say that. Or you could say we live in the Twilight Zone and even Rod Serling’s afraid to hang out around here.”

  “Well, we had a beautiful wedding, the president’s not dead, the bad guys got caught, we have a new son-in-law, a beautiful new grandson, and the town wasn’t destroyed by a tornado.” She bobbed her head to punctuate her statement. “Pretty good for a few days of stress, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Yeah, honey, you’re right. You’re always right. You know that?”

  She grinned. “Of course, I know, dear. Who do you think told you that?”

  We walked back to the cemetery gate and headed toward home. I could see the stars popping out one by one and the soft glow of lamplight streaming through the windows of the inn. Must be the power was back on. Here and there, a firefly beamed on and off, and I wondered how long it would be before George and Dewey were out here trying to catch themselves a few. I could smell the damp earth and the fresh scent of a world washed clean by rain. God was in His heaven, and all was well with my world.

  “Mel, I have something discouraging to tell you about our new son-in-law.”

  “Discouraging? In what way?”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll get past it somehow. Besides, pastors hear bad things all the time. But this …, well, this is bad.” I hesitated then forged ahead. “Jonathan’s a U of M fan.” I hesitated. “And he likes sweet tea.”

  “University of Michigan? Really? Wow. Think of all the fun we’ll have beating the pants off them come football season! What’s wrong with sweet tea?”

  I stopped and looked at her. You think you know a person. “Well, I never thought of it that way. About the football, I mean. But that sweet tea thing.” I shuddered then brightened. “But here’s our chance to show him the error of his ways, bring him back from the dark side.”

  “I think he’s already done that, don’t you?”

  I nodded. “You’re right. He has. And that’s a better victory than anything MSU could do to U of M. Still … ouch! What’d you do that for?”

  “To show you the error of your ways, what else?”

  “Well, just for that, Miss I Want to Elbow Hugh Whenever I Get the Chance, there’s something else I want to tell you.”

  “Oh? About what?”

  “Last night.

  “Oh yeah? Something interesting?

  I watched Sophie strolling behind Sherman, and it didn’t even seem odd to see a camel plodding down my street. Sadie screeched at her chickens, and they screeched back. Tanner ran around the front yard trailing a sizzling, flickering sparkler behind him, then stopped in his tracks and giggled with delight as he waved it around and left squiggles lingering in the night air.

  A verse from Proverbs 10:25 ran through my mind. When the storm has swept by, the wicked are gone, but the righteous stand firm forever. I smiled. Thank You, Lord.

  “Interesting? You could say that, dear,” I said, nodding. “Last night while I was pressed against Sophie and clutching Tanner, certain we were going to die at any second, I realized I had so many good reasons to live. And do you know what was on the very top of that list?”

  Mel smiled and leaned into me. “You romantic man, you.”

  I nodded. “Yep, that’s me. Anyway, it occurred to me I hadn’t yet had a slice of that wedding cake—oomph!”

  I suppose I had that last elbow coming.

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  FAUX PAS.

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  Acknowledgements

  My God, my family, my friends and colleagues.

  Praise be to my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, the Maker and Sustainer of all creation and the One responsible for any talent or skill I possess. Thank You for this opportunity to serve You--and for placing in my life all those I mention below. May my words honor You and Your kingdom.

  A big thank you also goes to my family members. Your presence in my life,
whether we’re together or far apart, is glorious and eases the ups and downs of this writer’s life. You inspire me to do my best. I love you all.

  And thank you to my hardworking agent, Linda Glaz, as well as Terry Burns, my equally hardworking former agent. Your work on my behalf, the endless encouragement, and your belief in my work are very much appreciated. You’re both priceless.

  Lastly, many thanks to Marji Clubine, publisher at Write Integrity Press, and Tracy Ruckman, former publisher, along with Fay Lamb who did a great job with editing, and the other authors at WIP for being with me every inch of the way, calming my nerves, and laughing in all the right places!

  About the Author

  Deborah Dee Harper currently resides in Alaska, although she’s lived in Michigan, Kentucky, Mississippi, and most recently, Tennessee. (She’s getting tired of getting her driver’s license picture taken. It keeps making her look older. Honestly, what are the chances of all those machines being broken?) She writes inspirational and humorous books for both children and adults and takes thousands of photographs wherever she happens to live.

  Her novel, Misstep, is the first book in her Road’s End series for adults (although children are welcome to read them as well), and Faux Pas, is the second. She’s also written a children’s adventure series, Laramie on the Lam, that’s inspirational, humorous, and full of fun. (Many of Laramie’s fans are adults.)

  She took an early retirement from a school district in Michigan and began writing seriously. She wrote two newspaper columns, feature articles, greeting cards, essays, articles, poetry, and had stories included in multiple anthologies, including Chicken Soup. She is a graduate of the Jerry B. Jenkins Christian Writers Guild and took the Apprentice, Journeyman, and Craftsman classes. Her manuscript for Misstep was a finalist in the 2009 Operation First Novel competition. She finds humor everywhere and believes God deliberately gave us a sense of humor to enjoy the truly funny, joyous, unbelievable, or downright silly things in life. Humor not only gives us joy, it often changes our opinion of others (or ourselves) and helps bridge the gap between people of differing views.

  She has three grown children—Derek, Darice, and Dennae. Between them (and their spouses), they’ve given her five lively grandsons—Dustin, Hunter, Cannon, Tyler, and Adam—and an equally lively granddaughter, Molly. When she’s not writing, Deb enjoys photography, herb gardening, astronomy, and chasing the occasional grizzly bear for a picture.

  Study Questions

  Jonathan’s faith was weakened by his first wife’s tragic death. Have you ever encountered someone whose faith has been affected by tragedy? If so, what did you do? If not, what do you think you’d do?

  President Rogers was dealt a shattering blow when his wife died just days before the election. Can you understand his reaction or do you think you’d turn to God to steer your way through your grief?

  Sadie Simms and the other senior citizen residents of Road’s End took umbrage with the president’s failure to act on his campaign promises. If you are a senior citizen, are you involved with politics? Do you believe that God should be brought back to our government? If you are not yet a senior, do you think you’ll be as interested in our government as Sadie and the gang when you reach their age? Discuss why or why not.

  What is your opinion of politicians? Do you believe most of them have the good of their constituents at heart? Or do you feel, like Sadie and the gang, that they’re a “greasy lot”? Discuss why you feel one way or the other.

  It’s apparent that God has been removed from many places in our society, and the rights of Christians are being trampled daily. Do you feel enough is being done by Christians to reverse this trend? What things do you think we, as individual Christians, can do to bring God back to the forefront of our society and government?

  For a while, Mack thinks senior citizens have had their day, and don’t have any place in how the government is run at their age. Do you think that’s a common opinion, or do most people of our younger generations venerate their predecessors and accord them the respect and admiration they deserve? Why or why not?

  Do you feel that even God-fearing presidents of our nation have difficulty leading our country in the way they want to because of opposition from the other party, lobbyists, and campaign donations made by big business and/or other sources? What options do they have?

  Obviously, Dewey and George’s best friend/worst enemy relationship is exaggerated, but do you know of Christians in your life who behave poorly? How do you feel about that? In Misstep and Faux Pas, George and Dewey bicker constantly, but at heart, they love one another and are loyal when push comes to shove. Can/should Christians do that? Why or why not?

  Sadie thinks she can present the president with an amendment to the Constitution and it becomes law, just like that. Obviously, it’s not that easy, but Sadie is accustomed to getting what she wants, and decides this issue is no different. Do you agree with what she presented to the president eventually? Why or why not?

  Senator Gilbert Austin, Jonathan’s stepdad, is a blow-hard, blustering, egotistical man who ruthlessly wields his power over others. Do you think he was that way by his natural personality or by the power invested in him as a U.S. senator that went to his head? Or both? In any event, it didn’t end well for him. What can be done by Christians to help those people in their/our lives who feel they are above the law (or their fellow human beings) and don’t need redemption?

  Book 1 of Road’s End Mishaps

  Something was amiss in Road’s End.

  My wife Melanie and I sensed it about twenty minutes after we moved into our new home. There’s something about a flock of pillaging poultry strutting through a house you’ve just bought that doesn’t seem right. Trust me on this. We watched, jaws dropped, as a dozen chickens bobbled through the front door of our home, clucked up a ruckus, and scattered to every hidey-hole they could find.

  We called our new home The Inn at Road’s End. Prior to the surprise attack, we were supervising the removal of our furniture and boxed possessions from the moving van. The Inn, a six-bedroom, three-story house was original eighteenth century; the chickens, as far as I could tell, were just run-of-the-mill twenty-first century.

  Come to find out, they belonged across the street at Sadie Simms’ Coffee House and Egg Plant, and she was genuinely apologetic about her wayward fowl. “Can’t keep ’em in their coop,” she said to me after she stomped across the street hollering for her hens. She was waving what looked like a white flag but turned out to be her apron draped over the end of her broom. For a minute there, I thought she was stopping by to surrender.

  “Every time I fix the fence, one of ’em tears it down again.” Tears it down? What’s she raising over there?

  “No harm done,” Mel said, extending her hand to Sadie. “I’m Melanie Foster. This is my husband, Hugh. It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. …”

  “Simms. Sadie Simms. Glad you folks bought this old place. Been empty for a few months. Would have been a shame to let it go to ruin.” She lunged at a hen who had moseyed back outdoors. Sadie pounced, the chicken squawked, and I thought she was going to miss. But Sadie proved more adept at chicken-grabbing than the hen was at Sadie-dodging. I could tell they’d been down this road before. Five seconds later, the hen dangled from her hand, its scrawny legs caught in the vice-like grip of a woman who looked old enough to have fought the British. “So, you folks retired from the military, I hear?”

  The chicken squawked. “Shut up, Francine.”

  “Yes, Air Force,” I said. I couldn’t take my eyes from the chicken. “I was a chaplain. Say, is that chicken okay? It’s Francine, right?”

  Sadie raised her arm and looked the frustrated chicken in the face—one beady eye to another. Sadie just missed getting hers poked out. Francine was a feisty one. Sadie extended her arm a little farther and watched the hen squirm. “Yep, she’s fine. Just mad. So, what brings you to Road’s End?”

  Melanie cringed. She didn’t think much of animal crue
lty and even less of eye-gouging. Mel’s sweet that way. At any rate, she didn’t seem to be enjoying herself. “Well, Sadie, we’ve always wanted to buy—” she ducked as Francine made a valiant effort to disengage herself from Sadie’s clutch—“an inn and this one seemed perfect for us. Are you sure Francine isn’t hurting?”

  Sadie shook her head and gave the hen an extra little shake just to rile her. “Nope, she’s fine. We go through this all the time. She just needs to learn her place.” She held Francine up to eye level again, something I wouldn’t have done, but then I’m not a chicken-wrangler. “I’m the human, you’re the hen,” she said. “I make the rules. You follow ’em. Got that?” She gave Francine another little shake, and she squawked—Francine, not Sadie. That must have signified understanding on the part of Francine, because Sadie smiled and Francine continued to dangle. “Well, I’ve gotta go, folks. Got some baking to do. Nice meeting you. Sorry ’bout the chickens. Just send ’em on over when you’re done with ‘em.” And she was gone.

  Done with them? Mel grinned and shrugged then turned to go back inside to finish doing whatever she was going to do with the remaining eleven or so renegades.

  Sadie crossed the road and flung her captive over the fence. Francine crash-landed and went into a skid— squawking and scattering dust and feathers every which way—then turned and gave Sadie a final scolding. How does that woman sleep at night with a henhouse full of chickens itching to peck her eyes out? Since the fence was still broken, I wondered how long it would be before that furious, flung chicken found her way right back here. I made sure the front door was shut.