Her eyes crinkled with what looked like joy to me. Like she’d just happened upon a tree with lights and ornaments and a whole slew of wrapped presents.
“I don’t have a lot to say about him yet. Just thought you’d like to know.” I swallowed hard. “He’s kind of persistent, that’s one thing I’ve noticed. And when I try to think he’s not interested in me or that he might be the stuff of nursery rhymes, all I can see is your face and how you looked when you talked with him or about him.” I was crying.
She closed her eyes. “‘I am still confident of this: I will see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living.’” Her face was smooth, remarkably so after enough years of sun and life and worries and pain and laughter to break a thousand surfaces. “I love that psalm.”
I held her hand, knowing that Matt would be there any moment with his able hands to carry Nona’s last suitcase and his expansive heart ready to help me put one foot in front of the other. I knew Mother and Pop would meet us at the doors of Nona’s new home, where there would be fresh flowers on the table and too many throw pillows added by Annette’s decorator. I knew Nona would be well cared for and that she would see me every single day and that she might not know either of those things for more than a moment at a time. I knew that she was right and that the writer of that psalm was right, and that before I got to be old and holding my granddaughter’s hand, I would understand those words too.
The cardinal tipped his head and sang a throaty, exuberant song before flying away. We watched him go, his wings revealing an entirely different wash of color with the upward arc of his body. The effect was sublime, from the Latin of “to elevate,” meaning causing astonishment or wonder.
It’s not a word to be used often, but in that moment, it was a perfect fit.
… a little more …
When a delightful concert comes to an end,
the orchestra might offer an encore.
When a fine meal comes to an end,
it’s always nice to savor a bit of dessert.
When a great story comes to an end,
we think you may want to linger.
And so, we offer ...
AfterWords—just a little something more after you
have finished a David C Cook novel.
We invite you to stay awhile in the story.
Thanks for reading!
Turn the page for ...
• Letter from Sergeant Jack Knight
• Grandmother Mary’s Rhubarb Pie
• A Final Word from Amos Shetler
Sergeant Jack Knight
P.O. Box 8369 • Muskogee, OK 74401
www.StraightTalkWithSergeantJack.com
Dear Ms. Monroe,
Thank you for sending along a copy of your term paper, “Ohio Old Order Amish: A Sting Operation.” I found the section regarding ethnic profiling to be particularly interesting.
I’m pleased to hear my online course has helped you in your pursuit of investigative mastery. Don’t miss my upcoming release Take Back the Knight Before Someone Else Takes It First (Knight Rider Press). The chapter on facial intimidation might be of interest.
One case at a time,
Grandmother Mary’s Rhubarb Pie
Note from transcriber:
I could not offer enough worldly compensation, bribery, or pitiful begging to get Granny’s permission to print her crust recipe. She said if you want it, you’ll need to set up an appointment but that she limits her cooking lessons for foreigners to once a year.
Good luck with that.
In better news, this filling for a rhubarb pie is fantastic and, as Mary put it, “Easy enough for even an English know-everything.” Count yourself blessed. –N.A.L.M.
Ingredients:
Topping:
3 cups rhubarb, diced
¼ cup brown sugar
1¼ cups sugar
2 tablespoons flour
2 heaping tablespoons flour
2 tablespoons butter, cut up
2 tablespoons butter, cut up
1 egg
Directions:
1.Mix sugar, flour, butter, and egg. Do not whisk as hard as Nellie Monroe, who is always too eager and violent.
2.Add rhubarb and let stand while preparing top and bottom piecrusts. You may not have my recipe because you must get your own, lazy English cook.
3.Line a pie pan with your crust, not mine. Pour in rhubarb mixture and cover with topping. You should have made that already. Pay attention.
4.Brush the top crust with a bit of milk. Sprinkle a little sugar but do not be wasteful. This will be difficult for you because you are English.
5.Bake the pie for one hour at 350 degrees Fahrenheit. It would be best to use that hour in a hardworking way, not in the frittering ways of Nellie Monroe. I will leave this to your decision, but I do not maintain high expectations.
A Final Word from Amos Shetler,
formerly of the Ohio Old Order Amish
Dear Most Gracious Reader,
Hello and what’s up. My name is Amos Shetler, and I know that you have read a story about my life by Nellie Monroe, the girl with large hair who hits hard. First, I want to thank you for reading that book because it takes seriously patience to listen to Nellie for that long.
Number two, it is my desire to correct the mistakes of the manuscript. This most important mistake is that I am “not particularly tall” (chapter 19). I am, in real life, over five feet, eleven and three-quarters. And so it is painfully obvious that I am tall and very handsome. Plus, I am loyal to use much Electrify Pomade. This also adds to my height.
Also, I am a great dancer.
Thank you for the support. You are awesome!
440.555.0129
email: [email protected]
DavidCCook.com
Photo by Ryan Ruisch
The author of four well-received novels, Kimberly Stuart lives, plays, parents, does a lot of laundry, and writes at home in Des Moines, Iowa. She thanks you for buying this book, her fifth, and would love for you to visit her—probably not in Des Moines, but definitely at www.KimberlyStuart.com.
www.davidccook.com
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Operation Bonnet Page 21