ACFW Conference: Moses Moments & Can I Get Used To A Built-In Starbucks?

I attended the 2011 American Christian Writer’s Conference in St. Louis, MO last week and experienced five full days of workshops, appointments with publishers, worship & keynote sessions, friends, and the faithfulness of Jesus. I will list the highlights in a sec, and there were s-e-v-e-r-a-l, but topping this trip was a Moses-style reminder that I serve a faithful God who has a perfect plan and is in complete control of our lives, our futures, and our heart’s desires.

I had a Moses epiphany. Not a splitting the Red Sea or a talking, burning bush, but a moment much like when Moses questioned the Lord about choosing a d-d-d-dork like him to be His spokesman. Moses knew his own weaknesses, his limitations. Now, this knowledge may have come from listening to the negative whisperings of an enemy trying to thwart the mighty work God wanted to do through Moses—makes sense, I guess—or it could have been simply his self-depreciating honesty. Or a combo of both (which can be a bit tricky to decipher, trust me). Did God choose Moses because of his velvety-smooth radio voice and Justin Bieber charisma? Or did God have a plan that included using a weak vessel in order to show His people His provision, power and glory?

(Still working on that one? Hint: they didn’t actually have radios in ancient Egypt.)

If I were as polished and articulate on the spot as I’d like to be, I might quickly forget how utterly wretched and lost we truly are on our own, how completely we depend on the Spirit of God at work in us to do anything. Not just do it right, but great. For Him. Not just when we can’t quite handle the situation without some help, but every moment. He’s the Vine, I am the branch. Apart from Him I can do nothing. So it’s probably a good thing I’m not super cool and charismatic under pressure, because the Lord came through faithfully and answered many prayers to give me confidence and clarity of thought when I needed it most. I was reminded again that when He plants a vision in our heart and soul, He provides the strength, the means, and the ability to carry it out. Brandilyn encouraged me to lay it all down and tell the Lord: I am Yours. This was a priceless lesson reaffirmed, worth the entire trip if I took NOTHING else away from the conference.

And yet I took home so much more.

In spite of the full schedule, I connected with friends from all over the world (waving to my super sweet friend Karen in Australia), and made a few new ones. I was encouraged and prayed over (and I am very grateful to Brandilyn Collins for her prayers and wise words even though she totally screwed up my makeup before an editor appointment by making me cry—what is she, the Barbara Walters of Christendom?? Thanks to this challenging/freeing prayer session, I was so plumfuzzled I couldn't get my room key to let me in so I could fix my makeup until I finally figured out with the help of another writer lady that I'd actually gotten off the elevator on the wrong FLOOR.)


I was also able to encourage and pray for others. I shared my most recent book-in-progress with strangers and saw the spark of recognition in eyes and hands on hearts telling me they were touched by what they heard. I spent time talking with an editor who has read some of my work and who went to astonishing lengths to make sure I knew how exceptional she thinks it is. I gave her a hug for that, but I really wanted to put her in my pocket and take her home with me. That was one of those air-stealing compliments you can’t discount or dismiss as merely gracious courtesy no matter how hard you try.

I had a full-blown blast with my dearest (and farthest!) friends at a cute little New Orleans style seafood place in St Louis. What a rare treat! I am reminded that life may not offer us another chance like that for a long time . . . if ever . . . and am grateful for the time spent in the company of such good friends.

My flight to and from St Louis coincided, coincidentally, with my agent’s flight, allowing me to spend some extra quality time with the amazing, rockin Rachelle Gardner, who was named ACFW’s 2011 Agent of the Year at the conference. Hanging out with her was an unexpected bonus! It gave me a chance to be even more honored and inspired by knowing I have someone of Rachelle’s caliber in my corner.

I was also able to get books signed by two of my fav Christian authors whose stories and styles both entertain and inspire me, another sweet deal of a treat.

You’d think I had my fill of treats after all this, but I was also extremely blessed and honored to come to the conference as a Genesis finalist. One of the many benefits of being a finalist, for me, was the chance to make two new friends and prayer partners, my co-finalists Sally Bradley and Karen Shravemade. Sally was not able to attend, but she continued to serve the conference with her faithful prayers. I was thrilled when I learned Karen could attend all the way from Australia. She was just as lovely, kind-hearted and fun as I’d expected. We were both stunned and pleased to find that being a finalist at the conference increased our opportunities to discuss our work with publishers and we were both invited to submit our entries for a look at possible publication.

 

This contest taught me to hope someone might actually like my work. I came grateful for that and continued to pray my daily prayer that the final win would go to the finalist who needed it the most. I trust the Lord to know what’s best, to see farther down the road than we can, and to know which of His kids needs a little extra favor in their corner.

That kid, this time, was me. I am honored to have won the 2011 Genesis Award for Women’s Fiction, (I'm right about the 32 minute mark on this video) especially knowing the gracious, talented company I shared. I believe God knows best and sees all the bumps and turns in the publishing roads ahead for me, Sally, and Karen. He gave each of us the heart’s desire to write and get our words out there for others, words to bring glory and honor to Jesus. He will make a way for each of us to fulfill those dreams, I have no doubt.

Now, to finish the book so we can send it to the houses who said they’d like to see it. Prayers much appreciated!

More on Love...

After chewing on Beth's comment left on my last BLOG POST, I decided to bring the discussion up top. Beth Vogt said, "I've always loved a good romance--one with depth. One where the characters change, where love doesn't come too easily because, hey, I don't think it does. Not real, lasting love anyway."

YES!! I couldn't agree more!

I like stories with depth---romance or otherwise. That's what I hope to achieve with my stories. Beth makes a very good point about love that lasts not coming so easily. Love at first sight is a great idea, but love you have to fight for, love that touches deep places in us despite our fears, love that challenges the lies we believe, love that coaxes us out from behind our facade, love that waits beyond hope, love that meets hidden heart needs, love that feels more like home than any place on earth ever did.....THAT's the stuff of a good love story. In my opinion, of course. :-)

What I believe makes this kind of love possible is the unfailing nature of God's love. Ecclesiastes says a cord of 3 strands is not easily broken. Without Christ and his boundless, gracious love as the center strand, I actually find it hard to believe in happily ever after. I also believe that without Christ, humans are destined to fall short no matter how nobly or selflessly we strive. (Because I know we ALL strive to be noble and selfless.)

Do you tire of stories in which people fall too easily in love? The kind of story where two people are getting acquainted over a flat tire or mixup at the dry cleaners and suddenly they can't live without each other? Or on the other end of the romote control, do you gag at overblown melodramas too mushy for even the most hardcore soap fan? Does this turn you off to all love stories? If not, it should!

I aim to write stories that touch places we sometimes forget we have, remind us we still struggle with emptiness or protective shells or fears of loss or whatever it is we've conveniently buried. And while we visit those sealed off places between the pages with a like-minded hero or heroine, we can discover or be reminded that in Christ, there is a Love that Never Fails.

What do you think makes a truly moving, resonating love story? What are some of your favorites and why? (I have a list and I'm not afraid to use it!)

The Power of An Intelligent Love Story . . .

I've been writing all my life but began pursuing fiction publication few years ago, about the time my kids discovered duct tape can control a fair amount of bleeding, and frozen lasagne is actually not from the devil. I believe in the power of story - after all, Jesus used parables to teach timeless, life-changing, eternally significant truths.

And since God is Love, I find love-stories can be just as timeless and life changing. An intelligent, faith-inspiring romance can offer hope, gently touch a hurting soul, uplift a heavy heart. What an honor and a privilege to be able to use words in such a way!

Though I love the deep-throated grumble of a Harley, muscle cars, and old school rock, I am also a hopeless romantic. If only Jane Austen were around to endorse my books! As a fan of all things Jane, I have a deep appreciation for a romance that goes beyond boy meets girl, boy loses girl, boy sweeps girl off her feet to live happily ever after. And those stories are wonderful! But what I love about Jane Austen, in addition to many fine contemporary authors, is the ability to tell a story that highlights things like character, honor, self-sacrifice. The beauty of one noble soul finding another. A meeting that goes beyond attraction to the spirit and the heart.

I suppose Anne Elliot will always be one of my favorite literary characters. (If you aren't into reading classics, I want you to drop whatever you're doing and immediately watch the Hinds/Root version of Persuasion) She was totally dissed by her snobby, shallow family, and yet her quiet character and inner strength were what Captain Wentworth fell in love with all those years ago - and still loved years later, long after hope of winning her was gone.

Oh. Just so you know, I write contemporary faith-inspiring love stories. Historical stories are cool too. I just happen to find plenty to dream up in today's world.

And why not? In our high-tech, uber-enlightened society, don't we still quietly crave honor and nobility? Just because those qualities don't (usually) come galloping up on a horse and whisk away their objects in a flourish of lace and petticoats doesn't mean we don't want them now. We may live in a world full of stessors and pressures, but we can still dream of happily-ever-afters, stories of faithful devotion in a world of heartbreaking insecurities and shallow relationships, stories of love touching souls amidst the complexites of twenty-first century life.

Okay, I confess. Though my stories are contemporary, I did set them in the quiet, slower-paced setting of Central Oregon and added a touch of rolling green Scottish hills, so maybe I cheated just a little. My point is that we can "escape" reality either in the past or the present. But are we really escaping? Or are we simply giving ourselves a break from life's routines and sparking our imaginations, allowing our hearts a few moments to nestle between the pages and feel the pains and joys and fears and victories of someone who could easily be you or me?

Your turn: What value do you place on fiction, and on uplifting, faith-inspiring love stories?

(note: this post's content borrowed from the homepage of my new website)

Peace In The Process

The Water Cooler is a community for writers to connect and find support, tips and encouragement on the writing & publishing journey.

Today's post (from moi): Peace in the Process. If you are a perfectionist who finds dissatisfaction with your abilities debilitating at times, come on over and take a load off. Really. Give yourself permission.

My New Book Cover!

I got to peek at my new book cover today. Isn't it cozy & lovely? Does it make you feel all Christmasy?

I know, too many people are sweltering right now in 112 heat, sorry! Imagine with me the whiteness of a blizzard, the icy wind swirling around a rustic yet elegantly adorned mountain ski lodge, a full view of a pristine white mountain beyond the lodge's deck, snow-laden evergreens surrounding the romantic getaway, Celtic carols weaving in and out of sparkling conversations around a crackling fire, the smell of fir and cinnamon and spices, the glow of thousands of twinkly lights, the magic of Christmas and the whisper of love in the air...

Feeling it yet?

Okay, give it time. By the time the temps come down and the cooler days of fall arrive, you'll be dreaming of a romantic holiday getaway.

When Savanna gets a second chance at the love of her life, will her dream that once divided them get in the way?

Just before Christmas, Savanna Holt returns to the ski lodge where she once worked hoping to deliver her goddaughter to the child’s grandparents and flee the mountain resort before memories of one special Christmas there reminds her how ambition led her to make the worst mistake of her life. But Savanna is stunned to discover Luke, the man whose heart she broke three years ago, now manages the resort. Seeing him reminds her of what she lost, but Luke wants no reminders of his hurt. He’s changed, but so has she. When a blizzard traps her at the lodge over Christmas, she sees the forced proximity as a gift from God and is determined to win Luke back. Can she convince Luke she has changed and her interest isn't because of his position? And when her dream job beckons, will she sacrifice her dream for a second chance at love?

Savanna's Gift is a Romantic Christmas novella (e-book) from White Rose Publishers. It will be affordably priced and available for your romantic holiday reading in time for Christmas 2011.

Hot New Blog For Writers Launches TOMORROW

Okay, before I forget - I signed my first real writing gig contract last week with White Rose Publishing for a Christmas novella (e-book) called "Savanna's Gift" coming out Christmas 2011. Yay! Can't wait to see the cover. I'll be sure to post the date that book is available.

Also . . .
If you're a writer, chances are you've read Rachelle Gardner's popular blog and gleaned valuable writing and publishing industry advice. Now, the clients of WordServe Literary (Rachelle Gardner and Greg Johnson) team up to bring you the "WordServe Water Cooler" and invite you to join us as we discuss everything writing.

The "WordServe Water Cooler" launches AUGUST 2 with our first post: Tips for Landing an Agent featuring a advice from agented authors on how writers might increase their chances for representation.

We post every weekday on relevant topics such as marketing, publishing, the craft of writing, social media, and anything else that might help fellow writers move forward in their careers.

Consider this your official invitation to hang out with us at the Water Cooler where community is built and where tips and tricks of the trade are shared. Please come and join in the conversation. We’d love to get to know you.

http://wordservewatercooler.com/

Turning the Tables on This Writer...

Since finaling in the American Christian Fiction Writers' 2011 Genesis Contest, a friendly little press release sent to my local paper turned into an article on me. Wow, right? I spend 90% of my time putting words to the page and now I'M on the page. How fun. Be sure to check out the article by local reporter Jim Hart. I had an interesting visit with Jim, getting to know another writer who pens a differnt type of art, but with a similar kind of love for words. Well done, Jim. Thanks!

Check out the story here:

http://www.sandypost.com/features/story_2nd.php?story_id=130809989740325900

Go to ACFW's Genesis page for all the semi-finalists and finalists in this year's contest for "Pre-published" authors. That's what some of us optimists prefer to be called.

By the way, the card I'm smiling at was a sweet note of congrats and encouragement sent to me by my fabulously talented critique partner Emily Hendrickson, Christian Romance author and all-around funny girl. She's the Queen of Banter. She's my Banter Muse. :-)

Not Your Ordinary Amish Novel . . .

While I am not Amish fiction’s #1 fan, I have read a few Amish titles which I’ve liked, and most particularly, Levi’s Will by Dale Cramer. I’ve waited a long time to get my hands on a new book by Cramer, and I was not disappointed. The saga of the Daughters of Caleb Bender begins with Paradise Valley, a fascinating introduction to the Bender family in the early 1900s. Knowing that Paradise Valley is based on actual events with added details from the author’s own family history made this story especially interesting to me. This book is a heart-tugging look at the life of one Amish family, their faith and unwavering devotion to family, hard work and God. I was drawn into this story and left wanting more.

Caleb Bender is a man of faith, steadfast in his beliefs until the law forces him to make a choice that means uprooting his family and beginning again in a strange new land. Though he is undaunted by a world that challenges his beliefs, he finds himself questioning those beliefs when the lives of his loved ones are on the line and he is forced to choose between love and unwavering obedience.

Caleb’s daughters each possess strengths, hopes, and fears; all of which are realized as they face many dangers and possibilities that come with starting over in a new place far from familiar friends. Cramer weaves the sisters’ stories together in a way that tugs at your heart. In this story, we are introduced to Rachel, Miriam, Emma and others whose disrupted lives will never be the same. Rachel’s story is one of coming of age, but more importantly, of coming into her own. These are strong, well drawn characters who feel like family. I thoroughly enjoyed this book and loved learning about Amish culture. I can’t wait for the second story in the Daughter’s of Caleb Bender saga.

Serving Him in Word and Deed: American Christian Fiction Writers’ Conference, 2010

On My First ACFW Conference

After being a member of ACFW for 3 ½ years, I finally attended my first ACFW annual conference. What an amazing, intense five days of learning, panic, laughter, and hanging with rarely seen friends. And what a crowd! More than 620 people which—especially at mealtimes—pushed my crowd-o-meter a hair past the Zanex-zone a couple times.

Attending this conference came as a gift from the ACFW Scholarship Committee, to whom I am deeply grateful. I went with the hope of learning some things that would strengthen me as a writer, of gaining new skills and improving on the skills I’ve worked to acquire. I also hoped to connect with writers who have mentored me and who have inspired, entertained or befriended me via email, blogs or their books. There are so many!

I got the connecting with writers thing down about 47 seconds after arriving at the hotel, to the dismay of a couple respected writers. I realize now that letting my enthusiasm bust out all over the first two writers I saw was a mistake. While waiting at the elevator, I saw one of my favorite authors whose books nearly kill me with her wit and style, and another writer with whom I’ve corresponded with for years but have never met. Like a true groupie, I screamed their names as I ran over and attacked them with a hug. Naturally. This is what you do when your dream of meeting people you’ve grown to appreciate becomes a reality. At least, in MY dream. Judging from the freaked out looks on both ladies’ faces, I’m guessing the dream for them was more of a nightmare. I think I even said something about being her biggest fan. This would be short for FANATIC, also known as a person to be avoided regardless the cost to handbag, life and limb. Sorry, girls. I really am. If it makes you feel better, I do learn quickly. At their less than enthusiastic response to my joyful greeting, I reminded myself I would be here for several days and that as a passably intelligent woman, I could pace myself and not frighten anyone further. The fact that both ladies were unable to make eye-contact with me for the remainder of the conference reinforced my first lesson:

1. DON’T attack people you admire upon first encounter, no matter how normal and sincere you truly believe yourself to be. Any hope of reciprocating love WILL be aborted.

Another great lesson I learned from this conference was that although you MUST prepare yourself, your pitch, and your plan as perfectly as possible (& always be alliterative), God has a pretty good plan for you and has a few thoughts of his own on how to best steer your life and career. This is by no means an excuse to hide in your hotel room and wait for your career to come knocking like room service. Which is ridiculously expensive, by the way. Do your homework on the conference and the industry reps attending. Make a plan and follow through, but remember: God is in control and truly knows best. Seek moments of quiet to recognize his leading. Remember that those Spirit-nudges may move you to sit somewhere or speak to someone or (GASP) hug someone you might not have planned on. (Yes. I now know that some hugs should be carefully considered for value vs. risk.)

One of the truly high points of my conference experience came by a ‘chance’ meeting at one of the lunch tables. By Sunday, I had met with editors and spoken to everyone I’d hoped to meet. At lunch, a couple of my friends still wanted to sit at a particular editor or agent’s table. This is in a room of about 100 tables with 620 people ALL trying to sit with someone particular, at tables with teeny name signs you had to be within 4 feet of to be able to read. With about 36 seconds to find it. Since I didn’t need to find a particular table, I took half of the room while my friends took the other half and we scoured the tables until we found the ones they wanted. By then, most of the tables were full. I looked around for a spare seat for myself, anywhere. Right beside me was a table with one seat left. It was the table hosted by an editor I have met and who has spent some time looking at my book for a contest I entered last year. I had hoped to at least say hello to this editor but had not seen her yet, even after 4 days. When she joined us and saw me at her table, she said she was hoping to see me here too, and after lunch, she pulled me aside for a great little chat before she had to run to her appointments. I so enjoyed the time at her table amongst a group of writers to whom she showed genuine interest, and was so blessed by our conversation afterward, that this unexpected meeting made my day. Made my conference, actually.

Another one of the many highlights for me was finally meeting my agent in person. Even if only for a few short moments, I think that kind of face time adds an extra touch of personal connection in a good working relationship. And lemme get one thing straight: I did hug her, but she made the first move. She even gave me chocolate. Dark chocolate.

A special treat for me was taking part in the conference choir. I am still amazed that our choir director, Rachael Phillips, was able to take people with varying abilities from all corners of the nation, pull us together with only a couple of practices, and direct a song that moved and inspired us all. This was a rare and beautiful treat! I praise the Lord for orchestrating something far greater than the sum of our numbers—a sweet collective of the gifts he gave us—and gathering our voices in a way that left us unable to do anything but stand in awe of him.

On How ACFW compares to other Christian writing conferences:

I’ve twice attended another large scale Christian writing conference that encompasses all forms of writing, not just fiction. I loved it! But while I am interested in many types of writing, my primary focus as a writer is Christian fiction. ACFW offers what no other conference does: a smorgasbord of instruction for writers at every level, and a rare opportunity to meet and learn from fellow Christian writers, editors and experts who know the fiction industry. ACFW conferences offer more tools unique to a developing career in Christian fiction than any other conference can, and definitely more than a writer could ever acquire on their own.

I came to this conference with a standing set of personal goals: to become a skillful wordsmith and storyteller, to grow as a communicator, artist and professional, and most of all, to remain true to the specific calling the Lord has placed on me. I was not disappointed. The choices of classes and workshops offered provided a variety of valuable resources for writers at every level, published and not, seasoned and new. I gleaned from every class, even on topics I’ve studied before.

I may never fully recognize the all the benefits I received from attending this conference. And that’s okay. I’ve been given so many opportunities to learn and grow as a writer that I no longer doubt God’s call on me to write or question his lead. He keeps flinging open doors before me, pushing me ahead, making the way clear. Why? And what does he want to say through me? I pray for the courage to dig down deep and let the words flow. I pray that I will hear his voice and sense his nudges, that I will understand what pains and truths, what victories and failures, what fears and joys and longings dwell in my heart that he can use to display his amazing grace. After all . . . 'tis grace that brought me safe thus far, and grace will lead me home.

Q: Have you ever attended an ACFW Conference? What did you take away from it?

Book Two and Why NOT Blog Monthly?

Woo hoo - last post was a month ago, looks like I'm on a roll. Watch out now.

I've got a few things going on, and being the patient, gracious enabler that you are, you'll forgive me for not writing sooner. We dropped our youngest off at college out of state a few weeks ago, and I've been scrambling ever since to get ready to attend the American Christian Fiction Writer's annual conference in Indianapolis. My first ACFW conference, and yeah, I'm excited. And I'm also shedding hair and bleeding internally trying to get ready. There is so much to do. You have to shave, print out snappy looking one-sheets, get banquet heels (eeeek), research the publishing houses attending (again), load your suitcase with chocolate for bribing editors, decide on an Editor Appointment Outfit that says "Look, I'm professional, but I don't take myself too seriously," and is stylish enough to say "Um, yeah, I can be Hip when I need to be," yet is bohemian enough to say "And yet ever the Artist." Piece o cake.

And then there's practicing your Pitch. That's code for Selling Your Baby to Nice But Scary People In Suits. I happen to know that some writers go through the motions of practicing their pitch, yet all the while a little voice inside screams YOU'VE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME I JUST WANT TO WRITE ALL DAY IN MY PJS AND NOT WORRY ABOUT HAIRY LEGS. Okay, guys, those days are over. If you want some help honing that pitch, check out Susie May Warren's My Book Therapy. There's help.

I decided I should practice my pitch like a cold call. I could go out and strike up a conversation with total strangers and then tell them about my story. See what piques their interest (alarm), where the pitch is clear or not, see if I can be succinct enough to get it out before they blink or duck over to the Tom Clancy aisle. Maybe I could see what kind of interest there would be from a buying audience. I'm sure it's legal. The Public Library in my small town would be a good place to start, don't you think? If I do that, maybe I'll get someone to video it, and maybe add classical music and some cool FX and stick it on YouTube. Or not.


In other news...

With Book One* looking for a publishing home (*Like There's No Tomorrow - a contemporary occasionally humorous love story about a youth counselor and her hunky Scottish pen-pal who fall in love even though her dark secret may destroy him), I've resumed work on my second novel, temporarily titled My Father's House. It's about a tough social worker turned surrogate mom to a messed up bunch of outcast teens who fights to save the group home she's worked so hard to build. Her only hope lies with the last person she'd want help from: A beefy handyman with a guitar, a questionable past and a God he keeps calling Father.

NOW...

If that sounds interesting and you're hoping to get a little sample of how the book begins, you are so in luck. Read on.

* * * * * *

Father to the fatherless, defender of widows— this is God, whose dwelling is holy. God places the lonely in families; he sets the prisoners free and gives them joy.
Psalm 68:5-6


CHAPTER ONE

The Escalade’s brake lights didn’t even blink.

As the SUV disappeared from sight, Sue Quinn stuffed shaking fists into the pockets of her jeans and bit back a string of words that could have torched every clump of sagebrush in the entire Oregon outback. Drawing a calming breath, she turned her attention to the dark-skinned girl rooted to the bottom step. Sue had no idea what was going through the kid’s mind, but one thing she did know: Juniper Ranch’s newest resident didn’t need to hear what Sue thought of the occupants of the retreating vehicle, the couple who had so proudly signed on as parents and eight months later changed their minds. Like the way people change their minds about a box of cereal in their grocery cart at checkout. Oh, sorry, they’d say to the checker, I guess I don’t want this. Could you put it back?

Sue exhaled and looked the girl over. Cambodian, maybe Vietnamese, about eleven or twelve. She would have to rely on her best guess since the girl’s intake paperwork was probably a maze of lies and inconsistencies.

“Hey, Jasmine, you hungry? Need to use the bathroom?”

The girl stared at the long, empty driveway leading away from Juniper Ranch. The ribbon of dust stirred by the departing Escalade continued to rise and spread slowly, drifting in the noonday sun, bound to settle, eventually, in another place. A matching pair of Barbie-pink suitcases flanked Jasmine’s feet on either side like bookends, gem-shaped price tags still attached. A couple of bags that held everything. And nothing. Much like the beat-up green Samsonite that had once accompanied Sue to more foster homes than she could count.

Sue forced a smile. “All right. Let’s get your stuff inside. We’ll get you all set up in your new room.”

Jasmine turned then, eyes almost level with Sue’s. No shocker there. At five foot two, Sue was long accustomed to meeting pre-teens eye to eye. She studied the lanky girl’s face. Nothing remarkable, a face some would call plain. Wide nose, small eyes. But no abnormalities, no cleft palate, no physical handicap that Sue could perceive. None of the deformities that usually gave Mr. and Mrs. Disenchanted an excuse to terminate an adoption, which further fueled Sue’s suspicions. Once she had a chance to go through Jasmine’s paperwork, she would no doubt find the photo sent by the orphanage to the parents. A photo of a much younger, lighter-skinned, prettier child. The photo they showed off to family, the one that invoked the admiration of friends because they were doing such a charitable thing, bringing an underprivileged child to the US for a better life.

“I no need room.” A frown creased the girl’s brow. “I no . . . I not staying here.”

Sue nodded. How many times had she heard that one? “Well, we can discuss that. Just not here on the front porch. Okay?” She let the question rest on a raised brow.

Jasmine’s frown deepened. Then thick tears pooled, turning her dark eyes glittery.

Oh, little friend, don’t . . . A quiet ache squeezed Sue’s heart. She bent and reached for one of the suitcases. It wasn’t the first time Sue had stood here, a silent witness to the aftermath of a failed adoption. But no matter how many times she’d done it, she couldn’t get used to watching a young heart break on the weathered steps of her front porch.

Sue hoisted the bag and motioned toward the house with a toss of her head. “C’mon in. This way.” She opened the door wide, went inside and kept going. If she hesitated or looked back, it wouldn’t work. Holding her breath, she headed up the staircase, straining to hear. Fourth step. Sixth. Ninth.

The sooner you stop needing them, the sooner you’ll be strong enough to stand on your own.

As the temptation to look back reached a cresting point, she heard light, shuffling footsteps and the soft click of the front door. Sue let out her breath, turned, and gave the rigid girl with the pink suitcase a half-smile.

“C’mon, slowpoke. Follow me.”

* * *