{"id":629,"date":"2009-06-11T10:03:00","date_gmt":"2009-06-11T10:03:00","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/ceceliadowdy.com\/blog\/2009\/06\/the-note-ii.html"},"modified":"2009-06-11T10:03:00","modified_gmt":"2009-06-11T10:03:00","slug":"note-ii","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/ceceliadowdy.com\/blog\/2009\/06\/note-ii\/","title":{"rendered":"The Note II"},"content":{"rendered":"

I blogged about this novel awhile back. Check out my review here.<\/p>\n

<\/a>\"\"<\/a><\/a>It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour<\/a><\/span><\/strong> book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old…or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n

You never know when I might play a wild card on you!<\/em><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Today’s Wild Card author is: <\/strong><\/div>\n

<\/p>\n

Angela Elwell Hunt<\/a><\/span><\/strong><\/div>\n

<\/p>\n

and the book:<\/span> <\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

The Note II: Taking a Chance on Love<\/a><\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n

Tyndale House Publishers (April 2, 2009) <\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:<\/span> <\/span><\/strong><\/div>\n

\"\"id=\"BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5344439230036163282\"<\/a>Christy Award winner Angela Hunt writes books for readers who have learned to expect the unexpected. With over three million copies of her books sold worldwide, she is the best-selling author of The Tale of Three Trees, The Note (which became a Hallmark holiday film), and more than 100 other titles. Angela has won gold and silver medals from ForeWord magazine\u2019s Book of the Year Award and has received the Lifetime Achievement Award from a major readers\u2019 magazine.<\/p>\n

Visit the author’s website<\/a>.<\/p>\n

Product Details:<\/p>\n

List Price: $13.99
Paperback: 228 pages
Publisher: Tyndale House Publishers (April 2, 2009)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 1414332955
ISBN-13: 978-1414332956 <\/p>\n

<\/param><\/param><\/param><\/object><\/p>\n

AND NOW…THE FIRST CHAPTER:<\/span> <\/strong>
<\/span><\/p>\n

\"\"id=\"BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5344441041285654306\"<\/a><\/p>\n

With one elbow propped on her desk, Peyton MacGruder chewed on the edge of a fingernail and glared at the clock on the wall. On days like this, when she was twenty minutes away from her deadline and far from finished with her column, she could swear that the minute hand swept over the clock face at double speed.<\/p>\n

She transferred her gaze to the computer monitor and fluttered her fingers over the keyboard. Some days the magic worked and the words flowed. Other days she might as well be typing gibberish.<\/p>\n

She skimmed the half-completed column on her screen and tried to focus her thoughts. Last week a reader had written that she was afraid to trust a brother-in-law who had stolen from her in the past. Peyton had answered that forgiveness was important, but experience could not be ignored. And when it came to matters of the heart, caution should always trump passion. Dozens of readers had e-mailed, filling her in-box with responses, most of them supportive.<\/p>\n

Now she was working on a recap that included reader comments, but everything she\u2019d written so far looked like extended self-congratulation. She needed a corroborating opinion . . . and any column could be improved with an appropriate quote, couldn\u2019t it? She reached for her dictionary of popular quotations, scanned the index, and jabbed her finger at an appropriate entry. Smiling with satisfaction, she propped her reading glasses on the end of her nose and worked the quote into her piece:<\/p>\n

And so, dear readers, when it comes to dealing with relationships, perhaps we should keep the words of Eumenides in mind. That venerable sage once wrote, \u201cThere are times when fear is good. It must keep its watchful place at the heart\u2019s controls. There is advantage in the wisdom won from pain.\u201d<\/p>\n

Perhaps a happy heart is, at its core, a cautious heart.<\/p>\n

There. She leaned back and clicked the word count tool. Seven hundred words\u2014not bad. The dragon lady shouldn\u2019t have to cut any of this column.<\/p>\n

After a quick proofread, Peyton clicked Send and addressed the file to Nora Chilton, senior features editor. Another click and away it went.<\/p>\n

She turned as something slapped the surface of her desk. Mandi Hillridge, an overenthusiastic intern from the University of North Carolina Wilmington, stood in the aisle, her arms filled with folders. Peyton picked up the envelope Mandi had tossed her way and studied the return address. \u201cAm I supposed to know this Eve Miller?\u201d<\/p>\n

Mandi shifted her burden from one arm to the other. \u201cI doubt it. I think she\u2019s a reader.\u201d<\/p>\n

Peyton ran her fingertip across the ragged edge. \u201cWhy has this letter been opened?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBecause Phil Brinker didn\u2019t check the address before he tore into it. Our stellar mailroom staff mistakenly delivered it to him while he was in New York working on that story about the media covering the media. He just got back and told me to bring it to you.\u201d Mandi stepped closer, her eyes gleaming. \u201cYou want me to go fuss at the guys in the mailroom? One of them\u2019s kinda cute.\u201d<\/p>\n

Peyton glanced over the short walls of the reporters\u2019 cubicles and saw Nora stepping out of the elevator. \u201cNo.\u201d She propped both elbows up on her desk. \u201cI want you to get me two Tylenol. Extra strength.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou have a headache?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNot yet.\u201d<\/p>\n

Mandi turned in time to see Nora approaching, a folded newspaper in hand. Even from her desk Peyton recognized the distinctive banner that contained her byline and staff photo. Had Nora come down to complain about a column that had already run? She wouldn\u2019t, unless one of the higher-ups sent her to confront Peyton about some obscure point.<\/p>\n

\u201cAbout that headache\u2014\u201d Mandi lowered her voice\u2014\u201cI\u2019ll bring the bottle.\u201d<\/p>\n

The young woman hurried away as Nora approached Peyton\u2019s desk. The editor waved the paper before Peyton\u2019s anxious gaze and nodded. \u201cBy the way, about this column last week? You were absolutely right.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s a nice change.\u201d Peyton managed a smile. \u201cAbout what?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cPassion. It should always be tempered with caution. Especially when it comes to affairs of the heart.\u201d<\/p>\n

Peyton straightened in her chair, not certain why the editor had felt compelled to personally deliver this bit of elaboration. \u201cYou speaking from conviction or firsthand experience?\u201d<\/p>\n

Nora managed a coy smile. \u201cNone of your business. Anyway, you\u2019ve been doing really good work lately. I had my doubts at first, but you\u2019ve grown into the job.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou came all the way down here to pat me on the back?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cActually, I came down here to tell you that in addition to writing the Heart Healer, I\u2019m going to need you to handle a feature or two for the Lifestyles section. We got the call last night; Marlo Evans had a baby boy, so she\u2019ll be out on maternity leave for the next several weeks.\u201d<\/p>\n

Peyton dropped her head to her hand and groaned. \u201cWhy not use freelancers?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBecause I don\u2019t have the patience or the finances to deal with neophytes. The budget cuts have made it necessary for all of us to pick up the slack now and then. Besides\u2014\u201d her mouth curved in a wry smile\u2014\u201cyou\u2019re fast and you\u2019re good at researching. A feature or two shouldn\u2019t be a problem for you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut I\u2019m swamped with\u2014\u201d Peyton swallowed the rest of her complaint as sports editor King Danville moved into her line of vision. A warm feeling settled in the pit of her stomach and brought a smile to her lips. Would she ever stop feeling all gushy and girly whenever King approached her desk?<\/p>\n

King glanced at the features editor before returning Peyton\u2019s smile. \u201cHello, Nora.\u201d<\/p>\n

Nora\u2019s chin dipped in a stiff nod. \u201cKingston.\u201d<\/p>\n

Like a flower seeking the sun, Peyton shifted to face the man who had recently brought new joy to her life. \u201cI was just telling Nora that these days I don\u2019t have time to keep up with my column and write a weekly feature, no matter how occasional it is.\u201d<\/p>\n

Nora glanced from Peyton to King and then arched a brow. \u201cPerhaps if you temper your newfound passion, you\u2019ll find the time.\u201d<\/p>\n

King grinned as the editor smiled and moved toward the elevator; then he pulled a white bottle from his jacket pocket and shook it. Peyton placed the familiar rattle within seconds: Extra Strength Tylenol, as requested.<\/p>\n

\u201cRan into Mandi in the coffee room,\u201d King explained. \u201cShe said you were going to need these.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cShe was right.\u201d Peyton sighed. \u201cNora seems to think I can sit down and whip up a decent feature while I\u2019m outlining my next column. I don\u2019t know where she got the idea that I\u2019m some kind of writing machine.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMaybe from the fact that you write so fast you make the rest of us look like we\u2019re moving backward.\u201d<\/p>\n

Peyton shook her head, unwilling to accept praise she didn\u2019t deserve. She knew the truth\u2014she could turn an assignment around quickly because outside the newspaper office she had no life. While other writers struggled to work amid the pressures of family schedules, children\u2019s homework, school events, sporting activities, and the needs of a spouse, Peyton only had to take care of herself and her two cats.<\/p>\n

At least that\u2019s the way things were before King and Christine came into her life. The situation was a little different now, and she was feeling the pressure.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m not that fast,\u201d she insisted. \u201cAnd I\u2019m not that versatile.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThen don\u2019t cave so quickly, MacGruder. Just because Nora\u2019s your boss doesn\u2019t mean you have to let her push you around.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI was ready to push back until she played the guilt card. When she mentioned the budget cuts, I realized how lucky I am to even be employed. How can I not agree to write whatever she wants?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s what I like about you\u2014you\u2019re a solid team player.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m a pushover.\u201d<\/p>\n

King smiled and stepped to the side of Peyton\u2019s desk. \u201cIn that case, I\u2019d better prescribe two of these\u2014\u201d he held up the bottle of pain relievers\u2014\u201cor one of these.\u201d Before Peyton could point out that they were surrounded by coworkers in cubicles, he bent and pressed a kiss to her lips. She closed her eyes, ready to forget about an audience of staff reporters, clerks, and copy editors, but the kiss didn\u2019t last.<\/p>\n

She looked up at him, unsatisfied.<\/p>\n

\u201cDo any good?\u201d he asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cNot sure. Try again. Maybe increase the dosage.\u201d<\/p>\n

He bent, his lips warming hers with more passion this time. When he finally pulled away, Peyton exhaled a long sigh of happiness . . . and the writers around her erupted into applause.<\/p>\n

Peyton grinned as her cheeks warmed. \u201cThey approve.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t give a fig about them. What did you think?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cUm . . . better.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOnly better? Well, you know what they say about practice making perfect . . .\u201d<\/p>\n

As the other reporters hooted and King leaned in for yet another kiss, Peyton pressed her palm against the center of his chest. \u201cYou know, it\u2019s this kind of temptation that led to Marlo Evans\u2019s maternity leave. And in turn, to my impending headache. So maybe we should get back to work.\u201d<\/p>\n

With a roguish grin, King straightened and stepped away from her chair. \u201cYes, ma\u2019am.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut after work\u2014\u201d Peyton squinted at him\u2014\u201cwould you want to go for a jog with me and Christine? We wanted to run the paths down by the shoreline.\u201d<\/p>\n

King shook his head. \u201cEnticing offer, but I\u2019ve got to run out to the university after I finish up today. David needs to talk to me about something. He says it\u2019s important.\u201d<\/p>\n

Peyton nodded, once again reminded that their relationship was not as simple as it would have been if they\u2019d met in their twenties. She had Christine to consider, and King had David. Both children, hers and his, were nearly grown, and both had been forced to deal with the aftermath of their parents\u2019 unwise decisions.<\/p>\n

\u201cMacGruder.\u201d King\u2019s voice, warm and insistent, drew her from her thoughts. \u201cMaybe I\u2019ll stop by your place later.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019d like that.\u201d Peyton offered him a forgiving smile. \u201cI\u2019ll be waiting.\u201d<\/p>\n

King took two steps toward his office, then halted. \u201cHey\u2014\u201d he turned, propping his arms on the cubicle wall\u2014\u201cI found an interesting e-mail in my in-box this morning. A friend in New York said my name recently came up in a board meeting at the Times.\u201d<\/p>\n

Peyton felt a frigid finger touch the base of her spine. \u201cThe New York Times?\u201d<\/p>\n

He chuckled. \u201cHard to imagine, huh? Moving from the Middleborough Times to the Gray Lady?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYour name came up in a board meeting? What does that mean, exactly?\u201d<\/p>\n

He shrugged. \u201cI don\u2019t know, but I\u2019ll keep you posted.\u201d<\/p>\n

As he walked away, exchanging gibes with other writers as he passed their desks, Peyton felt fear blow down the back of her neck. Any other journalist would be salivating at the thought of writing for the Times, but King never seemed to get ahead of himself. Contentment was one of his primary virtues, and Peyton hadn\u2019t realized how much she\u2019d been counting on his ability to remain satisfied with the status quo.<\/p>\n

What would she do if she lost him?<\/p>\n

The thought struck like a blow to the chest, stealing her breath. Until recently, she had managed to keep herself detached from complicated personal relationships. But then the tragedy of a horrific plane crash taught her about the brevity of life and the importance of connection. Now she was desperate to understand two precious people, but understanding took time, and time was something she no longer possessed in abundance.<\/p>\n

She forced herself to take a deep breath and steady her pulse. No one was abandoning her; the world had not shifted on its axis. Her imagination was simply working overtime, a tendency that nearly always resulted in needless worry and borrowed trouble.<\/p>\n

With her gift for imagining disaster, maybe she should have been a novelist.<\/p>\n

When she swiveled toward her computer, determined to set her fears aside and tackle her e-mail, her gaze fell again on the envelope from Eve Miller. The postmark was five days in the past, so by now the woman\u2019s comments were old news. And in an electronic society, old news was dead news.<\/p>\n

Peyton tossed the envelope into a bin filled with unopened letters and turned her attention to her in-box.<\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

Peyton slid behind the wheel of her car, tossed her purse into the empty passenger seat, and fumbled with the buckle of her seat belt. When she was certain the car\u2019s computer wouldn\u2019t scold her for forgetting some vital procedure, she turned the ignition switch and waited for the automatic seat to slide forward, tilt, rise, and whatever else it did to adjust to her frame.<\/p>\n

King had talked her into buying this vehicle last weekend, insisting that her old car was only a few miles away from imploding. \u201cNinety-eight thousand miles?\u201d he exclaimed after glimpsing her odometer. \u201cGood grief, MacGruder, are you going for some kind of endurance record?\u201d<\/p>\n

She had to admit the new vehicle was nice, but its myriad bells and whistles bewildered her. She hadn\u2019t taken the time to read the manual, and she barely managed to sit through the salesman\u2019s demonstration. \u201cI don\u2019t have time to fuss with fancy gadgets,\u201d she told the desperate young man who had greeted her and King at the auto dealership. \u201cSo just point me toward something safe and inexpensive. Something I won\u2019t have to give up chocolate to afford.\u201d<\/p>\n

Like a village matchmaker, the salesman grinned and fixed her up with this sleek blue machine, which he kept calling a crossover\u2014a cross between a sedan and an SUV. She had a feeling the vehicle was too big to be economical or politically correct, but since an entire row of similar vehicles waited behind a fence at the dealership, the manager was probably eager to move his inventory. Regardless, the car earned good crash ratings, it used less gasoline than a tank, and it had the one accessory she couldn\u2019t live without: a CD player.<\/p>\n

Before putting the car in gear, Peyton punched the button of the stereo system and relaxed when the professional reader\u2019s voice poured through the surround sound speakers. She\u2019d bought this audiobook about mothers and daughters shortly after telling Christine the truth about their relationship\u2014yes, they were reporter and reader, but they were also biological mother and daughter. Eighteen years and difficult circumstances had kept them apart, but a series of newspaper columns had brought them back together.<\/p>\n

Now Peyton wanted nothing more than to be the mother she would have been if tragedy hadn\u2019t intervened. A heaven-sent miracle had restored the child she\u2019d been forced to surrender for adoption, and Peyton didn\u2019t want to forfeit this second chance to love. And parent. And occasionally nag.<\/p>\n

She and Christine were still in the midst of that awkward getting-to-know-you phase, but Peyton felt they\u2019d made great strides in their relationship. They tried to talk every day, even if only briefly, and though Christine still lived in the house she\u2019d inherited from her adoptive parents, she felt free enough to drop into Peyton\u2019s home unannounced, as any daughter naturally would.<\/p>\n

Still, Christine rarely called Peyton \u201cMom.\u201d When necessary, she called Peyton by name . . . or she didn\u2019t call her anything at all.<\/p>\n

\u201cBy late adolescence,\u201d a confident voice intoned as Peyton put the car in gear and backed out of the parking space, \u201cmost daughters can be placed in one of three categories\u2014distant, dissatisfied, or dependent. Do any of these words remind you of the young woman in your life?\u201d<\/p>\n

Peyton shook her head and shifted into drive. The author needed a fourth category for Christine\u2014maybe delightful. They were still in the honeymoon phase, each of them unbearably grateful to have found the other. They might have disagreements later\u2014in fact, they probably would\u2014but for now Peyton was thrilled to be able to know and love the young woman who had never been far from her thoughts and prayers.<\/p>\n

\u201cOutstanding mothers devote most of their time to their children, instilling healthy values into daughters who will become outstanding mothers themselves,\u201d the reader continued, \u201cbut unsuitable mothers abandon and abuse.\u201d<\/p>\n

Peyton winced at the author\u2019s use of the word abandon.<\/p>\n

\u201cBottom line, if you provide your child with what she needs\u2014clothing, shelter, food, affection\u2014you, concerned mother, are off the hook if your daughter makes unwise decisions. After you have taught your child right from wrong, your daughter has the freedom to choose . . . right or wrong. Do not blame yourself if she chooses to learn life\u2019s lessons through negative experiences.\u201d<\/p>\n

Peyton frowned as she pulled out of the parking lot and into traffic. Over the years, she\u2019d covered dozens of stories involving teenage delinquents\u2014wayward boys who got mixed up with guns and drugs, runaway girls who ended up on the street or in the hospital because they went looking for love in all the wrong faces. Behind every sad teenager\u2019s story, Peyton found a distraught mother who couldn\u2019t seem to understand how her child ended up in such a deplorable state.<\/p>\n

She hated to admit it, but every time she interviewed one of those mothers, she\u2019d walked away feeling resentful and slightly smug, convinced that she would have managed better if only given a chance. But now that she was being given an opportunity to mother a teen, she had no idea what she was supposed to do.<\/p>\n

To make matters worse, her time of greatest influence would be limited. After the plane crash in which her father died, Christine had taken time off to grieve, but soon she\u2019d go back to school and get busy with her studies. She\u2019d probably meet a young man on campus and want to settle down. Then she\u2019d center her world on her husband and her children, and she\u2019d expect Peyton to focus on being a doting grandmother, not a mom. So this precious opportunity to parent her daughter would be relatively short-lived.<\/p>\n

Peyton pulled up to the red light at an intersection and snapped off the CD player. The bookstores were loaded with books about how to parent newborns, toddlers, middle schoolers, and teens, but no one had much advice for brand-new parents of young adults.<\/p>\n

No one even seemed to be able to answer Peyton\u2019s most basic question: at eighteen, which did Christine need most: an authority figure or a friend? <\/p>\n

Copyright \u00a92009 by Angela Hunt. Used with permission from Tyndale House Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved. <\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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