FICTION / Visionary & Metaphysical
FICTION / Thriller
FICTION / Psychological
Date Published: February 4, 2020
Publisher: Wyatt-MacKenzie Publishing
Eli Cranston, an attorney who himself suffered from the broken legal system and moreso from the loss of his wife and daughter, flees Los Angeles to a place that might hold – should he let it – forgiveness, redemption, and purpose: Bar Harbor, Maine. There, in a small white farm cottage by the sea, Eli launches a new career with Forward-Life Progression, a program that helps clients work past trauma and addiction to built a resilient new life. He finds Hope, cares for rescue horses and a pregnant cat. He is drawn to Rebecca, a farmer at the Farmer’s Market, and forges a revelatory relationship with Dr. Otto Gunther, a Holocaust survivor. With unopened boxes and a pile of letters marked “Return to Sender,” Eli can’t hide his secrets much longer. Is this his second chance?
Read an excerpt...
“Oh
my God I am going to need a new kitchen. Good thing Clem is already planning
for it.” Eli backed away from the stove
with his hands in the air.
Hope
quietly giggled, “I know. I can’t believe we are actually doing this.”
The
pot of softly bubbling wax beckoned the first pinecone to dare take a dip as the smell of honey filled the
kitchen. Hope looked over her shoulder and said, “Remember, this was your
idea.”
“Wait
a minute here. I’m not sure it was a hundred percent my idea, young lady.”
Eli had been trying hard not to react to the
devastating blow, one of many, in Hope’s short life. He wanted to be a
confidant and safe haven but he also knew it wasn’t his place to try to be her
father. Rebecca suggested he strive for funcle. “You know, fun uncle,” she told
him. As with most ideas she had, Eli thought it rather brilliant.
“Oh,
yes it was a hundred percent your idea.” Hope carefully wrapped a piece of wick
around the top third of the pinecone, picked it up with salad tongs and gently
dipped it into the bubbling beeswax fondue. She let it sit for a few moments,
turning it side to side as if she were toasting s’mores. “Oh shoot, get the
waxed paper! We forgot the waxed paper!” Her voice held the energy of a
rollercoaster virgin- nervous anticipation with a smidge of fear.
Eli
jumped into action and grabbed the roll of Cut-Rite on the counter and tore off
a piece. He smoothed it out on the cookie sheet next to the stove. “Okay,
careful now, that is very hot stuff.” He watched as she gingerly guided the
dripping pinecone to its destination. The waxy sheen quickly cooled to an
opaque pale yellow and made the pinecone look like a chubby snowman. “So cool!”
Hope was ecstatic. “We are going to sell so many of these!”
“Um,
how many coats of wax do they need?” Eli held the Pinterest image on his laptop
close to the experimental firestarter for comparison.
Hope
said, with conviction, “Two to three. But I think two will do it.”
“Okay,
well we have a ton of beeswax and Becca has a lot more if we need it. Might
need to go pinecone hunting later.”
“How
much should we sell them for? I’ve never sold anything before.”
“Well, we will have to see what the
market calls for - supply and demand. But I was thinking $.60 each, two for a
dollar. The ones I saw at L.L. Bean were
way more so I think it’ll be all about the presentation. Maybe we’ll get little
boxes or something.”
Hope placed the second firestarter
on the paper, little drops of wax falling onto the floor and stepstool on which she was perched. “Oh, I
know, maybe like, some ribbon or something, make it fancy.”
Eli looked at his email.
Dr.
Corcoran following up regarding their Skype session last month. This will be interesting!
Kate
with good news about a job and possible apartment. That a girl!
Home
Depot reminding him of items in his cart he hasn’t yet purchased. I know, I know, waiting on Clem.
Rebecca
forwarding a link to the Office of Child and Family Services. She didn’t waste any time.
Clem walked down the stairs, one at
a time, Eli could hear. “Hey Fella. That plumbing is brandy new and if yah know
what kinda commode yah want I can swing ovah to Home Cheapo and pick it up fah
ya.” He looked over at Hope. “Hey kid, whatcha got cookin?”
Hope held up the first and coolest
wax concoction and said, “Firestarters. We’re going to sell them on the last
two farmer’s market days.”
Clem stepped closer. “Oh would ya
look at that? I could use those up ta camp. We get that fire goin’ every night.
I’ll take a handful of ‘em when they’re ready. Jack likes to use cowboy juice
but yah eveh get caught, yah get yerself in a jam fah sure.”
Eli shook his head, “What on earth
is cowboy juice?”
Hope giggled. Clem said, “Oh it’s
nothin’. Just a little gasoline, kerosene or chah-coal lightah. Hee heee! It
sure does get it goin, no fah-tin’ around waitin’. But that’s why Jack has no
eyebrows either.”
Hope looked over her shoulder and
exchanged an “Oh my God” with Eli.
“So ah, Clem, you still on the fence
about bringing a guest to Thanksgiving this year?”
“Just give me the kinda terlet seat
yah want, Fella, before I just install a five gallon bucket. They got nice
ah-range ones at the sto-ah.”
Eli wrote down the stock number for
the toilet, pedestal sink, and faucet he wanted and sent Clem on his way.
Hope carefully added more beeswax
and wiped her brow, “He cracks me up.”
Eli laughed, “He cracks me up, too.
But he’s a really good guy. You know, not everyone you meet in life can go
through tough things and still be a good person. He’s one that can. People like
that are worth more than gold.”
He waited to see if Hope wanted to
add to the sentiment but she didn’t. She just quietly added to the pot little
bits of wax, like a worker bee herself, contributing something seemingly
insignificant, not realizing that without her, the honeycomb wouldn’t be
complete.
Little did she know that there were those who believed she ought to
be treated like the queen.
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